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<blockquote data-quote="Trench" data-source="post: 4182885" data-attributes="member: 40464"><p>Watching his partner being struck by a 2 by 4 makes Cipke angry.</p><p></p><p>"THAT IS ENOUGH! GUARDSMEN, HOLD ON TO SOMETHING!"</p><p></p><p>Holding the stick of butter up, as if it were a sword, he puts his back to the tower as he casts Grease on the mob encroaching them.</p><p></p><p>Cipke's fury focuses on a stocky woman holding a slight man and kneeing him repeatedly in the stomach and groin. The butter sizzles in the transmuter's hand and the ground uner the fighting pair shines. Both of them fall to the ground and slide on their hands and knees trying to gain any footing.</p><p></p><p>Benson wipes his forehead to keep the blood from running into his eyes. "Get him inside!" he shouts over the sound of the crowd, indicating the manacled man. His sap is in his hand in a flash, ready to cover Kinkade's withdrawal. </p><p></p><p>At the same time, he lifts the whistle that hangs around his neck and gives the standard signal for backup. Hopefully any guards still in the tower will react to it and join the defense.</p><p> </p><p>Keeping an out out for weapons, Felix saw the whole incident with the two by four, including Baeril's successful Sleep spell and the gnome's entry into the pastry shop. He makes his way to the shop as fast as he can.</p><p> </p><p>Felix reaches the dwarf just as he gets his jaw broken by his opponent. The Ironworker staggers back and the Mason leaps on top of him, letting Felix reach the dying gnome without trouble. The cleric is thankful to his deity for the permission to wear armor as he kneels down in broken glass. Mumbling a quick prayer, he places a hand on the gnome's head and Bahumut hear it. The wounds close rapidly and the gnome is surprised to find himself on the ground.</p><p></p><p>The crowd has shrunk now, although none of them seem to be stopping their attacks. Benson lets out a shrill whistle while swinging at one of the rioters, but the man was already moving toward another target and the sap merely grazes him. He holds his head, turns around and snarls at the watchman.</p><p></p><p>A ruddy faced man screaming something about masonry takes a step back in front of Elissa and lifts a chisel in the air. The sap connects with his skull with a satisfyingly meaty thud and the man falls to the ground.</p><p></p><p>Hearing Benson's whistle, the other guard looks at his fallen partner and swears. He opens the watchtower door and runs inside, slamming it behind him.</p><p> </p><p>"Wha--? Your partner had better be coming back with friends!" Elissa hisses in anger.</p><p></p><p>Meanwhile, the gnome sits back and looks in front of him wide-eyed. "My goodness, what a mess! What sort of person would do this to a pastry shop?" Baeril says as he climbs to his feet and dusts himself off. "And to think, I was just hoping to look through a big spyglass today. One certainly doesn't know what to expect in Ptolus."</p><p></p><p>He looks in vain for the shop owner.</p><p></p><p>"I will be right back to help you sweep up. My grandmother taught me a very efficient technique for sweeping every last little bit of a mess. But there might be someone else out there who doesn't appreciate a pastry, although honestly, someone who doesn't appreciate a pastry," Baeril grunts, as he climbs back out through the window, "Someone like that ought to be more pitied than hated. Sort of like stone giants, always going 'Pahrump, pahrump, pahrump, I'm a great big giant, look at my enormous feet, I have a blister the size of goat, pahrump, pahrump, pahrump.'"</p><p></p><p>He reaches back inside his inside pocket, this time tearing open a wax paper packet and pulling out a handful of colored sand, which he will throw at the rioters when close enough.</p><p> </p><p>Baeril climbs out the broken window to throw the colored sand at a small group of people who've moved toward the pastry shop. The sand explodes in a burst of color and two of them fall to the ground staring at the sky. Another stops moving and blinks furiously, unable to move.</p><p> </p><p>Deevolly hangs back among the fallen bodies and begins shouting. "Everyone please! Settle down! You do NOT want to be hurting each other! These are your neighbors, friends, and fellow Ptolans! Please, be rational, think! You know this is not a good idea. There are other ways of making your point!"</p><p></p><p>The mob has now condensed toward the middle of the street, away from the pastry shop and the two two Oldtown guards and forming a tight clot around Deevoly and Cipke. The remaining rioters seem to sense their weakened numbers and look up at Deevoly's words. Some of them start looking at each other, plainly considering calling it a day.</p><p> </p><p>"That's right . . .you guys are great. My uncle was a guildsman and there are few men of more common sense and goodness. This is a misunderstanding, probably related to some delver magic mishap. Go home or back to work now and there will be no problems."</p><p> </p><p>Kinkade continues backing out of the crowd with his human shield. When he hears Deevoly, he joins in after she's finished. "Guildsmen! Hear me! The Watch has committed itself to getting to the bottom of Frickard's death and finding a peacable solution for all concerned parties!"</p><p></p><p>The participants look around at each other and grumble, although many seem to think that the small girl in their midst is making sense. One of the guildmembers even tries to smile at her. A few of them start making their way off into the side streets.</p><p></p><p>Benson looks up as he hears a whistle sounds sounding somewhere in the distance. The remaining mob hears it as well, and recognize the sound of the City Watch. A few warning shouts and the rest of them scatters, threading their way into alleys and down streets.</p><p></p><p>The dwarf and the redheaded Mason stare at each other, huffing from exertion. Both of their eyes dart toward the cleric staring them down, and then perk up as they hear the whistle. The scowl at each other for a moment and bolt, the Mason climbing out the window and running down Constable Way and the dwarf taking off toward a back door in the pastry shop.</p><p></p><p>From under an upturned sweets table, Felix hears a sniffle.</p><p></p><p>With the riot resolved, Baeril turns and climbs back in the pastry shop, intent on helping clean up and, then, buying pastry.</p><p></p><p>Looking past the victim, the young noble incants a brief spell and commands the dwarf to approach with a booming voice.</p><p></p><p>The dwarf practically trips over himself changing course. He looks shocked as he finds himself compelled to walk toward Felix.</p><p>After a few seconds of leading the dwarf outside the shop, Felix waits for him to catch up. He then firmly grabs a hold of the back of the dwarf's collar and guides him toward someone in City Watch garb.</p><p></p><p>"Excuse me! This man is responsible for property damage in the shop behind me and also some personal injury. Also, there is someone still inside that shop that may require assistance."</p><p></p><p>"Phew!" Cipke says as the crowd disperses. He wipes his hands with a small handkerchief (Deevoly can see it has his initials sewn in blue string) and says to her partner "Fancy way to greet us."</p><p></p><p>Watching the crowd begin to disperse, Benson tucks his sap away. As long as no one else is trying to start trouble, he's fine with letting them go. Right now, he's more interested in the man whose ranting started this all. He picks up a crumpled broadsheet from the ground and approaches Kinkade and the prisoner.</p><p></p><p>"Well, you've had quite a productive morning, sir," he says, holding up the paper and pointing to the large SCRIBE MARTYR FOR THE PEOPLE! headline. "Now, my partner and I aren't from this district - we're from Oldtown. So why don't you tell me all about this Cadderly Frickard? He died four days ago? How? And what's this 'Writer's Ball' he was working on? Is that an object or an event?"</p><p></p><p>Kinkade turns his still somewhat shellshocked prisoner around to face the two of them. "Why don't we just start with your name and work our way up, hm?"</p><p> </p><p>The protestor looks defiant as he puffs up his pigeon chest. "Frickard was a visionary, unlike those who buckle to the traditional system. Your slavemasters most likely have the Writer's Ball in their mansions. You can't hide the truth forever!"</p><p></p><p>Kinkade grabs the protestor's face gently and aligns it with his until the two of them make eye contact. He speaks in low, soothing tones. "Listen to me, chum. We aren't your enemies, so let's try to get together to work this out. Still waiting on that name."</p><p> </p><p>"Olaf Gehlschmut," the protestor says proudly. Clearly, being in trouble with the law confirms opinions he holds about both the government and himself.</p><p></p><p>Baeril slips back into the shop to see a large woman peeking from over the table, many of her sweets on display crushed into the floor and linens.</p><p></p><p>The dwarf stands shocked at his behavior and he shakes himself as the spell expires. He easily breaks away from Felix's grasp and starts running, but stops short as he sees three Watchmen running down the street while another pair come from the other direction. He snarls at Felix and holds his hands up in submission. The watchmen run up and find over half a dozen people on the ground either asleep, hypnotized, or unconscious.</p><p></p><p>Everyone turns as the watchtower door slams. Coming out with the one guard is a large man in plate mail, wearing a yellow sash and shield insignia. He's intimidatingly big, but his shaved head, chubby cheeks, and twinkling eyes almost make him look like a toddler.</p><p></p><p>That illusion is dispelled as soon as he opens his mouth and a gravelly voice comes out. He looks down to the guard with the broken nose at his feet.</p><p></p><p>"Just what in the Nine Hells is going on here?" Captain Wibert snarls.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Trench, post: 4182885, member: 40464"] Watching his partner being struck by a 2 by 4 makes Cipke angry. "THAT IS ENOUGH! GUARDSMEN, HOLD ON TO SOMETHING!" Holding the stick of butter up, as if it were a sword, he puts his back to the tower as he casts Grease on the mob encroaching them. Cipke's fury focuses on a stocky woman holding a slight man and kneeing him repeatedly in the stomach and groin. The butter sizzles in the transmuter's hand and the ground uner the fighting pair shines. Both of them fall to the ground and slide on their hands and knees trying to gain any footing. Benson wipes his forehead to keep the blood from running into his eyes. "Get him inside!" he shouts over the sound of the crowd, indicating the manacled man. His sap is in his hand in a flash, ready to cover Kinkade's withdrawal. At the same time, he lifts the whistle that hangs around his neck and gives the standard signal for backup. Hopefully any guards still in the tower will react to it and join the defense. Keeping an out out for weapons, Felix saw the whole incident with the two by four, including Baeril's successful Sleep spell and the gnome's entry into the pastry shop. He makes his way to the shop as fast as he can. Felix reaches the dwarf just as he gets his jaw broken by his opponent. The Ironworker staggers back and the Mason leaps on top of him, letting Felix reach the dying gnome without trouble. The cleric is thankful to his deity for the permission to wear armor as he kneels down in broken glass. Mumbling a quick prayer, he places a hand on the gnome's head and Bahumut hear it. The wounds close rapidly and the gnome is surprised to find himself on the ground. The crowd has shrunk now, although none of them seem to be stopping their attacks. Benson lets out a shrill whistle while swinging at one of the rioters, but the man was already moving toward another target and the sap merely grazes him. He holds his head, turns around and snarls at the watchman. A ruddy faced man screaming something about masonry takes a step back in front of Elissa and lifts a chisel in the air. The sap connects with his skull with a satisfyingly meaty thud and the man falls to the ground. Hearing Benson's whistle, the other guard looks at his fallen partner and swears. He opens the watchtower door and runs inside, slamming it behind him. "Wha--? Your partner had better be coming back with friends!" Elissa hisses in anger. Meanwhile, the gnome sits back and looks in front of him wide-eyed. "My goodness, what a mess! What sort of person would do this to a pastry shop?" Baeril says as he climbs to his feet and dusts himself off. "And to think, I was just hoping to look through a big spyglass today. One certainly doesn't know what to expect in Ptolus." He looks in vain for the shop owner. "I will be right back to help you sweep up. My grandmother taught me a very efficient technique for sweeping every last little bit of a mess. But there might be someone else out there who doesn't appreciate a pastry, although honestly, someone who doesn't appreciate a pastry," Baeril grunts, as he climbs back out through the window, "Someone like that ought to be more pitied than hated. Sort of like stone giants, always going 'Pahrump, pahrump, pahrump, I'm a great big giant, look at my enormous feet, I have a blister the size of goat, pahrump, pahrump, pahrump.'" He reaches back inside his inside pocket, this time tearing open a wax paper packet and pulling out a handful of colored sand, which he will throw at the rioters when close enough. Baeril climbs out the broken window to throw the colored sand at a small group of people who've moved toward the pastry shop. The sand explodes in a burst of color and two of them fall to the ground staring at the sky. Another stops moving and blinks furiously, unable to move. Deevolly hangs back among the fallen bodies and begins shouting. "Everyone please! Settle down! You do NOT want to be hurting each other! These are your neighbors, friends, and fellow Ptolans! Please, be rational, think! You know this is not a good idea. There are other ways of making your point!" The mob has now condensed toward the middle of the street, away from the pastry shop and the two two Oldtown guards and forming a tight clot around Deevoly and Cipke. The remaining rioters seem to sense their weakened numbers and look up at Deevoly's words. Some of them start looking at each other, plainly considering calling it a day. "That's right . . .you guys are great. My uncle was a guildsman and there are few men of more common sense and goodness. This is a misunderstanding, probably related to some delver magic mishap. Go home or back to work now and there will be no problems." Kinkade continues backing out of the crowd with his human shield. When he hears Deevoly, he joins in after she's finished. "Guildsmen! Hear me! The Watch has committed itself to getting to the bottom of Frickard's death and finding a peacable solution for all concerned parties!" The participants look around at each other and grumble, although many seem to think that the small girl in their midst is making sense. One of the guildmembers even tries to smile at her. A few of them start making their way off into the side streets. Benson looks up as he hears a whistle sounds sounding somewhere in the distance. The remaining mob hears it as well, and recognize the sound of the City Watch. A few warning shouts and the rest of them scatters, threading their way into alleys and down streets. The dwarf and the redheaded Mason stare at each other, huffing from exertion. Both of their eyes dart toward the cleric staring them down, and then perk up as they hear the whistle. The scowl at each other for a moment and bolt, the Mason climbing out the window and running down Constable Way and the dwarf taking off toward a back door in the pastry shop. From under an upturned sweets table, Felix hears a sniffle. With the riot resolved, Baeril turns and climbs back in the pastry shop, intent on helping clean up and, then, buying pastry. Looking past the victim, the young noble incants a brief spell and commands the dwarf to approach with a booming voice. The dwarf practically trips over himself changing course. He looks shocked as he finds himself compelled to walk toward Felix. After a few seconds of leading the dwarf outside the shop, Felix waits for him to catch up. He then firmly grabs a hold of the back of the dwarf's collar and guides him toward someone in City Watch garb. "Excuse me! This man is responsible for property damage in the shop behind me and also some personal injury. Also, there is someone still inside that shop that may require assistance." "Phew!" Cipke says as the crowd disperses. He wipes his hands with a small handkerchief (Deevoly can see it has his initials sewn in blue string) and says to her partner "Fancy way to greet us." Watching the crowd begin to disperse, Benson tucks his sap away. As long as no one else is trying to start trouble, he's fine with letting them go. Right now, he's more interested in the man whose ranting started this all. He picks up a crumpled broadsheet from the ground and approaches Kinkade and the prisoner. "Well, you've had quite a productive morning, sir," he says, holding up the paper and pointing to the large SCRIBE MARTYR FOR THE PEOPLE! headline. "Now, my partner and I aren't from this district - we're from Oldtown. So why don't you tell me all about this Cadderly Frickard? He died four days ago? How? And what's this 'Writer's Ball' he was working on? Is that an object or an event?" Kinkade turns his still somewhat shellshocked prisoner around to face the two of them. "Why don't we just start with your name and work our way up, hm?" The protestor looks defiant as he puffs up his pigeon chest. "Frickard was a visionary, unlike those who buckle to the traditional system. Your slavemasters most likely have the Writer's Ball in their mansions. You can't hide the truth forever!" Kinkade grabs the protestor's face gently and aligns it with his until the two of them make eye contact. He speaks in low, soothing tones. "Listen to me, chum. We aren't your enemies, so let's try to get together to work this out. Still waiting on that name." "Olaf Gehlschmut," the protestor says proudly. Clearly, being in trouble with the law confirms opinions he holds about both the government and himself. Baeril slips back into the shop to see a large woman peeking from over the table, many of her sweets on display crushed into the floor and linens. The dwarf stands shocked at his behavior and he shakes himself as the spell expires. He easily breaks away from Felix's grasp and starts running, but stops short as he sees three Watchmen running down the street while another pair come from the other direction. He snarls at Felix and holds his hands up in submission. The watchmen run up and find over half a dozen people on the ground either asleep, hypnotized, or unconscious. Everyone turns as the watchtower door slams. Coming out with the one guard is a large man in plate mail, wearing a yellow sash and shield insignia. He's intimidatingly big, but his shaved head, chubby cheeks, and twinkling eyes almost make him look like a toddler. That illusion is dispelled as soon as he opens his mouth and a gravelly voice comes out. He looks down to the guard with the broken nose at his feet. "Just what in the Nine Hells is going on here?" Captain Wibert snarls. [/QUOTE]
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