Swamp Trek III: The Search for Ter-raen

Weel Naxel, human cleric

[sblock=Weel and Karl]

covaithe said:

Other men murmur and shout in agreement with one side or the other. The groups of different loyalties contract into tighter bunches. Fists are formed, and as Tennin and Corvin stalk closer to each other, the tension, already high, is mounting fast. A fight could break out at any minute.

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Weel's presence of mind falters as the threat of violence merely escalates.

"Everyone clam up ... I mean, calm down. That," he says, doing his best to interpose himself between the factions.

"I don't agree with his methods, but Corvin's right about one thing: the best way out of this is united. Tennin, I don't think hurting your own is like to convince the lizardfolk you're nonviolent, and Corvin, I don't figure an escargo--er, escape plan is like to work if you're down half the men and the ones you have are beat to hells from a brawl, do you?"

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[sblock=Karl and Weel]ooc: diplomacy checks would be appropriate now, I think.
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[sblock=Karl and Weel]

covaithe said:

ooc: diplomacy checks would be appropriate now, I think.

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((OOC: That went about as well as I expected. Which is to say, not at all. Weel definitely wasn't built to defuse situations, sadly: Diplomacy check. (1d20+0=2)

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[sblock=Karl and Weel]
Karls diplmacy, though not steller as a bit better
1d 20=12
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[sblock=Karl and Weel]
Karls diplmacy, though not steller as a bit better
1d 20=12
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[sblock=Karl and Weel]Your efforts to calm tempers go unheeded. Under the circumstances, this is not surprising; these men have clearly been under a great deal of stress for some time. Shouted insults are exchanged, and, quicker than you could have imagined, everyone is shouting. You don't see quite who throws the first blow; it hardly matters, as violence erupts almost immediately all across the enclosure.

None of the combatants engages Weel or Karl, they simply brush you aside en route to their targets. While ugly and violent, the confrontation does not seem life threatening. From what little sense you can make of the shouts, it seems some old, petty grudges are coming to light as well as the disagreement at hand. In some ways it resembles a nasty tavern brawl more than a pitched battle, though one without the softening effect of a good alcoholic haze.

Just as the fight seems to be getting more serious, a warning hiss goes up from several places around the outside of the enclosure. Lizardfolk have climbed the trees forming part of the fence, and stand poised with javelins held loosely. The makeshift gate opens, and the wounded lizardman stands there, next to a familiar, entirely non lizardlike face. It's Gildrim, and not only is he not dead, he is fully armed and clean from head to toe. His armor while still sturdy and shining dimly in the dying twilight, bears a nasty set of dents, about the size of a hydra's jaws.
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[sblock=Gildrim]As Apikotoa leads you through the camp, an outcry goes up from a large enclosure ahead, a fence woven from flexible saplings and held erect by several trees that are worked into the corners. From inside there comes a welter of angry human voices, and the sound of blows striking flesh follows soon after. Lizardfolk guards are already climbing the trees, javelins at the ready just in case, and Apikotoa hurries with you toward the gate of the enclosure. He opens it, and you see what looks like a drunken tavern brawl between some two dozen human men of varying ages, only without the tavern, or the alcohol. Weel and Karl are at the edge of the mess, trying without much success to pull some of the men apart.[/sblock]

Apikotoa shouts, "What ees the meaning of thees? Stop!"

Weel Naxel, human cleric

covaithe said:

The makeshift gate opens, and the wounded lizardman stands there, next to a familiar, entirely non lizardlike face. It's Gildrim, and not only is he not dead, he is fully armed and clean from head to toe. His armor while still sturdy and shining dimly in the dying twilight, bears a nasty set of dents, about the size of a hydra's jaws.

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Weel gapes a moment, then smiles a big stupid grin.

"Gildrim!" he calls out, rushing to meet his thought-dead companion, "Phyrah's path, but you're ... how are you...? Oh, but you'll have to tell later. We ... I think my righteous ignorance ... indignation ... actually, probably a bit of both. Whichever: brawl. I don't suppose you have any tricks that might distract them or calm them down before the lizardfolk just get sick of it and skewer them?"

OOC : blast it! I had a post, but this computer went wonky on me! give me a moment here . . .

"Gildrim! You yet live!!", exclaims Karl, then to the brawlers, with a maybe a bit of anger mixed in, he says, "Hey! Is this not thepeoples that his supposed to have been killed by! is that tow people very one that is supposed to have been killed by these folk?! Look and see that he is very much alive! Armed and armored and standing aside him? Is this how two people who are supposed to be at odds with one another relate?
NO!

This is is how two people relate when they are friendly with one another. These are Allies! Who are Civil with and to each other! Which is more then what I can say about the lot of YOU! "

Karl ends his speech as impassioned as he was fearful of the crowd possibly turning on them, but the speach is none-the-less given He stands tearful, sweating and with fists clenched but out of rhtorical momentum and out of words.

Then wih a quivering breath he looks to Weel with a looks of bewilderment and asks the priest "What did I just say?"

"Aye, it's me, an' Ah'm still drawin' braith! It'll tak mair than a mony-heided - " begins Gildrim. "Eh, whit? But it's nae ivery day Ah cam back frae th' deid, ye knaw! Ah wis - "

Gildrim breaks off and grumbles to himself as Karl delivers his passionate speech that makes it clear that these are the raiding party from Cragger's Rest.

Gildrim plants himself in the gateway, and bellows "Och, this is a fine end tae a lang day! Escortit throu th' swamp by a honour-gaird ay lizardfowk, an' time tae clean mahself up, an' dinner roastin' oan spits ower th' fire, an' noo, tae tap it aw aff, an evenin's entertainment, an exhibeetion ay hou nae tae fecht! Slappin' and pinchin' each ither like sae mony elf lassies!"

Karl snorts at the group being called a bunch of sissy elf lasses.