Phyrric Legacy - Shackled City IC Thread

[Malvoisin]

Waterday, Ready'reat the 19th

A wretched drizzle falls from the ash-gray sky. The crowded, rain-slicked buildings seem especially bleak and frightful this evening, hunched together beneath the gloomy skies. A few lights burn in their windows, but mostly their shutters have been closed for the night. The scent of chimney smoke fills the air, and the din of water trundles from the rooftops, splashing into dark alleys and turning street gutters into rivulets. Suddenly, a plaintive cry for help from a nearby alley splits the evening air!

(OOC: Welcome once again to the game everyone! Please copy over your initial replies to this setup, and we'll go from there. stonegod, you can also respond to the above situation. Remember to offer a reason why Jon is out and about on the streets on this rainy night. Good gaming, all!)

 

[Land Outcast]

Remen is quietly playing cards with a new aquitance (honest or foolish, given how he has treated cheaters in the past) while Dowlee is somewhere else in the tavern, doing whatever she might be doing; at the moment he is concentrated, having fun at the nervousness of the young man in front of him, he knows the man will lose his last coppers.

The light is dim at that part of the building, and the chimney is obstructed by something, given that every once in a while smoke comes into the room. There isn't too much people tonight, the rain keeps them in their homes -at this thought, the Raven-black haired man smiles, for him the rain means refreshment-.

The door opens and a robed man enters the place, a gust of wind feeds the dying embers of the hearth, all the room is lighted brightly and a scream shatters the silent evening.

In a split of second Remen is up, when he looks for Dowlee, he only glimpses her hair going through the door, she counting on him following her; always ready to help those in need...

When he sees the hand of the man sitting in fron of him doing something with some extra cards appeared out of nowhere Remen takes out a dagger and lightning-fast nails firmly his cards to the table, looks him in the eye and says: "Don't touch them, we'll speak later"

He strides towards the night, storing his own cards in a pocket.

 

[stonegod]

The voices were agitated tonight; thus, Jon was agitated. He had been forced to call off some time studying some obscure text he was able to procure from one of his "friends" due the voice's din. A walk should do me good he thought. Perhaps it would quiet things down.

The rain outside was slighly louder than the voices inside, and Jon worked at clearing his mind. Breathe. Visualize. Focus. A few passerbys gave him odd looks as he wandered the streets, muttering quietly under his breath.

Suddenly, a plaintive cry for help from a nearby alley splits the evening air!

It took a moment for Jon to snap out of his walking trance. Was that real, or in my head?. After convincing himself it must have been real, he tightens the grip on his walking stick-cum-club. Again his focuses a bit, the voices humming in his head, and a shimmer briefly surrounds him. Then cautiously, cautiously, he follows the sound...

[OOC: Manifest inertial armor then approach.]

 

[Jdvn1]

In one of the sides of the tavern, Dowlee is playing darts with an acquaintance--she normally wins, but the acquaintance's ego always gets the best of him. Such a frail girl's luck should eventually run out, right? She lowered her silver eyes to aim at the target, but right when she threw, the door to the tavern opened, letting in a rush of cool air. Something was wrong.

The dart was still in mid-air when Dowlee picked up her equipment to run outside, and the acquaintance's eyes were watching the dart. Dowlee didn't need to look back. She already knew that Remen was coming right behind her and that the acquaintance's eyes were at the middle of the dart board.

The only sound in her head was the scream. The scream of someone alone and needing help. This was familiar to her.

 

[Legildur]

The damp Whisper Gnome stands before an inn. The name of the place is unimportant, unlike the beckoning warmth and possibility to escape from the constant drizzle. Distractedly feeling his purse and the meager coin within, Flannad of the once proud clan Flannath sighs to himself. Casting his eyes down he pauses for a few moments and knows that he must make the money last. He starts to move away to find somewhere at least dry on these damp, dark streets of Cauldron where he can spend yet another night.

Only a short distance from the the inn he has just turned his back on, Flannad hears the cry of someone in trouble. Immediately moving into survival mode, the young gnome, moves to the shadows and pads quietly to the mouth of the alley and peers in with his keen sight.

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

Arak is on his way back from evening prayers, waiting for Champion to sniff every corner and lift his leg on every post, when the scream comes.

With one hand, he whips his cloak off his shoulder and then pulls his long greatsword out. The dog whines, curious.

"Stay!" The mastiff returns to sniffing the corner of a baked goods shop as the paladin stomps off through the puddles in the direction of the cry for help.

Upon arrivaly, Arak peers into the alley, greatsword held in both hands before him.

"Stop where you are! No sudden movements!"

 

[Question]

IC : Liracor was walking around Cauldron, trying to familarize himself with its layout, its environment, its people. He expected to be here for quite a while at least.....probably even make it his base of operations for a long time.

Running back to his inn after being caught in the sudden downpour, he pauses, hearing the scream. "Ahhh a damsel in distress!" he thinks to himself, turning into the alley and drawing his sword as he goes.

 

[Malvoisin]

The sound of a scuffle and some cursing draws the group to the mouth of the nearby alley. Within, three figures assault a fourth, who lies face down on the wet cobblestones. One of the attackers lifts the victim by the hood of his cloak and thrusts him against a wall, as another growls, "Stay away from the orphanage, you got that?"

Even through the drizzle, one distinguishing feature of these thugs stands out...the attackers have painted their faces half white and half black with makeup.

Focused as they are on their victim, it seems that the attackers have not noticed the assembly at the alley mouth, until...

"Stop where you are! No sudden movements!"

With Arak's cry alerting them, the thugs whirl to face the intruders. Swiftly, they draw short swords, and one snarls, "Hey, bugger off! This don't concern you!"

(Anyone with the appopriate skill, please make a Knowledge: Local check.)

Actions?

 

[Legildur]

Flannad, licks his lips in the uncertainty of the situation. 'Why would he get involved?' Almost instinctively, the short bow is in his hands with an arrow nocked. Remaining in the shadows, he readies to fire it at one of the thugs should they try and assault the challenger.[sblock=ooc] what range are we at? <30ft is sneak attack range for Flannad. Init +4, Atk +4, Dmg 1d4 +1d6 sneak attack, crit 20/x3, darkvision and low light vision, hide +16[/sblock]

 

[stonegod]

[OOC: I assume we are all coming from the same side of the alley, then?]

It had been a while since Jon had been to the city, and his knowledge of it had waned; but he still tried to recognized the painted faces. [OOC: untrained Knowledge (local) at +4, best he can do is 10] At the same time, he tried to recognize the symbol around the victim's neck; it looked familiar. [OOC: That looks like a holy symbol, so trained Knowledge (religion) at +6]

I must defuse this quickly. Concentraitng quickly, a soft hum audible to all around him, Jon tries to adjust the mind of the one holding the vicitim. Perhaps he would listen after all. [OCC: attraction on the holding one; he is attracted to Jon to listen to reason (hopefully)]