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D&D [5E] The Kalarian Precipice - Chapter One

97mg

Villager
The Council

“Bloody hell,” the dwarf mumbled, hopping up onto a highchair to sit at the council’s bench. “Pess really ****ed us eh?”

Stone walls of black on all sides, a large portion of the tower’s base had been chiseled into a cavern. Three steps led to a raised section of floor where a long basalt table shared the cold design of it's surrounds. A hearth to each end of the space danced with the lights of flame, the smoke somehow ushered away though a complex arrangement of holes, drawing the smog out to ooze into the outside air, somewhere up the looming monolith.

An elf rubbed his forehead, never overly appreciative of the dwarf’s verbal vulgarity. Humble humans, a gnome, a dragonborn, a half-orc and more sat among their ranks. This was the council. A tasting-plate of Marix Isle’s varieties of culture and way of life.

“Juz rainy rain, what you so testy about? Ain’t a dwarf learned to carry an umbrella? Or you can’t coz those knuckles for dragging?” The pink-cheeked gnome giggled to himself, while the dwarf shot him back an evil eye. His only eye actually. The other was nothing more than a tired old scar.

Quiet!” Riltof had had enough of this already. He stood and slammed a fist against the bench, while his hairless head like a polished ball began to turn red. Riltof was a man of short patience, a middle aged human there to represent the wills of Kalair’s brewers and sellers of ale.

It was going to be a long day.

The public wasn’t of course, allowed to sit with them. They were however allowed to request entry to the lower section of floor. The time had come to deal with estates, requests to expand business, resolve civil disputes and the like. Much of it was listening to moaning and groaning, brown-tongued folk, and a few arrogant individuals seeking personal favor. Boring. They had to suffer this whilst the rest of the town, in their minds, was out enjoying the festivities.

"Let the first guest in!" Riltof called to a freckle-faced young boy at the base of the steps. Order issued, he scampered off down a passageway towards a wooden door.

"Bet its a damn gnome, here to complain his mushroom has fallen over," the dwarf said, before being quickly shut down by Riltof's angry pointing finger.

"No more! Let us get on with it. I for one, would like to be home before dark."

That would be a first. This process usually kept them awake most of the day and the following night.
 
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Otiroth

Villager
Otiroth: Alleyways

"Obstruction? I have no idea what's happening!" Otiroth protested, and if his protest sounded like an irritated upper-class twit, well, perhaps it was only a reflection of who was saying it. He'd look between the lot gathered there, and found himself no closer to guessing what was going on than before.

"Look, the orc here said he was going after a criminal, and he's muddy enough that I believe him. Right?" Otiroth asked Carthum.

The sorcerer crossed his arms, clearly taking a bit of pleasure in needling Carthum when there was little he could do to protest it. "Too many oxen on a yolk and all. Tripping over each other. Seems a bit of chaos and a misunderstanding to me."


<Persuasion roll= 18>
 

Jeovanna

Villager
Jeovanna- Alleyways

Jeovanna had her arms crossed over her chest, just watching the scene go down. She was still standing near the guard, but the stiffening of her back at that belied some discomfort, despite the guard's earlier insinuation that she, at least, was off the hook.

See? She probably should have stayed on the roads. Foolish woman.

"If they want to track the thief, then perhaps just let them. If she flees the city, we're good on the trails," she'd nod to herself and Dain.

And the guard- didn't he have more patrols down city streets to do? The roads outside of town were where she was familiar. Either that, or a tavern. She'd like to get back to either.
 
Carthum One-Tusk: Alleyways

Carthum hung his head a bit, blood boiling at Otiroth. If the sorcerer was trying to help, well, he chose just the 'right' words to say it, didn't he? Luckily for Carthum, orcs did not really blush, no matter how much their blood boiled. He managed to look... almost sheepish.

There was really no way, though, that he could pretend he hadn't nearly tripped the guard. He figured the human had seen right through him. But truth was, perhaps, the best way forward.

"Sorry, sir," he replied to the guard finally. "Suru teaches us that everyone must follow their soul and chase their own thieves."

Suru would likely see no difference between a guard catching a thief and the ranger doing it- and it was not as if their original intentions were not muddied a bit. Neither of them, he figured, actually knew what they had wanted to accomplish, and this festival day had taken a very disappointing turn.

<Charisma check of 10. Insight 13.>
 

97mg

Villager
Guard with Dain, Jeovanna, Otiroth, Carthum, Metea

Dain, Jeovanna, Otiroth, Carthum, Metea: The guardsman sighs through each of the mob’s explanations, but does at least listen through all the varying accounts of what the hell has led to this mess.

Once everyone has said their piece, he points to Otiroth.

“Appreciate that, you are free to go.”

A quick look, followed by an obvious second glance to Metea follows.

“You best go too, there is nothing of interest to see here, go and enjoy the day young lady,” he says stiffly.

Addressing the ranger and the tall woman, he has decided that perhaps they are right. Let them be the ones to deal with the thief, if that is their wish. He of course assumes the woman has stolen something of Dain's, given their earlier discussion.

“Yes. I have better things to do. Bring her to the law office if you have any luck. Best she come without too much battery and bruising ok?”

Sometimes locals took the law into their own hands, he’d seen it more than enough times. No skin off his back really, but the council didn’t always approve of civilians paying their sentence before a trial, or at least a chance to explain their actions.

Speaking of unscrupulous, finally he turned to the half-orc and clicked his tongue.

“You’ve got some answering to do, my friend. You’re coming with me! Right? Ready for a walk?”

The skies above were starting to marble, pink hues beginning to turn a rather threatening twirl of gray.

<If anyone does anything that might provoke a physical reaction from the guard, we will all roll initiative and take turns based on the results.

Note: Although the sentences for: public displays of magic, murder, use of currency (coins left over from previous generations… which are becoming rare), and the carrying / exchange of gems, are extremely harsh (trial and hanging), small infractions such as “hindering a guardsman in his duties” are light. It is likely that Carthum could be held for a short time and released with a warning… maybe. Depends what mood the warden is in, should things play out that way. Depends how this washes up :) Over to you folks!>
 

Metea

Villager
Metea: Alleyways

Metea was, actually, less than interested in just enjoying her day, because she wouldn't. Tail twitching, she'd hop down from the stairs, scrambling up to alongside her brother.

"You're just like every other guard in this city! Let the humans do as they please, but persecute the half-orc! What will you tell the magistrate if one of us doesn't come along to keep an eye on you? That he was raiding carts and roaring at babies? It's not our fault you can't even catch a random cutpurse, so go take it out on a training dummy instead and leave us in peace!"

She really didn't have any trouble with the others, and obviously, she was fine with humans, but not this particular one.


<Charisma roll, 16+5=21. If this is considered deception, Metea has +7>
 
Dain - Alleyway

Dain agreed with the guardsman assessment of the situation. Heartily. But his enthusiasm seemed to wear off quickly as he realized that his reason for coming, to hear the naming of the year, had not ended particularly well. Perhaps he had put too much hope into the ceremony in the first place, but what choice did he have?

A downfall.

As it was, he didn't seem overly concerned for the welfare of his new half-orc acquaintance. He was a cleric of Suru, after all, and Dain assumed they would look after their own. Also, the cleric seemed to have a Tiefling companion. Whether that was for boon or ill, Dain did not know, but she at least appeared to be genuinely concerned for his well-being. The half-orc was blessed to have that.

As the rest of the gathered parties listened to the guard, or not, Dain stared back down the alley. He could see some distance, and then everything was clutter and shadows. Much like his past. He shouldered his pack and prepared to head off.

"Walk freely, good people." The expression was out before Dain realized, once again, that it was familiar in a frustrating way. He did wave a hand at Carthum, though. "Come find me if you'd like more jerky, friend!"
 

Otiroth

Villager
Otiroth: Alleyways

Otiroth took a step back at the guard's dismissal, but did not outright leave. He was waiting for Metea, and seemed quite worried actually when she started talking back to the guard like that.

Not a good idea, really!

But Carthum had made his own bed- let him lie in it until Suru scooped him up. Otiroth had a shop to get back to, and potions to brew.
 

Jeovanna

Villager
Jeovanna- Alleyways

Grimacing at the situation, Jeovanna would come to the same conclusion as Dain- it was best they move on from here. The promise of violence seemed to have passed, but that did not mean there were other, uglier things happening here.

She'd nod to Dain- they'd walk together for a bit, but only a bit. Jeovanna emptied her wine skin down her throat.

Well. Another trip to the tavern, then.
 
Carthum One-Tusk: Alleyways

Carthum nearly winced. "The council would brand your tongue for speaking like that. All's well. Go home," he instructed his sister.

He imagined his stay would be short. Metea would have a much harder time, and not just because of her tongue.
 

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