IG's "Those Left Behind" Chapter 3

[Shayuri]

"How is you joining the fight and therefore being up there with everyone looking at you inconspicuous?" Talashia wants to know, giving her brother a withering look. "Maybe I should dance on the tables while you're at it?"

She gives the white plume a quick glance from the corner of her eyes.

"No, I think if we sit here and keep an eye on him as we pretend to watch the fights, we'll be fine."

Then an idea comes to her that makes her frown.

"Of course...I wonder where that leaves the others. If they do come up from below, that may well cause problems..."

 

[Scott DeWar]

"Well, I hope gambling won't leave you put off" he starts assessing the fighters in the ring and prepares to guess as to what a good gamble would be.

 

[jkason]

Shaimon Hu'u, barbaric human druid

"Of course...I wonder where that leaves the others. If they do come up from below, that may well cause problems..."

Shai bites his lip a moment, then brightens up.

"Well, they got Dys with 'em, right? So, we just let on that they went chasing my runaway hound and the silly animal took 'em all over the place!"

A blush comes to his face, though, as he adds, "Only, if we do that, maybe no one needs to tell Dys it was my idea to call him silly?"

 

[industrygothica]

"Of course...I wonder where that leaves the others. If they do come up from below, that may well cause problems..."

OOC: Yes, yes it may...
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Rogash and Uulark wander about the darkening streets and do finally manage to find a shoppe that looks like it might carry what they need, though in this area of town one wonders if the weapons will be for sale or simply used against them. Still, the door creaks loudly on the hinges, and taps a small bell hanging from a line attached to the ceiling. A small, withered old man steps out from a back room. "Can I help you?" he asks with a raspy voice.

#​

The slaughter in the cage continues as the others plan their next move. The raucous gets even louder with each of the ham-sized fists that connect with the smaller man. As it is becoming evident that their bets went on the right man, one is forced to wonder just how much more the other can take. The barmaid winces with every roar, and the man in the white plumed hat merely sits in his corner with apparent disinterest.

[sblock=Talashia]Any ordinary man taking going up against this monster wouldn't have lasted past the first blow, and this mouse makes Uulark look almost ordinary.[/sblock]

 

[Scotley]

Rogash

The dwarf glances about at the good in the shop and addresses the shopkeeper. "My good man, perhaps you can help us. My companion is in the market for a bow." He considers the possibility that there might be other items of use in their fight with the Chaos Beast here. "Perhaps a long spear or some alchemist's fire as well..."

 

[Leif]

Uulark Simental, Cleric6, AC18,FF15,T13, HP30/30

"Actually, my good man, I'm looking specifically for something more simple to use than a bow, perhaps you have a light crossbow and some ammunition for it as well?"

 

[Shayuri]

Talashia's expression darkens as she witnesses the acts in the cage, and in the audience.

"No wonder the mayor was so concerned when he heard we were poking around under the city," she murmurs. Her knuckles whiten as she grips the table's edge more tightly. Even so, there are no flickers of lightning. Whatever ritual she'd done with the mephit seemed to have drained some of her power in that regard.

The storm sorceress looks at Caerwyn, increasingly outraged and alarmed.

"You don't think they're going to let this go on until he's -dead- do you?"

 

[Scott DeWar]

the thought of a person being caged like a wild animal starts to wear on Caerwyn.

"I fear not"

 

[jkason]

Shaimon Hu'u, barbaric human druid

"You don't think they're going to let this go on until he's -dead- do you?"

Shai tenses at the thought, watching for someone to call the match before Talashia's fears are realized.

 

[Scott DeWar]

Caerwyn closes his eyes as he watches the slaughter unfold before him, a single bead of sweat forms on his brow, though to the touch he is turning cold. . .