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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Snipehunt" data-source="post: 1123706" data-attributes="member: 13142">Order:Drevan/Aesa:21Ivar: 18Townfolk:<a href="http://www14.brinkster.com/nadaka/Experiments/DiceBoxSearch.asp?FindValue=415&SearchFor=RollNum" target="_blank">18</a> Karthak:18?Baldor: 18Horatio/Osric:17?(a lot of 18s- odd.  Make sure you roll separately for cohorts  <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /> - doesn't matter much here.  Baldor, the townsfolk, Ivar, and Karthak have already gone, I'm treating Drevan/Aesa as delaying (staring in shock), Horatio and Osric haven't gone.)Monat stops grabbing for his pistol, and instead rubs his throat, in particular two round marks showing the faint imprint of a quickly-forming bruise where Karthak's index and thumb had grabbed Monat's throat.  Monat watches warily as Ivar runs towards him, but seeing no overt threat in the tall humanoid he disregards him.  Monat considers what Karthak had to say, and listens to Baldor asking Karthak to let go of the stick.  Rage and fear compete behind his eyes, and then all emotion either is eliminated through sheer force of will or is hidden though careful control of emotional display.  He looks at the three guardsmen coming to his aid, and hears the same commotion the party hears from the armory - more guards, and perhaps other reinforcements, will be here shortly.He takes the musket back from Karthak's, and bows his head slightly."A misunderstanding," Monat squeaks.  He clears his throat, and speaks again in the commanding baritone he used earlier.  "A misunderstading, then.  I am sorry for your loss, but I remind you that we of Thristletown have nothing to do with your troubles, and will not be amused by such . . . actions."He backs towards the three guardsmen, checking first to make sure he is not in the path of fire between the guardsmen and the party.  At least a dozen figures quickly approach from the South, many of them obviously carrying muskets.  One hangs towards the shadows and walks with an athletic grace that Ivar and Horatio recognize as similar to their own.The door to the Upstart Raven opens a crack, a sliver of light streaming onto the dark street. and a jowly, elderly man peeks out.</blockquote>

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