Cute boys (and their adventures)

Game Master FrogConsortium



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h-hello


Jordan is the real dummy


Hello I am a cute rat.

P.S Jordan is a BAKA


***


Godsholme is a place of uncertainty and turbulence at the best of times. The five-tiered city is built upon the backs of the weak and the poor, all in the name and service of the goddess Asriel. Their reverence of Asriel the Betrayed, the Goddess of Truth, Revelation, and Castigation, is what fuels the city's distrust of all things magical. And it was this prevailing superstition that led our heroes to the situation they were currently in…

“Hear ye, hear ye. Today the Venefica Judicium will serve as the final judging grounds of two filthy magic-users, who go by the names Mobir Icemane, and Nerissa Dragonheart. As a special blessing, the great Knight-Captain of the Spellbreakers, Lavinia Nightsbane, has graced us with her presence as Carnifex. Please do not throw anything at the guilty while she resides on stage.” The speaker shuffles off stage, accompanied by the collective groans of disappointment from a projectile-laden crowd.

A very stern, important-looking woman steps briskly up to the stadium, her cloak billowing behind her despite the lack of wind. She eyes the centre of the platform, where Mobir and a female half-elf are tied back-to-back to a large wooden stake, feet covered with dried sticks and hay. Lavinia scowls at them both, before turning back to address the crowd.

“Here before you today stands two criminals accused of witchcraft, the only solution for which is of course auto-de-fé.” The crowd cheers, eager in their desire for death. “However,” she continues “it is common for those vile enough to practice witchcraft to corrupt the minds of innocents. If the accused confess, and provide some useful information on their corruptor’s whereabouts, then I ask that you join me in praying for their souls as we cleanse their sin by fire.” She either ignores or does not care to notice the insults and laughter that her request garners from some of those in the crowd, instead turning around once more to face the two captives.

“How do you plead?”

Okay guys let's get this started! Feel free to write whatever you feel adds to the roleplay. Please keep things written in third person! Present and past tense are both okay, as long as you are consistent. At the bottom of the posting area there is a button that says "How to format your text", click it! I'm not too fussy on formatting (though it's always appreciated of course), but one thing I will insist on is keeping dialogue in bold. Any questions, feel free to ask. This is just the beginning, so I'm expecting a lot of hiccups and experimentation. Don't worry about it! If the worst happens then there's nothing wrong with retconning. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.

Here is a reference for Lavinia

Auto-de-fé translates literally to test of faith, and is the term used to describe the judgement and consequent public execution of criminals of faith; particularly witches and the like. The execution commonly takes the form of some kind of burning.

Kira and Alex, could you please describe where you are and why you're there! Feel free to add any thoughts or try simple skill checks (such as perception!).

Let's have some fun. :)


"I plead... not guilty." Mobir stated, his hands anxiously fidgeting at the ropes looking for some way out of the mess that he found himself in.

"What leads you to believe that I've engaged in the art of witchcraft?" Mobir questioned, taking the insurmountable odds that he can talk his way out of death.

Hoping that someone in the crowd can save him from this situation, Mobir scans the crowd to see if there's anyone that he recognizes who may be able to help him.


Lavinia scowls at Mobir, a look of intense disgust passing over her features.

"We have evidence of that half-elf practicing magic in broad daylight, in front of children! What an absolute atrocity! And you, Mobir, were found last night lying in her arms. What sane being would willingly consort with one so obviously a practitioner of the dark arts? I offered you a chance at redemption in the eyes of Asriel, praise be, and you have spat upon my generosity, Dwarf."

Nerissa, the half-elf, struggles with her bonds as she cries out.

"You have it all wrong! I am not a witch! I've not a single magical bone in my body!"

"Be quiet, witch. Could you then explain how people reported seeing your body float in the sky?! You have no wings! WITCH!"

Lavinia holds one hand out for the closest guard to place an unlit torch in. The Knight-Captain raises it to the sky as she address the crowd. "What say ye, good people of Godsholme?"


Hiding amongst the throng gathered to view this display of what passed for justice in this city, Kira observed the proceedings with a degree of apathy. Try as he might he couldn't see what his charge, a ratfolk ambassador, liked about this place and its foolish superstitions. Even should he dislike the city it was not his place to speak out.

Ever vigilant for threats he scans the crowd and pulls the cloak that covers his head and body tighter.


Kira had always been told by his charge that observation was the first step towards understanding, and understanding was the key to diplomacy. It was why he was here today, watching as the city murdered one of its own the raucous applause.

Though it all seemed a bit sensational and dramatic, his position near the edge of the crowd let him blend into the less enthusiastic folk. It was those near the front that seemed most hungry for blood; the rest were semi-interested at most. Still, the hussle and bussle of an animated crowd had him stumbling this way and that, and yelping every time his tail was stepped on (he really should tuck that away!).

Kira Perception vs Sleight of Hand: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 41d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11

A child, no older than ten or twelve, bumps into the rat. He apologizes before slipping further into the crowd. At first, Kira paid it no heed, but it was only a few seconds more before he realized his coin pouch was considerably lighter. Spinning around, he caught sight of the buy squeezing further into the crowd. He was close!


Abandoning the preceedings, Kira pushed through the crowd, his smaller frame allowing him to slip passed most without them noticing. Gaining on the child he picked up his pace, trying to balance speed with moving quietly so as not to alert the thief.


A look of dread washes over Mobir's face, knowing that every second that passes is a second closer towards his demise.

"You say I'm accused of sleeping with a witch?! I've got no memory of such a thing, this must be the work of her witchcraft. Surely as a man of god myself you must believe me"


"A man of god? Do you know where you are, dwarf? Godsholme is the birthplace of Asriel, the goddess of truth! What god knows of truth and righteousness better than she? Begone with your rubbish, dwarf, and may your god have mercy on you."

Nerissa goes slack, tears wet upon her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Mobir." She says, defeated. "I never meant to drag you into this, you know that, right? I just... needed a break. I was just so sick of running..." The half-elf pauses for a few moments before letting out a small chuckle. "I can't say my love of beards has ever served me well, now that I think about it... Sorry, Mobir, I hope you can forgive me."


Standing disconnected from the huddled crowd, Gwathon silently observed the scene unfolding before him with growing intensity. Though it was not immediately obvious from his appearance, the jaded half-elf was of deep magic origins and the current activity had struck a chord with him. His original intention was to pass through Godsholme briefly for rest and supplies en route to a more lucrative destination, but perhaps he'd stay longer than planned.


Gwathon casually searches the crowd, not looking for anything in particular. Perhaps dues to his natural elvish perception, or perhaps because of his point of view, but the half-elf spotted something quite peculiar. Two members of the crowd in particular, one a skittish-looking halfling, the other a stern dragonborn, looked suddenly intense and disturbed, as if they were listening to something awful. The halfling's eyes bulged, he looked left and right, and within seconds he bolted. The dragonborn gave a terrible scowl, shook his head, and also left with haste. Gwathon had barely a moment to ponder it all when...

Gwathon:
... a voice started speaking in his mind. "Hail, brother. Do not be alarmed. I am obviously one magically inclined, such as yourself, and I am here to beg for your aid. These injustices upon our kind are an atrocity and must be stopped! I can stand by and watch no longer! Join me, brother! I beg of you. Stop this madness!" The voice, baritone and obviously male, disappeared.

"Praise be to Asriel, great goddess. May she shine the scorching light of truth upon all heathens and non-believers." Lavinia makes a symbol of prayer with her free hand as the torch is lit by one of the guardsmen. She takes a step towards the stake, makes another religious motion, then lit the pyre.

"STOP THIS MADNESS!" A cacophonous bang snaps through the area, followed quickly by a heavy smog that materialized as if from no where. "Our kind has suffered long enough at the hands of your ridiculous superstitions. We will not lay down and die for your zealotry any longer! Begone!" From the darkness emerges two figures. The first a woman who could be considered amazonian by any measure of the word. She flies out foot-first, catching Lavinia upon the chest and sending her sprawling. She lands with a roll, which sends her bounding forward with no loss of momentum. Though most of the guards stair dumbfounded, she only takes that as an invitation to strike first; laying into them with aggressive martial arts maneuvers.

The other to emerge from the magical darkness was an old man. His skin was bronzed, and his head shaved bald, aside from a prominent grey mustache. "I am sorry for our tardiness. I had to time this perfectly. Be free, we do not have much time. I will explain when we are safe!" He cuts the two captives free, careful to pull them out of the still-burning flames without injury. "I-"

The man gasps as a crossbow bolt buries itself into his shoulder, causing it to go limp. Looking back, Lavinia could be seen, her hair and clothing in disarray, reloading the crossbow for a second shot. "You will not escape me, wizard scum. To arms men!" The crossbow lines up, perfectly aimed at the man's heart. Her fingers moves to pull the trigger and...

Kira:
The child darts this way and that, evading the rat at every turn. He comes close time and time again, but as luck would have it someone from the crowd always seems to move into his way. At last, though, he has the boy cornered between him and the edge of the crowd. The kid looks at the coin pouch, then to Kira, then back to the pouch. He squeals and throws it in the air before scampering away. Not one to lose his prize after such a hunt, the rat jumps for his coin purse, snatching it to his chest before it could go far. However fate would not let his adventure end so safely. The crowd, seemingly more and more agitated, suddenly swells together, squeezing poor Kira out through a gap and sending him tumbling forward, head over heels.

...a ratfolk man comes tumbling from the crowd and crashes into her leg, sending the bolt flying way off course. Lavinia looked down at the interruption, bemused and utterly furious. Looking back, Kira could see the crowd pushed tight together, cutting off his retreat. To the left and right guards stood, hefting lances and longswords. The only direction to go was forwards, into the madness.


Mobir stood frozen in place, in shock from what had just occurred. He didn't know who these people were, but he knew that they were now allies of his.

"Thank you for saving me from this mess, I don't know who you people are but in order to save someone such as myself you must also be followers of Angradd, correct? In that case, we fight for each other. What do you suppose we do to get out of here?"


"Angradd? No, no, friend. I am just a man sick of seeing innocent people die. I will fight with you regardless, and- Aella!" He points to the front of the stage, where Lavinia has a knife ready to stab into the neck of Kira. "The boy!"

The woman flies as if with wings, landing on her toes, leg outstretched. Her foot snaps out, kicking the knife from Lavinia's hand. Aella reaches down, snatching up Kira and jumping back up onto the stage with his light weight under arm.

By now the crowd is beginning to scatter, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire or blamed for assisting rebels and witches. It was not uncommon for those in the wrong place at the wrong time to be tried for something they never did.


Confused by the sudden change in situation, Kira goes limp in the strange persons arms and decides going along with it would be a whole lot better than dying because of some crazed witch hunt.


From the now rapidly dispersing crowd, Gwathon points at the two new emergent figures and casts Message.

"I'm with you. Just say the word."


The man turns his head, scanning the crowd for someone in particular. His eyes finally lock upon Gwathon's, where they hold his gaze for a few moments. He nods, and makes a motion with his hand.
Before Gwathon, the frantic crowd parts, almost imperceptibly, leaving a small path for him to traverse. The path ends at the back of one of the distracted guards, near the front of the stage.

Aella, the martial artist, places Kira gently down at her feet. She smiles at him, patting at the fur between his ears. She turns to the man, a questioning look painted upon her face.
"A moment yet, Aella. We have one more to take with us."
She nods, and returns to her intercepting position between the group and the slowly encroaching, cautious guards.


"You're sick of seeing innocent people die, then we're one and the same. I'm also with you."
Mobir walks forwards though the crowd towards the rest of the surprising group of heroes, hoping not to get caught up in any more commotion.


His ears twitching with the shame of being petted, Kira shrinks into his coat and tries to imperceptibly slink out of the spot light and look for a way out.


Noting the egress that had formed inside the crowd as if it were the parting of the Red Sea, Gwathon confidently walks through and up on to the stage, greeting the ragtag individuals before him.


Lavinia looks around, eyes wide in bewilderment. For what was already an unusual, crazy situation, she'd never believe citizens would join the heretics rather than escape.
"I... what... Whatever, you've all condemned yourselves! Fools! Men, move in! Do not let them escape!" Though wary of the dangers of magic, the guards that ringed the Venefica Judicium begrudgingly edged forward, hands steady upon pikes and swords.

"Aella it is time to leave. We must fly, friends." The man made a symbol with his hands and the magical darkness surged outwards, swallowing up friend and foe alike. A gnarled hand grabbed Gwathon by the wrist, guiding him with haste north, towards the back of the stage. Aella motioned for Mobir to move, whilst placing her hand upon the scruff of Kira's neck to guide him along, not sure if such a small creature could keep up.

The group burst forth from the darkness, the warrior-woman landing feet first upon a shocked guard. They rushed off towards the end of the alley, Aella splitting off to the left to take care of frightened guard, leaving Mobir to deal with the man on the right.
"Follow us. Do not stray or lag behind! We have no time to stop, they will be upon us in seconds."

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