Geoffrey's Finest (Inactive)

Game Master CampinCarl9127

"I'd tell you to do the same thing but your tiny brain might explode from the effort." He laughs, shoving Bjorkus again. More slaves turn to look, a few of them begin muttering, and there are two isolated cries of "Fight!"

Bjorkus puts his huge fists up but stands his ground, refusing to throw the first punch. He studies the drow's expression. Someone had to have put him up to this, the question was to what end.

Sense Motive: 10 + 11 = 21

Bjorkus watches him closely...and after a moment believes the half-drow doesn't wish him any harm. But even as he comes to that thought the half-drow whips a hand forward. Bjorkus deflects the strike with his forearm, but then feels a hand on his opposite leg and in the next moment is flipped down to the ground.

Attack;Grapple: 1d20 ⇒ 31d20 ⇒ 14

On the ground and wrestling for control, the half-drow leans down and whispers to Bjorkus. "Re wux vin ekgos di vis."

"You will have two contacts while in Yenrick. A dwarf who goes by Yorden Gravelheart...The other is Kienyach, a half-drow who's one of the lowest slaves under Targ. Not an official Aestheric but he tells us where Targ moves and who is seen in his camp in exchange for us giving food and money to his human family. He's one of Targ's prized pit fighters and harder to kill than sand."

The bull wrestles back, overpowering his opponent one moment but holding back the next to keep the fight going. He grunts loudly as he rolls the drow around onto his back again.

~Slave Pits~

Kienyach gives a slight nod, continuing to try and assert dominance in the fight but not going for any punches.

In a few more seconds four white cloaks shove through the crowd, reaching down in wrenching the two apart. "Break it up you two! Take it out on the field!" Kienyach snorts, spinning and getting back into line.

Gabriel: 1d3 ⇒ 3
Bjorkus: 1d3 ⇒ 2
Edward: 1d3 ⇒ 1
Kienyach: 1d3 ⇒ 2
Roran: 1d3 ⇒ 1

After everybody gets their armor or shield (which you need to specify) each slave gets a blotch of paint on their shoulder. Looking around shows a total of 3 colors: red, blue, and yellow. Gabriel finds himself in the yellow group, and Bjorkus finds himself in the blue group with Kienyach. Edward and Roran are assigned to the red group, standing on opposite sides of it.

"Get to your gates, now you pathetic worms!"

~Stands~

A drum sounds, quieting the audience. People begin milling back towards their seats as the last of the food bearing slaves make their way around. The fat man stands again, gathering attention. "Soon the second match will begin! Say hello to all of the competitors!"

~Everybody~

Three separate gates raise, each revealing a group of a eight slaves. Each different group has a color painted on their shoulder. Gabriel stands with the yellow group, Bjorkus and the half-drow [ooc](I'll begin referring to him as Kienyach now) are with the blue group, while the large human (Roran) and the knightly human (Edward) are in the red group. They all have either some armor or a shield, but no weapons. As they stand there blinking in the sun, a group of non-combatant slaves make their way to the center with a wagon full of weapons. They dump them in the center, arranging them in a rough pyramid. At the same time a dozen white cloaks come from a fourth gate, aiming drawn bows at combatant slaves. The meaning is clear. Remain where you are.

"There are two ways to win this match! One is if a single color scores ten kills! The other is...last color standing!" There are cheers and roars of approval, the interesting fight firing up the audience. [bigger]"There are six bets to be made! One for each color being the last color standing, and one for each color earning ten kills! The former gives double your bet back, the latter gives triple, let the bets begin!" The people taking bets being scrambling around, one of them finding his way to Dalton eventually. Down in the sand the white cloaks hold their bows steady.

The pyramid of weapons has a few options. The centerpiece is a greataxe made from the charred bone of some very large animal. Three longswords lean against it, and over the longswords are six spears also balanced against the greataxe. Scattered just around the bottom of the longspears are: 2 daggers, 2 punching daggers, 4 throwing axes, and 2 morningstars. While most of the weapons look fairly accessible, the greataxe seems buried enough to take a minute to get out.

Bjorkus picks out another set of the ornamental gladiator armor similar to the suit he wore in the last bout (chain shirt). He rumbles unhappily when the half-drow ends up next to him and bumps him roughly with a shoulder. After his message is delivered, he makes it a point to keep some distance between himself and Kienyach.

"Leave the axe, it's a fool's gamble, and stick together. Focus on the other combatants - cutting down the whelps isn't gunna do much to win the crowd over", 'Ares' warns his team.

"And whatever you do, nobody lays a finger on the pretty one, he's mine."

Gabriel wasn't exactly certain which was worse. That he was still feeling sick and injured from his last fight, that he was facing against both his friends, who weren't even on the same team, or that this looked like it was turning out to be a brawl to the death. At the very least he hoped Edward and Bjorkus were advising the teams they were on about the same thing he was about to say.

"Alright, the only one we really need to worry about is that bastard Rolan. If you find yourself facing him... well... don't. Avoid him. Leave him to top fighters and you know exactly who I mean when I say that. Avoid lethal shots as much as you can and protect yourselves. The point isn't too win, it's too survive. If enough of us are knocked out, hopefully that will count for their 'last man standing' rule. At the very least... I won't let the slavers take your lives without taking mine first..." Rambling. All he could do was ramble and hope and pray. Gabriel felt helpless, and he hated the feeling, but he knew none of this death fell on him.

Acera and her kind, those who knew what they were and reveled in it. Gabriel felt nothing but a cold, steely determination when he thought of them now. Even the bruise on his face only bothered him a little in that mind frame. Gabriel adjusts the chain shirt he wore and glances to Edward and Bjorkus, hoping they would give similar instructions to those they fought beside. Gabriel tried to think, tried to plot a clever way to solve this without losing anyone else, but again he fell short.

"Thats not good enough..." He mutters, "You need to do better Gabriel... but... what...?" He stares at the weapon, then realizes the answer with a grin.

"YOU LOT WANT TO DO THIS WITH WEAPONS LIKE COWARDS, OR DO YOU WANT TO SEE A REAL FIGHT?!" He yells to the other teams, to the stands, to anyone that could hear. He does not take a step forward but he does raise his fists into the air, "I WON'T BE TAKING ONE! I'LL BE TAKING YOU DOWN WITH MY FISTS ALONE! COME AT ME WITH A WEAPON IF YOU FEAR THAT!"

He turns to his team and raises his fists again, then in a much softer voice says, "Help me turn this into a fist fight and all of us can get out alive! Roran's the only one who won't go with it, the sadistic bastard, but -avoid- him. Do not pick up a weapon to fight him or you might scare the other groups into getting one to fight you. If he's the only one we might be able to shame him, but either way the tops can take him down if they work together."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (14) + 12 = 26

Rilka is stunned by the fight’s conclusion. She stands there shaking her head as Bjorkus addresses the crowd. She cheers along with the others, looking to see if there are any more fervent sections or people. She imagines hearing Ares’ name chanted by the crowd. The halfling tells herself to ask Dalton for coin for paying off some cheerers for another match when Yix interrupts her train of thought.

”I am quite well,” she says with a slight smile. Not expressing happiness or pleasure. ”It’s kind of you to ask.”

She listens attentively to Toramin’s conversation while scanning the crowd around them for any signs of eavesdropping.

When Dalton takes a pepper, the halfling says, ”If you like the peppers, I saw a seller of goat and pepper kebabs. Not far away.” She rattles the coin purse on her belt. ”I also saw a place selling beer battered mushrooms,” she adds to Toramin.

If she has time before the next match she’ll try to secretly spread some coin around to people to cheer for Ares.

Some of the slaves look at each other, mumbling. There is scattered nodding at Gabriel's words. But up in the stands the fat man turns his head at something Targ says, then smiles and announces "Fallen combatants will be considered dead, and their bodies treated as such." Targ is leaning his cheek against his hand, an amused and cruel smile on his face as he gazes down at the slaves.

"The bets have concluded, set the battlefield!" There's a brief pause, then the ground starts shuddering. Four boulders push out of the ground, each ten feet tall with rough and notched sides. Wooden platforms bridge them together at the top, each having a support beam; all in all the wooden platforms look unstable. On the top of each rock is a single longbow with 5 arrows.

"Begin!" The crowd roars it's approval as the white cloaks slip out of the arena. Acera motions with one of her hands, but the only effect seems to be a slight disturbance to the air and the wind down inside the arena becoming still.

Roran is the first to react, and he goes strait for the pile of weapons. "Come on you pansies, you want to live forever!?" He just begins reaching the pile as others begin moving. Gabriel's group gives him a sympathetic look, then rushes off to arm themselves. One man aims for the rock next to him, scaling it quickly and reaching the top. Another aims for the rock to the southwest corner, but can't get a good grip. The others all aim for the pile, two of them managing to grab spears.

Map is set.

Init Order
Roran
Yellow (Gabriel's Group)
Bjorkus
Red (Roran/Edward's Group)
Blue (Bjorkus/Kienyach's Group)
Kienyach
Gabriel
Edward

Pile
Greataxe
Longsword x3
Spear x4
Dagger x2
Punching Dagger x2
Throwing Axes x4
Morningstar x2

"Remember the plan!" 'Ares' roars as he rushes forward and grabs for a spear.

I've color coded the slaves for convenience. Also the wooden bridges are very rickety looking, and can probably be knocked over or broken with enough force.

Bjorkus moves forward with his high speed and grabs a spear from the pile.

The red group runs forward, but started too far from the weapons to grab any of them. One of them goes for the northern rock.

The blue group also moves forward, two of them going for different rocks while the other four head to the main pile.

Kienyach watches as the rest of the numbers scatter, then he sprints and runs strait up a rock, not even using his hands until he reaches the top and pulls himself up. He vaults forward, moving halfway across the rickety planks over the gathering slaves with one arm held out for balance. He covered more ground than most of the slaves, and that includes going up a ten foot rock and balancing on swaying planks.

Init Order
Roran
Yellow (Gabriel's Group)
Bjorkus
Red (Roran/Edward's Group)
Blue (Bjorkus/Kienyach's Group)
Kienyach
Gabriel
Edward

Pile
Greataxe
Longsword x3
Spear x3
Dagger x2
Punching Dagger x2
Throwing Axes x4
Morningstar x2

Gabriel glares at the fat man and the giant sitting beside him. They had known what he had been trying to do and had turned it into a fight to the death, rather then something people could survive. Gabriel turns to look at the pile and then does the only thing he could in this situation. He runs forward to grab any of the weapons and then would turn his attention to the cruel human that had spurned on the bloodbath. He would not take an innocent life, and the one who arguably deserved death was Roran. Even that man Gabriel wasn't certain of. He certainly had no honor, but perhaps he was simply a product of these lands. Either way, with that man down there would be a lot less bloodshed before this battle was over.

Gabriel will try and grab any weapon other then a punching dagger, though a longspear would be preferable. (You describe them as such in your post, but you list them as regular spears so I am confused). Gabriel has enough move to get to the pile and then his standard to grab one, I think.

diplomacy: 1d20 + 1 + 1d6 ⇒ (1) + 1 + (1) = 3 using 1 inspiration point for Diplomacy; now at IP: 3/4.
sleight of hand: 1d20 + 5 + 1d6 ⇒ (15) + 5 + (5) = 25

What an interesting roll for diplomacy :(

One day they will listen to a mere slave. But it is not this day!

~Stands~

An angry looking white cloak comes back with Rilka in tow. He shoves her into Dalton. "Have your slaves keep their hands to themselves. It's not the time or place for that sort of...business."

Gabriel runs to the pile, grabbing a spear. Edward also runs to the pile, but he grabs a longsword.

Roran begins tossing the spears and longswords aside, digging in for the greataxe. After a few seconds he gets a hand on it, but he is in a very vulnerable position. Edward you may make an AoO on Roran if you wish.

The two yellow slaves who have spears begin attacking the closest group; blue. Both of their attacks just miss. Another yellow slave steps up and grabs a morningstar, swinging it a blue slave. He connects, and with an audible cracking of ribs the first hit is made. The crowd feeds off of it like a pack of sharks, egging on the slaves. The yellow slave who climbed the rock picks up the bow, firing off an arrow into the red slaves but it buries itself in the sand harmlessly. The other yellow slave finally gets to the top of the rock, grabbing the bow and nocking an arrow. The other two yellow slaves cover themselves, unable to reach the pile with how crowded it has become.

Init Order
Bjorkus
Red (Roran/Edward's Group)
Blue (Bjorkus/Kienyach's Group)
Kienyach
Gabriel
Edward
Roran
Yellow (Gabriel's Group)

Pile
Greataxe
Longsword
Spear x3
Dagger x2
Punching Dagger x2
Throwing Axes x4
Morningstar

Oh, I thought they were longspears. In that case, Bjorkus would have gone for a longsword.

Bjorkus steps over and cleaves into the nearest red fighter. "Keep at it! Hold the line!" he bellows.

Sword: 1d20 + 9 - 2 ⇒ (13) + 9 - 2 = 20
Damage: 1d8 + 7 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 7 + 6 = 16

I'm going to assume you mean red slave by your movement.

Bjorkus takes a longsword, burying it through the collarbone of the nearest red slave and dropping him quickly. The crowd cheers it's approval at the first kill, rooting on the blue team.

The red slaves try to shove off their attackers and begin grabbing weapons. One leans over to grab a dagger in front of Bjorkus, provoking an attack. The one by the northern rock faces difficulty scaling the object. The other red slaves all arm themselves, one of them quickly moving up and giving Gabriel a shallow puncture wound with a punching dagger. 3 damage Gabriel.

The blue slaves both find trouble climbing the rocks, both falling back on their butts. One man makes a reckless rush for the weapons, taking a wound to the side in the process but managing to get his hands on the other morningstar. As another blue slave reaches for a weapon a red slave slashes at him with a dagger, but the weapon slips form his hand and lands in the dirt. The crowd laughs, but seems more amused than disdainful. Two blue slaves attack, one landing a glancing blow on a yellow slave with his punching dagger.

Kienyach nimbly charges across the rickety wooden planks, then nearly shatters the yellow slave's jaw who is wielding a bow. Teeth fall from his mouth as he steps back with wide eyes.

Init Order
Bjorkus
Red (Roran/Edward's Group)
Blue (Bjorkus/Kienyach's Group)
Kienyach
Gabriel
Edward
Roran
Yellow (Gabriel's Group)

Gabriel takes his shot, swinging the sword he had just picked up and aiming for the brutes hand. If only he could hit it, he could debilitate the bastard!

Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10 (Called Shot to Hand -5, Focused Power Attack -0, Bab +5, Str +4)
Damage: 1d8 + 12 ⇒ (4) + 12 = 16 (Str +6, Power Attack +6)

"Bravo. Well done." Lindale copies the attitude of the crowd but is glad that Bjorkus looks to be leading his team to win.

DMPC Gabriel

Gabriel misses, but lashes out again at Roran's hand.

Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10

But his attack has the same results as before.

Edward runs around the majority of his group, swinging his longsword at a yellow slave. But his blade gets sidestepped by the slave.

Roran finally pulls the greataxe free (provoking an another attack from Gabriel), and with a vicious smile roars, bringing it towards Gabriel. The blade bites deep into his arm, leaving a ragged wound. 17 damage Gabriel.

The yellow group acts, three of them grouping up on one of the blue slaves. Two of them impale him with their spear, making him scream and drop to the ground. The two yellow slaves with longbows fire them, one stepping back and firing at Kienyach while the other fires at the blue slave attempting to climb the rock he's on. The one to the west loses control of the bow, letting the string snap early as the arrow nearly buries in the man's own foot. The other one fires wide, missing Kienyach.

Init Order
Bjorkus
Red (Roran/Edward's Group)
Blue (Bjorkus/Kienyach's Group)
Kienyach
Gabriel
Edward
Roran
Yellow (Gabriel's Group)

~Stands~

As the party watches the fight, Toramin feels a tap on his shoulder. Turning he sees one of the masked healers. "Excuse me kind dwarf, would you mind to have a word in private with me? A simple request, not a demand. I have heard from a mutual friend that you want to influence the city in a positive manner." Yix sits quietly munching on his peppers, but there's a slight smile on his face.

A moment later a raggedy looking halfling pulls at Dalton's sleeve, giving a deep bow. "Excuse my rudeness master, but I am new to the city and my own master has requested I visit the marketplace to purchase him some food for the fights. But I am unsure how to get there and was wondering if your own halfling slave had the time to help me there. I wouldn't want to keep your own important self from watching the spectacle, of course."

Gabriel grimaces, but takes his second shot, this time not bothering for the mans hand. He comes at Gabe, but the tiefling takes it in the arm rather then somewhere more vital. Then, with a growl, Gabriel retaliates. "You sadistic bastard!"

AoO Attack: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18
AoO Damage: 1d8 + 12 ⇒ (5) + 12 = 17

Attack: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14
Damage: 1d8 + 12 ⇒ (6) + 12 = 18

Gabe is going just attack him. With all the chances I've had, I could have downed him with regular attacks at my damage... maybe. XD And it seems my other post disappeared but the DM had Gabe do exactly what I posted anyway.

Gabriel uses the press of the bodies to hide a little trickery, he would duck down a moment and his arm would spark with healing power, sealing a good portion of the horrid wound just inflicted on his arm. A single bright spark of every color leaps through his arm. For a moment it was blindingly painful, then it was blindingly sweet as he felt the wound heal and the pain fade. His cheek felt better too and Gabriel wondered if he had unintentionally healed that as well. Either way, the tiefling stood ready to take on the brute of a man before him.

Lay on Hands: 2d6 + 6 ⇒ (6, 6) + 6 = 18

Crowd Perception: 1d20 + 16 - 8 - 4 ⇒ (8) + 16 - 8 - 4 = 12

In the confusion of the large battle combined with the cover by the massive rocks, nobody in the crowd seems to notice Gabriel healing himself.

Bjorkus notes Gabriel squaring off with Targ’s prize thug but finds himself busy keeping the tide of opponents from overwhelming his team. The bull slashes at the next red-aligned slave and then gestures for his teammates to support the western flank. ”Give ‘em a hand. I’ve got this side.”

Sword: 1d20 + 9 - 2 ⇒ (10) + 9 - 2 = 17
Damage: 1d8 + 7 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 7 + 6 = 14

Bjorkus is trying to get his team to circle left.

"Lead on healer. I would be happy to speak of the common weal."

Bjorkus impales one of the red slaves through the chest, kicking him off the red blade. The crowd loves the violent display, now completely rooting on the blue team to victory. Crowd is now helpful towards the blue team. Bjorkus, you may take a move action this round if you wish.

The red slave attempting to climb the rock can still find no purchase. The two red slaves with spears frantically try to keep Bjorkus from sowing more chaos, but the half-minotaur sidesteps one stab and lets the other scrape off his armor. The red slave with the punching dagger tries for Gabriel again, but this time his attack is dodged.

The blue slaves start trying to push through the yellow ones. One lands a hit with his longsword, but the other misses with his dagger. The one to the southwest gets up his rock quickly and starts wrestling the yellow slave for control of the bow. The other blue slave listens to Bjorkus, giving up climbing the rock and moving to the pile to help against the yellow onslaught.

Kienyach closes the gap with the archer on the southeast and with a flurry of strikes leaves the man broken and bleeding on the ground.

With two strikes Gabriel bloodies Roran badly with a wound to the leg and to the side. The big man roars, undaunted and swings the greataxe again. It buries into Gabriel's side, leaving a deep wound that burns. The axe begins to develop cracks in the bone which glow a dull red.

Edward makes another cut that scrapes of a yellow slave's armor.

The yellow slaves keep fighting. One of them misses, but between a morningstar and a spear they kill another blue slave. Some of the crowd members begin cheering for the yellow slaves. Crowd is now friendly towards the yellow team. A yellow slave steps up to the pile, grabbing the last spear. The yellow slave wrestling the blue one for control of the bow takes control of the grapple.

Init Order
Bjorkus
Red (Roran/Edward's Group)
Blue (Bjorkus/Kienyach's Group)
Kienyach
Gabriel
Edward
Roran
Yellow (Gabriel's Group)

~Toramin~

The masked healer nods, showing Toramin to a private alcove underneath the Colosseum. Other masked men roam about, some of them listening in as well. "Our common friend Yix Windsoul told me of your idea." Thinking back, Toramin doesn't remember Yix even getting up. "I want to let you know you have our full support and cooperation in this endeavor." He shakes his head. "Ah but where are my manners, you must be wondering who we are. We are the Irisvari persvek wer inik, a pacifist group founded by druids and nature-inclined clerics to help bring life to this desolate land. We believe your idea to help those in need would be a brilliant point that would help us achieve our goals. Among us are learned men who could be the teachers as well." Several nod in agreement with him. "We would like to hear your plan in detail. That is, if you have the time. There are scrying pools that you can view the battle with if you wish." If Toramin agrees, he is led to a semi-comfortable room that has writing tools and is brought something to drink to discuss his plans in comfort.

Hrm. Not much to do with a move action.

Bjorkus is stirred by the crowd's praise. "You hear that? They love us. Keep it up!"

Riding the crowd’s enthusiasm, ‘Ares’ shows disdain for his opponents and forgoes an opportunity to strike to instead roar a battlecry.

Inspiring. Bjorkus is going to include his team and Gabe if he can do so in a way that isn’t obvious.

”Cut ‘em down! Push ‘em back!”

Windsoul? That cat is a sorcerer or I would eat a boot.

Toramin bows to the masked healer, "I am Toramin Trealamhgabha, sworn to Torag. I would be happy to discuss my plans with you. Your order know these lands and the needs of their people. As the elders say, 'In the voices of many, wisdom may be found.' Is it safe to discuss things openly here? I am not looking to break any laws at this time, but my perusal of the laws suggest that its enforcers have great juridical power to determine was it meet and unmeet."

The paladin waves away the suggestion that he might want to view the fights. "I care not to see the blood of the weak shed to lake the thirst of the mighty. Aires can take care of himself."

~Toramin~

"You may speak freely here. We have not ever had a problem with the Aussirian Legion. They are unaware of this location anyways."

You guys just do not care about those sense motive checks at all.

Bjorkus pushes the blue team to further heights, spurring them forth. Gabriel feels the strength in his words as well.

The red slave finally climbs the rock, grabbing the longbow and nocking an arrow. The two slaves in front of Bjorkus see him as the bigger threat, both trying to take him down. However they bump into each other in an embarrasing display, both of them nearly dropping their weapons. The crowd begins to laugh at them, cheering for their demise. Crowd is now unfriendly towards the red team. The most southern red slave gives Gabriel a piercing wound with his punching dagger for the second time, earning an approving glance from Roran.

The blue slave helping Bjorkus takes the morningstar to the red slave's skill, cracking it and dropping the man to the ground. The blue slave who just reached the pile picks up a throwing axe, dodging a yellow slave's attacking and putting the axe into the man's shoulder. The other blue slave misses while the one wrestling for the longbow gains control of the grapple again.

Kienyach sprints across the wooden boards, jumping over a corner and punching the red slave with the longbow in the stomach, making him double over in pain.

Init Order
Bjorkus
Red (Roran/Edward's Group)
Blue (Bjorkus/Kienyach's Group)
Kienyach
Gabriel
Edward
Roran
Yellow (Gabriel's Group)

"Well, then, let us get down to it. The problem as I see it is that socially, economically, and spiritually this city cannot sustain itself. The persons at the top see all those below them as resources to be exploited and consumed. Most social systems have their share of corruption, but generate enough new resources to sustain themselves over time -- for a time.

In such extreme conditions, the people not benefitting from the decadence are placed in a constant struggle to survive. There is little thought for the future. There is even less strategy for better futures might be achieved. My goal is to help provide the resources and education to help those who are managing to survive to strategize, coordinate and cooperate together so that mere survival is not their goal. Rather their goal is to thrive and uplift those around them. Unfortunately given the predatory nature of the current social order, this must be done in such a way to not encourage the avarice of those in power or expose the common to further abuse. Are we in agreement concerning the nature of the problem?"

Gabriel, bolstered by Bjorkus, bolstered by the cheering crowd despite the bloodlust that fills them, takes another hard stab at his cruel opponent with the spear in his hands. That glowing axe bothers him, but he does not stop. His new injury only seems to further drive the tiefling to finish this fight

Attack: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (5) + 11 = 16
Damage: 1d8 + 13 ⇒ (1) + 13 = 14

I meant to post this ages ago but didn't somehow... It would have been sent by Lindale just after encountering the 'lead box' and 'Lolth' and finding the two possibly connected. The nickname I used was stolen from the Wiki as an attempt to hide what he is writing.

Gabriel scores another hit, but what Roran lacks in nimbleness he seems to make up for in raw toughness. Even with the three terrible wounds on him he fights on, roaring and swinging the glowing axe again. The axe bits into Gabriel's side, and with a grunt the paladin falls to his knees, losing consciousness. Roran laughs and tries to pull the weapon out, but as he does so the cracks suddenly flare out with fire and with a horrible screeching noise the axe explodes, sending hot bone shards everywhere! The shards rip through the two warriors, adding even more injury to the severally wounded Gabriel and felling Roran as well. The red slave next to them takes shards as well, but he hadn't been hit yet and manages to remain standing.

The red slave who was injured by the bone shards looks down at the dying Gabriel with a blood filled grin. He rears back his punching dagger and thrusts it towards Gabriel's throat...then with a violent spurt of blood a longsword exits his chest. He turns in shock, seeing that Edward, his own teammate has impaled him. The knightly human looks sad about killing the man, letting him slide off the blade gently.

The yellow slaves keep on pushing towards the blue ones, one scoring a hit against the one adjacent to the pile and another hitting the other one. But both men stand through the wounds. The yellow slave wrestling for the longbow appears to be losing control of the fight.

Init Order
Bjorkus
Red (Roran/Edward's Group)
Blue (Bjorkus/Kienyach's Group)
Kienyach
Gabriel
Edward
Roran
Yellow (Gabriel's Group)

Dalton felt powerless - again - to do anything for them in the trenches of the arena below. Yet he couldn't contest the fact his positioning was superior if one needed to follow the paths of Targ or his witch.

Stay strong down there.

"I am not suggesting a rebellion. At least not at the moment. If I started a rebellion now, even were it successful, it would be at best a cult of personality. I would have given the people a goal; I would have failed to teach them to strategize -- failed to teach them how to cooperate with each other. Uplift -- if it is to succeed -- cannot be about one person or group. It has to be for the common weal by the common. It is they who have to own it. It is they who have to choose what their goals are and how to achieve them. It is they who will ultimately bear its costs.

You are not wrong that rebellion will cost many people's lives. But the rulers are not all powerful. No single person can overcome the united will of the common. If every slave rose up: the white cloaks would be overrun, Targ would be pulled down, and his wizard would flee or be buried. It is not like the common hasn't had to overcome un-killable evils in the past. But the price of freedom would be immense. I will not choose that for a people. Freedom is not a balm for my pride. This system will fall -- either by consuming itself or revolution -- but I will not choose for them. If Akropash is to be free, then Akropash must choose to be free. My hope is that I am able to show them they have more options than they imagined and that they are able to choose. That is uplift. That is the foundation of autonomy."

~Stands~

As Dalton broods and mentally bites his nails at the fighting, he hears somebody clear their throat behind him. Dalton turns to see an enormous human in elaborate and expensive looking robes. The man is a giant in height, but his girth is something to marvel at as well. He has multiple chins dribbling over the top of his silks and a large, waxy looking mustache that stays impossible aloft. "Greetings, I am Gahiji Rahotep. I am one of the primary merchants that deals with trading goods for Akropash. I could not help but notice that your slave, the half-minotaur, has been doing exceptionally well these past two fights. Mine is that knightly looking fellow, I believe his name is Eddy. Anyways I saw you sitting here and said to my self, "Well g*~ d%$nit with a fighter like that for a slave he ought to be sitting with the best!" So here I found myself, offering you a seat at my balcony to partake of my food and have good conversation." He gives a broad smile, a gold molar showing.

~Toramin~

The masked men stare at Toramin for a bit, then one stands who seems to be elderly judging by his voice and wrinkled hands. "You are very well spoken, son of stone. Please excuse us for a moment to discuss what you have put forth."

Toramin is shown the door, and after a few minutes let back in. The same elderly masked men sits in a wooden chair, arms folded on a cane. "You see well into the future and how your actions can impact those around you. You understand well the possible consequences of your actions, but at the same time intend to do nothing but help feed and educate those who need it. To that end we will help you in whatever way we can." He stands. "And so it will be." The others all stand and echo him. "And so it will be." Three masked men sit down with Toramin to discuss the finer details and how to begin this massive operation. See discussion.

Bjorkus's eye grow wide at the sight of Gabriel's fall and the resulting explosion. Damn.

The bull considers his own potentially-trapped blade but shakes his head and, lowering his horned head, takes off for the wounded paladin. He barrels past two of his opponents and moves in to both flank the yellow team and stand guard over Gabriel. Provoking from the red slave, the yellow slave near Edward, and Edward (if he's taking it).

In a better position he hacks at another yellow slave.

Sword (Inspire): 1d20 + 9 - 2 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 9 - 2 + 1 = 19
Damage: 1d8 + 7 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 7 + 6 + 1 = 19

Inspiring for one more round.

"Come on you sods. You gunna make me do all the work?" he roars.

Toramin will proceed to lay out a mixture of short term and long term goals. At each point he invites questions, clarification, analysis, etc. At its core this project must be collaborative.

Short Term Goals:

1. Begin to provide basic services: food, clothing, basic medicine, shelter. This shelter needs to be relatively safe and hidden. Preferably, these shelters can be connected by underground passage ways. (Toramin will also mention that they are looking for a new place to stay themselves. In a perfect world, he would like to purchase a villa/house that is connected to several shelters through the underground passage ways.) Providing basic services will not only alleviate some of the hardship of surviving in Akropash it builds trust and confidence in the project itself among the populace.

2. Identify and Educate new leadership in Akropash: Not the strongest, but the most intelligent, the wisest, the charismatic. The first wave cannot be hot-heads or revenge seekers. Uplift those who can think long term first. Some of these new leaders might become priests, mages, and bards -- swelling the number of those who can help or are at least sympathetic to the aims of Irisvari persvek wer inik. (Toramin wouldn't mention it, but he hopes to initiate some priests of Torag along the way.) Uplift those who can contribute to further uplift. Grow a network of leadership. Encourage them to think through what sort of Akropash they would want to live. Show them that by helping others and improving their lives, they improve their own. If revolution ever comes, there will need to be a strong political and social power structure in place -- waiting to step up and assume transparent leadership. Akropash does not need new warlords. These new leaders must be cultivated amongst both slaves and the free men.

Long-Term Goals:

1. Unify the slave and the free: Are the free men in contact with slave leadership? If not, get them in contact. Show them they are in the same situation; that to Targ they are all slaves or potential slaves. That ultimately they share the same hardship and fates. Create new lines of communication. Slave status cannot be a wedge between the people of Akropash.

2. Fill the power vacuum: There are disparate power groups in Akropash. At present these groups serve Targ's interests more than their own. The are lightening rods for the disatisfied. Targ doesn't need to wonder where his internal enemies are. They have congregated and squabble amongst themselves, further decreasing their own relative standing. How can their resources be co-opted, nullified, and brought into unity with our own? Peacefully of course.

3. Mass education: Branch out from the new leaders to a wider audience, using those trained as leaders to teach themselves and create close-knit networks. This is where educating the leaders will pay dividends. Irisvari persvek wer inik cannot educate and lead the entire city while bringing life to the desert, but they can uplift those who can.

~Stands~

As Dalton broods and mentally bites his nails at the fighting, he hears somebody clear their throat behind him. Dalton turns to see an enormous human in elaborate and expensive looking robes. The man is a giant in height, but his girth is something to marvel at as well. He has multiple chins dribbling over the top of his silks and a large, waxy looking mustache that stays impossible aloft. "Greetings, I am Gahiji Rahotep. I am one of the primary merchants that deals with trading goods for Akropash. I could not help but notice that your slave, the half-minotaur, has been doing exceptionally well these past two fights. Mine is that knightly looking fellow, I believe his name is Eddy. Anyways I saw you sitting here and said to my self, "Well g~& d#+nit with a fighter like that for a slave he ought to be sitting with the best!" So here I found myself, offering you a seat at my balcony to partake of my food and have good conversation." He gives a broad smile, a gold molar showing.

Not forgetting his manners, Dalton stands, turns, and offers a shallow bow to the man. "We'll see how he does - tossed away a hundred coin in the first round, but I'm thinking of making it back. It would be twice as enjoyable to lose from your balcony though - thank you." I suppose this is how oppression collaborates. "New to the city here, myself. I've only met one other of the merchants here personally so far - Yugulk. Know of him?"

Bjorkus sprints through the battlefield, taking a wound in the side from a red slave as he does so. But as he passes Edward the knight spins in close for an attack, missing but getting right up next to the half-minotoar. "Get your ten kills quickly."] With that he spins away, cutting at and missing another attack. Bjorkus gets next to Gabriel and cuts down another opponent, head rolling on the ground.

What is left of the red team fights back hard. The one on the rock steps back and puts a shaft into Kienyach's foot. Bjorkus's ally seems distracted by his rampant charge through the battlefield, being caught completely off guard and impaled through the throat by the other red slave.

The two blue slaves to the left of the pile work together, felling one of the yellow slaves.

Kienyach steps up to the bowman, ending his life with two quick punches to the throat. He turns and looks down at the battlefield, crouching like an animal selecting it's next victim.

Gabriel and Roran remain on the ground, their wounds continuing to bleed out badly.

Two yellow slaves finish off the blue one holding them up while the last one attacks Bjorkus, driving a spear partly into his leg. The yellow slave wrestling for the longbow gains control of the grapple again.

Bjorkus you've taken 16 damage.

Init Order
Bjorkus
Red (Roran/Edward's Group)
Blue (Bjorkus/Kienyach's Group)
Kienyach
Gabriel
Edward
Roran
Yellow (Gabriel's Group)

~Dalton~

"Excellent!" The large man leads Dalton up to his private stands, inviting the slaves along as well if they desire to sit with his own slaves.

Gahiji has a good thirty seats for himself, partners, friends, and slaves all under a shaded canopy. In it are platters of food with three servants making rounds, making sure no (non-slave) mouth goes unfed. Dalton is approached quickly by a half-elf with pale green eyes. "Care for some fruit master? Imported from Gesthil, finest in Akropash. Or perhaps something salty, or perhaps some meat?" Gahiji lets Dalton get his hands on some food, then waves him over to sit next to the bulky man. He gives a hrumph, shaking his head as he eats a chicken leg. "My slave just impaled one of his own, that big man too. I wonder if he's stupid or suicidal."

Bjorkus only grunts in reply to Edward’s whispered plea as he rushes past him to cut down one of the men fighting near Gabriel. Despite the blood pouring down his side and across his furry leg, the hulking bull pulls his blade free and drives it into the next opponent near him, silently hoping that Gabriel was still alive at his hooves.

Sword (Helpful): 1d20 + 9 - 2 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 9 - 2 + 2 = 26
Damage: 1d8 + 7 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 7 + 6 = 15

All out of Inspire rounds.

Bjorkus rips through another slave, finding the unskilled men as easy to cut through as cheese.

The last red slave tries to attack the blue slave on the ground, but his spear misses by a hair. The blue slave strikes back with his axe, taking a decent chunk out of the red slave's arm. The blue slave atop the rock gains control of the grapple again, continuing a fight that seems to be going nowhere.

Kienyach leaps off the rock he's on, rolling and sprinting to the next rock without missing a beat. He slips past the red slave without getting hit, scaling the rock quickly and he begins moving towards the two slaves wrestling for the longbow. Bro got your back on the aerial control!

Edward misses another attack as Roran and Gabriel continue to not move on the ground.

Init Order
Bjorkus
Red (Roran/Edward's Group)
Blue (Bjorkus/Kienyach's Group)
Kienyach
Gabriel
Edward
Roran
Yellow (Gabriel's Group)

Bjorkus drives his blade into the belly of the adjacent yellow slave before advancing to aid the last blue slave on the ground. "We've almost got 'em! Keep it up!"

Sword (Helpful): 1d20 + 9 - 2 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 9 - 2 + 2 = 25
Damage: 1d8 + 7 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 7 + 6 = 18