(Just jump in whenever you two have your characters figured out and your Alias ready. I'll set the scene and hopefully give you guys a good starting point to get into character)
It is raining late into the afternoon on the camp of the Bogsharks, currently in a large swamp-side cave near the southern edges of the Evermoors. The group had used this cave as a staging area for raids for years now, so it has collected several niceties. A liquor cabinet, ornately decorated, very valuable, and arduously hauled over the hills of the moor to its current position sits back against the inside wall of the cave, far from the water of the fall shower at the cave mouth. An everburning torch mounted nearby provides light that bouncs off of the bottles of different colors and shapes collected inside, just past the glass doors with golden inlay.
Straw covers large portions of the cave floor, softening it even more than the several bedrolls and winter blankets currently laid out could do by themselves. Several barrels and crates of food, ale, and water rest against another wall. A nearby weapon rack bares several extra weapons and surplus ammunition if the need were to arise.
The camp fire is near the mouth of the cave, far back enough to help hide its light, but allowing the smoke easy access out. The wood stacked nearby it is special, giving off a lighter, thinner smoke than traditional woods, helping to conceal the hideout even more than the difficult terrain of the Evermoors would on its own.
"I don't like it..." Said Caira Evernear, Halfling of chaotic and occasionally quite terrible magics. "The boss should have been back by now!"
"Oh, get over it you tiny thing", responds Giant the dwarf, wearing his hides and stirring a cauldron hung over the fire as he intently works over the meal. His trusty maul rests within arms reach of him, a curling horn ram motiff set near the head of the weapon. "I knoooow you would just LOVE the boss to be able to make the raid you picked out for us, but you've known fer days now that he'd probably still be busy with the giants..." He takes an almost dainty sip of the broth and tosses in a couple handfuls of spices before stirring again.
Igna, the teifling and general manager, treasurer, book keeper, wizard and master of all other things paperwork reads a scroll near the fire light of the booze torch. "We planned for this, Caira." she says patiently, her tail fidgeting nervously. "He said if he weren't back in time to reach the nobelman's wagon train that you would just hit it yourselves. You do get to bring these two with you..." She gestures to the player characters. "... even though camp will be lonlier without them. Less safe, also... Who has been drinking all the cherryfire?" She looks up from her scroll, eyeing everyone gathered in the cave.
|Ozz the Bog Ghost|
Ozz, who had been sharpening his axe on his bedroll suddenly stops. After a suspicious amount of time passes, he turns his back a bit more towards Igna and begins sharpening again, though somehow abashedly.
The plan was this; If the boss wasn't able to make it back with the Bogshark elites from his "talks" with the local giants to go forward with Caria's plan, then the two assigned to help guard the camp would instead go with the raiding party to the road from Yartar to Everlund to make up for the boss not being there himself. Another hour and it would be too late for the boss to attend raid, and they would have to head off without him.
All of the named Bogsharks are currently here, minus the boss (of course), and Grimgar
Adrien Cavell is a tall, thin man, with lightly tanned skin, brown hair, a short rough beard, and green eyes. His clothing is simple and colorless. Only the dual leather sheathes criss-crossed around his hips stand out as stylish, with his dual sabres.
He is currently engaged in a game of cards with one of the other Bogsharks, passing time. He looks supremely confident, which probably means he has crap for a hand. "Raise."
Not taking his eyes off the game, he listens to Giant and Caira banter, then chimes in cheerily, "Could be fun, a good raid. I'm getting stiff cooped up in this cave."
His opponent squinted at their cards for a long time before snorting in disgust and putting them down. "Fold. I can't get a decent hand. What'd you have Cavell?"
Cavell shuffled his hand back into the deck quickly, destroying the evidence of his bluff. He chuckled. "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell--did you say lonely, Igna?" He teases dryly, focused more on his winnings than her.
Igna frowns at Adrien over her scroll for a moment with an arched eyebrow before rolling it up and tucking it into one of the many scroll cases she has slung across her shoulders. "You could at least leave ME some, Ozz. I did recommend that our traders pick the stuff up after all", she says while selecting a second-choice bottle from the cabinet and pouring herself some in an emerald studded silver goblet.
Mornak the hobgoblin gestures at Adrien and the deck of cards. "Ilmater's blood, you were bluffing again weren't you? You've gotten rid of your old tells again. Deal another!" He grunts and smiles at you with a face only a mother could love.
"Tells? I don't have any tells..." He says, scratching the back of his head and looking slightly ashamed before winking at Igna.
Standing and stretching, he looks at the mouth of the cave, judging the time by the sun's shadow on the floor.
"Guess there's time for one more," Cavell says, sitting back down and dealing cards.
Playing cards was his second favorite game, the bluffing and calling people on bluffs, it felt the most like fighting--his first favorite. Cavell spent as much time in local taverns as he could.
He peered at his cards, brow furrowed. "Hmm."
Mornak looked hopeful.
@Adrien: Give me the following rolls, a d100 to determine your hand (high is good), a Charisma (deception) to bluff, and a wisdom (insight) to read your opponent.
Hand luck: 1d100 ⇒ 44
Deception: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (3) - 1 = 2
Insight: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10
"Hmm..." Mornak lets out as he looks at his hand, not realizing he is very clearly giving a sing of a not terrible, but not great hand. He then eyeballs Adrien before making a decision if he should stay in or not.
Hand: 1d100 ⇒ 52
Deception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15
Insight: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16
Cavell drums his fingers on the table, eyeing Mornak critically. He takes a deep breath. "Right. I check."
Mornak's brow furrows for just a moment before he smiles broadly and pushes over every last one of his 15 silvers toward the center of the crate the two of you are playing over. "All in! he grins at you. A classic Mornak bluff, despite being wise in the ways of life, he can be a huge sucker in the world of cards.
Cavell leans back in feigned surprise, gawking at the pile of coins.
"You must've finally got that hand you were praying for..."
He starts lowering his cards face down--but stops.
Cavell makes a show of looking at his cards once more, rearranges them a few times, then smiles broadly.
"Oh!" he says cheerily, and pushes over coins to match Mornak.
Mornak's ears droop slightly as you match his bet. "Fine fine, let's see how this goes then..." He grumbles as he drops his hand face up on the table. Two pairs. He watches you flip your slightly better hand lets out a sigh. "Well, I suppose if The One Who Endures wanted me to have money, I would have been born a human, eh?"
@Adrien: Gain 15 silver
"That's your problem Mornak, Ilmater wants to teach you a valuable life lesson--Tymora just wants to see me win. You picked the wrong God for cards."
He tips one of the silver coins in salute skyward, then adds them all to his coinpurse.
Trissae has posted herself near the mouth of the cave, it being more spacious then the rest of the cave. Wearing the costume she prepares as the "hero" for her performances she stretches and begins to practice.
The world whizzes and blurs past her and the noise of her companions become a faint sound while she disappears into her own mind. "Where could he be?." The dance ensues at a more fevered pace, a clear indication to her comrades that she is distracted or distraught.
"He should be here by now." The words almost creeping out of her mouth as she finishes the set with a garish gymnastic illusion, a standing flip where one pivots at the hip rather than jumping.
She pauses, hand on the lip of the cave and chest heaving from exhaustion, "Are we sure we shouldn't go looking?."
"Ehh..." Giant begins, eyes still locked on his boiling soup. "He's got the hardest of us with him, fer pity's sake. Stop yer fidgeting, yer gunna kick over yer lunch."
He tosses a loaf of bread in your direction, the kind with the nuts baked in that Giant is fond of making. "This isn't the first time he's had to have these... TALKS. Won't be the last. Now eat up, if it'll stop yer showing off. Besides, we've got a hike in our future to make the road."
|Ozz the Bog Ghost|
"You aren't the hardest?" Ozz says to Giant, a slight smile on his tusked face. He joins Trissae by the cave mouth with his bowl. He serves himself a serving and grabs some bread before glowering out at the overcast afternoon.
Trissae dejectedly walks over and grabs some food. She'd never liked how he had an authoritative father figure effect over her, perhaps it was his mastery of food? She could never quite figure it out.
She walks back and sits nearish Ozz and begins to eat. As she eats the bread her demeanor lightens and watches the card game as it unfolds. She nudges Ozz and chuckles
"Mornak never gets a break does he?"
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"Sir? Bahh!" Giant says as he gets his own food, and then makes room for the others as they all come and get their own bowls and begin eating At the mouth of the cave, looking out over the dreary swamp before they risk their lives for loot.
"Well... You lot should finish up and grab your things if you want to get into position by noon tomorrow", Igna says as she cools a spoonfull of her potato and spice soup. "Hey giant, whats the meat?"
|Ozz the Bog Ghost|
Cavell glances over at Trissae as she dances, slightly distracted. When he finishes clearing the cards he goes over to Giant, nodding thanks and getting a meal.
He smirks when Giant protests being called 'sir'.
"Would you prefer 'pops'? Or maybe 'gramps'?" He jokes, ready to duck or dodge a swinging ladle—or fist―depending on Giant's mood.
Taking his bowl of soup, he joins the others, looking out at the swamp with them. He kept a little distance, not crowding in as close as the others. Although Cavell had been a Bogshark for 3 years, he was still the newest member―and human, which made him the odd one out. It was hard not to like him, but he wasn't growing on everyone equally.
Triss wriggles her nose and looks up at the sky. Even after years of surface life the sun still plagued her very much.
"We can hope..." She look back over to Feng with a half cocked grin "but worse come to worse I can just close my eyes and dance, and while they're distracted Adrien can knock'm on the noggin." She laughs to herself at the idea.
After finishing her meal she heads to her bedroll and bag and begins setting out her goods for the mission ahead, laying out her 'black cat' costume used for her villains in her performance, along with her leather armor and weapons.
"Is there anything else we need to bring on this Caira?"
"Heh, if I leave him any TO knock around!" Giant boasts with a guffaw.
Feng grins a toothy grin. "If I remember right, it wasss I who downed the most enemiesss lasst raid."
"Well sure, but Adrien wasn't on that one, was he?" Responds Igna matter-of-factly. "Nor was our dear Grimgar for that matter. It's a shame he won't be on this one as well. I know he'd enjoy the opportunity to earn some face back since Adrien had humiliated him before."
Mornak shuffles a bit awkwardly. "That is his fate for having made a decent reputation for himself at Yartar. He gets to be one of our fences. Life is sometimes unfair. Here he is with a face as ugly as mine, yet he can be at least somewhat tolerated by the civilized folk." He lets out a sigh. "The Crying God weeps for our lot", he says, then looks back at Cavell and smiles. "While Tymora deals us our winning hands?"
The group breaks and begins to pack up, checking their weapons and getting into their armor. Caira considers Trissae's question.
"Hmmm... Well, it is a noble family moving through Yartar to Silverymoon. We should expect lots of fine clothing, art pieces, and liquid coin. Maybe a few heavy pieces of furniture as well." She looks back into the cave at the heavy liquor cabinet. "Bring extra bags in case there are loose items to snatch up, and prepare yourself for a difficult, but wealthier, trip back to the cave! Oh, and be glad we've got Ozz, Giant AND Mornak to help with the hauling! Finally, they should be a couple of days into their journey where we've planned the ambush to happen, so hopefully they'll be a bit tired. "
|Ozz the Bog Ghost|
"Well sure! We want to have fun, don't we?" She says, pouting at Ozz.
"Really though, it is less guarded than you would expect. Must be a minor noble family." She shrugs. "6 to 8 guards, maaaaybe a few more. They were still discussing provisions when I had to bolt back here, but it sounded like we only have men in leather to worry about. Chain tops. No mages. Not a big enough budget for any high profile mercs to watch their butts. For the haul we are expecting to get from it, seems easy. About one for each of us. Just knock out the guards, or kill them if they put up too much of a fight, tease the family, still their s#&%. Maybe burn a wagon or two. Set the horses free. Have a laugh! Don't worry too much about the guards, Ozz. We ARE Bogsharks after all!"
Adrien laughs with Trissae. "You're assuming I won't be just as distracted."
He watches the back and forth about who would take out the most guards, smirking rather smugly with his arms crossed. Finally he just shakes his head and starts packing supplies for the journey.
"I bet the one person Ilmater doesn't weep for is me, when I lose. I think he chuckles. I swear I've heard it," he says to Mornak.
After slinging his pack over his shoulder, he rejoins the others.
"Nobles...we should still be careful. If one of them is on that caravan they'll bring a professional bodyguard or two. That could be trouble, even lightly armored."
He adds cheerfully: "Hopefully it's just budget caravan guards like usual."
|Ozz the Bog Ghost|
As they travel Triss strums a tune on her lute and once she's caught a rhythm she likes she begins to sing:
"♪♪Oh hey.. they call him Ozz.. Why eh?.. he's from the bogz.. Yay!.. He's strong and knocks down loooOOOgz they say!♪♪"
The tune picks up tempo and she picks up a stutter step to the beat.
"♪♪His name's Gian't, he won't deny't, He'll cook'n fry't, Just the way we like't!♪♪"
The pacing and tempo of each verse of the song changes for each of the other Bogsharks, she leaves herself out, calling out various characteristics and rhyming them in strange but whimsical ways. At the end she twirls and bows to an imagined crowd then trots along merrily with the group.
Ozz, the most proficient at navigating the moor and the surrounding area, having been doing it for 15 years, leads the group of seven toward your raiding position. He focuses on moving quickly, so you are sure to reach the ambush point in time. He, Adrien, Trissae, Caira, Giant, Feng, and Mornak trek over the uneven terrain of the hills and swamps of the Evermoor. Only a small amount of time passes before the moor gives way to the surrounding grasslands and the trek becomes easier. Though not Ozz's specialty, the land is much easier to navigate.
At night, about 5 hours away from your ambush position, Ozz needs to stop so camp can be set up and you can get some rest before your raid tomorrow.
Tall grasses overwhelm the area, and trees are sparse here, but available. The clouds have started to break up a bit, showing some bits of starry sky in the gaps of the clouds.
If there are any last things you guys would like to do over the night before you reach the raid tomorrow, let me know, otherwise just say "pass" or tell me to get on with it an I will ;)
Chuckling at Trissae's lyrics, he gives Ozz a smirk. When she finishes her song and bows, he claps. "Well done Triss."
After that he's quiet as they travel, one hand looped under the strap of his pack, the other resting on his sabre hilt.
Once they set camp, he approaches the drow bard.
"Triss, you want a refresher? In case the raid goes south? Last time we sparred you were almost as good as me, but skills can rust quick if you let them," Cavell says with a shrug, carefree as ever. He'll sleep soundly tonight, as always.
Deception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7
Despite trying to hide it, his eyes betray that he's worried about Trissae.
In case this is confusing, Triss, Adrien gave you an opportunity to roll an insight check for roleplay purposes. You can choose to be oblivious if you'd like, but if you want a chance to notice that Adrien isn't being totally honest here, make the wisdom(insight) check here, and respond accordingly. Again, previewing your post to see what the roll is before finishing it so you can respond TO your check within the same post where you made it, is recommended.
It's not strange enough of an activity to arouse any suspicions from triss so I'll pass on the roll
Knowingly or not Adrien had a way with words that always sparked Triss's need for perfection. She could already hear the tone in his voice before he started talking, it was the same tone he took every time he had something to show her or teach her.
"You do yourself a great injustice Addie, I'll be lucky if in my long life time I'll be as good as you." She smiles a bit as she sits up "But of course I've always the time to hone my rusty skills!" She first draws her dagger in jest, then pulls out the rapier and begins following Adrien's tutelage
The dice are more to tell if Trissae noticed anything suspicious, not you the player. But your call.
"If I live to become a frail old man you'll surpass me whether I like it or not, elf," he says with a smile.
He draws one of his sabres, keeping the other sheathed.
"Until then," he says as he lunges, the blade narrowly missing her shoulder as she parries it aside.
Cavell has that knowing smirk, like he could have got her if he really wanted to. It was a cheeky move to not say 'begin', like he usually does.
"Begin," he says, grinning.
After nearly an hour of sparring Adrien gets winded first, signaling a stop and taking a long drink of water from a wineskin, then splashing some in his face. He chuckles, elated from the rush of the fight.
Still panting, he gives feedback: "Good. You started out a little sluggish but once you warmed up that went away. Your striking is accurate and quick, and I think I can say your technique is finally solid. Most noblemen would be child's play for you. I think I'd need my other sabre to beat you in a real fight."
Cavell smiles warmly, obviously proud. Though proud of himself as a mentor or proud of Trissae isn't clear.
"Only flaw I noticed is that you walk into nearly every feint. Never trust anyone in a fight, especially not me," he says with a wink, then heads over to his bedroll, laying on the top of it and propping his head on his travel pack.
"By the gods Adrien.. " She says wiping her brow "Surely you have some elf blood in you somewhere, you're far too nimble!"
She listens intently to the critique as she cools off but gets disgruntled at the last tidbit.
In Elvish "Bloody Hell!" In Common "The feints, the bloody feints! I just can't seem to get them. Giant calls me 'Trissae the Gullible' because of those thrice cursed maneuvers!"
As Adrien walks away says "Thanks Addie." before she herself sprawls out her bedroll near Feng to chat with before starting her trance.
The next day after camp is broken, you continue on your way through the grasslands to your chosen ambush spot. The ambush spot is a little bit further away than your raids are traditionally, constantly attacking from the section of the road that is closest to the Evermoors has given the advantage of surprise whenever you attack outside of that area. It creates a bit more distance to travel back and forth, but is necessary for your ongoing success with preying on the travelers that come through.
You get to the ambush spot just before midday, the clouds are thinning and it is even odds if the sun will be out or not when the raid begins. The Bogsharks get their masks ready for when the raid begins, and gets into position. Most of you are waiting here, but Caira and Giant are further up the road in a scouting position, to identify the proper traders and to follow them back to spring the signal to attack once they are at your area.
I posted a map in the general information. Please tell me where you would like to set up your position (using "C16" sort of notations) for when the raid begins. Additionally, please give me a Wisdom(perception) check for when the time comes, as well as a dexterity(stealth) check if you are close to the road. Being somewhere visible might be a bad idea, unless you have a plan.
|Ozz the Bog Ghost|
Ozz will hide in the bushes at X7, using his stealth to hide while keeping an eye on the road.
Perception - 21: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21
Hide with disadvantage - 13: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 131d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23
Cavell hides behind the boulder at P11 or O12 depending on which way the caravan is coming from, planning to move around the rock to keep out of sight as they come.
Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6
Stealth: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11
Trissae will be posted at p17, her travel bag at her feet and her rapier hidden in the grass behind her.
She'll have a Disguise self (p.232) spell cast: changing her appearance to that of a wood elf analog of herself wearing the 'lass' costume as part of the illusion. The costume is a feminine travelers cloak and a corset, promoting her bosom. A heavy-bottom frilled dress of shin length that exaggerates twirls and dancing moves and underneath tight pants instead of short pants that reach her upper thigh. It also features a wide brimmed hat with lace along the edges, for which she wears tails beneath to accentuate the female appearance. Everything is in a red/pink/orange hue.(1/2 1st slot used).
She often plays the distraction or decoy, playing the lyre and asking for rides or help.
ha ha how sad, I'll see better in the light than cloudy
Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4 no sunlight (4)
Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 51d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19 sunlight sensitivity (5)
MAP HAS BEEN UPDATED, though Feng's token will be fixed in the next update.
The gang takes position. Mornak hides opposite of Ozz, and Feng behind a rock near Triss. The plan is this: Triss will make first contact, Ozz and Mornak will act as a wall to keep the caravan from proceeding any further down the road (if required) as well as taking out any guards in front. Giant and Caira, currently acting as spotters, will follow the caravan carefully after they signal and act to remove any rear guards as well as keeping them from retreating. Feng and Adrien will be there to hammer the middle if a fight breaks out. Sometimes, however, the guards just surrender after noticing the trap they are caught in paired with the infamy of the Bogsharks and their unique masks.
Time passes as the Bogsharks wait for their mark to arrive. Travelers use the road, traveling in both directions, some on foot but most on horseback, even several trader’s wagons, but almost all in small groups. Those heading toward Yartar tend to show expressions of relief while those heading away from Yartar, therefore close to the point where the Evermoors are nearly right up against the road, are showing expressions of readying themselves for danger. Each time a cart/wagon is heard bouncing down the road from the west, tension arises in the Bogsharks as they wait to hear the signal. Caira has two whistles that emulate bird calls, and the Bogsharks have gotten well used to their meanings. Each wagon, each time ends in the CLEAR whistle, the signal that this is not the mark.
Things are pretty boring for several hours, until late evening arrives. Sun slants from the west, illuminating the road and creating shadows (Anything adjacent to a LARGE object on its east (right) side will be considered outside of direct sunlight. Same goes for anything in the bushes *). The sounds of horse and wagon can be heard coming from the distance to the west, and you tense again. A bit of time passes and you notice the sounds of many horses, more carriages. Then you here the “Mark” whistle. This is it, this is the one. Trissae puts her spell up and awaits an opportunity. Monrak and Ozz ready themselves to cut the caravan off. The others also prepare to spring the trap when the time is right.
First seen are two horsemen, one a human and the other a dwarf. Shortly behind them are three carriages each being pulled by two horses. Each carriage has a driver (drwarves all) holding the horses’ leads and the top of each carriage has boxes of luggage and small pieces of furniture. At the rear is another human rider, and along the side center carriage is another dwarf rider. This extra bit of protection marks the center carriage as the one containing the VIPs. Each of the riders are armed and armored (in leather), and the drivers are not. On each carriage and each dwarf is wearing the colors of a noble house, clearly a dwarvern one; Stone grey back with a device of a golden hand holding a red ruby.
The caravan nears. The show is yours.
*(I never thought I’d have to put so much thought into lighting conditions!)
|Ozz the Bog Ghost|
Ozz gets his mask on and readies his battleaxe. He eyes the human rider up front with a bitter anticipation.
Ozz has always been more violent than necessary where humans and elves are concerned, to the occasional frustration of the group.
His mask covers the entire bottom half of his face, and looks like a mouth full of sharpened teeth, clenched together in a wicked snarl. Two teeth near the bottom are elongated, similar to his half-orc tusks.
Cavell puts his mask on, his fierce grin underneath matching the mask. He keeps his sabres sheathed to avoid any glint of steel revealing him and keeps hidden, waiting for their front and rear to close the trap.
Trissae begins to sing a Sonet. It tells a story of how Malar, god of the hunt, had his bow stolen by Mask god of Thieves. Malar hunts Mask across the Planes to retrieve his bow. At the end of the cosmos Malar confronts Mask and before Mask can respond Malar reveals that he knows Mask is not in fact who his says he is. Instead Malar reveals that it is Leira, goddess of illusions, but no matter how powerful her illusions he was the grand huntsmen and always knew his quarry. He told her then that the day she can fool him in the hunt they would be together. Thus the lovers game was born.
Triss does this while swaying her hips and playing her lyre and slowly approaching the moving caravan. As the front horsemen begin to ride past she begs "A moment for a pitiful bard?" "Your ear for a bard?" She continues these lines bowing gingerly to keep an eye on each cart as they roll in.
Depending on if they stop or ignore me will dictate my next actions
The front riders look at you as you approach, their faces alert but uninterested. The dwarf gives you a contemptuous glance and calls back to the next rider in dwarfish as they ride by followed by the first carriage. The next rider, and dwarf following along side the middle carriage seems to be having a conversation with someone inside through the heavily curtained window. After the briefest moment, the dwarf lets out a whistle, which causes the carriage drivers to pull their reigns and stop the caravan. The front dwarf rider looks back at what is happening, while the human rider stays alert.
"He says that he wishes to hear you play", the dwarvern rider says as he fiddles with his purse and tosses you a silver coin.
Triss bows low at the waist and picks the coin up off the ground, then shuffles back and grabs her lute. She begins to play the song "After Dusk" a regional favorite that talks about the history of the Mere of Deadmen. Chosen specifically because the song calls for loud boastful singing and rapturous Lute strumming.
Performance: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18
Captivating even herself a little in the song she sways and twirls and even kicks a few times, getting the frills of her dress and hat to whisk too and fro.
She finishes with the signal to her team, a deep bow wherein she leaves the instrument on the ground and rolling her fingers along her body from her toes until they are in the air.
"Ta-dah!" She exclaims as the Disguise Self spell fades from her. Revealing her to be in her full "Black Cat" costume, Bogsharks mask in place of the usual one. "The Black Cat, Harper of the Bogs, thanks you for your patronage!" She laughs merrily preparing for the guards to react.
"Ah!" The dwarvern rider exclaims as if expecting trouble from the start. "A highwayman, eh?! Too bad for you, you came alone!" He draws his warhammer from his side. The other dwarf seemed rather caught up in the music, and doesn't have the presence of mind to draw his weapon just yet.
Roll Initiative, MAP UPDATED