Max downs the remainder of their ale with a brave swallow then wobbles a bit as they advance towards the masked folks, trying to keep their scaly features hidden as much as possible.
"Am small! But can help!"
Khalaban made a noise that might be taken as agreement. The man's pretty words were just that - pretty words. He suspected if he looked hard enough he might see one or two of the Living God's priests aiding the homeless, or maybe a soup kitchen - something they could point and prove they were helping - but suspected that they would only provide quick, simple aid to a handful.
Still, his job here was to investigate the cult. He stepped forward. "I am not small. But your words are interesting." It was as close to saying he wished to join as he could stomach.
Adriana gets up from the couch thinking...Mmm...I wonder
If he is a plant...
"Yes! The things those bastards make you do for crumbs...
They need to pay!"
Vixie walks up to "Arveene's" side for a brief moment before remembering that she's supposed to be "Kahl's" ward and shifting to him.
Draven steps up alongside 'Arveene', and the two gnomes get up from the table after they've finished gathering up their chips.
"Excellent. Those of you who have stepped forward, come and follow me. Those of you who did not..." He casts a look at the quiet couple sitting on one of the couches. "...I trust you can find your own way home."
He turns his back and nods to two of his henchmen before leaving the room.
Adriana catches up to the masked man and says,"So does your order has any kind of...vows...like vows of celibracey?"
Khalaban began to lumber along, wishing he could sniff the air. In this form his sense of smell was no better than a normal human - but it was still pretty good. For now he'd simply have to rely on ears and eyes.
"So does your order has any kind of...vows...like vows of celibracey?"
"The Faithful of the Living God place no such restrictions on themselves." The leader says. "So long as they do not interfere with their duties to Razmir."
The party, the gnomes and Draven are led out the back of the tavern to a waiting horse-drawn wagon. The leader and his two henchmen sit up at the front, with one of the henchmen taking the reins. "Have a seat, all of you."
When Draven finds a seat on the wagon, he slumps over, unconscious. The gnomes stop in their tracks, their eyes widening in surprise.
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Either due to the relatively low amount that she actually succeeded at drinking or her own hardy halfling body's resistances, Vixie seems less affected than Draven, at least.
Max can feel the poison seeping into their body and they momentarily get very, very angry, enough to burn the edge off... before wisdom sinks in -- if they wanted everyone dead they would have done it in that private backroom.
No, this appears to be some sort of trick.
So what better response to such a dirty rotten low-down trick than to fake what the people want. If it turns out later they 'wake up' when they're about to be taken advantage of and 'accidentally' bite something important to humanoids, so be it.
Grunting at the smell, Khalaban looked down at his feet, his vision blurring and swaying. Frowning for a moment he crashed to his knees, muttered, "Strong stuff here," and toppled sideways.
The robed leader looks back in the cart as Khalaban falls over, taking stock of the three unconscious (or pretending to be unconscious) party members and the gnomes outside of the wagon.
He sighs. "It's too late to back out now. Your path is set. Gentlemen?"
Six other men in white robes and wearing iron masks emerge from the building's shadows, carrying saps. "Persuade them for me, would you?"
Vixie squeaks as more masked folks enter the scene. Looking around the wagon, she reasons that if these people are trying to hurt them, then...
She pulls her walking stick off the side of her pack, gripping it tightly. "D-don't hurt us!!" she stammers.
THUD!!!!
"Zzzz....zzzz....zzzz
Three of the cultists start to approach the wagon--and one reels back as Vixie's staff hits him squarely in the mask. He lets out a muffled grunt of pain before hanging back and letting his two companions try to get aboard the wagon.
They both manage to climb aboard with some effort, and start swinging their saps at Vixie!
Unfortunately, their swings are remarkably off-balanced. One of the cultists ends up tumbling off the back of the wagon with the force of his wild swing.
The gnomes scream in fright and start running off, ducking and weaving as they go!
The remaining three cultists turn to pursue the gnomes and start laying into them!
Alas, gnome legs are quite short, and they can't gain the distance they need to escape. Both gnomes get a clubbing--the lady takes a sap to the jaw, whereas the gentleman takes a swing to the back.
The robed leader turns around in his seat and watches the proceedings with one hand on his masked chin.
As the cultists clamber into the wagon, Vixie's quarterstaff lashes out at 3, then 1. She isn't as lucky with her second strike, though.
The cultists closing in, Vixie swings her quarterstaff around, focusing more on dissuading the masked men than landing a hit.
Not that she doesn't give it the ol' college try!
This time, the cultists are ready for Vixie's wild blows, and manage to duck and weave around them.
The first cultist in the wagon swings his sap at her head!
Only for her quarterstaff to bat it aside!
The second cultist gets up and tries to climb back into the wagon!
The third cultist takes a step away from the wagon so Vixie won't clobber him again.
The gnomes curl into balls and try to weather the assault of saps...
The gentleman gnome goes limp after one of the cultists brings his sap down on his head.
Cultist 2: In the wagon with Vixie.
Cultist 3: Nursing a swelling bruise, off to the side of the wagon, out of Vixie's reach.
Cultists 4, 5, 6: Beating up a pair of gnomes.
Vixie is too distracted to get in a proper hit on the climbing cultist...
...and making an opportunity! With a "KYAAAA!!" she leaps up, swinging the knobby end of her stick up at the cultist.
The cultist's head snaps back as Vixie's staff connects with his jaw.
The cultists in the wagon swarm Vixie with their saps!
Only one of them even comes close to hitting Vixie, with the second one still flailing blindly!
The third cultist decides to risk it and climb into the wagon...
...and scrambles inside.
The two other cultists keep swinging their saps at the lady gnome, who cowers...
...and that last club to her temple knocks her out cold.
The remaining two cultists begin to gather up the beaten gnomes.
"You might as well give up, dear. You can't win." The robed leader remarks from his seat on the wagon.
Cultist 2: In the wagon with Vixie.
Cultist 3: In the wagon with Vixie, badly hurt. (-7 HP)
Cultists 4, 5, 6: Gathering up the two gnomes.
Vixie steps forward, holding her quarterstaff above her head to dissuade an incoming bonk from a sap before bringing it crashing down on the cultist trying to return to the fray!
Vixie's opportunistic strike knocks the third cultist out of the wagon. He hits the alley's flagstones and lies still.
The cultists keep turning their saps on Vixie!
Only for their swings to be turned aside once again.
The robed leader sighs in disgust. "...so, that's how it's going to be, is it? Very well."
Cultist 2: In the wagon with Vixie.
Cultist 3: Lying behind the wagon, not moving.
Cultists 4, 5, 6: Gathering up the two gnomes.
Leader: Sitting at the front of the cart.
"E-eep??" squeaks the kitling as the leader begins to rise. Unfortunately, between hearing that and trying to defend herself, her own swipes go rather wide.
The leader stands up and points a finger at Vixie. "Imbre Coloris." He intones, and a burst of colour explodes from his fingertip to hit Vixie in the face!
His own cultists get caught in the wave of colours, too!
The cultists collapse onto the floor of the wagon, convulsing.
The other cultists hang back, watching the scuffle in the wagon.
Vixie, seeing a spray of beautiful colors, feels...
invigorated!
The other cultists subdued for now, she focuses her ire on the man in the fancier mask and leaps forth with a squeal.
Vixie sees the leader's eyes widen in surprise for a split second.
"What--?!"
Just before she clocks him in the gut with her staff. "OOF!"
"You little--!" He chokes out before lunging for the kitling, his own fists flying!
His fist connects with Vixie's nose with a meaty *CRUNCH*, but his follow-up jab misses completely.
The other cultists hang back, this time more out of fear of the fox-eared and fox-tailed halfling that just. Won't. Fall.
Vixie gives yet another high-pitched squeal as her flat nose is flattened a little further, and a bit of blood begins to trickle from a nostril. Finding that this guy is more adept at hitting, she begins to bob and weave between lashes with her stick-- though the space is small, she herself is also small.
Vixie lands another swift blow--this time to the leader's collar. He flinches for a moment before throwing another pair of punches!
This time, he manages to land a glancing blow on Vixie's cheek, but barely misses his follow-up uppercut. He growls in frustration.
Vixie's cheek is soft and round under the leader's knuckles.
Her quarterstaff, however, is much more firm.
Vixie's next strike hits the leader in his mask, causing his head to snap back and blood to start leaking from the mask's nose.
He throws another pair of punches...
...but his punches once again fail to land. "Impossible! What are you?!"
Vixie plants her feet, glaring up as she knocks his blows aside.
she howls, quarterstaff lashing forward for a moment. ...And whiffing, probably.
Vixie's thrust doesn't do any damage, but it is enough to send the leader tumbling backwards out of the wagon. Pieces of his mask fall to the alley's flagstones, and a stream of blood comes pouring down his jaw. He looks up at Vixie, his one cold blue eye wide in fear.
As he scrambles to his feet, three sharp whistles pierce the night air, followed by a distant bellow of "STOP IN THE NAME OF THE LAW!"
"...oh, f~$$ this." The leader's wild eye spies his three remaining cultists, standing gormlessly at the other end of the alley. "What are you fools doing?! SCATTER!" He yells before turning on his heel and fleeing into the night.
The cultists drop their unconscious gnomes and flee, terrified, from the bloodied halfling.
The cultists in the wagon are beginning to stir, groaning in pain.
As are those who were drugged, in fact. Vixie's ear-splitting yell might have had something to do with that.
Vixie, shaking from head to toe, hops onto the now-vacated driver's seat. As the cultist begins to run, four spheres of flickering white flame surround her...
...and one goes streaking towards the leader's back.
There's a distant cry of pain as the flame sphere strikes the leader squarely in the back, causing him to stumble as he flees into the night.
...what was in those drinks you had? Whatever it was, it caused you to miss something big--two garishly-coloured cultists are lying in the wagon in front of you, a third one is lying in the alley, and the two gnome gamblers have been beaten into unconsciousness about twenty feet away.
Groggily Adriana asks,"What happened..." she looks around and bolts out of the wagon,"Where is Vixie...if those Bastards have hurt her...!" she says darkly.
Vixie looks back at Adriana, glowing in the dim light of her three remaining foxfires.
"R-right here!" she squeaks, holding a bloody stick (and, admittedly, a bloody face as well).
"Can you tell us what happened, Vixie?" Khalaban looked around with a grunt, laying one hand over his eyes for a moment. As a faithful disciple of the Accidental God, he understood the key to not getting hangovers was to make sure to stay hydrated. Therefore he didn't have much experience with feeling this bad.
Adriana a little more composed..."Yes tell us what happened."
She than cast a cure light wounds on the halfoxling...
Vixie rubs at her head as Adriana's touch helps her blood slip back up into her nose-- on top of mending that. She sniffs and shakes her head, ears twitching.
"W-well... uhm, w-we all got l-led out to the w-wagon, and th-then you all fell asleep, a-and so did everyone else, except th-those two--" she says, pointing at the gnome couple. "Th-then some m-men came out w-with those hurty things and they were g-going to b-beat us all up a-and I-I-I was s-scared...!"
She blinks, looking over at Max. "I-is he all right...?"
Adriana sighs a long sigh,"You do know Vixie the plan was to go with them...even in that state." she thinks for a moment..."So much for the subtle inflitration...but all is not lost. Secure there two...I will go get the bartender. Oh and make sure Max is okay."
Adriana will head back into the bar looking for the bartender...
As Adriana gets up to investigate the bar, the sounds of rapid, mailed footfalls fill the air as several guardsmen round the corner, bearing a lit lantern and clad in polished chainmail. Their halberds are at the ready as they survey the scene before them.
The patrol captain, a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed woman wearing a green tabard with a gold tree on top of her chainmail, steps forward as her men move to secure the unconscious cultists. "I take it you're the group Gavirk mentioned?" She asks, resting her halberd against her shoulder. "You all certainly look strange enough to fit his description."
As you approach the bar, you hear sounds of a violent struggle coming from inside.
Looking down at his 'bad boy' outfit, Khalaban smiled. "Mildly odd at the most, surely?" He looked around at the carnage and shrugged slightly. "I'm afraid things got...complicated."
Adriana will peak inside looking for the bartender...
The watch captain snorts. "I'll bet they did. My old CO once said that 'no plan survives contact with the enemy'."
"Gentlemen, once you've secured those two, get inside and clear the building." She orders her patrol, banging her halberd once on the flagstones to punctuate her order.
Does any of the cultist stand out? As in more in charge than the others?
Well, some people could certainly consider them the enemy...
"Unfortunately, they used drugs to disable most of our group. One of the remaining members panicked when we began to fall, and did...this." It was an impressive level of destruction for one Halfling. "This will make continuing an infiltration difficult, but not impossible. If we report to the temple that 'someone' drugged us and attacked the group, and we managed to stagger away while the others were under attack, we may still be accepted." If only so the Cult could look into what in the hells happened. They likely wouldn't be trusted, even more than new recruits, but...it might work.
Khalaban moved over and checked on Maxilla.
Once the cultists outside have been secured, the patrol breaks into the tavern. The sounds of the scuffle coming from inside intensify as they start laying into the occupants with truncheons and fists, dragging six men in grey robes from the establishment. The cultists' faces are uncovered, bloodied and bruised from the resistance they put up.
"...I reckon the Forest Marshal would just love to meet you all." The patrol captain smirks. "Drugging and assaulting people are serious offences, you know."
She turns back to the assembled party. "The Forest Marshal would love to hear what happened here. Come with me."
"If that is what you feel best," Khalaban agreed uncertainly. He wasn't certain that trying to salvage the pieces wasn't a better plan. But he certainly wasn't certain it could be.