DM Bloodgargler's Hell's Rebels

Game Master Camris

The cobblestones of Argent Avenue, and the foliage of Aria Park are still wet from the light morning rain. Dozens of Kintargans have already gathered along the facade of the opera house to protest the city’s new lord-mayor… Paracount Barzillai Thrune. He was appointed by Her Infernal Majestrix, Queen Abrogail II, in the wake of the previous lord-mayor’s flight from Kintargo - an event that still has local rumormongers whispering furiously.

In a scant seven days, Paracount Thrune has instituted martial law, a curfew, and seven outlandish and polarizing proclamations. These and other repressive actions have drawn enough ire to bring many of Kintargo’s dissatisfied citizens here on this grey morning. More trickle in… the loose crowd starts to become more tightly packed… as it does the energy rises.

Barzillai Thrune has yet to be seen - his balcony doors remain tightly shut… as well as the opera house doors - as they’ve been since Barzillai chose the landmark as his new home - but judging by the growing sound of the protesters, he surely can’t ignore the scene on the streets below much longer.

You are starting to see some tension among the growing number of protestors whose messages and shouted grievances apparently conflict.

Erodel arrives at Aria Park as directed. Seeing a number of the citizens beginning to gather, Erodel begins to scrutinize every person he sees. Where in the Nine Hells is this one-gloved bastard? he thinks to himself, trying to focus on the task at hand.

In the background, one man that in some ways did not seem to fit in so well stood.
Most of the time he had been there he had been doing things like slowly smoothing his moustache with a finger, brushing dust of his lapels or straightening his scarf.
He gave off the aura of being a harmless fop.
When spoken to, he would smiley kindly and engage in polite conversation.
From time to time he would walk amongst the crowd, listening, commenting and generally be seen to be paying attention.

A rather unusual gnome due to his relatively normal coloring--deep brown hair the hue of sable with a severe widow's peak and gravity defying brows that curled skywards like antenna and deep floral pink flesh--Bastargrae L. Sweetgulp picked a suitable spot to attend the protest. He was elevated well above the shoulders of the taller throng of humans and likewise upon a cluster of sturdy barrels.

He made a point to have a tea kettle brewing strongly fragrant mint tea,offering a cup from a seemingly endless supply beneath his tartan poncho to passerby.Soon he had a steady stream of customers who dropped varying coinage into his overturned hat,each clutching a clay mug of steaming tea in one hand and a shaking fist with the the other.

The hot tea only stoked the fire of ire in people's bellies to a roiling boil in the cool rainy morn. Smirking grimly,the gentlegnome perched upon a barrel with legs crossed and a cup of tea in hand. He sipped the hot beverages and sighed steam.

Dark,round eyes the hue of rich whiskey glittered with barely retrained indignation.His gaze was fixed upon the opera house in fierce anticipation.

Face the displeasure of Kintargo and it's citizens if you dare,villain...

Ah, tea, how pleasant. This might be something of an unlawful gathering, but this does not mean we cannot be civilized about it.

Slowly walking over to the enterprising gnome, Indio lifts his had politely.
"Greetings good sir, might I trouble you for some of your fine brew on this day?
There is a slight chill in the air, and I fear the temper of the crowd might not be enough to warm my hands as of yet."

A few young toughs mosey over closer to gnome tea merchant, sniff the air, and eye those accepting his unlawful brew.
Business slows.. a couple request "plain tea" loud enough for the young toughs to hear, and show sheepish apologetic expressions toward the gnome for their weak will at the first sign of such thuggery.

Idril threw a scarf over her head, glad to be out of the tavern with all the groping hands. (She swore to herself to get an armored sash as soon as she could find one.)
She hurried forward to the scene where the protest against Governor Thrune was to be held, and she could hear the angry grumbling ahead of her.
She was not particularly politically aware, despite her family connections, but this was a protest she could really go all in with given half a chance. She growled at the thought of this... interloper just TAKING the opera house for his palace. Just in time to cancel HER debut as a lead singer!
She shook her head, trying to dismiss her irritation. She was here for something much more important.
Shensen!
Her idol in the opera since her very first time going to a performance, Shensen’s been conspicuously absent from the public eye over the past week. When she heard a rumor that Shensen might be in attendance at the Aria Park protest, she made a point of attending.
Her head said that this rumor is most likely a false one, but... what if it’s not? She couldn’t miss the chance to her idol in person!

She looked carefully through the crowd, looking for any sign of her idol (Perception)...: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (11) - 1 = 10

A pleased smirk cut across the gnome's narrow face.He poured the dusky dapper man a simmering mug of mint tea eagerly,Why,good morn to you,fellow gentleman. I agree wholeheartedly--it's what's separate s us from goblins and the like. Being civilized.

Beneath his poncho,the gnome produced a small tin of biscuits. Biscuit,my good sir? Just right for dunking.

The tin vanished beneath the poncho and the gnome's arms reappeared to gesture with an an agitated air.Those damned Proclamations...what utter rubbish. First having to suffer the indignity of having that royal brat's portrait leering at me within my own shop and home...I half expect some fiend to come popping out once I say the slightest slander against the Throne! Then that asinine bit about when I could not only serve but drink tea--even within my own walls! But the absolutely absurd of them all has got to be the latest...

The excitable gnome drew himself up with his teapot held off,voice shrill and ringing off the cobblestones like the ringing of a tin Bell being shook furiously.

Outrageous! I am a gentleman and profoud lover of teas-- the very notion that mint being refferred to an abomination is a grave insult to my very honor! What else would I eat with lamb?! Mint jelly! I assure you,sir,my palate is quite refined--any who would deny mint is a true cretin,not I!

Taking the proffered mug of tea, Indio smiles and shakes his head.
"I fear I must decline the biscuit my good sir, I do not like to leave my cane out of my hand unless it is in a proper rack, one of my eccentricities you understand."

Taking a sip from the mug, Indio allows the warm beverage to slide over his tongue with a sigh of content.
"It does strike one as a rather remarkable thing to forbid does it not? Not only does mint posses a medical aspect, it is quite the popular taste.
I used to carry on my person a small bag of hard mint candies, to clear the palate and freshen the breath when needed.
It has already become impossible to secure a refill of such objects."

Indio does have the good taste to not mention the one point of contention in the gnomes speech, that he personally find the taste of lamb with mint jelly quite revolting.

Looking around, Indio nods to himself.
"My good sir, as things are yet remarkably calm, I shall take the opportunity to circulate and get a feel for the crowd, but I shall be back presently, for a refill and to continue this pleasant discourse."

Bastargrae dipped his head in a curt,bobbing bow.He gave his hat a shake to shift the coinage from patronizing protesters,the paisley patterned top hat with its silver tea spoons strapped to its brim where one would stick a feather normally.Copper shillings and the occasional silver or electrum coin jingled.

1d810 ⇒ 91Tip Earnings

...Hmmm. Always nice to make the acquaintance of a fellow man of taste and sense. Bastargrae L. Sweetgulp---I do hope we can be good company later on. This conversation has been quite a nice start to this otherwise dreary day.

Emptying the coinage into a pouch tucked under his chin,he pinched it shut and returned it beneath his poncho.He flicked rainwater from his locks and donned his tophat.

1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22 Sleight of Hand

When the dapper man wandered back into the crowd,Bastargrae found his attention caught by the sight of something interesting on display amongst a bundle at a vendor's stall.
...Yoink!
If an eyeblink,the swift gnome freed it from the pile and tucked it away beneath his poncho to scurry back to his perch upon the barrels to examine his new prize.

Erodel searches the gathering crowd, looking for his supposed contact and thinking to himself, Come on already, where the hell is this guy? and growing more and more agitated by the second.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 6 + 2 = 18 (reason for protest)

A slight figure bobs at the edge of the crowd, trying to see around the packed bodies. As she bounces on her toes and cranes her neck, the scarf on her head slips, revealing very dark skin and close-cropped black hair. The object of her attention is a knot of vociferous tiefling protesters, in particular the purple-skinned woman at its center. Anyone nearby can hear the dark-skinned girl mutter "Oh no, Kirit, settle down! They'll arrest you for sure!" She pulls her scarf over her head again and tries to make her way through the crowd towards the tieflings, flinching every time someone shouts and doing her best to slip through the press without disturbing anyone... too much. She weaves her way through the crowd, her head swiveling every which way, bobbing high and dipping low, her slightly elongates ears twitching under the scarf as they catch the waves of noise from the mob.

Perception, Listen for rumours: 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 6 + 2 = 21 Tagging Along reason for protesting, +2 on Perception checks during the protest.

Erodel continues looking for his supposed contact when the pickpocket cathes his eye. Bad enough the damned Thrunes steal from everyone...we shouldn't be preying on each other...

Making his way toward the pickpocket, Erodel confronts him. "You can't find a better target than a decent citizen of this city that actually has the guts to let the Thunes know what they think? I suggest you return what you took."

Bastargrae took out his newly aquired trinket to find it was a pretty silver whistle crafted into the likeness of a songbird.
Intrigued, he put its beak to his lips and blew hard. Much to his bemusement, no sound came out.

When he tried once again without success, he nearly jumped out of his own skin in fright when he was jostled roughly by the broad backside of a passerby.

Bastargrae drew breath to reply and promptly inhaled the defective whistle.

Gaaahhhrgk---!?#@$%?

Indio raises his own cup in salute to the pleasantly plump lady, listened with unfeigned interest and chuckled good naturedly at the story.
When he moved on, the smile slipped away as he considered the rumour he just heard.
Ultimately, he concluded that it was a plausible rumour, but unlikely.
Yes, rich and powerful people do die of accidents, but the timing was far too favourable for the Thune family, not to mention the source of the information was too far removed to be sufficiently reliable.
It was however worth remembering for the future, it would not do to dismiss it out of hand just yet.

The pickpocket tries to flee from Erodel through the dense crowd... nearly bowling over the gnome tea merchant. Someone yells "thief", and two Dottari are there to greet him as he slips free from the masses. A mace cracks his knee in sideways, and they drag him away. The pickpocket victim identifies the thief with a finger... "He stole my-" "Evidence." the guards finish his sentence.

The crowd is starting to get restless, and divided... fighting to not be drowned out by each others' yells and chanted demands. Some are calling for less burdensome taxes... better treatment of businesses. Some call for Thrune to leave... Kintargo should exist under local rule. Some just call for a legal election.
Beyond that are Chelish loyalists who welcome House Thrune, and those who seem to just enjoy yelling at the new leader's doorstep.

Four more Dottari arrive to guard the doors of the opera house... bringing the total to eight. They're ordered about by a stern armored woman with oily-black collar-length hair. She casts the occasional sneer across the crowd, but - by body language and manner - appears to be more relaxed than one might expect.

Asha shudders as she overhears the two men discussing criminal punishment. And with laws like they've been putting in place, soon anyone... everyone will be guilty of something. She tugs at her friend's arm. "Let's go, Kirit. Things will get ugly. I don't want you to get hurt." She says nothing of herself getting hurt, although that fear lingers in her mind as well. Her current master has never whipped her, or even slapped her, but she is certain that he would not approve of her presence here. And she must think of how it would affect him if she got arrested. Or executed. She shudders again, picturing an excruciation.

Kirit doesn't seem to want to leave, and Asha cannot abandon her friend. She scans the crowd, trying to feel the mood of the various groups. And the guards, of course. They will likely intervene if things escalate, and they are not likely to be gentle.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13

Erodel has mixed emotions as the Dottari drag the pickpocket away, happy that the pickpocket has been caught, but somewhat disgusted that he has done anything to aid the Dottari. He nods an acknowledgement to the man giving his thanks for his actions before resuming his search for his contact.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 6 + 2 = 24 (reason for protest)

Bastargrae managed to cough up the silent whistle with an obnoxious retching noise, retrieving the silver bird from his craw with a triumph any shake of his fist.It was covered in his saliva,which he shook off. Using a length of delicate chain,he strung it through the whistle and hung it around his neck.

Although it didn't seem to work,it was pretty and the fact it almost choked him to death was pretty amusing.His wry chuckle was a tad raspy so he soothed it with another cup of mint tea,hopping back onto his barrel to sit and wait.
Perhaps he'd toss it into the mouth of something trying to bite him and watch it gag on it.Make a game of it.It was tempting to try,the gnome mused.

Whilst he supped upon his batch of mint tea,Bastargrae settled in to observe the crowd.Watching people go about their daily lives was a viable passtime of his.

1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10Perception

He gave another involuntary cough that brought tears to his eyes and blurred his vision.His throat was still a tad raw.

Two hours have passed. Still no sign of Barzillai.
Several factions trying to get out their message are now suffering through hecklers screaming nonsense over-top each group's particular demands for change. Though the arrival of protesters has slowed, the park is already packed... people are shouldering and shoving to make room for themselves as it is.
Four more dottari guards arrive - eliciting boos from much of the crowd.

"Bloody hell..." Erodel mutters to himself, taking note of the rable rousers. Too many people here...a riot could end up real bad for lots of folks... he thinks to himself, continuing to search for his contact, but keeping a wary eye on the potential trouble brewing.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 6 + 2 = 23 (reason for protest)

1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8Sense Motive

Bastargrae heard the boos and shrugged,going back to rummaging through his small satchel.

Idril cheered and booed along with the rest of the crowd, knowing that Shensen could not possibly resist appearing at a crowd like this.

She looked carefully through the crowd, looking for any sign of her idol (Perception): 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (7) - 1 = 6

The crowd is getting worse, but the guards don't seem concerned... Maybe they want it this way, then they would have justification for any violent repression they must be planning. Asha renews her efforts at trying to get her friend out of there. "Kirit, this will get bad, they *want* the crowd to get unruly, then they'll start killing us! Come, let's leave!" She looks around at the people surrounding them, tries to persuade them as well. "We are working at cross-purposes here! No message can get out through this chaos! Go home now, think on what matters the most to you, come back tomorrow!"

Diplomacy to try and calm/disperse a small part of the crowd: 1d20 + 9 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 9 + 2 = 16 +2 from Elven Serenity when attempting to calm other creatures.

Hmm hmm, some of the things shouted here is nothing but nonsense, I find that very counter productive.
Perhaps a few words of caution...

"My my, that is an interesting coincidence sir, my cousin works at the archive, and she told me, in the strictest of confidence of course, that they will release a new proclamation soon.
Indeed, it seems like the very thing you encourage is the next to be banned.
Now, I am of course not a man to tell someone else how to behave, but there ARE some Dottari around, they may take note of a supporter of something that is soon to be made illegal."

Bluff: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (18) + 9 = 27

DONG ... DONG ... DONG ....

Bells toll from the Cathedral of Asmodeus.
The third floor balcony doors open, and Barzillai Thrune emerges through the windswept curtains. He cradles a wicked mace in his arms, and steps up to the rail... looking down on his subjects.
"Ah My adoring chickadees do not disappoint. Such fervor.... We appear to be having a slight misunderstanding. This..." He gestures to the crowd with a twirl of his mace. ".. is something to which I am not accustomed. There is a wide gulf between your quaint small-town ways, and the sophistication and learning of Egorian. Regardless, your feedback is as appreciated as always, and I have no doubt the day will come - quite soon - when we will misunderstand another no longer. I take great personal pride in updating Kintargo's outdated laws to the modern standards the city deserves, and strengthening its ties to the empire in these troubling times. However, I hear your grievances."

"“You say you chafe at the presence of nonnatives in positions of power? That authorities not of this city have no place as its leaders? That you will not be yoked by intruders? Your lord-mayor hears you. And so it is with a heavy heart that I issue this proclamation, in response to your demands: all ships’ captains are hereafter barred from leaving their vessels and setting foot on Kintargo docks or streets, under pain of... I'm going with... squassation!”
The crowd is silent for a spell.

The crowd erupts. Barzillai is handed a glass of wine. He raises it to the "honor" his public.
A brown clump flies from the mass of angry citizens.. toward the Lord-Mayor. He avoids the farm fresh projectile, but in so doing spills wine on his regal attire.
Barzillai shrieks "Enough of this! Nox! Clear these rats from my doorstep! Run them off, arrest them.. I don't care.. kill them if you wish!" before retreating into the opera house.
The commander of the guard calls out "You heard him!". The dottari guards draw their weapons.
Several men and woman in the crowd draw back their cloaks... revealing their colors red and black leather armor.. pentagrams of Asmodeus hang from their necks, truncheons in their fists, and sadistic grins as they leer greedily at the unsuspecting throng.

you may roll initiative... Erodel gets a +4 to this roll

Chelish thugs: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (20) + 0 = 20
Dottari guards: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2

Catching a glimpse of a man that could possibly match the description he had been given of his contact, Erodel begins to move toward the man.

He is stopped in his tracks by the callous orders given by the Lord-Mayor and the appearance multiple Dottari guards.

"Not good." he grumbles as he reaches for his crossbow.

Initiative: 1d20 + 3 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 3 + 4 = 20 (bonus from above post)

>Map< (before round 1)

Idril just smiled and nodded at Edry's blather as she continued to scan the crowd. Until...

Edry points to a man approaching the gathering. "B'laiclau would know where Shensen is." It is a well-dressed tiefling you've seen from time to time around the opera house.

Electrified, Idril thanked Edry briefly and started to bull-rush her way through the densely packed crowd, elbows flying at the recalcitrant protestors.

1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7Initiative

Bastargrae slanted a whiskerlike brow at the escalation of chaos blooming about him.He straightened from where he sat to stand atop the barrels he'd claimed, his still steaming tea kettle in hand.

...Huh. Did not expect to start my day in such a manner.he mused.

His keen gaze saw that he had plenty of distance between himself and phalanx of dottari guards advancing into the teeming crowd. Also,from his perch upon the barrels he had the option of leaping onto the shoulders of the many tallfolk and transverse the crowd by using people like stepping stones.

It seemed more attractive than jumping down and risking getting trampled underfoot by panicked humans,tieflings,and other bigger folk shoving and rushing about.

Then he spotted the cloaked figures shed their attire to reveal nasty smirks and the stripes of Asmodeus faithful scattered among the crowd--like cats thrown into a pit of rats bordered by a pack of vicious dogs waiting for the rats to rush into their waiting jaws.

And one of these 'cats' stood no more than ten paces from him through the throng of people,flailing about with gleeful malice with a rather stout club indiscriminately.

Bastargrae hefted the steaming tea kettle with narrowed eyes.Bullies were no more than feral mongrels running about chasing and biting people simply because they could. As a gentleman, it would not do if he allowed one to go about unpunished if he could do something about it.

Then he'd return home. No need to be beaten senseless if he could avoid such unpleasantness.

"Enough of this! Nox! Clear these rats from my doorstep! Run them off, arrest them.. I don't care.. kill them if you wish!"

Although she half-expected this reaction, Asha still gasps at the callous way in which the Lord-Mayor delivered the order. Rats, are we? You care nothing for this city, only for your own power. A wave of anger makes her clench her fists and grit her teeth, but a look around her brings more immediate worries to mind. Unless something is done, many people here will be hurt or killed. She starts pushing as gently as she can towards the back of the crowd, away from the opera house and the Dottari, speaking all the while to those she passes, in a voice loud enough to carry in her immediate vicinity. "Don't give them reason to use their weapons. Disperse quickly and peacefully. This is serious. This is dangerous." In a whisper, she adds "Milele Maua, watch over us." Milani's nickname in Polyglot.

Diplomacy to persuade people to disperse peacefully: 1d20 + 9 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 9 + 2 + 1 = 22
initiative: 1d20 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 1 + 2 = 23

Stroking his moustache, Indio shakes his head sadly.
Ah, a healthy mixture of arrogance, contempt and downright idiocy, such a perfect mix to pour into the mould of a person in charge.

I cannot but wonder if there is a method to the madness? But who is the puppeteer?
Ah, never mind, I do not believe this is a time for contemplation but one for action.

Gripping his cane tightly, Indio began to make his way back towards the purveyor of tea, it seemed as good a place to make a temporary stand as any, and it could well do to have an ally.

Initiative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15

Round 1 Chelish Thugs

As Asha pushes through the tumultuous crowd, her words reach a few. A well-dressed tiefling who'd been reaching for a blade stays his hand. He gestures for others to follow. As he turns to leave, he is blind-sided by a Chelish thug's truncheon.. knocked flat. The sadistic Asmodean thugs come in swinging from the south, while the dottari commander directs her guards to contain from the north.
"Arrr!" The commander pulls a dagger from her throat which had been hurled by someone unseen in the crowd. She wipes the trickle of blood with a sleeve, and the wound quickly closes.

H,12 vs Bastargrae's barrel: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7
H,17 intimidate vs Idril: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13
G,15 intimidate vs Jacques: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11

(moving through the crowd is double movement)
Erodel up...

>map<

"Why did you do that? He hadn't done anything. He was leaving! We're all leaving!" Asha indignantly protests the attack on the well-dressed tiefling, moving to kneel at his side and check his injuries. (I,19 to I,20) "Here, sir, are you badly hurt?"

Heal to check the tiefling: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21

She is anxious to get out of the crowd, but she cannot abandon the injured tiefling, feeling somewhat responsible for him after her words persuaded him to leave peacefully. The worst part is that she lost Kirit in the commotion and she has no idea where her companion is. Perhaps she has been hurt as well, if the thugs are targeting tieflings... a shout sounds a way behind her: "Unlawful brew! On your knees, gnome!"... tieflings and other non-humans, maybe? She pulls her scarf tighter against her head to hide her ears.

"Stand down. I don't want to shoot you, but I will." Erodel says to the thug approaching him.

Readies to shoot should the thug continue forward

Readied Crossbow: 1d20 + 4 + 1 - 1 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 4 + 1 - 1 + 2 = 25 (point blank, deadly aim, favored enemy (human)) ootential crit
Damage: 1d8 + 1 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 1 + 2 + 2 = 8 (point blank, deadly aim, favored enemy)

Confirm?: 1d20 + 4 + 1 - 1 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 4 + 1 - 1 + 2 = 25 (point blank, deadly aim, favored enemy (human))
Extra Damage: 1d8 + 1 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 1 + 2 + 2 = 7 (point blank, deadly aim, favored enemy)

1d20 - 1 ⇒ (3) - 1 = 2Acrobatics Fail

Whoa!Bastargrae was caught off guard by trying to fling himself from the man's swinging club and trying to keep his balance on the barrel that went into a drunken wobble beneath him when the man missed.

He let himself fall due to the tea kettle overbalancing him--so he flung it away from him so he wouldn't douse himself in scalding mint tea when he hit the ground.

Hopefully it hit the asshat in the face...

Seeing B'laiclau go down, Idril shouted "Out of the way worm!" and elbowed the thug who tried to interdict her out of her way.
Bull Rush (CMB): 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

The thug inches toward Erodel "Think you oughta put that away.. you're causing.." then rushes - swinging at the crossbow "a disturbance!" the bolt buries in his chest, threads his ribs, and he drops. A steaming teapot splatters hot mint as it hits the ground a few feet behind Erodel.

The thug who'd dropped the tiefling looks upon Asha with a smug snort, until he sees much of the nearby crowd's eyes on him. "He was going for a weapon" - the thug pleads his case futilely as a wave of rioters - tieflings of the Redroof slums, opera house performers and stage hands - swallow him up... he is carried out in the angry undertow.

teapot random direction: 1d8 ⇒ 8 F,12

Jacques and Bastargrae(prone) up... Idril has an unspent move action

A shiver runs up Indio's back at the sudden violence breaking out all around him, and being targeted by one of the thugs certainly does nothing for his state of mind.
However, the fear gives the mind wings as they say, and his eyes begins to smoulder and bore into the brute before him.

Hypnotic gaze, Swift action

He then hums a few mystic words as he moves his fingers surreptitiously.
Charm Person

"Good sir, look around you, we are standing in a veritable sea of anger and resentment, and you wear the symbol they feel belong to their oppression.
Now you brandish a weapon, think good sir, when the fear breaks and turn to anger, do you truly feel you should be calling attention to yourself?"

Bastargrae rolled back to his feet from where he lay sprawled out upon the cobblestones.He used his cane,tucked into the crook of his arm,to right himself.

Righting his crooked tophat,the gnome tea merchant ducked his head and slipped behind the barrel.He reached beneath his tartan poncho to receive a small glass vial holding a special brew of tea.

stare target will vs charm DC14?: 1d20 - 1 - 2 ⇒ (18) - 1 - 2 = 15
"Think you can just clever yer way outta this, Clean Shirt? Ut-uh. Imma give you a knot in the noggin for you'n yer high horse." Jacques' stubborn target swings awkwardly.. and misses in an attempt to subdue more than injure.

G,15 vs Jacques: 1d20 + 3 - 4 ⇒ (1) + 3 - 4 = 0

The dottari guard bash and bully their way into position. Much of the crowd nearest the opera house push against them, and the well-armored guards counter with heavy swings.
You hear shouts "We have the numbers!" "Stand against them!", but just as many desire to escape.. unsure which way to go. Within the chaos, violence is in every direction.

"Last chance to surrender, gnome." The thug harassing Bastargrae takes a lazy swing as the tea merchant scrambles for his meager cover.

end of Round 1, Asha + Erodel up

Move act round 1:
Bouncing off the thug, Idril instead whirled and dove around him, making her way towards the fallen B'laiclau .
Acrobatics: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24

Bastargrae felt the stirrings of annoyance bloom into simmering anger. This cretin was persistent in his attempts to beat him like a dirty rug--for no other reason than arrogant malice of a bully on the prowl for a victim.

With a flick of his thumb and a sucking swallow,the tea merchant drained the special brew ofl tea he'd prepared for today--a contingency should the protest prove a troublesome affair.

And it was proving to be just so with all the rioting and whatnot.

There was a slight burn of cinnamon and ginger that made up the alchemical ly brewed tea that slid down his gullet like warmed whiskey.It trickled to his belly and filled it with a rushing heat that sought for release.

Move action. Drink Firebelly extract. 1 extract remaining.

Steam puffed from the gnome's nostrils as the human thug strolled leisurely around the barrel he was cringing behind,club held casually. The sight of the man looming over him with that malicious leer made up Bastargrae's mind.

And your chance to become a tindertwig has come.

Firebelly. DC 15 for half dmg.
1d4 ⇒ 2Fire damage

As the currents of the crowd carry Kirit away from her, Asha strains to wave back reassuringly just as the mob sweeps the thug under. She looks surprised and a little chagrined at the turn of events; it was certainly not her intention to incite violence, but she cannot deny the righteous anger that the protesters likely feel at their treatment from the authorities.

She is not very strong, but she does her best to help the stricken tiefling to his feet, supporting him if needed. Her hands occupied, she gestures at the crowd around them with her chin. "Give him some space please, let him have some air, thank you, we're coming through, excuse us, pardon, coming through." She keeps this up as she manoeuvres the tiefling and herself towards the edge of the crowd, where some safety can hopefully be found.

Not moving very fast, to give Idril some time to catch up.

Erodel looks around quickly and sees another thug threatening a gnome. Stowing his crossbow and pulling his falchion, Erodel steps toward the thug. "Back off! Let him be."

Seeing the gout of flame come from the gnome's mouth, Erodel thinks Alright, maybe the little guy is just fine...

5ft step to (G,11)

Round 2 cont'd (Chelish thugs)

The tiefling speaks into Asha's ear.

The Chelish thug Idril had slipped past has caught up, and grabs her from behind. "Think you're gonna call me a worm, and get outta here without a scratch, huh?" His truncheon hangs on his hip... as well as a pair of manacles.
grapple vs Idril CMD14: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18

The Chelish thug harassing the tea merchant, barely glances at Erodel "None of your concern. He's a blatant lawbreaker...."
He blinks when the gnome warns him of what's to come, then raises his truncheon... pointing a finger at Bastargrae.
"I swear... I'm not gonna warn you again!"

intim demoralize vs Bgrae: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14 shaken one round

The thug focused on Jacques glances past him to the Dottari guard before "You are a citizen of Cheliax! You will submit to Thrune rule!"
overzealous.. attacked already.. before his turn.

Idril, Jacques up.

>map<

Indio finds himself growing mildly annoyed at the obstinacy of the thug, and for a brief second considers drawing his cane and running him through.
In the end, being seen to commit cold blooded murder might not be very advantageous at the moment, he refrains.

I do not like to use all my powers like this, but it could still be worth it, ante up, my life is a chip in your pile oh lady of luck.

Continued Hypnotic gaze, Charm person.

"And how do you know this to be a fact good sir? I may well be a visiting dignitary, here only to observe.
Attacking me, unprovoked, and as I am clearly not armed, could well cause an international incident here.
Would you really like to risk such?"

The Thug grabbed Idril easily.
"Let go!" Shouted Idril, irritated at this Thrunish Thug's interference.
Escape Artist: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18
Slipping free (I assume), Idril continued to make her way single mindedly towards the fallen tiefling.