Marcus, watches the fight silently, his everpresent scowl covering the roiling emotions he holds.Animals would continue to fight and die for the pleasure of drunks. The Tiefling was dead in the Pit and it had been Marcus who put him there.
There was nothing to be done for him. Pigsaw had continued to gore and stamp and rip the body long after he'd fallen. Marcus had put him there.
He gets up, moves to the bar, demands a bottle of something strong and heads to his room to get thoroughly drunk.
Ascaria does not return in time for the pit fights. Not that she minds. The day had been bloody enough for her tastes. When she meets the others in the kitchen the next morning, she chats a little about the previous evening to get to know which of their hirelings made the cut. When she hears of Zhelm's fate, she wrinkles her freckled nose but then concedes that he wouldn't have survived anyway if they had left him in the Lub. Anyway, her appetite for breakfast is pretty much gone.
Instead, she excitedly dashes to her room and comes back with an armful of stuff to show her comrades the exploits of her visit to the markets and shops. Most notably, she shows anyone who is interested a pair of brown doeskin pants and a dark blue doublet. "This stuff is a little more durable than my old tunic", she explains. "If I have learned anything in the past days then that a sturdy outfit is definitely useful." She absent-mindedly rubs the spot where the arrow hit her yesterday.
After going through some minor odds and ends, she shows the others a number of small glass vials that contain a clear blue liquid. "I'm pretty sure you have seen these before. Curing potions. I show them to you so that you know where they are when... you know... when I cannot get them myself for whatever reason. I'll put them here." Ascaria indicates a side pocket in her leather bag where three of the potions go and then she tugs the last one into an inner pocket of her doublet with a grin. "Let's hope you will never have to dig out that one. You'll need a very good reason for that."
Tippy watches the fights, cheering on the guards, though he has no particular favourites. When it comes to the final bout, he watches silently, and bites back a cheer when the tiefling goes down. He looks about to see if anybody heard, but doesn't look too ashamed.
He's quite chip and eager the next morning, tucking into his customary massive breakfast with glee.
"That was incredible." Ethaniel mutters, paying Madie the compliment with some difficulty. But why are you here, among scum like us? What good can one like you possibly see in this opportunity? Ethaniel looks at the palm of his hand for a moment, then turns it over and runs a finger over the scrapes on his knuckles. He glances back up at the monk. "You said something about hands earlier...what they say about someone. What did you mean?"
Iscarel wrinkles his nose through the pit fights, nursing his temples between his thumb and forefinger amidst all the noise and blood. He watches the fight between Zhelm and Pigsaw intently, seeming almost dissapointed in the result. "Calistria smiles on us once again, friend Ethaniel. Though I cannot help feel cheated of my sport."
As Marcus dissapears he places a hand on the half-elf's shoulder, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Amin dele ten' ho." he says, nodding as the ranger leaves. "I am worried about him."
"Thank the Savored Sting for our luck. She does not grant the right of vengeance to all." Ethaniel's usual awkwardness subsides as he speaks of his goddess. After a moment, he turns to Iscarel.
"It seems we too are of the same mind. You are more insightful than you look, half-elf." he says, approvingly.
"His one-man-crusade grows tiresome. Uuma ma' ten' rashwe, ta tuluva a' lle. I know his type, raising hackles and finding trouble wherever they go..." he says, trailing off. "Perhaps I worry too much, but it would do well to be watchful. Perhaps all our friend needs is our counsel."
Iscarel will speak with Ethaniel, along with anyone else at the bar, well into the night. He speaks little of himself unless pressed, instead recounting half-forgotten tales and speaking fondly of Varisia at large, particularly the Mierani Forest, and as his companions retire he sits by the fire, humming a lonely tune well into the night.
During the night Marcus is restless, despite drinking enough to normally ensure a deep sleep and a bad headache in the morning. Instead his dreams are filled with nightmares. A town destroyed. A family murdered. Of stinging wasps and restless souls. Where did your heart lead you? The voice was hard but female, spoken with equal parts Malice and Love, like a jilted lover who cannot forgive her soulmate.
Always you sought to curb your natural anger. To be better. You listend to the Monk's lecture's on self control far too often.
The entire night he was tormented.Where did it get you? Over and over again. He had been out, meditating when it all happend. Did you find anything out there? You found NOTHING! You returned home and everything was gone. You could have stopped it you know. Could have taken Vengence on the apprentice. If you had just killed him he would never have released the demon. Now you've lost everything and the apprentice is gone. What do you have left?
The voice got louder and louder. Still you clung to your ideals. What did you achieve here? Just another dead body. He still didn't know if he was asleep or awake but he was answering, The Tiefling wanted to fight
The answer sounded hollow. Irrelevant. He still died for YOUR ideals. YOU put him there. Now what do you have left? Your ideals are garbage. If you had only LET him die, HE attacked you, he deserved no less. Let go of your heart, it is the cause, hold to your anger. It brings retribution. Don't you want your pain to end? Forget your crusades the demon is all that matters. HERE is your beginning. I have bought you here for revenge that is all.
The images assail him again, the voice was right. It was only by following the whispers had he found this place. Saul would set him on the path whether he ment to or not. Whether or not the man reminded him just why he hated his own race so much.
Why are you here?
...Revenge...
Oppurtunistic: (Calistria) You have learned to recognize openings that your foes leave, and you know how to take advantage of them.
Benefit: You gain a +1 trait bonus on attacks of opportunity when using a dagger, sword, or whip.
If you'll allow that to work with a scimitar. Otherwise I won't worry
or
Sacred Avenger: (Requires elf, but perhaps raised by elves is enough?)
You have a special connection between you and Calistria that enhances your ability to achieve vengeance.
When elves fight among their own kind, the conflicts are generally small scale and personal. In many cases, this develops into a form of feud called ilduliel, which translates roughly as “nemesis.”
Benefit: When a creature damages you with a weapon, on your next turn you gain a +1 trait bonus on weapon damage against that creature. If this creature is your ilduliel this bonus increases to +2.
Marcus awakes with a new day with a renewed clarity of purpose. No longer would he be.torn by his heart's desires. All that mattered was the goal. For now that meant Saul must rise again. Do that and the voice would bring his demon to him...
"May the Lady watch over us all in our sleep, and may her fortune be with our hands and not those of our enemies." Murmuring the prayer to his goddess, Ethaniel feels a wash of positive energy flow out from him.
Ethaniel tosses and turns in his sleep, unable to keep cool. By the time the morning's first light streams in through his window, his bed-linens are soaked in sweat. He takes the opportunity to rise for the day, and heads downstairs to fill a cup with cold water from the basin. Damned fever. Hasn't broken yet. Lady, what's inside me? What's happening to me? Whose doing is this?
Should I...ask Saul for help? No...don't tell him. Don't say anything. Not his problem. It is his problem, because we open the doors tomorrow. No. Don't say anything. He doesn't need to know. Surely he already knows...there's a wobble in my step, and I've wiped my scarf across my forehead enough times...
Ethaniel finds a chair in the hallway to sit down on. He drifts off, sleeping very lightly, but snapping awake at the first sound of footsteps. "Morning." He grumbles abruptly at whoever is there.
Good morning, my friend. You look horrible. Let's eat and see of a full belly agrees with you.
Marcus speaks in Elvish. Far more fluently that he had been previously. Perhaps the extra practice with so many speakers in the party had helped?
He arrives dressed and armored, ready for the day. He doesn't look happy or disturbed, just... focused.
Samson is beside him and begs for a pat, which Marcus absentmindedly gives.
"I'm fine. Didn't sleep well, that's all. But thank you." Ethaniel mutters, as graciously as he can manage.
He stands and follows after Marcus, wondering at the ranger's seeming jump in ability with the Elven language. Wait, is that a saying? I'm not familiar with it.
"Hey Eth. Thanks fo the prayers last night. Body feels great! Can't say much about you though... Maybe you should see a high priest about that... or a medic."
Grumm fixates on his axe as he does the morning polishings. The chakrams have already been cleaned of dirt and blood. He is cleaner than before, though just as much as an adventurer out on the field. Although, this cleaner look does not change his countenance with his facial scars, misaligned teeth, and frizzy hair that would most probably be host to some lice.
The axe is beautiful, though, engraved with an alphabet quite similar to dwarven, however it is certain that the language is of something else. The handle is wrapped in leather.
As soon as the dwarf is able to make it shine, He sheathes it on his back as it stands at least double his height, maybe more.
Having finished her little show, Ascaria glances from one to the other expectantly. It is only then that she notices that not everyone is in such a good mood. Tippy seems allright but more concerned with his breakfast than anything else. The dwarf it seems is completely concentrating on his weapons. Maybe that's his kind of breakfast? Polishing his weapons? Marcus' face shows a strange mixture of calm and determination but she's not sure what to make of it. And Ethaniel looks as if he can barely keep his breakfast to himself. As Ascaria takes a better look, she notices the slight sheen of sweat covering his brow.
Oh, by the spirits! Great work, Miss de Vintre! Talk like a waterfall and nobody wants to hear it. Granny would have chided you. "Pay a little attention to the others. That's what a good person is supposed to do..."
"Whoa, Ethaniel! You look ill. Did you catch a fever yesterday? If you'd like I can try and find out what it is?"
"So our day today is to hang out and test run the new people? Doesn't sound too bad. I wouldn't mind some practice at cards, and there are the usual enemy look-outs to watch and spy on."
I'll make the rounds over the area and see if anyone has bothered to change the watchers on us. Me and the crazy dwarf can provide the obvious presence, if you wanna skulk and mark watch posts, Tippy. If any of you magic users could spare the spell, I haven't fully recovered from yesterday but don't worry if you can't. I am far from falling over.
- Bluff (DC 15): Spend 2 hours a day cajoling citizens and tricking them into visiting the Gold Goblin.
Tippy
- Craft (DC 15): Spend 2 hours a day and 10 gp to create eye-catching advertisements.
No one
- Diplomacy (DC 15): Spend 2 hours a day managing the help and greeting customers at the Gold Goblin.
Iscarel
- Diplomacy (DC 20): Spend 4 hours a day convincing citizens to stop by the Gold Goblin.
Iscarel
- Intimidate (DC 15): Spend 2 hours a day working as a bouncer at the Gold Goblin.
Ascaria, Ethaniel
- Intimidate (DC 20): Spend 2 hours a day threatening customers of competing game halls that if they don’t check out the Gold Goblin, something bad will happen.
No one
- Perform (DC 15): Spend 2 hours a day performing for customers at the Gold Goblin.
Iscarel
- Profession (gambler) (DC 15): Spend 2 hours a day working as a croupier or dealer at the Gold Goblin.
No one
- Perception (DC 15): Spend 2 hours a day looking for cheaters at the Gold Goblin.
Ethaniel, Tippy, Marcus
Profit checks:
Bluff:
Perception:
Profit Checks:
Intimidate -
Perception -
"Whoa, Ethaniel! You look ill. Did you catch a fever yesterday? If you'd like I can try and find out what it is?"
Damn it. I cannot hide my ailment, it seems. But she offers help...I must take it. Ethaniel looks up at Ascaria. "I know not what has befallen me...but, if you might have some insight into it, then yes, I would appreciate your aid." He looks over his shoulder to see if anybody else is listening.
@Grumm
"Ok, let's see what is wrong with you."
Ascaria feels Ethaniel's forehead and throat, looks into his eyes and tries to find out what has befallen him.
Heal check:
Fortitude Save -
Ethaniel shies away from Ascaria's touch, almost wincing when her fingers come to his throat.
@Tippy
Perception:
@Tippy
Tippy looks about to see if any of his friends might just happen to be about. Assuming not, he draws a pair of daggers from his waist and inches close to the corner to peer around.
Stealth:
Tippy, moved briefly by some of that compassion he has but buries deeply, and remembering what it's like to scrounge for rodents in the alleyways, grabs both daggers in one hand, and with the other fishes up a chunk of rock or masonry and lobs it at one of the two attacking dogs.
Attack:
Initiative:
"Where's Marcus when you need him?" he calls out to nobody in particular as he turns tail and bolts for the Goblin, glad at least that the mangy mutt got his meal.
Tippy takes a 5 foot step back, fishes out one of his 3rd level potions of vanish and downs the contents.
Stealth:
Dog1
Dog2
Dog3
@Tippy
Concealment Check for Dog3 (possible crit) hit. 51+ is a Miss.
Above check negated Concealment. Critical Confirmation roll
Non-critical hit for 2 damage. Fort Save Please.
Tippy, now quite pissed that he was fool enough to try to help this mangy mutt, only to have it turn on him and bite him, shakes the dog loose and runs for the open end of the alleyway and out into the street.
Run action, moving 80 feet in the straight line.
Stealth:
Edit: Fort save:
Initiative: 1d20+4
"Where's Marcus when you need him?" he calls out to nobody in particular as he turns tail and bolts for the Goblin, glad at least that the mangy mutt got his meal.