{ooc]I know you aren't talking about me - you have better Diplomacy and Sense Motive bonuses![/ooc]
"Hey, don't you work for Clegg? I mean you probably are a minor employee and all, since I don't know your name. So why would you be down here being Clegg's errand boy when we are down here to collect a shipment for Saul?"
Antal nudges his larger friend. "You know...if they're thieves and working for this competitor then it means gloves come off right? I'm not required to play nice right?"
Njord holds up a hand.
”Look, I don’t know who’s payin’ who here but we’re not leaving without those casks. Call the gendermes all you want. They can help you pick up your teeth.”
"Is that how you really feel? Then let's get 'em, boys!" yells the man, reaching for his sword. "Are you sure you want to do this? Think about it!"
A fearsome expression accompanies the last bit as the man glares at each of the group in turn.
A pair of daggers appear in Randall's hands and he keeps an eye on the three foes closest him.
The thug brushes at the scratch from the halfling's dagger and pulls a flail from his belt. Stepping forward, he swings it at the halfling.
The other one looses a long-hafted weapon from his back and brings it to bear against Randall as well.
The third thug who'd been hanging around pulls a bow and lets loose at Jametor.
A halfling who's been hiding behind the corner of a building turns and runs off.
Jametor turns at the third thug who fired at him and flings blue sand at him, saying a command word.
Njord is shaken by the fierce display but stands his ground. He pulls a vial from the pouch at his hip and smashes it against his forearm.
The bow-wielding thug screams as the sand finds its way into her eyes, then falls to the ground unconscious.
The halfling does a strange series moves with his hands, creating a multi-colored barrier around himself.
The big man growls as his opponents fail to flee. Drawing his sword, he steps forward and swings it at the biggest of the three enemies before him. "Lavinia!" he yells, "Forget the guard! Get back here!"
Njord grunts as his armor deflects the blow.
"How much is Clegg payin' you?" he asks as he brings his own sword up in defense.
"Enough. Probably higher than you can count."
Toe-to-toe with two guys? Not my style, no thanks. Randall tries to roll back away from Stony, but his footing fails him and he's off-balance for a moment, giving the thug an opening. Regaining his balance, he steps back carefully and raises his daggers defensively.
"I promise he isn't paying you enough for the beating you're about to get", Njord says with a laugh.
The flail-wielding thug swipes at Randall as the halfling backs away.
"Randall!" cries Fíriel as her friend is struck by the two thugs. "Stop them!" she yells angrily at the longsword-wielder. "Stop them now!!"
Springing into action despite her fright, she twirls and dances past her allies and her foe, ending up behind him.
With the dagger she pulled during her maneuver, she tries to stab him in the back, but she's too distracted to aim well.
Njord grips his weapon tightly and swipes at the big man squared off with him.
Antal gasps as his halfling companion almost gets taken to the ground by such a heavy blow. The distraction almost proves his undoing, as the long weapon wielder almost knocks him down. It's only the last minute move that saves him.
In response, the oracle swings his morningstar at the man, hoping to take him down to size a bit.
Jametor takes a 5 foot step backward and fires an acid dart at the man barking all the orders.
Antal takes courage and reaches out to touch the man with the nice sword.
"Ouch! You'll pay for that, you hairy son of an orc!"
The sword-wielding Braddikar swings at Njord, his sword making a whooshing noise as it slices the air.
Randall moves 5' next to Antral, maintaining his defensive posture.
Fíriel follows the swordsman and stabs with her dagger again, but once again the man is too quick for her.
"Hey shorty, quit your magic!" yells the flail-thug, swinging at Antal vengefully. The other keeps trying to trip Randall, but his companion gets in his way and ruins his swing.
Jametor takes another 5 foot step away from the bossy man and then turns and flings a pad of butter and yelling a command word as the pad flies past his allies and lands between the two common thugs.