Antal decides its time to give the thugs a taste of their own medicine. Targeting the one in front of Njord, he draws forth a spell, chuckling as the metal superheats in but a moment, hoping the grunt won't be quick enough.
The taunting thug goes down with a bash to the head from Njord, but the prone scroll user dodges out of the way of the Ulfen's kick.
The one targeted by the halfling's spell lets go of his sword with surprising quickness, before he can be harmed by the heat.
Fíriel, able to see again, hurries into action, pulling a dagger and moving up behind the now-disarmed guard harassing Njord.
As Randall sneaks across the floor toward the back of the thug engaged with the guard, the imp bursts from his cage. The creature looks at Randall, who stumbles and shakes his head, then changes his focus to the guard and charges him.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing? Help!!" yells the guard as the halfling who'd been helping suddenly attacks him. Dodging out of the way of the dagger just in time, he sends a glare at his two attackers, then steps away from them and tries to tackle the fleeing woman.
... but she eludes him. The other guards, now able to see the chaos going on, move to attack.
The woman is grabbed as she tries to escape, but neither guard manages to get a hit in on the thug remaining near the pedestal. The scroll-user stands to his feet and tries to flee, while his partner in crime attempts to extract herself from the guards' grip, but fails. The disarmed, surrounded thug puts up his hands as if to fend off the incoming blows. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, don't kill me! I swear this job isn't worth my life!"
The remaining thug by Randall glances around frantically and decides he'd rather go down fighting. He follows the guard and swings wildly at him in an attempt to get past.
The guard goes down, and the thug falls over on top of him.
A few seconds later the remaining combatants are neutralized and the treasure chest (still shrunk to the size of a small piece of fabric) recovered.
Horrified that he attacked the wrong man and not really sure why, Randall rushes to the fallen guard and attempts to attack the thug that pursued him.
He does his best to stop the bleeding for the guard and tries to get a more experienced healer's attention.
Antal grins in triumph, watching combat come to a close and the money be saved. He gives an obscene gesture at the spellcaster that tried to steal all the money and cause such a scene. "People and their greed."
Randall searches the room for a healer.
Njord lets out a breath of relief as the guards finally swung into action and help subdue the thieves. The big ulfen sits down heavily and looks over the three deep gashes that had turned his tunic into a slashed up bloody mess. Retrieving a vial of immersed horsetail and oak bark, Sven downs the contents and leans back as his wounds begin to knit.
Jametor stops his summoning and looks at the imp.
"We have an imp on the loose, by the way."
He then turns and kneels down by his raven, checking her wounds and for signs of life.
As things begin to calm down combat-wise, the panicked patrons begin loudly calling for refunds and trying to cash out their chips with the harried guards. Saul (the owner), returning from a trip to the vault, takes in the mayhem and hurries to the pedestal to try to calm the crowd, stopping only for a few words with a guard along the way. He looks tired and worried, but puts on a brave face as he reasons with the crowd.
Slowly the yelling dies down and the tournament-goers grudgingly accept Saul's offer of 110% cash-out, realizing that it's probably better than they would have gotten had the tournament continued. As the guards begin cashing people out and the crowd thins, Saul steps off the pedestal and holds out his hand to the big Ulfen. "Franko over there says you stepped between the thieves and the silver, and were the first to try to stop them... thank you."
He looks around to the others. "Thank you all."
”I just did what had to be done”, Njord says as he shakes the offered hand. ”There were others - a couple little people and an elf. I saw them scrapping with the thieves too.”
"Certainly not how I expected to end my night..." he says weakly.
Once Randall has found a healer for the guard, he will anxiously seek for Firiel, hoping she was not injured. Once he's found her and verified she's safe, he will see if he can track down his thrown dagger.
He doesn't pay much attention to the men on the platform.
Fíriel cleans off her dagger and sheathes it, silent and grim-looking. She takes a few deep breaths and looks up as Randall approaches. Her sharp intake of breath when she sees his wound breaks the pattern of her deep breathing, and she stands quickly. "You're hurt!"
Saul hesitates for a moment, then nods decisively at Njord. "Please... accept my apologies and my hospitality. I'll send for a healer. The rest of you who helped, please stay as well. I'd... like to make sure you're all well before you leave here."
Njord looks down at the ragged wounds across his bloody torso.
”Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere”, he says with a pained laugh.
Quite surprised at that news, and her concern, Randall stops and blinks. He takes inventory as the adrenalin wears off and realizes that he's very sore - and might have a cracked rib where that blasted spellcaster's magic struck him.
With a wry grin, he says, "I told you right. My mother would definitely not have approved, but I will heal. Are you well? I'm glad the blindness wore off."
"Your guard by the door is badly injured, sir. He needs a healer. I think I was able to stop his bleeding for the moment, but I'm not a healer."
"Oh, and I think I misplaced a dagger in the one that cast the blinding spell. If your men find it, I would appreciate to have it back."
Saul laughs heartily at the halfling's words, and offers him his hand. "Dear little man, we shall be sure to retrieve your dagger. Come, all of you — please stay as my guests at least until tomorrow."
Just as he finishes speaking, a thick-thewed dwarf arrives, looking as if he was roused from his sleep only a few minutes before. "I just heard... came as fast as I could."
He looks curiously at the halflings, elf, and man arrayed around Saul, and Saul hurries to introduce them. "Ah, Larur, these are my guests. If it weren't for them..." he trails off, shaking his head. "Please call a healer, and set my guests up with the best rooms and anything else they might need or want. Oh, and Larur... give them back their entry fees and cash out any chips they still have at 150% value."
He looks over the group and sighs. "I'm truly sorry for this."
With that, Larur nods and begins bustling the group toward private rooms in the northern part of the hall, calling a healer and getting them settled.
Dizzy from the blood loss and not one to turn down hospitality, Njord graciously takes his coins and the offered healing.
”Hell of a night eh?” the big ulfen laughs as he feels his strength returning.
”Those men? Did you know ‘em? They seemed to know a whole lot about tonight’s event.”
As the healer heals him fully, Jametor asks the healer to see to his friend and companion, Swiftwing, who risked her life to allow him a moment to cast a spell. The grief of almost losing her is etched on his face.
Jametor sits holding the raven lovingly as he weakly says, "If one of the thugs might have a dagger, I'd be glad to take it, perhaps I wouldn't had to run around as much. So many things I was unprepared for. They never told us this...would happen."
You might imagine the elf is about to break but he looks up and you see the anger in his eyes.
"Yes, do you know them? For those responsible should pay!'
Randall is a little uncomfortable with the extra attention being lavished on them, but he can't think of a reason to turn it down, so he doesn't. He does look to see what Firiel thinks of their adventure, winking if she catches him looking.
To the healer after the others are knit up, "I hate to be a bother, but I think the mage cracked a rib with his spell. Could you take a look at it?"
Just as he finishes speaking, a thick-thewed dwarf arrives, looking as if he was roused from his sleep only a few minutes before. "I just heard... came as fast as I could."
He looks curiously at the halflings, elf, and man arrayed around Saul, and Saul hurries to introduce them. "Ah, Larur, these are my guests. If it weren't for them..."
Saul shakes his head. "I've never seen them before. Maybe Zincher or one of the other crime lords hired them to try to ruin me... or maybe they just heard about the tournament and decided it'd be a good opportunity. Either way, it almost worked... Why do you say they knew about it? Do you think one or more of my employees was in on it?"
He frowns at the possibility, but does not seem to dismiss it.
The healer looks at the halfling's injury and nods, applying some ointment and bandages and telling him not to move too much. "You should heal by morning, I think."
"The little man fought as hard as I did, see to his injury."
"I dunno, maybe it was a coincidence but they seemed to bring the perfect spells to disable all of your guards, make the loot mobile, and get out in only a few seconds. Common thieves can't do that."
"They seemed to know who to blind and they seemed to know how to release the imp, so this was planned it was a spur of the moment. Plus, and excuse me but I didn't get a good look at all the spells, but some of them would have taken a bit of work to get in scroll format. And speaking of spells, did either of them have a spellbook on them. I'd like to see them if they did."
The healer nods and expends his last healing energy knitting the halfling's rib.
His eyebrows contract in sympathy for the bird, but he frowns sadly and explains that he has no more healing to offer for the day. At that, Saul looks over from where he'd been speaking to Njord and holds up one hand. "Excuse me, please."
He leaves the room and returns a minute or so later with a small vial, which he hands to the wizard. "I have kept this for an emergency; please take it."
Saul returns to the previous topic and shakes his head, looking worried. "No, you're right... it had to have been planned." He sighs deeply, clearly thinking hard, then smiles at the elf wanly. "Sir, you and your companions may have your choice of anything they were carrying. Larur will collect their former belongings and place them in the vault for you by morning."
Fíriel stifles a giggle and shrugs exaggeratedly when she catches Randall watching her. Her eyes still hold a hint of... something deeper, but her face has relaxed and she smiles as the healer ministers to each of them.
"I can hardly take credit for fighting like you, big man. It sounded like you hit like a ton of bricks. Taking on armed men with your bare hands is impressive. I just hoped to create enough distraction to mess up their plan, but I didn't do much of that."
He casts his eyes downward, "And then something - I don't know what - possessed me to attack the wrong man. Thank Desna I was not successful, but I still don't know why that happened."
”Har!”
”Trust me, I’d have liked some cold steel in my hands back there. My blade’s at home and I should have known cowards like that wouldn’t fight like a man.”
The big ulfen laughs again.
”Don’t worry about it. The way they were carving me up, I was happy for whatever distractions I could get.”
Njord casts a glance at the halfling woman remaining mostly quiet.
”That your girl? She should take some credit. I saw her stick one of ‘em too.”
Eyebrows raised, he looks at her, "She did?"
He blushes a bit and says, "I am proud to claim her as a friend, but we've really only just met. I haven't had so much fun in a long time, though. Maybe you should ask her."
”Ask her if she’s your girl? HAR! Is that how it works with you little folk?”
The big ulfen pokes around the captured thieves’ s equipment mostly looking for a tunic that’ll fit him to replace his ruined one.
”If there’s anything that today should have taught us, it’s that life’s short and full of surprises. Why put off till tomorrow what you could do today?”
"Master Hafling, I saw the imp cast suggestion on you, he..uh..made you attack the guard."
Jametor gently pours the healing potion down Swiftwing's throat. feeling the healing magic pulse through her body, he strokes her head until the raven's eyes open. He grins and says, "What were you thinking attacking that man!
A snap of his fingers and a short word and a soft breeze blows over the raven cleaning the blood off of her. He then sits her on his shoulder and stands. The elven wizard looks at his new acquaintances and says, "Pardon me, I have been remiss. My name is Jametor and this is Swiftwing." as he motions toward the Raven. "I have been sent here from Absalom to study the blot. I have not been here long, but I must say, today's adventure seems odd even for this city."
When he finishes speaking, Swiftwing looks over the other people and with a gleam in her eye, says, "Yes, very odd."
Jametor glances at Swiftwing and then smiles when Swiftwing bobs her head and stretches a wing.
"And thank you for the help and the healing potion and the healing."
Randall blushes deeper at the big man's mirth.
He looks at the elf, eyes narrowing, "He did? He can just make me do something else?"
"Oh, my name is Randall. Folks on the street call me Randall Quickstep because my pace is quick for a halfling. I don't know about spells and imps and stuff. I know a bit about wharf here in Riddleport and not a lot more."
Njord splits up the coins five ways and takes a share, stuffing it into his purse.
Jametor looks at the spellbook.
"Well I don't think we want them to have access to this anymore. Anyone mind if I take it? The armor isn't really my style, but those bracers look interesting, but I'll defer for someone who might get punched more often. The crossbow would be handy. But there I go being all greedy."
Noticing the blood and stains on the others he begins snapping his fingers and saying his command words and sending light breezes to clean each of them.