Bloodcove: the last port of call on the Fever
Sea. This strange town is part pirate haven and
part merchant bazaar. Its ramshackle buildings
rest on the twisting, interwoven roots of a
colossal mangrove tree, a fitting metaphor for
the complex web of promise, deceit, treachery,
and broken alliances that defines the remote
trading colony. The hard-won bounty of the
Mwangi Expanse flows through Bloodcove to
ports around the world, and obtaining these
exotic riches from the deadly wilderness is the
easy part—the real difficulty is hanging on
to the treasure long enough to see it safely
delivered to a distant port.
Another hot day in Bloodcove, the mangrove town, and Mem’basi dragged his feet towards the Dockmaster’s Office. It had been like this for the past couple of weeks. He would pretend to go and stand around with the rest of the men looking for some sort of work. However, when the foremen came looking for muscle to unload or load ships, Mem’basi would slink to the shadows or pretend to be sick or drunk. Foremen didn’t hire drunks. And Mem’basi didn’t want to take away work from the men that really needed it; men half-starved or really sick or drunk. The jungle druid had little need for money; he would go back to the jungle at night and have his fill of the abundant resources the mangrove offered.
After stumbling about and slurring his speech when answering Sereno, a particularly cruel foremen, the druid left the office. Sereno’s curses and threats ushered him out and the druid bit his lip trying to keep his calm and maintain his ruse. A few more yards and he was safe, back in the shade where he had set up his impromptu camp. The camp was below the mangrove’s upper branches, closer to the water, where the druid left his weapons and few belongings, where his cat waited.
The leopard languidly stretched and licked his paws. “Zimba, you lazy cat! I told you to stay away for now.” The cat meowed but didn’t seem concerned. Mem’basi was mad but it wasn’t the leopard’s fault. He had failed to stop the animal poachers from leaving with their prizes and his plan of hanging around the docks to catch them again wasn’t working. There had been no sign of them and the druid was getting restless. Maybe he should just forget about them and go back out in the jungle again. There was still plenty of work to be done there, either protecting well-meaning expeditions or making sure that those that wasted nature’s resources never made it back out of the jungle. He sat in the shade next to his cat and munched on a mango, his hand absently scratched behind the leopard’s ear who purred his content. “You lazy cat! Don’t you ever worry?” This just would not do. “C’mon, we’re changing our luck.”
Mem’basi grabbed his belongings and strode confidently towards the office again. This time he would get a job but not as simple hired muscle but a proper job, one of that he was better suited for. Mem’basi would find a jungle expedition and offer his services, the perfect opportunity to leave the smelly town and get back to where he belonged. Spear in hand, the druid walked past his would be employers. He was hoping he wouldn’t be stopped, particularly by Sereno, one of the cruelest foremen he’d met.
Once he neared the office, Mem’basi’s luck started to change. Among the people standing about, he recognized Jean-Phillipe, a grizzled veteran who knew his way in the jungle. The druid and ranger had shared a few jobs together and knew each other as honest, no-nonsense men.
Sereno, the half Mwangese-elf, turns around as he sees the druid and his pet "Ay, Ay, can't handle honest work, ah? We used to have big fun."
After the conversation, the half-elf puts his hands in his trousers and takes a pinch of red ague from his pouch, twists it in his fingers and stuffs it between his gums and lips, where he sucks on the juice.
"Hahahaha, this is gonna be a good'in!" he says to himself, he turns to the group and picks four people at random "Youahss cummmm wit me!!!" as he grasps his cat o'9tails and head's toward the docks
Sereno, the half Mwangese-elf, turns around as he sees the druid and his pet "Ay, Ay, can't handle honest work, ah? We used to have big fun."
Mem'basi's grip on his spear tightened as Zimba growled low, the leopard's ears were flat on its head. Instinctively, the druid reached down with his left hand and grabbed the leopard by its scruff. With both his hands' knuckles turning white, the druid slurred in common, "No, no like tough work. No like work. Me go now." He was hoping the half-elf was either too stupid to notice there was something wrong with this picture or smart enough to realize that there were easier victims to pick than this Zenj and his pet leopard. The druid waited for what seemed like an eternity while the cruel half-elf sized him up.
After the conversation, the half-elf puts his hands in his trousers and takes a pinch of red ague from his pouch, twists it in his fingers and stuffs it between his gums and lips, where he sucks on the juice.
"Hahahaha, this is gonna be a good'in!" he says to himself, he turns to the group and picks four people at random "Youahss cummmm wit me!!!" as he grasps his cat o'9tails and head's toward the docks
Mem'basi was relieved not to have to fight the half-elf but sad at the same time. Sad for those poor people who would probably go home with a bit of money and a whip-kissed back. Maybe it was time someone taught the cruel foreman a lesson. The leopard growled low again as if reading the druid's mind. Or maybe it was time for the half-elf to encounter some of the more colorful Mwangi denizens. A small viper in his bed or a poisonous beetle in his boots may do the trick.
Once he neared the office, Mem’basi’s luck started to change. Among the people standing about, he recognized Jean-Phillipe, a grizzled veteran who knew his way in the jungle. The druid and ranger had shared a few jobs together and knew each other as honest, no-nonsense men.
"Ho, Jean-Phillipe, good to see you here. What are you doing? Did that young professor from your last expedition finally figured you out?" The druid clasped the man's arm in content, strong white teeth standing out in his black face.
Light, the rising sun shines in the face of the unconscious pirate lying in a boat half filled with water, on a shore among flotsam, the result of yesterday's storm and drunkenness.
Robert mumbles something, and tries to turn away from the light in his sleep, and slips right into the water. Panicking, he wakes up while making swim movements in the air, and accidentally kicks the side of the small boat which turns it sideways and thus Robert rolls out and gets stopped by a barrel some meters away on the shore. Face: Meet barrel, barrel: meet face.
He stands up dizzy from the sudden introduction and rubs his nose. Robert blinks twice and looks around. His backpack stuck in a corner of the boat as it turned sideways, and the coastline was full with debris and some corpses.
"Hells, I need some ale or rum... right, there isn't any." Robert picks up his backpack, checks his weapons, and starts to pick up some usable trash from the shore. A soaked map, an empty waterflask, and an undamaged bag.
He feels as if something is missing, other than his parrot companion. Robert sits down on a rock and thinks over what just happened.
Yesterday he woke up for his night shift in time, but the bastard of a captain and the crew was asleep and drunk. Finding the captain wasn't hard as he was in his cabin, but Robert reaaally didn't want to see the man together with the navigator in bed.
He shrug from the memory.
After running around with the approaching storm on the horizon, trying to crew the ship on his own he didn't find his parrot for a good while, as the storm came and there was no chance he could handle it on his own he began to prepare the boat for an escape, that is when he found the corpse of the Macaw. Beside an empty barrel.
The captain usually didn't let anyone near the alcohol, but somehow a barrel was opened despite the guards, and the crew broke up all the other barrels and emptied the rest of the bottles as no one wanted to get left out. Robert barely found anything usable in the kitchen.
He scratched his head as he sat there on the rock, and realized what was missing, other than the parrot and a drink. "Darn it, my hat, where is my hat!?"
Robert looks around trying to find his hat as a well known, deep manly voice speaks to him. "Idiot, it is on the tree up here."
He looks up to where the voice came from, and sees his parrot sitting on top of a tree, with his hat near it.
"Damn it, took you quite a while to get back from the dead this time, get down here and bring me my hat too." Robert smirks at the parrot.
The parrot makes a voice as if it would laugh. "I hate to die, although drowning in a barrel full of ale wasn't the worst death I had."
Robert raises one of his eyebrows. "So it was YOU who opened that barrel, thus everything is your fault!"
"What if so? You hated those traitors and the captain anyway. And you are here alive and well. Although the treasure lies now along with my previous body in deep sea." The parrot picks up the tricorn hat and flies down to Robert, and sits on his shoulder. The pirate notices that the parrot has an eyepatch again.
"True." Robert takes the hat with a smile and puts it on. "How in the hells do you find an eye patch every time anyway?"
"Heh, I always find myself with wearing one already once I return, so no idea."
As the two talk Robert notices a man coming to towards them, seems that one searches the leftovers of the ship as well.
"Seems we have a guest. You know what to do Jack." Robert looks at the parrot.
The parrot "nods" at him and flaps his wings. "Polly wants a cracker! Polly wants a cracker" So Jack speaks, in the typical shrieky parrot tone.
Robert waits for the scavenger to get near him. "Arr there! Who are you, and what is this place?"
Jean Phillipe grunts while he lights a cigarette. "Just another lost baby looking for incorrect things; a fool like them all. 'ave you 'ad any luck finding work?"
Yoshiyaru picked his way nimbly across the planks used for streets in Bloodcove, still shaking his head over his final conversation with the captain of the ship that brought him here.
After the storm had claim Yoshi's father and blew the battered ship off course, Bloodcove was the only port available. The captain had promised that the repairs would only take a few weeks, but weeks became months, and now the half-elven tian-min was down to his last copper, with no end in sight for the repairs.
Worse, as time went on, Yoshi felt that he had fewer and fewer reasons to visit his father's homeland of Taldor.
At least it was easy to pick up what the locals call a 'language', thought Yoshi.
With that in mind, the magus headed for the Free Trade Square to see if anyone needed a guard, preferably for a caravan or something of that nature, as that was what he and his father had done for several years.
Jean Phillipe grunts while he lights a cigarette. "Just another lost baby looking for incorrect things; a fool like them all. 'ave you 'ad any luck finding work?"
Mem'basi chuckled, "Why am I not surprised? You and your charming personality, you know there's only so far that your 'mysterious jungle guide play' will get you. The druid shook his head, "Ah, no matter. And the answer is no. And you shouldn't either. Not here anyways. The only thing you'll find here is a back ache from heavy lifting and some lashing on top. You and me, we need to find other type of work. C'mon, put on a happy face and let's see what the tide washed to shore."
"This is my happy face. Sometimes I prefer silent toil to chittering with the songbirds of up north. But let's go look, you've always been lucky for me."
Angelo finished tending the small shrine of Pharasma in the Embassy Chapel. There was little to be done, the Chellish had abandoned their hypocritical sanctimony some years ago, and largely abandoned their pantheon temples in favor of diabolic rituals and observance.
The ancient pantheon priest, Thomaso Leroung, was a relic from an earlier time, tending a shrine that was similarly a relic. Protected by tradition, the status of his lineage, and the obscurity of posting in Bloodcove in Garundi, Thomaso would never be purged. He would instead be quietly neglected, and his sinecure retired with his funeral.
Angelo enjoyed no such protections. He enjoyed liberty of the Chellish Embassy because of a legal technicality - Cheliax continued to assert sovereignty over the colony of Sargava. Cheliax thrived on legalisms, and Angelo was not about to correct this one that benefited him. Angelo also enjoyed a certain degree of latitude because his mother was a junior member of the Chellish House Jeggare. That affiliation was tarnished by marriage into a junior Sargavan house. And Angelo was here in exile. Angelo was also god-touched - his relationship to Pharasma was undeniable. But these tenuous connections, and a large, generous dose of personal magnetism, were enough to allow him a semi-official status in the Embassy.
Angelo was exchanging pleasantries with Thomaso when he noticed the lanky blonde stranger emerged from the shrine of Sarenrae. He consults quickly with Thomaso, then approaches the newcomer. She is daylight to his night - both tall, graceful, and with otherworldly attractiveness. She an angel, he a seductive nightmare. Angelo is conscious of the impression. He savors the experience, prolonging the moment before breaking the tableau by actual conversation.
"Bellissima - Father Thomaso here tells me you're new in town. Walking into town is novel - and tough," he says, allowing enough regard and warmth into his tone to communicate its genuineness. "There are two other small shrines in town that I tend to - at the Castellany and the Pathfinder House. These are a walk across town, through most of the interesting parts of town. I'm looking to roust up some business - either interring adventurers, or guiding them. I'm not currently engaged in either pursuit." Angelo's wry smile, and the twinkle in his eye invites her to participate in his small humor - in fact, his easy manner and slightly aristocratic bearing make her want to share a joke, a confidence, with him.
"My name is Angelo. I would greatly enjoy walking with you through town this morning. If your business and my business align, maybe a stroll can be advantageous, as well as pleasant. dobbiamo camminare?" Angelo asks, bowing outrageously (elegantly, slightly flirtatiously), and invites Corvus to take his arm.
@Robert,
the two native scavengers, one a Mwangi man and the other a half-orc girl, walk over to you "You be in Bloodcove, and that be 2 copper pieces, in South Mwangi, mon, me be Jemarll D'wambe and this be me daughter Zenobia" the girl gives you a green toothy grin.
The girl talks to the parrot "Hello Missa parrots, like Nshima? it tasty!"
Yoshiyaru mingled with the crowd in the Free Trade Square, trying to acquire some work.
The distrustful foreign half-elf kept one hand on the hilt of his falcata, eying everyone that came near.
It is strange that this place reminds me of Wanshou, he thought unfavorably of his homeland where he worked in the rice patties with his mother under the watchful eyes of the kraken Zhanagorr's minions.
Corvus wondered out loud what she had done to deserve being sent to perform missionary work in the Mwangi expanse as her mind wandered in the midday heat.
Her backside was, as ever, sore and she wondered why so many of her fellow faithful chose to ride. Her horse was supposedly well-trained but it chose every opportunity to play up. As her mind recounted holy verse, she was unaware of the shift in her horse's gait until it was too late. Suddenly it broke into a fast pace and she was unceremoniously dumped from the saddle. Unlike the other times his had happened on her journey, this time her horse, Myst, didn't stop but instead continued to run until it was a speck in the distance.
With the clothes on her back - and fortunately a weapon - but precious little else, she spent many days foraging until she happened onto a dirt track, which after a further day led to a road and finally she came to the city of Bloodcove.
A stranger had both informed her that the Chellish embassy had a shrine to Sarenrae and its location. Some hours later, she found herself behind the embassy building praying at the shrine to the Dawnflower, for a sign.
As if her prayers were answered, Corvus allows herself to be swept along by the one called Angelo.
She declines his arm however, wishing to retain the dignity of her calling, albeit reluctantly. "A stroll after my recent efforts is perhaps not what I had foremost in mind, however let us praise the rising sun and see whatever fate has in store for us".
With this, she falls into step alongside Angelo.
Jack reacts to the kids approach. "Polly wants a cracker, Polly wants a cracker!"
Meanwhile, Robert searches his pockets and hands over two copper coins to the man. "Bloodcove eh? I think I have heard of it before. What direction is it in?"
"Fate indeed - that is part of Pharasma's portfolio - I can do little but be open to the winds of fate," and so saying, Angelo sweeps out of the Embassy along with Corvus (though not with her on his arm, to his bemused regret). Angelo strolls down towards the Castellany, maintaining a small background patter, telling Corvus about the people and businesses huddled around the outskirts of the mangrove trunk.
"I'm also arrived in Bloodcove fairly recently. I previously lived in Eleder, and come here for some distance, and to seek my fortunes outside the direct influence of my family. I've been marking time a bit, and getting to know the place."[b] If she's paying much attention, Corvus can tell he's glossing over substantial portions of the story - not lying, but definitely not exploring sensitive topics.
[b]"But I think it's time for bigger and greater endeavors. You're obviously accoutered for exploring, and somewhat devout. Your accent betrays an origin on the inner sea somewhere - Taldor? Andoran? What brings you walking out of the jungle? Your choice of devotion tells me Cheliax is almost certainly not correct, despite having found you in the embassy of my deluded northern cousins."
After some light chatter and a bit of getting-to-know you, Corvus and Angelo arrive at the gates of the Castellany. Angelo knocks on the imposing front entrance, waiting for entry.
@Angelo and Corvus, Upon arrival at the mangrove you see two burly guards in front of the Castellany, one being Mwangi the other being from up north.
@Robs The girl looks at the parrot surprised and hands him Nshima, anyway "Missa Parrot, it tis good me promisuhyou" then she smiles.
Her father turns to Robert and slaps him on the back, Ju mussa be kiddin, we's in da Bloodcove, there bein da Mightyie Mangrove twreee, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!
Angelo approaches the northern and says, "Hello, if you could please let us in to tend the shrines - as this week, and the one before. Funny thing, these shrines just don't stay tended." and he gives the guard a conspiratorial grin.
"Any interesting news passing through the gates? I'm wondering if anyone has come seeking support for exploring, or something similar. Pharasma's turning the wheel of fate again, and I think the lovely lady and I are in for something interesting. There's something in the wind, but I don't know if that wind has blown through these gates yet..."
Angelo's approach and manner take in the northerner, and somehow seem to exclude or overlook the Mwangi native - although in local politics it's quite possible the Mwangi has a higher social standing.
The northern looking guard looks at you and says, "Alas, I cannot let you in to "tend the shrines" because the Admiral is having a very important meeting with the trade associations, representatives of the Hurricane King and Sargava. You should go to the Cheliax Embassy or the Pathfinder Lodge to help their shrines."
He looks around a bit "Meet me at the Bloodrot this evening, we can discuss things later"
"[i]Amico mio[i], it would be a great shame to disturb the Admiral at such important business. If the goddess requires the Admiral's attention, I'm sure she has other ways," then quietly, "I shall see you at the Bloodrot this evening - my regards to the Admiral's long life, and that of his guests." The grin that Angelo graces him with, as he moves farther along toward the Pathfinder Society and Free Market, is two parts rake, and one part demonic creepy harbinger of death.
To Corvus, as they walk on through the town, "So the mighty take their counsels in their palaces, but the wind whispers for those with ears to hear."
While Jack tries to estimate the tasty/deadly values of the ""nshima" Robert looks at the tree behind him, it doesn't seem like any settlement.
"Well I heard tales, I didn't say I believed them." He looks more and notices something like a smoke from the tree, it may be from some building with a chimney near the tree, or it may be that the tree is burning.
Jack also accepts the gift finally.
Jermarll looks at Robert and says, "Me bring you town, I row, be there quick, you see!!! He flashes you a big smile.
Jack tries the Nshima, which is a bit softer than a cracker but has a corny taste. He seems to enjoy it.
The girl signals for Jack to land on her hand. Yous nice birdie!!!
Jack not being worried anymore that it may be some weird meaty trap munches on it and flies over on to the head of the girl.
Robert watching this scene sighs. "All righty matey, row me there then!" He picks up a piece of rag near one of the corpses on the shore that may have been once the navigator, and polishes his peg leg with it. Being satisfied with the result he moves to follow Jemarll.
Jack meanwhile notices something and flies off, just for a few moments, and returns with some black cloth what he drops off to Robert before landing on the shoulder of the girl.
Robert looks at it with a grin. "Good job finding the flag, you will get a nice beer as reward." As answer "Polly" happily flaps his wings a few times.
After about a fifteen minutes, Jemarll navigates you around, through and once or twice under the great roots of the Mighty Mangrove Tree. Then you can see the boardwalks of Bloodcove and the large dock complex of it. The buildings look roughshodden but sturdy. You see a mix of people: locals, sailors, and merchants.
I take you to dockmaster's office, Tesha , she take care of you says Jemarll.
He pull up to the dock and Zenobia jumps up quickly with the rope in her hand and then ties the boat to the dock firmly. Her father follows suit and he helps you out of the boat and continues, "There to the right is dock office and straight ahead is Witchlight Inn, we get drink in Witchlight tonight, me muss a go fishing for my family!"
Corvus allows Angelo to take the lead throughout. She is weary after days of walking although intrigued by his many asides and conspiratorial mannerisms.
As Angelo leads them back through the town, Corvus clears her throat a little nervously. "As much as I enjoy wandering around town with you, I have," her voice falters a little, "I have spent days walking without a decent meal or the niceties of a clean bed or a wash." She says the last few words in a rush and, her cheeks slightly pink, she continues quickly, "Yet I have no, er, money. You see my horse. That is, my er, um, situation is that I have only what you see before you and that does not include a purse."
Corvus looks at Angelo earnestly, awaiting a response.
As the two walk around casually, Jean Phillipe interjects, "So, 'ave you 'ad any luck lately? With ...your personal quest?"
The bustle of the oppressively hot afternoon is
broken by a piercing shriek. There is a pause
in the sounds of commerce as all eyes turn
upward to see a massive beast soaring below
the lower limbs of the giant mangrove upon
which Bloodcove is constructed. The huge reptilian
creature looks like a vestige from some
long-forgotten era as it swoops down toward
the wooden shanties and catwalks of the city.
Its wickedly hooked beak snatches a passerby
off of one catwalk and flings him into the scaffolds
and rooftops far below before it alights on
the end of the very boardwalk upon which Robert is
standing. It again utters its piercing shriek, and
this time the sound of its scream is echoed by
those of several frightened people trapped on
the other end of the boardwalk.
Robert could see just before the attack a gathering of a 8 people. Six of whom flee towards area 4 but the other 2 ran towards area I and are trapped.
DM rolls:
Dragonell
Half-Elf Warriors
Jamarl
Robert
Round 1:
Robert
Jamarl
Dragonell
Half-Elf warriors (7)
As Angelo leads them back through the town, Corvus clears her throat a little nervously. "As much as I enjoy wandering around town with you, I have," her voice falters a little, "I have spent days walking without a decent meal or the niceties of a clean bed or a wash." She says the last few words in a rush and, her cheeks slightly pink, she continues quickly, "Yet I have no, er, money. You see my horse. That is, my er, um, situation is that I have only what you see before you and that does not include a purse."
"one as radiant as yourself should never have need of anything as vulgar as purse or coin. It is for you to desire and the world to provide. Today you are my omen and guiding star. For those of us merely mortal, however, this 'wandering through town' is a means to end with a meal among good friends. Even if we must invent such friends during our wanderings. The immediate alternative is to retire to my small rooms near the free market, and share a cold meal of hard cheese, hard sausage, and harder bread. If we're fortunate, my last two groats we might exchange for an onion and a carafe of sour wine." Angelo lightens what might come across as a bitter commentary with an ironically grandiose tone of voice, and a slight flourish of hand as he concludes. Leading onward to the Pathfinders, he continues on, "it is my hope that today I might find some work either with either a commercial venture, such as the Admiral is interviewing at this moment, or a band of adventurers with a lead on some treasure in a ruin somewhere - as are likely to be found among the pathfinders or at the market, or leading funerals as might have resulted from last night's storms - information also to be had at the market. The last turns quick coin, though small. The first can be persuaded to advance funds - and I can be very persuasive," his look is flirtatious and outrageous, stopping a breath short of ogle or leer. "the potential of a band of adventurers appeals to my soul at the moment, but my purse cries out in despair, for such ventures are purely speculative, and do not lay a sumptuous table today."[/b] his hangdog and piteous expression is such an exagerated self-mockery as to make it impossible to keep a straight face.
"so please, compana, indulge the Impulse of one touched by the goddess of fate," and in a mutter, "yes, and birth and death as well - though how not lust?" but aloud he continued on, "indulge me by accompanying me today as talisman and charm to help sweep fate off her feet. Tonight I shall guarantee we shall dine (if perhaps poorly), you may have my narrow cot (until the landlady throws me out at the end of the week), and I shall draw you a bath myself (for certainly there is no other possibility for a bath) regardless of the outcome of the Business of the day. Agreed?"
"another thought occurs - walking into bloodcove from the jungle is an achievement of some merit. Perhaps if we happen to be at the Pathfinders' at a lunch-like hour, they might invite us to dine with them if you will tell of it. What say you - are you recovered enough to convey the Perils of Corvus in the Great Mangrove Swamp? Despite the opportunity for grand eloquent tale-telling, these pathfinders will look for every monotonous detail of location, time, and peoples. Though they tell a fine tale themselves, they seem inured to the. Emerita of artistic license and dramatic necessity. But their lunches tend to be most satisfactory."
Yoshiyaru spied the great beast and his years of training overcame common sense. Dashing from the market toward the docks, he attempted to identify the creature.
As he nimbly avoided the fleeing crowds, the half-elf closed the distance swiftly. Nearing the monster, Yoshi drew his falcata.
"Favoloso! You certainly have a way with lady fate! I hope wyrmslayer is among your qualifications. Though I have a feeling you will be engaging fate head on, I believe I'll be securing some dinner invitations by ensuring the liveliness of our prospective hosts. Now run! Avanti!" and catching up corvus's hand, Angelo grins manically and sprints for the boardwalk.
As the two walk around casually, Jean Phillipe interjects, "So, 'ave you 'ad any luck lately? With ...your personal quest?"
Mem'basi shook his head, "No, my friend. No luck. I haven't seen them and Zimba and I, we both want to sink our teeth in their flesh," the leopard growled as if in response.
"And you, have you..." the druid's question stuck in his throat as he saw the flying monster from above.
"C'est quoi ce bordel que c'est?!" Jean-Phillipe immediately draws his bow and runs to the disturbance.
The flying monster screamed for attention and Mem'basi responded. He gripped his spear tighter and rushed to the scene. Conscious that he passed people coming towards him, the druid felt relieved; he wasn't going to necessarily kill any beast but rather to make sure that no innocents were hurt. However the scream of a human being was not very encouraging.
Knowing Zimba was right behind him bolstered the druid, "To me old friend, you may have to play the mouse for this big 'cat' while I help people to safety." The leopard's ears flattened on his head as he ran on.
Corvus allows Angelo to sweep her along with him towards the commotion. She wonders, as she runs, the reason for his garrulousness. 'Is he hiding something, or just blesed with verbal diarrhoea,' she ponders as she instinctively reaches for her scimitar.
Corvus' initiative:
Robert blinks as he gets to the settlement, and tries to understand what exactly is going on.
He plans to attack the attackers as long they are distracted by fleeing commoners. Maybe that reptilian thing if in range.
Jamarll spear
damage
Dragonnell Left against Half Elf 1
Right against Half Elf 2
damage Left
Right
Half-elf warrior 3 attack
Half-elf warrior 4attack
Half-elf warrior 5 attack damage
Half-elf warrior 6 attack
Half-elf warrior 7 attack damage
Robert misses his two strikes against the dragonnell but Jamarll pokes the beast but good, which gives Zenobia enough time to jump into the water and swim to safety. Half-elves 1 and 2 are crushed by the dragonell and then thrown high into the air dieing on impact with the mighty trunk of the mangrove tree.
The majority of the half-elves do not hit their mark but two get their spears into the beast, allowing the two elves to get to safety.
Round 2:
Zimba, Yoshi, Robert, Poulain, Membasi, Jamarl, Dragonell, Half elve warriors.
As Zimba, Yoshi and Poulain approach, a man screams "Save our colleagues, please, we will make it worth your while!!!!"
"Throw food, meat on the road near it, it may be just hungry and stop attacking people then!" Robert shouts so that the locals hear it.
Jack meanwhile helps the girl and other commoners to get out of the danger zone thanks to Jack's better perception of the situation from above.
Knowing Zimba was right behind him bolstered the druid, "To me old friend, you may have to play the mouse for this big 'cat' while I help people to safety." The leopard's ears flattened on his head as he ran on.
Playing 'cat and mouse' was something the leopard did often with the druid. Whether it was to gain advantages by making a prey have to defend both flanks or to allow the druid to do something else. The leopard knew full well how to gain someone's attention.
Zimba seemed to fly past people going the opposite way as he targeted the back of the huge creature. At last he leaped and landed with four claws outstretched and fangs bared.
Jean-Phillipe shoots as soon as he can.
Zimba's pounce was somewhat effective but due to size of the beast he rolled right off, however its bite attack was vicious tearing deep into the dragonnell, making it screech in pain.
Mem'basi smiled at the sight of his leaping friend tearing a chunk out of the huge beast. The smile was wiped out with more present concerns; the beast had plucked people from the hanging bridges and it wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.
The druid waved his spear and yelled at them, trying to get their attention in the midst of screeching beast. "Over here! Get behind me! Mem'basi then, spear in hand and pointed at the beast, backed away allowing the half-elf to get out of the way of danger.
The druid yelled at the leopard, "Zimba, back off! Do not stand up to it!" Mem'basi then approached the beast doing his best to 'shoo' it off the bridge.
[occ]Mem'basi doesn't want to attack and will fight defensively (-4 to hit, and +2 to AC0 but he will attack if the beast decides to go after him[/ooc]
The huge beast hadn't had its fill yet. It turned its beak towards the druid and lunged for him but Mem'basi was ready. He thrusted with his spear hoping to keep the beast's maw away from him."
The slim half-elf concentrated for a moment before he dashed forward, muttering an arcane phrase and moving his off-hand in an intricate pattern. Suddenly, his falcata crackled with electricity as he slashed at the beast.
Zimba's bite attack connects viciously whereas his pounce attack only landed one claw. Yoshi's falcatta gets the dragonnel's attention allowing two of the Half-elves to escape. Robert's boarding axe then takes a piece of meat out of its leg and the druid stays back direction traffic. The arrow from Poulain lodges nicely in the beast's ear.
Jemarll attack
damage
Dragonell Right against Robert attack damage
Left against Yoshi confirm critical damage
Bite against Zimba damage
confirm critical damage
The other halfelves are able jump into the drink and safely get away. The dragonnel is severely wounded but still standing.