"Indeed. Your knowledge of the fact attests that you are, as well."
Eldramin has an air of pleasantries, but is clearly ready for the green-sashed man to show up.
Dragomir seems a little surprised. How did you know? Did you overhear us?
Morten looks Dragomir up and down, a smile creeping across his face. "Well such an odd group as this practically screams hired help, and like he said, I got the same message. I hope they haven't called us all here for nothing..."
More patrons filter in to replace the departed bargemen. Soon the Doxie is near capacity, filled with a mix of dockworkers, ruffians and out-of-work mercenaries. It's not a place the town guard tend to visit even when on-duty, but One-Eye's squinting glare keeps the violence in check, or at least outdoors.
Your cups are nearly dry and your contact still hasn't shown up when the bartender pays a special visit to your table. Behind him, two of the tavern maids approach with a basket of brown bread and board stacked with three roast chickens.
"Your host is a bit detained, but said to keep you fed and sober-ish in the meantime," One-Eye says, looking you up and down with his left eye, then the right. "Shouldn't be much longer though. Want another round to wash this down? Just opened a cask of last year's red from Orlane, or I've got a fresh keg of Keoish brown if you want ale."
A few minutes later the handsome Half-Elf is left alone at the table, nursing his ale as another sailor, a little better dressed and behaved comes in to round up the barge-men to ready for casting off. He bids them farewell and accepts their good-natured jibes as they head out the door.
The brunette man, dressed in fine clothes, carrying two swords at his hip, and a lyre atop his pack casts his gaze slowly around the bar. Eventually he seems to pick out the odd assortment of people quietly waiting and hefts his pack, carrying it over to the table. "Let me guess; you're all waiting for a man with a sash who's offered a job?" he asks, pulling a stool up to the table and taking a seat. His smile is particularly warm when he turns towards Koralyn.
Koralyn's returned gaze is cold, unfriendly, and possibly judgmental. Morten gets the distinct feeling that his entry failed to impress the lady at the table. But whatever slight she feels was not enough to object to his taking a seat. It had better be more than a job. the lady says somewhat darkly, but give no hint at what she means.
When wine is offered she speaks up appreciatively. I would love a glass of Orlane red and will drink it in honor of the heroes of the battle of Orlane. she says accepting the offer. But water mine by half so that I will indeed remain sober-ish. I sense that there are men about who might try to take advantage of any woman who was vulnerable. Through tremendous willpower she manages not to look at Morten as she says this.
"I'll take the other half of her red, and a cup of the brown." Eldramin says, eyeing the food.
"This feels like one of those jobs where we won't have anything half as nice to eat or drink for a long time."
Fresh Keoish brown? Great! I'll take a large tankard, better make it two. I haven't had freshly made ale in a while with all the troubles and all, says Dragomir as he reaches out a huge hand to grab a some of bread. Most of it has been in the keg awhile or is home brewed stuff that claims to be Keoish brown.
He waves away One-Eyes frown. I've the head for it - don't you fear, plus I'll be eating while I drink.
He turns to the others. Its a great drop - don't miss out on it, especially if its just up from the Sheldomar river - grain crops are best there but close enough that the ale will taste fresh.
Morten chuckles in amusement at Koralyn's veiled slight, and had simply shrugged off her cold gaze earlier as well. He was plenty used to being judged for his actions, he rarely let it bother him overly. "The Brown as well." he adds to the other's while a dagger appears in one hand and deftly slices half the flesh from one chicken, which he scoops up with his bread roll. He seems to be paying one of the maids rather more attention than the task however... He knew better than to mess with One-eye's girls while they were on duty, but there was always time after their shift...
The roast chickens have been reduced to grease and bones by the time the barmaid returns with more drink. The way the tavern has filled, you expect it will be some time before she has time to bring another round.
The volume rises as the number of patrons grows. A freckled halfling tries to take the stage with a battered lute but the crowd yells him down, sparing you the caterwauling you'd expect in a place like this where bards play for copper pennies.
Despite the raucous rumbling, a hush falls over the tavern a few minutes later as a woman enters the Doxie through a small wooden door under the stairs. Slightly pointed ears mark her as a half-elf, and a tall one at that - she towers over the two men who accompany her. Around her waist is looped a silk sash, dyed emerald green. Her eyes linger on your own as she takes a seat at the round table in the northwest corner of the bar.
She may not be 7 feet tall like rumors claim, but you've no doubt the half-elf woman is Onshae, called the Snow Owl, the guild-mistress of Hochoch's thieves guild, the Talons.
Before you have a chance to push back your chairs, a black-bearded man with the build of a blacksmith turns from the bar. The half-elf seems startles when pulls back his hood, and you notice half a dozen other men with the look of thugs or cutpurses stand, as well.
"Weren't expecting to see me tonight, I warrant," the bearded man says, his words carrying through the suddenly quiet room. "Sorry to say, it's the last meeting we'll have, Onshae. Your time's over - the Talons belong now to Red Tom."
As he speaks, you hear the twang of crossbows and see bolts sprout from the eye sockets of the half-elf's two bodyguards. Fear in her eyes, she dives behind the table as Red Tom and four of his men pull hammers, axes and cudgels from beneath their cloaks and advance, while two others begin reloading hand crossbows.
~~~~~0~0~0~~~~~
Wanting to stop the fighting before it begins, Alistair gestures with his right hand, while intoning a short chant, building a sleeping charm to, he hopes, defuse the situation.
Sleep spell:
Int check:
While the others talked, Kierdan had been lost in his thoughts, thinking of the recent catastrophe at Pregmere. The commotion in the common room brings him instantly back to the here and now.
Kierdan springs to his feet and moves to the head of the table, readying his white shield with the golden face of Pelor upon it.
To the man threatening the women in the green sash he shouts Stop this now!.
He gestures at the man speaking, ordering him to Hold!
Wanting to stop the fighting before it begins, Alistair gestures with his right hand, while intoning a short chant, building a sleeping charm to, he hopes, defuse the situation.
Sleep spell: 5d8
Int check: 1d20+6
Without a word Koralyn moves forward drawing her well used and well cared for long sword as she moves. She double moves towards the bandits, stepping as if to engage Red Tom. But as she completes her move she vanishes in a silvery mist. When the mist clears she is not there. Instead she is standing beside Onshae, her back to the wall of the Inn. I stand with you Onshae. You do not fight alone. Her grip on the hilt of her sword says Come at me! to the enemy present.
Eldramin grabs his shield from the bench with one hand, curling the other in a wretched symbol before thrusting it in the direction of the enemy, and a ghostly bolt flies forth!
"Damn it... why'd she have to get me tangled up in this again." Morten mutters sourly as the self identified Red Tom makes his presence known. "She better appreciate this." he mutters as he springs from his seat, his blades appearing fluidly in his hands. He pauses but a moment as the others at the table leap into action, and seeing that none of them are trying to put a dagger between his shoulders, he puts them from his mind for the moment as he suddenly dashes forward, darting between the tables and the other startled patrons to slash at the thug beside Tom, and let his momentum carry him on as he rolls across the nearby table, crouching on the other side to avoid the attentions of the crossbowmen.
Intelligence
Hey, no hurting our employer, says Dragomir in a calm tone of voice, well in his element.
He squares up bare fisted against one of the thugs belonging to
Red Tom.
for dmg
He swings his mighty fists, sacrificing accuracy for power and misses his foe.
Intelligence 1d20 - 1
Hey, no hurting our employer, says Dragomir in a calm tone of voice, well in his element.
He squares up bare fisted against one of the thugs belonging to
Red Tom.1d20 + 4 for 1d4 + 4 + 2 dmg
He swings his mighty fists, sacrificing accuracy for power and misses his foe.
The big warrior moves north 2, west (or left if you prefer), then diagonally left/up 4 squares, dashing, draws his great sword on the way.
The crossbowman at the bar sways for a moment, his eyes fluttering, but he shakes off Alistair's sleep spell with a grimace. He turns and scowls at the mage as he loads another bolt into his hand crossbow.
Red Tom, likewise, is able to resist Kierdan's divinely-charged command, although he struggles mightily to do so.
Eldramin blasts the bearded leader with dark energy as the others rush to engage the Red Tom's band. Dragomir advances, providing cover for the spellcasters still at the table, while Morten tumbles forward, slashing one of Tom's thugs in the thigh as he leaps over the table to the west.
Blooded, Tom's men whirl on their new foes. The southern crossbowman fires a bolt that slams deep into Onshae's, eliciting a cry of pain from the half-elf guild master. The other sends a bolt flying toward Alistair, but the missile is wide of its mark, and sticks quivering in the plaster wall several inches from the wizard's head.
Tom's thugs advance, the wounded man and another coming at Morten from opposite sides of the table. They seem used to working together and rain blows on the swashbuckler with their iron maces - one smashes Morten over the head with a hit that nearly knocks him senseless.
The third man engages Dragomir and lands a lucky blow with his handaxe, drawing blood.
The fourth thug moves with Tom, slashing at Koralyn with a curved sword that bites deep into the noblewoman's flesh. .
His teeth bared in an animal snarl, Red Tom swings his hammer at Onshae in a series of crippling blows, but the master thief ducks evades each attack, leaping out of the way as her would-be usurper follows up with his knife. Feinting left, she dives beneath the table to her right. She has a dagger in her fist when she emerges on the other side, and slams it into the ribs of the thug attacking Koralyn. Badly wounded, the man fends off a second strike, before Onshae leaps away, vaulting behind the bar. Red Tom roars in anger, swiveling to follow her.
~~~~~0~0~0~~~~~
Eldramin reaches his empty hand out, and with a flowing flourish of ephemeral black flame, a longsword appears in his hand. Swinging the phantom blade at Red Thom, the blade seems to teleport to the man and swing!
Gritting his teeth in frustration, the wizard decides to strike at the head of the snake. He throws his hand outward and intones a chant made of a number of complex syllables. From his outstretched hand a number of blue darts fly unerring at the thug's leader, Red Tom.
Magic Missile (cast as 2nd Level):
Dragomir grunts as the blow is partial absorbed by his armour.
Attacking full force .
With all his muscles behind his swing he sacrifices power for accuracy. He hammers home a heavy hit.
reroll the 1 = 18 damage
Cursing like a sailor Morten does his best to fend the pair off, but the well practiced maneuvers take their toll leaving him bloodied and breathing hard. Not wasting breath on his usual quips he lashes a foot out at the uninjured thug to try and knock him off balance before following the attack with a thrust of his rapier.
He doesn't even pause to see whether the blow lands however, before pushing off the table and leaping at the other fellow, tumbling past him to take another slash with his cutlass at the man's guts again, before legging it towards the base of the stairs when he spies Dragomir and another thug "Little help..." he gasps out towards the guy waving Pelor's symbol around.
for
for
Kierdan, seeing the situation descend quickly into chaos, moves quickly to a position to better assist his new friends. As he moves across the common room floor, he sees Dragomir and Morten take viscous blows. Raising his golden faced holy symbol of Pelor high, he calls upon the divine power of the Sun Father to bolster his comrades.
The crossbowman at the bar sways for a moment, his eyes fluttering, but he shakes off Alistair's sleep spell with a grimace. He turns and scowls at the mage as he loads another bolt into his hand crossbow.
Red Tom, likewise, is able to resist Kierdan's divinely-charged command, although he struggles mightily to do so.
Eldramin blasts the bearded leader with dark energy as the others rush to engage the Red Tom's band. Dragomir advances, providing cover for the spellcasters still at the table, while Morten tumbles forward, slashing one of Tom's thugs in the thigh as he leaps over the table to the west.
Blooded, Tom's men whirl on their new foes. The southern crossbowman fires a bolt that slams deep into Onshae's, eliciting a cry of pain from the half-elf guild master. The other sends a bolt flying toward Alistair, but the missile is wide of its mark, and sticks quivering in the plaster wall several inches from the wizard's head.
Tom's thugs advance, the wounded man and another coming at Morten from opposite sides of the table. They seem used to working together and rain blows on the swashbuckler with their iron maces - one smashes Morten over the head with a hit that nearly knocks him senseless.
The third man engages Dragomir and lands a lucky blow with his handaxe, drawing blood.
The fourth thug moves with Tom, slashing at Koralyn with a curved sword that bites deep into the noblewoman's flesh. .
His teeth bared in an animal snarl, Red Tom swings his hammer at Onshae in a series of crippling blows, but the master...
Karolin activates her Bladesong ability as a bonus action and then casts Mirror image. She stands ready to fight with the person she is defending despite her serious wound.
Red Tom curses as Eldramin's spectral blade flies toward him, but the would-be usurper manages to lift the iron haft of his hammer in time to parry the blow. The glowing missiles that Alistair sends flying at him strike home, however, eliciting another curse.
"Someone stick a blade in those damn mages, now!" he screams, his own attention still focused on Onshae as she dodges behind the bar.
Swinging his greatsword in a wide arc, Dragomir batters the thug nearest to him with a blow that would have decapitated a lesser man. The streetfighter manages to get an axe up, cushioning the blow somewhat. It's not mortal, but he's bleeding from a deep wound in his side.
Dragomir's own wounds, as well as those of Onshae and Morten begin close, however, as Kierdan moves close and shouts the words of a prayer. Morten, meanwhile, manages to wound both of his attackers before tumbling away toward the stairs.
Koralyn calls out the words of spell, her sword weaving in a complicated dance as three duplicates spring up nearby.
Ignoring her, Red Tom charges after Onshae . Ducking under the bar, he swings wildly with his hammer and the dagger in his off-hand, but fails to land a blow in his fury.
Dropping his crossbow, the cut-throat on the other side of the bar slashes at Onshae with a shortsword, but isn't able to land a blow as she uses the thick oaken counter for cover.
The guild mistress of the Talons retaliates, stabbing Red Tom in the leg before fleeing and leaping the bar. Coming up behind the man Dragomir slashed earlier, she buries her blade in the the thug's spine. Spinning away, she takes a position shoulder-to-shoulder with Kierdan as the thugs who had been menacing Morten advance.
Attacking in concert, they hack and slash at Dragomir and Kierdan. Dragomir is struck once, although his armor absorbs most of the damage, but the other thug's axe slips past Kierdan's shield twice, leaving the cleric with blood staining his surcoat.
The crossbowman who had been firing from near the stairs circles around the combat, moving swiftly, before firing a bolt at Eldramin that thunks into the table before the warlock has to raise his shield.
Left alone against Lady Koralyn when Red Tom pursued Onshae, the remaining thug swings his mace at the mage and her mirror images, but manages only to dispel one of duplicates.
~~~~~0~0~0~~~~~
Eldramin waves his hand, commanding his spectral sword to pursue and attack the crossbowman firing at him.
He then flashes his open palm at Red Thom, unleashing a dark red blast in his direction.
Dragomir slices with clumsy might at the foe in front of Kieran.
Attack for
But misses his foe by a hand spread width.
As Koralyn is hit her image shirts just slightly, or was that the flicker of the fire light/
As Red Tom steps away from her she slashes out with her sword. Perhaps you successor will show greater respect to a lady with a blade. she says as she cuts the rogue leader deeply/.
Oh her turn Koralyn cuts at the rogue near her. You stand against me alone now thug. I'll see you bleed.
"Thanks Priest." he calls out, standing a little steadier, taking a moment to take a breath before darting forward, rounding the large table to lash at Dragomir's foe with both his blades.
for
for
Kierdan continues to call upon Pelor, imploring him to further invigorate his allies with his holy radiance.
Attacks etc
Action surge attack for
Re-roll the 2 = Damage 14.
If my surge attack takes down the target I use the Great Weapon Master Feat to attack the other man as a bonus action.
for
And misses
Eldramin's spectral blade slashes at the crossbowman behind the table to the north. A breath later, the warlock blasts Red Tom with a bolt of energy the colored of congealed blood, which leaves a sizzling hole in the man's side.
Dragomir swings his greatsword in a wide arc, but the thugs surrounding him and Kierdan dance out of the way. Morten moves up to assist, slashing and stabbing at the closest of Tom's minions. He lands a deep slash with his cutlass and a minor wound with his rapier, but the thug keeps on fighting.
With Morten now flanking his opponent, Dragomir pushes forward, swinging his sword around again with punishing force. The blade tears through one thug's chest and into the neck of the next one, who falls, squirting blood all over Kierdan's surcoat.
Without missing a beat, the priest intones another prayer of healing that seals the remaining plaguing those around him, returning all to full health.
Her blade wet with Red Tom's blood, Koralyn slashes at the remaining thug, who now bleeds from two serious wounds. Growing desperate, the thug hacks at the wizard and her duplicates with his axe. One blow comes near Koralyn's real self, but she ducks out of the way as her attacker cleaves through another of the duplicates, leaving one more.
Red Tom seems immune to similar fear. He leaps the bar, trailing blood from several wounds, before flinging a pair of daggers at Onshae. Both fly wide, leaving him sputtering in rage.
"Kill her, damn it, or I'll send you to the Abyss myself," he screams at his remaining men.
Heedless of the other threats in the room, the two cut-throats drop their crossbows and charge Onshae with slim swords. She dodges half of their attacks, but each manages to sink his blade into her flesh, causing her to cry out in pain as fresh blood spatters the floor.
Stabbing one of her attackers in the leg, Onshae retreats next to Kierdan.
"Help me, priest, or you'll be burying me after your morning prayers," she grunts, the pain from her wounds causing her to sway against him.
~~~~~0~0~0~~~~~
[dice=Dragomir "cleave" attack]1d20+4; 2d6+8[/dice]
Covered in blood and keeping his shield readied, Kierdan seeks to bring some relief to Onshae.
Shining One, let the energy of life, which originates from the sun, bring strength to the righteous! he intones as he lays his hand on the wounded woman.
Dragomir moves up diagionally to engage Red Tom.
for
His wide slash with the heavy blade misses.
Seeing three of his allies in close quarters with Red Thom, Eldramin waves his spectral blade over to attack the enemy engaging Onshae that is farther from his own person.
He then unleashes another bolt of life-sapping energy at the nearer of the two enemies engaging Onshae.
Anticipating the front line of combat working its way toward him, he raises his shield to keep the thugs off of the paranoid wizard in his rag-tag group.
Last Turn
Alistair sees the thug's leader is badly injured so takes the opportunity to try and bring him down with another volley of missiles.
Magic Missiles at Red Tom:
This Turn
Seeing their employer in a tight spot, Alistair again casts a sleep spell, this time on the two thugs attacking Onshae, sculpting the spell so as not to affect the woman.
Sleep Spell (2nd level):
Seeing that her party is doing well and that Onshae received some healing Koralyn blasts the thug in front of her with Magic missiles lest he forget that he has angered a mage.
If this drops the thug she will move towards Red Tom.
Humming cheerfully to himself now that things seemed to be going in their favour Marten saunters along behind Tom giving him a cheerful smile as he menaces him with his blades. "I'd think about this suicidal hatred you have. I mean... I don't really like her either, but is it worth dying for?"
He waits to see the fellow thief's response, and should it prove negative, shrugs and tries to skewer him.
for
Red Tom howls as Alistair's magic missiles burn fresh holes in his flesh. The thug menacing Lady Koralyn doesn't have a chance, as the bolts generated by her own spell burn in through his eye sockets, emitting greasy wisps of smoke as he topples to the ground.
Eldramin's bolt knocks the wounded crossbowman off his feet as the others trade blows and jockey for position.
Tom snarls as Morten tries to talk him into surrendering, but never has a chance to raise his blade. His eyes cross as Alistair whispers the final syllables of a sleep spell. Red Tom and his two surviving henchman slump to the floor.
"Neatly done," Onshae says, standing straighter after Kierdan's healing prayer. She glances sideways at Morten: "I never much cared for you, either, pretty one, but I haven't let that hinder good business."
She stands over Red Tom, thumbing her dagger.
"I don't suppose anyone would mind if I tied up this particular loose end?" she says, then sighs before anyone can answer.
"Fine. One-eye -- tie up these three and dump them outside the garrison with a note directing the guard to Tom's west lockup. He's still got a load of stolen rations stored there, and whatever trinkets his boys took from those halfling refugees when he thought I wasn't watching. The watch can use their own rope to hang him."
Nodding to your group, she motions toward the side door through which she entered.
"I'm suddenly in the mood for a bottle of red and a chair in some place a trifle more ... secure, for some reason. Care to join me?"
Again without waiting for a response, she heads out the door and into the alley next to the Doxie.