You find yourselves on the northeastern coast of Katapesh, in the small seaside town of Blackcrag Cove.
The people of Blackcrag Cove harbor a deep-rooted distrust of unfamiliar magic. A year ago, Mayor Kostya’s guard discovered evidence of a clandestine cult dedicated to the Queen of the Inferno, an obscure deity of fire and violence.
The mayor enlisted the aid of a band of adventurers to disrupt the cult, culminating in the public hanging of the cult’s leader, revealed to be the mayor’s own trusted cousin Ledain. Mocking his own execution, Ledain swore that the Queen of the Inferno would claim vengeance on Blackcrag Cove.
As the anniversary of Ledain’s death nears, strange signs and ominous portents have been observed in town. Just yesterday, the people felt the dormant volcano Theana rumble in its sleep, and saw the black smoke spewing from its peak. The mayor is deeply troubled by these signs, worried that her cousin’s curse just might come true.
The shroud-wrapped archer strolls along the shoreline of Blackcrag, watching the fisher-folk and letting the faint breezes wind beneath his mask to cool his face. Slung across his back is an ornate and dark bow. His gloved hands are clasped idly behind his back as he slowly walks.
Tickdown reaches into his pockets as he nears an entrance to the town. His fingers grasping nothing does not change his smile. "Pockets could use a bit 'o linin', but I'm sure any fool worth his weight could get a solid meal outta the folk here!"
He steps into the square taking in the sights.
Hmmm, better not do TOO many of the fire tricks. These folk may not like it by the look of it.
He leans on a wall along the shoreline where fishers are fishing. He laughs loudly and joyfully as a man struggles mightily, his muscles bulging, and then falls down backwards with the shimmering fish-line sparkling emptily through the air. He decides it is high time to start saving for supper.
"Every one gather 'round ole Tickdown here. You'll be amazed at feats of stunning dexterity, surpassing the normal man's ability. You sir, with the coverin's and the nice bow" he points at Lacsar, "...wouldn't you like to see the Amazing Tickdown Hardigree enact these feats of daredevilry?"
He gives his trademark smile and whips the scarf off his neck while at the same time grabbing the hat off his head and throws them to the ground in one fluid motion. The scarf lands coiled around the upside down hat.
The man in the filigreed mask cocks his heads, expressing some curiosity. His voice rings hollowly behind the mask, amused, "Devilry always has my attention."
His gloved hand comes up with a gold coin stashed between his fingers and a please proceed gesture.
Tickdown grins mightily and starts to jump to the edge of the ledge of the short wall he was leaning against. His foot catches the tip of the ledge...but the rest of it is sadly out of reach. He tumbles down onto the ground, a laugh floating from the distance. That's what I get for laughin' at his breakin' the fish-line.
He stands up and brushes some dust from his colorful clothing.
"Let me try that again...takes a little longer for this body to get warmed up than it used to!"
He looks at the wall again, squints his eyes, and laughs. He jumps to the top of the wall and balances on one foot. He gives an exaggerated bow and does a graceful double flip back to the ground.
"Hah! There ya go mister...your not likely to find one so talented as me in dare-devilry!"
"You're quite good but - for a gold sovereign - I expect a bit more." He points to a beat-up row-boat rocking gently in the surf. "Can you walk the gunn'ls of that vessel without taking a splash? I'd like to see that."
He rolls the coin along his knuckles, waiting to see what the little man does.
A small crowd begins to gather to watch Tickdown's performance, a few taking small bets as to whether he could do it or not, some clearly rooting for him to end up wet.
Tickdown clears his throat after looking at the boat and starts talking fast, "Well now sir, that's an interestin' idea. Of course the great Tickdown can walk the walk. If you'll just keep an eye on me I'll do another trick..." The crowd's voice swells against this idea and he sighs. "Well it seems your wish is my command as they say...I'll do it better than a walk...I'll do it with one eye closed!" as he says this he winks exaggeratedly and keeps his left eye closed.
He puts both arms back and flexes his knees...and a one and a two and a three! Tickdown jumps the short distance out but longer distance down to the boat and lands squarely. He puts one foot forward and then another as he begins a small and twisting dance on the edge of the boat. He flashes a smile, bows, and looks up with his left eye still closed.
"And that m'boy is why I'm the Great and Wonderful Tickdown Hardigreeeeeeeeeee..." he loses his footing as an unseen wave rocks the little boat.
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Dispatching the owlbears that had been troubling travelers on the road North from Katapesh to Osirion hadn't taken too long. Finding their nest was another story, and by the time Big Al padded into Blackcrag astride her grey wolf Nightsong, she was sweaty and parched.
Looking for an tavern where she might quench her thirst and enjoy the day's fresh catch, she headed toward the harbor. To her delight, as she rounded the corner there was a performer clowning and tumbling for a small crowd. Her cousin Tinwise was a top notch tumbler and watching this daredevil made her remember him with a smile.
She appreciated his balancing routine on the gunnel of the boat -- and then was shocked into a big belly laugh when he ended with the pratfall -- performed naturally enough to make it look like a real accident.
Big Al pushes through the crowd, still astride Nightsong. She's peripherally aware of heads turning at the sight of a bold knight in a gleaming mithril breastplate, astride her noble wolf. As his head comes back above the surface she holds out the handle of her lance, Desna's Kiss, for the daredevil to grab onto. When he's got his grip she gaves a quick twist and a heave, and watches him fly out of the harbor and land gracefully back on dry land.
She hops off of Nightsong's back, hands him a gold piece and shakes his hand. "You know how to put on a good show, my friend, and after a long hot day on the road I needed a good laugh. Bravo!"
Pausing, she adds "Tickdown you say? My name is Alemarra Redthistle, cavalier of the Order of the Sword, but my friends call me 'Big Al'."
____________
To those who know Halflings, it's no surprise why she's called 'Big Al': she stands taller than almost any Halfling man or woman she's met, and more muscled than many blacksmiths. To those less familiar, the nickname may sound sarcastic, but the Halfling says it without a smirk. She cuts an impressive figure, even when not astride Nightsong (who's as large as some horses). Both Big Al and Nightsong wear breastplates, and Nightsong has the red and white banner of the Order of the Sword draped across her chest. Big Al is clearly back from a campaign, covered with dust from the road. Her black hair is tied neatly back in a tail, and her skin is the color of dark burnished copper.
Studying the nerves and nerve of the pint-sized daredevil, Lacsar's smile is all but undetectable behind the mirthless mask, The adroitness it takes to walk a gunn'l - let alone dance on one - is impressive.
As the small showman finishes his routine with an unorthodox flourish, the shrouded man claps appreciatively and slides through the gathered crowd. He tosses the coin to Tickdown. "Superb coordination, little master. Despite the splash, you've earned my coin and my thanks."
The shroud-swathed figure turns to the small woman and the large wolf. After a moment, he extends a courtly half-bow. "A pleasure, Miss Redthistle.".
Tickdown looks at the lance handle for a moment then gladly grabs hold. He recognizes a partnered flip and adds a flourish to it.
"Thankee Big Al...heh...you've got some skill of your own in the tumbeletic arts if'n I'm not mistaken. I'd be glad to join you at any establishment servin' food, and most importantly, lots of it."
A flicker of gold catches his and his hand catches the gold spinning towards him. "Make 'em laugh I always say. A pleasure as well...Mister...errr...Miss...ummmm...mask? I think my new friend and I are both hungry...perhaps you'd like to join our illustrious ranks?"
The hyperactive halfling sees a man shaking his head whilst walking away, "You there, with the scowl and the back, weren't you entertained by marvelous antics of Tickdown?!"
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Smiling at the tumbler, "I'm afraid I've never taken the time to pursue acrobatics, though I can do a trick or two astride Nightsong here. You're right about my hunger though. Who knew hunting owlbears could build up such an appetite!?"
When the masked archer greets her, Big Al cocks her head to the side a bit. What is he (or she?) hiding? He, I think. His bearing is quite steady and confident; I suspect he knows how to use that bow. I'm not sure what exactly to make of this...but Nightsong doesn't seem to smell any malice on him. I guess I'll just keep my eyes open."The pleasure is mine, good sir. If you don't mind my saying so, you've made some fine but unusual fashion choices today. Heading somewhere special?"
Then speaking to the gathered crowd with a booming voice that belies her size and the easy smile of one who knows she'll be listened to, "Good souls, who here can tell me the best place to eat today's fresh catch?"
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A tall, lanky man with eyes and hair the color of snow and skin a blue so pale it nearly matches speaks up from beside the masked man. "That's a good idea," he says to no one in particular as he chews on an unlit pipe.
When Lacsar looks over, the pale man shrugs, "You never really know what you're going to get when you ask advice from the bad souls." You can't tell if he's serious or not.
The tall, pale, thin man's clothes match his skin… a long, pale coat over a well-kept linen shirt and pale trousers. Other than a strange runed rod on one hip and a wand on the other, the man doesn't carry much other than a simple knife in his belt, a buckler on his left forearm, a few scroll cases, and a crossbow affixed to a quiver on his back.
"Make 'em laugh I always say. A pleasure as well...Mister...errr...Miss...ummmm...mask? I think my new friend and I are both hungry...perhaps you'd like to join our illustrious ranks?"
The masked figure is tall, slim, and clearly male. The voice registers surprise. "I'm a Mister - more or less. Lacsar is my name. Your offer is a kind one... that I'm happy to accept."
When the masked archer greets her, Big Al cocks her head to the side a bit. What is he (or she?) hiding? He, I think. His bearing is quite steady and confident; I suspect he knows how to use that bow. I'm not sure what exactly to make of this...but Nightsong doesn't seem to smell any malice on him. I guess I'll just keep my eyes open. "The pleasure is mine, good sir. If you don't mind my saying so, you've made some fine but unusual fashion choices today. Heading somewhere special?"
Lacsar chuckles and smile lines surround the dark eyes peering through the mask. "It will be a woeful day for us all when I set the fashion, Miss Redthistle. A disease makes my appearance... unseemly. This," with a gesture he indicates his mask, shroudlike clothing, and gloves, "ensures no one else need share my fashion sense."
Some in the crowd close enough to hear the conversation, unconsciously edge away from the tall man at the mention of a flesh ravaging, communicable disease. Lacsar ignores them, quite used to the reaction. He glances at Tickdown and Al to gauge their reactions. "If you'd like to retract that offer of a companionable meal, I completely understand."
"Hehehehe. Fair enough. Keep it while I eat is all I ask! I've shared rooms with ugly afore! Woken up with even uglier in my bed!"
Tickdown goes to slap the man on the back, realizes he's too short, and ends up slapping the back of his thigh.
He looks sideways at the tall and pale man after he speaks. "You...sure you're OK? That don't...sound right to me."
When Lacsar looks over, the pale man shrugs, "You never really know what you're going to get when you ask advice from the bad souls." You can't tell if he's serious or not.
The mask swivels then turns up slightly to regard the taller, pale Samsaran. "... or good ones, for that matter. Afternoon, Nic. I don't think you've met Miss Redthistle or Master Hardigee. Apparently, they are starving for food - and questionable company - judging by his offer."
The tall pale man gives a vacant half-smile down at Tickdown, "Oh, I'm fine. Thanks for asking. Right as—"
Nic looks up over Tickdown's head as if someone interrupted him, and he begins having a muttered conversation in an obscure tongue into the air above the halfling's head.
Lacsar's greeting pulls him from the fake conversation. "Well-met.. um… all. I'm not questionable company." He scowls a bit. "I'm excellent company… and hungry"
Lacsar seems unperturbed. "I was, of course, referring to myself, Nic." He nods in the direction of the empty air over Tick and says with no trace of mockery, "Is your spectral friend going to be joining us?"
Lacsar quietly considers what the pale man said in Abyssal.
The pale man shrugs again, "I guess it's up to her." He shakes his head, "At least I think its' a her this time."
Hmmm, it seems this 'Nic' may be in need of someone to take care of him. Is Lascar -- despite his ailment -- caring for this wayward soul? The thought makes Lascar rise a notch in her estimation, as did his straightforward answer to her probing about the mask.
Extending a hand, "Well met, Nic. You're welcome to join us for supper."
Big Al notices a young human boy who seems torn about approaching, looking both drawn to and frightened by Nightsong. She turns to the child and says "Would you like to pet Nightsong here? It's OK, she's very gentle."
Emboldened, the boy holds out a hand to feel the enormous wolf's grey furred flank. "If'n you wish, halfling lady, my Pa cooks at the Cantankerous Kraken, just a few streets over. I saw them unloading fresh butterfish just an hour ago. Looked good to me!
To the lad, "That sounds perfect. Would you like to show us the way? I'll give you a ride," she smiles.
Lacsar considers and dismisses the verbal barb, "Probably a Chelaxian. So, are we off to the Cantankerous Kraken?"
"Well then my good...man...what would entertain you. If it's physical or comedical in nature, Tickdown's Hardigree's the pedigree!"
Big Al rolls her eyes at the sourpuss, shrugs, and looks him over.
The introduction and lunch plans are suddenly interrupted when the earth begins to violently shake and the top of the mountain splits open. Great plumes of smoke rise into the air as the ground trembles and ash falls from the sky. Panic grips the town as large rocks rain down upon it, some bursting into flame upon impact.
Looking up, you see through the fleeing crowd that one of the rocks has landed 30 feet away. Worse, emerging from the rubble are three large humanoids seemingly made of fire!
They're Large fire elementals.
Alemarra:
Dorian:
Lacsar:
Nic:
Tickdown:
Antagonist:
Tickdown opens his mouth to retort and perhaps show the man exactly what he CAN do when the earth heaves. He is thrown off balance for a split second as the large boulder strikes the ground. He recovers almost instantly with a gleam in his eye.
He looks at the well-kept, to say the least, man and says, "Ahhh, mayhaps now I'll be able to entertain you!"
Nic hits the ground hard, landing flat on his back. He cranes his neck up, seeking the source of the commotion while looking like a sickly overturned turtle. From his vantage point, the three fiery beings appear to be stuck to an earthen ceiling.
With a surprising quickness, the strange man reacts. The milky appearance of his eyes becomes clouded then consumed by an inky black that seems to suck the light around them, and the thin man begins yelling in a strange, rapid-fire tongue.
Still on his back and yelling, his hands become claws and rake towards the sky. Great black rents tear in the air around the fiery creatures, spilling forth a storm of malevolent ice and mist... obscuring the creatures from view, but also blocking an easy approach while the townsfolk flee and any defenders make any quick preparations they can to meet the attack.
He then scrambles to his feet.
Tickdown's mouth hangs open for a moment as the uptight man throws a curtain of shimmering golden sparkles out from his hands. I'm quick but I couldn't see him reaching into his pockets for that...and I don't think he has pockets big enough for all that. His eyes hurt for a moment as he looks at the specks.
The ice throws him back into reality and he smiles, the fires of the night flickering madly from his large front teeth.
He starts to run forward, begins an acrobatic tumble, grabbing a big piece of ice in the process, and attempts to slam it down into the Elemental's...foot...for lack of a better word.
Big Al feels the shaking and tries to grab onto Nightsong's saddle, but finds herself thrown completely by the violence of the tremor, landing flat on her belly.
"What in blazes are those things?!?"
________________
Round 1/2
Nic gestures and sleet suddenly covers the ground around the fire elementals, steam hissing up from their flaming forms.
Seconds later, golden sparkles cover the slush, two of the fire elementals roaring as they paw ineffectively at their eyes.
Tickdown rushes forward, ducking under a swipe from the elemental, but the ice seems to evaporate as he tries to slam it into its foot.
The elementals move up, surrounding the halfling, but he's able to nimbly dive and duck under most of their attacks, especially thanks to the glittering dust. Just as he thinks the worst if over, though, one flaming fist catches him squarely in the chest! His clothes start to smolder, but a quick dip into the slush seems to quickly put it out.
FE1: blinded 1/7
FE2: blinded 1/7
FE3:
Lacsar: 11
Alemarra: 5
Nic: 28
Dorian: 27
Tickdown: 23
Antagonist: 19
Alemarra pulls herself up from the dust and jumps back onto Nightsong’s back. She readies her lance and shield, and walks Nightsong slightly to the side in order to get a good line of attack if one of the Fire Elementals leaves the sleet. Her goal is a spot where she could charge sideways in front of the sleet without ending up in it.
Calling out in Halfling, ”Tickdown, pogledajte ako možete ih odvesti dalje od susnježica!”
__________
Lacsar almost manages to retain his footing. But the eruption and the shifting sand beneath his feet conspire to tumble the archer. Rolling to his feet, he draws his bow. He takes a moment to analyse the strange creatures and answer the cavalier's question while knocking an arrow. "Fire Elementals."
Seeing the daredevil charge the monsters through the hammering sleet, Lacsar amends his plan. He draws a bead on a blazing figure, preparing to give Tick some covering fire.
Ki Pool (7):
Perfect Strike (7):
Mythic Power: --
Spell Effects:--
Once again the lanky Samsaran's actions mirror the other mage's. He backs away from the wall of sleet with furtive steps, drawing his crossbow on the way.
As he moves, he continues his shouting, this time with glances over at his fellow spell-caster.
All the while, the inky blackness that envelopes his eyes bleeds out into his hair and down his clothes, like a perfectly black oil turning his pale clothes into pitch-black versions of their earlier selves.
Tickdown yells back at Al, "U pravu! Ja ću ih ovamo!"
When the fiery fist hits him he squeals, "Ouch...ohhhhh you'll pay for that!"
He scoots himself backwards with a jump...twenty feet backwards!
As he lands he smiles. Not the wholesome and glinting smile he's made his trademark, but a wicked smile. "Come now, fiery watcher, don't you want to get a closer view of the amazing Tickdown and company? You'll need the best seat in the house about ten feet behind me!"