Jake’s overhand chop cleaves the man’s broad shoulder to the left side of his helm. The hellknight’s collarbone *snaps* causing the man to drop his guisarme in pain.
“Get them, you clowns!” is his rather undisciplined order to the two thugs.
“And this is your last warning, Armiger! Assist your superior or face expulsion from the brotherhood!”
The two thugs heed their employer’s cry. Blue moves 5’ to the NE and 5’ to the SE to avoid attacks of opportunity and engages Jake with his shortsword.
His partner moves east 25’ to similarly attack Omar.
Gellius *groans* at their efforts. "Clowns was right! Your swordplay is laughable!"
Phelerosa moves 30’ towards Olandril, so as to avoid an AoO from the green thug.
“Nice to see you too, Rick. You traitor!” She snarls as she begins kicking the helpless quintuple-agent.
“All those things I told you! I thought you cared about me, Rick! But you just used me to feed info back to Sister Cessia and the Loyalists, DIDN’T YOU!”
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Omar will back up 5' and start a song of inspiring rage.
We're on a highway of hell-knights, a highway to hell...
Inspired Rage (Su) At 1st level, affected allies gain a +2 morale bonus to Strength and Constitution and a +1 morale bonus on Will saving throws, but also take a –1 penalty to AC. While under the effects of inspired rage, allies other than the skald cannot use any Charisma-, Dexterity-, or Intelligence-based skills (except Acrobatics, Fly, Intimidate, and Ride) or any ability that requires patience or concentration.
Living easy. Living free. The thug’s punched a Season ticket on a one way ride – courtesy of Omar’s Raging Song and …
Like an invulnerable Ulfen rager, Abraxi steps up to his hapless mark and delivers his axe to the top of the man's head. The tiefling’s seemingly impossible blow, cleaves the rogue in two – from skull to groin in a vertical line.
Already dead, the mercenary’s face bears an expression of complete surprise, before the two half-men fall away from each other *thumping* to rest in the sandy soil of Whaler’s Point.
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"...Dave does make a good point...but I just can't follow his line of thought...it's a shame, but honor demands to do the right thing"
"Off course Maralictor, as soon as you produce the proper papers authorizing you as who you say you are and that you have the right to arrest these people I will have no option but to act on what you told me."
"YOU DARE QUESTION MY ORDERS?" Gellius looks aghast. "Are you even a genuine Armiger, hellspit?"
You notice the Maralictor’s armor is not quite presented correctly – something no hellknight of that rank could tolerate.
The voice from behind the mask also seems very young for someone of that rank.
As an Armiger you know the rivalry between the various Hellknight Orders is intense!
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"..I have my doubt about this man..he sounds too young to be of the status he claims to be....and his armor seems....off'
Manius hangs his head and moves over to stand next to the man climbing up the sand.
(just move and provoke for passing next to him till I flank with Jake)
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"Seriously, I can just shoot this guy - problem solved!"
"Baw haw haw! I ain't seen a single arrow on you; I doubt you can shoot a damn ol' thing!"
-Posted with Wayfinder
Gellius nods as Manius flanks him. “What took you so long? Anyway, what matters is you’re here now.”
The Maralictor points at Abraxi “Keep the Pitspawn occupied defensively while I take down the Andoran.”
He looks Jake up and down as he takes a 5’ step. “Shouldn’t take long.”
The hellknight draws a heavy flail in the shape of a grinning barbed devil’s head.
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When performing a combat maneuver, you must use an action appropriate to the maneuver you are attempting to perform. While many combat maneuvers can be performed as part of an attack action, full-attack action, or attack of opportunity (in place of a melee attack), others require a specific action. Unless otherwise noted, performing a combat maneuver provokes an attack of opportunity from the target of the maneuver. If you are hit by the target, you take the damage normally and apply that amount as a penalty to the attack roll to perform the Maneuver.
"What's yer mask there for?" Steve asks the leader. "Why you yellin' at nobody who's list'ning?" Misfortune Hex, DC 16.
Bird avoids combat.
-Posted with Wayfinder
“To strike fear into the hearts of CRIMINALS!”
Gellius inclines his head at Steve’s next point. “My words only reach the ears of the civilized and responsible.”
Like a steel falcon, Jake strikes low, severing Gellius’ Achilles’ Irori’s tendon. With a stifled scream, the hellknight falls to his knees at the big man’s feet.
Without a word, the Andoran removes a meaty fist from his greatsword and backhands the Chelaxian across his swirled face-piece. The Maralictor loses his helm as he tumbles head-first over the sandy cliff, coming to rest on his back with the water of Fat Harbor lapping at his feet.
Eyes wide open, Gellius’ neck lies at a sickening angle in relation to the rest of his body.
The remaining thug’s jaw drops. Throwing his weapon aside, he takes off in the direction of the Chelish marines, swarming the whaling facilities about half a mile away.
He calls over his shoulder. “It was a job, that’s all. There’s no honest work in Pezzack, but I still gotta feed my family!”
✊✋✌
From under the net, Olandril calls “Great job, Pathfin... OW! PHELLY, QUIT IT! Hey, someone wanna get this crazy b!tch away from me and let me out?’
Phelerosa aims another half-hearted kick at the renegade agent before storming off to the edge of the battlefield. She angrily waves off any attempts to approach her and sits hunched forward in the sand with her head between her knees.
Olandril sounds ecstatic. “Are we teleporting outa here? Can’t wait to see my old sparring partner Adril Hestram! Any of you guys fellow Shadow Lodgers? I’m looking forward to telling GM Torch he was right about the Ten all along!”
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Will T10 on identify spellcraft if any of this is Magic.
Steve looks over the objects with a quick Detect Magic if time pernits. "Bah, I'm sure the society'll reburse us, though I think the ass'll be too tight for you on that plate."
Each suit of full plate must be individually fitted to its owner by a master armorsmith, although a captured suit can be resized to fit a new owner at a cost of 200 to 800 (2d4 × 100) gold pieces.
-Posted with Wayfinder
“Society?” Phelerosa’s head snaps in the direction of the impromptu conference. “On top of everything, you’re a Pathfinder, Rick?”
She *gasps* “Wait … ALL you guys are Pathfinders! Aren’t you?”
“THEY’RE PATHFINDERS!” The Chelaxian noble sobs as she rocks back on forth on the ground. “I’M DOOMED!”
She *sniffs* “I thought you were Aspis Consortium.”
"What do you mean Torch was right? Right about what?"
Olandril picks himself up, notes Dave’s weapon of choice and points at him with double ‘pistol fingers’ “Thankee, Paaaardner. Bet you’re a Silver Crusader. Am I right?”
He double-clicks his tongue. “Grandmaster Torch always said the Decemvirate didn’t care a fig for its agents, and I’m living proof that he’s right! Has he still got that place under the Siphons? Those bathing chicks were (heh) HOT!”
“Say, I almost forgot.” Olandril starts rummaging through his backpack. “I got a heap of trade goods and a wand of investigative mind to reimburse you for any expenses you’ve incurred to rescue me.”
"The fact that these imposters seem to have known we were coming is disturbing."
“We've got a bigger problem than that, son.”
Olandril surveys the scene at the Point, where Whaling vessels, warehouses and admin buildings are now aflame, with sailors being cut down by marines, whether they’re resisting or not.
The man that Dave let escape approaches a small squad of marines with his hands raised above his head. With a nod from their leader, his men loose crossbow quarrels at the thug until he falls.
Olandril concludes grimly. “We ain’t getting out of Pezzack the way you guys came in. That’s clear. And I’m not hearing you guys preparing to cast teleport neither.”
“Any ideas about what we should do?”
Olandril grimly watches a Marine cutter loaded with wounded strike an underwater obstacle and begin to capsize. “That’ll be Brucks’ Shark Farm they’ve hit. Brucks is the Boss of Docktown. He uses - sorry used - the tank to dispose of people who really pissed him off.”
Oh...now that strange finger snapping all makes sense...he wasn't challenging me to fight his sharks...
The deepcover Pathfinder makes ‘snapping’ hands at Manius again, like he did during Emmy Winner’s noonday performance. “Dunno if you understood that one, Armiger. Thought we could float a fightclub business idea to Brucks using the Shark Tank. I was gonna pitch it as ‘Hellknight versus Hellfish.’”
"… Temple of Calistria where we can enjoy our final moments?"
Dave’s throwaway line seems to drag Olandril sharply out of his dark mood. “Did Poppo tell you guys to stay away from the Academy tonight? Because of an important magical project?”
The man smiles like a shark. “He’s been shirking Academy research lately in favor of an entirely different kinda magic he’s trying to sow with Little Widow Bonnifer. If we take the Guts, we should be able to reach the Academy before he leaves on his date.”
"You guys ready to brave the dark again?"
Olandril calls over to the far side of the Point. “We don’t have time for this, Phelly. Are you coming?”
Phelerosa wipes her eyes, gets to her feet slowly and walks over to stand beside Dave.
The journey in the dark back to the Academy of Applied Magic is uneventful. Jake pushes the secret door open in Poppo’s basement to find the gnome sitting glumly in the dark in his Starday best.
He doesn’t look at all surprised to see you.
“She won’t come.” Poppo looks up at Olandril, with tears in his eyes. “There’s nothing to keep me in Pezzack now.”
“But is it ready?” Olandril asks gently.
The gnome nods. “More or less. If you can help me squish some of the bugs, we could be ready to go in a day. There’s two problems though.”
“The first is we’ll need a distraction. If the navy sees it before we’re out of the harbor, they’ll capture us for sure. Second, the Chels are blaming the riot at the Manukirt Warehouse and the massacre at Whaler’s Point on the Passfinder Society. If you can’t counteract the Loyalist propaganda, the Society will never be allowed to return to Cheliax.”
Olandril turns to face you. “He’s much further advanced on his emergency escape project than I dared hope. Phelly and I can help him finish it over the next twenty-four hours.”
“In the meantime I suggest you pick a faction. Meet with a representative on their home turf and do a deal with them to provide a distraction on the docks in a day’s time and to help you counteract the Loyalist smear campaign against the Society.”
“Be at the Docks in 24 hours’ time, ready to leave. Questions?”
Olandril throws up his hands. “Focus, Crusader! Mendin’ broken hearts ain’t part of the missi…”
Phelerosa silences Olandril with a GLARE and places a hand on Dave’s forearm. “‘She’ is Widow Bonnifer Zoot, Pezzack’s resident gnome alchemist. She lost her husband to marauding Strix during the Second Ashes.”
“Her hatred of the Strix is preventing her from moving on with her life. Talking to her will be pointless, Dave.”
Poppo nods sadly. “Miss Tempesta-Ciucci has the right of it.” The gnome bows his head and begins sobbing into his hands.
As our heroes emerge from the guts once more and cross the bridge to Aunty’s Place, they notice the streets of Pezzack are eerily quiet. Plumes of black smoke hang over Fat Harbor, as fires continue to blaze out of control on Whaler’s Point.
Aside from a few hard-cases passed out on the taproom floor, the inn is also missing its normal bustling crowd. Aunty herself doesn’t look too pleased to see you.
“You’ve got a nerve showing your faces in here after all you’ve done! Everyone’s hiding out in their own homes, waiting to see if the marines mobilize into the streets.”
Upon hearing that you want to see Bruck, she *shrugs* “Well he’s got nothing better to do, I suppose. He’s upstairs not counting the money he’s not making tonight.”
♚♚♚♚
Aunty leads you up the steps to a pokey office without a door. She knocks on the doorframe before ushering you inside. “The Pathfinder Society requests a moment of your time, Mr Mayor.”
Gazing out the office’s wide window, doubtlessly scavenged from the great cabin of a Chelish man o’ war stands a short, well-dressed tiefling, with a pensive look on his face.
“The marines look to be digging in on the Point. Perhaps Admiral Sawnadacc still thinks she can still starve us out.”
He turns to face you across an untidy desk, slapped together out of driftwood. “By my count Pathfinders, you owe me for my losses at the bar tonight, Grimy Rick’s debt and for abducting my favorite Noble plaything.”
“I assume you are here to pay up in full?”
"Say, I almost forgot.” Olandril starts rummaging through his backpack. “I got a heap of trade goods."
Bruck plops himself down in the overstuffed, cedar chair behind his desk and *rolls* his eyes. “Oh please, Ser! You’re Pathfinders. The only thing you care about is your mission. You don’t give a rats about the people of Pezzack. After you’ve gone, you’ll be onto your next adventure and we’ll be forgotten.”
“I’m a businessman NOT a charity. I assume you are here because you want something. Maybe we can do a deal. But to get a seat at the negotiating table, the price is 600gp in tradegoods for Signorina Tempesta-Ciucci and my lost bar earnings.”
Bruck leans across his desk and smiles slyly. “Now why don't you tell me what YOU need?”
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Dave pulls up a chair (if there is one) and sits across from Bruck. He starts to put his boots up, but then catches himself just before his boots hit the desk.
"Oh, 600 gold? Yeah, I guess we can cover that. But just for the record, some Pathfinders DO care about more than the mission. We need two things. First, the Loyalists are saying some bad stuff about the Pathfinders. We need someone to count.... counter... ah, stop them from doing that. Maybe even say some good stuff about the Pathfinders, like how we pay other people's bar tabs.
Second, we need to get outta town tomorrow. We need someone to cause a big enough ruckus so that no one'll pay much attention to us leavin'."
Take 10 diplomacy = 18. Any assistance is appreciated.
“Maybe even say some good stuff about the Pathfinders, like how we pay other people's bar tabs.”
Bruck leans back in his chair with his hands clasped behind his head. “Oh, a comedian! What a shame you’re leaving tomorrow, otherwise I’d book your act to perform at Aunty’s.”
The tiefling looks you in the eye. “Frankly, what you’re asking is a LOT. But ‘causing a big ruckus’ as you so eloquently put it, is my people’s specialty. Public Relations, on the other hand is my specialty. I can certainly give you some pointers, but you will have to do most of the legwork yourselves.”
Bruck bellows and the middle-aged halfling’s face appears immediately around the doorway. “Be a dear and scrape Breakus off the floor of whatever rathole he’s passed out in. I might have a job for him and his team in the morning, and I’ll need them all sober.”
Bruck shows you all a winning smile. “Now let’s talk about what I want in return …”
“I’m pleased you rate civic duty so highly, Comedian. Because what I want you to do is most definitely a public service.”
“The Strix.” Bruck pauses. “Are a menace to all citizens of Pezzack, irrespective of which faction they identify with. A group of these savages have set up a watch-post in a tower that they burnt down during the Second Ashes.”
“The watch, currently led by the Loyalist Armiger Gellius has been unable or unwilling to confront them. As a result, every day livestock, trade goods and even lone citizens have been taken by those creatures.”
The tiefling slides an unsealed missive across the desk to you. “Kill them. Bring me proof that you’ve done so. And leave this note on one of their bodies.”
He *shrugs* “You can read it if you wish. It’s a letter from Admiral Sawnadacc praising the Strix’s efforts at harassing us and promising them further support if they help her put down the rebellion.”
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Dave takes the note and reads it over, looking for anything suspicious or out of the ordinary.
"That sounds like something we're good at. Where is this tower? Any idea how many of them are there? What exactly do you want as proof?"
Dave waits for answers, then asks, "And what about those Public relations pointers you mentioned?"
Bruck *sighs* “I’ll draw you a map from the nearest guts exit to the watch tower.”
“Nobody has any idea how many there are because anyone that gets too close has their throat cut and is impaled on the steeple spike by the Strix.”
“Heads, wings or unique equipment is all good as proof.”
"And what about those Public relations pointers you mentioned?"
The tiefling holds up a hand. “Now just hold your horses, Laughing Boy. You bring me proof the savages are dealt with and you and your friends can have all the PR lessons you want.”
Bruck appears to be offering a straight-forward ‘you scratch my back’ arrangement and intends to fulfil his side of the deal.
Notwithstanding this, you suspect he wants you and Olandril out of Pezzack ASAP.