ProfPotts' Blood of the Redwyrm PbP

Game Master Alexander Scott

"Aye," Aydan nods his head slightly, making sure to keep his voice low and his face passive as he speaks while leading Zurdalew back towards the Smith's tent. He recounts what he and Garrett learned from the prisoner, of the man's past. Of the Black Knight that came to him and the man's burgeoning powers. He tells of how grief has been driving the smith and also makes sure to note the would-be assassin's surprising cooperation.

"It doesn't make sense, he wants vindication, not bloodshed. His "Knight" has faced countless nobles, judging from the clothes I found, he's also been around the female nobility as well. Why focus on Rebecca? But one thing of the man's tale struck me, he didn't willfully summon the Black Knight, and I'm left wondering if perhaps our guest isn't the puppeteer... but a puppet?" He lets his words hang in the air a moment before continuing.

"Matters arcane however, are past my understanding, I was hoping you could look at the monster's sword and helm, see if you can discern anything that may help?"

Sifting through the information the marshals provided her, Lady Beatrix notes that Sir Gervase has passed to the next round of the duel with sword (defeating a knight of, presumably, little worth who's name she doesn't recognise), whilst Sir Philipe has easily won through to the second round in all the events. On the other hand Sir Gervase has knocked out of the duel with mace by Sir Hugh, and the duel with polearm by Sir Philipe himself!

Proceeding to the next event, Lady Beatrix finds herself with the ever-more agitated crowds by the sword ring, awaiting the final round one clash between Lord Geoffrey and Sir Garrett...

In the castle...

Escorting Lady Ailith on her 'tour', Sir Clarius gets to the stairs leading up to the Baron's private chambers, only to find the ever-present guard there (although only the one guard today, rather than the usual two - the tournament having spread the troops a little thin...). Gripping his halbard as he briskly stands to attention, the guard snaps out a quick,

'Sir Clarius! What can I do for you, Sir!''

In the stands...

"I beg your pardon, My Lady... I wonder if I may steal our Jester from you for but a moment. There's a problem I need solving, and sadly I'm afraid the Fool has far more brains than I."

"Well, it appears that Mister Crow has answered for me. My apologies, milady, but I will find you as soon as this business is resolved."

With a soft smile and a sigh Lady Melisende reaches out to stroke the back of her long-nailed hand down the side of Aydan's face,

'Why Master Zurladew,' she says sweetly, 'I do believe you're keeping all the pretty ones to yourself...'

... But the Chelish ambassadoress nods all the same, giving the pair leave to make their exit...

Aydan and Zurladew arrive back at the Black Knight's tent soon enough - the guard on duty shooting Aydan a dark look, but saying nothing...

In the castle...

Escorting Lady Ailith on her 'tour', Sir Clarius gets to the stairs leading up to the Baron's private chambers, only to find the ever-present guard there (although only the one guard today, rather than the usual two - the tournament having spread the troops a little thin...). Gripping his halbard as he briskly stands to attention, the guard snaps out a quick,

'Sir Clarius! What can I do for you, Sir!''

Sir Clarius nearly stops short, having failed to know there was a guard on station before the private quarters. He puts on a nervous smile, clapping the guard on the shoulder. 'Ah, Phenrist! Ever vigilant. Good man! We were just on our way up so I may show off the magnificent view of our beloved lands from the tower. No better vantage point to be had, as you well know.' He finishes with a lift of his eyebrows.

With a soft smile and a sigh Lady Melisende reaches out to stroke the back of her long-nailed hand down the side of Aydan's face,

'Why Master Zurladew,' she says sweetly, 'I do believe you're keeping all the pretty ones to yourself...'

... But the Chelish ambassadoress nods all the same, giving the pair leave to make their exit...

Sense Motive...1d20 ⇒ 8

-------------------------------

Zurladew listens carefully to Aydan's tale. "Hmm... A possibility. I'm not the best to ask for such questions of arcane knowledge - the last time I was in a library was hiding from an angry knight - I assumed it would be the last place he would think to look for me. I will see what I can do, but no promises, Master Crow. Perhaps... if you are interested in the nature of the Black Knight, our lady from Cheliax may be the better to know of the nature of the beast - and perhaps she may be persuaded to teach you some of her less academic Chelaxian secrets. She was eying you like a devil with a virtuous soul in claw...," the jester teases. He gives a nod to the glowering guard as he confidently strides into the tent.

He examines the knight's armor and weapons carefully, seeing what he can.

Taking 20 to examine the weapons - 22 perception?

That'll be a Diplomacy roll or two from Clarius please. Phenrist (great name!) the guard is Friendly, so you could try to get him to Helpful with a DC 10 check. Letting you into the Baron's private chambers could result in the guy being punished, if anyone ever found out, so getting him to turn a blind eye is a DC 25 check (if he's Friendly), or a DC 15 check (if you've gotten him to Helpful).

The Black Knight's tent...

Besides being finely crafted, Zurladew notes nothing particularly unusual about the Black Knight's equipment - unless one counts the longsword, shield, and helm all seemingly being without blemish, despite being put to use...

That'll be a Diplomacy roll or two from Clarius please. Phenrist (great name!) the guard is Friendly, so you could try to get him to Helpful with a DC 10 check. Letting you into the Baron's private chambers could result in the guy being punished, if anyone ever found out, so getting him to turn a blind eye is a DC 25 check (if he's Friendly), or a DC 15 check (if you've gotten him to Helpful).

See, I try to avoid Aydan's mishap and you caught me!

Diplomacy: 1d20 ⇒ 6

Great! Now I've impregnated his twin daughters who happen to be 12 and yet somehow are also both the current baroness. =P

Great! Now I've impregnated his twin daughters who happen to be 12 and yet somehow are also both the current baroness. =P

That was you - you cad! :)

Actually, you've narrowly missed out on lowering his attitude towards Clarius there (so he's still friendly)... although getting that request granted is looking a little unlikely...

'Ah, Phenrist! Ever vigilant. Good man! We were just on our way up so I may show off the magnificent view of our beloved lands from the tower. No better vantage point to be had, as you well know.'

'Sorry, Sir!' snaps back guard Phenrist, with gusto, 'Can't let you past here without permission from the Baron!'

'You were right, Sir Clarius,' pipes up Lady Ailith, gently squeezing Clarius's arm, 'The men here are very well trainned... most impressive! My thanks for the demonstration.'

'Sorry, Sir!' snaps back guard Phenrist, with gusto, 'Can't let you past here without permission from the Baron!'

'You were right, Sir Clarius,' pipes up Lady Ailith, gently squeezing Clarius's arm, 'The men here are very well trained... most impressive! My thanks for the demonstration.'

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12

By jove! I think he got that one. Mark that down. Only eight months into the game and he finally made a sense motive check.

Sir Clarius looks to Lady Ailith mouth opening to ask her what she means when an heretofore unseen dull faint spark of wisdom flickers to life in his eyes. He instead sagely nods, regarding the guard once more. 'You have acquitted yourself well, man-at-arms. The barony rests safe under the vigilance of Redwyrm's stalwart defenders. You may relax now; the lady and I promise not to steal anything bigger than we can carry.' He finishes laughing with a sly wink to the guard.

Diplomacy: 1d20 ⇒ 18

Oh, sweet Jesus! Clarius may yet get lucky. Now let's see if he can negotiate the stairs without falling and breaking his neck...

Aydan couldn't help but smirk, "It's an enticing thought. Not sure I would survive the encounter though... as he waits to Zurdalew to tell him anything he asks, "You've spoken to her at length, can I trust her to aid us?"

'You have acquitted yourself well, man-at-arms. The barony rests safe under the vigilance of Redwyrm's stalwart defenders. You may relax now; the lady and I promise not to steal anything bigger than we can carry.'

'I...' begins Phenrist, seemingly caught a little off-guard by the exchange, '... that is to say... ah... yes, Sir - of course, Sir!'

With Ailith and Clarius having convinced... or at least confused... the guard enough to get past him, they head up to the Baron's private chambers...

Aydan couldn't help but smirk, "It's an enticing thought. Not sure I would survive the encounter though... as he waits to Zurdalew to tell him anything he asks, "You've spoken to her at length, can I trust her to aid us?"

"This is Taldor, Aydan - we may trust her to aid us, but that's hardly the same as trusting her. And trust or no, she's more likely than I to have any idea of how this whole beastly summoning business works." He gives Aydan an exasperated look. "These seem like fine weapons, far too fine for him to buy or steal from any normal place. I'm willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt on his tale, though his actions... they still beg explanations."

I really did think that Zurd had spellcraft, oops. :p

"He certainly believes that he was in control," Aydan remarks but blowing an exasperated breath, "Alright then, I suppose I'd best introduce myself properly to our guest. Care to join me?"

He asks as he heads from the tent, going to find Lady Mellisandre.

Totally understandable - he's basically trying to be a bard without any of the bard skills or perks. He'll age well, but for now...

Zurladew takes a last look over the tent before following Aydan silently out, wrapped in his own thoughts.

Meanwhile, back at the tourney...

Aydan and Zurladew locate Lady Melisende waiting with the rest of the crowds by the sword ring... although her guard of fearsome-looking black-clad Chelish warriors - Sir Thibault's men - provide an ample buffer between herself and any of the more low-born spectators...

Spotting the forester and the jester the Chelish Lady waves them over, past her guards,

'So,' she says to Zurladew, even as he eyes linger on Aydan, 'you've decided to return the pretty one to me - how generous you Taldans can be!' she smiles - an expression which manages to, disturbingly, be somewhere between sweet and predatory - then glances over to where Lord Geoffrey is waiting in the sword ring and frowns a little, 'I'm afraid your Sir Garrett is about to forfeit if he doesn't appear soon. Was he badly injured in the last bout? I have some healing I could offer, if he wished... in the interests if keeping the contest going, of course...'

In the Redwyrm tents...

Lady Rebecca still awaits some response, or action, from anyone...

Seriously, it's been more than a week since anyone but Clarius, Aydan, or Zurladew posted... should we just assume the rest have quit?

Took it to the OOC thread

Nope, I'm here and reading every day. I keep meaning to post a "I'm still here" post before now, but something always comes up when I'm about to start. Can't vouch for the others, though. Jaymin's out of lay on hands and has no skill in mundane healing, so he's pretty much out of options, until he has a thought...

Sir Low-Wis goes off to find the baron and asks to speak with him. "My Lord, we have a small problem. Sir Garrett was too injured in that last bout of his to participate in the next, and the crowd is starting to get anxious. I also know that Sir Garrett is feeling some frustration at the bad turns of luck he's had in the ring and the lists, and really wishes to bring honour to House Redwyrm and the Lady Rebecca before the day is out. All of our companions with healing magics have expended those resources, but, if perhaps the baronial treasury possesses potions or wands of healing power, would you do me the favour of allowing me to help my friend have one more chance to bring honour to this tournament?"
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20

not a whole lot I ca do in my current state...

Seriously, it's been more than a week since anyone but Clarius, Aydan, or Zurladew posted... should we just assume the rest have quit?

Beatrix is still waiting for the duel to begin.

not a whole lot I ca do in my current state...

I'm afraid I'm not even sure what his current state is, exactly, since his sheet is listed as being at full Hit Points... I generally like Players to keep track of their own characters - I have enough to do! But I'm pretty sure that, generally, he's awake, whatever state his Hit Points are in, since he was revived with smelling salts and I've noted he's awake several times...

As Sir Jaymin leaves the tent, Lady Rebecca asks again,

'Sir Garrett, how do you feel?'

By the sword ring, Lady Beatrix spots Ayadan and Zurladew talking with Lady Melisende...

Meanwhile, in the stands...

Listening to Sir Jaymin's well-spoken plea, Baron Otto's brow furrows for a moment, then he shrugs,

'Truth be told, Jaymin,' he replies, 'I have no idea what's in the treasury... I'm sure I have people for that somewhere...' he smiles, then claps the knight on the shoulder, 'But we can't have Garrett disappointing his public, now, can we?' he waves over one of the nearby marshals, 'Take Jaymin here to one of those potion-peddlars who've set up shop selling their wares, would you? Tell them that my staff will settle any outstanding debts.'

With a bow to the Baron, the marshal waits for Sir Jaymin, then leads him off to the area of the tourney ground where everyone from armorers to apothecaries have set up shop, hoping to make a few coins selling to both contestants and spectators. Heading to a small white tent, with a cloth-covered table outside, covering in clay jars and small bottles, the marshal says a few quiet words to the rotund merchant in attendance, before bustling off to deal with other duties. The merchant - a short, fat, middle-aged and balding fellow, clad in fur-trimmed robes of pale blue - stands up, a smile on his lips, and offers his hand,

'Odo, Master Alchemist, at your service,' he says by way of introduction, 'you're representing the Baron himself, yes? I've many a potion and poultice which may be to your liking, but it's some basic healing you're after first, yes?' Gliding his hand across his wares for a moment, Master Odo selects a small clay jar and hands it over, 'A simple salve like this one should do the trick, if I'm any judge,' he comments, adding, 'this is for your friend who took a tumble in the joust, yes? Apply some of this and he'll be good as new...' his eyes narrow a little, and his voice drops in volume as he continues, '... now, if you wanted him better than new, I've got a few potions for that as well...'

By the sword ring, Lady Beatrix spots Ayadan and Zurladew talking with Lady Melisende...

Beatrix nonchalantly sidles closer so she can eavesdrop on the conversation.

I'm at 7 HP with 11 non-lethal, the only thing keeping me "awake" is the smelling salts. Non-lethal heals points equal to level per hour, so if we are being generous, I may only have 9 non-lethal left...i.e. in no condition to stand let alone fight.

Whatever! I fought my joust with only 1 hp. You are due for some good die rolls, so I say go for it. Besides, chicks dig scars... and hopefully frostbite

"I hope you are not imply some sort of cheating potion, because if you are, I would be forced, as armsman for the Baron and a follower of the Strong Man, to lock you up in a dungeon until I have time to pry every name of those you attempted to help cheat in this tournament out of you. No? Probably best. Now I'll take two of those salves, in case good Sir Garrett gets hurt again, and mind you send a faiir price to the baron's steward, or I'll remember what you were implying earlier."

Whatever! I fought my joust with only 1 hp. You are due for some good die rolls, so I say go for it. Besides, chicks dig scars... and hopefully frostbite

Oh it's not the 7 hp that bothers me it is the 9-11 nonlethal that without smelling salts would have me KO'ed for the next hour or two.

"I hope you are not imply some sort of cheating potion, because if you are, I would be forced, as armsman for the Baron and a follower of the Strong Man, to lock you up in a dungeon until I have time to pry every name of those you attempted to help cheat in this tournament out of you. No? Probably best. Now I'll take two of those salves, in case good Sir Garrett gets hurt again, and mind you send a faiir price to the baron's steward, or I'll remember what you were implying earlier."

Master Odo turns a little pale, and quickly shakes his head,

'N-no!' he protests, 'Of course I wouldn't condone cheating! I thought... well...' he frowns a moment, then seems to come to some realisation as his eyes widen a little, '... the Strong Man you say? I beg your forgiveness, good Sir, I didn't realise you were dedicated to such a... fair... god! You understand, I hope, that not all your fellow competitors have such a... valiant... sense of fair play as you do... and the rules tend to be... flexible... on the finer points of magical assistance... besides...' he trails off as it becomes obvious that he's doing nothing but digging himself into a deeper hole. Quickly passing over two of the clay pots he instead says, 'Here, Sir - and my compliments to the Baron and his knights!'

Each pot of salve contains 5 doses of Cure Light Wounds (cures 1d8+1 per dose... he make's 'em as cheap as possible...).

Meanwhile, by the sword ring...

As Beatrix moves closer to Lady Melisende, Aydan, and Zurladew, a couple of the Chelish Lady's guards nearest Beatrix exchange a glance and, although their expressions can't be seen beneath imposing black helmets, the tone of their mutterings to each other sounds as if some common, crude, assessment of the half-elven Lady is being made...

Meanwhile, by the sword ring...

As Beatrix moves closer to Lady Melisende, Aydan, and Zurladew, a couple of the Chelish Lady's guards nearest Beatrix exchange a glance and, although their expressions can't be seen beneath imposing black helmets, the tone of their mutterings to each other sounds as if some common, crude, assessment of the half-elven Lady is being made...

Perception: 1d20=14 + 6 = 20

Sir Jaymin takes the pots back to Sir Garrett with little more than a curt thank you and a meaningful look for Master Odo. Once there, he kneels down and doses the wounded knight.
1d8 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9
1d8 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
1d8 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2
1d8 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9

With that, Sir Garrett is at full strength (I believe).

Thank you, my friend. I suppose I've laid around here long enough. Time to see if I can restore a small portion of my dignity."

Unlikely perception check... 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18

"Your aid, Lady Melisande, would be most helpful -" Zurladew stops as he sees Garrett and Jaymin approaching the site of the sword duel. "...but apparently completely unnecessary. The man walks, though to what degree... I suppose we have to wait and see."

"Now, of a more pressing concern..." Zurladew pulls in close and gives her a brief recounting of the smith and the Black Knight. "As one who is more familiar with the art of summoning and creatures from beyond, we'd seek your opinion in a few of the questions we have about the whole situation," he finishes.

Diplomacy to convince her? 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13

Aydan smiles easily to Lady Melisande, either not noticing the way she looks at him, or not caring, "Aye M'Lady, even overlooking the importance to Baron Redwyrm, this is turning out to be quite the mystery. I'm debating submitting it to the Pathfinders for publication and I'd be happy to give credit to any who could help me solve it." As he finishes speaking, his grin curls up just a little more.

Diplomacy to aid another for Zurd's roll1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21
Preception check. Aydan notices but chooses not to react 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23

Remember that non-lethal damage is reduced at the same time lost Hit Points are magically restored so, I think, Garrett should be on full everything after only the first 2 doses of salve.

"Thank you, my friend. I suppose I've laid around here long enough. Time to see if I can restore a small portion of my dignity."

Lady Rebecca exits the tent, saying nothing more, but still with a look of concern on her face, as Jaymin enters to dress Garrett's wounds...

Once healed and ready and (one assumes) heading towards the sword ring, Jaymin and Garrett find an unruly crowd, and Lord Geoffrey leaning against one of the fence posts of the ring, looking distinctly bored... However, on seeing Garrett up and ready he strides over, a beaming grin on his face, to clap Garrett on the shoulder,

'Garrett!' he declares, 'I knew you wouldn't disappoint me! I recall some boasting about that antique sword of yours which is in sore need of being put to the test! What was the delay? Some saucey wench you managed to charm back to your tent mayhap, or...' his words trail off, to be replaced by a frown, as he looks past Garrett and Jaymin to see Lady Rebecca standing near the tent the pair just emerged from. Grin slipping away, Lord Geoffrey removes his hand from Garrett's shoulder, turns on his heel, and stalks back towards the sword ring, muttering darkly, 'Let's just do this...'

Nearby Lady Melisende's eyes follow the exchange with seeming interest, before turning back to Aydan and Zurladew...

'I offered my aid to your man Jaymin,' the Chelish Lady replies to their request, 'and to say that he turned me down flat would be an understatement. As for the Pathfinders...' she shrugs, '... the approval of a group of amateur graverobbers holds little appeal to me...' She sighs, then adds, '... But you amuse me, Master Zurladew... and your pretty young friend here has a certain... appeal... of his own - rough though it may be...' she somehow manages to make the word "rough" suggestive, dirty, and tantalising, all at the same time... 'Mayhap if you can persuade good... nay saintly... Sir Jaymin to appologise?'... and the word "saintly" she manages to make sound somehow like an unforgivable transgression...

Garrett heads into the sword ring...and smirks at the blade chosen by Geoffrey...

"That blade doesn't look like a falcata...I could have swore that you agreed to face me with my weapon of choice, since I agreed to face you with that cumbersome weapon you prefer."

He wait briefly, waiting for a response from Geoffrey which he assumes will not be pleasant...then smiles as he pulls down his visor...

"You know, there was a time that you weren't allowed in court as a warrior without being proficient with the falcata...no matter, shall we begin m'lord?"

Using my challenge ability for the day (swift action)

Initiative:1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8

First Strike:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12
Damage:1d8 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 3 + 2 = 8 (challenge)

Second Strike:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17
Damage:1d8 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 3 + 2 = 10 (challenge)

Third Strike:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12
Damage:1d8 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 3 + 2 = 10 (challenge)

If this goes longer than 3 rounds, I'll add more rolls later

cripes! the crappy rolls are getting real old...you'd think out of 4 d20 rolls one of them would be above 10...

Aydan's lips curl into a cocksure smirk at Lady Melisande's provocation, but still his attitude does little to hide the flush of red in his cheeks, "Seems fair, I'll gladly speak to him for you. I do apologize on his behalf My lady. He's sadly set into his prejudices. I've always said the man needs to learn to be more flexible."

"First making your man laugh, now to make Sir Jaymin apologize... Surely, milady, next you shall ask me to place a saddle on the sun and lead it into battle against the stars! This isn't just to make me aid you in our bet, is it?," Zurladew jests, eyes twinkling. "We'll try our best to not come to loggerheads with him, but perhaps a prayer or two for profane intervention may be appropriate - though I suspect there to be no way in Hell to make a paladin of his renown to change his mind." With a bow, he heads with Aydan to find Jaymin.

--------------------------------------

Upon finding the paladin, Zurladew bows low. "Well, Sir Jaymin, it appears that I have quite the favor to ask of you. If you will...?" He leads the paladin out of the way of prying ears. "We've asked our Lady Ambassadoress of Cheliax for her aid in the case of the summoner of the Black Knight. She informed us that she already offered her aid, and you saw fit to pass up on her offer, in a brusque manner, I'm sure. She hasn't removed her offer of help from the table, but has asked that an apology be forthcoming from you before she will help." The little jester crosses his arms over his chest. "So, as a man of Redwyrm, would you be willing to apologize to the dear lady?"

"That blade doesn't look like a falcata...I could have swore that you agreed to face me with my weapon of choice, since I agreed to face you with that cumbersome weapon you prefer."

'We agreed to meet in the sword and the mace,' counters Lord Geoffrey, 'nothing more. That you obviously failed to alot even a modicum of consideration to your choice of weapon in the mace was proven by the result of that contest, and stands to your character, not mine.'

"You know, there was a time that you weren't allowed in court as a warrior without being proficient with the falcata...no matter, shall we begin m'lord?"

'Aye,' agrees Lord Geoffrey, drawing his longsword and readying his heavy shield, 'and there was a time when men knew nothing more than striking each other with the bones of animals as they tried to figure out how to make fire from banging two rocks together... if you believe the tales of the elves... Times change, and thank the gods that they do.'

Lord Geoffrey strikes first... but in the resultant exchange of blows, blades ringing off shields and glancing off armour, neither man manages to strike a clean hit... Both failed to land a hit in the first three rounds...

Meanwhile, watching the match...

"Seems fair, I'll gladly speak to him for you. I do apologize on his behalf My lady. He's sadly set into his prejudices. I've always said the man needs to learn to be more flexible."

'In Cheliax a man must take responsibility for his own actions,' Lady Melisende replies, 'no other can apologize for him... unless, perhaps, the man happens to be property of another... Is Sir Jaymin your slave, by any chance, my handsome young man, that you feel you can apologize on his behalf? That does conjure up some interesting images... especially with your concern for his flexibility... but I doubt that's the situation here.'

"First making your man laugh, now to make Sir Jaymin apologize... Surely, milady, next you shall ask me to place a saddle on the sun and lead it into battle against the stars! This isn't just to make me aid you in our bet, is it?,"

'Beyond not simply enchanting the man,' the Chelish Lady replies, with a sly smile, 'I recall no limitations on how I secured my prize... But no, 'tis more a matter of principle - a thing you'll find we Chelish are terribly keen to enforce - to be treated such and to still offer aid... well, it just wouldn't do!'

"We'll try our best to not come to loggerheads with him, but perhaps a prayer or two for profane intervention may be appropriate - though I suspect there to be no way in Hell to make a paladin of his renown to change his mind."

Fingering the silver Asmodean pentangle charm she wears on a leather thong necklace, Lady Melisende shrugs,

'While I'm sure that the great Asmodeus would be thoroughly amused by our antics, I somehow doubt he'd offer his aid in a flash of brimstone and fire... If anything, I prefer to think that Asmodeus has already armed me with all the weaponry I require for such a task. After all, I am a politician - many would say that's already enough infernal influence for any one person.'

Elsewhere...

The next 3 rounds.

Round 4 Attack:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26
Damage:1d8 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 3 + 2 = 13 (challenge)

Round 5 Attack:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12
Damage:1d8 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 3 + 2 = 10 (challenge)

Round 6 Attack:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16
Damage:1d8 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 3 + 2 = 13 (challenge)

Hot damn, that first one hit, I hope...potential crit.

Round 4 Confirm?:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 7 = 11
Damage:2d8 + 6 + 4 ⇒ (1, 5) + 6 + 4 = 16 (challenge)

"First making your man laugh, now to make Sir Jaymin apologize... Surely, milady, next you shall ask me to place a saddle on the sun and lead it into battle against the stars! This isn't just to make me aid you in our bet, is it?," Zurladew jests, eyes twinkling. "We'll try our best to not come to loggerheads with him, but perhaps a prayer or two for profane intervention may be appropriate - though I suspect there to be no way in Hell to make a paladin of his renown to change his mind." With a bow, he heads with Aydan to find Jaymin.

--------------------------------------

Upon finding the paladin, Zurladew bows low. "Well, Sir Jaymin, it appears that I have quite the favor to ask of you. If you will...?" He leads the paladin out of the way of prying ears. "We've asked our Lady Ambassadoress of Cheliax for her aid in the case of the summoner of the Black Knight. She informed us that she already offered her aid, and you saw fit to pass up on her offer, in a brusque manner, I'm sure. She hasn't removed her offer of help from the table, but has asked that an apology be forthcoming from you before she will help." The little jester crosses his arms over his chest. "So, as a man of Redwyrm, would you be willing to apologize to the dear lady?"

Sir Jaymin levels a stern gaze at the jester. "Apologize? Not likely. The 'lady', though I would hesitate to ever call her such a thing, demanded that I not only kiss her in exchange for her information, but that I wear her filthy devil-cursed rag on my arm. I have sworn to uphold the tenets of good and order in this world, and the very notion of combining such dedication with championing the cause of Asmodeus is untenable in the extreme. I said nothing that would in any way besmirch the reputation or diplomatic standing of herself or Cheliax, and nor would I ever do such a thing and disgrace His Lordship in so vulgar a manner, but no matter my loyalty to His Lordship, I owe greater fealty to the Strong Man, fealty stronger than any earthly ties. If His Lordship himself orders me to apologize to the Ambassador, then I will beg his pardon, resign my position in his court, suffer imprisonment or the headsman for my betrayal as is right and just within the laws of this world, but I will not kiss the face of evil and beg its pardon. Is that an answer enough for you, Master Zurladew?"

Is Sir Jaymin your slave, by any chance, my handsome young man, that you feel you can apologize on his behalf? That does conjure up some interesting images... especially with your concern for his flexibility... but I doubt that's the situation here.'

Grinning playfully Aydan shakes his head, "A remark M'Lady, not a concern. I'm afraid the Good Paladin isn't my type. Aside from, I assume, having the wrong equipment between his legs, he's far too squeaky clean for my tastes." Despite the amusement of the conversation, Aydan bows politely, and follows with Zurdalew to find Sir Jaymin.

--------

Listening to Sir Jaymin, Aydan can't help but let out a frustrated sigh, "She's asked that you say sorry, not fly a flag for her. Tell me Sir, in this oath to uphold tenets of good and order, Where does finding the truth of matter before a man who's possibly innocent loses his head, fall? Is it above or below a Knight's pride? And don't tell me it's because she's "evil" and you can't condone such practices. You were fine and willing to let Garret and I take the prisoner for interrogation or torture as needed."

Listening to Sir Jaymin, Aydan can't help but let out a frustrated sigh, "She's asked that you say sorry, not fly a flag for her. Tell me Sir, in this oath to uphold tenets of good and order, Where does finding the truth of matter before a man who's possibly innocent loses his head, fall? Is it above or below a Knight's pride? And don't tell me it's because she's "evil" and you can't condone such practices. You were fine and willing to let Garret and I take the prisoner for interrogation or torture as needed."

"Actually, I was not fine with it, but short of drawing blades on Sir Garrett, there was little to do to stop him. Would you have preferred I deliver to him a pouty lecture on how torture is never the answer and we must rise above our enemies or become them? He didn't need to hear such a thing, and it would have demeaned both of us for me to give it."

"She has no interest in any sort of apology from me, she wants to make those such as ourselves dance for her amusement and whim. This is not a matter of personal pride, either, but of principle. What information could you possibly hope to get from the woman to prove the innocence of this conjurer?"

In the sword ring the next exchange of blows results in one hit each for Lord Geoffrey and Sir Garrett... Sir Garrett coming off slightly the better... Garrett takes 7 Hit Points damage.

Lady Melisende smiles at Aydan's comments, then turns her attention back to the dual as both he and Zurladew step away to engage Sir Jaymin in conversation (or is it debate? ;) )

Meanwhile, back at the tourney ground...

A scream, followed by another scream... then quickly joined by a chorus of yelled warnings, screams, and the general sound of people running in panic drifts from the edge of the tourney ground to the sword ring. The cause is soon evident as nothing less than a dragon swoops low over the field - its frosty white scales glittering in the sunlight...

'By the gods!' declares Lord Geoffrey as the beast's shadow passes overhead, causing him to glance up - his dual with Sir Garrett forgotten in the moment.

A short way off a squad of Redwyrm guards rushes into position, the archers dropping to one knee to draw and fire longbows as one, whilst the halbardeers form a protective square around them, in the standard Taldan fashion, drilled into them by countless hours of practice... but it's to no avail, as the arrows seem to glance harmlessly off the dragon's hide. The dragon half-loops and turns, swooping low to exhale a blizzard-like cone of freezing air and ice - in that moment, the squad of guards are frozen, for a heartbeat or two standing stock still like so many glistening statues, then shattering in a million tiny fragments...

As panic erupts all around, Lady Melisende's black-clad guards huddle up protectively around her. From the tilting field Baron Otto's bellow can be heard,

'Redwyrm! To me!'

Moments later the man himself, with a few knights and guards in tow, strides into view, the Baroness Hilda's arm in his firm grip as he drags her along. Glancing about he thrusts the Baroness towards where Sir Jaymin, Aydan, and Zurladew are gathered, then points to the nearby Lady Rebecca,

'Escort my wife and daughter to the safety of the castle,' he orders, 'you too, Garrett. Then bring me Peace-bringer - it's said to be a dragon-slaying blade, and I intend to put that legend to the test!'

As the Baron calls for horses, guards, and weapons, and begins to organise a defense, Lady Rebecca hurries over to Lady Beatrix,

'You'd better come with us,' she states, her eyes wide, but the girl herself managing, it seems, to hold fear at bay...

Lord Geoffrey meanwhile calls for his own men, taking just a moment to glance at Garrett,

'We'll have to finish our dance another time,' he comments...

Somewhere across the tourney field the dragon appears to have landed amongst the tents, where its roars mingle with the sounds of flesh and bones being ripped and torn...

'We'll have to finish our dance another time,' he comments...

Garrett quickly nods in agreement with Lord Geoffrey's comment, then quickly hops out of the sword ring...

"As you command, m'lord." he says in response to Baron Otto's orders.

"M'Ladies, we'd best get you to safety..."

Listening to Jaymin's words, Aydan nods in concession, "You've a fair point, but this anger, this quarelling are can be seen as just as much manipulation. Rise above it my friend and..."

His words are cut short by the chorus of screams and cries, and the sight of the Dragon. For a second he stands slackjawed, before being jolted to his senses by the Baron's warcry. "Perhaps we should table the discussion friends!" he halfheartedly quips as he draws his sword from its sheathe, a part of him thinking for all the good it would do.

As the Baron approaches them, Aydan gently catches the Baroness, and with his hands guides her back towards the Jester and Knight, before turning in horror as Baron Redwyrm returns to the Defense, "Fa.!" he bites down on his lip, catching the call in his throat, before saying instead, "Aye My Lord."

Sword in hand he rushes to Rebecca and Beatrix, "Becca, come on! the both of you now." grabbing the girl gently by the arm, he gives her a reasurring nod as he starts to guide her back to the group.

How big is the dragon? (horse, house, really big house?)

'Let's go Becca, now is not the time to get in the way'

Zurladew nods gravely at the Baron's instructions. He leaps onto a nearby surface to get himself to the panicked crowd's level. He raises an arm and fires a flare above the audience with his magic.

"Remaining men-at-arms to the Baron!," the little man yells at the top of his surprisingly strong lungs. "Everyone else - an orderly jog to the castle! Do not panic - this will only draw attention to you!" He begins trying to direct the crowd as best he can.

Diplomacy check to guide the crowd? 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17