Round 11:
The arrival of more arms and the weakness of his own giving pause to prudence, Phil tightens his form and focuses more on preservation than aggression...
Defensive Dagger: for
...the roving blade not meeting flesh again, though hopefully offering at least slight pause.
Snake swings again at the Samaritan, hoping to at least make a dent in his skull.
Snake takes advantage of the enraged man's focus on Phillip to deliver a solid blow to his head with his morningstar.
The archer shrugs, raises his bow ... and lowers it again. "Fella in my way. You want me to shoot him, too?"
Sighing, Gristav begins walking West, around the stones, grumbling, "No, no... He's a professional, just not at this. Which isn't exactly damning. Rather the reverse." Nearing his own bow, Gristav cries out in Elven, "Deverin! Sagoj Revena!", before stepping to his own bow, and off the firing lane, himself.
Hissing at a low enough ebb that only Serpe and the Samaritan can hear...
"Deverin! Sagoj Revena!"
Tendal glances back at Gristav for a bare moment, hearing his name, but not catching the sibilant syllables smoothly shouted.
What was that? he wondered. It didn't sound like a spell...
Narrowing his eyes to the problem at hand, he takes aim, charges raw magic, and looses his cane towards his chosen target.
Inwardly he groans with disappointment as the cane heads skyward from his palm, missing the man by nearly a foot as it sails over his head, reaches its ultimate extent, and snaps back to his palm.
Tendal glances back at Gristav for a bare moment, hearing his name, but not catching the sibilant syllables smoothly shouted."Deverin! Sagoj Revena!"
"Deverin! A file for the Rook!"
"Deverin! A file for the Rook!"
A file for the rook? Tendal thinks, his mind racing a second before alighting on a solution to the riddle.
Calling over his shoulder as he takes a few steps to the side, out of the path of whatever Gristav was about to do, "Gristav, I am not certain that the midst of melee is the appropriate place to utilize your riddles and circumlocutions. If there was any time to speak plainly to ensure there is no mistaking your intentions, now would be it."
Gristav retrieves his bow, calling an enigmatic instruction ahead to Tendal.
As soon as Tendal steps off the road, the archer fits two arrows to the string and releases them in quick succession. His missiles, however, fly wild to either side of their target, and he scowls. "Easier shot if your friends kept some distance," he remarks sulkily.
Tendal's cane comes no closer to Phil's attacker than the arrows, as he moves to clear the shot for the archer.
Phillip takes a defensive swipe at his attacker.
"Give back what you stole," the man counteroffers in a threatening rumble, "or you'll die like a thief and I'll sell your corpse for chum." He does his best to follow through on his threat, slashing the halfling once more.
Phillip rolls with the impact, lessening the force of the blow, but is still left battered and almost insensate.
As soon as Tendal steps off the road, the archer fits two arrows to the string and releases them in quick succession. His missiles, however, fly wild to either side of their target, and he scowls. "Easier shot if your friends kept some distance," he remarks sulkily.
"You only need one arrow," Braddon grumbles. "Gimme that."
Braddon snatches at the bow and an arrow and tries to take a shot.
"Hey!" Taking the archer by surprise, Braddon manages to wrest the bow from his hands.
Snake continues to try to send the man to the ground.
Phillip shrugs and manages a wry smile, before turning his focus entirely upon defense in order to attempt preservation...
Snake swings again but doesn't match his previous prowess.
Having to take extra care as he aims to hit neither Snake nor Phillip, Gristav fails to damage his target.
The archer attempts to grab his bow back from Braddon, but the half-elf easily swerves the weapon out of his grasp.
Tendal glanced over his shoulder to ensure that he actually was out of the firing lane after the arrows went snapping past.
Focusing on his own efforts, he allowed the magic to build, then sent his cane towards the final opponent.
Tendal's arcanely-flung cane finally delivers the miscreant a well-deserved rap before returning to the wizard's hand.
Phillip crouches warily, poised on the balls of his feet to dodge whichever way the next blow isn't.
With a wary glare at the enemies attacking him from range, the aggrieved man snatches at his satchel, still in Phillip's hand. Failing to regain possession, he inches back down the road townward.
Braddon hoists his newly acquired bow and takes a single shot at the man moving away from Phillip and Snake.
Braddon frowns. "It's not a very good bow, is it?"
Phillip smirks at the now retreating and bleeding Samaritan...
Braddon's shot with the borrowed bow misses.
Snake glares at the Samaritan with the all too familiar and eerie red glow from within his eye.
Snake glares malevolently at Phil's victim.
I'd like to trust your retreat., Gristav thought of, not quite _at_, the man who still stood in reach of a staggering, bloodied, blanching Phillip. But you fall afoul of dubious duty...
"Was that You?", Gristav whispered. Into the ear of Omnipresence, a whisper was enough. "Thank You."
, the magus called, moving closer, and out of the line of Braddon's fire. "You there! We'll be reporting to the Governor. Go there when your bloodlust ebbs."
"Or continue to fight, and we WILL feather you."
Gristav's arrow goes badly awry.
"It's not a very good bow, is it?"
"It's a fine bow," the man replies heatedly, "if you know how to use it." He holds his hand out expectantly, waiting for Braddon to return his weapon.
Phillip disengages from his assailant, repositioning himself further back down the road and in Serpe's lee. He shoulders the Samaritan's satchel as he does, blowing him a kiss and offering a sardonic chuckle.
Seeing Phillip's assailant finally by himself, Tendal moves forward to close the space, his hand glowing blue on his cane as he takes careful aim once more.
Nearly buzzing with contained energy, he releases his grip, and the cane sails toward its target.
Tendal uses his arcane prowess to fling his cane once more, but he is unable to connect this time.
Phillip scampers toward safety, taunting his victim as he does so.
The downed man groans, gets to his feet, registers the situation, pats his belt for weaponry, and quickly draws a dagger from his boot.
"You f*@*ing little thief," the other man grits after Phillip. "Someday someone's going to catch up to you when you don't have bigger men around and gut you like a fish." He seizes his crossbow from the ground in front of him and moves back. "Watch yourself, lad," he advises the man with the dagger. "We'll get out of this together."
"" Braddon shouts down the road.
He turns back to the archer, but instead of returning the bow he pulls out his short sword.
"Nuh uh," Braddon shakes his head disapprovingly.
"You're gonna wait patiently while we clean up after your buddies, and then you're gonna tell us all about them."
The archer narrows his eyes and curls his lip at Braddon's action, but he doesn't make a move.
Snake continues to stare at the man coldly, curious if he's actually gonna run.
With a twinkle to his eye Phillip draws himself up to his full three feet, straightening his back despite the continued stabbing pain from his injuries. He responds "But not today, and not you. Run along now gizon txiki..." moving forward a ways and readying himself for call upon the Wasp's deception if needed.
, Gristav calls, as if he bore a scepter, not a bow. Obedient of his own words, he crouches over the man nearest him, until seeing it's Read. "No. You should wait for those who followed you to be helped. But, good luck.", he says softly, moving to the next nearest, in hope of helping...
Tendal keeps his eyes fixed on the two men as he reaches into his satchel with practiced ease and extracts a scroll. Then, cane tucked up under his left arm, he partially unrolls the scroll, dramatically clears his throat and raises one eyebrow at the men, questioning.
Snake's malign eye adds to the cloud of doom over the man's head.
Gristav finds that both Read and the man on the road next to him are still breathing, despite their wounds, and ought to recover with care.
Tendal extracts another scroll, should he need to use it.
The tide of the combat turned, Phillip regains some of the ground he lost and threatens his interlocutor.
The two men who came to the aid of their townsfolk back cautiously down the road toward Roderic's Cove -- a town full of their friends and shipmates who could surely easily be roused to return as a small army in short order. There's also the matter of the two men who fled in the other direction up the road moments ago. This may not be a safe place to linger without courting more combat.
Tendal stands still for a moment, eyes distant, thoughts moving.
"At least I should be able to fertilize the seeds of confusion and discord," he says aloud to nobody in particular.
Moving swiftly, he replaces the scroll and retrieves a pice of parchment before shrugging out of his pack, which he lays on the ground as a makeshift desk. He then retrieves ink and quill, creases the parchment midways with practiced ease, and setting inked nib to paper, quickly writes.
The mark of a mage (or an accountant) being flawless writing and copying, in bare seconds he has two near identical sheets of paper. Setting them aside to dry, he repacks his ink and quill and pulls out his pipe, which he sets, unlit in his teeth. Then he puts his pack back in its proper position and walks back up the road towards Braddon and Gristav.
Eyeing the two men lying in the dirt, he drops one sheet on each of them.
"Let us be back about our business. I think remaining here would be detrimental to our livelihood," Tendal announces, brusquely.
"Back toward the farm is back toward the town those men are running into, where their neighbors and nitwits nuptialed to their nieces wait like kindling for a spark such as our Phillip. I've said, we'd go to the Governess. I say it again, now. We take these men for her trial, and what others still live that we might carry." As Gristav had said this, he'd looked about, taking in at least one of the notes Tendal had penned. "Or, we could trust to their literacy and reasonableness. Surely they won't wake Read, support him, and give him time to craft a lie to damn us." A faint smirk curled cold, but warmed as Gristav set a hand on Tendal's arm. "Open a brighter eye, would you, and look about? I'd rather leave nothing to be used against us. Those who arrive may know what to look for, better than us."
"You there, Archer! Help the fallen men, find a living man, and help us carry him to the Governor. When we get to the bottom of this, you'll float to the top, the most reasonable of the lot."
As he makes sure the two leave, Snake looks back toward the field of battle. "Could've been worse," he murmurs to himself. He then catches sight of the wizard jot something down and follows him as he heads toward the others. Looking down at the two men, he bends down to read the paper placed upon them. Once finished, he rises back up. "Good work. And the suit's got it right... we need to move... NOW." Looking to Gristav, "We're not carrying anybody anywhere. We're leaving. If you wanna stay and clean this up, then that's up to you."
"I see your point Gristav. The better path may be to proceed to the Governor...I just would rather have this place at our back and brush its dust from our boots." Tendal says, before returning the pipe to his mouth.
"I cannot see how this will play out in our favor. And it seems that Snake has the same thoughts." he finishes, doubtfully.
"Are we the brigands Read will claim us to be, to simply high-tail? Or unhurried agents as the notes would say?"
"Carry them, and we carry their goods, which we might claim to. And whatever they know of what you do not. Do I need to remind any of us, of what we don't know? Or only, that unexplained ambuscades might be explained, thereby? Assembling a jigsawed image, two pieces that don't match anything else, might match each other."
"Can we afford to throw pieces away? To leave Read, the most informed person on the field?"
"Phillip needs you, if you can help him."
Braddon reaches inside his jerkin and pulls out a leather wallet which he gives to the archer.
"Read that. It's from the General in Riddleport. If your friends do come back, I'll have this town wiped off the map."
Braddon watches the archer but calls to the others, "Loot the bodies and leave them. The governor can arrest or pardon Harvey as she wants. Let's go see her and suggest execution, then get out of here."
Braddon snatches back the documents. "Harvey knows we're not bandits and now you do too. But I'm also not the forgiving type."
Braddon takes the archer's weapons and purse, then sheathes his sword again and heads over to collect his dropped cross bow.
"Can we afford to throw pieces away? To leave Read, the most informed person on the field?"
Snake angles his head away from Gristav in thought a moment before looking back his way and responding with, "Yes."
Braddon watches the archer but calls to the others, "Loot the bodies and leave them. The governor can arrest or pardon Harvey as she wants. Let's go see her and suggest execution, then get out of here."
Snake quickly moves to relieve the bodies of anything of use.
Phil watches the retreating Samaritan, walking purposefully forward to at least the point where he can retrieve his crossbow, waiting until he's sure that the fight has been abandoned before allowing his tension to ease slightly. The pain of his wounds cuts through the adrenaline at that point as well, searing lances causing him to grimace and growl slightly as he stows the thrown dagger and retuns the crossbow to his hand and to being loaded. With a pat on the as yet unplumbed satchel he spits bloody phlegm in the Samaritan's wake before chuckling "Love k-o vast, bori k-o grast"
Following after Serpe back to the others his brow furrows as the talk seems to be leaving Read upon the field and living. He at least moves to the fallen king-pin and checks for signs of life...
As the looting continues, Snake walks by Phillip while he checks upon Read and touches the halfling's shoulder in passing as he's moving to the next body.
Tendal eyes Braddon as he displays his documents.
"Gristav, while I understand your reluctance to leave pieces strewn about the field, untidily, I do think that our best option at this time is a strategic withdrawal. While the Governor may find in our favor. She may also simply lock us up while she awaits further orders from Riddleport. Knowing her a little, I would suspect that she would rather not put us inside of a cell, but allow us to go on our merry way and make only the most minor of efforts to apprehend us for nearly putting her man in the ground...A man she does not like overmuch." Tendal reasons.
"We have business in Riddleport. Piddling about here in this puny pockmarked pissant puddle of a port does not move us toward our goals."
The party moves quickly among the fallen, checking for signs of life or valuables, as its constituent members are so inclined.
All the downed enemies, save the one Braddon all but decapitated with a single swing of his sword, are alive and stable, if grievously injured. Assuming that those who find them along the road carry them to shelter or provide them aid, they should all recover with time.
Most of the equipment is nothing out of the ordinary: mundane scimitars, bows, daggers, and arrows. One man carries two sets of manacles. Some of them are wearing fairly well-made studded leather armor, though it would take valuable time to get them out of it. Besides his bow and arrows, the archer has only a dagger himself, and a spiked gauntlet which matches his well-made breastplate.
Harvey Read carries a nice cutlass, a heavy crossbow, 10 bolts, a steel shield, and a vial of liquid. He is wearing chainmail and a dandyish cape; the cape is easily removed, but extracting his unconscious mass from the armor would be time-consuming.
Phillip places his freshly loaded crossbow upon Read's chest, pointy end of the quarrel nestled into the soft underbelly of his jaw. A glance is half cast to the side, where scimitars lie, before he shrugs and squeezes the trigger...
...taking his eyes from Read and fixing them up towards primarily the archer still at field he deadpans "He twitched..."
Phillip places his freshly loaded crossbow upon Read's chest, pointy end of the quarrel nestled into the soft underbelly of his jaw. A glance is half cast to the side, where scimitars lie, before he shrugs and squeezes the trigger......taking his eyes from Read and fixing them up towards primarily the archer still at field he deadpans "He twitched..."
Snake walking up and looking at the bolt sticking out of the man's chest, looking to the crossbow in the halfling's hand and then looking to the halfling. After a not-so-long pause, he looks up and says to everyone, "I think that's everything. Let's move."