Looking at the cup that Draig produced, Marcy bit back the remark that was just about to spill from his lips. He was tempted to feel insulted that the elf wouldn't drink from the same bottle. It wasn't as though any self-respecting disease was going to make a home in that rot-gut that passed for wine, anyway. But Draig was obviously on edge, so he decided to let the matter pass. Instead, he merely handed the skin over to the elf. "Just a sip? A bit more than that might ease your worries some." He regarded the elf for a moment longer, not entirely unsympathetic. "Name's Marcy."
Moving over to stand near Raignik, he offered his friend an arched brow and a slight roll of the eyes. "What do you make of this lot, Raig?" he asked in low tones. "I never was one to trust folks I'd just met, and I've only gotten worse about it as time goes by. Last time I did work for the Imperium... Well, you know how it is. We kinda had our hands full enough with those we were facing without having to watch our backs as well."
Raignik considered Marcy's word and sized up the assembled group mentally.
Finally regarded Marcy in low tones, "Dwarves drink, holy men preach." he said softly referring to Stump and Arwin, "So all seems right there." rubbing his chin to muffle his already low voice further; Raignik let his gaze gloss over the remaining two men "And I'm willing to bet one of them has yet to show what they're made of." he let his eyes fix on Xandar. "Though, I haven't decided who yet."
The youth unnerved Raignik, in the way one predator's presence unsettled the other. Would they band together in search of prey, or war over territory? Time would tell.
Raignik let himself relax a bit, "But I don't foresee any of them being a problem. At worst they're out for their own fortunes and are willing to cut our throats to get it." Raignik threw Marcy a grin and a shrug, returning his voice to a normal volume. "But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
Driag filled his cup, handed the skin to the next man, and bowed his head.
He looked at the fluid in his small cup,"muttered something in Draconic", paused, and took a drink.
"In honor of our new friends, and our victory in battle."
Taking another drink, he finished what was in his cup.
In is own thoughs, Arwin watches this odd group now compiled together. Some ex-mercenaries or soldiers, one elf - rare one and something strange about him -, a dwarf from far away just happened to stumble here, a member of his religion and inquisitor on top of that and then him, a man of robe and servant of her Goddess. Great was power of gods and some mission was there, but something was still missing. How should he achieve what he wanted with this people? They hold the key, that he had understood from his Goddess.
Rubbing his own cheek, Arwin gaze was empty but that was more threatening in one sense. Everything he saw was being sucked on those eyes, memorized, categorized and saved for later use. Knowledge is power and controlling that will give the power to control people. However, even if something were to happen, he still had his own tricks and strength along powers. Never lower your guard, even along your own people was told once more in his head.
When the wine-skin came to him, Arwin took it and held for a moment in his hand Day it shines, Night it darken. Shadows guard us a small prayer and raising the skin and taking a sip. Pausing for a moment to feel the taste Interesting taste. Perhaps from Kell or Marivelli region ? They surely make some nice wine looking at the skin and then passing the skin forward to Xandar.
Xandar took the wineskin with a nod of thanks and brought it to his mouth with no hesitation. No pause to consider poison, no questioning of ritual, just a long slow draught.
"Gentlemen, may our first skin together not be our last." he says with a small smile.
Despite his attempts at merriment Stump could feel the tenseness in the air
Well now that we all have alcohol in us and since this city seems to bring an unease with quite a few of you I suggest we head out to this cave the paper speaks of. Perhaps a dark cave might lift your spirits, who knows we may even find a good fight or two along the way. He chuckled at the thought
Well now all have alcohol in us and since this city seems to bring an unease with quite a few of us I suggest we head out to this cave the paper speaks of. Perhaps a dark cave might lift your spirits, who knows we may even find a good fight or two along the way.
"I'm ready to see what kind of trouble is out by the lake."
Marcy nodded at Raignik's words and even managed a small smile. It would be what it would, but he was glad to have at least one trusted companion at his side. It had been quite a while since he could claim that.
Raising his second wine skin in a salute of sorts, he said, "The dew may kiss the morning grass, The clock may kiss the hours past, A Knight may kiss the maiden lass, But you my friends can kiss my ass." With that he took a long and steady pull on the wineskin and then clapped Raignik on the shoulder.
"Well, old friend," he said with a resigned grin. "Shall we go and have some fun?" Handing his skin to the half-elf he recalled congenially, "I don't remember you bein' much of a drinker, but one for the road never hurt a soul."
Raignik rocked forward with the force of Marcy's clap. He laughed at the man's toast, and looked down at the wineskin.
"...No, I suppose not." the words sounded far away. It wasn't entirely clear to Raignik what he meant by saying that. But for some reason it didn't bother him as much as it should have.
He tipped back the wineskin and took a swig. He swallowed the brew harshly, clearing his throat vigorously.
He passed the wineskin back to Marcy.
"Ready when you are sir."
Despite the strange situation he found himself in. It didnt feel wrong, and Draig knew that feeling. It came to him naturally, and from experience...
"It looks like I have a new party to travel with."
He wasn't sure what they where here for, but they weren't working for the Imperium. As for their motives that was yet to be known, but he hoped things would turn out better than they had with parties before.
You notice a small group of individuals begin to part as the Chancellors exit the hall - a few of them let their hands drop to their weapons and begin to pull the weapons slowly, as if they are waiting for the signal to attack.
As our heroes begin to head in the direction of Lake Meronia, they notice the sea of people part as the High Chancellor and other chancellors exit the Great Hall. They converse amongst each other about simple matters and about their hopes that their call will be answered by loyalists of Ren. On each side of the councillors, members of the Altheiri flank the distinguished individuals, protecting them from harm from all angles.
An arrow pierces the crowd, flying past ears and faces and missing each person it flies by. One human comes into contact with it and when he does, it drops him dead. This human is Chancellor Valdora Lume. The arrow pierces robe and flesh and straight into Lume's heart, ceasing its continuous beating almost immediately. From the alleys of nearby buildings, a small militia breaks cover and begins to rush for the councillors and the Grand Council House itself. A single simultaneous battle cry issues from the attackers. "For Aris!"
Nearby, one of the groups you overheard talking about the writs fly backwards as a large explosion tears through them. This explosion is followed by multiple others as well as lightning that arcs through the air from patriot to patriot.
Witnessing the Chancellor fall from the arrow followed by the explosion and battle cries Stump instinctively draws the massive blade from the holster on his back
Hoho and here I thought this little party was winding down, I'm no expert on human customs lads but I suspect these men want to dance and we wouldn't want to disappoint now would we.
Initiative:
Raignik's reflexes jumped alive and he drew his sword, whirling around to find an oncoming enemy. Empowering his blade with his arcane energy Raignik could almost feel the steel become sharper.
"Dance is a term alright." Raignik replied, senses keenly aware for the oncoming fight.
Initiative:
As chaos erupted about them, the look on Marcys face went from resigned to suddenly intense. In what appeared to be a singular motion he drew the heavy pick over his shoulder and brought his shield to the ready.
"What the hells is this?" he mumbled, planting his feet for the onslaught.
Sudden action, explosions and rush of people were causing chaos all around the great hall. Next thing happening was men rushing towards them. Smile creeping on Arwin face as he face incoming slaughter and small whisper escape his lips More will join the slumber of night... but who, I wonder
Noticing to be the closest one to charging group, Arwin thinks for a moment and prepares to cast one of his spells
Draig
Xandar
Arwin
Stump
Raignik
Marcy
Enemies
The enemies hesitate slightly at the casting of the Mist and this gives our heroes just long enough to hold out a bit more. Before long, however, the enemies proceed forward intent on doing their harm.
Draig went with his Mist spell, so Xandar's up. Everyone else feel free to post up your actions ahead of time that way we can streamline this a bit more than we're doing. Try not to post more than three rounds ahead though unless you absolutely have to. Just let me know what you plan on doing for those rounds and I'll make note of it once your turn in initiative comes up.
Draig saw it start, as if in slow motion. Instinct immediately kicked in, and he moved into the newly formed group. As he saw events unfold he began casting his spell.
This moment has been on his mind ever since he came into town, and now that it was here; he knew he could do what he needed to ensure survival. Whether they would hold their ground or flee depended on what transpired, but the first step was his.
Stump watches as the mist surrounds the party
Now lad your going to miss all the fun if you go and do that.
He shouts before charging to meet the opponent to the south east (E8)
Attack:
Damage:
()
As the mist quickly spreads, Marcy fixes his gaze upon the nearest militia man, taking note of his position. "Comin' through, boys," he says as he moves between Xandar and Arwin, the mist swirling in his wake.
As he emerges from the covering mist with a guttural growl, his weapon is already poised to strike.
Heavy Pick with Vital Strike:
OOC: Oy-vay. (Hangs head in shame)
So.... are we doing critical fumbles? :P
For a moment of thinking, leaving his spell aside, Arwin tighten his grisp on his falcata and moves forward. Appearing from the mist, Arwin swiftly moves towards nearest enemy and chops at him with overhead slash
Falcata
Falcate
Init
As the others explode into action Xandar's movements are almost imperceptible. A flicker of motion has his pistol in hand, the roar of it's discharge accompanied by a steaking line of air through the mist as the bullet tears into the first of the charging opponents.
Attack
Damage
Confirm
As calmly as if holding a conversation he reholsters his pistol dark eyes observing the capabilities of his companions.
With the mist blocking view Raignik cautiously advances out, his weapon in hand.
Once clear he sees Arwin standing next to a fallen enemy and Marcy engaged with another.
Deciding Marcy could handle himself Raignik positions himself alongside the priest, facing their foes with his weapon at the ready.
As Draig calls down an arcane mist upon the battlefield, the charging insurgents hesitate slightly, giving the party enough time to spring into action. A thundering boom signals the start of battle as raging lead crashes into the chest of the enemy (Enemy #4) set directly in the center of Xandar's sights. As the bullet races forward, Arwin chases it with his falcata blade, delivering a final slash that cuts across the man's abdomen, spilling what's left of his life onto the ground, letting him slump lifelessly. Stump quickly follows suit, charging to meet a foe all his own (Enemy #8) delivering a precise blow that, unfortunately, glances off the armor his human foe wears. Judging that his old Tier Ward could hold his own for the most part, Raignik opts to move in between both Marcy and Arwin, readying his blade for the onslaught he planned to unleash. Sadly, his plans are thrown off by Marcy's own foe, who barely manages to avoid the tip of the former Tier Ward's heavy pick. The attack falls aimlessly on open air and the man smiles maliciously in savage contention as he prepares to retaliate, failing miserably as his sword makes contact with Marcy's armor and glances off.
Stoically defending the edge of the pack, the enemy caster begins to mutter something and gestures with his arms, preparing his next attack. Two of his allies, having seen one of their comrades fall, move into a position to defend their spellslinger should he require the assistance. Two of the enemies move forward, one of them replacing the attacker who was felled by the combined efforts of Arwin and Xandar. This one takes a swipe at Arwin, but the cleric's falcata manages to knock the attack up and away just before it would cut into him. His companion's attack against the dwarven fighter, however, connects with the resilient earth-dweller and cuts a small streak of red across his shoulder. This is only complicated more when Stump's original adversary takes advantage of the dwarf's momentary lack of focus and cuts a similar streak across the opposite arm.
Taking advantage of his position behind the mist, Xander Take his pistol out quickly reloading it as he whispers a sibilant phrase, his words ending in an eerie silence.
Taking advantage of his unnoticed position behind the mist, Xandar rapidly takes his weapon out and reloads it, his voice whispering hushed sibilant tones that terminate in an eerie silence.
Stump quickly follows suit, charging to meet a foe all his own (Enemy #8) delivering a precise blow that, unfortunately, glances off the armor his human foe wears.
His companion's attack against the dwarven fighter, however, connects with the resilient earth-dweller and cuts a small streak of red across his shoulder. This is only complicated more when Stump's original adversary takes advantage of the dwarf's momentary lack of focus and cuts a similar streak across the opposite arm.
HP:
Stump lets out a rough grumble as the blows come down upon him
You call those hits, Ha I've taken harder shots from the back of my grandmothers hand.
Stump brings his greatsword to bare against the new opponent (E7)
Full Attack:
Damage:
Draig casts magic missle
Four bright points of light pierce the gloom of the fog, and come streaking out; as it swirls back into place. Each rockets across the field with supernatural accuracy, as they seek their target. The spellcaster at the center of the enemies group.
Magic Missile
His pick slicing through nothing but air, Marcy growls, "I'm getting too old for this sh*t." But he wastes no time bringing the weapon to bare again, hoping to catch the man with a practiced backswing.
Damage:
Attack 2:
Damage:
Raignik, pausing only a moment, lunges at the opponent facing Arwin with an adjacent thrust of his scimitar.
Attack:
Damage:
Arwin hits nearest enemy next to him, with full force behind his hit
Attack
Damage
Confirm Crit:
Damage
Looking at his enemies eyes, Arwin keeps his calm and moves now towards another enemy to bring wrath of his goddess
Attack
Damage
Looking for a new opponent, Arwin give a gaze for others, but without hesitation, steps ahead and bring his falcate down
Attack
Damage
Focusing his sights on the enemy spellcaster, Draig unleashes mystical power of his own, letting four points of light streak from his hands towards his target (Enemy #1). Each of the four points of energy impact, causing the enemy to break his concentration so much that his own arcanum backfires and explodes in a bright flash, damaging not only himself but those around him as well. Meanwhile, the Inquisitor of Cerelia, Xandar Tru St'in, calmly reloads his weapon, whispering in hushed tones as he casts a spell of his own on his ammunition that will silence all sounds until the firearm is finally shot.
As his brother in darkness takes advantage of his tactical cover, the cleric of Cerelia, Arwin, swings his falcata, cutting across the chest of his enemy with such force that it tears open his armor exposing skin beneath.
Continuing his own brawl with both his original foe and the new one, Stump, the short-statured dwarf of considerable strength, lifts his greatsword against the new arrival and gives his foe an impact worthy of a dwarf, as the blade falls through the man's shoulder. "You call those hits? Ha! I've taken harder shots from the back of my grandmothers hand!" The dwarf cries as his foe drops to the ground unconscious shortly after his cries of painstaking anguish.
Not skipping a beat against Arwin's foe, Raignik lifts his own blade to just the right height, following Arwin's falcata with his own scimitar, letting it cut right across the gash the cleric already opened. The enemy (Enemy #5) collapses lifeless shortly afterwards, blood pooling around him.
"I'm getting too old for this s**t," the former Tier Ward growls at the misfortune from his first attack. In an effort to redeem himself, Marcy Lull, lets his pick fly again, this time slamming it hard into the area just beneath his enemy's underarm (Enemy #3). This time, the pick connects, tearing into both armor and flesh. As his foe grimaces and he smiles victoriously, he dislodges it and lets his fly one last time at the same spot, connecting yet again and bringing the insurgent to his knees. Marcy takes a deep breath as he kicks the corpse back off of his pick and looks for his next target.
In a fit of rage and considerably burnt from the Fireball spell that backfired on his companion, one of the two remaining attackers (Enemy #2) charge towards Raignik, intent on ending him and his companions. Thrusting forward with his rapier, the elf follows into his foe, glancing off his armor, but still piercing a bit of flesh along Raignik's side. The blind rage is his only excuse.
All the while, Stump's original enemy (Enemy #8) swings at him with his own weapon, missing slightly as he brings it to bear on the backswing. This connects with the dwarf, but just barely, and the man can sense his defeat.
As the missiles connected Draig could hear a low roar, and shouts; but could not see the result through the thick cloud of mist. When he spoke, no sound came out and the sounds of battle vanished and all was perfectly quiet.
Unsure of what was going on, all there was to do was stay calm and prepare for the unexpected...
Continuing his own brawl with both his original foe and the new one, Stump, the short-statured dwarf of considerable strength, lifts his greatsword against the new arrival and gives his foe an impact worthy of a dwarf, as the blade falls through the man's shoulder. "You call those hits? Ha! I've taken harder shots from the back of my grandmothers hand!" The dwarf cries as his foe drops to the ground unconscious shortly after his cries of painstaking anguish.
Is that it then? Pity.
All the while, Stump's original enemy (Enemy #8) swings at him with his own weapon, missing slightly as he brings it to bear on the backswing. This connects with the dwarf, but just barely, and the man can sense his defeat.
Feeling the graze from his original opponents weapon Stump turns from the now crumpled body of his foe to face the remaining threat.
Full Attack:
First:
Second:
HP:
"That's more like it," Marcy mumbles to himself with a half smile as he turns on the next adversary.
Damage 1:
Attack 2:
Damage 2:
Xandar stalks forward, silent as a wraith as the mist swirls around him, the overall effect utterly eerie as the unnatural silence moves with him.. As he moves to the edge of the mist, emerging like some sort of dark phanton, his eyes scan beyond the two standing opponents egaged in battle looking for other enemies.
HP: 75 - 4 = 71
Determination setting in from the cut, Raignik twists his blade in his hand and drives a thrust aimed at the combatant's center.
As the last of the attackers fall, the sounds of battle begin to die down all around. All across the battlefield, these attackers lay beaten and battered by the same adventurers that were called to fend against them. Around you, some of the other warriors interrogate prisoners, execute others, loot the corpses, and others simply shake their heads and walk away. Searching the bodies of those fallen reveals a collective total of Moving over to investigate where the Councilors had been attacked reveals the bodies of two dead Altheiri archers - one of which still sparks with arcane electricity - as well as one who is still breathing, but you estimate not for long.
As sound returned, soon so did sight as he stepped outside the cover of swirling mists. Joining his friends at the battle scene, and looking around.
"...Well I was afraid that might happen. Unless anyones got a reason not to, I think we should grab any loot we can carry off these guys and get out of town; before we attract more unwanted attention."
Stooping near one of the fallen, Marcy absently wipes the gore from his pick on the man's sleeve as he gives the group a quick survey. A few minor injuries, it seems, but they're all still standing. Satisfied, he turns his attention to the slain man before him, taking a moment to close his now sightless eyes. Someone's son, father, brother... With a sigh, he rises and looks about the rest of the impromptu battlefield.
"They had some balls, attacking here," he said, shaking his head. "Broad daylight, and half the mercenaries in the district gathered together against them... Desperate, brave or stupid."
Giving Draig an appraising look, Marcy only nods, keeping his thoughts to himself for the time being.
Scanning the area Xandar makes a brief guesture with one hand, dispelling the unnatural silence.
Holstering his weapon he looks over to Marcy as he comments. "They valued their cause more than their lives. Dangerous."
Stump brought his massive greatsword to rest on his shoulder and looked around.
Well that was a good fight, too bad there arent more, was getting a bit excited there.
Stump kneels down to his former opponents and folds their arms across their chest with weapons in hand.
I'm leaving their arms and armor, these men fought honorably, I intend to show them as much in death.
Raignik looked about wearily for signs of more enemies. This was a foolhardy attack--and if it was just a probe the people in charge would be watching.
He considered recommending that they interrogate one of the survivors elsewhere on the battlefield. But as Xandar had pointed out these men were zealots for a cause this group did not entirely understand. Interrogation would likely yield little...and considering how suicidal this attack seemed--these men likely didn't know much.
Pawns.
"Whatever we're doing we had best do it fast and be gone friends." [/b]
Raignik inspected his slight wound briefly and made a poor attempt to bandage it.
"With men dead there'll likely be a lot of questions and accusations. Best we be on our way before the fingers start pointing."
"Aye. Though not dangerous enough," he said without humor. "The question is, were they justified?"
Not waiting for a reply, he stoops again to the body at his feet. Tugging the mans belt pouch free, he shakes the purse as he rises, noting the clinking of coins within. "I'll leave his weapon as you say, master Stump. But he no longer has need of gold, and to the victor go the spoils, as they say."
Deftly returning the pick to it's place upon his back, Marcy turns to Raignik and casually examines the fellows wound. "I agree. Theres plenty of day left to put some space between us and this city. Then we can tend to our... wounds."
Adjusting the straps of his pack and cracking his neck, he added, "Oh. And well done men."
Not waiting for a reply, he stoops again to the body at his feet. Tugging the mans belt pouch free, he shakes the purse as he rises, noting the clinking of coins within. "I'll leave his weapon as you say, master Stump. But he no longer has need of gold, and to the victor go the spoils, as they say."
Gold no, although I could do with more ale and there is no better reason to drink then a good fight. To our fallen enemies and may they bring us much more gold, glory and alcohol.
Draig approaches the fallen spellcaster, with four punctures across his burnt torso; and the charred body next to him. A grin crosses his face as he looks at them, realizing what had happened.
"... I guess we don't need to leave them naked, but he wont need this anymore."
Draig picks up the quarterstaff, and looks at it carefully in the light.
"I can have a look at some of these later and try to appraise them or identify any magic enchantments on them. First we need to get out of town though, this city is a bad place for a free sorcerer to be."
Draig picks up the wand, two scrolls, a longsword, and the four small vials of strange effervescent liquid; along with any gold the two men are carrying.
"Whoever they where, they had a spellcaster with them, they are organized, and have no problem starting a fight. We are standing between them and a few corpses and injured bodies, including state archers."