No, I must admit, I am terrible about remembering AoO with reach weapons. Terrible! Go ahead and roll your AoO, and perhaps you can avoid the damage etc. My bad!
Seeing Corso's injuries, Arianna calls upon her healing hex and moves to heal the bard's wounds.
Mob Fight - Round 2 - concluded
Arianna slips between two thugs to the wounded Corso's side, and administers her Healing Hex to the man, curing him of any damage.
Still sliding about in the grease, Green Thug tries stepping out of the mess to the northwest, clear from any attacks for now.
End of Round 2
Mob Fight - round 3
24 Fingers
21 Corso
20 Gyllan
19 Iozif (feral)
17 Purple Thug
17 Mob Boss 1 (wounded)
14 Mob Boss 2 (greased)
14 Mob Boss 3 (wounded)
13 Durriken
13 Ulgrim
6 Yellow Thug
4 Soldado
4 Arianna
3 Green Thug
Seeing himself, flanked but also flanking another, Fingers strikes first at Purple Thug hitting him from behind and killing the man. He then steps to the west of the Mob Boss, hoping one of his allies will distract the man next round.
Feeling the healing hex course through him, Corso strikes at the thug behind him, his blade slipping through the man's throat easily, killing him.
Gyllan takes a few short steps towards the thug who's backing away, trying to knock some sense into him with the flat of his blade.
His ears ringing and stars dancing in his eyes, Iozif staggers for a moment under the force of the blow. Shaking his head to clear it, he regains his bearings and sidesteps to a position to distract his foe. Dropping his spear, he makes use of his concoction's boons as he rakes his opponent, landing telling blows as fast as he can identify weaknesses. "You fool's don't seem to understand. Allow me to elucidate: flee unless you want to get hurt!"
Ulgrim fires two more arrows into the mob boss still fighting with Fingers, hoping to drop the burly thug.
Mob Fight - Round 3 - continued
Following up his opponent, Gyllan's non-lethal blow is awkward with the greatsword, and is dodged by his opponent.
Stepping behind his foe who is distracted by the drunken guardsman, the mutagenic Iozif rips and shreds his opponent who falls like a sack of potatoes bleeding from multiple wounds.
The lead mob boss swings at Fingers with his lead pipe, cracking the rogue on the arm and shoulder hard, just before a second arrow from Ulgrim strikes the boss, dropping him to the bloody ground.
Mob Boss 2 tries to withdraw himself from the grease spot,and successfully withdraws to more sure footing for next round.
Durriken picks his way around Arianna and Corso to the boss, swinging wildly with the flat of his blade.
Mob Fight - Round 3 - continued
Durriken slaps the Mob Boss with the flat of his blade, giving the man sore ribs and knocking the wind from him, as The drunken Soldado staggers up to the same man, his swordplay like magic, stabbing the leader until he falls dead at his feet. Almost falling himself, the sergeant rights himself at the last moment.
Mob Fight - round 3 - concluded
The Varisian witch, emboldened by the lack of enemies left on the field, steps forward, swinging her quarterstaff at the last standing bad guy. but her shot misses wide of hitting any mark.
Green Thug throws down his club crying for mercy from the group of merciless warriors.
End of combat
Leaving the last combatant to the others, Durriken walks back to the cart, picks up his bow, and checks to make sure the cargo is still secure.
"Soldado, are you drunk!? Abadar's balls, get over here and help me with these prisoners," Ulgrim growls at Soldado. He moves to put manacles on the last surrendering thug. After the man is secure, he ties up the unconscious one with his rope. "You lot headed back to the Citadel? I was sent to meet you, Ulgrim Clanless," the gruff dwarf offers the others by way of introduction.
Gyllan eyes the dwarf archer suspiciously, everything unexpected being suspect in these uncertain times. However, the ranger’s innate ability to read people – and the fact that Ulgrim’s arrow finished off the leader of the thugs – quickly reassures him that this fellow can be trusted. ””Gyllan Dow,” he says, nodding back to Ulgrim. ”Glad you showed up when you did. We’re headed where you say, though the less said about it the better.”
Turning to Iozif, he eyes the man’s half-feral visage and bloody claws and asks, ”What about you, wild man? You fight like a savage while talking like a sage. You want to join us? We can use all the friendly, strong arms we can find getting across the city.” Lowering his voice, he gestures with a thumb at the cart and explains to Iozif and Ulgrim, ”We’ve got a little package we need to deliver, would be nice to get it - and us - there in one piece.”
It doesn't take much of sense motive check to see that Soldado is indeed drunk. His skill with sword masked his stumbling drunk condition, and as the fight ends, he staggers around, reaching for a pocket flask.
When called out by Ulgrim, he peers at the dwarf soldier foggily. "Wha' diff'nce duz it make, mate? Th' King's dead, an' she's gone, an' I'm here. No reashun not ta take a lil ole drink, it makes me feel s'much better."
He slaps Ulgrim on the back good-naturedly, and offers him a hit of the bottle. From his look and smell, it's a bender that has lasted a few days.
The "package" is still secure in the cart and the crowd has heeled for the moment, taken aback by the violent ending of some of the more vocal leaders in the group. They still mill about with menace, but lack the courage to continue the fight at present.
Gyllan scans the crowd quickly, then says, ”Let’s get moving, before things get ugly again. We can do introductions on the way.” He steps into harness beside Durriken and looks at his companions to be sure they're all ready to go.
Seeing the thugs are no longer a threat, he pulls a healer's kit from his pack and starts performing first aid on any of the thugs who are still alive. Glancing up at the tall man as he speaks, he says in a raspy, guttural tone, "I talk like a doctor, as it were. If Soldado is going with you, then I guess I'm joining you. Give me a moment to make sure none of these fools die stupid deaths." He turns back to his patient without further acknowledgement.
Standing with his knees creaking protest from kneeling on the ground, Iozif quickly recovers his spear, casting wary glances at the crowd behind. "You've got the right of it, soldier-boy. It seems best that we make haste to your destination. M'name is Iozif Vasile, by the way."
Arianna briefly considers helping the "doctor", but then thinks better of it concluding that healing the thugs will only lead to another battle.
Hearing Gyllan's comment, she nods in agreement. "The sooner we are done the better."
”Good to meet you, Iozif. I’m Gyllan Dow,“ he responds. ”But I’m no soldier. Just a kid off the streets who’s had to learn to deal with some of the other kids on the streets. I won’t disagree with the other thing, though, let’s get moving.”
With that, he begins to move the cart toward the Citadel, his companions clearing a path ahead of them as before.
Durriken regards the newcomers coolly, but nods when Gyllan suggests they get moving again. He leans into the harness and gets the cart rolling towards the citadel.
Ulgrim motions to the tied up unconscious thug and the manacled one that surrendered. "Help me throw 'em in the cart will ya? It'll make transport easier. As for you Soldado, you're a disgrace. This is your one. If I see you drunk in uniform again, I'm reporting it."
Iozif nods to the young noble, smiling politely, the effect somewhat ruined by the toothiness of his grin. Extending a hand, he says in a raspy tone, "Iozif Vasile, doctor in training." Looking down at his bloodstained hands, he clears his throat and kneels in the walk to wipe his hands and muzzle on a thug's cloak. "Ah, sorry about that. I'm still getting used to the... effects... of my little concoction. I sometimes forget how things change."
Iozif smiles at Gyllan's practicality and nods, "Fair enough. I didn't mean anything by it, just that you have the look of a warrior about you." Having finished stabilizing any still-living bandits, Iozif assists the dwarf guard with his task, careful not to further injure the bandits with his oversize claws. He seems like a decent enough sort, but he's still a guard. Impossible to know if he's under some thug's thumb or not off the bat. Sighing in frustration at the state of the city, Iozif focuses on the task at hand.
Content that there wouldn't be any needless deaths, Iozif assists in making haste out of North Point and south towards the citadel. As they walk, he'll amble up alongside Soldado and ask, "Glad to see you're in one piece, Grau. Best hand over that bottle so you don't in more trouble than you're already in. Also, what's all this nonsense about the King and some lass of yours?"
Reeking of stale sweat and ale, his uniform stained and wrinkled, Soldado takes the tongue lashing from Ulgrim without blinking. He nods to Iozif, but doesn't seem to recognize him.
"You all go on ahe'd. Think I'll jesh stay here in the street fer a while. Doan wanna go to the Citad'l. Shabina'sh not there ish she? What about Orshini, that bashterd? If he'sh there, I'll go."
Despite his words to the contrary, Soldado jogs along beside the cart as you start to roll-out to the Citadel. Iozif looks afer the wouned, binding any wounds that look life-threatening and the group pulls away from the unruly mob, which continues to build and boil in the distance. You see a troop of airborne mounted Sable Marines swooping into the mix as you head back to Guard HQ.
With Ulgrim leading the way, you have little trouble entering the Citadel. The dwarven sergeant takes the prisoner to the brig, and the rest await audience with Field Marshal Croft.
After a few moments of waiting, shortly after Ulgrim returns, she opens the inner door and motions them in.
"So you have found Vancaskerkin and brought him back alive. Wonderful. What did you find out about his operation? Are there other soldiers following his lead?"
Ulgrim stands in the back, "at ease". He lets those who were actually there do the telling, while he listens with curiosity. He also wants to know what happened.
As the party makes it way to the Citadel, Iozif pulls a spare rag from his pack and begins carefully cleaning his now-feral claws and teeth. Best to not make a scene with the law. Things will go easier all around As they arrive at the formidable fortress, Iozif glances at Soldado and shrugs. What is the man babbling about?
In the few moments spent waiting for an audience, Iozif studies the eclectic group that he's joined. Truly a bizarre mismatch of people to be working together. One well-to-do noble, a few men who know their way around a back alley, a dwarven guardsmen, a Varisian fortune-teller and a Varisian who moves like a guard but doesn't have any other signs of it. Once the group is beckoned inside, Iozif takes a place near Ulgrim, listening carefully and studying the dwarf from the corner of his eye, hoping to see some reaction.
"Four others, their bodies are probably still cooling. They were giving out meat for free. Had to be more to it, because they attacked rather than be questioned. Your friend didn't seem mixed up in whatever the rest of them had going, though I expect you'll find out if that's really the case."
The field marshal nods along as you explain the operation, but looks a little startled when you mention Vancaskerkin was misled. "Are you inferring, Corso, that there was more to this mini-revolt than an ambitious guardsman? There was someone running him? Who?"
Ulgrim turns his gaze to Corso, listening intently.
"Of course I have heard of the Arkonas. Don't be daft, man! Are you telling me the Arkonas are behind this rebellion? Can you prove that? If you could, oh, it would be treason at best. Old Glorio himself might swing, and we'd all be better off. But no...I bet you can't prove it, can you?"
As excited as she got, she turns once again back to the taciturn commander you are used to seeing.
Well, at least you took Vancaskerkin off the streets. That's what I asked you to do, and you did it. Time for your just rewards."
She nods and one of her adjutants brings out a small heavy metal box. The cache contains 10 silver bars stamped with teh royal symbol of Korvosa. You have seen ingots like these before and know they are a means of royal exchange, valued at 100gp per ingot. A total of 1000 gp!.
"Good work! Go and celebrate, but come back tomorrow. I may have another mission for you, all of you. Including you Ulgrim"
With that you are dismissed to celebrate and spend your hard earned bounty.
Nodding politely at the field marshal, Iozif walks out into the keep's courtyard along with the rest of the group. Well that was unusual. The Arkonas are that noble family, but I can't recall much more. I should keep my ear to the ground more if I'm going to get mixed up in this sort of thing. That begs the question, am I to show up tomorrow?
With a desultory frown, Iozif glances around as he asks, "It seems I've managed to get tangled into some significant undertaking. Damn Soldado for dragging me from my studies. Still, he's a friend, so I'd best see that he sobers up and makes it to work. Are all of you a mercenary company of some sort? You are clearly not guards, but you report to someone who has some standing. I seem to have been caught up in this 'Field Marshal's' 'request', so I suppose I shall return as well. That is, of course, if you've need of a medico." Iozif pauses for a moment to mix an extract, downing it once he's done. "As you can see, I've a multitude of other useful skills. I suppose if the ongoing chaos is going to disrupt my studies, then I may as well practice them when I can." As he speaks, Iozif's wounds begin to knit closed.
Before leaving to celebrate with the others, Arianna turns and asks the commander, not entirely sure that she wants to do another job, "What sort of job?"
Ulgrim salutes the marshall, and wanders out with the others. "Anyone up fer a pint?" he asks. "Got me damn head smashed in by an Otyugh yesterday and I'm still not quite right. I need ta wet me whistle and smoke me pipe. There's a guard's tavern I know near here. Nothing special, but she gets the job done."
Before leaving to celebrate with the others, Arianna turns and asks the commander, not entirely sure that she wants to do another job, "What sort of job?"
The Field Marshal looks up as the Varisian lady asks this important question. She smiles, wryly:"One very much like the one today, my dear. Too delicate for the Guard to handle, one that's suited to your group's skill set. I'll tell you more tomorrow. Things are still developing." With that she turns her attention back to the paperwork stacked up on her desk.
Later, he'll spend most of the money on proper jewellery: a great belt-buckle of silver and ivory, matching a smaller belt-buckle for his hat. Finally, he gets a satchel of crimson silk, reinforced with leather with silver and ivory decorations.
Across the street from the Citadel is a rough joint called the Bailer's Retreat which off-duty Guardsmen frequent. It is a warm collegial place, where everyone has something in common, even if it's just the job.
Beer is cold, food is good, and the place seems safe enough in these troubled times.
Ulgrim concentrates for a moment, and his clothes change from a guard's uniform into a set of normal nondescript cotton and leather street clothes, following the current fashions amongst the lower middle class.
Gyllan rolls his eyes in friendly tolerance as Corso expresses his love for the Marshal, though he can't help wondering how long it'll take Corso to fall in love with the next authoritative beauty he meets. Gods save us if he gets to spend any real time with the queen, she'll have him hooked good.
In response to Iozif's questions, he says, "Hmmm. I guess we are a mercenary company, of a sort. We came together to take care of a common enemy, and soon after that, the Marshal brought us together for a job, and paid us for it, as you saw. So I guess that makes us mercenaries, or at least hired hands. And any band of folks who get in fights like we manage to could use a - what'd you call it, mudico? I think you mean a healer, and that'd come in handy, I'm sure."
Turning to Ulgrim with a grin on his face after the invitation to the pub nearby, Gyllan says, "Now we're talkin'! We fought an otyugh too! Nasty creatures, eh? Maybe we can swap stories over that pint..." Gyl's speech winds down and his eyes widen slightly as Ulgrim's appearance changes, but the ranger smiles in appreciation and says, "Good trick, that. I can think of at least one occasion where that would have gotten me out of a scrape - though I never would have made that deal on Tian jade that day... Anyway, a quiet pint won't do us any harm, let's go!"
"Aye, sleeves of many garments are right useful. They cost less than me bow ta boot!" Ulgrim chuckles. "Alright then, Dow. Let's head over there to the Bailer's Retreat."
Once inside, Ulgrim leads Dow to his favorite table in the corner, where you can see all the doors. He waves over Misella, the halfling waitress, she's also his favorite. "The usual Missy, and whatever me new mate here's havin' as well," he says motioning to Gyllan. Once the order's made, he retrieves a long, thin, saxophone-shaped metal and glass pipe from a pocket in his clothes. It's in two pieces which he deftly twists together. He then removes a small leather packet with five mountains stamped on it. He opens the pouch and pulls out a dried mushroom. He crushes it up in his palm, before tapping it into the pipe. He grabs a taper and lights it in the table's candle before holding it to the bowl of the pipe. He draws a deep lungful of smoke before letting it out with a contented sigh. "Nothing beats Five Kings Mountain's pipeshrooms. Expensive to get out here, but there's no better way ta relax, lad."
After a couple more puffs he says, "So, you aint a guard. Why you working fer the old lady? Just fer the gold, or do you actually care?"
Durriken shakes his head and sits on the other side of the dwarf, sizing him up. "Gold is a good enough reason for now. Need something to keep me occupied, and he's pretty fair in a fight," he says, nodding to Gyllan. "They send you to watch us?"