Initiative
Zerig turns to the nearest kobold dispassionately and swings for its throat, following up with his other hand jabbing at its gut.
Attack 1:
Damage: Edit(Crit) 5x2=10
Attack 2:
Damage:
Atop an elegant yellow chocobo a knight clad in silvery scale mail sits with his back straight and eyes fixed on the horizon. From his shoulder pauldronds, a crimson cape flutters gently with the cold breeze and a small number of snowflakes make their presence known in the tangles of the knight's short black hair. As the smoke ahead is seen the corners of his mouth turn to form a slight smile, “My friends, I regret to inform you that I haven't been entirely truthful when I told you there have been reports of beastmen activity here. I wanted to give the two of you a chance to unwind for at least a single night and join me in celebration at the Winter Festival here in the small village of Woodale.” The knight looks to his two companions with an earnest smile outweighing the hesitance in his bright green eyes.
“It's not that I don't understand your plight but I simply feel that you need something other than fighting and killing in your day to day routine. I fear that if you keep at the road you are taking you may forget your humanity. You deserve better than that; both of you.”
Looking around the town the lanky man gritted his teeth at his companions words. He didn't look up at the knight, he didn't turn toward him, but Lindynt could feel the waves of suppressed anger bubbling up and then being tamped back down again as Vance spoke from beneath his wide black hat.
"Lind, I don't give a damn about the festival. The only reason I agreed to come here was because you said that we could get some information that might point us in the right direction. What the hell do you think gives you the right to lie to us to get us here?"
“And therein lies the problem, Vance. You don't give a damn about anything anymore,” his tone notably more severe than his previous statement. “At the very least you can expect a warm bed and a foothold into our next destination. I, however, will be enjoying myself among the locals during this season's festivities. It is the absolute least we can do to show our respects in taking lodge here.”
Apparently my gamble failed to pay off...
Lindynt continues on without looking at his agitated friend, his helmet chattering as it hangs from Sylvie's saddlebags. “What about you Bisaiden, have my intentions offended you equally?”
Bisaiden frowns at Vance's response. He pushes his hair from his face, showing a glimpse of the bright blue rune burning from his forehead. "That's enough, little brother. Lindynt is probably right- we've been at this for weeks with nothing in the way of leisure or distraction. Perhaps a day or two to recover will refresh us, and ready us for the fight ahead."
At his feet, winding through the snow, the serpent looks up. His elemental waters churn scarlet, but Bisaiden holds a finger to him. "Do not start, Jasifaxil. I've made my decision."
Relenting, it gives a soft sigh, and nods its head. "Of course."
Bisaiden looks to Lindynt and offers a firm smile. "You're a good friend, Lind. Thank you. I can't promise I'll truly enjoy myself, but I trust your judgement."
"I don't need leisure or distraction" Vance spat. "What I need is to find the people who murdered our family and kill them all so hard that the rest of the Beastmen will run screaming home and tell nightmare stories for generations about what I did to them. Anything that isn't aimed at doing that is wasted time. Lets get to the inn. You two can have fun. I'll make more bullets."
"Thank you, Bisaiden. All I wish is to give you a chance to ease your thoughts. Momentarily." Lindynt nods to Bisaiden and gives Vance another concerned glance as he turns his attention back to the ever approaching village of Woodale. "I wonder if all the woman here will be as haggard as they were back at our last stop. Remember the innkeeper, Vance? She and both of her teeth were awfully sweet on your brother, haha.".
"I didn't notice. Sounds about right though."
Bisaiden casts his gaze at the ground at the mention of their family.
Selfish, selfish, selfish. Always thinking of yourself, like a small child. What would your poor mother think?
He looks down at Jasifaxil, brows furrowed. The serpent looks back, cold silver eyes glistening. He was having more trouble telling his own thoughts from the eidolon's.
He pulls his coat closer to himself to escape the cold and looks towards the village. He smiles softly at Lindynt's comment, his cheeks flushing. "She was a nice woman, if a bit ...familiar." He stares off into the distance, into the billowing smoke and cheerful decorations. His pace shortens and his stare intensifies. "I've been to quite a few festivals in my life, but I've never heard one so sedate. We're rather near the village- shouldn't we hear the revelry? Laughter? Drunken fighting? ...anything?"
Lindynt's shoulders tighten as he realizes the truth in Bisaiden's observation, "You're right. There should be at least a murmur at this distance. Perhaps we should approach carefully." He grips his lance firmly with with his armored hand as his cheerful disposition fades rapidly.
|
As you continue to approach the town you hear no sounds of festivities flames appear to have gotten out of control and the buildings start to show what would be the marks of battle.
[spoiler]You heir a scream and some faint sounds of whimpering what it might seem a fight!?[/ooc]
[spoiler]It is not mud what you see in the ground in the streets as your eyes play tricks on you, you shake the illusion away to see what truly lies in the ground is not mud but blood... so much blood and the more you go in the town you can see the evidence of how truly the town has gone through[/ooc]
|
|
As you continue to approach the town you hear no sounds of festivities flames appear to have gotten out of control and the buildings start to show what would be the marks of battle.
Sylvie's pronged talons had been making crunching sounds over the frozen earth all the while during the past week's travels, as the team draws closer to the decorated town the noise softly changes to a sloppy squish and then to a light splash. Lindynt breaks from his hard stare at the Woodale and checks the ground beneath his mount's feet. “My god! he whispers to himself almost too quietly for others to hear.
As he rides into the battle struck village he hears a faint cry in the distance. “There may yet be survivors!” He calls down to Bisaiden and Vance as he detaches his helmet from the saddle and slips it over his head. ”This way!”
|
|
Lindyt you notice sylvie has a certain reluctance to go into town, but as you approach faster then most you discover the reason behind sylvie's behavior, the stench of blood, guts, piss and dung starts to overwhelm you for a moment, you are in a battlefield or more likely what you already know a massacre and butchering of innocent people.
Alaire can't seem to make out much over the clash of weapons and the sounds of battle. He is utterly focused on the foes and carnage going on around him.
|
|
The last remaining kobolds drops to his knees and you listen to his whimpering barking.
Pauses for a second and IF you spare him.
You listen him spit after saying some words like he would be spitting something horrible he just ate.
Perception:
Perception 2:
Bisaiden tightens the cloak around his neck, pulling it up from the ground as they tread through the streets.
Oh gods, there's so much blood. These are people, spilled into the dirt like rainwater. This is death.
"Vance..." he starts, but stops when the eidolon jerks its head.
"A scream. Whimpering. Perhaps a fight." Jasifaxil whispers, its voice distant and soft. "Only the beastmen know this cruelty, Bisaiden. Take step and find your revenge."
Bisaiden gives a sharp nod, and looks to his brother. "We must hurry, Vance." He turns to Lindynt, already rushing into the distance. "We're at your heel, Lindynt! Don't waste any time!"
Alaire would pause and hold his blade, his personal honor dictating to not strike down a helpless foe and one that is surrendering, though finds himself torn considering the massacre they have seen and whether such creatures even deserve this grace.
Zerig exhales slowly as the kobold kneels. He glides behind the creature as if to bind it and instead slits its throat, knowing no forgiveness for such brutal creatures.
Alaire offers Zerig a respectful nod, thankful for his friend's to the point decision making and sparing him from dirtying his own honor and blade. After quickly ensuring no more foes are around he moves to start freeing the people and aid those still living, his voice rising up above the ruckus, "Worry not, we are here to help. Thy shall be freed with haste."
|
|
As you search for survivors you find two of the crucified ones still alive as they groan and moan at the touch of your hands, the rest are still warm but dead others are already cold and stinking of death. They are bleeding to death (-7, -6) and the man in the red surcoat depicts a black rams head on it. He is unconscious but well considering the rest of the citizens you find are no more than pieces gnawed upon and shadows of their former lives, living only broken pieces behind.
Alaire kneels over them, chanting quietly under his breath as he inacts the Stablilize cantrip upon each of the bleeding two, "Lord of Spirits, preserve the life which remains. Grant us thy grace this day so not all will be taken into thy realm so suddenly". Once they are out of immediate harms way he continues to treat and clean their wounds before glancing to Zerig, "Scout around some if you would and see if there aren't any others in need of our aid".
Zerig bows his head in deference to Alaire's request. He heads out into the village to quietly scout for remaining enemies or survivors.
Take (10) + 5 = 15
Take (10) + 9 = 19
|
|
Zerig bows his head in deference to Alaire's request. He heads out into the village to quietly scout for remaining enemies or survivors.
Take (10) + 5 = 15
Take (10) + 9 = 19
Well done ^^
Zerig
[ooc]Bisaiden, Lyndint and Vance Perception DC 19
Vance says nothing. He just runs behind Lindynt as fast as he can, heedless of any danger. His black coat flares behind him like dark wings as he nimbly finds the most solid ground to move on. Not again. Damn it. Not again. Will there ever be a time where I am not too late?
Perception:
The serpentine eidolon clicks its tongue and looks up at Bisaiden. "Over there, do you see him? Searching for possessions and riches from the dead."
Bisaiden points a finger at Zerig. "You there, looter! What was your part in this carnage?"
It takes Vance a moment to find the person his brother is yelling at, but as soon as he does his weapon is drawn on them, the runes carved along the barrel of the gun glimmering with building arcane energy.
Regardless of the numerous times he has seen the carnage of battle, the sight and smell of such viscera is just as stifling as if it had the first.
Although a quick survey of the area reveals nothing of note, Bisaiden's motions at the looter uncover the first living soul he's seen since entering the town. Lindynt plants the butt end of his lance into the bloodied ground, it's spade shaped blade glimmering in the winter's sunlight above his head by at least another two feet.
“You are out manned three to one, speak now and explain yourself or we shall be forced to draw arms upon you.”
Alaire you suddenly hear a voice or more likely a groan Who are you? as the man in the red surcoat seems to be conscious.
Alaire looks toward the sounds of aggressive yelling with a frown. He glances up to Deylon, "Watch over and protect them if thy would, it sounds like we have company and not necessarily the good sort. These three should be any longer in immediate danger of losing their lives while I cannot say the same for Zerig. Yell out if thy should require us".
He quickly stands and starts to unsheathe his sword as he hears the man, pausing and moving to his side,"I am Alaire of the Noble House Ravness, a Templar of the Spirit Lord. We are here to help. Can you tell us of what happened here?
Zerig hardly pays any heed to the trio, then speaks offhandedly. "Kobolds attacked. We arrived just in time to kill the few kobolds we could find, only a few people left alive in the town square. Looking for more." That said he continues checking the dead for signs of life.
The new trio would get the impression that Zerig isn't concerned with them, inasmuch as he is in finding survivors.
(10)+5 = 15
(10)+6 = 16
The knight pauses as he silently assesses the two strangers among the rubble. He doesn't recognize the name Ravness but feels secure in their sincerity as he watches the first man checking the vitals of the townsfolk. "My name is Lindynt Auroral of the Fenrisian Knights, with me are Vance and Bisaiden Lodune. We have traveled here for the festival this evening when we came across this wretched sight. I urge you to tell me all that you know of what happened here."
The man in the black hat and coat does not drop his aim, but he does glance around a little more assessing the newcomer and the layout of the town.
"Which way did the raiders go? How many were there?"
Jager bends to listen the the groaning man in red. "My name is Jager. Are you well enough to move? What happened here?" He offers to help the man up.
Lindynt uses his lance as a crutch and basically pole vaults from the seat of his chocobo. He places his hand on the left side of the creature's face and looks into it's eyes though the slot in his helmet, "Sylvie, look for survivors." His demand is stern but the chocobo flutters off without hesitation to aid in the search for surviving villagers.
(10)+12 = 22
"How many of your people are there and for what reason did you come here this evening?" Still keeping a bit of distance between him and the stranger.
|
|
At this moment of your meeting there seems to be another group making their way through the forest you can hear them as they make their way a man or whatever he might be comes rushing out of the forest.
None the less further into the forest you can hear noises that sounds like barks, some sort of music and screeching malicious laughter in the getting closer and closer at a surprising speed there is only moments.
Lindynt turns his head away from the unimpressed Zerig and spots another man bursting from the treeline with a band of Kobolds shortly behind him. He whistles for his chocobo and calls out, "No time, Sylvie get back here." Fortunately she is still within eyesight of the knight and she returns swiftly after her incredibly short search. He climbs aboard the creature's back and pulls her around to face the oncoming threat.
"Before us are the culprits of this most heinous attack on innocent townfolk. May no more Romandan lives be lost here today and let us repay these wicked deeds with steel and fire!" Lindynt points his lance in the direction of the kobolds as he finishes his statement; it's blade unwavering as it reflects the burning buildings around them.
Alaire rises when he hears the sound of the call, strapping his shield onto his arm and drawing his sword once again. He takes a moment to glance down at the man in the red surcoat, "You'll have to excuse me, but battle calls. Deylon? Watch over these folks will you?"
Alaire moves in the direction of Lindynt's call, lifting two fingers to his lips and loosing a shrill whistle before calling out, "Jager! Zerig! With me, there are more foes to fell it would appear!"
"Beasts..." Vance growled at the barking noises. He took off at a run, looking for the first target to present itself.
"V-Vance!" Bisaiden stutters, "Where are you going?!"
He shoots a quick glance to his eidolon and starts after his brother.
Moving at a sprint Zerig returns to Alaire's side before readying himself for battle and looking for possible any buildings he could scale to get the drop on his enemies, and then hide as he awaits the assault.
Perception:
Stealth:
Jager shakes his head, coming out of his reverie.
To the man in red, "Try not to move. We'll be back."
He takes up his polearm and starts making his way towards the whistle. "More of them? Imagine that. This day gets better and better."
Running ahead of the pack of Kobolds, sprints a ragged looking man dressed in a silver wolf pelt overtop of blue robes.
As he comes upon the array of warriors at the village edge, he meets the eye of the cavalier at the front, atop a chocobo. With a nod, Akela whirls about, drawing a curved scimitar from his side.