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'You'll likely never see that urchin again, priest, but it's good, what you did." Torvald murmers, though he never stops looking every which way, including up at the rooftops and peering into every alley they walk by.
As the gnome offers what he knows on Hjort and Runa the alchemist listens with interest. "What does Runa do? Is she a priestess or a wizard?"
"Seems we've found a good solid lead then, but do we really want to confront them at the Horned Helm? Might be better to wait them out and follow them, though the gods know I'm no footpad."
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Craggark pipes up: "The Horned Helm is no place for friendly company, day or night, but you sir," and here he looks at the gnome, "are a prince for suggesting that we go there. Thank you. Um, can I get three packets of alchemist's kindness for myself?"
He forks over the gold pieces and looks askance at his travel mates.
"Nope, not hungover! I've just been thinking deep about -----"
A thought comes to him. He focuses on the gnome.
"Friend, do you have a thunderstone?"
What does Runa do? Is she a priestess or a wizard?
Thorngrin looks at Torvald eager to please, She calls upon some dark God for her magic master Dwarf.
Friend, do you have a thunderstone?
Thorgrin broadens his smile, As a mater of fact my blue skinned friend! I just picked up a few to sell to some of the boys who like to play with them in the outer districts! I suppose I could let one of them go at cost! He rubs his hands together in anticipation of making another sell..*mumble*"Thank the gods I found these few, this will be one of me best days in months!"
[ooc}let me know when u guys head over to the helm, any special prep ect..[/ooc]
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As they leave the tea house, Jamir asks Jawhar to cast ant haul on him from the scroll he purchased the day before.
Once the spell has taken effect, Jamir straps on his bandolier, and loads it with three flasks of alchemist's fire, three flasks of acid, a potion of cure light wounds, and a potion of shield of faith. He hands the fourth alchemist's fire he purchased to Craggark.
"A Chelaxian woman calling down unholy fire on her enemies? This Runa smells like an Asmodean to me."
He bares his teeth. "I don't like Asmodeans. Let's get going, my friends. We have work to do."
The Horned Helm is a low-slung, two-story building of questionable construction leaning heavily over a shoddy corner of mud and brick in the dankest, filthiest parcel of land in all of the market. It has no windows, as they’ve all been broken and boarded over; its only door looks like a simple plank of wood covered in scratches, burns, and probably blood stains. Noise, heat, and smoke pour out from under that door and rise to a staggering crescendo of laughter as the door swings lazily open and two bodies are unceremoniously dumped into the rutted, frozen mud streets outside. A battered sign hangs above the door, swinging on two chains, one shorter than the other. It bears the faded image of an Ulfen helm with two ridiculously large horns.
As the party pushes open the doorway they're are greeted with an immense wave of heat! It must be 100 degrees in the Horn! As you pass through the doorways of this symbolic hell you take notice of the two bodies on the porch. The two bodies dumped outside are both alive but unconscious, their faces pulpy and bloody, with splits lips, massive bruises, and swollen eyelids. Both exude a strong aroma of beer and sweat.
Inside the Horned Helm, you find an unfriendly crowd. The crowd immediately starts up cat calls and hurls drunken insults their way. The bartender is the worst. This enormous, bearded man wearing
leather armor and conspicuously missing his right arm is the loudest and most vile—every insult he slings is met with raucous laughter from the crowd, who in turn insult the bartender’s insults and then hurl more at the PCs.
There are two enormous iron furnaces crammed full of coal, wood, and anything else flammable that radiate the scorching fires of Hell
themselves. Most of the crowd are sweating excessively, which only adds to the room’s dank stench. After a minute of gathering your senses at the rush of insults, ambient chatter, and stifling heat; you begin to relax your grip on your weapons and start to look around.
Jawhar is the first to spot him. A large man sitting near the corner of the bar. The man has a mass of tussled red hair and a scar across his left cheek. He appears to be sitting alone nursing a beer.
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As the insults directed at the party die down, Jamir says to Craggark, “Oh, please, are those what pass for short jokes in Trollheim? I’ve heard better insults from dogs breaking wind!”
When Jawhar points out Hjort Frostaxe, Jamir walks several steps towards the man before he even realizes he has begun to move. He starts to shrug back his cloak to give him better access to his weapons then catches himself, thinking that perhaps burning down The Horned Helm with everyone inside it — as satisfying as it would undoubtedly be — might draw unwanted attention to their mission.
Or it could get us a medal from the city fathers. Still, I should wait until we are certain of our plan.
”Should we confront him here, or try to draw him outside? Luring him outside would mean we do not risk having to fight everyone in this iniquitous pit, but perhaps we would draw less attention if we simply kill him in here.”
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"Let me handle this," Craggark murmurs, moving up behind Jamir.
"There's the turd-for-brains who slept with my sister!" Craggark bellows, pointing at Hjort. "Trinie might not be the prettiest frostkin in Skellig, but she can't get the smell out of her facial hair after that milk-drinker forced her to do vile things to his rear-end with that carrot. I want to kick your tenderised ass, Fastaxe. On your feet and meet me outside!"
Craggark stomps past his stunned colleagues and mutters to them: "Stay here for now, just in case he doesn't follow me. His honour will likely force him to."
Craggark pushes outside into the street, pulling the thunderstone from his pocket as he goes.
Trinie might not be the prettiest frostkin in Skellig, but she can't get the smell out of her facial hair after that milk-drinker forced her to do vile things to his rear-end with that carrot.
*guffaw*!The bar erupts in laughter..
The man at the bar looks up in confusion and
I don't know what your friends about! I don't know nothin' about no ones sister! I'm just here on business.
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Jamir glares at the red-haired man for a moment, and then bursts out laughing.
"I told you, Craggark! City this big, there is bound to be more than one big red-haired man, but no, you had to call out the first man you heard about who matched that description."
Jamir swaggers over to the bar and vaults onto a stool near Hjort - but not right next to him.
"Business, huh? We're in Trollheim on business, too. Doing a job, for a man, you know? What kind of business are you in?"
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Jawhar strolls up behind Jamir and does his best to look like a bodyguard, giving the red-haired man a steely gaze.
Cracking his knuckles and then his neck, Jawhar's presence is enough to demand that the red-haired man pay attention to Jamir's questions.
I hope that I'm pulling this off. Could this be the wrong man after all of this legwork? Is Hjort right now breaking into our room and killing the guard??
Jamir
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Craggark stops at the door and growls at the man's response until Jamir guffaws.
"I told you, Craggark! City this big, there is bound to be more than one big red-haired man, but no, you had to call out the first man you heard about who matched that description."
Oooh...I hope Jamir's use of my name doesn't identify us.
Craggark slowly stomps back inside, glowering at the halfling. "You mock my sister's good name, and now you're divulging the details of our work to this deviant?" He crosses behind the cleric but does not advance on the bar. "You're no better than him! And to think that Runa said that you were to lead us---" Here, he attempts to make it appear that Jawhar has smacked him for saying something out of turn by hooking the cleric's arm into his and doubling over.
"Tell me to 'watch my tongue with the names of your betters' or something like that," Craggark whispers to Jawhar.
The Red haired man starts to break down and grovel. I'm not who you think I am! Hjort hired me to pose as himself, he said...at this point two men stand up at separate tables just west of the bar.One of them shouts over the red haired man. Hey these foreigners are commin' into r bar and trying ta push us locals around! Let's show um what were made of boys! both me start reaching for axes at there belts and you can here several dozen chairs scrape against the floor as men get to their feet.
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Jamir barks out a laugh.
"That's right, we are foreigners, here to push you big, brave local boys around. Like your Hjort Frostaxe - so brave, he hired another man to drink his ale for him just in case we happened to come in. You all must be very proud to be led by such a stalwart hero!"
He waves them forward.
"So? What are you waiting for, you bastards? Hoping to hire someone to fight the halfling for you?"
1. B3: 19
2. Jamir: 16
3. B5: 15
4. B2: 14
5. B8: 12
6. T2: 11
7. B6: 11
8. B7: 10
9. Craggark: 9
10. Jawhar: 8
11. B1: 8
12. Torvald: 5
13. B4: 5
14. T1: 2
Jawhar can go first
Torvald having already anticipated Trouble sends a bomb arching through the bar at the nearest Brawler in a group of thugs across the room from him. Torvald's aim is true, despite the distance and bar patrons partially blocking his view of his intended target. The bomb hits the man in the forearm as he is grasping a chair. He turns to look in shock at Torvald as his other two friends try to avoid the worst of the blast radius.
Brawler three is quickest to act he steps up and takes a swing at Craggark with a meaty fist.
The punch misses Craggark by a few inches Jamir hustles into action.
The alchemist fire misses the thug by nearly 5ft! the miss splashes the thug and narrowly misses engulfing Jamir himself.
One of the Brawlers throws his chair back and runs toward Torvald and tries to upercut the Dwarf of his feet
Torvald looks distracted but, at the last moment dodges the skinny brawlers short swing.
The Brawler at the table Torvald had targeted, wrinkles his nose at the smell of scorched hair. He moves a few feet closer to the main group picks up a chair and hurls it toward Jamir. The chair falls well short of Jamir and the Brawler shakes is fist in the general direction of your party.
The Brawler around the corner from Torvald steps up and takes a swing. The Brawler lands a tremendous ringing blow on Torvald, nearly knocking him to the ground.
The second thug moves up to Jamir and swings with an axe seeminly having no use for merely fist Jamir was expecting the thug's arrival and easily dodges the blow.
another brawler close to Craggark moves in and takes a swing at Craggark This Brawler is very used to fighting and lands a heavy blow on Craggark.
Another brawler seeing Craggark distracted by the blow takes the opportunity to charge him yellingYou dirty blue skinned Orc! Your not Ulfen and that means ye ar' a foreigner![/ooc] The brawler leads with a viscous looking kick that Craggark instantly recognizes and side steps.