Unlike Pril, Ervan isn't as generous. After all, his family had to flee Isger because of the goblin menace and sure, some time might have passed since, but the source of these old wounds hasn't been forgotten.
The wizard's answer to the conversation is to make sure he stoically looks the other way. Bumblebashers - pfuh, never heard of them.
Soon enough, noon strikes and the gathered crowd filters into the building while a few children who have gathered run off to play. When you enter the town hall, guards positioned at the front doors direct you to the council chamber, the entrance of which is just past the main hallway.
The council chamber is set up as an auditorium, with a carpeted walkway separating several rows of benches into two sections. The carpet leads to a small set of steps and a raised dais. On the dais is a large desk separated into five parts, where the Breachill Town Council’s five members are seated, talking quietly with one another as they wait for the meeting to start. On the desk, situated in front of each chair, are tarnished bronze plaques bearing the names of the council members. From east to west, the names are Jorsk Hinterclaw, Melma Ann Sendari, Greta Gardania, Trini Sprizzlegig, and Quentino Posandi. Melma, Greta, and Quentino are humans, Jorsk is a dwarf, and Trini is a gnome.
Warbal takes a seat in the front row of benches, fidgeting nervously. The other townsfolk slowly begin to find their own seats.
Always happy to see another of her kind, Pril waves an enthusiastic hand in greeting towards Trini. She takes a seat close to the front and towards the gnome's side of the audience.
The young woman seems to be a ball of nervous energy as the crowd gathers. She invites Allandír to sit next to her. "So many people," she says, looking around excitedly. "Are they all heroes? If they are, then that lady goblin shouldn't have any trouble finding someone to help her."
She continues to twist her head this way and that to see everything. "They should have a system, like badges or something, to differentiate between Heroes and Petitioners. Do you think I should mention that?" She looks down at her earth-toned robes. "I wonder if it would be considered prideful to want a badge. Probably. Oh, well. I won't bring it up."
The big-toothed goblin sits directly in front of Pril and Allandír, blocking some of the gnome's line of sight with their tall, pointed hat.
Allandír has an archer's dislike of enclosed spaces that block his fields of fire; he is grateful for the distraction of the gnome's chatter which he listens to absently, his attention focussed on counting the exits and working out an escape route (it's an ingrained habit; he barely even realises he's doing it).
He shakes his head at the questions. "I'm afraid I haven't done this before, so I'm not familiar with how it works."
It's clear he does NOT like having people behind him, but he does his best to relax. It's just a Council meeting. What could go wrong?
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Cardinal Borjia moves straight to the front and sits at the end of the first row. He again offers his benedictory gesture, mostly towards the council seated at the front of the room and then sits, straight backed, in his seat. Any observers would see a slight smile on his face as the gnomes words carry from a row or two behind.
Trini waves back at Pril, grinning. Just before the meeting begins, the guards move to stand just outside the chamber's southern door.
With a sharp rap from her gavel onto the desk, a stern, dark-haired woman with a deeply furrowed forehead and kind eyes brings the assembled crowd to a hush.
“Welcome, neighbors and friends...” the dark-haired woman begins, her rich voice washing over the room, “... to the Breachill Town Council’s monthly Call for Heroes. I am Council President Greta Gardania, at your service. On behalf of my colleagues beside me, I promise you all that we will hear and consider today’s petition with the utmost discretion and care. There is no existence without community, as our town charter says.
“Today, our agenda includes one petition. Miss Warbal, our very own ambassador to the Bumblebrashers of Hellknight Hill, requests the help of heroes for a matter of utmost importance. Let’s hear her concerns in her own words, shall we? Miss Warbal?”
At this summons, Warbal emerges from the front row of benches. The well-dressed goblin woman makes her way to the foot of the dais’s steps. She clears her throat and begins her address to the council.
“Esteemed councilors,” Warbal says, with a frazzled tone to her voice. “It has been more than a month since I’ve been able to contact the Bumblebrashers. I fear that something terrible has befallen them. What’s more, I have seen my people’s distress signal coming from the top of Citadel Altaerein—”
Before the goblin can continue her petition, the door on the western side of the room flies open, as a young man, his eyes wide with panic, runs in shouting and waving his ink-stained hands. Billowing black smoke and flames follow him into the room: “Fire! There’s a fire! Everyone flee!”
Immediately, the councilors begin moving down off the dais. Greta shouts for the crowd not to panic, but the spectators are terrified; they scream, jump up from their benches, and try to jostle toward and exit.
In the unfolding chaos of the fire, as dozens of frightened townsfolk begin to panic, a snickering little creature slips through the chamber’s western door. This small humanoid creature has thin, leathery wings, small horns, and a mischievous smile, and its body seems to be partially composed of flames. It cackles gleefully as it watches the fire spreading...
Pril's first instinct is to run. However, Master Wickt had instilled in her over and over again that the centered spirit always distrusts her first instinct.
Gotta stop the fire from spreading.
"Help get the council members out! Pril shouts at Allandír. "I'm going to attempt to contain our fiery friend."
The small woman hops over the back of the bench in front of the pair and races on nimble feet towards the creature.
Once she reaches the diminutive elemental, Pril lashes out with a sandaled foot, followed by an elbow.
"Polite beings ask before they try to burn a building to the ground!" she offers up to the flaming creature.
The elemental dodges Pril's blows with a snicker. It bites the gnome, its teeth leaving scorched furrows in her arm. Its followup attack misses, so it flaps its wings and flies further into the room!
Allandír reacts swiftly to the alarm, although not as fast as his new gnome friend. He disregards her suggestion for now: the first order of business is extinguishing the thing spreading the fires. Drawing his bow, he focuses on his prey before loosing two arrows in quick succession.
Ervan leaves the fighting to the gnome and her elvish companion. While, yes, the foe needs to be dealt with, there are plenty of people in need of a helping hand. "Here, take my hand. Yes, I'll help you get out. Now, follow my lead and you'll live."
Nell jumps to her feet and begins calmly but firmly conducting people toward the doors, stealing glances at the action behind her. This is probably the most exciting thing to ever happen in Breachill, and she's here to cover it!
Swept up in the rush of people heading to the door, it is all Gull Peeper can do to avoid getting trampled. "Hey. Hey! Orderly line, people!" they shout, inadvertently aiding the same people as their friend Nell, albeit in shouting at them rather than actual guidance and attention.
Allandir hits the elemental creature with one arrow, causing it to shriek in pain. The rest of you focus on getting the spectators out, and a large portion of the crowd thins out as they make it to the south exit of the council chamber.
The fire begins to slowly spread through the room, climbing up onto the dais where the councilors' desks are located. The councilors themselves rush down to aid with the evacuation efforts.
Castigating herself for holding back because the creature was burning, Pril attempts to settle herself into the correct mindset for the task.
The gnome lowers herself a bit and moves quickly forward within striking range of the wee beastie.
She then spins and sweeps with her leg.
Master Wickt's smooth voice echoes in her ears. "You're not centering yourself, Little Pidgeon. You're concentrating on winning rather than being."
The creature leaps over Pril's leg, then flaps its wings as it flies towards Allandir. It gets right up in the elf's face and bites him on the neck with its burning jaws!
Allandír winces as he is struck. Backpedalling swiftly, he moves away from the creature before firing again.
The wizard cracks his knuckles one by one and, with the fifth knuckle completing the somatic gestures needed to summon a gust of wind, he utters a word of power to unleash it. Furious winds assault and batter the flying menace - and if all goes as planned, the thing won't be moving again once the winds die out.
AIR EVOCATION
Traditions arcane, primal
Cast: 2 actions - somatic, verbal
Area 60-foot line
Duration until the start of your next turn
A violent wind issues forth from your palm, blowing from the point where you are when you cast the spell to the line’s opposite end. The wind extinguishes small non-magical fires, disperses fog and mist, blows objects of light Bulk or less around, and pushes larger objects. Large or smaller creatures in the area must attempt a Fortitude save. Large or smaller creatures that later move into the gust must attempt the save on entering.
-Critical Success The creature is unaffected.
-Success The creature can’t move against the wind.
-Failure The creature is knocked prone. If it was flying, it
suffers the effects of critical failure instead.
-Critical Failure The creature is pushed 30 feet in the wind’s
direction, knocked prone, and takes 2d6 bludgeoning damage.
Alandir hits the creature with another arrow, then it shrieks as Ervin's gust of wind blows it away! It careens across the room, slamming into a desk and falling prone!
Gull Peeper heads over to the east and does their best to angrily shout at people and direct them to safety.
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Nell sees the creature fly across the room and strides over the overturned benches to meet it where it falls. A thrill of excitement runs through her as she takes her grandfather's sword from her side and brings it down upon the monster.
With a mighty swing, Nell decapitates the fiery creature! The flames suffusing its body are snuffed out, and it dissolves into nothing more than wisps of smoke.
As Gull and the councilors escort more of the bystanders to safety, the flames spread further into the room. At the same time, the chamber’s northern door flies open and more flames burst through! "Hurry! Get everybody out!" shouts Greta Gardania.
Pril pales at the sight of more flames, but she calms herself and grabs Greta's arm. "Can we get water here? Like a bucket brigade?" she shouts.
Frantic and upset they didn't get to play with the fire, the former trapeze artist barks louder and harder in their attempt to rescue the local populace.
With the active threat eliminated, Allandír focuses his attention on getting people to safety. "This way, ladies and gentlemen. No need to panic. Although, ah, perhaps some of you could fetch some water?"
"You can come out of hiding. The vile creature has been taken out by the combined arms of arcane and martial prowess. Now now, hurry along, because no, we can't breathe the air the fire taints. Yes yes, move along."
Greta nods to Pril. "Yes, good thinking! Let's get it done, friends." As she moves to assist in the process, the rest of you focus all of your efforts on escorting the remaining civilians to safety. The spectators quickly file out of the room, leaving it empty save for the six of you.
The bucket brigade begins leaving water for you at the chamber's south doors as the flames spread further into the council chamber!
As the buckets begin coming forward, Pril grabs one and heads off towards the corner to douse some of the flames.
Nell grabs a bucket and begins hauling it across the room toward the flames spreading to the councilor's tables.
Gull Peeper dashes to the door and carries a bucket up the steps towards the fire. They point to the creepy elf and start shouting orders. "Fast and ugly man! Use your speed, bring us buckets! Let us use our heads, and work together."
Ervan joins the line and as the first bucket reachhes him, he immediately starts to question the wisdom of partaking in something as physical as this.
Allandír moves at full speed towards the front door and the waiting buckets...
The fires continue to spread as you prepare to put the buckets to good use. Smoke fills the chamber now, causing you to cough and your eyes to water!
Gull Peeper throws their bucket on the flames, grabs the one placed down by Lucius and returns.
Allandír gracefully takes a bucket from the nearest townsperson before dashing the length of the room and dousing most of the flames in the northern part of the room. Sadly, the fire in the western part continues to rage unchecked.
"Now may be time to admit this is not going our way," he murmurs to nobody in particular, as his lungs start to feel the searing heat and his throat rasps from the smoke.
Pril empties her bucket, dousing some of the flames as the smoke begins to fill the room.
"We can still do this," she manages to cough out.
She then races back to where the buckets are being presented.
Noticing Lucius' efficiency, Nell places her bucket at the front of the hall for someone to use and returns for another.
"Quick, hurry now! It isn't much longer until the smoke claims dominion over this place!"
Your firefighting efforts are bearing fruit, but even as you knock one down, the other continues to rage.
Allandír retrieves the bucket that Nell has left in place and douses the fire closest to him.
Between the imp's bite to his neck and the smoke inhalation, he is starting to falter. His elven constitution is not the hardiest to begin with.