Hrungnir watched the hound go. ”Hound of the night. Prized pets of the upper echelons of the shadow fey. They’re not evil, if that is your concern. But they’re not native to our plane, and if this has appeared, how long until their masters do so as well?” As he spoke a hammer and shield appeared in either hand, summoned by the dwarf. ”This might not be the safest of locals at the moment.” His eyes never left the portal, even as he spoke.
Carnadine returns to his box with graceful etiquette unspoiled with obvious eagerness.
After watching the fey hound for a few seconds, he begins a standing ovation for well-done entertainment. "Excellent. This show definitely took a turn in the dramatic. I wonder what's the next act."
"Should we not stay with Elegyn," Raseri asks, sounding much less certain than before. "We are bound to protect her."
Silently she curses the whole situation. She wants to help. Her god demands she stand and fight with valor and perform heroic acts, yet here she is running away.
Again.
The audience gasps, but no blood was shed or captives taken so the feeling is more of confusion than outright terror.
Some of the others too drunk to really understand whats happening join with Carnadine in applause.
Those nearest the location previously holding the hound move cautiously towards the dying mists, some daring to place a hand in the cold vapors in wonder.
One of the Legacy stagemen, only half-makeup-ed, tries to reclaim control lightheartedly "Ah ha, only in the Six Lanters, am I right folks? I assure you the show must go on...remain calm...all is well! Our intermission will shortly---" he is cutoff by dramatic entrance, the double doors swing wide and hard slamming the structure and bringing the crisp fall air inside...
...a young priest some may recognize as wearing the yellow tunic of the sun god stumbles into the theatre, a dark trickle of blood from his hairline "Somebody help us! A great hound and some thugs are threatening the priest of the sun, and blood may spill on holy ground!" The audience again gasps, but for the most part move to protect themselves or take other exits.
Those familiar with the area know that just adjacent to the Six Lanterns is the Temple of Svarog, holy ground for worshippers of Khors.
"I don't know what your specific contract was for, but I was asked to keep her safe and secure while in the theatre. Once we get her in her carriage, we're good."
Lexi finished speaking as the trio broke through the front doors and out into the street. "The stand is to the left there." finished Lexi as she led them to the stand. Spotting her carriage driver, Lexi approached him and said in a low voice "Take her straight to her father's estate. Not to her own home, nor anywhere else. Directly to her father's. Fast as you can, and don't stop for anyone."
Taking a breath to steady herself she added "Tell him that there was a shadow creature that appeared in the theatre, and more are likely to follow."
As almost an afterthought, Lexi finished with "Oh, and if you let harm come to her, I'm going to kill you." No inflection or pitch change, just something spoken with the same urgency one might give making small talk.
Lexi then turned and waved the other two over.
Compared to Kjeta, Acolyte Brumdal was much less enthusiastic in his duty. The poor lad had taken the devoted on a 3 night bender recently, and his eyes were blood shot. Lucky he was of mind to keep a spare service robe, for his previous rag held the telling mixture of vomit and brew of the novice. "Eh...do you have to shout so loud? Look at them flocking already...a sign would do at this point..." He slammed the remnants of his hangover cure for all the good it was doing "...and praise be to Ninkash for an early sell out. That music is twisting me nerve something awful."
Kjeta ruffles Acolyte Brumdal's head. "Oh quit kvetching, just praise Ninkash while you drink that hair-of-the..." Her mouth falls open as the massive fey hound appears. "...dog?"
"Brumdal, you watch our stand!"
Kjeta lifts up her tankard and sings out a prayer, giving it a golden glow. She's just about to wade through the confused crowd to the place where the hound disappeared when the injured priest stumbles in.
"What in the Golden Daughter's Great Halls? Fear not, lad. Kjeta Strongmalt is here!" Without a pause, she runs past him toward the temple next door.
Has anyone else exited, or is it just us?
Except for a diehard cluster of Legacy Chimera fans in the front row, and a few grumblers about getting their ticket's worth, most are making for the exits in the opposite direction of the temple. Rushed but orderly, they bundle up in their scarfs and lead themselves back to mediocrity. The priests of Rava have been quite successful with their conversions, and you would be hard pressed to find more than a handful of Khors supporters among them.
Ras and Lexi safely get Elegyn aboard the carriage, the little gnome driver nearly blowing his stack (literally, the embers of his pipe nearly take flight) at Lexi's stern instructions. "No, no, Chippie's a good gnome, don't kill! ~The best gnomes in town drive the hearts of wanderers~" he sings as he lashes the reigns full speed and the coursers clop-clop down the cobblestone.
"Now that that's settled," Lexi said, "What's your name?"
Hrungnir looked at the priest and sighed. He *should* investigate. What if there was another portal? Plus, there might be a misunderstanding due to language barriers, and it would not do for someone hotheaded to start a fight. ”Aye, aye. Comin’ boyo.”
Having zero interest in protecting sun worshipers (let them die in the night that they fear, he thinks), Carnadine does not move toward the temple next door. He holds his clapping and calls down to the Legacy stageman. "You there. I've paid good money for this show. The intermission appears to be winding down now. Let's get Act 2 started. Well, what are you waiting for?" He asks and prompts as the man pauses looking around the emptying hall.
Carnadine is quite serious and would expect them to continue, even if he was the only person in the theater. He's enough of an audience by himself.
Deimus watches the Dwarf head out and shrugs. So far, this evening had not run as planned, and there was little to keep here anyway. His clutch had opted to refuse his invitation, and he had not identified neither nobles nor officials worthy of his political attentions.
The real highlight of the show, beyond the wit of the screenplay, which he enjoyed, had truly been the apparition of this magnificent 'Hound of the night,' as the Dwarf called it.
Plus, watching the Khorsian deal with trouble was always greatly entertaining, whether they had the upper hand or not...
"Wait for me! I'll join you, Northlander friend!" he shouts and proceeds to scamper after the Dwarf, his leather cape billowing behind him.
Sorry to not stay with the party.
It does seem as if the acting group plans to continue, there is a cluster of fans in the front row that have not left as well as a few other stragglers now advancing to better seats...perhaps 70% of the audience seems to be opting a safer location however...outside the theatre.
”Aye, as ye will.” Hrungnir replied, wondering as he walked whether this was the path of fate or folly. Though either way, it seemed, he would not be walking it alone.
Carnadine turns to address his drunken boxmate, "The target of your desire left the theater to go watch the Khors entertainment. I bet you can still catch her."
"Now that that's settled," Lexi said, "What's your name?"
Raseri didn't like Lei's threat, but it is too late to do anything about it as the driver speeds off with her charge. She had promised to see to Elegyn's safety, but she didn't know how to feel about not seeing her home.
"Raseri," she says while looking around to see who was yelling and finds Kjeta running into the neighboring temple. "It seems there is more trouble afoot. Shall we see what lays in the Dawn Father's temple?"
Figuring now that her contract with the Leoniel family is at an end she would be wise to investigate what is happening at the temple of Khors. She starts making her way to the temple, guessing that the Shadow would either follow or vanish.
"I do not know the limits of the power Thor has given me, but I think they will be enough to deal with the wyrd we shall find there," she answers Lexi's earlier question about how powerful she is.
"I assumed you would want to?" Lexi said. "Do you know anything about shadow creatures?"
Raseri turns and gives Lexi a wolfish grin as her eyes flicker with blue-white fire.
"Do you not hear the thunder, Little Shadow?"
As if from a distant storm sweeping in, the sound of thunder rumbles, shaking the earth beneath their feet.
The young priest quickly leads those who have abandoned the play for more serious pursuits to the temple next door, not stopping for anything. The grim look on his face betrays his fears for the worst.
As you near, sounds of struggle can be heard from inside. The heavy wooden doors are wide open and upon them is a royal looking parchment, a long and beautiful knife sticking it in place. The script is foreign to anyone present...the flowing curvature is reminiscent of Sylvan but there is a much more intricate order at play.
Svarog is Khors' son in the Crossroads pantheon. Dwarves know Svarog as Volund, however...the master of fire and Anvil. The temple also seems to be dedicated to Perun, an obvious mask of Thor.
The shrine is filled with illumination from a brightly glowing statue of the sun god, currently despoiled by shifting shadows. A pair of elves in black cloaks are in a threatening position near the priest, who stands defiant against them. The great fey hound also stands ready to kill. Pews fill the far left end of the chamber, and the priest stands under a white dome supported by eight pillars. He seems surprisingly calm. "You do not belong here," says the priest. "I demand you leave, in the names of Svarog and Khors."
"If you will not listen to the city's rightful ruler," says one of the fey, "you will pay the price." The elves advance toward the priest, their blades raised as they move to cut him down...
”Oi!” Hrungnir bellowed as he ripped his cloak off. Throwing it to the side, he walked forward, covered in plate armor. The runes on his hammer flashed red, showing ᚲᚨᚢᚾᛖᚾ. His hammer burst into flame.
”I am Hrungnir! Keeper of the secret runes! And I DEMAND TO KNOW WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE BEFORE I START CRACKING HEADS!”
"They have drawn blades on an unready man," Raseri says as she pushes past the dwarf, maul at the ready. "And they have sullied a place sacred to Perun, brother-god to Thor, and Svarog, who we know as Volund."
Despite the anger she feels, she smiles. This was clearly a sign. She had done right by her god and he was giving her chance to prove herself.
"Tàirneanaich nan nèamhan, beannaich an armachd seo agus glaodhaich a-mach fhad ‘s a bhios mi a’ bualadh mo nàmhaid!"
Her voice rings out with power as the runes on the heavy hammer's head blazed with blue-white fire. She strides past the priest to meet the shadowy elves, a wolf's grin on her face. She sets her feet and the hammer comes arcing up, aiming for the elf's ribs.
The blow misses the elf and the priestess frowns at her own sloppiness. She'd spent too long in these southern lands. She was growing soft.
Lexi acknowledges what Raseri is saying, but doesn't respond; instead, she slips into the shadows and into the room; not quite the ghost she was before, but still incredibly quiet.
She watches the Northlander Dwarf make threats, and watches Raseri charge forward, and then she decides to pitch in, Throwing her offhand dagger at the closest Elf.
She then fluidly draws and throws another dagger into the Elf, to make sure he stays down.
The young man considers, his eyes locking with the dhampir's briefly "Ah, you have me pegged, good man. Leave it to me to always follow my heart." Although it was quite clear he was following something else. He left an unopened bottle of wine and a few glasses with a serviette on a side table. You recognize it as an illegal import, one of the latest novelty sours making its rounds among the Cartways.
Within moments, the small stage trio strike up their lutes and flutes, drumming a beat to get things started again. The scene begins afresh with Duchamp and Le'fein, two bumbling thieves with hearts of gold making their way on the modern streets of Zobeck. The comedy finally comes as promised, but its too obvious to be genuinely funny. That doesn't stop the drunk fans from eating it up...humans are so disgusting.
"Tzk!" says Deimus as violence explodes around him, making him cringe in distaste.
Theatre definitely seems to attract a new crowd... he thinks as he watches hammers and daggers aflying from all sides. Of course, he worried about the elves, but the hound... The hound worried him more.
And so Deimus opts to use a more subtle approach to try and keep the hound off the 'debate,' at least for now.
Gathering his cloak around him, he hums a low note and conjures an image in the mind of the hounds, one that only the hound can see...
You craft an illusion that takes root in the mind of a creature that you can see within range. The target must make an Intelligence saving throw. On a failed save, you create a phantasmal object, creature, or other visible phenomenon of your choice that is no larger than a 10-foot cube and that is perceivable only to the target for the duration. This spell has no effect on undead or constructs.
The phantasm includes sound, temperature, and other stimuli, also evident only to the creature.
The target can use its action to examine the phantasm with an Intelligence (Investigation) check against your spell save DC. If the check succeeds, the target realizes that the phantasm is an illusion, and the spell ends.
While a target is affected by the spell, the target treats the phantasm as if it were real. The target rationalizes any illogical outcomes from interacting with the phantasm. For example, a target attempting to walk across a phantasmal bridge that spans a chasm falls once it steps onto the bridge. If the target survives the fall, it still believes that the bridge exists and comes up with some other explanation for its fall - it was pushed, it slipped, or a strong wind might have knocked it off.
An affected target is so convinced of the phantasm’s reality that it can even take damage from the illusion. A phantasm created to appear as a creature can attack the target. Similarly, a phantasm created to appear as fire, a pool of acid, or lava can burn the target. Each round on your turn, the phantasm can deal 1d6 psychic damage to the target if it is in the phantasm’s area or within 5 feet of the phantasm, provided that the illusion is of a creature or hazard that could logically deal damage, such as by attacking. The target perceives the damage as a type appropriate to the illusion.
Lex
Enemy (Surprised vs Lex) <--- UP
Kjet, Ras, Dei, Hru
At the dwarf's shouts the pair glances at each other briefly (briefly enough for Lexi to make her move). They chatter among themselves in an unfamiliar language:
"Hear that brother? Stumpy McGoo over there wants to know what we're doing." the other responds "Well, he'll see soon enough, eh?"
The first speaks up "Just watch, hills rat. This temple is about to be invalidated...
”Hill rat?!” Hrungnir’s eyes blazed as bright as his hammer.
Lexi's dagger glints in the light of Khors, somehow dodging the metal studs that dot the elf's leather. As the second follows it up, he pulls it out of the wound, more than little pissed. His companion laughs and mutters something:
"Mark first, brother...fun with that one later."
They both strike out at the priest, trying to cross their rapiers through the man's heart...
...and succeed, skewering him before the gods. The priest crumples at their feet, blood slowly running from the dais.
The hound sniffs at the air, looking curiously at Hrungnir then seeming to focus on the other younger priest who led you here. Its back hairs raise slightly, the bioluminescent streaks flash briefly a reddish orange and a rumbling like a box of nails being spilled starts to come from deep in its throat...
Ice so bright it looks like lightning, but the form is static, hanging on the air even as it grows and expands nearly 15 ft, capturing the young priest and the others on the frontline...
The younger priest solidifies, taking the full brunt of the frosty blast. The hound salivates at the sight of the iced meat, its favorite.
Ras runs through the blast to reach the assassins too late, her magic strikes going wide.
Deimus mutters something strange while pinching a piece of fleece in his iron fingers....
...the hound suddenly recoils, but quickly sets back again on its 4 feet. A look of hatred in its eyes...
Rake1 60/104
Rake2 104/104
Hound 112/112
Hrungnir strode through the ice and cold. A northerner like him was more than used to a colder climate, though this was less than ideal. His hammer blazed in his hand as he stalked towards the wounded elf.
He slammed his hammer into the foe, speaking words of runic power as he did so. With each swing the hammer seemed to move faster, striking as if though he were pounding metal into shape upon an anvil.
Carnadine sighs at the poor entertainment and stealthily makes to the side table. He quietly opens the bottle and pours a glass of wine. He smells the wine and examines it in low light, like a practiced connoisseur. He sips from the glass turning the wine in his mouth while examining the bottle for its origin and story hoping for better entertainment.
The cold hits her like a hammer and for a moment, Raseri can't breath. She gasps then coughs as her lungs begin to work again, but she can feel the chill in her bones despite the heat of her anger. A shell of ice clings to her for the moment, but the northlander is still strong and the ice cracks as she strains against it, a snarl curling her lips.
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The bottle is labeled as a local vintner (the Tumbling Negocient) but clearly the wine is of Morgaunic origin...not sour at all but rather quite exquisite. In other words, someone has poured an illegal import into a local vintage bottle. Closer inspection reveals a sigil or carriers mark perhaps that has been scratched onto the bottom. Without experience in the criminal underworld, its hard to know what it might mean.
As time goes on, the music starts to give you a slight headache...
Something about the lutist's plucking is turning your stomach. You feel you might vomit, but really you just want him to stop. Your fists clench and you get the urge to punch a wall.
Hrungnir charges through the cold, his hammer becoming emblazoned with ancient runes and a flurry of arcane attacks pulverizes the already wounded assassin directly in the face. The anvil in the corner seems to resonate happily with the enchanted strikes...
However, the elf is no novice poker it seems, with a loose grip he turns his blade in a way that captures the momentum of Hrungnirs second strike, carrying it to the ground.
He spits out a mouth full of blood "Now can we kill them, brother?"
Rake1 50/104
Rake2 104/104
Hound 112/112
Lexi laughs as the Dwarf charges the two men, then speaks words of power in Umbral
"You're F*cked."
She then throws one of the daggers in her hands at the Elf she looked at.
She then moves, keeping the pillar between her and the giant dog, drawing another dagger as she goes.
Carnadine tries to memorize the carrier sigil to see if the smuggling affects his father's business interests.
The Knight Incorporeal suddenly gets up from his chair and quickly leaves his box covering his ears. He heads to the restroom where he vomits the exquisite Morgaunic wine into the hole. But, he can still hear that damn lutist.
After purging himself, he exits the restroom and theater as quickly as possible. Finding himself outside in the refreshing cold and noise of the city at night. There, he spends a minute recovering his bearings and dignity surveying the scene and reviewing what happened to put him on the street. Weird.
Kjeta takes a moment to look about and then raises her shield (with its holy symbol) and calls out a prayer to Ninkash.
"Malty Mother of Ale, please show these malicious elves The Light!"
A flash of mesmerizing lights sparkle all around the elves, in a brief enchanting pattern.
Kjeta screams her prayer...and by all accounts it appears her goddess screams back! An array of random light splotches and dark, melting shapes oscillate around the elves, reminding you of the instant before a drunken black-out...
The wounded one succombs to the pattern, his eyes cross and a spurt of vomit slowly turning to straight up drool oozes from his mouth. Remarkably, he stands there completely dumbfounded rather than tipping over.
The killer elf's random drunk-like stance is impossible for Lexi to anticipate, and her thrown projectile glances off his pauldron, just narrowly missing the carotid artery in his neck.
The stupified elf's companion does not seem amused.
"Vaasa...encarnadaline!"
The hound rushes straight for Kjeta; the ice in its maw has melted but it still has gums full of teeth as big as a halfling's fingers. It lunges for the cleric's throat...
and str save DC 15 vs prone
A vertical blue line promptly splitting apart in parallels rises ominously behind the non-stupored elf. The dark mist envelopes him and for a moment he is completely gone...
...but then the same portal opens just adjacent to Lexi, and a flashing elven rapier thrusts out of the mists, running fast to her heart...
...Lexi's honed instincts cause her to flinch at the last second, and the rapier point misses the important organ. She can feel the poison the blade sported however, as the wound begins to burn.
Rake1 50/104 (Charmed, incapacitated)
Rake2 104/104
Hound 112/112
Out on the streets, you find you aren't alone in your discomfort...a handful of other theater goers are retching in nearby alleys. But you then hear the unmistakable sound of fist on face coming from behind, back inside. A peek reveals multiple fights have broken out in the audience, even among the fans. An old man serving as usher tries to calm them in futility, as another runs out to call the guard.
Still, who cares. What's more important is the illegal wine encroaching on your profit margin. Who would dare? You might check the vintner, the young man who left it, or find a way into the Cartways (underground tunnels).
Raseri breaks free of the ice with a crash and considers the scene before her. The dwarf seems alright, better off than the Shadow that had been guarding Elegyn with her. The cold had nearly done her in, but that will heal. Now she needs to fight.
"Óttast ekki kulda; þrumunámskeið í gegnum æðar mínar."
Arcs of lightning flash and dance across her armor, reinvigorating her and letting her ignore the wounds left by the deadly frost as she stalks toward the elf, her eyes blazing with blue-white fire.
"Tàirneanach na nèamhan, beannaich an armachd seo," she growls and takes up her maul in both hands. She flanks the elf with Lexi and attacks.
The blow lands with an explosive crack that rattles the bones of those nearby. Raseri grins, a feral gleam in her eye as she lands the blow.
"Run 'im through Shadow! Let's see how he likes it," she howls as the echoes of her blow bounce off the stone.
The elf hears Raseri's charge and moves with near perfection, resting the longer part of his blade across his bracer and catching the maul's powerful swing near the pommel as he lowers his body like a spring. Unbelievably, the shock from Raseri's blow is completely absorbed...its doubtful a mere human would ever have the lifespan to master such a martial maneuver.
Out on the streets, Carnadine finds a wall to hold up and gets relatively comfortable. He wants to get that bottle from the theater for evidence but is concerned about the effects of the music.
He waits for awhile watching the streets, listening to the theater melee, and hoping that the effects in the theater (fighting) or his upset stomach subside enough, such that he can return to grab the bottle. Since he also plays the lute, he tries to remember something with the same effect.
Perhaps the young man who left the bottle returns, but he doesn't think that is likely.
Lexi rolls and parries with her off hand dagger, but it isn't enough.
Guess I owe the old man another thousand block drills she thought.
Showing the Elf who stabbed her an insane smile, Lexi swings her gaze to him, says something in Umbral, and then stabs him.
"You're focusing on the wrong target moron."
Hrungnir watched as one elf fled...and continued attacking the helpless one.
One of the blows was a solid one. Hopefully enough to drop the foe.
Deimus shakes his head. The fight might have been avoided, but hot blood had prevailed. Decided not to see these Shadow Elf have the upper hand, he decides to side along the others fighting them.
Having heard one of them speak in the Common tongue, Deimus decides to start with him. Throwing his cloak back in a grandiose gesture, he absorbs the energy surrounding him and channels it through his voice. Pointing an ominous finger at the Common-sepaking Shadow Elf, he orders: "You! DROP that sword immediately! I will not have it!"
He then moves his finger to the second Elf and eldritch purple fire explodes around him, marking him easily in the gloomy light of the temple.
Any creature charmed by you automatically fails its saving throw against the command you cast with this feature.
Once you use this feature, you can't use it again until you finish a long rest.