It's not your job to save them, hero... He could feel her smirk and sideways glance.
Djon unarmed, strikes at the nearest soldier.
Djon one-shots the soldier (well, two-shots, but one round) knocking him into unconsciousness.
The other two that are still standing are moving forward to figure out where the rest of the party is.
The soldiers somehow manage to miss Tarasik standing in the darkness and move past him and up the road a bit. They now stand a single move AWAY from the gate for Tarasik, and within 30' of Billy and Walter from slightly different directions. Since they don't really know where the shooter was, they don't get a shot this round.
Tarasik, Billy, and Walter's actions.
Walter sighed, sacrificing one of his spells to boost the range of his more innate ability. There was no escape when Walter didn't feel like it.
Tarasik burst in like his usual self, and hefted his hammer with a cold stare as he lumbered forward with grim determination. It was onlt just barely by the grace of their gods that he did not fully lean into his strikes, keeping them bound to this mortal realm.
+
+
That basically finishes the combat. There is on soldier either unconscious or dying (depending on the intent of Djon's unarmed strikes), one at really low HP bleeding from the gut on the ground (conscious, but obviously surrendered), and two dead for sure.
You are free to hide the bodies/tie up or otherwise deal with survivors and head into the city proper.
Billy sighs. Killing like this never sat right with him. These men were opposed to them, sure, but they were just following orders at the end of the day.
Slowly, the man seems to gather himself back in order. He looks down at the weapon in his hands, smothered with blood and something more visceral. He balls a hand into a fist to hold it over his mouth. Turning away from the violence he inflicted being the coward's way out, he met the dead men with dignity. "Tarasik has misplaced his strength once again. ...Walter, please be using your witchcraft to help remove stains upon Молот-винтовка."
Walter nodded, and did so, cleaning the blood from the heavy weapon with a word and touch. "Now, however, we have a problem." He nodded to the down but not dead man. "I can attempt to scramble his memories, although I can't be certain it will work. Or we can finish him now. Or we can leave him with a message." Somehow, he suspected that his allies would be less than willing to murder a man who couldn't fight back, even if these troops had been pathetically child-like in there resistance.
"We need to be getting information. Learn of officers, learn where murder is taking place. He is to be telling these things if wishing for safety." Tarasik speaks with a dour eye towards the bleeding man. "Will not be wanting witchcraft to touch mind, yes?"
The man can sense the menace in Tarasik's eyes without understanding many of his words.
"Please no kill! I talk!
Between his halting Britanglish and Djon's limited understanding of Brask, you piece together that there are Brask patrols spaced around the outskirts of the city. Ugarian nationalist forces are drawing more recruits from the population of Darthapest and the vicinity, as well as "Dealing with" the loyalist portions of the population and any Pruscian citizens among the populace. He tells you this is happening all over the city, but mostly in the business districts and wealthy neighborhoods. The Brask are not, he insists, participating in this culling; just keeping outsiders from interfering.
Walter made a noise of disgusted irritation, but he looked to the others to see if the man was telling the truth. It wasn't something he had much of a knack for himself.
While Tarasik couldn't understand over half of what the soldier said, the way a man spoke could be just as informative. Often even moreso.
Seems legit to Tarasik, at least. He was injured and ready to wet himself from the large man's intimidating presence. He seemed to realize life or death sat with how he answered.
His sensitive nose wrinkles as the scent hits him. "Thinking that we are done here."
After "dealing with" the bodies, you head into the city, toward the sounds of gunshots. Aranka Street is lined with trees and dimly lit by the occasional gaslight lamp. Around you, behind the trees, are wealthy houses; mansions, almost. No more Brask soldiers are visible.
"Guess no one is looting yet," Walter noted absently. "Now that we are here, I suppose we need to narrow down our search once again. Any suggestions before I invoke arcane forces and snatch a glimpse at what seems to be the ultimate truth of the universe?"
Maybe I'll go ahead a bit, try to find some soldiers or victims.
Djon scouts ahead, being faster than most... He sends his senses into the darkness. Heading towards the "richer" homes, because soldiers would Target them... jealously. Animals.
Soldier sounds, weapons being cleaned, gear being prepped... or people hiding, huddled whispers... children.
Djon senses nothing in the neighborhood; a typical town at night. BUT...he does hear more sounds further in. Scouting ahead, he notes a bridge over a wide river. On the other side, a grand government building of some sort or other sits. Sounds of violence definitely come not only from within, but from surrounding areas. The streets are awash with it, in fact; torches burn as people in civilian dress, presumably the nationalists, conduct their hunt for loyalists.
Djon hustles back to inform the others of his discovery.
Catching his breath, Goverment building on the other side of a river... there is a bridge. It's a sight, torches and both figurative and literal pitchforks, most likely.
It's hard to discern which side of this thing we should be on. Half inclined to let them all kill eachother and let the gods sort them out. Only thing that keeps me going is... the innocents.
While Djon scouted, Walter found a quiet spot and sat, focusing on his connection to the the fabric of the universe, casting his spell and trying to find where his prey was.
Knowledge/Local: Sir Walter is pretty sure they're headed to the right direction to at least get some clues as to where Marko Gavri is; the people doing the "hunting" across the bridge are likely in the same nationalist group and could well be familiar with him.
Knowledge/Arcane: Sir Walter catches glimpses of several people, along with those outsiders you fought earlier, performing some sort of ritual in a dark catacomb around what appears to be an ancient well. Marko Gavri is among them. Sir Walter does not think this is the present, but it is very close to occurring.
Walter sighed, and rose to his feet with the clicks and cracks of the elder gentleman. "We're going the right way. For now. Look for ways down, into the catacombs. Mostly, we need to find some nationalists - probably a high ranking one - and get them to tell us where Gavri is."
You begin crossing the bridge, get about half-way across, and note that there are nationalists guarding the far side of the bridge. They appear to have rifles (either supplied by the Brask supporters or stolen from Darthapest law enforcement).
Hmm, shouldn't second guess myself... was gonna keep a uniform.
If you slow walk it up to them, I can probably get behind them by... scaling along the outside or underside of the bridge. I can try to take out the rifles, before you are within range.
Remember to distract them and give me the best chance to surprise. Just starting a conversation would do.
I'll see what I can do to minimize casualties and expedite or passage.
Djon, using the others as cover slips onto the side of the bridge. Scaling it towards the... resistance.
ROUND 0
The orange "D" is Djon, The green circles are nationalists (some armed with rifles or guns by mostly just melee weapons). All other PCs are off-map at this point (map south, by about 50'). Interspersed among the green circles are bunches of civilians, law enforcement, etc who have either been deemed enemies of the new "State", or are running because they don't want to be so.
Walter began to move towards the troops, keeping out of sight but not obviously sneaking. If he got close enough he'd start messing with there weapons. If not he'd distract them by talking.
The men at the end of the bridge either don't notice Sir Walter, or are not paying attention to him. The spectacle in front of them is quite distracting.
Djon unarmed, steps and strikes at the nearest adversary. From his position, only two others could see him.
Tarasik is, once more, not quite too sure on what his companions are expecting him to do. He just does what he does best and moves with the flow, sticking by Walter as best he can. He's a shockingly stealthy man when the situation calls for it.
Djon unarmed, steps and strikes at the nearest adversary. From his position, only two others could see him.
Before he can even react, the guard drops to the ground.
Meanwhile, Tarasik crouches in the shadows and moves up to near Sir Walter.
Noting if the man had a uniform that would enable a disguise, Djon looks to see if he was seen.
Perception:
Perception:
-
Walter glanced at his chosen victim, muttering under his breath for a moment. With a sudden, shocking crack! there gun went off with far more force than it should have done.
As the weapon discharged Walter belloed, "Treason! Infiltrator in the ranks!" using his Tongues ability to make sure he was understood. With a little luck that should cause quite the distraction...
Okay, at this point...
Initiative, Round 1
Billy:
Djon:
Tarasik:
Sir Walter:
Nationalist bridge guards:
Rabble-Rousers and general public:
At this point, only Sir Walter has been noticed by the group, and Djon has only been seen by one of them.
Billy first, then the rabble-rousers in the street (and the people they're harassing)
Several of the nationalists in the street come over to examine the situation. With extra torches come extra light, and some of the ability to hide fades away. As a result, at least some of them become aware that Tarasik and Billy are also on the bridge, albeit not necessarily associated with Sir Walter, as the positioning is different.
None of them seem to have noticed Djon, who's pressed up against the bridge stones, cloaked in shadow still.
A couple of them do begin questioning their compatriot (whose gun went off) to figure out what has happened. He is sincerely stating the weapon misfired, but has not gotten a chance to mention Djon (he's the only one who saw him.
Entire party may act.
Billy's not the most stealthy. He can be when he needs to be, but he rarely wants to be. Nevertheless, the makes his way towards the ruckus as quietly as he can, hoping to get into pistol range.
[dice=Stealth]1d20+7
Billy's not the most stealthy. He can be when he needs to be, but he rarely wants to be. Nevertheless, the makes his way towards the ruckus as quietly as he can, hoping to get into pistol range.
Billy's in second rank now. He can make first rank in a single move.
Just a reminder that anyone can act at this point.
Walter randomly selected anyone else who looked important, and forced there gun to unload entirely. It was fun if nothing else.
The second firearm goes off. Unfortunately this one was aimed half-heartedly at one of the bridge guards.
It's a solid gut shot. The bridge guard crumples to the pavement, and now there are two very confused groups of nationalists at the edge of the bridge shouting vague threats and accusations of treason at each other. They seem to have forgotten all about Sir Walter, Tarasik, and Billy.
Djon and Tarasik may act if they choose.
Djon will walk casually towards the man at the edge of the crowd, while looking around and taking advantage of the confusion.
Djon drops a second nationalist; of the original three on that side, Djon has knocked two out, and the third has been shot by a comrade (a la Sir Walter's tricky spellcraft).
Tarasik may act if he chooses, before the rest of the nationalists and the crowd in general get to act. He is within a charge of the closest opponent if he wishes to use that. Otherwise a double move would put him behind them.
Djon drops a second nationalist; of the original three on that side, Djon has knocked two out, and the third has been shot by a comrade (a la Sir Walter's tricky spellcraft).
Tarasik glowered at the crowd, his eyes flickering around. He knew that in just moments tempers will spark into a blaze of mindless panic and fury. People could get hurt, innocent people that were only here because of orders like he once was or civilians caught in the crossfire. This wasn't what the giant wanted.
So he started to step forward, letting himself seem larger, seem intimidating. He couldn't stop them from panicking, tensions were already too high. Yet much as he did when he fought in battle, he could redirect it elsewhere.
"Everyone must leave! It is dangerous to be here, return to your homes and families, seek shelter away from here!"The giant shouted, making wide sweeping gestures with his arms as he moved forward, as if to defend the people from themselves.
All of the normal citizens back off, along with most of the nationalists. Both groups fade into the night, their violence forgotten in the face of the powerful commitment of Tarasik's words. Four nationalists, however, were not swayed, and now aim their weapons at Tarasik and Sir Walter uncertainly.
They do not fire, but demand:
"Foreigners have no business in Darthapest on this, our night of independence. Go back to the outskirts, find an inn, and lay low."
Top of Round. The four remaining nationalists are holding their actions to see what the foreigners do. If you make direct hostilities, they will fire. Only Billy can act before their prepared actions.