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Ayita is happily stashing the small stash (is 5 too many?) of tiny bottles of blackberry brandy in her pack. Ter trills at Blackberry, and does a special little dance for her, Ter's imitation of a local celebratory dance -- complete with fluffed feathers. She removes a nice feather and leaves it on Blackberry's table.
Ayita's eyes pass over the crowd for a second randomly, as she is wrapping the bottles.
She may have had a little of the brandy already!
One last try...
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Hatfield overhears the group of 5 talking about the recent incident.
"Ain't none o' my bidness."
Then he notices the patch with fangs and the fact that the group is imbibing alcoholic beverages. And that Possum called them "uppity."
"Aw, heck naw. We don't need no discontent on a market day."
While he does nothing overt, the oracle keeps an eye on the group and is ready to intervene (diplomatically) if it looks like there might be trouble. He breathes a small sigh of relief as Walfrenden tactfully empathizes with them.
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Roscoe finishes his purchase of the everburning torch, the edge taken off his hunger.
At least for a moment--but sometimes I am not satiated at all!
He overhears some snippets of conversation, swallowing hard as he realizes he's overhearing some Horned Fangs.
Uhgg--I never should have been involved, but I know about that gang. Everyone's going to think I'm part of it. I'll keep an eye on them.
Roscoe continues to pretend to shop, keeping fairly close to these gang members so he can hear what they are up to.
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Walf, completely oblivious to the fact that any of his compatriots have noticed the Horned Fangs, glances around the market for them.
Spotting at least some, he tries to discreetly call and gesture for them. "Kheiron, when you're done over there, come join me!" he calls.
He also tries to catch the eye of Roscoe and waives him over.
Walf tries to be casual about it, so as not to alert the gang.
The Horned Fangs are busy drinking Possum Punch and are oblivious to Walf's discreet hand wave to Roscoe.
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Roscoe sees Walf waving at him.
He didn't know him well, having only recently met him.
But that is probably for the better that he not know my past. Perhaps he'd be a better acquaintance than some that do know.
"Uh--hullo," he says back, trying to continue listening to the gang members despite the distraction.
"What's new?"
Roscoe is distracted by Walf, and notices nothing out of the ordinary.
[dice=perception]1d20+5
Yes. It's ok.
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Ayita jumps a little as she notices the five iffy people heading toward the Possum Punch and... Horned Fangs??? Jeez, she hadn't even noticed the Horned Fangs, though she knows they are around. No one should mess with our Market! (Though she's not from here.)
She slings her backpack and strolls toward the Possum Punch, attempting to look like a customer.
(but, that brandy...)
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"Aw, heck. I'm a doctor, not a diplomat!"
__________________________________________________
Hatfield stands up and moves to interpose himself between the newcomers and the Horned Fangs.
He tries to make the maneuver look nonchalant. But...
"Healin' Flame, fergive me fer tha deception. But, it's market day, y'all. Ain't nobody need a kerfuffle, now."
"Outta our way, old man. I don't know you, but yer gonna git hurt, ifn you don't move," says one of the approaching men.
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Not accustomed to speaking quickly off the cuff, Hatfield borrows one of Walfrenden's moves: "Hey now, we all Covers, here. Ain't we? I'm jus' an ol' country doctor shoppin' on market day in tha Circle. Sorry 'bout gettin' in yer way. Lemme buy y'all a drink ta make up fer yer trouble."
Without moving his eyes off the speaker, Hatfield calls out: "A round o' drinks fer my new acquaintances here, please."
"Say... Ain't I patched up yer uncle/brother/cousin/gramma? How're they doin'?"
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Walf notices the newcomers approaching and the crowds moving, despite having quickly downed two cups of Possum Punch.
He gets up from his stool and moves to the closest Horned Fang.
"Excuse me, but it looks like trouble is on its way. Do you need any help? I would hate for there to be a repeat of what happened to your fellows."
Walf picks up his earthbreaker. If any of the Horned Fangs answers in the affirmative, he casts mage armor on himself, and reinforce armaments if there is time.
In any case, he calls out "Kheiron, you might want to finish that shave later and come join me here for some punch, NOW."
"Say... Ain't I patched up yer uncle/brother/cousin/gramma? How're they doin'?"
"You ain't never met me before in muh life!" says the man Gregory is speaking with.
He and his fellows turn towards the Horned Fangs. "Us Roadkeepers were here first, and we'll be here last!"
"Excuse me, but it looks like trouble is on its way. Do you need any help? I would hate for there to be a repeat of what happened to your fellows."
Walf picks up his earthbreaker. If any of the Horned Fangs answers in the affirmative, he casts mage armor on himself, and reinforce armaments if there is time.
In any case, he calls out "Kheiron, you might want to finish that shave later and come join me here for some punch, NOW."
"Thanks, bronze man. These Roadkeepers think they can slink in here and take advantage after we lost some folk and try to be top dog in the Cove!" says the Horned Fang to Walfrenden.
Oblivious to the goings-on, Kheiron rests easy in the little halfling's chair getting his first shave in a week. But then he notices that Jarb has stopped shaving. Annoyed, he sits up and looks around. Only then does he hear Walfrenden yelling for him.
That boy is going to get himself killed, he thinks. He sighs. "Damn it," he mutters, standing up and taking his bardiche in his hand.
The Chelaxian strides purposefully toward the knot of people, half his face shaved and other half sporting a heavy lather. He'd look comical if he didn't look so angry. "What in the Nine Hells is so important?" he asks, not looking at Walf, but instead straight at the leader of the Horned Fangs.
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Ayita thinks she sees a clown friend from her old carnival group... no! It's Kheiron!!! WHAT ok nevermind, there is trouble possibly brewing...
As she nears the spot where the trouble might be happening, feeling a little tipsy, Ayita asks Ter where her other Thassilon linguistics class buddies are, since they are almost the only folks she knows here...
Ter makes a perception check:
Ter might think she sees one or two of them near the problem people? (Ter is thinking, but humanoids all look alike! No distinguishing feathers!)
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Roscoe tries to keep his cool as he sees Horned Fangs, but still isn't sure what to make of all this. Just in case, he pulls out his crossbow and ensures it's loaded, though he pretends like he's trying to sell it.
"Aw, heck. They don' need ta come here ta perpetrate their drama. Ain't nobody got time fer that."
__________________________________________________
She is not currently in the Circle.
Roscoe recalls one of the newcomers as being from the Roadkeepers, who normally reside in and around the nearby Churlwood, where they make a living taking "tolls" on the road to "keep travelers safe." He doesn't recall his name, however.
[u]Sorted Initiative[/u]
Roscoe: 19
Horned Fangs: 16
Kheiron: 14
Ayita: 10
Roadkeepers: 9
Walfrenden: 7
Doc Hatfield: 5
Frantino: 2
Roscoe, though he's quick, isn't about to make the first move, despite what looks like hostile intentions of these Roadkeepers.
"Hey! Hey! Settle it down, or you're gonna take a bolt to the face!"
He prepares to fire his crossbow at any that overtly attack anyone in the market, himself included.
Frantino finally notices that everything isn't normal anymore. "What in the hells is going on now?"
One of the Horned Fangs eyes Roscoe's crossbow and then steps behind a Roadkeeper, grabbing him by the neck , when suddenly an indistinct and hazy form appears in the midst of the Circle. He wears old-fashioned seaman's attire, though expensive, as if he were the captain, rather than a deckhand. The glowing and transparent human appears as if you are viewing him through a haze of murky water.
Somebody gasps, "It's Sir Roderic's ghost!"
In a booming voice that sounds like it’s gurgling out of the throat of a drowning man, the ghost cries out, before unleashing a terrible moan that all assembled hear.
Pandemonium ensues! You can hear children screaming for their mothers. You can hear mothers cry out in fear. There is a stampede as panicked townsfolk flee the Circle, heeding nothing and nobody! The Horned Fangs run, tripping over children, carts, and their own feet. The Roadkeepers are no better, shrieking, knocking over carts as they flee at top speed.
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Uh oh, will saves? Ayita has trouble resisting blackberries, and a whole long list of other treats (luckily she works out constantly and is under 20 years old. Sigh.)
I'm thinking this is likely a fear effect... if not, pls. subtract 1.
There are so many people around...
Ayita tries to do a roll under a table to hide... (or she runs, if that's how this works?)
She trips over a tent stake and ungracefully flops on her face. Ter squawks loudly at her, having almost been squashed.
A natural 1... I think Ayita likely lands in some horse manure...
"Well now, that's unexpected! Is this an undead, an illusion, or a haunt? And who is that?"
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Roscoe is about to fire his crossbow at the hostile gang member when the ghost appears.
Though accustomed to the stirrings of things unseen to other people, the sudden appearance and hostile scream catch him off-guard.
He turns tail and runs with the others.
"What is this feeling, so sudden and new?! Ahhhh!!!"
"Well now, that's unexpected! Is this an undead, an illusion, or a haunt? And who is that?"
Kheiron dodges children, mothers and his compatriots as they flee in terror. Only he and Frantino withstand the terror of the terrible ghost of Sir Roderic. For that is what it is, the ghost of the Cove's founder, returned!
the ghost cries and then, visibly struggling, starts to tear apart, as if a wave had hit him and washed him awayy y y y y. Soon, there is nothing left of the ghost but echoes in the souls of those terrified and ectoplasmic wisps that quickly dissipate.
"FRANTINO! What happened here!" cries a familiar elven voice. Turning, Kheiron and Frantino see Audrahni, the morose elven caretaker of the Boneyard, approaching at a run. "I saw the townsfolk screaming and fleeing."
While Frantino and Kheiron relate what happened, with the elf nodding grimly, Ayita, Gregory, Walfrenden, and Roscoe feel the supernatural fear permeating their minds dissipate. When they reenter the now empty Town Circle, Audrahni turns and greets them.
"Frantino, I don't know your friends as well as I should. Eithel govannen. I am Audrahni," she says.
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When the fear effect finally wears off, Roscoe is in a near-rage. He lets off a string of profanity the way other artists might work in oils or clay. His face is beet-red.
Seeing some children look inquiringly at their mothers, Roscoe slaps his forehead.
I can only apologize so many times! What is wrong with me!?
Sheepishly, he walks over to Audriahni, the graveyard caretaker.
"I'm Roscoe Elring," he says, normal color returning to his cheeks. He had seen Audriahni before, but hadn't talked with her much.
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"Frantino, I don't know your friends as well as I should. Eithel govannen. I am Audrahni," she says.
"Uh, hello," Walf says, clearly still suffering the aftereffects of the appearance of the ghost. "I am Walf, Walfrenden of Axis to be precise."
He scratches his head and looks about, confused about what just happened.
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"Eithel govannen. I am Audrahni," she says.
Hatfield joins the group. He's holding a tall thin glass filled with a sweet-smelling liquid and a sprig of something green sticking out of the top. Those who know him recognize the herbalist's favored drink, a mint julep.
"Howdy, Audrahni. Nice ta meet ye in person. Only had to send a couple of patients your way over tha years. I'm Hatfield, tha herbalist. Gregory C. Hatfield." Then, the human takes a long, slow pull from his glass.
Noticing his friends see his drink, the oracle smiles, "Well. Seemed like tha thing ta do. Hidin' behind tha bar an' all." He takes another sip.
Kheiron, who still has half his face in a now stiffening lather, glowers at the appearance of the ghost and at the elf who follows after. After glancing in Walf's direction to make sure the young man hadn't gotten into much trouble, he turned back to Audrahni.
"Bunch of punks looking to fight over a one-horse town and then a ghost shows up and scares the pants off everyone," he summarizes. "It doesn't make sense. I don't believe that the Captain, if that's who it was, was concerned about those punks rumbling. There's got to be something more."
"You know anything about it?"
"Uh, hello," Walf says, clearly still suffering the aftereffects of the appearance of the ghost. "I am Walf, Walfrenden of Axis to be precise."
He scratches his head and looks about, confused about what just happened.
Audrahni sees Walfrenden's confusion.
"Sir Roderic's ghost likely manifested too far from its final resting place and was unable to remain for longer. I've been seeking his resting place, to release him, but... I haven't had any luck," she says. "I'm not shocked that he manifested. He's manifested before. But I am wondering why he manifested.
She listens to Kheiron and nods, agreeing. "Yes, something more to it. I believe he only manifests when Roderic's Cove is in danger. A bad gang scuffle is far from the type of 'Danger To The Cove!' that triggers Sir Roderic."
Frantino makes sure that his new friends are introduced to the elf Audrahni. Then he turns back to the immediate events.
"His only words were, "NO" and "MY COVE." Not particularly helpful, it seems to me, Audrahni, but perhaps you know more of the history of this captain? What is a better example of the type of danger that would cause him to manifest? When was the last time that he appeared?"
"You say that you're looking for his burial site, to put his spirit to rest? Perhaps I..." Frantino looks around. "Perhaps WE could help with that task? This place isn't Magnimar but it's growing on me, and I don't like the thought of it being in danger. Not that I'm trying to speak for each of you, of course," he finishes apologetically, hoping that at least some of you will volunteer for this potentially dangerous search.
"His only words were, "NO" and "MY COVE." Not particularly helpful, it seems to me, Audrahni, but perhaps you know more of the history of this captain? What is a better example of the type of danger that would cause him to manifest? When was the last time that he appeared?"
"Well, the last time he manifested was ten years ago when the previous port-Governor, Jess Gildersleeves, was run out of town by a minor town uprising. She was found to be undermining Roderic's Cove by diverting funds meant for town to her shady contacts in Riddleport," Audrahni responds. She looks at the assembled friends and suggests they all join her for a dinner in the Creekside. "My treat, of course."
The group finds a table at the Creekside, over in a corner, where their conversation cannot be heard easily. Audrahni smiles at Garleena Knodston, but doesn't speak much whenever the tavern owner is close at hand, either with ale or food.
She avoids substantive discussion of the problems facing Roderic's Cove until after dinner, when she says, “Thank you again for taking the time to chat with me. You seem like capable sorts—certainly not the type who’d be content to live out lives of comfort in a small town like Roderic’s Cove. I don’t mean that as an insult—far from it. I’ve been in town for several years and I think the Cove needs people like you: heroes. The stink of violence is in the air. The near confrontation you were just involved in isn’t the first we’ve had recently... surely you’ve heard of the slaughter that took place last week? Something strange is going on here in Roderic’s Cove, and someone needs to do some investigating to figure out what that is. I’m hoping you’ll be up to that challenge.”
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"Something strange is going on here in Roderic’s Cove, and someone needs to do some investigating to figure out what that is. I’m hoping you’ll be up to that challenge.”
Walf listens intently to the elf as she explains the community's woes, past and present. He doesn't understand the motivations that would cause a leader to divert funds to another community. He does, however, understand that residents of a community, even new ones, have an obligation to defend it. How could any of them say no?
"Of course we would help," he starts to answer, but he quickly recalls that Varisia is not Axis, and that others might not feel the same way. "I mean that of course I will help, and I hope the others will, too."
He pauses before he goes on, trying to reason out how the authority chain runs for such volunteers in Roderick's Cove. "Do we need get writs from Julit or the Port-Governor to investigate, or do you have the authority to recruit us directly?" he asks.
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Something strange is going on here in Roderic’s Cove, and someone needs to do some investigating to figure out what that is. I’m hoping you’ll be up to that challenge.”[/b]
"I don' know. I'm a healer, not a hero..." Hatfield pauses as he downs the rest of his mint julep. "Aw, heck. I can't let anything endanger tha well-bein' o' ma friends an' family. Count me in."
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Ayita considers the situation, still embarrassed at her reaction to the ghost.
Her Shoanti Hawk Clan family instilled in her the sense that improving Varisian-Shoanti friendship and community benefits all; we are all family. Some want that to extend to all beings... that discussion needs a good long talk by a fire with good food and drink though, as there are much stronger biases among some clans of Shoanti too. Ayita has seen her family working on diplomacy in such matters over the years.
So, she feels she needs to provide the best example she can, as the only Hawk Clan person here (and perhaps the only Shoanti?)... She silently feels Ter's agreement.
"You have my word that Ter and I will do all we can to help!"
Ter smooths her feathers and arches her neck in agreement.
She smiles gratefully at the words of Ayita, Walf and Doc Hatfield. "Heroes are made from all types, Gregory Hatfield."
"I believe that that Sir Roderic grows restless when his beloved Cove is in danger, not that he is the cause of those dangers himself," she says. "I've been trying to put him to rest for some time now. But I suspect that, in order to give Sir Roderic the rest he finally deserves, Roderic’s Cove must be made safe for its citizens. That requires first determining what sort of peril is building in the town’s shadows."
"I've asked around town, seeking clues, but... I'm not the best at getting people to talk or noticing the subtleties of the short-lived. No offense."
Frantino reassures his friend Audrahni, although he is awkward with personal contact. "Like I said back in the Circle, I will help, and I am glad that my other friends will be joining in the effort. Per your suggestion, we should begin by getting to the bottom of the source of local unrest. This may lead us to Riddleport, or maybe that's too obvious, I don't know. We'll find out. Like you, I'm not the best at getting people to open up, but as we accumulate information we'll work together to collate it into workable intelligence, and then formulate a plan to remove the threat."
"And perhaps when this is over, you'll take a short trip with me to Magnimar and I can show you around the city. I think you'll be amazed at how it's grown in the last century, and I'd love to hear stories from you about what it was like at the city's founding."
Roscoe considers what Audrahni is saying.
WHY DID THEY ALL HAVE TO ANSWER BEFORE I COULD SAY ANYTHING! GRRR!
Roscoe sighs after he regathers himself.
"I don't need to be a hero, but I do have some experience investigating things. Plus--there have been some other strange things happening in my own life. A lot of them, and they involve ghosts or spirits or something, just like this. Maybe it's all related, and I need to get to the bottom of it. I'm in."