Unsure what to really expect, Amaya follows the crowd towards the town hall, glad to be out of the over-stuffy tavern anyways.
Walking into the amphitheater feels a little surreal to her, as she's never been in one before, but the sight is awe inspiring, even one so small.
Catching sight of the town council members, she goes over the information that Kellen told her about them. To her, the most interesting person was Ms. Gardania, but she finds her eyes being drawn to Jorsk Hinterclaw. As they are sitting in their seats, Amaya turns to Karana and asks in a lower voice, "Is that what a hero looks like?" She tries not to garner too much attention to herself, but does her best to motion towards Jorsk.
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Karana looks around. At the hero in question. The crowd. Amaya.
She then touches her stone necklace. “This was given to me by Tutok. For eighteen summers and winters, from the death of my brother to the Iomedaens discovering me, I had no friends that were not animals—except for the seventh summer, when Tutok and her people came to my island.
“We did not speak a common tongue, yet we crafted together, spoke to each other in our own tongues, and once embraced. Just a simple hug, but… it was the only touch of another person in all that time. Every time I felt lonely, I thought of her voice and the memory of her touch. It helped me in ways I do not have the words to explain.
“Tutok is a goblin. It is goblins who attacked my people, yet when you ask what a hero looks like, I think of Tutok. My hero looks like a goblin. But it is her deed, not her appearance, that makes her my hero.”
Occupying the back row of the central segment of seats gives a good view of the rest of the chamber - and its ceiling, which is painted with a series of vignettes. The first one shows a group of ragged men and women, huddling together in a winter landscape; in the second scene, a man in golden robes arrives, and the group looks up to him hopefully; in the third scene, spring has arrived, and the man in golden robes is directing the others, who are ploughing fields and building sturdy houses; the fifth is a similar scene in the fall, with the houses finished and the people bringing in the harvest; and in the last scene, it is winter again, and the man in golden robes is leaving what is now a prosperous little town, the inhabitants gathered to wave him goodbye.
As the crowd settles and the murmuring dies down a little, the woman in the middle of the council table - Greta Gardania - rises to signal the start of the proceedings. Clearing her throat, she waits a few moments for silence before speaking. "Citizens, friends, honoured guests, the council welcomes you to this month's Call for Heroes. As always, we begin our gathering with a reminder of why Breachill exists and why we meet here every month to allow people to petition for assistance. This month's performers are..." she glances at a paper in front of her on the table, "Carli Krupt, Serina Twiddleton, Kip Wintrish, and Ziggy Vusker."
The children on the stage step up to the edge to bow, and a few people in the audience sit up straighter - likely their parents. Once they take up their places again, three of them begin ambling in circles, shivering dramatically despite the warmth in the room. "We are lost, we are cold, we are hungry," wails Carli. "We have no shelter, and lo! I hear the howling of wolves!" pipes up the young halfling performer, clutching at carli in exaggerated fear. "We will surely perish if no help arrives. But who would help strangers such as us?" wonders Kip, peering into the imaginary distance with a hand above his eyes.
"I will!" announces Ziggy, striding towards the front of the stage and striking a dramatic pose (the very one he had rehearsed in Amaya's presence). "I am Lord Lamond Breachton, and I will help you!"
The play continues in this manner for another five minutes or so, 'Lord Lamond Breachton' having to constantly rearrange his fake white beard that keeps getting in his nostrils and making him sneeze. There is a nail-biting moment when Carli accidentally steps on the hem of his golden robe and Ziggy almost pitches headfirst off the stage, but he recovers at the last minute and turns the stumble into a prancing motion that surely was not in the script. Having likely seen the skit many, many times, the councillors keep their back to the stage and study the papers in front of them or converse quietly, with the exception of Trini Sprizzlegig, who watches with interest and seems to be enjoying herself. She leads the applause as the last scene ends, her clapping every bit as enthusiastic as the ones coming from the parents of the young performers. The children, sweaty and relieved, bow again to the audience and return to sit on the stage.
Greta Gardania rises once more. "Thank you for that wonderful performance. Now, we will proceed with the business at hand. We have a number of petitions today, so the petitioners will present their cases and then the council will vote whether or not to expend public funds to hire heroes on their behalf. If the petition is approved, the floor will be open for prospective heroes to present their qualifications." She glances at another paper in front of her. "First, we will hear from Calmont Trenault, local shop assistant."
The halfling gets to his feet, visibly nervous and clutching a sheaf of papers. From another part of the room, Voz Lyraine turns to look at him, a puzzled frown on her face. Taking a few steps to the front of the room, Calmont glances at the council, then at the rest of the room, before dropping his gaze to the papers in his hands. He clears his throat a few times, before beginning in a quavering voice. "Citizens of Breachill. For too long, you have closed your eyes to a danger that you do not wish to acknowledge. For too long, you have allowed bloodthirsty, warlike monsters to gather in our backyard, no doubt plotting our demise." His voice rises, sounding more confident and passionate with each sentence. "You know of what I speak! Twenty years is not such a long time to have forgotten the horrors of the Goblinblood War! Why, then, why do we do nothing as a whole tribe of them has taken residence in the abandoned citadel?!" Murmurs begin to race through the crowd as several of the council members shake their head and Greta Gardania grasps the gavel, seemingly ready to intervene as Calmont is now shouting. "I urge you, members of the council, take action today and put down these beasts! End this menace that threatens every man, woman, and child in Breachill! Every day you do not act is another chance for these monsters to hack us to pieces or burn us in our homes! You must-"
His words are interrupted by the sharp rap of the gavel, as Greta Gardania is now on her feet. "Mr. Trenault! Mr. Trenault, please!" As Calmont trails off and glares at her, she takes a deep breath and adopts a placating tone of voice. "I am aware of your painful history and I sympathize, truly, but this is a petition that the council cannot consider. I'm sorry, Mr. Trenault, but the Bumblebrashers have done nothing that shows aggression towards Breachill and its citizens. Your fears are unjustified, the Goblinblood War is over..."
"It is not over!" Calmont interrupts. "It will never be over, not while one of them still draws breath! What will it take for you to see the danger we are all in?!" He clenches his fists, crumpling the papers and breathing heavily, glaring at the council who for the most part does not meet his gaze. The only one who seems like they would not be entirely opposed to the petition is Quentino Posandi, who is stroking one side of his moustache contemplatively. Calmont, reading his defeat in Greta Gardania's intractable posture and the other councillor's embarrassed silence, snarls. "You fools! Idiots and fools!" He turns on his heel, towards the exit.
Karana turns to Amaya and subtly cocks her head toward Calmont has he storms past. “That is not what a hero looks like.”
Karana is disappointed in Calmont. Very disappointed.
Gofran, obviously, remains silent, even if he agrees with the halfling. Were Breachill a dwarven town, he was sure these goblins would have already been dealt with... and the fortress in question would for sure be repaired. To him, a fortress was such an important building that he considers sheer stupidity to leave it empty. To say they allowed a whole tribe of goblins to take hold of it is something he'll never understand.
Any force that manages to repair such fortress would be able to completely control the lives of these people. Craziness and foolishness.
Kyrie stands up. ”I have something to say.”
Stand tall. Do not focus on anyone in particular. Pretend you are talking to yourself. ”I am new here. I do not have the same rights to speak as others. I have not earned them. I still have to say something. I think that someone should prove once and for all that these goblins are not a danger. I think talking to them would be best. I think if this particular group of goblins is bad, we will find out. I think that if they are not, we can discuss options for trade.”
Breathe evenly. Remain steady. Scan the room, but do not look at anyone in particular. ”I think the people who go should be prepared for the worst. I think they should be trying for the best. I think they should want the best for all of us.” She raises her head. ”I am willing to be one of these envoys. I am willing to put my shield where my mouth is.”
Karana stands up, “I can support Ky—” Use formality in formal setting. “—Lady Breakspear… in this endeavor. I am learning the Goblin tongue!”
Many heads turn as Kyrie speaks, with some nodding at the suggestion. Strangely enough, the black-armoured man seems one of the most enthusiastic supporters of this proposal, shooting to his feet and looking hopefully at Kyrie.
As Karana also chimes in, however, Greta Gardania attempts to gavel the meeting back on track. "Your suggestion is noted, Miss Breakspear, and so is your offer. If one of our citizens wishes to request such an expedition, the council will discuss it. Now, on to the next petition. We will hear from Nicodim Bozga, representative of the Farmers and Ranchers of Breachill Association."
An older human man, with long, salt-and-pepper hair and beard and wearing what must have been his best clothes rises to his feet, awkwardly holding his big straw hat that he had been using to fan himself until a moment ago. "Right. Er, hello. Well, I'll get straight to the point. Something strange's been happening the last few days. Crops are failing, and not just from the heat, no, we have entire fields scorched black, but nobody's seen any fire. And the animals are getting sick, cows, chickens, horses - they just sicken and drop, never seen anything like it. So we figured, this isn't natural, must be a curse or something." He nods emphatically, and begins to sit down before hurriedly adding. "And we'd like the council to send someone and look into it."
"Thank you, Mr. Bozga, the council will now confer," responds Greta Gardania, looking around the table. Surprisingly Trini Sprizzlegig is the first to speak. "A curse, or perhaps mischievous fey. Or both! In any case, it sounds serious. Approved." Jorsk Hinterclaw and Quentino Posandi nod their assent. "Any threats to the food production must be addressed, or we'll all starve come winter," reasons the dwarf. "Approved." Melma Ann Sendaria nods as well, and Greta Gardania uses the gavel once more. "Your petition is approved, Mr. Bozga. We will now open the floor to any adventurers who wish to be considered for this task to present their credentials." She begins to write on a sheet of paper. "The task in questions is to investigate the afflictions affecting the crops and farm animals around Breachill, and determine their origin. The standard pay for such a task when completed is twenty gold coins, to be divided among the party, as well as official recognition as Heroes of Breachill, should the adventurers not already possess that qualification." She lifts a bronze medallion for a brief glimpse, then sets it down again.
The audience begins to crane their necks this way and that to see if anyone would rise to the challenge; many are looking expectantly at the half-orc in hunter's leathers, who gets up and nods towards the council, then begins speaking in a deep, sonorous voice. "My name is Durzum Agrob Durgash. Many of you know me. I am a ranger, a trapper, and a priest of Old Deadeye. I am skilled with animals, and versed in ailments both natural and unnatural. Additionally, my sister is an expert in curses, and will assist me." He reaches under his shirt to pull out a bronze medallion very similar to the one that Greta Gardania had shown only a moment before. "And we have served the community before, we have a good record of helping folks with their troubles." A few cheers and shouts of assent sound at that; clearly Durzum is rather popular in Breachill, and several people reach over to pat him on the back or arm as he sits down again.
Karana whispers to Kyrie, “I am actually just a beginner in learning the Goblin tongue, but I sincerely wish to support you.”
Beatrix feels a bit for Calmont, rooting for the little guy and all. But she can't agree with him. She's been the target of hate by association before and does not want any part of being on the other side of it.
The next job comes up and the aberrant sorcerer perks up. "Curses! That sounds lovely!" She's read entire books on curses! The black rot, the stumbly mumbly, the heavens I can't take another second of this, etc, So many!
Her hand is about to raise when So Very Qualified Durgash speaks up and takes it away. Ranger, priest, animals, ailments, everything.
Sigh
Her hand goes back to her lap.
Gofran pass on the curses job, wondering if his cousin will in fact make a petition for the missing shipment.
All of this oh so very exciting! The best part so far has been the halfling complaining about the goblins, causing Lady Breakspear to stand up and, eh, make a stand for the green guys. "Good on you, Breakspear. Good on you."
Before he can blink, the gavel hammers away the goblin topic, and on they move to the next thing on the agenda: some lame curse. Ha, as if they got fey and druids plaguing them like us the Darkmoon!
"Do you think there's some veracity to their claims of the land going black and animals growing sick? I, eh, I didn't move all the way to Isger to once again be haunted by the vengeful fey and overprotective druids ..."
Kyrie blushes at Karana’s eager support. ”I thank you. I do not mean to be overly critical. I do not have a title so there is no need to call my Lady Breakspear. I do not want to presume being more important than I am.” She pauses as she realizes that Karana might not understand the distinction. ”I do not know if you already know. I was taught that nobles are referred to by their title and then their last name. I am a knight. I am officially addressed Dame Kyrie according to the Roll of Arms.” She does feel bad going into these kinds of formalities, especially with someone who has been so pleasant and helpful, but the rules and structures of knighthood comfort her.
Karana finds this talk of knighthood fascinating. “Dame Kyrie! Oh, I…” It occurs to Katana that she is talking too loudly. “I like your official address better than Lady Breakspear, maybe because it is a combination of the formal and the familiar: first-name basis preceded by a title.
“Dame Kyrie!” she repeats, hoping to expedite habitual usage. “Yes, thank you for informing me and please remind me if I forget the title. This is all very new to me.”
Before the proceedings begin, Amaya is washed away by Karana's story of her hero. She is able to think on this well during the children's performance, but it doesn't distract her from enjoying seeing Carli, Kip and Viggy on the stage. She applauds enthusiastically at the end, and even gives a congratulations to Carli's parents.
Then, when Calmont takes the stage, her mind wanders back to the previous conversation and she quickly sees the contrast. "I think I'm beginning to understand," she whispers back to Karana. She's not entirely sure that she agrees with Kyrie, though. Sure, she understands the importance of making sure that the town is free of dangers, and while she's not well versed in history, she knows that many see goblins as a threat, often because they are. But it seems that this may already have been proven, at least as far as she can tell from Ms. Greta's response to it all. Amaya, at least, was willing to give the creatures the benefit of the doubt.
Finally, she watches and listens to the information about the failing crops and dying livestock. Certainly a serious enough concern to be brought forth. When the Call is answered by Durzum, she mentally places him in line with Jorsk, Tutok and Calmont, arranging them based on what she has learned about heroes. Certainly, this Durzum seems to rank near the top, so far, based on initial impressions.
Seeing no-one else interested in offering their services for the task, Greta Gardania raises the gavel and is on the verge of settling the matter, when a figure from the audience shoots to their feet, dramatically tearing off the hood of their cloak and declaring breathlessly "My name is Gideon Denn and I offer my services!" Many turn to regard the figure, which Beatrix recognises as one of Roxie's daughters, a girl of fourteen summers or so. Roxie herself jumps upright and bellows, with a voice that is used to cut through the racket of three dozen drunk patrons: "Gideon Dulcinea Denn, you will sit down this minute!" The owner of the Pickled Ear turns to the council, grimacing with embarrassment, "Please don't mind her," then turning to give poor Gideon a Look that promised a swift and merciless Reckoning. The girl wilts under the maternal censure, slowly retaking her seat with downcast eyes.
The frozen gavel sets into motion again, slamming on the table with finality. "Thank you all for your interest. In light of his previous service to Breachill and matching qualifications, the task is awarded to Mr. Durgash." She motions towards the black-armoured man seated in one of the front rows. "Next on the agenda we have a request from Mr. Alak Stagram. While not a citizen of Breachill, the council has deemed that Mr. Stagram's roots in the region are sufficient cause for his petition to be heard." She makes an inviting gesture towards him, as he gets to his feet and approaches the open space before the council table.
"Thank you, honoured council. Like you said, I am not a citizen, but my family has a long history here. My great-grandfather helped build the citadel that overlooks Breachill, back when the Hellknight Order of the Nail was founded some eighty years ago. My grandfather and my father lived there until the order relocated to Varisia thirty-seven years ago. I was born in Korvosa, but my ancestors are buried here." He pauses, taking a deep breath. "On the cusp of being admitted into the order myself, I come seeking those ancestors' legacy, any information or items that they have left behind. I have tried exploring the citadel on my own, but was met with... resistance." He smiles ruefully, rubbing the back of his neck. "So I am petitioning the council for a few adventurers to help me."
Murmurs in the crowd meet this request; seemingly many remember the Hellknights, or have heard stories of them. Greta Gardania looks around the council table before responding. "Mr. Stagram, your request seems rather of a personal nature, and while we respect the history of your order and its previous affiliation with Breachill, as you pointed out yourself the Order of the Nail has been based in Varisia for almost four decades. We do not see how this endeavour would benefit the town of Breachill; as such, your petition is denied." Nods of assent from the other councillors confirm the decision, although Trini Sprizzlegig looks regretful as she gazes at the prospective Hellknight with her chin in her hands, elbows splayed on the table.
"Honoured council, please, if I can just..." Alak seems intent on contesting the decision, but whatever he was about to say is interrupted as one of the doors into the rotunda bangs open, startling the town guard next to it and a good number of the audience. A small figure dashes down the aisle, waving their hands and shouting "Help! Heroes! Peace! Help!" The hood of their cloak falls back to reveal a large, green-skinned head with big, pointed ears and a wide mouth with sharp teeth. Panting, the goblin skids to a halt in front of the council table. "Please... help us... dragons." Melma Ann Sendari frowns in confusion. "This was not on the agenda...", but Greta Gardania gets to her feet, looking down at the goblin, who has now collapsed with their hands on their knees as they gasp for breath, and motioning for silence as astonished comments begin to ring out from the crowd. "Quiet, please. If someone is seeking help, it is our duty as Breachillians to at least listen. You, goblin. What is your name, and what it is that you wish from us?"
"Name... Warbal," pants the goblin. "Tribe sent me... I know language of Longsh- tall people. Our castle... attacked. By dragons! They come up from under, chase us out of our home. Now my tribe trapped on top of castle. We made a big rope and they let me down the side to come here and get help."
Karana is very excited when the goblin reveals her identity. And speaks of dragons! And Warbal seeks heroes—heroes like Dame Kyrie! Oh, but I must speak for myself. Only parents speak for others.
Karana rises. “My shield is where my mouth is!” She is pretty sure her words do not have the impact of her knightly friend. But she goes on, taking a phrase Beau used earlier, “That is, I am a protective druid. I have not earned the right to be called ‘hero,’ but I, Karana Wonapalei…” She says in the Goblin tongue, <…wish to help you,> then repeats in Taldane, “I wish to help Warbal.”
She starts by walking to the goblin, and extending her hand to help Warbal rise up.
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Gofran shakes his head at the young elf's eagerness.
"Drragons? Plurral? Frrom underrgrround?" Gofran repeats to those around him, showing obvious disbelief. His voice is loud enough to reach the council, even if he doesn't raise to his feet. "Frrom vhat I've alvays hearrd, drragons arre lonely crreaturres... they do not attack in a Storrm."
"Also, those big thin's on the theirr back, called VINGS, arre used forr flyin'. Drragons fly. They do not dig holes and attack frrom beneath ourr feet! I'm a dvarf and I know this verry vell. Ourr Mountain Kingdoms arre rrich and a drragon attack is a constant thought. Ve have ballistae pointin' to the sky, not the grround, forr Torrag's sake!" Gofran points out the obvious holes in the goblin's story. He suspects this is a ruse of the goblins, but doesn't mention this. "If they arre drragons, yerr kin is literraly toasted, as they vill rreach them on the top of the castle vith theirr vings and burrn 'em vith theirr brreath o' firre."
Karana loves the way the stranger rolls his R’s. He seems to disapprove of this endeavor, but Karana is not so presumptuous. The dwarf’s own words highlight the urgency.
“Dame Kyrie Breakspear implicated earlier we can only know when we have seen with our own eyes. You know underground and you know dragons, so your expertise could be essential if you choose to evaluate the situation with your own eyes.
“I do not know dragons but I do know animals. They do not adhere to the laws of people in regard to property rights. This may be a territorial dispute, from the dragon-or-not-dragon’s perspective.”
Karana looks to Warbal and attempts to give the goblin reassurance…
…by focusing not on ‘heroes,’ but those in danger: “Is anyone hurt or… worse?” Karana does not wish to say ‘killed.’
Warbal gratefully accepts Karana's hand, smiling at her (which has the unfortunate effect of putting all of their sharp teeth on display), but when Gofran suggests that the goblin tribe is doomed, the goblin starts pulling on their ears and shaking their head from side to side. "Nononono, you have to help, you have to save Bumblebrashers! The dragons don't have wings, but they are very-very big, have scales and spines and big roarrrr! And they are blue, and breathe stinky, not fire!"
Several councillors look concerned. "It could be a pair of tatzlwyrm," opines Jorsk Hinterclaw, inclining his head to Gofran as if to acknowledge his points. "Or linnorms!" chimes in Trini Sprizzlegig, looking entirely too excited at the prospect. "Whatever they are, they need help," the gnome declares with an air of finality. "If we are spending municipal funds, the task needs to directly benefit the town and the citizens of Breachill," objects Melma Ann Sendari. "Well, if there are dangerous creatures in the citadel, they might not stay there forever and might be inclined to hunt beyond its boundaries," Quentino Posandi weighs in. "Which would be a danger to our farmers and hunters, not to mention travellers and commerce. Perhaps it was these 'dragons' who are responsible for the missing shipments we hear about, yes?" Greta Gardania nods. "I agree. Potentially dangerous creatures this close to Breachill need to be investigated and, if possible, dealt with." Alak lets out a long-suffering sigh at that conclusion, but the councillor ignores it. "Err, Miss... Mr. Warbal? Your petition is approved. We will now open the floor to any adventurers who wish to be considered for this task to present their credentials. The task in questions is to investigate the creatures described, and, if determined dangerous, to destroy them. The standard pay for such a task when completed is twenty gold coins, to be divided among the party, as well as official recognition as Heroes of Breachill, should the adventurers not already possess that qualification."
Karana says, “I cannot speak for those that I sat with, but I arrived here as one of a party of five. Dame Kyrie Breakspear who spoke earlier is among us. If all five of us go, the money must be divided, but we have safety in numbers and the recognition alone is worth the trouble.”
She then looks to the drawf. “Six is a safer number than five, and you are clearly a dragon expert. And a tatzlwyrm and linnorm expert too. Will you help Miss-Mister Warbal too?”
Once more, Amaya feels as if she were being caught in the wake of those around her. Without even thinking about it, she rises to her feet, and words start to pour from her mouth.
"I am not one of you," she says, almost sounding like she were in a trance, "but I have come to see the kindness you show to those around you. I feel that this kindness needs to be shown to those who are your neighbors, regardless of of their appearance or heritage. Otherwise, why else have these celebrations for your hero? If you will have me, I too would like to help in this endeavor." A moment later, she seems surprised by what she just said, but she doesn't make any contradictions.
After a moment, she realizes that she never introduced herself. "Apologies. My name is Amaya Abendigo, previously of Andor, but now just a wandering Oracle."
Beau has to swallow his laughter when the dwarf lambasts the goblin. He raises a hand as if to excuse himself and brings it to his mouth, stifling any noise that isn't gulped on down his throat. Surely there's a serious issue that caused the goblin to be this consternated, but the dwarf makes a good point - do dragons really attack from down below? And in groups?!
The laughter quickly fades away when the councilors start throwing around some big words. Linnorms. Tatzlwyrms. Now, those words do have an effect on Beau. He might not know what they are, but they sound scary and deadly alright.
Hey, wait, what, Karana, no! But it's already too late. Trouble had found Beau and this time, he can't run away from it without looking like a fool. After both Karana and Amaya stand up and introduce themselves to the council, Beau stands up as well and chimes on it. He might not be a druid or spirit-blessed wanderer, but at least his uncle is from Breachill. The locals seem to care a lot about that. "As a wayward son of Breachill who only but recently returned to the fold, I offer my services to the city and the council. I, Bojas Gladhand, wish to accompany Karana and Amaya on their ... " Cayden's laughter, is this really what this is? "... on this quest."
Gofran turns from where he is sit, realizing that the group in question is the same one he was pointing earlier to Alak. He sighs and stands up, now turning to the council. "My name is Gofrran Axebane frrom Davarrrn, on the Five Kings Mountains. I've vorrked as a guarrd, guide, scout and bounty hunterr between Isgerr, Drruma and ourr Mountains. I'm cousin o' Rorsk Axebane and he can vouch forr myself."
"The elf girrl misinterrprreted my vorrds, howeverr. I'm no drragon experrt. I have neverr fought a drragon beforre and only seen one vhen I vas a boy, as the monsterr vas cirrclin' ourr town. It vas a terrible red beast that caused a lot o' death beforre bein' slain by drragonslayerrs." Gofran points out. While the confusion would benefit him, he could not stand the fact of fooling the council in any way. "Vhat I know it is frrom the common tales o' my kin. If it is a trrue drragon, ve arre doomed either as a grroup o' five orr six. I do not believe it is a trrue drragon, howeverr, not in the least, thus I do offerr my serrvices. I'm also fluent in the harrsh goblin tongue."
He then looks at Alak, wondering if he will also join. "I believe Alak vill also join, as this development aligns vith his own quest. Seven is a good numberr, ve dvarrves say."
"party?" Bea also seems to share the confusion of suddenly being a member of a party, but she jumps at the chance once she gets her thoughts back in order "BEA!" standing suddenly she realizes manners are important here. "I mean Beatrix Mortimire-EbonGray" she curtses "Waitress and magic user, and interested in all things scaly and wormy. Did you know-" she sees Whim and Peppercorn in the crowd giving her smiles followed by gestures of STOP THERE "--- I'd like to help too."
Karana sees the others mention family and things they are good at.
“Oh… for your records…
“Karana Wonapalei, daughter of Chief Chowig, deceased, and sister of—” Do not call him Ramo! “—Chief Tanyositlopai.”
Karana recalls the discovery of her brother’s corpse on the same sun he gave himself his long-winded name. And the many wolves she killed to avenge him…
“Qualifications include hunting, crafting, druidry, surviving isolation on a First World island for eighteen summers and winters, and… I speak the Goblin tongue.”
Kyrie stands as well, heartened by the support of so many fine people. "I am Kyrie. I am called Breakspear. By the Honor of the Knights of Lastwall and the Valor of the Inheritor, I swear that I will undertake this task with all my heart." Her heartbeat picks up as she says the oath that Kalabrynne and Clarenthe taught her.
"Well. That is most certainly a very enthusiastic response." Greta Gardania smiles for the first time since the beginning of the Call, and Trini Sprizzlegig looks like she can barely contain her enthusiasm as the council surveys the eager adventurers on offer and Warbal is jumping up and down with glee. "Thank you for your willingness to help a stranger. The council considers the following engaged to complete the assigned task: Amaya Abendego, Bojas Gladhand, Gofran Axebane, Beatrix Mortimire-EbonGray, Karana Wonapalei and Kyrie Breakspear." Greta Gardania continues, thumping her gavel one more time on the table. She glances at Alak Stagram. "Mr. Stagram, you cannot participate as both petitioner and prospective hero, but it looks like you may be able to unofficially join their group. Now, for those unfamiliar with the region..."
As Greta Gardania begins to explain the location of the citadel and how to get there, Amaya, Gofran, Beau, and Kyrie notice a burst of flames licking the left side of the stage wall. Gofran, who is closer, begins to smell a hint of smoke as well. Other people in the audience start to notice, and soon shouts of "Fire! Fire!" are heard and people begin to stand. The parents of the young performs scream as they start making their way towards the stage, in opposition to everyone moving away from it and towards the exits. The atmosphere is one of panic and confusion as a drape used as backdrop for the play catches fire, the flames racing up towards the ceiling.
As soon as the panic started, Amaya felt as if she were in the middle of the Eye again, a storm brewing around her, and her body started reacting almost of it's own accord.
She walks out of the row of seating to get into the aisle, and the miniature storm that normally sticks to her clothes starts to swell, as the wind and rain envelops the air around her. She calls out in a language that is probably foreign to most in the room , <"Come forth, O waves, and quench the fires that threaten.">
A surge of water grows up out of the very floor and moves down the aisle to engulf a portion of the flame.
◆ Stride
◆◆ Tidal Surge
An aura of a whirling storm whips up in a 5-foot emanation around you and in your space. The aura puts out small non-magical fires 1 round after they're lit or brought into your aura.
Electrical energy builds up within your storm, turning you into a lightning rod; you gain weakness 2 to electricity, and electricity spells or effects that have additional effects for a creature wearing or holding metal treat you as though you were wearing metal.
Kyrie immediately bounds across the room, vaulting over the row of seats in front of her and dashing to the stage, her armor as light to her as cloth.
She scrambles up the side of the stage with astounding speed, landing on top.
Gofran also moves towards the stage, but unlike Kyrie, he doesn't try to climb it, knowing that it he does he will have to jump down 10 feet with a scared kid on his arms. Instead, he opens his arms. "Hey kids! Fearr not... jump, I'll catch ye! Hey, Knight Lass! Help 'em jump!"
Slower to act than the others (for throwing himself in harm's way is not a natural instinct for Beau), the rogue falls in behind his companions nonetheless and rushes towards the side of the stage. He helps Gofran in giving the kids a way down the stage and away from the fire. "We got you! Jump, mighty heroes of Breachill!"
Amaya puts out some of the fire with a conjured wave. Kyrie effortlessly vaults off the council table to the top of the stage, and the children begin to cluster towards her. Gofran and Beau also jump into the fray, preparing to catch the kids as they jump off.
With a whoosh of flames, the fire begins consuming another backdrop on the stage, and the partition wall across the backstage stairs also catches. The councillors spring in action, directing the people towards the exit. Greta Gardania rushes to the nearest door, shouting outside. "Fire! Get a bucket chain going! Quickly!" Most people are making their way towards the exit, but a few of them are left behind, too panicked or too slow; some of them are parents or relatives of the children, others are elders and others still simply froze in the presence of danger.
Alak moves to help with getting the children off the stage; his heavy armour hinders his movements in the beginning, but he finds a step to boost himself and on the second attempt manages to climb up on the stage. "Alright, let's get you out of here."
Carli, Kip, Ziggy, and Serina don't hesitate - Serina and Carli jump down to be caught by Gofran and Beau, while Kip and Ziggy patiently wait their turn, stealing awed glances at Kyrie and Alak.
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Karana sees there are six people in the stage-right seats.
These people are slow to react. But I will not bark orders rudely. Perhaps I can bolster their courage by giving them a heroic thing to do.
She addresses the three up front. “Ah, what a relief the children are safe. I will help with the bucket brigade. Oh, but” she says to the woman in black “could you please escort the woman seated behind you out the rear exit?” To the man next to her, “Would you help the casual guy in the back to leave. He may have dozed off.” And to the woman in the front seat, “You see that lady with the lovely bare-shoulder dress? Will you please see her out the door?”
The fire starts and the others break into action at once, while Bea simply stands and watches. Heros don't gawk! she reminds herself, finally kicking her into motion. Running on her little legs toward the fire she yells at the man closest to the flames. A man how frequents the ear and has had to be dragged out by his thunderstorm of a wife "SIR!" the gnome yells with a force of having to be heard over six sisters. "I know you don't want your wife to have to come in HERE, but she WILL if you don't get your bottom into motion NOW!"
Beatrix's shouting and Karana's entreaties get seven people in motion and out the door. Eight still remain, aside from the councillors, the two guards, Warbal, and Alak.
Amaya continues her trance-like walk down the aile, towards the stage. The wind and rain around her grows, causing those around her to start getting wet and wind-blown. <"The burning flames shall bow before the waves of the ocean and the winds of the storm. You shall go no further!">
◆ Stride
◆◆ Tidal Surge
Kyrie waits until the two gentlemen below have set down the children before ushering a couple more of them down. She points to the person in the front row just south of her. "I see you. I would like you to get out of here."
Beau tries to stay calm in the presence of Amaya, who seems to have become the embodiment of a living storm. "Come on down! We got you! Go, go, go!" Whatever patience he had before, there's none to be found now.
Gofran grabs one of the kids and turns to their parents nearby. "Arren't ye a brrave one, uhn? Herre ma'am, now get out o' herre!"
With a hiss and a big release of steam, another burning area is extinguished by Amaya's command of water. Her localized storm causes a lot of consternation and some people stop to stare at it instead of evacuating or helping others.
Kyrie shepherds Kip and Ziggy off the stage and into the waiting arms of Gofran and Beau, who put them down to be taken over by their concerned parents, who rush over to hug them tightly and examine them for injuries.
Seeing that the kids are safe, Melma Ann Sendari hops off the council bench and begins directing people on the left side of the room. "Alright, no reason to panic, things are well in hand. Please exit this way."
The fire continues to spread, engulfing another portion of the partition wall and the back of the stage.
Warbal, who had been watching the flames in fascination, seems to shake themselves out of their reverie, stepping back to make room for others as they hop uncertainly from one foot to another. "Uh, what Warbal do?"
Alak sees that there are no more children to rescue, shrugs and jumps off the stage, managing to land without twisting his ankle, then points to a tearfully reunited parent-child pair. "Take the kid and get out, don't linger in a burning building!"
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Karana would find Warbal’s antics even more adorable if not for the danger. Ramo was adorable in the hour before wild dogs ripped his throat out.
Do not let endearment cause you to lose focus.
“Warbal, can you help me with the bucket brigade? Buckets can go from me to you to Dame Kyrie, the knight onstage.”
Karana is pleased at the way her request cleared an area. She wonders if one request can move entire families.
She speaks to the child who played the hero.
“Let us play follow the leader. You lead all of the children out the door. I will go with you, as the Princess you rescue.”
If he is the alpha of children, they will move as a pack. Their parents will follow.
Of course Karana is leading the child as he ‘rescues’ her!
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Ziggy, still in his golden robes and wearing the fake white beard, takes his role of rescuer very seriously. "Lo, I, Lord Lamond Breachton, shall lead thee to safety!" He begins to take exaggerated strides towards the exit, windmilling his arms as he motions the others to follow. Their parents herd them from behind, spurred on by the spreading flames.
"Come on, yes you, please!" Bea tugs on the arm of a doe-eyed young woman leading her toward the lone remaining slack-jawed young man. "One of you rescue the other and it will be a lovely story for the grandchildren. Now off with you. THANK YOU!" she ends up yelling at the one that takes the initiative.
Then she looks around to see all the people are out and all that is left is the 'heros' like her hanging around in a burning building... Oh I should help with the buckets! hurrying around to the bucket line once that thought finds its way to the surface.
The last two bystanders are ushered out of the hall. The smoke becomes thicker as the flames consume the heavy fabric and parts of the partition wall.
Having grown up in and around buildings made almost in their entirety out of wood, Beau has some experience with fires. Back in the Darkmoon, you were expected to have a couple of buckets lying around just in case of a fire emergency. "Do we have something to fight the fire with? A well, buckets, anything?!", Beau asks the still-present locals with a loud booming voice. "There's a chance we might save the building if we act now!"
With everyone safe, Gofran also joins the others in the bucket brigade. "Those strrange vaterr toverrs might be handy now, uh?"
As Beau moves out of the rotunda, he can see that the townspeople are already organizing a bucket chain under the direction of Greta Gardania. It should be only a moment or two before the first bucket reaches the entrance.
Beau doesn't hesitate and joins the bucket chain.
Amaya continues to approach the stage, her own personal storm surrounding her, and walks up into the heart of the fire. She casts a small spell of protection, but mostly relies on the winds and rain to keep her safe.
◆ Stride
◆ Shield
◆ Unused.
Your minor curse's aura expands to a 10- foot emanation and carries rain on the winds. The whirling winds impose a –2 circumstance penalty on ranged attack rolls using physical ammunition that target you or originate from you. Your weakness to electricity increases to 5 or half your level, whichever is greater, but torrential rain grants you an equal amount of fire resistance.
An aura of a whirling storm whips up in a 5-foot emanation around you and in your space. The aura puts out small non-magical fires 1 round after they're lit or brought into your aura.
Electrical energy builds up within your storm, turning you into a lightning rod; you gain weakness 2 to electricity, and electricity spells or effects that have additional effects for a creature wearing or holding metal treat you as though you were wearing metal.