The Rusty Flagon Inn (Inactive)

Game Master Nightfiend

Is there something else that we can do to help?"

The woman sighs. “I understand. It’s a lot of coin. If you have any sway with the smith, please put in a good word or two for me. I’m hoping he will see reason and allow me to return them.”

As Bryndis enters the smithy, she sees Wayilant in a deep conversation with the smith. His two bundles of weapons lay on the ground at his feet, and his pack is untied with a number of items laid out for inspecting.

Wayilant (Diplomacy 16) The smith considers the sheer mass of your loot, then continues. “I’m afraid half of its normal value is the best I can offer. That’s a lot of used gear and most of it reeks of goblin. It’s going to take me a full day just to get the smell out.

After making a final offer, he brings up the small request. His words come across more in the form of asking a favor rather than including it as part of the deal.

“I do have a small favor I would like to ask. Sometime ago our city was raided by goblins. During the raid, two of my mastiffs died. They died defending the city, so, in my opinion, they are heroes. I gave them the burial they deserved, next door in that vacant lot. Recently, the lot was bought by some gods damn Noble. That mangy, no good, ass-hat is pressing the city for me to dig up those dogs and relocate them. If I could get you to put in a good word with the mayor for me, perhaps she might see reason and let me keep my dogs where I can watch them. As fare as your gear goes, I will offer fifty percent, but try and get a bit more for it if I can. If I do well, I will split the profit with you.”

Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29

Gravi, seated in an out of the way corner, nurses the watered wine to try and kill the hangover, watches this all unfold across the tavern room. He goes back to staring into his cup, while listening to the men's conversation. Luckily for Gravi the room quieted just enough for him to pick up their words and intentions crossing the room.

He sipped again at his watered wine as the group of men exited the tavern, running his hand through his sandy-blond hair, trying to shake off the tired. He glanced at the second cup on the table in front of him, rubbed his eyes, and shot the glass in one gulp, the pickling brine hitting the palate, and the salty, vinegary mess going down at once. He stood, crossing to the bar, and putting both cups down empty. Thanks, that pickling brine should take the edge off friend. Where again did you say I could pick up some bolts for my crossbow? he asked the barman. Receiving an answer, he strode out into the street, following the gaggle of Sczarni thugs ahead of him and stretching his shoulders with a slight yawn as he followed them and where they were heading.

Looking down the street, he adjusted the cestus strapped around his right hand, and swapped the position of his buckler with the mug on his left hip.

Bluff: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18
Just out for a morning walk, maybe a little hung-drunk. Will watch the watchers

Bryndís doesn't interrupt as Wayilant and the smith hash out the details. She just watches to ensure that only the dross, the mundane weapons and armor, are sold here, none of the more interesting things.

Taking his time, the smith roots through the different mundane items. “Emm, ya, this one is going to need some work, and this one, well, its simply nasty. Goblins are a nasty lot. I think I can work with this stuff, but its going to take a little cleaning up.’

Gravi

While attempting to keep a safe distance from the small band of thugs, Gravi finds himself moving in and out of different establishments. The process is taxing, but the thugs try and keep an eye open to insure they aren’t being followed.

Perception (Thug): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4

Well, I was going to require a stealth check...but...it looks like these morons aren't paying attention at all.

They finally settle down a few buildings down from the Red Dog Smithy, where they take turns watching the place. Further in the distance you can make out a couple young, attractive looking ladies speaking with an older woman. You also catch sight of a much larger woman as she enters the smithy. From your current location, which is standing between two out of service buildings, you can clearly observe the thugs and partially see what they are looking at. The smithy’s entrance, on the other hand, is not viewable from your current location. The thugs, all four of them, seem to be heavily fixated on the two younger ladies who are talking to the old woman. In fact, they point at them on more than one occasion. Occasionally you catch sight of a couple red mastiffs as they make their way around the building, sniffing the ground and air alike. It's almost looks like they are searching for something.

As for the smith's request they help him out with the dog burials by talking to the mayor, Bryndis tends to prefer not getting involved in these kind of townie versus townie squabbles.

She side-eyes Wayilant to she if she can read what he's thinking about it.

Outside the Smithy with the widow.
Alina Perception(Keeping a lookout): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23 Hmm, I wonder if they hide as well as they see.

The woman sighs. “I understand. It’s a lot of coin. If you have any sway with the smith, please put in a good word or two for me. I’m hoping he will see reason and allow me to return them.”

"I can but try, I suppose," Talienda says with a wry smile. "Forgive me, I appear to have forgotten my manners. I am Tali, and this is my friend Lina, may we have your name, ma'am?"

Whether or not the woman gives them her name, Talienda and Alina make their way inside after bidding her farewell.

Inside the Smithy
As the two bedraggled young women come in after Talienda finishes talking to the woman, the others can see some conversation being whispered between them.

After the brief conversation, Talienda helps Alina over to where Wayilant and Bryndis stand, and waits for them to finish their business.

Stealth (Thug hideout): 1d20 + 3 + 10 ⇒ (8) + 3 + 10 = 21 I'm going to estimate the distance the thugs are keeping to be around 100 feet and Gravi to be 130 feet.

Stealth (Gravi): 1d20 + 7 + 13 ⇒ (11) + 7 + 13 = 31 Looks like I do require a stealth check after all.

Talienda (Alina Perception 23 vs DC 21 & DC 31) Alina catches sight of the men moving around in an abandon building approximately one hundred feet away. The building has several poorly maintained windows along its exterior and a ramshackle door, which appears to be bordered up. She notices a single man staring out one of the windows, directly in your direction.

Before Talienda and Alina join Bryndis and Wayilant

Taking his time, the smith roots through the different mundane items. “Emm, ya, this one is going to need some work, and this one, well, its simply nasty. Goblins are a nasty lot. I think I can work with this stuff, but its going to take a little cleaning up.’

"Thank you, Mr. Korvut", Wayilant nods. "I will be sure to bring your plight to the Mayor personally."

With lighter loads, cleric and bloodrager gather their remaining items and plan their next call.

Before Wayilant and Bryndis can walk out the door, Talienda gets their attention and stops them a little ways out of earshot of Das Korvut.

"It appears that some trouble Alina and I ran into over the past couple of days is following us around. There's some men keeping an eye on us from a rundown building at the end of the street," Talienda tells the pair. "It would seem they didn't take Alina freeing me from their clutches very well."

When they've settled with the smith, Bryndís gives the man a curt nod and turns to go, only to get stopped by Talienda. When she explains why, Bryndís frowns slightly but is careful not to gawk at the end of the street.

"Show me" she tells Talienda, but don't let them see."

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27

"End of the street. House with boarded up door and windows. Saw a man in the window to the right of the door. He was focused on us," Alina answers for Talienda, having been the one to actually spot the watchers.

Stealth: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 7 = 11

Not Great.

Gravi keeps an eye on the responses the thugs have, just waiting his time. Leaning up against the wall, a board tips over, clattering to the ground. Gravi instead changes tactics, drawing a small cigarillo from his pouch and lighting it as he leans against the corner of the building.

Bluff: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (2) + 9 = 11

Wayilant turns his back to the street to talk. "Don't worry, Tally. Bryndis and I are here. Nobody's gonna grab you again. We need to go back to Rusty Dragon to grab your things? We can help."

"Let's go say 'hello' to them."

Bryndís walks out of the shop while drawing her greatsword, which she holds in one hand while resting it on her shoulder. She starts walking up the street in the direction Alina indicated.

"Oh sh|t." Wayilant gathered the remaining items and followed behind Bryndis.

The Group: Shortly after coming out of the smithy, the group begins a quiet conversation. During the process, Bryndis pulls out her massive blade, sits it on her shoulder, and then begins walking towards the indicated building. Not long after she begins walking down the road, she gets a weird feeling of disappointment. The feeling is slight. So slight in fact that she's not sure if she had the feeling or simply thought about it in some way. Either way, the current situation doesn’t appear to have anything to be disappointed about. At least nothing that is apparent. The thought fades almost as quickly as it came while the group makes their way down the road.

Gravi: The narrow ally that separates the two unoccupied buildings is indeed littered with a number of odds and ends. Out of the worthless scrap that is laying around, a number of loos, unattached boards lean up against both buildings. It’s not a surprise when one of the less secure boards tips over, creating a calamity of noise as it tips over another, and then another. Concerned about your cover, you peer through the nearby window you have been using to keep an eye on the thugs. You realize almost immediately that your cover is blown. Three of the shady characters begin heading your way when they are cut short by the thug staring through the opposite window. “Criminy, they’re heading this way. I think they know we are here. The big one just pulled out a massive sword. We need to get out of here.” The thug exclaims while moving quickly towards the back of the room. The other three follow and then all four men begin pulling on different windows in an attempt to open one of them.

The Group: Wayilant and Alina both notice a number of men rush past one of the building’s windows, heading towards the back of the room, while everyone catches sight of a man leaning up against the side of the building smoking a cigarillo. (Gravi, please include a description of yourself in your next post.)

Gravi, the unknown Varisian man, rolls his shoulders and pulls on the cigarillo, blowing smoke out above his head. He is wearing a short-rimmed Varisian flat cap, holding back his shoulder-length dark hair. He is wearing a yellow scarf around his neck, and a maroon tunic, partially unlaced from the top, revealing a finely wrought chain shirt under his clothing. A pair of leather straps cross his chest and shoulders, joined in the center of his chest by an ornate-looking brooch. He flics the cigarillo with his right hand, and you notice that he's wearing a spiked and bladed cestus on that hand. He steps away from the corner, toward the building where the thugs are in a borderline panic. His too-tight leather pants and high black leather boots carrying him toward the back of the building. Another colorful gold scarf is wrapped around his waist, bound with some kind of odd-looking spikey metal belt.

He calls out in Varisian to the building,

As he nears the building, the purpose of the leather straps becomes obvious, as one unhooks into a 15' bullwhip, leaving the other one set as a baldric across his body. His lean arms suddenly spring into action, snapping the whip about his body, exuding an aura of menace. *CRACK* the whip snaps, his boots kicking up small puffs of dust in the street, *CRACK*, CRACK again and again. The crescendo of snaps, and puffs of dust, and obvious skill with the whip creating quite a display outside the abandoned building.

Dazzling Display, Demoralize the four inside the building: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (9) + 11 = 20

Bryndís notices the Varisian man with the whip calling into the building. As she gets nearer she calls out to him.

"Tamu si! Što vi e so ovie lasici?"

Talienda and Alina nod to Wayilant when he asks about helping them getting their things from the Rusty Dragon. Seeing Bryndis stalking down the street with obvious intent has Talienda and Alina hurrying as fast as they can after the woman. Then slow as they see the very flashily attired man now menacing whoever is in abandoned house.

"Uh, what's going on," Talienda asks Wayilant, unable to understand the conversation now happening.

He glances over at the approaching woman, keeping most of his attention on the building.

Bryndís grins at the man's reply.

"Ah! Da vo pravo si. Tie gi sledea. Prethodno gi zgrabuvaa moite prijateli i gi kidnapiraa. Za site tie raboti ḱe gi tepam dodeka ne možat da odat."

"Pretpostavuvam deka možeš da im se pridružiš da gi pobediš ako sakaš. No, moram da prašam, zošto ti e gajle za ova?"

The woman is quite tall, but not as correspondingly bulky as one would expect. She's also very pale complexioned, with blonde hair that's close to white. She's probably Ulfen based on the above.

She has an accent that betrays her as clearly not a native Varisian speaker, but her Varisian is pretty good.

He concludes the impressive display with a final crack of the whip, responding to the tall woman,

Видете го има овој проблем и... не чекајте, предолго: дозволете ми да сумирам, верски и економски разлики, премногу за набројување - тие се лоши мажи

While the conversation is taking place, the sound of glass breaking from behind the building can be heard by everyone.

Wayilant sighs. "Should we go after them or just head to The Rusty Dragon?"

"We should stop them," Talienda says resignedly as she feels Echo's feelings on the matter through their link. The cat is of one mind about what to do with the men who were watching them and had not only singed her fur but also tried to imprison her master.

"They're just going to try something if we let them go," Alina adds. "We should had them to the guard after we knock them out."

GM, do you mind Talienda being full up, or do you want to knock off some slots and HP to represent the ordeal she's been through.

Full up is ok.

"Alright then. We will follow them until they tire of running."

Talienda knows them better, so Bryndís will follow her guidance on the subject.

"I need a drink", Wayilant sighs as he tries to follow the pursuers.
Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (19) + 9 = 28

Switching to common, I know where they are headed, so let's stay close, but if we lose them - we can just meet them at their lair.... the Varisian says, his Taldan accent flawless.

The group heads down the narrow space that separates the two buildings. After navigating over a few loose boards and following the building’s exterior down and around, you emerge on the other side of the building, which dumps you out on a highly used alley that the locals refer to as Tanglefoot Alley. There you catch sight of the four thugs running from the alley onto Festival Street, where they make a hard right. Their group looks panicked as they stumble around the corner while pay no attention to anything in their wake. You would estimate that they have about a fifty-foot head start, heading Southwest on Festival Street, but in their panic, you also feel they would likely injure someone should you attempt to chase them down. Although the now moderately populated streets of Sandpoint poses a risk in such a pursuit, you do have that option.

"Well, I think your course of action just became the wisest," Talienda says to the flamboyantly dressed man as she and a wincing Alina catch up to the others and watch the men go haring off down the street. She turns to them newcomer, a not at all friendly look on her face.

"Would you perhaps care to explain how you came to know of them and where they hide while we do so," she asks, her tone definitely more pointed than Bryndis or Wayilant have heard it since meeting the young noblewoman.

Alina leans against one of the walls to take weight off her injured ankle as she raises that leg and tries to rotate her foot to get some of the stiffness out. She also gives Gravi some side-eye, not trusting him anymore than Talienda at the moment.

Excellent! the man says, while beginning to walk at a brisk pace. He quickly turns the group toward River Street and begins heading south. I'd prefer to cut them off at the pass, and avoid causing more of a scene in the middle of Sandpoint. He reattaches the whip as he walks, and now you notice that both sides of the harness are whips, as is the contraption about his waist.

I am Liotierri Magravi, Gravi to my friends and clients. One of you was being held for ransom, or kidnapped if you will, by the Bunyip Club and were being held at the Fatman's Feedbag. The Bunyip Club is a Sczarni group, and if you know Varisians, we try to ignore our cousins, but they can cause some issues with their hamfisted attempts to garner coin. he clears his throat at the next intersection, checking to the west to ensure the cutthroats weren't about to run headlong into the group.

I was tasked here by a sometime employer, and agents of my faith, to investigate the dealings of these individuals, loosen up the constraints upon free trade, and deny them resources. As I think was mentioned, there was a noble bounty they were attempting to collect I believe with capturing one of you- and denying them coin, not to mention liberating someone being held against their will seemed like a fast way to begin denying them what they seek to do. he adjusts his hat as he continues speaking, I am an agent of the Savored Sting, and my lady commands me to be ruthless in her service, and these individuals have given offence to her and countless others in their attempt to control free enterprise, among other things... he bows his head gracefully at the last, the three daggers of Calistria medallion popping out from his neckline as if by magic.

So, they are heading more or less directly back to the Fatman's Feedbag, to report to their bosses what happened when they tried to accost you...I welcome suggestions other than 'run headlong into the Inn and start a fight with all the Sczarni in Sandpoint' but I'm content to sit and watch and see what happens there. And if accidents happen, accidents happen...

Muziel finds himself wandering around in a daze through the streets, lost in his thoughts. Suddenly, he hears the obvious sound of breaking glass, followed by the sight of men fleeing! He wonders for a moment if he ought to stop them, though he wasn't really sure how he'd do that unless they wandered close enough for some magic. He then sees a group of folks in a steady pursuit--a couple of whom look quite familiar.

"Eh, Bryndis? Wayilant? That you? Ah'm back! Are ye gettin' yerselves inta more trouble already?"

"Eh, Bryndis? Wayilant? That you? Ah'm back! Are ye gettin' yerselves inta more trouble already?"

"Apparently!" An-out-of-breath cleric answers, still carrying all the items for sale. "We are chasing after folk who have a 'hometown' advantage on us."

"A-a bounty," Talienda asks, her eyes wide and fearful as she looks at Gravi. The cat riding on her pack raises its back up in an arch as its tail puffs up. "Do you know who or where the bounty was issued from?"

Alina limps over to stand next to Talienda, her hand on the hilt of a rather poorly made and maintained rapier.

Gravi shakes his head in the negative, No, all I had heard was some noble's bounty. I am truly sorry I don't know more than that.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (2) + 11 = 13

He shrugs, I don't need to fight the whole syndicate, seems to be a tall order right now. Let us see what they do in response? They are in panic mode right now - so this is where they'll make a mistake. I have no intention of kicking the door in. he pauses, yet.

Finally noticing the injured handmaiden as events quiet down. "Alina! I'm so sorry! PLEASE sit down and let me look at that leg!"
Diplomacy (charming): 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (6) + 12 = 18
Heal: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 8 = 27 Just diagnosing, not using Healer's Kit yet.

Alina blushes as Wayilant fusses over her. Thanks to the cleric's charm, however, she does as he suggests without any fussing of her own.

Unless the GM wants to rule differently, it's just a sprained ankle.

Talienda nods her thanks to the Caydenite before turning her attention to Gravi and a newcomer she hadn't noticed as she was taking in the news that they wanted her for a bounty. One thing at a time, she reminds herself.

"You seem like a decent enough sort," she says to the Calistrian, obviously still shaken. "I was probably the one they are after. Alina," she nods to the young woman being tended to by Wayilant, "was able to break in and help me escape. She was hurt in the attempt. I don't think it's serious, but I am no healer."

She gives Gravi a curtsey.

"I am Talienda, Master Magravi," she introduces herself before turning to Muziel. "And forgive my rudeness, Master Dwarf. I fear that the past few days have been trying, to say the least."

Echo eyes the proceedings from her perch, balancing carefully as Talienda dips into her curtsey. There's a keenness to the cat's gaze and a bit of mischief dances in her eyes as she observes the newcomers. The edge of mirth glows brighter as the cat feels Talienda's trepidation about her potential antics through their link.

Alina blushes as Wayilant fusses over her. Thanks to the cleric's charm, however, she does as he suggests without any fussing of her own.

Unless the GM wants to rule differently, it's just a sprained ankle.

"You seem like a decent enough sort," she says to the Calistrian, obviously still shaken. "I was probably the one they are after. Alina," she nods to the young woman being tended to by Wayilant, "was able to break in and help me escape. She was hurt in the attempt. I don't think it's serious, but I am no healer."

Wayilant checks the ankle and tendons on Alina's foot. "Yep. Looks like a sprain", the cleric nods to himself. The caydenite takes out his healer's kit, and uses some bandages to keep Alina's foot at the right angle.

Wayilant smiles. "Yes. The best thing for this ankle is for you to get some rest and levitate the ankle to prevent a nasty blood.clot"
"Hmm?" The aasimar smirks up at Alina. "An activity that has you on your back with your legs levitated for hours. I can think of an activity that combines both aspects of treatment", Wayilant shamelessly flirts as his finger brushes the back of Alina's calf.
Diplomacy (charming): 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (9) + 12 = 21
"Sleep", the aasimar winked.

Alina's blush deepens at Wayilant's flirting.

"Master Arden," she says while looking away, "You shouldn't tease me so."

As expected, the thugs tear off down Festival Street and then make a hard left into Sandpoint’s market. After collapsing a couple small carts of bananas, they stumble out onto Market Street and then ditch off onto a crude set of docks. From there, they head straight for the Fatman’s Feedbag. Having decided to pursue the thugs, while keeping a casual distance, you find yourselves standing behind the Mercantile League when they reach their intended destination. The Mercantile, which oversees caravan passage, messenger service, property sales, and shipping is by fare one of the larger buildings along the docks. At the moment, they seem busy with patron’s moving in and out of the building, securing docking rights and shipping agreements. Currently, you find yourselves on the back side of the establishment, standing in a narrow ally called Shark Alley. From this vantage point you can see the back entrance to the Fatman’s Feedbag, which the thugs recently bolted through. The door just slammed shut as you cleared the bend in the alley. Because of the heightened level of traffic created by the Mercantile, you don’t feel horribly out of place.

Trying to blend in as much as possible, you observe the Fatman’s Feedbag for almost thirty minutes before the thugs slide back out the back door, thinking you broke off pursuit.

All four thugs step out and then then quickly descend down a set of rickety wooden steps. Each, in turn, takes a moment to glance around. One, in particular, locks eyes with Tailenda and then points in your general direction. After all four thugs look your way, they turn and quickly run back into the Fatman’s Feedbag.

Alina Sense Motive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22
Talienda Sense Motive: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12

Talienda raises an eyebrow as she turns to the others.

"I wonder why they went back inside," she says.

"Milady, I think they went to get help," Alina replies, her quavering voice belying her nerves.

Echo, now safely away from the eponymous red mastiffs, has spent the past thirty minutes sniffing Gravi and Muziel and testing out her charms on them to extort some petting, content to let the lesser beings around her get themselves into trouble again.

Sense Motive DC20 Wayilant: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16

With some time passing as they observe the thugs, Muziel offers a bit of an explanation for his return. "So I was just gettin' in touch with some folks 'eadin' back ta the Ci'adel when one o' the senior archaeologists said I 'aven't been cleared ta survey the site. Can ye believe that? I already surveyed the damn place and cleared't out besides! After some cha'in' I be thinkin' that someone ain't too 'appy 'bout us le'in' some o' the goblins off the hook and the deal we cut with the kobolds. Total nonsense if ye ask me. Figured I'd come back ta where I was appreciated, 'specially since ya got a fancy new map ta follow--maybe it'll lead ta a new find!"

Muziel starts petting Echo, but hears a squeak from inside his robes. "Oh Nibs, the cat ain't gonna eat ya, ah promise that!" A rat peeks out momentarily, gets one glance from Echo, and scurries away once more. "Might take a bit o' time, m'lady." He decides to give Echo some space and feeds Nibs to help the rat calm down.

Sense Motive DC18 thug: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12

"We've been spo'ed!" exclaims Muziel. "We goin' in or leavin'?" he asks, uncertain of the objective.

Gravi looks to the others, Well, I suppose this is the moment then, do we stay and have a little street brawl, or fade back into the shadows? I think this may be a great place for a dust-up, but other plans can be considered. And later, I can help show you how to keep that leg elevated while you rest.... he says, grinning.

Wayilant sighs. "This indecision is getting us nowhere", the cleric stated for all. "Time to implore a higher power."

The aasimar puts all the swag leaning against a building by some barrels. Then Wayilant took out his new Deverin rapier, held it high, then pronouced, "Cayden! You decide!"

The caydenite flips the rapier in the air, and sees where it lands.
On 1, the rapier lands pointing at Fatman’s Feedbag.
On a 2, the rapier points down the alley, or just away from the hideout.
Rapier Flip: 1d2 ⇒ 1

Wayilant demeanor changes, as he picks up and dusts off the rapier "Alright, Flagon Slayers, once those doors open, I'll hit our lot with a Cayden blessing. Any other boosts should be done at that time. I should be able to get everyone in the spell. As the bards say, 'Places everyone! Places!'"

The caydenite boldly drags a barrel in the center of the alley. Wayilant sits on the barrel, rapier before him like a cane, waiting for the doors of The Fatman’s Feedbag to open, and singing as merry caydenite tune.

With some time passing as they observe the thugs, Muziel offers a bit of an explanation for his return. "So I was just gettin' in touch with some folks 'eadin' back ta the Ci'adel when one o' the senior archaeologists said I 'aven't been cleared ta survey the site. Can ye believe that? I already surveyed the damn place and cleared't out besides! After some cha'in' I be thinkin' that someone ain't too 'appy 'bout us le'in' some o' the goblins off the hook and the deal we cut with the kobolds. Total nonsense if ye ask me. Figured I'd come back ta where I was appreciated, 'specially since ya got a fancy new map ta follow--maybe it'll lead ta a new find!"

"It seems we both have much to catch up on," Talienda observes after Muziel finishes explaining why he's back with the group. "It's a pleasure to have one of your expertise, Master Muziel," she says with a respectful bow of her head. "I look forward hearing more about what happened after I left."

===

Muziel starts petting Echo, but hears a squeak from inside his robes. "Oh Nibs, the cat ain't gonna eat ya, ah promise that!" A rat peeks out momentarily, gets one glance from Echo, and scurries away once more. "Might take a bit o' time, m'lady." He decides to give Echo some space and feeds Nibs to help the rat calm down.

Noticing the rat's distress, Talienda grimaces and calls for her familiar.

"Echo, come here, please," she says. "No need in both of us causing a fuss."

The cat flits her tail before rubbing Muziel's leg and cantering over to where Talienda has taken a seat. Something like a bemused sigh runs through the link Talienda shares with the cat, and the sorceress chuckles.

"I know you didn't mean any harm, but I don't think Master Muziel needs a panicked critter running about in his robes," she says as she reaches down and picks up the feline.

===

....And later, I can help show you how to keep that leg elevated while you rest.... he says, grinning.

Talienda and Alina both blush at that, though Alina far more than her mistress, being the target of the flirtation.

"Master Magravi," Talienda asks, the attempt at a stern expression and tone undermined by her embarrassment and the nervous quiver in her voice, "Could you please refrain from teasing or flustering Alina when we're about to either run or fight?"

Wayilant sighs. "This indecision is getting us nowhere", the cleric stated for all. "Time to implore a higher power."

The aasimar puts all the swag leaning against a building by some barrels. Then Wayilant took out his new Deverin rapier, held it high, then pronouced, "Cayden! You decide!"

Wayilant demeanor changes, as he picks up and dusts off the rapier "Alright, Flagon Slayers, once those doors open, I'll hit our lot with a Cayden blessing. Any other boosts should be done at that time. I should be able to get everyone in the spell. As the bards say, 'Places everyone! Places!'"

The caydenite boldly drags a barrel in the center of the alley. Wayilant sits on the barrel, rapier before him like a cane, waiting for the doors of The Fatman’s Feedbag to open, and singing as merry caydenite tune.

Talienda silently laments that her violin is back at the Rusty Dragon. It would have been a nice accompaniment to Wayilant's boisterous tune. She takes up a place close by with Alina and waits for the brigands and scoundrels after a bounty on her head to come out. The haze in her mind from when she'd read the tome clears a little as she listens to the cleric of Cayden sing. A wicked smile spreads across her face as she gets Bryndis' attention and beckons her to join her.

"Bryndis," she says softly if the woman comes over, "How would you like to give these miscreants a nasty surprise?"

So, would Bryndis like to be invisible for up to two rounds? If so, Talienda would cast Vanish on her just as the door starts to open.

Please, I am no one's master but my own- but I understand Talienda. It's second nature to me, and part of my religious calling. he winks as he withdraws a potion and downs it. His voice dropping by several octaves, I'll consider this ahead...

Consume: GRavelly Tonic +5 alchemical bonus to intimidate checks for 1 hour

OK, I have put together a custom map for this encounter. That’s why it’s taken me a minute to post. I have placed everyone on the map but realize that each of you might want to strategically place yourselves somewhere else. I am ok with you doing so as long as it’s behind the yellow line I placed on the map. Also, I couldn’t find the image we used for Alina, so I went ahead and made one, which I’m glad to change if you have an image you would prefer. The group has a half round action while the monolog is happening. Anything short of the group talking or leaving will end in initiative and then combat. For the sake of ease, hirelings and familiars act on their PC’s initiative if they want to do something. Also note that non-combat NPC's have a grey circle, bad guys have a red, and PC's have blue.

Wayilant manages to maneuver a rather large barrel into the middle of the alley, while the group meanders around the mercantile waiting for the thugs to re-emerge. You note two men standing nearby negotiating over what sounds like a moderate amount of sausage, while a Halfling woman frets over a crate of fish that she dropped during the process of moving it. Two local ladies exit the mercantile and point over at a vender who has two large barrels of apples just outside his store. A large wooden dock stretches out deep into Sandpoint’s harbor and a small ship happens to be nestled up to the dock closest to Shark Alley. After the thugs bolted back into the Fatman’s Feedbag for a second time, there seemed to a moment of calm just before the tavern’s back door is flung open.

A tall, dark-skinned man, who Liotierri recognizes as the establishment’s barkeep, quickly navigates the rickety wooden steps beneath the door. After walking out into the alley, he is followed by the four thugs, who are now bearing weapons of their own. The first thug, a young crazed looking chap in a sleeveless shirt, walks out while swirling a set of short swords. The second thug, an older looking man, steps down with what looks like a table leg. Although you wouldn’t normally count the weapon as something to be feared, this table leg appears to literally be three times the size of a normal table leg. The third thug, who keeps his face covered with a hood, caries a longbow. The fourth thug, who carries no weapon at all, simply looks sinister. Wearing an extremely dirty top hat to accent his torn up, filthy looking cloths makes the man look completely out of place. Any other time, you would venture to guess him to be a homeless peassant.

After the five men exit the tavern, the barkeep looks over at Wayilant as he sits on top of the large barrel. “I would suggest that you and your friends be gone. I’m not in a playful mood. This is your one and only chance to leave here in one piece.” He states in a undeniably serious tone. Before anyone has a chance to respond, he looks back over his shoulder and yells. “BOB GET OUT HERE IN CASE THESE FOOLS DECIDE NOT TO LEAVE!”

After the barkeep yells, a massive seven-foot-tall half-orc ducks under the tavern’s door frame and then walks down the rickety steps, which creak under his weight. The man-beast's intimidating size is magnified by a series of pieced together spiked armor and a massive, thick looking cleaver of a sword. The two-handed blade is slightly smaller than a great sword but twice as thick.

“Just in case you get a crazy idea about getting stooped out here, I want you to meet BOB.” He says while pointing a thumb over at the large half-orc. “Bob here is a three-time gladiator champion. He has never been defeated and, well, simply put, he will kick your -asses- up and down this ally.”