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Eastern Isger, Village of Breachill, Rova 1, The Day of the Call for Heroes.
Isger is a troubled land. Having spent the better half of a millennia bending its knee to the diabolical lords of Cheliax; it is a land that still bears scars from the Goblinblood Wars two decades hence. But even in troubled Isger there are places of peace and (relative) prosperity. Take the idyllic town known as Breachill.
The folk there are the just the type to help one another when down on their luck, or to welcome strangers in for a spot of tea or a bowl of stew. The town's guardsmen carry saps as their only weapons, and usually go about unarmored. In fact, guards are rarely needed for much beyond breaking up the occasional drunken row in one of the local watering holes. The worship of Asmodeus, which the former overlords from Cheliax are eager to spread, is all but unthinkable here. Instead dreaming Desna, playful Cayden, and artful Shelyn draw most of the town's deific allegiance. Most of the reverence, however, is reserved for another.
Breachill loves adventurers. As citizens are quite happy to tell anyone who will listen, their town was founded – indeed, saved -- by an adventurer, an itinerant wizard named Lamond Breachton. Breachton found a group of starving, half-frozen and wholly amnesiac people wandering in the wilderness and showed them how to create shelter, how to hunt prey and sow plants, and how to found a town that was ultimately named after him.
And so, each month, to honor their patron, and to give local adventurer steady pay, they hold the Call For Heroes. Now word has gotten out to the surrounding region. Simply trek out to Breachill, attend the meeting at the town hall, and the council will pay adventurers good, honest money to help the folks solve odd problems, be it a strange beast in the woods, a haunted family heirloom, or a basement full of giant rats. And so, here you are, for one reason or another, adventurers looking for coin on the morning of the Call.
Those who have been in Breachill for a while know that the place to be before the Call is the Wizard’s Grace tavern. Heck, even out-of-towners were told, perhaps more than once, when asked their business in the town. Prospective Heroes are always directed to this establishment to have a bowl of spicy boar stew with lentils before undertaking a quest – a tradition started by the grandfather of the current proprietor, Trinil Uskwold. Polite refusal to attend elicits lots of eye-rolling and warnings that it’s bad luck to break from such traditions, so here you are, in the crowded common room of the tavern at about ten in the morning.
The Wizard’s Grace (another reference to town patron Lamond Breachton) is clean and well-kempt, and it’s clear that Trinil prides herself in its upkeep. Tables are polished to a shine and don’t wobble, there’s a sign by the door politely reminding patrons not to spit on the floor, and the food is made from fresh ingredients in a kitchen free from vermin. The walls of the place are decorated with various trophies from past adventurers, each with a small plaque underneath denoting who retrieved it and what trial they had to undergo to achieve such a feat. A pleasant autumn breeze wafts in through the open windows. It’s early, yet the place is already packed with customers. Customers who all want to hear from YOU. Because this month, you are answering the Call. And that makes you very popular indeed.
So introduce yourselves! Where would you sit? Are you feeling the stew? Did any of you come in together? Are you excited for the Call? Annoyed by the crowd? The councilors are not present, as they are preparing for the council meeting, but many of the other folks from Breachill (see the Players Guide once again) could be. The game is afoot, and the next move is up to you!
A young man -- well, a teenager, sits at a table by himself, idly playing with his daggers. He has a shield bow on his back and wears simple leather armor.
He eyes others cautiously, and sometimes will introduce himself to others in his most grown-up voice, "Hi. I'm Samael. I'm... looking for work. Honest work."
For those that don't respond, he will busy himself eating his soup. Actually, if you notice, he has not really been eating it, but has been making the motions of eating it, as if he doesn't want to finish it and have to leave without getting a paying job.
Amidst the convivial chaos of the Wizard's Grace, Greyson Reeve carried an air of quiet confidence. With a square jaw, earnest eyes, and short, clipped hair, his presence commanded attention without a word. Broad shoulders were set beneath a well-fashioned, yet unadorned breastplate, over which he wore a cloak of blue and white. A sword was strapped to his waist, and a shield adorned with a regal, proud leonine head rested against his back. The aroma of spicy boar stew wafted through the air, a comforting reminder of traditions and the sense of community that defined Breachill.
Grayson’s gaze, thoughtful and assessing, eventually settled on a solitary figure at a nearby table—a young man, barely out of his teens, with the look of someone trying hard to appear more experienced than his years suggested. The teenager, daggers at his side and a shield bow on his back, was practicing the motions of eating rather than actually partaking in the meal before him.
With a decision made, Grayson approached the table, his demeanor open and friendly. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, taking a seat without waiting for an objection. "You're new in town, aren't you? I'm Grayson Reeve. I've seen a lot of folks come through Breachill, especially on days like today." He observed the young man's cautious gaze and the way he introduced himself to others, his voice betraying his attempt to sound more mature.
Grayson nodded, recognizing the blend of hope and desperation that often brought people to the Call for Heroes. "It's a good place for that, Samael. People here look out for each other. What kind of work are you hoping to find?" he inquired, genuinely interested. His own journey had taught him the value of guidance and the importance of lending a hand to those trying to find their footing.
As they talked, Grayson shared a bit about his own connection to Breachill, carefully omitting the deeper currents of loss and duty that had brought him here today. Instead, he focused on the community spirit, the tradition of the Call, and how even those who weren’t born heroes could find themselves stepping into those shoes, given the chance and the need.
In the young Samael, Grayson saw a spark of potential and perhaps a reflection of his own younger self—eager to prove his worth and to find a purpose amidst the uncertainties of a life that had already shown its harsher edges.
"If it's tradition, who am I to turn it down," Violant says as she consumes the stew handed to her at a reasonable pace. Tradition can be hit or miss. On one hand, you can have a father who shoves all his human traditions into your face against your will, but on the other you have beautiful towns like these with the traditions going back to their founding, like the Hero's Call in Breachhill.
If asked to introduce herself, she introduces herself as "Violant Turra, Professor of Mathematics at Leipstadt, here on vacation" as she is more than proud to have earned that position, even if it hasn't started yet! Of course, she also doesn't want to reveal why she's on vacation, given that that horrible incident just as she was about to graduate, gave her an excuse to find herself while doing some minor adventuring. The fairly young-looking half-elf keeps largely to herself, hoping to avoid any form of confrontation.
The moment she sees Grayson, however, she closes her in-progress work. She then sits down and introduces herself to Samael. "Mind if I join you two," she asks. Assuming the request is granted, she starts to introduce herself. "From what I've seen of the town so far, it is indeed a good place to work. I'm Violant Turra, it's a pleasure to meet you Samael. I... take it you're here for the Call as well?" She gives an acknowledging nod to Grayson. Normally she wouldn't go out of her way to introduce herself to new people, but if they're also here for the Call, she might as well, as there's a chance they could be working together.
Samael gulps loudly, "Yes, I'm here for the Call." You can almost hear the capitalization in his voice. "I'm pretty down on my luck. I was hoping to earn some coin. Not many seem to trust my sincerity. But, I've been around. I know a lot. And, I can handle a tussle. Maybe if we band together, we can get ahead of the others?"
The door of the tavern opens and a broad shouldered female with olive green skin, long dark hair pull back from her face. Two ivory tusks jut out from her bottom jaw and a small wooden holy symbol hung from a leather cord around her neck. As she walked farther into the tavern you notice a painted shield fastened across her back. The bright colors of white and yellow depict a winged glowing woman.
The female walks up to the barkeep and orders a bowl of stew and a mug of ale and looks around the tavern. Her eyes fall on a table with 3 adventurers, she glups down a large drink of her ale and saunters over to the table.
"Hello, are you all here for the Call? I just got into town, I'm Lyra" she sets down her bowl and mug, and extends a hand in greeting. "Lyra Flamecrest, devotee of Lady Firesword herself."
Grayson greeted Violant with a warm smile, his eyes betraying a mixture of relief and concern. "Violant, it's good to see you," he began, taking a seat beside her. "How have you been? I trust your time at the Archives is being well spent?"
As Samael spoke of his reasons for being at the Call, Grayson listened attentively, his brow furrowing slightly with empathy. "I understand the feeling, Samael," he replied, his voice steady and reassuring. "But you're not alone here. If you need a place to stay while you're in town, my family's home is open to you. It's the least I can do."
Turning his attention to Lyra as she approached, Greyson rose from his seat and extended a hand in greeting. "Greetings, Lyra," he said respectfully. "I'm Grayson Reeve. Welcome to Breachill. Lady Firesword, you say? I must admit, I'm not familiar with that aspect of Sarenrae's teachings. Would you care to enlighten me?"
The doors to the tavern swing open, and at first nobody seems to be there, but then as your eyes focus downward you see a smiling, strutting Gnome enter the tavern. He is unarmored but has a steel shield with a caricature of a smiling dragon emblazoned on it. It looks like it was recently added as the paint job is immaculate. He uses a long spear as a walking staff, and nods and smiles to everyone as he walks in.
The patrons of the bar seem to recognize him... some roll their eyes, some smile, and a few scowl.
"Hello all! Let the festivities begin. The star of the show the incomparable Oppa Silk has now arrived. And don't worry I didn't bring my friend this time... though she is truly sorry for the last call. She didn't mean to knock over that... well those three tables full of food and drink last time. I can assure you I am much nimbler alone".
As the gaily dressed Gnome peers about the room many of the patrons pull their chairs apart not leaving enough room for another diner. The Gnome wears a green beanie type hat, a White blouse with a red vest unbuttoned to show his growing gut, and a pair of yellow and purple diagonally striped pants.
He looks about for somewhere to sit and notices a table of strangers who don't seemed to have closed ranks to prevent another diner.
As he hopefully approached the table, he noticed that there was one town folk here... Grayson Reeve... of course the one individual that ended up hosting most of the food and drink that Doxie had knocked over during the last call. He had his back to the door as Oppa entered and the gnome scampered to the table hoping to grab a seat before he could warn the others.
"Hi Travellers. Room for one more". He looks plaintively at Grayson hoping for another chance. "Sir Grayson".
Samael gapes a bit. "You star in a show? I worked in a show. But, I never got to perform."
”burp”!
Doxie looks at the acolyte ‘blessed’ with dragon sitting him.
”More please”.
The young dragon sniffed everything and stomped around The Great Dreamhouse knocking over miscellaneous things as the young priest scampered behind her picking things up in her path.
”When is Opa coming back? I’m bored”.
"I've been as well as usual, and my time in the Archives has been as fruitful as always, Grayson. It's glad to see you here as well," Violant adds. The Archives are where the large majority of her time is spent, after all. She does not comment when Lyra comes in, at least beyond a polite hello and a wave, as she doesn't know much of the other faiths. She tends to keep herself to the three she worships, and they have never steered her wrong once in life.
Once the gnome struts in, however, Violant's witch's hat nearly falls off as she looks down at the gnome. "Hm? And what friend would that be," she says. After a few minutes, and a few more tastes of stew and water, she actually introduces herself to the two new arrivals. "Oh! Where are my manners. I'm Violant Turra, professor of Mathematics at Leipstadt University, here on a sabbatical," which, while not a lie, was certainly hiding the truth that she had never yet taught at Leipstadt. Best not bring the Radiant Fire up when Grayson is here, she thinks to herself.
Joining the table and having a bite of the stew, Lyra looks towards Grayson. "Ullkrakisk Shuullkr-aa', she invokes the name reverently with a touch to her holy symbol, "Lady Firesword is a local name for The Dawnflower, Sarenrae. I tend to forget that once I am no longer with my fellow clerics some of her names aren't as known." Gesturing to the table she seems excited to speak about her patron. "Are any of you interested in her teachings?"
Greyson offered a warm nod of recognition to Oppa Silk as the lively gnome approached their table, though memories of their previous encounter lingered in the back of his mind. "Master Silk, it's good to see you," he greeted, his tone polite though perhaps tinged with a hint of caution. "Please, join us. There's always room for one more." Despite his reservations, Greyson believed in second chances, and he was willing to give Oppa another opportunity to prove himself, though he did, surreptitiously, look around for Doxie.
As Samael expressed his surprise at Oppa's claim of starring in a show, Greyson chuckled softly, finding common ground in their shared experiences. "It seems we've all had our share of unexpected adventures," he remarked, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Perhaps today's Call will provide us with a chance to add another chapter to our tales."
Turning his attention to Violant as she introduced herself to the newcomers, Greyson listened with interest, noting the subtle nuances in her words and demeanor. She always seemed, cautious, when she mentioned her tenure at the university, he made a mental note to inquire about the University when the opportunity arose, sensing there was more to her story than met the eye.
When Lyra explained the name for Sarenrae and offered to share more about her teachings, Greyson's curiosity was piqued. "Lady Firesword, a name for Sarenrae I hadn't heard before," he mused, intrigued by the notion. "I would be honored to learn more about her teachings, Lyra. It's always fascinating to gain insight into different aspects of faith." With a respectful nod, Greyson welcomed the opportunity to broaden his understanding of the divine.
"Well I'm a star without a show at the moment... but if you'd like to see my skills I'd be happy to demonstrate".
The colorful Gnome begins to nod his head, and dance in place, looking around to make sure he had others attention.
"I'm missing my partner in beat... but I'll do my best".
He then begins a strange rhythmic chanting.
"Dancing in the crowd, feeling so alive
Making connections, got no time to connive
Singing along with the music, feeling the vibe
Can't fake the energy, can't even describe
Strangers turned squad, we all in sync
From dusk 'til dawn, no time to overthink".
Perform: Rap
"As a devout follower of the Welcomer herself," Violant says as she taps the silver holy symbol of Alseta hanging around her neck, "hearing different facets of most faiths is always an enlightening experience, so do share. " As she speaks, she breathes a sigh of relief, as she's more than happy to get the topic off of herself.
Afterwards, she listens to Oppa with odd amusement, having never heard such an odd type of performance before in her life. Granted, she didn't exactly seek out many a performance, let alone the odd and esoteric kinds!
The villagers, ecstatic to see the common hall filling with new heroes try to determine if they know him or not, and then a rousing cheer with many saluting the new arrivals with raised earthenware mugs. "Huzzah for the Heroes!" they cry, making the natural leap from a stranger so armed and armored. Its not long before a piping hot bowl of lentil stew slide in front of those gathered, along with tankards of ale. "You'll not be buyin' yer own brew on me watch," calls an old gaffer from the bar, pointing a cane at you all. "I buy all the heroes a round I do, reminds me o' me own youth. I can tell you a story 'bout that that'll curl yer toenails, laddie.' He starts in but is quickly interrupted by someone else from the bar, and his story is lost in the shuffle.
As Oppa demonstrates his unique song, accompanied by his dragon, the villagers look around at each other, confused, not sure if to be impressed or scared by the performance, before one old drunk man raises a tankard of ale and cheers loudly "Y'aah Sonny, I like it!" and then others raise their mugs and join the cheer as the a common hall is again filled with raucous noise.
Grayson you recognize nattily dressed halfling man wearing a bowler hat and bow tie, and grinning up at you with a twinkle in his eye, "So you've finally decided to join the Call, eh?. Crink Twiddleton, the proprietor of Quarters and Bits here in town, f I may say so. Perhaps, after the Call, and before you go gallivanting off into an adventure, you'd pay me a courtesy call. Would be worth your time, sir and no question." Crink pokes his smallish hand out, expecting a shake and an agreement, a grin crossing his face.
The villagers, ecstatic to see the common hall filling with new heroes try to determine if they know him or not, and then a rousing cheer with many saluting the new arrivals with raised earthenware mugs. "Huzzah for the Heroes!" they cry, making the natural leap from a stranger so armed and armored. Its not long before a piping hot bowl of lentil stew slide in front of those gathered, along with tankards of ale. "You'll not be buyin' yer own brew on me watch," calls an old gaffer from the bar, pointing a cane at you all. "I buy all the heroes a round I do, reminds me o' me own youth. I can tell you a story 'bout that that'll curl yer toenails, laddie.' He starts in but is quickly interrupted by someone else from the bar, and his story is lost in the shuffle.
As Oppa demonstrates his unique song, accompanied by his dragon, the villagers look around at each other, confused, not sure if to be impressed or scared by the performance, before one old drunk man raises a tankard of ale and cheers loudly "Y'aah Sonny, I like it!" and then others raise their mugs and join the cheer as the a common hall is again filled with raucous noise.
Grayson you recognize nattily dressed halfling man wearing a bowler hat and bow tie, and grinning up at you with a twinkle in his eye, "So you've finally decided to join the Call, eh?. Crink Twiddleton, the proprietor of Quarters and Bits here in town, f I may say so. Perhaps, after the Call, and before you go gallivanting off into an adventure, you'd pay me a courtesy call. Would be worth your time, sir and no question." Crink pokes his smallish hand out, expecting a shake and an agreement, a grin crossing his face.
Oppa doesn't have Doxie with him at the moment due to the catastrophe last time he brought her in. Her brief appearance is when he left her with a sitter at the temple to Desna, before he got too far away and she popped out of existance.
Grayson offered Oppa an encouraging nod, acknowledging his vibrant performance. "Your unique spirit is invaluable, Oppa. Such energy can inspire us in unexpected ways," he said, appreciating the gnome's contribution to the group's dynamic. He listened to the conversation between Violant and Lyra, but was interrupted by the sudden arrival of the well dressed halfling and proprietor of the Quarter and Bits.
Upon meeting Crink Twiddleton, Grayson remained courteous yet cautious, recognizing their potential business rivalry. Shaking his hand, he spoke, "Mr. Twiddleton, a pleasure. I look forward to visiting Quarters and Bits. It's essential for Breachill's wellbeing that we support each other," he stated diplomatically, he thought to focus on communal success rather than any, potential, business rivalry.
"Excuse me Sister Violant," says the deep rasping voice of a half-orc at his shoulder. "Could I trouble you a moment? I hear you are also joining the call today? Is that right? Not sure we have had the pleasure, but I am the town's archivist, Jorell Blacktusk." He greets you formally with a firm handshake, and you notice his fingers are all discolored with fading purple/black ink-stains.
"Just wanted to ask, if you come across any historically significant documents while on your Adventure, would you please consider letting me see them or donating them to the Town Archive. Especially things to do with Breachill's history. You know, Lamond Breachton, the Goblinblood wars, the Order of the Nail or anything like that. You see, I am preparing a definitive work on the town's history and..." He rambles on for a few more minutes but you get the basic gist.
Meanwhile, Sam you can't help but notice that the ginger haired servinggirl has been watching you, as you meet eyes from across the bar she blushes and looks away before rushing off to serve another patron. Before long though you notice she is gradually inching closer to your table without trying to be overtly obvious that she is coming toward you.
"Yes," Violant replies, "I've finally decided to answer the call. And you have my word that I'll give any documents on Breachhill history to the Archives. I have no reason to hoard it, after all." She gives a smile and a thumbs-up to the ink-stained half-orc beside her as she speaks. She's seen the arrchivist around, but has always been to busy with her head buried in one book or another, or some older scrolls, to actually go up and meet him. That would probably change in the upcoming weeks if she found any documents to donate to the Archives, of course!
"It's time for the meeting to start," says Trinil, the tavern owener, her voice cutting through noise of the crowd. "Line up and pay your tab! No welching!" She laughs at this and the room comes back to life. "Those answering the Call, its on the House." says the bar owner.
The Wizard's Grace is the gathering place before the Call, partly because of the fine fare and fellowship, but also because it lies just across the road from Town Hall, where the call actually takes place. The townsfolk file out (after paying, you all note) and across the road to the wooden structure of the Hall. A stained glass cupola tops the two story structure and the doors are held open by a pair of guardsmen, who look a little bored frankly.
As all of you cross, following the crowd, you catch a glimpse of the Monument Circle beyond the Hall. There a marble-paved circle stands, with six deep water wells surrounding it. In the center of the ring is an elegant 15' tall bronze statue of the wizard Lamond Breachton, town founder and original hero.
As you enter the Town Hall Chamber, the room is already filled with 30-40 residents, gathered to watch the events and cheer on any Heroes chosen. inside the council chamber, you see that the room is set up as an auditorium, with a carpeted walkway separating several rows of benches into two sections. The carpet leads to a small set of steps and a raised dais. On the dais is a large desk separated into five parts, where the Breachill Town Council’s five members are seated, talking quietly with one another as they wait for the meeting to start. On the desk, situated in front of each chair, are tarnished bronze plaques bearing the names of the council members. From east to west, the names are Jorsk Hinterclaw, Melma Ann Sendari, Greta Gardania, Trini Sprizzlegig, and Quentino Posandi. Melma, Greta, and Quentino are humans, Jorsk is a dwarf, and Trini is a gnome.
Samael is excited to go with the others into the Town Hall chamber.
"Oh, look. In the middle up there. I know who that is. It's Greta Gardania. She's the council president."
"Yep. That's her, I know all the council". Oppa waves enthusiastically to everyone who meets his eye. "I've been here almost a year now... but am having trouble finding a group of adventurers who appreciate my skills... and some of them are kind of scared of Doxie".
About that time the young dragon bumps Samaels side and gazes up in search of random snacks.
"Hmm??" Violant unsurprisingly surprisingly asks, as she hasn't had much dealings with the council as of yet. She presumably had her head somewhere else entirely, as she didn't recognize the councilwoman at a first glance.
Society
Having just come into town for the Call Lyra isn't familiar with any of the town's council yet.
She continues walking into the TownHall and finds a spot 2 rows from the front of the dais on the western side of the room.
Grayson nodded respectfully to Jorell Blacktusk, his gaze briefly flickering with recognition. "Of course, Master Blacktusk. You can count on me to keep an eye out for any relevant documents during our travels," he replied, his tone sincere. Knowing his mother's involvement with the archives, Grayson felt a sense of duty to contribute to their collective efforts in preserving Breachill's history.
Trinil's announcement signaled the start of the meeting, prompting the patrons to settle their tabs and make their way across the road to Town Hall. Grayson followed the crowd, his gaze drawn to the elegant statue of Lamond Breachton at Monument Circle, a symbol of Breachill's proud heritage and resilience.
Entering the Town Hall Chamber, Grayson observed the residents gathered eagerly, ready to support the heroes chosen for the day's tasks. As he took his place among the attendees, he noted the council members seated on the dais, their names and positions displayed with tarnished bronze plaques. With a sense of anticipation, Grayson prepared to participate in the proceedings, eager to see what challenges awaited them and how they could best serve Breachill.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked Lyra politely, gesturing to the empty space beside her. Without waiting for a response, he settled into the seat, offering a friendly smile. The chamber buzzed with anticipation as the proceedings were about to begin, but in this moment, Grayson found a sense of camaraderie in sharing this space with Lyra, a fellow adventurer in the making.
With a respectful nod to Lyra, Grayson shifted his focus to the front of the room, where the council members were seated on the raised dais. As the meeting commenced, he prepared himself to engage fully in the discussions and decisions that would shape the day's endeavors.
With a sharp rap from her gavel onto the desk, a stern, dark-haired woman with a deeply furrowed forehead and kind eyes brings the assembled crowd to a hush.
“Welcome, neighbors and friends...” the dark-haired woman begins, her rich voice washing over the room, “...to the Breachill Town Council’s monthly Call for Heroes. I am Council President Greta Gardania, at your service. On behalf of my colleagues beside me, I promise you all that we will hear and consider today’s petition with the utmost discretion and care. There is no existence without community, as our town charter says."
“Today, our agenda includes one petition. Miss Warbal, our very own ambassador to the Bumblebrashers of Hellknight Hill, requests the help of heroes for a matter of utmost importance. Let’s hear her concerns in her own words, shall we? Miss Warbal?"
At this summons, Warbal emerges from the front row of benches. The well-dressed wearing fancy white scholarly robes with a black cap perched atop her oddly shaped head, makes her way to the foot of the dais’s steps. She clears her throat, wipes her eyes, and begins her address to the council
“Esteemed councilors,”Warbal says, with a frazzled tone to her cracking voice. “It has been more than a month since I’ve been able to contact the Bumblebrashers. I fear that something terrible has befallen them. What’s more, I have seen my people’s distress signal coming from the top of Citadel Altaerein—”
Before the goblin can continue her petition, the door on the western side of the room flies open, as a young man, his eyes wide with panic, runs in shouting and waving his ink-stained hands. Billowing black smoke and flames follow him into the room: “Fire! There’s a fire! Everyone flee!”
Initiative:
26 ????
23 Lyra Flamecrest
21 Grayson Reeve
21 Oppa Silk
16 Doxie (Eidolon)
16 Townpeople
15 Councilors
13 Violant Turra
13 Samael Doulen
10 Fire
Surprised as black smoke and billowing flame enter the Council chamber from the western door, and hungrily lick at the wood plank walls and floor the would-be heroes are called into action sooner than expected.
As the fire enters the room immediately is full of panicked townspeople. They jump to their feet, knock over benches, fill up the aisles and generally get in the way.
"Everyone out!" shouts Greta Gardania over the din, as she sees the chaos erupting in the room.
A horrible cackling sounds, like laughter, but more shrill, comes from the open door way as the conflagration rushes in.
Inside the burning flames, you see a tiny fiery figure flying along fanning the inferno. It has bright-orange skin, and wisps of flame flicker along its wings as they flap through the air. If you see the creature, you may attempt a DC 15 Arcana or Nature Recall Knowledge check to identify. Recall Knowledge is an action, so keep that in mind.
Amidst the sudden outbreak of panic and the rush of heat from the flames, Grayson's response is immediate and instinctual. With a commanding voice, he bellows to the crowd, "Stay calm and move to the exits in an orderly fashion!" His tone, authoritative and calm, cuts through the growing chaos, providing a beacon of control in the pandemonium.
Wasting no time, Grayson vaults over the chairs with the agility of a seasoned fighter, his movements swift and purposeful. As he lands, he draws his sword and raises his shield, ready to confront the fiery adversary.
Moving towards the fire elemental, Grayson positions himself strategically, aware of the creature's potential to spread the flames further or lash out at the evacuating townsfolk. His focus is singular: to engage the elemental, contain the threat it poses, and ensure it does not harm anyone during the evacuation.
"Focus on getting everyone out safely!" Grayson shouts over his shoulder to his companions, assuming they'll assist in the evacuation or join him in confronting the elemental, based on their own skills and inclinations.
As the first line of defense, Grayson readies himself for the elemental's next move, shield up to protect against the searing heat, his sword ready to strike.
Lyra jumps up and tries to help keep the townfolk calm as they rush to leave the hall. "Be quick, before the flames spread"
Turning back towards Violant she says "It looks like a small fire elemental is stoking the flames!"
Violant starts talking to herself (and attempting to respond to Lyra) as she notices a few shapes in the fire:
However, soon after she hears her own voice, you can see a dejected look on her face.
She's clearly panicked, as she's never been in any form of combat scenario besides dealing with something small, where no cooperation is required. Now, due to extreme nerves and possibly some influence from Axis, she's stuck speaking a language no one around her is guaranteed to unerstand. She's all-the-while wildly gesturing to evacuate anyone she can, not being really able to communicate well with stress and anxiety consuming her.
Both Oppa and Doxie start towards the fire.
◆◆◆ Stride, Stride, Stride
"Okay! Don't panic! We have a dragon!".
Oppa runs along the bleacher tops as he bellows so everyone can see him.
"Get the children and elderly out the back door. All able bodied find something to hold water and get it from the fountains outside. Let's get this fire under control".
Initiative:
26 Fire Mephit
23 Lyra Flamecrest
21 Grayson Reeve
21 Oppa Silk
16 Doxie (Eidolon)
16 Townpeople
15 Councilors
13 Violant Turra
13 Samael Doulen
10 Fire
The party snaps into action, Lyra, Grason and Doxie the dragon rush the flames, preparing for any sort of hostility from the troublesome Fire Mephit.
While Oppa starts to direct traffic and try to take control of the situation before a full panic ensues while Violant begins speaking in tongue, looking panicked!
The councilors look aghast and start trying to run for the entrance, Greta the councilwomen, shouting "Everyone remain calm, no body panic, move orderly to the exit without running anyone else over!"
Not knowing what's going on, Samael tries to convince folk to get out of the room in an orderly fashion.
"Please everyone. Form a line and move out in an orderly manner. I'm Samael. I'll make sure you will be fine."
Then, remembering what Oppa said, Samael continues, "There are fountains outside. Please continue in your line, and form a bucket brigade to help me put out the fire."
Then, Samael will move toward the fire, and draw his bow.
Violant tries to direct the crowd into the line that's going outside the door, and gives an exaggerated thumbs up upon hearing the words "Bucket Brigade". She then readies her spellbook and dagger and attempts to hurl her dagger at the Mephit, even from this distance, being propelled forward towards the mephit, and then back to her hand, by magic.
Samael looks at Violant quizzically. "Are you talking to me. I heard my name."
Violant gives a dejected sigh of realization.
As Violant speaks, a bit of draconic acid seeps out of her lips, right upon her scar, which she clears up with a wipe of her gloved hand.
Initiative:
26 Fire Mephit 5 damage
23 Lyra Flamecrest
21 Grayson Reeve
21 Oppa Silk
16 Doxie (Eidolon)
16 Townpeople
15 Councilors
13 Violant Turra
13 Samael Doulen
10 Fire
Samael tries to entreat the crowd to form a bucket brigade using the fountain outside, his words ring clearly through the ever increasing levels of panic that are building. Violant continues her weird speech and then throws a dagger at the Fire Mephit hiding in the flames with extreme precision, scoring a cruel hit on the creature.
As the fire continues to pour in, aided by the fire mephit's devious laughing, it continues to spread, easily burning the wooden building. Folks closer to the mephit see its wound from Violant's dagger start to repair itself, no doubt some form of fire aided regeneration.
Without a shock and a loud bang, the northern door behind the Councilor's podium explodes outward, spilling more fire into the room. Smoke quickly begins to fill the space. Many of the remaining townsfolk are starting to fall into a panic. Many of them seem unable to find the exit or are so stricken with fear they can't move!
Lyra pulls a piece of metal out of her pocket and it quickly splits into three needle like pieces. With a shout she thrusts her hand forward towards the fiery creature.
After she throws her needle like darts towards the fire she moves back towards the townsfolk closest to her. "Please remain calm, and head towards the exit!"
With a surge of determination, Grayson takes decisive action, his mind focused solely on neutralizing the fire mephit before it can wreak further havoc. Holding his breath against the smoke-filled air, he strides purposefully towards the fiery creature, shield raised defensively and longsword gleaming in the flickering light.
Feeling the heat of the flames intensifying around him, Grayson raises his voice above the crackling inferno, calling out to his allies amidst the chaos. "Focus on the townsfolk!" he shouts, his words cutting through the din of panic and desperation. With a determined gaze, he gestures towards the frightened residents, urging his companions to prioritize their safety above all else.
The mephit, sensing danger, lets out a shrill cackle, its flames dancing with malicious glee. But Grayson remains undeterred, closing the distance with swift, purposeful steps. As he reaches striking distance, he swings his longsword with practiced precision, aiming to cleave through the elemental's fiery form and disrupt its destructive influence.