Age of Ashes (Team Dahak)

Game Master Delta Arena

It is the morning before the Call for Heroes. The people of Breachill are already tending to their businesses as usual, even though the general excitement makes mundane tasks easier to forget. And nowhere is the excitement more vibrant than at the Wizard's Grace, the local tavern, where adventurers and curious citizens gather to speculate about the jobs being offered, and about who will take those jobs.

The tavern itself is filled with the smell of boar stew and lentils as Trinil Uskwold (Female Human Innkeeper), dressed in her leather apron, merrily hands the traditional dish to everyone in the room.

Where is everyone sitting and what do other people see when they look your way? Take this time to introduce as much of your characters as you want and to wrap up character creation. If you have any questions the discussion section should be up as well.

Also handing out soup, a quiet humanoid makes quick polite movements supplying those gathered with hot brothy nourishment.

His face the color of a spring rose, leaves and thorns adorn his body like a vestment, but a closer inspection reveals that this is in fact his "skin" - browns and greens making rounded convex alternating shapes, elements of a golden ratio spiraling their pattern together, the organic matter of their constitution a simple run like a garden untended by an interposing hand. His eyes, too, a bright red, sharp, somehow contrasted with his soft bearing, catching every detail, his judgement of micro-interactions acute, but unshowing on his handsomely floral face, and paradoxically kind. He wears a poncho, and is dressed in fashionable but sturdy traveller's clothes, his boots well-worn and well-kept.

As the trickle of guests winds down, Jakun Thorn goes to sit down next to [redacted], handing [him or her] a bowl as well, the budding friendship between them simple, sharing a moment of silence and delighted at it's yet-unbroken calm.

Attention focused up front.

Vrosi sit at table in middle of room. Watch door. Grunt a lot. Take bowl of slop from vegetable covered, red-eyed person. Drink soup.

Vrosi point at himself, "I'm Vrosi. Thanks for slop." Vrosi is a tusked, roughly greyish orc. He has a bow at his back and wears armor. His hands are scarred and calloused.

A middle-aged human man in very simple clothes approaches the soup distribution table. He is clearly hungry as can be verified by his mouth that keeps eating something imaginary. He carries a book by his side, which is clearly a spellbook. It reads "A Dwarf Mason's dream" on the cover.

He picks some soup and doesn't even notice the unique nature of the man handing it out. He motions towards a table where a younger woman, in her 20's, is sitting and says "Hello, thank you. That is my sister, may I have a second bowl so I can bring it to her, please?"

His tone is very apologetic, as if he is afraid to be scolded for asking for more food.

Trinil smiles at you and approaches the table.

"But of course! Today is a day for feasting. We want the candidate heroes of Breachill to be well fed, after all."

She laughs at her own joke and serves you the second bowl.

"I assume you are answering the call today, you certainly look dressed for it."

"slop"

Jakub files the orchish word for soup away in the Garden Labyrinth of his mind (his considerable long-term memory), noting the scarred and calloused hands of the rough warrior before him. He nods and smiles, watching him watch the door as well.

Hearing the dwarf's call for seconds (really: second firsts), a graceful and expedient stride circles our floral hero to the soup bowl and back with another hot "slop" - he hands it to the sister, again without a word, merely a polite nod.

And returns quickly to his seat, pressing his attentions once more towards the front of the room, simultaneously helpful but making as little bother as possible before the day's business events proceed.

@Jakub: Correction, Markus is human. His spellbook has dwarf in it.

Markus says, bowing really low to Trinil, "Thank you. May Shelyn brighten your day. And yes, I do hope to answer the call, but... please keep it down, my sister is... not very fond of the idea."

Proudly lifting his recently emptied bowl up high above his head, the 3' 6 inch green, big-eared Goblin clears his throat.
Dis bees da bestest ov da boar stew and lentils!

Dressed in green and tan leathers, with an obvious symbol of a Mug on his chest and shield (casually slung on his back), the smiling Goblin clears his throat (politely) again.
Dis heroes business bees git'n mees hungrys!

Shuffling his black booted feet, scratching an annoying elbow inch on the handle of his rapier sheathed at his left side, absently blowing the feather from his broad brim hat back above the rim of his broad brimmed hat, the still grinning Goblin (talents) clears his throat (politely) again.
Hellos? It's Mosquito, da heros! If youses bees feedingmees den mees kin bees youses friend...

The Goblin winks (still lifting his empty bowl, still shuffling his black booted feet, still giving feather blows).....

"My apologies," she says to Markus. "although you might find it difficult to keep it secret for long. The life of a heroes tends to attract attention."

***

She laughs at Mosquito's commentary. It is a friendly laugh. "Have as much as you like Mosquito. Jakub and I are here to serve the future heroes of Breachill. And all heroes are friends here, she closes with a wink.

Then, addressing the whole room, she adds "Now, who would like to propose a toast for some of the future heroes of Breachill?"

He hadn't told Trinil he'd be quitting by answering the call. Perhaps he supposed that she would already know - indeed, someone of his peculiar skillset would be invaluable - extrapolating her estimation of him in the veritable "soup kitchen" of the wider world. Nevertheless, his mind was made up.

Observing the goblin's penchant for fermented beverage, Jakub Thorn disappears once again to retrieve aged, brown, fresh, hoppy, rosey, or watered-down? by ale, beer, liqueur, mead, moonshine, or wine?: 2d6 ⇒ (3, 4) = 7 some fresh mead, and serves it to him discreetly (in a soup bowl)...

...and returns to his seat, attention once again fixed frontward!

As the call for a toast echoes through the lively tavern, Vorgon Bludskar, the goblin whose very essence seems to straddle worlds, rises to his feet with a vigor that belies his small stature. "Oi, mates 'n' future legends!" Vorgon exclaims, his enthusiasm bubbling up with a mischievous gleam in his eye. "We's standin' on da edge o' tales dat ain't even been spun yet, adventures dat ain't even been thunk up! It's like waitin' fer da biggest, baddest mushroom ta pop up in yer garden!"

"But let's not ferget," he continues, his voice taking on a more ominous tone, "da path o' hero-stuff's got more twists 'n' turns den a wurm in a maze. It's tough, it's dangerous, 'n' it's downright scary. Only da brave—and maybe a few loonies—venture inta da unknown."

Then, as if a quiet calm settles over the room, Vorgon's voice shifts to something almost otherworldly in its tranquility. "But deep down, we's all got dis lil' flame inside us, ya see?" a gleam in his eyes. "A light dat shines even in da darkest places, guidin' us, showin' us da way forward. Whether it's from Glimshyne or from deep down in yer own guts, it's there, waitin' fer ya to fan da flames."

Raising his bowl high, his voice now a mix of excitement and confidence, Vorgon offers a toast that seems to transcend mere words. "So 'ere's to da light within us all—to da craziness we's gonna face 'n' da laughs we's gonna have along da way! May we's burn away da shadows, stick together like da bestest o' pals, 'n' come outta dis mess smellin' like roses!"

As the call for a toast echoes through the lively tavern, Vorgon Bludskar, the goblin whose very essence seems to straddle worlds, rises to his feet with a vigor that belies his small stature. "Oi, mates 'n' future legends!" Vorgon exclaims, his enthusiasm bubbling up with a mischievous gleam in his eye. "We's standin' on da edge o' tales dat ain't even been spun yet, adventures dat ain't even been thunk up! It's like waitin' fer da biggest, baddest mushroom ta pop up in yer garden!"

"But let's not ferget," he continues, his voice taking on a more ominous tone, "da path o' hero-stuff's got more twists 'n' turns den a wurm in a maze. It's tough, it's dangerous, 'n' it's downright scary. Only da brave—and maybe a few loonies—venture inta da unknown."

Then, as if a quiet calm settles over the room, Vorgon's voice shifts to something almost otherworldly in its tranquility. "But deep down, we's all got dis lil' flame inside us, ya see?" a gleam in his eyes. "A light dat shines even in da darkest places, guidin' us, showin' us da way forward. Whether it's from Glimshyne or from deep down in yer own guts, it's there, waitin' fer ya to fan da flames."

Raising his bowl high, his voice now a mix of excitement and confidence, Vorgon offers a toast that seems to transcend mere words. "So 'ere's to da light within us all—to da craziness we's gonna face 'n' da laughs we's gonna have along da way! May we's burn away da shadows, stick together like da bestest o' pals, 'n' come outta dis mess smellin' like roses!"

Only Kiilo could have punctuated Vorgon’s toast with the added bravado it didn’t really need. As the door opened, the dark-skinned young man entered, music accompanying him as though it were natural. The score seemed to swell just as Vorgon raised his drink, and Kiilo bowed his head ever so slightly at the orcish goblin in praise.

Socially, Kiilo’s wings were usually constrained. A remnant of his captivity, a very special wing harness, allowed him to flatten them against his back, so that a simple cloak made him appear to be wingless. A limitation he chose among these folk who first made him feel freedom.

Performing here was a gift. These people in this town called for heroes this day, and yet on any other, they called for mirth and merriment; tonight he obliged both calls. As he glided on the air currents in the hills outside of town during the afternoon sun, he had realized that it was his time.

”ALL HAIL Vorgon the Eloquent!”
Only in Taldor could you hear less accented Taldone than Kiilo’s …

Markus gives his thanks for the extra bowl of soup and bows down used to be afraid to speak more. He goes back to his sister and gives her the extra soup. They eat fast, as though someone is about to take it all away.

When Trinil asks for a toast, Markus suppresses his eye rolling. In his experiences, toasts were just attempts to woo potential sponsors in higher circles. However, when the goblin speaks, he feels more encouraged and side eyes his sister for a second. He says to her "Maybe there's more merriment here than just a place to lay low, huh?" She is not amused, but relaxes a bit.

Mosquito drops his empty bowl to take the filled bowl from the coolest of plants the slurping goblin has seen!
Fresh mead! Praise Cayden Cailean! Heroes drink up! A miracle! The soup has been turns into fresh mead!

The grinning goblin holds his newly empty bowl out....

"Hail Vorgon the Eloquent!" joins in Trinil. She laughs and raises her own tankard. "To the flames and the laughs, and to heroes sticking together for the betterment of Breachill!" She waits for a moment for anyone who want to join in the toast.

'But it is almost noon now, and those of you answering the call or hearing it should head to the Town Hall. Don't be too long or the best sits will be taken."

Vorgon, basking in the unexpected praise and the lively atmosphere following his toast, is quick to respond to Trinil's advice and the camaraderie around him. His eyes, gleaming with the joy of the moment and perhaps a bit of mead-induced merriment, dart around the room, capturing the faces of new friends and future companions in adventure. With a sly grin and the eagerness of a goblin about to dive into a particularly exciting escapade, he stands tall(ish) on his chair, raising his now magically empty bowl for the last time.

"Oi, good folk of Breachill 'n' beyond!" Vorgon exclaims, his voice carrying a mix of enthusiasm and a newfound sense of adventure. "Looks like da time's come fer us to shuffle off to da Town Hall, 'n' claim our seats! Merriment, mystery, 'n' maybe a bit o' mayhem await!."

He hops down from the chair, his movements sprightly, fueled by the excitement of the coming adventure and the camaraderie of the gathered crowd. With a nod to Kiilo, a gesture of respect to Markus and his sister, and a wink to Mosquito, Vorgon strides out, leading the way with an infectious enthusiasm, setting the pace for an afternoon that promises to be the beginning of many great tales.

Vrosi finish slop. Finish drink. Wipe mouth. Stand up. Leave tavern. "Too much talk talk. Vrosi go Call."

Markus and his sister are quick to get up at Trinil's call. He sees the goblin with the excited words walking and decides to keep up the pace. He approaches Vorgon and says "Hello, sir. My name is Markus Swick. I was excited by your words. Pray tell, will you be answering the call?"

Some of the other patrons at the inn stand up and follow suit. There are mostly dressed in simple clothing and bear no armaments. Most of them begin to follow the goblin, the orc and the two humans, while a few leave to other parts of town to conduct their day's business.

Trinil wishes everyone the best of luck as they begin to leave the inn and asks some of her assitants to clean up the table. As they do so, her eyes fall on Jakub.

"Could you help putting the remaining stew away in the backroom?"

"Ah, pleasure to meet ya, Markus!" Vorgon replies, extending a hand in greeting. "I'm Vorgon Bludskar, 'n' yeah, I reckon I'll be answerin' da call. Ya see, it's like dis: at night, I'm plagued by dreams o' dark fires, filled with ash, soot, 'n' screams. But when morning comes, I pray to Glimshyne—what longshanks call da Dawnflower—to make da dreams stop. 'N' ya know what she tells me? She says, 'Go to da Call, Vorgon. Seek out other heroes, 'n' together, ya can quench da flames o' yer nightmares.'"

He pauses, a flicker of determination in his eyes. "So here I am, ready to face whatever comes, 'n' maybe find a way to put an end to these bad fire dreams once 'n' for all."

As he finishes speaking, Vorgon's gaze shifts to Markus's sister, who stands nearby. Seeing her, he feels a pang of empathy, recognizing the weight of her brother's concern for her well-being. With a thoughtful expression, Vorgon draws upon his innate connection to fire, channeling his elemental powers to create a beautiful flame flower in his palm.

"Here ya go, miss," he says gently, offering the radiant blossom to her. "A little somethin' to brighten yer day. 'Tis a gift from da flames, crafted with care."

Though he feels a twinge of sadness knowing she can't hold the flame flower herself, Vorgon's heart swells with a sense of fulfillment, hoping he's brought a moment of joy to Markus's sister, even if just for a fleeting moment.

Extroversion!

The goblins of his home continent were less exuberant - it takes a moment for our otherwise composed floral hero to brace ready to withstand the influx of social energy radiating from the pair outwards. It distracts him. He pauses too when considering the dark stranger, but doesn't fail to notice the feathers lining his face. Little details like these his mind naturally focuses upon - he notices the lump and deduces bound wings, which saddens him somewhat, knowing that constraint festers atrophy. Suddenly:

"Could you help putting the remaining stew away in the backroom?"

Leaping gracefully back into action, Jakub rounds up the empty bowls, balancing them expertly, and deposits them into the cleaning area, wiping them down with a cloth. Reflecting quietly, he ponders the next chapter of his life: Will he heed the Call of Heroes, or leave Breachill to it's fate?!...

Still holding out his newly emptied bowl, Mosquito smiles and at Jakub.
Bees needs one fer da road!

The grinning Goblin motions to the coolest of plants.
Let's goes toos bees heroes!

Markus hears Vorgon's words very respectfully. He says "That's a noble endeavor", referring to him answering the call. However, he has learned not to express himself unless directly asked, so he stays quiet.

When Vorgon address Markus' sister, she answers "Thank you sir. Please, call me Jana." with a short bow. When Vorgon, hands out the flower, it actually continues burning in her hand, although its color is bland and clearly an illusion that she is keeping herself.

An ominous silence falls on the tavern as people leave to the nearby town hall, a mere 150ft away from. It is as if only Jakub, Mosquito and Trinil make any noise inside these walls.

"You see the spirit of adventure in him as well, do you?" Trinil asks to Mosquito. I was afraid this day would come. One rarely travels this far just to settle into a quiet life. So, Jakub, are you answering the call as well?"

***

The crowd gathering in front of the town hall is immediately visible from the entrance to the Wizard's Grace. There are about 40 grown towsfolk, as well as a few children. Most of them are human, but there are some elves and dwarves, as well as a goblin. They are gathered in smaller groups, talking to each other, waiting for the doors to open. The children are playing with wooden swords or sticks, pretending to be heroes themselves.

It dawns upon Jakub that it was expected that he should answer the query using a verbal response - the ways of "animals" continue to elude our floral hero! - so many words to use in disproportion to the actual gesture of any act being communicated. So then.

"Your divining of my spirit, drawing upon your experience with travelers, observes the seed in my mind correctly. I will answer the call." intimacy expressed by his acts of service, the ghoran may be perhaps described as "bad at goodbyes" lacking the need to punctuate his departure with a brief physical bondship (ie, handshake or hug etc) - instead, he quickly cleans the rest of his mess, leaving his work station immaculate, dons his poncha, slings his hunting bow over his shoulder, and departs simply, heading over to the Wizard's Grace.

Pausing outside to delay entry, he looks to the potted plants surrounding the vicinity, and tends to them briefly, reflecting upon his life experiences, and remembers a time...

~) Ancient Memories ➤ Survival

...hundreds of years ago when he had gone on a supply mission with several of his clutchmates and gotten lost in the desert during a sandstorm, having to sleep during the day, and navigate at night by constellation...

Still holding up his not so newly emptied bowl for a refill, the frowning Goblin's eyes just following the doings and then goings of the Coolest of Plants Ever....
Mees feels likes dere bees in failures ta communicates.

Smiling Mosquito decides to refill his not so newly emptied bowl himself And again. And again. And again.

An hour later, a small, but wiry green goblin is seen passed out under the back row when the ceremony begins. There seems to be a newly (or not so newly) empty bowl lying reverently on his lap....

Smiling Mosquito decides to refill his not so newly emptied bowl himself And again. And again. And again.

An hour later, a small, but wiry green goblin is seen passed out under the back row when the ceremony begins. There seems to be a newly (or not so newly) empty bowl lying reverently on his lap....

Am I understanding correctly that you are staying at the Wizard's Grace Tavern while everyone else goes to the ceremony at the town hall?

Apologies. He stumbled to the Town Hall, slide under the last row benches and...

Vorgon regards Markus and Jana with a gentle nod, impressed by the illusion Jana creates to interact with the flame flower. "Dat's quite da talent ya got dere, Jana," he comments, recognizing the skill involved in maintaining such a delicate illusion. "Ah seen wonders, talked to da Glimshyne, but dat? Dat's sumthin' special!"

To Markus, he adds, "Noble, mebbe. Necessary, yup! We all got's calls to answer, eh? Yours seems as important as mine." His tone carries a respect for the quiet strength Markus and his sister share, an acknowledgment of the challenges they've faced and the resilience they've shown. "Will youse sit with me Markus? Mebee we can be heroes together, ya?!"

"With his characteristic enthusiasm, Vorgon strides towards the town hall, his eyes sparkling with the prospect of adventure. The crowd outside is a mosaic of anticipation and excitement. Vorgon greets those he passes with a wide grin, his presence a beacon of energy. Holding the door open for Markus and Jana, he looks into the cavernous town hall, "Buncha big wigs sittin' at da front, huh? We should plop ourselves up dere so's we don't miss a word, ya?" He asks his, much, taller companions.

"Vrosi sit front. People see Vrosi. Call Vrosi."

Trinil observes Jakub as they take care of the plants before leaving the tavern. She is quiet, but understanding. She shakes her head a little and rubs her eyes before going back to work.

***

As Vorgon holds the door open, he notices that there are a couple of guards stations at the entrance. They greet the party, respectfully, although one does it more quiet than the other. The cavernous townhall is mostly made of wood and it is set up like an auditorium. It has several rows of benches facing five tables at the end. The benches are separated by a carpeted hallway and the five table are raised in a large podium.

There is a nameplate on each of the five tables, and there is someone sitting behind it. From left to right, there is Quentino Posandi (Male Human), Trini Sprizzlegig (Female Gnome), Greta Gardania (Female Human), Melma Ann Sendari (Female Human), and Jorsk Hinterclaw (Male Dwarf).

Still talking to one another, the 40 people of the crowd begin to take their sits. The children have left the crowd, gone to play elsewhere, perhaps The fountains at monument circle, behind the town hall.

Vrosi sints in the front row, by the carpeted hallway, on the other side that the only other goblin in attendance. Said goblin is a nervous looking woman dressed in a white gown.

Feel free to place yourselves on the map slide. Vrosi, you should be in the front row by the centre, feel free to choce which side you want. Mosquito, you should be anywhere in the back row. You are also prone as you slid under a bench, I've prepared a little blue arrow to signify it, but feel free to change that for another suitable icon.

As Vorgon holds the door open, he notices the guards stationed at the entrance, their presence adding a sense of solemnity to the proceedings. They greet the party respectfully, though one seems quieter than the other, lost in thought, mayhaps.

Stepping into the cavernous town hall, Vorgon takes in the wooden architecture and the setup resembling an auditorium. His eyes scan the room, noting the rows of benches facing five tables at the end, each adorned with a nameplate. Quentino Posandi, Trini Sprizzlegig, Greta Gardania, Melma Ann Sendari, and Jorsk Hinterclaw—they're likely the key figures leading the gathering.

As the crowd begins to find their seats and settle in, Vorgon spots Vrosi sitting in the front row, near the carpeted hallway. The orc's presence is commanding, a figure of strength amidst the assembly. Beside him sits the only other goblin in attendance—a nervous-looking woman in a white gown.

Deciding to offer some comfort, Vorgon makes his way towards the nervous goblin, reserving two seats for Markus and Jana as he goes. With a warm smile, he takes a seat beside her, offering a reassuring nod. "No need to fret, sista. We're all in this together," he says, his voice carrying a soothing tone. "I'm Vorgon, by da way. What brings ya to da Call, n' why youse got da nervous sweats?"

Jana acknowledges Vorgon's comments and replies simply "All in our family need to learn some magic to survive. I liked to create illusions. It makes life more bearable." She doesn't realize the sorrow in her words.

Markus tries to soften the mood and says "I appreciate your words. I would like very much to call you a... what is it, heroic companion? If we do end up working together, you should know what you're getting involved with." Jana gives Markus a hard look, but doesn't say anything. If Markus noticed, he didn't show it.

He continues "We have come from Kintargo. You know, it has recently separated from Cheliax and... well, ownership of people has been made illegal. The house that, uhm, used to own us, didn't like this very much. They've tried to smuggle us back into Cheliaxian territory in order to keep us. We've escaped, but... they are likely not to let this slide. Which means that one day or another we might come across a headhunter. And it's going to be a fight to the death." He leaves the words hanging.

Later...

Markus interjects and says "My sister has never gone beyond the study of paintings, but I am an architect and am well versed in wizardry as well. I do think I can be handy in a fight."

Stuffed soundly simply snoring sleeping softly, a small, but wiry goblin is under the benches in the last row of the Town Hall. The Storm of sounds seem not to suspend his siesta.

If one would happen to notice the goblin resting quite peacefully in not so much as prayer, but in homage to those dark times outside in the strange wilderness, one may find a pleasant smiles spread across his mouth (along with the aroma of good mead)....

Deciding to offer some comfort, Vorgon makes his way towards the nervous goblin, reserving two seats for Markus and Jana as he goes. With a warm smile, he takes a seat beside her, offering a reassuring nod. "No need to fret, sista. We're all in this together," he says, his voice carrying a soothing tone. "I'm Vorgon, by da way. What brings ya to da Call, n' why youse got da nervous sweats?"

"Oh, I didn't notice you approaching," says the Goblin woman. "It is good to meet you Vorgon, I am Warbal Bumblebrasher, and I fear that our brothers may be in need of help. You see, it is my great honor to serve my fellow citizens of Breachill as the town’s official representative to the Bumblebrashers. convey the town’s concerns and interests to them, and advocate on the tribe’s behalf. But it has been some time now since I was last able to contact them, hence why I am here.

'But that is enough of that for now. You'll hear the rest once the procedures begin and I present our my case to the council. Hopefully someone will be hired to answer the call."

She looks towards the stage, eager for the Greta Gardania to begin the procedures.

***

At the entrance to the council chamber the last few members of the crow enter the room and walk to take their sits.

Perusing the "garden" outside, Jakub reflects while tending to the plants...

...indeed, with so many answering the call, he observes that none seem particularly versed in the art of tending to their own wounds...

...and remembers a time when conflict came to his borders while he was serving as a gardener-turned-field-medic, keeping his allies alive and healthy and getting them back into the front line as best tended as he could...

~) Ancient Memories ➤ Survival Medicine

...walking inside, wanting a full view, he strides right to the front and takes an open seat near the aisle!

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 as Jakub sits down. “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, the goblim woman sitting besides Vorgon, emerges from the front row of benches. She is well-dressed and she carries herself with a certain dignity as she makes her way to the foot of the dais’s steps. She clears her throat and begins her address to the council.

“Esteemed councilors,” Warbal says, with a frazzled tone to her 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!”

With that warning the councilors begin moving down off the dais and shouting for the crowd not to panic. But they are terrified; they scream, jump up from their benches, and try to jostle toward an exit row. They fall and they tumble, they knock over benches and one another, with none of them able to make it out of the room.

In the unfolding chaos of the fire, as dozens of frightened townsfolk begin to panic, two snickering little fire mephits slip through the chamber’s western door, standing in the fire.

Feel free to roll your initiatives and take your turn if you are above 15.

Initiative (Peception): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 7 = 11

Preoccupied with concern for the lost tribe, our hero fails to notice the source of the fire, unable to react quickly…

Initiative: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22

Vrosi begin yell, "Fire! Fire! Everybody out!"

Then, Vrosi stride three times toward fire.

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16

Markus listens closely to the petition. The time he has spent on the run has put him on his toes. The call of danger is heard by him and he quickly gets up, ready for action. Targeting the closest mephit, he moves his hands in an intricate pattern, speaking words of power.

Cast Daze. DC 17

Kiilo listens intently from his spot in the front row, hoping to glean if there is more afoot politically than might meet the eye.
Humans were tricky like that.
KNOW(Breachill): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13


But then, just as the handsomely dressed little goblin starts to present herself, part of Hell literally seems to break loose ...
INIT: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18

Knowing how people can be, Kiilo fills the room with a gentle but uplifting undertone to lift everyone's courage.
casts **Musical Accompaniment w/*Courageous Anthem

Steadily snoring under the last row of benches, Mosquito dreams of roasting hotdogs for some reason. His sensitive nose sniffing the delicious aroma, the goblin actually seems to open an eye.

Now, lying prone under a bench does slightly impact one's field of vision. The side-sighted scene of boots, sandals, and even one with an open toed shoe (which everyone knows is not proper in esteemed events such as this) greet his tunnel vision.

Then the screams, shouts, cries and carrying ons pound his overly large ears! The goblin puts two and four together to make chicken soup.
By the charming ways of Cayden Cailean! Show some respect for mine ears!

Initiative Perception(T): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11

The Mephit shakes its head and growls, reaching for its head with its hands as if it had vertigo or a headache.

It does take damage from Markus' spell

Humans are tricky, and they can also be difficult to read, specially during an event they are comfortable in, and in control of. Though they do seem worry about the attendees well being once the fire starts.

Markus still has one action, Kiilo has two action, and Vorgon has three.

** spoiler omitted **

The Mephit shakes its head and growls, reaching for its head with its hands as if it had vertigo or a headache.

It does take damage from Markus' spell

Humans are tricky, and they can also be difficult to read, specially during an event they are comfortable in, and in control of. Though they do seem worry about the attendees well being once the fire starts.

Markus still has one action, Kiilo has two action, and Vorgon has three.

I appreciate the surplus, but that was why I put the asterix(s) by each of the cantrips: although I think themeatically he would have practiced casting them together very frequently, they still equal 3 actions total.

I appreciate the surplus, but that was why I put the asterix(s) by each of the cantrips: although I think themeatically he would have practiced casting them together very frequently, they still equal 3 actions total.

my bad, thank you for the clarification.

Markus also tries to remember what he knows about these mephits.

Action 3: Recall knowledge of mephits: any special attacks?

Recall knowledge: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22

Amidst the frantic shouts and the billowing smoke, Vorgon's voice rises above the clamor, carrying a reassuring tone despite the chaos surrounding him.

"Oi, ya lot! Keep yer heads! Stay back from da flame!" he calls out, his goblin accent adding a touch of urgency to his words. "Trust in Glimshyne, she keep ya safe!"

[b]"By Glimshyne's light, I'll snuff out this blaze!" he declares, his voice filled with determination. "No fear, me mates! We'll quench this inferno together!"

As he approaches the flames, Vorgon channels his kinetic energy, directing it with precision to contain the fire and prevent its spread. With each movement, he maneuvers strategically, guiding the flames away from the panicked townsfolk and towards safer ground.

Action 3: Recall knowledge of mephits: any special attacks?

It is not uncommon for them to spew fire like a dragon, although they need a few moments to gather enough flames to do it again.

***

To every spectators' surprise, as well as the councilors', you are surrounder by flames that wave in a soothing motion that contrasts with the chaotic nature of the fire.

***

Unfortunately, the flames begin to expand from further into the room, and the attendees to the call are still in complete disarray.
Specators saved: 0/40

***

Jakub, Kiilo and Mosquito, you can take your turn.

Without thought, or a word, Jakub springs up the stairs and towards the fire!

◆◆◆) Stride x3