Rebellion in the Silver City - Hell's Rebels for PF2 by DM Doctor Evil

Game Master DM DoctorEvil

Is the guard still pursuing her, or has it been distracted by someone els?

No one, it seems, is pursuing Buttercup. Yellow got locked into melee with Celas, Red with Myron and Elarion, and Green is recently dead. There may be other dottari in the crowd, but for game purposes, she is presently in the clear.

You can move off the map as way of saying you are done with the protest and aftermath. We will find a way to fold you into the post-combat story if you wish.

A Lovely Little Riot - Round 6 - continued

23 Celas (12/16hp remain)
17 Bellara (5/19hp remaining)
17 Buttercup
15 Impasha (7hp remaining; wounded 1)
8 Myron
8 Red Dottari (4hp dmg)
15 Elarion (13/14hp remaining; wounded 1)

Her swordplay and banter finally gets to the Green Dottari, and then Bellara strikes. With a flourish, her blade eviscerates the guardsman, who falls dead and bleeding out at her feet. She then turns and points her blade at Red who is threatening her retainer, and frighten them as well. Her buckler comes up for defense, in case others arrive to fight.

Celas is locked in a mortal struggle with another dottari. Nothing like a wound to get you serious about the fight. He stabs once, satisfied with the painful grunt it elicits, then spins and lands a second blow, a killing strike, on the hapless guard.

Two dottari down, and the remaining one is frightened 1. Buttercup, Impasha, and Myron are up now.

Things were getting out of hand. People were dying now. Impasha had perhaps foolishly imagined that only she had thought to bring a weapon to this protest, but it seemed that half the crowd was not only armed but proficient with those weapons. No blame could be laid upon the protestors, who were merely defending themselves against the aggressive and lethal attacks of Thrunite goons and rabid dottari. But this felt like a watershed moment for the city. Nothing would be the same after today. Quaint proclamations about dogs and mint and sea captains were now the least of anyone's worries.

"Hank! Get out of here! Meet me at the soup kitchen in half an hour and I'll look to your wounds!" she calls out to the deliveryman over the din of running and shouting, then turns to watch another dottari slump to the ground, blood pouring from his belly as the red-caped woman flourished her rapier over him. A thrill of excitement stirs her heart and a cry of approval escapes her throat. But the man who had been carrying the wounded elf was still menaced by another of the city guard, and he apparently was weaponless.

Putting aside her prudence and flush with a new sense of purpose, she begins shoving through the panicking crowd to round the fountain. She levels her sword at the guard in warning.

"Hey! Leave him alone! If you want to fight someone, fight me!" she roars, then sets herself, shield high, in a martial stance.

◈ Stride
◈ Stride
◈ Raise Shield
not close enough to attack, but close enough to trigger a Retributive Strike if he wounds Myron

Myron notes how the remaining dottari is unnerved by the swordswoman in front of the Opera House. He decides to compound this effect with a spell he knows simply called fear. He spreads his arms and tries to envision that he has the same terrifying aura that dragons are known to have. He gathers this energy and directs it towards the dottari's mind.

"It's just you vs. the mob now, jackboot!"

◈◈ Will DC 17. I'm assuming that this spell can raise the dottari's existing frightened status. That it stacks, in other words.

Afterwards, he puts his hands before him, palms out, and wills into being an oversized, translucent dragon scale made of force that he can use to try and counter the dottari's next attack.

◈ Shield spell.

A Lovely Little Riot - Round 6 - continued

23 Celas (12/16hp remain)
17 Bellara (5/19hp remaining)
17 Buttercup
15 Impasha (7hp remaining; wounded 1)
8 Myron
8 Red Dottari (4hp dmg, frightened 1)
15 Elarion (13/14hp remaining; wounded 1)

Seeing the rest of the dottari fall, Impasha, despite her obvious wounds, trudges through the crowd calling to the remaining enemy combatant and raising her shield in the hope that he comes at her next.

Myron seeing the fear cross the mind of the dottari, casts a spell to heighten that effect, and is pleased when now the guardsman starts looking around in panic.

Stricken and looking for a way out, Red Dottari heads back towards the safety of the opera house portico, but takes a moment to swing his mace wildly at Impasha trying to drive away the frightened feelings. All things considered, its a pretty good attack, but the recently revived champion blocks it easily with her shield. He then moves on, trying to avoid the dancing fencer lying in wait for him.

Red drops to frightened 2 after his turn. Buttercup can act still. And Elarion is up to end the round.

Dottari DC17 Will: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9 fail.
Red mace vs Impasha, frightened 3: 1d20 + 8 - 3 ⇒ (11) + 8 - 3 = 16

The clang of steel and roar of the crowd dimmed just enough for Bellara to spot the red-banded dottari slipping through the melee. He meant to escape.

To regroup.

To bring the Thrune jackals down on them again.

Not while I still have breath!

She darted after him, light on her feet, weaving through the thinning crowd until she was at his flank. Her voice mocked sharply "Didn’t I say you’d be next? You should’ve believed me!"

◈ Stride
◈ Attack - Rapier: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21 Damage P: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
◈ Raise buckler

Elarion will scorch the red dottari with a divine lance of energy, opting to take a direct approach and help end things.

divine lance: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26
damage: 2d4 ⇒ (2, 1) = 3

"We are going to want to get out of here on the double after this," Looking around the others still fighting together.

Buttercup Bainilus wrote:

Is the guard still pursuing her, or has it been distracted by someone els?

No one, it seems, is pursuing Buttercup. Yellow got locked into melee with Celas, Red with Myron and Elarion, and Green is recently dead. There may be other dottari in the crowd, but for game purposes, she is presently in the clear.

Buttercup looks behind her and notices that nobody is looking at her. So she sneaks a little closer to watch how things unfold.

stealth: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7

But her kinetic aura makes hiding difficult so she lets it dissipate and just lurks there behind a tree.

A Lovely Little Riot - Round 6 - concluded

23 Celas (12/16hp remain)
17 Bellara (5/19hp remaining)
17 Buttercup
15 Impasha (7hp remaining; wounded 1)
8 Myron
8 Red Dottari (4hp dmg, frightened 2)
15 Elarion (13/14hp remaining; wounded 1)

Buttercup slinks back as the crowd disperses, trying to hide just in case more trouble arrives.

From his position south of the fountain, Elarion is still able to cast an attack spell against the fleeing dottari, hitting him with divine power and doing more damage than he perhaps knew.

Was a critical but still only 6hp dmg. FYI, Stealth is a Secret check, so I will roll them from now on -- just provide the modifiers.

A Lovely Little Riot - Round 7

23 Celas (12/16hp remain)
17 Bellara (5/19hp remaining)
17 Buttercup
15 Impasha (7hp remaining; wounded 1)
8 Myron
8 Red Dottari (10hp dmg, frightened 2)
15 Elarion (13/14hp remaining; wounded 1)

From the front of the opera house, the tall woman who was leading the dottari until she took a dagger in the neck, steps back outside with no sign of the mortal wound she must have taken. Worse, she has a large fiery dog, a hell-hound, on a chained leash. A squadron of at least 12 more dottari come with her. "DISPERSE!"the woman shouts, waiting for her command to be carried out but ready to, literally, release the hounds if it is not.

Bellara moves to cut off the retreat of the frightened dottari. He still stands, but looks ready to topple. She raises her buckler again to protect herself if there is a counter.

The odds look about to change against you and a hellhound is no joke at your level. Celas, Buttercup, Impasha, and Myron are up now.

Delay until the others go. Then flee!!!

Myron turns to Elarion in surprise when his divine lance hits the fleeing dottari.

"Glad to see you back on your feet! I think it's time to depart before things get out of hand."

From the front of the opera house, the tall woman who was leading the dottari until she took a dagger in the neck, steps back outside with no sign of the mortal wound she must have taken. Worse, she has a large fiery dog, a hell-hound, on a chained leash.

"Too late!"

I'm happy to have that be my first action and then Delay until the end of Elarion's turn. Unless Elarion gives Myron a reason to do something different, Myron's next action will be to flee the battle.

Celas, having abandoned tricks, just strikes with several swift attacks. The first drives into the dottari's under-protected armpit, as Celas draws the blade out with a rush of blood, his enemy's shield jerks bumping his wrist. The blade veers off and slashes the guard's face which turns totally pale as he collapses to the ground. Celas stands stunned for a second, I won? How? That was really lucky, unless ambushed I never heard of them being taken by the likes of me. He daze ends at the most alarming entrance to the battlefield of a high commander and a lovely guest from nether-realms, a Hellhound eager to drag souls off to eternal damnation. Celas is even more surprised when the command is to leave rather than just drop to knee and await non-existent mercy.

With his survival instincts snaping his wits to action, Celas looks swiftly around, and start withdrawing, blending with the crowd as best he can. As soon as the action would not be obvious or stand out, he works his way to a water source, like a horse trough. He swishes his dagger quickly through to get the blood off and move out of the area.

After he reaches a good point on one of the pre=planned routes, he will work his way toward the soup kitchen, keeping a wary eye out for any observers or trouble.

Bunch of strides, use stealth as appropriate to blend as much as possible. As much as Celas would like to help his friends, he is focused on run (or wander) away, live to fight another day.

Running away was not easy for Impasha. It went against her grain and her sense of duty. Innocents were still in danger. The woman with the red cloak was still engaged. The battle was still on. But as the dull thud of her pulse within her cranium reminded her, she was no longer in top form. She could perhaps engage another one of these guardsman and trade a handful of blows. But two or three? And she had no idea what that beast of hell could do, but surely it was nothing good.

She was no good to anyone dead. This wasn't over. This was just the start. 'Engage the enemy on your own terms whenever you can.' came to her in a voice of an old trainer. It was prudence, not cowardice. But it still wasn't easy. Honor and prudence were not natural bedfellows.

She took a step back, then another, still facing the enemy, sizing up the woman who led these dottari. She must have gotten to a healer quickly after disappearing inside. What had Thrune called her? Nox? Was this Nox a dark reflection of herself? Devoted to tyranny and cruelty as Impasha was to freedom and mercy? For a moment their eyes catch one another. She could almost feel the other's eagerness to unleash all the violence at her disposal -- a need to massacre.

There was no choice. Impasha turns and starts making her way out of the park. As she passes the elf and the sorcerer, she calls out to them. "Meet me at the soup kitchen! We'll get off the street and set up an aid station for the wounded!"

Running Away, Stridex3

The appearance of the hellhound and another dozen dottari do what has not really been possible before, dispersing the crowd. Melting away in all directions, rioters, protestors, vendors and the like all run like ants from a kicked over anthill, leaving only a few standing in the park, where formerly the crowd was dense.

Buttercup, Celas, and Myron are among those that run. Impasha takes a once over of the woman Nox, not at all liking what she sees. Nox is tall with chain mail armor, and a large halberd like pole-arm weapon. It's clear she knows how to use it, but the most disturbing thing is Nox's eyes: they are pupil-less and glow a fiery red color. Discretion wins out over valor this time, and Impasha also flees but not before noting Nox, and silently vowing they will meet again.

What do Elarion and Bellara do now that the others have mostly fled and the overwhelming might of the guard is about to be unleashed. The area is no longer difficult terrain.

Elarion strides over, his hand touching Bellara’s shoulder, light as silk but firm with purpose. His steel-grey eyes never left Nox, nor the slavering hound straining against its chain. “They’ll slaughter us here, my lady,”

His gaze flicked to the alley beyond the dispersing crowd. “Come. There’s no shame in withdrawing from a rigged board. Not while their hound still breathes.” he murmured.

Her breath came hard. Each inhale edged with the taste of copper, the taste of blood. Her rapier point wavered as she held it between herself and the advancing soldiers. She raised it to strike …

… but hen Elarion’s hand found her shoulder, grounding her. His calm words cut through the chaos, steadying her.

She let her eyes fix on Nox, the chain-clad killer, the halberd gleaming, the hellhound’s fiery maw snapping to be loosed. Bellara’s jaw tightened. Her pride demanded one more quip, one last flare of defiance… she couldn’t resist.

Another day, then, dog-woman. But when I come back, it won’t be alone.”

She saluted with her rapier, then spun on her heel. She slipped into the dispersing tide of protestors, crimson jacket flashing once before the crowd swallowed her up alongside Elarion.

Stride x3

For those interested, here is interior art for Nox..

Elarion is able to talk some sense into Bellara, and the pair retreat along with the rest from the overwhelming power of House Thrune. Nox calls out to the retreating firebrand, "I'll be right here, ready and waiting your ladyship! Whenever you want it!"

The crowd disperses along with the fighting which quickly comes to a halt. The dottari sweep the area, assisting their own injured, arresting several protestors who were overcome in the battle, and generally securing the area.

By coincidence, the six of you, who fought the most against the establishment, end up in the same alleyway south or Aria Park near the edges of Old Kintargo where you pause to rest, recuperate, and regroup.

Some of you know each other, even if only peripherally, but you might take a moment to introduce yourselves, heal up, etc

Buttercup slinks away, paranoia setting in like after a theft gone wrong. She takes twists and turns and mount her way to the thieves highway in an attempt to shake any pursuers. By the time she gets home, she feels a bit better, but instead of returning to her haunt, she perches on a roof and keeps an eye out for a while, trying to keep out of sight (using stealth, which is a secret roll so I am NOT rolling this time!).

While she idles she checks out the dagger she pocketed with satisfaction. Now that the danger is gone, she alternately curses herself for not looting the downed Dottari, and praises herself for not being dumb enough to try. Spotting Impasha, she watches carefully on her behalf, checking to see if she was followed.

Still several blocks short of the soup kitchen, Impasha turns into an alley to catch her breath. She had made a point of training in her armor nearly every day, but the exertion of running in full battle gear was not something she was used to. She leans against the wall, her breath heaving in and out of her and she draws the back of her hand across her forehead to wipe away the rivulets of sweat. Blood mixed with her perspiration as it ran down her neck and under her armor and her headache was getting worse again. She sheaths her sword and lays aside her shield and for the first time ventures a gentle tactile exploration of the top of her head.

"That's going to leave a knot." she grumbles as she feels cautiously through her hair for the extent of the wound. Several points were sharply painful to even brush her finger against. "I think that bastard fractured my skull."

Flashes of the confused melee in the crowd replay continuously in her memory, and her mouth tightens as she reflects on her poor performance. Practicing in an empty, silent courtyard was one thing, but fighting in a noisy jostling crowd was quite another. Who had she saved or protected? Only herself, and not very well. Against run of the mill thugs and street toughs.

Iomedae's shining warrior she reflects, bitterly.

She looks around, trying to figure out exactly what street she was on. People were still running past the alley, and she could hear shouting off to the north, where she guessed the Park was. She suddenly felt a wave of sleepiness and fatigue coming over her. If she didn't keep moving, she might end up passing out here. She pulls out her waterskin and takes a long drink of water, and then splashes a handful onto her face.

She hoped the woman in the red cloak got away. Not least among Impasha's regrets was that she'd never gotten to speak to her, whoever she was. Clearly rich, maybe even one of the nobles.

And she recalls the unsettling red glow in the eyes of that woman Nox. Was she even human? Or some other servant of Hell, like the dog? They'd most likely declare martial law after this. Curfews and checkpoints, bursting into people's homes and disappearing them into the city dungeons. Had today made everything worse?

Maybe. But it had to be done. Evil had to be resisted. You don't win every fight, but if you don't fight, you never win.

Breathing heavily, as he regroups in an alley way with the others, he looks around at the group, "You all showed great bravery," turning to Bellara, "You most of all, your father would be proud. Now don't be stubborn, let me tend to your wounds," He says as he pulls out his Healer's kit.

"Give me some time, and I'll help patch up the rest of you too." Talking while he works on sewing Bellara's wounds up, "I'm Elarion, Elarion Varethil, Steward and warden to Lady Bellara Valcaro," He nods, pointedly toward Bellara, introducing her.

Medicine DC15: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16
healing: 2d8 ⇒ (7, 2) = 9

Elarion posted while I was writing this post. So that I don't have to rewrite my post, I'm hoping we can assume that Impasha arrived, then Myron, and then the others.

Myron rushed away from the scene, full of nervous excitement. He had intended to head straight to Aulamaxa Estate, but thoughts of being followed and involving his house didn't seem like a good idea. Plus, he'd have to cross the Silver Span, the sole bridge across Yolubilis River to get to the district where his noble family resides. It might be better to stay at an unsuspecting inn for the night. He doubled-back towards and away from the bridge numerous times as he considered his predicament.

What did I do?! I'm pretty sure I killed a man! Still, he was going to kill others, and innocent citizens at that. I think what I did was just, even if it was risky. I need to make sure that I--Hello, who is that?

Myron stops short as passes by a random alley. He spies an armored woman that he's sure he saw recently at Aria Park. He strides confidently into the alley.

"Hello! My pardon, but didn't I just see you out front of the Opera House at the protest? It got a bit out of hand, and--correct me if I'm wrong--but I swore I saw you attacked by some of those thugs. I had thought you fallen, but obviously I was wrong in that assessment.

"Are you okay?"

"Hello! My pardon, but didn't I just see you out front of the Opera House at the protest? It got a bit out of hand, and--correct me if I'm wrong--but I swore I saw you attacked by some of those thugs. I had thought you fallen, but obviously I was wrong in that assessment.

"...

"Are you okay?"

Looking around to respond to this new voice, Impasha's first instinct is wariness that some Thrune spy had tracked her down already, but she quickly recognizes the speaker as the sorcerer who she'd seen carrying the elf over his shoulder. She nods and returns a slight smile.

"Yes, I'll be fine, thank you. Someone hit me in the head and I was unconscious, but I don't think for very long. Nothing some mint tea won't fix." The smile broadens a little at her feeble joke.

"I saw you as well. Fortunately it looks like they didn't get to you. I'm glad you got away from there." She offers her hand in greeting. "Impasha Relenne."

At this moment, Elarion and Bellara stumble into the alley as well, and Impasha straightens her posture a little.

"You all showed great bravery,"

Impasha's face remains impassive, but a little tense.

"You most of all, your father would be proud. Now don't be stubborn, let me tend to your wounds," He says as he pulls out his Healer's kit.

"Give me some time, and I'll help patch up the rest of you too." Talking while he works on sewing Bellara's wounds up, "I'm Elarion, Elarion Varethil, Steward and warden to Lady Bellara Valcaro,"

Hearing the name of the woman in the red cloak seems to gratify Impasha. She also is obviously relieved by the sight of the healer's kit. Now I don't need to stitch up my own scalp. "I'm Impasha. she says, mostly addressing Bellara. "You're a good public speaker. I was very impressed--the crowd seemed to really respond to you, and you always seemed to know what to say. Have you done this sort of thing before?"

Bellara flinched once when Elarion’s needle bit, but otherwise she held her chin high, as if daring the pain to break her poise. She tilts her head at Impasha’s compliment, lips curving into a sly little smile despite the blood drying on her temple.

"Impressed? I should hope so! My name is Bellara Valcaro, of House Valcaro. Some would say I was raised to speak for my House, though today, I think I spoke more for Kintargo than for any single bloodline."

She drops the bravado and relaxes, letting her edge from her voice fade as her exhaustion shows. "Before today? Only salons and supper tables. My family’s estate was always a theater, and I learned early that words can cut deeper than steel." She shrugs and adds "And having an older brother helped too. And maybe a curmudgeonly old steward-"

"OW!" she grinds her teeth and turns to shoot daggers at Elarion. "That was on purpose!"

Her grin came back, lopsided. "Still, it was hardly a speech. More a spark in the moment. I’ve never addressed a mob before. That was... improvisation. My brother used to say I was born with too much fire in my veins to keep silent when silence would suit me better. I’d have preferred his laugh in the crowd today but-" she inhaled sharply, forcing the thought away. "Still, rattling Thrune’s cage will have to do. Better to be noisy than cowed."

She pauses a moment, thinking of Lucero's compliments before snapping back. "Failing that, I’ll settle for rattling Thrune’s cage and proving we are not so easily cowed."

She flicked her gaze to Impasha’s blood-matted hair, voice softening a touch. "And you, Impasha. you stood your ground even when the crowd broke. That is no small thing. If today proved anything, it’s that the Thrunes have reason to fear the courage of strangers who find one another in a storm. Not all see courage when it’s not wrapped in silk. But I noticed. Thank you, for holding your ground today. Kintargo is stronger for it."

Celas moves away until he is sure that line of sight is broken, keeping his hand pressed to his back left side ribs while wondering if any are actually broken. Pushing the pain out of his mind he comes upon on of the vendors hurriedly pushing his cart of haphazardly piled clothes. He spots some that look unlike what he is wearing and should fit his ordinary frame.

Fighting his instinct to just take and run, but not wanting further attention, he tosses a sail at the man and grabs the items. He mutters, "Sorry, gotta run, take it or- is that a dottari? Bye!" And off he goes!

At a location unlikely to be seen he checks to see that he isn't and quickly changes his outfit after cutting up his old shirt and using it for a crude bandage around his chest. After that he goes toward the soup kitchen but on the way spots the do-gooder warrior talking with some vaguely familiar dude in alley, then sees some exhausted, strained, and thankfully friendly faces.

After checking to see if any trouble is around Celas joins the group. As Bellara finishes her little speech, he arrives, saying to her and her favorite, "Lady, Steward, glad to see you safe, I tried to get to you, but some very rude people got in the way. And I don't willingly take on dottari, otherwise the thugs I've run with and against all my life, we're so all good there. Still, I'm now on the run, several murder charges are sure to come."

Celas look as though he's contemplating a bleak future, but turns to Impasha, "You made it out, when you were surprised I thought it was over, seems fortune favored you even more than me." Nodding, his look turns quizzical as he addresses Myron, "Hey, aren't you the guy that yells at us when we do our show for the hoity-toity in front of that overdecorated song-house before they go in? Doesn't matter now though. Call me Handy Hank." Celas gives him a wave.

She flicked her gaze to Impasha’s blood-matted hair, voice softening a touch. "And you, Impasha. you stood your ground even when the crowd broke. That is no small thing. If today proved anything, it’s that the Thrunes have reason to fear the courage of strangers who find one another in a storm. Not all see courage when it’s not wrapped in silk. But I noticed. Thank you, for holding your ground today. Kintargo is stronger for it”

Impasha is not so noble that she can’t appreciate a little praise, especially coming from this formidable woman. She grows suddenly intense.

”Today can’t be the end.” she says, balling one hand into a fist. ”Rattling the cage is well and good, but opening the cage must remain our goal. The people would be on our side. But they need to be properly organized and encouraged.”

Bellara arched a brow at the ragged rogue as he waved, the corners of her mouth tugging upward into a sly smile.

"HOI-TY. TOI-TY, was it?" She makes a point of pronouncing the words sharply, speaking slightly slower than necessary. "Caaaareeee-ful now, Hank. I might take that as-" she pauses, narrowing her eyes at him in jest, "-a compliment." Turning to face him, she says "Handy indeed. I saw you move out there. Quick, clever, and lucky. That last one is worth more than silver these days. If murder charges are all you carry out of today, I’d call that fortune smiling."

"None of us should have survived that riot. Yet here we are, bloodied but not quite broken. Call it chance, call it destiny, but Thrune’s dogs should be very nervous that we bled together today and lived to tell it."

Her voice dropped "Impasha is right. Rattling the cage is only the beginning. They think us scattered voices in the crowd. Perhaps ... Well, perhaps it’s time we proved them wrong? Mmm?"

Having seen enough from her vantage point to consider it safe to come down, she forms a set of steps and descends to the chatting group, her curiosity getting the better of her. A common halflin' trait. Normally she would keep the steppin' stones thing a secret, but that cat is out of the bag.

"Hey. Whatcha guys talkin' 'bout?"

Nodding, his look turns quizzical as he addresses Myron, "Hey, aren't you the guy that yells at us when we do our show for the hoity-toity in front of that overdecorated song-house before they go in? Doesn't matter now though. Call me Handy Hank." Celas gives him a wave.

Myron returns the wave.

"No, it's someone else's job to do the yelling outside. His name is Stephan the Sublime, and he doesn't hear very well, unfortunately. I'm usually found inside the Opera House organizing and... let's say 'encouraging' rather than yelling."

Having seen enough from her vantage point to consider it safe to come down, she forms a set of steps and descends to the chatting group....

"Hey. Whatcha guys talkin' 'bout?"

"Hello! We are talking about how brave we each were against the Thrune! I used my spells to great effect, I'd say! My name is Myron Waldern Aulamaxa, of House Aulamax, naturally."

Myron offers a slight bow. He then turns to Buttercup.

"It's your turn, madam! Were you able to contribute during the riot?"

Elarion finished knotting the last bandage with the care of a man tying off silk, not flesh, before straightening. His steel-grey gaze passed over each of them—the fiery noblewoman, the scarred sorceress, the wary rogue, the curious halfling—measuring not their wounds but their resolve.

"You’re right," he said at last, his voice even, carrying the calm of a still tide after a storm. "Today was but the rattling of chains. But chains do not break from noise alone." His eyes lingered on Impasha, acknowledging her fervor, then shifted to Bellara with quiet gravity. "They break when the noise becomes unity. That will take more than fire—it will take discipline, patience, and care for one another."

He drew a small piece of chalk from his sleeve, marking a pale line across his palm as if in absent thought, "Courage is not rushing headlong into blades, but choosing the moment when fear is mastered. Jaidz teaches us to turn trembling into strength. If we stand together, we must learn that lesson well—and teach it to others."

He inclined his head to the halfling who had just bounded down her conjured steps, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "And perhaps it begins right here, with the few who did not break and run."

"It's your turn, madam! Were you able to contribute during the riot?"

Buttercup visibly starts.

"Contribute? Maybe by being one of the idiots... Never mind. I hid in a tree and knocked a Dottari that tried to follow me."

He inclined his head to the halfling who had just bounded down her conjured steps, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "And perhaps it begins right here, with the few who did not break and run."

"Wait, you mean you want to organize ANOTHER protest after some of us nearly got killed during the last one?" Nonplussed, Buttercup shakes her head in confusion. "I don' like the way this place is run any more than the rest of you, but I am not so fond of gettin' killed either."

"You shouldn't do anything you aren't comfortable with." says Impasha gently to the halfling. "But there are many ways to help, and not all will involve fighting. You came to today's protest for a reason. You must want to see things change for the better as we do. And with your skills, you could certainly make a contribution of some sort, if you wanted to."

She turns back to Bellara. "Lady Valcaro--is there a resistance movement in the city that you know of? I'm not originally from Kintargo, so I don't know the city as well as I should. Perhaps we can lend our weight to an organization already engaged in the struggle for freedom?"

Noncommittally, she offers, with a tentative voice, "Well, I do make a good look out."

As Elarion works on helping Bellara with her injuries, Impasha is reminded that she too can administer first aid. Noting Hank’s shallow breathing and tense posture, she deduces that he too has been hurt.

”Here, let me have a look at you.” she says in a nearly maternal way. She palpates along his ribs and back, finding the area making him wince and flinch. ”Take off your shirt, you’ve probably got a bruise the size of a grapefruit starting under there, and maybe a broken rib.”

Medicine (Treat Wounds): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22
Healing: 2d8 ⇒ (2, 4) = 6

”Hmmm. Maybe cracked, but I don’t think anything is broken.”. After cleaning the area off carefully, Impasha goes into her pack for a jar of healing salve, much used and a little dirty, with a light crust of dried oil about the lid. ”This will help take down the swelling and stop the pain. It’s a mixture of willow bark, aloe and stinging nettle, among other things.”. She smears the unguent onto the wounded skin, leaving a cool, prickly sensation that counteracts the pain. She then wraps his torso in a clean bandage. ”It should feel a lot better tomorrow. If we need to we can reapply the salve and put a clean bandage on it.”

Impasha doesn’t have a healer’s kit of anything, I’m taking some creative license to act out the Treat Wounds action.

I will let the healing without the kit ride, but will need it from now on. Could borrow from another PC, but that extends the time needed if you are both using the same kit. Celas is now fully healed.

As the group takes a moment to recover, restore, and discuss, their conversation is interrupted by the sounds of harsh cries, steel clashing against steel, and a cry of pain. It sounds like those sounds of conflict are coming from just around the corner.

See the map at the top margin. Not in combat yet, but if you wish to enter it, roll your own initiative, but do not post combat round actions until the order is set. If you wish to do other things, now is the time to do them outside of rounds.

At the sound of conflict in the street, Impasha’s sword rips out of its sheath and she picks up her shield. ”Trouble.” she says, looking ready to race out of the alley.

Initiative (Perception): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15

Celas shrugs at Myron reply, saying in a voice a bit strained, "Knew I'd see you around there, but not enough to tell the staff apart." As he's talking he winces. Impasha notices at once, her mother hen personality triggered. Celas is a bit startled when she starts ministering his wounds. "Hay, I'm not that bad off. Ouch, okay it's painful but others are beaten more than a baker knees bread." Seeing steely determination, he relents, "Okay, if we have time. We're going to need to plan our next move soon though. Thanks." Short after Impasha finishes sounds of a disturbance nearby are heard. As Impasha draws arms Celas warns, "Don't rush in we don't know what is happening and more important how many. Let's scout, and see what's up first. Buttercup lets see without being seen." Celas stealths in a way to not be seen by anyone in the area he is approaching but can still signal the others. He scans the area.

What's Up, Doc? (I'm gonna be in trouble for that one.) Stealth and Perception.

Buttercup nods, all in favor of sneaking up to the action instead of bulling right in and joining a fray. She also takes a path that will keep her out of sight and, in case either is seen, away from Celas.

You guys are just going to the end of the alley and poking your heads around the corner, right?

As Impasha draws arms Celas warns, "Don't rush in we don't know what is happening and more important how many. Let's scout, and see what's up first.”

Impasha nods tensely at this advice, but is clearly one cry for help away from rushing in where she doesn’t know what’s happening.

She looks back at Myron. ”If you have any spells that incapacitate or daze multiple targets, let me know if you intend to use it, so I don’t get in your way.”

Celas the Younger wrote:

As Impasha draws arms Celas warns, "Don't rush in we don't know what is happening and more important how many. Let's scout, and see what's up first.”

Impasha nods tensely at this advice, but is clearly one cry for help away from rushing in where she doesn’t know what’s happening.

She looks back at Myron. ”If you have any spells that incapacitate or daze multiple targets, let me know if you intend to use it, so I don’t get in your way.”

"I used my most powerful magic at the riot, unfortunately. But the magic that I still have left is adaptable. Don't worry about me."

If Myron can't see Celas or Buttercup, he'll dart to the end of the alleyway and poke his head around the corner to see what's going on.

Society is +4 to see if Myron recognizes the man being attacked. If Celas or Buttercup is already doing that, then he'll wait so that he doesn't ruin their Stealth attempt(s).

This is a great question Impasha, @DM what does Bellara know of resistance in the city?

Bellara drew breath to give Impasha her answer, bu froze at the clash of steel echoing down the street.

”By the gods… not a moment’s peace.” she muttered, more to herself than the others. Then louder, to the group: Impasha’s right, trouble. But Hank speaks true as well. A charge without knowing the scene is a fool’s errand. We’ve spilled enough blood for one morning.”

She glanced toward Buttercup, lips curling into a sly smile despite her weariness. ”Quiet as a mouse, our lookout, no? Now’s the moment to prove it, my dear.”

Her knuckles whitened on her rapier’s hilt, but she did not step out yet. Not yet. Waiting, listening, her fire checked by Elarion’s steadying presence at her shoulder.

Elarion stepped closer, his gaze tracked the corner where the clash of steel echoed, but his voice remained measured.

"She is right, he murmured low, so only those gathered near would hear. The rash break themselves against the tide. Better we send eyes first, not blades.

Both Buttercup and Celas move to the end of the alley and try to stay in shadows enough to be undetected as they get a look at what's going down in the alley.

They see a group of the Chelish supporters, similarly dressed and equipped as those who started the riot. There appear to be 5 or 6 of the rioters, and they have a well-dressed man cornered and shoving him. The man bleeds from a wound on his scalp already, and as the others watch, he is tripped and knocked to the ground, while the mob poises above him ready to do more bodily harm.

Myron is not being particularly stealthy, but he has good cover as he peeks around the corner. He does not recognize the victim here and can tell its certainly not his idol Shensen. Other than the assault in progress, he can't make out details.

Bellara knows that a group of eager Iomedean knights called the Glorious Reclamation defeated a group of Hellknights called the Order of the Godclaw in neighboring Isger. That unexpected victory started outbreaks of rebellion against the infernal government, but martial law was instilled and the nascent rebellion was crushed with an iron fist. Any hint of getting out of line has been immediately dealt with since the arrival of Thrune in Kintargo as well.

I'm going to put us in rounds now, as I expect at least Impasha will react.

A Friend in Need - Round 1

27 Celas (undetected)
27 Elarion
21 Noble Man (prone)
18 Buttercup (undetected)
17 Orange Thug
17 Yellow Thug
15 Impasha
15 Purple Thug
13 Red Thug
12 White Thug
10 Bellara
9 Green Thug
8 Myron
7 Blue Thug

Celas, Elarion, and Buttercup may act first in this round. Celas and Buttercup are currently undetected by any of the thugs

The scene before Celas is not one to make him happy as half dozen of the low-rent Devil-loving thugs beat down a spiffy man, knowing Bellara's temper and now Impasha's there's no way they won't get involved.

Loathing leaving his cover but needing to pass on what he sees, he moves slowly to just ahead of Buttercup trying not to attract attention to the busy thugs. As he passe the group a very quiet whisper, "Half a dozen Thrune thugs beating a lone dandy. Move up quiet." He pulls out one of his throwing daggers and waits for what the others will do.

Stride and stride (move with stealth w/o penalty), Interact (draw weapon)

"Dandies are sometimes essential members of society!" Myron exclaims.

Buttercup is about to call back the information but Cellas does so personally. In an attempt to buy folks time, she uses her Extended Kinesis ability to make it look like an something is is rising from the earth 30' away from her.

* channel elements
* Extended Kinesis to distract the attackers
* stealth to remain out of sight

I think the default range on abilities is 30'. Please correct me if I am wrong.