Devargo Barvasi's page

Lyla

"You're a good alchemist. Not great, but good enough. And with all the junkies you created out there, there's some real need for people with our skills right now... to treat the addiction, and the withdrawal. I think they might spare you, if you're willing to work for the town. You'll defintely be working in chains, but it figures. Just don't try to blow up your way out like I did, and things could work out fine for you. Do you think you can do that?"

Lyla's words definitely catch Devargo's attention--he's doing his best not to show it, but he's genuinely surprised you're even making him the offer, all things considered.

The King of Spiders looks at the floor of his cell. A spider scuttles by, oblivious to the goings-on around the cell's two occupants. Devargo Barvasi looks back up at you.

"If Kroft'll go for it... fine." His hands are shaking in their bonds. For the first time in your life, you see a look of fear appear on his face, mixed with no shortage of desperation and a futile effort at aloofness. "I'll do it."

"Are you even sorry?""

"...not sure it's worth much, but... yes." He says, resigned and surprised.

Perhaps it's because of the threat of the noose looming before him. Perhaps it's the fact that he's helpless before you. Perhaps it's because you've proven to be the better person here...

...but you think you got through to him.

His eyes follow you as you leave his cell and Sergeant Soldado escorts you away.

Lyla
Devargo looks up from his chained seat, glaring up at Lyla from beneath a furrowed brow. Several bruises mar his face, and his nose has a trail of blood running to his upper lip. His prisoners' togs are ragged and have fresh bloodstains on them.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Some slip I should've thrown in the harbour the first chance I got." Devargo growls. The ex-King of Spiders twitches, flexing his hands, possibly to keep them from falling asleep.

"I mean, who I really am, like my family name? You were there when Lamm took me. There must have been some word on the streets back then."

Devargo snorts. "You're a Fairwoods, if it matters." He breaks into a coughing fit before settling down. "Sailing family--not out of the ordinary for Korvosa. Never knuckled under to the nobles--made your own way without being servants." He sighs. "Should've thought of that."

"Maybe I can help you with the hanging judge. I'm someone now."

Devargo scoffs. "Right. And I'm Eodred's long lost son." He growls before he barely avoids breaking into another coughing jag.

After a moment, he speaks again. "Oh, what do I have to lose? Fine, I'll humour you, slip. What could you POSSIBLY do to save my neck?" He looks at the pseudodragon's mark before meeting your eyes again.

You think you see a glimmer of... hope? in his eyes.

Devargo fixes Lyla with a baleful glare.

"Downstairs. Go look for yourself." He nods at the door.

Round 1 Summary

Turn Order
Lyla
Demitri
Jakob
Karri
Team Devargo
Ortik

Lyla's bomb sails over everyone's heads... straight at Devargo's face, where it promptly explodes. Devargo throws his hands up to shield his face, but it doesn't help much.

"OW! Dammit, forgot she could do that."

Demitri moves into the room, drawing the attacks of two of the thugs in the room.
AoO 1: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11
AoO 2: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11
Both of which he easily swats aside with his sword & shield. He swings at the thug to the right of the doorway, aiming to knock him unconscious.
Demitri's Non-Lethal Attack!: 1d20 + 4 - 4 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 4 - 4 + 1 = 3
Unfortunately, he doesn't fare much better.

Jakob's swing bounces off the door frame, causing spiders to fall down and scuttle away.

Karri's horse spawns in the room, neighing furiously. His first hoof misses the thug in front of him, but the second one gets him squarely in the gut. Karri's acid orb, meanwhile, misses completely and burns away a cobweb.

The thugs make their attack! The thug on the left of the door swings his club, taking advantage of the flanking his partner is providing.
Thug Attack 1 (Flanking): 1d20 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 4 + 2 = 25
Club Damage 1: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
The blow hits Jakob in the chest.

His buddy tries to do the same thing...
Thug Attack 3 (Flanking): 1d20 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 4 + 2 = 12
...but misses.

The remaining thugs, surprised by the appearance of the evil horse, start swinging at that instead. The fourth thug tries to whack the horse with his club...
Thug Attack 4 (Cover Included): 1d20 + 4 - 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 - 4 = 10
...but the card table barely gets in the way, causing his swing to come up short.

The remaining two thugs attack the horse as well.
Thug Attack 5 (Flanking Included): 1d20 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 4 + 2 = 21
Club Damage (DR Included): 1d6 + 2 - 1 ⇒ (1) + 2 - 1 = 2
Thug Attack 6: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7
The fifth thug's blow catches the horse in the nose, but all it really seems to do is make it even more angry. The sixth thug's swing bounces off the horse's hide without hurting it.

Devargo, seeing the chaos before him, growls. "First the slip breaks into my ship, then tries to steal from me, then throws a f**king BOMB in my face. DON'T YOU F**KERS KNOW WHO I AM?!" He yells before readying his bladed gauntlets and moving into the brawl. Seeing Demitri's back is turned, he takes a swing...
Sneak Attack! (Flanking): 1d20 + 7 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 7 + 2 = 15
...and misses Demitri's back by a good margin. "AAARGH! Outta my way!"

Ortik, then Round 2: GO!

You see a ring of keys on Devargo's belt, hanging precariously. You creep up, hand readied...

...but something seems off immediately. Devargo wouldn't be stupid enough to just leave a ring of keys on his belt for someone to steal. Your instincts tell you to get away--

--Just in time. His hand snaps out, narrowly missing your tiny wrists. He looks down at you, a mixture of pleasant surprise and contempt in his eyes. The thugs around him look up in complete surprise.

"Well. It looks like I owe Oren an apology. Hello again, Lyla."

Lyla
The only entrance you can find is the main door. With few other options, you step inside, your size allowing you to slip under the door with ease.

This large room, once a captain’s cabin, has been converted into a throne room of sorts. The walls are thick with spiderwebs, in which scuttle dozens of spiders—some as large as a fist but most considerably smaller. These spiders seem content to stay in their webs and do not venture into the room itself, which is furnished with two sturdy oaken tables surrounded by chairs.Aft, a wooden stage supports a large leather chair, itself covered with cobwebs and scampering spiders. A narrow door stands to port, hanging ajar and revealing a flight of stairs leading below. An iron birdcage hangs from the ceiling like a chandelier, inside of which lingers a tiny, tired-looking purple dragon.

Several fresh-faced toughs are in the room, three of them huddled around a table to your left playing cards. Two others sit to your right, eying the leather chair's occupant with fear.

Slouching upon the leather chair is a tall man, with close-cropped brown hair and dark blue eyes. His black leather armour is accented with a steel spider-shaped shoulder baldric and a thick chain criss-crossing his chest, linked together in the shape of a spider’s web. He wears gauntlets with fixed blades over the knuckles, the blades themselves glistening with some sort of poison. Fresh blood leaks from his nose and dark circles are under his eyes. You notice a tremor in his gauntleted hands--it's difficult to see, but adding it all together, you surmise that this man is suffering from shiver withdrawal.