Nogusta's page

The Alkenstaran Marshal nods as the plans are in place, but the anticipation of action was overwhelming him. Yes, the long search for Rau might be at an end, but by now, Colt realized that there were much bigger forces at play than just the Mwangi bandit. Colt would take down Rau, but the Captain would have to wait a bit longer before he booked ship back to Martel.

If we wag gums much longer, we lose our shot to bushwhack these hombres, and increase the chances of them doing some nasty business to your friend. I’m goin in.

Knowing it was probably foolish, the Marshal found himself unwilling to let these villains have any more time to do whatever they were planning with the bones in the room and the large man. The description was too close to tales he had heard about unholy rituals performed by the necromancers of Geb. He figured a loud and unruly entrance might distract enough to give the sneakier members a chance to move in to flank.

The Marshal swung open the door, leveled his guns, looked for Rau and opened fire.

Yeeeeehaaaaaw! Who ordered the whoopass fajitias?

out of character I know at least a couple know we are there, so I didn’t know how you wanted to handle surprise, so I did not roll to hit, waiting on the ruling.

Colt touches the tip of his hat with a finger before pulling out his pistols.

Well, ma’am, Rau has killed a gaggle. In different ways. Likes to mix it up. There’s folks that kill ‘cuz they need ta, folks that love the action, and folks that really get their shine on off it. Me, I ain’t too proud to admit to the second. The thrill of living like a candle on Death’s birthday cake. But Rau, he’s one that gets a sick pleasure out of taking life, innocent or otherwise.

What makes him mighty dangerous is these.

The Marshal waves one of his guns in the air.

he’s good with ‘em. He’s got some as shouldn’t, and plans to sell to the wrong sort.

The Alkenstaran sighs.

much it pains me, but if we want ta concentrate on Pappy first, I’ll oblige ya. But don’t sleep on the Mwangi. An unskilled shooter can do heaps of hurt with a gun, and Rau ain’t unskilled.

Far as a plan, I was thinking to swing open the doors and fill the room up with lead. I like ta keep it simple.

Colt grins mischievously.

At the mention of the skull-masked human, Colt’s eyes grow cold.

That sounds like Rau. I’ve been chasing that varmint half across Avistan. If you folks want to get ready, we can give it a tick, I reckon. Then I’m fixing to bring the Hells down on those pond scum. We can help the Padre, save your friend from whatever they got goin on, and I can make a canoe out of that slimy murdered’s head.

Colt nods at the plan to split. It only made sense, and the Marshal was used to working alone or with one partner, anyway.

works for me.

Seeing the supernatural forces taking over his new companions, he steps out of the way. If there was something to hunt, something to investigate, something to kill…but this was different, and out of his experience.

the sad fate of our dear Padre, I’m afraid, and the reason he ain’t gave up the ghost yet, so to speak. He tried to do right by this place, but his reward was being tossed in a cookpot. Maybe if this is where they did the deed, the remains won’t be too far.

Still in…sorry I’ve been slow lately

Colt wakes up from his rest, feeling refreshed. He steps outside of the chapel and has a smoke while he cleans and oils his weapons, methodically checking each moving part. He stamps out the cigarette and gives his badge a good sleeve/polish before rejoining the group.

all this sounds good. I got no leads on my outlaw, and I got a promise to be keepin’. I’m more than willing to come along and help out with all this other ruckus. Can’t have all these desperados at our backs.

He watches the group with the keen eye for detail that he has developed as an Alkenstar Gunmarshal. The thing you don’t notice when chasing some bandit across the Mana Wastes is the thing that kills you. Or worse.

As the they travel along, Colt stays mostly quiet, observing and learning, letting the others take the lead. After Nyym relays what he hears, he ponders for a moment and then speaks in a low whisper.

Cats? here? Gotta be either attack pets or tonight’s chili. I like the lady’s thought. If you ain’t noticed, there ain’t much subtlety once I have to cut loose the smokewagons.”

Colt rolls some tobacco into a slip of paper and then remembers the admonition of the ghost. He stuffs the cigarette into his coat pocket and sighs.

The Alkenstar Gunmarshal sprawls his body out on a pew and places his hat down over his eyes to darken the room and rest.

what brings me to these parts is hunting a murdering varmint named Rau. Mwangi feller. Cold as the day is long. You folks wouldn’t happen to have seen him, would ya?

Colt walks down the staircase, reloading his pistols as he walks towards the group. He makes sure his badge is visible and in proper place. He sweeps his hat off of his head and gives a bow to the ladies in the group.

Marshal Colt Winchester of Alkenstar. Mighty pleased to meet ya.

The gunslinger stands and smiles to the whole group.

Mighty well done on taking out this trash. You are a formidable bunch, for sure.

When Aiko mentions Fabian Blix, Colt doffs his hat again and gives a low bow, switching to Tien for a moment, and speaking more formally than his normal style.

Pleased to meet you, Far Traveller. The ancestor of your friend is now a ghost, and he is in this chapel to Iomede. I will spare you the details, but the end he met was…unpleasant. The child and I have agreed to aid his spirit in finding rest by recovering his remains from this fort.

He tosses a wink to Rocnork.

Appreciate the tip on the silver. Shoulda known myself, but it was heaps helpful to know what to use to put that creeper under the snakes.

Colt smiles grimly and takes another shot.

judge: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (8) + 13 = 211d8 + 6 + 13 ⇒ (8) + 6 + 13 = 27

Point blank shot, firing into melee, deadly aim, move action to reload. Brings him to 6 in the chamber for Jury and one left in the chamber for Judge.

As the bullet streaks towards the undead orc, Colt is already nimbly placing a loading ring against the back of Jury’s cylinder, and with a flick of his wrist, there is a satisfying click as the cartridges lock home.

Colt jogs in a northwesterly direction to get a better angle for a shot, then takes another shot at the monster.

attack with judge: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (14) + 12 = 261d8 + 12 ⇒ (1) + 12 = 13

I included -3 for deadly aim and -4 for firing at a melee.

1d20 + 13 ⇒ (9) + 13 = 22

crit confirmation. I fired 3 times. This should have followed the natural 20.

leave the youngins alone, you pig-faced, yellow-bellied buzzard!

Colt aimed his silver-loaded pistol at Marduk, fanning the hammer as he unloaded shots as quickly as he could.

revolver: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (3) + 13 = 161d8 + 12 ⇒ (3) + 12 = 15

revolver: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (20) + 13 = 331d8 + 12 ⇒ (8) + 12 = 20

revolver: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 221d8 + 12 ⇒ (2) + 12 = 14

Rapid shot, deadly aim, grazed condition, resolved against touch AC.

Colt flicks open the cylinder of Judge and lets the remaining 3 cartridges fall to the ground. He grabs one his precious loading rings of silver bullets and pushes it up against the cylinder, then with a flick of his wrist, he flips the cylinder into a firing position.

silver, huh? Thanks, scaly hombre.

The marshal jogs southeast to move into a position with a clearer firing line.

2 move actions and I’m done.

Colt sees the ladies being mobbed by the crowd of undead orcs.

damned Gebbites.

if Mama Winchester, Pharasma rest her kindly soul, taught her little boy anything, it was never let a lady get torn apart by undead.

so many of the cursed things. Well, only one way to eat an oliphaunt. One bite at a time.

The marshal’s weapons roar into life with thunder and fire as he peppers the spawn with a volley of bullets.

judge primary: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (4) + 14 = 181d8 + 12 ⇒ (7) + 12 = 19
jury off-hand: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (9) + 14 = 231d8 + 12 ⇒ (2) + 12 = 14
judge rapid shot: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (14) + 14 = 281d8 + 12 ⇒ (1) + 12 = 13
judge iterative attack: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 261d8 + 12 ⇒ (5) + 12 = 17

rapid shot, deadly aim, 2 weapon fighting, and -1 for grazed all included…judgement should bring me back up another to -17 off max hp.

Don’t threaten me with a good time.

Colt sees two monsters fighting each other, but when he sees the Erutaki fighting the ogres, he figures that the dragon creature must be one of the good guys. Besides, after seeing what the woman could do, he wanted to be on whatever side she was on. Wow.

2 shots at +12 because of deadly aim and a -4 for firing into melee.

judge: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (19) + 12 = 311d8 + 12 ⇒ (4) + 12 = 16
jury: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (19) + 12 = 311d8 + 12 ⇒ (8) + 12 = 20

The report of the gunshots made the Marshal smile.
got something sweet for ya, ya ugly cuss

think Colt may be out of line of sight of the current action. His portion of the map isn’t showing, but I remember the chapel was just off-camera to the left.

Colt hears the battle raging around the corner and heads over to get a good vantage point, scooping up his Highwall as he does so.

move action to pick up Executioner, (and shove it into the back holster since he’s already bent down and can do it in one motion) and then up to 30 feet to the east/south, (can’t really count the squares as I can’t see my starting location) to get into a firing position. He should also heal 1 point from his active Judgement.

The sounds of battle rage on, but Colt decides to take advantage of the few seconds of breathing room to attend to his weapons. His deft fingers pluck the jammed cartridge from the cylinder of Jury with an almost supernatural speed. Then he quickly grabs a loader ring from his bandolier and slams it into the empty Judge.

spends 1 grit to quick-clear and reloads his other pistol. Two move-equivalent actions that keep him out of the fight this round.

All good now, son. he says to Meir.
how bout you and I get in on the hootnanny?

edited to change his legal judgement to fast healing 1 as a swift action. Giant cleavers hurt.

Colt is relieved as the barrage of bullets finally takes down the giant. He’s concerned at first, when the beast falls toward Meir, but the young man seems to be ok.
doing better than me, anyhow
He thinks with an inward groan of pain.

He doesn’t look up, taking Meir at his word.

Helping folks comes with the badge, son. Let me toss some beans in the wheel and clear this hung Jury and I’ll be there lickity-split.

The Gunman’s Duster absorbs the brunt of the powerful giant’s strike, keeping the cleaver from cutting Colt open. The blow staggers the marshal back a step. Colt sucks in air through his teeth, hoping his ribs aren’t broken from the mighty blow.
Gods alive, that is gonna leave a mark!

Colt brings his guns up to bear and takes a step back. With Jury damaged and the giant still coming, he is desperately hoping not to get backed into a corner, but at the same time, this was just plain fun!

Hoping to keep the monster’s attention on him and away from Meir, the shield marshal takes another step back away from the cleaver and taunts the beast in giant.

Boy, I done told you to git to sleepin’! My sister’s toddler listens better! Come to think of it, the little guttersnipe hits harder than you, too, Sweetness.

Colt makes kissy sounds at the giant as he opens fire.

To simplify my math, I’m letting the -1 from grazed cancel out the +1 from point blank shot.

judge attack: 1d20 + 14 - 3 ⇒ (12) + 14 - 3 = 23 rapid shot is factored in and -3 for deadly aim
judge damage: 1d8 + 5 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 5 + 6 + 1 = 20 deadly and judgement

judge attack: 1d20 + 14 - 3 ⇒ (16) + 14 - 3 = 27 rapid shot is factored in and -3 for deadly aim
judge damage: 1d8 + 5 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 5 + 6 + 1 = 19 deadly and judgement

jury attack: 1d20 + 14 - 3 - 1 ⇒ (11) + 14 - 3 - 1 = 21 extra -1 for broken condition.
jury damage: 1d8 + 5 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 5 + 6 = 13 broken condition cancels out judgement

judge iterative attack: 1d20 + 9 - 3 ⇒ (4) + 9 - 3 = 10
judge damage: 1d8 + 5 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 5 + 6 + 1 = 15

for initiative count 18

Colt continues to sing as he takes a step back from the cleaver, now punctuating the rests in his trail song with the (much more satisfying) sound of gunshots.

Judge: 1d20 + 14 - 3 - 2 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 14 - 3 - 2 + 1 = 26
Judge damage: 1d8 + 5 + 1 + 1 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 5 + 1 + 1 + 6 = 18

all of the doggies are in the corral

rapid shot Judge: 1d20 + 14 - 3 - 2 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 14 - 3 - 2 + 1 = 23
judge damage: 1d8 + 5 + 1 + 1 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 5 + 1 + 1 + 6 = 20

all of your work is done

Jury: 1d20 + 14 - 3 - 2 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 14 - 3 - 2 + 1 = 11
jury damage: 1d8 + 5 + 1 + 1 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 5 + 1 + 1 + 6 = 16

just close your eyes and dream little pal

secondary shot: 1d20 + 9 - 3 - 2 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 9 - 3 - 2 + 1 = 25
Judge damage: 1d8 + 5 + 1 + 1 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 5 + 1 + 1 + 6 = 14

dream of someone

looks like there’s a Crit to confirm and Jury is broken. I guess with the average die crit system that would add 51 omg damage
confirm crit: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22

Colt’s Danger Sense ability from the Shield Marshal Prestige class allows him to always act in a surprise round, so I guess this happens on the giant’s way in.

Colt whips up his Highwall and smiles.

Bedtime, big boy. I’m here at tuck ya in like sweet-like.

and starts to sing a pleasant little song, incongruous with what is going on.

Blue Shadows on the trail

point blank adds +1 to hit and damage, Legal Judgement:Judgement will add +1 damage, deadly aim will be -3 hit, +6 damage. attack resolved against touch AC
rifle attack: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (9) + 11 = 20

rifle damage: 1d10 + 5 + 1 + 1 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 5 + 1 + 1 + 6 = 16

The Marshal finds the weird silence of the shot unsettling, and the Highwall is a single-shot weapon, anyway, so he drops it and quick-draws his revolvers.

Little Cowboy, close your eyes, and dream

Colt sees the giant approaching and figures that stealth just went out the window.

Brigh’s bronze bosoms! he curses, muttering.

The situation was an unholy mess, but the promise of a bit of chaos and action gives the gunslinger that familiar thrill that has in the past saved his life and caused him trouble in about equal measure.

go for the stairs, son. I’ll cover you against the slop-slinger, here.

He says to the apron-wearing brute in giant…
all right, darlin’, let’s have a dance.

initiative: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (10) + 8 = 18

Colt holsters his revolvers and pulls out his trusty Highwall, Executioner. He calmly unattaches the bayonet and checks the action, making sure he has a cartridge loaded. With the little bit of magic from the Captain, the rifle would be the more stealthy option.

Alright, son. I think Padre is right. We can get us a look-see around this place from the bell-tower.

The Marshal remembers the now-familiar tittering laughter before the bell started clanging earlier.

you are going to have to keep your phantom cowboy from making music. Seems like he’s a fun feller, which I don’t mind a jot, but I’m also thinkin’ he ain’t aiming to see ya dead. Let’s mosey on up to the next level all quiet-like.

When Meir is ready, Colt peeks outside of the chapel to see if the immediate area is clear. If it is, he slips out, rifle at the ready, keeping to cover and shadows and running his sharp eyes over the area ahead.

stealth: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6

seriously?

The appearance of the ghostly creature stepping away from Meir takes Colt by surprise.
NOW what? Who in blazes is this? We gonna have us a whole hootnanny in the church directly. At least this one is a good-lookin feller.

Colt watches the spirit as it tells its tale with the watchful eye of a trained investigator.
sense motive: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (10) + 19 = 29

out of character I feel like the ghost is probably legit, so I’ll proceed as if Colt senses nothing amiss. If I’m wrong I’ll come back in and edit.

When the ghost finishes it’s horrifying tale, Colt is almost sobered for a minute, then decides to cover the horror with flippancy as he turns to the ghost,

so, as far as fires in church, tabakky bad, dead bodies good, got it. Be glad to help ya, Padre. Sounds like you got the short end of it, and that ain’t no lie. I’m mighty sorry about your pickle. Must be like being in a prison, no matter how elegantly arranged. This ain’t no right reward for doing the right thing in the face of horror, so I’m with the kid on this one. We’ll get that body and have us a proper barbecue so you can go to Heaven and kiss your mammy.

Colt moves his attention over to Meir.
You are a strange one, sure as the sunrise, but I’ve had the same said of me more than once. If your sister is around these parts, she ain’t safe. So at least until we help the Padre here, and find your kin, I got your back.

Colt looks again at the spirit he suspects is mocking him.
both of ya.

first thing, Padre, we need to know our way around these parts. If the body is still here after all the orcs been through, it sure ain’t gonna be out in the open. Could ya give us a rundown of this place? Or what it was like when you were breathin’?

Colt's eyes widen as Meir puts out the cigarette, then the shieldmarshal bursts out with laughter.

Got yourself a pair of brass ones, dont ya, son? I respect that. Yup, Shieldmarshal is a title of sorts. We are the guardians and lawdogs of the Grand Duchy of Alkenstar. I don't truck too much with formality, so Colt suits me right down to the ground. Its in my duties as a shieldmarshal that I'm looking for this Rau fella. Sure you ain't seen him? He might look like he's wearing his brain pan on the outside. Mwangi feller.

Not really expecting a positive answer (the fact the young man was breathing seemed to Marshal Winchester clue enough that Meir hadn't seen him), Colt steps up to the statue of Iomedae and tips his hat.

Begging your pardon, ma'am, but seein' as we seem to have a hair in the butter, and I expect you ain't too keen on the other potential guests, I'm thinking we may have to realign the fung shui up in here to make a defensible position.

Marshal Winchester is quickly planning how to arrange the chapel furniture to create a firing bulwark when Meir makes his comment and Colt gets the feeling someone is dancing on his grave.

He whirls around and, with a barely perceptible blur of motion, Judge and Jury spring up into his hands and point towards the spirit. He sees Meir draw revolvers, but the Marshal files away that oddity for future questions. The young man doesn't seem to want to speak much about what is going on, but if those revolvers are from an illegal transaction, Colt may have some decisions to make.

Little guy is heeled? What in tarnation?

Colt responds to the spirit's telepathic communications out loud.

First thing, I need to know this isn't some Geb shenanigans. I'll admit it ain't likely out here in the boonies, but anything is possible. So if you don't mind, I'll leave my barking irons right here to say howdy. Beyond that, I'd be mighty obliged for some assistance. First, you reckon it's ok or disrespectful to have a poke in here? Second, there is a certain fella, who, well, I'm not for airin' the lungs in church, but let's just say he's a bad man. Maybe you can assist with that? Other than that, some cuss joined a big bell choir a bit ago and who knows what might be headin' this way. Assistin' with that be mighty big of ya.

The Marshal thinks for a moment and then continues.
It occurs to me that you may be asking us for assistance. If that's the case, we are busy as a one-legged man in a rump-kicking contest, but I for one, am still inclined to help ya...If you ain't from Geb.

religion: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12

The tall, slim man's deft fingers roll a bit of dried tobacco into a small square of paper, he strikes a tindertwig against a pew to light it, and takes a long pull from his cigarette.
From what I've heard tell, Iomedae seems like a good egg. I reckon' she won't mind me havin' a poke.

Colt gives his attention to Meir, spits in his hand, and offers it for the young man to shake.

Shieldmarshal Colt Winchester, mighty pleased to acquaint with you.

Whether or not Meir takes his hand, he offers his cigarette to the young man.

This may calm your nerves and grow a patch on ya. I'm here looking for a varmint calling himself Rau so I can put him under snakes. What is a guttersnipe between hay and grass doin' out here? Tryin' to visit the bone garden?

it was intended as a reference to Blades of Glory, but you do know I likes my roguish charismatic characters, too...so I’ll take the bard thing with pride.

influence: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24

BOOM! That’s how babies are made right there, kids!

Nogusta went to work healing what wounded he could save.
I have 7 more uses to channel divinity in an AoE heal, so I should be able to burn one or two to stabilize quite a few fallen at once.

At Cham's question, the Mwangi stopped his ministrations long enough to give him a broad, but weary smile and respond in his careful, formal version of common.

I would definitely accompany you, if you will have me. I believe I am supposed to. I was praying to the Dawnflower for guidance on where I could best be used in her holy service, and I was suddenly filled with a powerful feeling of peace and love. Right before I ended up appearing on a bloody battlefield with your assemblage. There is much I do not know about what is going on and what has transpired, but judging by what I have seen so far, you seem to be fighting on the side of good."

The cleric pauses for a moment and closes his eyes as healing power radiates out from him again, then re-opens his eyes and looks to the group.

I'm not sure what a Khyledonia is, or what exactly just happened to all of us, but I have gathered that, at least most of you, are missing memories of your past, memories that seem to trouble you. I would like to say to you that the most important step in a journey is not the first one, nor is it the last. The most important step is the next one.
Of course, previous wrongs in the past must be set right, but they need have no bearing on what you choose to be in this moment, or any moment following. Walking the path to redemption is as simple as deciding to be redeemed.

Sorry Ive been a little slow. Medical stuff going on.

Nogusta looked around in confusion and whispered to his goddess.

So we transport again so soon? So be it, my Lady, thy will be done.

The cleric was a surprised by the sudden shift from aiding the town in crisis to standing in this peaceful valley. Nogusta attributed the location shift to his goddess and moved quickly to acceptance of the strange, new situation. The child should be safe for now with the half-orc dead, and the Mwangi had asked to be used however Sarenrae saw fit.

Nogusta nodded politely to the bearded stranger, thinking that most of the many questions springing to mind would be answered in a conversation with this "King of Khyledonia," whatever that was.

Of course, and may Sarenrae illuminate your path, sir.

With little hesitation, the cleric shakes his head a bit and strides boldly towards the pool.

Coughing and trying to hold the cloth in front of his nose and mouth, the Mwangi closed his eyes, whispered a prayer to Sarenrae, and stubbornly pushed forward through the smoke clouds.

Constitution Save: 1d20 + 7 + 2 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 7 + 2 + 2 + 2 = 29

Nogusta's eyes watered, he coughed, and he choked as the unnatural smoke assaulted him.

fortitude save: 1d20 + 7 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 7 + 2 + 1 = 11

He concentrated his mind on thoughts of a child at the mercy of savage orcs and attempted to stagger forward.

You gotta be kidding me, Paizo! See if I buy any of your new crap! Psst! 5E is better.

Nogusta looks at the roiling, poisonous smoke in frustration.

survival: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (3) + 9 = 12

He thought about the spells at his disposal and nothing useful came to mind. Seeing what Kyt was doing, the Mwangi did the same, wetting a stole from his pack, wrapping it around his mouth and nose and hurrying through the area to minimize exposure.

Nogusta was not sure of what was happening, but one thing seemed to be clear; a child was being threatened, possibly sacrificed (under the knife) in some dark ritual to some depraved power that would enjoy such a thing. The Mwangi would not allow that to happen.

You move much faster than me, but take with you the strength of Sarenrae until I catch up.

Nousta's hand glows and he touches Liesel-Marie, the mighty warrior who was standing next to him.

An intense, but sudden and painless heat transfers from his hand and the warrior woman is infused with a surge of strength.

+4 enhancement bonus to strength for the next 5 minutes from Bull's Strength

After casting his spell, the cleric scoops up the dropped shield and hurries to follow as best he can.

Nogusta clasps hands with Nym and with a smile and a look of appreciation replies...

Thank you. I go where Saerenrae sends me, quite literally, it seems. Trunau, you say? I'm not familiar with it, but I will help in whatever way I can.

Nogusta nods to Rohan in thanks and then clasps Liesel-Marie's arm in the warrior's clasp.
I appreciate the sentiment, and accept your thanks in the name of the Everlight. It is she who sent me here, and my spells are but humble requests for her intercession.

Seeing that the conversation may be leading towards further battle, Nogusta will pop another channel to try to better top off those who might still be a few off of max.

channel: 3d6 ⇒ (3, 2, 5) = 10

Nogusta turned back from the barricades as the defenders were getting overwhelmed by the orcs. The Mwangi looked up at the heavens for a moment.
Blessed Lady, if this be the day I walk by your side I welcome it.
Nogusta took a deep, calming breath and prepared to move back out to the courtyard and save as many of these brave souls as he could. Before he could act, however, the reinforcements arrived; battle-hardened militia who looked more than capable of finishing the fight.
With a heavy sigh of weary relief and a silent, smiling prayer to the Dawnflower, the cleric turned to the group as they made their way to the defensive position.

The circumstances did not allow a proper introduction when I arrived. I am Nogusta, a servant of the Blessed Dawnflower, Sarenrae. I was praying to my Lady to guide me in the way I could be most useful in her service, and found myself suddenly here. I can see that your group is brave and capable, and am proud to have stood beside you in defending this town...which is called...?

Nogusta's voice is deep and soothing. His words are accented, and every syllable seems to be pronounced carefully and formally, showing that he learned the language in a classroom or under tutelage. The cleric's speech begins with a broad smile and ends with a look of confusion as he realizes that he has no idea where he is. He leaves the final question hanging and causes yet another channeled pulse of warm sunlight to radiate from him.

channel: 3d6 ⇒ (1, 6, 4) = 11

Nogusta can actually do that 6 more times before going into his spells. I don't know the exact amounts of healing everyone needs, but he would be willing to top everyone off with channeling in case we need to jump back into the fray and flank the orcs after our breather.

Nogusta hears the shouting outside of the gate and knows that the another wave of orcs is on the way. He shook the rain off of his clean-shaven head and flexed his wings to throw off the droplets...
my WHAT? Wings?
The Muwangi looked up at the sky and whispered a prayer of wondering bewilderment for the strange blessings of the Dawnflower and flapped the wings hard, leaping back a few feet and landing just a few feet behind the largest cluster of defenders. He thrust his shield forward, and the emblazoned angelic ankh erupted in a golden yellow light that pulsed outwards around him.

channel divinity: 2d6 ⇒ (4, 3) = 7

if I’m reading it right, if Nogusta moves a couple squares to the right and up he can actually heal the entire group and use selective channel to ignore the baddies.

Nogusta did not know the story of what was going on, but he knew enough to know it was a time for action. He thought about the people of this strange town, and in less than a second, overlapping images crossed his mind in rapid-fire succession as he imagined the townsfolk and remembered his own village.

Two small children were chasing each other through the streets, laughing and pretending to be mighty dragonslayers. The sound of their play was interrupted by the horror of the guttural war cries of the orcs as they burned and slaughtered their way through the town…

We were running through the jungle, just within earshot of the village. Little boys armed with sticks, pretending to be great hunters after the mythical Bagh-kahn. The sounds of screams pierced the air, followed by barked orders and laughter as the Consortium slavers set about slaughtering the adults and capturing the children in weighted nets…

His mind flashed back to reality, to the here and now. No. Not here. He thought.

He knelt beside the injured elven defender.

There is still a fight to fight, warrior. You are needed.

A warm, golden glow surrounded the Muwangi’s hands as he touched Kytynna’s wounds. The glow spread from his hands to envelop the elf.

cure moderate wounds: 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (7, 5) + 4 = 16

Nogusta blinks with surprise as his prayer is so quickly and dramatically answered. He takes in the situation quickly, his strange blue eyes scanning the battlefield. An orc horde attacking a village and a brave group of adventurers holding the line. He sees the elf lying before him, injured and in dire circumstance. Nogusta mouths a quick word of thanks to the Dawnflower for giving him an opportunity to serve her.