Nub plops down morosely on the aft deck and contemplates the mess he has gotten himself into.
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Bellamin is flexible. What was proposed works for me. Ditto.
I think you meant four potions (six in total). One to Nub, one to Cordell, and two to yourself, leaves two, so I suggest Bellamin and Vasrik each take one. Nub was not trying to hide his actions.
Nub will take the spare crossbow and bolts to store on the boat. He will pocket the 10gp and potion and wordlessly help load any remaining cargo, proceeding on to the boat at the direction of the captain.
Angry with himself at showing such weakness around his older and more experienced comrades, Nub gathers his resolve and approaches the dead crossbowman. Nub looks at the ruined face and truly realizes for the first time that he has taken a path considerably more dangerous than drudging away in the kitchens of some self-important guild. This body could easily have been him. May even be him in the very near future. He whispers a quick prayer to the spirit of the mother he never knew for any continued protection she may offer and bends down to retrieve the thug's crossbow and quarrels. He can't bring himself to remove the one protruding from the corpse. He quickly checks the man's belt and tunic for anything of value, and then gently rolls the body into the water.
With the fight over and adrenaline still coursing through his body, Nub stands up from his crouched position and shakingly advances towards his adversary to collect his bolts and quickly check the body for anything useful. As he nears the central carnage his senses become overloaded with all that has happened in the last minute. He collapses to his knees and promptly loses his meager breakfast over the side of the dock.
Seeing the chaos of the fighting crowd in front of him, Nub will continue to trade crossbow fire with the outlier thug, hoping to keep him occupied or out of the fight for good. Crossbow attack: potential crit! Damage: Roll to confirm crit: Woohoo! Take that, punk! Extra Damage:
Seeing the punk at J9 still in the fight, Nub quickly reloads and fires his crossbow again. Crossbow attack: Damage:
Nub considers for a moment generating a suitable figment to strike fear in the gang of thugs, but he realizes that he has not yet divulged this talent to his comrades and would therefore risk causing confusion amongst all.
Crossbow attack:
Shortly after Harroan moves, Nub will move behind the crate F25 and crouch behind it, still looking like he is about to witness an event but not be part of it. He will remove his ragged cloak first and carry his crossbow concealed under it, like a bundle of ratty possessions.
Nub carefully follows the movements of the crossbowman, taking particular note of where their weapons are pointing, counting on the careless actions of thugs rather than the disciplined motions of true soldiers. If any of them seem to be pointing down at their legs or feet or, even better, in the general direction of one of their fellows, Nub will take the opportunity to surreptitiously Mage Hand the trigger if the response to Alarien's statement hints at violence. The sudden release of a bolt may cause some damage but will almost assuredly cause confusion and surprise, allowing our group the chance to recover and act first.
Nub will remain squatting by the tree, looking like the inconspicuous peasant lad he is, though ready to act as the scene dictates. He mutters to the others before the approaching gang gets too close to hear or notice, "I can create an obscuring fog if needed to aid our departure."
Alarien gives Nub a crooked smile. "You tell me." Nub rolls his eyes and pointedly looks elsewhere, though he does unlimber his crossbow and places it on the ground next to where he is sitting and looking as mundane as possible.
Alarien scrutinizes Nub carefully. After a few moments, she looks over his shoulder and deadpans, eyebrow arched, "Is that the city watch?" Nub looks around nervously. "Are we expecting trouble here?"
Oblivious to any tension or awkwardness between the arcanists, Bellamin rumbles past and grabs Nub's hand with a generous shake before it's offered. Tell us more about your cookin' skills, the other hand rubbing his staunch belly. Oh, and name's Axeager, Bellamin Axeager. Looking around cautiously, he tries not to seem nervous as he speaks in a soft voice. "Uhh, nice to meet you sirs. You can call me Nub. I, uh, can work with just about any ingredients." Adding with a wry chuckle, "especially good with stews".
Harroan perks up when he hears that another arcanist has joined the ship's roster. "Ah, where did you study? I wasn't aware that there were any arcanariums in proximus." Nub narrows his eyes a bit in suspicion. "Ummm, nowhere of consequence."
A small, wiry man runs awkwardly on to the pier and bends over panting when he reaches the end. He glances furtively once over his shoulder and then straightens up to his full height of 5'2". He is obviously not a man, yet, but a thin, disheveled lad dressed in soiled peasant garb carrying a pack stuffed with odds and ends. Clipped to a coil of rope wrapped around his skinny waist is what appears to be a stout wooden meat tenderizer. On the opposite hip rides the only decent looking piece of equipment, a fine handled chef's knife in a well cared for sheath. Earnestly he addresses Mirabella, who seems to be the one in charge."Reporting for work ma'am. I heard the Tatzlwyrm was hiring on for guards and such. I can be good in a scrap and I know a few arcane tricks. I'd be a hard worker, and I can even help with the cookin'."
Background updated. Looking forward to the fun.
Boo, illusion! Subtlety's for losers! Ahh, let the arcane smack talk begin... Evoke this and that
Of course, my scrawny first level illusionist may not live past the first encounter to try further subtle gloats...
Stat block up. Will work flavor text soon. |