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"If anybody tries to stop me I draw my weapon and ready my shield." It may be a good idea to read the more recent posts, as those tend to reflect the conclusion of a decision making process. Besides, that was intended for the Blackravens. If other party members would have stepped in do you think that perhaps the situation would have been resolved differently? We'll never know now. "He presses and begins to slide the blade, drawing a small amount of blood." Such flavor text may have been intended to enrich the story's detail and I figured that, in a medieval game full of violence, something like that would not be considered an atrocity. Besides, who's to say that I wasn't just going to ask him a few questions (maybe he was working for somebody and that's why he disobeyed orders) and then send him over to join the rest of the prisoners. I was expecting something like Game of Thrones but instead it seems like Disneyland is all that's allowed. We don't have any 12 year old in this party, do we? If so, I apologize for the offensive themes. "Well, I'll ignore the thinly-veiled insult, but let's see what the rules have to say." Now, now, no insult intended, as I was criticizing a line of thinking, not the person who had those thoughts (it is quite common for people to confuse the two types of critique). I would say that my character's actions reflect a little bit of both, good and evil, just like most actions in the real world. The fact remains that my character never did kill an innocent, torture anybody, or do anything more than just make a few smart remarks, slap a goblin and put a little boo boo poor Enrik's neck. And it was all done (except for the sarcasm and whatnot) with the intended purpose of fulfilling the mission and protecting the party. Hardly deserving of the condemnation that has been coming my way from multiple directions throughout this entire adventure. And now from the GM :( I understand that GMing is a tough job though and that it can be like herding cats, so its not a big deal to me. "The orders they followed were, "do your duty and defend our country against these goblin invaders who we've been at war with for three hundred years, and their foreigner colleagues who are trying to sneak them into our country". The orders were given by their legitimate commander, and were not inhumane, illegal, unethical, or immoral. Comparing that to concentration camp guards... well, that's ridiculous and a bit tasteless." Now we really are getting into some questionable territory. By who's definition of inhumane, etc.? Duty, honor, country. Sure. They still attacked the party and I wasn't privy to those orders. Wearing a uniform and having no sense of individual judgment is not an excuse. At least the folks in Irrisen didn't kill on sight just because of what race some of our party belonged to (they just opened fire because...well, they are goblins). Oh, I forgot, this is a world where some races ARE inherently evil and barbaric. Funny funny. I wonder. What would Enrik have ordered his troops to do to the goblins if he had gotten his way? I believe the Nazis used to do something similar before they set up the camps. And they weren't unique in that regard. Just following orders and defending the Fatherland from evil!
He frowns and contemplates this development, cursing the fact that he missed some of the more subtle avenues of profit. As a recent arrival, this was bound to happen though. Fascinating. Internment of the dead, you say? I must find out who Righty is connected to and what territory he controls. As I said, opportunity is everywhere. He leans back, soaking in as much information as he can. Yes, I have great respect for those who take up the mantle of leadership within the Society.
...but, as our black sheep is about to give the commander his healing potion, he remembers how they wanted to harm the goblins, how they attempted to kill him and his companions, and the deceptive way in which they went about it. Seeing how some of his companions are busy helping the very people who so easily lied to and tried to kill them, Rha'ziz becomes angry. He pulls out his dagger and puts up against the dying commander's throat. He presses and begins to slide the blade, drawing a small amount of blood. The knife stops as he holds it firm and steady, just millimeters away from Enrik's carotid artery. Then, with his other hand, he pours the potion down the unconscious man's gullet. Letting you live is merciful. The potion works its magic and Rha'ziz positions himself above the commander, one knee on Enrik's chest as he holds the dagger in one hand and his enemy's hair in the other. Poised as if he expects a demon to burst out of the Ulfen's skin at any moment, he pulls the commander's head back to fully expose the throat and waits for signs of recovery.
The dimly lit basement reeked of raw meat and preserving agents. They were underneath a humble butcher's shop that doubled as a meeting place for members of the organization. He had sent word out to his crew and to interested members about a meeting. Smoke wafted through the air. My fellow Sczarni, he began with a grin that wrinkled up the scars on his face and exposed a shining gold tooth. Here were are at the center of the world. A silence hung in the air. So much untapped opportunity and potential. And yet we sit here, resting on our laurels and awaiting the call of the Decemvirate. He held up his hand against the coming objections. Now, I know what you are all thinking. What about Guaril and the bosses? He paused. What about them? They will get their due, as is always done within the Family. And, of course, we will act only with their approval. But the time is now and Absalom is open ground. I suggest that we keep our eyes and ears open for promising scores. And there is no reason for us to not get to work putting the locals in line. There is a lot of money to be made in this city and its anybody's game at this point. But remember, don't make a move without the bosses' approval. The last thing we need is a war at the center of the world. He relaxed and crossed his well muscled arms over a stocky chest. After lighting a cigar and taking a puff, he addressed everyone at the meeting with the hopes of getting feedback - and maybe a few leads. What say you?
Well, since everybody seems to have it all figured out I'll play the bad guy role once again. I'm going to treat the commander (or whoever the hasn't been healed yet). But before I administer the potion I am going to take his weapons and valuables. If anybody tries to stop me I draw my weapon and ready my shield. Any dead, I loot them too. Extra weapons go to the goblins. Gold...whatever, I'll toss it and miscellaneous items in a pile. The prisoners are next - unless some touchy feely do-gooder thinks that's going too far. I'm not on a mercy crusade here. Those who attack me declare themselves my enemies and are to be treated accordingly. If the Blackravens have a problem with being stripped of their valuables then they shouldn't have attacked us or should have won.
Rha'ziz doesn't seem to notice the insult, but files it away in the back of his mind. He knows never to forget a potential enemy. Pointy ears over there might be in for a nasty surprise one day if he doesn't come down a few notches. It would be trivial to get the crew together. I wonder if his family has money... He rolls his eyes and shrugs it off. He kneels over Beromir and calls to Skaar. Wanna give me a hand over here?
Rha'ziz seems unshaken, being familiar with the effects of violence. He learned early on to never get close to any of his associates for obvious reasons. He watches the whole situation unfold and, after vitals are taken, moves to get the group organized. He pulls his companions aside and offers a plan. 'Look, I took a class with the Korvosan Guard on combat first aid and the first thing they said was to remain calm. And that people get killed if the unit doesn't work together. I don't remember much else though. I was too busy sleeping during the demonstrations. Sarge never caught me once,' he chuckles wistfully before snapping back to reality. Turning to Beromir, who lay unconscious, he addresses the other functional members of his group. 'Who's got the best hands and eyes and knows how to stitch up a wound? Get 'em on the big one and have a few assistants on standby.' He continues on and outlines a plan of action, organizing the party into two medic teams.
Rha'ziz jerks his arm up and out of Kella's grasp. He glowers down at her and then looks around, surveying the situation. He walks over to Eryndir and speaks in a low voice. I got the goblins under control. Anybody will have to go through me to get to them. He frowns over at the door and then looks back to Eryndir, Sochi and Kyras. I say we just press on and tell bozo over there that we were given strict orders by the Decemvirate to deliver the goblins to chosen representatives at a certain time. We are behind schedule and must proceed with haste. Eryndir and Beromir should act as scouts who patrol the flanks, forward and rear. I'll have the goblins rally around me as they would a bugbear, Sochi in front and Kyras hovering about. If our scouts encounter trouble we will have the chance to maneuver around any ambush, but we won't be able to outrun a pursuit. Therefore we need to be prepared to fight a defensive battle or evade detection using the terrain to our advantage. He leans in close and his voice gets lower, taking on a malicious edge. Or we just kill him now before he talks to anybody. The leer that follows makes it difficult to tell if he is joking or relishing the prospect of killing.
Good thing the lass had two eyes eh? He claps the Half-Elf on the shoulder and laughs before delicately carving out the doll's other eye with his dagger. Stabbing it in the chest and then trampling it underfoot. He spits on the ruined corpse before turning away. The other eye gets wrapped in a cloth and stuffed in his pack.
As Kyras is approaching the doll, I utter a silent prayer to Calistria and stand up in his face. 'I got my eye on that one down there, if you get my drift.' A gold front tooth is exposed as Rha'ziz grins. His face shows evidence of having been broken numerous times. Scars from cuts and piercing weapons cover parts of his visage as well. And those cold angry eyes...
The laughing gets more intense in a steady crescendo until it is like a wave of rushing water. In a flash, Rha'ziz's consciousness returns and he finds himself in an alien world. Initially panicked, his memories and instincts begin to kick in and put things together. Strange doll fluttering overhead. Other creatures making a commotion. A large, bearded man with a kind demeanor attending to him. It takes him a moment to remember where he is, who he is, when he is, but the details eventually come flooding back in another rushing wave. What seemed to the Varisian an eternity was only a moment or two from the perspective of his companions. Unfortunately, Rha'ziz has no time to contemplate his near death experience because immediate survival matters have taken center stage.
The distinction between himself and his environment began to blur. Were he able to, he would let out a cynical laugh, for his belief in the prevailing views of death during his lifetime were also unraveling. He had a nagging sense that his soul, the emergent amalgam of his physiological processes, would not live on without the support of his body. Just as well. It would be the same as it was before he was born - nothing. Were it possible, he would have conveyed a startling revelation as the process of breakdown and re-absorption into the universe proceeded. He was just a microscopic jelly thingy on a microscopic dust particle whose existence spanned an imperceptible blip. Not even noticeable. And there it was. The significance of his life and the world in which he lived put into perspective. That laugh again...Rha'ziz finally got the Great Joke.
Rhaz puts his hands on his hips and shrugs his shoulders. Guess nobody is home. Maybe I should knock on the door like a friendly neighbor and make sure. He walks up to the house. His demeanor has become one of curiosity at this point. As he gets closer, perhaps his gut instincts will tell him something (see sense motive roll below). Rha'ziz does not sense a threat:
He looks for a clear path or set of stairs up to the front door. If he finds one, he will go up to the door and knock. If not, he begins inspecting the legs - touching them, looking closely, smelling them, etc. - in a non-threatening manner.
If nothing happens after a few minutes, he breaks off his investigation of the house, bowing in a reverent manner, making a strange gesture over his chest (a Varisian superstition), leaving the rest of his gold in front of the building (8 gp) and backing away. Upon returning to the group he suggests that we all just get out of here and continue on to the Ulfen kingdom. Rha'ziz senses a threat:
He freezes in his tracks, hastily drops his gold in front of the house, bows with a few reverent words and flees back to the group. Upon returning to their position he nervously proclaims, let's get outta here!
Glaring at Sochi's steadfastness, Rhaz's competitive nature gets the better of him. He comes out of hiding and walks up to the hut, still cautiously, but driven by his pride nonetheless. When he gets about 30 feet away, he stops and places his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice. Ey! What's the big idea 'ere?
After the interaction (if Rimetusk doesn't go ballistic) I go back to the tavern with Skaarr. When he starts in about the troll 'cooperating', I give him a nudge and clear my throat, indicating that he stop talking before he announces our super secret faction mission to the entire world. Hmm. Yes. The troll says he will be closing the ferry within the hour. Weather problems ahead or some kind of Jadwiga red tape. Who knows, but it won't be running tomorrow either and we better get a move on unless we want to be long term residents. Upon closer examination, Rhaz seems edgy and impatient to get moving. C'mon people! Hop to! He announces with a sudden clap of his hands.
Rhaz begins to sober up a little. Yeah, lets go get them and get across the river when we are done here. Then he casts a sideways glance at the troll and mumbles just loud enough for the beast to hear. I wonder what he needs that axe for if he's gonna run to the Jadwiga. He shakes his head and starts to get angry. I bet he doesn't know that the Sczarni's ranks include a frost giant or two right here in Irrisen. Rhaz hates snitches above all else. He walks right up to the troll, completely unconcerned with the size difference or any other intimidating appearance. He's kind of fuming, actually. Listen here, he growls. Suddenly things are no longer funny The Families, his eyes start to take on an insane quality, the ones out of Varisia who, if you decide to squeal or turn, will find you, drag you to some secluded location and take you apart piece by piece, WILL be shipping goods through this ferry. You WILL look the other way and you WILL be compensated handsomely and become very rich. Do you understand? Rhaz is snarling at this point, his hand is on the hilt of his weapon and it is very clear that, even if he is killed today, he will make Rimetusk howl in agony as he goes down. So go ahead, flee to the Jadwiga and sign your own death warrant. Betcha the results won't be pretty and the authorities won't give a rat's ass what happens to you in the end. He calms down after saying his piece and backs off, still eyeing the troll with cruel eyes and ready to move like a coiled spring.
...and in short order he manages to swagger over to the quickly degenerating interaction between Rimetusk and Skaarr. He flicks a copper piece at the troll to introduce himself. There. That should help you pay the rent. I figure you don't make much money in this backwater dump, do you? Its okay, you don't have to lie because we can change that for you. That is, unless you don't mind living like a bum. Rha'ziz's speech is louder than usual and he reeks of drink.
The Varisian stirs and regains some semblance of intoxicated consciousness. He jolts upright and shakes off the dizziness. It is in that moment that he happens to see his Sczarni companion through the tavern window talking to a large ice troll. Why, that greedy, two timing... Seemingly less affected by the alcohol at this point, he grabs his immediate gear and hastily makes his way out the door, staggering a couple times in the process. Cut ME out of the action eh? We'll see about that...
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