{Shakes hands vigorously with Durgan.}
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"Boss! The painted lady's gone all dis-visible."
Ezren glances about the room, bemused "Is there any chance you could be a bit more specific, Janus? Do you mean wrong as in "a posse of assassins is about to burst through the door--" One of the doors swings open and an assassin bursts into view gripping a short stabbing sword!
"The Hells!?" shouts the remaining man.
"Who is your boss? What business did he have with Bosk? Why would a Venture-Captain swear an oath to your benefit? What is your business here? Speak." "We kill people for gold. That's our business." says the man at the head of the table proudly. "And as to why your man made the deal probably because he would have been killed otherwise for nosing around. He promised he wouldn't interfere if we let him off."
"That's a girl under that mustache?!?" says the man at the end of the table in alarm. Timinic looks around to see who they are all pointing at.
"Hey, who's that?" asks the man Janus is standing behind of the hysterical gnome.
"'Cause one of 'em found our new hide-out after that Pathfinder Venture-Captain swore he wouldn't interfere when the boss paid him a little visit a few weeks back." says the man at the end of the table frightened by the unseen voice.
"No, we didn't kill your friends." says the man at swordpoint. "It was Ilchok. He's due back any minute. You can settle up with face-shifter then. We ain't had nothing to do with it. Honest." He and his friend both look nervously at one another.
"I still don't see what that has to do with us." says the man at the head of the table. "Yeah, but even if we did know anything--knowledge is coin in Daggermark." says the other. dice:
"Sure, sure." says the other man reasonably. He sets his plate with the crumbs of a sandwich down upon place on the map where the Dryblade House would be. "Why don't you tell us about these 'friends' of yours."
"And what do you want?" demands the man at the head of the table.
A cloaked man from below hurls a projectile at Alia... poorly.
The projectile lands in the courtyard between the two horses Erevenywg was trying to sooth. It explodes with a sound like thunder!
"ARRG!" Alia hits the archer from Kressle's camp. He tries to give himself more cover but his longbow does not allow him to get too low. He takes his shot at Serena but is hampered by the arrow in his shoulder.
Serena continues her assault on the archer/swordsman. The brigand slashes at Serena as she approaches, but she turns away his blade and driver her sword home. "UHR!"
The man goes down.
Serena's sword thrust causes the bandit on the walkway to drop his bow. He steps back and draws his sword, readying it should the paladin draw near. Alia's arrow hits the side of the tower as she regains her balance. The archer there fires wild at the oncoming Serena.
While the lantern-bearer next to the Stag Lord sets his lantern down and draws his sword.
Meanwhile, the bandits in the tower don't hesitate to fire on Scarlet. Especially after one of them recognizes her as a prisoner from Kressle's camp.
Both are too startled to hit the giant warrior woman.
Scarlet and Zokon leave the pair in the dust. "I have to go help my crew out if you want to get some favour with another crew come along and help, or we can tell your boss in camp how you chickened out when we get there." he mounts up and rides "'Our boss?' Wait. So you are mercenaries!?"
The two men look stunned for a moment. Then the second man cracks a smile. He begins to laugh. Other man nervously joins him. "It's like she's the Stag Lord's wife." "Well, that would certainly explain a lot, wouldn't it?" "Aye! The Nag Lord! Hah!"
"How should we know? We just got here last week." stammered the first man. "So who are you anyhow?" asks the second suspiciously.
"I stole the horse off a traveller and yes.... wait sorry who are you. I may have to kill you I'm not supposed to say who I work for to just anyone?" he says quickly and then as if to make a point on his last statement he puts a hand on an arrow.. "Oh, so you're just from one of the camps then." says one disappointing. "Yeah, we were hoping you were with the outfit coming from Mivon." says the other.
Angela gives a second to pause as she finally parses the accents of the men. "You're from GALT? That terrible backwards place that burned all their records and destroyed their fabled universities? No wonder you can't recognize a proper halfling when you see one! Here's a little lesson. I am what you might call a hot commodity!" She gives a small sniff of disdain as she hustles forwards and then brings her longspear around to bear. "Though I doubt you'd recognize a good thing if it walked up to you and slapped you on the face!" She then takes the longspear to bear and strikes out at the bandit in green. "I'm from Falcon's Hollow, Flambé was from Galt." says one of the bandits then is eyes bug out of his head at the sight of Lynn and he tears off into the woods after her. "'Slap us in the face'. Heheh. Why you would need a ladder to--OW!!" says another with a face full of pole-arm. Having the fight seemingly slapped out of him he retreats back into the woods and out of sight. Kala slams her hammer down as if she is playing Whack-A-Gnoll™ and fells the last enamored attacker.
"You are a girl, I am a boy. We have all that in common darling. May I call you darling?" says the man with the thick Galtan accent as he rushes at Lynn dropping his sickle. He attempts to grap her up in an embrace.
Kala's assailant hops on one foot into the treeline and swings his mace, but it bounces off a bough.
The crossbowmen in the forest fire at Rhinshin and Stinky.
One of the bolts whizzes past the hairy carnivore but other wings the rodent-man. The men abandon their bows and charge forward with melee weapons drawn. At the last moment they duck into the treeline for cover. dice:
"THEY GOT TWO PETS! AND ONE'S GOT A KNIFE!" yells the man with Stinky attached to his boot. He hops over to avoid a flank while one of his friends lines up the small wolverine from behind. The man in black holds up the foot with Stinky snarling and gnawing at the end and shouts to the other man to "WATCH THE TOES!" "Don't worry mate. I got you." "A LITTLE HIGHER! JUST A LITTLE HIGHER!" The both swing and connect!
Meanwhile the man with the mace beats the trees for Kala.
The man on the ground swings at Sleeping Sword's ankles with his sickle and opens a big gash on the monk's leg.
"THAT'S IT MATES! LET'S SHOW 'EM WHAT THE GORGON'S PRIVATEERS ARE MADE OF!" shouts one of the brigands as the tide seems to turn back in their favor. "'Gorgon's Privateers'? Is that what we're calling ourselves? Sounds a bit naft." "Who came up with 'Gorgon's Privateers' anyway? Sounds like one them 'euphemism' things." "Yeah, and I don't even what 'euphe-whatsit' means." "'Euphemism'? I think it's a sort of political movement thing like all those other 'isms'. Kortes came up with it." "Oh. Still sounds naft." Angela gives the bandit who made the 'child' remark a small look....
....and then rears up to her full height, somehow appearing to stare down her nose at him, despite being a good 2 to 3 feet shorter! "You had BETTER not be talking about ME there! I can fully assure you I am NOT a CHILD, why I probably have a good DECADE on you! I would have you take back that insult right now." "Precocious this one is aye?" "Oy! Now what does that mean--'pre-whatever'?"
Lynn blows some bark off the tree one of the men was lurking behind and into his face. Rhinshin taking advantage of the distraction stabs the man in foot with his knife. The sudden attack seems to cause the man more surprise than pain. dice:
Rhinshin quickly darts under Almass's feet and draws a dagger.
A pair of crossbows twang from the clump of woods in front of the party!
One of the quarrel's fletching rakes across Angela's cheek just below her eye. The other figures move swiftly out of the forest converging on Almaas wielding razor-edged sickles and flanged light maces. "LOOK WOT WE GOT 'ERE! AT 'EM BOYS!" shouts one man.
And quickly Almaas is scored with a half-dozen small cuts. "COR LADS! THIS'LL MAKE UP FER DAH SLIM PICKIN'S ON THE OLD NORTH ROAD!" yells another. "THE BESTEST SORT OF MARK IS THE ONE WHO COMES TA YOU!" calls a third man laughing. "IF YOU GIVE UP NOW WE PROMISE TO SPARE THE CHILD AND MAYBE THE DWARF'S PET! HAW HAW!"
The door flies open! A man stands in the doorway. "What do you want?" he demands. |