Stitches the Brute's page

♜ Goptner’s Grove
♜ 2 4 Lamashan, 4714
♜ Evening | 68°

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Local Map

• Page 1 - Demgazi & Inspitah
  
• Page 2 - Goptner's Grove & St Antoinette's
  
• Gray Bar on page 2 is the cliff face leading up to the school
  
• Page 3 - the Clearing

Those With the Main Group
Beckett, Drogan, Phedron, Lavios & Agidor

The leader of the nobles smirks ruthlessly at Drogan's remarks, a dark approval in his eyes. "Well said, master dwarf. Peace on the other side of power... As for showing you the pathways inside, prove yourself useful and you may continue on with us into the caves. If these smugglers we've hired are as good as their reputations and you survive, we can discuss what part you shall get to play." He rubs at his well-groomed goatee and tssks. "I don't know you or your companions. For all I know you've been sent to me as a test of my loyalty. I for one am not looking for a knife in the dark."

The leader slips his boot back on, and listens to Phedron as he smooths his tunic and stands. "The same thing you say? Perhaps. Or are we in competition?" He shakes his head and crosses his arms across his chest. "Time will tell, I suppose. For now we are on the same path and can benefit from pooling our resources." Another pause. Their conversation thus far had been in hushed tones, but the underlying dance among their words carried volume and weight. "I am Reginald, the balding one is Flavios, this one is Gaston..."

"Quiet..." Stitches warns. He brings his earthbreaker up and faces the north where Karl, Linkah and Carver had scouted ahead.

The rustling of leaves, breathing and the griping of a halfling's voice anniversary the arrival of Linkah Merrywater. When he sees Stitches looming over him, he shrinks back and throws his hands up. "Oy, ya bloody pissuh, have a care where ya swing that thing...

"Carvuh?"

Linkah hooks hooks a thumb back northward. "Purple blokes back there, eatin' in a clearin' like it's St Voralund's fest. Gots purple skin, green cloaks whot look like gobber skins." He takes takes a deep breath and turns to depart again, but pauses to look back. "Well, c'mon then ya wankuhs, Marshy n' Carver are back there holdin' their Jacobs. They'll be on the other side o' the clearin'...we come in from down here, they jump them purple bastards from their blinds n' gives 'em the pinch, eh?"

With that, he heads back the way he came.

Stitches grumbles a sigh. "I stay with them. You go, see to it." He looks at the party as the nobles show no sign of moving to help. Stitches mouths the word 'purple' to himself and adds, "Ghouls, like as not"

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So who's following Link? On page 3 of the map, you'd be approaching from the southern path.

♜ Goptner’s Grove
♜ 24 Lamashan, 4714
♜ Evening | 68°

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Local Map

• Page 1 - Demgazi & Inspitah
  
• Page 2 - Goptner's Grove & St Antoinette's
  
• Gray Bar on page 2 is the cliff face leading up to the school
  
• New Page Added * | Page 3 - the Clearing

Those With the Main Group
Beckett, Drogan, Phedron, Lavios & Agidor

Wow, lots of bluffing going on. Nice rolls!

”The walled town, are they ...allied...with the school or do they fear it?”

”Fear.” Stitches responds over his shoulder. ”They light their, candles at night, ta keep da shadows away.” His eyes narrow towards the north and he halts progress. ”We wait here for Carvuh.”

The three nobles stay huddled near each other, one in particular looks down at his forest greens and leather armor with annoyance. Although he would probably look more at home in fineries, he seems put out at the amount of dirt and debris he’s gathered on his current garb.

”You’ve traveled a long way, dwarf.” The one with the reedy voice responds to Drogan’s query. He searches him with such skepticism it seems as though he won’t continue talking unless the bard can provide further information. But after a moment, he finds a place to sit and removes one of his boots. Apparently a bramble or rock had found its way into it. ”We wish to avoid the academy. Go straight to the source.”

Seeing that their leader had relented some information, the other two eagerly add their own perspectives.

The one with the monogrammed handkerchief speaks next. ”Some of us have found other means into the caverns.”

”Indeed.” The third, a shorter man on the portly side adjusts his belt, the short sword attached to it as alien to him as being in a forest of such density. He looks around and wrinkles his nose, but when he speaks there is a near mania to his enthusiasm. ”But they have been unsuccessful. Or keeping their findings to themselves. No doubt you have heard the same. We spent time in the little fort down here and found a smuggler.”

The second nods and pulls his handkerchief to dab at his brow again. He also pulls a flask, quick to unscrew and take a draw of an amber liquid held within. ”That’s right. Many years ago, the caves under the school were used by smugglers bringing spices in from Qadira to sell in Taldor.”

”Don’t be a fool Flavios. They still do, lest there would be none like our two friends Stitches and Carver to lead us inside.” The supposed leader of the three rolls his eyes. Mouthing the word ‘idiot’ to himself.

The second, reedy voiced man - Flavios - gives the leader an indignant look. But then his eyes drift to the hulking half-orc and he licks his lips with a fresh fear. ”Smugglers...of course…”

The leader points his chin towards Drogan. ”What makes you think ‘peace’ is in the offing, dwarf?” Another wrinkle of the nose. ”What are you really after, dwarf? Those coming here seek knowledge. Therein. lay the power. The power that dwells in the distance unmeasured in the ocean of night.” His last few words take on a breathy, ecstatic tone.

The third man looks to Phedron. ”Did your fa…” Stitches gives the third man a look when he hears his voice growing louder. The third nobleman gulps and continues in a whisper. ”Did your father not want to make the journey? Or is he already here?”

☀
Beckett Foxglove
☀

.

Kraken considers Beckett's words for a long time. So many minutes pass that the Inquisitor isn't sure if the half-orc is even listening. But eventually the bruising fellow responds.

"Ya make a good tale, Sunbringer. Ship takes on water, each o' the crew knows what's what." Kraken considers his words carefully. A lifetime of being the strongest on the crew lends caution to everything he does. "But yah gotta know the bullocks yer kickin'...if a hole hits the ship, we haveta know how bad...do we bail water or do we jump, eh? That means lookin' ta ol' Croaker or Onyx-eye or the Cap'n."

Kraken shakes his head and points southward to the horizon. Faint lines of orange and purple light knifes from the east as the sun begins it rise. "Light's comin'. We gotta get 'er ready for port, eh?" Kraken stoops down and grabs the coil of rope he'd dropped. He then hands it to Beckett. "You help me out, Sunbringer?"

Assuming Beckett will say yes, Kraken grabs another coil and gestures a meaty hand aft. As the two walk, Beckett notices the sure footing of the half-orc. Especially when he deliberately steers clear of a pair of rats near the mizzen who nose the air at his passing. With a free hand he fishes out a pair of cheese chunks and tosses them their way. Rats being rats, they greedily clutch the pieces close and scurry away.

"Most blokes' d kill 'em." Kraken says with a chuckle. "We gotta gang o' the little beasties aboards...but we trains 'em...get ta know they gots eats when they needs 'em. Makes 'em tough so when we gets ta port'n, they keep other rats off tha ship." He drops his coil of rope near the aft mast and points for Beckett to do the same. "First sight, a sailor'd kill them rats, but ya'd hafta know the situation better 'fore doin' a wrong thing. Get me point?"

He folds his muscled arms and looks down at the Inquisitor, eyes furrowed and canines prominent. "What about me, Sunbringer? Whaddya see in me? Most'd put a cutter n' me belly n' have done wid, me bein' halvsies n' all. Ya see a bloke like me in a fight, wid humans, who'd ya be mates wid?" Kraken's calm demeanor has a serious overtone, as if requesting that Beckett answer honestly.

☀
Beckett Foxglove
☀

.

.

"Mister Kraken. I sense that my actions have

caused you anger or pain. I would speak with you on this, if you are willing. If you are unwilling, I will go and trouble you no
more."

Activity on deck follows a steady rhythm as the Landless Gentry gets under way. The big half-orc moves with surprising fluidity from one task to the next. But at Beckett's approach he misses a step, dropping a coil of rope in front of Fizzle who looks ready to sound a protest. But at a look from the tattooed Kraken, he offers to pick up the rope instead. A task easier said than done but done just the same.

Kraken folds his arms, the tattooed tentacles of his namesake working and writhing as his muscles chord. "Ya accused me Cap'n, Sunbringah. She's done right by us fer long as I been at sea. Ya gotta knot wid 'er, ya gotsa knot wid me. Why ya say dark things 'er way, eh? Ya hadda mind fer blood...I know tha look."

Kraken kept his back turned to the elf lady as she opened her door, not wanting to catch her inappropriately dressed. "Ifn' yer interst'd, se o' tha crew's playin' at dice down a deck. Or ifn' ya rather, Cap'n's wonderin' ifn' ya'd be interstd in takin' a shift in da crow's nest tonight. Seein' yas got elf eyes n' all."

With that, Kraken coughed into his meaty fist woth embarrassment and promptly departed.

At Initiative 5 - Thug

He ducks the incoming arrow and panics.  "No way, boss...don' need no part o dis!"  The remaining thug turns and runs, fear driving him to the east side of the plaza...

At Initiative 5...

One of the men, the one furthest from the sword wielding warrior, looked over in horror.  He was staggering with the arrow wound and noticing for the first time that the half-orc was dead.  

"Oy, Harole's down Git!"  he shouted to the other thug.  Then turned and ran deeper into the plaza and out of sight.  Running at full speed.  

The other thug tried to sidestep away, calling out to guys fleeing comrade.  "Don't leave me 'ere!!"  

In the distance, echoing off of the warehouse buildings, the first combatant replied.  "I'll go get the boss!"  

The second thug continues his maneuver, trying to get away...  

Lone Stranger, Attack of Opportunity - 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14 Miss!!

The second thug, Karthan's arrow protruding from his thigh, manages to begin his escape, moving 30 ft away. (5 squares)