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"I agree; we're men, not beasts."
Zilroy raps on the door and says: "Master Cran? We have a matter to discus with you."
A middle-aged man with charcoal hair and a grey beard gets up from the card table and comes to the door. He opens it just a crack and looks out suspiciously. "Yes, Master Cran is upstairs. Who are you and what do you want?"
His tone is not rude, but not friendly either.
Zilroy stands uncomfortably sweating for a few moments. "It's in regards to a young lady. The matter is somewhat delicate."
He pauses a little more. "A certain Vagger told us to speak to Master Cran."
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Zilroy stands uncomfortably sweating for a few moments. "It's in regards to a young lady. The matter is somewhat delicate."
He pauses a little more. "A certain Vagger told us to speak to Master Cran."
The man answers, "A young woman you say? I'm not sure how we can help you, but come in if you like."
Yarag follows.
"Thank you for your welcome."
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Yarag follows.
"Thank you for your welcome."
You enter the small home. You are assaulted by the smell of unwashed men and dogs. You see food and litter covering the floor. It is impossible to not step in the clutter. You hope that is all you are stepping in.
A man and two large doberman's enter the landing at the top of the stairs. "Ah yes," says the man, "we've been expecting you. Get 'em boys." The dogs leap into action and rush towards you. The two other men who were play cards jump at your with knives in hand.
Seeing the dogs leaping for him, Tusker wastes just a moment regretting what is to come. But the moment passes, and he signals his dog to join him as they step up to meet the animals' attacks.
Scimitar attack (1d20+2=6, damage 1d6+3=4)
The dog's attack (if appropriate) (1d20+3=15, damage 1d6+1=4)
Zilroy staggers back a step and grimaces. "St-stand back and call off these dogs! There are six of us and four of you -- let's talk this out sensibly."
He holds his shield in front of himself warily and stabs cautiously at one of the dogs.
Initiative: 1d20+3=5, Attack: 1d20+4=17, Damage: 1d8+2=5
I'm going for the nearest thug.
Yarag moves quickly to meet the dogs as they come down the stairs. He chops down left and right at first one dobermann, then the other (if the first falls).
Nym goe's for the first dog, his dagger ready.
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As the dogs leap to attack, Yarag's reflexes take over. He hits a doberman right at the base of the skull with the butt of his staff. The dog falls silent.
The second dog leaps at Tusker, but is intercepted by his faithful mastiff, who grabs the Doberman by the throat. Shar-Nym is also able to swipe this doberman with his dagger, leaving a short gash in its ribs.
Two of the thugs, clearly taken aback by the loss of one of the dobermans this early in the battle, both miss their swings at Gallows and Yarag. The third thug steps back from combat and begins an incantation. To his right appears a small being appears to be made of pure fire.
Toridan Cran leaps down the staircase to enter melee and swings his rapier wide of Zilroy.
Zilroy's appeal for calm goes unheaded. Gallows manages to slash one of the thugs across the ribs. He howls in pain as he grips his side. Tusker, obviously reluctant to wound the dobermans, swings wide with his scimitar.
The mastiff growls, deep in its throat, then lunges again at the doberman it attacked before.
Yarag smashes at the second dog with the left end then slams the point up into the stomach of its handler or Cran.
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The second doberman dogges the great mastiff, but then lets out a yelp in pain as Yarag hits him once, then twice. With one last gasp, it falls silent.
The thug wizard begins another incantation. A small ethereal dart shoots from his index finger as he points to Yarag's chest. The dart flies into Yarag, causing no small amount of pain.
Two thugs gang up on Gallows, while taunting, "We'll chop off your Lothian damned head and feed it to the Forsaken." Swish goes the first rapier, but the second thug strikes gallows at the base of his neck, wedging itself in a chink in the armor. Blood runs down his neck wetting his hair and back.
Toridan Cran leaps at Zilroy. "Show me what you've got holy man." His rapier swishes by Zilroy's head, cutting off a few hairs, but leaving the priest undamaged.
Meanwhile, the little fire creature summoned earlier is running about the room setting fire to the various bits of clutter. Since much of it is paper, it catches quickly.
Gallows grins widely, despite the cut on his neck.
"You do that and I'll be a saint,"he replies to the thug,"and you'll still be nothing but street trash."
"Neat trick," Tusker tells the wizard. "I have a few of my own."
He cups his hands together, then pulls them apart, murmuring, "I am the hearth in the kitchen, I am the coals in the forge, I am the wick in the candle, I am the spark from the flint..." Between his hands, a ball of flame suddenly appears, and he hurls it toward the mage.
Ranged touch attack (1d20+1=3, damage 1d6+1=4)
Zilroy stammers, "Well, this is your doing. I wanted to discuss this like gentlemen, but you ambushed us, remember."
He lashes out with his longsword at the nearest enemy.
Yarag goes for Cran now the dogs are dead. Hopefully with Zilroy he can set up a flank.
"Cran give up Sir!" he shouts as the quarterstaff comes in. Twice.
If these both miss then Yarag will change his grip to two handed for next time.
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Zilroy hits a glancing blow on Cran, making a small wound in his cheek. Cran wipes it with the back of his hand before spitting at Zilroy. Just in time, he sees Yarag swing. Cran manages to dodge both blows.
"Forget it you drekking fool. To the death, coward," he yells in response to Yarag's offer.
The wizard looks startled as Tusker approaches him. However, Tusker's concentration is broken as he steps on a pile of smoldering paper and books. The pain in his foot is not enough to do damage, but enough to distract him from his touch attack.
Meanwhile, flames begin to lick the cloth curtains and spread to some of the furniture. The room is growing warm. The little elemental continues to dance around.
The dog whimpers at the growing heat, but follows Tusker's focus and launches himself at the mage as well.
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The wizard is about to cast another spell when the mastiff lunges forward and catches the wizard's wrist in his jaws. The wizard yelps in pain and pulls his hand away, but the mastiff has done his damage. You see his teeth rip through the wizard's skin as the hand is pulled from the mastiff's mouth.
.
Cran again swings at Zilroy, this time finding a chink in his armor.
One thug swings at Gallows with all his might, but overbalances himself and stumples. Gallows steps aside easily. The second thug swings at Yarag and misses.
Seeing his own attacks go wide but the dog's striking home, Tusker lays his hand on the animal's back and mutters, "I grant you the cutting edge of steel."
Yarag steps in a swings the staff two handed at Cran's head. Like a haymaker there is little finesse.
"To your death then."
Zilroy notices the many small wounds he and his companions have and prays for assistance.
"Daykeeper! Hear my prayer and protect the souls of your poor servants down below your shining face!"
The dog continues its assault, but even the magic blessing it just received is not enough to help it this time.
Gallows makes a wild swing at his assailant, coughing from the rising smoke on the ground floor.
Longsword: 1d20+4=10, 1d8+2=4
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Yarag's staff makes a solid crack on Cran's skull. Cran's eyes roll back in his head, and he falls to the floor. Blood gushes from his nose and flames begin to consume his body.
The wizard pulls his dagger to strike at the mastiff, but the dog is deceptively dexterous for his size. Meanwhile, the two other thugs, seeing that their boss is dead and that the entire house is about to go up in flames, turn and bolt towards the kitchen and the back door.
The flames have spread to all four walls.
Yarag drags Cran outside. "Put the flames out someone."
"Time to go," Tusker tells the dog. He looks at the wizard. "Surrender to us or burn in here, mage." He then makes for the front door.
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"Time to go," Tusker tells the dog. He looks at the wizard. "Surrender to us or burn in here, mage." He then makes for the front door.
The wizard looks behind him to see the kitchen engulfed in flames. Seeing that he has little other choice, he follows Tusker out the front door. He hangs his head like a shamed dog, the fight gone out of him.
Zilroy wastes no time leaving the burning house!
"Cran, from what Phel has said, she did nothing to her and yet you try to assassinate her. And now you try to kill us when we just try to talk to you! You'll have to answer for these outrageous acts."
Yarag runs back in and pulls out the two dead dogs. "Don't like seeing anything burn like that," he shrugs.
Yarag shakes his head to Zilroy, "I hit him hard."
"Gonna catch the neighbor's house if we don't start on the buckets. Keep an eye out, I'm gonna round up whoever I can."
Gallows runs down the street, calling 'fire' and tries to start a bucket brigade.
Zilroy starts in surprise as he sees the full extent of Cran's injuries.
"Oh! With all the confusion, I didn't realise-- Is he dead?" The priest inspects the extent of Cran's wounds and bandages him, if necessary. [Heal, take 10]
Tusker and the dog stand guard over the mage. "That was your summoning that did this," Tusker tells him. "If you can do something to keep this neighborhood from going up in flames, you have a responsibility to do so. It might earn you a little leniency in the eyes of the law."
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Tusker and the dog stand guard over the mage. "That was your summoning that did this," Tusker tells him. "If you can do something to keep this neighborhood from going up in flames, you have a responsibility to do so. It might earn you a little leniency in the eyes of the law."
The mage looks a Tusker with an expression of shock on his face, but doesn't appear to be in the mood to argue. He casts a few rays of frost, which quiet some of the flames.
Meanwhile, Gallows' efforts to alert passers-by of the danger has produced results. You hear a fire bell ring from the Watch House a few blocks away. A couple of men have already arrived with buckets of water and are calling on others to form a chain to the well.
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Zilroy starts in surprise as he sees the full extent of Cran's injuries.
"Oh! With all the confusion, I didn't realise-- Is he dead?" The priest inspects the extent of Cran's wounds and bandages him, if necessary. [Heal, take 10]
Yarag is correct. Cran is well and truly dead, and partially singed to boot.
After the mage finishes his few spells, Yarag takes him by the arm, just to make sure he doesn't try anything silly.
"You owe us an explanation. Those men died over a contract on a little girl and you better have some good information for us. What do they call you, mage?"
Cadwyn pulls his cloak tighter against the cold breeze tickling his neck. Once again, I find myself slumming it, he thinks, as if just now noticing he is strolling towards Nar Street, down in southern Midtown. His nightly walks had recently been carrying him farther and farther from his home, if you could call it as such. Ah well, the city is in my blood, both the poison and the cure. He chuckles to himself.
I'm awfully poetic tonight.
He inhales deeply, smelling the familiar odors of his city, as he considered it to be. The sweat, the mud, the cheap meat sold by so many street vendors that could be anything from beef to dog, the smoke...
Wait, he stops in his tracks, smoke? He spots the glow of a fire up around the bend and sees a clamor of a small crowd running towards the black tendrils of smoke curling towards the sky. By the Nine Hells, if this fire doesn't get put out the whole district could burn!
Cadwyn breaks into a run, his cloak billowing behind him. He spots a man with an eyepatch organizing a make-shift bucket brigade. With no hesitation he leaps to the man's aid.
"Come all able-bodies," he bellows with a quick, tight nod to the bearded man, "or you may be sleeping in ash tonight! You, draw more water! You there, form a line!"
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Cadwyn manages to get the attention of several passers-by. They seem to fall in line under his command and have now formed a human chain, connecting with the few Gallows managed to organize. With buckets of water being steadily delivered to the house, our heroes, the watch, and the crowd begin to get the fire under control. The anxiety that the fire will spread throughout the neighborhood begins to ease.
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After the mage finishes his few spells, Yarag takes him by the arm, just to make sure he doesn't try anything silly.
"You owe us an explanation. Those men died over a contract on a little girl and you better have some good information for us. What do they call you, mage?"
"I don't owe you a thing," says the wizard with surprise and disdain. "I'm one of Cran's bodyguards. My name is Collus Adderwood. Mr. Adderwood to you. I fail to see why you cannot mind your own business."
With the fire under control, Gallows nods to Cadwyn as thanks for his assistance and saunters over to the rest of the group in time to hear the exchange between Yarag and the mage.
"I don't owe you a thing," says the wizard with surprise and disdain. "I'm one of Cran's bodyguards. My name is Collus Adderwood. Mr. Adderwood to you. I fail to see why you cannot mind your own business."After the mage finishes his few spells, Yarag takes him by the arm, just to make sure he doesn't try anything silly.
"You owe us an explanation. Those men died over a contract on a little girl and you better have some good information for us. What do they call you, mage?"
Gallows chuckles mirthlessly.
"Of course, how dare we intrude so upon you after your attempt to kill all of us and set the whole neighborhood ablaze when all we sought was to speak to your employer. Mr. Adderwood, I must say that I find your sense of entitlement rather strange given the circumstances. Allow me to level with you, eh? Your boss is dead, your scabrous low-life comrades have run like the rats they are. All we want is information and you can go along to be someone else's toady provided the Watch don't want you for something. Who was Cran and why would he want Phon Quartermain dead?"
Rynia walked through the streets of Midtown, her heavy cloak pulled tightly around her. She did this not because she was overly cold; the chill night was actually rather pleasant to her. Rather, it was her attempt to keep anyone she passed by from recognizing her. Only having been back in Ptolus since this morning, Rynia had no desire for her family to know she was back (at least not yet). Her current goals included making her way to the Ghostly Minstrel in Delver’s Square for a room, meal, and maybe some drinks and fun (and not necessarily in that order). Hopefully, tomorrow she could peruse the postings and come up with some sort of employment, preferably something fun and well-paying.
Her quick stroll and thoughts were interrupted as she got nearer to Nar Street. The unmistakable smell of smoke, and the red-yellow glow in the air told her the obvious: a fire had broken out. Rynia quickened her pace, heading towards the scene of the conflagration and dodging panicking people. Hey, at least my night got more interesting, she thought. Nearing the burning building, she saw that a strong-looking man with a blonde pony-tail was busy organizing folk into a bucket brigade.
Hmm, carry buckets of sloshing water and soak my clothes? I think not. Besides, I can help in other ways. Rynia got a little closer to the fire, wincing at the heat. Concentrating, she pointed her hand at the flames, and a thin stream of ice and frost shot towards them, extinguishing a small section. A smile crossed her lips as she repeated the process; for some reason, putting out the flames brought a great deal of joy to her.
All of a sudden, the tavern got silent. The musicians stopped playing as everyone turned to look at the man who had just bellowed something from the doorway. Realizing that no one had heard him the first time, he shouted it out again. "FIRE!" he cried, and motioned down the street. A handful of men and women grabbed their coats, and one last drink, then headed outside to help. Miasshirra grabbed her cloak as well, though she had no intention of actually helping. It seemed like a great way to leave without paying her tab.
Keeping to the far side of the street so no one would see her, Miasshirra noticed a few men standing nearby who weren't part of the bucket brigade. It was pretty apparent that one of them was being threatened, and Miasshirra had decided that she hadn't seen anything when she caught a few words from the larger man. "Who was Cran and why would he want Phon Quartermain dead?"
It took Miasshirra a moment to remember where she'd heard that name before. Just after arriving in Ptolus over a year ago, Miasshirra had taken quite ill. The matron of the inn where she had been staying took Miasshirra to nearby St. Gustav's, where she stayed for a week as a number of priests and parishioners helped her recover. One of those parishioners had been a pleasant young woman by the name of Phon Quartermain. Thinking back, she seemed like a nice enough girl - certainly not the type that people want to kill.
Moving closer, and consciously sticking to the shadows, Miasshirra continued watching and listening.