The Journal of Herlam Corkwill - IC

[TheDivineWind]

Upon hearing all the ruckus, Doroga pokes his head around the corner and peeks in. The three hooded people were now engaging some elvan woman, and Ryn had taken some magical bolts to the face. Idelly, he vaguely recalls Bill talking about such a spell, but can't recall any of the specifics.

Without yelling about, Doroga moves inside and decides to take out the only one he can reach before they take notice of him and can possibly attack. Instead of any fancy maneuvers, he simply raises his guisarme above him and preforms a brutal downward thrust.

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Attack against R3:

Attack roll: (1d20+9)[27]
Damage Roll: (2d4+4)[12]

Hot damn, there's some balance to those earlier rolls!

[Neth]

Neth hops from the barstool, shooting a look at Gyl and flicking her hand. Her eyes are wide and alert with the sudden chaos, but Neth is a bit unskilled at rapid reactions. Wishing she knew more about the present company to figure out who would most need aid in the moments to follow, she reluctantly takes a guess.

Slipping back past the barstools to avoid the gnoll approaching Daurily, the druid heads for the southerner. She pauses just far enough away to be safely out of reach, and casts spell to heat the weapon of the gnoll confronting Perelia, hoping he'll drop it before causing harm. She grips her staff, preparing to approach the southerner and help deal with the beast before him. Tossing a glance toward the fireplace she murmurs a plea to the Three to let the good stranger near the Thayans be spared the brunt of Gyl's little trick.

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I guess I should be standing five feet behind Roen now. I've cast Heat Metal on M3's weapon, and Gyl has flung his bottle of alcohol into the fire.

[RaggedAngel]

Perelia takes a quick step back from the vicious threat in front of her, her grin rapidly fading and the bluster from moments before transforming into precision, speed, and focus. Her mind takes in the room and the assailants, and with uncanny intellect she breaks down the situation into components, as a chessmaster might break down a game into its most simple strategies and movements.

They no longer had a tactically overwhelming advantage of numbers, which was almost fair in many respects. Her Grease spell had been supremely effective; it had functioned exactly as expected, assaulting the weakness of the wizard's: their physical capabilities. It was no great secret that the strength of a wizard's mind came at the expense of his body, and she was certainly an outlier among her peers when it came to grace, mostly due to her high elven heritage.

The melee combatants on her side of the conflict had represented an excellent shield and buffer, giving her the room to freely and easily assail the three with area-control magic. Her next move would have been to bind them down, entrap them, allowing her new allies the chance to surround them and make combat preparations of their own; the gods only knew how much Perelia wished that she had thought to cloak herself in a Shield before speaking.

That said, as she seemed to be the only one in the room that was both sane and also a strong arcane caster, she decided it was prudent to take measures to protect herself. She took a quick step back from the threat, clearing herself of its weapon, and with a few quick, powerful words of both High Elven and Draconic she called forth a swirl of illusory color and power. The effect lasted for but a moment, and when it resided she stood no longer alone, but surrounded by four perfect images of herself. She spoke, and every image seemed to speak with her. "Disappointing, really, that you must rely on your thugs because your magic is so weak. I look forward to taking your spellbooks for my own, so that their contents may be put towards useful purposes instead of furthering your foolish schemes and ignoble masters."

[The Smoking Man]

The Ashabenford Arms:

The youngest of the three Thayans is knocked out cold by Doroga's hasty attack. He ceases to squirm, slumping over as his his eyes flutter closed.

The lead Thayan seems pleased with his minions' ambush, and seems to be aiming at getting up out of the Grease. The female is rummaging through her component pouch, trying to keep one eye on the closest combatants.

The Gnolls continue to snarl and bear down on their targets, as their Red Knight of Thay captain strides confidently for Daurily, who lashes out with her drawn bastard sword, drawing first blood against her opponent.

Meanwhile, at the command of his master, Gyl the owl makes a diving swoop for the fireplace, releasing the bottle of liquor previously held in his talons and just such an angle as to have it smash atop the large, cackling log.

Tiny motes of flaming alcohol and sharp glass come shooting out of the fire, catching the edge of Ryn's clothes on fire, and threatening to engulf Otythir. The wizardess, though scathed slightly by the minor blast, is largely unharmed... though the fire creeps ever forward...

Meanwhile, at the bar, Groban rushes the Gnoll menacing Perelia with a powerful charge, flailing his longsword as he goes, screaming something foreign and bloodthirsty even as the cold iron of the blade slices clean through the beast's arm, causing it to stagger back in yowling amazement, only to crumple onto the floor. The blood manages to find it's way onto Groban, Perelia, the bar, several stools, and, needless to say, much of the floor. Though cowering behind the bar with his daughter, Arhlo audibly winces at the prospect of such a stain.

OOC:

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So, Otythir's on fire (ignore his reflex in die thread... forgot momentarily he was still prone), Ryn took some fire damage and is now on fire, but not in the Grease. The wizardess manages to avoid most of the damage, but will have to save on her next turn to not catch fire, as she's standing in the grease.

The grease cast by Perelia will last 2 more rounds, and the grease cast by the wizardess will last 1 more round.

Daurily scores a moderate hit on the Thayan she-knight, and Groban dis-arms the Gnoll in front of Perelia, taking it out of the fight.

It is now the Top of the Round! Meaning that Perelia (already went), Ryn and Roen are up next.

Roen and Neth are in range of the second melee Gnoll. Neth is moving to help Roen with the assailant.

Bad Guys Still Remaining:
- Otythir(prone, on fire)
- Wizardess(balancing in fiery Grease, but okay)
- Gnoll Archer(to the right of Raised Table, looking for targets...)
- Thayan Knight(toe-to-toe with Daurily)
- Gnoll Warrior(directly below Roen)

See dice thread for all the rolls mentioned here.

[Keylac]

It was bad enough that Otythir, Red Wizard of Thay - bloedy blowhard - had badly burnt him, nearly setting him on fire, with that damn magical ball of flame. Now someone else was getting into the mix. From the smell, someone had thrown a bottle of paint thinner - or maybe Orc-brewed Spirits - into the fire, and the result was the flames starting to take hold of his clothes.

Ryn shakes his head, amused despite himself at what a bad decision lighting a fire turned out to be.

Over the sounds of combat, he hears the elf mage's confident declaration and almost laughs, amazed at the vainglory of wizards, not to mention their priorities. Here they are burning down the inn, and her desire is to take their books? Chances are the books were going to wind up so much ash, and them with it. Loot was all well and good, but lives were at stake here.

A quick glance shows one of the gnolls on the ground, the woman Daurily locked in combat with the armored warrior, keeping her occupied at the very least. The other gnolls were free to attack less well armed foes however. Deciding his priority had to be putting down the wizard so he could help the other patrons, he brings his greatsword down in another strike at the prone wizard, attempting to break through whatever magic had saved him last time.

Hopefully, even if he didn't kill him, he might still shut him up.

OOC

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I'm going to go ahead and make it a regular, no Power Attack Hit.

Rolls

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Rolling to hit Otythir, Red Wizard of Thay in Round 2: (1d20+9)[19]

Rolling damage to Otythir, Red Wizard of Thay in Round 2: (2d6+6)[16]

There, a bit better.

[Dragonsong]

Roen sighed audibly as the tavern was engulfed in blood and flame. Well, there was nothing for it; good people had already been hurt, and if this kept up they might be killed. He couldn't allow that. Peering over his improvised cover, he spotted the Gnoll coming at him and drew a bead on the creature. He'd never much liked the hyena-men; they'd been employed as mercenary guards by many of the slavers who came to sell in Dambrath, and seemed to take a perverse joy in savagely beating those who stuck a toe out of line. Besides, it was him or this creature, and he wasn't ready to die just yet.

"Back off," he growled at the onrushing foe, then let fly. In the hands of most, a crossbow was a ponderous weapon with none of the longbow's elegance. It struck harder, but required a prohibitive reload time of replacing the bolt and winding the winch rather than simply reaching for the next arrow. But Roen had fought with such a weapon for years, and its use was second nature to him. With fluid motions he loosed his first bolt, dropped a second one into the nock, cranked it back, and fired again, all within a few seconds. Both black shafts sailed toward the Gnoll, their points eager to drink of its blood.

And then he was immediately reloading again, not waiting to see what damage he had done...

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Ermagerhd. Turrible durmurge.

Due to epic fail on this part of this poster, these rolls are only partially correct. The attack rolls are fine unmodified, but the damage rolls should be 3 and 4 piercing, respectively.

[The Smoking Man]

The Ashabenford Arms; Round Two:

Otythir (Red Wizard of Thay) spits blood as words of power come tumbling from his mouth. Despite the vicious blow landed by Ryn, the audacious bastard still seems to have some fight left; enough, at least, for one more spell. He cringes through more blood and just manages to finish the somatic component of the spell.

As he finishes, his form seems to sink from reality, only to be replaced a moment later by that of a large, battle-hardened Gnoll veteran with a gnarled longbow pointed at Ryn's face. Now beside the overturned table, Otythir gets up and grabs something from the Red Knight's pack still lying on the floor...

Meanwhile, the Benignly Transposed Gnoll lets fly his arrow at close range, followed quickly by a second. Both arrows miss, one flying over each of Ryn's shoulders, thudding into the mantle of the fireplace.

At the same time, the wizardess under Otythir's command looses her balance, falling once more in the fiery Grease, burning herself as she goes, but managing to fall just outside of the spell's effected area.

Back closer to the bar, Roen must contend with an angry Gnoll warrior with a rusty battleaxe. The axe swings wide of the canny rogue, however, and the Gnoll yowls in protest.

The Thayan Knight, angered by the stolen opportunity for first blood in her fight with Daurily, makes a reckless swipe with her sword, managing to more than match the damage done by Daurily's last strike. For her part, Daurily attempts a careful counterstrike aimed at the Thayan woman's midsection, landing a near-crippling blow that causes the Thayan to lose her breath and reflexively move her shield in to cover the now-gaping hole in her armour.

Groban, enraged that the veteran Gnoll would be so bold as to disappear and then reappear a moment later across the common room, growls and charges the beast, sword swinging above his head like an impractical metallic sling. The blow lands with a vengeance, but does not manage to sever any important part of the Gnoll. It does, however, knock the beast off balance and into the fiery Grease.

OOC:

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Otythir casts Benign Transposition! Ryn and Groban are now in melee with the prone, wounded Gnoll who is also on fire. Ryn takes 1 fire damage because he's still on fire (please see dice thread for a relevant multimedia presentation).

Otythir is getting ready to drink a potion by the table.

Neth and Roen are still dealing with the Gnoll warrior, who missed Roen.

Daurily is still toe-to-toe with the Thayan Knight.

The Red Wizardess is prone and on fire, attempting to snuff it out in a most unflattering manner.

Doroga is standing over the unconscious body of the youngest Red Wizard.

Perelia is still near the bar, surrounded by a bunch of other, less-existent, Perelias.

Round 2, Phase 3 is next! That means you, Neth and Doroga!

NOTE: I moved Daurily and Groban up in the Initiative order. I think it's better to keep NPCs in the same Phase for posting purposes. Sorry for any confusion or inconvenience!

[TheDivineWind]

Now that the first was down, the next was sure to follow. Doroga moves slowly in an arc around the greased up (deaf-guy) table until he stands to the south-west of the Thayan wizard who just slipped in the grease again.

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Move Silently: (1d20+7)[14]

As he gets into range, he makes an awkward jab at her vitals, hoping to land another vicious blow.

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Attack on the second in command Thayan wizard:
Attack roll: (1d20+9)[12]
Damage roll: (2d4+4)[10]

Yeesh.

Doroga had heard of Thayan knights way out where he was from, but only in offhand comments and whispered fear. They were known for being vicious and power-hungry, and had a city full of terrible things.

That gives me an excellent reason to focus on taking them out first. I just hope the inn keeper doesn't mind all the stains it's going to leave...

...Then again, after that Gnoll's arm, I doubt anything I do will be of real consequence by comparison.

[Neth]

Neth hastens toward the Gnoll and reaches him just as his axe swings wide of his target. She'd seen the southerner who'd brought news of the Drow loose two swift bolts in the blink of an eye, but they seemed to do little to bother the towering beast.

Whipping her quarterstaff around she attempts to thwack the Gnoll firmly about the head, and grips the wood tightly hoping to feel a satisfying thump or crunch of some sort.

Meanwhile Gyl plunges down in his silent owl manner upon the crouching form of Otythir and attempts to snatch the entire satchel from the elder wizard's hands. Gyl now has a personal vendetta against the fiend who started the fight which prompted the worthless waste of an entire bottle of alcohol.

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(edit, adding rolls:)
Neth (flanking?) Attack on Gnoll with Axe: (1d20+5)[21]
Neth Damage on Gnoll with Axe: (1d6+1)[7]
Gyl Move Silent: (1d20+17)[32]
Gyl Slight of Hand: (1d20+3)[6]

TSM, in case you forget, rolls you said you'd need to do for this:
Otythir reflex, Otythir strength. I will get Gyl sorted out with a stat sheet tonight for your convenience... didn't realize an animal companion had so many bonus things!

[The Smoking Man]

Ashabenford Arms; Round Two (end phase):

Doroga manages to sneak up and swipe at the Red Wizardess just as she loses her footing in the Grease, subsequently ducking the attack.

Meanwhile, Gyl can be seen swooping down silently from the rafters, in a play for Otythir's satchel. Gyl manages not to steal the thing away entirely, but the swiftness of his approach was such that Otythir barely had time to grab hold of one of the straps before the owl made off with it, leaving the wizard and bird in a tug-of war - Otythir straining and bleeding and cursing; Gyl flapping and flapping and flapping...

A few dozen feet closer to the bar, the owl's master lands a fierce, blunt thwack (a word of Rashemi origin...) square into the cranium of the Gnoll warrior, who bjorf!s with an amount of pain it had not expected from such a small human.

OOC:

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Doroga misses the Wizardess.

Gyl is having a tug-of-war with Otythir for the backpack.

Neth lands a solid hit on the Gnoll warrior with her Quarterstaff.

Perelia: You may make the rolls you mentioned in the OOC post, but the minimum DC possible will be 4. Any lower and I'd just let you do it for free, but this requires at least a smidgen of actual doing.

Next is Top of Round Three!!! Meaning it's Ryn, Roen and Perelia!

[RaggedAngel]

Perelia watches in frustration as the eldest mage, the deadliest and most personally powerful of her foes begins to down a potion, and no one seems to be in an appropriate place to stop him. The owl, of all things, seemed to recognize the threat that he represented, but the bird would only slow him down for so long.

Faced with an increasingly worrisome prospect, Perelia noticed something odd; she was running towards the man, preparing herself to jump. She was even more surprised when she actually made the leap, landing squarely on the table the mage was cowering behind. Riding the rush of battle, she paid the outrageousness of her actions no mind, and with a few shouted, viscous words she called down hellfire and pyreflame on the Red Wizard.

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She succeeds on jumping to the stool and the table.

She almost certainly hits, automatically deals 11 fire damage, and he must make a reflex save, DC 17, or catch fire.

[The Smoking Man]

Otythir, Red Wizard of Thay, explodes in a ball of flame that erupts from Perelia's fingers. The man clearly wasn't expecting the elf to climb the stools and table to make it to him, and barely turned to see the "architect of his demise."

Gyl, for his part, does not want to be burned all the way back to Chauntea, and tries to fly away. He is not fast enough, however, as until the very end he was attempting to wrestle the satchel away.

Gyl wobbles away back to the rafters, badly burned and trailing singed feathers, the scorched satchel still his talons.

Otythir lies crispy on the ground.

OOC:

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Otythir is dead. Gyl got buuuuuurned.

[Keylac]

The satisfying sound of his blade hitting the wooden floor through Otythir, Red Wizard of Thay, reassured Ryn that whatever magic warded the mage, it wasn't impervious. Unfortunately, the wizard seemed to realize that as well. As he began to speak, spitting blood and strange words, Ryn recovers his stance, falling back into a guard position, ready for his next spell. Or so he'd thought.

His eyebrows tried to crawl into his hairline as the wizard vanished, replaced by the gnoll archer from across the room. This was something he'd never seen before! For a moment, he almost dropped his guard, so interested was he by what had just happened. The gnoll, graciously, reminded him there was a fight going on by attempting to put an arrow through him.

Ducking, Ryn throws out a quick thrust, just enough to try and spoil the archer's aim. Apparently it worked, with both arrows passing harmlessly over his shoulders. Straightening up, he see's something out of the corner of his eye, and smiles. Taking half a step to the right, the gnoll follows his movements... just in time to have Groban slam into him from the side, knocking the gnoll on his heels and into the fire.

Grinning at his new friend, Ryn seeks to take advantage of his strike, taking a half-step forward and driving his blade straight down at the gnoll. Even as he strikes, the room is illuminated by a sudden burst of flame from the middle of the room. The smell of burned meat, already present - Ryn himself was starting to smell a little past medium-rare - fills the room.

So it was, as he struck once more at an opponent, Ryn's thoughts turned once again to wondering if the inn would burn down.

OOC

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Regular attack, with Power Attack 1, for variety.

Rolls

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Rolling Attack against Gnoll Archer, Round Three: (1d20+8)[20]

Rolling Damage against Gnoll Archer, Round Three: (2d6+8)[14]

[Dragonsong]

Two shots loosed, and neither seemed to slow the onrushing hyena-man. Yet Roen did not flinch; he'd faced down cavalry charges in much the same position, and one brutish thug wasn't gone to faze him. Besides, scrambling to get out of harm's way would only cost him his next shot and present his back to his foe. Though prepared to hold his position to the bitter end, the young man was nonetheless very glad to see the Rashemi woman leap at the Gnoll and deal it a solid whack with her quarterstaff. Perhaps that would distract it just long enough for him to reach a better position...

Of all his many skills, Roen was not a trained tumbler. He'd never had the need, usually attacking from ambush when he fought at all. At that moment, however, he dearly wished he'd picked up the skill. With the Gnoll right on top of him, using his crossbow would get it shoved back into his face, and so he dearly wished to be able to move to flank it and sink his dagger into its back. But while he was no acrobat, he was a master of deception with both tongue and body. Dropping his crossbow (it was well-crafted and magicked enough to survive), he wiggled his dagger into his palm.

Now armed with a more suitable weapon, Roen drove the point of his dagger down, as though aiming to punch into the Gnoll's midsection. He put his weight behind the thrust, his body clearly giving away his intended target. Then, all at once, he took a step forward and came from beneath, stabbing upward at the creature's snout as he pulled out of his feint. Perhaps it had been too long since he last fought in close combat, but he could feel that he had not been so convincing as he'd hoped; still, he was committed now, so he did his utmost to see his attack through...

[The Smoking Man]

The Ashabenford Arms; Round Three, End of First Initiative Phase:

Otythir is felled in a ball of flame, as Ryn's sword plunges into the fallen Gnoll's chest. By the bar, Roen makes a successful feint against the other Gnoll, slashing him badly on the snout and face.

It all happens so quickly, that the surviving opponents don't notice that they are all of a sudden severely outnumbered and out-maneuvered. The fight continues:

Second Initiative Phase (NPCs):

The Thayan Knight continues her death-dance with Daurily, swiping in a wide arc intended for her opponent's head. This time she misses, and Daurily grunts and spits with effort as she twists aside. As she does so, her formidable blade whirls around to chop at the Thayan's more exposed midsection. The enchanted bastard sword strikes true, and the female Thayan knight is cut down in a mist of blood and a cloud of whirling, broken chainlinks.

The wizardess, prone and on fire, nonetheless summons enough will and concentration to overcome present difficulties and attempt a spell on Doroga. An arrow of hissing acid leaps from her fingers, striking Doroga in his middle, splashing about his person and burning as it goes.

Groban, meanwhile, scans the room briefly for his next target as he breaths heavy as an oxen pulling a lead-merchant's cart uphill. He spies the wizardess, sees her fling her spell at Doroga, and decides that it is her turn to die. He vaults over the table, landing sword-first beside the wizardess, who passes out unconscious from the flames, smoke and swords before Groban even has time to ready himself for his next action.

Meanwhile, the last surviving Gnoll, enraged and oblivious to the rest of the common room, makes a vicious swing at the rogue that cut his face. The blood, however, is blocking the beast's vision and causes his attack to fumble and allow Roen to side-step it with ease.

OOC:

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Wow. That's a three-kill phase, folks. Only enemy left is the Gnoll attacking Roen and Neth. Wizardess and Young Wizard are unconscious. Otythir, the Thayan Knight, and two of the three Gnolls are all dead.

Doroga takes 5 damage from Acid Arrow, and must save next round or take one more burst of damage (but is safe after that).

It is now Neth's and Doroga's turn.

[Neth]

Anyone who has hunted a creature or seen a horse in battle will probably find an animal's scream of anguish as heartbreaking as a child's. After the initial pang of distraction it usually causes, Neth quickly retrieves her focus, knowing that if Gyl was able to fly after that, he'd be just fine. She didn't need to watch the scene to understand the accident, although she would've savoured the pleasure of watching the Red Wizard crumple to the floor, now looking less like a Thayan and somewhat more like a charred carcass.

But all her attention became transfixed as the southerner swung forward, switched his motion in an instant and slid the dagger into the Gnoll with such a fluid stream of action that Neth thought her eyes must have mistaken something. The druid consistently stuck to flicking spells into the air from a distance and whacking things with sticks because if there ever came a day when she was tempted to believe she could pull off a lovely maneuver like that southerner's trick, it would be her last. She had half a mind to drop her stick and just applaud the stranger. But he would probably not appreciate that right now. Sending the other end of her quarterstaff hurling back toward that hyena-like face, Neth directs her aim as much as she can at the hideous eyes nestled above that hideous snout, and hopes to hear a hideous howl of agony.

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Neth Attack on Gnoll: (1d20+5)[18]
Neth Damage on Gnoll: (1d6+1)[2]

[TheDivineWind]

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Assuming the spell is melf's acid arrow, it gets no save. :( Oh well.

The acid cruelly burns his flesh and he does his best to avoid as much of it as he can, and wipe the rest off on the neighboring table. A quick survey of the room suggests that there were only a couple more gnolls, and the other combatants in the room seemed more than capable of handling them... Groban not the least among them, having sliced and diced a few with prejudice.

He looks back to the sorceress and the young wizard he downed earlier, both unconcious, one on fire, and both bleeding out.

Well, if we want answers, they probably will need to be alive.

Doroga takes a knee and begins work on putting the fire out on the sorceress.

[The Smoking Man]

The Ashabenford Arms, End of Round Three:

Doroga manages to see to the Red Wizardess and put out the flames, though she will require healing relatively soon if she is to survive the night. As for the younger Red Wizard, he is lying unconscious, bloodied and scraped, but is otherwise stable.

Neth makes a well executed swing with her staff against the Gnoll, but is unable to put as much force behind it as she would have liked, (likely due to the other things clamoring for the attention of her senses) and thus effects a minimal amount of damage to the lone survivor.

OOC:

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Top of Round 4! That means it's Ryn, Roen and Perelia's turn!

One Gnoll remains.

The Wizardess currently being tended to by Doroga needs healing fast, unless you guys only want the one prisoner...

TSM

[RaggedAngel]

Perelia turns to the remaining gnoll, the hideous, bestial creature still threatening the people that had rushed to the aid of the bar and their fellow civilians. She decided that she liked these people. She also decided, just as firmly, that she hated the gnoll, and even more, she hated its masters, the people the convinced it that its actions were good and wanted. The people that brought it here, and gave it the opportunity to kill and maim.

She drew a short, heavy wand from her belt, and she unleashed unerring magical power on the hairy creature.

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She deals 9 damage with two Magic Missiles.

[The Smoking Man]

Woot!:

The two missiles of arcane energy leap from Perelia's trusty wand and streak through the battle-thick, smoke-tainted air of the Ashabenford Arms. For a few brief seconds, it looks as though the Gnoll has the tactical advantage over the rogue and druid who cannot seem to hurt the thing sufficiently to put it out of their way for good. Its grotesque battleaxe raised above its head, yellow eyes squinting with a full-maw snarl, the beast suddenly stops... two collisions that send ripples of force through its body... and thud. The Gnoll falls flat on its face, arms still raised and eyes still open, dead.

The battle is won.

OOC:

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Perelia takes out the last Gnoll!

[Dragonsong]

One moment Roen had been locked in a deadly dance with his bestial foe, his own small blade marring its face but hardly slowing its rage, and the next the creature fell back, killed with not a sword but a word. Relief flooded the rapidly tiring rogue; he'd not suffered any harm, but avoiding it had sapped his stamina, and he was more eager than ever to learn what a bed was like. Satisfied that the Gnoll wouldn't be getting back up or nipping at his ankles, he scanned the room for anyone still fighting, then let out a bark of triumphant laughter when he saw that he and his newfound allies stood without opposition.

Even the fire that had threatened the inn was now vanquished.

Bending to recover his crossbow, Roen gently dusted the weapon off and returned it to its spot on top of his backpack. He then withdrew a tattered old cloth and cleaned the blood from his dagger before spinning it back into its place of concealment in his sleeve. Satisfied that his gear, so essential to his continued survival, was well taken care of, he allowed his smile to return. "Whoever cast that spell has my thanks," he said, offering a bow in the general direction of the others. "I fear that creature had not the good sense to recognize that it was outmatched, and meant to make me pay dearly in order to prove its mistake.

Turning to the wild-looking woman with the oaken staff, he gave another little bow. "I thank you also for your timely intervention. You were under no obligation to aid me against a foe out for my blood, and yet you risked yourself." Finally, he turns to look at the two badly-wounded but still-living Thayans, his eyes narrowing slightly and his grin faltering. These wizards had attacked without any real provocation, putting their search for - what, power? wealth? - above the lives of those who had done nothing to wrong them or any others in the town.

"I imagine the riders will know what to do with the survivors, much as I personally wish to kick them on the backside every step of the way back to Thay." The thought of killing the defenseless prisoners, despite all of their crimes, never even occurred to the young man. That was not a road he wanted to go down again, justified or not.

[TheDivineWind]

Doroga looks at the wizard's wounds for a few seconds, then over to the others.

"Would someone with more skill in this area please tend to this wizard's wounds? I suspect she doesn't have much longer, and while I can heal her, I would truly rather not restore her to consciousness right now."

With that, he gets up and scoots over to the first wizard he fought and checks his wounds. After a moment, he concludes that the younger wizard will live through his wounds, assuming no one adds to them.

"Okay, this one is going to be fine, probably." Doroga starts to sort through his equipment and move it away from him at the same time. He then pulls his rope and binds the mages hands, figuring a mage without material components and a pair of bound hands threatens few people. He tosses the other end of his rope (preferring not to cut it at the moment) over towards the sorceress where someone else can bind her hands.

[RaggedAngel]

Perelia takes a moment of breath, and then she switches and realigns the tracks of her mind, putting away the battle-fervor and bringing forth organization and logic. She immediately assigns her Prestidigitation the task of cleaning the blood from the ground and the smoke from the air, and a bubble of purity and cleanliness rapidly begins to form around her. She looks to Doroga, nodding in assent to his actions. "Setting their spell component pouches aside and binding their hands is an excellent way to prevent them from moving. There are still spells that have only a verbal component, however, so once they have awakened it will be prudent to gag them as well, if only temporarily."

She heads over to the owl she had accidentally harmed, taking out her toad as she did so; and while she walked, she continued to speak, calmly and without haste. "Make sure that any of our own are not injured before we heal them, though I suppose they are more useful alive than dead. As for what to do with them, the answer is fairly straightforward; the Wizard of this town, Noristour, was the one that asked me to determine what the Thayans were doing, and I daresay that he will know the appropriate things to do with them. I would have you all accompany me to his tower on the edge of town, if you could; both for protection and because I feel that you have more than earned the right to see what is done with these people. That said, if we do not take them to him we may as well kill them; other than force-marching them out of town with bound hands and no supplies, which would kill them, we can do little to hold them permanently without them having a good chance at figuring out an escape; and the second time they attack us, we would likely kill them. Noristour is their only hope of, if not salvation, life."

She reaches the owl, her steps very slow to allow the Prestidigitation time to clean the space around her, and she holds out her hands, deeply apologetic, and her voice drops in volume. "Hello there, noble one. Forgive my actions, for I did not mean to bring you to harm. This is my toad, Bigglesby. I treat him well, and if you would let me lay a hand upon you, I can heal your injuries." She looks to the druidic woman, a single slender brow raised in question, waiting for a sign of assent before moving to heal the owl with a burst of magic from her belt; the calm, golden glow spreads over the beautiful bird, healing the marred, burned areas.

[Neth]

With a similar feeling of relief, Neth let out a laugh and answered the southerner. "You should not be thanking me, friend. What did I do, tapping him like that? More harm than good, I bet, reminding the stupid beast which direction to swing. You'd have finished him faster without me. Next time I'll just hold your drink, yes?"

The druid threw the man a friendly thump on the back, and although unfeminine the gesture had the easy motion of habit, and certainly looked to suit an easterner more than a curtsy would. Just as she does so, her attention is caught and her hand pauses on him. "I do not know that cloth," she says absently. "When we next have time to drink, I would be glad to hear of your lands."

Seeing the woman named Perelia step gracefully toward Gyl, Neth's attention shifts, and at the words spoken by the elf, the druid is moved. She herself could have treated his wounds, and she was certain the woman knew that, which gave the gesture different significance. All manner of things happen in the chaos of a fight, and Neth and Gyl, being both rather unsteady, had over time accidentally given each other more scratches than they likely would have if they'd actually fought each other. Needless to say, the care this woman took to apologize for a trivial thing was remarkable, and made quite an impression on the druid. She would make sure to say as much during the next moment of respite.

Thinking of this, Neth remembers the own damage she'd caused, and makes her way through the wreckage to where the Thayans are being bound, reaching into her pouch as she does. She approaches the man whose complexion resembles the locals, and assumes he is from nearby.

"Take this," she says, handing him a small bottle. "If it smells foul, forgive me," she adds with a crooked grin. "I made it lately, and don't yet know the most enjoyable herbs in these parts."

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(I give Ryn one of the cure moderate wounds potions I had made, unless he objects! I have three others still, and different healing things as well, and can make more when I get the opportunity.)

[Keylac]

As the last gnoll had crumbled to the ground, victim of the odd elf's spell, Ryn spent a moment scanning the room, making sure all the others were dead. Finding that the combat had concluded, Ryn was finally able to turn his attention to the fact that he was on fire. Casually, he jabbed the spear into the floor - through the dead gnoll in front of him - and began patting out the flames.

As he does so, he listens with one ear to the conversation of the foreigners. Well mannered folk they were, as well as competent. They'd fit right in with Dalesfolk, accent and language barriers be damned. He did crook an eyebrow at the mention of Noristour. Ryn didn't know much about him, not being from Mistledale, but he'd heard the man was an old grouch. He supposed Thayans, and drow from what they said earlier, are enough to cause an old grouch to think of his neighbors.

For a moment, his mind turns to considering the problem of the drow and their demand. A rather evil idea begins to form...

He looks up at the approach of the rustic looking woman, setting aside future plotting. Hearing her offer, and explanation, he chuckles.

"Well stranger, I would suggest using Cormanthor Mint. It grows around the wet places throughout the Dales. Bit stronger then you find most places, but pleasant enough. As for your potion, I thank you, but these burns aren't bad, and I've a bit of magic I picked up in Waterdeep to deal with them." For a moment, his smile turns sad. "You'll need that potion come tomorrow, belike."

"If you'll pardon me a moment, I'm going to help Doroga with those poor fools before they wake up and try something stupid. Again."

With a quick bow, he turns towards Doroga and the unconscious Thayans. He considers for a breathe on what to use to gag them. For a moment, he almost reaches for the tunic of the dead gnoll in front of him, before deciding that would be too cruel. Besides, he doesn't want to kill them, and given the smell, that would be a distinct possibility. Instead, he walks back to the bar, nabbing a few of Arhlo's rags with a grin at the barkeep and a promise to help clean up when they're done. With that, he walks over to the Thayans.

Whistling as he works, he begins binding the woman's wounds and burns, until she is no longer in danger of bleeding out on the floor. Once finished, it takes but a moment to gag and blindfold her, making sure to cover her ears as well. That done, he binds her hands with the rope Doroga provided. Finished with here, he takes a moment to gag, blindfold, and deafen the male wizard as well, breaking of his whistling to compliment Doroga on the skill with which he disabled him.

All finished, he rises to his feet, slapping Doroga on the back as he does. Now standing, he looks around the room, searching. Upon spotting where his pipe fell, and his beer, still on the mantle, he walks over and retrieves them before leaning against the mantle, thinking.

"I'd not wish to gainsay you, Lady Mage, but perhaps there's a better option to bringing them to Noristour." A wave of his hand at the fella with the crossbow. "This one says the Riders has an interest in this too." Here, a wave at Daurily Corkwill. "And it all seems to revolve around her father. Perhaps instead of moving them all out of here, It'd make more sense to simply bring the Captain and the Wizard here, to hear the reason why from old Herlam. We can question the Thayans here at length as well, if needed." Here, an evil grin. "I've a few ideas about how to loosen their tongues." A wave at the dead bodies." I'll need these to make it work right though. Especially that gnoll that you felled last, since he's more intact then the others."

There he stops, awaiting their comments, calmly relighting his pipe and sipping his beer. Almost as an afterthought, he remembers to look to himself, and uses the magic in his belt - handy trinket! - to heal himself.

OOC

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Took 10 on the Heal Check, for a total of 17.

Rolls

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Using 1 Charge of Healing Belt: (2d8)[14]

[b]Using 1 Charge of Healing Belt, Second Time[b]: (2d8)[5]

[TheDivineWind]

Doroga loops up and grins as Ryn slaps him on the back, a familiar action from earlier in the day. Nodding, he turns back to the items he pulled from the unconscious mage. A book, sparsely written in, a partially full bottle of some sweet smelling but powerful liquor, and a small purse with a handful of coins in it.

"Hey Groban, our new friends brought us some celebratory liquor! I'm so glad we thanked them for the show before they decided to lay down, it would have been downright improper if we didn't have the opportunity! I suspect this is a bit stronger than what we were drinking. I'll join you in a few moments.", he hands Groban the bottle.

Doroga opens up and begins flipping through the book a bit more closely. The writing was nothing like he had seen before, and the ink was made of some sort of gold lettering on some equally fancy paper. The book itself was bound tightly and well worn, despite its owners young age.

This looks remarkably similar to Bill's spellbook back home. I wonder if it has defensive spells like those he showed me.

He looks across the room to the woman who began the immolation of the room that was only now sputtering out. Clicking his tongue, he waits until she is done with what she is doing, and gets up and moves towards her.

"Hail mage. That was well fought, if not... *he motions to the smoldering bits around the room* without collateral damage. I am Doroga, from Lyrabar of Impiltur." Doroga waits for her name in return, then continues.

"Well met. I was wondering if you might be able to help me, now that all the fun is over. The youngest of them had this (he produces the spellbook). I was wondering if you could tell me what sort of spells it holds. I have a particular interest in defensive magic, and a spellbook along those lines would aid me in my studies."

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Doroga knows nothing about why those 3 attacked, and is just assuming they were bandits of some kind looking to make trouble. The claims of impending doom from earlier well quickly forgotten once the room exploded into violence, hence no mention or thought of it, and turning directly to having fun again!

[Neth]

The man's light-hearted reply and this easy manner of both he and his aquaintance leaves Neth with an expression gradually growing more pleased and amused. They were not common, those who seemed to be perpetually enjoying themselves, and who might whistle while they gagged their captives. But when there is blood drying into the ground and bodies to be burned, you always wanted one of them around.

She listens thoughtfully to the exchanges, and is sorely tempted to nurture the plan to make their way to the wizard's quarters, if only to get back out into better air and open sky. Stifling the impulse, she gestures to their Thayan prisoners and says, "I spoke with these earlier. They told me they had powerful friends in this town. They may have lied, but all the same, before the truth is drained from their throats, we might do better not to haul them through the streets. I think we should gather what is useful here, quickly, and move to a place that is better for watching, better for protecting, before someone comes looking for them. Maybe the old tower behind here is good for this," she suggests, tossing a hand toward the back door.

Then with a nudge of her head to indicate the stranger with the pipe, she adds, "This man is right, many are involved now, so it might be best to summon them here, if they will come. It should be faster, and if this town may come under attack tomorrow, fast would be good, I think."

[Dragonsong]

The wild-looking woman's easy, unfeminine manner reminded Roen a little of home. Most of the Shebali women acted thus; men and women were tasked equally harshly, so there was no reason to make differences among themselves. It didn't hurt that she looked a little like them; he wondered if she had Arkaiun blood in her, or perhaps hailed from a land near where the Arkaiuns had originally lived. Her offer of conversation would have to be taken up soon; the potential answers to his questions already intrigued him. But until then there was work to be done, so he offered only a grin as she moved on.

"I agree," the southerner said with a nod as the new plan was formed. "If they may have allies, it's best that few see them, especially given that there'll be panic soon enough regardless. I can fetch the rider captain if you, lady mage," he offers a slight bow, as he once saw the harpers who rescued him do in the presence of a Northern woman, "would bring this 'Noristour' here." He starts for the door, then turns back, his face turning pensive. "I, too, would very much like to know what one aging adventurer has that so many of the wicked want."

[RaggedAngel]

Perelia listens to the others patiently, judging them as she does so. She is pleases to find no idiots or dullards among them; though she could be patient, it was not in her breeding or of her profession to deal with potential nuisances. The folk at the bar, however, seemed to be of a good nature and manner, and it was pleasant to find two potential magical practitioners amongst them, though the druidic woman clearly followed the Power instead of the Art.

Perelia looked to the young man holding the youngest Thayan's spellbook, and she held out a slender hand to accept it and inspect it. The spellbook was horrendously annotated, as she had suspected; the very markings and symbols were filled with the utter belief in the distinctness of the magical schools, and it indeed seemed that the blasted Thayans used a different language for every breed of spell. It wasn't utterly unlike her own methods, of course; some magical constants were just that, and nothing about them could be altered if one wished to keep the integrity of the spells.

"This book," she murmured softly after a few long seconds of study, "Is that of a specialized abjurer, a wizard that focuses on disruption and protection above the other arts. This abjurer seems to have banned; that is to say, declined to learn; the arts of necromancy and enchantment. If you wish to learn magic, this would not be a terrible book to start with; necromancy holds incredible power, but at the expense of some people's morality, and enchantment is a very delicate art that can potentially be used to subvert the free will of others, making it another questionable school for some. There shouldn't be anything objectionable here; which makes it all the more sad that this young wizard was a part of such a horrible organization."

She hands the book back, giving the young human a slight bow as she did. "Use this well and wisely, young man; and I would be pleased to give you some suggestions that may make that book more legible and less bitterly prejudiced. Now, I agree with the thought of bringing the people of importance to this location, and I am willing to move forward with that course of action; but first, I believe introductions are in order. My name is Perelia Laethia, a wizard of Halruaa and a seeker of new knowledge and new spells. What may I call you all?"

[Keylac]

Ryn listens intently to the words of his new found battle companions, contemplatively puffing on his pipe. He hadn't realized the rustic looking woman had talked to the Thayan's earlier. It was hard to believe such lackwits would have many friends in the Dales, but you never knew. Not that his folk were too noble or holy to fall in with such company; just smarter.

He's about to say something to the quick little fellow with the dagger, when Doroga walks over to the Lady Mage. Their conversation was interesting - Doroga had mentioned his interest in magic during their earlier drinks - but it was her introduction that made him pause.With a rueful grin, he realized that he hadn't introduced himself, and didn't know them from Azoun either!

"Ah, pray forgive me, Perelia Laethia, of Halruaa. I completely forgot courtesy!" he says, straightening up from his slouch against the wall, and reaching for his hat before realizing it's still on the peg over by the wall. His aborted grab for the hat turns instead into a sweeping bow at all present. "I am Ryn Kavaren, of Deepingdale, wanderer of these Realms. It is honor to make your acquaintance, and I hope we'll have time to speak of your homeland, for I've not yet been there."

Straightening from his bow, he turns to the fellow almost out the door. "If I could make a suggestion, before you head off to fetch the Captain?" Here, a gesture at the hat lately worn by a Knight of Thay. "Take that with you, just in case they truly do have friends. Seems it can disguise you, which might be handy. Besides, I'm greatly interested in hearing how it works. It has... possibilities."

Next, a gesture at Perelia. "As for you Lady Mage, if you plan to fetch Noristour, you should take Doroga or Groban with you." A brilliant grin. "Being bold is a lot easier if you prepare carefully ahead of time."