Zap and Eldest do Patria! IC

[Wyntonian]

*Rattata rat tat tat rrrrrratatat*

The drummers lead the procession, marching smartly as a trio of fifes follow, tooting cheerily. The rest of the regiment marches behind in formation, their armor gleaming and their pikes held high. Behind them, more troops follow in ranks carrying spiked warhammers. Last, two lines of crossbowmen, their weapons held at port arms. The soldiers generally have a bored or sternly held military lack of expression - it's hard to tell which - but a couple wink at the Torei lining the streets of the little town. The lieutenant, riding at the front, leans skillfully out of his saddle to muss a child's hair. The boy ducks behind his mother's skirt, but keeps watching the shining people march by.

The parade reaches the dingy, uncobbled town square, and assembles in front of a statue of the local noble, Lord Imisuru. He waits there, surrounded by his glaring bodyguards and given a wide berth by the Torei. The mercenary commander is there, with his own bodyguards. The two nod to each other, businessmen conducting a deal.

The lieutenant salutes sharply and steps aside for the commander to speak, standing atop the small platform before the statue. He speaks in rather fluent Kotoba, though with a distinct accent of the Dotze Affariata, his plate mail shining in the morning light.

"Men and women of the town, thank you for gracing us with your attendance! I, by the grace of your kind Lord Imisuru, have been given the great gift of your audience! I am honored to see so many brave souls, so much potential for heroism, arrayed before me today!

I understand with all my heart all the difficulties of life here, how we must toil against the earth, sky and sun to bring forth crops and life. That is why, to the young and strong among you, I bring the promise of a better life!

South, in the lands of richness, trade and bounty, a war will soon begin. The great States of the Dotze Affariata are poised at the brink of war, the good and wicked among them both! It is a time for the weak and strong to be separated in the furnace of heroism! Naturally, when I learned of this, I came to the land of the strongest young men in Patria! I offer, to all you brave young souls, a chance for your names to be written on the pages of history! A poet said once to me, 'But the magic is that the play of life goes on, and you have your chance to contribute a verse.'

Ask yourselves now, what will your verse be? Will you stay here, toiling under the hot sun and in the cold of winter for whatever meager crops you can wrestle forth from the grudging earth? Or will you shine, shine like stars in the night sky, and give your family and all those who come after you a reason to remember your name long after your death?

I cannot promise that all those who come with me shall return. I cannot pretend that many a mother and lover will weep for her missing boy in the years to come. I cannot promise that you will always have three meals a day, soft beds and all the good beer you can drink. But I can promise riches, fine arms and armor and best of all glory, in accordance with your discipline and bravery. Imagine your lovers face as you ride back into this town, covered in gold and glory! Is that not worth missing a couple years of backbreaking toil on this farm?

Those brave men among you, meet me in the fields to the south this evening. And enjoy they day of rest your lord has generously given you!"

The crowd applauds politely, though a group of young, brawny plowboys in the front and center cheer enthusiastically. All around, though, old men who served in the army, mothers and young women are shaking their heads. The crowds disperse slowly, the drums start back up, and the flutes toot their way back out of town, to the fallow southern fields where the mercenary band, two thousand strong, is camped. The one regiment marches out as crisply as they came in. A bustle of conversation erupts, as the crowd shuffles around to head home, to meet friends or to find family.

Assuming they're not sneaking around elsewhere... Moon and Vail find themselves close-ish to each other, pushed around by the crowd, seemingly made up of equal parts cynics and naysayers, excited young men (and the odd young woman), and people simply in awe of the shininess of the soldiers' armor.

Some men are making their way south, following the troops.

[Zap Dynamic]

The words reverberate throughout Moon as the mercenary commander makes his way off the stoop. Warfare and plunder in the South, she thought. When Moon had left the monastery, the trees were in full blossom, turning the stark simplicity of Winter into a riot of growth, color, and warmth. She had taken it as a good omen to begin her journey, armed with the training she had received and free to blow like a leaf on the wind. The days grow hotter with each new sunrise, and it seems more and more birds are heard by branch and stream. Even the Torei seem to forget their toils for a moment in the light of such a birth as Spring. And now it may lead me down a road toward death.

Once the crowd disperses a little more, Moon has a clear view of the Vallheimer she met not long ago in this very village. She remembers him to be a kind man, of an age with her, who always seems to be haunted by a ghost from his past.

By way of greeting, she gives him a slight nod of her head and a warm, small smile. "Hello again." She stands easily, a full pack slung over one shoulder and a long spear in her hand. Beneath her vest, one can barely see the glint of fine mail.

[Eldest]

Pah. Heroism and glory, my... Vail cuts off as Moon greets him. The irrate mood seems to slip off his face like water, although it is only a seeming. Hello again, yourself. What do you think of these fine gentlemen? Only a small twitch on the word 'fine' reveals his true feelings for the warriors.

[Zap Dynamic]

Frowning slightly, Moon looks at the company of fighters marching out of town. "They seem like fearsome warriors. You do not approve of them?"

[Eldest]

Vail looks out over the mercenaries marching out and the milling farmboys following. I have no problem with the mercenaries. Their trade is close enough to what my own was, that I can hardly fault it and be true to myself. But this talk of glory. There is no glory in war.
War... war never changes.

Spoiler

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I JUST HAD TO!
A cookie to anybody who knows what that's from. You better.

[Wyntonian]

As Vail and Moon talk, a little off to the side from the steadily dispersing crowd, a steady trickle of young men, having said goodbye to their mothers or friends, go to learn more from the mercenary recruiters. One loud, boisterous trio struts past, laughing. One staggers towards the pair, perhaps a little bit drunk. "Oy, North-Man? Going to go prove you've not burnt your manhood off in your forge? Or perhaps your spear-bearing friend there will try out? Surely the Southerners will recognize his skill in their tournament tomorrow, eh?" He feigns respect towards Moon, with an elaborate bow. He then, does a double take, and throws his eyes wide with false surprise. "Oh! Sorry, miss! I didn't recognize a woman outside of the kitchen! Did you steal your husbands spear? Or are you trying to be a man yourself?" He laughs at his own attempt at a joke and returns to his sniggering friends.

[Eldest]

Vail snarls a word, and a spirit of fire flies out of his tattoos and explodes, carefully aimed so that while it doesn't hurt anybody, it cuts off the speaker from his friends. I'm sorry, I must have heard you wrong. I could have sworn I'd heard you say that "I didn't recognize a woman outside of the kitchen". But I couldn't have heard that, because nobody would be that rude. Would they? His eyes harden, as he glares at the drunks.

Spoiler

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The blast of flame is from the reserve feat.
(1d20+3)[17] Intimidation. Perhaps a +2 for having just thrown fire around like it's nothing?

[Wyntonian]

The young man hiccups violently at the burst of flame and takes a half-step back. "Um... I'm sorry, sir. I like to joke, me. Right guys?" His companions both nod reluctantly, though they look like they'd rather melt into the dirt beneath their feet. "I guess we'll be going, then." He turns and stalks away with as much composure as he can manage, which is rather respectable for a person in his situation, and he and his friends depart.

Spoiler

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If Moon posts a response, I'll delete/edit this. Otherwise, this.

[Zap Dynamic]

Growing up, Moon's spear instructor counseled her countless times to wait and judge a situation before acting. It has been one of her more difficult lessons, but she has made significant progress. After startling her, the burst of flame promises to be an ideal moment to strike at the dullards, but Moon restrains herself instead, unmoving and placid as the pond in the monastery gardens.

After the boys go on their way, Moon turns to Vail. "My thanks to you, Vail." She can't help but grin as her eyes follow the boys down the street. Her fingers absently trace the grain on her spear's shaft. "If this is the kind of stock the mercenary companies attract, such a path may not prove to be worth the walking. But did they say something about a tournament?"

[Eldest]

To be honest, that was probably the worst introduction to possible mercenaries you could get. Most of them are better. None the less, we should try to avoid that man in the future. Bad memories tend to cloud the mind. Vail realizes he is rambling slightly and stops. They did mention a tournement, yes, but no details. Why? Do you wish to compete?

[Zap Dynamic]

Moon regards Vail with all the innocence of a child. "Fighting is what I know. The world is a strange place to me, but I must learn. It would seem that my path leads at least as far as this tournament ground."

[Eldest]

Vail seems to pause a bit to think, and then suddenly speaks. I will accompany you. That is, if you want me. To accompany you. To the tournement. He finally stops his halting speech.

[Zap Dynamic]

Vail's awkwardness is almost completely lost on Moon. "Shall we head that way?"

[Eldest]

Yes. He breaths in, and walks forward a short ways, then stops. Do you know what direction the tournament is?

[Zap Dynamic]

"I believe it is at the mercenary camp." Moon takes a step herself, then stops, considering. "However, I believe that it will not be until tomorrow. Perhaps there is something that could keep us occupied in the meantime?"

[Eldest]

I have nothing pressing. Just smithing to be done.

[Wyntonian]

As Moon moves off to hear the local gossip, Vail heads back towards his smithy. He is soon stopped, however, by a youngish man, perhaps sixteen or seventeen. The teenager is a little shy-looking, and one of his arms ends at the elbow. "Um... Excuse me, sir. I heard you and Moon talking a moment ago, and I know that she's thinking to enlist with those men... If I could ask you one thing, it would be that you go with her, look after her? She's... important to me, and a one-armed man can't be much of a warrior, or I'd follow her myself." He pauses for a moment, apparently unwilling to share so much. "I'd pay you if I had anything to give, but I'm afraid I - I don't. Please, just try to keep her safe?" Before Vail can easily respond, he runs off in embarrassment.

[Wyntonian]

The next morning, a good double handful of nails completed, Vail and Moon meet by the little dirt road that leads south into the fallow, unsown fields that will next year be covered with wheat, oats and tobacco.

They approach the ordered tents of the mercenary bands, following the crowd towards a cleared space with rings of chalk marked on the dirt and racks of weapons with protective coverings nearby. The lieutenant you saw yesterday is arranging things at a frantic pace, sending pairs off to distant rings under the eyes of sergeants.

A young man, possibly an aide-de-camp, bounds up with a fire of efficiency burning under him. He asks names, makes a mark on a board in his hand, and sends the two of you down the line, with barely a glance at either of you.

A quarter-mile down the way, a sergeant ushers the pair over into an unoccupied chalk ring. A medic is attending to a unconscious man there, a little ways out of the circle. The sergeant is a burly man, built like a plowhorse. Through a translator, a local Sunshani boy, the man explains the rules.

"Take a weapon. Don't do any serious or deliberate injury. If you use any magical talents, you will be separated after this fight for more specific testing. We need to know you can hold your own hand to hand, though, so you'll stay here for this."

He gestures you over to the racks of weapons, each perfectly deadly but covered in a variety of ways, the blunt edges padded, the points blunt, the blades sheathed. When your choices are made, he points you into the ring.

[Eldest]

I am a mage first and formost, do not expect overmuch out of me for this. Vail steps forward and takes a spear, then steps back.

[Zap Dynamic]

Frowning that she cannot use her own weapon, Moon picks over the weapons on the rack until she finds a spear of good quality. This done, it seems as though all of her attention shifts to the general area around her. Without looking at anything in particular, it seems as though she is taking the measure of each of her potential opponents.

Spoiler

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Sense Motive to gauge the relative strength of my opponents?
Check: (1d20+6)[23]

[Wyntonian]

After a couple minutes of waiting, another pair walks up and selects gear, and joins you in the circle.

One is a young man, with a broad, smiling face and callused hands. He has the look of a plowboy, and selects a heavy staff. He twirls it a couple times and looks satisfied. "Good luck!" He says with a smile.

The other is a slightly older man, with dirty, disheveled clothing, long ragged fingernails and a slightly wild look in his eyes. His eyes are constantly darting, as he pulls a flask out from his jacket and takes a drink. He makes no move to select a weapon, though he rolls back his sleeves.

They stand somewhat close to each other as the sergeant steps out of the chalk ring. He raises a hand and casts it downwards. The boy next to him shouts out in Torei. "Fight!"

Spoiler

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Please roll initiative OoC. I'll get a map of sorts up soonest.

[Wyntonian]

{table=head]_|A_|B_|C_|D_|E_|F_|G_|H_|I_|J_|K_|L_|M_|N_
1|||||||#|#|#|#||||
2||||||#|||||#|||
3|||||#||1||2|||#||
4||||#||||||||#||
5||||#||||||||#||
6||||#||||||||#||
7||||#|||V|M|||#|||
8|||||#|||||#||||
9||||||#|#|#|#|||||
[/table]

1 is the nice guy with the staff, 2 is the unarmed shifty guy. I'll leave it to your brilliant investigative minds to determine the meaning of V and M. The # is the boundary of the circle.

[Eldest]

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I... I don't get it. M is obviously Moon, but what could the V mean?

Vail hastily backpedels from the two people who look like they know what they're doing in a brawl, scrambling for the edge of the circle. Hey, how good's your healings? I really don't want to kill you guys, and my fire isn't padded.

Spoiler

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I need to wait until later to remember what spells he has active anyway, my school has Mythweavers blocked. But not this site. Odd, isn't it?

[Zap Dynamic]

Patience. Moon can almost hear the words of her spear master, Brother Goro. Your enemies will not expect a woman to be such a potent fighter. You must have patience. Wear them down.

Moon knows next to nothing about her opponents. The large boy seems cocky and is certainly strong, but perhaps untrained. The old man is either bold or foolish enough to wander into the ring unarmed. Either way, he could prove to be a formidable opponent.

Readying her spear and taking a step in front of Vail, Moon assumes a defensive posture and waits for a strike. She is ready to leapt through the narrowest of gaps in her opponents' defenses.

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My turn.

[Wyntonian]

{table=head]_|A_|B_|C_|D_|E_|F_|G_|H_|I_|J_|K_|L_|M_|N_
1|||||||#|#|#|#||||
2||||||#|||||#|||
3|||||#|||||||#||
4||||#||||1||||#||
5||||#||||||||#||
6||||#||||M||||#||
7||||#|||2||||#|||
8|||||#||V|||#||||
9||||||#|#|#|#|||||
[/table]

Moon steps to protect Vail, his spear coming up in a defensive stance, ready to counterattack. The young, strong boy with the staff comes on strong, striking with both ends of his staff. Both his powerful strikes miss, one going over Moon's head and the other cracking against her staff.

Moon attempts to counterattack his legs with a sweeping blow, but he leaps over and bodychecks her, using his advantage of half a hundred pounds and a heavy staff to knock her off her feet. He looks almost sheepish as he does so, as if throwing a woman, even a warrior, to the ground is something he ought to be afraid of.

Even as he glances apology at Moon, Vail's hand comes up and tenses, binding the flow of energy through his body. He tenses for a moment, utterly still, glaring daggers at the mage, before staggering back, apparently freed of the effects.

The other man, though he spent half a second pondering the child whose shout started the match, leaps into action. He takes half a dozen steps and leaps over Moons form as she hits the ground, rolling to his feet before Vail. He then strikes, an unrefined roundhouse punch of the sort generally seen in barhouse brawls. He misses, however, as he apparently rolled further away then he had intended to. He blinks repeatedly, apparently confused.

Spoiler

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Actions! Please keep it neat, you can fluff it up here and name your actions in a spoiler below.

[Zap Dynamic]

Moon's head makes a steady turn, her olive eyes taking in the situation. If you must face two enemies at once, she remembers the words of her master, better to stack them one upon the other than to stand in their midst. She rises to her feet as quickly as she can, lashing out at the drunkard with her spear. It will not do to keep her enemies on both sides.

Spoiler

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Attack vs. Drunk: 16 to hit for 7 damage.

[Eldest]

Vail shies away from the man who just ran up to him, cursing his luck freely. He releases another bound spirit from his tattoos, forming a brilliant light to blind the man, but not before another opening appears in his defense. Really! How good's the healing? I don't want to cut loose and kill people!

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5 Foot Step to H8
Cast Flare on 2
Can take an AoO from 2

[Wyntonian]

{table=head]_|A_|B_|C_|D_|E_|F_|G_|H_|I_|J_|K_|L_|M_|N_
1|||||||#|#|#|#||||
2||||||#|||||#|||
3|||||#|||||||#||
4||||#||||||||#||
5||||#||||1||||#||
6||||#||||M||||#||
7||||#|||2||||#|||
8|||||#|||V||#||||
9||||||#|#|#|#|||||
[/table]

As Moon tries to get up, the plowboy shakes off the spell and steps forward enough to catch Moon across the shoulder with a two-handed blow from the padded end of his staff. It's possibly that he cringes a little in sympathy as his powerful blow connects. She staggers a little as she gets to her feet, but whirls dextrously and solidly plants her "spear" in the drunk's back.

As he's off-balance, Vail releases a small, glowing spirit of light from one of his tattoos, which flies at the man's unshaven, dusty face and bursts in a magnesium glow, illuminating his silhouette and that of Vail for the people standing behind them. The man lashes out with a foot at chest level in retaliation, but Vail successfully ducks.

The man follows up with a boxer's one-two punch, his stink of booze and the road heavy in Vail's nose, but he blocks one with his borrowed spear and the other is too glancing to hurt.

Spoiler

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Moon takes 7 subdual damage. Apparently Vail is too lucky to be hit. Also, actions, please!

[Zap Dynamic]

Moon curses her foolishness a thousand times over in her head. Like the ripple in a pond, such is the first blow in combat, Brother Goro used to say, It can change everything.

Only something drastic could amend such a poor stroke of the brush as her attempt to trip that hulking plowboy. Spinning in a tight circle, the earth's hold on Moon seems to fall slack for a moment as she vaults over the plowboy's shoulders. In an attempt to sow confusion, Moon doesn't even wait until she's hit the ground before slamming the shaft of her spear into the plowboy's shoulders; exactly the same way she herself had been struck just moments before.

Spoiler

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Moon
Female Human Warrior-Poet, Level 4, Init +8, HP 27/34, Speed 30
AC 19, Touch 14, Flat-footed 15, Fort +2, Ref +8, Will +0, Base Attack Bonus 4
Swift action to switch between +1 Spear +9 (1d8+4, x3)
Swift action to switch between Club (other end of Spear) +6 (1d4+2, x2)
Mithral Shirt, Bracer of Armor +1 (+4 Armor, +1 Shield, +4 Dex)
Abilities Str 14, Dex 18, Con 12, Int 12, Wis 9, Cha 16
Condition None
Maneuvers Remaining this Encounter: Buffeting Wave, Jade Barrier

Move: to H4 (Tumble to avoid AoOs: 26)
Standard: Attack Plowboy with Crawling Ivy Strike (25 to hit for 7 damage)
If the attack hits, then I have +2 AC vs. the Plowboy for the next round.

[Eldest]

Vail backs further away, outside of the drunk's reach, and mutters I really hope he has a spare set of cloths. Then he releases a flame wraith from his tattoos, small enough never to hurt somebody, but still able to start a fire. Which it promptly tries to do, in the drunk's clothing.

Spoiler

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5 foot step to I8
Standard action to cast Spark
If I misunderstood, and Red Mages don't get spark as an at-will power, I will use the reserve feat to try to set his cloths on fire.