(PF) Rise of the Runelords: Burnt Offerings IC

[maggie_mcknife]

22 Rova, 4707

It has been an unduly hot summer and on this auspicious day of the Equinox, the air is thankfully crisp with the first hints of Autumn. Nestled amongst the high cliffs of Devil’s Platter, beneath a magnificent gold and purple hued sunset, the town of Sandpoint is ablaze with lights, laughter, and good cheer. It is the Swallowtail Festival, a carnival time of renewal and hope – and as the released swallowtail butterflies rise to the sky in a storm of colour and life, so do the spirits of the town.


Sirus:

Spoiler

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The crowd around you roars in soused approval as with a clever shift of weight, you use the crook of your foot to sweep the pouch of copper coins off the middle of the table and into your palm. At the same time, your swift movement causes your opponent to lose his balance and tumble towards the edge of the table. Having abstained from alcohol, however, your reflexes remain quick enough and you manage to grab hold of his hand, preventing him from being unceremoniously sprawled on the ground. Raising your fistful of coins to the cheering crowd, you nod sportingly at your opponent, accept his congratulations, and step lightly off the table, making way for another pair to play the game.

You would really like a cup of tea after facing multiple opponents, but it doesn’t seem like you’re going to have any luck, considering the amount of alcohol you’ve already seen being served. Counting the coppers in the pouch, you figure that you have enough to splurge on some hard cheese and bread from a nearby push-cart – it is a festive occasion, after all. Although there are still ample leftovers from the massive lunch sponsored by the local taverns, the thought of greasy food turns your stomach, and simple plain fare sounds best right now.

Carrying your food in hand, you find a seat for yourself on an upturned barrel and calmly survey the crowd around you, idly wondering where the rest of the caravan you arrived with could have got to. The crowd is mostly human with the occasional dwarf, though you do chance to spy a strapping half-orc woman in martial leathers way across the town square, the huge flagon of homebrewed ale in her paw spilling slightly as she quaffs the lot in one go.

Cipriano:

Spoiler

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You’ve lost the wallet-snatch game to the quiet half-orc in the shabby doublet from your caravan, but no matter. You tried your best. Besides, victor or not, there is no way he could have possibly impressed as many pretty wenches as you did. (None of the wenches here are as pretty as you, of course, but then, you’ve never been one to complain about that sort of womanly attention.)

Once your opponent has left the ringed-off area with his prize in hand, you grin broadly at the massed townsfolk around you and punch the air in jubilation. Judging from the tone of the responding cheers, you did actually impress a fair number of ladies. Perhaps some of them wouldn’t say no to hanging out with you later on. Still grinning widely, you return to the corner where you’ve stashed your belongings. As you shrug your shirt back on, you are sure that you can hear a few disappointed murmurs and sighs, but you’re not about to push your luck by turning around to wink.

Speaking of luck… Once you are done changing, the game organiser pushes a brimming tankard into your hand, which you gladly accept. After giving thanks to the Accidental God, you take a quick sip and enjoy the coolness of the brew in your parched throat. All in all, it’s been a pretty good day so far, what with the exercise and the beer and the ladies. Sandpoint’s nowhere as bustling as Magnimar, but that’s part of the place’s charm. Perhaps you could really get used to this sort of life.

Setsuna:

Spoiler

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Picking at the bowl in front of you, you finally sigh to yourself and push it away, looking out over the milling crowd in the square. It’s not that the food isn’t good – in fact, this is an excellent bowl of curried salmon – even now, the rich aroma of hot spices makes your mouth water and reminds you a little of home. It’s just that the knowledge that it was made by Ameiko Kaijitsu, whose attention you’d rather not draw right now, makes the food stick in your throat as you swallow.

You stand up and stretch, massaging the back of your neck. It hasn’t been a very good day for you so far either. For some reason, your fingers seemed to fumble at the dice, you almost slipped and fell while dancing, and you lost out in the balance games to some weird shirtless priest-man who wouldn’t stop flexing his muscles when he wasn’t looking at your chest. Come to think of it, the townsfolk as a whole don’t really seem to approve of your dressing either. Or could it be because of your tiefling blood? It can’t be – you’ve seen enough fellow tieflings on the road since you’ve left Minkai. Yet it seems as though you’ve been getting more than your usual share of odd glances and whispers since arriving in town.

Nevertheless, you try to shove away the negative thoughts as you slip through the crowd, looking for a drink of some sort to wash the taste of curry from your mouth. This is supposed to be a happy occasion for Sandpoint, with the church being reconsecrated and all. You heard a little about it on your way here from some travellers also headed here for the festival – something about their old chapel burning down, taking poor Father Tobyn and his daughter with it.

At this point, the press of the crowd jostles someone off her feet and against your side. It’s a young red-haired woman who’s even shorter than you are. She smiles shyly at you and whispers a hurried apology, before scurrying away to a nearby table where the largest female half-orc you’ve ever seen sits waiting.

Rico:

Spoiler

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You’re well into your seventh beer by now – eight, if you count Red’s share, which you swiped while she was off getting some wintermead – and it doesn’t seem to be helping your mood much. Even winning some of the weightlifting challenges and arm-wrestling a couple of silly out-of-towners to their knees didn’t make you feel any better. Deprived of your watchman armour and halberd, you feel oddly naked in the crowd and can’t help patting your hip belt every few minutes to make sure that your greatsword, trusty companion that is it, is still there. Taking a slurp from your tankard, you glare out at the crowd. You’re sure some of them are quite definitely criminals who need arresting and a good old smacking upside the head to shake the fear of the law back into them. Perhaps two smackings, if they happen to be Scarzni thugs out to cause trouble. Three smackings, if they’re out to disrupt your adopted town’s festival.

Still, you muse to yourself as you scratch your arm and stare down into what’s left of Red’s beer, you’re supposed to be off duty right now. You’re supposed to be relaxing, having fun. Only you’re not exactly quite sure what exactly ‘fun’ is supposed to entail if it doesn’t involve catching criminals and beating the motherloving snot out of them.

Red returns, raises her eyebrows at the sight of two empty tankards, but says nothing, simply eyeing you with some concern as she pours out your share of the wintermead.

[North_Ranger]

"You know, Eunice... a man could get used to this kind of life", Cipriano laughed to himself as he leaned his back against his pack beast. One hand held the frothing tankard, callused fingers gently rubbing the sweating, cold metal to sip in the delicious cool of the brew, while the other rose to rub behind the donkey's ear, just the way she liked it. The donkey paid him little mind, though, drinking greedily from the watering trough, giving him a moment for introspection and observation. Good food, good cheer, good mead... and the ladies were a handsome, warm-blooded bunch for sure. Maybe the town cleric - what was his name again? Zootus? Zetus? - could be persuaded to lend a roof to a fellow ecumenical.

Later, Cipriano told himself as he lifted the tankard back to his lips and drank heartily. Now, we celebrate, he thought to himself as he finished his tankard and set it aside. Humming to himself he slipped back into his armor and surcoat bearing the overflowing stein of the Drunken Hero. Walking over to the market stalls, he ordered two pints of the local applejack, and brought them over to the half-orc who had bested him in the snatch game.

"To the victor", the young human cleric said with a grin as he placed the pint before the half-orc. "This one's on me, friend."

[ProudGrognard]

Sirus

This has been a strange day. What on earth and under heaven had possessed Sirus to take part in that silly, undignified competition he would never know. If only the Brothers back in Cassomir could see him, they would have a collective apoplexy. It would suit them, too. But that was another life. He was here now. Perhaps a few ...festivities could be excused. It has been three days now, which Sirus has spent in long walks in and around town. So far, nothing.

Oh Mistress of the Spire, what would you have me do in this town? What do you want me to do for Desna?

But patience. The Spire is Long and Twisted, as the Book says.

Outwardly, none of these thoughts show. The half orc 's face could have been carved from stone. The few patrons that came near took one look at the half orc 's cold expression and left in a hurry. As usual, Sirus finds himself eating calmly in the center of a circle where noone would sit. Just as well.

Suddenly, a full tankard lands in front of him. Sirus looks up, one eyebrow raised, to the young human he had just bested. Surprises never ended apparently. A cheerful young priest, from the caravan no less.

"This is. Very kind. Of you." Cordiality is in order
"Please. Join Me."
As an afterthought
"You shouldn't drink. Without eating. Something."

Sirus nods to the serving girl for another dish. His voice is smooth, polished, slithering almost and his face on of polite, aloof cordiality. He makes a polite gesture of welcome to his guest. Soon, the girl, swallowing nervously, leaves an extra tray.

[North_Ranger]

"Much obliged, friend", Cipriano answered with a smile as he took a seat in the half-orc's company. Not waiting for the calmly-speaking fellow to pick up his own stein, Cipriano already had his on his lips, drinking deeply before setting the mug down.

"I have to say, you had some moves back there. Heck, I had about as much chance of winning that as convinving Cayden to lay off the hooch", the young priest laughed, clearly trusting that his patron god - the joyful, laughing, mercurial mercenary-turned-deity - wouldn't mind a friendly jape.

"I don't think we've been properly introduced, though", he continued, extending an armored hand. "Cipriano, of Magnimar. I think I saw you in the caravan on the way here, but never caught your name, ser...?"

[Miraqariftsky]

Rico hunches over the table of empty trenchers and empty flagons, her scarred face set in a scowl. Her battered greatcoat of heavy leather barely contains the thick thews of her arms and neck.

Beneath the half-open coat's shadow, her bosom heaves with another sigh that paints the flagon with froth. She scowls deeper still at the blouse of scarlet silk that Missus Mila had foisted upon her. At least there's her personal-non-professional chainmail beneath and the padded gambeson beneath that still. Damn the sweat, but some's better'n none.

Keen eyes pick out likely cutpurses and swindlers, here and there through the crowd. By their weaving, their glance and their stance those sots over there might turn violent. Asmodeus' arse, let them come.

An idle hand flicks up a gnawed beef bone into her jaws for yet more gnawing through that incessant scowl. Amber eyes glare a hundred-mile stare into nothingness... or whoever unlucky mug might cross her eyes' path.

Broad wolvish ears twitch at footfalls coming from behind her. Her left fist tightens around one tankard, her right twitches upward towards the hidden hilt of a shortsword sheathed on the inside of her coat's spine. A heartbeat later, she forcibly relaxes, her ears and nose confirming the familiar gait and scent...

...Rico grunts as Red sits back down and begins pouring drinks. She looks away with a frown, some blood rising to her face as she lets go of the tankard. Her right hand scratches a nonexistent itch on her ear and tucks away some stray charcoal-black hair as an excuse for her hand-on-hilt twitchiness.

"Sorry..." she says to Red. "...hrhmm, and thanks."

Thick brows knit together as she snorts violently, stroking her peace-bonded greatsword's pommel. Moving fluidly despite the drunkenness, she adjusts it such that it is sheathed across her broad back so that it isn't a tripping hazard for people passing beside their table.

She grunts again at Red and says, looking at her over the rim of her stein, "Hey. Sorry about that--- almost trippin' ye wi' me clumsy sheathing. HEH. You did great, slammin' me on me back on deh mat that time, eh?"

[ProudGrognard]

Sirus


"Thank you. My name is Sirus. Of... Taldor."
"In truth, I have never. Tried. These moves. In that way, before. It is good. To know. That I can."

Sirus takes a small sip out of the offered tankard. Civility and cordiality are the bones of society.

"But I am sure. That the moves. You actually wanted to try. Were very successful. " A rather imperceptible nod to a group of giggling girls who steal glances at the handsome young cleric.
"Thus. I am surprised. And of course honored. That you did not offer a tankard. To the other victors. Though, I would not. Recommend. Trying it. At the Glaring Tho-Uruk lady"

While the face remains impassive, some slight lines of tension seem to fade as Sirus talks with the charismatic young man.

"Would you care. For some honey and fruits?"

[Desril]

I can not believe I made such a fool of myself, Setsuna sighs again and wanders in the same direction as the girl who was pushed into her before half out of a general desire to move and half for wishing to apologize for bumping into the girl who ran off before she could open her mouth.

Catching a whiff of some of the local beverages, Perhaps I should have had a few drinks after all, I might not have been so stiff.

Edit: (Missed the last line in the description, rolled a 2 perception check that didn't need rolled to spot Red and Rico's table ((1d20-1)[2] since the thing seems to be making a fuss about not matching the database))

Setsuna makes her way over to the girl and her half-orc companion, drawing her attention with a light tap on the shoulder and polite smile, "Good evening, sorry for bumping into you a moment ago, it was more my fault than your own." She gives a slight bow, "My name is Setsuna, might I ask for yours and your friend's?"

[North_Ranger]

Cipriano

"If you allow me to pay for my half", the young cleric agreed with a broad smile. "Even though I'm willing to bet crowns to crust that a man of your stature should have no trouble finding lodging and employment here. Sandpoint is at the edge of settled land, after all. There's bound to be need for strong hands and backs here."

At the mention of other moves, Cipriano turned to look at the girls. He knew they were there, but he didn't let that show on his face. Instead, he offered them a smile and a wink, enjoying the resulting giggles and blushing cheeks.

"And yes, you are correct... It might be unwise to rouse the good deputy from her drinking. Quite sacrilegious, even"

[ProudGrognard]

Sirus


"No need. You are. My guest. I have... few. Guests.

It seems. That I have been...employed.Already.But I still.Have difficulty.Perceiving my work. And my skills are. Somewhat specific."

Sirus suddenly realizes that he has become quite outspoken. The fact surprises him. He would never have expected such rapport with the human.

"What brings you.Here?"

[North_Ranger]

Cipriano

The young man shrugged as he popped a small grape in his mouth. "The road. And maybe, just maybe a coalition of angry fathers in Magnimar", he laughed. "No, I'm just kidding with you... I guess you could say it is a pilgrimage. I was only recently ordained, and my mentor believed I could do most good by getting out on the road and seeing where the road takes me."

"So far, it has turned quite well. If the local minister is welcoming, I might even stick around for a while in this lovely township."

[Miraqariftsky]

Rico tenses yet again as she senses footsteps on an intercept course, then sighs across her tankard when she sees it's only that outlander swordmaid who has some strange ideas of singing and dressing.

Pfft. So long's whatever's practical's practical, who gives a whit what they dress? Hrrghmm, shoulda whomped on those hecklers.

She glares at the demon-girl, first making eye contact to judge sincerity, then letting her gaze quickly scan musculature, stance, position of hands and clothing--- what little of it there is, for any telltale bulges of hidden weaponry besides the openly worn sword at her right hip. The brooding halforc raises her tankard for a sip, then gestures with it towards one of the empty seats at their table.

Rico flashes a momentary quirk of her lips at Red, a mere tenth of a smile and mayhap the minutest wink at her companion, or perhaps it was merely a suppressed yawn from all the booze... then looks back up to the demon-girl and grates, "Hrhmm. You. 'Msure sure she didn't mean 'ny 'arm nor take offense from ye. Ain't that right, Red? HRHMM. Sorreh, me friend's a bit too shy fer 'er own guut, but truss meh, she's deh sweetest sellsteel this side o' Starstone."

Rico frowns and sighs again, nodding to one of the tavern wenches for a fresh round for their new guest and signing with the bone clenched in her jaw for a fresh meal-set as well. "Setsuna, eh? Call me Off--- um, Rico. Well-met. 'S'ere's Red. 'Msure she'll get 'round to 'ospitality w'en she gets over 'er pressen' state o'... estupefaccion."

Gesturing with the bone, she stares at her relative lack of clothing stonily and anchors her forehead on her tankard's rim and says, "Yer not hidin' any weapons are ye? Arrrrrh, sorreh, fergiff meh, 'm off-duty, ain't got no right ta question such."

[maggie_mcknife]

Red

Red doesn't know what estupefaccion is. She'll have to remember to ask Rico to explain that one later. It sounds like a flowy foreign kind of dress - maybe something with tiny bells and red lace. Is there supposed to be someone here who's wearing one now?

"...It's all right, Rico. There are lots of... people here today. S'crowded." she says softly, tapping the half-orc's arm before smiling at the newcomer again.

"Hello Miss Setsuna. Are you... new to Sandpoint? I haven't seen you here before."

[Desril]

Setsuna tenses slightly as the half-orc gives her a cursory inspection and returns the gaze, noticing the bulging muscles and instantly recognizing the look of someone who has been through more than their fair share of fights and come out on top. She's on edge, I wonder if this town has had trouble recently or if I just look that out of place? Once the mutual inspection is finished she relaxes, glad to talk to someone who doesn't spend every moment either glaring at or ogling her.

She moves to sit down at one of the empty chairs next to Rico, still smiling politely. "Thank you, Rico-san, and well-met indeed, and to you, Red-san.

She speaks like a brute, but gruff or not at least she's kind to strangers, if a little suspicious of them.

Deciding to answer the half-orc's question anyway, she responds, "Your question is perfectly fine, and you do not have to worry about me having any weapons, this katana is the only blade I have. As you have seen, I am somewhat lacking in places in which one can store weapons," she answers the question with a light chuckle.

After Red speaks up, she is shy, isn't she? Setsuna turns to her to answer her inquiry, "As a matter of fact, I am. I only arrived early today, and when I found out about this charming festival I could not help but take part, though I think I only made a fool of myself...What of the two of you?" She glances between Rico and Red, "Is this your home? And is there a reason why you are worried about hidden weaponry, if you do not mind my asking?"

[maggie_mcknife]

Red

Still smiling faintly, Red shrugs and uses some of the spilled beer to draw lines on the table with her finger. "Not mine- hers. Rico is... a deputy. Just not... deputing right now. ...I live... where I find work."

Red hasn't been home in years and remembers precious little of her family traditions. But she's done enough travelling around in the years since leaving the monastery to know a little more about the land her father came from.

"... Are you from Minkai?" She asks curiously, glancing at the beautiful curved blade currently resting on Setsuna's lap.

[Desril]

Setsuna

A deputy? Well, that explains why she's so cautious even while off duty. That dedication is impressive, she looks to Rico with an approving glance before returning her gaze toward the shy human.

She nods, "I am, yes, though I left my home a long time ago and have not been back."

She looks over the fit red-headed woman noticing the rosary on her wrist, but not quite able to place her heritage, the red hair throwing off the Tianese facial structure. She subconsciously moves her hand to her katana as she thinks of home, has it really been two years since I left? It seems like a life time.

"From a small town in the Ikkaku Peninsula to be more precise. I've been traveling the world ever since I left, though I am still trying to adjust to this country's customs. She smiles warmly, trying to give off a friendly air that her new acquaintance would be comfortable in, "What about you, Red-san? Where do you and your charming red hair hail from?"

[Miraqariftsky]

Rico merely grunts and takes a bleary-eyed swig as she takes in Setsuna's words.

Yyyyeah, drive it in, why don't you?

She nods at Red's answers and says, "Aye. Wot she said. Whaaahhhyy? Because ITSCH mah jaaahb. Keepin' dah peace an' dah ordah. Deh Laaaaauuuuwwhhhh is mah laayfff and mah 'onahr. Dat and... yew look like yew been onna travels a lawt, seh, stannnss tah reesen yeff done yer farr bit o' suhrvavven."

Frowning deeply, she says into her stein, "Why check? Better safe'n sorry, eh?"

She returns Red's gesture with a tap of her own--- Hrhmm. One thing there, being friendly's that bit easier without armour nor gauntlet. Don't want to be hurting her with courtesy now, do I?

BAH. A foreigner's unpopular tunes still be better'n a traitor snitching bitch of a minstrel... grr... Rico juts her chin at Setsuna then glares in the direction of the tavern's minstrel's stage. "Iffen yer wond'rin, Red... she came. She sang. Wuzzent 'alf-bad, then again, ye knows meh ears. Rotten crap wuz flying, hadta bail 'er out with a table-shield. Pff. People, eh?"

Belatedly, she realizes that either she must have been rambling over the others... "BAAAAHHH. Sorreh 'bout that, y'all."

[maggie_mcknife]

Red

Charming? That wasn't what people usually said. Her father had always muttered something about red hair and demons. People who had seen her fight sometimes made fun of her for it. Even Rathi had teased her a little too, that her hair was the same flaming colour as fox fur in summer, and that if she were to ever get lost in snow, she'd be found in no time at all.

All the same, Red can't help but blush slightly, rubbing the back of her bare neck. "Uh... I'm from here. Varisia. Don't know which part of Tian-Xia my... father comes from."

Even now, the mention of her father leaves a sour taste in her mouth. Rico's mention of the afternoon's escapade, however, manages to raise a quiet chuckle.

"...Yes, I know. I liked the song, actually. But the table was fun. ...We should try it again. This time... I do the singing." At the prospect of mischief, Red's dark eyes gleam the colour of warm brandy on a cold night, almost daring Rico to say something.


GM Post

At this point, a sharp retort like the crack of distant thunder slices through the gathered crowds. A stray dog that has crawled under a nearby wagon to sleep starts awake, and the buzz of conversations around you quickly hushes. Those who turn their heads towards the central podium behold Father Zantus, the local Desnan cleric, clambering atop the stage. It seems that it is just about time for the re-consecration of the church to begin.

[Desril]

Setsuna looks apologetically toward the deputy, "It is quite alright Rico-san, it was my fault please excuse my rudeness for talking over you. And you are right, it is better to be safe than to find an unseen dagger at your back..."

Turning back to Red, "That sounds delightful, I would love to hear a song from this region," but before she can say more the cleric draws the crowd's attention, "but it seems that shall have to wait."

[Miraqariftsky]

This time, the sullen halforc's head slowly moves as she stares at her, one corner of her mouth twitching into a smile at what Red said and how she chuckled. She growls and says, "WHEN yeh do, nobody better heckle. Asmodeus' arse, theyya better give yeh ah, uh, clap their 'ands off. Else I clobber 'em."

Slowly, she lets go of her stein and looks at her large, callused hand, curling it back into a knuckle-crackling fist, then opening her hand again. "That wouldn't be right, though, would it? ...Would it?"

Rico slowly nods, the heartbeat's smile not fading, for once. "Be't as't may, yeh'll 'ave my claps."

Nodding gravely at Setsuna, Rico stands, drains her flagon, slams it back down and bows. "And I'm sorreh fer bein' ihhopsitable an' drunk off meh arse."

The glare returns as, standing, she spots Father Frakker over the chaos of the crowd, speaking animatedly with what seems to be a vagabond orcblood pugilist? entertainer? pilgrim?

Frak me, not on me toes. Shoulda kept tabs on these buggers... Scarzni-ganger connected? Mebbe, mebbe not. Still, holy day, truce day.

Rico gathers up her wide-brimmed hat, meets her friendly nemesis' eyes, bares her teeth and executes a mocking curtsy. She resumes her standard scowl but tips her hat at Cipriano's companion. Standing up with hardly a wobble from the tableful of drinks, she straightens her greatcoat with a tug, nods gravely at Red and says, "Deh Padre calls, Red. Looks like ye'll hafta grace deh breeze wit' yer voice summ utha time. Tsk."

[North_Ranger]

Cipriano

All of a sudden Cipriano could feel the hair in the back of his neck shoot up. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed the drunken half-orcess giving him the death stare across the crowd. Hafta be careful with this one, the young cleric contemplated. This one's out to get me. She already had earlier that day, after that one Sandpoint local had suffered a most unfortunate choleric bout due to Cipriano's involvement with his daughter. It had all been quite innocent (mostly because the girl's bodice had been laced as tight as a padlocked strongbox), but try telling that to a man who was convinced you had ravished their little girl. It had taken every bit of guile and goodwill from Cipriano's part to convince the father and the half-orc deputy not to throw him in jail for the festivities... and he intended to keep the situation that way.

Besides, the girl had mentioned she had a sister...

"Ah, speak of the devil", he laughed to Sirus. Just when he had mentioned the town minister. "Shall we go and have a closer look? I've always found the rites and rituals of the Song of the Spheres quite interesting..."

[ProudGrognard]

Sirus

Sirus nods as he too sees the Stare of the Law settle on them. But he knew that look. The half orcess was strict and suspicious, not mean. There was a world of difference. Sirus knew. He had been that difference.

Finishing his tea and his food, he leaves the necessary amount on the table, plus a tip. Cordiality.

"Yes. Let us observe."

A consecration. Could that be it?

Sirus will move by the cleric, not bothering to criss-cross around the crowd. He will move, in his unbending way, palms held before him, straight to a place of good visibility, staring at those who stand in his path until they move. Somehow, even when he is at their back, the townsfolk notice him and give him room.

[maggie_mcknife]

Red

"But Rico..." says Red patiently, slightly tickled that the other two are missing the whole point of her offering to sing. "... they need to... say boo and throw things. If not, we won't get to run... with the table again. And you won't get... to clobber them later."

Upon seeing Rico get to her feet, Red slowly stands up as well. She wouldn't ordinarily bother with the festival of another god, but this is Desna's festival after all. Besides, if Rico decides to topple over from too much drink, someone's going to need to catch her before she hits the ground.

She checks to see that all her belongings are still with her before looking up and nodding at Setsuna. "Miss Setsuna, would you like to come with us? This is... the important bit of today."


GM Post

Those of you who have decided to move closer to the stage, either to hear Father Zantus' address or to get a better look at what's going on, gently elbow your way through the crowd until you are standing near the front of the podium. Packed in this close together, the crowd reeks of sweat and spilled beer, but nobody seems to mind very much.

Father Zantus is a spry middle-aged man with a trim bread and a kindly twinkle in his eye. Beaming, he clears his throat and addresses the people who have gathered.

"Good evening, brothers and sisters. And to those of you who are here in Sandpoint for the first time, welcome! It is my great honour to-"

Unfortunately, you don't get to find out what exactly it is a great honour to be doing. Before the good Father can finish his sentence, a woman's scream cuts through the air, silencing the crowd more effectively than the thunderstone did just a while ago. A few moments later, another scream rises, then another. For those of you not frantically turning left and right in an attempt to figure out what is going on, you can just make out over the screams an odd surge of high-pitched, tittering shrieks that sound not quite human.

There is a low chorus of gasps and the crowd parts as something low to the ground races by, giggling with disturbing glee. It leaps upon the stray dog that was near the wagon and after a brief howling scuffle, the dog gives a pained yelp before collapsing to the ground with a gurgle, its blood pooling rapidly on the ground around its head. For those close enough to see, now that the crowd has parted, you find to your horror that the dog's throat has been cut open from ear to ear.

The crowd begins to disperse in all directions in a panic. Meanwhile, that thing that killed the dog tucks itself under the wagon to hide, still burbling with maniacal glee.

DC Perception 12:

Spoiler

Show

You recognise the dog's assailant as a single muddy-coloured goblin, a dirty cap pulled low over its eyes. It licks the blood from its dogslicer knife as it looks excitedly out at the crowd, seeking out a new target.

[ProudGrognard]

Sirus
HP 9/9

Sirus stood totally motionless as the local priest started his speech. He had been trained in patience. Perhaps the most valuable training he had ever received.

The scream cuts through his senses, as the very distinctive sound of a woman screaming is heard. Sirus turns completely, searching for the source of the noise. He sees, almost in slow motion, the crowd disperse, as the figure of a goblin races through the crowd. Sirus 's thoughts race.

A goblin? Alone? Here? Impossible!

And suddenly, the dream is upon him. The flames, the screaming, the malice, the butterflies dispersing in the air...

This is it!

Sirus starts racing to the goblin. He needs answers. He is very good at getting answers. Especially from unconscious opponents.

Spoiler

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Perception take 10 for a total of 19.

Initiative (1d20+4)[6] if you don't roll them
Move action and attack or double move and charge at the goblin. Non lethal unarmed damage, for interrogation later.
Atk FoB (1d20+3)[21] and (1d20+3)[18]
Dmg (1d6+4)[9] and (1d6+4)[9]


EDIT: It seems the second attack may not be needed. If there is another opponent nearby and has been spotted, the attack is directed at him

A few feet before the goblin, Sirus suddenly pivots and changes direction. He can feel his ki inside him, gathering like a wavefront and focusing at his hands. The goblin 's defenses still aimed at a different trajectory, it leaves itself open for Sirus' fingers, hard as steel, to knock its skull.

[Miraqariftsky]

Rico
HP 22/22
AC 17/19

"HRHMM." grunts Rico in a pleased undertone at Red's scheme. "Canny. Though... though... HRHMM. Daaaaamn you're canny when ye put yerself to it, ye know that?"

When the scream cuts Zantus' speech short, there is little shock on Rico's part, only a guilty sort of vindication swiftly giving way to a tide of wrath for this incursion upon her adopted hometown. Humh! Goblin. Where there's one, there's certainly more.

Already moving, she seizes the closest small but sturdy table, tucks and braces its stem under her left armpit, holding its top as a shield. Tankards and trenchers topple to the ground even as naked steel now gleams in her right fist, the holdout shortsword unsheathed.

Her strident voice attempts to rise rings above the crowd's panic... "KEEP CALM! THOSE WHO CANNOT FIGHT, MAKE FER YER HOMES AN" LOCK "EM TIGHT! CALL THE GUARD! ALL ABLE-BODIED BUGGERS A-Y"ALL, TO ARMS, YE LAGGARDLY LOT! ORDERED RANKS, TRAYS AND KNIVES, CHAIRS AND BROOMS! FOR HOME, FOR FAMILY, FOR SANDPOINT!"...only for Rico to stop up short and choke and cough out a huge chunk of beef bone.

"Fpwweehhhh! STUPID!"

Even as she yells chokes, she crests through the crowd, not towards the one visible goblin which apparently that outlander pugilist is already covering, but rather for where the scream came from. At her side, she spits and grates with a grin, "Redddd, just like old times, you know what to do, eh? Setsuna, y'see the old priest and the nobles near 'im? They might need some safeguarding. Or y'could stick with us, take the left flank, Red takes the right?"

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Actions: Intimidate the crowd into order: (1d20+6)[7] <---CRAP.
Move: Move to wherever the scream came from. SURELY it ain't just the one goblin.

[North_Ranger]

Cipriano
HP 14/14
AC 18

Spoiler

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Spells:
0: Stabilize, Detect Magic, Read Magic, Guidance
1: Bless, Summon Monster I, Shield of Faith, Protection from Evil

Channel Energy: IIIII

The sudden screams and tumult, followed by Sirus's lightning-fast bolting after an unseen enemy left Cipriano baffled for a moment. They were under attack, that much was for certain, so the young man reacted accordingly. His right hand dove to the hilt of his rapier, and the left rose to his throat, where the carved oak symbol of Cayden Cailean's fate hung. His rapier unsheathed with an almost melodious ting, the well-maintained blade glistening in the afternoon sunlight. The leather strap holding the holy symbol around his neck gave way as the left hand yanked the symbol free.

"Cayden, the sword that defends the defenseless, guide our blades and steel our hearts against thy enemies", the young cleric prayed. The rush of divine strength surged through his body and around him, a glisten of electric blue touching drawn blades and arcing on leather and steel.

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Casted Bless: every ally within 50ft. of Cipriano gains +1 bonus on attack rolls and saving throws against fear effects.

Good for 20 rounds.

[maggie_mcknife]

GM Post

Goblin's rolls:

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Reflex: (1d20+2)[16]
Intiative: (1d20+6)[8]
Attack: (1d20+3)[15]
Damage: (1d4+1)[3]

The goblin, pleased with itself, simply sits there giggling madly and fails to notice Sirus approaching until the very last second. With a squeak of alarm, it whirls to face him, teeth bared as it stabs downwards with a wicked-looking homemade blade. Fortunately, the goblin's blade sinks into the ground by Sirus's foot, missing him entirely.

Too busy trying to yank its knife out the ground, Sirus' subsequent onslaught takes the little critter by surprise, his hands smashing downwards onto its skull in quick succession. The goblin drops to the ground at Sirus' feet almost instantly - unconscious - its mouth still frozen in an ugly grin.


*****

The celebration has quickly degenerated into chaos. Goblins have appeared from nowhere and they quickly swarm the town square with cries of excitement, waving their little dogslicer knives in the air. Despite Rico's valiant efforts, nobody is listening to her - those who do turn to look at the watchlady simply run all the faster. For those who look, Father Zantus has vanished from the podium and can be spotted sprinting towards a bunch of terrified townsfolk, one of his hands glowing with divine light.

Closer to the rest of you, a pack of three goblins have spotted a table still piled with food and they make for it with unmistakable delight. The greediest of the lot quickly claws his way to the top and begins stuffing his mouth and pockets with salmon, heedless of the tiny bits of fish flesh flying everywhere. The second one, much shorter, hops up and down on the ground, clamouring for his share and shaking the table leg. The third turns to glance at all of you, giving what can only be a goblin smirk. It cackles while brandishing its dogslicer.


Initiative Rolls:

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Sirus: (1d20+4)[5]
Cipriano: (1d20+2)[12]
Setsuna: (1d20+4)[13]
Red: (1d20+5)[21]
Rico: (1d20+1)[3]

Goblins to power of 3:
Gob1: (1d20+6)[23]
Gob2: (1d20+6)[20]
Gob3: (1d20+6)[23]

Initiative Order:
23 - Greedy Goblin (Gob1)
23 - Smirking Goblin (Gob3)
21 - Red
20 - Goblin too short to climb table (Gob2)
13- Setsuna
12 - Cipriano
5 - Sirus
3 - Rico (still holding a table)

*****

Goblin 1

The first goblin is still too preoccupied with jamming as much food as it can into its pockets that it merely gives the lot of you an idle glance before continuing to scrape furiously the bowls on the table.

*****

Goblin 3

The smirking goblin runs a mottled tongue over its chipped teeth, laughing as it looks first at Rico, then at Setsuna. Deciding that the girl looks like much easier prey, it dashes towards Setsuna. "Goblins Chew and Goblins Bite!" It shouts with relish in a high-pitched cackle.

Goblin 3:

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Attack: (1d20+3)[10]
Damage: (1d4+1)[4]

For all it's bravado, the smirking goblin makes a vicious cut at Setsuna's shins that goes wide - looks like this goblin won't be biting anyone just yet.

*****

Red
HP 20/20

Red glances with concern at Rico, though to her inner relief the surly half-orc seems none worse for the wear despite choking on that beef bone. In fact, Rico seems to be about as pleased as a duck taking to water after a long dry spell. That could only be a good thing. As for the rest of the town though...

She tries to look out for Father Zantus but can't see him all in the confusion. Alerted to the goblin slashing at Setsuna's legs by its war-cry, Red's heart skips a beat at the sudden sight of the creature. She instinctively draws her kukris and slashes downwards with one of them. "Look out!" she calls hoarsely.

Move from F8 to F7
Melee Attack: (1d20+7)[14] (+5 for kukri, +2 flanking)

In her haste, Red's kukri clips the edge of the goblin's cap and does no damage, leaving her to grit her teeth and curse unintelligibly in Varisian.

*****

Goblin 2

The little beast stops shaking the table leg and turns to face Cipriano, unwilling to leave the shelter of the table, but sniggering unpleasantly all the while. "Goblins Cut and Goblins Fight. Come'n get me, longshanks!"


It is now Setsuna's turn

*****

Battle Map

[Desril]

Setsuna, Blessed
HP 16/16
AC 16

Hearing the woman's scream is enough to cause Setsuna to ready her katana, though before she can locate the source of it she's set upon by a smirking goblin.

She glares at the thing contemptuously, More goblins? I can't believe this, do they have to ruin everything?!

She swiftly moves her hand across the blade, imbuing it with arcane power as she focuses on performing two strikes in quick succession that are meant to kill the monstrous beast.

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Initial attack : (1d20+6)[8]
Spellstrike atk: (1d20+6)[26]
Concentration: (1d20+5)[22]
Damage (1st) : (1d6)[1]
Damage (2nd) : (1d6)[4]
OOC: Using the Arcane Pool to boost the sword to a +1 for 1 minute. Casting Arcane Mark Defensively using spell combat and spellstrike to go Zorro on the goblin in addition to the standard hit. Second attack only works if I beat a DC 16 Concentration check. Two quick slashes and tattooing it with the Minkanian word for "monster" via Arcane Mark is my goal.

Edit: Critical threat on the second hit:
Confirmation: 10
Damage: 1

[maggie_mcknife]

The goblin jeers as Setsuna's blade slices through the air above its head. "Missed! Missed me, longsh-"

The goblin's cry of victory is cut short by Setsuna's second strike, her katana sinking deep into its ratty skull. Arcane energy crackles along the slender blade as the green skin above the goblin's eyes sizzles and pops, the distinct form of a Minkainian word erupting through its flesh as though hammered outward by some manic force. Immediately, the goblin's yellow eyes roll upward into its head and it falls to the cobbled ground - dead.

Cipriano's turn now.

[Miraqariftsky]

Rico, Blessed, Raging
HP 22/22
AC 13/19 (-2 Armour, -2 Charge, -2 Rage)

Inebriated and maddened,
Rico rushes full into the flow
Of mad melee and bloodletting's play
Demon-girl beside her lays low one raiding beast
Lance-like, Rico takes the chance
And charges with her table-targe
With her wrathful might, right at those beside the... other table
But a tiny part of her digs its heels into her mind's rut
A tiny voice, saying, "They're just eating!"
"Guilty, Aye... But Leniency!"
A threat is a threat and battle is battle
Asmodeus' arse knows when where the vanguard crows
Soon a horde is soon to lord...

Spoiler

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Rage Str + Charge + Flank (?) + Bless
(1d20+11)[21]
Str check
(1d20+6)[18] (+4 because of Size difference?)
Damage?
[chief's coverage.]

[North_Ranger]

Cipriano, Blessed
HP 14
AC 18

The goblins' jeering brought a wicked grin upon Cipriano's lips - even more so when he saw how skillfully the young woman who had sat in the orcess's company gave her foe the bloodied smile.

"Challenge accepted", the young man retorted and moved in for the kill, flanking the beastly little thing with the raging half-orc. With a decorative flourish he brought the glistening rapier to bear, intending to give the goblin an ear-to-ear piercing.

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Move to C5, flank Goblin #2 with Rico. Attack with rapier: (1d20+7)[17] (+1 from Bless, +2 from flank)
Damage: (1d6+1)[4]

Bless on for 19 more rounds.