The Black Shingle Fiasco

[YossarianLives]

The assistant returns carrying Avita's order, just in time to hear Eric and Sarim make their purchases. He places the new bow, gauntlet, and arrows on the counter, before hurrying off back to the piles of storage.

The clerk answers Eric's question with a raised eyebrow. "We have a wide variety of weapons. What are you looking for?"

Spoiler: OOC

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I'm going to assume Eric wants a masterwork longbow, which will cost 375 GP and gives a +1 bonus to hit rolls.

[Bartmanhomer]

The assistant returns carrying Avita's order, just in time to hear Eric and Sarim make their purchases. He places the new bow, gauntlet, and arrows on the counter, before hurrying off back to the piles of storage.

The clerk answers Eric's question with a raised eyebrow. "We have a wide variety of weapons. What are you looking for?"

Spoiler: OOC

Show

I'm going to assume Eric wants a masterwork longbow, which will cost 375 GP and gives a +1 bonus to hit rolls.

"Masterwork Longbow with 40 arrows please. Also how much would you sell a shortsword and shortbow includes 2 arrows. How much sell that for."

[wkwkwkwk1]

"And I'll be needing... well, components. A full kit for summoning a familiar. Might you have them in stock?"

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Because we aren't given so much as a hint as to what the "magical ingredients" are

[Bartmanhomer]

"And I'll be needing... well, components. A full kit for summoning a familiar. Might you have them in stock?"

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Because we aren't given so much as a hint as to what the "magical ingredients" are

"Wait? There a kit to summon a familiar? Interesting."

[Marlowe]

Avita steps to the side as the others get their presents; flexing the new gauntlet to get used to its fit in the least sinister manner she can manage.

It will be interesting to see what the atmosphere is like in the messroom. She thinks. I could murder a plate of bacon and seriously injure a beer, but what I really want to do is hear what people are saying. About the battle. About the Pelorites. About Parker. About us.

[YossarianLives]

A short time later, all of you have received your orders - Eric his new bow and arrows, Sarim his shiny breastplate, and Andras her summoning kit, which contains a variety of obscure dried herbs, animal bones, and little stones chiseled in the shape of stars. The clerk looks over Eric's old gear, shrugs, and offers him five gold pieces. Trading complete, you set off for the mess hall. This leads to another foray into the crowd, this one just as long and difficult as the last. As the day advances, it gets hotter and tempers are short - several not-so-small shouting matches break out in the crowd, or within tents - but you reach the canteen without incident. While once contained entirely within the barracks' common room, the hundreds of new arrivals has necessitated expansion, and it has since spilled out into the compound itself. Over two dozen tables have been set up under a canvas shelter, while a queue stretches past this. You join it.

It it almost noon, so the smoky canteen is flooded with hungry workers seeking lunch - it takes nearly ten minutes to reach the front of the line, where a team of surly gnomes are dishing out fish stew and hunks of dry bread. One stands guard over a barrel of southern ale, ensuring no one takes too much. You find a seat indoors and sit down. While their hospitality leaves something to be desired, the gnomes certainly can cook. For a time, you content yourself with focusing on the food in front of you, but soon your ears start to pick up bits of conversation. For the most part, it is anxious. What is happening on other fronts? Where are the demons? Is Captain Parker really dead? When will reinforcements arrive? Are their families safe? For the most part, times of difficulty and danger unite the people under a banner of common interest, but it is not so with everyone. One table over, a group of wild-eyed humans mutter about blasphemy and Pelor's displeasure, shooting hateful looks in your direction. Occasionally you catch whispers of darker things - talk of treachery, cowardice, desertion.

Then, there is a crash, the clatter of dishes, a grunt of pain. You crane your neck to see the cause of the disturbance,
and quickly finds it. A table has been flipped, spilling soup and drink onto the stone tiles, while the four culprits square off - three gnomes, one with a bloody nose, are circling around a dark-haired Dwarf - Duhlmil - with raised fists.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

I assumed that Eric is fine with selling his old sword and arrows for 5 gp. If he isn't, or if one of you wants to buy something else, you're free to make the necessary changes so long as you remain in the compound.
Just please let me know!

[Marlowe]

[wait. Did Eric sell his sword and not buy a new one?]

Avita's been expecting some sort of scuffle, and as soon as she zeroes in on the commotion she's out of her seat and thrusting herself into the middle. "STAND DOWN! ATTEND", she raps, all the lightness gone from her voice and back into the tones she used on top of the tower. "Cabal Macabre, where's the discipline here?" I wasn't wrong about "boys and girls". They ARE like children.

Assuming this actually makes them hold, she stands facing the gnomes, and half-turns to the Dwarf. "Duhlmil Blackaxe, I know you've lost a lot of people these two days, and I know there's vicious tongues about, but don't you start raising your hand to your allies. And you lot-" Back to the gnomes. "-I don't care what was said. Have a bit more care what you say and who you say it to and at all costs, avoid acting in a way that would make the enemy laugh at us."

[I have no idea what sort skill check this would be. It's not really Bluff because she's got the warrant, it's not Intimdation and it can't be called Diplomacy.

I doubt they say "Attention!" in Jesadian temples but "Attend!" sounds about right.]

[YossarianLives]

The bleeding gnome rounds on Avita, face twisted in fury. "This rascal attacked me out of nowhere - no provocation, no warning, no-" "Lies," interrupts Duhlmil. "I was having a drink, and these three chuckleheads started harassing me. Calling me a traitor, blaming my comrades for the mission's failure. I don't have to take this!" The same gnome laughs, then spits at the dwarf's feet. "Guano! Your kind's not wanted here, dwarf. Get the frack out of my face before I make you!" A few shouts of "yeah," and "you tell 'em," come from somewhere within the canteen.

The fight is starting to attract a crowd, mostly of idle citizens and workers, but a few soldiers who seem more than happy to watch the fireworks. A handful of more responsible individuals are fighting their way through the crowd, but the going is slow.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

I rolled diplomacy for Avita, she got a 10 (with modifiers).

[Marlowe]

Avita's eyes flash and her gauntleted hand twitches. "I said STAND DOWN! I said I DON'T CARE WHAT WAS SAID! Now SIT DOWN and SHUT YOUR CANTING MOUTH before you talk yourself into a noose!"

Spoiler: Intimidate

Show

(with size bonus) (1d20+15)[24]

She's very conscious of all the nasty things she could do to this fellow, and how much she's getting sick of this bickering. Yet she's moral high ground to maintain. And she'd never thought she'd be thinking that.

She stands straighter and speaks to the room in general.

"These squabbles and mewlings do nothing but put your city, your lives, your families at risk, and favour our enemies. If you've something unco to report; something concrete, not some third-hand, pus-stained craven streak of rumour; then you report it. Don't whisper poison in each other's ears or to their faces."

She takes a step torward the bleeding gnome. "You. Duhlmil's name I know. Let's have yours. Now."

[YossarianLives]

Avita's shouting seems to have successfully cowed the combatants - muttering protests, they back off. Indeed, Avita seems to have captured the attention of nearly the entire room. A motley combination of soldiers, scholars, labourers,
and citizens, they watch the necromancer coldly, whispering among themselves. Not one has the courage to support, or challenge, her declaration. Most seem keen on little more than resuming their meal, or else fleeing the source of the disturbance. The canteen starts to empty.

The bloodied gnome - his friends seem to have scarpered - steps forward, looking daggers at anyone and everyone surrounding him. "The name's Clay. Private Netin Clay."

Duhlmil crosses his arms, trying hard to scowl, but only looking vaguely discontent.

[Marlowe]

"Netin Clay", says Avita tonelessly. "Well then; Netin Clay.
I'll tell you something that's not gossip or rumour, but fact. We saw over a hundred Dwarves die yesterday. They died well. Died taking over a thousand of the Demons with them. A thousands Demons that could have been rampaging through the city now."

"I saw no-one here in that battle. No City Guard. Certainly not your pretty face. Just us at the top of the tower and Demons fighting Dwarves below. Now I don't know where you were all keeping yourselves; but I'd be careful of insulting those that most certainly did die for Senra. As we somehow did not."

She shrugs. "I know what I did yesterday. I've no idea about you." She briefly moves to turn away, and turns back and fixes the Gnome with a bland look. Her voice becomes more conversational.

"Also, Private Netin Clay, the Dwarves are here by the will of the City Government. The one that you're sworn to serve and uphold. When you speak such you're speaking with contempt of the City, the High Council,
and the Law and I might be a little temple girl but I believe in times like these that sort of thing's a short, sharp road to short, sharp trouble."

And now she does turn away. "Bon appetit".

[YossarianLives]

The gnome, Natin Clay, looks like he wants to say something brave or clever, a retort or excuse to save face. He contents himself with muttering something about "duty" and "orders," before storming off into the crowd, which parts to accommodate him. Within a few seconds, nearly everyone in the canteen have returned to their meals and conversations. Duhlmil lingers for a moment, watching a few gnomes work to right the flipped table. "You mentioned a mission to speak with someone, he says flatly, avoiding eye contact. "You're the only people in this city with half a set of wits. Take me with you." A mischievous glint comes into his eyes, despite the grim expression on his face.

[Marlowe]

Avita drains a measured third of her ale without looking up, then chases some bacon around the plate. "Duhlmil, if you think we're leaving you unattended after that then you have a mind that's wandered into deep places and returned wearing the souvenir silly hat."

And then, because Dwarf Fighters aren't renowned for their grasp of metaphor, adds; "of course you're coming."

[wkwkwkwk1]

Andras watches Avita smooth over the situation a few paces away, hand in sword, smiling faintly, and nods when Avita requests Duhlmil's company. Much safer that way.

[YossarianLives]

Duhlmil gives a curt nod. "Good. I'll meet you on the way out," he says, then elbows his way into the crowd, apparently having lost his appetite. The rest of your meal is mostly peaceful. While the canteen is loud, smoky, and reeks of beer, no more fights break out, and the others' conversation turns to less serious topics. Jokes, banter, gossip. By the time you have finished eating, the dining hall is quickly emptying, people returning to their work.

Where to next?

[Marlowe]

Avita stands up; "You know, we should probably deliver those cursed spears to the temple,
then go visit our Learned friend. Saves us a trip and gets us back here for the night."

She starts heading back to the Lieutenant's office; "Agreed? Shall we leave the Guard with one?"

[YossarianLives]

You leave the canteen and its aromas behind, fight your way up the stairs, and wait your turn in front of Lieutenant Kresh's office. The people ahead of you, a pair of surly, gnomish sisters, are discussing the brawl from earlier. It seems news has spread quickly, though the details seem to be somewhat muddled; according to the older of the gnomes, no less than four unruly dwarvish mercenaries were involved. Within a couple minutes, they enter the office and, after another wait of around that length, emerge. You knock, and Kresh says to enter.

The orc is just as you left him, seated on the floor in front of his desk, trying to control a growing stack of papers.
"Back so soon," he says, sounding bemused. "How can I help you?"

[Marlowe]

Avita gives a quick bow. "We were thinking, Sir" she says respectfully, "that if we're going to take those spears to the House of the Stern Lady we should probably pick them up now, and proceed to see the Learned Thaddeus afterwards so we can get all this taken care of on the same trip. Otherwise we'll be running around all day."

And then she puts hands on hips, twists her neck a little to the side, and continues with a bit more bite. "Also, just had an altercation in the messhall. No one dead this time. Tried to smooth it over but probably just stored us up some more trouble for the future. The boys and girls--" She sets her jaw. "--they just don't know how to act like an army. And that's killing us".

[YossarianLives]

Lieutenant Kresh shakes his head in disgust. "I just heard about it," he grunts. "Now that I'm walking in his boots, I understand why Parker was always such a miserable bastard." He pauses, looking at each one of you from behind a thick brow. "Shouldn'tve..." Another, slightly longer pause. "Well. We're trying at best. Many companies, platoons, squadrons, suffered enormous losses and had to be combined, but that shouldn't account for this level of... malcontent. I had hoped that seeing their homes put to the torch would spur them to greater heights, but..."

The Lieutenant changes tune, the frustration in his voice giving away to concern. "As for this mission - you intend to leave camp so early? You have done very well, if your party takes the evening off, no one will think the worse of you."

[Marlowe]

Avita nods her head. "Oh, it seems there's never any shortage of people who think the worst of us. All very frustrating. It's enough to make me wish I'd taken up piracy to save time. But if we're best off getting these little errands done soon as we can, so sooner they can bear fruit."

She turns to the side, addressing both the Lieutenant and the party. "And lest there be misunderstanding, I fully intend to bring Thaddeus and his good lady back here. Maybe just for the night, if they speak straight with us. We'll treat them without malice and gently as we can. But we NEED the straight talk on what he knows and what happened at Parker's party a couple of weeks ago. And he's not giving us that.

"So. I'm going to bring them back here before dark, and give them a good old questioning. And I won't be taking "no" for an answer. I'll be nice, but I won't be taking no. Have I everyone's support on this?"

[wkwkwkwk1]

Andras nods her silent consent.

[YossarianLives]

"You'll get no objection from me," says the Lieutenant, though he sounds doubtful. "It seems a good plan, all things considered - I wouldn't mind speaking to this Thaddeus fellow." He leans forward, large fingers steepled. "But." His gaze travels over each one of you, beady eyes gleaming with an intensity you have not seen before. "Be careful. Demons still roam the streets." He falls silent, still watching you. After a time: "You are dismissed."

[Marlowe]

Avita drops a short bow, picks up one of the spears somewhat gingerly, and with a short. "Sir" heads for the door.

"Leave one spear here; just in case someone turns up to look at it. Blue-Eyes, if you've got a thing to do, maybe you'd best stay and do it. Everyone else; let's go."

[wkwkwkwk1]

Andras splits from the party along the way, and pulls out a stone from the summoning kit, looking at the sky through it. "Beautiful," she mutters, and sets towards the barracks, intent on summoning her familiar raven.

[YossarianLives]

Leaving one of the demon spears in Lieutenant Kresh' possession, you excuse yourselves from his office. At the foot of the stairs, Duhlmil joins you wordlessly, arrayed in full plate. He gives Sarim a curt nod before falling into line with the rest of you.

While Andras secludes herself in your rooms to begin the summoning ritual, the rest of you set out into the city, your destination the house of the noble Thaddeus, and then the temple of Wee Jas. Another foray into the crowded compound brings you to its walls, where a squadron of gnomish guardsmen stand watch. They initially regard you with suspicion, but once you have shoved the Lieutenant's warrant under the sergeant's nose, they reluctantly pull the barricade aside to make way.

The city of Senra is, for the most part, quiet and desolate - many citizens have fled to safer districts, or else barred their doors and windows. The vast majority of passersby are hard-eyed soldiers, weapons drawn, and the few civilians hurry about their business, jumping at wind and shadows. A handful of desperate merchants halfheartedly hawk their wares, while other, more opportunistic folk dig through the scattered bits and bobs left on the street. Once, you see a cart collecting corpses from what seems to be a recent skirmish. Battle damage - burns, collapsed walls, arrows - are all too common among the city states's eclectic architecture.

Still, the battle seems to be dying down. For all their incompetence, the Senrish Guard are slowly but surely hunting down the demonic incursions, and putting them to the sword.

Then, perhaps halfway to Thaddeus' apartments, you hear the clatter of hooves behind you, the sound of wood rattling wood on the cobblestones. Before you can react, a rickety old wagon, drawn by two tired old mares, pulls right in front of you, and stops. The driver, a hunched old man with skin like canvas, puts down his whip and leans forward, flashing a toothless grin. "You kids look like you've got places to be, unlike ol' Harry here! Can I give you ride?"

[Bartmanhomer]

Leaving one of the demon spears in Lieutenant Kresh' possession, you excuse yourselves from his office. At the foot of the stairs, Duhlmil joins you wordlessly, arrayed in full plate. He gives Sarim a curt nod before falling into line with the rest of you.

While Andras secludes herself in your rooms to begin the summoning ritual, the rest of you set out into the city, your destination the house of the noble Thaddeus, and then the temple of Wee Jas. Another foray into the crowded compound brings you to its walls, where a squadron of gnomish guardsmen stand watch. They initially regard you with suspicion, but once you have shoved the Lieutenant's warrant under the sergeant's nose, they reluctantly pull the barricade aside to make way.

The city of Senra is, for the most part, quiet and desolate - many citizens have fled to safer districts, or else barred their doors and windows. The vast majority of passersby are hard-eyed soldiers, weapons drawn, and the few civilians hurry about their business, jumping at wind and shadows. A handful of desperate merchants halfheartedly hawk their wares, while other, more opportunistic folk dig through the scattered bits and bobs left on the street. Once, you see a cart collecting corpses from what seems to be a recent skirmish. Battle damage - burns, collapsed walls, arrows - are all too common among the city states's eclectic architecture.

Still, the battle seems to be dying down. For all their incompetence, the Senrish Guard are slowly but surely hunting down the demonic incursions, and putting them to the sword.

Then, perhaps halfway to Thaddeus' apartments, you hear the clatter of hooves behind you, the sound of wood rattling wood on the cobblestones. Before you can react, a rickety old wagon, drawn by two tired old mares, pulls right in front of you, and stops. The driver, a hunched old man with skin like canvas, puts down his whip and leans forward, flashing a toothless grin. "You kids look like you've got places to be, unlike ol' Harry here! Can I give you ride?"

"Sure sir. How much gold pieces do we have to pay you?"

[YossarianLives]

The old man chuckles, lightly slapping his thigh. "For you? No charge! We all need to do our part in times like this."

[Bartmanhomer]

The old man chuckles, lightly slapping his thigh. "For you? No charge! We all need to do our part in times like this."

"Wow. I'm in. Unless someone else object this free ride."

[YossarianLives]

The old man gives you a cheery smile and flashes a wink as you hop into his cart. It is fairly roomy - the owner doesn't seem to be transporting anything - and the wood benches are surprisingly comfortable, soft and slightly warm. The man raises his whip, driving the horses on with great delight, and soon you are speeding through the deserted streets of Senra at an excellent pace. At this rate, you will likely reach your destination in less than a quarter of the time you had originally estimated.

Keeping his eyes on the road, the old man tries to keep a pleasant conversation going. "I'm Harry, by the way," he says, spurring the horses forward. "You fine folks must be defenders of city!" He gestures vaguely at your arms and armour. "We need more people like you, brave warriors willing to risk their lives for the common good. I applaud you!" The wagon rattles along the cobblestone streets, past an entire block of ruined buildings, and down a side street. The old man mutters something you can't quite make out. Then: "you been in the soldiering business for long?"

[Marlowe]

Avita has been gingerly keeping the highly awkward and conspicuous Demon spear at parade rest while wondering if there's some way to keep the Drow permanently gagged without people suspecting something sordid, but now she braces herself against the side of the cart and, keeping her feet securely apart, leans forward.

"For some of us; it's a life's calling. For others, a hobby, and for others the best way to avoid an eternity of cryptkeeper duty we've come up with yet. Now, if I might be so bold, Harry sir; how do you know where it is we might be going?"

[Is this sidestreet remotely where we're supposed to be going?]