The Black Shingle Fiasco

[YossarianLives]

The crossbowmen on the wall fire again, and every single one misses horribly.

Sarim responds to the blow by hefting his axe and bringing it down on a hybrid's neck, splitting the monster from shoulder to waist. Taking up a defensive posture, Eric tentatively swings his sword, and misses. Avita's fingers finally clamp down a hybrid's arm, draining the life from it - already severely wounded, it succumbs and crumples to the road. Andras knocks aside the shield of her opponent, and slams the hammer against its ribcage, cracking the bone. Encouraged by his sibling's success, Duhlmil buries his axe in a hybrid's bulging, segmented eyes. Spraying blood and goo, it falls dead. Brin follows suit, though his slash is not lethal, his target only coming out with an injured hand. Seeing the battle's end quickly approaching, the gnomes surge forward over the slain demons, swinging enthusiastically. Three of the four manage to inflict minor wounds.

The last two hybrids fight back, but with the weight of numbers on your side, staying alive demands every last speck of their focus. Andras and a gnome are able to easily evade their attacks.

Spoiler: OOC

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Only 2 hybrids left.

[Marlowe]

"Ah. Good. Almost Mueller time", remarks Avita, striking at the nearest remaining Hybrid.

Spoiler: Charnal Touch

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To hit (Touch w/flank) (1d20+5)[20]
Damage (1d8+1)[3]

Spoiler: Crittiousity

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Confirm (1d20+5)[20]
ExDam (1d8+1)[9]

[Kushina43]

Sarim begins to stumble, his wounds starting to overcome his fortitude, but seeing that the enemy's defeat is within sight he becomes emboldened and lets out another war cry, swinging at the remaining hybrid(s) closest to him to close out this conflict.

Spoiler: OOC

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No bells and whistles, just a normal (enraged) attack for the best chance
Attack: (1d20+9)[18]
Damage: (3d6+6)[23]

Spoiler: On 29

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Confirm: (1d20+9)[19]
Damage: (3d6+6)[12] + (3d6+6)[10]

Spoiler: Cleave

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Attack: (1d20+9)[26]
Damage: (3d6+6)[20]

Spoiler: On 29

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Confirm: (1d20+9)[25]
Damage: (3d6+6)[21] + (3d6+6)[22]

[Bartmanhomer]

Eric start to attack the demon hybrid again with his shortsword.

Attack: (1d20+4)[10]
Damage: (1d6+2)[4]

Critical:

Attack: (1d20+4)[18]
Damage: (2d6+2)[6]

[YossarianLives]

With a surge of strength, Sarim buries the hatchet. Literally. With one ferocious axe swing, he cuts both hybrids clean in half. As their severed parts fall to the ground, a ragged cheer goes up from those still standing.

There is a moment of silence, as everyone around you catches their breath, the adrenaline starting to drain away. On the other side of the square, the crossbowmen start to escort the wounded and noncombatants down the stairs, toward your position.

The members of the other squad look at you in disbelief, seemingly caught between thankfulness and suspicion. You came from beyond the wall, with a demonspawn in your company. Finally, the gnome who you take to be their leader breaks the silence, stepping forward with a stiff salute. Tall, for a gnome, with darker skin and a long nose, she examines you, as if trying to determine who to address. "I am Corporal Kaila of the Senrish City Guard. Please, identify yourselves." She pauses. "And thank you for the help."

[Marlowe]

Avita is unslinging her bow and notching an arrow. "There was a Demon. Lanky fellow. Chasing a couple of civvies. Anyone see where it went?" Then fixes the Corporal with a look.

"Sergeant Ygor's team and auxiliaries. We were sent into Black Shingle yesterday. Had some excitement. Saw some interesting things. Came back to see what was happening to everyone else. Heading back to barracks to drop off the wounded and debrief this young gentleman--" a nod at Brin. "--who has some rather interesting stories."

She flashes a look around the square. "Best get all your people what can move ready to move,
Corporal. Sensing we maybe shouldn't be loitering."

[YossarianLives]

The corporal nods emphatically. "I see. We heard there were some soldiers trapped in Black Shingle. Lieutenant Kresh will be glad to see you intact." She hesitates. "We came in this direction pursuing the demon you speak of, but..." She glances toward the street you last saw it fleeing down. "I cannot imagine that those civilians still live. I do like it, but I believe both our forces are too fatigued to continue fighting. The barracks is still intact, and only a short walk from here." She turns away, exchanges a few words with one of her surviving guardsmen, then scowls. "Two of my soldiers are too wounded to walk, but the others can help to carry them. Considering the circumstances, I advise that we leave the dead behind."

[Marlowe]

Avita sets her teeth with a clack, then shifts her bow to her left and summons black energy into her right hand, touching to her wound.

Spoiler: Charnal Touch Self-Healing for:

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(1d8+1)[3] hp

"It'll have to do". She turns back to the main group. "Divine Sycarus, Mistress...Blue Eyes, if you please; attend to those in need of attendance. And please give some help to Sarim. Kid's about to collapse."

She stands on her toes to wave down those still on the wall, then turns to assessing the group, calculating the numbers of those that can still move and fight, those that can at least move or be helped to, and those that won't be moving--without necromancy--ever again.

[YossarianLives]

Sycarus, Marion, the crossbowmen, and the wounded arrive on the scene. While the others wander around the battlefield, seeing to the wounded as best they can, the gnomish Adept is by your side immediately. "I am afraid my healing power has been exhausted for the day. The talents of the good Mistress..." The hints of a smile flicker across his face. "...Blues Eyes must suffice."

A brief assessment of the party's condition reveals its condition to be better than is, perhaps, to be expected. No one from your detachment has been killed or fatally wounded, though only one of the pikemen is fit to walk. Ygor is out cold. The crossbowmen and non-combatants are unharmed, while Duhlmil and Brin have sustained only superficial injuries. The dwarf watches Sarim with interest, but does not say anything. Brin does much the opposite, avoiding the gnome's gazes, but lingering nearby the four of you, looking like he wants to say something.

Spoiler: OOC

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Avita brings up a good point. Sarim is only on his feet because of the increased hit points from Rage. In 3 rounds, he's going to start bleeding out.

[Bartmanhomer]

"I can't wait when we get better gear. Especially me for instance. I'm down to 3 arrows left."

[YossarianLives]

You set out for the barracks - after the battle, Sarim is too weak to stand, but Sycarus gets him patched up and Duhlmil enlists the help of Brin to help carry his brother. A battered and beaten band of brothers, you stumble through the streets, all too aware of your vulnerability, should the demons strike. But no such attack comes. For around ten minutes, you travel through the deserted city in silence. The demons have not yet had time to perform their customary looting and burning, and many of the buildings are perfectly intact. If it wasn't for the corpses, you might not even know anything was wrong.

Thankfully, the journey is soon over. The street ahead is blocked by a hastily-assembled barricade of crates, barrels, and a wagon - upon seeing you, the gnomes manning it grab their weapons and leap up, staring at you with suspicion. Corporal Kaila raises her hands above her head, motions for you to do the same, and walks slowly forward. "Hail! I found survivors!" The guards say nothing, keeping a crossbow trained on each one of you, but they allow you to approach. It isn't until the Corporal has shown proper identification - a badge - that they pull aside the wagon and let you in.

The square around the barracks is in a miserable state of affairs. Every bit of room has been filled; tents to house supplies, soldiers, and the wounded. Frightened civilians, huddled together. Officials from every branch of the military, rushing about their business, while the air is filled with screams, shouts, and cries. The barracks itself, where you slept during your brief stay in Senra, is crammed to capacity, a constant flow of people moving in and out, a sizable queue stretching halfway around it. Every street leading out of the rudimentary compound is barricaded in much the same manner, and archers seem to have been stationed in each building bordering it.

Kaila turns to you. "Thanks again for the help, we wouldn't have made it without you." She points to a particularly large tent of faded, blue canvas. Several dozen guardsmen are gathered outside, each trying to fight their way to the front of the line. "That's the quartermaster's tent. Most supplies are too scarce to give out to mercenaries, as I understand it, but I'm sure she'll be willing to make a trade." She points to another tent adjacent to the first, this one greyish-white. "That's where the healers have set up shop. You might want to pay them a visit." She nods to each of you and starts to go, then stops. "Oh. And you should probably see the Lieutenant, I'm sure he'll have a mission for you. Kresh has taken up residence in Captain Parker's office."

[Bartmanhomer]

"Finally back in civilization."

[Marlowe]

Avita rummages in her belt-pouch and produces Brin's statement and the report on the events of yesterday. "Right. Before anything else; we see the Lieutenant. We bring those spears we captured; we bring Brin with us. It would be nice if Sergeant Ygor would come as well but I can't blame him if he wants to get himself patched up. Everyone coming?"

Making sure that the runic spears are in someone's possession, she heads toward the familiar office.

[YossarianLives]

You do not keep the Lieutenant waiting. Andras casts a spell to get Sarim back on his feet, then you leave the others behind, and start making your way to the office. The soldiers head off to see about obtaining medical care - most of them can barely stand, and Ygor is still out cold - while Sycarus leads Marion off into the crowd. Shooting a wistful look at his departing friend, Brin sighs and follows. Duhlmil is close behind.

Fighting your way through the throng is not easy. People hurry along, heedless of others, pushing and shoving to get their way. Brin's presence does not help. The soldiers of Senra have spent months battling his kind, both sides having suffered great losses. Your company is enough to dissuade violence, but angry stares surround you on all sides. More than a few gnomes bump into you on purpose. Still, you line up outside the Apple Bush to wait your turn like everyone else.

For over half an hour, you remain there, slowly shuffling forward, till you reach the barracks door. From there, you elbow your way through the narrow wooden hallways, gnomes winding around your legs, and up the flight of stairs. Four or five guardsmen and a pair of scholars wait outside - it is another ten minutes before their business has concluded, and a voice from within bellows "Come in!" You comply.

Though just a day ago the office still belonged to Parker, its new owner has undergone radical redecoration. The lavish curtains, mountains of paper, bookshelves, and empty bottles - all have been cleared away. Dust and grime, which once lay in ample supply, has been scrubbed out of existence. All that remains is the Captain's old, gnome-sized desk and a handful of crates. Squatting in front of it, clutching a thick document in monstrous hands, is an orc in the uniform of a Senrish guardsman. Nearly seven-feet tall, broader even than Sarim, with skin the colour of swamp water and tusks like swords. A dark, bristly mustache graces his upper lip. He looks up, beady eyes glittering in the dim light, and puts down the file. "Well. What are you waiting for? Speak your business."

Spoiler: OOC

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Sarim regains 7 HP from Andras' cure light wounds.

[Marlowe]

Avita steps forwards; "We've just returned from Black Shingle with Sergeant Ygor's troop;
having spent the night there holding the tower we were sent to occupy. In the absence of back-up or news of the greater battle, and given we may have useful information, it was felt better to return rather than wait to get wiped out."

She lays the report on the events of the previous day on the table. "Here is my preliminary report, co-signed and authenticated by Sergeant Ygor. Given that it was written with the idea that we might not survive to deliver it the composition might be a little rushed. In my opinion, the most important elements are the sudden appearance of a huge host of Zang-Whatsit's, the claim by an enemy officer that he had been in communication with "Our Captain", and the loss of the Dwarven mercenary contingent as well as that of a sizable force of Wheelers and their Demonic allies."

She lays Brin's statement next to it. "This, witnessed by the Divine Sycarus, is the result of my interview with this young gentleman here-" a nod to Brin. "He has fought well for us these last two days, and he possibly has information that could help us locate the Wheeler's portal into our realm. My suggestion is that he should be treated as a guest, and a helpful one."

She gives the massive Orc a straight, unblinking look. "We also captured a couple of those runic spears that have been given our troops cursed wounds. It was our thought that they need to be studied by people more learned than ourselves, in the hope of finding a cure for the syndrome. I'm Avita Santiago. It's good to see you."

[YossarianLives]

Hunched over behind the tiny desk, arms crossed, the ork makes for an imposing figure - still, he listens patiently. As Avita speaks, his expression shifts from frustration, to interest, to grudging approval. "Good to meet you," he says, extending a large hand. "Lieutenant Kresh of the Senrish City Guard." With a stiff nod, the orc takes both reports and begins scanning them. As he reads, his bristly eyebrows climb higher and higher up his head. "Now this is interesting," he mutters, tucking the papers into a drawer. "And more than a little disturbing." The lieutenant inclines his head to Duhlmil. You'll be glad to know, little man, that some of your fellows made it back alive. They've set up a few tents in the compound."

The orc stands up, nearly bumping his head on the ceiling. He eyes each one of you, expression unreadable. "You've done well. Each one of you. But things have gone pear-shaped in your absence." He shakes his head. "Damn. Wish I knew what Parker was up to." A pause, as the Lieutenant thinks. "I've read all his orders. Battle plans. And your assignment stuck out like a flower in the desert. That tower was completely out of the way, and with no tactical significance..."

"All in the past, I suppose. The good Captain is dead, or may as well be. Some kind of monster flew overhead. Swept the bastard off his mount, carried him away. Battle lines broke not long after, and we were forced to make a retreat. Hundreds killed, then we lost more when they swarmed the walls. I am - was - Parker's second-in-command. Contact with High Command has been shaky at best, but orders are to stay put until reinforcement arrives. We still know almost nothing about the demon's forces - numbers, location, equipment." The Lieutenant grimaces, anger entering his deep voice. "Nothing!" He slumps to the floor again. "But if what you say in your report is true - hundreds of demons, appearing out of thin air... We're in for a party." Another pause. "Last night," he growls, "there was a meeting between city officials and several dignitaries from the Church of Pelor. To discuss terms. In the Hub. Nearly a thousand soldiers in the place. Magical constructs. Wards. Magicians. We don't know how they did it, but a strike force of demons teleported into the meeting. Slaughtered near about everyone before they could be put down - and the bloody Pelorites think we're responsible."

"This morning, over two thousand Pelorite troops arrived outside the city via Teleportation. In the hours since, that number has nearly doubled. They've refused communication, for the most part, but their goal is clear: blazing zealots believe the city, or at least its leaders, are working for the demons. They intend to change that, and I don't they'll be asking nicely."

The Lieutenant shakes his head disgustedly. "We still can't estimate how many casualties there have been - civilian or military - and we have no idea how far the demonic army has gotten into the city, or how many of them there are. Enough to still be assaulting the barracks and anyone stupid enough to poke their heads outside of it."

His gaze shifts to Brin, who shrinks back slightly. "As for your "friend"... What was said here," he indicates the report, "will probably be enough to keep him away from the torturers. But no promises. I'll ensure he's fed and watered. If - no, when - we reconnect with High Command, I'm sure they'll love to get their hands on him. Thank you." Brin does not look reassured by this, but the Lieutenant forges ahead, uncaring or unaware. "Same deal with the spears." The massive orc sighs. "Look," he says apologetically, "you've done well. In better times I might be singing your praises. But we can hardly afford time for research. Our mages already have their hands full stopping the demons from overrunning the compound. We can't spare anyone." He waves vaguely toward the floor. "Leave them there, I'll make sure they're seen to. Take the day off, you'll need your strength tomorrow. Unless you have any questions...?" He nods meaningfully toward the door.

[Marlowe]

Avita eyes flutter downward briefly, thinking about all this, and what can be done to help with all this; then meet with the Lieutenants again.

"If there's anyone anyone who might be able to shed some light as to what the Captain is or was up to; it would be the Learned Thaddeus. Or possibly his--" Housekeeper? Mistress? Missus? "-con-habitor. We had a chat with him a couple of days ago and he was definitely hiding something, but without official sanction there wasn't much we could do to press him."

She takes a step closer to the desk. For some reason, the Orc's bulk is oddly reassuring. Showing deference to Parker had always struck her as strange. "Give us some sort of writ or warrant, we'll reequip and see if he's still at home. See what he has to say now. And if we have the right to take him into custody this time, that might be nice."

And then she bites her lip. "I trust no-one has to point out that if the Demons are using the sewers to get around, to say nothing of teleportation, relying on walls and barricades for defense was never going to work for very long."

[YossarianLives]

Lieutenant Kresh shakes his head. "I'm all too aware that our defenses are all but obsolete - Senrish guardsmen are accustomed to dealing with smugglers and pirates, but little more. I suppose we could only stay neutral so long. As for this Thaddeus..." He stares unseeingly at the floor, scratching his chin. With his rocky facial features, it can be hard to judge the orc's expressions - but it is clear he is intrigued. "A friend of Parker's, no? Surviving that business at the tower certainly proves you're capable enough, so if you think there is something to be gained..." He shrugs his shoulders. "I see no reason to stop you. Here." Kresh pulls a scrap of parchment from his desk, wets his quill in a vial of ink, and begins writing. He seems to have had a pen specially made for his large hands, using the feather of an brightly-coloured tropical bird you cannot identify.

Before long, Kresh is finished and stands up to hand it to you. "There. That will ensure the guards don't give you trouble on the way out, and hopefully that this Thaddeus fellow will comply. In addition." He pulls four neatly-folded letters from another draw and hands one to each of you - Duhlmil looks a little snubbed, but says nothing. "These will entitle each one of you to five hundred gold pieces worth of credit with the quartermaster. You've earned it."

[Marlowe]

Avita impulsively drops to one knee as she takes the warrant and letter of credit, then snaps to full height again. "Thank you sir," she says neutrally. Five hundred doesn't seem like a lot at this stage, but it's enough for a better bow.

She turns and moves aside to let the rest of the team take their cheques, then stops. Turns back over her shoulder. "We've asked the Temple of Wee Jas if they could put some attention to this "cursed wound"
business". She says. "I don't know what they're doing about it, but they should have one of those spears to look at; experts in Death and Magic for a matter of Death and Magic and all. At the very least they should be told we have some available for the looking-into-itness"

[Kushina43]

Still tired and grateful to be back somewhere safe after these difficult fights, Sarim mutters a "Thanks" to Lieutenant Kresh when taking the letter but not much else. He manages a slight smirk when initially seeing Duhlmil's expression, but realizes it's more prudent to get some rest- and maybe some better gear, later- and turns away, moving back with the rest of the team without much of a word.

[YossarianLives]

Kresh returns to his desk, nodding. "The Temple of Wee Jas? I'll see to it as soon as possible, but making deliveries through the streets is dangerous. Come back when you have a spare moment, the compound could use your help." And with that, he waves you out of the office. A trio of arguing gnomes passes you on the way out.

Outside the office, surrounded once more by the pervasive crowds, you are left with the most agency you've had in days. Your rooms in the attic have been kept unoccupied, and the whole of the compound is open to you - there is the quartermaster, a wide variety of magical specialists, and the canteen which serves food non-stop, among other things. The military forces of the entire district have been crammed into its confines.

Before you can settle on a destination, Duhlmil elbows past you, mumbling something about "comrades," and starts down the stairs, shoulders hunched.

[Marlowe]

Avita glares after Duhlmil, and her teeth clamp down on something unsaid. There's good reasons why the Dwarf isn't in the best of moods, but he's not coming across as the best company at the best of times and Avita, for one, is glad to be no longer cooped up in a confined space with him.

So instead of saying anything she checks over the warrant she's just received from Kresh, paying special attention as to what lengths it permits the bearer to go to, what it obliges people to assist the bearer with, and exactly how much smelly stuff either are in if such are exceeded.

"Quartermaster first" she mutters. "New gear before it's all gone.
Then lunch. Then Thaddeus. Is it well, boys and girls?" She raises her eyes from the paper to look for objections.

[wkwkwkwk1]

"I agree. I also have to buy some magical ingredients. Hopefully they'll have them in stock. The issue is... I'll need a full day of rest after we visit Thaddeus, and I do not know if we have the time to spare."

[Marlowe]

Avita's lips curl back from her teeth. "Indeed. So arranging ourselves some duties that don't involve wandering out into Dead Man's Alley and getting deep and meaningful with the Bug Brigade sounds like a good idea. Something like giving the plausible Learned Thaddeus and his good lady a good, hard helping with our inquiries after we've politely but firmly escorted them back here for their own protection.

"That's no bluff, mind. It's only a matter of time before the Pelorites figure out he's the "gentleman" in Pratchett's story and come after him. And if Parker's doing what I think he's doing then the Wheelers might come after our Learned Friend too. He's a loose end. And I suspect there's going to be those that'll want him cut short or tied up before some meddling bumblers like ourselves come along and give him a little pull. Assuming they haven't spliced his length to the stays of the Barque of Night already, pardon my Elven".

[YossarianLives]

Spoiler: Kresh's Warrant

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Issued by order of Lieutenant Derin Kresh, 1436 FE.

This warrant grants the bearers free and safe passage throughout the City State of Senra, and all its territories. They are proven servants and friends of the city.

They act by my commission, and with the best interests of the city at heart. Answer any questions they may have, and provide assistance however you may. In all respects, imbue them with the authority of one with my own military rank.

It seems that the warrant is very much up to interpretation, but you would guess that it will hold power over anyone below Kresh in rank. When dealing with more important individuals, it remains to be seen whether they will comply.

You leave the barracks, braving the stifling crowds of the general compound once again. A pair of gnomish guards meet Brin at the door, wordlessly signalling for him to follow. The young demonspawn looks none too pleased, but goes with his head held high and a straight back. He gives you one last wave before vanishing into the throng. Your two companions gone, the going is quicker, but not by much. Once you have fought your way across the square, found the quartermaster's queue and waited in it, around twenty minutes have passed. The grey and black clouds hang over ahead, a reminder of the ongoing conflict.

When your party reaches it, the roof of the large, blue tent provides some measure of comfort, stifling the noise and giving you room to breath. Eight or nine tables have been pushed together to make a counter stretching from one end of the quartermaster's tent to the other, with a similar number of clerks in attendance. Behind this, many assistants scamper about, fetching all manner of supplies and equipment from crates, chests, barrels, and sacks. The light is dim, provided only by a handful of candles and that seeping through the flap.

Before long, an opening becomes available and a clerk at the far end of the counter waves you over. "What can I help you with?" she says slowly. A glum blue-eyed woman, young but with the disposition of advanced age.

[Marlowe]

"That's an excellent question; and I'm glad you asked it!" says Avita in the piping voice she used right back at the first briefing with Olidar. The one she uses to sound harmless.

"First of all; I've been trying to shoot Demons with this twig-" she indicates her simple longbow; "And I'm needing something a bit better. More of the masterworky, experty, serious artist's persuasion, and more attuned to my arm strength--look, it may not look like much, but it's there.

And I'll be needing a Human-sized spiked gauntlet to make them pay attention to me and stop chopping up the guys next to me-and that doesn't have to be anything special, but cold iron would be nice--and I'll be needing to top up my quiver. Preferably with cold iron arrows if you've got them. So if you've got those things I'd be quite impressed with you!"

[So, that's an order for one Masterwork +1 strength-rated Composite Longbow at 475 gp, one spiked gauntlet at 5 gp (10 if it's cold iron), and another set of arrows at 2gp if cold iron and 1gp if not.

Also, she'll probably buy more paper but that's almost too mundane to mention.]

[YossarianLives]

The clerk gives Avita a long, hard look. "We have all of those things in stock. Sergei..." She gives instructions to one of the assistants, who hurries off to fetch your order from the pile of boxes. The woman watches with disinterest, scratches her nose, then realizes you're all still standing there. "Anything else, ladies and gentlemen?"

[Bartmanhomer]

The clerk gives Avita a long, hard look. "We have all of those things in stock. Sergei..." She gives instructions to one of the assistants, who hurries off to fetch your order from the pile of boxes. The woman watches with disinterest, scratches her nose, then realizes you're all still standing there. "Anything else, ladies and gentlemen?"

"Yes do you have a better shortbow and arrows?"

[Kushina43]

"Armor for me. Somethin' thick enough to protect, but not so heavy I can't move 'round. Best ya got, if possible."

Spoiler: OOC

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I'm hoping to get a Masterwork Breastplate, which I think would be 350 gp. Not sure what else'd be worth getting right now from here

[Bartmanhomer]

"Forget the shortbow. I want a Longbow with arrows. A better one at least. Also do you sell weapons by any chance?"