[PF2E] Ilorin's Age of Ashes IC

[Ilorin Lorati]

5 Kuthona, 4719 AR. Oathday.

Breachhill, a surprisingly bustling town nestled in the foothills between Isger and Druma, is home to 1300 souls or all shapes and sizes, the (self described) best temple to the Accidental God north of the Inner Sea (just like all the others), and an abandoned Hellknight fortress known locally to be a lair for a relatively benign tribe of goblins. Additionally, thanks to a rather peculiar origin, it also happens to be one of the few settlements in the the region that not only accepts adventurers, but welcomes them.

The first Oathday a month.

Under tightly controlled circumstances.

The Call for Heroes is an event held on the first Oathday every month, funded by the town council, where local adventurers gather to take on job considered to be important to the welfare of the town but outside the purview of the town guard - nearby bandits, magical blights, and difficult missing persons cases are just a few of the eclectic jobs that are regularly brought before the council.

It's late morning, and the remaining clouds from an early morning flurry blow across the sky overhead, short shadows being cast against increasingly foot-packed snow when the sun peeks out from behind them. Despite the cold of the air and the leftover damp from the storm, Monument Circle, a large stone plaza centered around a large bronze statue of the town's founder, Lamond Breachton, has turned into a small bazaar, with most of the town's stores setting up tented stalls to hawk their food, drink, and wares, with the only exceptions being the small selection of stores that are on the plaza itself - and even then many door are propped open despite the chill to welcome any and all that would deign to visit. A few stalls have even set up a makeshift cooking area on the south-western side of the square, with food being carted in and out of the small grove of tents and to a nearby set of tables situated around a portable heating stove, the occasional helper also carting buckets of water from a pair of water pumps just to the west of the entrance to the town hall.

True to form, dozens of villagers of more than a handful of ancestries bustle and push about, the monthly event seeming to be a social event as much as an attempt to solve the more peculiar issues involving the region. That's not to say their intent isn't obvious: as moments push by, the gathered crowd slowly makes its way into the direction of the still closed town hall doors, beginning to crowd the entrance and simultaneously making it difficult to navigate that area of the plaza.

Separately or together, you have all recently arrived across the bridge that leads into Monument Circle, and a short while remains until the town hall opens and the meeting starts; as would-be adventurers, perhaps some easy shopping is in order, or schmoozing socializing with the locals, or simply relaxing if that's your preference.

Spoiler: Perception DC 12

Show

Among the crowd, two individuals stand out as those likely to be either seeking help or seeking to help:

A Chelish human, clearly not from around here owing to his current glowering expression and separation from anyone that might be part of the crowd, no matter their proximity. Clad in leather armor, a greatsword is strapped across his back and a small pendant hangs loosely around his neck - though the exact design of the pendant is impossible to see from here.

An elderly goblin paces worriedly back and forth next to the bronze statue, between it and the entrance to the town hall. Strangely, they appear to be in full scholarly regalia, including a rather conspicuous mortarboard cap and white robes, as well as a disproportionately large silver holy symbol hanging around their neck depicting the holy symbol of Desna, of all things.

Spoiler: Society DC 14 or Local

Show

You recognize the goblin as one Warbal Bumblebrasher, the ambassador to the local Bumblebrasher tribe of goblins that make their home in the old Hellknight citadel a short distance out of town. She's well known to be particularly protective of the goblin's interests even if she, herself, doesn't live among them so if she is at the meeting there is almost assuredly a request involving those little green pyromaniacs in the wings.

[Bhaakon]

It's somewhat more...teeming than I'd hoped. Nero advances through the crowd with the even pace of a man expecting others to get out of his way. It was a tactic that usually worked, especially when punctuated with staccato coughs and throat-clearing in the direction of recalcitrant bipedal obstructions. He hadn't exactly had high hopes for such a rural hub, but he'd expected at least a surfeit of job offers. All he's managed to find were the names of a few of the less smelly (mostly) potential shield and torch bearers.

Oh, and that wrinkled gherkin of a goblin that served as some sort of ambassador for the local riot of dog-stranglers. Very clearly she'd wanted something, but he'd not yet reached the level of desperation necessary to work with or for her sort. The handful of silver in his pouch could yet buy a few more decent meals, if he paired them with less extravagant vintages. And less ideal cuts, perhaps stretching the spices.

"Ah, finally." Nero mutters as he spots his countryman in the crowd. He smiles and steeples his fingers in genteel confidence as he steps forward to introduce himself. "Nero Boiardi." He proclaimed, tilting his head in the slightest hint of a bow. He might not be able to use his rightful honorifics in the circumstances, but Nero wasn't about to remove an inch of the stick drilled up his rear by twelve generations of breeding. "I'd honestly expected to find more adventurous Chelaxians looking to test their mettle. And jobs to test said mettle. There's no glory to be found in rat-slaying and parcel delivery. Unless they're particularly unusual rats or parcels."

[jamieth]

Lyna HP 15 AC 15

Call for Heroes! Finally! Lyna was beyond excited. In fact, excited enough that she barely slept last night - luckily, youth deals with such hardships easily, and the girl was as energetic and springly as ever as she made her way towards he Circle, exchanging greeting to all her acquintances - which, seemingly, included a good deal of the town, and some from the outside. "Good morning, Mistress Bumblebrasher", she enthusiastically greeted the goblin ambassador, noting her formal otfit, "What brings you to the meeting today? I hope your people are doing fine?" It wasn't a question of politeness, either, for today, first time in her life, Lyna wasn't going to the Call for Heroes just to look. Ever since her powers manifested, she always knew it would be a waste to spend all her life just helping her family on the farm... not because there was anything wrong with farm work, of course, just shew felt she could do so much more! And today, though her parents weren't entirely happy with that, they couldn't argue that she finally was old enough to make that decision for herself. So, dressed in her finest, Lyna was ready to take the Call for Heroes herself...

[Desril]

Like Lyna, Emethelein was excited and energetic as she made her way through the crowd toward the town hall. While she was far too young as far as her mother was concerned, Em grew up around humans, and was of age as far as they were concerned, and try as she might, her mother couldn't convince her that 19 was too young, not when she'd mastered the basics of magic and swordplay as well as she had. Aside from the youthful vigor and wanderlust, the Call for Heroes was an opportunity to help the town in more direct and meaningful ways than just working, even if there was a simple joy in creating beautiful things, so this time she wouldn't be stopped. Unfortunately, the armor she'd wanted to make for herself for today wasn't finished, so she was dressed in the white and gold gown she often wore for temple services, though with a sword at her hip and a spellbook tucked on the inside, rather than a hymnal.

Of course, she'd always just watched before and didn't appreciate how sturdy you needed to be to not get pushed aside, but luckily learning how to take a hit was part of her training. And though she did it with a cheerful smile and an apology whenever she bumped into anyone too forcefully, Em slowly forced her way toward the town hall, squeezing through the crowd, more focused on being the first through the doors when they were opened than paying much attention to the competition just yet, though the Shelynite did always keep her eye out for any particularly beautiful outfits, trinkets, and faces, even if she wasn't actively searching for them.

Spoiler

Show

Perception just to see if I see anything of noteworthy appearance, and also maybe the human but I'm kinda just assuming I fail on that. (1d20+3)[8]

[Oneris]

A rare one to not be wholly focused on the impending lottery of offers and employ, Cyrene was instead preoccupied on certain other benefits of this huge flood of travelers, namely the influx of certain rare materials and imports not usually found in such a remote place. She fluttered about the rare books stall, simultaneously insecure yet bursting with eagerness.

"So, m-my book's arrived, has it not?" The girl ventured, shyness quickly dissipating in the expertise of one who's spent far too long preverifying her claims. "I've been looking around. The caravans arrived far later last night than usual, but I've never seen that corner shop owner run faster to receive a shipment; it must've come some way. And the sausages-onna-stick today smell quite pungent; so much garlick's rarely used this way except in Ustalavan cuisine, like Caliphvasi cârnați? _{pairs great with duskberry jam...} I checked the carts and the scent's definitely imprinted so it's not leftover shop stock, but suppose they could be preserved from before ..."

The amateur detective paused, suddenly unsure of her conjecture, then flounced off into the square for further clues.
Not two minutes later she was back, beaming in pride with the thoroughness of her deductions.

"Nope. The rahat lokum for sale at the sweets stall is the seasonal offer Black Raspberry Gore-juss flavor from Lady Noir; it's a Neth's End exclusive. I knew it, the caravan was from Caliphas! My book must be in stock now, right??"

[jamieth]

Lyna HP 15 AC 16

Noticing the acolyte from the local temple of Shelyn, Lyna hesitated for a moment, unsure how to address her; normally, she would call the young elf just "Em", having been ackuainted for most of the either's lives, but the Shelynite was dressed so formally today... did that mean she was on a temple duty here? If so, would that make such familiariries improper? But, after a moment's consideration, she decided not to overthink the matters, and cheerfully waved, "Morning, Em! Looking beatiful today!" Looking other way, she spotted another young woman... her Lyna didn't know that well, on the account of her being a newcomer here - she even had to spend several moments trying to remember a name, but, in the end... "Cyrene, right? You're looking for something? It's your first time here at the Call for Heroes, right? You need any help?"

[Ilorin Lorati]

Emethelein

Em spends some time wandering about the monument circle and towards the town hall, coming around the statue at its center just in time to hear the young human talking to the worried goblin even if she is unable to notice the worried nature of Warbal's demeanor without having her attention directed by Lyna's own.

For everyone other than Des, this spoiler is just the same thing from the original post.

Spoiler

Show

You recognize the goblin as Warbal Bumblebrasher, the ambassador to the local Bumblebrasher tribe of goblins that make their home in the old Hellknight citadel a short distance out of town. She's well known to be particularly protective of the goblin's interests even if she, herself, doesn't live among them so if she is at the meeting there is almost assuredly a request involving those little green pyromaniacs in the wings.

Lyna ...and Em

Lyna's approach goes initially unnoticed by Warbal, the goblin too caught up in her own obvious worry and pacing to see the sorceress for anything other than someone else from the crowd. “My Bumblebrashers,” she can be overheard in a distraught tone as Lyna comes within speaking distance - quite short considering the crows and the low volume that the ambassador was speaking to herself in. “Why haven’t I heard from my Bumblebrashers? Are my people trapped in the citadel?”

It was the Lyna's greeting that caught her attention, the green-skinned woman turning one way, then the other before finally seeing the child and giving her a smile that could not quite manage warmth for the worry clear on her elderly face. "Would that I could say that, little Lyna, but the chieftain has missed the last two meetings I had scheduled with her, and now there is a distress signal coming from the keep. I'm sure something is amiss!" As she speaks, she turns glances towards the door to the town hall, clearly worried about the time until the meeting starts.

Cyrene

Cyrene's appearance at the miniscule stall that the Reliant Book Company set up in Monument Circle is met with thinly veiled weariness by its owner Voz Lirayne, a pale, half-elven woman in a sharp green-and-black dress, as the hyperactive human girl bounces back and forth between thoughts and assumptions. "Miss -" she tries to get out between sentences, just in time for Cyrene to go bounding off - much to Voz's clear chagrin to anyone that looked at her at that moment.

By the time Cyrene returned, Voz's demeanor had calmed and whatever emotion that she had was hidden behind a much firmer veil of pleasant courtesy, though one that was tinged with a quick snap of the tongue to get her attention. "Yes, Miss Hart. Your tome arrived; it is at my shop waiting for you, still bound and pristine. I must say it's not my usual fare, but finding it was no issue and I'm sure you'll find it just as you asked. Come by once everything has been settled here and we will finish the transaction."

...and Lyna and Em

As Lyna turns her attention to the stall and its inhabitants, the merchant woman's face falls ever so slightly at suddenly playing host to three young troublemakers, though it quickly recovers and the woman is able to greet the second child with a pleasant cantor, leaning against the small table that housed her ledger and the handful of books she dared to bring out among the snow and ice as her hands steepled then intertwined with each other. "Good morning child, and welcome!"

Nero
The man looked up from his grim reverie as the good baron approached, face lightening significantly with understanding at what the older man was saying. With the distance closed, the Sigil on the pendant is clear - An iron disc overlaid with bronze in a circular pattern of nails pointing outwards from a central starburst. Giving Nero an appraising look, the man's light face turned into an easy smile that turned inwardly at a joke that only he was privy to at the moment.

"Ho, brother! It's a pleasure to meet you, though I'm afraid if you were looking to me for either, your luck has fallen short - I'm afraid I have nothing greater than rats to slay or parcels to to deliver." Pushing up from where he was standing up against the wall, the man held out a leather-gloved hand to the Baron. "Alak Stagram. I'd ask what's going on here, but - indeed, I think your commentary gave me the majority of it already!"

Spoiler: Hellknight Lore DC 12, Society DC 15

Show

The pendant he wears is the symbol of the Order of the Nail, the Hellknight Order primarily concerned with quelling "savagery" and bringing order to the wilds of the world.

Spoiler: Crit Success

Show

Considering he is not in Hellknight armor, you're able to surmise that he is not a full Hellknight - most likely an Armiger that has yet to take the test. Either that, or a fan... probably the former, as the latter have a tendency to become the former.

[Bhaakon]

Nero flashes his most sincere smile in an attempt to cover his disappointment. "Your arrival is merely coincidental, then?" He inquires. "I'd figured that a man with your affiliations..." he glances at Alak's pendant meaningfully, "would be here with a purpose. It's not secret, is it?"

[Oneris]

Spoiler

Show

Cyrene

Cyrene's appearance at the miniscule stall that the Reliant Book Company set up in Monument Circle is met with thinly veiled weariness by its owner Voz Lirayne, a pale, half-elven woman in a sharp green-and-black dress, as the hyperactive human girl bounces back and forth between thoughts and assumptions. "Miss -" she tries to get out between sentences, just in time for Cyrene to go bounding off - much to Voz's clear chagrin to anyone that looked at her at that moment.

By the time Cyrene returned, Voz's demeanor had calmed and whatever emotion that she had was hidden behind a much firmer veil of pleasant courtesy, though one that was tinged with a quick snap of the tongue to get her attention. "Yes, Miss Hart. Your tome arrived; it is at my shop waiting for you, still bound and pristine. I must say it's not my usual fare, but finding it was no issue and I'm sure you'll find it just as you asked. Come by once everything has been settled here and we will finish the transaction."

...and Lyna and Em

As Lyna turns her attention to the stall and its inhabitants, the merchant woman's face falls ever so slightly at suddenly playing host to three young troublemakers, though it quickly recovers and the woman is able to greet the second child with a pleasant cantor, leaning against the small table that housed her ledger and the handful of books she dared to bring out among the snow and ice as her hands steepled then intertwined with each other. "Good morning child, and welcome!"

Cyrene's bubbly demeanor deflated with an audible _"sqeeee" at the pointy woman's snappishness.
"Er- o-of course, Prof-Madam Lirayne. No issue at all. I'll see you after class- after work then."
She turned quickly to Lyna, subtly placing the girl between herself and the stall to intercept further sharps.
"Only the newest book by Ailson Kindler. It's said to be her darkest work yet, even moreso than Vintage Soul: Noble Rot, and they're turning that one into an opera!"

She wrapped her arms around herself to hold her excitement in. "Just need to stay out of trouble for a little longer..." Already several large scratches mar the leathery sheen on her pauldrons and rucksack.

[Desril]

Em waves in greeting toward Lyna, smiling as she does, "Good morning, Lyna, I didn't think I'd see you here today," the elf comments briefly, before hearing the tail end of the goblin's comments. Though she doesn't frown exactly, she does seem troubled as she purses her lips and turns to look down at Warbal, concern obvious in her tone, "Trapped? What'd you mean, is something wrong?" Though they were hardly the most...aesthetically pleasing race within the town, it wasn't as if the elf was above helping some of the town's residents, even if they were goblins. She was hardly old enough to have a long-standing grudge against goblin-kind, after all.

[jamieth]

Lyna HP 15 AC 16

"Oh, yes, I finally managed to convince to convince my parents I'm old enough to decide for myself", Lyna enthusiastically nods, but then the goblin's words reach her. "That's... terrible, Mistress Bumblerasher! But... it is the Call for Herose after all! I'm sure some brave sould would volunteer to investigate this situation! That's what you came here for, didn't you? Actually..." Lyna stops herself. She was going to say that she herself would take it as her first ever quest, but decided it was impolite to get in like that. After all, what if someone with more experience would decide to deal with that situation?

[Ilorin Lorati]

Nero

"I don't believe in coincidences," Alak replied as he glanced down and then smoothly moved to stow the pendant around his neck within his armor. "That said, it was unplanned. I have business in Citadel Altaerein and was hoping for, uh - assistance, I suppose, would be the right word for it - from the town council." Tilting his head towards the entrance to the town hall, and the crowd gathered out front, he furrowed his brow. "To think this strange little custom would be happening when I tried to get in touch with them... These border towns really are something, aren't they?"

Everyone Else

Warbal looks up at Em and nods worriedly, collecting herself up again before responding; "Yes! Normally, I have twice-monthly meetings with Helba, the tribes' chieftain, just outside the Citadel. We discuss news, and I convey the town’s interests and hear any concerns that the tribe might wish me to bring before the council. Because these meetings are so important, Helba has always been punctual, but now she hasn't come to them, and I have seen plumes of smoke coming from the top of the citadel. The smoke is a chalky red in color—the tribe’s traditional color of distress. I worry that they can't get out of the keep or something dire has befallen them!"

Lyna's question attracts ambassador's attention next; "That's exactly why I'm here! The Call for Heroes is the only way to hire adventurers in this town, and I don't have the value to fund it all on my own, so I'm hoping that the council will accept my case! If you're old enough to accept the job now, maybe you can take it, child, and possibly speak on my behalf if it comes to that?"

Behind their backs, the merchant woman looks incredibly relieved when the three girls turn their attention away from her stall, leaning back and letting out a calming breath as she does so.

Everyone

As everyone speaks with each other, a wooden scrape and slam can be heard from within the town hall - a sign for those familiar with the proceedings that the door is about to be opened. Sure enough, after a few moments the pair of wooden doors that lead into the council room swings inward, and crowd at the door begins to shuffle inward while the rest of those gathered in Monument Circle begin to pack up their tents, chairs, and other belongings. Most of the children, especially, skip off to play elsewhere as the adults make their way indoors.

Alak offers a shrug to Nero and an easy salute as he pushes off the wall and heads indoors, himself, while Warbal jumps and practically runs in with her nervous energy.

Inside

The inside of the council room is well-lit with a number of torches lining the walls, with two especially large metal braziers in the corners behind where the council are already sitting, with several rows of seating for interested parties that want to watch the proceedings. All in all, a few dozen people crowd the hall today, not including the five council members, as shown by the nameplates sitting in front of them from east to west:

• Jorsk Hinterclaw, a middle-aged dwarven man with scars to tell the tale of his life;
  
  Spoiler: Cyrene, Em, Lyna, Nero

  Show

  
  Originally a from Kraggodan, Jorsk sought to be more than a blacksmith in a closed off society and ran away from home to become an adventurer.

  Spoiler: Cyrene, Em, Lyna

  Show

  This came with mixed success, though over his nearly fifty-year career he had become well known in Breachill and the surrounding area as a steadfast aid. It's for this reason that he has the distinction of being the fastest turnaround between new inhabitant and council member in town history.

  
  
• Melma Ann Sendari, a Chelish woman who sits in her council chair with the air of royalty;
  
  Spoiler: Em, Nero

  Show

  The greatest statesman of the current council, Melma is a scion of a noble family who fled Cheliax during the Chelish Civil War.
  
  Spoiler: Cyrene

  Show

  Melma is well regarded as the greatest statesman of the current council, even though she is well known for worrying too much about what the town thinks of her in regards to regional policy.
• Greta Gardania, a kindly-looking human woman with the skin and tattoos of a Kelishite;
  
  Spoiler: Cyrene, Em, Lyna

  Show

  
  The Gardanias are one of the more well known families in Breachill, being able to trace their ancestry all the way back to one of its charter members - Rennold Gardania. The youngest of the town councilmembers by a few years, she nevertheless has served long enough to be the leader of the council.
  

  Spoiler: Cyrene and Em

  Show

  
  Greta sought the position all the way from childhood, and went to far as to devour every book on statescraft and governance she could get her hands on. She does, however, lack the natural grace of Melma's skill with the art, and (possibly due to this) the two have been known to bump heads over policy.
  
  Spoiler: Nero

  Show

  The Gardanias are one of the more well known families in Breachill, being able to trace their ancestry all the way back to one of its charter members - Rennold Gardania.
• Trini Sprizzlegig, a bright-colored gnome woman that chitters quietly to the two council-members next to her in turn, somehow keeping both conversations going despite all odds;
  
  Spoiler: Cyrene, Em, Nero

  Show

  The kindest voice on the council by far, Trini is well known to be the councilmember that will fight for every inch of aid to those who need it. Beyond this, she takes it upon herself to personally welcome and greet every adventuring party that walks through the town gates.

  Spoiler: Em

  Show

  Among the council, however, she is known for being flighty on any policy except those regarding aid, a truth that has caused no end to headaches for the other councillors.
• Quentino Posandi, an elderly, Chelish-mixed gentleman with an inscrutable look on his face even considering his relatively bombastic conversational companion.
  
  Spoiler: Cyrene, Em, Lyna, Nero

  Show

  
  Quentino is known to be the quietest member of the council, and is respected for both his shrewdness and his ability to get to the heart of a problem and solve it.
  

  Spoiler: Cyrene, Em, Nero

  Show

  
  Quentino is the sole owner and proprietor of Posandi Bros. masonry company, and is the fifth generation owner of it. The company has one major competitor in the region, however - a barely decade-old company called Tuskhead Stoneworking - and word is that they have recently poached several major contracts from Posandi Bros, something that has caused rumors that Quentino is preparing to use his position to cause trouble for the fledgling company.
  

  
  

Society or Breachill Lore checks can be rolled for any of the council members for knowledge beyond their role as, well, council members. DC is, however, private and variable depending on the character so make your roll and let me know so I can post it quickly.

I'll be moving forward again immediately with my next post (giving some time for everyone to get settled in, essentially), so feel free to make your posts as long or as short as you like.

[jamieth]

Lyna HP 15 AC 16

Of all the litlle over a thousand inhabitants of Breachill, it wouldn't be much wrong to say that the council members were the ones Lyna knew the worst. Well, naturally - they were so important and busy all the time, so of course Lyna never talked to them directly... and she never paid much attention to rumors, either. Still, they ran the town, and were doing a decent job of it, all things considered, so Lyna trusted them by default. Still, it was hard for her to wait until all the proceedings were done... not after the goblin's words matched her own thoughts so precisely.

[Bhaakon]

"Yes...something." Nero answers, not for the first time wondering if he's made a terrible mistake. There might not be opportunity or a fresh start to be found in Egorian, but there was proper civilization. Oh, well. The die had been cast, as they say. He follows the flow of the crowd into the council chamber and looks around. Most of the councilors he knows only by the names on their little placards. Only Posandi sparks a flame of memory, and none of it particularly useful. Nero hadn't come here to pick up a trade.

Oh, well. He'd just have to wait for them to start the meeting.

[Ilorin Lorati]

Council Chambers

After a few minutes of people filtering into the room, the doors close softly and the councilors turn their attention to Greta, seated at the center of the dais. In an instant, the kindly look on Greta's face disappears and is replaced by a business-like appearance. With a sharp rap from her gavel onto the desk, the suddenly stern, dark-haired woman with a deeply furrowed forehead and kind eyes brings the assembled crowd to a hush.

“Welcome, neighbors and friends...” the dark-haired woman begins, her rich voice washing over the room, “...to the Breachill Town Council’s monthly Call for Heroes. I am Council President Greta Gardania, at your service. On behalf of my colleagues beside me, I promise you all that we will hear and consider today’s petition with the utmost discretion and care. There is no existence without community, as our town charter says. Today, our agenda includes one petition."

A soft cough comes from the back-center of the room near the newly closed doors as the leather-clad Alak brings less than subtle attention to himself. Without pause, Greta's eyes flick up to the man as the furrows on her brow deepen. "Two petitions, it would seem; we'll see to you in a moment, sir. Before that, Miss Warbal, our very own ambassador to the Bumblebrashers of Hellknight Hill, requests the help of heroes for a matter of utmost importance. Let’s hear her concerns in her own words, shall we? Miss Warbal?”

Alak appears satisfied with this acknowledgement as Warbal stands up from the front row and makes her way to the front center of the room. Clearing her throat, she begins a clear address to the council. “Esteemed councilors,” Warbal says, with a frazzled tone to her voice. “It has been more than a month since I’ve been able to contact the Bumblebrashers. I fear that something terrible has befallen them. What’s more, I have seen my people’s distress signal coming from the top of Citadel Altaerein—”

The elderly goblin is cut off from speaking further as a door on the room's western wall is flung open, a young Chelish man with ink-stained hands running through the doorway as black smoke billows in from the next room. "Fire! There's a fire! Run!" The young man's flight is followed quickly by rapidly expanding flames, threatening to encroach from the hallway beyond. In an instant, the room erupts into chaos as people turn and try to flee back through the now closed doors back out of the council room and, eventually, outdoors.

The sheer weight of the dozens of people pushing and shoving to get to the doors, however, has jammed the doors shut - and not even the councilors calling for calm seems to be able to get through to them.

Encounter time starts now!

[Bhaakon]

Nero had taken a seat near the middle of the hall, on the right near the center aisle so that he could have both a good view of proceedings and a clear-ish path to the exit should he decide to leave early. He did not expect to have to leave quite so early, however. Or with so much company. But it wasn't a problem. With his considerable experience on the matter, Nero knew that fire was dangerous, but generally slower than a man afoot baring some sort of accelerant, magical or chemical. All a body had to do was keep a modicum of sense--which was, apparently, too much for this pack of dolts--and the situation could be easily dealt with.

Which, of course, mean it was up to him.

Nero sighs and thwacks the mass of bodies before him encouragingly with his walking stick. "Calm yourselves, peasants! Take a big, deep breath to steal air from the flame and take stock. This oven is not yet hot enough to serve as a chaffing dish, let alone roast a person-sized hunk of meat, so believe me when I say that there is not yet a reason to stampede like a sounder of drunken boars! So spit the apples from your mouths this instant and take a big step back so the chef can pluck you from the oven before you're all well done. And believe me, no one wants to eat your leathery, stringy gristle once it's been charred. Humans are braising meat. Back! BACK THE HELLS UP AND OPEN THE DOORS PROPERLY, YOU MUTTON-HEADED IGNORAMI!"

Spoiler

Show

Cuisine: (1d20+7)[9]
Intimidate: (1d20+4)[9]

[jamieth]

Lyna HP 15 AC 16

Lyna promptly took her place - not on the very front row, but still in front, third row and close to the left side, to be able to get up get get to the council quickly should the need arise. And the need did arise indeed, though for completely different reason than she expected - and hoped. Fire! Lyna almost leaped out of her seat... there was a panic. Of course there was a panic; it was only expected... but it didn't help anyone. [i]If only some people could organize the crowd... someone calm and sensible, someone people would listen to... Lyna looked around. Was there someone she knew who fit these criteria? Spoiler: OOC Show Breachill Lore: (1d20+4)[15] Diplomacy (1d20+7)[20] "Calm down everyone! Please!" Lyna called out, climbing onto the bench so that her small stature wouldn't hinder her efforts, "The doors - they don't open this way! You need to pull, not push! Mistress Taithe!" Lyna couldn't quite find the local priestess of the Drunken God, but hoped she wouldn't miss the Call for Heroes either way, "You tell them!" After all, one couldn't keep a tavern frequented by adventurers and not learn to deal with unruly crowds...

[Ilorin Lorati]

Mistress Taithe is, indeed, in the council hall, and the Caydenite priestess strides across the backs of the benches to avoid the rushing crowds as she makes her way over to the doorway. "ALRIGHT," the boisterous, light-haired mutt of a divine tavernkeep called out with a bellow that should never have come from a woman of slight stature as herself, "Listen to the girl, everyone needs to take a step back. You, sir!" Balancing herself along the benches, she points at Alak, who is already apparently struggling to open the doors against the weight of the people himself, "Get that door open!" Successfully controlled by the combination of shaming from the priestess, fear of being cooked alive by the noble chef, instruction from Lyna, and strength-borne assistance from Alak, the doors are finally able to be pulled open and the first of the civilians start to scurry out.

Much too slowly for the speed with which the flames are being spread, smoke already beginning to bring out coughs from those unfortunate enough to be near the northwest doorway.

[Desril]

Having taken a seat to Lyna's left, Emethelein was impatiently listening to the start of the Call for Heroes, eager to have an opportunity to jump up and take on a job herself when the man stormed through the door screaming about the fire. And luckily or not, Em was hardly one to just stand idly by, or dash through the sea of people to be the first to safety, even if she was fairly confident that she could do so if she wanted to. Instead, as people began to storm the doors to the exit to try and get them open, the young elven woman raced toward the door leading to the inferno. "Lyna! Help them get out, I'll...uh..."

Swearing in elven, though given the noise the crowd was making it was fine as it was unlikely anyone heard her, or at least if they did, they couldn't prove it was her, Em made her way to the door and reached out to slam it shut if there wasn't anyone trapped in that room, doing her best not to burn herself on the fast encroaching flames while also looking to see if there was anything of use past the fire. "I'll figure something out!"

Spoiler

Show

Starting to Lyna's left, adjacent to her. 2 actions to move to the door, 1 action to shut it. Perception to look into the fire room? (1d20+3)[9]

[Oneris]

"I wonder how they'll choose assignments..." Cyrene wondered aloud as she shuffled in between the pews. The College of Mysteries had an annoyingly oblique system of assigning classes by personality test; during registration week cheat sheets abounded more than during exams. And yet despite cross-referencing a half-dozen of them she'd still failed to place into even one of her top choices. It was the left orb that was friendlier, was it not...?

So absorbed was she in her recollection that when the presence of fire was called, Cyrene failed to remember that common methods of operation in a institute saturated in more magic than sense rarely applied outside that setting. She kept calm rolled her eyes; screaming in the presence of illusionists only encourages them. When the scorching blast of hot air dispelled that notion the possibility of it being a lost delivery imp or a miscast fireball turned up to replace it; again, common occurrences to be dealt with extreme prejudice by show-offy upperclassmen.

The misplaced magic student looked up to the councilmen for guidance, and only finally the sight of experienced elders in a state of panic roused her out of her seat. Did they have no anoxia grenade anywhere? Right- Breachill, not Absalom.

With experience from escaping wildfires, Cyrene dropped to the floor as smoky air seeped in and wet her scarf with her waterskin- then handed it off to a older lady. "Stay low and cover your face- pyrophor fumes are attracted to air and repulsed by earth and water."

She looked over to see the portal now barricaded. "There wasn't anyone else in that room, was there?!"

Spoiler: Actions

Show

Assist X2, Move x1, your choice who and where

[Ilorin Lorati]

It doesn't take long for those who are able to stand and move about in the smoke to begin making their way to the now open door, with several people making it through into the hall beyond even as Cyrene aids two people coughing and gets them moving towards the doorway.


Alak and the priestess start guiding people through, the leather-bound man standing on the far side of the door pulling people through and keeping them moving while Mistress Taithe keeps them as focused as a bunch of people fearing they could be burned to death can possibly be - which is to say quite well, but not in a terribly efficient sort of manner.

Eme's attempt to close the door is simple but effective; though flames quickly lap up the door-frame it does remarkably well in keeping the blaze from spreading forth from that room. Unfortunately for everyone involved, however, one of the Councillors has moved to the other doorway - Trini, from the complete lack of someone visible being at the portal - opening it just enough for it to be thrown open, revealing not only another blaze, but a small, winged creature completely wreathed in flames. This is undoubtedly the original source of the flames as embers and flecks of orange-hot energy lick neighboring surfaces, spreading the fire with supernatural speed as the now four councilors scramble away from it, over their desks or around them as best they're able.

Spoiler: OOC and Map

Show

41 people remaining in Room.
The creature spends its actions moving into the room, and the flame hazard spreads from the north entrance.

[Desril]

Sighing in relief at her simple plan's apparent effectiveness, Emethelain curses to herself again as the northern door is opened and her efforts at slowing the fire were shown to be in vain. Calling out, "Fire mephit! Be careful!" Doing as much as she can to shout out a warning, it only takes a moment to calculate that the creature is too far away for her to rush with her blade...but she needed to be closer or have more time to properly blast it with magic too! "I'll deal with it, just keep heading toward the exit!"

Em didn't need her dress burning to cinders engaging the fiery creature in melee, but her armor wasn't ready yet and someone had to keep it from igniting more of the area, or worse, the people! Reaching a snap decision, she just cries out as she runs at full-tilt to try and get the mephit's attention, "Hey, if you're not hurting any of these people!"

Spoiler

Show

Spent an action recalling info, 2 remaining;
Double move, no actions remaining (drawing my sword if I can do so as a part of movement

[jamieth]

Lyna HP 15 AC 16

Trusting the others to handle the evacualtion, now that the exit was free, Lyna rushes towards the council's podium, to check on the Trini's condition, and help Em with the mephit as needed... or, rather, tries to rush. Tripping over the nearest bench's back, and nearly tumbling to the floor, however, she decides it's better to be slower, but sure, and takes her way around the benches, following after Em to the podium... Spoiler: OOC Show 1 action wasted; double move to the left, then up along the benches, and up-right to the podium. By my calculations, that should place me at (5,3) - fifth cell from the left, and third from the top - right above the edge of the leftmost table)

[Bhaakon]

"You've got to be kidding me." Nero groans as the...thing flaps it way into the council chamber, fanning the flames literally and figuratively while the venerable councilors stumble about trying to escape.

Well. at least it's an opportunity to prove useful.

Sighing, the young aristocrat pushing his way against the crowd and towards the rostrum, digging a jar from one of his many pockets. Exposed to the air, the substance inside would quickly explode into a sticky mess akin to warm molasses mixed with spider webs. Which was interesting, because it contained neither, but explaining the vagaries to alchemy even in an inner monologue was exhausting. The important question was whether it would be effective against the flames wreathing his target. The goop wasn't particularly flammable in the kitchen, but one never knew with supernatural sources.

Well, there was one way to find out.

Spoiler

Show

Move 5 squares up and 1 left. Throw lesser tanglefoot bomb at the creature:

(1d20+3)[5] (includes -2 for second range increment)

On hit: -10 move, DC 17 escape

[Oneris]

"Meepits? Not those stupid sheep things again!" Those woolly creatures appeared with stunning regularity in Invocatus Hall and had a habit of grazing relentlessly through anything without sufficient foresight to be mobile or made of stone, such as important parchment, inattentive people and the errant wall. The girl looked around. Those happened to all be present nearby in rather vast quantities. Oh dear.

"Keep it away from the minutes!" She called helpfully as she ushered an attendee towards the only unignited doorway. "It can't get what isn't stationary!"

The creature bobbed into view, revealing a face too unsettlingly human even for an ungulate, but more importantly, a pair of very functional wings. "Oh, you meant mephit." Not much difference to be honest, save for the increased mobility, malevolence, and intelligence. Maybe. Sheep could be all three if they had the mind to...

"On second thought, those papers are nicely dry and flammable right where they are far away from us very well-hydrated people." As a show Cyrene doused another fleeing townsfolk with the last of the water. And if you stay there, we might even provide you some extra kindling, her hand twitching towards her weapon.

Spoiler: Actions:

Show

Save Townsfollk x2
Hunt Prey x1

[Ilorin Lorati]

As Lyna rushes up to the side of the council table, the flames that were barred by the door just to her west crackle and finally spread beyond the licking threat against the door itself, smoke billowing out from the crack under the door even as the fire spreads outward from its location. In the meantime, Emethelain rushes forward to intercept the mephit while the young alchemical baron tosses a flask unsuccessfully, the contents spilling into the fire and bursting helplessly into their own flame.

From the position she's at now, the elf can see the fallen councilor, dazed but not unconscious under the desk that will soon be consumed by flames that spread as well from the northern entrance to the doorway, while the other four councilors - unaware of the grim fate that awaits Trini - each scurry around aiding the villagers that can move, while Alak keeps folks moving through the doorway and the priestess organizes strongbacks to aid those who cannot make it out on their own motion.

The mephit, very obviously sensing the danger that already on the way, cackles as it bites at Emethelain before fluttering away from her on its batlike wings - heading, instead, towards Nero the only one that has already attacked it with darkly mischievous glee. Once it gets in range, it strikes out with its razor-sharp teeth once more.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Against Eme:
Attack: (1d20+9)[12]
Damage: (1d6)[6] + (1d4)[1]

Fly SE 25'

Against Nero:
Attack: (1d20+4)[5]
Damage: (1d6)[2] + (1d4)[1]

35 people in the room.

[jamieth]

Lyna HP 15 AC 16

Just as the creature - what was it Cyrene called it, meepit? - leaves Em alone as flies over towards the alchemist, Lyna, barely paying attention to the flames behind her, rushes towards Trini, helping the tiny council member to her feet... or, if the gnome proves unable of standing straight, outright lifting her and carrying her towards the door Spoiler Show Stride, Stride to just south of Em; help Trini

[Desril]

Lyna was quicker to notice Trini than Em, probably because she'd had to focus on dodging the mephit's attacks, and the elf only had time for a worried expression to cross her face before the dazed council member was getting the help she needed. Another quick scan around the room showed that there wasn't much chance of her being able to put out the fire...as much as she'd love to stop the blaze, she simply wasn't equipped to deal with this kind of thing, and even if she could feasibly brave the inferno to shut the door to the hall...it wouldn't do much good now. But she could at least keep the angry little elemental from hurting anyone else as she raised her hand and took aim over the desks to fire a trio of arcing bolts of energy that strike simultaneously.

"I think the fire is getting a little out of control, let's move, people!"

Spoiler

Show

Magic Missile, 3 actions so (3d4+3)[10] to the mephit!

[Bhaakon]

"Unacceptable!" Nero bellows at his miss, biting back less flattering language as the creature flaps its way in his direction. It's fortunate the thing doesn't seem smart enough to chew and flap at the same time, so its bite and other attacks are rather easily avoided by the perturbed nobleman.

The smart move would be retreat, of course. The thing was some sort of avatar of fire, obviously, and its claws and jaws presented challenges as well. Nero had no easy means to replace any burned or slashed clothing, not with anything worth being seen in, at any rate, but his own hackles were up and reason took a back seat.

"See here, you warty carbuncle. If you think you can set fire to a building and do as you please, then you'll just have to be taught a lesson in the traditional Chelish fashion." He gripped his walking stick in bother hands, with its stout ash construction and head brass knob, and swings at the creature with rather more force than was considered proper for a father administering corrective measures to a misbehaving lordling.

Spoiler

Show

Intarct to ready weapon, strike to attack

(1d20+3)[20]
(1d6+1)[2]

[Ilorin Lorati]

As combat continues, the mephit takes a series of strikes and screes out in pain, shouting what must be some insult in its fiery native tongue before taking a deep breath and launching a cone of flames in the direction of the good baron then flapping away.

Meanwhile, the dazed Trini is helped to her feet by Lyna and crawls out from under the table, scurrying around it and helping, as best her dazed head can manage, get the civilians out. The fire slowly creeps its way into the room along the wall and licking up the desks and against the very fine clothing (shame if something were to happen to it...) that Emethelein is wearing.

Smoke continues to build in the room, to the point that even those staying low to the ground are now having a hard time avoiding it, and with the fire now starting to truly make its way into the room, those closest to the fire start feeling the heat as more than mere discomfort.

Outside, those who managed to make it out have stared carrying buckets back to the room, with a new bucket being brought in every few moments and being placed by those who cannot make it back inside themselves for fear of flame or smoke.

Spoiler: Mechanics

Show

There's now a water bucket at the south entrance of the room that refreshes at the start of each PC's turn.

Mephit Breath Weapon, Stride.

Breath Weapon: (2d4)[2] Basic Reflex DC 17
Reflex Nero: (1d20+7)[21]

Spoiler: GM Roll

Show

(1d4)[2]

Fire Proximity Damage
Eme: (1d6)[5]
Lyna:(1d6)[3]

Cyrene spends 2 actions aiding, and Trini being active means 7 people helped this round.
28 Civilians remaining.

3