"well I see that the cirque is on its way and the festival is all the town can talk about and so I wanted to enquire what the actual plan was, from the horses mouth as it were" Dusty says enthusiastically still wearing an over the top false grin
"Cirque..." rumbles the mayor, scratching his whiskered chin. "By that you mean that bard woman's train? A lovely lady, though she seemed a little put off by the last festival. I hope to convince her of the worthiness of our cause in time. The plan... the plan is to turn our heads, our voices, our instruments to the sky. To call out to Lahi'Ton, who you call the moon, to wake her with our great cacophony, so that her great eye shall look down upon us, burn away the smog with her gaze, sear the flesh of the risen dead and banish the monstrous Baron from our land. With drum, with cymbal, with song and shout, with flute and foghorn, with clap and stamp. In the old days, with thunder and lightning as well, but those days have passed. I am the last of the Lahi'Gaur, but I was not blessed with the powers reserved to them. I wear my Droth'Gaur with pride," he gestures to his branching scar, "but no true lightning will ever run down my arm. Thunder-sticks shall have to substitute for the true thing. I see you wear an instrument, little one. I do hope you plan to play for us."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Dusty listens and considers the plan, His False smile fading slowly from his face as he looks down concerned, "I will indeed continue to play" he says in agreement as he raises his head once more to meet the gaze of the seated Orc, his tone shifts to that of a frustrated scolding, his bravery bolstered by being surrounded by his accomplices "...but not for you, This plan of yours is misguided and will fail, worse than that it will fail at the expense of the citizens of this wastebone and use the bastardisation of music to do it, You ought to be ashamed.
Music should be used to celebrate triumphs and ease troubles not used as a stick to beat your people into submission in the vain attempt to gain favour of a god who no longer listens, and no longer CARES!.. If you want to rid the world of the blight you see around, If you want to be free of the baron and the undeath he brings then you need to fight, And if you will not then you need to either help those who will or stand aside!
this world has no need for those who will turn to pretending everything is fine, trying to convince others that their suffering is not valid by forcing them into pointless revelry and ignoring those who succumb to the tyranny and are wasted, You have responsibility, you cannot ignore that in favour of this misconceived bullshit..."Dusty stops suddenly and brings his hand to his mouth, shocked at the weight of his own words and how they reflect on his own outlook and his own ideals. He realises that in the heat of his reprimand he stood up to emphasise his displeasure and now slumps back into his chair aghast, he looks to the group for some input, some recognition or validation of his condemnation of the situation, before burying his face into the cupped palms of both his hands, obviously and outwardly distressed.
The Mayor's face, which previously had been fixed in a beaming grin, drops in an instant. For a time, his expression is one of disbelief. Then, it shifts to a frown. Then, slowly, ponderously, it twists into a terrible, terrible scowl. His rage is so monstrous that it seems as if the air almost begins heating up, as if the anger is trying to force its way out of his body. (And maybe the air actually is heating up. After all, at his impressive size his volume to surface area ratio is tipped strongly to one side.)
"Do not," rumbles the Mayor, "condemn what you do not comprehend. The Ton'On will succeed. It must succeed. Each month, in Anth'Tkur, we woke the moon, and her eye shone down on us for the rest of the month. We were free from strife, from hatred, from evil. It was not until the dwarves came, filled the skies with smoke, shielded us from her gaze, that evil came to our people. War came to our people. Her gaze protects us, and we must bring it back! What do you know, little bard, that will discredit hundreds of years of knowledge, of custom? Who are you to condemn our practices? The Ton'On is not bastardization of music, it is music in its highest form! The Holy Cacophony, which reaches the ears of the sky-spirits, makes the sand-spirits cringe with terror!"
The Mayor stands suddenly, towering over Dusty. He breathes heavily, sweat running down his body, his face still twisted with anger. He lurches forward, grunts, and almost falls over. He steadies himself against his chair, clutching his head, breath escaping in short gasps.
"Guards..." he growls. "Guards! I want these ones gone! Out of my town! GET THEM OUT OF MY SIGHT!"
At the door, about four guards arrive, pistols drawn, though their fingers are not yet on the triggers. One motions toward the door with the tip of his revolver, as the mayor leans back down into his chair, wheezing.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Winchester, his reaction 'til now being little more thin steadily rising eyebrows, gives Dusty an inquisitive look by simply lowering one of his brows back to normal, then he gets up first, his hands visibly empty and raised to above his shoulders. "Hoo easy there fellas, it's fine, we're leavin'..." He turns around and begins to slowly walk towards the door where the guards are waiting for them. "Our Dusty here can get a little...passionate when it comes to music." Winchester cocks his head back to the Mayor, still walking out the room. "What he said was not just a bard's lamentation though. He's speakin' for your people. We've had a talk with them, and they've had enough. The people you are supposed to govern can't take your cacophonies anymore. They want some actual change, you know. They don't need someone wailing into the winds to some higher power that doesn't answer. I don't mean to offend", he says, as he reaches the doorway and turns back to the group and the Mayor, "but you said it yourself. Maybe you're lacking the true mojo to reach them, and the thunder sticks are not enough. Maybe the barons dust is blocking the channels. Maybe, Lahi'Ton himself decided that it's time for the Lahi'Gaur to end, that its time for things to change. Whatever it is, you're old ways don't seem to do the trick anymore." Winchester pauses for a moment, his hands now settling down on his hips again. "Cast us out all you want, it doesn't change the facts. The people placed in your care are sufferin'. It is your responsibility to take care of them. Go make another ruckus, who knows, maybe you'll suddenly be heard. But how many more Cacophonies do you need to start listenin' to your own people for once? Shouldn't you be to them what Lahi'Ton is to you...? C'mon folks, let's get out of here. This place is really startin' to get on my nerves..."
(I stuck around for a bit but stopped seeing notifications then I checked in and it seemed like my character had been totally forgotten about so I left. Sorry if that hurts the game or anything. Anyway good luck and hope you all have fun.)
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Only now did Isoldus make any motion, for the first time tearing his unwavering gaze from the mayor. The dragonborn stood, arms folded over meticulously polished armor certainly out-of-place in this desert town, and turned towards the waiting guards. Isoldus's hand left the pommel of his sword, choosing to instead gesture widely over the crumbling buildings and sandswept streets. This was not a time for bloodshed - most battles were won before swords were drawn.
"Citizens of the city, I address you - for you are the ones suffering the most in these wastes. Each month, your mayor-"
The dragonborn shakes his head."This is lunacy, and each of you know it. I asked the people - you, my friends, not the mayor - what the one change to make this town a better place could be. The answer was ousting the mayor from his position. How long will you cower to your own fears? Has the sand eroded your sense of self? How long until you shake the wool from your eyes and realize the strongest belief you can hold is in yourselves, not some twisted fantasy?"
Unwilling to fight the guards unless given a due reason they are willingly subservient to the mayor, Isoldus's sword remains sheathed for the current moment.
Dusty will give Isoldus his last Bardic inspiration for the day as This is exactly what he was waiting for, He hums along to the beat of Isoldus' words the vibrations in his throat weaving magic into the air. (Add a D6, anytime within the next ten minutes)
The mayor turns his head away as the guards begin leading the group out, pushing them along. As Isoldus speaks, for a brief moment a few guards seem almost convinced, but another glance at the fuming Mayor dissuades them. "Sorry, man," one of them mutters. Others act as if they haven't even heard the dragonborn. The Mayor, on the other hand, makes it very clear that he has. He stands again, with no small amount of effort, and glares down at Isoldus with unmitigated fury.
"It is bad enough, that you dare suggest that the festivals are harming our town. But you don't seem satisfied with just that. You dare to try and turn my own citizens against me? For your gall, dragonkin, exile is not enough for you. Guards, I want the others shown to the docks. This one, I want bound and gagged, and put in the stocks. And if we have any boxes of marrowroot that have gone bad, I want them brought out for pelting. Get to it."
If the party does not fight back, the guards begin leading Dusty and Winchester (and Hugeo, if he's with them) back to the train, while Isoldus is led to the center of town.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Dusty resists still facing the mayor as he is easily being pushed out of the room backward by the guards, he is also now yelling over the shoulders of the hesitant guards.
"who will you turn to once your plan fails? once the people you are responsible for realise that to ensure their own survival, you must perish? you lost one lot of people and here you are stubbornly making the same mistakes again, clinging to a past that has forgotten you, you coward, you absolute coward" knowing the pride of the his Dragonborn accomplice, Dusty grabs his guitar for the first time since meeting the group and he prepares for a possible fight.
(Just to clarify, since a fight seems to be more than possible at this point...is anyone being cuffed or grappled at this point? The guards are quite close to any of us, right? And are we still facing 4 of them?)
Winchester side eyes Dusty grabbing for his instrument and looks over to Isoldus with a schooled, calm expression, but then keeps on walking, not yet making any moves.
(Sorry for not posting, been a bit busy for a few days, and will continue to be for a long while. I should still be able to get a post a day most of the time, but might sometimes choose not to if nothing demands Hugeo's response.)
Hugeo walks out at first. Some noise, big deal. Once the baron is dead, this problem will be gone on its own. Will the people of the city suffer for a while longer? Yes, but, everybody always suffer.
Hugeo stops when he hears what's awaiting Isoldus. People of his crew, old or new, are those he will not let suffer, if he can. The others are slow at drawing weapons, but Hugeo is a bit more hare-triggered. "Enough words, let's just do the people a favour and be gone."
As he says that, a dagger shoots up from his knee. Hugeo catches the dagger in the air, then tries to stab the nearest guard in the neck.
(Well, godsdamn. Just for that, I'm giving you the hit.)
The dagger shoots up, and the guard barely has time to widen his eyes before the dagger whips towards his throat. Unfortunately, Hugeo's grip on the dagger isn't perfect, and he just barely misses the jugular. The guard sails back, clutching his oozing, spurting neck, but the wound isn't fatal.
(Everyone who chooses to join the fray, roll initiative)
8
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Initiative for Dusty 7 He swings his Guitar around and suddenly looks complete, like the final puzzle piece slotting into place, he inhales readying himself to say something, or to sing..
"well I see that the cirque is on its way and the festival is all the town can talk about and so I wanted to enquire what the actual plan was, from the horses mouth as it were" Dusty says enthusiastically still wearing an over the top false grin
(Apologies for the inactivity; regarding the OOC, I’m always in favor of finding more players. The more the merrier.
Post coming tonight.)
"Cirque..." rumbles the mayor, scratching his whiskered chin. "By that you mean that bard woman's train? A lovely lady, though she seemed a little put off by the last festival. I hope to convince her of the worthiness of our cause in time. The plan... the plan is to turn our heads, our voices, our instruments to the sky. To call out to Lahi'Ton, who you call the moon, to wake her with our great cacophony, so that her great eye shall look down upon us, burn away the smog with her gaze, sear the flesh of the risen dead and banish the monstrous Baron from our land. With drum, with cymbal, with song and shout, with flute and foghorn, with clap and stamp. In the old days, with thunder and lightning as well, but those days have passed. I am the last of the Lahi'Gaur, but I was not blessed with the powers reserved to them. I wear my Droth'Gaur with pride," he gestures to his branching scar, "but no true lightning will ever run down my arm. Thunder-sticks shall have to substitute for the true thing. I see you wear an instrument, little one. I do hope you plan to play for us."
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Dusty listens and considers the plan, His False smile fading slowly from his face as he looks down concerned, "I will indeed continue to play" he says in agreement as he raises his head once more to meet the gaze of the seated Orc, his tone shifts to that of a frustrated scolding, his bravery bolstered by being surrounded by his accomplices "...but not for you, This plan of yours is misguided and will fail, worse than that it will fail at the expense of the citizens of this wastebone and use the bastardisation of music to do it, You ought to be ashamed.
Music should be used to celebrate triumphs and ease troubles not used as a stick to beat your people into submission in the vain attempt to gain favour of a god who no longer listens, and no longer CARES!.. If you want to rid the world of the blight you see around, If you want to be free of the baron and the undeath he brings then you need to fight, And if you will not then you need to either help those who will or stand aside!
this world has no need for those who will turn to pretending everything is fine, trying to convince others that their suffering is not valid by forcing them into pointless revelry and ignoring those who succumb to the tyranny and are wasted, You have responsibility, you cannot ignore that in favour of this misconceived bullshit..." Dusty stops suddenly and brings his hand to his mouth, shocked at the weight of his own words and how they reflect on his own outlook and his own ideals. He realises that in the heat of his reprimand he stood up to emphasise his displeasure and now slumps back into his chair aghast, he looks to the group for some input, some recognition or validation of his condemnation of the situation, before burying his face into the cupped palms of both his hands, obviously and outwardly distressed.
The Mayor's face, which previously had been fixed in a beaming grin, drops in an instant. For a time, his expression is one of disbelief. Then, it shifts to a frown. Then, slowly, ponderously, it twists into a terrible, terrible scowl. His rage is so monstrous that it seems as if the air almost begins heating up, as if the anger is trying to force its way out of his body. (And maybe the air actually is heating up. After all, at his impressive size his volume to surface area ratio is tipped strongly to one side.)
"Do not," rumbles the Mayor, "condemn what you do not comprehend. The Ton'On will succeed. It must succeed. Each month, in Anth'Tkur, we woke the moon, and her eye shone down on us for the rest of the month. We were free from strife, from hatred, from evil. It was not until the dwarves came, filled the skies with smoke, shielded us from her gaze, that evil came to our people. War came to our people. Her gaze protects us, and we must bring it back! What do you know, little bard, that will discredit hundreds of years of knowledge, of custom? Who are you to condemn our practices? The Ton'On is not bastardization of music, it is music in its highest form! The Holy Cacophony, which reaches the ears of the sky-spirits, makes the sand-spirits cringe with terror!"
The Mayor stands suddenly, towering over Dusty. He breathes heavily, sweat running down his body, his face still twisted with anger. He lurches forward, grunts, and almost falls over. He steadies himself against his chair, clutching his head, breath escaping in short gasps.
"Guards..." he growls. "Guards! I want these ones gone! Out of my town! GET THEM OUT OF MY SIGHT!"
At the door, about four guards arrive, pistols drawn, though their fingers are not yet on the triggers. One motions toward the door with the tip of his revolver, as the mayor leans back down into his chair, wheezing.
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Winchester, his reaction 'til now being little more thin steadily rising eyebrows, gives Dusty an inquisitive look by simply lowering one of his brows back to normal, then he gets up first, his hands visibly empty and raised to above his shoulders. "Hoo easy there fellas, it's fine, we're leavin'..." He turns around and begins to slowly walk towards the door where the guards are waiting for them. "Our Dusty here can get a little...passionate when it comes to music." Winchester cocks his head back to the Mayor, still walking out the room. "What he said was not just a bard's lamentation though. He's speakin' for your people. We've had a talk with them, and they've had enough. The people you are supposed to govern can't take your cacophonies anymore. They want some actual change, you know. They don't need someone wailing into the winds to some higher power that doesn't answer. I don't mean to offend", he says, as he reaches the doorway and turns back to the group and the Mayor, "but you said it yourself. Maybe you're lacking the true mojo to reach them, and the thunder sticks are not enough. Maybe the barons dust is blocking the channels. Maybe, Lahi'Ton himself decided that it's time for the Lahi'Gaur to end, that its time for things to change. Whatever it is, you're old ways don't seem to do the trick anymore." Winchester pauses for a moment, his hands now settling down on his hips again. "Cast us out all you want, it doesn't change the facts. The people placed in your care are sufferin'. It is your responsibility to take care of them. Go make another ruckus, who knows, maybe you'll suddenly be heard. But how many more Cacophonies do you need to start listenin' to your own people for once? Shouldn't you be to them what Lahi'Ton is to you...? C'mon folks, let's get out of here. This place is really startin' to get on my nerves..."
(I stuck around for a bit but stopped seeing notifications then I checked in and it seemed like my character had been totally forgotten about so I left. Sorry if that hurts the game or anything. Anyway good luck and hope you all have fun.)
Only now did Isoldus make any motion, for the first time tearing his unwavering gaze from the mayor. The dragonborn stood, arms folded over meticulously polished armor certainly out-of-place in this desert town, and turned towards the waiting guards. Isoldus's hand left the pommel of his sword, choosing to instead gesture widely over the crumbling buildings and sandswept streets. This was not a time for bloodshed - most battles were won before swords were drawn.
"Citizens of the city, I address you - for you are the ones suffering the most in these wastes. Each month, your mayor-"
The dragonborn shakes his head. "This is lunacy, and each of you know it. I asked the people - you, my friends, not the mayor - what the one change to make this town a better place could be. The answer was ousting the mayor from his position. How long will you cower to your own fears? Has the sand eroded your sense of self? How long until you shake the wool from your eyes and realize the strongest belief you can hold is in yourselves, not some twisted fantasy?"
Persuasion (or applicable check): 26 - Bardic Inspiration: 5
Unwilling to fight the guards unless given a due reason they are willingly subservient to the mayor, Isoldus's sword remains sheathed for the current moment.
Dusty will give Isoldus his last Bardic inspiration for the day as This is exactly what he was waiting for, He hums along to the beat of Isoldus' words the vibrations in his throat weaving magic into the air. (Add a D6, anytime within the next ten minutes)
The mayor turns his head away as the guards begin leading the group out, pushing them along. As Isoldus speaks, for a brief moment a few guards seem almost convinced, but another glance at the fuming Mayor dissuades them. "Sorry, man," one of them mutters. Others act as if they haven't even heard the dragonborn. The Mayor, on the other hand, makes it very clear that he has. He stands again, with no small amount of effort, and glares down at Isoldus with unmitigated fury.
"It is bad enough, that you dare suggest that the festivals are harming our town. But you don't seem satisfied with just that. You dare to try and turn my own citizens against me? For your gall, dragonkin, exile is not enough for you. Guards, I want the others shown to the docks. This one, I want bound and gagged, and put in the stocks. And if we have any boxes of marrowroot that have gone bad, I want them brought out for pelting. Get to it."
If the party does not fight back, the guards begin leading Dusty and Winchester (and Hugeo, if he's with them) back to the train, while Isoldus is led to the center of town.
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Dusty resists still facing the mayor as he is easily being pushed out of the room backward by the guards, he is also now yelling over the shoulders of the hesitant guards.
"who will you turn to once your plan fails? once the people you are responsible for realise that to ensure their own survival, you must perish? you lost one lot of people and here you are stubbornly making the same mistakes again, clinging to a past that has forgotten you, you coward, you absolute coward" knowing the pride of the his Dragonborn accomplice, Dusty grabs his guitar for the first time since meeting the group and he prepares for a possible fight.
(Just to clarify, since a fight seems to be more than possible at this point...is anyone being cuffed or grappled at this point? The guards are quite close to any of us, right? And are we still facing 4 of them?)
(Still just 4, no grapples but their guns are trained on you.)
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
(alright, thanks!)
Winchester side eyes Dusty grabbing for his instrument and looks over to Isoldus with a schooled, calm expression, but then keeps on walking, not yet making any moves.
(Sorry for not posting, been a bit busy for a few days, and will continue to be for a long while. I should still be able to get a post a day most of the time, but might sometimes choose not to if nothing demands Hugeo's response.)
Hugeo walks out at first. Some noise, big deal. Once the baron is dead, this problem will be gone on its own. Will the people of the city suffer for a while longer? Yes, but, everybody always suffer.
Hugeo stops when he hears what's awaiting Isoldus. People of his crew, old or new, are those he will not let suffer, if he can. The others are slow at drawing weapons, but Hugeo is a bit more hare-triggered. "Enough words, let's just do the people a favour and be gone."
As he says that, a dagger shoots up from his knee. Hugeo catches the dagger in the air, then tries to stab the nearest guard in the neck.
Attack: 11 Damage: 5. If Sneak Attack applies, add 4 damage.
Initiative, if needed: 16.
Varielky
(Hugeo, please roll a sleight of hand check to determine whether the guards notice your attack in time)
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Sleight of Hand: 25.
Varielky
(Well, godsdamn. Just for that, I'm giving you the hit.)
The dagger shoots up, and the guard barely has time to widen his eyes before the dagger whips towards his throat. Unfortunately, Hugeo's grip on the dagger isn't perfect, and he just barely misses the jugular. The guard sails back, clutching his oozing, spurting neck, but the wound isn't fatal.
(Everyone who chooses to join the fray, roll initiative)
8
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Initiative for Dusty 7 He swings his Guitar around and suddenly looks complete, like the final puzzle piece slotting into place, he inhales readying himself to say something, or to sing..
Initiative for Winchester: 16