Rhogarr - More people lower their fists and break away from the mob, dodging retaliatory strikes from Flaming Fist gauntlets and boots as they go. A few of them walk over to you and begin to ask about the resources you mentioned, but are fiercely shouted down and chased away by a pair of mercenaries, "DISPERSE FOOLS! NO LOITERIN'!" They chuckle at the sight of the scared folks scrambling away, clutching their worldly possessions to their chests. The two saunter off to harass the remaining rabble.
Rhogarr will walk over to the two Flaming Fist members, tap his warhammer to his chest, squeeze his eyes shut and say a prayer to Tyr.
"We must enforce blind justice, gentlemen, but that does not mean we must take pleasure in it. I have promised the resources of House Turnuroth, in accordance with the laws of this city and my parents will see that my promise is fulfilled. We must restrict legal access to the city as we are told to. That does not mean it is right to laugh at their fear. I must ask that you not show your pleasure at the workings of the law we enforce."
Catching a glimpse of the signet ring, Sam commits the symbol to memory for future use. “House Turnuroth, you say? How very gracious of your house to be willing to assist the cities people in this time of need.“ Money, connections, a larger audience….Sam saw all the opportunities befriending Rhogarr could afford. “I am Samuel Gladesong. A pleasure to meet you.”
(After rereading this I realized that Samuel could have been taken in a sarcastic manner. The tone of his voice is very much jovial with no sense of sarcasm present.)
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Ankita knows she doesn’t have the words to really make a difference. She watches as these new people she has met work on dispersing the crowd in the their own way. Then, taking inspiration from the new name they have all joined under, she casts Produce Flame, holds it in her hand and with using all of her 7 feet, she glares at the remaining mob.
(I think you asked for a persuasion roll with advantage? Let me know if I need to edit): 11
"Rabble, if only they had a strong hand ruling them all."Damian says with disdain as the crowd finally disperses and turns to the captain. "So, how can I be of further service Captain Zodge?"
Rhogarr - The pair of mercenaries look to each other then to you. The human woman on the left looks down in shame and mutters, "Sorry... I guess we jus' got caught up in the heat of the moment." The dwarven man on the right pulls at his uniform collar and adds, "Aye, I'm hotter'n two rats ****in' in a wool sock! Looks like they're finally leavin' anyhow. Let's go find somewhere to cool off." The two then wander away.
Ankita - A portion of the remaining stragglers see your flaming fist and want no part of it. They turn and flee from the scene.
Rhogarr smiles sadly, nods to the female mercenary, and says, "It can be exciting to serve the will of Justice. I do not blame you--but you cannot stay just if your enjoyment of the enforcement gets in the way." He flips a gold piece to each of the mercenaries. "Please, purchase a round for yourselves. On House Turnuroth."
He then whispers another prayer to Tyr, tapping his warhammer to his chest before stowing it at his side. He turns to the rest of the party and bows formally in what I assume Damian would recognize as proper Patriar style. You all notice that Rhogarr's right hand, but not his left, is hidden behind a jet-black glove.
"Rhogarr Turnuroth, my friends, devotee of Tyr and heir to the Turnuroth Dukeship. I have come here because law and order are sorely lacking in this part of the city, and I cannot help but ensure that justice is served. Please tell me, what has brought you to the Gate?"
As he waits for Captain Zodge's response Damian duly takes note of the green dragonborn, the half-elf, the firbolg and the human also turning up reporting for duty.
"Greetings Rhogarr Turnuroth, I am Damian Ravenshade." Damian says in a formal tone with a bow matching the green dragonborns. "I didn't know we had a dragonborn destined to be a duke in Baldur's gate, fascinating." He continues with a slight hint of disbelief. "Unlike you who are here freely I was commanded into service. For what purpose I hope will become clear as soon as Captain Zodge has dealt with the last of the rabble loitering around Basilisk Gate. I suspect there is no coincidence the five of us has turned up here at the same time reporting for duty whether by free will or not."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Rah'zher surveys the thing of unwashed masses fighting their way to the gate, looking for Captain Zedge. He continuously pulls at his uniform, futilely adjusting the uncomfortable garment. The crowd did not take much notice of the pale-furred new recruit, beyond the uniform and insignia if the Fist he bore. He was thankful for that, but still felt too exposed with his clean white fur, making it difficult to display the confidence needed when ordering folk about. Still, he must do as the militia proscribes; uniforms, clean fur, breaking up fights, no matter hiw unnatural it all felt.
Truly, the ways of the city were a mystery to Rah'zher. "I guess this is why they're desperate enough to draft the likes of me," he though, as he watched the unrest these enforcers of Order struggled to smother. "At least I'm on the right side of the wall. Whatever could be taken from thise on the outside ain't worth the trouble." Within these walls, he knew, lay the means to bolstering his warren to become the dominant force among the denizens of the Nelanther isles. "If that means wearing this monkey suit and keeping my fur clean, then that's what I'll have to do."
Finding the one-eyed Fist shouting orders to a small band if likewise adorned fresh faced youths, the harngon hops his way through the the bustle of humanoid filth and misery to present himself. "Captain Zedge!" he shouts, "Rah'zher, reporting as ordered." He continues, rendering the fist salute they'd shown him when they handed him this garish uniform.
Just then, he catches a stray elbow to the ribs and reflexively kicks the owner of the offending appendage into the crowd, before returning to his awkward attempt to stand at attention.
All - The few remaining pockets of dissent are being crushed as Captain Zodge makes his way back over to you. He straightens his uniform and makes a half-hearted attempt to wipe the blood from his armor before saying, “The refugee crisis has stoked fears that Baldur’s Gate might suffer the same fate as Elturel, of which nothing remains but a hole in the ground, apparently. Our grand duke, Ulder Ravengard, was visiting Elturel on a diplomatic mission when the city was destroyed. Coincidence? I think not. The knights of Elturgard call themselves Hellriders. A few of them escaped the destruction and think we’re somehow to blame for Elturel’s downfall. What a bunch of self-righteous rabble-rousers! We’re arresting them on sight, but that’s left us shorthanded to deal with another problem. For that, I need your help.”
Zodge then opens a pouch on his hip and from it he hands those of you that do not already have one, a copper badge that bears the Flaming Fist’s coat of arms. He explains to you that these badges give you license to act in his name.
“Baldur’s Gate has long been plagued by followers of the Dead Three — the gods Bane, Bhaal, and Myrkul. I thought we had wiped them out, but apparently not. These purveyors of fear and death are taking advantage of the current crisis to commit murder sprees throughout the city. As my appointed deputies in this matter, you’ll have license to kill these wretches on sight. Find their lair, and wipe it out. Eliminate anyone who gets in your way, and don’t worry about collateral damage.
“If you do what I say, I’ll see that you each receive two hundred gold pieces in addition to my gratitude, which is worth considerably more.
“A few blocks from the Basilisk Gate is Elfsong Tavern. A spy named Tarina hangs out there, gathering rumors for the Guild. She owes me a favor, so tell her you work for me. Ask her what she knows about the Dead Three. And, for the love of Balduran, be nice. Tarina has dangerous friends.”
"Greetings Rhogarr Turnuroth, I am Damian Ravenshade." Damian says in a formal tone with a bow matching the green dragonborns. "I didn't know we had a dragonborn destined to be a duke in Baldur's gate, fascinating." He continues with a slight hint of disbelief. "Unlike you who are here freely I was commanded into service. For what purpose I hope will become clear as soon as Captain Zodge has dealt with the last of the rabble loitering around Basilisk Gate. I suspect there is no coincidence the five of us has turned up here at the same time reporting for duty whether by free will or not."
"Ah, Master Ravenshade, a pleasure. I am the only one with scales in my family. I am not truly dragonborn--I have lived my whole life in Baldur's Gate. My parents are human. My sisters are human. I do not speak the dragon language. I am destined to be a duke through the wonder of adoption, and because my family is of the male-line tradition for the duchy. The... Ravenshade family? Do you have a branch here in Baldur's Gate?"
Rhogarr nods to Damian, then looks around at the slightly motley crew around him. He inclines his head to Rah'zher but does not make a true bow.
"Bane and Bhaal are anathema to me, and to my god. I will of course see what I can do, on the condition that you donate my share of the gold to the refugees at the gates."
He turns to the rest of the party. "I know the Elfsong. My book group met there once. I am happy to lead there and see if we can find this Tarina."
Rhogarr - When Zodge hears your request for donating your pay and the words "book group" he scoffs in disbelief and says, "Surely you jest?" Then, realizing that you are in fact serious he shakes his head and says, "You are free to do with your pay what you wish, but my responsibility for it ends at handing it to you."
Ankita listens to what the Captain says and is glad they have an appointment to handle. Whatever destroyed Elturel was too close to where her tribe is. This is why she headed out to Baldur’s Gate to provide assistance to help eradicate the threat. She nods to the captain, thumps her quarterstaff on the ground and says to Rhogarr, “I am ready when you are.“
“A tavern you say?” Samuel immediately begins thinking up a new song to perform at said tavern about the events of today. The Fist at the Gate should be a good title, he thinks. “What a…unique crew we have here. May our names and actions live eternal in song! Speaking of which, I am Samuel Gladesong. I caught your names Rhogarr and Damian. What a pleasure to have served my civil duty along the likes of such patriar. To answer your question as to why we are here, Master Damian, I joined the Fist with more of an idea for entertaining the troops and helping them find peace while they filled their cups, not so much to keep the peace in the streets, but, alas, here we are.” Once the group is out of eyeshot of Captain Zodge, Samuel will once again clean his clothes with Prestidigitation. ”Anyone else care for a tidying up after that scuffle?”
"A branch? Yes my family has business in the city. Clearly not important enough for a duke in the making to take note of." Damian says with a smirk. "By all means Master Turnuroth, lead us to the Elfsong tavern."
All - As you get to know one another and make your way through the neighborhood of Eastway on your way to the Elfsong Tavern you see a pair of sailors clinging to one another as they sway drunkenly in the street. They sing a few catches of some lewd sea shanty between fits of laughter, bumping into annoyed passersby without seeming to notice. One of the two is a blue-skinned tiefling with golden caps adorning a few of his teeth and the other is an elven man with long brown hair beneath a red bandana. The tiefling man notices you all approaching and calls out to you, "Well I've ne'er spied a finer crew! How's 'bout you lot join us in singin' Really Big Oysters?" The elven man hums a few off key notes and sings,
Oh my sweet hometown lass be trim, curvy, and hale;
Her really big oysters make a man 'ard as dragon scale!
He hums the melody and nods to you all, waiting for someone to sing the next verse.
Rhogarr - More people lower their fists and break away from the mob, dodging retaliatory strikes from Flaming Fist gauntlets and boots as they go. A few of them walk over to you and begin to ask about the resources you mentioned, but are fiercely shouted down and chased away by a pair of mercenaries, "DISPERSE FOOLS! NO LOITERIN'!" They chuckle at the sight of the scared folks scrambling away, clutching their worldly possessions to their chests. The two saunter off to harass the remaining rabble.
Rhogarr will walk over to the two Flaming Fist members, tap his warhammer to his chest, squeeze his eyes shut and say a prayer to Tyr.
"We must enforce blind justice, gentlemen, but that does not mean we must take pleasure in it. I have promised the resources of House Turnuroth, in accordance with the laws of this city and my parents will see that my promise is fulfilled. We must restrict legal access to the city as we are told to. That does not mean it is right to laugh at their fear. I must ask that you not show your pleasure at the workings of the law we enforce."
DM: In the Shadow of the Mountains: Lost Mine of Phandelver
Catching a glimpse of the signet ring, Sam commits the symbol to memory for future use. “House Turnuroth, you say? How very gracious of your house to be willing to assist the cities people in this time of need.“ Money, connections, a larger audience….Sam saw all the opportunities befriending Rhogarr could afford. “I am Samuel Gladesong. A pleasure to meet you.”
(After rereading this I realized that Samuel could have been taken in a sarcastic manner. The tone of his voice is very much jovial with no sense of sarcasm present.)
Ankita knows she doesn’t have the words to really make a difference. She watches as these new people she has met work on dispersing the crowd in the their own way. Then, taking inspiration from the new name they have all joined under, she casts Produce Flame, holds it in her hand and with using all of her 7 feet, she glares at the remaining mob.
(I think you asked for a persuasion roll with advantage? Let me know if I need to edit): 11
"Rabble, if only they had a strong hand ruling them all." Damian says with disdain as the crowd finally disperses and turns to the captain. "So, how can I be of further service Captain Zodge?"
Rhogarr - The pair of mercenaries look to each other then to you. The human woman on the left looks down in shame and mutters, "Sorry... I guess we jus' got caught up in the heat of the moment." The dwarven man on the right pulls at his uniform collar and adds, "Aye, I'm hotter'n two rats ****in' in a wool sock! Looks like they're finally leavin' anyhow. Let's go find somewhere to cool off." The two then wander away.
Ankita - A portion of the remaining stragglers see your flaming fist and want no part of it. They turn and flee from the scene.
Rhogarr smiles sadly, nods to the female mercenary, and says, "It can be exciting to serve the will of Justice. I do not blame you--but you cannot stay just if your enjoyment of the enforcement gets in the way." He flips a gold piece to each of the mercenaries. "Please, purchase a round for yourselves. On House Turnuroth."
He then whispers another prayer to Tyr, tapping his warhammer to his chest before stowing it at his side. He turns to the rest of the party and bows formally in what I assume Damian would recognize as proper Patriar style. You all notice that Rhogarr's right hand, but not his left, is hidden behind a jet-black glove.
"Rhogarr Turnuroth, my friends, devotee of Tyr and heir to the Turnuroth Dukeship. I have come here because law and order are sorely lacking in this part of the city, and I cannot help but ensure that justice is served. Please tell me, what has brought you to the Gate?"
DM: In the Shadow of the Mountains: Lost Mine of Phandelver
As he waits for Captain Zodge's response Damian duly takes note of the green dragonborn, the half-elf, the firbolg and the human also turning up reporting for duty.
"Greetings Rhogarr Turnuroth, I am Damian Ravenshade." Damian says in a formal tone with a bow matching the green dragonborns. "I didn't know we had a dragonborn destined to be a duke in Baldur's gate, fascinating." He continues with a slight hint of disbelief. "Unlike you who are here freely I was commanded into service. For what purpose I hope will become clear as soon as Captain Zodge has dealt with the last of the rabble loitering around Basilisk Gate. I suspect there is no coincidence the five of us has turned up here at the same time reporting for duty whether by free will or not."
Rah'zher surveys the thing of unwashed masses fighting their way to the gate, looking for Captain Zedge. He continuously pulls at his uniform, futilely adjusting the uncomfortable garment. The crowd did not take much notice of the pale-furred new recruit, beyond the uniform and insignia if the Fist he bore. He was thankful for that, but still felt too exposed with his clean white fur, making it difficult to display the confidence needed when ordering folk about. Still, he must do as the militia proscribes; uniforms, clean fur, breaking up fights, no matter hiw unnatural it all felt.
Truly, the ways of the city were a mystery to Rah'zher. "I guess this is why they're desperate enough to draft the likes of me," he though, as he watched the unrest these enforcers of Order struggled to smother. "At least I'm on the right side of the wall. Whatever could be taken from thise on the outside ain't worth the trouble." Within these walls, he knew, lay the means to bolstering his warren to become the dominant force among the denizens of the Nelanther isles. "If that means wearing this monkey suit and keeping my fur clean, then that's what I'll have to do."
Finding the one-eyed Fist shouting orders to a small band if likewise adorned fresh faced youths, the harngon hops his way through the the bustle of humanoid filth and misery to present himself. "Captain Zedge!" he shouts, "Rah'zher, reporting as ordered." He continues, rendering the fist salute they'd shown him when they handed him this garish uniform.
Just then, he catches a stray elbow to the ribs and reflexively kicks the owner of the offending appendage into the crowd, before returning to his awkward attempt to stand at attention.
(12 for no damage)
All - The few remaining pockets of dissent are being crushed as Captain Zodge makes his way back over to you. He straightens his uniform and makes a half-hearted attempt to wipe the blood from his armor before saying, “The refugee crisis has stoked fears that Baldur’s Gate might suffer the same fate as Elturel, of which nothing remains but a hole in the ground, apparently. Our grand duke, Ulder Ravengard, was visiting Elturel on a diplomatic mission when the city was destroyed. Coincidence? I think not. The knights of Elturgard call themselves Hellriders. A few of them escaped the destruction and think we’re somehow to blame for Elturel’s downfall. What a bunch of self-righteous rabble-rousers! We’re arresting them on sight, but that’s left us shorthanded to deal with another problem. For that, I need your help.”
Zodge then opens a pouch on his hip and from it he hands those of you that do not already have one, a copper badge that bears the Flaming Fist’s coat of arms. He explains to you that these badges give you license to act in his name.
“Baldur’s Gate has long been plagued by followers of the Dead Three — the gods Bane, Bhaal, and Myrkul. I thought we had wiped them out, but apparently not. These purveyors of fear and death are taking advantage of the current crisis to commit murder sprees throughout the city. As my appointed deputies in this matter, you’ll have license to kill these wretches on sight. Find their lair, and wipe it out. Eliminate anyone who gets in your way, and don’t worry about collateral damage.
“If you do what I say, I’ll see that you each receive two hundred gold pieces in addition to my gratitude, which is worth considerably more.
“A few blocks from the Basilisk Gate is Elfsong Tavern. A spy named Tarina hangs out there, gathering rumors for the Guild. She owes me a favor, so tell her you work for me. Ask her what she knows about the Dead Three. And, for the love of Balduran, be nice. Tarina has dangerous friends.”
Rah'zher - The owner of the offending appendage groans in pain as you strike back at them, drawing a smirk and an approving nod from Captain Zodge.
"Ah, Master Ravenshade, a pleasure. I am the only one with scales in my family. I am not truly dragonborn--I have lived my whole life in Baldur's Gate. My parents are human. My sisters are human. I do not speak the dragon language. I am destined to be a duke through the wonder of adoption, and because my family is of the male-line tradition for the duchy. The... Ravenshade family? Do you have a branch here in Baldur's Gate?"
Rhogarr nods to Damian, then looks around at the slightly motley crew around him. He inclines his head to Rah'zher but does not make a true bow.
DM: In the Shadow of the Mountains: Lost Mine of Phandelver
Rhogarr looks to Captain Zodge.
"Bane and Bhaal are anathema to me, and to my god. I will of course see what I can do, on the condition that you donate my share of the gold to the refugees at the gates."
He turns to the rest of the party. "I know the Elfsong. My book group met there once. I am happy to lead there and see if we can find this Tarina."
DM: In the Shadow of the Mountains: Lost Mine of Phandelver
Rhogarr - When Zodge hears your request for donating your pay and the words "book group" he scoffs in disbelief and says, "Surely you jest?" Then, realizing that you are in fact serious he shakes his head and says, "You are free to do with your pay what you wish, but my responsibility for it ends at handing it to you."
Ankita listens to what the Captain says and is glad they have an appointment to handle. Whatever destroyed Elturel was too close to where her tribe is. This is why she headed out to Baldur’s Gate to provide assistance to help eradicate the threat. She nods to the captain, thumps her quarterstaff on the ground and says to Rhogarr, “I am ready when you are.“
“A tavern you say?” Samuel immediately begins thinking up a new song to perform at said tavern about the events of today. The Fist at the Gate should be a good title, he thinks. “What a…unique crew we have here. May our names and actions live eternal in song! Speaking of which, I am Samuel Gladesong. I caught your names Rhogarr and Damian. What a pleasure to have served my civil duty along the likes of such patriar. To answer your question as to why we are here, Master Damian, I joined the Fist with more of an idea for entertaining the troops and helping them find peace while they filled their cups, not so much to keep the peace in the streets, but, alas, here we are.” Once the group is out of eyeshot of Captain Zodge, Samuel will once again clean his clothes with Prestidigitation. ”Anyone else care for a tidying up after that scuffle?”
Ankita turns to Samuel, “My name is Ankita. Pleased to meet you and I would love to hear your song.”
"A branch? Yes my family has business in the city. Clearly not important enough for a duke in the making to take note of." Damian says with a smirk. "By all means Master Turnuroth, lead us to the Elfsong tavern."
All - As you get to know one another and make your way through the neighborhood of Eastway on your way to the Elfsong Tavern you see a pair of sailors clinging to one another as they sway drunkenly in the street. They sing a few catches of some lewd sea shanty between fits of laughter, bumping into annoyed passersby without seeming to notice. One of the two is a blue-skinned tiefling with golden caps adorning a few of his teeth and the other is an elven man with long brown hair beneath a red bandana. The tiefling man notices you all approaching and calls out to you, "Well I've ne'er spied a finer crew! How's 'bout you lot join us in singin' Really Big Oysters?" The elven man hums a few off key notes and sings,
Oh my sweet hometown lass be trim, curvy, and hale;
Her really big oysters make a man 'ard as dragon scale!
He hums the melody and nods to you all, waiting for someone to sing the next verse.