Barty's "Lost Mine of Phandelver"

"Alright. It seems clear. Let's go." Cinis said, opening the door for his companions.

Tarok walks through the door into the hallway, looking about for any signs of danger.

Perception: 12

Several worn tables and chairs are scattered around this large room. Wooden benches are drawn up around walls decorated with draperies of brown and red, and several ale kegs are propped up and tapped. 

Four tough-looking human warriors wearing scarlet cloaks are gathered around one of the tables. A stack of coins and trinkets is heaped upon the tabletop between them. All four appear to be drinking heavily and playing some sort of betting game. The two ruffians facing the door are surprised by the sudden extra occupants in the room and hastily knock their chairs away as they draw their weapons and stand.

"Who in the hells are you?" one shouts.

"Tarok Hightower, perhaps you remember me?" Tarok answers.

The four look confused for a moment, but one of them chuckles and walks toward Tarok, weapon still drawn. 

"I know you, half-orc. You're the one what walked out on us cause we was too hard for you. Widdle half-orc couldn't tough it with us so he brought some fwends?"

“Shut up and listen!” Growled Nemean, as he slowly stepped forward brandishing his scimitars. 

Intimidation 13

”Drop your weapons now, and nobody else needs to get hurt.” His tail snapped from one side to another. “Glasstaff and his reign of terror are over with.”

Cinis stepped in behind Nemean and brandished the staff. He used his Thaumaturgy to make his eyes glow red and the ground shake with slight tremors as he spoke. 

"Surrender or face the fate of Glasstaff," Cinis said softly.

Intimidation: 13

(OOC: I assumed advantage for the showmanship and the staff. But man am I unimpressive.)

Tarok looks fondly at his mace, then back at the bandits. "I only ever needed one friend, now sit down before I cave your faces in." he replies with cold malice.

[Tooltip Not Found]: 5

A poorly-timed squeak in Tarok's speech causes all 4 drunken Redbrands to howl in laughter, clutching at their splitting sides. Filled with confidence, the ruffian that taunted Tarok previously answers, "No, no, I don't think we'll be doing anything of the sort, kitten. I don't know how you managed to get your hands on that staff, but I tell you what we will do."

He wipes a mirthful tear from his eye, and speaks to Tarok. "Fight me one on one, half-orc. We've a score to settle. And after I wipe the floor with you, if I feel like letting you live, you and your cat can run from here with your tails between your legs."

"Agreed. With or without weapons?" Tarok asks. 

"If you yield then, you and your men can face justice for your crimes. Glasstaff is dead, you don't have to be the same." Tarok says as evenly as he could.

"Glasstaff is dead then, is he? Good! I'm tired of dealing with smelly bugbears. I'm meaning to gut you, don't you doubt," the man answers, pointing his shortsword toward Tarok. The others keep their weapons drawn, but move aside to allow Tarok and his opponent a 15-by-15 foot space in the center of the room.

He looks over to the others along the wall, saying "Any sign of help from their magic friend, you kill them, got it? Otherwise you stay out it. This is between me and this coward."

He sets himself in a defensive posture. Despite his bravado, the ruffian's eyes keep flickering toward the staff in Cinis's hands, and his recent drinking has put him noticeably off balance. The room falls silent, awaiting the metallic clash of the coming battle.

Tarok signals to his friends to hang back. "Do nothing unless they start it." he says to the rest of the party. "Let's put an end to this." he says, before swinging his maul at the ruffian.

Attack: 9 Damage: 13

OOC: Am I able to use my inspiration on the roll?

OOC: Gotta use the inspiration when the roll is made, unfortunately.

DM Screen:

 Initiative:

Turn Order:
Redbrand Ruffian
Tarok

Shortsword Attack: 16
Shortsword Attack: 14 

The Redbrand and Tarok charge at each other to the middle of the room, swinging their blades in the frenzy of battle. The Redbrand is the first to draw blood, nicking Tarok for 5 slashing damage, then stumbling back off-balance before thrusting again. Tarok's blade meets the second thrust as the steel clangs. For a moment, the blades hang together in the air as the Redbrand sneers and spits on the ground.

OOC: The Redbrand is first in initiative order, but I will wait for Tarok's next action before resolving the next turn because it reads nicer in one-on-one combat.

Tarok swings with his maul again, trying to shrug off the blows.

Attack: 7 Damage: 8

DM Screen:

Shortsword Attack: 14
Shortsword Attack: 6

Tarok leans back to avoid the Redbrand's next thrust. The Redbrand overextends, stumbling past the half-orc, throwing his shortsword up in a second lazy swing. Tarok's maul meets it with full force, swatting it aside and carrying through to the ruffian, leaving a crunching wound. He howls in pain but pulls himself up. Sweat is dripping down his face, as he clutches at his wound and his eyes dart toward Cinis and the glass staff again.

OOC: Tarok's next move is up

OOC: I'll use my inspiration now, sir. Non-lethal damage if possible.

Tarok tries to take advantage of his opponent's distract. He lifts his maul above his head and makes an overhead swing toward the ruffian.

Attack: 20 Damage: 12

Nemean tries to remain vigilant and ensure one of the other Redbrands doesn't try to pull anything, but he quickly finds himself gawking at the sight of Tarok and the Redbrand artfully striking at each other. In his homeland, the chieftains of the more warlike clans would engage in honor duels, but Nemean had not seen a duel since he stepped foot in Faerun, he found himself enamored by it.

Nemean jeered and taunted the Redbrand after he spat on the ground, and his hair stood on edge as he watched his friend narrowly avoid the attacks.

When he sees Tarok menacingly lift the mace over his head, he filled with excitement and pumped his fist in the air. "That's it Tarok! You've got him now!"

Shortsword Attack: 6
Shortsword Attack: 14

Sensing overexposure from Tarok's overhand swing, the Redbrand strikes quickly, finding a gap in the half orc's chainmail for 4 slashing damage. Planting his feet, he attempts anothing swing while dancing to the right, but his inebriation has slowed him considerably. The blow glances off of Tarok's armor, and the half orc's maul smashes into his kneecap, shattering his leg. He drops his sword, screaming and clutching at his broken leg.

The others clearly want nothing else to do with this group. Two drop their weapons, raising their hands in surrender. The third swallows hard as he processes the situation, and suddenly attempts to flee the room, heading toward the southern door.

Tracking:
There are two doors in the room, one to the south, and one to the north which you entered through. 

OOC: Tarok has received 100 XP.

Tarok catches his breath after the fight, his brow beaded with sweat.

Second Wind: 6

"Should we go after the other?" he asks the party.