Sera pressed harder against the wound, but the blood still oozed between her fingers, warm and slick. She wasn’t a medic—just someone who had seen far too many knife fights and street brawls end in pools of red. She had stopped bleeding before, but this… this was different. The wound was deep, gaping, and the body beneath her hands was growing colder by the second.

The assassin’s features was revealed when the mask gets off. Such a young and innocent man. Now twisted in evil by the dark forces. Revealing the truth —he was a worshipper of Sargonnas. The dark god, Thakisis’ consort, her wrathful lover and war-bringer. The realization made Sera’s stomach knot. Was this a coincidence? Or had her presence drawn the enemy’s attention to her friends? Was this some larger plot unfolding?

She gritted her teeth. Now was not the time for doubt.

She adjusted her grip and pressed one hand firmly against the wound, her weight leaning into it to slow the bleeding. With her other hand, she reached for a clean cloth, wadding it up and stuffing it into the gash to absorb as much blood as possible.

“Sharn, help me keep the pressure steady,” she ordered, voice tight with focus. “If we’re lucky, we can stop the worst of it before he bleeds out. ...I can use magic to stop it but...” she looks up at him. "I suspect we might need that for later..let us try without"

She grabbed another strip of fabric and began wrapping it around the wound, binding it tightly—compression was key. If the bleeding didn't stop, she’d have to consider using something to cauterize it.

As she worked, her eyes flicked back to the man’s now-exposed symbol of Sargonnas.

“A follower of Sargonnas… that evil deity.” Her voice was low, grim. She looked up at the others, her expression hardening. “I think we should hurry and finish what we came here to do. They want to stop us.”

Sera manages to stop the flow of blood, but her patient is in a bad way. They'll need more than first aid to keep them alive.

Glynnis orders Handar to fetch a healer from the tent communities. He starts scrambling for the door, still holding the kitchen knife.

"Uh, Handar... leave the knife." She comments.

"Oh... of course," he says with a nervous laugh, places the knife on the table, then shoots out the front door.

Glynnis grabs a mop and bucket to clean up the mess. "It could be a minute er two afore he comes back with someone. If ye can keep 'em stabilized, I'll start cleanin' up the mess. These damned kids an' their addiction to death..." Glynnis shakes her head. "I've seen those red leathers afore, but I ain't think nothin' of it. Lots o' mercs wear matchin' uniforms." She continues cleaning, grumbling about her counter and the cost of repair.

 Looking back and forth between the scythe and the person on the ground, Merkas searches his memory of the god Sera mentioned (Religion roll 9). The draw of the weapon and desire to end someones life being sickening feelings he wants not part of, that reminds him to much of what happened to his sister.  He slowly moves over to the side of the room and stages the scythe against the wall. (Wisdom save 13) whispering  "I don't want you, and you shouldn't be given to anyone else" Then louder he says "Nobody touch that thing. It's got some sorta voice in it that's still calling to this poor guy. He might wanna be a good follower of Sarcophagus or whoever but that stick promises all sorts of stuff it can't give."

Moving back over to their attacker he grabs the rope and pulls the guys arms together, tying the wrists then elbows together and the other end to the post at the end of the bar.

"I know it's a bit rough but gotta keep him here long enough to get a few answers. Glynnis you got anything for smelling salts? ooh I know!"
He jumps back up to his pack and grabs the mug of drink he took from Sharn, bringing it over to dump down the kids throat "Made me feel good I bet it can help him"

As you pour the beverage into the patient's mouth, vigor returns to their torn body. The wounds don't heal, but their eyes pop open. Suddenly the scythe pops into their hands as you struggle to bind them!

"I'll kill you!!! I'll kill you all!" the cultist shrieks as they flail wildly against Merkas!

Merkas, roll a STR check to pin the cultist down, please.

"You already tried that. Got you tied up and took your stick away"
Merkas yells back as he tries not to get thrown off (Strength check 11)

"Just wanna know why you focused on us"

The cultists eyes are wild with rage, as if they don't even feel the pain. With a rabid burst of speed they knee Merkas in the gut, throwing him off the cultist, and flinging Sera's hands to the side!

They roll over and struggle to shake off the loose bindings and come to a stand.

Initiative remains the same.
The cultist is currently prone.
Larskolstad It is currently Sera's turn!

Merkas, in his endless optimism, snatched a cup of Glynnis' potent brew and poured it down the dying man's throat. The assassin coughed, gagged—then his eyes snapped open, wild and burning with fanaticism.

Sera barely had time to react before the cursed scythe shimmered and vanished, reappearing instantly in its master’s grasp. With a violent jerk, the assassin kneed Merkas away, sending the kender sprawling. He stood, unsteady but filled with manic energy, screaming incoherent treats to kill..

Sera’s stomach clenched. That scythe—it was cursed. It was wrong. What happened to those who were struck by it? How deep did its corruption run?

There was no time to hesitate. She rised up and took two steps to the side and having him between Sharn and herself.

Her fingers curled around the hilt of her sword as she drew it, but the steel was absent. Instead, she whispered the command word, her voice a breath between faith and memory.

“Father…”

Was it her father she called upon? Or Paladine? Even she wasn’t certain. But the moment the word left her lips, golden radiance burst to life. The Sunblade roared into existence, its energy humming in her grip.

She did not wait. Did not second-guess.

With swift, precise movements, she stepped to his side and struck twice—quick, clean, and without mercy. The radiant blade cut through the air in brilliant arcs, meeting flesh with searing light.
(move 10 feet to the south and flank him. Best is to hit is 14 with 9 dam . If that not bring him down she use a bonus action to strike again. War cleric ability. ac 19 with 8 more dammage )

With a brilliant whiplash of attacks, the cultist's head flew free from it's body, the wound instantly cauterized by the heat of the blade. The lifeless body crumpled to the floor and the scythe clanked to the ground with a heavy, resonant sound. It laid there still as the form that once wielded it, not even bouncing off the hard floor, as if it were fastened there.

You are now, again, out of initiative.

Sera feels a surge of heightened emotions. Glory, conquest, justice against the dragon armies, justice for her parents... all promises of things to come. Things the scythe had the power to provide.

Glynnis didn't even have time to react before the whole affair was done. But an acolyte for healing seemed pointless at this point. When Handar arrived with an acolyte in tow, he saw the work done and looked at the room. Then, without a word, he rushed to Sera and gave her a hug. "Yer ok lass. Ya' did what ya had to do."

The acolyte promptly vomits at the sight of the severed head, staring unblinking at him, and Glynnis throws her hands up in frustration. "Damnit boy, quit yakkin' on me floor and fetch Kaylan! We need the night watch and ain't nothin' ye can do 'ere no more!"

The acolyte wipes his chin, nods, and scurries out the door. Frustrated, Glynnis turns her attention to the vomit, mopping up the mess. "Suicide assassins, wet-behind-the-ears healers... whole damned world's gone to hell."

“I put you in the corner, you’re not supposed ta bounce around a room like that” Merkas berates the scythe as he kicks it back to the aforementioned corner before moving over to pick up the assassins head and sets it back with the body “As for you, ya poor bloke, We tried to give you a chance at livin’ longer but ya had to go and try killing us again. So sorry guys, guess I gotta get better at tying people up. Wasn’t sumthin I did much of before”

Turning back to the corner where the scythe lay he grabs his pack and hauls it over with him. As he gets there he unceremoniously places his pack on top of it and then sits on top of it. Leaning back against the wall he sighs. “Guess I’ll sleep here unless someone comes to take this terrible thing away or they destroy it”

He sits there cleaning the dirt from under his fingers as he thinks “Y’know we could just fire the thing off into the desert, or dump it down a canyon, it’s clearly magical in some way so betting that it won’t be brittle”

Sharn walked up to the head and closed its eyes.

"Sorry young man, you found yourself in your worst circumstances."

He turned to Merkas. "Prithee be careful, I think there is more to that weapon than a simple curse. Do not listen to it, and more importantly, do not address it as a being. I am afraid it might be bound to pursue us, but this is only speculation.

Sharn turned to address the rest of the room. "Is anyone injured? Are you alright Sera? You look quite pale. We could get some air outside."

Handar eyes the scythe with no small amount of curiosity. "Seems a waste ta chuck it down a canyon. A magic weapon like 'at could be a valuable tool in a violent world. I seen many a fine blade in me life. An' I know a magic weapon when I see one."

Shortly after, Kaylan, the captain of the night watch, arrives, skidding to a stop to catch her breath. "I -hah- head there was -huff huff- a bar brawl!" She looks down to see the mangled mess of the assassin at Sera's feet, and lowers her blade. "Gods... that's Shams. What happened?" Sharn knows Kaylan from a local band that plays in town some nights. There haven't been many opportunities for music and merriment, so they don't play often. She's a much better entertainer than a guard, and has been known to get bored while watching the gate. To keep her mind off the drudgery of her part-time job, she plays her shawm, which can be heard throughout the marketplace. Soulful and sweet, her demeaner doesn't seem like the type well-suited for guard work. But, when the time is right, she can display a kind of fury that few warriors can match.

Pointing at the notch in Glynnis’ bar, the assassin, Handar, and the large pack he’s sitting on as he states matter of factly “This guy showed up, unannounced, and I mean none of us heard him and woulda lost a head if it weren’t for Handars expressions when he arrived, and plunged his scythe, which seems to have some sort of curse or something on it, it’s under my pack and I aint getting off it until someone shows up to take care of it, right into Glynnis’ bar! Shouting sumthin about us being interpreters and should die. Haz spun round real quick an smacked him when I jumped and knocked him out. I tumbled to the deck pretty hard but grabbed some rope to tie him up, but my knots need work, and fed him some drink to wake him and talk to him. That’s when the scythe magically jumped back to his hand and he got free to attack us again yellin’ ‘Die! Die!’  That’s when Sera swung and made him look like you see him now” 

Taking a deep breath the Kender will then say “Now could you get a mage or someone with a magic suppression cave or something to put this nasty weapon into in? And Handar, we don’t want noone touching this things before there’s answers”

Sharn took a deep breath as Merkas spoke with the fast tempo of a musician trying to outspeed a rival bard.

"Kaylan, you knew the poor child?" Sharn shook his head face pained, but somehow stern. "Unfortunately what my new companion says is true. Our assailant was borderline out of his mind. I wish we could investigate into it further, but it was rather sudden."

Handar holds his hands up and backs away cautiously. Any dwarf worth his iron knows better than to mess with a cursed weapon.

Quote from cheapjoke123 >>

Sharn took a deep breath as Merkas spoke with the fast tempo of a musician trying to outspeed a rival bard.

"Kaylan, you knew the poor child?" Sharn shook his head face pained, but somehow stern. "Unfortunately what my new companion says is true. Our assailant was borderline out of his mind. I wish we could investigate into it further, but it was rather sudden."

Kaylan nods her head somberly. "I knew their mother, anyway. She died on the trail here when we first started to settle Santekh. After that, the kid became obsessed with vengeance. They couldn't get past what the Green Dragon Army did to their homeland, and that their mom had to die as a result of the evacuation. They trained hard to become a guard in town, and I almost recruited them to the night watch. I figure, maybe I could keep an eye on them. But they fell in with a different crowd instead... started slinking off to the cemetery at night. I figured they were all just brooding and mourning, so I never thought much of it. I guess I should've done more, in retrospect." Her guilt on her face is evident. Her tendency to get easily distracted always seems to get the best of her.

Quote from Hrothbert_Neruca >>

Taking a deep breath the Kender will then say “Now could you get a mage or someone with a magic suppression cave or something to put this nasty weapon into in? And Handar, we don’t want noone touching this things before there’s answers”

 

Kaylan puts her finger to her lips and thinks for a moment. "That would be Duncan... no maybe Buckeran!" She snaps her fingers excitedlly! "He isn't a mage exactly, but old Bucky is Santekh's Archivist. He keeps the largest collection of magic items in Santekh. Some of which have powers that require suppression to keep safe." She looks excited and particularly proud of herself for figuring out the solution, then she pauses a bit longer. "Probably shouldn't have announced that... Anyway, he's not going to like being bothered at this hour. But I guess I should go get him. Wait right here!"

With that, she charges off out of the room. Glynnis finishes cleaning up the mess, and now you're all just waiting in the dance hall for what seems like an uncomfortably long time, before you hear some high pitched yammering coming from outside. Alongside Kaylan, you see a middle-aged, balding kender with several missing fingers, and a high pitched, squeaky voice that rambles on excitedly about ancient weapons and lore. He pauses when he notices the group standing around the body and shoves his stubby thumbs into his belt. "Well? I heard there was an item of-" he gasps mid sentence , placing his hand to his chest as if he were clutching pearls, and looks at the scythe that Merkas is indirectly sitting on. "Is this the magnificent thing you've been talking about?!"

Hastos listens to Merkas speed talk through the whole scenario with raised eyebrows. Amazed that a being that small could hold that much air in order to say that much that quickly.

”Yea, that’s pretty much the whole thing. As soon as the assasin regained consciousness he summoned the scythe and tried to go at us again. He didn’t leave us any options.”

Hastos points at the place where the scythe lay and continued. “The weapon speaks to you in your head. Convinces you about all the good you could do with it - but it just wants to take you over. Proximity is all it takes,  but touching it I think seals the deal. It should be treated as highly dangerous.”  Looking back down to the decapitated body. “Fail to take caution and you risk being it’s next victim.”

Buckeran nods his head stoically, but an intrigued, nagging smile keeps curling his lips. "Awful, just awful. Sounds treacherous. Oh dear. Hmm. It speaks to you, you say? A talking weapon... interesting." He walks over to the scythe and kneels low, taking care not to touch the weapon. "Helloooo scythe! I say... I wish to be controlled by you! Speak with me a moment and tell me how we might arrange that."

He looks to Hastos and winks. "It's quite alright. I have a ring that protects me from compulsion magic." He laughs a jittery, squeaky laugh, then waits for several long seconds Then he purses his head and nods.

"With whom did this weapon speak? I'm assuming the rather large elf here heard it." He says, pointing one of his remaining fingers at Hastos.

“It tried talking with me, same sorta thing Haz said” Merkas remains sitting on top of the scythe “But it seemed too creepy.” Switching to the kender language “You sure you got this safe? Not wanting anyone else get hurt like the kid there. We need to collect some food supplies but while we’re gone maybe you and the guards could check out the graveyard gathering?”

Kaylan is lost deep in thought, and barely notices Merkas talking...

After a moment, she snaps to. "Huh? Right! We should definitely get on that! I'll alert the guards to keep watch on the graveyard... after we deal with the body of course." She moves over to the disembodied corpse, unsure how to manage the two pieces. "I'll uhhh... get some more acolytes to come help me with this."

Buckeran is, of course much more interested in what you have to say. "It spoke to you, as well? Odd. I would have thought it would prefer someone large and strong. It didn't speak to me at all. Perhaps it's the ring preventing such communication, but I believe if what you say is accurate, the weapon may be sentient. On occasion, weapons can absorb so much magical energy, they can develop a life, and will, of their own. Therefore, it chooses who it calls to. There must be something you two have that it wants." He looks at his own disfigured hands. "I can imagine it doesn't see much value in me. But you, my friend," he looks to Merkas. "No offense, but you don't seem to be much of a warrior either. Not like the cook here, Sharn, or the human woman. They seem more like the type a weapon of such heft would be interested in." He frowns. "No matter." He stands up and sniffs his nose, trying to look as tall as his diminutive stature will allow.

"Very well, how much do you want for it?"

Hastos, squints his eyes at Buckeran, his face stoney and calculating. In a fraction of a second Hastos glances over to his axe then back to Buckeran. In a split second determining the time it would take to reach it.
“The item is not for sale.” Hastos says quickly. “What would you do with such an item?” Hastos tone softens a bit, as he takes a deep breath.

”We were just attacked by someone who seemed to have lost all ability to self govern. He was hopelessly outmatched and, thankfully, showed a reckless intent on killing at least one of us.”  Hastos glances over at Sera, concerned.

“I hope you’ll pardon my suspicion when someone takes an interest in obtaining that thing.”

"Can't sell it to you as it's not mine, matter of fact that seemed to be what it wanted, for me to say it was mine and that ain't happening after what it did to the poor kid there."
Merkas looks over the older kender (19 insight check, judging how trustworthy he is)thinking through the situation "I am willing to take a finders fee though, coin really isn't something I am overly concerned about, that ring you mentioned or something like it would be great. Dont' want any other living weapons trying to take hold of my mind."

At Hastos statement Merkas holds back for a minute...