Planescape (IC)

This is the IC thread for my Planescape campaign. If you want to join or read more about the setting/campaign, head over to the OOC thread here. 

It's another day in the City of Doors, a few hours after peak. Diffuse magical light filters down through the yellow smog and past tall spiked buildings overgrown with black razorvine to illuminate a narrow street, bustling with a menagerie of humanoid beings. A centaur-like Bauriar easily cuts through a crowd of Elves, Gith, and Tieflings, passing an Athar Anti-Priest shouting about the lies of the Gods from her soapbox, while a yellow whip-thin fiend watches them with hungry eyes from a shadowed alley. 

Suddenly, shouting breaks out, and the crowd scatters. A tall figure dressed in flowing red robes is floating between the buildings, just over the heads of the fleeing passerby. Her impassive face surrounded by a halo of jagged blades, and she is accompanied by a few floating Dabus guards. 

"It's the Lady! Run for it if you don't want to get mazed!" 

Everyone listens. Even the fiend slinks further back into the shadows, unwilling to draw the attention of the legendary ruler of the city. Just the sight of the Lady is enough to cause dread to roil through the city -- her appearance is a bad omen. If something is notable enough to draw her out of wherever she resides, that something must be powerful. And dangerous. Seeing her like this usually heralds dark times in the city, a threat she thinks is powerful enough to see to personally. No cutter wants to get caught in the crossfire, or let her think that maybe they are that threat, so everyone clears the street, and pulls their gray shades shut over their narrow windows as she passes.

All except one man. He clutches a spiked railing on a balcony above and leans forward, watching her with the steadied confidence of man who has started down death itself. Some people even claim the Lady of Pain stopped, turned her head, and looked up at the man, before continuing on her way. Others say they even exchanged a few words, veiled threats as if they were rival rulers meeting hiding behind pleasantries. A few chaosmen even describe the two breaking into song and dance. But few disagree about the identity of the man: Rowan Darkwood, leader of The Fated. Who else would stare her down, who else but the man who has said he wants to rule the city himself?

The Lady soon disappears again, and the city returns to its normal rhythms, resonating with the vitality of a hundred different places. But the rumors spread. Something is happening in Sigil, and who knows who will get caught up in the chaos? 

Habel Meresh a dwarf armed and armored made his way down the curving road towards the Great Bazaar. Even from this distance he can smell a mingling of scents that included spices, smoke, wet fur, ozone, and a dash of incense. As he walked his eyes follows the lines of the buildings, each one a display of impossible architecture that seemed to have been ported in from some other plane. Though these sights are common to him he still admires their artistry. Now he is in need of some supplies and wonders what this day will bring him.

Habel's attention is pulled away the narrow street's dizzying architecture by an unexpected hand on his shoulder. Standing just behind him is a tall (to him) pale woman what could be called human if not for the smoking blue orbs he had instead of normal eyes. It's a face that's hard to forget, especially since Habel spent years watching her extort money he and his neighbors couldn't afford to lose -- she was one of the Xaosect thugs who used to run his neighborhood. One of the ones who wasn't there when he chased them out. 

"Habel..." she rasps, with a threatening smile. "You ran a long way from home, didn't you?"  Her other hand is behind her back. Holding a weapon, maybe?

The crowd around them doesn't seem to be paying them much mind. Yet. 

Habel smiles and says "So you have come to darken my day. Now say what you want to say before I knock your teeth out" His stance is relaxed with his muscles along his back ready to tighten to guard himself from a potential backstab. 

The Xaosect runs her lips over her teeth, maybe considering how much she cares about losing them.

"You hurt a lot of my companions. I thought I'd give you a chance to apologize... Or I can turn Mercykiller for a moment and teach you the punishment for hurting others."

Behind him, Habel hears a pair of footsteps approaching. He's been surrounded.

Habel turns with his most humble look he can muster and says "I see when I am outmatched. I am truly sor ..." then throws a punch at the thug fully intending to knock her teeth out. 

OOC: Nice! Even though she was ready for a fight you caught her by surprise by throwing her off with your apology. You'll get to go first in initiative. Roll to hit! AC for these guys is 12. 

Habel punches and with his other hand brings his shield up.

Punch

16 to hit 4 damage. 

(Dice rolls in Campaign Game Log)

The thug stumbles back, a hand over her now-bloodied mouth, and spits out a few bloody teeth. She furrows her brow over her smoking eyes, mad as a demon. "Pike off!" she hisses at Habel, and slashes wildly with a spiked knife she had behind her back. (Melee Attack: 15) Then she turns to the people behind him. "Let's show him who runs these streets! Skewer him!" 

"Glawednick lai truh sith nam," comes a low voice from behind Habel, and a Goliath's strong hands reach down to grab the dwarf's arms, keeping him from moving. (Athletics: 20. Habel needs to roll a higher athletics or acrobatics check to avoid being grappled. If he fails, he can try to make the check again as an action or bonus action on his turn.) 

Meanwhile, a scarred gnome jumps out from the crowd with a cackling laugh, "Finally, some good old fashioned violence today!" A githzerai has to leap out of the line of fire as the gnome shoots a crossbow at Habel. (Ranged Attack: 16)

The crowd explodes in shouts as they back away, giving the people space to fight. Some run, while others settle in to watch. A wrinkled goblin holds up a coin. "One silver on the dwarf!" he shouts. 

In the darkness of a nearby alleyway, a flash of green light flares as a figure in red stumbles out of an archway. 

The alleyway is dark, and it smells. It's full of crates, barrels, and baskets, many of them apparently filled with mouldering food, based on the smell.  A few cranium rats shriek and scurry away into the corners as they see the newcomer, and a dirty one eyed orc lifts his head from where he was sleeping in an open crate. The buildings on either side of the alleyway rise up three stories, where their roofs are lined with jagged spikes. 

Behind him, the archway through which he just stepped is now completely bricked up, as if it used to lead somewhere no one wants to go anymore. The last of the green light is fading from the stones. The air is here thin, and tinged with smoke. The shouts of merchants come from one end of the alley, the sound of a fight from the other. Raskival has never stepped foot anywhere like this before. 

Bits

Market Ward.

A tall lanky humanoid is pulling a hand cart behind him, empty for now.  His face and body appear to be a patchwork of parts, and indeed one arm is green and orcish looking while one is pale white.  His bronze teeth are chewing on what appears to be a piece of bone.  From his body hang a cleaver, pots and pans, a butcher's knife, and mallet.  Bits of chain almost appear to be bolted to his body.    He has a small grin on his face and seems to be happy to find his destination.

Habel Athletics 13

Both attacks deflect harmlessly off of his armor. 

On his turn

Bonus Action Athletics 24