"I'm as close to a fairy as you are"he growls. "My work prior to this meeting had me shifting bodies within the catacombs." Not elaborating any further he finishes speaking as abruptly as he started.
Perhaps not noticed by any of his travelling companions, his reptilian eyes effortlessly follow the giant penguins every move.
I like that bird. Don't trust it, but I like it. A barely visible smile crosses his lips.
Yam's eyes go wide as understanding hits. This Eks character is a changeling!?! What sort of work would have put him in the catacombs...? Yam will have to remain extra vigilant until he can figure this one out.
"I knew a 'Bowser' once..." Yam's voice whispers from a dark tree branch. Then a quiet splash of a puddle as he jumps down and slinks close enough to be seen with Bowser's super sweet blindsight that I wish I had looked for when picking a race.
"Mushroom farmer with a god complex. Didn't like him much. How do you feel about mushrooms?"
As you travel the path recollections of the town of Ravengro come to your mind.
Individuals with a history check of 15+ know the following:
Some small towns grow up around a university, their shops and other offerings catering to a scholastic clientele. Others boast famous festivals or specialized industries that draw skilled artisans and craftsmen. But in the sad case of Ravengro, the town’s claim to fame is a prison. And not just any prison, for Ravengro supported one of Ustalav’s most notorious jails—Harrowstone. Twice a year, a prison convoy rounded up the worst of the worst from smaller, less secure jails across the principality and transferred them to Harrowstone, often to await death by hanging, but always at least to live out the rest of their lives as prisoners. Over the course of years, dozens of notorious criminals came to stay at the prison, and one night in 4661 a group of those criminals attempted a prison break. Through a series of events the escape attempt was foiled, but not before the prison was burned to ruins. All of the prisoners, the warden, several guards, and the warden's wife were all killed in the fire. Several guards on the ground level fled and mobilized the town to extinguish the fire before it spread to the rest of the community, but the damage had been done. One of Ustalav's most notorious prisons was no more.
In the 50 plus years that followed the Harrowstone Fire, the town of Ravengro moved on to become a pleasant (and perhaps even boring) farming community. Yet the town’s old-timers remember well the eerie prison caravans that carried monsters through the town. And none in Ravengro can ignore the brooding, dark ruin of the old prison that looms on the hill overlooking the town. Tales of the prison being haunted are traded by Ravengro’s youths, and on certain dark nights they taunt each other to touch the rusting bars on the prison windows. Dares to spend the night in the edifice are routinely posed and never accepted
The Restlands it turns out are on the north end of town, a good quarter mile or more in the unpleasant drizzle that refuses to abate, A short stone wall stands before you, encompassing the community's graves and mausoleums. Directly in front of you there is a break in the wall, providing entry into the southwest quadrant along the path known as "Ancestor's Walk".
Awaiting you at the entrance is a fine coffin, presumably containing the body of your ally and one time friend Petros Lorrimor. A small gathering of villagers have also come to attend. A portly human with slicked back black and grey hair and a thin mustache and goatee stands at the front of the crowd. Another older looking man with long white hair and a white muttonchop beard that does not rise up to his upper lip stands next to him in quiet conversation. A little ways off from these two is a solid built and friendly looking man with a small boy of that looks like he is just cresting into adolescence just behind him. The last member of the community in attendance is a human woman with Raven black hair. A few traces of grey indicate that her youthful appearance is perhaps a little hard fought. While dressed in formal attire, she carries a pouch at her side with a few herbs and sprigs of grass peaking out, as if she has been collecting them along the way.
As Kendra and the party approach the quiet conversation falls still and the portly man in the black suit steps forward.
"Kendra, let me express again the heartfelt sorrow of the community at your loss. I see your father's friends have arrived just in time to see him off. Your father always did have an...interesting taste in companions." He takes a moment to eye each of you up and down. "My name is Councilman Vashian Hearthmount. Councilman Muricar and I," he nods to the older man with the long white hair, "were close friends of Petros. I will get to know you all better later this evening when I come to the house for the reading of the will. For now let's be about this business and get out of the rain. Father Grimburrow and his helpers are going to meet us at the grave site, he's old and generally does not participate in processionals. We need at least 1 man to step up to be a pall bearer, Muricar, Elkarid and I can take the other three corners. Of course, there is room for a total of 6, so if more of you would like to bear as a form of respect we understand, and one of us could even step aside if need be."
The stout man whispers to the boy at his side to stay out of the way and then steps up to one of the corners to act as a pallbearer if the need exists.
The procession needs between one and six of you to volunteer as pallbearers. It will need to be a character that is of Medium Size. Anyone interested in stepping up?
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Founding Member of the High Roller Society.(Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
Dragutin eyes the portly man with some amount of suspicion. The others seemed harmless enough, but Councilman Hearthmount had an air of spoiling wealth about him, and a corpulent physique that suggested he rarely went hungry. What sins have you committed to afford such comfort?
Probably many. Look at the boy. The boy looks hungry, poor, filthy despite the rain and a formal ceremony. This man, this pig, is a glutton, likely draining this town for his own profit. And the other councilman can't even speak for himself, an old loon. Undoubtedly there is nobody keeping this pig in check. Somebody should do something about him. . . I. . . I should do something about him.
He has moved without realizing it, and only notices when his shin scrapes the edge of the casket, causing him to pause and look down. Causing him to remember why he is there.
"I shall assist. The Professor brought me in out of the rain, once. I can do the same for him." There are no platitudes about a 'better place,'
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Another medical problem. Indefinite hiatus. Sorry, all.
Once the Councilman's monologue wraps up and the awkward one barks his shin, Yam whispers to Bowser out of the corner of his beak, "I'd pay 100 gold coins for one of those magic mushrooms right about now..." and waddles forward. He steps up to the position just behind Dragutin and irreverently places the small crossbow hanging at his side on top of the casket to keep it from clattering as they walk. He does a few stretches and side bends preparing to lift when the other pallbearers are ready. "The Professor lifted me up when I needed it so I might as well return the favor."
"I will help..." Telantha says, moving to take up a position along one side of the casket. She shakes water from her coat, the tunic soaked through by this point, but she seems to not notice. "He did so much for me, I will do what I can for him now..."
Seeing that the caskets is being well-attended by the others, Applebough follows the procession. He walks near the small boy, trying to shade the lad from the rain with his canopy. He looks towards the boy, giving a a warm smile, but saying nothing.
"With you three that makes six...we should be good. I know you lot from outside are probably not familiar with our little graveyard...so I will walk at the front. Just follow my lead, we will take the turning north at the intersection onto The Dreamwake, and then turn back to the east at the T. The grave site for the professor is about halfway down the northern side of The Restlands, on The Eversleep." Hearthmount nods officiously, as if any of those names are supposed to mean anything and then with a muttered count lifts the coffin with the rest of the pallbearers. Hiking it up to rest upon your shoulders, the weight of the coffin is surprisingly light split amoungst the 6 of you.
As you walk the rain that has been threatening throughout the afternoon finally begins to fall in earnest. The young boy looks up at Applebough in gratitude and more than a small amount of amazement. It is likely that he has not seen a Treefolk before, them not being common in Ustalav and he likely having never left Ravengro in the few years of his life. He opens his mouth to speak...but recognizing the solemnity of the moment shakes his head and continues to walk.
As the procession turns north onto a winding path that is presumably called the Dreamwake, sputtering torches can be seen through the murk of the rainfall. As you approach figures emerge into visability, a group of a dozen villagers, mostly in farming attire, that stand across the path barring passage. The tallest man at the front of the group shouts over the white noise of the rain.
"That’s far enough. We been talking, and we don’t want Lorrimor buried in the Restlands. You can take him upriver and bury him there if you want, but he ain’t goin’ in the ground here!”
Kendra is swift to respond, her sadness quickly transforming into anger. “What are you talking about?” she cries out. “I arranged it with Father Grimburrow. He’s waiting for us!"
We will take a beat here in case any of the PCs would like to respond to this development before I continue.
A quick note to the pallbearers:
You currently have precious cargo...should you decide to lower it to the ground as a group that coordination will take a full round action from each of you and the NPCs. If instead you decide to bail on the pallbearing unilaterally, there is a chance that the sudden change in the distribution of weight will cause the other pallbearers to drop the coffin, which could be seen as disrespectful. Initiative hasn't been rolled yet, so you could indicate to the others that you should lower it now...but that will prevent you from stepping forward to participate in the conversation...since you will be busy with the afore mentioned coordination.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Founding Member of the High Roller Society.(Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
"This might take a while, perhaps we should set him down," suggest Dragutin. He braces his corner of the casket, preparing for any sudden weight distribution. Assuming the other pallbearers agree, he will continue to set it down. "Hearthmount, do you know these people? How likely is it to get ugly?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Another medical problem. Indefinite hiatus. Sorry, all.
"Agreed," says Yam as he prepares to set the coffin down. "Applebough, can you extend an olive branch and see if we can resolve this amenably? The Professor's going in the ground here one way or another. I'd prefer if he was the only body I had to carry today."
Bristling at the interruption, his canopy appears to grow slightly, as there is a distinct rustling in his branches. Applebough slowly approaches the stranges.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen. What seems to be the problem here? We are only here to honor the passing of our good friend. Now, at a minimum introductions are in order. I am known as Applebough, the Young. Former apprentice to Elder Rootgrasp of the Wandering Grove."
He pauses for a moment before continuing,
"While we mean you no harm, do not let that imply that we will bend to your demands. Now, either explain yourselves or leave us in peace."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
As the pallbearer's ease the coffin to the ground, the conversation continues.
This will be a bit of a splice job of what everyone posted...to try to get it into a narrative form.
“What are you talking about?” she cries out. “I arranged it with Father Grimburrow. He’s waiting for us!"
Bowser steps up beside her, "What's wrong with putting him in the ground?"
Applebough bristles forward on her other side,"Gentlemen, gentlemen. What seems to be the problem here? We are only here to honor the passing of our good friend. Now, at a minimum introductions are in order. I am known as Applebough, the Young. Former apprentice to Elder Rootgrasp of the Wandering Grove."
The gathered group makes no effort to return the courtesy and introduce themselves, but ignoring that fact Applebough presses on,"While we mean you no harm, do not let that imply that we will bend to your demands. Now, either explain yourselves or leave us in peace." (I changed your color slightly to contrast with the farmer that is confronting you guys.)
Kendra nods passionately. "Exactly! Father Grimburrow is waiting for us, the grave has already been prep..."
The leader of the small mob cuts her off, shouting over her words as he takes another step forward menacingly. About 30 feet separate the two groups now. “You don’t get it, woman. We won’t have a necromancer buried in the same place as our kin. I suggest you move out while you still can. Folks are pretty upset about this right now.”
“Necromancy!? Are you really that ignorant?”
Another man, younger steps forward with a pitchfork. "Hey! Don' call Gibs ignant jus cuz youv got tha fancy 'ducating yer pa paid for!" He rushes Kendra with the pitchfork, swinging in wildly, either because he doesn't know how to use it to hurt someone or he is interested more in being menacing than in actually killing her. Several other members of the mob also step up menacingly as the man identified as Gibs steps away, apparently not interested in participating in the violence himself.
At the onset of violence the members of the processional from the town move back away from the fight, Elkarid sweeping up his teenage son in a bear hug to keep him out of the way.
Pitchfork attack v Kendra: Attack: 13 Damage: 2
Despite intending to be more menacing than anything else, the pitchfork does catch Kendra's arm and rips through both her sleeve and the skin. She gasps in pain and shoots the farmer a harsh look.
I think we can handle this encounter with theater of the mind rather than setting up a battle map. There are 6 of the members of the mob that are stepping up to attack. They are exclusively using farm equipment, rakes, hoes, pitchforks, hammers. You know, standard angry mob implements. Also, none of them are wearing any armor to speak of. While they are certainly aggressive, you have all been in battle before and you don't think these people pose much of a threat really.
Let's roll initiative. All 6 of the thugs will share an initiative roll, with this one rushing forward kind of getting a surprise round effectively.
Telantha history: 19
Bowser History - 3
I have an intelligence of six, I know what I'm doing.
Eks
History 7
"I'm as close to a fairy as you are" he growls. "My work prior to this meeting had me shifting bodies within the catacombs." Not elaborating any further he finishes speaking as abruptly as he started.
Perhaps not noticed by any of his travelling companions, his reptilian eyes effortlessly follow the giant penguins every move.
I like that bird. Don't trust it, but I like it. A barely visible smile crosses his lips.
Yam's eyes go wide as understanding hits. This Eks character is a changeling!?! What sort of work would have put him in the catacombs...? Yam will have to remain extra vigilant until he can figure this one out.
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Neria Tallfellow (Halfling Rogue) - Curse of the Crimson Throne with Ashen_Age
"I knew a 'Bowser' once..." Yam's voice whispers from a dark tree branch. Then a quiet splash of a puddle as he jumps down and slinks close enough to be seen with Bowser's super sweet blindsight that I wish I had looked for when picking a race.
"Mushroom farmer with a god complex. Didn't like him much. How do you feel about mushrooms?"
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Neria Tallfellow (Halfling Rogue) - Curse of the Crimson Throne with Ashen_Age
As you travel the path recollections of the town of Ravengro come to your mind.
Individuals with a history check of 15+ know the following:
Some small towns grow up around a university, their shops and other offerings catering to a scholastic clientele. Others boast famous festivals or specialized industries that draw skilled artisans and craftsmen. But in the sad case of Ravengro, the town’s claim to fame is a prison. And not just any prison, for Ravengro supported one of Ustalav’s most notorious jails—Harrowstone. Twice a year, a prison convoy rounded up the worst of the worst from smaller, less secure jails across the principality and transferred them to Harrowstone, often to await death by hanging, but always at least to live out the rest of their lives as prisoners. Over the course of years, dozens of notorious criminals came to stay at the prison, and one night in 4661 a group of those criminals attempted a prison break. Through a series of events the escape attempt was foiled, but not before the prison was burned to ruins. All of the prisoners, the warden, several guards, and the warden's wife were all killed in the fire. Several guards on the ground level fled and mobilized the town to extinguish the fire before it spread to the rest of the community, but the damage had been done. One of Ustalav's most notorious prisons was no more.
In the 50 plus years that followed the Harrowstone Fire, the town of Ravengro moved on to become a pleasant (and perhaps even boring) farming community. Yet the town’s old-timers remember well the eerie prison caravans that carried monsters through the town. And none in Ravengro can ignore the brooding, dark ruin of the old prison that looms on the hill overlooking the town. Tales of the prison being haunted are traded by Ravengro’s youths, and on certain dark nights they taunt each other to touch the rusting bars on the prison windows. Dares to spend the night in the edifice are routinely posed and never accepted
The Restlands it turns out are on the north end of town, a good quarter mile or more in the unpleasant drizzle that refuses to abate, A short stone wall stands before you, encompassing the community's graves and mausoleums. Directly in front of you there is a break in the wall, providing entry into the southwest quadrant along the path known as "Ancestor's Walk".
Awaiting you at the entrance is a fine coffin, presumably containing the body of your ally and one time friend Petros Lorrimor. A small gathering of villagers have also come to attend. A portly human with slicked back black and grey hair and a thin mustache and goatee stands at the front of the crowd. Another older looking man with long white hair and a white muttonchop beard that does not rise up to his upper lip stands next to him in quiet conversation. A little ways off from these two is a solid built and friendly looking man with a small boy of that looks like he is just cresting into adolescence just behind him. The last member of the community in attendance is a human woman with Raven black hair. A few traces of grey indicate that her youthful appearance is perhaps a little hard fought. While dressed in formal attire, she carries a pouch at her side with a few herbs and sprigs of grass peaking out, as if she has been collecting them along the way.
As Kendra and the party approach the quiet conversation falls still and the portly man in the black suit steps forward.
"Kendra, let me express again the heartfelt sorrow of the community at your loss. I see your father's friends have arrived just in time to see him off. Your father always did have an...interesting taste in companions." He takes a moment to eye each of you up and down. "My name is Councilman Vashian Hearthmount. Councilman Muricar and I," he nods to the older man with the long white hair, "were close friends of Petros. I will get to know you all better later this evening when I come to the house for the reading of the will. For now let's be about this business and get out of the rain. Father Grimburrow and his helpers are going to meet us at the grave site, he's old and generally does not participate in processionals. We need at least 1 man to step up to be a pall bearer, Muricar, Elkarid and I can take the other three corners. Of course, there is room for a total of 6, so if more of you would like to bear as a form of respect we understand, and one of us could even step aside if need be."
The stout man whispers to the boy at his side to stay out of the way and then steps up to one of the corners to act as a pallbearer if the need exists.
The procession needs between one and six of you to volunteer as pallbearers. It will need to be a character that is of Medium Size. Anyone interested in stepping up?
Founding Member of the High Roller Society. (Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
Dragutin eyes the portly man with some amount of suspicion. The others seemed harmless enough, but Councilman Hearthmount had an air of spoiling wealth about him, and a corpulent physique that suggested he rarely went hungry. What sins have you committed to afford such comfort?
Probably many. Look at the boy. The boy looks hungry, poor, filthy despite the rain and a formal ceremony. This man, this pig, is a glutton, likely draining this town for his own profit. And the other councilman can't even speak for himself, an old loon. Undoubtedly there is nobody keeping this pig in check. Somebody should do something about him. . . I. . . I should do something about him.
He has moved without realizing it, and only notices when his shin scrapes the edge of the casket, causing him to pause and look down. Causing him to remember why he is there.
"I shall assist. The Professor brought me in out of the rain, once. I can do the same for him." There are no platitudes about a 'better place,'
Another medical problem. Indefinite hiatus. Sorry, all.
Bowser shakes his head. "I'm not a big fan of mushrooms, but I do enjoy pie. I would help, but I feel I am too big."
I have an intelligence of six, I know what I'm doing.
Once the Councilman's monologue wraps up and the awkward one barks his shin, Yam whispers to Bowser out of the corner of his beak, "I'd pay 100 gold coins for one of those magic mushrooms right about now..." and waddles forward. He steps up to the position just behind Dragutin and irreverently places the small crossbow hanging at his side on top of the casket to keep it from clattering as they walk. He does a few stretches and side bends preparing to lift when the other pallbearers are ready. "The Professor lifted me up when I needed it so I might as well return the favor."
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Neria Tallfellow (Halfling Rogue) - Curse of the Crimson Throne with Ashen_Age
"I will help..." Telantha says, moving to take up a position along one side of the casket. She shakes water from her coat, the tunic soaked through by this point, but she seems to not notice. "He did so much for me, I will do what I can for him now..."
Seeing that the caskets is being well-attended by the others, Applebough follows the procession. He walks near the small boy, trying to shade the lad from the rain with his canopy. He looks towards the boy, giving a a warm smile, but saying nothing.
Ryndar Shadowsbane - Lvl 3 Eldarin Fighter | Kassar - Lvl 2 Lizardfolk Druid (Circle of Stars) | Finnegan (Finn) Taggert - Lvl 1 Human Cleric (Peace Domain) |
Verdan Schmidt - Lvl 2 Half-Elf Bard | Grithik - Lvl 5 Deep Gnome Warlock (Celestial)
"With you three that makes six...we should be good. I know you lot from outside are probably not familiar with our little graveyard...so I will walk at the front. Just follow my lead, we will take the turning north at the intersection onto The Dreamwake, and then turn back to the east at the T. The grave site for the professor is about halfway down the northern side of The Restlands, on The Eversleep." Hearthmount nods officiously, as if any of those names are supposed to mean anything and then with a muttered count lifts the coffin with the rest of the pallbearers. Hiking it up to rest upon your shoulders, the weight of the coffin is surprisingly light split amoungst the 6 of you.
As you walk the rain that has been threatening throughout the afternoon finally begins to fall in earnest. The young boy looks up at Applebough in gratitude and more than a small amount of amazement. It is likely that he has not seen a Treefolk before, them not being common in Ustalav and he likely having never left Ravengro in the few years of his life. He opens his mouth to speak...but recognizing the solemnity of the moment shakes his head and continues to walk.
As the procession turns north onto a winding path that is presumably called the Dreamwake, sputtering torches can be seen through the murk of the rainfall. As you approach figures emerge into visability, a group of a dozen villagers, mostly in farming attire, that stand across the path barring passage. The tallest man at the front of the group shouts over the white noise of the rain.
"That’s far enough. We been talking, and we don’t want Lorrimor buried in the Restlands. You can take him upriver and bury him there if you want, but he ain’t goin’ in the ground here!”
Kendra is swift to respond, her sadness quickly transforming into anger. “What are you talking about?” she cries out. “I arranged it with Father Grimburrow. He’s waiting for us!"
We will take a beat here in case any of the PCs would like to respond to this development before I continue.
A quick note to the pallbearers:
You currently have precious cargo...should you decide to lower it to the ground as a group that coordination will take a full round action from each of you and the NPCs. If instead you decide to bail on the pallbearing unilaterally, there is a chance that the sudden change in the distribution of weight will cause the other pallbearers to drop the coffin, which could be seen as disrespectful. Initiative hasn't been rolled yet, so you could indicate to the others that you should lower it now...but that will prevent you from stepping forward to participate in the conversation...since you will be busy with the afore mentioned coordination.
Founding Member of the High Roller Society. (Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
Bowser is going to follow the pallbearers and notices the man and group of villagers. "What's wrong with putting him into the ground?"
I have an intelligence of six, I know what I'm doing.
"This might take a while, perhaps we should set him down," suggest Dragutin. He braces his corner of the casket, preparing for any sudden weight distribution. Assuming the other pallbearers agree, he will continue to set it down. "Hearthmount, do you know these people? How likely is it to get ugly?"
Another medical problem. Indefinite hiatus. Sorry, all.
"Agreed," says Yam as he prepares to set the coffin down. "Applebough, can you extend an olive branch and see if we can resolve this amenably? The Professor's going in the ground here one way or another. I'd prefer if he was the only body I had to carry today."
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Neria Tallfellow (Halfling Rogue) - Curse of the Crimson Throne with Ashen_Age
"If you think that is best." Telatha says with a nod. She also prepares to let down the casket.
Bristling at the interruption, his canopy appears to grow slightly, as there is a distinct rustling in his branches. Applebough slowly approaches the stranges.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen. What seems to be the problem here? We are only here to honor the passing of our good friend. Now, at a minimum introductions are in order. I am known as Applebough, the Young. Former apprentice to Elder Rootgrasp of the Wandering Grove."
He pauses for a moment before continuing,
"While we mean you no harm, do not let that imply that we will bend to your demands. Now, either explain yourselves or leave us in peace."
Ryndar Shadowsbane - Lvl 3 Eldarin Fighter | Kassar - Lvl 2 Lizardfolk Druid (Circle of Stars) | Finnegan (Finn) Taggert - Lvl 1 Human Cleric (Peace Domain) |
Verdan Schmidt - Lvl 2 Half-Elf Bard | Grithik - Lvl 5 Deep Gnome Warlock (Celestial)
Persuasion: 8
Ryndar Shadowsbane - Lvl 3 Eldarin Fighter | Kassar - Lvl 2 Lizardfolk Druid (Circle of Stars) | Finnegan (Finn) Taggert - Lvl 1 Human Cleric (Peace Domain) |
Verdan Schmidt - Lvl 2 Half-Elf Bard | Grithik - Lvl 5 Deep Gnome Warlock (Celestial)
As the pallbearer's ease the coffin to the ground, the conversation continues.
This will be a bit of a splice job of what everyone posted...to try to get it into a narrative form.
“What are you talking about?” she cries out. “I arranged it with Father Grimburrow. He’s waiting for us!"
Bowser steps up beside her, "What's wrong with putting him in the ground?"
Applebough bristles forward on her other side, "Gentlemen, gentlemen. What seems to be the problem here? We are only here to honor the passing of our good friend. Now, at a minimum introductions are in order. I am known as Applebough, the Young. Former apprentice to Elder Rootgrasp of the Wandering Grove."
The gathered group makes no effort to return the courtesy and introduce themselves, but ignoring that fact Applebough presses on, "While we mean you no harm, do not let that imply that we will bend to your demands. Now, either explain yourselves or leave us in peace." (I changed your color slightly to contrast with the farmer that is confronting you guys.)
Kendra nods passionately. "Exactly! Father Grimburrow is waiting for us, the grave has already been prep..."
The leader of the small mob cuts her off, shouting over her words as he takes another step forward menacingly. About 30 feet separate the two groups now. “You don’t get it, woman. We won’t have a necromancer buried in the same place as our kin. I suggest you move out while you still can. Folks are pretty upset about this right now.”
“Necromancy!? Are you really that ignorant?”
Another man, younger steps forward with a pitchfork. "Hey! Don' call Gibs ignant jus cuz youv got tha fancy 'ducating yer pa paid for!" He rushes Kendra with the pitchfork, swinging in wildly, either because he doesn't know how to use it to hurt someone or he is interested more in being menacing than in actually killing her. Several other members of the mob also step up menacingly as the man identified as Gibs steps away, apparently not interested in participating in the violence himself.
At the onset of violence the members of the processional from the town move back away from the fight, Elkarid sweeping up his teenage son in a bear hug to keep him out of the way.
Pitchfork attack v Kendra: Attack: 13 Damage: 2
Despite intending to be more menacing than anything else, the pitchfork does catch Kendra's arm and rips through both her sleeve and the skin. She gasps in pain and shoots the farmer a harsh look.
I think we can handle this encounter with theater of the mind rather than setting up a battle map. There are 6 of the members of the mob that are stepping up to attack. They are exclusively using farm equipment, rakes, hoes, pitchforks, hammers. You know, standard angry mob implements. Also, none of them are wearing any armor to speak of. While they are certainly aggressive, you have all been in battle before and you don't think these people pose much of a threat really.
Let's roll initiative. All 6 of the thugs will share an initiative roll, with this one rushing forward kind of getting a surprise round effectively.
Initiate the thugs!:16
Initiate Kendra!: 19
Founding Member of the High Roller Society. (Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
Telantha initiative: 16