This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
22, 3
The dark and richly-attired elf's eyes narrow as he slowly approaches through the masses, focusing in on Feldinor at hearing the halfling's words. A smirk edges across his sharp features as he apparently discerns Feldinor's intent at avoidance, although his eyes perhaps widen upon a second, closer appraisal of the rogue...
OOC: Feldinor, please make an intelligence check, if you would! Others, please respond if you'd like to engage, or otherwise influence the course of action that Feldinor has implemented.
ooc:the modifier should be +4....i'm not as smart as I thought I was.
OOC: PS PS: Upon being educated that the sheet I'm looking at that says Int = +4 I think that is an Intelligence Save. Which I don't even know what the blankety blank is??? So in the fine print at the top of the character sheet show Int = +2 only. So I'm am dumber than I thought even more. as evidence by my ability to screw up a simple intelligence check :)
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Knowing that she is not strong at reading the subtleties of the mannish races, humans, elves or orc, Casta turns her question to the clerics of the party. . . knowing clerics live and die by understanding the sway of people's heart and convictions as she knows the arc of people's might and arms.
"Clerics," She glances between Fimrold and Sorore, "What does he portend for us? Weal or woe? Does good or ill drive his stride?"
ooc:the modifier should be +4....i'm not as smart as I thought I was.
OOC: PS PS: Upon being educated that the sheet I'm looking at that says Int = +4 I think that is an Intelligence Save. Which I don't even know what the blankety blank is??? So in the fine print at the top of the character sheet show Int = +2 only. So I'm am dumber than I thought even more. as evidence by my ability to screw up a simple intelligence check :)
Feldinor just catches the pale elf’s almost indiscernible, sudden interest as he appraises the rogue once more, and realizes with a sense of unease that he’s been recognized…and also recalls the elf, in return.
The dark, noble attire and bearing, the calm severity of expression, the masses’ attempts to distance themselves…this approaching moon elf is of the infamous Candulhallow family, who have for time beyond memory dealt with the movement of all the dead of Baldur’s Gate, and their interment at the Shrine of the Suffering or outlying cemeteries, in the service of the Council of Four itself. Feldinor, however, knows of the Candulhallows for other death-related reasons, and under arrangements that also serve the purposes of “other” rulers within the Gate. With that recognition, he perceives the potential crossing of paths with foreboding…
OOC: Concur; brilliant post, and the cup of irony overfloweth!
OOC: Good Evening, Adventurers! It's worth noting that I've included the above in the narrative based upon your previous decisions with regard to the transparency of the narrative, but please remember that the above is actually known by Feldinor alone in all matters of roleplay! I'll give folks a chance to respond to Casta's above question, and of course for other inputs to come in as desired, before I take up the narrative once more.
Feldinor attempts to conceal his recognition of the elf from the elf, but maneuvers his hand behind his back as is the normal A Cuspide Corona scout communication method. The hand signal for his companions behind him indicates an approaching single target with potential malice intent is imminent. and then pulls one of his daggers stored in his belt from behind.
What the hell does this bloody elf want now? Well let's hope it isn't to cause death and he is just coming with a polite message.
Feldinor does a zig zag around a passer by on the crowded street. To those uninformed around him, it just seems to be a small runt making his way through the big folk. But to his companions, they recognize this as a direction indication of the hand gesture's approaching target.
"Hey. out of the way! you big folk think you own the road. We are on official Fist business. Anyone of you that gets in the way will have to answer to the guard." Maybe an attempt to let the elf know he is potentially messing with more than just our band of merriment? But I would really like to know what he is up to.
The pale, ominous Candulhallow elf's intentions remain elusive, as Casta and Feldinor assess him in his approach through the parting masses upon the streets. Although the elf continues to intently appraise the halfling and the adventurers of A Cuspide Corona, Feldinor's own street-movement evasion tactics prove somewhat successful, and the company maintains what distance between them remains. The moon elf's own severe features perhaps betray sudden consternation at the rogue's reference to the Flaming Fist, and while his steps then slow to a halt, the dark-cloaked Candulhallow's eyes track the companions until their passage is lost in the restless throngs of the street.
With the forboding near-encounter with the pale elf behind them, A Cuspide Corona maneuvers as swiftly as possible down-slope on the broad cobblestone street, which slowly curves more to the west as they approach a far narrower path upon the left that leads through further turns among surrounding buildings to the back entrance of the Blade and Stars itself. Their intended street is last upon the left down this even-longer stretch, and close enough to the edge of a massive triangular-shaped intersection that the northern winds blustering through its expanse are again able to assail them with the cold.
The adventurers reach their turn as planned, then slow and linger in the general vicinity of their side street, to ensure no threat follows them to their intended destination. They remain long enough for Feldinor, Belmort, Casta, and Sorore, however, to discern that all is not well within the crossroads. Looking out across the triangular intersection, dominated at its center by a massive stone tower, the companions perceive a gang of perhaps eight menacing figures in well-worn dark leathers positioned across two of the five streets that open into the massive windswept space, farther down its western side. Each is armed with at least a spiked mace and heavy crossbow, wielded with practiced ease, and their raiment bears no known insignia. While not engaged in acts of violence, the commonfolk passing within their vicinity are intimidated by their presence alone, and the warriors’ tense bearing is far more that of ruthless enforcers awaiting to be unleashed, than of any serving to keep what peace remains in the streets of the Gate from shattering…
OOC: Hail once again, Adventurers. With the advance warning of this meeting yet again granted by some excellent and well-planned initial Perception results, you've gained the opportunity to act prior to any further actions from these eight, if desired. I'll look forward to your actions, if any, before they act (or not) themselves!
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Sorore continues to observe in silence, awaiting events to unfold. She does, however, reflect upon the mannerisms of the Candulhallow moon elf whom she and her friends escaped with Feldinor's craftiness, and carefully watches this group of enforcers seeming to threaten the people within the tower crossing.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Good riddance!! Damn spooky elf. Good thing he recognized that WE are not meant to be trifled with. I can't imagine why Casta wanted to take the long way around. Perhaps she knows more than she is letting on. hmmmmmm....
Feldinor continues the route as planned and sets about scouting the intersection before heading down the alleyway that will surely lead to second breakfast. He can almost taste the fruit and honey dipped biscuits, because everyone knows you need your sugars mid morning. Too much for first breakfast! That would send a body into shock. But nooooo .. the perfect second breakfast is when you get your sugars for the energy you need to get to Elevenzies.
Upon seeing the 8 brutes. Really? Really really? Something else to mess with our empty stomachs? Well the last rouse worked...how about another. He moves out from the sidewalk into the street about 5 feet and begins to look down each street in a random but not random pattern. "Now which way to our food stores? Is it that way?" Feldinor briefly points to a non-threatening street. "No probably not that way... It could be that way?" pointing down 1 of the 2 hostile streets "Oh yes. I remember the 4-horseman tavern or something like that was down there and we had the best bran muffins for second breakfast the other day" he paces a few steps and looks very puzzled and points to the remaining 2 empty streets. "No....No..." He completes the gestures at the last hostile street. "Maybe it is the 4-leaf clover inn that had lovely porridge for second breakfast....Hmmm I just don't know when or how things will get interesting. But we better figure out soon because our official Fist business can't continue to wait much longer."
Feldinor steps off the street towards his companions and gives them a wink. Even Yokai should remember those sounds nothing like a second breakfast! Surely they will all remember that paradoxes with numbers indicates hostiles. and if they don't, I will just have to schedule some weekend team scout training.Then moves into the shadows of the closest non-hostile alleyway to blend into the shadows.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Casta pauses a moment, lost in thought and conflicting convictions.
Four and Four. These two make eight. Why do haflings need such pageantry? A hand sign behind the back does more than well enough. Simple. Clear. Certainly faster. ... Not important right now. Focus beyond the nose, Casta. See bigger. Eight brutes ready to perform a mischief. Likely lethal mischief. Who is who? Aggressor? Aggrieved? More woe to this day already overfull with woe. Misery piles upon misery. Investigating a tavern of ill repute alone should well enough fill a day. Yet today is a day the Bards will re-live with calamity for ages to come. Nation fallen, city erased, refugees flowing, noble Lord gone missing, kidnapping and murder rampant, fear cresting, Bane ascendant.
If only she was with her brothers and sisters of the Gauntlet. Horsemen in a line to flee the thugs. Justice rampant makes evil quail. Her brothers and sisters adjacent in this moment. on the other hand, are of a different skein. Belmort, Fimrold, Murdoch, Rigor, Sorore, Feldinor and herself. Six and a half vs eight. United not in vow, but now in twice failure, blood still caked and clinging like the cloying scent of defeat. Lives risked and souls spent to no purchase. The heart is pure, but the soul weighs heavy with the stink of loss.
And yet, here stand four and four more. Ready to do whatever harm they are here to do. Helm does not send tests, yet the heart is always tested and seen.
Resolve the weaknesses of your heart, Obey the laws of your providence, Yield to the goodness that surrounds you, Grant silence to those who betray it, Bring wrath upon those who will destroy, Inspire love of the righteous law, Vest in yourself the Code of Helm.
Hold friends. We cannot let this threat go unchallenged. And yet, we are in no condition to challenge it ourselves. That does not mean we are powerless, though. Yonder gate is where we may still find the brutal Capt Zodge and his villain oppressors. They are fiends, but may yet be allies in this. Even his lieutenants will likely not brook another strong man forcing their way into the streets they are struggling even now to control. Think of what might be triggered here if violence were to erupt on the open streets. Feldinor, Second Breakfast will have to wait a moment longer. Watch these and consider as you are so keen eyed. Discern what you can. The rest of you, either decide to keep watch and learn what these eight are and possibly interrupt, come with me to find a patrol to pull or return presently to the safety of the Blade and Stars and begin to heal. The choice is yours. I shall not tarry longer but I can use more eyes searching for a Fist patrol to divert here.
Casta turns to the north, putting strain again on her right side as she turns. Her gait slips noticeably, though she tries to hide it. The air around her is a curl of cinnamon, citrus and cooked cabbage.
-----------------------
What does Casta know about darkly leathered clad miscreants who seem to operate as an unmarked unit? Investigation17
Sorore’s well-considered reflections upon the Candulhallow moon elf’s approach do not prove useful in the end, leading the priestess to conclude that the richly attired enigma’s motivations were truly obscure, or well-concealed with very calculated intent. She discerns even less from the gang of enforcers holding their deliberate, adjacent positions along the far western side of the triangular crossing, all of whom seem focused on keeping the commonfolk at bay with their very unsubtle threat of violence.
Feldinor’s exasperation at the distraction of the thugs’ presence launches the rogue almost immediately into another ruse, and the halfling steps off into the periphery of the masses to scout the remainder of the intersecting streets, while attempting to draw the warriors’ collective attention…
18, 2, 20, 6, 14, 9, 11, 20
His gambit partially succeeds, with three of the enforcers both tracking Feldinor's movements closely with their practiced gazes, and rapidly scanning the masses in broad swaths around his position as he moves. The remainder also track the halfling as their positions enable, although clearly now focused more on him and his reference to the Flaming Fist than any perceived imminent danger. After a quick, whispered conversation among them, three of the thugs unshoulder their heavy crossbows and arm their bolts, while a fourth swiftly turns and enters the iron-banded wooden door of the stone building directly behind them, separating the two streets the gang of warriors is positioned astride. He returns in less than a minute, walks briskly along the inner line of his dark-armored companions speaking closely behind each of them in a low voice, then takes his place at their approximate center, within reach of the heavy, reinforced door, as the crossbowmen each take a step back into a loosely staggered second rank.
The gang of eight veteran enforcers continue to track Feldinor's movements as he steps out of the broad cobblestone crossing, heading back towards his companions. The rogue covers perhaps half the distance back to them from the last street partially obstructed by the thugs, then deftly leverages the shifting crowds and shadows to covertly slide into an alleyway, still about one hundred feet distant from A Cuspide Corona. For the rest of the company, it becomes immediately apparent that his maneuver escaped all of them, from their sudden, focused anger and tactical readiness.
For Casta, these observations prove more than enough to warrant her response. With the paladin's reflections upon their unknown allegiances and motivations not settling upon any conclusive revelation, with the possibilities in the Gate's current turmoil ranging from unknown Guild operatives, to organized crews defending their territory, to gangs, pirates, or mercenaries exploiting the unrest. Resolving herself to action, she turns to the north considering the potential of gathering reinforcements against this perceived threat...
Rigor watches the actions of his companions in silence, and carefully considers Casta’s words.
”I cannot come with you, in my judgment. I try to speak and act with the humility and economy of a Monk of the Broken God, so will simply say that there is already violence throughout the open streets, and I do not see this unknown threat as ours to resolve. We have lawfully sworn ourselves to the authorities and a higher cause, with the promise to end the suffering of many from a much greater evil. We are also fractured enough by well-intentioned but chaotic, impulsive acts already separating us.”
”Do what you must by your own judgment, Sister, and be safe. I have said more than enough, but would also advise you others, my friends, to seek the rest and recovery our purpose requires.”
Rigor falls silent again, waiting to see what the injured among his friends decide.
Sorore reflects upon Rigor's words a moment, and nods her head beneath the hood of her Ilmatari greatcloak.
"I must agree with Brother Rigor in this, Casta," she speaks softly. "It is my belief that ours is to focus upon this source of unholy suffering, yet I would not judge your zeal in response to this unknown. Among the Ilmatari, it is often observed, 'Today is the first day in what's left of your life,' with the responsory, 'So live it well.' And so you must choose by your own desires, Casta. I hope you return to us soon."
Sorore looks questioningly at the others, as Feldinor practices his devious craft in the distance.
Murdoch takes a few steps after Casta, still awash in an unfortunate mixture of whatever filth carpeted the sewer floor and his own blood.
"Our bodies are injured and our party fractured- we need to rest and regroup. Casta, if you are accosted wounded and alone you won't make it back to the Blade & Stars. This company would be worse for it. Stay with us and heal- there will still be injustice to fight in the Gate come morning. We can ask someone at the tavern to take word to the Fist, or deal with this ourselves once we're back on our feet."
He then walks back towards the rest of the group, hoping that his words made some small difference.
Casta listens truly to the Company's advice, considering and weighting. A scent of sandalwood with an undertone of what can only be described as burgundy wafts about the street as she recons with the council provided.
Rigor and Sorore, your words are wise and well spoken. They are also true, perhaps, in ways beyond what you intend. There IS a higher purpose here, even beyond the ken of the Flaming Fist and the fate of the Gate. It is the calling of Helm. Helm demands watchful vigilance. Your god calls you to holy minister to the suffering, mine calls me to prevent the same whenever within the power I'm entrusted with. In troth, my courage is shaken and that power is thin as tin while I continue to bleed from the fell mace. Yet, 'tis not full gone.
To quote from the Canticle of the Paladin #4.
My good blade carves the casques of men, My tough lance thrusteth sure, My strength is as the strength of ten, Because my heart is pure.
and later
For them I battle 'till the end, To save from shame and thrall: But all my heart is drawn above, My knees are bow'd in crypt and shrine ...
Murdoch, your advice is true and practical as well as appreciated. I shall heed the principle and intent.
In response to Murdoch, she turns to Belmort.
Belmort, you have not expressed your thoughts. I take it as respect for my quandary and faith. Yet the advice of these three is truth. Would you escort me back to the Basilisk Gate where we will have a conversation with whatever Fist lieutenant remain and return post haste. Your size will be a discouragement to any that may desire my blooded yet fine mail from the alley-ways. They are right to consider the threats alive in the streets.
Belmort thinks to himself that separating from the group when 8 villains are aware of our presence it not a good decision for the group, but Casta is very intent on leaving to find help since we have just been in a major skirmish and with our lack of rest are in no condition to fight again. Leaving the group on the cusp of possible combat is not what a fighter does.
”Casta I believe your mission is important to you, but I can not leave the group with 8 henchmen laying in wait for us. I must stay with the group regardless of what happens.”
My dear, mighty Belmort, those henchmen aren't for us. They are bent on someone else's mischief. The lone figure we just dodged likely holds more danger to us directly.
I see that we shall today tempt my Paladin's resolve. Will I deny my vows when at great personal risk?
Nay. I shall not. If none will stand with me, then I shall walk with Helm alone. Vigiliam scilicet aeternam.
Casta shoulders her resolve and brings her shield close to her side, attempting to conceal the drying blood caking around the still aggravated and developing bruise. She brushes herself down so she appears less disheveled and vulnerable. She steels her courage and her discipline and heads back east, heading directly for the Basilisk Gate, or the first Fist patrol she sees. She keeps her street smarts up, right hand obviously, casually resting on her secondary weapon, the pick, and avoids darkened alleyways that may harbor cretins, halflings or other ne'er-do-wells.
Strangely, the air around her smells exactly like the expected wet desperation and manure of the cobblestone street. No telling odor wafts off our Paladin.
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22, 3
The dark and richly-attired elf's eyes narrow as he slowly approaches through the masses, focusing in on Feldinor at hearing the halfling's words. A smirk edges across his sharp features as he apparently discerns Feldinor's intent at avoidance, although his eyes perhaps widen upon a second, closer appraisal of the rogue...
OOC: Feldinor, please make an intelligence check, if you would! Others, please respond if you'd like to engage, or otherwise influence the course of action that Feldinor has implemented.
OOC: Huzzah!!! a skill i might be good at.
[ability]Intelligence[/ability] 23
ooc:the modifier should be +4....i'm not as smart as I thought I was.
OOC: PS PS: Upon being educated that the sheet I'm looking at that says Int = +4 I think that is an Intelligence Save. Which I don't even know what the blankety blank is??? So in the fine print at the top of the character sheet show Int = +2 only. So I'm am dumber than I thought even more. as evidence by my ability to screw up a simple intelligence check :)
Knowing that she is not strong at reading the subtleties of the mannish races, humans, elves or orc, Casta turns her question to the clerics of the party. . . knowing clerics live and die by understanding the sway of people's heart and convictions as she knows the arc of people's might and arms.
"Clerics," She glances between Fimrold and Sorore, "What does he portend for us? Weal or woe? Does good or ill drive his stride?"
Insight 4
OOC: The irony here is simply delicious!
Feldinor just catches the pale elf’s almost indiscernible, sudden interest as he appraises the rogue once more, and realizes with a sense of unease that he’s been recognized…and also recalls the elf, in return.
The dark, noble attire and bearing, the calm severity of expression, the masses’ attempts to distance themselves…this approaching moon elf is of the infamous Candulhallow family, who have for time beyond memory dealt with the movement of all the dead of Baldur’s Gate, and their interment at the Shrine of the Suffering or outlying cemeteries, in the service of the Council of Four itself. Feldinor, however, knows of the Candulhallows for other death-related reasons, and under arrangements that also serve the purposes of “other” rulers within the Gate. With that recognition, he perceives the potential crossing of paths with foreboding…
OOC: Concur; brilliant post, and the cup of irony overfloweth!
OOC: Good Evening, Adventurers! It's worth noting that I've included the above in the narrative based upon your previous decisions with regard to the transparency of the narrative, but please remember that the above is actually known by Feldinor alone in all matters of roleplay! I'll give folks a chance to respond to Casta's above question, and of course for other inputs to come in as desired, before I take up the narrative once more.
Feldinor attempts to conceal his recognition of the elf from the elf, but maneuvers his hand behind his back as is the normal A Cuspide Corona scout communication method. The hand signal for his companions behind him indicates an approaching single target with potential malice intent is imminent. and then pulls one of his daggers stored in his belt from behind.
Sleight of Hand 7
What the hell does this bloody elf want now? Well let's hope it isn't to cause death and he is just coming with a polite message.
Feldinor does a zig zag around a passer by on the crowded street. To those uninformed around him, it just seems to be a small runt making his way through the big folk. But to his companions, they recognize this as a direction indication of the hand gesture's approaching target.
Deception 16
"Hey. out of the way! you big folk think you own the road. We are on official Fist business. Anyone of you that gets in the way will have to answer to the guard." Maybe an attempt to let the elf know he is potentially messing with more than just our band of merriment? But I would really like to know what he is up to.
Insight 7
OOC:It has been sooooo long that I haven't rolled any dice....I have to find ways to get my fix.
16, 24
The pale, ominous Candulhallow elf's intentions remain elusive, as Casta and Feldinor assess him in his approach through the parting masses upon the streets. Although the elf continues to intently appraise the halfling and the adventurers of A Cuspide Corona, Feldinor's own street-movement evasion tactics prove somewhat successful, and the company maintains what distance between them remains. The moon elf's own severe features perhaps betray sudden consternation at the rogue's reference to the Flaming Fist, and while his steps then slow to a halt, the dark-cloaked Candulhallow's eyes track the companions until their passage is lost in the restless throngs of the street.
With the forboding near-encounter with the pale elf behind them, A Cuspide Corona maneuvers as swiftly as possible down-slope on the broad cobblestone street, which slowly curves more to the west as they approach a far narrower path upon the left that leads through further turns among surrounding buildings to the back entrance of the Blade and Stars itself. Their intended street is last upon the left down this even-longer stretch, and close enough to the edge of a massive triangular-shaped intersection that the northern winds blustering through its expanse are again able to assail them with the cold.
The adventurers reach their turn as planned, then slow and linger in the general vicinity of their side street, to ensure no threat follows them to their intended destination. They remain long enough for Feldinor, Belmort, Casta, and Sorore, however, to discern that all is not well within the crossroads. Looking out across the triangular intersection, dominated at its center by a massive stone tower, the companions perceive a gang of perhaps eight menacing figures in well-worn dark leathers positioned across two of the five streets that open into the massive windswept space, farther down its western side. Each is armed with at least a spiked mace and heavy crossbow, wielded with practiced ease, and their raiment bears no known insignia. While not engaged in acts of violence, the commonfolk passing within their vicinity are intimidated by their presence alone, and the warriors’ tense bearing is far more that of ruthless enforcers awaiting to be unleashed, than of any serving to keep what peace remains in the streets of the Gate from shattering…
OOC: Hail once again, Adventurers. With the advance warning of this meeting yet again granted by some excellent and well-planned initial Perception results, you've gained the opportunity to act prior to any further actions from these eight, if desired. I'll look forward to your actions, if any, before they act (or not) themselves!
Sorore continues to observe in silence, awaiting events to unfold. She does, however, reflect upon the mannerisms of the Candulhallow moon elf whom she and her friends escaped with Feldinor's craftiness, and carefully watches this group of enforcers seeming to threaten the people within the tower crossing.
Insight 20
Insight 23
Good riddance!! Damn spooky elf. Good thing he recognized that WE are not meant to be trifled with. I can't imagine why Casta wanted to take the long way around. Perhaps she knows more than she is letting on. hmmmmmm....
Feldinor continues the route as planned and sets about scouting the intersection before heading down the alleyway that will surely lead to second breakfast. He can almost taste the fruit and honey dipped biscuits, because everyone knows you need your sugars mid morning. Too much for first breakfast! That would send a body into shock. But nooooo .. the perfect second breakfast is when you get your sugars for the energy you need to get to Elevenzies.
Upon seeing the 8 brutes. Really? Really really? Something else to mess with our empty stomachs? Well the last rouse worked...how about another. He moves out from the sidewalk into the street about 5 feet and begins to look down each street in a random but not random pattern. "Now which way to our food stores? Is it that way?" Feldinor briefly points to a non-threatening street. "No probably not that way... It could be that way?" pointing down 1 of the 2 hostile streets "Oh yes. I remember the 4-horseman tavern or something like that was down there and we had the best bran muffins for second breakfast the other day" he paces a few steps and looks very puzzled and points to the remaining 2 empty streets. "No....No..." He completes the gestures at the last hostile street. "Maybe it is the 4-leaf clover inn that had lovely porridge for second breakfast....Hmmm I just don't know when or how things will get interesting. But we better figure out soon because our official Fist business can't continue to wait much longer."
Deception 7
Feldinor steps off the street towards his companions and gives them a wink. Even Yokai should remember those sounds nothing like a second breakfast! Surely they will all remember that paradoxes with numbers indicates hostiles. and if they don't, I will just have to schedule some weekend team scout training. Then moves into the shadows of the closest non-hostile alleyway to blend into the shadows.
Stealth 21
Casta pauses a moment, lost in thought and conflicting convictions.
Four and Four. These two make eight. Why do haflings need such pageantry? A hand sign behind the back does more than well enough. Simple. Clear. Certainly faster. ... Not important right now. Focus beyond the nose, Casta. See bigger. Eight brutes ready to perform a mischief. Likely lethal mischief. Who is who? Aggressor? Aggrieved? More woe to this day already overfull with woe. Misery piles upon misery. Investigating a tavern of ill repute alone should well enough fill a day. Yet today is a day the Bards will re-live with calamity for ages to come. Nation fallen, city erased, refugees flowing, noble Lord gone missing, kidnapping and murder rampant, fear cresting, Bane ascendant.
If only she was with her brothers and sisters of the Gauntlet. Horsemen in a line to flee the thugs. Justice rampant makes evil quail. Her brothers and sisters adjacent in this moment. on the other hand, are of a different skein. Belmort, Fimrold, Murdoch, Rigor, Sorore, Feldinor and herself. Six and a half vs eight. United not in vow, but now in twice failure, blood still caked and clinging like the cloying scent of defeat. Lives risked and souls spent to no purchase. The heart is pure, but the soul weighs heavy with the stink of loss.
And yet, here stand four and four more. Ready to do whatever harm they are here to do. Helm does not send tests, yet the heart is always tested and seen.
Resolve the weaknesses of your heart,
Obey the laws of your providence,
Yield to the goodness that surrounds you,
Grant silence to those who betray it,
Bring wrath upon those who will destroy,
Inspire love of the righteous law,
Vest in yourself the Code of Helm.
Hold friends. We cannot let this threat go unchallenged. And yet, we are in no condition to challenge it ourselves. That does not mean we are powerless, though. Yonder gate is where we may still find the brutal Capt Zodge and his villain oppressors. They are fiends, but may yet be allies in this. Even his lieutenants will likely not brook another strong man forcing their way into the streets they are struggling even now to control. Think of what might be triggered here if violence were to erupt on the open streets. Feldinor, Second Breakfast will have to wait a moment longer. Watch these and consider as you are so keen eyed. Discern what you can. The rest of you, either decide to keep watch and learn what these eight are and possibly interrupt, come with me to find a patrol to pull or return presently to the safety of the Blade and Stars and begin to heal. The choice is yours. I shall not tarry longer but I can use more eyes searching for a Fist patrol to divert here.
Casta turns to the north, putting strain again on her right side as she turns. Her gait slips noticeably, though she tries to hide it. The air around her is a curl of cinnamon, citrus and cooked cabbage.
-----------------------
What does Casta know about darkly leathered clad miscreants who seem to operate as an unmarked unit? Investigation 17
Can Casta find a patrol, or Zodge? Perception 10
Sorore’s well-considered reflections upon the Candulhallow moon elf’s approach do not prove useful in the end, leading the priestess to conclude that the richly attired enigma’s motivations were truly obscure, or well-concealed with very calculated intent. She discerns even less from the gang of enforcers holding their deliberate, adjacent positions along the far western side of the triangular crossing, all of whom seem focused on keeping the commonfolk at bay with their very unsubtle threat of violence.
Feldinor’s exasperation at the distraction of the thugs’ presence launches the rogue almost immediately into another ruse, and the halfling steps off into the periphery of the masses to scout the remainder of the intersecting streets, while attempting to draw the warriors’ collective attention…
18, 2, 20, 6, 14, 9, 11, 20
His gambit partially succeeds, with three of the enforcers both tracking Feldinor's movements closely with their practiced gazes, and rapidly scanning the masses in broad swaths around his position as he moves. The remainder also track the halfling as their positions enable, although clearly now focused more on him and his reference to the Flaming Fist than any perceived imminent danger. After a quick, whispered conversation among them, three of the thugs unshoulder their heavy crossbows and arm their bolts, while a fourth swiftly turns and enters the iron-banded wooden door of the stone building directly behind them, separating the two streets the gang of warriors is positioned astride. He returns in less than a minute, walks briskly along the inner line of his dark-armored companions speaking closely behind each of them in a low voice, then takes his place at their approximate center, within reach of the heavy, reinforced door, as the crossbowmen each take a step back into a loosely staggered second rank.
18, 19, 9, 14, 6, 11, 4, 20
The gang of eight veteran enforcers continue to track Feldinor's movements as he steps out of the broad cobblestone crossing, heading back towards his companions. The rogue covers perhaps half the distance back to them from the last street partially obstructed by the thugs, then deftly leverages the shifting crowds and shadows to covertly slide into an alleyway, still about one hundred feet distant from A Cuspide Corona. For the rest of the company, it becomes immediately apparent that his maneuver escaped all of them, from their sudden, focused anger and tactical readiness.
For Casta, these observations prove more than enough to warrant her response. With the paladin's reflections upon their unknown allegiances and motivations not settling upon any conclusive revelation, with the possibilities in the Gate's current turmoil ranging from unknown Guild operatives, to organized crews defending their territory, to gangs, pirates, or mercenaries exploiting the unrest. Resolving herself to action, she turns to the north considering the potential of gathering reinforcements against this perceived threat...
Rigor watches the actions of his companions in silence, and carefully considers Casta’s words.
”I cannot come with you, in my judgment. I try to speak and act with the humility and economy of a Monk of the Broken God, so will simply say that there is already violence throughout the open streets, and I do not see this unknown threat as ours to resolve. We have lawfully sworn ourselves to the authorities and a higher cause, with the promise to end the suffering of many from a much greater evil. We are also fractured enough by well-intentioned but chaotic, impulsive acts already separating us.”
”Do what you must by your own judgment, Sister, and be safe. I have said more than enough, but would also advise you others, my friends, to seek the rest and recovery our purpose requires.”
Rigor falls silent again, waiting to see what the injured among his friends decide.
Sorore reflects upon Rigor's words a moment, and nods her head beneath the hood of her Ilmatari greatcloak.
"I must agree with Brother Rigor in this, Casta," she speaks softly. "It is my belief that ours is to focus upon this source of unholy suffering, yet I would not judge your zeal in response to this unknown. Among the Ilmatari, it is often observed, 'Today is the first day in what's left of your life,' with the responsory, 'So live it well.' And so you must choose by your own desires, Casta. I hope you return to us soon."
Sorore looks questioningly at the others, as Feldinor practices his devious craft in the distance.
Murdoch takes a few steps after Casta, still awash in an unfortunate mixture of whatever filth carpeted the sewer floor and his own blood.
"Our bodies are injured and our party fractured- we need to rest and regroup. Casta, if you are accosted wounded and alone you won't make it back to the Blade & Stars. This company would be worse for it. Stay with us and heal- there will still be injustice to fight in the Gate come morning. We can ask someone at the tavern to take word to the Fist, or deal with this ourselves once we're back on our feet."
He then walks back towards the rest of the group, hoping that his words made some small difference.
Stealth 13
OOC:muuuaaahhhhaaaahaaa The plot thickens for at least one of us.
Casta listens truly to the Company's advice, considering and weighting. A scent of sandalwood with an undertone of what can only be described as burgundy wafts about the street as she recons with the council provided.
Rigor and Sorore, your words are wise and well spoken. They are also true, perhaps, in ways beyond what you intend. There IS a higher purpose here, even beyond the ken of the Flaming Fist and the fate of the Gate. It is the calling of Helm. Helm demands watchful vigilance. Your god calls you to holy minister to the suffering, mine calls me to prevent the same whenever within the power I'm entrusted with. In troth, my courage is shaken and that power is thin as tin while I continue to bleed from the fell mace. Yet, 'tis not full gone.
To quote from the Canticle of the Paladin #4.
My good blade carves the casques of men,
My tough lance thrusteth sure,
My strength is as the strength of ten,
Because my heart is pure.
and later
For them I battle 'till the end,
To save from shame and thrall:
But all my heart is drawn above,
My knees are bow'd in crypt and shrine ...
Murdoch, your advice is true and practical as well as appreciated. I shall heed the principle and intent.
In response to Murdoch, she turns to Belmort.
Belmort, you have not expressed your thoughts. I take it as respect for my quandary and faith. Yet the advice of these three is truth. Would you escort me back to the Basilisk Gate where we will have a conversation with whatever Fist lieutenant remain and return post haste. Your size will be a discouragement to any that may desire my blooded yet fine mail from the alley-ways. They are right to consider the threats alive in the streets.
Belmort thinks to himself that separating from the group when 8 villains are aware of our presence it not a good decision for the group, but Casta is very intent on leaving to find help since we have just been in a major skirmish and with our lack of rest are in no condition to fight again. Leaving the group on the cusp of possible combat is not what a fighter does.
”Casta I believe your mission is important to you, but I can not leave the group with 8 henchmen laying in wait for us. I must stay with the group regardless of what happens.”
My dear, mighty Belmort, those henchmen aren't for us. They are bent on someone else's mischief. The lone figure we just dodged likely holds more danger to us directly.
I see that we shall today tempt my Paladin's resolve. Will I deny my vows when at great personal risk?
Nay. I shall not. If none will stand with me, then I shall walk with Helm alone. Vigiliam scilicet aeternam.
Casta shoulders her resolve and brings her shield close to her side, attempting to conceal the drying blood caking around the still aggravated and developing bruise. She brushes herself down so she appears less disheveled and vulnerable. She steels her courage and her discipline and heads back east, heading directly for the Basilisk Gate, or the first Fist patrol she sees. She keeps her street smarts up, right hand obviously, casually resting on her secondary weapon, the pick, and avoids darkened alleyways that may harbor cretins, halflings or other ne'er-do-wells.
Strangely, the air around her smells exactly like the expected wet desperation and manure of the cobblestone street. No telling odor wafts off our Paladin.