"I will take the direct path and straight there. No need to take a surreptitious route given that our group will be easily seen/followed."
Feldinor quickly glances at the note and coin Casta provided and understands the request. Upon exiting onto the street to lead the way "follow me but not too close", he will scurry into the night crowd of the night life.
Once in the crowd he will look for the unseen and unnoticed that are the communication network of those with flexibility in their scruples and instruct one of the runners he finds to deliver this message (from Casta) to the appropriate location as indicated in the note, using the coin as the required payment of services rendered.
OOC Note: Potential mod coming to the letter delivery. Player did not know that there was an option to do that through the Inn. There are folks for letter delivery work that does not lead an uncertain criminal element to my front door. Messenger boys in the Gate may more resemble The Mob than Aladdin or Oliver Twist.
A Cuspide Corona at last sets forth with their planning and preparation into the early hours of a Baldur’s Gate evening, upon the short journey down to the Elfsong Tavern. The companions wind their way back through the massive old inn, down narrow and then far wider creaking stairs ending in the entrance lobby, the flames within the large stone fireplace now stoked higher to ward off the night’s encroaching chill. They pause only briefly, for Casta to speak in a low voice with one of Mistress Lupin’s staff, the steward on-duty, and for her to pass the man a written note and two coppers, the former to be taken and delivered by one of the hired messengers of the Gateguides crew.
Feldinor takes point as the adventurers leave the relative sanctuary of the Blade and Stars, heading to the right and west, the most direct, somewhat downslope path to the Elfsong. Outside, and besieged within and beyond its great walls by dire threats, the Gate still remains very much alive by night. With the winds around the city stilled after dark in the absence of storms, the river mists rise and coalesce into a soup of fog, and the company can make out almost nothing beyond perhaps 60 feet in the diffused glow of lantern light. The companions step out among the dark dampness of muffled sounds and dimmed vision, with many restive folk still upon the cobblestone streets, moving more cautiously and quietly, and in groups around the glow of swaying lanterns. Back a short distance from the rogue, Casta looms in full armor, shield at the ready, with the others loosely following ahead of Murdoch at rear guard, heavy crossbow held low and discretely as he warily watches every alley and grate that emerges from the fog at their approach.
A Cuspide Corona’s direct path takes them but a short distance, though seemingly far longer through the soup of fog and the shrouded movement of the masses, until they reach an intersection large enough that the far side is lost to sight in the thick swirling mists, the Elfsong somewhere close at-hand beyond. As they move to cross, the ranger’s almost supernatural hearing in the moments of his active wariness prove the only thing that grants the adventurers any advance warning, a guttural growl lower than any man-sized creature could make, and the faint clank of heavy chain. From the street upslope to the north and east, two monstrously large humanoids emerge from the fog, forcing their way through scurrying street folk directly toward them, as though they had suddenly perceived and targeted the company from the darkness. The half-ogres are easily eight feet fall and several hundred pounds, with massive battle axes hung at their sides, each roughly pointing and gesturing with one giant empty hand. Their other fist wrenches on a thick, taut chain leading or half-dragging an unknown number of human-sized figures stumbling out of the mists behind them, each with one of their own hands cuffed to the chain. Several other manacles hang from each of their heavy weapon harnesses, bound over dark leather armor studded with close-set rivets…and broad, crimson tabards bearing a gold flame surrounding a red clenched fist stretched the size of war banners across their heaving chests…
OOC: Apologies again for the delay, Adventurers. Feldinor had the right of things with his rolls, and it was Murdoch's success on the one in particular that gave you the chance to act prior to rolling initiative. Standing by, unless you'd like to just roll, of course...
Sorore looks quickly over to Murdoch with concern, and then to the advancing half-ogres with great alarm. With her staff held in one hand, she turns and raises her own Flaming Fist badge as high as she can toward them with the other, while her lips move in a divine casting of Thaumaturgy.
"Flaming Fist matters, orders of Captain Zodge - look elsewhere!" Sorore speaks in a calm but imperative voice. Her words come out supernaturally loud, though, booming through the fog toward the half-ogre's through Ilmater's gift.
Rigor joins his Ilmatari Sister, facing down the potential threats with his staff in one and and his Flaming Fist badge raised in the other. He remains silent, knowing he can’t make a sound to surpass the power of that voice.
A few of the adventurers swiftly react as the massive half-ogres in Flaming Fist regalia surge through the night traffic and mists toward them, dragging chained prisoners staggering behind. Murdoch whirls toward the threat, his copper-bound Flaming Fist badge revealed in the diffused lantern light as his crossbow begins to rise.
Feldinor melts into the shadows even as Sorore steps toward the lanterns’ glow, joined by Brother Rigor as the two followers of Ilmater raise their own enameled badges high, trying to catch the dim light’s reflection in the burnished copper. The cleric’s divine spell thrusts aside the muffled quiet of the fog as her enchanted voice booms into the night.
One of the half-ogres still plows through the masses towards the company amidst her resounding words, his glazed eyes already seeing prey and promising violence, but the other belts forth a guttural shout and reaches for the first’s thick trailing chain, only just managing to grasp it due to the stumbling prisoners manacled to its length. The half-ogre hauls brutally hard on the iron links, enough to stop the other’s momentum while sending the chained captives sprawling. The first of the brutes, only just brought to a halt by the abrupt pull, roars into the face of the second, tusks bared and spittle flying. His mounting fury is met, however, by the second shouting back in force, in the rumbling language of the giants, as he releases the other’s chain and gestures violently at the company. The words are indiscernible to all but Fimrold, although the word “Zodge” grates through the harsh tongue…
OOC: Good Evening, Adventurers! Please let me know if you have something else in mind at this juncture, especially if it would necessitate some rolls to determine outcomes, or if you want to let their "dialog" play out more. That was a close one on the grab, only one higher than needed with the penalty accounted for, and even with advantage to figure out your actions, one of them just wouldn't get it through that 7 Intelligence...
Casta seizes on the opening created by Sister Sorore and her excellent use of her divine magic. How like she and Brother Rigor to seize on the opportunity to relieve suffering.
She turns to Fimrold, Murdoch and Belmort as she begins to step forward. “Even though the brutal law may be on their side, this does not smell of righteousness. I am duty bound to investigate. If these souls are being summarily discarded for convenience, then I must intervene. If they deserve the fate befallen them, then so let it be. It would be a boon if you could aid me how you can.”
Casta joins Sorore and Rigor, pulling out her Flaming Fist badge as she moves. She presents it in front of herself with her weapon hand, showing both that she is of the Fist and also not drawn. She casts a small side comment to Sorore and Rigor. “A blessing of Guidance may be valued, and moral support would be excellent.”
By all appearances, she confidently approaches the half-ogres through the mist, trying to get a better look at the captives with her night vision. The voice of her mother comes into mind. No telling how this may go Lapsu. Stupid, brutish, love simple pleasures. Use small words. Don't insult them. Try to meet them at their level without descending to their level. There may not even be anything wrong here. There may be a great injustice happening here. Be shrewd as serpents. Be vigilant always. Intercede when you can to save those that you can. Helm watch over you.
“Alae, Jailors. Durgos, if you want. Well met by night. This may be a lucky meeting. Captain Zodge has given us a job. You have prisoners that might be used for it. Tell us about them. Can they work hard?”
____________
OOC: Mechanically, Casta is asking for the “Help” action for the coming conversation. She is also asking Fimrold and/or Sorore for the Guidance cantrip. A difficult persuasion check may be coming.
Fimrold reaches a hand to Casta’s armored arm and utters a quiet incantation, praying for a mild mannered and civil conversation. His other arm is occupied by his shield, for Fimrold decided long ago that fortune should favor well-protected caution.
Mechanically Fimrold casts guidance, adding 1d4 to Casta’s next ability check within the next minute.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
The half-ogres’ rumbling shouts in giant grind to a halt as Casta separates from the company with Fimrold’s Guidance and approaches the monstrous humanoids with her Flaming Fist badge held before her in the fog. Their brutish features contort as they attempt to grasp her words, the first of them still heaving with the effort to leash its temper…
8, 0
The other half-ogre, who managed to just halt the first’s violent charge towards the companions, begins roughly shaking his head in some form of frustrated rejection of the paladin’s words, but the first, surprisingly, grasps enough to angrily respond after stammering through his transition from giant to common.
“Ugh, err uh, not our names, girl! Not lucky, too – you and they are Fists for Zodge. We get no coins to draft you for Flaming Fist – just trouble – unless you are bad…”
He reflects on this last thought for a moment, the glitter of avarice growing in his eyes, but then he shakes his massive trailing chain once in apparent dismissal.
“Do your Zodge job good, girl. We get to press you, take badges, if you do bad. These not for prison” – he shakes the chain again, staggering some of them – “these are drafts, maybe some bad, for Fist work on the walls. Not work for you – we get coins, they will work hard, hold gates closed!”
With the last of his words, the massive half-ogre leans forward toward Casta, his demeanor changing and his features twisting with suspicion as he considers the words…
OOC: Excellent question (I'm assuming asked out of character?). Under normal circumstances, the answer would be "NO," but remember that Baldur's Gate is under siege and an emergency lockdown. In point of fact, if you recall, your adventuring company itself, as well as many other chartered task and protective forces, were among those the Flaming Fist was authorized to draft as the standing mercenary army tasked with protecting the city. While you complied by the deadline, you would surmise that there would be consequences if you hadn't, and you are likely witnessing such a consequence... Hope that helps!
After several seconds of looming over Casta trying to grasp if the paladin had offered threat or insult, hoarse breath passing between his tusks fouling the air between them, the half-ogre finally draws back and lowers his massive empty hand. The Flaming Fist brute contemptuously flicks the heavy chain a final time when he spits and turns away, those manacled to its length grunting and stumbling yet again, then lumbers into the swirling mist dragging his charges behind him past the adventurers along their right flank as he turns to the southeast. His monstrous partner, the second half-ogre who recognized enough of the company’s copper badges to quell any violence but failed to understand Casta’s words, violently shakes his head in some last denial of meaning, and follows the other upslope into the Gate’s thickening evening fog, trailing his own chained prisoners…
OOC: Good Evening, Adventurers! Absent other interaction and/or provocation, it would seem that the half-ogre Flaming Fist press gang continues on its brutish mission without “inviting” A Cuspide Corona to join them. More to follow tomorrow, in either event...
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Feldinor called dibs scouting duties. As we are less than a block away, propose to let the scout lead the way.
"I will take the direct path and straight there. No need to take a surreptitious route given that our group will be easily seen/followed."
Feldinor quickly glances at the note and coin Casta provided and understands the request. Upon exiting onto the street to lead the way "follow me but not too close", he will scurry into the night crowd of the night life.
Perception 20
Stealth 13
Once in the crowd he will look for the unseen and unnoticed that are the communication network of those with flexibility in their scruples and instruct one of the runners he finds to deliver this message (from Casta) to the appropriate location as indicated in the note, using the coin as the required payment of services rendered.
Sleight of Hand 7
And then proceed directly to the Elf Song Tavern and walk in looking for Yokai
Perception 11
ooc: Yes...yes...yes @GM...this assumes we do not get accosted on the way but I had an urge to roll a bunch of dice and move the story along. :P
Murdoch will take rear guard, crossbow at low ready. He keeps an especially vigilant watch on alleys and sewer grates.
Perception 25
14, 2, 4, 79, 3
OOC Note: Potential mod coming to the letter delivery. Player did not know that there was an option to do that through the Inn. There are folks for letter delivery work that does not lead an uncertain criminal element to my front door. Messenger boys in the Gate may more resemble The Mob than Aladdin or Oliver Twist.
A Cuspide Corona at last sets forth with their planning and preparation into the early hours of a Baldur’s Gate evening, upon the short journey down to the Elfsong Tavern. The companions wind their way back through the massive old inn, down narrow and then far wider creaking stairs ending in the entrance lobby, the flames within the large stone fireplace now stoked higher to ward off the night’s encroaching chill. They pause only briefly, for Casta to speak in a low voice with one of Mistress Lupin’s staff, the steward on-duty, and for her to pass the man a written note and two coppers, the former to be taken and delivered by one of the hired messengers of the Gateguides crew.
Feldinor takes point as the adventurers leave the relative sanctuary of the Blade and Stars, heading to the right and west, the most direct, somewhat downslope path to the Elfsong. Outside, and besieged within and beyond its great walls by dire threats, the Gate still remains very much alive by night. With the winds around the city stilled after dark in the absence of storms, the river mists rise and coalesce into a soup of fog, and the company can make out almost nothing beyond perhaps 60 feet in the diffused glow of lantern light. The companions step out among the dark dampness of muffled sounds and dimmed vision, with many restive folk still upon the cobblestone streets, moving more cautiously and quietly, and in groups around the glow of swaying lanterns. Back a short distance from the rogue, Casta looms in full armor, shield at the ready, with the others loosely following ahead of Murdoch at rear guard, heavy crossbow held low and discretely as he warily watches every alley and grate that emerges from the fog at their approach.
A Cuspide Corona’s direct path takes them but a short distance, though seemingly far longer through the soup of fog and the shrouded movement of the masses, until they reach an intersection large enough that the far side is lost to sight in the thick swirling mists, the Elfsong somewhere close at-hand beyond. As they move to cross, the ranger’s almost supernatural hearing in the moments of his active wariness prove the only thing that grants the adventurers any advance warning, a guttural growl lower than any man-sized creature could make, and the faint clank of heavy chain. From the street upslope to the north and east, two monstrously large humanoids emerge from the fog, forcing their way through scurrying street folk directly toward them, as though they had suddenly perceived and targeted the company from the darkness. The half-ogres are easily eight feet fall and several hundred pounds, with massive battle axes hung at their sides, each roughly pointing and gesturing with one giant empty hand. Their other fist wrenches on a thick, taut chain leading or half-dragging an unknown number of human-sized figures stumbling out of the mists behind them, each with one of their own hands cuffed to the chain. Several other manacles hang from each of their heavy weapon harnesses, bound over dark leather armor studded with close-set rivets…and broad, crimson tabards bearing a gold flame surrounding a red clenched fist stretched the size of war banners across their heaving chests…
OOC: Apologies again for the delay, Adventurers. Feldinor had the right of things with his rolls, and it was Murdoch's success on the one in particular that gave you the chance to act prior to rolling initiative. Standing by, unless you'd like to just roll, of course...
OOC: The half-ogres are wearing the insignia of the Flaming Fist, right?
OOC: That does seem to match the description.
"Eyes northeast!" Murdoch shouts as he flips open his greatcoat, revealing the Flaming Fist badge pinned to the lapel. "Looks like trouble."
Murdoch raises his crossbow, ready to fire if he thinks the half-ogres are going to get violent.
Sorore looks quickly over to Murdoch with concern, and then to the advancing half-ogres with great alarm. With her staff held in one hand, she turns and raises her own Flaming Fist badge as high as she can toward them with the other, while her lips move in a divine casting of Thaumaturgy.
"Flaming Fist matters, orders of Captain Zodge - look elsewhere!" Sorore speaks in a calm but imperative voice. Her words come out supernaturally loud, though, booming through the fog toward the half-ogre's through Ilmater's gift.
Feldinor doesn't want to be point on another talky talky engagement. he finds a nice pole to hide behind (near the team) to observe.
Stealth 27
Rigor joins his Ilmatari Sister, facing down the potential threats with his staff in one and and his Flaming Fist badge raised in the other. He remains silent, knowing he can’t make a sound to surpass the power of that voice.
6, 19
9, 9
9
A few of the adventurers swiftly react as the massive half-ogres in Flaming Fist regalia surge through the night traffic and mists toward them, dragging chained prisoners staggering behind. Murdoch whirls toward the threat, his copper-bound Flaming Fist badge revealed in the diffused lantern light as his crossbow begins to rise.
Feldinor melts into the shadows even as Sorore steps toward the lanterns’ glow, joined by Brother Rigor as the two followers of Ilmater raise their own enameled badges high, trying to catch the dim light’s reflection in the burnished copper. The cleric’s divine spell thrusts aside the muffled quiet of the fog as her enchanted voice booms into the night.
One of the half-ogres still plows through the masses towards the company amidst her resounding words, his glazed eyes already seeing prey and promising violence, but the other belts forth a guttural shout and reaches for the first’s thick trailing chain, only just managing to grasp it due to the stumbling prisoners manacled to its length. The half-ogre hauls brutally hard on the iron links, enough to stop the other’s momentum while sending the chained captives sprawling. The first of the brutes, only just brought to a halt by the abrupt pull, roars into the face of the second, tusks bared and spittle flying. His mounting fury is met, however, by the second shouting back in force, in the rumbling language of the giants, as he releases the other’s chain and gestures violently at the company. The words are indiscernible to all but Fimrold, although the word “Zodge” grates through the harsh tongue…
OOC: Good Evening, Adventurers! Please let me know if you have something else in mind at this juncture, especially if it would necessitate some rolls to determine outcomes, or if you want to let their "dialog" play out more. That was a close one on the grab, only one higher than needed with the penalty accounted for, and even with advantage to figure out your actions, one of them just wouldn't get it through that 7 Intelligence...
Casta seizes on the opening created by Sister Sorore and her excellent use of her divine magic. How like she and Brother Rigor to seize on the opportunity to relieve suffering.
She turns to Fimrold, Murdoch and Belmort as she begins to step forward. “Even though the brutal law may be on their side, this does not smell of righteousness. I am duty bound to investigate. If these souls are being summarily discarded for convenience, then I must intervene. If they deserve the fate befallen them, then so let it be. It would be a boon if you could aid me how you can.”
Casta joins Sorore and Rigor, pulling out her Flaming Fist badge as she moves. She presents it in front of herself with her weapon hand, showing both that she is of the Fist and also not drawn. She casts a small side comment to Sorore and Rigor. “A blessing of Guidance may be valued, and moral support would be excellent.”
By all appearances, she confidently approaches the half-ogres through the mist, trying to get a better look at the captives with her night vision. The voice of her mother comes into mind. No telling how this may go Lapsu. Stupid, brutish, love simple pleasures. Use small words. Don't insult them. Try to meet them at their level without descending to their level. There may not even be anything wrong here. There may be a great injustice happening here. Be shrewd as serpents. Be vigilant always. Intercede when you can to save those that you can. Helm watch over you.
“Alae, Jailors. Durgos, if you want. Well met by night. This may be a lucky meeting. Captain Zodge has given us a job. You have prisoners that might be used for it. Tell us about them. Can they work hard?”
____________
OOC: Mechanically, Casta is asking for the “Help” action for the coming conversation. She is also asking Fimrold and/or Sorore for the Guidance cantrip. A difficult persuasion check may be coming.
.
Fimrold reaches a hand to Casta’s armored arm and utters a quiet incantation, praying for a mild mannered and civil conversation. His other arm is occupied by his shield, for Fimrold decided long ago that fortune should favor well-protected caution.
Mechanically Fimrold casts guidance, adding 1d4 to Casta’s next ability check within the next minute.
The half-ogres’ rumbling shouts in giant grind to a halt as Casta separates from the company with Fimrold’s Guidance and approaches the monstrous humanoids with her Flaming Fist badge held before her in the fog. Their brutish features contort as they attempt to grasp her words, the first of them still heaving with the effort to leash its temper…
8, 0
The other half-ogre, who managed to just halt the first’s violent charge towards the companions, begins roughly shaking his head in some form of frustrated rejection of the paladin’s words, but the first, surprisingly, grasps enough to angrily respond after stammering through his transition from giant to common.
“Ugh, err uh, not our names, girl! Not lucky, too – you and they are Fists for Zodge. We get no coins to draft you for Flaming Fist – just trouble – unless you are bad…”
He reflects on this last thought for a moment, the glitter of avarice growing in his eyes, but then he shakes his massive trailing chain once in apparent dismissal.
“Do your Zodge job good, girl. We get to press you, take badges, if you do bad. These not for prison” – he shakes the chain again, staggering some of them – “these are drafts, maybe some bad, for Fist work on the walls. Not work for you – we get coins, they will work hard, hold gates closed!”
With the last of his words, the massive half-ogre leans forward toward Casta, his demeanor changing and his features twisting with suspicion as he considers the words…
Do we know if impressment is legal in Baldur's Gate?
OOC: Excellent question (I'm assuming asked out of character?). Under normal circumstances, the answer would be "NO," but remember that Baldur's Gate is under siege and an emergency lockdown. In point of fact, if you recall, your adventuring company itself, as well as many other chartered task and protective forces, were among those the Flaming Fist was authorized to draft as the standing mercenary army tasked with protecting the city. While you complied by the deadline, you would surmise that there would be consequences if you hadn't, and you are likely witnessing such a consequence... Hope that helps!
After several seconds of looming over Casta trying to grasp if the paladin had offered threat or insult, hoarse breath passing between his tusks fouling the air between them, the half-ogre finally draws back and lowers his massive empty hand. The Flaming Fist brute contemptuously flicks the heavy chain a final time when he spits and turns away, those manacled to its length grunting and stumbling yet again, then lumbers into the swirling mist dragging his charges behind him past the adventurers along their right flank as he turns to the southeast. His monstrous partner, the second half-ogre who recognized enough of the company’s copper badges to quell any violence but failed to understand Casta’s words, violently shakes his head in some last denial of meaning, and follows the other upslope into the Gate’s thickening evening fog, trailing his own chained prisoners…
OOC: Good Evening, Adventurers! Absent other interaction and/or provocation, it would seem that the half-ogre Flaming Fist press gang continues on its brutish mission without “inviting” A Cuspide Corona to join them. More to follow tomorrow, in either event...