Casta thinks to herself. "Strange question, Rigor. The word of a noble like Murdoch or word of a Paladin is proof enough....At least to any other descent Baldurian.
Zodge’s one remaining eye looks abruptly over to Rigor, and his jaw tightens again in the pause before his response, possibly affronted by the monk’s question, one which he may not have wanted asked. The Flaming Fist Captain responds in a simmering, perhaps calculated voice.
“Hell, I won’t just assume you accomplished the mission, even if some of you lot survive the Dead Three and report the deed is done. I’ll need more than stinking words to consider your orders carried out, your draft obligations to the ‘Gate fulfilled, and you walking out with the Fist’s gold and my respect.”
“If you’re killing the damn cultists, and finding and destroying their lair as ordered, I want whatever unholy symbol each one of them carries that you put down. I’ll know the sick bastards are wiped out, and your mission accomplished, when a tenday passes without any murders tied to the Cult of the Dead Three. Then we can talk the return of my badges, with gold and gratitude.”
“Damn, but that’s enough questions from you lot,” Zodge presses relentlessly on this time. “Get away from the Basilisk Gate and see to your orders. The Elfsong…Tarina…no later than tomorrow night. The people of Baldur’s Gate expect your success, the ruling Council of Four thanks you for your service…and the Flaming Fist is watching. Dismissed.”
The Blaze Captain’s eye scans the periphery of the cobble-stoned clearing in the shadow of the Gate for threats, his still-smeared gauntlets again involuntarily clenching. He turns upon his heel to return to the assembled Flaming Fist soldiers, his elite Flame mercenaries flowing into a loose formation to his flanks and rear, the grim statues of the closed and sealed Basilisk Gate staring down upon them all through the receding fog and late-morning chill...
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Casta Lapsu watches Zodge flow through the crowd. She wonders if he cares about righteousness at all or only raw power. He has weaponized the law but may still think it is for a good reason. Ends justifying the brutal means. She spend a quick moment to note his heart. She and he share loyalty to the city, to be sure. Is there more they have in common? Is there any of his darkness riding inside her heart? She must remain vigilant over her own heart, her own anger. She repeats a familiar mantra "Watch without Judgment. Confront without Condemnation. In all things, seek redemption and reunification." Having reassured herself with the comfort of familiar ritual, a scent of Wisteria begins to overcome her.
Her mind moves from her own heart to those immediately around her. Feldinor remains steely-eyed, staring at Zodge's back. Casta steps over to him and then in front, breaking his line of sight to his potentially new-found foe. She cocks her head slightly to the right, her eyes almost filled with apology that she could not absorb any of that punishment from him. She notes his pride Insight16.
She tries to bring him back to the present. "Feldinor. Hey. That was a tough move. You do your family proud. She cracks a lopsided smile to diffuse the palpable tension. "You probably didn't see this when they were smashing your face, but..." She raises her right hand in front of his eye level, unfortunately still wearing a gauntlet, but at least with a Helmite symbol adorning it. Her thumb is protruding between her index and middle finger, approximating a child's game. "... they got your nose." She smiles broadly, trying to get him to laugh. Laughter heals. Performance11 "When they were leaving, I stole it from them for you. Picked their pockets clean of clean noses. You want it back? Here!." Casta touches her thumb to Fedinor's nose and makes a sound one would swear was "Boop." In that moment of touch, her hand flares with golden light that jumps into Feldinor's nose and straightens misplaced cartilage and dries crimson flow.
OOC: Mechanically - Casta is using Lay on Hands, channeling her last two points of healing. Casta is now dry. Any more healing can come from the Clerics or a short rest.
Short Rest: A short rest takes an hour and a PC can spend hit dice to recover. At character level one, we only have one each. The HPs regained at a short rest are your hit die type plus your Con mod per die you roll. Fendinor can spend his one die and recover 1d8+2 HP in that hour, potentially fully recovering with a good enough roll. At a long rest, PCs recover 1/2 of their hit die back for short-rest healing (minimum one die) in addition to recovering all HP lost during the day. (Long rest recovers all HP and 1/2 hit dice) This rule is new for 5th edition and helps reduce the need that one PC is always a dedicated healbot. Healbots are super awesome, but not having one is now not auto-failure.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"His back is to me...time to strike? No. Let him think loyalty and hono......." <blink> ..... <blink> Feldinor's gaze is blocked by Casta. "What in the bloody hell has happened to her? Did someone cast a confusion spell? I've heard stories of companions babbling incoherently but I've never really seen it happen in person." <boop> "What the F....! She's gone completely mental.....wait...." Feldinor moves his hands to where the fist had made contact and presses in to feel the hurt. "It's gone. Well whatever affliction has grasped the paladin, something remains inside that pretty confused head to help a companion's injury. Although if this remains more persistent, we will have to change combat tactics with the group." Feldinor reaches up gently and lays a hand on the paladin; and gives a thankful but sympathetic pat.
To Yokai who presumably hasn't left Feldinor's side, the halfling whispers: "Have we finished our questions with the good Captain? if so, may we leave his .... presence?"
[ooc]Was thinking the healing was 5HP per paladin charge....but reading the rules says nope...it is 2 HP healing. So Feldinor will feel a little better but will definitely want to take folks up on that short rest thing .....when appropriate 3 weeeeeellllll then. They seemed to have knocked the wind out of me more than i thought with that crit hit. [/ooc]
Sorore ponders the surreal series of events that transpired before the Basilisk Gate. The gray greatcloak that seems to hover around her appears to almost shrug as she concludes her meditation.
"You seem to have suffered well,"she says in a low voice to Feldinor, with a small cynical smile. "Suffering can be holy, among the Ilmatari. These are the first moments in what's left of your life, so you have but to live it well."
Sorore takes up her slender staff and draws her hood back just enough to observe their surroundings.
"We should shelter somewhere near, I think. We have seen just the first riot, and the trapped citizens will only grow more restless. I can also tend to our provocateur friend's injuries, then, if they remain a concern once he has rested."
OOC: Good Evening, Adventurers! I hope this finds you well. By the dialog, it appears a course of action is perhaps tentatively forming around the prospect of a short rest, at the least, for Feldinor to regain some of his health, but no one has yet said, "Let's return to the Blade and Stars" or "Let's get a room at the Elfsong" or similar. Your decision(s) is(are) required, unless you are waiting until something else happens to you... :-)
OOC: In any event, as you're determining your next course(s) of action within this open world, I'll be ready to continue the narrative telling of the tale. In the interim, I'm transferring your adventure thus far into an approximate narrative format, effectively concluding "Chapter 1" with Message #144 above. Look for that in the near-future, as I look forward to your discussion and decision(s) on what's next!
Casta senses Yokai’s intent and agrees. She uses the more forthright approach, however.
Cuspide Corona. We need to think, and privately. Let us quickly retire to the Blade and Stars. No inn is safe, but better than the streets for us... Panic provides convenient cover for our mutual associate. The Blade and Stars is better than most in the lower city, and has individual rooms, just as we broke our fast. Don’t trust the jib of the Elfsong. Lupin will be glad to see us, I should think. Also, very close.
As they walk back, Casta’s head races with a jumble of thoughts and reactions while they wind through the streets down from the gate. Despite the constant threat, she barely notices her environment. Her thoughts a blur enveloped by fog.
OOC: Adventurers, please disregard all of the above otherwise comprehensive and quite excellent Casta content, for the present, beyond the words, "Her thoughts a blur enveloped by fog." More to follow in short order...
OOC: Adventurers, I've progressed substantively on narrating the results of the above rolls, but shall need to complete the remainder tomorrow. Suffice to say that the various advance planning elements included in entries 146, 147, 148, and 150 above shall need to wait until the resolution of these matters. All I may otherwise advise in the interim, in this regard, is to remain aware of the fundamental "nature" of what has transpired above...and with that, a good evening to you all!
With swift council taken among themselves, A Cuspide Corona turns their thoughts to The Blade and Stars, and the prospect of both a short rest for Feldinor’s recovery and a respite within the inn from the growing tension and unrest upon the streets of Baldur’s Gate as they consider the deadly serious mission before them. The harsh eye of Zodge and the glare of the grim statues surmounting the Basilisk Gate feel hard upon their backs, turning from the great battlements into the masses of common folk and refugees, growing tenser by the hour as word spreads of the sealing of the gates.
This high up the great crescent slope of the city, with the cobblestone street just turning down toward Gray Harbor, the late-morning clouds rolling south on a chill northern wind and tattered fog still keep much of the journey relatively shadowed, under the tall stone buildings seeming to lean out over the roadway. Shadows are deeper still within the dim recesses of many alleys, where stones are never warmed under the sun’s direct rays, and from the near-darkness of the first such passage on the northern side of the street where the slope steepens in its descent to the harbor, the sounds of desperate struggle suddenly erupt. Citizens and refugees nearby react in panic, pressing themselves away from the mouth of the shadowed alley and into the masses, with the unseen struggle itself punctuated in dire seconds by a woman’s choked-off sobbing cry of pain, the shriek and rattle of rusted metal and chain…and silence.
OOC: First to Casta, thank you for the minor adjustment, which shall certainly ease the later narrative adaptation!
OOC: Next, Adventurers, as you consider these circumstances, loud enough to forego any perception check requirements at this juncture, I would ask a couple things from you:
1. Your marching order while heading back to The Blade and Stars, noting that the width of the road and the press of traffic still enable you to travel up to two abreast. I'll then determine your distance and position per the requisite dice rolls.
2. Your initiative, with the assumption that you would respond to this circumstance, or your other action, if not responding.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Upon seeing that the party is leaving Captain Brute's presence, Feldinor will once again move defiantly back to the lead of the party going through the city streets. After all I need to get my head back in the game and start doing my scouting job. He will keep his head on a swivel looking to see if there are any reply runners seeking him out with the answer to his question this morning out the back of the inn.
Upon hearing the shriek and seeing something amiss, Feldinor will not hesitate to investigate even given his condition. Must not let anyone see weakness and think it is time to strike...especially when I'm so busted up. "It looks like there is something to investigate before we get to far."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
OOC: Casta likes to be in the front rank, minus the scout on point, establishing a shield wall along with Belmort. (Wall of two is hardly a wall, I know, but the idea remains nonetheless)
OOC: At this juncture, however, she would not notice if someone else had decided to take the point. Baring other's eager input to eat what I presume is zombie claws, put her in the front rank, gently pushing commoners aside with her nicely decorated heater shield.
Casta thinks to herself. "Strange question, Rigor. The word of a noble like Murdoch or word of a Paladin is proof enough....At least to any other descent Baldurian.
"Wait . . . I see what you mean."
Zodge’s one remaining eye looks abruptly over to Rigor, and his jaw tightens again in the pause before his response, possibly affronted by the monk’s question, one which he may not have wanted asked. The Flaming Fist Captain responds in a simmering, perhaps calculated voice.
“Hell, I won’t just assume you accomplished the mission, even if some of you lot survive the Dead Three and report the deed is done. I’ll need more than stinking words to consider your orders carried out, your draft obligations to the ‘Gate fulfilled, and you walking out with the Fist’s gold and my respect.”
“If you’re killing the damn cultists, and finding and destroying their lair as ordered, I want whatever unholy symbol each one of them carries that you put down. I’ll know the sick bastards are wiped out, and your mission accomplished, when a tenday passes without any murders tied to the Cult of the Dead Three. Then we can talk the return of my badges, with gold and gratitude.”
“Damn, but that’s enough questions from you lot,” Zodge presses relentlessly on this time. “Get away from the Basilisk Gate and see to your orders. The Elfsong…Tarina…no later than tomorrow night. The people of Baldur’s Gate expect your success, the ruling Council of Four thanks you for your service…and the Flaming Fist is watching. Dismissed.”
The Blaze Captain’s eye scans the periphery of the cobble-stoned clearing in the shadow of the Gate for threats, his still-smeared gauntlets again involuntarily clenching. He turns upon his heel to return to the assembled Flaming Fist soldiers, his elite Flame mercenaries flowing into a loose formation to his flanks and rear, the grim statues of the closed and sealed Basilisk Gate staring down upon them all through the receding fog and late-morning chill...
Casta Lapsu watches Zodge flow through the crowd. She wonders if he cares about righteousness at all or only raw power. He has weaponized the law but may still think it is for a good reason. Ends justifying the brutal means. She spend a quick moment to note his heart. She and he share loyalty to the city, to be sure. Is there more they have in common? Is there any of his darkness riding inside her heart? She must remain vigilant over her own heart, her own anger. She repeats a familiar mantra "Watch without Judgment. Confront without Condemnation. In all things, seek redemption and reunification." Having reassured herself with the comfort of familiar ritual, a scent of Wisteria begins to overcome her.
Her mind moves from her own heart to those immediately around her. Feldinor remains steely-eyed, staring at Zodge's back. Casta steps over to him and then in front, breaking his line of sight to his potentially new-found foe. She cocks her head slightly to the right, her eyes almost filled with apology that she could not absorb any of that punishment from him. She notes his pride Insight 16.
She tries to bring him back to the present. "Feldinor. Hey. That was a tough move. You do your family proud. She cracks a lopsided smile to diffuse the palpable tension. "You probably didn't see this when they were smashing your face, but..." She raises her right hand in front of his eye level, unfortunately still wearing a gauntlet, but at least with a Helmite symbol adorning it. Her thumb is protruding between her index and middle finger, approximating a child's game. "... they got your nose." She smiles broadly, trying to get him to laugh. Laughter heals. Performance 11 "When they were leaving, I stole it from them for you. Picked their pockets clean of clean noses. You want it back? Here!." Casta touches her thumb to Fedinor's nose and makes a sound one would swear was "Boop." In that moment of touch, her hand flares with golden light that jumps into Feldinor's nose and straightens misplaced cartilage and dries crimson flow.
OOC: Mechanically - Casta is using Lay on Hands, channeling her last two points of healing. Casta is now dry. Any more healing can come from the Clerics or a short rest.
Short Rest: A short rest takes an hour and a PC can spend hit dice to recover. At character level one, we only have one each. The HPs regained at a short rest are your hit die type plus your Con mod per die you roll. Fendinor can spend his one die and recover 1d8+2 HP in that hour, potentially fully recovering with a good enough roll. At a long rest, PCs recover 1/2 of their hit die back for short-rest healing (minimum one die) in addition to recovering all HP lost during the day. (Long rest recovers all HP and 1/2 hit dice) This rule is new for 5th edition and helps reduce the need that one PC is always a dedicated healbot. Healbots are super awesome, but not having one is now not auto-failure.
"His back is to me...time to strike? No. Let him think loyalty and hono......." <blink> ..... <blink> Feldinor's gaze is blocked by Casta. "What in the bloody hell has happened to her? Did someone cast a confusion spell? I've heard stories of companions babbling incoherently but I've never really seen it happen in person." <boop> "What the F....! She's gone completely mental.....wait...." Feldinor moves his hands to where the fist had made contact and presses in to feel the hurt. "It's gone. Well whatever affliction has grasped the paladin, something remains inside that pretty confused head to help a companion's injury. Although if this remains more persistent, we will have to change combat tactics with the group." Feldinor reaches up gently and lays a hand on the paladin; and gives a thankful but sympathetic pat.
To Yokai who presumably hasn't left Feldinor's side, the halfling whispers: "Have we finished our questions with the good Captain? if so, may we leave his .... presence?"
[ooc]Was thinking the healing was 5HP per paladin charge....but reading the rules says nope...it is 2 HP healing. So Feldinor will feel a little better but will definitely want to take folks up on that short rest thing .....when appropriate 3 weeeeeellllll then. They seemed to have knocked the wind out of me more than i thought with that crit hit. [/ooc]
Redacted.
Sorore ponders the surreal series of events that transpired before the Basilisk Gate. The gray greatcloak that seems to hover around her appears to almost shrug as she concludes her meditation.
"You seem to have suffered well," she says in a low voice to Feldinor, with a small cynical smile. "Suffering can be holy, among the Ilmatari. These are the first moments in what's left of your life, so you have but to live it well."
Sorore takes up her slender staff and draws her hood back just enough to observe their surroundings.
"We should shelter somewhere near, I think. We have seen just the first riot, and the trapped citizens will only grow more restless. I can also tend to our provocateur friend's injuries, then, if they remain a concern once he has rested."
OOC: Good Evening, Adventurers! I hope this finds you well. By the dialog, it appears a course of action is perhaps tentatively forming around the prospect of a short rest, at the least, for Feldinor to regain some of his health, but no one has yet said, "Let's return to the Blade and Stars" or "Let's get a room at the Elfsong" or similar. Your decision(s) is(are) required, unless you are waiting until something else happens to you... :-)
OOC: In any event, as you're determining your next course(s) of action within this open world, I'll be ready to continue the narrative telling of the tale. In the interim, I'm transferring your adventure thus far into an approximate narrative format, effectively concluding "Chapter 1" with Message #144 above. Look for that in the near-future, as I look forward to your discussion and decision(s) on what's next!
Casta senses Yokai’s intent and agrees. She uses the more forthright approach, however.
Cuspide Corona. We need to think, and privately. Let us quickly retire to the Blade and Stars. No inn is safe, but better than the streets for us... Panic provides convenient cover for our mutual associate. The Blade and Stars is better than most in the lower city, and has individual rooms, just as we broke our fast. Don’t trust the jib of the Elfsong. Lupin will be glad to see us, I should think. Also, very close.
As they walk back, Casta’s head races with a jumble of thoughts and reactions while they wind through the streets down from the gate. Despite the constant threat, she barely notices her environment. Her thoughts a blur enveloped by fog.
OOC: Before matters progress quite too far... 3
OOC: Adventurers, please disregard all of the above otherwise comprehensive and quite excellent Casta content, for the present, beyond the words, "Her thoughts a blur enveloped by fog." More to follow in short order...
OOC: 2
OOC: Adventurers, I've progressed substantively on narrating the results of the above rolls, but shall need to complete the remainder tomorrow. Suffice to say that the various advance planning elements included in entries 146, 147, 148, and 150 above shall need to wait until the resolution of these matters. All I may otherwise advise in the interim, in this regard, is to remain aware of the fundamental "nature" of what has transpired above...and with that, a good evening to you all!
OOC: Moved Casta's additional text to a notepad to return when appropriate.
With swift council taken among themselves, A Cuspide Corona turns their thoughts to The Blade and Stars, and the prospect of both a short rest for Feldinor’s recovery and a respite within the inn from the growing tension and unrest upon the streets of Baldur’s Gate as they consider the deadly serious mission before them. The harsh eye of Zodge and the glare of the grim statues surmounting the Basilisk Gate feel hard upon their backs, turning from the great battlements into the masses of common folk and refugees, growing tenser by the hour as word spreads of the sealing of the gates.
This high up the great crescent slope of the city, with the cobblestone street just turning down toward Gray Harbor, the late-morning clouds rolling south on a chill northern wind and tattered fog still keep much of the journey relatively shadowed, under the tall stone buildings seeming to lean out over the roadway. Shadows are deeper still within the dim recesses of many alleys, where stones are never warmed under the sun’s direct rays, and from the near-darkness of the first such passage on the northern side of the street where the slope steepens in its descent to the harbor, the sounds of desperate struggle suddenly erupt. Citizens and refugees nearby react in panic, pressing themselves away from the mouth of the shadowed alley and into the masses, with the unseen struggle itself punctuated in dire seconds by a woman’s choked-off sobbing cry of pain, the shriek and rattle of rusted metal and chain…and silence.
OOC: First to Casta, thank you for the minor adjustment, which shall certainly ease the later narrative adaptation!
OOC: Next, Adventurers, as you consider these circumstances, loud enough to forego any perception check requirements at this juncture, I would ask a couple things from you:
1. Your marching order while heading back to The Blade and Stars, noting that the width of the road and the press of traffic still enable you to travel up to two abreast. I'll then determine your distance and position per the requisite dice rolls.
2. Your initiative, with the assumption that you would respond to this circumstance, or your other action, if not responding.
OOC: Look forward to it!
Upon seeing that the party is leaving Captain Brute's presence, Feldinor will once again move defiantly back to the lead of the party going through the city streets. After all I need to get my head back in the game and start doing my scouting job. He will keep his head on a swivel looking to see if there are any reply runners seeking him out with the answer to his question this morning out the back of the inn.
Perception 6
Upon hearing the shriek and seeing something amiss, Feldinor will not hesitate to investigate even given his condition. Must not let anyone see weakness and think it is time to strike...especially when I'm so busted up. "It looks like there is something to investigate before we get to far."
Initiative 17
Trouble seems to have found us.
For marching order, Rigor would be either to the street side of Sorore, to her left, or behind her. Ok if that’s at the back, because of his mobility.
For other checks:
Perception:
9
Initiative:
14
Belmort would look to be in the front, if possible. Initiative=5.
Yokai would be close to Feldinor. Initiative=14.
I have removed the text from post 147.
Sorore attempts to immediately orient upon the sounds of a life threatened, and looks toward this dark alleyway opening.
Perception 6
OOC: In movement, I think I'd prefer Brother Rigor beside me, with someone well-armored behind us, which Rigor is not, as a strong rear-guard!
Initiative 18
OOC: Casta likes to be in the front rank, minus the scout on point, establishing a shield wall along with Belmort. (Wall of two is hardly a wall, I know, but the idea remains nonetheless)
OOC: At this juncture, however, she would not notice if someone else had decided to take the point. Baring other's eager input to eat what I presume is zombie claws, put her in the front rank, gently pushing commoners aside with her nicely decorated heater shield.
OOC: No short rest for Feldinor. Cleric UP!
Perception 5
Initiative 11
OOC: Perfect Perception and Initiative roll for foggy brain worrier.