DEVA AF FFS, part 12
Log Info
- Title: DEVA AF FFS, part 12
- Emitter: Cryosanthia
- Characters: Thurid, Tenoc, Merek, Seldan, Shalethiste
- Place: H01: Kultari Road - DEVA Station
- Time: Sunday, March 07, 2021, 2:02 PM, Sunday, March 21, 2021, 2:15 PM
- Summary: Over a few weeks, the patients at DEVA station are cured, observed and released. Some release themselves, some cause other problems. High level clerics from the Temples come in, as requested, and use magic to cure what magic will cure, while the rest are treated through mundane methods. The sleeping sickness proves the hardest to shake. As the camp clears out, a few more problems and things to be resolved arise. The fate of Colonel Ezrechu and Doctor Deaztor being one. The Colonel is released, but challenged into a battle with Thurid and Tenoc, and accepts. She fails rather spectacularly, and despite the Jotun's honest appeal to assist her, the woman would rather die than admit fault or ask for help.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Appearing, in Order =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Thurid 7'1" 249 Lb Giantborn Female Bright-eyed, muscular, blond Giantborn woman. Tenoc 7'0" 280 Lb Sith-Makar Male Tall, green-scaled Sith'Makar hunter Seldan 5'11" 187 Lb Human Male Ginger-blonde human in armor wearing Eluna's symbol. Merek 5'10" 215 Lb Human Male A black-haired, dusky male with golden eyes. Shalethiste 4'6" 96 Lb Shadow Elf Female A copper maned elf maiden, hued in the night sky. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- NPCs of Note =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Ezrechu Hobgoblin Female Ezrechu Manslayer, Blar Army Colonel Yolam Murmurboggle Gnome Male Inquisitor of Eluna, Alexandrian -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- As the GM =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Cryosanthia 6'9" 291 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
The DEVA Station is starting to clear out. Of course, some of those leaving weren't exactly authorized to go. The 'Bloody Fingers' patients, who haven't shown any signs of their disease reappearing, deserted in the night, along with Major Kreemo and his Caravan drovers. Citizens from Stone Talon opted to go through the proper channels, asked permission, were granted it, and with assistance from the various temples and primarily Sentinel Toshi, they have received papers and moved into goblintown.
The more affluent of them, attempting to relocate their wealth and bring their families by selling off their Bludguni holdings. It's only a deal for some people.
All of the Black Bog Plague patients have been observed clear, and the last of the Sleeping Sickness patients have as well. The soldiers have been separated into their respective sides, just to keep things calmer, and it's not clear what they should do. It's especially unclear with the Bludgun soldiers.
Despite the best efforts of Thurid, Seldan, Shalethiste and her on-loan Lancer, the deserting patients weren't located. They've gone to ground somewhere in Alexandria, and the secular and religious authorities were notified.
Thurid and Merek
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "So... Streetwise... is kinda Diplomacy, so roll a diplomacy please Thurid. DC25" GAME: Thurid rolls diplomacy: (20)+7: 27
Thurid, for her part, has never been entirely in love with the proper channels herself. And as such, though she has been searching for them- she is perhaps less invested than her paladin compatriots. Lacking any real underworld connections, unless one counts the cook and proprieter of the Ox-Strength Tavern, Thurid has rather run out of ideas when it comes to tracking them down- save for canvassing random locals on the street. And so that is what she has begun doing, offering descriptions of the more noteworthy of the missing soldiers in the hopes that someone has seen them by happenstance.
Merek thinks about it, he would begin to assist in seeking the people that went away into the city. He follows along with Thurid, nodding a bit. The man wears what looks like dark attire with the beltcape about the waist, in addition to a hood. Well, he doesn't do a lot to take a look about, he seems content to follow and begin assisting.
No one can pound the pavement like a Jotun. Those big heavy feet slap down on the cobblestones with authority. Height, helps also, except when questionning goblins. They tend to get a little ankle-bitey when they feel threatened. It's instinctive. The presence of the Seer is a mitigating factor, his seeming innoculousness helping to calm things down. Still, it is Thurid's careful questions that get a response.
"Oi, yeh, saw 'em in Ma Rosie's. In the back like." Or variations upon that answer.
Turns out there /is/ a goblin underground in Alexandria, and Ma Rosie is one of the gatekeepers to it. She's not exactly forthcoming.
"Maybe I saw someone, maybe not. Waddya want with 'em? Whose askin'?"
Thurid shrugs her shoulders, "Thurid's asking. Or champion of Stone Talon, if that's any more likely to get answers." she offers openly. "And I don't want anything with 'em, cept to offer for 'em to settle here proper instead of as fugitives and deserters. Might be we can look into bringing their family over, an' all, if that's what they're wanting." she tells the goblin martiarch. "If they'd rather do it this way, I don't take issue personally. Just concerned they'll fall foul of the guard is all." she offers.
Merek doesn't add a lot to it all, the man listens while he nods a bit to Thurid. "Well, interesting." The man takes a drink from the flask which he keeps with him, then he takes a look about the place, "I wonder if we will find all of them before it becomes a full on issue," he says.
"Champion of Stone Talon huh?" Ma Rosie peers at Thurid, "Thought you would be taller. Yer a gobbo-scale Ogress. Heh, heh."
She rubs at her nose, which has a particularly large wart, making her exceptionally attractive. She snorts loudly, "Well no promises because I ain't seen anyone, but if I do I'll let 'em know. If someone wants to find you Warrior, try that 'settle proper' offer, what they should do? Contact your... man here?"
She stares at Merek, looking over his dark clothes, watching him take a drink from his flask and look about the place. "Meetchya somewheres? Send a Love Letter?"
Thurid grins broadly at the taller comment, "Sometimes I am." she offers cryptically. Then she ponders the question, and answers "S'pose you can have 'em swing by the temple. The Mountain- that's mine, though I'd wager most any temple would do." she says. "We're a by and large decent lot. Mind, warn 'em off wandering into Tarien's temple unprepared. Got lost in there for half a day."
Merek looks then to Ma Rosie, and back along to Thurd while he nods a bit. "Not anyone's man," he will note, while he thinks about it. "If you manage to find a few, I am willing to pay for any extra information, to look further into it," he then adds to the woman, while he offers a pack of coin.
The coins vanish faster than a rainbow on a rainy day. It was as if they were never there. Ma Rosie stands with her hands on her copious hips, "Well den, you're nobody's Man, and yer payin'. I'll be sure to let every lout and layabout know. I'm sure you'll make some new friends." She has a wide grin, lots of sharp, interlocking teeth. Very shark-like.
Ma Rosie follows this up with a nod to Thurid, "Okay. Mountain Temple for the Warrior Mountain, there's an offer. An' yeah, I know better than send a young hob to Tarien, they're as like to go off their head. Too serious a lot."
She waves, both hands flicking outwards, "Okay thanks for the donation, now git. If nobody shows up, nobody gets a message. That's how it works." Seems like there is perhaps not enough, or too many negations in her departing words, but the word should pass along. The pair are shoo'd out of Ma Rosie's, mission accomplished, sort-of.
Before departing from Ma Rosies, Thurid resists the shooing with her impressive bulk to pass along one more message. "Oh, and iff you see a hob by the name of Hashur, tell him he still owes me that dance."
Thurid has never been more pleased to see a campsite being dismantled- nor more eager to assist with it. As such, she gets to work right away. Much like how she had arrived, with the lifting of heavy boxes and hauling of unused supplies across broad shoulders. Though she has accrued a decent list of unfinished business- Dryads to visit, Dances to dance, she is well gladdened to see the end of DEVA camp.
Merek nods a bit to Ma Rosie, while he takes a look along to Thurid, "Well, it looks like we managed well enough," he says.
Returning to camp they will find it is being packed up, and quiet except for the Silverguard and a group of recovered patients.
Seldan
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Also Diplomacy for Seldan, or Intimidate, your choice, DC25.
Sense motive DC20 you can figure out a few people more likely to 'go off'."
GAME: Seldan rolls diplomacy: (8)+19: 27
GAME: Seldan rolls sense motive: (3)+18: 21
With all of the survivors now hale, and soldiers from opposing sides now separated and restless, Seldan has opted to leave the deserters to the authorities and return to the DEVA camp and his self-imposed peacemaking duties. The matter of the deserters is, in the end, a small one, but if a pitched battle erupts in the camp, or worse, one of those sides decides to go marauding in the countryside, that will not be a small matter in the slightest.
So it is that he returns to the camp without delay, and awaits a report from healers and peacekeepers on the situation. Doubtless many of the healers are packing up and sanitizing.
The Silverguard is greeted at the camp by Shaman Geir's grey-scaled assistant. Still heavily cowled in his vestments, it's really a cloth shaped 'Makar form with hands, nose and tail-tip sticking out. "Healersss are. Packing. Cleaning. Wagonsss come for. Tentss. Cookware. Burning the ressst."
All the volunteers seem in good spirits, happy to finally be able to leave.
It's the remaining soldiers that are a problem. They're restless, uncertain. There are complaints, but one in particular sums up the Bludgun point of view. A Caerllyon Mostyn, a male hobgoblin private, has been vocal. "We even got an Army to go back to? Stone Talon surrendered, are we gonna be handed over as Prisoners of War to them Blar soldiers? Is command gonna count us as deserting? I was unconcious when I was brought here. All I have is a hospital gown, no money, no boots, no papers."
Some, have a little more, but his assessment is correct. They're at the mercy of a foreign power with no leverage. Not a position many Arvek Nars like to be in.
Seldan listens to all voices, steadily and evenly. "It is not my place to say," he says quietly, when all have finished. "Is it your wish to return, and continue the war, or would you make peace, and find a new life in Alexandros, or wherever you chose to go?"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "they're trying to be intimidating" GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+6: (17)+6: 23 <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "and your DC is probably around 33 or something, so they fail."
Caerllyon rocks back on his heels, gesturing around him, "Well. Some want ta go back n' fight, some want ta go home, and some want to try their hand at the colosseum here. Heard there's good coin, mebbe work. You got a problem with us just leavin'? We gettin' any our stuff back? I don't think you want us just beggin' on the streets."
Even in Hospital gowns, a lot of military age, military trained hobgoblins have a certain presence such that their 'asking' for money won't come across as having more than one option.
They loom around the Silverguard.
This time, Seldan turns to look for their leaders, his gaze level. "Where are your leaders? Do they have your things here? If they do, those should be returned to you. Those that wish to stay ..." He pauses quietly. "I will speak for you to the temples, and aid you as I may. It should be enough to get you started." A small smile had formed, but now vanishes. "Those that wish to make war still, I demand that you leave Alexandros, and shall see you to the border of Bludgun, once those willing to make peace are seen to."
The small smile returns. "If you wish to frighten me into doing as you wish, know that I have stared a Duke of Hell in the eyes and denied him."
<OOC> Cryosanthia nods, "ok, roll Diplomacy, DC25 GAME: Seldan rolls diplomacy: (20)+19: 39
"Wait! A duke of hell?"
"Denied, is that defeated?"
"You defeated a Duke of Hello? HOW!?"
"Yes. Tell us what we need to know."
Seems the Silverguard has hit on a topic close to every soldier's heart, how to stand up to and defeat a strong enemy. They're his new best friends, provided he's got the details to share.
"Denied him his quarry, and lived to tell the tale, although there were others who paid dearly, for not being swift enough to move. Not all victories are won at swordpoint. Come, I shall share the tale on our walk back to town. Find what things you have, and we shall see to clothing and shoes for the rest." And so Seldan will do. He is monetarily capable of providing clothing, shoes, and basic necessities, and will do exactly as his has promised. Those who choose to leave the war, he provides for, those who do not, he escorts to the border. He spends much of the journey back spinning some of his stories for the band of Arvek with him.
Tenoc
Never so pleased to see a camp broken than the DEVA site, and Tenoc emerges from the forest with weariness told by the slump of his tail,the crook in his step. Subtle, but there-- he snaps too instantly as he rumbles quietly, shaking off the moroseness as he walks into site of the Softskinned of the camp. Quick eyes run here, there; he chuffs in satisfaction as various temporary and semi-permanent buildings are taken down, taking up a place to watch into the forest. And grimace sourly.
Someone has been explaining to the local druids exactly why and who thought that 'cutting' down trees with firepowder was a brilliant decision!
The benefits of explosive logging were eagerly explained to the greenscale 'Makar, several enthusiastic times that included offers to demonstrate. It was left to him to explain these to Ovolo, who did not want a demonstration. Who was rather upset at the previous examples. It's possible to heal trees, but not after this much catastrophic damage.
Back at Camp
The Warrior and Seer are greeted with packing-up duties upon their return to camp. The tents are going last, as many of the recovered patients don't have anywhere to go. However the offers from the Temples for basic necessities and provisions will help, and they will likely be taking trips into Alexandria in manageable groups. Some need a little more escorting than others; bugbears need to be reminded that humans are not food, even if they're standing around unattended.
The Silverguard has a group of hangers on, impressed with his words and deed, and the ones with shoes are more than happy to follow him around and help 'police' the rest of the camp, or assist with the packing up. Having them pack up seems the safest option.
The next day, Inquisitor Yolam Murmurboggle arrives and gathers everyone outside of Ezrechu's and Deaztor's cells in the Magnificient Mansion. Mikilos has been intermittently absent, off adventuring and warming a jail cell. In his absence the casting has been provided by an associate of his. It's still magical it lacks some of the Dawn Elf's embellishments, the place is more clinical and spartan. The Inquisitor was accompanied by two Alexandrian guards, who left him and went towards the Eastern fields of the camp.
Murmurboggle stands in a wide stance, hands on his cumberbun, head tilted back to look up at everyone. The light reflects nicely off his egg shaped head. "I have some bad news."
Ezrechu slams her fist against the clear door behind the gnome, snarling ferally, clear anger in her eyes.
Merek takes time to begin cleaning up, then he places on dark attire. Though this time it looks like basic equipment with the scarf which he wears. When he comes upon the conversation, he nods a bit, "What news?" the man asks. There's a cigarette which he places along into his mouth, which he lights with a tinderbox.
"Bad news?" The whole affair had taken Seldan time, time willingly spent, but he now finds himself returned to clean up the last odds and ends.
Tenoc tilts his head, a flicker of energy rekindling the Makar's expression. He adjusts his warding position, eyes kept to the outer rim. Just in case. And listening, with a rustle of slow-swaying tail!
Thurid nods her head at that, "If I'm to face some reprimand for my actions, I understand. Though these two were perpetrating and abetting evil- I'll make no apologies for them." she offers resolutely, one hand resting on her hip as she looks back to the Inquisitor.
Murmurboggle doesn't react to the aggressive Arvek Nar behind him. Instead he tilts his head the other way, and asks Merek, "What brand do you use?" He holds his hand out, in case the man will share a cigarette.
Turning back, he faces Thurid first, "You are fortunately covered by Alexandria's Adventurer Policy. Alexandria does not claim to have control over Adventurers, nor any responsibility for their action. Your Temple may wish to speak to you, but they have not given any words to me."
He addresses everyone, "With the main matter at hand, the Temples have deferred to Alexandria on this and the Alexandrian nobles have decided they don't have jurisdiction. They don't want to be drawn into this dispute between Blar and Bludgun. Alexandros has declared herself neutral, so whatever crimes were alegedly committed need to be proven and prosecuted by Blar or Bludgun."
"What are you saying exactly?" Ezrechu snarls. She attempts to soften her words, but fails.
"Sounds like if your brass approve of your evil methods you get off scott free." Thurid tells Ezrechu. "Though, from what I hear they care more for results than methods. And your sucessor did a better job." she says, the hint of a smirk forming at the corner of her mouth before she dismisses it. "That said," she looks back to the inquisitor. "I'll not stand by and allow either side to continue using these vile methods- disease and alchemical concotions that maim and kill their own soldiers- even if I have to march into each besieged town and city and strike down their tyrants, too." she says.
"I make my own," Merek mentions, while he offers another cigarette, then he nods a bit. A look then to Thurid, "It's not as easy as that. There are politics, there are a lot of things to keep in mind, we won't change it by saying we'll change it. Alexandria already has issues which need to be fixed. I wouldn't want them involved in anyone else's politics. The only thing that we can do is try to teach the people we can the better way."
Tenoc listens to one, then another, then the third-- He chuffs again, a glance cast up at the bleak grey sky; he rumbles darkly, a sigh tinged with steam. Softskin politic-village-things: attention wanes briefly, though renewed when Thurid speaks of marching everywhere, personally!
A steam-kettle hisss. Bemusement!
"My lady, I could bring you before an Alexandrian court solely based on your actions in this camp." Seldan turns around to speak to the incensed Ezrechu, tone even and cool. "If you wish to vent your anger upon those present here, I invite you to do so, but I warn you that it will not end well for you. You have not comported yourself as an innocent woman, and based on the Warrior's words, I am disinclined to give you the benefit of the doubt."
"It is true that the war between Blar and Bludgun is not Alexandria's affair, and for Alexandria to involve itself would mean only more suffering and bloodshed. Still have the crimes committed as a part of that war placed Alexandria in danger," he says thoughtfully. "We may have no legal recourse to hold her, based on those crimes, but seeing as she has already assaulted the good Murmurboggle here, or at the least attempted it ..." He trails off.
"Thanks," Murmurboggle says, taking the cigarette and lighting up.
Taking a puff and gazing up at Thurid he says, "Well, Alexandria officially states no responsibility for your actions, and I can confirm the Temple of Eluna's disapproval of their use of disease. So I see nothing standing in your way if the Mountain doesn't object."
Ezrechu interrupts him, turning her fury on Seldan. "I was KIDNAPPED by FORCE from my Command! You have no right to HOLD ME or JUDGE ME for actions I commit in a place I didn't choose to be. It's legalistic maneuvering. It'd be an act of war if I grabbed one of your nobles, dragged 'em back home, then executed them for resisting."
She pauses, then chuckles pensively, "That would be a good little trick though. Heh, heh. Thanks."
Her eyes are on fire again, "You want to play Lawful games, go right ahead. What do you say little man? Going to charge me?" She glares at Murmurboggle.
"Would you like a cigarette?" Murmurboggle smiles up at the former Colonel. He looks at Merek and wobbles his head in Ezrechu's direction, "Perhaps offer her one. While I consider charges."
Merek offers one of the cigarettes to Ezrechu. All of the conversation doesn't look like it's something he wants to be involved in. He nods a bit, "Well, either way. While you all think about that, I am going to see about a few things."
Thurid folds her arms across her chest, "I saved your life after I bested you, because I wanted to give you the opportunity to undo some of the evil you have comitted." Thurid says, as she steps closer to the door, "You have squandered that opportunity. It is not the judgement of men you ought fear." she emphasizes the word fear, "But that of the divine. When the grey lady calls you to her halls, mark well you will find yourself consigned to the hells lest you change your ways." she tells the Hobgoblin, looming over her in her cell. "If you wish to hasten your journey to the halls, I'd be well pleased to give you a second chance to test yourself against me, if you dare."
"You are always responsible for your actions, regardless of where you are," Seldan reminds Ezrechu. "Since you appear to have the self-control of a child that among my people is barely old enough to walk, it may well be that the gnome is willing to grant you leniency and not do so." When the Warrior speaks, though, he immediately quiets, turning his gaze to her and nodding. "I support such a notion, and she may also test herself against me, should she so desire. Should she assault anyone present upon release without such an agreement, she will face me."
The Makar idly rustles his tail from one side to the other, for all the world a green-hued statue with gemstone eyes. Save for the movement, and the careful tilt of his head, half attentive to the conversation behind.
And the shudder that rattles through his frame. Glare at the clouds. Seethe!
"You?" Ezrechu laughs at Thurid. "Wouldn't be a fair fight."
She glares at Seldan, and rubs her nose, pulling on it a bit. She hasn't forgotten how he stopped her. "Wouldn't be a fair fight with you either."
"Give me my arms and armour and I'll fight you and the cold-blood," Ezrechu decides, challenging Thurid. This is followed by a stare at Murmurboggle and Seldan, "Unless this is some trick to add more charges."
Murmurboggle smiles, drawing a puff on his cigarette, blowing the smoke in the Arvek Nar's direction. He seems to enjoy dragging the exchange out, "Well... It's clear you didn't create the disease. That you used it, is despicable, but done outside of Alexandros. So while Alexandria is very concerned about the disease being present here, you didn't bring it. You are very angry though, I don't think you can manage to avoid attacking anyone on your way out. So if you fight your challengers, you are free to go. Otherwise you should be restrained, since you have no restraint."
"So, jail or battle. I choose battle. Give me my kit."
Thurid nods, once, in apparent approval at the outcome. "I'll get my hammer." she says, and then makes her way to fetch it from her own room in the mansion. On the way, she asks the teamsters she brought from the Order Paramount who had been helping break down the camp to prepare an arena. She returns, with the well used implement of righteous bludgeoning across her shoulders, "We'll have a proper place for it. I'll await there. When you are ready, we'll cross arms once more." she offers. Then she makes her way out to oversee the preperation of the arena.
Seldan's only response to Ezrechu's stare is a small smile. "My vows forbid such base tricks. You have chosen. So be it." He makes no quarrel with her choices, only stepping back to find Ezrechu's gear. She is no match for him, and they both know it - the choice is a fair one.
"Ok." Ezrechu says. She manages to receive a cigarette from Merek without attacking him. She carefully keeps a distance from Murmurboggle as she leaves her cell. She manages to appear formidable in the simple gown she was given.
As she passes Doctor Deaztor's cell, the doctor hisses, "What about... me?"
"We shall deal with you later." Murmurboggle says.
The Arena is set up. It's similar to the one in stone talon, but smaller in diameter, only one hundred and sixty feet across. Circular.
Ezrechu takes up a position on one side, changes into her equipment. Full plate, covered in spikes, with a magical sheen. A guisarme, that also has a special glow, a cloak and a ring. She rubs at the insignia on her breast. She's ready.
GAME: Thurid casts Blessing of Fervor. Caster Level: 7 DC: 17 <OOC> Thurid says, "Oh, actually, I'll advance 60' with the blessing."
Thurid rolls her shoulders and lays one hand on the haft of her hammer while she waits. When the horns sound, she hefts her hammer to rest on one shoulder as she begins walking towards her oponent. "Angoron, Mountain. I call upon your strength to do battle. Lend me your acuity, your fleetness. Empower me with your prowess!" she calls out lifting the maul she wears about her neck as she incants. Her plea is answered with a thunderclap, and she breaks into a long-strided jog across the arena, covering ground rapidly in mighty bounds. She grips her hammer with both hands as she draws close.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Ezrechu will full out run in plate, which moves her 90' closer, so with your advance, you are 10' apart, just out of reach of her bardiche"
The minute the challenge horns sound, Ezrechu charges, running flat out across the cleared field. The ice, snow, and flattened grass is wet, the temperature is high enough there has been some melting, but not so wet as to be overly slippery. It isn't a hard packed floor though, so it's less than ideal.
The hobgoblin colonel closes the distance, taking the centre and advancing past it. She ends up very close to the Jotun, almost within reach of her pole-arm. "Always with the blessings." She growls, "I thought we were going to fight."
"He who walks with the gods walks never alone," Seldan murmurs quietly to those nearest him, folding his arms to watch the fight unfold. He does not make a move to interfere, though.
Sunday, March 21, 2021, 2:15 PM
The Makar lashes his tail with energetic fury. Tenoc stretches his neck, setting it creaking with a dull, faint pop. The time for words is done; he holds his greatspear loosely, casually, sharp gaze tracking the hobgoblin as he begins to move, a slow lope to one side.
"It is good. Hsssk-- confidence in one's self." He grins, toothsome and eager and entirely without humour. He circles to the corner, finally levelling his spear with a sharp-toothed rumble. "Be confident too when-- ssk. Standing before the Death-Singer!"
Firm, brash-- he lunges forward with a sudden, charging rush, spear's sharp point aimed at center of the hob's mass!
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Anyhow... Tenoc, roll attack, +2 for charging." GAME: Tenoc rolls 1d20+12+2+2: (17)+12+2+2: 33 GAME: Tenoc rolls 1d10+7: (3)+7: 10
The spear is sharp, vicious, deadly; the Makar surges forward with a suddeness that belies reason. Metal shrieks where the magic-touched speartip bites at the armor of the hobgoblin, scraping up and off from the plate. A solid mark-- the metal absorbs most of the blow, but not all!
"...ssk. I smell you," Tenoc growls, drawing back, preparing with a coiled snake's breathless intensity.
<OOC> Thurid says, "I'll 5' in, and use BoF to make a second attack at my full BaB" GAME: Thurid rolls weapon12: (4)+11: 15 GAME: Thurid rolls weapon12: (16)+11: 27 GAME: Thurid rolls damage12: aliased to 2d6+7: (9)+7: 16
Thurid offers the Hobgoblin a gap-toothed grin at that, "Aye, always with the blessings. My god favors me!" she says, and with a grunt of effort as she skids to a stop and lifts her hammer overhead in one smooth motion, she brings it crashing down- it misses, hitting the soil underfoot. "Can you say the same?" she says, muscles tensing as she twists on her heel and brings the weapon back up again, smashing into the spiky breastplate of Ezrechu's armor.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "okay, she's 5' stepping away from Thurid so and doing a full attack on Tenoc,
first one is a trip attempt, also using CE"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Combat Expertise, penalty to attack, increases defense"
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+13: (6)+13: 19 (TRIP)
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+9: (16)+9: 25
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 2d4+7: (5)+7: 12
GAME: Ezrechu damaged Tenoc for 12 points. 30 HP remaining.
Ezrechu is a little taken aback at Sudden Stabby Sith, then a little wounded. She's barely had time to react when Thurid slips inside her guard. She likes her friends close, and her enemies... a little further away where they are easier to put on their backs.
Which is what she attempts to do, sweeping low and hissing at Tenoc, "Coldblood!" It's a solid wack but fails to unbalance the sturdy Sith. She continues with her follow-up move, which was to stab at where he hopefully fell over. He doesn't take it lying down, but her guisarm opens up an ugly wound.
"I'll let you know when it's over." The hobgoblin snarls at the Jotun.
GAME: Tenoc rolls 1d20+14+2: (14)+14+2: 30 GAME: Tenoc rolls 1d10+7: (5)+7: 12
Tenoc snarls at the vicious counterstrike, eyes glittering as he moves back, staying within range of the polearm weapon--circling to the rear, to relentlessly split the hobgoblin's attentions. "Already over," he intones, licking his teeth with a steam-kettle hiss. Step, scrape, step--
He roars as he lunges in again, for all the world a wild beast of an attacker. Yet the strikes are precise, skittering along the shell of metal, raking along dark paint, clashing with spikes-- betwixt and between where one plate melds to the other. The broad blade wedges and bites betwee metal and shoulder, and the sparkle of blood glistens as the Makar grins wickedly.
GAME: Thurid rolls weapon12: (2)+11: 13 GAME: Thurid rolls weapon12: (20)+11: 31 (THREAT) GAME: Thurid rolls weapon12: (1)+11: 12 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Thurid rolls damage12: aliased to 2d6+7: (5)+7: 12
"When we bested you the first time..." Thurid says, as she adjusts the grip on her hammer, tightening her grip on it. "You said 'see to ours first.'" she recalls, before swinging the hammer towards the Colonel- who deftly avoids the weighty lump of steel, despite the pressure Tenoc puts on her from behind. "Did you really think..." she wonders as she once more backswings the hammer towards the Hobgoblin, "You were doing the right thing for your people!?" she finally exclaims as the heat of her Earthbreaker strikes home, once more clattering against the breastplate and bit by bit caving it in with each strike.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "She's going to FA PA Thurid this time" GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+14: (18)+14: 32 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+9: (7)+9: 16 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 2d4+7+9: (4)+7+9: 20 GAME: Ezrechu damaged Thurid for 20 points. 40 HP remaining.
Ezrechu watches as Tenoc circles. That blessing certainly helped, and the coldblood is right, it's already over. She's not going down without leaving a mark on both of them. She lunges, then swipes at Thurid, her guisarm's blade sliding along her side and cutting a deep furrow, but the back-cut misses.
"I was doing right for Blar!" She roars.
<OOC> Tenoc continues on-- stab from rear! "Flanking this tme as well? BoF as +2." GAME: Tenoc rolls 1d20+14+2+2: (10)+14+2+2: 28 GAME: Tenoc rolls 1d20+9+2+2: (3)+9+2+2: 16 GAME: Tenoc rolls 1d10+7: (3)+7: 10
There. Metal like a shell, finely made, perfect....
But age and use and metal fatigue-- weakness revealed by leak of blood, the track followed to flow--
Tenoc rears back, plunging forward with a slamming strike. He hisses as the blade strikes and cuts, and cuts deep; metal screams in protest, and Longtooth bites just above the kidneys of the hobgoblin colonel. A sickening sound, added to with a gut-tearing twist; the Makar drags back with a jerk of the weapon, leaving blood red and black to flow with a most mournful spray.
Ezrechu is dropped, falling to her knees, the spikes of her armour planting and holding them fixed. She holds onto the haft of her weapon, fingers tightening as blackness rushes in from the edge of her vision.
Thurid grits her teeth as the guisarm bites into her, and her blood flows freely from the wound, glistening against the silver of her chainmail. "I fought by them. Bled by them!" she says back to Ezrechu, "They are honorable, and just. The war you waged- the way you waged it, was not." she retorts. She hefts her earthbreaker once more, but then sees that it is already over- and she lets it drop, head first, haft pointing to the heavens. "It's done!" she calls to Tenoc, lest he continue the attack and finish off their downed foe.
She drops to her knee, to support the fallen hobgoblin and stop her from halling into the dirt- heedless to the prickle of her spikes armor which draws fresh points of blood from the Jotun. "I believe that you were doing what you thought best." she offers her then. "If you wish for an honorable death, here, then I will let the lady take you. If you wish another chance to do right for your people, in truth this time- to be honorable and just in the name of Blar, then I will help you." she says to her, one hand pressing against the wound firmly to slow the stem of blood for now- and give her time to chose.
GAME: Thurid rolls diplomacy: (1)+7: 8 (EPIC FAIL)
Merek looks to the fight, he has been the whole time. It was not for him to involve himself with, not to mention that he could easily win, it would not be honorable combat. The man places both hands along his pockets while he thinks about it, his scarf adjusted with a look to Thurid while she speaks to Ezrechu, then to Tenoc.
"I... >klrk<..." Ezrechu chokes, coughing up some blood. Her armour remains solid, she becomes a weak thing trapped inside, "I'd rather... >kak< ... take it up with her."
The light goes out in her eyes, they take on a strange sheen and she goes loose. The only thing holding her up is Thurid, and that's a little painful from all the spikes.
A brutal woman, not a very complicated one, that was in charge of something she couldn't handle and tried to manage it with the only tools she knew, indifferent violence. Dead now.
Tenoc watches in silence, a chuff of breath steaming on the air his only response to the moment. The ritual is done; the battle over. The Makar takes his place back at Thurid's shoulder, behind and to one side. No longer needed for such terrible things.
He watches silently, gaze roaming in slow survey. No longer a Hunter thing; now, of Shamen, and last respects.
Thurid grits her teeth as the life leaves the Hobgoblin Colenal. She ignores the painful smikes, as she maneuvers the woman to lay on the dirt. She shakes her head a bit, disagreeing with her decision, perhaps, or simply regretting that she chose the way she did. After a few long moments, perhaps a silent prayer, she stands. "I will bear her body back to Blar." she states, for anyone that will listen. "Though I cannot condone her actions, she is still a daughter of Blar, and should be returned to her motherland." she adds then. She picks up the hammer, though her hands are slippery with blood, and hooks its haft through the frogs at her back so that it can hang over her shoulder, then kneels once again to lift the hobgoblin and bear her off to be cleaned and reposed.
Combatty
===================== Current Initiative Order - Round 1 =====================
---Init--Name------------AOO-Notes--------------------------------------------
11 Thurid 1
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>> 8 Ezrechu 1 <<
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3 Tenoc 3 Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)
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==============================================================================
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| Name | Race | Class | CHP | HP | AC/FF/T |CMD |For |Ref |Wil |
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|Tenoc |SITH-MAKAR|Mnk/Rgr | 42 | 64 |22/20/19 | 27 | 11 | 10 | 5 |
|Thurid |GIANTBORN |Clr | 60 | 60 |21/20/13 | 22 | 8 | 3 | 9 |
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<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Even if your PC wouldn't decide one way or another, I'm opening it so the player can say 'well I think this should happen, and I'll have my PC nudge it in that direction'. Your Diplomacy and Sense motive were high, so you effectively found the NPC lever you need to move one way or another"
<OOC> Seldan says, "Who is that directed at?"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Well, everyone in general but right now you Seldan"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "if the NPCs say 'what do you think', it's your option to say 'this, that, or I want the Gm to decide what makes sense'"
<OOC> Cryosanthia has a few different ways things could go, depending on what strategic decisions are made
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Reminding, if you want to push things in another direction, IC arguments are fine, it's a starting position"
<OOC> Tenoc nods!
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "As far as I'm aware, Ea is not Earth, doesn't have the Hague or the ICC and no over-arching authority to appeal to for war crimes or treaty against them, even though I assume a 'how to conduct an honourable war' document exists in some fashion, so Alexandria is going 'yeah... that's another nation's internal matter.""
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Hmmmm....."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Get her to admit she's wrong and ask for a second chance, or take the easy 'honourable' way out and die"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Well, A diplomacy roll, I think. She's hostile, and you're asking to do something that might get her punished, but the stat block I'm using also says she's a coward that sacrifices her own troops to save her life... so... I'll go with those cancel out, but it's still a DC25"