Kill Ted

Log Info

• Title: Kill Ted
• Emitter: Jinks
• Characters: Alteri Level 2, Laoise Level 3, Owen Level 4, Selia Level 5, Shyntae Level 2
• NPCs: Aehrick the Elder, Eloena, Theodore the Illothan
• Place: Alexandria - the Dragon's Den, western guardhouse
• Time: August 12, 2011
• Summary: Theodore the Illothan is being arrested by the city watch on charges of murder and the execution of banned, profane ritual within the city walls.
• APL: 4
• Encounter 1: Faer'cyrl (Rog4), Urlyn-vayas (Clr3), (dominated) Alexandrian Watch Lieutenant Eloena (Ftr3), CR 6

The Dragon's Den is oddly quiet tonight -- a bit odd for a Kesenday evening but not so strange with the tensions running through the city. Especially the western half of the city. The hearth glows warmly in contrast to the chill breeze outside, crackling and popping just often enough to remind you that the fire is alive and writhing. A gray-bearded khazad burps contentedly as he marches past the large, brickwork fireplace and begins a slow-but-steady trek up the stairs.

A tanned, sunkissed elf-blooded man works behind the iconic bar, cleaning glasses and distributing drinks with the aid of his lovely assistant, the lone barmaid. A cook works hard behind the scenes -- heard at his work only when the kitchen door swings open as the maid passes through -- and makes the establishment's skeleton crew a meer three honest, hardworking Alexandrians. Not to say they lack anything in efficiency, no, for they've all been doing this awhile.

The other patrons are relatively unremarkable; a young couple too blinded with affections to have the sense to stay at home, the three remaining khazad busy at drink and gambling with one another, and a lone, dark-cowled figure nursing spirits at a small table furthest from the fire.

And then there's you. Relaxing at the end of a long day or the beginning of a dark night's work.

Owen is quite the former, rather than the later. The cleric's vestments are flecked with dust, sweat, and grime, a side effect of moving through the city all day. Especially in the poorer sections of town. He nurses a flagon of ale in one hand, and small book in the other, reading it while he drinks.

GAME: Owen rolls Perception: (20)+5: 25 You paged Owen with 'Hah. Well, yes, the dark-clad figure in the corner is most assuredly Ted, the young Illothan rescued during Shadowfall. He spent a scant few moments in Althea's temple before being strong enough to leave and stumble home. Even conscious he didn't seem -that- bad. Painfully earnest but moderately inept at... just about everything. He is doing a pretty good job of looking sinister right now, however.'

Selia murmurs a few words of greeting to the passing khazad before comming down the stairs, absently adjusting her gear. Peering about a moment, the halfer heads for the bar proper, brushing a stray strand of hair behind an ear.

Laoise is actually sat at the bar, making idle small talk with the barkeeper, legs swinging freely off the stool she's occupying, spun around to its very top position to afford the halfling woman the opportunity to actually see over the counter. She's got a sizable mug of mulled wine, a book she's only half-heartedly laid beside the mug but not even opened yet, and a bored look on her face. Uh-oh. A bored halfling.

The relative peace of the environs is aided and abetted by a figure seated near the fireplace. In calm, hypnotic strokes, Alteri runs a whetstone down the length of her bared blade, her posture one of ritual straightness. Occasionally, the weapon is lifted to eyes that reflect the flickering light of the coals, prompting a faint frown as the Eldanar finds another imperfection that she religiously removes with yet more strokes of the stone.

Shyntae's covered figure moves down from upstairs, slipping to a chair near the fire. She nods to the barmaid, obviously familiar with them and ready for a drink.

A glimmer of recognition twinkles in Owen's eyes for a moment and he settles back into his nook, leaning forward only to murmur something in the barmaid's ear as she passes, pressing a coin into her palm. He settles back into his corner and his eyes fall back down on the book he was reading.

Owen pages: Gonna give the barmaid a silver, tell her to tell the halfling woman that just came down the stairs (Selia) to come over here.

"No, no. I know exactly what you mean, miss." The half-elf chuckles quietly and nods in agreement with Laoise, glancing askance and calling "Selia, you minx, how is it Telmentar allows for you to be as beautiful as she?" Nodding in greeting. "Favoring us with a dance tonight? Afraid the tips won't be the best..." He cants his chin to indicate the thin crowd. "The usual?"

Bellows erupt at some point from the dwarves, a wooden thunk and the squeel of chairlegs on the floor when a hand of cards is slammed down with authority. Taunting in Khazdul is raucous and unabashed as the barmaid scoops up empty tin flagons and replaces them with fresh, frothy mugs. The girl smiles at Shyntae and weaves around the unoccupied chair with all the grace of a practiced server. She'll likely be right back but pauses and bends low when Owen stops her. A nod and she's on her way!

The dark figure is still drinking. Probably enjoying his solitude. Or maybe it's that he's really just not good with small talk? The barmaid passes his table and...

She kneels near Selia and whispers something before continuing with her load into the kitchen.

You paged Selia with 'The barmaid says that the priest with the book in the nook wants to talk to you, then subtly tilts her head towards Owen.'

"You know, somehow, I wouldn't be surprised if you did," responds the blonde halfling, giving the half-elf behind the bar an appraising look. Half turning in her seat, she leans an elbow on the counter and crosses one leg over the other, smiling faintly as she observes the game in progress between the dwarves. The casual, elegant air is somewhat ruined by her having to use both hands to lift her mug and sip from it, though.

Selia climbs easily up onto a barstool, kneeling atop to put herself at proper level, rather then spinning the poor thing to a proper height. Grinning to the barkeep and motioning towards the daily special, Selia looks around again, nodding greetings towards the fellow halfling. "G'evenin." Her accent thick with Charnish past. Pauseing, she listens to the whispered message, nodding before hopping lightly down again, heading towards Owen's table. "'owdy. Mind iffen I join yas fer a bit?"

As the barmaid brushes by where Alteri is seated, the whetstone is abandoned and a sword-callused paw snakes out to snag the barmaid's sleeve. Blinking, she glances down at Alteri who simply asks, "Was the silver enou-" Tsking, she cuts the Highborn off and hikes a thumb at the fixed door. Poking the fighter in the shoulder, the barmaid hrumphs, "And there's change." Keen eyes sweep across the woman's bare table, "It'll cover an ale, I'll just..."

"Water is fine." Alteri says evenly. Disregarding the barmaid's huff, she pointedly returns to sharpening her blade to within an inch of its steely life. "Stubborn mule..." the maid mutters, flouncing off towards the kitchens in a swirl of dress skirts. If not for the faint curl of Alteri's lips, one might think she did not hear that little insult.

Owen looks up from his reading at the sound of Selia's voice, offering a smile and a nod to the halfling lass. He pushes a chair out with his foot across from him and then settles back to his reading after scratching his mustache.

From afar, to (Jinks, Selia): Owen mutters through his hand as he scratches, "The kid in black in the corner. He's a cultist acolyte I rescued. He looks off the wagon and up to no good." as surreptiously as he can. D: Shyntae relaxes back into her chair as she waits for her drink, casually propping her feet up on the table. Folding her arms over her stomach, the hooded head glances towards the fire, careful to keep her face low so the light only plays across her chin.

Selia hops up into the offered chair, nodding to Owen before peering back towards the bar proper. Best make sure the bar-tender knows where she's disappeared to. Glancing towards the other patrons of the room in turn, she nods again to the priest. "So wot ya readin?" she inquires casually.

"Excuse me miss," the barkeep asides to the halfling lady, stepping around the bar with a bucket. See, the dwarves are fighting now. The kind of hopping, awkward beard-pulling that happens between brothers after a few drinks and one-too-many "that's why mom never shoulda had ye!" The third shakes his head and takes the opportunity to drain the ignored tankards while the other two are rolling around like a couple of hairy children. Someone bites the other's nose, then an eye gets poked. By the time they're knocking over two empty chairs the half-elf is up-ending a bucket of sudsy water.

The two roll apart, choking and sputtering in protest. "You're done for the night, boys! Your room's upstairs, consider that your bath. Trundle along..." And, surprisingly, the khazad comply, and march off -- though they might shove one another once or twice and mutter along the way.

The barmaid returns, tray heavy, and makes quick work of distributing drinks and food as requested. She doesn't even pause at the passing, drenched dwarves or the puddle on the ground. Just another day.

Laoise seems to take no special notice of Selia. Sure, they're both halflings, but hey, it's Alexandria. All kinds of races are around. She does, however, glance over at Owen; priests are always a welcome sight, in any part of town. Her gaze soon finds her own book, though, and she heaves a small sigh as she finally gets around to opening it up, cracking the spine audibly as she lays it flat with a hand. Somewhere in the city, a librarian winces.

Shyntae's hooded head turns towards the dwarves that rumble up the stairs, her posture would hint that she is somewhat amused. As her hidden gaze moves about the room, it lingers on the shadowy figure. Finally she pulls her interest away, and looks back to the fire, taking up her drink that has newly arrived.

Owen watches the struggle of the dwarves with no small amusement, his attention drawn back to Selia when she speaks to him. "A partial copy of "The Fabric of Reality: A Treatise on the Nature of the Planes." Dry as a Veyshan duststorm, but it's rather insightful. And good to get to sleep." He takes another sip from his flagon and sets it aside for the time being. "The two orcs you handed off to me are working out, barely. The cook hates them, but they work hard."

From afar, to (Jinks, Selia): Owen slides a quick murmur into his flagon before taking a sip, "Yes, him. Bring him over here? Or get a friend to cover the door, if something happens."

The barmaid lingers a moment by Alteri's table, seeming to considering just upending the mug of water over the fighter's head. She asked for water, correct? She did not ask how she wanted it. But a long arm darts up to snatch the cup before she can decide either or. Sometimes, it is advantageous to be stupidly tall, for a human, anyway. "Efficient as ever." Alteri compliments, pale eyes twinkling mutely over the rim of the mug at the barmaid. "Ooooh!" Without warning, she stomps on the fighter's toe, gives a loud sniff, and departs to serve others. Having been in the middle of taking a nice, long draft, the Eldanar chokes on her drink and begins coughing. One of the khazad's notices this and barks a laugh, pulling at his suds=soaked brother's jerkin to tell him all about the apparently great funny.

A commotion from the kitchen -- the cook is shouting something about trespassing -- precedes both that door and the main entryway to knock open at a stiff-arm. The barkeep stops and quirks a curious look but the maid is too busy giving Alteri a Look to really notice. Armored plates grinding and leather boots fall heavily as the city watch arrives; one through the kitchen and a pair pushing through the front door.

Even without their weapons drawn it's clear that the trio is on business and the eldest of the three -- a pale-skinned, middle-aged fellow with a salt'n pepper coloration to his beard and short hair -- narrows his eyes as he scans the tavern's occupants wordlessly.

<OOC> Jinks says, "If folks have Knowledge (Local) feel free to roll. Anyone with perception is free to roll as well." GAME: Owen rolls Perception: (11)+5: 16 GAME: Alteri rolls Perception: (6)+1: 7 GAME: Selia rolls knowledge/local: (20)+4: 24 GAME: Laoise rolls Perception: (20)+2: 22 GAME: Shyntae rolls perception: (8)+7: 15 You paged Laoise with 'The cloaked figure (not Shyntae, the other one!) tenses at the watch's arrival. Whether he was just startled or it's some subtle admission of a guilty conscience it's hard to say.' You paged Selia with 'The two watchmen that entered through the front door are Lieutenants by their ribbons and medallions while the other, from the kitchens, is your general rank-and-file. This seems to be fairly serious.'

Laoise looks up, of course, at the arrival of the Watch. One does that. Perhaps surprisingly for those who know halflings, she doesn't duck her head or try to make herself inconspicuous - but neither does she try to disguise the fact that she's watching the watchmen(yes, yes) to see what they're up to. The mug is carefully lifted to her lips, and she takes a sip, eyes twinkling with... something. A trace of humour, a hint of expectation? An 'Oh, this should be good' kind of thing?

Selia nods to Owen, once more hopping lightly down from her chair perch. And then the Watch is bursting in. The halfer freezes for a moment, likea child caught with it's hand in the cookie jar. Frowning faintly at the uniformed trio, Selia slowly speads her open hands, making it clear they are empty. "G'evenin Lieutenants. 'elp ya wit sumthin?"

Still recovering from her almost-drowning, Alteri does not hear any commotion going on. The two city watchmen coming in through the front door, however, does get a curious, if teary-eyed glance. Going very quiet despite the great urge to keep coughing, the fighter quickly sheaths her blade and sets it to lean against her table, hilt within easy reach.

Shyntae's hooded head is pulled to the entrance toward the watch. Her posture stiffens, and slowly, and as inconspicuously as she can, she pulls her feet down from the table. Absently she pulls the the cloak about herself with gloved hands, hood pulled down over her face further. But she remains in her chair, purposely trying to look relaxed.

Owen blinks as Selia is surprised. Apparently the condition is contagious as he drops his book. He leans down to retrieve the book, putting a hand on Selia's shoulder as he stands from the chair. He weaves around his halfling table mate and approaches the eldest of the trio, straightening his stole and dusting himself off. "Evening, officers. I'm Father Owen Tilgentor, Servant of Heaven's Queen and adventurer. Is there something I can help you with?" He says cheerfully.

From afar, to (Jinks, Selia): Owen whispers "Watch the kid."

"Official business. Stay out of the way." The older man grumbles, pulling a rolled, ribbon-tied parchment from a belt pouch. Both he and the brown-haired, brown-eyed and stocky woman at the door wear armored breastplates and a badge of office or two that relates some sort of station -- likely justifying Selia referring to them as lieutenants. Longswords at their hips and composite bows strapped to their backs, they're exceptionally well equipped and seem familiar with their weight.

The woman, her scarred face all business, does take the time to add a "please" to the other's command, nodding at Owen. The third fellow, smart in his leathers and sporting a short sword, stops the distracted barmaid from passing into the kitchen. Surprised, the serving girl loses mastery of her tray for a moment and a trio of tin mugs splatter-splash and bounce across the ground.

The hood is standing now, his chair pushed back, which only adds to the tension in the room.

"Theodore the Illothan, also known as Teddy, also known as... Blackhood the Shadow. You are under arrest for the crime of murder and practice of illegal, profane ritual within the city's walls. Drop your weapons and come peaceably or be run through like the vile dog you are!" That was the older man. He stands a good lunge's distance away from the standing, cloaked figure.

Selia takes a slow breath, and relaxes. Not the relaxation of everything's okay, but the liquid readiness prepared to move in any direction as the situation may very suddenly call for, mentally double checking the location of her weapons, and the relivant positions of Mister Shadow and the others around.

Owen doesn't look all the surprised when Teddy's name comes up. He sighs and does in fact step aside. But makes himself visible to the Illothan acolyte. "Ted...Theodore. Surrender. These men will kill you if you fight them. Let me help you." He says, trying to calm the Blackhood down lest his deadly strike kill us all. D:

"SPFFT!" That's the sound of Laoise, in the middle of taking a sip of her wine, giggling and as a result snorking the wine up her nose. It's followed by an impressive coughing fit, coming from someone of her size. No, she's not combat-ready at all, being too busy trying to clear her sinuses of cheap mulled wine and not getting any on her white blouse.

And out of the way, Alteri stays. Does not mean her hand isn't closing around the hilt of her sword while she takes a slow, cautious sip of her drug of choice. This Teddy sounds dangerously shadowy.

Shyntae releases not a sigh of relief as one would expect, but a sigh of /here we go/. Her hooded head moves over to look at the Shadow man, a light muttering under her breath in a strange language. Her hood moves as if taking in people and places within the tavern, assessing the area. Then her attention is pulled to Owen as he speaks to the shadow man, her head tilting a bit as if surprised at his offer.

"But I didn't -do- anything!" The boy is talking now, as indignant as he is angry. He feints to go left around the table then, with a "WOOSHAW!" he throws a handful of salt at the older guardsmen before dashing to the right. A maneuver which fails utterly and ends with a strong, gloved hand wrapped around the back of his hood and taking hold of the hair beneath. With a swift, sure motion, his balance is lost and his face is slammed down into the table.

"Keep struggling you murdering piece of shite. Eloena, shackles!" The first lieutenant calls even as he catches an arm and twists it behind the cultist's back.

"Aye, Aehrick!" The woman complies, moving from the door and pulling iron manacles from her belt. "The rest of you lot stay clear. No telling what this monster is capable of...!"

<OOC> Jinks says, "You guys can give me sense motives, if you'd like!" GAME: Laoise rolls Sense Motive: (6)+0: 6 GAME: Alteri rolls sense motive: (1)+1: 2 GAME: Shyntae rolls sense motive: (15)+7: 22 GAME: Owen rolls Sense Motive: (8)+12: 20 GAME: Selia rolls sense motive: (4)+6: 10 You paged (Shyntae, Owen) with 'Ted seems to be telling the truth -- or at least you get the impression that's the case. It could be that he's a really good actor but your initial impression is that this guy is trying -really hard- to look sinister.'

The manhandling of Theo raises the priest's hackles and he stalks forward, trying his best to look menacing. "Lieutenant, I would have word with you! I personally saved that boy's life from a deluded Dragonieri that tortured him to with an inch of his life. I know this boy and he is not a murderer. A fool, most definitely, but not a killer of men. Who has brought this charge? Who has authorized this arrest?" Owen snaps and demands with as much authority as he can muster.

GAME: Owen rolls Intimidate+3: (8)+5+3: 16 (success)

Selia frowns faintly at the guards, but her frown at 'Blackhood's' antics is anything but faint. "....flippin ijit." She mutters, sliding slowly towards the door; around the guards, backing up Owen should need be.

Shyntae watches the incident from under her hood, giving no indication that she moves to help or detain the man. She simply sits in her chair watching the situation play out. One of her gloved hands drops to her hip, most of the movement is hidden by the table, at the same time she releases a disconcerting sigh but doesn't get involved... yet.

Over at the bar, the blonde halfling has finally recovered enough to straighten up, wipe her nose with a handkerchief, and... still stay exactly where she is, making no move to help or hinder. Hey, she doesn't know 'Blackhood' -or- Owen. Even if the latter is a priest. Laoise leans her elbow on the bar, trying to regain her cool and detached composure. She's surprisingly good at it.

Alteri gives a start to realise it is but a youth. Peering past her sable bangs at the indignant priest, she chews thoughtfully on the inside of her bottom lip. Finally, with eyes cast upwards, she unfolds her lanky frame to stand. Palming her sword, she steps over to Owen, "Bright the eve, Father Tilgentor." A wholey noncommittal greeting, save for the fact that she is aligning herself with the priest simply by showing that she knows him. Mild blue glances over the tableau, the fighter saying nothing more.

The elder guardsman gives Owen a surprised look, blinking and shaking his head. "St-stand down, priest. We're under official writ... the... the blasted... where did the damn warrant go?" He turns around, takes a step, and finally kneels to pick up the parchment. He holds it out to Owen for him to inspect. "Plain as Daeus' daylight. The man stands accused and faces trial and hanging."

Eloena, for her part, proves a practiced hand at placing offenders under arrest. Padlocks click into place on the shackles and she begins searching Ted's pockets while Aehrick speaks with Owen. She tosses one dagger, then another to the ground, a ratted, leather animal collar, a small coin pouch, and then she stops when she has the item of interest; a profane wooden symbol of worship that pains the eyes just to consider. She whistles, sharply, and tosses the thing across the room.

Still struggling slightly, watching helplessly as blood flows from his battered nose, Ted begins to shout in protest when the symbol goes flying. It's caught by the third watchmen, who snaps it over a knee and tosses the two pieces into the flames of the hearth.

Owen takes the writ and inspects it quickly, one eye kept open to make sure that Theo isn't getting kneed in the gut while his attention is turned. While he reads, the priest nods to Alteri then looks quickly to the elder guardsman. "Where will he be held, and what of his advocate or barrister? When will he see trial?"

Selia's forwn darkens. Being an Illothan is one thing, practicing rituals is quite another. Peering absently towards the document, she inquires. "Wot exactly 'e do? Faith ain't illegal, last I checked."

Shyntae fiddles with something at her hip, but as Owen seems to have most of this in hand in a calm fashion she notibly relaxes. Her hand remains at her hip, but she doesn't move from her chair. The hooded head tilts a bit, her dusky gray skin a bit more noticable in the light, as well the amber eyes flash as the firelight catches them, quite intent on the situation.

Laoise's eyes follow the wooden figurine as it gets broken and tossed into the fire. She mumbles to herself, "Oh, that may have been rash..." and tenses, as though halfway expecting the thing to burst into some unholy horror from beyond or something. The mug of wine is placed carefully on the bar, and she makes as though preparing to slide off the stool at the first sign of trouble.

"I don't write the warrants, I just see them carried out, girl." Aehrick looks down at Selia, but sighs and shrugs when Owen presses the line of questioning. "The western holding cells until we get proper transport and process him into the jails. What happens with the trial is between him and the magistrate." He turns his lip as he looks back at Ted. "You'd do better to pick your friends more wisely, priest. This sort of trash doesn't have any place in the city. Illothan's stole my cousin's baby."

He holds his hand back out for the writ. It's official. He needs it back! "If you're so worried about him you can escort the bastard back to the cells with us. Make sure nothing... happens to him."

This draws an undisguised glare from Eloena -- the expression especially dark because of the scars on her face. She's worked long and hard for this city. She doesn't need a bunch of snot-nosed do-rights looking over her shoulder.

Thankfully, there's no shapeless horror writhing from the hearth. The flames lick at and consume the disc-shaped pendant. Ted growls at his impotence, snarling something at the woman holding his shackles in a dark, infernal tongue.

"Innocent until proven otherwise," Alteri murmurs, "Indeed, the mark of civilised governance." The Highborn looks on with an affected air of approval, as if she is expecting the guards to feel -some- sort of obligation to actually be as civilised as she claims. The look slips a little to see the guard break another's property.

"Sigh." Tugging out a ridiculously frilly kerchief, Alteri is about to offer it to stem the boy's bleeding nose, or perhaps gag him until after he gets legal representation, before she realises what sort of hideous thing she is carrying in her pocket. "What the..." Scrubbing at a rapidly warming face, she mutters a few choice curses and slaps the useless bit of lace over the boy's face, leaving it up to himself to keep it there.

Owen reads the writ carefully before thrusting it back into Aehrick's hands. "He's not trash. He's a damned fool of a boy that probably hasn't seen 15 winters. Do your duty and take him to the cells. I will be along shortly with a barrister. I am going to treat him for his broken nose. Pray I don't find any more wounds when I see him next." The priest replies dryly, eyes narrowed to slit. He steps slowly to Ted, hand out to inspect him while he is being held, lifting up the lid of each eye to inspect for concussion, wiping the blood from his face with his hankerchief while testing his nose. "Do as you are told. Don't fight and I will do what I can to get you out of this, Theodore." He solemnly states to Teddy, before a blessing of healing fixes his mangled nose. Assuming he isn't shoved away in the process.

"Hey, I can do that," offers Laoise, perversely cheerfully, as she scoops her book up and places it in the shoulder-bag she'd got with her, and hops lightly off the stool at the bar. "I'm sure you lot can take care of yourselves, but who knows, right? Could be cultists coming out of the woodwork to assist their obviously -dangerous- and -mysterious- comrade? It's practically my civic duty to help the Watch out." As she talks, she saunters up to the Watchman in charge and gives him her best 400-watt smile. "I'm Laoise, formerly of the Nine Hills. Was in the Irregulars in Versis."

Selia frowns at Teddy, having desidely switched positions of who to support in this matter. Carrying unholy symbols and swearing in a devil tongue will do that.

Shyntae finally her hand drops away from her waist, but her amber eyes don't leave Owen and the developing situation. She notes the others that seem to switch and rally to different sides. She takes a longer drink of her ale, as if that is the best thing to do... watch and wait.

"Welcome to Alexandria, city of hope. Right?" Ted sneers, eyes focussed enough to consider Owen. "Pay a few people the right amount and we can knock them off nice and legal."

"That's enough out of you, boy. Spit anymore of that black magic gibberish and I'll break your fingers just to be safe." Eloena doesn't seem too worried about Owen's warnings. She tugs back on the manacles and begins pulling the stumbling Ted towards the door. "They'll call it self-defense."

The nameless guard at the kitchen door puts away his simple blade and moves to follow after his seniors. Aehrick, looks around, shaking his head. "Adventurers, eh? Well. Come if you're coming. We're going now." He slides the writ back into his belt pouch and moves towards the door to the street.

GAME: Owen casts Bless. <OOC> Owen says, "For the Cure Light Wound sub."

Selia ponders a moment, then shrugs, moving towards the door also. "May's well. Ain't 'ungry na more, and were 'eaded dat direction anyway."

Owen grabs hold of Ted's face after his nose-resets and the tide of blood stops. He grabs his mouth after the boy spits out the venomous reply and leans in, hissing. "I would truly recommend being silent, if you have any sense at all. Though if you had sense, you wouldn't be in this situation." The cleric acridly retorts to Ted, stepping away to follow behind the rest of the guards.

Alteri mutters to Owen, "Glad you shut him up." No sense tempting further rough ups from the Watch. She glances to Laoise as the halfling pipes up and approaches them, and makes the decision to clip her sword back onto her baldric. Would not want to bean the cheery being with it by accident. "I can fellow whilst you retain his defense?" she offers aside to the priest. In for a penny...

Shyntae swallows the rest of her drink, then letting out a sigh she stands. From under the hood she looks directly at Owen as if trying to relay something, but she silently stands waiting for the group of folks to make their way out of the room. She casually adjusts some of her gear, then slightly shakes her head already regretting her decision.

The trip through the western markets is a bit of a spectacle; three members of the watch, an awkward young man in shackles half-stumbling in front of a pitiless woman, and a gaggle of assorted noteworthies spread out behind them in loose cohesion. People make a point to get out of the way, a few can't be bothered to care, and still others stare openly at the odd procession. The full moon looms up in the clear night sky considering the whole thing with marked disinterest.

From some shadow or another an empty bottle comes flying. It smashes against the ground short of the group and spliters into green-coloured powder and small, jagged shards. Someone calls out against the tyranny of the watch and their 'crimes against the fugees.' There's little else of note before the squat watch house comes into view, nearer to the western gates than the Dragon's Den. Light can be seen through the window and the sturdy, reinforced door is shut. "... glad to have this over with," mutters the nameless watchman trailing behind everyone else.

Selia trails along, running occasionally to keep up with longer legs as she peers towards Owen. "'ow 'xactly do ya na dis bloke?" she inquires softly.

Laoise, also, is trotting along next to the watchmen. She seems entirely comfortable being part of the strange procession, even giving bright little smiles to bystanders if they happen to meet her gaze. For all that her excuse for coming along was to safeguard the watch and their prisoner, she seems wholly unconcerned with actually keeping an eye out for trouble.

Owen steps forward, readying to orate his way into letting the mob down, but shrinks back when it it goes no further than a broken bottle. "He's a foolish acolyte of Illotha. I helped several adventurer's stop an insane Althean from Dragonier that lost everything to Illothans from sacrificing him to some dark goddess that had stepped in when his faith in Althea was broken. He had tortured the boy extensively. I gave him sanctuary in the temple, but he wandered off as soon as he was able. Back into trouble, apparently." The cleric replies to Selia. Once inside the guardhouse, Owen turns to the elder guardsman and asks, "When will he see the magistrate? Whom do I speak to about these charges? Who brought them formally?"

Shyntae's long strides make easy work at keeping up with the group, but she chooses to hang somewhat back. She glares in the direction of the person that threw the bottle, but doesn't see the actual person. She keeps her hood over her head, and gloves pulled up, keeping her skin well covered during the trek across town.

<OOC> Jinks says, "Sense Motives while I type the next pose up, por favor." GAME: Owen rolls Sense Motive: (9)+12: 21 GAME: Laoise rolls Sense Motive: (9)+0: 9 GAME: Alteri rolls sense motive: (2)+1: 3 GAME: Shyntae rolls Sense Motive: (12)+7: 19 GAME: Selia rolls sense motive: (8)+6: 14

Just another adventurer, doing adventury things; that is what Alteri tries to project. As one of the long-legs in this gaggle, she easily keeps up with the half-stumbling pace the boy sets, eyes made colourless in the dim light scanning her surroundings out of habit. The bottle being tossed is noted, and a light tensing ripples through her tall frame. Just an empty bottle. Her glance flicks now and then to the priest as she keeps half an ear on his recounting.

Selia trots along thoughtfully for a few moments, peering towards Teddy. "...stupid git actaully took da Vows? ...fek, reckon I can't say nuthin. Were near as dumb, 'is age."

Aehrick pauses at the door with a ring of keys in hand. He slots the key into place and turns it a full circle, frowning, before he retracts and pulls the door open with a grunt and steps inside. The room beyond is well lit with permanent, magicked fixtures, and sparsely furnished with a few chairs, a heavy wooden desk just past the door, and a series of benches in waiting area to the left. Stairs descend into a subterranean level at the far end of the room.

"It's... the end of my shift, boss." The leatherclad junior guard offers, he lifts a hand and turns to walk off after recieving a nod from Aehrick.

Eloena mutters under her breath when Owen just walks himself into the guardhouse but doesn't stop long enough to complain openly -- she's intent on getting Ted down and in the cells. "Alright. He's here and in one piece. You can talk to the magistrate at the courts, priest, if you need to know more about it. Why don't you all run along now and do whatever it is you do when you're not harassing the city's lawkeepers."

You paged (Owen, Shyntae, Selia) with 'Aehrick seems a bit puzzled about something when you first arrive at the guardhouse but he doesn't seem to worry too much about it.' You paged Owen with 'You're fairly certain is has something to do with the lock on the door. He was frowning a bit when the key moved the way it did.'

"I would rather not, actually. In fact, it has been some time since I have visited a jailhouse. I'm sure you have plenty of prisoners that need absolution. Would you deny them their spiritual redemption?" Owen replies flatly to Eloena, arms folded.

Shyntae leans against the outside wall as Aehrick unlocks the door, but as he hesitates she seems to come alert. Noting first the one that leaves, she seems to be a bit more tense. Her gloved hand moves to her hip, slipping aside the fabric to what lies beneath. She also waits to follow the group in, something much more interested than she was.

Laoise actually looks vaguely disappointed there hasn't been any trouble a-brewin' along the route. Still, when Owen lets himself in she does as well, slipping in right between one of the guards and the doorframe and immediately making herself comfortable, leaning against one of the chairs along the wall. She's smiling. Quite fetchingly so, in fact. And completely innocently, like someone who knows there's really nothing they can do to stop her from being around and gracing them with her presence. Nothing tense or ready for trouble about her. Nope. She's just amusing herself seeing how this turns out, the hand hidden under her off-the-shoulder cape not at all ready to grab a weapon or spell component.

GAME: Laoise rolls Bluff: (12)+14: 26

Selia frowns thoughtfully, peering about a long moment herself before moving along the wall towards the cell ventalation slits. "Oy! Frankie! You down der? Got's a message fer ya." Well, she did say she was headed this direction anyway.

"Harrass?" Alteri blinks. "Nay, good lady. I'm merely accompanying the Father. I would like him to hear my confessions." Rocking on her heels, she slips her hands into her trews pockets, "I'll wait my turn."

"Gods, you're all insufferable. I hope you get stuck in an acid jelly in the sewers." Eloena complains, glaring and shaking her head at the lot of you. She gives Ted a bit of a shove when he hesitates and they both begin their descent into the lower levels.

Aehrick puts his hand on Owen's shoulder, the crows feet at the corner of his dark blue eyes and the grey in his dark hair betraying his age and years of trials. "Go get a writ from the magistrate. I don't know you, priest, and I'm not just going to let you down into my cells. We were nice and patient with you people -- you can do whatever you want and be friends with whomever you want -- but I have a duty to do here."

There's a long pause, darkness greeting Selia's gaze, and then a "Bugger'ff." In response to her call.

You paged Selia with 'Gimme a Sense Motive' GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20-1: (15)+-1: 14 GAME: Selia rolls sense motive: (12)+6: 18 You paged Selia with 'That wasn't Frankie. '

Selia bahs absently, moving down a ways to a diffrent slit. Posibally to the same cell, little hard to tell from up here. "Frankie! Where's ya? Na ya got pinched. Anybody down der na where Frankie Fishears went?"

Owen takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. He finally looks back up and calms himself, but takes off his stole and his satchel, along with the blade on his belt. He stacks each on top of the other, holding it like a bundle in his arms. "I...respectfully decline. I believe I am in defiance of some charge, so if you would like to arrest me and escort me to the cells, do so. Otherwise, I will be seeing to the prisoners."

Shyntae has slipped into the room, though she doesn't descend the stairs, she hangs about the opening to them, her hooded head to the side as if listening down them. Her slender frame seems taunt, alert to minute noises and sounds, letting Owen handle the formalities with the Watch.

GAME: Shyntae rolls perception: (8)+7: 15

Adventurers. It's like they've got a sixth sense for danger. Or maybe it's just the fact that danger seems to happen a lot more often around them. Whatever the reason, Laoise is watching the other halfling carefully. "Somethin' wrong?" she asks, casually while shifting the shoulder-bag off her shoulder and letting it rest on the chair she's leaning against. Her gaze travels from Selia to the watch chief, and back to the opening the aspiring cultist and Eloena disappeared down.

You know, fighters have quite a set of lungs on them. It comes from all the grunting and yelling on the battlefield. "BY THE GODS, THEY'RE ARRESTING FATHER OWEN TILGENTOR???!!!" Who knows? Maybe the refugees who know the priest might hear Alteri's bellow.

You paged Shyntae with 'There's some odd, taunting laughter coming from below. Fairly faint.' Shyntae pages: How dark is the stairs? You paged Shyntae with 'And what might be oddly-accented Sildanyari.' You paged Shyntae with 'The lower level is dimly lit. The stairs go down ten feet to a wall, curving to exit out one side. Can't really see anything from the top.' Shyntae pages: Can I try and stealth down the stairs while Owen has the main guy distracted?

"I'll have you all up on charges for this! Fine. Go. See if I care. But if you so much as touch one of my prisoners it'll be a week in the stocks for you." Aehrick gives up and jabs Owen in the chest once. It's like dealing with his two children when they were teenagers. They're grown up now and have, thankfully, moved far, far away. But still he can't escape the attitude. He's too old for this shite.

<OOC> Jinks says, "Selia, Lao, give me Perception, please." GAME: Selia rolls perception: (13)+8: 21 GAME: Laoise rolls Perception: (18)+2: 20 You paged (Selia, Laoise) with 'Frankie doesn't answer. There's the quiet sound of taunting, feminine laughter from below followed by muffled Sildanyari.' To (Selia, Jinks), Laoise pages: Ut-oh! To (Selia, Jinks), Laoise pages: Too muffled to make out words? I do speak the language. You paged Laoise with 'Something about 'the failing Masquerade' and 'poor choices Laoise pages: Oh dear.

Owen moves to the door, sliding his utilitarian dagger back into the simple snap sheath, satchel and stole still bundled under arm. "Calm yourselves! The lieutentant was just telling me of prisoners to attend to. All is well!" Owen calls out to any gathered fugees or locals. He turns back to aging watchman, "Fair enough. Now if you will excuse me, there are prisoners I must attend." And then the cleric is off, heading down the staircase. Hurry for religious browbeating!

You paged Shyntae with 'I'm sorry! I lost your whisper in a mountain of them. Yes. Go ahead and roll Stealth, then give me a Perception roll.' GAME: Shyntae rolls Stealth: (17)+16: 33 GAME: Shyntae rolls perception: (19)+7: 26

Laoise suddenly, quite abruptly, straightens up and pushes off the chair she's been leaning against. Her attention remains fixed on the doorway, and she takes several quick steps towards the staircase as well. "Something's not right down there," she says. She gives every indication of being at high alert, one hand disappearing under her cape and grasping something - the observant may glimpse a small crossbow slung by a strap from her shoulder, easily concealable - while the other tugs the strap on a pouch at her belt open, readying it to find whatever she's got stashed in there. The tiny woman is clearly preparing for some serious trouble.

Selia scowls, pondering a moment before glancing towards Laoise. "*Sumthin* ain't right." The halfer moves, heading towards the staircase herself, just on the others heels. "Owen, move!"

Quick as a jack rabbit, Alteri pounces in after the priest. "Don't want him running off 'ere I've confessed." she explains hurriedly to any who might ask. Hasty as she is, she misses the halflins' sudden changes in demeanor.

===== Current Initiative Order =========
----------------------------------------                   
 21                  Urlyn
----------------------------------------     
 16                  Selia
---------------------------------------- 
 15                  Ted
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 13                  Owen
---------------------------------------- 
 12                  Faer
----------------------------------------     
 7                   Laoise
---------------------------------------- 
 7                   Alteri
---------------------------------------- 
 7                   Aehrick
---------------------------------------- 
 6                   Eloena
---------------------------------------- 
 5                   Shyntae
----------------------------------------               
======================================== 

<OOC> Jinks says, "The lower-level is dimly lit. Which means a 20% miss chance if you do not have the benefit of darkvision (or another lightsource to bring down). We will be working off of initiative order after I set with an @emit"

Owen makes to descend to the lower levels just as the halflings issue their warnings and rush to join him. Aehrick the Elder looks puzzled at all of the commotion but doesn't bark any further orders -- likely intending to push his way downstairs and figure out what all this kerfuffle is about. He's quite fed up with all of these people in his guardhouse where they don't belong and the sooner this business can be concluded, the better.

In all the rush it might have been missed -- but Shyntae, the cloaked shadow-elf, has vanished.

You paged Shyntae with 'You descend quiet as a shadow into the lower level, sliding silently over the stonework stairs and into the half-light below. The human, Theodore, stands, jerking a curve-bladed dagger this way and that trying to ward of... something. Eloena, the guard woman, glowers at the boy with his longblade held in a two-handed grip. You still hear the taunting words in elven but their location is hard to pin with all of those side-cells that you can't see into from this angle. "... a poor choice by the Masquerade. Be you ready to die?"'

<OOC> Jinks says, "Selia, you're first up." <OOC> Selia says, "Head down, see what's happening." <OOC> Jinks says, "20' can put you at the bottom of the stairs, into the square I have highlighted. You'll see a few open, empty cells. Seeing too far into the room is hard in the dim light, but you can make out Ted and another figure down towards the end of the hall." <OOC> Selia says, "Further in, call it partway into the cell across the way?" <OOC> Jinks says, "You'll also notice Shyntae when you pass her -- almost bumping into the sneaky shadow-elf as she blends into the shadows." <OOC> Jinks says, "Ted is going to stab at Eloena." GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+4: (11)+4: 15 <OOC> Jinks says, "he misses! Owen, it's your action. You can't really see down into the lower level from the top of the stairs."

Selia rushes down the steps, careful not to crash into anyone and send them tumbeling down the steps. Hitting the bottom, the halfer peers around a moment before ducking into a cell across the way, nearly running into Shyntae in the process.

Theodore has escaped his manacles, somehow, and wields a curve-bladed dagger nervously... but still with a surprising amount of familiarity. He slashes and stabs, lunging, but the guardswoman's breastplate turns aside the scratching blade much as its designed to do.

<OOC> Owen says, "Nevermind on the spellcasting, I'll just double move to Q 9 or Q 10." <OOC> Owen says, "Drawing an AoO from Teddy if I gotta." <OOC> Jinks says, "Either works. Ted won't AoO but the guardswoman will. Roll me a Sense Motive." GAME: Owen rolls Sense Motive: (1)+12: 13 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+7: (16)+7: 23 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d8+4: (2)+4: 6 <OOC> Jinks says, "Oh, you know. I do owe Owen a 20% miss chance. He -didn't- cast light." <OOC> Jinks says, "Low misses." GAME: Jinks rolls 1d100: (4): 4

Owen hustles down the stairs, trying his best not to over run the halflings nor slam into a friend or foe, for that matter. Catching sight of the battle, he holds his hands up, "For the love of Althea, stop fighting!" The Althean futilely bellows.

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+11: (8)+11: 19 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+1+2d6: (5)+1+(8): 14

Owen dives head-first into the proverbial hornet's nest. He eyes Ted warily when passing the young man but is caught by surprise when the guardswoman is the one to take a good, hard slash at him. She snarls, heavy-lidded gaze swinging from the young Illothan to the Althean, her stance threatening. There's something off about her but Owen can't quite put his finger on it. Meanwhile, in his dash, he's quite certain that he caught sight of... someone in one of the cells, standing and laughing cruelly. A dark-skinned half-elf in a matte-gray breastplate and priestly skirts, eyes glinting in the dark.

And then... yet another combatant. Blinking into view with a mad twirl, all grace and play until his jagged shortsword stabs to the hilt in Ted's flank. Silver studs glint dully on leather armor. Short -- even for an elf -- his faint gray skin blends well in the darkness. His mocking laughter joins that of the woman's as he twirls a second blade artfully.

GAME: Laoise casts Dancing Lights. <OOC> Jinks says, "Go ahead and pose. Alteri, you'll be up now. There is Normal light in the lower level." <OOC> Alteri says, "I'm keeping Alteri close to the bleedin' heart hippy. Always a good idea to stay on Althea's good side." <OOC> Jinks says, "You can doublemove to Q7. Your armor slows your movement speed to 20' and it's not as easy to maneuver now that all the baddies are in play. If you go there you will be taking an AoO from Faer'cyrl, however." <OOC> Alteri says, "Right, Alteri makes a move for R6."

Having moved along with the general throng of people crowding into the dungeon below, the blonde halfling - that's Laoise - pauses in the stairwell, risking a peek out beyond the safety of the wall and not really seeing much of anything, and holds up a hand, palm up. With her other hand, she swirls a finger around the palm, lifting it up... and as she does, four small flickers of flame begin forming, quickly following the movement of that finger. She murmurs to herself, a singsong melody that's oddly sweet, a contrast to the gloomy surroundings, as she works, and within moments there are four fully-formed globes of magical fire spinning around her upturned index finger. That finger is pointed out and into the room, and the lights dart out, leaving little glowing afterimages in the sight of anyone watching them intently, until they find their place and hoves, slowly turninng, at ceiling level in the middle of the room.

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+11: (10)+11: 21 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+1: (3)+1: 4

Well, it has finally gotten through Alteri's thick skull that perhaps all is not as it seems. Certainly, the halfling with the thick brogue rushing past her and down the stairs is something to set off a few alarm bells. A line appears between sable brows and the fighter lengthens her stride to a jog, taking stairs three at a time to stay close to Owen. But then the blonde halfling casts something the illuminates the dimly lit level and her worn boots skid as she stays her forward rush. Eyes flicking from person to person, the fighter catches sight of the red staining Owen's robes, and the crumpled form of the boy on the floor. This, was not part of the deal. "Should've drawn the damn sword first." she grumbles to herself.

Aehrick is fast on Alteri's heels, drawing his beautiful longsword as he moves. It's a family heirloom, clearly, or he lives way above his paygrade. He charges roughly past the blonde halfling on the stairs, doesn't even notice Shyntae, and shoulders around Alteri. The dual-wielding shadow-elf laughs again, twisting his grip with one blade and slashing a cut down the soldier's arm. "Eloena," Aehrick bellows, "Send these black elves back to the hells! For Alexandria!"

<OOC> Jinks says, "Elo is going to attack Ted. Alteri, Shyn, Lao and Selia, give me Sense Motives, please." GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+7: (13)+7: 20 GAME: Alteri rolls sense motive: (4)+1: 5 GAME: Laoise rolls Sense Motive: (5)+0: 5 GAME: Selia rolls sense motive: (11)+6: 17 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d8+4: (2)+4: 6 GAME: Shyntae rolls Sense Motive: (13)+7: 20 You paged (Selia, Shyntae) with 'Something is effecting the guardswoman's judgement. She's likely under some kind of powerful compulsion enchantment.' <OOC> Jinks says, "Shyntae. It's your action!" GAME: Shyntae rolls 1d20+5: (8)+5: 13

Eloena doesn't even turn to consider Aehrick when he comes barreling into the fray. She turns away from Owen lazily and pulls her shield from off of her back. One-handed, she chops down with her own blade and scores another wound across Ted's chest. The Illothan manages to keep his feet but he's badly wounded.

<OOC> Jinks says, "A miss, sadly." <OOC> Jinks says, "Owen and Alteri, I need will saves" GAME: Owen rolls Will+1: (1)+9+1: 11 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+4: (2)+4: 6 GAME: Alteri rolls will: (2)+1: 3 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+4: (10)+4: 14 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+4: (3)+4: 7 GAME: Jinks rolls 2d6: (7): 7 GAME: You damaged Owen for 7 points. 23 remaining. GAME: You damaged Alteri for 7 points. 13 remaining.

Shyntae slips along the wall, when she gets behind the woman attacking owen she shows herself, dagger in hand. As she brings forth the dagger to bare, the woman makes a dodge from another's strike, effectively evading Shyn's.. a grunt of disapproval is issued from the cloaked elf. Talking now, "Something is at work here... these are not the instigators."

The mahogany-skinned Mul'niessa slips from the open cell, a wickedly-hooked chain dangling from her gauntleted hand. "Urlyn-vayas the Shadowveil denies you, Illotha, and your runt, would-be champion." She calls to the cieling, waving her other hand in a dismissive gesture through the air. With a whip-crack, black energies tear through the air around her, assaulting both guardsmen, Owen, Alteri and Ted. The captured boy finally falls under his wounds and collapses to the ground.

<OOC> Selia says, "I'm not sure on movement. Would like to stab Urlyn, but not sure I can get that close." <OOC> Jinks says, "It's a bit whonky. But I suppose I can give you a charge action. You'll provoke from Faer (he has combat reflexes)" <OOC> Selia says, "Okay. +4 AC for Mobility, I think?" GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+11: (9)+11: 20 <OOC> Jinks says, "You're good" <OOC> Jinks says, "Owen isn't threatening, is he?" <OOC> Owen says, "I don't have a weapon in hand." <OOC> Jinks says, "Alright. No flank, Selia. Roll your attack +2 for charge" GAME: Selia rolls 1d20+10+2: (17)+10+2: 29 GAME: Selia rolls 1d4+1: (2)+1: 3 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20-4: (9)+-4: 5

Selia rushes foreward, slipping nimbly around friend and foe alike to slash at Urlyn, breaking the casters skin, but little else. "Dey's charmed! Take down da caster!" Huh? (Type "help" for help.)

<OOC> Owen says, "If there is some blunt object or something layinga round nearby. Torch or a beat stick or something that I can brandish to threaten a square as a move action, I'll grab it. But I will also pump up a channel to heal, selectively channeling out any 2 of the people PCs have wounded yet. And that El chick that is mind-fucked." <OOC> Jinks says, "Eloena is wounded as is Urlyn. The others are unscathed." <OOC> Owen says, "Those two I will leave out." GAME: Owen rolls 2d6: (8): 8 GAME: You damaged Owen for -8 points. 30 remaining. GAME: You damaged Alteri for -8 points. 20 remaining. <OOC> Jinks says, "That's fine. An empty scabbard is on the floor. You find that it's got sticky, half-dried blood on it when you pick it up." <OOC> Jinks says, "Faer'cyrl is going to turn on Selia, 5' to flank with Urlyn and full attack."

Owen almost falls square on his back as a wild swing by Eloena sends him ducking. He grabs a discarded iron reinforced scabbard, blocking and trying to trap up the blade of the turned guardswoman. One hand continues to ward off attack and hold his own while the other is held up, the rosary wrapped around his wrist beginning to glow with a soft blue light that seals the wounds of he and his allies. "In name of Heaven's Queen, be healed!" The Althean cleric intones, countering the opposing cleric.

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+9: (15)+9: 24 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+9: (2)+9: 11 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+1+2d6: (1)+1+(12): 14 GAME: You damaged Selia for 14 points. 15 remaining.

"I do so love this city -- the well-meaning, simple-minded herd." The short, elven man with gray skin laughs, dancing to one side between Aehrick, Alteri and Selia. He stabs at Selia, the jagged edge of his sword finding a tender spot. Thankfully, his second attack cuts high as the halfling woman ducks defensively. "Run while you have the chance, girly."

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+9: (12)+9: 21 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+1: (1)+1: 2 GAME: You damaged Laoise for 2 points. 19 remaining. <OOC> Jinks says, "Cast the spell and let's get a save, Selia." <OOC> Jinks says, "Faer and then Eloena" GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8: (14)+8: 22 <OOC> Selia says, "reflex save?" GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+4: (7)+4: 11 <OOC> Jinks says, "Yes'm." GAME: Selia rolls reflex: (20)+10: 30 <OOC> Jinks says, "Roll damage, Lao." GAME: Laoise rolls 3d4: (7): 7 <OOC> Jinks says, "Elo takes full, both Selia and Faer manage to dance around the fire and avoid it (EvasioN)" GAME: Laoise casts Burning Hands. <OOC> Alteri says, "Oh, adjacent works? Well hell, forget that then. I'mma try a PA on Fail. I mean, Faer." <OOC> Jinks says, "Roll it!" GAME: Alteri rolls 1d20+6+2: (14)+6+2: 22 GAME: Alteri rolls 1d10+6+3: (3)+6+3: 12

Sneaky halflingses. Laoise stealthily slips into the confused throng of the smallish room, dodging underfoot as the combatants move back and forth, aiming herself for the open doorway of an unoccupied cell. Just as she thinks she's made it, an errant sword-stroke from the dervish of spinning steel that is the grey-skinned elf lays open a gash in her shoulderblade! With a yelp, she staggers into the doorway of the cell, turns around, and with a shouted syllable of magic and a spreading out of her fingers like a fan, she sends a sheet of blazing orange fire roiling across the corridor. Nimble as they are, Selia and the grey-skinned one duck out of the way, but at least the gout of flame singes the treacherous guardswoman but good!

<OOC> Jinks says, "Aehrick will join in attacking Faer" GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8: (18)+8: 26 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d8+6: (6)+6: 12

Great. Just perfect. A caster. Gritting her teeth, Alteri lets loose a low grunt as black energies rip into her body. "That stung." she spits out in massive affront. There are too many things between her and the Mul'niessa, and she really wants to hurt something -NOW-. Blue orbs narrowing to slits, she swivels her attention to the closest enemy. In a well-practiced motion, she smoothly draws, extending the motion to slice past defenses in a long, diagonal cut. "In the way." she mutters, still highly ticked off. Never should have gotten out of bed today.

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+9: (1)+9: 10 <OOC> Jinks says, "We're still missing Shyn. Owen, you want to check her sheet and figure an action?" <OOC> Owen says, "Any flank opportunities for her?" <OOC> Jinks says, "She flanks Elo with Selia" <OOC> Owen says, "Okay, Shyntae will stab the shit out of Elo." GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+8: (2)+8: 10

Aehrick moves with surprisingly alacrity for a man of his age, taking the sword in both hands and following expertly behind Alteri's cut. His sword makes the second half of the X-style cut down the front of the elf's leathers. "Eloena! Snap out of it, soldier!" He seems genuinely concerned for the beguiled woman.

Who in turn makes to attack Selia. The attack is awkward, the blade bounces against a wall and nearly falls from the guardswoman's grip.

Shyntae stabs at the murderous guardswoman but fails to draw blood.

<OOC> Jinks says, "Urlyn will attempt to cast a Hold Person on Selia. Casting defensively. Target is 21" GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+7: (1)+7: 8 <OOC> Selia says, "return the favor. Stabbing, that is, as I can't cast anything. Yet." GAME: Selia rolls 1d20+10+2: (4)+10+2: 16

The other shadow-elf looks down at the halfling that is stabbing at her, eyes narrowing to slits. She begins to chant some profane spell, hands moving through the air, but all the movement around her causes the spell to misfire. "Keep fighting. It'll make this victory all the sweeter..." she taunts, smirking now.

<OOC> Jinks says, "Ted will snatch up his dagger and attack from prone at Elo." GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+4-4+2: (7)+4+-4+2: 9

With three foes around her, Selia is somewhat pressed, whirling and feinting to keep the enchanter, the enchanted, and the sword-boy back. "Erf. Lill 'elp 'ere?" Scowling at the smirk, the halfer slashes at Urlyn, nicking the armor, but failing to draw blood.

Struggling back to the land of the waking, Ted reaches out numbly and snatches up his kukri. His bloodied-handed grip isn't perfect and the strength is still returning to his fingers -- but he still tries to defend himself. The clumsy swipe doesn't connect, however.

<OOC> Owen says, "I will defensively cast Shatter on Elo's sword" <OOC> Owen says, "Shatter on her sword, then. Yes. Cast defensively." GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+13: (1)+13: 14 <OOC> Jinks says, "Faer will split attacks. One on Selia and the other on Alteri." GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+11: (18)+11: 29 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+9: (14)+9: 23 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+1+2d6: (5)+1+(4): 10 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+1: (2)+1: 3 GAME: You damaged Selia for 10 points. 5 remaining. GAME: You damaged Alteri for 3 points. 17 remaining. GAME: Owen casts Shatter.

Owen does his best to hold the swordswoman off while he prepares to call upon a blessing of disarmament, but the scabbard isn't designed to be used to parry sword blows. The iron buckles and the leather is cut after one last swordstroke, leaving half of it, still connected to the strap to flail around and wrap around his free hand just long enough to disrupt his concentration. "Fer fuck's sakes!" The priest profanely pines.

"Witness, Taara." Faer'cyrl laughs, taking a wide stance and readying his weapons. The call is an intentional mockery of the Korites' common battlecry. He kneels and cuts at the back of Selia's leg, up and across to sever something important in the thigh. He then stands with a lunge, jabbing shallowly -- but painfully -- into Alteri's thigh. "Let us finish our works, Shadowveil. I'd have a drink and a woman before the night is through!" He smiles in spite of his grevious wounding.

GAME: Laoise casts Magic Missile. GAME: Laoise rolls 2d4+2: (5)+2: 7 <OOC> Alteri says, "Another PA attempt for great justice." GAME: Alteri rolls 1d20+8: (14)+8: 22 GAME: Alteri rolls 1d10+9: (7)+9: 16 <OOC> Jinks says, "He is KOed and on death's door"

"Oh, do shut up," replies Laoise testily, drawing both hands back much like a baseball pitcher... and, with an oddly reverberating shout, -throwing- a pair of crackling, yellow-orange streaks of magical energy at the dual wielding elf. Bright as flames, the bolts of force slam into the elf, one in his abdomen, another in his shoulder, sending him staggering a little back... but still he remains upright. The halfling mutters something that, to anyone who knows Halfling, will be recognised as a shockingly profane curse.

That mocking battlecry narrows Alteri's attention on the duel-wielding meatbag even further. Figurative hackles rising, her body flows with leonine grace, her hand-and-half an extension of her will, "Servants of that cunt someone mentioned." she purrs, glad to have confirmation. Satisfied, justified, her muscles bunch and she twists, the bastard blade cutting a deep furrow across the male's middle. "Witness this," she mutters.

"I concur!" Aehrick growls, sweeping his longsword in a wide arc that neatly decapitates the falling shadow-elf. Body limp, guts spilling in a wet, sloppy tangle, it jerks as the swords fall to the ground. The hand bump-bounces down and into a corner.

<OOC> Jinks says, "Elo will continue to slash'n stab. Cleaving this time. Shyn, then Owen." GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+6: (1)+6: 7

"Yes, yes, yes." Eloena is chanting now, her eyelids fluttering as she continues to threaten those around her with the blade. Something about the magics is troubling her usual competence and nothing connects.

<OOC> Jinks says, "Owen-proxy-Shyn" <OOC> Owen says, "Stab at Elo!" GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+8: (11)+8: 19 <OOC> Jinks says, "Alright. Will saves from everyone except Lao." GAME: Selia rolls will: (1)+2: 3 GAME: Owen rolls Will+1: (15)+9+1: 25 <OOC> Jinks says, "Aehrick and then Elo" GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+4: (2)+4: 6 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+4: (11)+4: 15 <OOC> Jinks says, "Ted" GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+4: (7)+4: 11 GAME: Jinks rolls 2d6: (8): 8 GAME: Alteri rolls will: (9)+1: 10 GAME: You damaged Owen for 4 points. 26 remaining. GAME: You damaged Selia for 8 points. -3 remaining. GAME: You damaged Alteri for 8 points. 9 remaining.

"Let me leave now. I'll forgive you your foul mouths... if not." The mul'niessa makes another gesture, intones words lost beneath another whipcrack of expanding negative energy. The brickface has minor cracks and dust falls from the cieling. Ted cries aloud and is knocked unconscious once more. Selia is sent tumbling to the ground as well. Aehrick chokes and nearly falls to one knee. Eloena doesn't cry out but blood has begun to trickle down her nose -- it appears the wicked elf doesn't spare her thrall from the attack.

<OOC> Jinks says, "Selia, I need a Con check, DC10. -3 to whatever your normal bonus is." GAME: Selia rolls 1d20+1-3: (17)+1+-3: 15 <OOC> Jinks says, "You are stabilized!" GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+1-6: (3)+1+-6: -2 <OOC> Jinks says, "Ted bleeds. Owen!" <OOC> Owen says, "I will pump some Ju-Ju. I'll exclude any of shadow elf peoples if there are two that are wounded, otherwise the wounded one and Elo." GAME: Owen rolls 2d6: (6): 6 GAME: You damaged Owen for -6 points. 30 remaining. GAME: You damaged Selia for -6 points. 3 remaining. GAME: You damaged Alteri for -6 points. 15 remaining.

Owen grunts as he fights off the soul-withering energy that washes over him. He counters by raising up his own rosary once more, chanting fervently in Celestial to marshal the healing light of Althea.

<OOC> Laoise says, "Dang it. Imma Magic Missile the other shadow elf too. It seemed to work the last time." GAME: Laoise casts Magic Missile. GAME: Laoise rolls 2d4+2: (2)+2: 4

"Foul mouth?" Laoise winds up that spell of hers again, voice taking on an oddly reverberating quality as she weaves magic into gesture and speech. "Lady, if you think that's foul you should hear me when I'm -tryin'-." Crackle! Slam! Two fiery bolts of pure magical energy zip across the room to the shadow elf, singing her dark skin where it impacts. The halfling points at the dark cleric, smoke curling off her index finger. "Cunt priestess of a cunt goddess. Fitting."

<OOC> Alteri says, "Oh! Well, if that's an option, that's the one I'll take. Alteri moves to stand over bleeding kid, tries to PA Uma-Thurman." GAME: Alteri rolls 1d20+8: (11)+8: 19 GAME: Alteri rolls 1d10+9: (5)+9: 14 <OOC> Jinks says, "She's unconscious (just)"

Alteri stumbles, the tip of her sword digging into the ground to keep her upright. "All this negative energy is getting me down." she grumbles, straightening as threads of Althea's favour wick away some of the damage done. Shaking the tingles out of her hands, she swiftly closes the space between herself and the cackling harpy. "Suppose youll want her alive." she gripes further to no one in particular. Using her greater height to her advantage, she performs a massive overhead swing, switching angles at the very last moment to brain the female more than a little smartly.

Aehrick moves across to Eloena as soon as the Shadowveil falls, letting his own swords clatter to the ground. He takes the stunned guardswoman by the shoulder and gives her a good shake even as she's shaking off the spell. "Shake it off, now! No more of this nonsense, Eloena!"

The woman, for her part, is fairly wounded, but does lower her weapons and consider Aehrick dumbly.

<OOC> Jinks says, "Selia. The cleric is KOed and bleeding. Would you like to finish her off?" <OOC> Selia says, "Nope. Try and bandage her wounds." <OOC> Jinks says, "Give me a heal check" GAME: Selia rolls heal: (2)+0: 2

Selia wobbles, still pretty woozy from that last blast of negative energy. But, the halfing still pulls herself over to the bleeding cleric, dabbing some rags at the wounds, but not doing anything over effective. "...yer a bitch." she mutters absently. "And ya serve a bitch. But ya gotta answer sum questions 'fore let ya die."

<OOC> Owen says, "Hell, I'll use my physicianin skill to stabilize the cleric." GAME: Owen rolls Heal: (13)+14: 27

Owen kneels once all the combatants are down or surrendered. He weaves his way over to the cleric and Ted, checking on both before he seals the heretic priest's wounds with years of experience as a physician.

Selia sighs, and slumps, letting Owen take over. "Could even put up wit servin da Dark Bitch. Ain't all dem blokes bad. Jus most o' 'em."

Blowing unruly bangs that insist on escaping her braid, out of her eyes, Alteri exhales a long breath. She scrubs off the perspiration creeping into her eyes with an unceremonious swipe of her shirt-sleeve, taking stock of the various beings littering the floor of the jail. "Next time," she pants to Owen, "I'm pretending I don't know you."