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[Rethi-Eli]

"We will make great changes together, you and I. I fear no assassin - I shall accompany you to Etelgarde at your earliest convenience. If an inauguration is in store, I suppose I should save the heavy drinking for the celebrations. It has been a good night, gentlemen, but I must bid farewell to my brothers at the monastery."

Pandolfo heads back to the monastery, fate willing, and packs a cask of his finest for the journey ahead. After saying his goodbyes, naturally.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Pandolfo Alessio, God-fearing Gourmand
Description: A portly, red-faced cleric with a wry smile and a great appreciation for theology, food, and drink. His brown, coarse monk's habit conceals a maille shirt and a thick-hafted mace at his belt.
Inventory
Mace
Monk's Attire
Maille Shirt
30 Gold Pieces

[Maxine]

Matilda obliges the self-important loudmouth worth 50 gold, hurling her namesake axe at him.

[MeimieFan88]

((Ah yes also, apply for the purely honorary role of BBEG. Though not yet with the full package, I need to fill the quota to earn the perks ya know? Doth that soundeth fair Meimie?))

((I've no problem with that at all. Have at it ;3
Also looks like you've got some incoming PvP! Let's see how the rolls go~))

[Horizon]

((Ah yes also, apply for the purely honorary role of BBEG. Though not yet with the full package, I need to fill the quota to earn the perks ya know? Doth that soundeth fair Meimie?))

((I've no problem with that at all. Have at it ;3
Also looks like you've got some incoming PvP! Let's see how the rolls go~))

((Ah even if I bungle my own roll, I'll have a death spiel ready.))

[BlackPaladin99]

I try to attain my bearings, attempting to recognize landmarks and get back on the trail. 

[MeimieFan88]

Turn 3

Keep fighting if I'm still being attacked, if not sheath the axe and grab a spear from one of the dead guards and help keep the others from stabbing the man they're fighting and help push them back to the gate.

[1d6: 2]

The soldiers have seemingly taken their eye off you for the moment, and so you make to grab a spear from one of the fallen guards. However, as soon as they see you making a move, they quickly turn their attention back onto you. Desperate and panicked, this time they lunge towards you fanatically…

[Enemy NPC Roll (1d5): 5]

…delivering a devastating strike to your shoulder, the point of the spear piercing straight through your armor into flesh. Pain sharply invades you, your vision darkening with that fateful blow as the macabre warmth of blood begins leaking down your wound. The man opposite to the spear looks crazed, a hint of glee in his bewilderment. He pulls the spear out of you, and you can’t help but fall to one knee, barely able to sustain yourself.

[Damage taken: 4. Remaining HP: 6/10.]
[Status gained: Bleeding - Every turn, you lose 1 HP. Lasts until treated.]

What follows feels like a hazy blur in your injured state. The menacing voice of the Blackguard compels the soldiers’ attention, and soon they are scattering, abandoning their post at the sight of their defeated captain. It seemed the fight was over, but suddenly a huge axe came flying out of the gates at the Blackguard, who blocked the projectile with the guard captain’s body. Now a large middle-aged woman seems to bar the way into town. Meanwhile, blood continues to flow from your wound, and you feel your life energy slowly draining from you.

thieves can be seen dragging someone to a nearby alleyway, taking advantage of the lawlessness.

"I doubt anyone would miss them, were they to disappear..."

I approach the thieves from behind with a conjured bone dagger in hand.

Spoiler: Erys (click to show/hide)

Name	:	Erys
Description	:	A mysterious young woman whose appearance and face are covered by the black, hooded cloak she wears—save for a single golden lock of hair visible from underneath the hood. Claiming to be a travelling scholar, a foreboding aura lingers around her.
Class	:	Necromancer/Dark Arcanist

[1d6: 2]

Entering the alley, you can hear the thieves offer some sort of deal to the woman on the ground armored in a conical helmet and holding her spear at them in self defense. “How ‘bout it, sugar? Wanna join the baddest gang in town? There’ll be a pretty coin in it for ya. ‘Course if you turn us down now, the boss isn’t gonna be happy. You wouldn’t wanna make an enemy outta him.”
   
As you approach closer, the thieves suddenly notice your presence behind them, spinning around to confront you. “Who the hell are you!?” one of them demands, raising his weapon at you. The others begin maneuvering around you, forming a semi-circle to flank you from multiple angles. “Lookin’ for trouble, are ya? This one had nothin’ on her, but you…” His wicked gaze creeps down your curious attire. “You look like you could be hidin’ a shiny trinket or two beneath those robes. Maybe our luck is turnin’ around.” The thugs chuckle vilely, their weapons at the ready, prepared to pounce.

Shake it off as a hallucination, but do check my wallet. Continue my trip to town.

[1d6: 3]

You check your wallet and… everything seems to be in order. 7 gold, 12 silvers, and a handful of coppers, along with a note that reads:

"Cresthaven, the Drunken Duck Tavern. Modares Thidrek. Devilin Nightbane. Alna."

In your hazy stupor you can’t quite remember exactly what this message is about. Almost certainly it has to do with your political subterfuge mission, but the details elude your addled mind. Cresthaven is the town you’re traveling to, and the Drunken Duck obviously a tavern. The middle two mishmash of letters seem to be names, the significance of which you can’t entirely recall. Are you supposed to meet this Modares Thidrek? Who’s this Devilin Nightbane then? And what the hell is Alna? It’s times like this you’d wished secret clandestine notes had a little more meat to them.

In any case, you continue your trip towards town, and soon its gates are within sight. There seems to be some sort of commotion happening near the entrance however, with guards lying unmoving on the bloodied ground, and a huge man wearing dark armor standing over them. Another shorter, bearded fellow is bent on a knee, having suffered a devastating injury to his shoulder from which blood continues to flow. Meanwhile, a large woman is standing at the gate, barring the dark-armored man from entering town.

…Surely all of this couldn’t also be hallucination.

"If you value yours and your captains pathetic lives, YOU will drop YOUR weapons..Or I will snap this man's neck." Cryd pushs the pikestaff tighter against the captive captains throat "Flee like the pathetic dogs you are, and spread the word of the Butcher far and wide." with a free hand Cryd takes one of the captains arms and twists it.

Snapping the poor mans arm, and further intimidating the guards. If they aren't swayed or an agressive act is made against Cryd then the Captain will die by the Blackguard's hands.

[1d6: 6]

Your voice seizes the attention of the soldiers recoiling around you. The battle between them and the bearded man had gone on, with one of the guards landing a devastating stab to the man’s shoulder. But now, they are focused solely on you. Your words strike fear deep inside their hearts, their trembling breaths audible alongside the strained breaths of the captain beneath your choke hold. His piercing scream fills the air as you snap his arm like a twig, his men gasping in fright. Pretty soon their weapons are dropping to the ground, and they are backing away, turning tail to flee as fast as they can. Before long all the guards have fled the gates, leaving it wide open for your entry. Meanwhile atop the ramparts, a roguish figure in rugged leather armor seems to be observing you, and you can almost make out the fascinated grin on his face.

[Relations with surrounding settlements decreased (-2) from 0 to -2.]

Then suddenly, out of the open gates, a huge woodcutter’s axe comes flying at you. Instinctively, you fling upwards the man you are holding hostage, using his body as a meat shield. A loud but short-lived scream rings out, as the axe lands directly on the captain’s chest, ending his life almost instantaneously. Standing now at the gates is the one who had thrown the axe - a large middle aged woman with short dark hair, likely trying to aim at you rather than your unfortunate hostage. And you seem to have her axe now buried in the freshly dead man in your grip.

Scoran holds her spear at its middle point, as if ready to hurl it into the bandit's chest.
"I hold nothing you couldn't honestly scavenge from any battlefield. Nothing worth dying for. Now run along, you won't keep me from my mark."

[1d6: 6]

The thugs contemplate the point of your spear with distaste. With an irritated sigh, the one in front of you slowly starts to back off, daggers raised in a gesture of adherence. “Just our luck to run into a stubbornly brave one who’s just as poor.” He gives you another look, then suddenly halts in his withdrawal, an idea seemingly creeping into his crafty expression. “Y’know, the boss is actually lookin’ to recruit someone like you to our roster. Unfamiliar face, little to lose, knows how to hold a weapon…” His dagger points back towards you. “How ‘bout it, sugar? Wanna join the baddest gang in town? There’ll be a pretty coin in it for ya.” He flashes a devious wink. “‘Course if you turn us down now, the boss isn’t gonna be happy. You wouldn’t wanna make an enemy outta him.”

Suddenly the thieves sense something off, turning around to see a mysterious young woman in a black hooded cloak behind them, a bone dagger in her hand glowing faintly. “Who the hell are you!?” the thug-in-charge demands, raising his weapon at the stranger. The others begin maneuvering around her, forming a semi-circle to flank her from multiple angles. “Lookin’ for trouble, are ya? This one had nothin’ on her, but you… you look like you could be hidin’ a shiny trinket or two beneath those robes. Maybe our luck is turnin’ around.” The thugs chuckle vilely, their weapons at the ready, prepared to pounce.

"We will make great changes together, you and I. I fear no assassin - I shall accompany you to Etelgarde at your earliest convenience. If an inauguration is in store, I suppose I should save the heavy drinking for the celebrations. It has been a good night, gentlemen, but I must bid farewell to my brothers at the monastery."

Pandolfo heads back to the monastery, fate willing, and packs a cask of his finest for the journey ahead. After saying his goodbyes, naturally.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Pandolfo Alessio, God-fearing Gourmand
Description: A portly, red-faced cleric with a wry smile and a great appreciation for theology, food, and drink. His brown, coarse monk's habit conceals a maille shirt and a thick-hafted mace at his belt.
Inventory
Mace
Monk's Attire
Maille Shirt
30 Gold Pieces

[1d6: 6]

The Chancellor is ecstatic at your like-mindedness, informing you that they’ll be heading out the very next day, and to meet them here at the tavern in the morning. He and the other nobles bid you goodnight, continuing their festivities and filling their cups with your brew as you leave the tavern.

It’s a quiet evening at the monastery, and many of your brothers have convened in prayer at the great halls. Telling them that you’ll be departing town soon to fulfill your new role as High Minister of the Visimar Council, they are wonderstruck and overjoyed for you, albeit a little sad to hear you’ll be leaving. They decide to hold a departure ceremony for you, wishing you well and showering you with the most valuable gifts they can afford.

[Items acquired: 5 gold pieces, Figurine of a Centaur, Wooden Necklace, Eversteel Throwing Knife, Ancient Prayer Book, Silver Ring]

After saying your goodbyes, you retire to your room to begin packing your things. There is a soft knock at your door, and as you open it, you find a young woman standing there. You recognize her as the younger sister of one of your close brothers - a soft spoken girl by the name of Amelie. She looks incredibly anxious as she slips into your room and closes the door behind her. Finally, after working up her courage, she reveals that she’s had an undying crush on you for years, and that she’s devastated to hear you’ll be leaving, possibly for good. “Please, take me with you!" she begs, breaking out of her usual coy demeanor. "I wish to see the capital, but much more than that, to be with you! I’ve wanted that since… since I’ve known you. I promise I won’t cause any inconvenience for you! I’ll serve you at your side for as long as you are willing to have me…” Her big innocent eyes plead you, hands clasping at her chest in prayer.

Matilda obliges the self-important loudmouth worth 50 gold, hurling her namesake axe at him.

[1d6: 1]

As the guards are scattering for their lives at the Blackguard’s threatening speech, you hurl your namesake axe at him. Instinctively, he raises the man he is holding hostage upwards, using his body as a meat shield. A loud but short-lived scream rings out, as the axe lands directly on the guard captain’s chest, ending his life almost instantaneously.

Oops. The poor man probably wasn’t long for this world though; being tortured in the Butcher’s grasp, you’d likely brought a quicker end to his suffering. Without your axe however, you do find yourself rather unarmed at the moment, with the hulking menace staring straight in your direction.

I try to attain my bearings, attempting to recognize landmarks and get back on the trail. 

[1d6: 5]

Peering through the heavy snowstorm, you search for any familiar signs to latch onto. For a moment your eye catches the distinct outline of the Glacial Peaks, and you know which direction you are facing. Slowly you trudge towards the mountainside, following its rocky edge through the biting winds. With a combination of skillful navigation and good fortune, you manage to maneuver straight through the heart of the storm, emerging miraculously unscathed on the other side. Better yet, you find yourself already strikingly close to the ogre encampment, having bypassed its guarded outer fortifications under the cover of the storm.

Making your way closer you are able to get a better view of the encampment, which consists of a scattering of savage huts across the plateau. Several ogres can be seen patrolling the area, massive spiked clubs in their hands, while others are snoring on the sandy ground. The largest of the huts, also the one most grotesquely adorned with skulls and spikes, is likely the one their leader Laak'thar Gruuleye - your target - resides in. Sets of cages can be seen off to the side of the camp, where a number of captives both human and non-human (even including an ogre) are trapped, guarded by a mountainous brute wielding chains. Meanwhile the smell of roasted horsemeat emanates from a nearby pyre, where several ogres are cooking and feasting on their dinner.


(Will mention that some player-to-player actions may need to be resolved between players, whether IC or OOC, rather than via a system roll. For example trying to convince another player character to do something of their free will, etc)

[Strif3]

Say nothing, stand stock still with the warmest, kindest smile i can muster on my face. Then stab the first thug to approach me in a flash. Up, behind the sternum, straight into the aorta and the heart.

Spoiler: Erys (click to show/hide)

Name	:	Erys
Description	:	A mysterious young woman whose appearance and face are covered by the black, hooded cloak she wears—save for a single golden lock of hair visible from underneath the hood. Claiming to be a travelling scholar, a foreboding aura lingers around her.
Class	:	Necromancer/Dark Arcanist

[Egan_BW]

"Really? You're the toughest gang in town?"

Pierce the talky one's spine from behind. Raise my shield.

[Rethi-Eli]

Pandolfo smiles upon hearing Amelie's request.

"Sister Amelie... I would be delighted to have you accompany me on this journey, and I am flattered to be the target of your affections, but I am afraid that it is not all pomp and ceremony. The previous High Minister was assassinated, and I do not yet know why. It is very much possible that I am, through taking this position, making some very dangerous enemies! I am happy to risk my life if it is for the good of the realm, its people, and their faith, but you must understand that I do not wish to needlessly endanger you. I will not tell you what to do: if you still wish to accompany me, I will protect you with my life, but I hope you at least consider what I have told you before making your choice."

Pandolfo, satisfied with his warning, waits to hear Amelie's answer before retiring for the night. In the morning, he is to meet the Chancellor!

Spoiler: Pandolfo (click to show/hide)

Name: Pandolfo Alessio, God-fearing Gourmand
Description: A portly, red-faced cleric with a wry smile and a great appreciation for theology, food, and drink. His brown, coarse monk's habit conceals a maille shirt and a thick-hafted mace at his belt.
Inventory
Mace (equipped)
Monk's Attire (equipped)
Maille Shirt (equipped)
35 Gold Pieces
Figurine of a Centaur
Wooden Necklace (equipped)
Eversteel Throwing Knife
Ancient Prayer Book
Silver Ring (equipped)

[King Zultan]

"Oh damn."
Rip some cloth from the clothing of the dead soldiers, and use that to stop the bleeding.

[Quarque]

Walk past the fight at the city gates without so much as looking at anyone. Hallucination or not, best not to get involved. See if I can locate the Drunken Duck tavern.