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[Unholy_Pariah]

cho-ja

Continue making barricades, cover the floor so the fire cant come up into the building proper.

[syvarris]

Dar'yajira, magic cat

Have peaceful dreams.  Perhaps prophetic ones.  Or maybe just hunting dreams.

[Ozarck]

JUST PUT THE FUCKING FIRE OUT ALREADY. Use maximum effort and no regard for collateral damage, since at this point Jack is pretty pissed off.

"Goddamn stupid fucking fire fucking jackass teammates set just die out already cocksucking faggot buttfucking piece of pansy ass collection of asshole sparks...

You concentrate, raise your hands and place them on the slimy door, and channel all your anger into the fire. You bundle as much of ist as you can into a tight little ball and hurl it skyward, through the roof and everything. You hear a satisfying crunch as a chunk of the roof is obliterated and the fireball explodes fifty feet in the air, raining ash and coals onto the town all around. You sink to your knees, pretty worn out, but certain that you've reduced the fire to a more mundanely extinguishable blaze. This inn will not fall today.

>Utilize observational data from Magus Spark and known data from data dump to formulate fire control spell.
>Cast.  Carefully.  If at any point something appears to be going wrong, cut off the spell.
>Oooor just minimize collateral damage for Angry Fire Mage down there....

You magically catch and extinguish burning chunks of the roof and ceiling as they rain down on the town. You also prevent a severe backdraft from blowing the door outward into Spark and Ja, potentially saving their lives. You sense that the fire has diminished greatly, and you put your mind to preventing additional material from catching fire.

cho-ja

Continue making barricades, cover the floor so the fire cant come up into the building proper.

You seal off all the smoky bits and clog the door with your goop. What fire is left is well blocked from this end. Sadly, the pleasing odor of burnt flesh is dissipated, now that the body is sealed off from you as well.

==Team 1==
BBTBMSM Simmie

Look for a full bottle, or at least half-full. If none is found, take an empty bottle and toss it at the drunkest-looking in the crowd. Hard. Yell "YE THIEF! YE DRUNK THEM ALL!"
Eye the dwarf's bottle, get it if he puts it away, or ask for a share if he starts on it, reminding him that Simmie helped.

If the dwarf gives him the bottle, thank him, find a quiet corner, and enjoy a well-deserved drink in peace. ((Just in case I get another high roll ))

If he reasonably politely refuses, start crying and pulling at the beard "Waily, waily, waily, such is ae bigjob's gratitude ta haev risked life an' leemb, an' nae ev'n ae wee drink fer me troobles!... Ta save yer stock, I coulda haev me beard frizzl'd in th' fire and now ye refoose me ae drink, or been..." Go into full drama mode, loudly listing to everyone all the horrible things that could have happened to him while helping in saving the booze stock, and pointing out that he's being refused a justly deserved drink.

However, if he's rude, pick a fight with him, indignantly tell him "Crivens, tha's how ye reward me fer helpin' out? Jus' put the bootle doon so their be nae accidens wid it, an' geit reddy fer ain beatin', ye big selfish scooner." Climb up his legs, kick him in the knee crook, and punch him in the face if he falls.

Whatever happens, don't let the bottle fall and break, or be taken away. Break off the engagement to violently protect the bottle from anyone who tries to get it, that's Simmie's coveted prize.

((I remember the free drink token, but you said you put it in the pocket. Since the only pocket feegles have is the spog, I don't think he'll find it so soon.))

I don't know what a spog is. the token could be tucked in your belt or something. Uh, you have literally two armfuls of alcohol, so ... and you rolled a 5, so you found those, you found the alohol the dwarf is holding, you found the four beer barrels, and you see three members ofhte crowd carrying off a bottle or two each, while several others have tankards of beer in hand - probably from when they were drinking inside, come to think of it. You also have a fairly good recollection of where the alcohol was behind the bar in the inn. You get a sudden whiff of a distillary in the distance as well. And not the long distance - the near distance. They are making alcohol somewhere in this neighborhood. Industrially. Anyway, you are well on your way to being black-out drunk, judging by the one empty and second half empty bottle in your possession (along with the two armfuls of full bottles)).

"This can only end well, surely."

Meet Frank, Dobbiton's famous guildsman. Walk up to him and shake his hand. Appreciate the man.

Well, that's different. Never met a goblin innkeeper before. his pointy ears twitch, and his eyes dart back and forth upon getting a look at you. Suddenly, he spies a part of your Brand peeking out of your clothing. "What do you want, Omega? Gold, silver or copper up front for any services."

Dar'yajira, magic cat

Have peaceful dreams.  Perhaps prophetic ones.  Or maybe just hunting dreams.

A fiery explosion a hundred feet above startles you awake. you are several dozen yards down the street, hiding in a refuse pile before you even know you've moved. Man Feline, one turn earlier and you might have seen this coming.

[tryrar]

".....*huff*....*huff*...Yeah...Should have...done that...earlier. Whew! I feel better now!"

Gauge how exhausted Jack is. Can he cast any more spells, or is that too risky for something going awry? If he can still cast for a bit, simply slowly snuff the remaining fires the normal way by willing them to cease.

[Maegil]

Oh joy, Simmie is now happy. Squirrel away with the bottles to somewhere quiet, and enjoy the afterlife.*


((* Feegles believe that a world where they can fight, drink and steal at will is so nice that it must be their afterlife reward, so they must be actually dead. Because of this, they neither fear death or mourn dead feegles, but just miss them for a while until they die again on the land of living and return to the afterlife.))
(("Spog" is the feegle word for a sporran, the Scottish pouch that goes with the skirt kilt))

[TheBiggerFish]

>Assist in fire-spotting and/or extinguishing.

[Harry Baldman]

"Actually, we're here to do stuff for you. Rough up some nasty types for that incoming festival! Does that ring any bells?"

"I mean, bugger if I know what's what in this town. That's why I am asking you. I just showed up in a basement and the rest of the absolute twats who came with me decided to start fighting people at random of actually doing anything useful. Throw me a bone, Frank! It's a wet, cold and awful place we're in. And some of the randos with me are complete berks without a single iota of sense in their empty skulls (or exoskeletons!). They set the inn we appeared in on fire, don't you know. Maybe they extinguished it, too, I didn't stick around long enough to find out."

"Point is, I do have work to do, apparently, and I'm checking to see if this is the place to do it, or did the moron who teleported us into a bloody basement of all places bugger it up on more levels than just one."

Rant at Frank. Hope he understands my pain.

[syvarris]

Dar'yajira, magic cat

Go stealthily investigate the tavern, I suppose; if they're going to burn the whole city then sleeping is a bad idea.

[Ozarck]

".....*huff*....*huff*...Yeah...Should have...done that...earlier. Whew! I feel better now!"

Gauge how exhausted Jack is. Can he cast any more spells, or is that too risky for something going awry? If he can still cast for a bit, simply slowly snuff the remaining fires the normal way by willing them to cease.

As tired as he is, Jack feels like he could keep going forever. He presses on, attempting to control the remaining fire, and catches his sleeve on fire.

Oh joy, Simmie is now happy. Squirrel away with the bottles to somewhere quiet, and enjoy the afterlife.*


((* Feegles believe that a world where they can fight, drink and steal at will is so nice that it must be their afterlife reward, so they must be actually dead. Because of this, they neither fear death or mourn dead feegles, but just miss them for a while until they die again on the land of living and return to the afterlife.))
(("Spog" is the feegle word for a sporran, the Scottish pouch that goes with the skirt kilt))

reggie starts to drag his bottles away, but the dwarf places a meaty hand on his shoulder. "Not so fast, there, lad.  Ye've alredy drunk yer pay fer gettin' the booze outta the fire. The rest belongs ta tha bar."

>Assist in fire-spotting and/or extinguishing.

Everything looks clear. Fire looks like it is contained and dying.

"Actually, we're here to do stuff for you. Rough up some nasty types for that incoming festival! Does that ring any bells?"

"I mean, bugger if I know what's what in this town. That's why I am asking you. I just showed up in a basement and the rest of the absolute twats who came with me decided to start fighting people at random of actually doing anything useful. Throw me a bone, Frank! It's a wet, cold and awful place we're in. And some of the randos with me are complete berks without a single iota of sense in their empty skulls (or exoskeletons!). They set the inn we appeared in on fire, don't you know. Maybe they extinguished it, too, I didn't stick around long enough to find out."

"Point is, I do have work to do, apparently, and I'm checking to see if this is the place to do it, or did the moron who teleported us into a bloody basement of all places bugger it up on more levels than just one."

Rant at Frank. Hope he understands my pain.

At the mention of offering services, Frank looks skeptical but interested. When you start mentioning your violent teammates, a frown creases his forehead. When you mention your crew setting another inn on fire, his color slowly starts to change. When you mention doing similar 'work', here or "somewhere else," he glances meaningfully at his barkeep, who reaches for something under the bar. "You threatenin' my bar, runt? We don't take kindly to extortion here. I'm not paying a gang of arsonists protection money. You tell your boss he'd better look for trouble elsewhere, or he's gonna have more than he bargained for!"

Dar'yajira, magic cat

Go stealthily investigate the tavern, I suppose; if they're going to burn the whole city then sleeping is a bad idea.

You find the onlookers crowded around the front, and in the side alley, gawping at the smoke still lazily issuing from the back room. some look disappointed, and parts of the crowd are trickling away. Inside, calm is restored, Jack is on fire, and a few patrons have already found their way back inside and are sitting at the bar, drinking. There's a couple who probably never made it outside, laying in various heaps around the room. the back hall is coated in nasty smelling goop, and Cho-Ja is industriously producing more. Leaping out one window and into another reveals that the back room is still burning mildly, but looks to be no threat to anything else at this point. The corpse on the floor smells of burnt meat. You find two wings off the main hall with rooms down their length. there are mice and bugs aplenty for you to snack on, stalk, or play with as you please.

[TheBiggerFish]

((Feegles are short enough that I doubt the dwarf would be able to lay a hand on Simmie's shoulder without Simmie being on a stepladder...))

[Harry Baldman]

"How is it that nobody has any bloody idea about we're supposed to do here? Didn't you contract the Legion in the first place, dumbass? Or is there another "innkeepers' guild" in town? None of this ring any bells? None at all? I'm genuinely confused here, Frank! I want to help you!"

He ponders how to explain everything more clearly to this guy. Fucking goblins, man.

"Okay, let's start over. My 'boss', as you call him, was some random filthy gobshite, a human no less, wearing a suit of bargain-quality half plate. Works with some other waste of air called Hendricks who looks like he was trying to shave and missed. They're apparently Omega Legion. And I'm apparently Omega Legion, too. And someone from the Innkeepers' Guild in Dobbiton apparently contacted the Legion to obtain security for something called the Festival of Alchaeus. That's apparently you, Frank, or somebody you know."

"So the question is, do you know what I'm talking about? Are you Frank? Is this the right place? Am I in some kind of waking nightmare? Can people really be this stupid? I'm so very full of questions, you see!"

Let's try this again.

If he still doesn't get it, leave him be and sit down somewhere until the rain starts to clear.

[Ozarck]

((Feegles are short enough that I doubt the dwarf would be able to lay a hand on Simmie's shoulder without Simmie being on a stepladder...))

[tryrar]

"SHIT SHIT SHIT!" Beat out the flames the normal way rather than magically, and take this as a lesson Jack should not CWE(Cast While Exhausted)

[Maegil]

==Only team in this thread==
BBTBMSM Simmie

Crivens, I dinnae, tha' oth'r bottle was empty, some o' th' scunners got ta them afore me. See, lad, Imma sensible feegle I am, so we can com-pri-mizze, I gie ye ae bottle back, but this one 's arredy mine.
Return one bottle to the dwarf, but if he tries to take the other one, snarl in warning, "Wachit, I sed thi' one 's arredy mine. If ye try ta gettit, thar'be verra big trooble. Donnae push it, bigjob, this be ye las' warnin'!"
If he persists, bite his hand, run up his arm, headbutt him in the nose, and fight for the bottle until the dwarf gives up, collapses, or one of them is dead. If others come, break the dwarf's bottle and use it to slash and pierce at hands, wrists, throats, Achilles' tendons and eyes. This is a fight to the death, Simmie will only let his bottle be taken away over his literal dead body.

[Unholy_Pariah]

Cho-Ja

Attempt to remember why we were here in the first place.

Then go help myself to whatever food and drink is left behind the bar.