The Search for Count Sigurdr IC - Count Ragnarr's Search Party

[Maralais]

Year 120 of Hælgan Calendar, 15 Foliage Leaf, Loonday, Morning
Castle Tergaron, within the County of Tergaron, Kejserriket Hælga
http://i.imgur.com/K2pbkdd.jpg
Loonday is usually a day of rest and pleasure for the residents of Castle Tergaron. A day to enjoy the goods brought the day before from the town of Brightmoore close-by, to listen to the stories of wandering minstrels, enjoy the strange feats of circuses if one comes by, to rest and spend time with family. As it happens, this Loonday is slightly different. Today is officially the last day for grieving Count Sigurdr's death, the tenth day following his death.

Added to the sombre atmosphere are the rumours that his son and successor, Count Ragnarr, will soon be leaving his people. Nobody exactly knows why, some say he's grief-stricken, some say he's going on conquest - just as his father would - some even say it's a plot by his younger brother Ararr to take the County for himself.

But rumours are for the streets. The castle itself is mostly silent, guards (donned in black tabards to show their grief) standing vigil in their positions. The silence is broken by the (seemingly incessant) talk of one man in clanking armour, as he guides a small group of four to a small circular parlour, decorated only by shields painted with the late Count's coat of arms (two intertwined snakes looking in opposite directions). As the small group behind him enters to the parlour, he turns to them and starts speaking again, switching quickly between Hælgan and Tigianian, translating each sentence himself.

"The Count is currently in a Council meeting which is taking slightly longer than usual, hence the delay in his audience with you. For the moment I will have to ask you to wait here. The guards can offer their assistance should you have a request or an inquiry, and you can make yourselves comfortable... on the benches I suppose."

With that, he gives a quick bow, and exits from a corridor to his left, his clanking heard as he walks along the corridor. Left in the room are four guards (one guarding each of the perpendicular corridors) alongside the group who accompanied the armoured man: two humans and two dwarves. One is a raven-haired young man with blue eyes in robes. The other is a very slightly older man whose ridiculously puffed and slashed sleeves, broad hat and tanned skin show Tigianian origins. One of the Dwarves immediately draws attention with the lack of clothing on his torso and his red hair and beard. The other, with brown hair and green eyes, seems to be drawn to the stonework.

[AirApparent]

Thank the Mountain, I thought he'd never shut up! Agnar scratched his belly uncomfortably. He had never heard anybody talk so fast as that man clanking around in all that armor. Agnar barely understood every other word. But he got the gist. Wait here; Ragnar, son of Sigurdr, will be here soon.

He turned to look upon the other dwarf. Thank the Smith, at least somebody I can understand. He took a brief moment to appreciate the stonework the brown-haired dwarf was examining (any dwarf would tell you it was of fine quality, but not dwarf quality) and approached him.

[In Dwarven]
"Well met, friend! Some strange companions we got, eh? I am Agnar, son of Bjorn, of the Stone-Axe's."

[-Jynx-]

Ore stares a moment at the stonework of their current waiting room. In his hand he rubs a small pebble between his fingers as he ponders. His concentration is broken by the familiar language of his kin. Ore turns to meet Agnar.

[In Dwarven]
"Well met brother! Strange indeed, its nice to see a friendly beard during these times. I am Ore Onyxfist, son of Granite, I hail from the mountains"

Ore extends to grasp Agnar's forearm in dwarvish handshake. A large grin on his face.

[In Dwarven]
"You carry yourself as a man of the wild" He says motioning toward his lack of clothing. "You spend much time out in the wilds?"

[Dancing Owlbear]

Mystrale had managed to contain it while the armored man spoke, but once he was finally gone the wizard was free to let out a series of coughs that seemed to shake him to his core. He dabbed his brow of the sweat that had begun to form. By the gods, he had broken a sweat from merely walking through the halls of the castle. Pushing the thought aside, he clutched his staff in both hands, leaning upon it for support as he took in a deep breath.

Glancing aside, he noticed that the dwarves were already conversing amongst themselves. In a group of strangers, it only made sense to try and bond with the one who you shared the most in common with. One slender brow rose at the discussion and he finally spoke, in the Dwarven tongue, "Yes. Very strange."

Turning toward his fellow human, though Mystrale sometimes had trouble even considering himself as such these days, he made note that the man seemed to be of Tigianian descent, smoothly changing tongues to better communicate with him, "And who might you be?" He pressed a cold, clammy, hand to his own chest, "I am Mystrale."

[AirApparent]

Agnar returned the friendly gesture with a firm grasp of the forearm. Upon Ore's comment on his wild appearance, he let out a hearty laugh

[Dwarven]
"Haha, aye! I spent months in the wilds beyond our clan's fortress. Huntin', defendin' it from the likes don' want us there no more. The elders don' quite understand it, but they stopped complainin' after they figured I didn' give an arse what they thought o' it."

He glances at the human in the robes as he coughs up a blizzard. Probably could, make a blizzard by coughin'. Magic folks. When the man retorts in Agnar's mother tongue about his earlier comment, he's a bit startled by it. Oops. Well at least I can ask fer help on this thrice-damned language.

He turns back to Ore. "Onyxfist, eh? Yer kinsmen would come trade with us ev'ry once in a while. I was sweet on an Onyxfist lass years ago. You know a Sapphire, daughter of Jade?"

[-Jynx-]

Ore looks to Mystrale during his coughing fit. His health does little to belie his age. He thought. Turning his attention back to Agnar

[Dwarven]
"Ah I see, a dwarf of earth, I like that." Ore gestures to the rock in his palm "I also find solace from the earth, mountain and rock..." His words trail off into idol thought.

"Ah yes Sapphire, she be a cousin 'o mine. Sharp as obsidian she is, but fiercer than a bulette." Ore laughs "Perhaps I could arrange a meal with her presence after our business here is over."

Looking over to Mystrale again Ore eyes the wizard a moment "You speak our tongue old one? What is your name?"

[AirApparent]

Agnar's eyes betray his excitement at Ore's suggestion. Aye, I'd like that very much.

Then he turns to face the taller members of the group, "Ah, aye, what of ye? What be yer names, and what clan are ye?"

[Dancing Owlbear]

The wizard briefly closed his eyes, letting out a soft sigh before turning his attention to the two dwarves. One of them had referred to him as ark avo or 'old one' in their ancient tongue. That one was very perceptive, indeed, "My name is Mystrale and I have no clan. I imagine any family I had is long dead by now."

[Thug]

Aldo's eyebrows visibly arch, showing his surprise at being addressed in his mother tongue. His curiosity raised, the Tigianian jovially launches into conversation with the strange man.

[Tigianian]
"It is good to hear the tongue of Tigiania again; I feel like I speak with a mouth full of olives when I use the Haelgan, and the Dwarven is no better. Truly, the language of life and passion is a sonnet to the ears!"

Drawing himself up to his full height, Aldo doffs his broad hat and holds it to his chest as he inclines his head toward the shorter man.

"As to your question, I am Aldo Valerio, swordsman-at-arms and late of the Band of the Falcon of Tigiania. A truer companion you could not wish for, so long as you treat with me honorably.

Hearing the bare-chested dwarf's words, a shadow passes over Aldo's face; however, it is quickly replaced by the same jovial tone he took with Mystrale as he begins speaking in Dwarven to their other companions, albeit slowly.

[Dwarven]
Greetings to you, friends. I am being Aldo Valerio of Tigiania, once of the Band of the Falcon, now errant. Honor to you.

[Maralais]

As you talk, you notice more noise coming from the corridor where the armoured guide disappeared, this time several men, talking in Hælgan. One voice is particularly audible, as it muffles the others: "So the regency documents Chancellor Helmær hath prepared should suffice. I shall review them tonight, then sign them tomorrow. Ararr needn't be worried about anything, and... I guess that's it."

The voice's owner enters from the corridor with a small army of aides at his side. The first thing he does upon his entrance his turning to the guard closest to him and shaking his hand, exchanging a few words with him that are inaudible to you.

Ore overhears "just met", "all fine" and "Dwarven" from the exchange, though the full conversation eludes him.

After that, he quickly raises his hand to the other guards, greeting them and finally approaches your group. "Gentlemen, thank you all for accepting my meeting request." His neutral expression turns into a smile as he raises his hand to shake hands with each and every one of you. He first approaches Mystrale. "It is an honour to meet thee, Mystrale. My acquaintances within Pathfinder Society suggested thee, saying thou art their wisest member, and that for a good reason." He then turns to Aldo: "It is no wonder the Falcon of Tigiania is a world-famous group with members such as thee, a pleasure to make thine acquaintance." He then turns to Agnar, making his best attempt at a Dwarven handshake: "I am equally pleased to see thee here as well, Bjornsson. My father owes - owed, I mean - a lot to thy clan." He lastly turns to Ore: "I hope our stonework has been somewhat pleasing for thy tastes, Ore. I thank thee for coming." With that, he takes a few steps back to look at the group as a whole.

His aides now gone, he stands on his own. "I am Ragnarr Sigurdrson, recently Count of Tergaron. Wulfa told me you have all just met each other, and though I do apologise for asking for your aid without introducing you to each other first, I am certain you will be of great help to me." He turns around, showing the corridor to his left - one that seems to lead to a garden. "I normally inspect the castle in these hours, would you mind joining me as I explain my request for help in detail?"

[-Jynx-]

Ore strokes his beard during the ongoing conversations. An odd arrangement we have here it seems. He thought to himself. Watching carefully as their host and his entourage emerge into the chambers shortly there after. Hmm? He thought, seeming to make out a few bits of conversation between the guard and Ragnarr.

Ore nods when spoken to and silently moves to follow Ragnarr per his request. Ore slips the rock he had been rolling in his hand into a small pouch at his waist and lets out a deep gruff sigh. This should be interesting. He thought.

[AirApparent]

Agnar follows the Count, his bare feet slapping on the cool stone floor that turn into the flagstones of a courtyard garden. I'm really tired of this shaddav language. He gazed around at the garden. Its all so tame, and boring. Give me a forest any day over this.

[Maralais]

With you in tow, the Count walks outside the parlour. The exit leads directly to the castle's courtyard, as the sounds of practice fill the area: arrows being fired in row, a sergeant yelling out commands, wooden swords clashing against each other... Deciding that all is in order, the Count walks straight on a stone path in the middle. "If at any point I talk too quickly, or you need me to repeat something, do tell me. My Dwarven is slightly rusty, but since all of you seem to understand it, I can switch to Dwarven as well." His speech is interrupted by the occasional greeting to practicing guardsmen, as he seems intent on not missing one person he encounters.

At the end of the stone path you arrive at a tiny building - a holy one from the looks of it. He quickly enters and beckons you to follow. Smell of incense fills your nostrils as you enter the chapel, and paintings of a lithe feminine figure in purple robes catch your eye - the castle unsurprisingly has a chapel dedicated to Porphyrogenes, Goddess of Nobility. As you enter, a man clad in purple robes (same colour as Porphyrogenes') approaches the Count, but he is stopped from saying anything by him. "Good day, abbot. Just checking." The Count then turns to you. "My father, the first Count of Tergaron passed away ten days ago. We immediately called for a cleric in the hopes that he could be raised before his soul is reincarnated in a new body - the downside of becoming an Incarnate, I suppose. He still hasn't arrived, and today, the tenth day is the day Alaundo sends him to his new body. So his title will pass to his successor now. The problem is that he did not specify who this successor would be - some Incarnate lords follow the Elven ways and pass their titles to their reincarnation following their death. Their descendants act only as a regency council until the new incarnation is fit to rule. Others stick to primogeniture succession. In the eyes of Porphyrogenes both are equally valid ways, both equally merit being followed. That leaves me in charge for the time being, no matter what, and my decision is following the Elven ways. I think that's what he would have wanted. However, for that I must find his reincarnation first." He heads outside again. "Let's get to my study."

You find yourself back in the courtyard, though this time you follow a different path - this one going straight towards the complex with the tower in the middle of the castle. "My initial idea was simply searching every village that I can to find him. Then a fearful thought came to my mind - what if he isn't reborn within Tergaron? What if he will be born to an Ultovite family at the other end of the world? My knowledge of these matters is limited - I never bothered learning it, and the only person who knew about it among the people I know was my father. It's seen more as an Elven practice here..." He pauses his sentence to open the door leading to the complex.

In front of you stands a massive staircase, seemingly running across the whole room. It's supported by columns on both its sides, and a lavish brown carpet runs through its middle. It leads to a mid-sized door, though it's hard to see - the windows on both sides of the door let in sunlight that's hitting you directly in the eyes. Ragnarr shields his eyes with his left hand and starts climbing the stairs. "But since it's an Elven practice, I thought Elves might have a better idea about how it works, allowing me to limit the area that I will need to search. Which brings me to my plan."

He opens the door and you enter the count's study. In front of the opposite wall the study is a desk filled with piles of papers, and an armoire standing right next to it. As you get in you notice the spiral stairs leading upstairs behind you on the right-hand corner, no doubt to the top of the complex's tower. The Count rummages through the pile of papers and shows a roughly drawn map of the world.

"I need a group to accompany me either to Quel'thalas or Quel'doras. There we can learn how to locate someone's reincarnation, then follow that method - whatever it may be. On our way you will be more than welcome to get in any venture you deem necessary to accomplish this task. You won't simply be bodyguards - you'll be a search party. Should we succeed, I will make sure you are properly rewarded: lordship over a hamlet, access to the County's library and records, obtaining a feudal charter to establish a business - anything that is in my power, basically."

"So, would you accept helping me?"

[Dancing Owlbear]

Mystrale had not expected taking the scenic route. He did his best to keep up, but there was only so much that was within his power. Several times the wizard stopped, his breath heavy and intermittent with wracking coughs. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he silently cursed his body once again. He had conquered mountains and now he was reduced to exhaustion from wandering through a palace. It was shameful and the pathfinder quickly pushed the dark thoughts away, focusing on the Count's words.

He had some knowledge of the Incarnate, as well as the Runebound. Ironically, the path he knew the least about was his own, picking up bits and piece of it throughout his various lives. The offer of a reward held little interest for Mystrale, but an opportunity to learn more about the Incarnate was not one that he wished to pass by. After he fought off another coughing fit, the wizard nodded his head and spoke weakly, "Yes, I will accept."

[AirApparent]

Agnar slaps his chest and extends his hand to the human. "I'll stand with ye. He is yer father, after all. Kin is kin."

He steps back and thinks out loud, "What in blazes is an Inkarno?"

[Thug]

Throughout the tour of the castle, Aldo strains to remains focused on the count's speech in order to catch whatever is said; Haelgan not being his best language, it is all the mercenary can do to keep up with the fast-paced speech, though he gets the gist of the man's explanation. It is only after their prospective employer speaks of the possible rewards for their assistance that Aldo's concentration falters as his mind whirls at the possibilities.

The backing of royalty to roust out those infernal pirates! The coin to hire- no, to form my own company! The power to clear the stain on my honor!

Mystrale's wracking cough brings the Tigianian out of his reverie. Aldo turns toward his companion with some concern.

[Tigianian]
"Are you well, Mystrale? You should take better care of yourself; after all, we all have but one life to live!"

Turning back towards the king, Aldo again doffs his hat, holding it to his chest as a broad grin on his face as he speaks haltingly.

[Haelgan]
"You have my arms and my honor, Ragnarr Sigurdson. I will follows wherever you lead, and guard your life as mine own."

[-Jynx-]

Ears still attentive, Ores eyes wander amongst the stonework as they walked through the castle. His stares are broken only by Mystrales wracking coughs. I hope he can make such a trip. Ore thought.

[Dwarven]
"Aye, I too offer my assistance."

But finding one gem in a mountain is no easy task... he thought nodding to his over comrades.

[Maralais]

The Count's lips turn upward to a smile as you all declare your support for his mission. "I thank you all. Then there is no time to lose. I am to deal with a few formalities that remain still, but you may benefit from this occasion to prepare for the journey. I suggest you travel to Brightmoore - it takes but a few hours by coach, and there are several inns where you can spend the night. Once there, you can make any necessary preparations for the journey. In fact..." He takes another paper, blank this time, and quickly scribbles a few stuff over it. Once done, he uses some sealing wax on it, presenting the paper to you.

"This is an official writ declaring that you are aiding me. It should lower the costs of your preparations by some margin."

He then brings his right hand to his chin, pensive. "I shall join you tomorrow, at dusk at the latest. We can discuss which path to follow once we're ready to leave. Unless you have any questions, I'd advise you to leave as soon as possible. The coach to Brightmoore leaves around these hours."

[Thug]

Aldo replaces his hat upon his crown, his soldier's mind already thinking of the hearty meal and warm bed waiting in Brightmoore; before he speaks, he inclines his head in deference to the count.

"With your leave, Count. I am sure your works need you."

The Tigianian then turns towards the others.

"I go to retrieve mine belongings. From there, to the... Silesisci?"

Aldo's brow furrows for a moment before his face lights up.

"Ah, carriage! Yes, to the carriage. Will you joins me?"

[-Jynx-]

"We be waiting yer arrival then Count." Ore said with a nod of his head.

Turning to Aldo "Aye let us be off, I yearn for the trails and skies once more"

Ore reaches into his bag and retrieves his small pebble. Slowly and methodically moving the rock between his fingers. "Staying in this city bores me." He said with a gruff sigh.

[Dancing Owlbear]

As Mystrale took short, shallow, breaths to avoid setting off more coughs, Aldo's words reached him. His lips curved upward in an amused smile as he looked to the Tigianian, "If only it were that easy. I'm afraid this body has been weak and sickly for as long as I have had it."

The last statement made the smile fade and the wizard leaned on his staff a little more, "One would hope."

Considering the coach to Brightmoore would be leaving soon, Mystrale began walking away without another word. He walked at as quickly a pace he could without exhausting himself, hoping that the coach would wait for him.

[AirApparent]

Still puzzled at the concept of an Incarnate, Agnar says, trying his Haelgan "Aye, let we travel. I am tire of talkings. Meetings you at the... ka-raj Ragnar, son Sigurdr. He tries his best to sound out the newfound word, looking particularly proud of his supposed success.

[Maralais]

Leaving by the courtyard, you find, next to one Dwarven trade cart going driven going inside the castle, the coach cab to Brightmoore. There's already one person inside, and the driver seems to be waiting for more customers before he's ready to leave. "Brightmoore, 4 silver 5 coppers! Whittiga, 3 silvers! Veritas, 7 silver 5 coppers! Pay up-front!"

[Thug]

Slightly burdened by his gear, Aldo reaches for his belt pouch and fishes around for a few moments before taking out two gold pieces. The Tigianian then holds them up for the coachman's inspection.

"Vilexil! We are paying for thee fares to Brightmoore. If you are taking us there quick enough, I add spare silvers to pay, yes?"

[-Jynx-]

"We be on a time frame" Muttered Ore as he retrieved the coin and handed it over. Clambering into the carriage he notices the other passenger and eyes him a moment before greeting.

"Good 'morrow" Ore nods his head and pulls his treasured rock from his pocket once more, twirling it in his hand. "Have ye business in Brightmoore?" His face dons a warm smile as he speaks.

[Maralais]

After taking your payments, the driver is ready to leave. "Yee-haw!" he yells, and the coach starts moving.

The other traveller seems to be a man in very thick clothing. "I live there. I... came here for an audience with the Count, to speak about our problems." he says as he tightens the scarf around his face. "Weather's really cold these days, isn't it?"

[-Jynx-]

Ore looks toward the wilderness as he speaks, still mindlessly turning the rock over in his hand. "Colder er' day it seems. Did ye find answers to yer problems with the Count?" A realization hits Ores face "Er, I may be to forward with me questions. Apologies."

[Maralais]

The traveller seems to do something with his hands. "Yes. Yes, I believe our problems will be handled very shortly..." he says, as if he's waiting for something.

Shortly after his answer, the wagon comes to a screeching halt.

[Dancing Owlbear]

Mystrale silently listened to the conversation between Ore and the other passenger, clutching his cloak a little bit tighter around himself when the topic switched to the temperature. The carriage stopped and the wizard gripped the side of the carriage's interior to keep himself from falling out of his seat. "Well, that was fast."

[-Jynx-]

Ores eyes fixate on the man and grips his warhammer. I don't like this...

Ore raises his voice so the carriage driver can hear him.
[Hælgan]
"Oi what be the hold up?" His eyes still intently watching the other strange passenger.

[Dwarven]
"I've a feeling our friend here intends us harm"

[AirApparent]

Agnar had been trying to relax atop the cart when it jolted to a stop. He looked around and for the sour e of the stopping. When Agnar heard Ore within, saying the man within meant them harm, he drew his axe.
Bad Idea, mate.

[Maralais]

"The hold-up is that this is an armed hold-up!" yells someone outside as the doors on opposite sides of the carriage are opened at the same time. You see one thug on each side, with the carriage driver, who's visibly battered and scared, dragged by the one on the left. Both of them seem to be covered with tattoos from head to toe. The one dragging the driver grins as he points his scimitar towards the Dwarves. "The good driver refused to pay up a very understandable fee of five gold coins per person for passage through these roads. Unless you want your suffering to dwarf his, we'd suggest you make the wiser choice."

[Dancing Owlbear]

Mystrale let out a heavy sigh as he watched the thugs threaten them, clutching his staff a bit more tightly as he responded, "Puns. The word play of the stupid and the ignorant. Release our carriage driver, leave now, and we won't need to kill you."

Intimidate Check: [roll0]

[Maralais]

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

The men on both sides of the carriage grin, while the person inside with you seems visibly distraught. Before he says anything, however, the previous bandit lets out a laugh: "What could you possibly do, cough to us until we die? I'm going to repeat my proposal a second time, and refusing it again is sure to have... consequences."

As he says the last word, his voice becomes distorted and you realise that the tattoos on his body aren't just for show. They begin to glow with a crimson colour as you feel a strange force trying to into your mind. The Dwarves know from the get-go what he is, and the rest realise as the rune-tattoos on his body keep on glowing: He's a Runebound!

Everyone except Ore make a Wisdom save.

[Maralais]

The faint glow coming from the runes keeps on, but you no longer the strange feeling on your mind fades away, unsuccesful.

Ore hears a familiar voice within him cry with anger. A voice he'd rather not hear. "They dare try to terrorise us?! We must show them the true meaning of terror..." the creature inside his rune hisses.

The thug seems surprised from the non-reaction he received. "What? It was supposed to work all the time. He grits his teeth, then takes an attack stance. "No matter. Kill them! Kill them all!

At his command, the man in thick clothing suddenly frees himself from all the outer clothing and scarves around him. The tattoos, as well as the thick hair all around his body becomes visible. He and the thug on the right (who, you now notice, looks as bestial as him) attack to the person closest to them with sharp claws and teeth, while the Runebound who used his rune power on you attacks with a scimitar.

Link (https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1O1pYeytUJ6W87_Xx2DL0ukAibpx51ppmhscRhYIkZHc/edit?usp=sharing) to the Battle Mat. Please place yourselves in the seats within the carriage (in H3, H4, H5, J4 or J5).

Initiative roll for the bandits from OOC:

(1d20)[13]


Rolling for attacks:
Thug#1 Attack & Damage:
[roll0]
[roll1]
Thug#2 Attacks & Damage
[roll2]
[roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]
Thug#3 Attacks & Damage
[roll6]
[roll7]
[roll8]
[roll9]

[Thug]

[Position: H3]

"...aro! Tel es sifie! Tomi fisisilvos sili sciech lir es!"

The smell of blood and bilgewater is overpowering in his nose as he sways across the rolling deck of the... ship? Screams puncture the night, while above his head flames wreath the mast and sails.

In his hands, a... wheel? What is this? Why is this happen-

"Lazzaro! Helit, vosir itie! Tel es sifie! Tomit sili siris epi es!"

Lazzaro? Is that who he is?

Suddenly, a massive black hulk looming out of the night, framed by the burning pyre of the ship's rigging. A great roaring booms out as the screaming redoubles. The scent of burning flesh joins the hideous melange in his nostrils-

Aldo jerks awake with a start, the screams from his dream turning into savage cries as the disoriented Tigianian rises from the depths of sleep. Unsure what is happening, Aldo bellows out in his native tongue.

[Tigianian]
"Menhit, you'll not take me like this! I have not yet received satisfaction!"

The closest man lashes out at Aldo, catching the mercenary on his cheek and leaving long, shallow gash. The pain shocks the last vestiges of sleep from the man as Aldo fully realizes they are under attack.

[Tigianian]
"Mangy curs, you would assault me in my sleep? It is yet my time to wander the red halls of Menhit, and certainly not at the hands of brigands!"

Drawing his shortsword from his belt, Aldo lashes out at the man that assaulted him.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[-Jynx-]

[Position: I5]

Ore's blood begins to boil at the demons words. He scorned his demon in his youth, but has grown attached to his curse. Other demons however, those were a different story entirely.

Haelgan:"Ye made a sore mistake I'm afraid lads" Ore bellowed, lunging forward at the bandit by him. Swinging his warhammer with all his strength.


Initiative: 19 (In OOC thread)

Attacking Thug #1
Hit: [roll0]
Dmg: [roll1]

[AirApparent]

[Position:J5]

Feeling the mental attack from another Runebound spirit, Agnar feels anger boiling up within him without his bidding. The voices of thousands of traitors and villains rise up within him, with a simple message:
killmurderripdestroykilldestroymurder
It's all Agnar can do to give in. Without another thought, he leaps from the cart and attacks the thug right next to him with his battle axe.


Athletics check, if needed: [roll0]
Attack: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]

[Dancing Owlbear]

[Position: H4]

As violence breaks out, Mystrale holds out his hand, moving the fingers in exacting mudras as he whispers out the necessary words. A moment later, a brief blue glow surrounds him before fading, an invisible layer of magical protection covering him like a suit of armor.

Casting Mage Armor and that's it.

[Maralais]

Round 1

It all happens happens with a blinding speed. Before the bandits can follow with their threats Agnar's battlecry deafens you all, and his greataxe connects to the gloating Runebound thug's flesh. It cuts all the way through to the bone. Seeing the devastating attack, Ore swings his warhammer at the wounded man, but he manages to take one step back, perhaps out of reflex to the massive wound he just received. The wounded thug then swings his scimitar at Agnar, but his pain makes it impossible to land a hit, as the weapon fails to even get close to its target.

On the other side the two Bestial bandits catch Aldo by surprise. One's claws lash at his torso, causing him to grimace, while the other bites his arm with primal rage, though he's hardly in danger. As he hears Mystrale next to him cast a spell, he attacks swiftly with his shortsword, landing a hit.

Aldo, your HP should be 11 and not 12. Thugs have changed positions as per Battle Mat.

Round 2
Realising that he is outnumbered and outskilled, the Thug Agnar and Ore have surrounded grimaces. "You've driven me to the edge!" he cries, and makes a move to the driver right next to him, obviously planning to take the man hostage.

On the other side the two bandits are still eager to fight, as both of them continue their mindless onslaught on the Tigianian fighter.

Thug #1 makes a grapple attempt at the driver:
[roll0]
Driver's contest to the grapple:
[roll1]
Thugs #2 & #3 keep on attacking Aldo.
Thug #2:
[roll2]
[roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]
Thug #3:
[roll6]
[roll7]
[roll]1d20+3[roll]
[roll8]

[Maralais]

And I completely forgot to roll for initiative for the Thugs. Whooops.

#1: [roll0]
#2: [roll1]
#3: [roll2]

[Maralais]

I noticed that the way I described the two rounds wasn't very clear, so I'll go over it quickly:

In round 1, Agnar hit, Ore missed, Thug #1 tried attacking Agnar but missed, Thugs #2 and #3 both hit Aldo with only one of their attacks, dropping his HP to 11 by my calculations, Mystrale casts Mage Armor and Aldo succesfully attacks at Thug #2.

Now we all need to roll for initiative again (since it's the Speed Factor variant) so I did so for the thugs, and rolled for their attack and damage at the same time, regardless of whether it hits or not, to speed up things. Thug #2 and #3 kept attacking Aldo, #2's second attack hit, #3 hit with both attacks. Thug #1 tried a grapple check on the driver next to him but failed. I posted these three days ago and you guys still haven't acted your turn.

I'm slightly getting worried by the fact that you guys have been silent for quite a while. If it's a problem with the descriptions I did for the last round, I'll give an OOC sum-up of what happened after each round from now on. If it's anything else, do tell me.

[Dancing Owlbear]

Attempting to assist his new companion Aldo, Mystrale raised his left hand, palm pointed towards one of their attackers. Focusing his will, he muttered, "Incursus." The instant the word left the wizard's lips, a bolt of flame leaped forth from his empty palm at the nearby thug still in the coach.

Attacking Thug #3 with a Fire Bolt cantrip.

Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]