Alfuo, City of the Tyrant

[Gull]

http://www.wall321.com/thumbnails/detail/20120529/mountains%20clouds%20italian%20italy%20village%202 560x1920%20wallpaper_www.wall321.com_47.jpg

In the Tyrant’s villa, cool breezes from the ocean stirred the thick cords of smoke rising lazily from the burning cones of incense, puddling in the dark eaves above.

“There has been no change, terrible Tyrant,” quavered the voice of the oracle. Blinded years ago to practice his craft, the old oracle tapped, unseeing, at the charts laid in front of him where he knelt.

In the audience of the Tyrant.

There was a pause. Finally, a voice. A voice that sounded as old as the stars, and as powerful as the sea that lapped the shores of Alfuo.

“Again.”

“The Wolf,” said the oracle in a reedy voice, “returns to the Tower.” In the audience chamber, the breezes suddenly came to life and the smoke was whipped from its previous careless spin into shapes. Suddenly the chamber was filled with ephemeral canine shapes, smoky paws running relentlessly on air. “Teeth sharpened, appetite whet. The young Wolf, the exile, the prodigal. An indication of old wrongs coming to right.”

“The Falcon,” he said next, and the smoke echoed his words. The wolves blew away like clouds, and now falcons soared throughout the chamber. “The falcon comes to roost alongside. The peregrine, the far-traveller, the bright-hearted killer. Old debts coming due.”

The oracle succumbed to a fit of coughing. He was old, and the work took much from him.

“The Owl,” he said, when he had his voice back. The falcons pulled their smoke wings close and dived, bursting into the smoke that they were made of. In their place, grey, cloudy owls paced the chamber, dragging a wing alongside them. “Born again in chaos. The broken-winged, the broken-hearted, the wise-speaker. A forgotten enemy.”

“The Rat,” he finished, and the owls, as one, spread their once-broken wings and took the air, gradually losing their shapes. Instead, dozens of twitch-nosed rodents crept hither and yon. “Skulking in the Tower all along. The silk-fingered, the shadow-blessed, the red eye in the darkness. Chewing away at the roots of all that is built.”

The Tyrant was silent, saturnine. He flicked one brass-ringed finger and the rats dissipated as a wave of power swept through the chamber with a deep bass rumble, blowing out the incense and ejecting the smoke into the bright afternoon air.

“Powerful omens,” the oracle said. “Portents of note. These four symbols recur, over and over again in my visions. The fates indicate change, terrible Tyrant. The young wolf. The peregrine. The broken owl. The rat in the tower walls.”

The Tyrant said nothing, but merely gesture again. Not a gesture of power this time, but a simple order.

The oracle made his obeisance, the requisite seven bows, as he left the audience chamber, and the Tyrant was alone.

He was called many things, but most of all, he was called the Tyrant of Alfuo. This was incorrect. The Tyrant did not belong to Alfuo.

Better people should call Alfuo what it was.

The City of the Tyrant.

[Gull]

Game Info (will be updated as we go)
Players:
Locke, the City Thief (Megatron64)
Meryl Aben, the Dashing Hero (EdinoiZ)
Master Oren, the Wizard (fireinthedust)- currently incarcerated, fate unknown.
Cenneth of House Eldric, the Swordmage (Chronicler)

OOC thread is here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?442895-Alfuo-City-of-the-Tyrant-OOC&p=19831906#post19831906).

Alfuo is the most important trading city-state for miles along the coast in either direction. A hub of trade and cultures, it is said that anything one desires can be found there, and it is, for the most part, true. Alfuo is under the protection of the Tyrant (long may he reign) (though some would claim that "protection" is better described as "in the merciless grip of"), an immortal warlock who took power a generation ago and shows no signs of stepping down. The Tyrant rules from his villa, the tallest and most decadent structure in all the city. From its commanding view in the foothills of the Callenine Mountains, the Tyrant surveys his city and directs his lieutenants, his Barons. Each Baron has been granted a portion of the Tyrant's powers, and each in turn grants a portion of their own power to their own lieutenants, the better to carry out the wishes of the man who ultimately decides who lives and who dies in Alfuo.

Locations in Alfuo-
House Eldric Fendrel Villa- Cenneth's ancestral home.
The Skydocks- the airborne equivalent of the Seadocks, the skydocks deal with trade over the Callenine Mountains and the lands beyond.
The Shambles- run-down, hard-luck slumtown bordering the docks, run by the Dancing Lady's Men.
The Tower of Chains, former punishment palace of the old regime. Currently ruined.

Folk of Import-
The Tyrant, long may he reign.
Lord Kasper Riall, captain of the secret police.
the Lady, leader of the Dancing Lady's Men.
Wren, con lady and old friend of Locke.
Fendrel (formerly the Blademaster), traitor and de facto ruler of the former House Eldric holdings.
Romal suave pirate prince, jilted by Meryl.
Duke Corsico, Duke of the Tyrant, head of House Corsico.
Finbar the ...? Duke's Man, of House Corsico.
Hristo, juggler and chief thief.
Barney, big fellow, thief

[Gull]

Alright, let's get this show on the road.

Cenneth and Meryl, it's been a long sea voyage home. Home to Alfuo, the City of the Tyrant. Tell me, what happened on this voyage to make it so memorable?

Oren and Locke, you've pledged yourselves to Cenneth's cause. How are you going to get him and Meryl into the city?

[Megatron46]

Locke knows of two ways in, clean or dirty! Clean- from the sea and in through The Shambles, that warren of alleyways and dark streets. No one asks too many questions, but it is watched and two strangers of breeding may be noticed.
Dirty- the sewers! The filth and excrement make it unpleasant, but they're not watched and they lead everywhere!

[Chronicler]

Cenneth, The Swordmage (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=19832488&postcount=2)
Damage: 1d8 | Armor: 1 | HP: 21/21 | XP: 0/9 | Hold: 0 | Magic: 0

The voyage had taken a week by caravel. Cenneth stood at the prow of the Dancing Barnacle, gazing off into the hazy distance. Somewhere along the shrouded, rocky shore lay Alfuo's sheltered harbor, only a few hours away now. Home, at last, he mused, slightly anxious. The ship could have made better time had they traveled directly, but it was a coastal hugger by trade, with several scheduled stops along the route. The captain, a tall, broad-shouldered, swarthy man with a leathery face wrinkled by the elements, had refused to ignore his appointed ports even for enough additional coin to compensate for his loss in cargo.

When Cenneth had looked perplexed at that, Captain Agare patiently explained in his booming voice, "Even with your extra coin, I'd still suffer a loss, lad. While I am indebted to you for the fine swordsmanship of you and your lady-friend in repelling those brigands, my venture depends on my good name, and I'll not tarnish it by skipping the towns whose merchants pay me for my services on a regular basis. Understand?" The sandy-haired, younger man nodded. Indeed he did. Luckily, he wasn't in a real hurry and could afford to arrive several days later than he would have otherwise preferred.

I'll be there soon enough, Master Oren, he promised. Cenneth's former mentor had written to him weeks before of the possibility of smuggling him back into the city with the help of a less-than-lawful underworld connection. It was probably wiser not to inquire too closely about it. Just the fact that the ol' curmudgeon had mustered enough willpower to tear himself away from his precious tomes was surprising in and of itself. And the mental image of his teacher doing so invoked a sudden, warm wave of nostalgia of better times, making him crack a rare smile.

As a salty sea breeze ruffled his hair, Captain Agare's previous words echoed in Cenneth's thoughts, interrupting his reverie. Two days ago, when the raiders had closed in and boarded the Barnacle, Meryl had transformed into a whirling angel of steel. In his memories, she was still that gawky girl he had played with at the Eldric Villa, but in the present, she was a formidable warrior, and it was taking him some time to make the adjustment. So enthralled had he been by her exquisite swordplay, that it had taken him the span of a dozen heartbeats before he remembered to draw his own blade and join the battle. Fighting by her side had been a rush, back-to-back, pressed in on all sides, with the stink of sweat, blood, and sea spray all vying for dominance. Eventually, they had come through unscathed and a bit closer for the experience, making the trip to Alfuo a memorable one for the returning exile.

[Megatron46]

As the Dancing Barnacle docks at Alfuo and the passengers disembark, the bustle and the noise swell, drowning out all but the loudest of shouts.
Cenneth and Meryl step down the plank and almost instantly a small child, running at speed, collides with Cenneth, bounces off and hits the ground! Leaping to her feet, the girl spits out a curse which would make a sailor blush and vanishes off into the crowd. Cenneth feels a scrunch of parchment in his fist that wasn't there before. It says, "Hide your faces, walk along the wharf towards The Shambles and enter the Grinning Monkey tavern on the sea front. - signed a friend of Orem" As Cenneth reads it the paper slowly crumbles into nothing.
Hope I'm not jumping on DM's toes! Really not my intention, but figured that Locke would be waiting to get them into the city as fast as possible! Gull if you want me to delete this I'm happy to!

[Gull]

Cenneth, you have your instructions. Will you do as they say, or do you have a better idea?

Locke, where are you right now? Are you at the Grinning Monkey, preparing for Cenneth's arrival? Are you keeping watch from the roofs over Cenneth? Or do you have another scheme you're pursuing?

[Megatron46]

Locke crouches on a rooftop overlooking the docks, watching intently as Cenneth disembarks. He grins as the tiny girl collides with the swordsman and winces at her language. Sal, you curse worse than a sailor! he thinks to himself. Watching to see where Cenneth heads, the thief drops to the floor and circles round to follow wherever the young man goes. As he walks past Sal he drops a coin into her handgood job! Blending into the crowds he follows Cenneth and Meryl, hopefully to The Grinning Monkey, but if not then he trails where they lead leeping an eye open for anyone following!

do you need a roll?

[Chronicler]

Cenneth, The Swordmage (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=19832488&postcount=2)
Damage: 1d8 | Armor: 1 | HP: 21/21 | XP: 0/9 | Hold: 0 | Magic: 0

Cenneth gently nudged Meryl who stood beside him. "Contact," he whispered. The paper that the street urchin had palmed off onto him had already disintegrated before he could show it to her, but he was confident that she trusted him enough to follow his lead. Still wearing the sealskin slicker that he had used on the Dancing Barnacle to stay relatively dry, he pulled up its hood to keep his face as obscured as possible. It was a sensible precaution though he didn't really think anyone would be expecting him to return after a decade-long absence. Except for Master Oren and his associate, of course.

Turning imperceptibly, Cenneth glanced over at his now grown, childhood friend. All around them the Shambles seemed to be exactly the same as it was ten years ago, possibly even worse smelling than before. He wrinkled his upturned nose at the familiar stench and snorted, "Some things never change." However, that wasn't something that he took any comfort in. And despite trying his best to appear nonchalant, the slightly anxious exile couldn't help but quicken his pace a bit. The two of them were heading in the general direction of the Grinning Monkey for a rendezvous with their contact, and he was feeling impatient to get there. But rushing would appear too inconspicuous and so he tried to control his pace. Though within moments, after turning a last corner, the disreputable tavern came into view.

[Gull]

The docks of Alfuo are its lifeblood, the trade coming in and out of the city bringing good, people, lore and most importantly, money. As such, they are a raucous affair, bustling with crates of precious (and not so precious) cargo being bustled about by sweating and cursing stevadores. Strange beasts in cages snarl and whine, casks of foreign wines roll with a signature clatter across the cobbles and packs of vicious mudlarks push through the crowds, grabbing what they can before scrambling off.

As Cenneth and Meryl proceed into the Shambles, the exotica of the docks fade, while the more unsavoury elements only grow more pronounced. Around you, you hear whistles and chirps from alleys, from windows and rooftops.

Locke you know these streets well. These are the burglar roads you grew up in. To your ears, these chirps and hoots, thieves' cant and code, are as clear as plain speech. Your friends are being sized up as literally fresh off the boat. Easy prey.

There's a reason that outsiders don't go into the Shambles.

What do you do?

[Megatron46]

Locke- City Thief (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?442895-Alfuo-City-of-the-Tyrant-OOC)
Damage: 1d8 Armour: 1 HP:17/17 XP: 0 Hold: 0 Level: 2

Damn it! Locke thinks to himself,they stand out like a plump pigeon among crows! He speeds up, ghosting through the crowds and lets out his own low whistle, rising sharply at the end; trying to claim the pair as his own mark and hopefully warning away any would be interested parties. He slips ahead of Cenneth and Meryl and suddenly turns and stumbles, falling to the floor directly in front the new arrivals, halting their progress! Get off the street and into the tavern, he hisses just loud enough for them to hear and hopefully no one else, You're being sized up! Trust no one! Get to a table and sit, I'll join you. Your old friend sent me!

[Gull]

Cenneth and Meryl, first this ragamuffin stumbles at your feet and then he hisses a warning message to you. "Oi you!" comes a shout, and before you know it, there are a knot of disreputable characters who, like magic, have appeared out of the crowd. A lame beggar, suddenly not so lame. A costermonger, his shabby cart apparently forgotten. A pair of street jugglers, their juggling knives suddenly no longer props.

"What's this, then?" one of them bellows at the two of you. "A couple of pretty swells wander into the Shambles like they own the place? Knocking over poor, simple, honest folk like my friend here?" A large man with a stevedore's build picks Locke up from the street and brushes him off with delicately feigned sincerity. "You think you can push us around because what, we're poor, honest working folk? We demand restitution! Your coin and those swords'll do!"

Locke, as Barney, the big brute who picked you up brushes the street filth form your clothes, he speaks from the corner of his mouth.

"What do you think you're doing, Locke? You know them two are ours, fair and square. You took an oath, same as all of us." Casually, as if scratching his collarbone, he shows you the tattoo of the Dancing Lady on his chest. The same one you have. "You know Thieves' Law well as I do."

What do you do?

[Chronicler]

Cenneth, The Swordmage (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=19832488&postcount=2)
Damage: 1d8 | Armor: 1 | HP: 21/21 | XP: 0/9 | Hold: 0 | Magic: 0

Cenneth froze mid-stride, noting that he and Meryl were still over a longship's length away from the Grinning Monkey. Judging the distance to be too great to cover in time, he peered down at the figure who had just delivered a hasty warning to them. Could this be Locke? he wondered. Master Oren had named his co-conspirator thus in his letter and wrote that he would be their point of contact within the city. But before Cenneth could voice his suspicion, the trio found themselves surrounded by armed ruffians, by the look and smell of them.

Immediately, the young Swordmage exchanged subtle glances with Meryl. Though outwardly she appeared calm, he thought he could sense a ready tension beneath her facade, like coiled steel. Pushing the lower left flap of his slicker to the side, he dropped his right hand onto his sword's now-exposed hilt. "If it's my blade you want, I'd be more than happy to give it to you. Point first," he offered, generously. With a grin, power surged through his contact with his bonded weapon, setting his eyes ablaze with white-blue light. He knew that if it was a fight that these men wanted, then a fight was what they were going to get. But he paused, allowing them a moment to reconsider their options before making his move. Perhaps they would have a change of heart at his display of arcane ability, or less likely, maybe Locke could still talk their way out of this situation. Regardless, he stayed taut, ready to spring into action if the would-be thugs continued to pursue their aggressive behavior.


Cenneth is activating Blade Magic.

Blade Magic (roll+INT): 2d6+2 = [5, 3, 2] = 10 (http://orokos.com/roll/328780)

On a 10, he holds 3 magic. And so long as he holds magic, he gains +1 armor (due to Mage Armor).

[EdinoiZ]

Meryl Aben, the Cheerful Sting (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=19860798&postcount=4)
Damage: 1d8 | Armor: 1 | HP: 21/21 | XP: 0/9 | Hold: 0


*Meryl had been basking in nostalgia as she and Cenneth walked through the docks of the city, the location brought up several memories. She had ultimately used the naval docks to sneak aboard a ship of the sky faring type, but that was in itself a long story better suited for campfires, not really material for song. Sadly they had to leave the bustling port district, journeying inwards.

Sadly this was not one of the better neighbourhoods.

Hooded like Cenneth, Meryl caught his glance and bsmirked at the silent message he had sent. This could be fun. The street, being just wide enough that people could comfortably pass beside a horse drawn carriage on both sides as it drove up or down the road, was quickly being cut off. "Oh and here I thought you had gone and lost all your sense of humor," Meryl laughed while moving her cloak to better show of the sword these would be robbers wanted, "I'm glad I was wrong." Resting her hand on the pommel of her blade she smirked at the large ruffian who spoke earlier. "So how do you want to do this?" Her right eyebrow arched questioningly.

"En garde?"


And like fashionable guests I am late.

[Gull]

Cenneth, the toughs step back as one as your eyes flash exotic energies. Their reactions are varied- some scramble back, falling over themselves to get away from you. Others bow their heads, and it's their spokesman who narrows his eyes, smiles a moment, and then does the same.

"Magic," hiss a dozen voices.

"Your Lordship," says the spokesman, gesturing placatingly with his juggling knives. "Forgive us, we never knew you for a Duke's Man. Please accept this, our humblest apologies from good, humble men of the Shambles." At a nod of his head, the knot of thugs begin to disperse.

Meryl, the toughs give you a wide berth, before one stops and frowns. "Hey," he says, taking in your face and equipment, "that one's a bleedin' hero! That's the Cheerful Sting! You know, the one they sing about!" He shakes his head. "Dodged an arrow with that one," he grumbles as he walks away.

Locke, Hristos, the juggler and de facto leader of this little band of the Lady's Men grabs Barney by the shoulder, intending to lead him off.

"Hristos, that's no Duke's Man," whispers Barney.

"Shut up!" hisses Hristos.

"He's got no brass ring!" protests Barney, but is cut off again by the juggler.

"You let me worry about that, alright?" snarls Hristos, and the two fade off into the crowd.

The three of you are free from any immediate danger, at least for the moment!

What do you do?

[Chronicler]

Cenneth, The Swordmage (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=19832488&postcount=2)
Damage: 1d8 | Armor: 2 | HP: 21/21 | XP: 0/9 | Hold: 0 | Magic: 3

Loosening his grip on his sword, Cenneth relaxed and stood a little straighter as the motley gang departed. The threat of imminent violence that had hung in the air quickly evaporated like morning mist. Well that turned out okay, he reflected ruefully, though still a little perplexed by their hasty retreat. They had called him the Duke's Man, which he obviously wasn't. But apparently he was mistaken as such anyway. Which begged the question, Which Duke now rules here?

Suddenly feeling exposed, Cenneth shook his head clear of his musings. Time enough for that later. He, Meryl, and Locke were still out in the open and needed to take shelter some place safe and secluded. Turning to Locke, he urged, "We should move. Forget the Grinning Monkey. Can you take us to Master Oren? Or if it's too risky right now, at least take us to a secondary fallback location." The young exile cursed his ignorance of the Shambles. He and Meryl were completely dependent on the thief and were at the mercy of his integrity, or lack thereof.

[Megatron46]

Locke- City Thief (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?442895-Alfuo-City-of-the-Tyrant-OOC)
Damage: 1d8 Armour: 1 HP:17/17 XP: 1 Hold: 0 Level: 2

Locke opened his mouth ready to explain when the flash of magic silences him as well! Gathering his wits, "See!" he hisses at Barney. "Don't interfere, I warned you, but you had to stick your nose in! Hristos, control this idiot! He could drag you down and you don't want to mess with the Duke! And you're a known face!" he says to Meryl, we've gotta get you disguised as soon as we're safe!
He quickly runs a hand across his face! "Right! That was lucky! Now don't do it again! You not wearing the brass was noted, but if you try anything like that out in the open again and it'll be more that Hristos and his lads we're dealing with! The Monkey's off the table for now, too much attention! There's a place, an old tower, ruined! It's out of the way and has a dark reputation! Follow me!"
With no further words, he slips down an alleyway, expecting to the others to follow! He leads the way, pointing out landmarks for them to head to, while doubling back to check they're not being followed. Dark alleys, a sewer, avoiding people and the law! Locke leads Cenneth and Meryl through a maze of streets that they would have never navigated alone!

Using Locke's Thieves' Highway move!
Sweet! I choose we get there unseen or lose our pursuers
[roll0]
Thieves' Highway
When you use the city's hidden paths (alleyways, rooftops etc) to travel to your destination or escape pursuit, roll+INT. On a 10+ choose 2. On a 7-9 choose 1:
• You get there unseen or lose your pursuers.
• You get there in half the time it would normally take
• You leave nothing that could be traced back to you or your friends.

[Gull]

The Tower of Chains

A lot of bad things happened here, a long time ago. Before the Tyrant, a generation past. The whats and whys and hows have long been forgotten, but the reputation remains. Torture. Executions. Imprisonment. When the Tyrant took over, he smashed the Tower of Chains in a display of his sorcerous might, a symbol of the end of the rule of the Wizard Princes. The sorcerous power of Alfuo was his to control now, and any who would use the mystic arts were wearing a brass ring, their granted power an aspect of his own.

Speaking of a deposed wizard, yours is late. Master Oren is nowhere to be seen.

However, his assistant is here. Half-dead at that.

"They came for Master Oren! They took him!" he gasps around coughs. "One of Duke Corsico's men and his soldiers!"

"They know!"

What do you do?

[Megatron46]

Locke- City Thief (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?442895-Alfuo-City-of-the-Tyrant-OOC)
Damage: 1d8 Armour: 1 HP:17/17 XP: 3 Hold: 0 Level: 2
Locke leads the two through a gash in the tower wall, making a last check to see if they'd been followed. As he hears a noise he spins and draws his rapier pointing it at the shadows; which coalesce into Oren's assistant.
"What?! When?" Locke paces, "The old fool must have made a mistake! Did they follow you? Did they see you come here?" He grabs hold of the assistant's tunic, holding him close, before letting go, barely waiting for an answer. "Okay, we must move quickly." He turns to Cenneth and Meryl and rummages in his pack; pulling out some wax, some make-up and a stick of charcole he tries to disguise the two new arrivals, darkening Meryl's hair, adding a scar to Cenneth's face. After a few minutes he stops and takes a look at his handiwork. A look of disgust crosses his face! "Rubbish! No time!" And he pulls the disguises off their faces. "We have to move again, if Oren has been compromised then we may have minutes at best. We'll head into the sewers, hide there until I can get a feel for what's happening on the street and get you to another safe place!" He glances at Meryl and Cenneth, "unless you have a safe house Oren didn't know about?"

[Gull]

The Tower of Chains

Too late.

Ordinarily, Locke, when you lose a tail, you lose it. But after all, this had nothing to do with someone following you- instead, someone was waiting for you.

The doors to the Tower, or what's left of them, are blasted off their hinges with sorcerous might and a knot of men rush in. Finely dressed in the colors of House Corsico and wearing the silk masks of House Soldiers, they burst in, swords ready, pistols in their belts. Behind them comes a final figure, a tall man in Corsico colors as well, his hair and finely trimmed moustache a flaming red. One gloved hand loosely grips the whip coiled carelessly over one shoulder, while the other is bare, and from it glints a brass ring.

Cenneth, you can tell this ring has powerful magic lingering around it. Its power suffuses the man with the whip.

Meryl, the man with the whip looks familiar...hey, it's Finbar! You met Finbar, years ago and far from here. Looks like he's done well for himself! How did you meet him?

Locke, yeah, it's Finbar alright. Duke's Man under Duke Corsico. They call him Finbar the...you know what, I've forgotten. Jog my memory. Finbar the what?

"Well well well well well," says Finbar, and fingers his moustache while his men await his orders. "Well," he adds, unnecessarily. "Looks like what we could get out of the old fool was right. Conspirators against the Tyrant (long may he reign). Come along now, and we'll find you a cell right alongside the old wizard," and here he pauses to spit at the word.

"Unless," he says, his smile growing, "you've some sport for me?"

He points at you with his be-ringed hand.

"Get them!"

The House Soldiers charge forward.

What do you do?

[Chronicler]

Cenneth, The Swordmage (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=19832488&postcount=2)
Damage: 1d8 | Armor: 2 | HP: 21/21 | XP: 0/9 | Hold: 0 | Magic: 3

Wordlessly, Cenneth followed Locke as the thief led him and Meryl through the winding streets of the Shambles. A veritable maze, he realized within moments that he had completely lost his bearings and knew not where they were exactly. But their contact seemed confident enough that he knew where they were going, or at least he finally delivered them to a destination--a crumbling tower. Heading inside, it was with a heavy heart that Cenneth quickly noted Master Oren's absence, although an assistant of the old magus was there, injured. Had the surly wizard taken on an apprentice?

After being appraised of the current situation by the bleeding assistant, the concerned Swordmage had moved to treat the boy's wounds but was interrupted by Locke's impatient fussing with an inexpertly applied disguise. Wiping his face clean with the sleeve of his slicker, Cenneth growled, "Yeah, that's not going to work. They're already here." An explosive roar announced the appearance of a squad of soldiers and their leader. As the armed men rushed toward them like an incoming tide, he unsheathed his sword in one fluid motion and stepped forward to meet their charge. His weapon gleamed with arcane power, giving off a white-blue glow all along the length of its sleek blade.

As the first liveried man-at-arms came into range, Cenneth swung a powerful, scything, horizontal stroke at his opponent's midsection.


Due to Sword and Sorcery, Cenneth can roll+INT to hack and slash, so long as he is holding magic.

Hack and Slash: roll+INT = 2d6+2 = [2, 2, 2] = 6 (http://orokos.com/roll/330151)

D'oh! Hmm, if Locke or Meryl can aid Cenneth, that could bump his 6 up to a 7. Otherwise, Cenneth may have to spend 1 magic on Mage Armor to reduce incoming damage by 1d4 if he takes a big enough hit.

[Megatron46]

Locke- City Thief (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?442895-Alfuo-City-of-the-Tyrant-OOC)
Damage: 1d8 Armour: 1 HP:17/17 XP: 3 Hold: 0 Level: 2

Locke's eyes, narrow as the soldiers pour forward and then his eyes focus on Finbar; they open wide and his gut feels hollow! Finbar! Finbar the Twisted! Cruel and deadly, this favourite of the Duke earned his 'title' through his slow garrotting of helpless enemies with his whip, but there are other, darker, rumours of how he earned that name!
"Cenneth! Locke shouts, "Watch for Finbar! That whip is dangerous!" The thief reaches to his belt and pulls out a small round object, "Guard your eyes," he hisses, loud enough that Meryl and Cenneth can hear, but hopefully not those of House Corsico, and then hurls the object into the charging mass of soldiers. Locke throws his arm in front of his face, protecting his sight, as the flashbomb explodes, dazzling white light blazes out, momentarily blinding the soldiers spilling down the slope towards them.
I envisage this as a momentary blindness. However, for it to work on a group of people I think it would be over-powered, unless you're fine with that Gull, but if it only works on an individual then I'm targeting the soldier Cenneth's attacking, hoping that it will give him a boost on his hit!

[Gull]

The Tower of Chains

Cenneth, you're better than that. You should be, at least, given how long you've been training. Maybe it's the surprise, maybe it's being home after so long, maybe it's the half-applied disguise dripping down your face, but the House Soldier parries your first blow, ducks you second and pinks you before you can recover.
[roll0] damage to you, young man. Hard learned lessons are written in blood.

Locke, your flashbombs go off and all the soldiers reel back, covering their eyes and cursing. One stumbles and falls near you. This could be an opportunity for villainy!

Meryl, Finbar (the Cruel, the Twisted, the etc.) sees you as he blinks the spots from his vision after that flashbomb. That's right, he hasn't forgotten what you did to him. "The Cheerful Sting!" he hisses, and snaps his whip from around his shoulders. "I haven't forgotten what you did to me!" he roars, and runs toward you.

What do you do?

[Chronicler]

Cenneth, The Swordmage (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=19832488&postcount=2)
Damage: 1d8 | Armor: 2 | HP: 19/21 | XP: 1/9 | Hold: 0 | Magic: 3

Maybe because he had just transitioned from sea to land, but Cenneth felt that his sense of balance and timing were off. C'mon, get it together, he admonished himself. If he didn't compensate quckly enough, his delayed acclimation was going to get him killed. Cursing under his breath, he could feel the sting of the shallow wound in his side. It would have been much worse if not for his leather armor and blade magic. Swiftly taking advantage of Locke's quick thinking with his flashbomb, the determined Swordmage lashed out again at the lead soldier with the intent to run him through for good. There were just too many foes and he needed to start clearing the field.


Hack and Slash: roll+INT = 2d6+2 = [4, 1, 2] = 7 (http://orokos.com/roll/330836)

Damage: 1d8 = 5 (http://orokos.com/roll/330837)

[EdinoiZ]

Meryl Aben, the Cheerful Sting (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=19860798&postcount=4)
Damage: 1d8 | Armor: 1 | HP: 21/21 | XP: 0/9 | Hold: 0


Meryl had been curious as to what Locke was talking about before the men stormed in. It seemed that this Master Oren had been captured. That was a most unfortunate series of events. Well, until they turned humorous. When the men rushed in, Meryl thought she recognised one of them, but she had met many men during her years as a hero, and many men before that, so it took some time for her mind to connect the dots.

When they connected, she grinned mischievously. "Finbar! How's your daughter?" The last time they had met was out on the sea, Finbar's lovely daughter had been very... thankful for Meryl's role in saving the passanger ship from pirates. Finbar had been less amused. Drawing her trusty rapier as she strode towards the man, her laughter pealed between the walls as she thrust forward, aiming to sting the Duke's man before he could retort. "Does she still miss me?"

[roll0]

[Megatron46]

Locke- City Thief (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?442895-Alfuo-City-of-the-Tyrant-OOC)
Damage: 1d8 Armour: 1 HP:17/17 XP: 4 Hold: 0 Level: 2

Locke grins as the soldier stumbles in front of him, rapier raised to skewer him when the thief sees Meryl wading into the soldiers! "Oh damn!" he hisses! "Heroes always need saving!" He darts forward, rapier flickering out at the eyes of one of the soldiers edging closer to the swordswoman!
Failed roll+bond in OOC thread!
Sorry EdinoiZ :smallfrown:

[Gull]

The Tower of Chains

Cenneth, this time your blade strikes true. The House Soldier, sneering at his first blood, turned to his master for approval when you renewed your attack, crashing through his guard and driving your sword through him. He shrieks and collapses, then weakly tries to scramble away, anything to get away from the young wolf.

Meryl, it appears that your insults had an effect on Finbar, but not the one you expected. Snarling with rage, he dodges your first sting, then roars and snaps his lash at you. It hurts, but then you are suddenly overcome with agony as the whip's charm activates and arcane energy courses through you.

Take [roll0] damage and -1 forward.

Locke, it was noble of you to try, but it appears that it wasn't your day. The House Soldier, surprised, dodges your attack and then swings his own sword back quicker than you expected! Taken by surprise, your rapier is torn from your grip and spins, end over end, before sticking pommel-up in the dirt!

What do you do?

[Megatron46]

Locke- City Thief (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?442895-Alfuo-City-of-the-Tyrant-OOC)
Damage: 1d8 Armour: 1 HP:17/17 XP: 4 Hold: 0 Level: 2

Hand stinging from the concussion of the sword blow, and alarmingly unarmed, Locke's eyes dart back and forth between his opponent and his rapier. Bending his body, he flings himself through the air, avoiding any blades, trying to reach his sword!
Defy danger through acrobatics
roll + Dex [roll0]

[EdinoiZ]

Meryl Aben, the Cheerful Sting (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=19860798&postcount=4)
Damage: 1d8 | Armor: 1 | HP: 16/21 | XP: 1/9 | Hold: 0


Oh? So the old man had gone through a serious working regimen if he was able to dance like that. But Meryl would oblige him, letting him have first blood would only help lull him into a false sense of security! Or at least that was her plan before a quake of pain surged through her, originating from where the whip had struck. "Blightlands in my- what was that?" Still twitching in agony Meryl came to a decision. "I see what Locke warned us about, can't let him have that one anymore!"

The physical stinging of Finbar had not gone as planned, but hopefully this would: gritting her teeth against the pain Meryl lunged forward, trying to block Finbar's next strike by placing her rapier's point at the proper place. Should it succeed her rapier will pierce into the whip slightly, allowing Meryl the leverage to send it flying out of Finbar's hand!

[roll0]

[Gull]

The Tower of Chains

Locke, you're smoke: as far as the House Soldiers are concerned, you're untouchable. Touching down out of their reach, you grab your rapier and flourish it in triumph. That minor setback accomplished, what do you do? There are a couple House Soldiers that are coming after Cenneth- they're a little sour that he chopped up one of their friends.

Meryl, Finbar's moustache curls with contempt as you hook his whip and toss it away! "You think me helpless without my lash? See how helpless I am!" he cries as he flourishes his brass ring at you. At his command, two soldiers leap to protect their master, and their blades soon occupy your own. What do you do?

Cenneth, the man you took down has friends, and they're not happy. What do you do?

[Megatron46]

At last! Locke slips forward alongside Cenneth, darting to the side at the last minute, trying to put his opponent off balance. He feints with his blade, before striking like a snake towards the throat of the soldier opposite him.
Hack and Slash- [roll0]
Damage- [roll1]