{Risus} Dark Sun

[Tibbius]

A man in tattered clothing, with a rag wrapped over his eyes, stood next to a muscular man wearing the garments of a Fire cleric. They were near the middle of a long line of people waiting to enter the House of Water and Fire in the city of Urik, on the Tablelands of Athas. Just ahead of them were a pair of half-giants carrying big empty pottery water jars, and ahead of the half-giants were a six-foot-tall mantis-like creature and a very short half-naked man with teeth filed to points – a thri-kreen and a halfling.

From the back of the line, a dozen people behind them, they heard grumblings of discontent. Turning to look, they saw a templar of King Hamanu accompanied by her retinue. The templar was a tall dark-skinned woman draped in a sheer linen toga and carrying a wooden staff with obsidian blades mounted into its upper end. The wood of the staff was dark grey, probably iron wood from Nibenay. The retinue were a pair of muscular dwarf slaves carrying bone cudgels, which looked like human thighbones. The two dwarfs were shoving aside the humans in the line, making room for the templar to pass up toward the front.

“Get aside,” one of the dwarfs growled to the blind man and the cleric.

Please post characters and ooc comments here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?593009-Risus-Dark-Sun-OOC).

[ArchivesRat]

Blind Haviland stepped away when the dwarves came through, neatly avoiding their rough handling. However, as one of the dwarves passed, his thigh-bone club held at ready slipped a bit, tangling into his companion's legs ...

Blind Haviland is attempting to use just a touch of telekinesis to cause the dwarves to stumble into the half-giants. Because he's a bit of a sh*t-stirrer. 4d6

[Ramsus]

"As you wish." the Monk replies as he steps aside. He takes the time to look over the woman, trying to assess her strength and general attitude.


ArchivesRat. Your roll is broken. Also you didn't post your character stuff in the OOC.

[Tibbius]

Blind Haviland twitches his mind at the club loosely held by the nearer dwarf.
Jedi Mind Tricks [roll0]The club slips and tumbles from the dwarf's hand, tangling in the legs of his comrade. Both minions collide and topple into the calves of the nearer half-giant, who unthinkingly kicks backward, sending one of the dwarfs sprawling at the templar's feet and the other one right into Haviland himself. Distracted, Haviland lets go of the psychic connection that he has been using to see from the eyes of the man standing behind him - his world goes dark. He becomes acutely conscious of the smells of sweat and dirt and of the ragged breathing of the overheated people in the water line. Also, more importantly, the sweaty weight of squirming dwarf that is cursing and using Haviland's knees to pull up from the ground, making Haviland stumble as he tries to keep his feet.

Glass notes the templar carries herself arrogantly, stepping firmly with her head held high. She looks like a pretty standard Spellcasting Warrior Vassal of King Hamanu (3) or (4).

[Ramsus]

"Careful there friend." the Monk says and puts a hand to the older man's back to help steady him.

[ArchivesRat]

The old blind man smiles wanly. "Thank you, friend. It's hard enough waiting through these lines without having to deal with such ... rudeness. Tell me, are you a local here?"

Having caused a distraction, Haviland is going to brush against the mind of one of the dwarves. He's mainly being paranoid. What do they know of their employer? Are they looking for someone?

[Tibbius]

Blind Haviland reaches out, flipping through the minds around him like pages of an esoteric book, trying to find the ... right ... one. A dwarf! But not one of the templar's dwarfs, this is one standing near the entrance of the House, luxuriating in the cool damp air that drifts there. Reaching again, Haviland finds a swaggering bully of a dwarf, whose eyes reveal a bone cudgel being snatched up from the ground. The dwarf feels a sharp pain in his ankle as the arrogant templar kicks him. "Clumsy!" she snarls. "Step more carefully."

The dwarf simmers with resentment. He does not like the templar but he is only a slave and does not get to pick his master.

[Ramsus]

The Monk looks down at his colorful pale red, orange, and yellow robes and gives a short laugh at the question. "Ah, excuse me friend. If you could see me you would not have had to ask. No, no I am not a local. My name is Glass, I come from a far-away Fire Temple. I'm afraid I stand out here, at least a bit." He says all this, clearly in good spirits.

[ArchivesRat]

The old man's face crinkles as he returns the laugh. "Ah, then we're erdlu of a feather then, aren't we? I just blew in with the last caravan, and I'm afraid I stand out more than a bit. Perhaps we'd both better keep our heads down. I can smell the haughtiness coming off that Templar."

[Tibbius]

The tall templar turned abruptly, moving her spear from vertical to halfway pointed toward Glass. "What did you say ... priest?" her voice softened as she recognized the monk's attire. She halfway smiled at him, looking him over.

[Ramsus]

There is only the most imperceptible tell that Glass has shifted the exact positioning of his feet and tensed the right muscles in preparation of a fight as he answers the templar, "I said I come from a fire temple quite a ways away. And I believe the blind man said you smell hot. I guess what they say about loses one sense heightening your others is true afterall." and he flashes her a friendly smile to distract her and diffuse the situation.

Beautiful Glass-maker: [roll0]

[ArchivesRat]

Nothing wrong with her hearing, it seems.

Haviland hunches down over his staff, looking old and harmless. Eh? What was that, young one? Who are you talking to ... oh, the young lady. Good morning to you, good woman. Forgive my young friend for not introducing himself immediately, he's being so kind to help an old blind man through this water line."

Old Wise Man (3): [roll0]

[Tibbius]

The templar raises an eyebrow briefly, stops smiling, and crosses her arms. She stares at Glass, studying his face. "That's a nice smile," she replies. "You should save it for friends..."

Hearing what Haviland has to say, she shrugs. "Then such a nice young man won't mind letting his betters ahead," she says. "Dwarfs, heel." She steps smoothly in front of Haviland - right behind the half giants, who are grunting at each other in their bestial language. Although she is tall for a human, the top of her head barely reaches the bottom of the half-naked half giants' shoulder blades.

The templar now faces forward in line and ignores the two "inferiors," though her dwarfs keep a careful eye on them.

[Ramsus]

Glass just gives a shrug at this as the templar passes.

[ArchivesRat]

Haviland lets a breath out slooooowly. His tongue can get him into more trouble than his mind can get him out of.

Granted, he could probably defeat the swaggering young templar, but what good would it do? He'd like to stop running for a while.

So he holds his tongue, for now. And he pulls back his mental fingers. No telling what skills the templar possesses. He's pretty sure she isn't buying his helpless old man act, and she'd act if she felt him prying at her ego boundaries.

[Tibbius]

Uneventfully, the line goes forward step by step and eventually the handsome monk and the weathered blind man enter the House of Water and Fire. Heat shimmers from the roof and moisture beads the doorframe. Inside it is cool and damp. Water drips down from the ceiling and ripples down the windowless walls and the pillars of the wide open room. The room is about sixty feet by sixty feet. Flames glow and sizzle in brackets on the walls, giving flickering dim orange light. The water on the walls fills a trough that runs all around the room, from one side of the entrance doorway to the other. The trough is interrupted by a narrow doorway at the far side of the room.

In the middle of the room is a dais two steps high and ten feet across, and on the dais are two bone chairs. A priest of Fire in pale red and orange robes sits in one chair. A priest of Water in pale blue and green robes sits in the other chair. They have their hands raised and they are chanting different chants. The water dripping from ceiling and the flames glowing on the walls seem to pulse in response to their voices.

Those who entered before our pair of heroes are standing at the trough along the walls, dipping water jars to fill them. The half giants are drinking by stooping to cup water from the trough in their hands, then noisily slurping. The thri-kreen is crouched with its limbs bent at acute angles. The tall templar stands with her arms crossed, watching the dwarfs fill jars for her and place the jars back in bags carried over their shoulders.

"Welcome to the House," says an acolyte standing near the doorway. He bows. "Where are your jars? Where are your bits? Would you like to purchase jars?"

[ArchivesRat]

Haviland smiles, "My jar is, alas, smashed to pieces. I'll need to purchase one from the temple."

His hand darts into his tattered robes and come out with a handful of ceramic bits. Legacy of a few dune bandits who sought to have a little sadistic fun with an old man out in the wastes. They hadn't been carrying much coin, but Haviland still did not regret leaving them sleeping on the sand.

"I should have enough to cover myself and the young man beside me."

[Ramsus]

"Oh, that's very kind of you. And fortuitous as I have a few jars" he pulls out two glass jars (one tinted blue the other green) in a way that it's clear he has more on him and is just using these two to demonstrate, "but no coin. I was hoping a fellow devotee of the flames would show kindness on me to tell the truth." At this he gives the old man an appreciative smile and one at the fire priest too, not sure what kind of reaction his words will get.

[Tibbius]

The acolyte smiles: "I'll trade you the water you want, for one of those jars. You must be a master glass maker." He accepts Haviland's bits and gently takes the blind man's elbow to guide him to the trough. As he goes over, Haviland again experiences the bizarre sensation of viewing himself through the eyes of those whose visual cortexes he skims across.

= = =

As they fill their water jars, the half giants and the templar leave. The thri-kreen chirps at them incomprehensibly, then leaves as well. Not clear why it's in a city or how it's been tolerated without being crushed like a bug.
= = =
What do they do once their jars have been filled?

[ArchivesRat]

Haviland rubs at his hidden eye sockets. Seeing through thri-kreen eyes always gave him a headache. He turned to the acolyte.

"I've just rolled in with the last caravan, and it will be a while before the next caravan is ready to leave. I suppose I should find lodging. Do you know of anyone willing to take a lodger? I'm willing to pay."

[Tibbius]

Blind Haviland The acolyte replies thoughtfully, "there's a few houses near here that take guests for a few bits a night. Or for work. I'm sure you, master glass maker, would be welcome at any house. Including this one." He waves his hand toward the back door of the big wet room. "And for charity you might get this old man in as a guest of your own. At least here."

[Ramsus]

"It would be an honor to have some of my works housed here. What do you say friend?" Glass says with a genuine smile and claps a hand on the old blind man's shoulder.

[ArchivesRat]

The old man nods heavily. "Oh, aye, that would be lovely. And I'm sure I can find a way to be useful to you while I'm here. Been traveling with the caravans for years now, and I've picked up sorts of skills to make up for my lack." He gestures towards his blindfold.

[Tibbius]

"Good," said the acolyte, "welcome to the house." He led them across the room through the narrow dark doorway, into a cool dim hall lit by sunlight reflected from high windows off the ceiling. Glass appreciated the powerful fire magic that was keeping the building cool - so much heat being moved around. No wonder the roof of the building was shimmering-hot.

The acolyte showed them to a room with four sleeping pallets, one of which had gear scattered on it - a short sheathed sword (its hilt, partly wrapped in leather, otherwise showed bare yellowed bone that might also compose the rest of the weapon), a breastplate and shield of deep black kank carapace, a nearly folded linen blanket. "Not sure where your room-mate went," said the acolyte. "Her name is Vanjil."

What do you do for the rest of the day?

[Ramsus]

Glass says the old man, "Well friend I doubt it will be entertaining for you, but you are welcome to join me while I make some glasswork. In exchange for the company and maybe a story if you feel, I could make you something as well."

[ArchivesRat]

"Oh, an old man like me requires little entertainment. Just do as you will, and I'll be happy in your company."

Haviland will spend a couple of hours meditating under the guise of napping, regaining his mental stamina from the trip. After that he'll be paranoid for a bit and send out his mental fingers, looking for anyone with hostile intent or anyone thinking dark thoughts about "blind Haviland."

[Ramsus]

Glass shrugs at this and goes off to find some sand to make glass out of and makes several jars for the water house, a few replacement weapons for some he's used, and a cane for the old man.

In case I need to roll...
Beautiful Glass-maker [roll0]

[Tibbius]

While Glass was outside gathering sand, and Haviland was meditating, a young elven woman entered the room wrapped in a linen towel. Haviland vaguely felt her presence and her intent to dress and gather her gear. He saw himself through her eyes in fleeting glimpses - she was paying him no attention really, being focused on readying for action. What action? He would need to break his meditation to uncover that, and run the risk of her noticing his mental presence.

[ArchivesRat]

Haviland can smell the young elf. Through another's eyes, he can see her preperations. At the moment, she seems no threat. Elven minds are tricky things, loaded with twists that Haviland is loath to wind his way through. Best to leave her alone until she shows more of her intentions.

He stirs himself and wanders over to the area where Glass was working and shoos a venturesome lizard away with a tap of his cane. He settles in, listening carefully to the sounds of the temple. Once Glass comes back, Haviland will tell him the story of the time he was captured by a gith tribe and talked them into making him their leader. Would have worked out fine if they hadn't insisted he marry the old chief's daughter.

And, of course, he will keep an ear out for any sudden moves from the young elf woman.

[Ramsus]

At the end of the old man's tale Glass thanks him for the story and present him with the glass cane, "I hope you will consider this a fair exchange for your tale and perhaps a few more." he says with warmth.

[Tibbius]

During the glass making and the telling of the tale, a few hours have passed. While Glass was out gathering sand, the young elven woman silently finished dressing, equipped herself with sword and armor, and quietly left the room leaving Haviland undisturbed in his meditations. She remained absent while Glass finished his jars and left them to cool on the stone floor in the corner of the room, and while Haviland recounted his exploits with the gith chief's daughter.

It was just as Glass handed over the cane that the elf stumbled clumsily back into the room, blood oozing through a gash in her kank-shell breastplate at about the level of her ribs. The same acolyte who had showed them the room was holding her by the elbow on the other side.

"Help me remove her armor," he said urgently. "She needs a healer. Glass - is that your name? Could you go find one please?"

"A healer who keeps secrets," said the elf. "Back alley type." She coughed and gently pressed her hand against the gash. She had done that before, and the hand was stained with her blood.

[Ramsus]

Glass immediately rushes over to help remove the elf's armor. As he's doing so he says, "I am newly arrived to this city, I'm willing to try but if you could at least give me a hint where to look I think I'll have much better chances."

[ArchivesRat]

Haviland coughs. "I've picked up some tricks over the years. Here, Glass, can you guide my hands? Show me where the wound is, and perhaps I can staunch the bleeding."

Haviland tries to use his psionic abilities to clean and close the wound. I figure that a loner would know some basic first aid. She might still need a real healer if it's serious, but this should at least keep her from bleeding out or getting a serious infection. Roll in the OOC thread.

[Ramsus]

"Of course!" Glass replies and does as asked, wondering what abilities the old man possesses. Though he had just told a tale about being with the gith, so perhaps psychic?

[Tibbius]

Haviland was skilled at mind tricks and could thoughtlessly surf the eyes and thoughts of those around him. Knitting flesh and stopping blood was an art he had barely explored. Giving it his best attempt, in the end he wasn't sure what he had achieved. As he tried to help he felt a mind tasting his own thoughts, something that a person not adept in the disciplines probably wouldn't have noticed. The acolyte gave Glass directions to a street of unlicensed healers who sometimes were under arrest by the templars but otherwise did good work.

[ArchivesRat]

Haviland gently cleaned the wound as best he could. "I'm sorry, miss, I'm afraid this is beyond my meager skills. I've spared you infection, and probably eased the bleeding, but I cannot promise any more than that. We must hope my young friend gets back with a real healer to finish the job."

He bowed his head in apparent humility. Slowly, he blanked his mind of all thoughts but worry and anxiousness. Underneath, he kept his mental senses open. Let someone probe him, they'd see a harmless old man. For now. And perhaps he'd get a better feel for their talents.

[Ramsus]

Glass quickly tries his best to find his way to where the acolyte directed him, flashing a smile and asking for directions whenever he gets turned around or when he feels it might help him avoid some trouble.

Beautiful Glass-maker: [roll0]

[Tibbius]

With slight alarm, Haviland felt the tasting shift to careful probing. He had somehow garnered unwelcome interest from a person who might otherwise have been casually scanning, as he himself was wont to do simply for different perspectives on his surroundings. This person, however, was not interested in his visual cortex, but rather in his intents and motivations. He was not sure whether to throw up a hard barrier, or instead to set his mind adrift. Either, he feared, might reveal his skills - and that in itself would awaken further interest. A third option would be to do some probing of his own, following back the contact to see from where and who it originated.

The elven woman grunted at him: "Thanks for everything." He heard the sarcasm, mixed with genuine gratitude. She was simply disappointed that he hadn't been able to do more. She sat gingerly down on her pallet, absent mindedly stroking the gashed kank skin breastplate. Seeing briefly through the acolyte's eyes, Haviland mostly noticed that she was sexy. The acolyte apparently was lonely. Then he realized - whoever was probing his mind might notice that he was borrowing eyes. They might also notice if he suddenly stopped ...

Afternoon was on the verge of evening. The hottest, most oppressively humid time of day. Sticky with not a chance of rain, the dew point excessive but nowhere near the scorching temperature. Glass wandered the nearly vacant streets, trying his best to remember directions and attempting to chat up the few passersby - a bare-chested female mul slave hastening with a message for a templar, not inclined to pause and talk; a pair of human slaves staggering under a heavy barrel, who claimed not to know what he was talking about; a swaggering male human templar, whom Glass carefully avoided without appearing to dodge him; and a youngish half-elven woman with a long green braid at the left side of her head, the rest of her hair hanging loose and free in the stagnant air. The last one smiled at him: "I know the street. This way. It's close." She gestured languidly, turned, and headed into a narrow alley between two low mud brick buildings.

[Ramsus]

Glass compliments the girl, saying he likes the braid. He follows along, but he keeps his senses sharp for any hint of danger as he's heard things about alleys such as this.

Stylish and Versatile Martial Artist: [roll0]

[ArchivesRat]

Haviland gives his head a slow shake, trying to remove the acolyte's hormones from his mind. He was long past that time of life, and he didn't want the reminder.

It was time for a game. Through the eyes of the acolyte and others, he watches the inhabitants of the temple. Then he lets his mind wander to memories of his travels. Blistering trecks over the tablelands. Parched nights sheltering from saline storms on the salt flats. Hot dust-laden winds blowing over skimmers on the silt-seas.

If anyone is probing, they were going to start sweating soon. Haviland keeps one eye - one of the acolyte's eyes actually - on the people in the room to see who starts looking uncomfortable.

[Tibbius]

The first part of the alley is narrow and passes by two low, dark open doorways on the left side and three on the right. The walls of the alley are baked mud brick, about ten feet high. Glass, alert, scans each doorway as he approaches and keeps checking the roof-edges. In the second doorway on the right, a scrag-bearded shirtless human leans, gnawing his fingernails. He hoots at the sway-hipped half-elf with the pretty green braid. She spits to her other side and quickens her step. The scraggly man comes upright as if to chase her, then notices Glass, does a double take, and "relaxes" back to slouch against the doorway again, very focused on his fingernails. Something about the way the warrior monk moves, often seems to make men like that ... anxious.

Two bends in the alley, and at the second bend the half-elf steps into another doorway and gestures for Glass to follow.

Haviland picks up nothing notable with his visual scanning. Neither the elf woman nor the human acolyte seem aware of the probing, and neither appears to be feeling his memories of desert heat. But he feels the probe falter and twitch - then press against his memories, trying to steer his thoughts to present day.

Mysterious Mind Scanner [roll0] This will be an extended combat according to the high die wins each round rules.

[Ramsus]

Glass follows in after the half-elf, a little less wary (though still on guard) as he doesn't think it very likely someone would set up a mugging and not make sure its clear of men like the one they saw earlier.

[ArchivesRat]

Haviland suppresses a smile. It's been a long time since he's had a proper mental duel. This new competitor seems clumsy but talented. Worth at least playing with. Who knows? Perhaps they're someone who could use an instructor.

Jedi Mind Tricks=[roll0]

[Tibbius]

Haviland discovers a female mind. Arrogant. A little frightened by his sudden resistance. Now strongly interested in finding out who ... and where ... he is.

Arrogant Female Mind Scanner [roll0]

[ArchivesRat]

The anonymous mind-worker fumbled as Haviland's memories maintained their curtain over his thoughts. Suddenly Haviland produced a brief memory of an encounter with a gaj. Seeing the feathery antenna coming at the mind's eye, the interloper's own defenses slipped.

Haviland tucks his head down and looked thoughtful. A woman's mind had a certain cast to it that a man's mind could not emulate. So, that much was determined.

Thoughts of the Templar from earlier arose. Perhaps her? It would not be the first time that a Templar had hidden psionic talents. Still, the drive to cultivate their own powers and the need to appease the powers-that-be in the city usually meant that Templars did not dedicate their lives to the powers of the mind. Likely not her. So who?

As the mind probed delicately at his barrier, Haviland arrived at a decision. Wisdom dictated that he hide. But if he were truly a wise man, he wouldn't have spent the past *mumble* years on the run. So, start with foolishness, end with foolishness.

Haviland gently sent out a whisper to his attacker. "Match the visions against your own senses. Memories never have the fullness of the world around us. See the holes? The faded memories? Push through to the mind behind the memories. If you can do that, perhaps I can share some knowledge with you."

Haviland will try to keep up the same defenses without pushing back. If the attacker can get through, Haviland allows her to sense where he is located. Halving his skill check to simulate Haviland going easy. [roll0]

[Tibbius]

Glass follows in after the half-elf, a little less wary (though still on guard) as he doesn't think it very likely someone would set up a mugging and not make sure its clear of men like the one they saw earlier. As Glass's eyes adjusted from the fiery afternoon light to the dim interior, he became able to see two people other than the half elven girl, who was standing in the shadows near the doorway and closely watching him. There were an old human man lying on a pallet, and a half elven man of about the same age crouched over the pallet. The crouching one was pouring some liquid from a clay jar into the mouth of the reclining one.

The room was lit by a smoldering fire with no visible fuel or smoke, right at the center. The walls of the room were mud brick lined with shelves and pegs. All sorts of things were on the shelves and the pegs: tools, sculptures, weapons, armour, clothing fancy and poor.

The occupants of the room seemed to be waiting for Glass to speak.

[Ramsus]

"Greetings. An acolyte at the fire and water temple asked me to come fetch you. A woman came in with a grave injury and urgently requires your care." Glass states.

[Tibbius]

Going easy, Haviland revealed more of his present thought than he intended. The other almost giggled at his idea that she might be a templar. She peeled away his distant memories to lay bare the recent events - the journey to Urik, waiting in the street to get a drink, the little conflict with the templar, now the sparse room with the bleeding half elf lying curled in pain on a pallet, the acolyte shrugging a goodbye seen through her eyes and muttering something about, "I hope the foreign priest gets back here soon." A shiver of pleasure: "So you see through others' eyes? But you ... are blind. An old man? Yes." Decisively: "Meet me here." An image of a grand courtyard shadowed by an imposing ziggurat, and a citadel atop the ziggurat before the setting sun. "You will know me. There's nothing remarkable about me." Then the contact abruptly ceased.

In the dimly firelit room, the reclining man coughed and shifted on the pallet, rising on an elbow to cough some more before lying back down. "Sleep," said the half-elf doctor. Shuffling his feet to face Glass, he rose. "Bring her to me," he said. Wise Old Medicine Man [roll0]

[Ramsus]

"Is it possible I could bring you to her? I wasn't sure if she was in shape to be moved." Glass replies a bit unsure.

[Tibbius]

The girl with the green braid scoffed at Glass. "Doctor Hu is not welcome on the street," she said firmly. "The templars accuse him of poisoning. It is not true!" she added defiantly. "Not every patient can be saved."

"Indeed," said Doctor Hu. "I do not travel." He patted his left knee softly. When he shifted his weight it popped. "Not only because of the templars. Also this. Old men do not go far, fast. Bring her to me."

This is a conflict - your choice whether it's a prolonged argument or a quick response, but either way make a "rollv" on one of your cliches with your next post. Winner of the conflict gets their way as far as who goes where.

[Ramsus]

"What if I carried you along the rooftops? I'm quite athletic." Glass retorts and does a flip right over the doctor, slapping the ceiling as he goes.

I'm assuming this is an Inappropriate Cliche
Stylish and Versatile Martial Artist : [roll0]

[ArchivesRat]

Haviland "hmmms" to himself.

Not the Templar, but something very interesting. He'd have to check it out, but he'd need a guide with working eyes. Perhaps once Glass returned.

Of course, this would all blossom into an epic catastrophe that would culminate with him escaping from the city one step ahead of the authorities. But why mess with tradition?

[Tibbius]

"What if I carried you along the rooftops? I'm quite athletic." Glass retorts and does a flip right over the doctor, slapping the ceiling as he goes.

Please note that because you won this conflict, you have to narrate the outcome.

[Ramsus]

The doctor finally realizes that Glass is serious about not being sure the patient can be moved and acquiesces. They still weren't prepared for Glass actually being serious about carrying them along the rooftops, which turns out to be a less fun way to travel than it sounds like.

Sorry, I'm still new to the system and there was a gap between my reading it and the game starting up so I hadn't realized I had won. I'd been sitting around waiting for you to roll again.

[Tibbius]

Stylish and Versatile Martial Artist (3d6)[2][2][4](8)

Everything went well at first. They traversed the roof tops in the later afternoon sunlight, the doctor clinging silently to Glass' shoulders. It wasn't until the edge of the flat roof, right across the alley from the House of Water and Fire, that everything fell apart. Literally. As Glass pivoted to drop from the roof to the ground, the doctor fell off his back and tumbled to a hard landing on the hot dirt.

The thumping impact and the gasp of breath driven from the old man's lungs brought attention from a pair of templars walking without retinue along the street that crossed the mouth of the alley. "What was that?" one asked.

[Ramsus]

Hearing the possible trouble coming their way, Glass takes a few random glass objects and hurls them in different directions away from the House of Water and Fire, hoping to distract the templars.

Beautiful Glass-maker [roll0]

[Tibbius]

The templars respond with alarm to the explosive sounds of shattering glass. "Summon the guard," says the taller one urgently to the fatter one. Both of them draw their short swords and approach the alley cautiously. "There's a man on the ground," says the fatter one dubiously. "Looks like he's hurt." The two pause just inside the mouth of the alley, their attention focused on the ground. At the edge of the roof, caught in the late afternoon sunlight, Glass so far has escaped their notice.

[Ramsus]

Glass attempts to throw up a sheet of flame between the templar and the doctor so they can't see him pick the old man up and get back to rooftop travel.

Guy Who Manipulates Fire and Heat and Sometimes Catches on Fire Just Temporarily [roll0]

[Tibbius]

With a mystic gesture and a brief muttered word, Glass summons a rippling sheet of flame through which he still can vaguely see the templars' forms. The flame blocks the alley between the templars and the crumpled, motionless doctor. Across the alley, Glass can see a side door to the House of Fire and Water. He just needs to get down off the roof, scoop up the doc, and duck in through that door without being recognized by the templars ...

"What the blazes?" exclaims the shorter templar. "It's pretty clear what blazes," says the thinner one. "What matters is, why?" Holding his short sword loosely in one hand, he uses the other hand to bring up to his lips a small object that was dangling from his sword belt. He blows on the object, and a sound pierces the oppressive afternoon air.

[Ramsus]

Glass hurls another glass object in a different direction and tries to scoop up the doctor and get them through the door.

Stylish and Versatile Martial Artist [roll0]

[Tibbius]

"Hey!" shouts one of the templars as Glass grabs the doctor. "You shouldn't move an injured person like that!"

"Stop right there!" yells the other templar. He pokes his short sword experimentally through the flickering and dwindling wall of flame as Glass hunches through the heavy woolen curtains that cover the side door to the House of Fire and Water, the doctor slung over his shoulders.

"Did he shove that guy off the roof?" Glass hears the first templar ask as Glass lowers the doctor to the floor.

"Probably," the second templar says. "Anyway this stupid fire's going out. Let's get him for questioning."

[Ramsus]

Glass just tries to quietly get the doctor to the patient he brought them here to tend to.

[Tibbius]

There are several rooms off the darkened corridor where Glass lugs the doctor in search of his own room and the wounded elf. As he passes the last of those rooms and lurches around a corner to finds himself looking at the main room with the water troughs, he hears faintly the soft brushing sound of someone pushing past the door hanging behind him. ... "Do you see him?" Glass hears one of the Templars ask. "Nope." Is the reply. "Let's split up and look. You go left. I'll go right."

[Ramsus]

Glass looks around for somewhere for he and the doctor to hide.

[Tibbius]

Glass quickly considers where to hide, and decides to rapidly stagger across the cool damp and well-lit main room to reach his assigned room. As he moves through the room, first one and then all of the dozen people in it turn to look at his noisy progress. The same acolyte who earlier showed him his lodging approaches him as he nears the door in the back wall: "What's going on?" Without immediately responding, Glass shuffles through the doorway. As he exits the main room he hears a voice from the far side of the room: "Hey! Has anyone seen a man carrying another man on his shoulders?"