Beyond the City of Thieves IC

[iTookUrNick]

“I see. Be it as you say, I do not think we have much of a choice in the matter. In fact, it might be the best way we have to stop the Necromancer for good.” says Cèsar, a bit resigned “how is this ritual like, by the way?”

Spoiler: Ooc

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Persuasion - (1d20+6)[9]

[Woggle]

By that same logic, you too are marauders - just less succesful ones. Or would you dispute that?

What were you after at the mages house?

The werecrow tilts its head to one side. "Yes, from a different perspective, I can see how one could see that."

"We had used up the last of our magical ingredients attempting to seek out the Hag. We were hopeful that the old sorcerer's residence might hold some components we could use to replenish our supplies. There was nothing precise my corvices were looking for, if that is your question."

"[COLOR="#8B4513"]Rosa kneels next to the werecrow and removes the silver chain binding him. "In the meantime, telling us where to find those marauders may help us with," Rosa hesitates, "... our own hunt. If they indeed lead us to the necromancer and your help is necessary, something will come out of it for you as well."

"I've no issue with whatever happens with the hag, but we still need the priest."

The werecrow appears to take Rosa's admission of responsibility to heart. If it had lips to smile, Rosa is sure it would be doing so, ruefully.

"Indeed, praw. Hunts are never without risk, or sacrifice. Misunderstandings occur. The corvices know this when they take their oath. It is regrettable to lose any... but always inevitable. They return to the Wheel."

After Rosa retrieves the Silver Chain, the werecrow lies still for a moment or two before sitting up and squatting on the rooftop. It ruffles and fluffs its feathers with a look of satisfaction. "Ah! Praw! I am gladdened we have reached an understanding!"

There werecrow preens itself, then continues. "I can call upon a corvex and have them lead you to the house where the marauders were seen holing up. The Noose is a warren, I doubt I could give directions that would get you there without confusion. We will leave the priest be for now, out of courtesy. The Hag is quarry enough for us, anyhow. If you wish to reconsider hunting together, or have some other offer, I shall wait for you here tomorrow, after night has fallen."

“I see. Be it as you say, I do not think we have much of a choice in the matter. In fact, it might be the best way we have to stop the Necromancer for good.” says Cèsar, a bit resigned “how is this ritual like, by the way?”

Spoiler: Ooc

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[roll0]

"It is usually a night's work, depending on the creature. The organs are prepared, and then shared in specific order, as decreed by Malar. Depending on the creature we might take bones, or other parts instead. It is during this time that our transformations progress, though often not without cost. Not all who become corvices survive every ritual. Cleansing the blight takes its toll."

[Kaptin Keen]

So ... a quick translation: You engage in ritualistic cannibalism hoping for your god to ... um, bless?! ... you with lycanthropy, because Malar likes beasts. Something that's by the way cure-or-kill to you. Oh, and also, souls.

How large would you say your cult is?

Borgrim is neither condecending or judgemental, but it's clear he's a little hazy on the reasons people would join this particular club.

[iTookUrNick]

“Well, it could be worse, I suppose.” says Cèsar, dubious. “And after that, would you be leaving the city as well?”

[Woggle]

So ... a quick translation: You engage in ritualistic cannibalism hoping for your god to ... um, bless?! ... you with lycanthropy, because Malar likes beasts. Something that's by the way cure-or-kill to you. Oh, and also, souls.

How large would you say your cult is?

The werecrow tilts its head and its eyes grow just a little bit beadier. "We do not hope that Malar provides to use the means to carry out our hunts. There is no uncertainty: Malar rewards the ritual and those who are strong and hold the strength of conviction in their heart will see their transformation through. Those who are weak are remembered for the courage of their attempt, and we wish their souls luck as they journey across the Wheel."

"There are a several other hunts that I am aware of, and I have been in contact with a handful of those. Beyond the individual hunts, we have little organization and meetings are rare, so it would be impossible to guess at a total number. It seems likely that our numbers were greater centuries ago, however..." There werecrow seems to grow whistful. "Our oldest records tell of more permanent hunts and alters not hidden away... but these are our times. It is as it is."

“Well, it could be worse, I suppose.” says Cèsar, dubious. “And after that, would you be leaving the city as well?”

The werecrow shrugs. "Where Malar guides, we follow, praw! I cannot as yet say whether the hunt will lead us away, once we catch the Hag, and root out the soul-traders --once you are done with the priest, of course."

With that, the werecrow ruffles its feathers once more, then produces a slightly ululating call into the night, something of a cross between a crow's call and a loon's. "Praaawwwwii- OOOoooOOOoooOOOooo!" After the call, the werecrow listens intently to the night, though the trio hears no sounds out of the ordinary.

"A corvex returns. They will lead you to the marauders. May you find answers to your questions."

A minute or two later, Raven and Mao spot a lone cloaked figure returning along the southern alley to the abandoned rookery tower. The werecrow signals to it from the rooftop, and the corvex begins to climb up to join the trio. {EDITED}

[Kaptin Keen]

Ah, yes, hmm - tell me, are you familiar with the phrase 'no true northman'?

Actually, never mind. Who knows, it may be a saying unique to the barbarous philisophers of the mountain tribes.

Why crows, precisely? And does Malar have other cults for ... say, turtles who metaphorically carry the burdens of the world on their backs?

Borgrim looks round from his musings - much too late - to notice the werecrow has left.

Oh. It's gone. He shrugs, as if the answers weren't really all that important anyways.

Spoiler: OOC

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Actually, I'm unsure. Is it still here? Did it leave?

[WalkingTheShade]

Rosa winces and turns her face away when the Werecrow lets out that weird cry. "What do crows do, anyway, they cry? sing? caw, maybe?" she asks nobody in particular.

Then she shakes here head as Borgrim waddles into philosophical waters, his gaze lost towards distant rooftops and, who knows, maybe even more distant northern mountains. The werecrow moves around Borgrim to signal his "corvex", probably not listening to the half-orc.

When Borgrim comes back from his mental journey, Rosa shakes her head some more. "He's still here, just moved to your other side..." she punches (quite slowly, with much precautions to avoid hurting her own hand this time) Borgrim in the shoulder.

"Pay some attention, damn you. We're in the middle of an operation, not at the Uncivilized Poets Society."

Rosa turns to the Werecrow. "Back to the question at hand, what my associate here tried to imply is that any alliance would be reliant on Malar's guidance away from our city, once we're done with the soul trade and the necromancer?"

As soon as she finishes with that sentence, Rosa regrets it. "Or to be more explicit, we'll work with you, if you commit to get the f- out of our city once we're done."

Spoiler: OOC

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What does the crow say?

Spoiler: Memestatic

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[Woggle]

Why crows, precisely? And does Malar have other cults for ... say, turtles who metaphorically carry the burdens of the world on their backs?

The werecrow offers only a small shrug in answer to Borgrim's ruminations.

Rosa turns to the Werecrow. "Back to the question at hand, what my associate here tried to imply is that any alliance would be reliant on Malar's guidance away from our city, once we're done with the soul trade and the necromancer?"

As soon as she finishes with that sentence, Rosa regrets it. "Or to be more explicit, we'll work with you, if you commit to get the f- out of our city once we're done."

The werecrow turns to study Rosa, while the corvex crouches patiently nearby. The starlight causes the werecrow's dark, beady eyes to twinkle in the darkness as it considers woman's words. At last it gives a slow shake of its head.

"I regret I can make no such promise, praw. The hunt calls us where it will, and we must follow. If you reconsider, find us tomorrow night, at this spot. Otherwise, swift stalking."

The werecrow gives a final nod, then skips off the edge of the roof. Wings spread from beneath its cloak and the creature glides softly to the north side of the courtyard. It alights near a shadowed awning, and then disappears from sight.

The corvex rises from its haunches and brushes at its tunic with greyed hands. In less birdlike, but still accented common, it asks, "On to the edge of the Noose? I can show where two of the marauders are holed up. The third was injured in some way, and we believe is recuperating somewhere deeper in the Noose. We did not venture so far in, for fear of stirring up hornets."

Beneath its cowl, the corvex glances to Rosa, César, and Borgrim in turn.

[Kaptin Keen]

Hearing 'hornets' startles Borgrim a little. What, more were creatures? I'm starting to feel we're the only ones who cannot turn into anything.

Hm, do we want to be were creatures? We could always go out and get bitten by something. Without being eaten alive, preferably. That is how it works, right?

[iTookUrNick]

“Of course.” says Cèsar, answering to both the corvex and Bogrim at the same time. “Now, lead the way. We have some investigating to do, and it might be of the less peaceful kind this time”.

To Rosa: “I do not care for guarantees. It would only be their word anyway. I feel they are a problem thst will go away on its own, given time”.

[Woggle]

The young corvex looks slightly puzzled. "Creatures? I don't -- Ah! Hornets! No, not real hornets. It's, how do you say? 'A turn of phrase'? Yes, the thieves who inhabit the Noose are like hornets, in that, when the proverbial nest is kicked, they are quick to anger and swarm. Ha!"

Nodding to César, the corvex drops down to the alley below. "Follow, if you please, gentle-folk," he calls from below, and then proceeds to make his way toward Dagger Lane. He pauses every now and then to make sure the trio is following, then continues on.

Through the dark of the city's night-draped streets, the corvex speedily leads César, Borgrim and Rosa northward toward Singing Avenue, and the outskirts of The Noose. The few folk they pass in the streets pay the group little head, content to hurry on about their own midnight business. The corvex turns into a narrow alley off of Singing Avenue, and begins to climb up to the rooftop above.

"They watch the alleys," he says matter-of-factly.

Up above he picks his way cautiously across the uneven roofs toward the outer edge of the noose. At its northwestern edge of the outer "wall" of buildings (that form the outer ring of the Noose), he stops on the steep roof of a two-story house and indicates the building adjacent, a mere 4 or 5 feet separating the two structures. Pointing to a third story window opposite, Rosa, César and Borgrim and just make out a faint candlelight seeping out from behind a crooked shutter.

The corvex whispers: "Beyond that window is where 'Mean-Brow' Moll and Rodrick 'The Thick' have squirrelled themselves away. We heard talk that the third of their party, 'Fast-Hand' Chester called in a favour with one of the gangs and is resting up somewhere deeper in the Noose. This is as far as we've gone, however. Good hunting."

The corvex looks up at the sky and idly rubs his chin with a greyed hand. "I've a little more time before I need to rendezvous. I can keep a lookout here... or be about my way." He gives the three a questioning look from beneath his cowl.

[Kaptin Keen]

A lookout might be convenient, Borgrim suggests, before mumbling on I suppose we'll be wanting at least one of these villains alive?

Spoiler: OOC

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I've used Rage once, so currently I'm a-ok. I'm thinking tradition demands Borgrim leaps in through the window - splintering the hopefully insubstantial shutters in the process - is that possible, and might I even get a DC estimate? As in, how doable does Borgrim think this is?

Of course, if the others insist on a more stealthy approach, I guess we can do that. *sigh*

[WalkingTheShade]

Rosa nods in support when Borgrim accepts the cultist's proposal.

She then notices Borgrim's intent look towards that window. She studies the window, then seeing nothing noteworthy, looks back to Borgrim with narrowed eyes. "Oh no, I know what you're thinking," she shakes her head, but her smile is encouraging and her eyes are mischievous.

[Kaptin Keen]

With a dangerous gleam in his eyes, Borgrim get's as much of a running start as possible, then leaps - with his famous battle cry of GRAAHHH!! - and, leaping off the roof, launches himself straight through the shutters and into instant melee with the (as the theory goes) two miscreants.

Spoiler: Rolls

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Rage!
Athletics: (1d20+6)[20] or (1d20+6)[20]
Attack: (1d20+6)[15]
Damage: (2d6+6)[13]
Intimidate: (1d20+6)[22] - if it's strength based, do I then get advantage when raging? Or am I pushing it now? Did I already ask this - I think I did =)

Can I even do all that in the same round?! Propably not.

With a might blow easily enough to cleave a full grown bull in twain, Borgrim roars in a voice dripping bloodshed and the cold, eternal finality of death: You face Borgrim, the last foe you shall ever meet. Throw down your weapons and beg mercy, or cherish the last instants of drawing breath, for then it will be too late!

[WalkingTheShade]

Rosa mumbles a few arcane words, loads her crossbow, runs behind Borgrm. She knows she's no Grim Leaper, but she spotted a solid enough looking clothesline she uses grabs midway to regain momentum. She jumps through right behind Borgrim.

The room grows darker when she enters through the window, accentuating the fiendish glow from her red eyes. "Don't be greedy, Grim, leave some to me." She stands, her back against Borgrim's.

Yes! YES! BLOOD! wriggles the Slayer in Rosa's ear.

Spoiler: OOC

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Thaumaturgy for mood ambiance and giving advantage to Borgrim's intimidate attempt.

Trying my best to justify using Dex (acrobatics) to follow Bogrim. I hope the DC's the same: (1d20+6)[16]. I'll edit my post if that roll falls to beat a 12.

[Woggle]

The corvex nods and settles into a watchful crouch on the roof.

Moments later the shutter crashes inward in a shower of splinters. An iron horseshoe hanging from the window frame catches Borgrim on the forehead as he careens past, but he pays it no heed as he lands confidently on his feet. A wide, arcing swipe of Hastings catches a burly man, standing to the window's right, by surprise, who has time only to bring up an arm in reflexive defence and recoil backward, stupefied. The great sword cuts a deep gash along the man's forearm (likely Rodrick 'The Thick', judging by his barrel-chest) and a light cut across the his face before he manages to jerk it back out of harm's way {Damage 13, bleeding}.

On the floor, a young, blond haired man in hose and tunic scrambles away crab-like from the raging barbarian on hands and feet, his eyes wide with terror. At the far side of the candlelit room, a dark-haired woman sits at a small table, frozen in place. She watches Borgrim, and then Rosa --as the second lands gracefully through the now open window-- with unblinking eyes from a handsome face criss-crossed with scars. At Rosa's entrance, the lad lets out a shrill cry.

At Borgrim's below the young blond man kicks a short sword in a scabbard away from him. He brings up his empty hands in surrender while his mouth works up and down wordlessly. Rodrick lets out a yell of pain as he clutches at his bleeding arm. The burly, balding man shakily pulls a long dagger, ever so slowly, from his belt and tosses it to the floor near Rosa's feet. He lets out occasional gasps of pain, and manages to reply:

"Chauntea have mercy! Wha- what de ye want?!"

Moll (presumably) remains sitting at the candlelit table motionless, watching Borgrim and Rosa with unwavering attention. Borgrim catches sight of Moll's hand nonchalantly creeping toward an axe handle poking from below a cloak. His gaze meets Moll's. She gives a barely perceptible shrug and then slowly pulls the axe out and tosses it to the floor. For the first time she seems to breath visibly {Intimidation: success, spotted sneaking}.

Rosa, for her part, notices a now slightly disrupted thick line of salt placed below the edge of the window frame, and the iron horseshoe hanging above.

[Kaptin Keen]

The wild, raging fire in Borgrims gaze quickly fades as bloodshed and violence fail to happen (Rodrick's injuri aside). He holds his giant sword aloft a moment longer, ready to reward any aggression with swift retaliation and a one-way trip to the Halls of Val.

Then a look of puzzlement dawns on his face like a small, unhappy sun:

Wait, who - Chaun ..?!

Why does nothing make sense in this city! Who are you people, and why would you steal from Nicodemus?

[iTookUrNick]

Cèsar examines the situation thoroughly. While the distance is not that great, the closed window would make it challenging to sneak inside unnoticed. Perhaps they could coordinate by going the long way around and then descending from the roof and onto their unsuspecting targets.

A resounding crash jolts him out of his deep thoughts. He has just enough time to see Rosa pirouetting gracefully inside the now "open" window. He lets out a deep sigh and prepares to dole ut violence from a more controlled position.

[WalkingTheShade]

"Chaun-tea," repeats Rosa, calmly. "Unfortunately, I don't think the Great Mother can help any of us, down here in the Noose," Rosa's smile is feral, but her tone betrays sadness.

Rosa nods to the woman when she puts her axe down. "Nice choice for a weapon, sister, and smart move knowing when to lay it down."

"Big guy's Rodrick, and you must be Moll, sis'. That leaves the kid." Rosa turns towards the blond youth, but her weapon is still aimed towards Moll. The candlelight shines again and the red glow dims out of Rosa's eyes. She pulls her cowl back, showing her horns. "I'm the Bloody Rose. Be assured we hold no quarrel with you, just have a few questions needs answers. Grim just asked the first one. Mine is: Who are you, kid?"

[Woggle]

The corvex and César keep careful watch of the Noose below while Rosa and Bogrim engage the three vagabonds inside.

Moll seems about to answer Borgrim's question, but waits for Rosa to finish. At Rosa's mention of a 'smart move', the woman slowly indicates her scarred face, adding:

"I've learnt a few lessons." She then waits for the blond-haired youth to give his answer.

For his part, the young man's eyes grow even wider with fear (if that were even possible!) when Rosa reveals her identity. He babbles and stares for several seconds before managing to take a deep breath of air and squeak out:

"M-m-m-my name's Aleyn, m-m-ma'am! I j-j-just do odd work fff-fer folk! Ss-s-sort of an ap-p-prentice te m-Moll an' R-rodrik!"

Aleyn's words spill forth in a hurried, stuttering mess as he half-stares and half-averts his eyes from the revealed Bloody Rose. The occasional glance toward Rodrick's bleeding arm and Borgrim's imposing figure don't seem to help his nerves.

Moll continues: "We're... ah, Hells, we're thieves. B'n'E, primarily, sometimes we look for specific things that folk ask us to 'collect' for 'em. We had a particular client who was lookin' fer things in the wizard's house. So we went looking."

At this point Rodrick, with a hissing breath, interrupts. "No quarrel! He-- he nearly took me damned arm clean off! And dammit, Moll, yer just gonna spill everything, are ya?"

Moll scowls but doesn't take her eyes off of Borgrim and Rosa. "Do you want to lose the arm, Rodrick? I'm sure these fine folk will be happy to oblige once we refuse to answer their questions."

Aleyn looks wildly back and forth between Moll, Rodrick, Rosa and Borgrim. The initial shock of the entrance begins to wear off, and the young man looks to be on the verge of tears.

[Kaptin Keen]

Casual Dismemberment could literally be one of my nicknames. I strongly suggest you do, indeed, spill everything. You have more options open if you do, than if you don't - since ... Casual Dismemberment is the only option if you don't.

When you point us to your employers, we'll go away, and it's supremely unlikely they'll ever bother you, ever again. Even if they come back to haunt the living, I think they'll be more likely to haunt us than you, no?

[WalkingTheShade]

While the answers start coming, Rosa makes a round of the dropped weapons, kicking each of them at the foot of the window. Once she's done, she unloads her crossbow and puts bolt and weapon away.

Empty handed, she fingers the salt line, getting some on the tip of her glow, then gives the horseshoe a nudge. "Well, Grim, I believe our new friends are indeed scared of spirits after them. Yet, salt and horseshoe won't keep the likes of us out, as demonstrated."

She goes to lean against a wall and slowly chants a rhyme, keeping her eyes on Moll all the while.

Smilling Mr. Bone-White,
Stepping through the Moon-light.
Snatching all the children up,
And snuffing out the Sun-bright!

[Kaptin Keen]

Foul sorcery, mutters Borgrim at the sight of salt, but I see your point: These poor fools work for our adversary. That should end well for them, eh? He'd shred these pitiful defences even more easily than I just did.

[Woggle]

When you point us to your employers, we'll go away, and it's supremely unlikely they'll ever bother you, ever again. Even if they come back to haunt the living, I think they'll be more likely to haunt us than you, no?

Moll nods slowly in agreement. "A cloaked gentleman, never saw 'is face, came round a week or two. Let drop that he had some second-story work on Garden Street. Souded easy enough, so Rodrick, Chester an' me took the opportunity before some other enterprising folk did. We found a few things there, but Chester ran into some sort of spell trap. Nearly took off his leg, the poor bastard. An' we ran into some grey-skinned feller, spooked us both, so we figured we'd hightail it out before something else nasty happened."

Moll's gaze follows Rosa as the Bloody Rose kicks away weapons and inspects the line of salt. Rodrick voices his protests in vain as he begins to try to awkwardly bandage his arm with an old tunic.

"Moll, fer gods sakes... ah! ow, ow!"

"Well, Grim, I believe our new friends are indeed scared of spirits after them. Yet, salt and horseshoe won't keep the likes of us out, as demonstrated."

She goes to lean against a wall and slowly chants a rhyme, keeping her eyes on Moll all the while.

Smilling Mr. Bone-White,
Stepping through the Moon-light.
Snatching all the children up,
And snuffing out the Sun-bright!

{Insight: Success} Moll's face turns ashen and pale. She quickly brings hand down to rest on the table in order to prevent its obvious shaking. Rodrick immediately ceases his grumbling. His eyes shoot up from his arm, and he and Moll stare at each other, sharing a long, intense look. Rodrick nods, almost imperceptibly. Aleyn looks back and forth between Moll and Rodrick, clearly lost.

Foul sorcery, mutters Borgrim at the sight of salt, but I see your point: These poor fools work for our adversary. That should end well for them, eh? He'd shred these pitiful defences even more easily than I just did.

Moll, still pale and shaking, finally manages an answer.

"We-- we didn't know who it was fer at first. The fellow kept beneath a cloak and cowl. But he offered good money... and all 'e wanted was some charts or some-such and a special urn from the wizard's house. We found the urn in the cellar, locked tight. Pretty thing it was, too. Then we headed up for the rest, but Chester ran into the spell, and the grey feller was there, so we cut our losses."

Moll pauses and takes a deep, steadying breath. She lets out a sigh and continues.

"Bone's man never told us about traps, or grey-skinned folk, not any of that, so we thought, t'Hells with 'em, we'll take the urn fer ourselves. Course we didn't know then that Bone was behind it, ha!" Moll shakes her head ruefully. "Woulda thought better of crossin' Bone, had we known. But we opened up the urn t'see if we could sell what was inside, but there was naught but bits of bone and dried skin, or something. We sold the urn, thought, and made a pretty penny... but Bone came that night, in all his Hellish, skeletal power, took the bones, and told us we'd die before the next full moon. So we holed up here, hoping we could hide away... "

Moll shakes her head. She glances at Rodrick briefly and then lowers her gaze to stare at the table.

Outside, César spies no suspicious activity from the Noose courtyard.

Spoiler: OOC

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Rosa's Arcana check reveals the salt line to be a pretty admiral attempt by non-magic users to replicate a Magic Circle, presumably to prevent ingress through the window. The horseshoe --if enchanted by a witch or hedge wizard-- might be able to ward off a pesky brownie or pixie, but nothing more.

EDIT: Oh, and I wanted to say how much of a kick I got out of Rosa's use of the Bone rhyme .

[WalkingTheShade]

Still leaning against a wall, Rosa's smile comes back. "Listen y'all, we're after Bone, none other. Either we succeed and get rid of him, or we fail and you're not worse off. So... Who did you sell the urn to? They might be in even more danger than you are. They most probably don't realize what they have."

[Woggle]

Moll looks up for a moment in thought.

"A gnomish fence, goes by Therin, down on Cutlass Avenue. Though Bone didn't seem interested in the urn itself, just what was in it -- and he took that. And his... displeasure seemed more that we backed out of our side of the deal more than anything else."

Moll's stoic composure breaks a little more and she looks up at Rosa and Borgrim with a supplicating expression.

"Do ya think he put a curse on us? Sounds like ye know him more than we do... is there anything we can do to protect ourselves? I- I know it's'lot t'ask."

Outside on the rooftop, César and the corvex watch as three figures gather at the far side of the courtyard, appearing to look in the direction of the house (that Rosa and Borgrim are in) and discussing amongst themselves.

[iTookUrNick]

Without any outward movement form the man, Cèsar's raven launches from his shoulder and flies inside the room. "Spies!" he caws. "Spies in the yard. Three!"

[WalkingTheShade]

"Fiendsh!t," swears Rosa, as she flattens herself against the wall next to the window. She glances outside, fishing for her weapon inside her cloak, coking her crossbow again. She signals to Borgrim with an open palm to stand away from the window.

Rosa turns back to Moll, who definitely seems to be the one in charge here, much like herself with the Baron and Borgrim, when you think of it. What would men do without smart and level-headed women to order them around and protect them from themselves. They'd drink themselves into oblivion or lose their whole earnings on cards, dice, and other frivolity? Men are like children, only more stupid and more destructive. Rosa sighs, and shakes her head to concentrate back on the matter at hand.

"It's nothing but neighbors heard us coming in. We know someone who could provide, at least temporary protection against spirits and ghosts. Keep the noise down to avoid attracting attention and we can talk about providing protection."

She then makes a few quick finger gestures and says a single word of power: "پیام"

She points her index finger towards the roof nearby, aiming in the Baron's direction.

Spoiler: Whispering to César

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"Stand down for now, still negotiating inside. The thiefs got hired by Bone, but now they've become his targets."

Last she turns to Borgrim. "These are just people, please refrain from jumping down on them."

Spoiler: OOC

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Perception on the guys in the yard. Are they just standing in the open and watching us? Or are they creeping up on us? What do they look like? Common Noose thugs? Or undead elite necromancer mercenary ninja/assassins? Perception - (1d20+5)[13]

Also: Yeah, I'd been saving that "sing the rhyme" card up my sleeve for maximum story effect : )

EDIT: post edited to take into account the resolution of Rosa's spot check.

[Kaptin Keen]

Spoiler: How far .....

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... is it down to street level? They've made the classic tactical error of showing up just three-to-one. And if there's anything more luxurious than leaping on top of enemies once, it's to leap on top of them twice in the span of a few seconds.

And Rosa can keep these three in check just fine.

[Woggle]

Spoiler: OOC

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Perception on the guys in the yard. Are they just standing in the open and watching us? Or are they creeping up on us? What do they look like? Common Noose thugs? Or undead elite necromancer mercenary ninja/assassins? [roll0]

The three figures in the courtyard appear to be regular denizens of the Noose, likely attracted by the sound of the shutters smashing. They're not watching you specifically (the window you broke through overlooks the neighbouring roof to the south, the figures are to the east. The angle's quite narrow.)

How far... is it down to street level? They've made the classic tactical error of showing up just three-to-one. And if there's anything more luxurious than leaping on top of enemies once, it's to leap on top of them twice in the span of a few seconds.

The window's about 20-25 feet up, though the window doesn't face out over the courtyard (to the east), but to the roof of the neighbouring building, to the south.

I'll have a post up tomorrow morning.
EDIT: Oops, meant to post this in the OOC thread .