"Aw, hell." Macia breaks the window with the butt of her crossbow, and climbs in the house. She heads directly for the cellar, sliding a bolt into her weapon as she moves. She stops when she sees the armed woman slash at the robed hulk. There are guys still here? How long ago did they break in? How come I didn't hear them?
She trains her weapon on the girl. "Drop your sword!"
"Aaaaah!" Orson shouts as a blade slashes uncomfortably close, shifting his weight barely out of the way in time.
"I am Orson, pilgrim of the Goddess come to inquire with Russo on aiding this village! Upon noticing the blood inside the house I rushed here to save those I could!"
Orson takes a step back, staff raised to defend himself, trying to consider the situation.
"And who are you staying in a cellar where a bleeding individual likely fled, when many warriors come to aid Russo stand outside your door, knocking and waiting?! Surely you would let in this hired help instead of skulking in this cellar, unless...unless..."
Orson recalls how differently this encounter fared compared to his previous experiences with swords users. No nonsensical afterimages out of nowhere, no fancy footwork, no sheathing and unsheathing their weapon with each attack, no ridiculous forward somersaults that end with them leveling a broad blade straight at your face, just a...and a...
"...you were injured so badly you couldn't get up from the cellar you dragged yourself to." Orson says, his voice heavy with embarrassment as Macia arrives and gives her ultimatum.
"Listen," says Orson, his voice far more calm and kindly than before, "I can heal you, but I'm going to need you to go slide that blade over to the stairs where the lady mercenary is. I know you can't trust us fully but...I don't know what else I can tell you to convince you. You...don't have much of a choice."
He lowers his stave to above the lady, a faint, soft white glow emitting from the gem, ready to confer the Goddess's blessing to her once she complies.
Allan raises his helmet, revealing a ruddy face with blonde hair and bushy mustache. His eyes are dead serious, but his mouth is curled into a smile. "Don't know what a worm is, m'lad, but I'm about to find out." He lowers the helmet again and grasps his spear. "You really think you can touch me with that dinner knife, by all means, try your luck. But you're comin' with me, dead or alive, and we're gonna piece this business together."
In a flash, Zia grabs her satchel and throws the sling of cutlery around her neck. A blood-curdling yell originates down below in the cellar. The glass shatters as the red-haired woman crashes through the window across from the front door, crossbow drawn. Zia reaches for one of her blades, and takes cover near the doorframe, making eye contact with the mercenary. With a nod, Zia slides to the nearby wall. The pilgrim begins talking to his assailant, and as he pleads for acceptance of his aid, Zia shuffles along the wall, investigating her surroundings. Her eyes trace the trail of ink left on the floor, then shift to the stack of literature on a nearby table. She moves closer, examining the spines of the tomes arranged on the wooden workspace, trying to decipher the titles etched on the worn leather bindings.
Upon witnessing Macia break the window, Sardo stutters out, "Um, I'm not sure breaking into our employer's house is the best idea... I'm sure there's a good reason that there's blood on the floor there. It's probably... um... animal blood?"
As Macia continues inside, Sardo casts a panicked look around, as if sure that he is about to be arrested, and then slides down after her.
Soon enough, he makes it down to the others who are being threatened by a bleeding girl holding what looks like a table knife. Somehow, this seems appropriate.
"What's she muttering about? Worms? I've got a Worm tome, but I don't think that's what she's talking about. Come now, girl. Why don't you just calm down and explain what's going on around here. We're all friends here, right?" Sardo looks up at the others expectantly.
Capfalcon, it was the swordsman Allan's confronting that talked about "worms", not the woman in the cellar. And speaking of the devil...
Outside
The swordfighter moves one arm in an exasperated half-shrug. "How am I supposed to help you piece something together if you're just dragging my corpse around? That doesn't make any sense!"
The man draws his blade and slips into a defensive stance. "Why can't anything ever go down without violence?" he says, irritably.
House
Zia finds the collection of literature to be rather varied. Most of the loose sheets are maps, all rather amateur, and drawn by the same hand. They're made for and by one person, considering most of the landmarks are labelled something like "face rock" or "crossed trees." They also seem to cover a small area each... perhaps the surrounding forests? The books contain a work on old military tactics, a couple of outdated almanacs, and an aged, crumbling magic tome of some kind. There's also a small work on swordfighting techniques that could be helpful. It's complete with pictures and everything.
Cellar
"Well, isn't that nice of you," a cheerful voice laughs, from the darkness in the corner. "Let me help with that." A torch flares, illuminating the room. The torch is held by a lanky man with dark red hair in a gray cloak. The woman on the floor, now revealed to be dressed in bits and pieces of plate armor, scowls weakly at the man. She's rather...pale and covered in blood. She's holding onto a short sword with both hands, still tense and focused. An old lance lies a few feet to her other side. "Oh, come on," the man tells her, completely ignoring the other heavily armed visitors. "They're obviously not with the attackers. Those guys didn't have a healer with them, for one thing."
The young woman stares at her sword, places it on the floor, then shoves it towards Macia. It doesn't make it all the way there. She leans back against the wall and closes her eyes, breathing heavily. There's a lot of blood around her... but her major injuries, a cut to the stomach and one on the leg (both uncovered) have already been healed and bandaged. The leg, though... fixing that completely was a little beyond whoever administrated treatment. It's a little beyond Orson's talents, too, although there are a few minor cuts that are within the scope of his abilities. She mutters something that sounds like it could be "thanks," and falls silent again.
"So, uh," the red-haired man begins, "What's going on up there?"
Briefly wondering why he had started to think about worms and other creepy crawlies, Sardo answers the man in a surprised tone."What's going on? You've got a whole lot of mercenaries standing around wondering whether they've got a job. And, from the looks of it, you need help with someone. It didn't look like there were any people around when we got here though. Who did this to the girl, anyway? Did you know them from some previous run in or was it mere banditry?"
The man with the torch scratches his head. "I've got a whole lot of mercenaries? Well, that's news to me. The men we're hiding from-"
The woman grits her teeth together. Loudly.
He doesn't miss a beat. "Correction, the men I'm hiding from and she's... tactically retreating from are pretty heavily armed. They've overrun the town and shown very little goal or direction, so I assume they're bandits. It's not like there's a lack of paying work for sellswo... ah, mercenaries around here. As your presence makes clear. In fact..." he drums two fingers against his chin. "...I'd guess that you all were brought on board to take care of a bandit problem. Am I wrong?"
Macia walks down and kicks the sword into a corner. Can never be too careful. She removes the quiver from her crossbow, unwinds it, and slings it back over her shoulder.
Orson presses his hand to his chin. "Some old man told me to come to this little house out here at this time to hear from someone about protecting Valetia. You know anything about that?"
"...and how'd you get in here, anyways? Door was locked until a young lass got it open. Lost track of her when I started to run after the blood trail." he shrugs. "You two know the person who lives here?"
The man answers Macia first. "Somewhere between a dozen and twenty, although I can't be more accurate than that. Wasn't really concentrating on that part. Most of them looked like typical bandits. Shitty axes and swords, fragile bows, no real armor." There's no anger in his voice... but just a hint of disappointment. "I did see a mage, though, and I think there must have been someone up high acting as a spotter?" He frowns. "That's a little surprising for run-of-the-mill bandits, but I guess it pays to take on some extra help if you're gonna lay siege to a whole town."
Orson gets the second round of questioning to himself. "Well, the town just a minute or two east of here is Valetia. Simple farming community, blah blah blah. Didn't know they were hiring mercenaries, but if this is the level of bandit activity they get on a regular basis, I'd say getting some outside help was a good idea."
The man takes a deep breath and continues. "Got in through the front door. It wasn't really locked. Thought this'd be a good place to hide out for a bit. This is Russo's house, right?" He waves the torch about, taking in the barrels and otherwise empty walls of the cellar. "I ran into that guy last time I was out here. Nice fella, a little crazy but his heart's in the right place. Big spender, too. I guess he makes good money from woodworking?"
"I'm still here," Zia proclaims, sheathing her blade and picking up the magic tome and swashbuckling manual. She leafs through the manual, engrossed in the illustrations, and nearly stumbles down the stairs to join the others in the cellar. She catches her balance and recovers gracefully, only to look up and see the victimized young woman on the floor. Zia rushes toward her, letting the literature slip from her grasp as she reaches for her satchel.
"You look horrible, who did this to you?" Zia's hands disappear into her bag and return with a few herbs and a large vial of water, offering them both in turn to the injured woman. "Here, chew on these and be sure to wash it down. It'll taste pretty bitter, but it should help with any pain you're feeling." Zia kneels down next to her and starts examining the work on her stomach and leg.
"My name's Zia, what's yours?" she says, looking back up at the woman's face, smiling faintly.
"Now now, that's no way to start a friendly death match." Allan's voice betrays just a hint of laughter. He clearly believes that this poor fellow doesn't stand a chance. "I promise not to kill you unless it's absolutely necessary." Bringing his spear to bear, he waits for his opponent to make a move.
The swordsman slowly shifts left, blade leveled at Allan. Then, he slowly shifts back. Then, to the left again, never taking his eyes off of Allan. A single bead of sweat runs down the man's face.
...you begin to suspect he's delaying this as long as he can.
"Yeah, okay, I see your game now. You're comin' with me." Allan reaches out with a massive gauntlet-covered hand the size of his opponent's head, attempting to grab him by the neck and drag him back to the group for questioning.
The man, understandably, freaks out, lashing out with his sword. [33] He connects with surprising force, not piercing armor, but knocking Allan's arm back at a painful angle.
[Allan takes 2 Damage!]
The man levels his sword again, panting. "Not...without a fight." He grins, weakly.
Okay, so what this means! 33 is the swordsman's attack roll. An easy hit, but not low enough to critical.
The enemy character, in DARKRED, is labelled as such: (Area: Name [HP] [Build] [Equipped Weapon] [Description])
most of these are pretty self explanatory, but I think I should talk a bit about description. Essentially, it's just a short note on the character's fighting style or mental state. For example, a [Twitchy] or [Swift] character might be faster and better at dodging. [Cautious] is more of how the character will react- he's going to retreat if things go south. For Player characters, I don't need quite this much info, but I'd like you to headline in-battle posts with character name, current HP, and the weapon that's equipped or used during this turn (you can't attack and then switch weapons, but vice-versa is okay.) A link to the character sheet might help too.
"Aye, I've been out here before on work. Years ago, mind. You folks are locals, trying to protect the town?" Orson seems to relax a bit.
"Yeah, Russo's the person we were supposed to meet here a good...ten or twenty minutes ago. You happen to see him while you were...tactically withdrawing from the bandits?"
The red-haired guy frowns. "Can't say much about her, but I'm not local."
The woman, her mouth now occupied by herbs, simply shakes her head.
The man continues. "Grant Milan, traveling merchant and purveyor of...pointy things, blunt things, and things that zap people to death." He grins for a second, then his face falls. "Oh, damn. I could be making so much money off of you guys right now, couldn't I." He covers his face with the unoccupied hand. "Haven't seen Russo today. Or heard him, which is more unusual."
Sardo
Sardo starts to look at the lady, and, completely unskilled in the medical field as he is, decides that she is ready to travel. Mostly because it would be a poor idea for an injured lady to stay in the middle of what appears to be bandit country.
"Yes, he was supposed to be a rather loud man, from what we were told. Do you think he might be in town? If so, I suppose our merry band would be more than happy to fulfill our good deed quota for the day and allow you to travel with us to what passes for safety around here."
Erica gives Sardo a look of disbelief. So does Grant, but his is more bemused and comical.
"Well, if he's in town, I'd say that he's not having the best day right now- but he was here yesterday, so..." Grant shrugs, coming dangerously close to setting a barrel alight.
"Again, can't speak for her, but I've got too much inventory here right now to just skip town. But, tell you what. If you guys do your job and get rid of these bandits, I'll add..." he sighs. "8k to the pot, whatever Russo set you up with. Plus, serious discounts on any future purchase." He almost rubs his hands together, but thinks better of it at the last second. "Whaddaya say?"
In a flash, Allan goes from oddly cheerful to deadly serious. "Shouldn't'a done that," he remarks, winding his right arm and jabbing forward with his Iron Lance.
(6) Needless to say, the peerless accuracy and close proximity of the attacker make the counter-attack an easy shoulder hit. Not bothering to stop the assault, he pulls back and attacks again, this time aiming for center of mass. (50) It's another square hit, this time dead in the center of his chest.
"Now, we gonna keep this up all day 'til you've got more holes in yeh than Vallisian cheese, or you gonna give up?"
The swordfighter only manages to get another lone strike in during Allan's relentless assault. [14] (Allan takes another 2 damage!)
...it doesn't really help.
Allan's strikes, on the other hand, hit home, leaving the man staggering and bloody. (10 damage x2) The swordsman drops his weapon and throws one hand in the air. The other hand, of course, being preoccupied with clutching his new, thankfully not-too-deep chest wound.
"Alright, alright! You win! Now, what the hell do you want with me?"
"I can't speak for everyone else, but I'd be willing to help however I can." She reaches for the books she dropped on her way down and glances through the magic tome. "But I really need to find Russo. Without him..." Her voice trails off as her thoughts cloud with memories of her brother.
"What do we do about the others that are outside? Should we tell them what's happened and warn them about the bandits?"
Grant shakes his head, but Erica, apparently finished with the first round of herbal medication, speaks up again. You get the impression that her voice is actually normally pretty low and quiet. "The armored guy," she mutters, taking a swig from a waterskin. "The mage is the bossy one, but that guy's in charge. Watch him, he's faster than he looks. Smarter, too." she takes another, shorter sip. "Too fast," she concludes, slumping back against the wall once more.
"Eight thousand, eh?" Orson seems impressed, but not particularly awed.
"Count me in, then. Though just so you know...as a cleric on a pilgrimage, I'm obligated by my faith to heal honest folk in need, and while others may have taken the safer path as a neutral healer of the wounded... as far as I'm concerned this whole town saving situation qualifies. And by obligated, that means regardless of what they have to offer."
He grins from ear to ear. "But since you're clearly capable of offering such a generous sum... count me in, good sir Grant!"
Mac's composure falters when the girl mentions mages, but is back before anyone could've noticed. She smiles at the cleric before pushing herself from the wall.
"Time ta get t'work, then." She ascends the staircase, walks through the house, and heads out the door.
Zia nods, shuts the tome, places both books into her satchel, and follows the mercenary up and out of the cellar. Her eyes are drawn to the handwritten notes on the desk as she heads for the door. She pauses for a moment, shakes her head, and follows out the door.
Sardo can almost hear the coins clinking together, and it's all he can do to keep from rubbing his hands together gleefully. He follows the others up the stairs.
Allan relaxes the grip on his spear, setting the butt on the ground. "Now now, don't worry, I ain't gon' kill nobody that ain't askin' for it. You come along with me and answer some questions, you'll see your wife and kids again." Allan grabs the assailant by the arm this time and leads him back to the group, but he first notices that the front door is lying open.
He wanders inside, accidentally ripping a chunk of doorway off the wall negotiating his armor through the entrance. "Whoops, sorry 'bout that," he says to nobody in particular. Hearing voices, he drags the man with him to the source.
"Hey you guys! Got someone here willin' to answer a few questions." He pushes the man forward, into the center of the room. "Looks like this's your lucky day, bet that healer'll take care of those holes I put in yah. Now then, let's start with your name and what you were doin' sneakin' about behind the shed."
The injured man glares at his aggressor. "Name's Alan. And as I would have explained if you'd given me a chance, I'm looking for some crazed lady in armor who decided that the proper reaction to a simple business proposition was to freak out and murder a couple of my friends." He grins nervously, looking back at the halberdier. "Oh, you should meet her! I'm sure the two of you will get along like a house that is literally on fire."
I'm sure this name won't cause any confusion and that I will not regret it at all. Also, as a reminder, Erica and Grant are still downstairs, there's a few mercenaries milling about out front. And pretty much all you guys are out there too? Gosh I hope so.
If nobody has any issue with it, I think I'm gonna dump growth rates entirely in favor of just giving people 3 points to boost stats (not more than one per stat) when they level up, because I feel like it'd suck being locked into a path you don't wanna work with later. Especially when you're only controlling one character directly, in a way not really present in the games. Also, it means less math for me.
"Okay, now as my name's Allan, your new name is Al. That's what I'm callin' yah, and as your my prisoner, that's what I'm namin' yah."
Allan turns to the priest. "Hey, don't suppose you'd mind healing the catscratches this little miscreant gave me, would you? And I guess him, too, provided he keeps talkin'. By the way, any 'a you know what he's talking about, some lady in armor?"
Making the last step up from the cellars, Orson runs into two woefully similarly named warriors, one tugging on his memory in a way to suggest he was one of the hopeful mercenaries waiting outside. Looking around, he hides his disappointment that the only other person in the immediate vicinity is the rather payment-obsessed robed mercenary. While there's bound to be some other mercs outside, Orson decides he'd best play this one carefully.
"Aye, I'll get the bleeding stopped right quick for both of ya, get you both stabilized. I imagine some further treatment may be in order for business proposition Alan later, but let's get this sorted out first, oy?"
Orson gets to the stave use, healing Alan then Allan, each an equal, rather small amount. This easily restores Allan to full vigor, but unfortunately isn't quite enough to make Alan good as new.
Orson clears his throat loudly. "Alright, alright, first things first: What happened between you two to get into such a scuffle?"
Al, or the smaller of the two Allans, breathes in deeply, his wounds healing a little. "Phew. Well, I was walking around back that way," he says, pointing an arm north, "and this guy walked out of a building and tried to grab my head in one of his giant metal hands. I may have reacted poorly, but I don't think you can blame me for that. Do you people, er, know this man?" He scans the group. "I think he seriously needs help. Or a chaperone."
Meanwhile, a rather round and hairy man leaves the group of mercenaries by the front gate and approaches Macia. He coughs in what he must believe is a polite way to get her attention, but the amount of of halitosis and spit that come along for the ride turn it into more of a deathly insult. " 'Ello, miss. Don't suppose you happened to find the client in your little break-in, didja?"
Posts
"Aw, hell." Macia breaks the window with the butt of her crossbow, and climbs in the house. She heads directly for the cellar, sliding a bolt into her weapon as she moves. She stops when she sees the armed woman slash at the robed hulk. There are guys still here? How long ago did they break in? How come I didn't hear them?
She trains her weapon on the girl. "Drop your sword!"
Steam
"Aaaaah!" Orson shouts as a blade slashes uncomfortably close, shifting his weight barely out of the way in time.
"I am Orson, pilgrim of the Goddess come to inquire with Russo on aiding this village! Upon noticing the blood inside the house I rushed here to save those I could!"
Orson takes a step back, staff raised to defend himself, trying to consider the situation.
"And who are you staying in a cellar where a bleeding individual likely fled, when many warriors come to aid Russo stand outside your door, knocking and waiting?! Surely you would let in this hired help instead of skulking in this cellar, unless...unless..."
Orson recalls how differently this encounter fared compared to his previous experiences with swords users. No nonsensical afterimages out of nowhere, no fancy footwork, no sheathing and unsheathing their weapon with each attack, no ridiculous forward somersaults that end with them leveling a broad blade straight at your face, just a...and a...
"...you were injured so badly you couldn't get up from the cellar you dragged yourself to." Orson says, his voice heavy with embarrassment as Macia arrives and gives her ultimatum.
"Listen," says Orson, his voice far more calm and kindly than before, "I can heal you, but I'm going to need you to go slide that blade over to the stairs where the lady mercenary is. I know you can't trust us fully but...I don't know what else I can tell you to convince you. You...don't have much of a choice."
He lowers his stave to above the lady, a faint, soft white glow emitting from the gem, ready to confer the Goddess's blessing to her once she complies.
In a flash, Zia grabs her satchel and throws the sling of cutlery around her neck. A blood-curdling yell originates down below in the cellar. The glass shatters as the red-haired woman crashes through the window across from the front door, crossbow drawn. Zia reaches for one of her blades, and takes cover near the doorframe, making eye contact with the mercenary. With a nod, Zia slides to the nearby wall. The pilgrim begins talking to his assailant, and as he pleads for acceptance of his aid, Zia shuffles along the wall, investigating her surroundings. Her eyes trace the trail of ink left on the floor, then shift to the stack of literature on a nearby table. She moves closer, examining the spines of the tomes arranged on the wooden workspace, trying to decipher the titles etched on the worn leather bindings.
Sardo
Upon witnessing Macia break the window, Sardo stutters out, "Um, I'm not sure breaking into our employer's house is the best idea... I'm sure there's a good reason that there's blood on the floor there. It's probably... um... animal blood?"
As Macia continues inside, Sardo casts a panicked look around, as if sure that he is about to be arrested, and then slides down after her.
Soon enough, he makes it down to the others who are being threatened by a bleeding girl holding what looks like a table knife. Somehow, this seems appropriate.
"What's she muttering about? Worms? I've got a Worm tome, but I don't think that's what she's talking about. Come now, girl. Why don't you just calm down and explain what's going on around here. We're all friends here, right?" Sardo looks up at the others expectantly.
Twitch Stream
Outside
The swordfighter moves one arm in an exasperated half-shrug. "How am I supposed to help you piece something together if you're just dragging my corpse around? That doesn't make any sense!"
The man draws his blade and slips into a defensive stance. "Why can't anything ever go down without violence?" he says, irritably.
House
Zia finds the collection of literature to be rather varied. Most of the loose sheets are maps, all rather amateur, and drawn by the same hand. They're made for and by one person, considering most of the landmarks are labelled something like "face rock" or "crossed trees." They also seem to cover a small area each... perhaps the surrounding forests? The books contain a work on old military tactics, a couple of outdated almanacs, and an aged, crumbling magic tome of some kind. There's also a small work on swordfighting techniques that could be helpful. It's complete with pictures and everything.
Cellar
"Well, isn't that nice of you," a cheerful voice laughs, from the darkness in the corner. "Let me help with that." A torch flares, illuminating the room. The torch is held by a lanky man with dark red hair in a gray cloak. The woman on the floor, now revealed to be dressed in bits and pieces of plate armor, scowls weakly at the man. She's rather...pale and covered in blood. She's holding onto a short sword with both hands, still tense and focused. An old lance lies a few feet to her other side. "Oh, come on," the man tells her, completely ignoring the other heavily armed visitors. "They're obviously not with the attackers. Those guys didn't have a healer with them, for one thing."
The young woman stares at her sword, places it on the floor, then shoves it towards Macia. It doesn't make it all the way there. She leans back against the wall and closes her eyes, breathing heavily. There's a lot of blood around her... but her major injuries, a cut to the stomach and one on the leg (both uncovered) have already been healed and bandaged. The leg, though... fixing that completely was a little beyond whoever administrated treatment. It's a little beyond Orson's talents, too, although there are a few minor cuts that are within the scope of his abilities. She mutters something that sounds like it could be "thanks," and falls silent again.
"So, uh," the red-haired man begins, "What's going on up there?"
Sardo
Briefly wondering why he had started to think about worms and other creepy crawlies, Sardo answers the man in a surprised tone."What's going on? You've got a whole lot of mercenaries standing around wondering whether they've got a job. And, from the looks of it, you need help with someone. It didn't look like there were any people around when we got here though. Who did this to the girl, anyway? Did you know them from some previous run in or was it mere banditry?"
Twitch Stream
The man with the torch scratches his head. "I've got a whole lot of mercenaries? Well, that's news to me. The men we're hiding from-"
The woman grits her teeth together. Loudly.
He doesn't miss a beat. "Correction, the men I'm hiding from and she's... tactically retreating from are pretty heavily armed. They've overrun the town and shown very little goal or direction, so I assume they're bandits. It's not like there's a lack of paying work for sellswo... ah, mercenaries around here. As your presence makes clear. In fact..." he drums two fingers against his chin. "...I'd guess that you all were brought on board to take care of a bandit problem. Am I wrong?"
Macia walks down and kicks the sword into a corner. Can never be too careful. She removes the quiver from her crossbow, unwinds it, and slings it back over her shoulder.
"Probably not. How many bandits have you seen?"
Steam
Orson presses his hand to his chin. "Some old man told me to come to this little house out here at this time to hear from someone about protecting Valetia. You know anything about that?"
"...and how'd you get in here, anyways? Door was locked until a young lass got it open. Lost track of her when I started to run after the blood trail." he shrugs. "You two know the person who lives here?"
The man answers Macia first. "Somewhere between a dozen and twenty, although I can't be more accurate than that. Wasn't really concentrating on that part. Most of them looked like typical bandits. Shitty axes and swords, fragile bows, no real armor." There's no anger in his voice... but just a hint of disappointment. "I did see a mage, though, and I think there must have been someone up high acting as a spotter?" He frowns. "That's a little surprising for run-of-the-mill bandits, but I guess it pays to take on some extra help if you're gonna lay siege to a whole town."
Orson gets the second round of questioning to himself. "Well, the town just a minute or two east of here is Valetia. Simple farming community, blah blah blah. Didn't know they were hiring mercenaries, but if this is the level of bandit activity they get on a regular basis, I'd say getting some outside help was a good idea."
The man takes a deep breath and continues. "Got in through the front door. It wasn't really locked. Thought this'd be a good place to hide out for a bit. This is Russo's house, right?" He waves the torch about, taking in the barrels and otherwise empty walls of the cellar. "I ran into that guy last time I was out here. Nice fella, a little crazy but his heart's in the right place. Big spender, too. I guess he makes good money from woodworking?"
"I'm still here," Zia proclaims, sheathing her blade and picking up the magic tome and swashbuckling manual. She leafs through the manual, engrossed in the illustrations, and nearly stumbles down the stairs to join the others in the cellar. She catches her balance and recovers gracefully, only to look up and see the victimized young woman on the floor. Zia rushes toward her, letting the literature slip from her grasp as she reaches for her satchel.
"You look horrible, who did this to you?" Zia's hands disappear into her bag and return with a few herbs and a large vial of water, offering them both in turn to the injured woman. "Here, chew on these and be sure to wash it down. It'll taste pretty bitter, but it should help with any pain you're feeling." Zia kneels down next to her and starts examining the work on her stomach and leg.
"My name's Zia, what's yours?" she says, looking back up at the woman's face, smiling faintly.
The woman opens her eyes briefly. "Erica," she mumbles, taking the painkillers from the thief unsteadily. "everyone's a doctor today, huh."
"Not that I'm ungrateful or anything," she adds after a brief pause. "Thanks."
The swordsman slowly shifts left, blade leveled at Allan. Then, he slowly shifts back. Then, to the left again, never taking his eyes off of Allan. A single bead of sweat runs down the man's face.
...you begin to suspect he's delaying this as long as he can.
The man, understandably, freaks out, lashing out with his sword. [33] He connects with surprising force, not piercing armor, but knocking Allan's arm back at a painful angle.
[Allan takes 2 Damage!]
The man levels his sword again, panting. "Not...without a fight." He grins, weakly.
PLAYER PHASE
(C3: Swordsman [21/21] [Build 10] [Longsword] [Twitchy])
Wait, what is this
The enemy character, in DARKRED, is labelled as such: (Area: Name [HP] [Build] [Equipped Weapon] [Description])
most of these are pretty self explanatory, but I think I should talk a bit about description. Essentially, it's just a short note on the character's fighting style or mental state. For example, a [Twitchy] or [Swift] character might be faster and better at dodging. [Cautious] is more of how the character will react- he's going to retreat if things go south. For Player characters, I don't need quite this much info, but I'd like you to headline in-battle posts with character name, current HP, and the weapon that's equipped or used during this turn (you can't attack and then switch weapons, but vice-versa is okay.) A link to the character sheet might help too.
Example:
Erica [5/24] [Iron Sword]
in whatever color.
Then, make sure to include what area you move to, within your movement range (remember, forests count as two spots) and who you're attacking!
Of course, you should pretty up these posts a bit more than that, but I'm sure you guys know how to do that.
edit: holy shit this looks worse zoomed in on a tiny battlefield like that
Location: Cellar
"Aye, I've been out here before on work. Years ago, mind. You folks are locals, trying to protect the town?" Orson seems to relax a bit.
"Yeah, Russo's the person we were supposed to meet here a good...ten or twenty minutes ago. You happen to see him while you were...tactically withdrawing from the bandits?"
The red-haired guy frowns. "Can't say much about her, but I'm not local."
The woman, her mouth now occupied by herbs, simply shakes her head.
The man continues. "Grant Milan, traveling merchant and purveyor of...pointy things, blunt things, and things that zap people to death." He grins for a second, then his face falls. "Oh, damn. I could be making so much money off of you guys right now, couldn't I." He covers his face with the unoccupied hand. "Haven't seen Russo today. Or heard him, which is more unusual."
If you wanna make a counterattack, just gimme a d100 result, and then his next move. If not, we can just move to your next move immediately.
Sardo
Sardo starts to look at the lady, and, completely unskilled in the medical field as he is, decides that she is ready to travel. Mostly because it would be a poor idea for an injured lady to stay in the middle of what appears to be bandit country.
"Yes, he was supposed to be a rather loud man, from what we were told. Do you think he might be in town? If so, I suppose our merry band would be more than happy to fulfill our good deed quota for the day and allow you to travel with us to what passes for safety around here."
Twitch Stream
"Playful grab"? I'd interpret it as an attack as well :P
Erica gives Sardo a look of disbelief. So does Grant, but his is more bemused and comical.
"Well, if he's in town, I'd say that he's not having the best day right now- but he was here yesterday, so..." Grant shrugs, coming dangerously close to setting a barrel alight.
"Again, can't speak for her, but I've got too much inventory here right now to just skip town. But, tell you what. If you guys do your job and get rid of these bandits, I'll add..." he sighs. "8k to the pot, whatever Russo set you up with. Plus, serious discounts on any future purchase." He almost rubs his hands together, but thinks better of it at the last second. "Whaddaya say?"
In a flash, Allan goes from oddly cheerful to deadly serious. "Shouldn't'a done that," he remarks, winding his right arm and jabbing forward with his Iron Lance.
(6) Needless to say, the peerless accuracy and close proximity of the attacker make the counter-attack an easy shoulder hit. Not bothering to stop the assault, he pulls back and attacks again, this time aiming for center of mass. (50) It's another square hit, this time dead in the center of his chest.
"Now, we gonna keep this up all day 'til you've got more holes in yeh than Vallisian cheese, or you gonna give up?"
The swordfighter only manages to get another lone strike in during Allan's relentless assault. [14] (Allan takes another 2 damage!)
...it doesn't really help.
Allan's strikes, on the other hand, hit home, leaving the man staggering and bloody. (10 damage x2) The swordsman drops his weapon and throws one hand in the air. The other hand, of course, being preoccupied with clutching his new, thankfully not-too-deep chest wound.
"Alright, alright! You win! Now, what the hell do you want with me?"
(C3: Swordsman [1/21] [Build 10] [weaponless] [Terrified])
[40 experience]
"I can't speak for everyone else, but I'd be willing to help however I can." She reaches for the books she dropped on her way down and glances through the magic tome. "But I really need to find Russo. Without him..." Her voice trails off as her thoughts cloud with memories of her brother.
"What do we do about the others that are outside? Should we tell them what's happened and warn them about the bandits?"
"As long as no one outside 'a room sees that bonus," Macia pushes a lock of hair out of her face, "I'll help you two however I can."
She leans back on the nearest wall. "Now'd either 'a you see a bandit that looked like he was in charge?"
Steam
Grant shakes his head, but Erica, apparently finished with the first round of herbal medication, speaks up again. You get the impression that her voice is actually normally pretty low and quiet. "The armored guy," she mutters, taking a swig from a waterskin. "The mage is the bossy one, but that guy's in charge. Watch him, he's faster than he looks. Smarter, too." she takes another, shorter sip. "Too fast," she concludes, slumping back against the wall once more.
Location: Cellar
"Eight thousand, eh?" Orson seems impressed, but not particularly awed.
"Count me in, then. Though just so you know...as a cleric on a pilgrimage, I'm obligated by my faith to heal honest folk in need, and while others may have taken the safer path as a neutral healer of the wounded... as far as I'm concerned this whole town saving situation qualifies. And by obligated, that means regardless of what they have to offer."
He grins from ear to ear. "But since you're clearly capable of offering such a generous sum... count me in, good sir Grant!"
Orson chortles loudly and mirthfully.
Mac's composure falters when the girl mentions mages, but is back before anyone could've noticed. She smiles at the cleric before pushing herself from the wall.
"Time ta get t'work, then." She ascends the staircase, walks through the house, and heads out the door.
Steam
Zia nods, shuts the tome, places both books into her satchel, and follows the mercenary up and out of the cellar. Her eyes are drawn to the handwritten notes on the desk as she heads for the door. She pauses for a moment, shakes her head, and follows out the door.
Sardo can almost hear the coins clinking together, and it's all he can do to keep from rubbing his hands together gleefully. He follows the others up the stairs.
Twitch Stream
He wanders inside, accidentally ripping a chunk of doorway off the wall negotiating his armor through the entrance. "Whoops, sorry 'bout that," he says to nobody in particular. Hearing voices, he drags the man with him to the source.
"Hey you guys! Got someone here willin' to answer a few questions." He pushes the man forward, into the center of the room. "Looks like this's your lucky day, bet that healer'll take care of those holes I put in yah. Now then, let's start with your name and what you were doin' sneakin' about behind the shed."
The injured man glares at his aggressor. "Name's Alan. And as I would have explained if you'd given me a chance, I'm looking for some crazed lady in armor who decided that the proper reaction to a simple business proposition was to freak out and murder a couple of my friends." He grins nervously, looking back at the halberdier. "Oh, you should meet her! I'm sure the two of you will get along like a house that is literally on fire."
I'm sure this name won't cause any confusion and that I will not regret it at all. Also, as a reminder, Erica and Grant are still downstairs, there's a few mercenaries milling about out front. And pretty much all you guys are out there too? Gosh I hope so.
Any objections?
Allan turns to the priest. "Hey, don't suppose you'd mind healing the catscratches this little miscreant gave me, would you? And I guess him, too, provided he keeps talkin'. By the way, any 'a you know what he's talking about, some lady in armor?"
Front
Making the last step up from the cellars, Orson runs into two woefully similarly named warriors, one tugging on his memory in a way to suggest he was one of the hopeful mercenaries waiting outside. Looking around, he hides his disappointment that the only other person in the immediate vicinity is the rather payment-obsessed robed mercenary. While there's bound to be some other mercs outside, Orson decides he'd best play this one carefully.
"Aye, I'll get the bleeding stopped right quick for both of ya, get you both stabilized. I imagine some further treatment may be in order for business proposition Alan later, but let's get this sorted out first, oy?"
Orson gets to the stave use, healing Alan then Allan, each an equal, rather small amount. This easily restores Allan to full vigor, but unfortunately isn't quite enough to make Alan good as new.
Orson clears his throat loudly. "Alright, alright, first things first: What happened between you two to get into such a scuffle?"
Al, or the smaller of the two Allans, breathes in deeply, his wounds healing a little. "Phew. Well, I was walking around back that way," he says, pointing an arm north, "and this guy walked out of a building and tried to grab my head in one of his giant metal hands. I may have reacted poorly, but I don't think you can blame me for that. Do you people, er, know this man?" He scans the group. "I think he seriously needs help. Or a chaperone."
Meanwhile, a rather round and hairy man leaves the group of mercenaries by the front gate and approaches Macia. He coughs in what he must believe is a polite way to get her attention, but the amount of of halitosis and spit that come along for the ride turn it into more of a deathly insult. " 'Ello, miss. Don't suppose you happened to find the client in your little break-in, didja?"