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Post by pastels on Apr 26, 2019 5:32:48 GMT
When Elroy told her they were having trouble with snakes, Rosemary thought it would be an easy task. Adair had shown her how to handle those—there were many in the fields and the forests, curled up among the tall, knee-length grass or hidden in the cool undergrowth. Some even made their home near or in ponds and rivers! Now that was a surprise. It was a trick of understanding how to deal with them, keeping in mind that they are, like all plants and animals, a part of nature and just as worthy an inhabitant of this world as the rest of the mortal races. She even planned to take Beth and Arran out on a trip to the woods just outside of the city’s borders just so they could catch and release a couple on their own—under her watchful eye, of course.
So, imagine her surprise when she found out that the Snakes—the Red Snakes, was their whole name—was a gang… and an unfriendly one, at that.
The makeshift hospice was a dreary collection of cots and stools, barely shielded from the elements by a ramshackle skeleton of a house, and it was nestled deep, deep within the slums of Waterdeep. Oh, many would disavow that a city as utopian as Waterdeep had such places, but they were wrong. There were always these kinds of places, invisible like cracks in the foundation until the entire beam was ready to crumble apart. They were so close to the mouth of the sewers, too, that a rancid, unpleasant odor was thick in the air. This was not prime real estate, but Rosie had been working here since she arrived with the family. That is not to say she built the whole thing—it was started a few months ago by a cleric of Ilmater, who preferred to stay at the “heart of suffering” than at the temple, and maintained by an elderly herbalist named Annbeth. With the cleric gone to who knows where, Annbeth had her hands full until she came along.
So, the Snakes? Well, the lot had been visiting every other day. At first she suspected that they were looking to squeeze them dry of whatever coin they had—they were—but more than that, it seemed the gang wanted to make sure they weren’t tending to any of their enemies. Which was just great, considering that the hospice was apparently right in the middle of three gang territories.
There was one such visit today. She could put it off no longer. With a weary sigh, the cleric rose from her seat and walked towards the two individuals waiting outside of the hospice. They had a couple of patients; it wasn’t busy enough yet that she couldn’t go attend to something else. “What can I do for you fine folk today?” Rosemary sighed as she descended from the front steps, wiping her hands on her soiled apron. As usual, her braid swung behind her, and her pendant was on her neck. “I’d love to offer you some tea and biscuits, but we ran out.”
Rosemary raised a hand to wipe at her cheek as she waited for the two to approach, and the action left a swath of foul-smelling herbal concoction across her skin.
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Jarovbees
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Playing: Solstice (Paladin 6)/Umbrae (Sorcerer 1/Warlock 4)/Avren Wands (Rogue 2/Sorcerer 1)
Posts: 706
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Post by Jarovbees on Jul 5, 2019 15:08:34 GMT
The Red Snakes irritated Warden for several reasons, the least of which was their similarly-named faction. The Red Sashes were there first, after all (she was pretty sure, anyway) and their purpose was to protect people, not terrorize and dominate them. So, she resented their existence on principle as well as the practical reason of not wanting the general public to confuse the two groups. A secretive and not overly-funded vigilante group could stand to lose a lot by being confused for violent thugs, after all. The fact that said snakes were nesting in her old neighborhood added insult to injury.
That was how Warden came to be patrolling the Dock Ward instead of her assignment in the Field Ward to the north. Despite it being the slums, the area was actually a vast improvement compared to the latter; roads that weren't pure mud, a working sewer system (and in the summer, the absence was a true assault on the senses), the presence of on-duty guards at least sometimes...at least for the docks and warehouses. Actual people not mattering to them as much was the entire reason for the presence of her own group, after all.
The tall tiefling woman tried not to get lost in memories as she approached, though it helped that most of those memories weren't exactly pleasant. If anything, they reminded her to stay alert to the dangers that could emerge around the corner. Her presence was far from subtle, as one would expect from a horned and red-eyed/red-skinned woman in heavy armor with a glaive in hand. Some inhabitants seemed to recognize her, others didn't, but those that weren't looking for trouble tended to keep their distance.
Her self-appointed patrol took her in the general direction of the hospice and then in that very specific direction when she caught sight of two individuals who seemed highly suspect. The tiefling narrowed her eyes and followed them, jaw set. She still wanted confirmation, but her gut told her that she was on the right path. Spotting the woman just inside the hospice, she drew closer, automatically protective. She was better equipped than any thug, but just in case Warden's free hand momentarily strayed to her holy symbol of Selune. If the human woman caught sight of her, hopefully she would see that and realize that Warden was no enemy.
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Post by sojourn on Jul 6, 2019 14:03:31 GMT
K ieran made it a habit to know his neighbors. All of them. The nice ones. The mean ones. The talkative ones. The generous ones. The rude ones. The secretive ones. But, especially, the trouble-making ones. The half-drow had calloused fingers on the pulse of what went on unseen in the Dock Ward mostly through various contacts he made efforts to maintain so that he could better hunt down bounties and help the locals with crimes the City Watch considered beneath their pay grade to bring to justice. He'd heard enough about the Red Snakes to know that: 1) they weren't to be confused with the Red Sashes, who were actually rather helpful, and 2) they were definitely going to be trouble. Kieran wasn't keen on an increase in gang activity so close to his home, quite aware that it was far too tempting for the street kids he offered shelter, food, and training to just jump ship and accept the easy coin of petty theft and gods only knew what else some of the small, local gangs got up to in the seedy underbelly of Waterdeep, a place made fertile by the likes of Xanathar and his organized, criminal ilk that he was in no way prepared to take on. He'd lost a student or two to such elicit temptations already, and while it wasn't his nature to woo them back so much as always have an open door in cast they wanted to return, that didn't mean he wasn't above checking up on them. The half-drow had heard from a tavernkeep who'd heard from his stockboy who'd heard from his cousin the cobbler who'd heard from his sister's husband's brother who was apprenticing for a jeweler that one time when they were robbed by a few Red Snakes that some of the ruffians had been spending far too much time around a particular temple-turned-clinic of sorts, driving out the possibility of smaller gangs receiving any help. It was a smart way to keep competition down, but it also meant that the Snakes were getting too confident. And Kieran felt the need to put a stop to that sort of thing. He just would have preferred if it didn't come down to conflict, though, at the same time, he could handle himself just fine if necessary. He'd been trailing the two for about an hour now, taking note of their stops and observing the other known territories they so boldly wandered into as if they had no criminal opposition. Finally, the pair made their way toward the small healer's and the half-drow hung back appropriately, lingering near a few vendors and making a show of glancing over their wares while the familiar and rather pungent odor of the Waterdhavian sewers drifted on the breeze. The next time he glanced over his tattooed shoulder, shifting toward a couple of young halflings and their rather impressive flower cart, his violet gaze caught a glimpse of a familiar figure cutting through the crowd, the tiefling hardly a stranger. He knew the face she wore: determined and after something important by the looks of things. What was Warden doing so close to home? Was she here on the same hunt? He might have smiled, but Kieran had no interest in drawing attention to himself, the lithe creature stepping away from the various vendors and slipping among the bustling folks on the street doing their business, attempting to blend in with everyone else as he moved closer. |
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Post by pastels on Jul 6, 2019 15:29:19 GMT
At times like these Rosemary often missed the peace and tranquility in Eldhearth. Everyone knew where to go when they got sick (the springside temple), who would care for them (the Exalted), how it would be done (meditation and magic). It was as simple as pie! Caring for the downtrodden of Waterdeep had complications in spades, some amusing and others less so, that the simplicity of walking over to a sacred glade and taking a moment to give thanks seemed a distant memory. Between taking care of the patients, fumbling her way into a gang war, and learning advanced herbalism from Annbeth, there was simply no time for a true service out in the wilderness. And she had hardly been in the city for a season!
Eldath sure had a lot of patience for Her faithful.
Right. Back to the present…
The taller of the two was many things. The most noticeable aspect was that he was three heads taller than Rosemary, and wide as a barn with bulging arms that seemed less limb and more stone columns. His scowling face was marked with a multitude of scars, though some were covered by a greasy layer of stubble. On the other hand, his smaller companion had a narrow, bony frame, arms and legs bent awkwardly in places that reminded her of chickens and other fowls. Her eyes, though? Her eyes were sharp and alert; they honed on a point past her shoulder and into the clinic, trying to glean what lay within. Rosemary found herself moving ever so slightly to block the unwelcome inspection.
It took a moment for the pieces to fall into place.
The cleric fidgeted and her hands strayed down to fiddle with her braid. The pair were from the Red Snakes, sure enough: the distinctive serpentine tattoos peeking out from under their tunics said as much. But even without the visual confirmation, Rosie knew, could taste the trouble they brought with them in the air. A grievously wounded man greeted her when she returned from an errand the other day. Amidst the iron tang of blood and the earthy smell of crushed herbs, Annbeth explained: this one had made the mistake of standing up to the Red Snakes alone. Even insulted their mothers (or their face, the details were vague at this point). What mattered was that they might have… visitors looking for him soon, Annbeth added.
“We’re looking for the dormouse,” the woman tittered out of the blue, and Rosemary jolted in place. Her face remained blank as if she didn’t notice the reaction, but her dark eyes gleamed. “He left our party a bit too early, just when the fun was getting started... Ain’t I right, Mond?”
The behemoth nodded once, severely.
“We know he’s here. We just want to…” A quick jerk of the head to the side, and then her grin was bright under the daylight, “visit. Maybe bring him back with us to the nest?”
Gods, think quick, Rosie. They knew he was here—of course they did! The poor boy left a mess behind and there weren’t exactly any street cleaners in this part of Waterdeep! Theirs was the closest non-Guild hospice and they (mostly her) never turned away patients. Ohhhh… Adair would be so much better at this!
“Oh, goodness. He’s sleepin’,” Rosemary said a little too loudly, her soft voice taking on an insistent edge, and she couldn’t help but glance from side to side. At the periphery of her vision was a color bright against the dull stone and faded paint in the district—a woman, tiefling like that boy Caim but red, passing through. Her nervous gaze flickered back to the duo in front of her. “So there’s no fightin’ to be had here.”
“Who said anything about fighting? All we want is a short chitchat—”
“A chitchat won’t help him heal faster,” the cleric cut in gently, but with a firmness that showed this conversation was going down the same path whichever route they took. Rosemary was rather oblivious to the fact that she was looking stonier by the second. “I… I hate to say this, but the Red Snakes don’t own this place. You can’t tromp in as you please.” In fact, she had been dealing with a strange increase in the number of Red Snakes recently. There used to be an even divide, at least... Without realizing it, Rosie had shifted into a defensive posture, blocking the entrance with what little bulk she had: back slightly hunched, legs bent, feet wide apart, and hands clenched into fists at bobbing at waist-level. “Please leave.”
The woman noticed this.
Silence.
Then:
“Annbeth would understand if you tell her, huh?” She drawled out and chuckled, the sound rasping out oddly, as if long unused. The giant beside her, as if responding to some unsaid signal, stepped out from behind. One meaty hand reached out and clamped down on her right wrist before the cleric had a chance to react. His voice was thunderous and deep as he growled, “Yeah, an’ we have business with ‘im, so why don’t you take a breather, missy?”
She was exhausted, worked to the bone since the last couple of nights, but by some miracle Rosemary held. The sudden force pulled her down a step and no further; it was as if she were a boar digging its hooves into the soft earth. Mercies upon mercies!
“Are you folks… always… this rude?” Rosie exhaled through gritted teeth and tried to pull her hand away.
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Jarovbees
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Playing: Solstice (Paladin 6)/Umbrae (Sorcerer 1/Warlock 4)/Avren Wands (Rogue 2/Sorcerer 1)
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Post by Jarovbees on Jul 6, 2019 19:10:25 GMT
Warden's gesture seemed to go unnoticed, but she couldn't blame the woman for being distracted with visitors like that. She narrowed her eyes, taking in those serpentine tattoos which seemed to confirm her suspicions. Red Snake members, throwing their weight around like they owned the place. She may not recognize these two, but she had seen that predatory gleam and swagger before, from other gangs who sported the same smug confidence of those who could do as they pleased with no consequence. Because either the watch was bribed or indifferent (who cared about poor people, after all), or neighbors were too afraid to act. It was the same cycle, over and over again, only the tattoos and faces were different.
And she was sick of it. When that giant clamped his hand down on the woman's right wrist, Warden's solid red eyes narrowed instantly. In a righteous fury, she strode forward as though no time had passed and she was that eleven year old orphan again with absolutely no fucks to give, ready to throw down with anyone who deserved it. At least this time, Warden was better armed and armored, clad in splint mail and bearing a glaive. It was a long way from threadbare clothing and a frying pan.
"Hey!" Warden used Thaumaturgy to make her voice boom loudly for dramatic effect; she was not going to be ignored. "You're going to let her go, now and fuck off like the vermin you are. And if you're very lucky, I won't break every damn bone in your body when you do. But I make no promises, so better haul ass before I lose patience." She said a word in Infernal and slammed her glaive onto the ground, hard; the weapon flared with white-hot intensity. The tiefling paladin glared, ready to show them just how much that now searing hot weapon would burn if they didn't do as commanded.
Intimidation roll?: gOAJydMF1d20+51d20+5
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Post by sojourn on Jul 7, 2019 3:37:56 GMT
H e'd seen enough. Once the lanky one started talking, especially given the threatening manner the big lugger seemed to take as a stance there outside the clinic proper, Kieran had really seen enough. It'd be one thing to ask a couple of questions, make small talk, or need a bandage. But, no. There was obviously more going on here and he wasn't comfortable with whatever it might have been anyway, but when the larger asshole reached out for the blonde's wrist, he picked up his pace. Already a quick creature, he shouldered through two chattering older women with a muttered apology, catching one of their baskets before it dropped and handing it back smoothly without another word. He made sure to brush past Warden just enough to end up in her peripheral vision, a brief shift of his violet gaze in the tiefling's taller, much more visibly threatening direction. Kieran was small-framed, unarmored, and almost non-threatening. Almost. Really, the only thing remotely unsavory he had going for him could have possibly been his half-drow heritage, but even that didn't work on everyone. Just most people. Or at least people who didn't know him from a full-blooded dark elf, anyway. He would have mouthed hello or waggled fingers in a greeting had this been a more friendly situation, but instead he used the surprise moment Warden's loud, magically-altered voice allowed for to slip his surprisingly quick, lithe self onto the same step as the woman was, hand poised to snatch the wrist of the beefy creature gripping her clothes, while his other slipped to the curved blade against his back, "She may not break e'ery bone 'n yer body, but that's only 'cause I'll get th' rest 'f 'em instead." Kieran smirked, but his tone was far more threatening than his expression, "Y' don't make a lotta friends 'round th' Dock Ward by bullyin' th' nice folk I try t' take care 'f here." His words were possessively determined where Warden's were a real warning, the impressive bright heat of her glaive tangible even from his somewhat respective distance. |
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Post by pastels on Jul 8, 2019 18:18:32 GMT
Like the crashing of a tidal wave against the shore, Warden’s magically empowered voice washed over the gathering. Then, quiet as a whisper, a dusk-skinned man in nondescript clothes appeared on the step and shared a few choice threats of his own. Their words began to sink in: the bigger thug turned his head with the implacable slowness of a drifting glacier, his bloodshot eyes locking onto the sight of the approaching mail-clad fighter and her glowing weapon. He cleared his throat and looked down at his companion. Rosemary retracted her hand soon as the giant unflexed his fist out of… hesitation? Or was it something else? With a cowed tone over his earlier bluster, he grumbled, “Sima, that don’t look so good.”
“What!? O-oh, goodness!” Rosemary squeaked in surprise, her silverwater eyes round as dinner plates. The cleric was visibly reeling from this turn of events. She stopped rubbing her sore wrist and her voice softened when she turned towards Kieran, but not by much. “Please don’t! T-that’s a lot of bones I’ll have trouble resettin’ and… Well…” It would be pretty awkward if she had to heal them, though that wasn't too impossible; Annbeth said the other healers down the block had been picked up and fined by the City Watch for "operating outside a sanctioned Guild." To be perfectly honest, she wouldn’t want the nice drow man and the (red!) tiefling to get involved then hurt on her account. Her gaze wavered between the tiefling to the duo, and she reached out to touch his wrist in a placating gesture, whispering, “I don’t want anyone hurt.”
The tension in the atmosphere rocketed to strange, unwelcome heights, and the streets emptied as the humble citizens of the Dock Ward retreated elsewhere like turtles into the shell.
“Go to hell, goathead. But knowing your kind, they’ll throw you a homecoming party down there!” Sima jeered back after a sharp, irritated look at Warden’s direction. When she turned back towards the cleric and her unlikely rescuer, her eyes were narrowed to slits. Unlike Mond, the woman didn’t seem as intimidated by the two busybodies. Hell, she was pissed with the two nuisances interrupting what was supposed to be a quick pick-up. The boss told her the hospice worker was an easy little thing to work with, said she couldn’t harm a fly if she tried—and the other one was old and half-blind. Didn’t expect a devil-woman and the godsdamned drow to swoop in!
“Y’know what, Mond and I will just hafta bash our way through then!” Sima smirked as she shifted from one foot to another, bobbing in a motion oddly reminiscent of birds of prey, and one bandaged hand reached for the mace hanging from her belt. Here, so far away from the rules of the City Watch, the Red Snakes could do whatever the fuck they wanted. And that included dealing with the rabble who got a bit too delusional sometimes, thinking themselves heroes. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. An’ to think all this could’ve been solved if you just handed the damn boy over. The boss just wanted to talk to him, help ‘im see the error of his ways an’ all that…”
“He was beaten within an inch of his life!” Rosemary frowned and held her arms out to the side, blocking the entrance to the hospice.
Initiative!
T1 (Mond): 6VbXo7X01d20
T2 (Sima): 1d20
Rosemary: 1d20
1d20·1d20·1d20
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Post by sojourn on Jul 8, 2019 18:21:44 GMT
Initiative for Kieran: phKUN4E71d20+21d20+2
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Jarovbees
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Playing: Solstice (Paladin 6)/Umbrae (Sorcerer 1/Warlock 4)/Avren Wands (Rogue 2/Sorcerer 1)
Posts: 706
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Post by Jarovbees on Jul 8, 2019 21:41:24 GMT
Initiative for Warden: HHDqHezQ1d201d20
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Post by pastels on Jul 10, 2019 13:40:24 GMT
Initiative Tracker:
Sima
Mond
Warden
Kieran
Rosemary
Sima
To-hit: _SJSl8jO1d20+4, Adv. 1d20+4
Damage: 1d6+2
Mond
To-hit: 1d20+5, Adv. 1d20+5
Damage: 1d8+31d20+4·1d20+4·1d6+2·1d20+5·1d20+5·1d8+3
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Post by pastels on Jul 10, 2019 14:09:12 GMT
Before the menacing devilspawn could move any closer, Sima advanced—with a quick hop she closed the distance with the half-elf. Behind her, Mond unceremoniously grabbed the maul off his back and readied his strike. She was lighter in her leather armor, but battered metal strips gave way to wiry limbs honed by life in the streets. It wasn’t a good fit; it had been picked off a corpse in the gutters.
With the ascent carrying her momentum, Sima swung her mace upwards in a vicious arc… and the behemoth, covering her blind spots and acting in coordination, brought his heavy weapon down from the opposite side.
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Jarovbees
Approved
Playing: Solstice (Paladin 6)/Umbrae (Sorcerer 1/Warlock 4)/Avren Wands (Rogue 2/Sorcerer 1)
Posts: 706
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Post by Jarovbees on Jul 18, 2019 19:27:09 GMT
Kieran's appearance wasn't too surprising, given the location, but Warden flashed him a grin nonetheless. She can and would take them on by herself if need be, but was far too practical to turn down assistance when it emerged. That grin quickly morphed into a scowl as the Red Snakes converged on him; so much for hoping that her antics would provide enough distraction for them to focus on her and her alone.
Goathead? Warden scoffed, having heard far, far worse in her time. That her intimidation attempt hadn't worked out didn't seem to bother her in the slightest, as unsurprisingly the tiefling in heavy armor sporting a glaive was ready and willing to fight. Her only concern was the healer woman blocking the entrance, but there wasn't anything to do about it but end the fight sooner than later. Sometimes the best defense was a good offense.
She narrowed her eyes at Sima first, muttering some words in Inferal to the effect of 'you're going down'. Emboldened by her oath, she charged forward and swung with her glaive, intending to make the Red Snakes pay for harming her friend and menacing her neighborhood.
Bonus Action: Vow of Enmity
Attack on Sima, advantage: kBt4v_rZ1d20+5 1d20+5
Damage, if hit: 1d10+5
Searing smite damage:2d6
[The next time you hit a creature with a melee weapon attack during the spell’s duration, your weapon flares with white-hot intensity, and the attack deals an extra 2d6 fire damage to the target and causes the target to ignite in flames. At the start of each of its turns until the spell ends, the target must make a Constitution saving throw. On a failed save, it takes 2d6 fire damage. On a successful save, the spell ends. If the target or a creature within 5 feet of it uses an action to put out the flames, or if some other effect douses the flames (such as the target being submerged in water), the spell ends.]1d20+5·1d20+5·1d10+5·2d6
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Post by sojourn on Jul 19, 2019 2:02:29 GMT
Pre-rolling so I can write combat. Please note that all damage is non-lethal!
A: Quarterstaff attack on Sima, advantage: V7r7yNuk1d20+5 OR 1d20+5
Damage, if hit: 1d8+3
BA: Martial Arts attack #1 on Sima, advantage: 1d20+5 OR 1d20+5
Damage, if hit: 1d4+3
Ki: Martial Arts attack #2 on Sima, adv: 1d20+5 OR 1d20+5
Damage, if hit: 1d4+31d20+5·1d20+5·1d8+3·1d20+5·1d20+5·1d4+3·1d20+5·1d20+5·1d4+3
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Post by sojourn on Jul 19, 2019 2:03:25 GMT
Martial arts #2 Crit Damage: yOuwBWPT1d4+31d4+3
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Post by sojourn on Jul 19, 2019 2:27:04 GMT
"Y' shouldn't reset their bones 'f we break 'em," The half-drow huffed, practically growling the words, "They can go an' pay guild prices jus' like everyone else instead 'f haraassin' you." Calloused fingers tightened around the new quarterstaff in one hand, but just as he was about to open his mouth and make another dismissive comment once the woman insulted his tiefling friend, he wasn't quite quick enough to defend himself against the sudden swing of not one, but two weapons in his direction. Unarmored and apparently unprepared despite all of his posturing, Kieran grunted at the impact of the first blow and hissed at the next. Using the momentum of the Snakes' hits, the first one knocking the breath from his lungs and the second shifting his footing, he doubled over for a moment, both hands moving to grip his weapon as Warden leapt into immediate action next to him. He heard her Infernal words and while he didn't understand a word, he knew she was pissed already. Violet gaze snapped up and just as her glaive met flesh with searing white heat, he was already there, quarterstaff in both hands shoved with well-practiced force into Sima's ribs. Stepping through the motion and carrying with the momentum of his lithe, dark body, he whipped a foot up for a short, rounded kick and as he was bringing that foot down, one hand slipped from his weapon to drive a hard elbow into her face. Once back again on both feet, the half-drow began to shift into a defensive stance, spitting the blood that had filled his mouth from a bit cheek at the force of the thug's previous blows at Mond's boots as if he was making a statement. Clearly looking forward to a bit more resistance where he should have been asking them to leave after such a strong warning from himself and Warden, he at least arched a pale eyebrow in questioning, daring the pair to come at himself and his friend again.
HP: 19/32 AC: 16 Ki: 2/3 A: Quarterstaff to Sima BA: Unarmed Attack -1 Ki: Unarmed Attack |
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