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Post by sojourn on May 17, 2019 18:55:06 GMT
"Nah. Guaril was th' only reason I considered comin' t' this shithole tavern, an' now that y've gone an' made a bigger mess 'f a friend, I'm gonna have t' set y' all straight about it." Kieran growled, his violet gaze hardened and sharpened into a crystalized stare at Ceres. While he appeared to be only addressing that man, lip twitching while he tucked the book away, the half-drow was well aware of the body language and subtle movements of the two bodyguards that stood between himself and his more obvious prize. The shorter guard began to draw his weapon and the taller one began to tense, his own lithe fingers curling tightly around the short sword against the small of his back. His attention finally shifted to the two closer men just as the coppery tiefling moved in an attempt to calm things down, focusing foolishly on the thug drawing his weapon just as he finished unsheathing his own. It was an instinctual but emotional mistake, leaving himself open to the feint while the other bodyguard stepped in, his meaty fist making a quick jab into Kieran's abdomen, the half-drow hissing a few unsavory undercommon curses in pain just as there was more movement out of the corner of his eye. The young woman from the bar, blades of her own flashing in the ruddy glow of the large hearth in the center of the Dusk and Dawn's tent winked at him before slicing mercilessly into the blade-wielding bodyguard while he was too busy grinning at the grunting half-elf, "What? M' offer t' buy you a drink wasn't enough?" There was the most untimely hint of a grin tossed Miri's way before he used the momentum of the punch to attack. Kieran gripped his short, curved blade back-handed, twisting his body quickly and slashing for the armed guard's suddenly available, bloodied chest as soon as the swift, surprisingly nimble woman stepped out of the way. The man's eyes widened, the short but broad-shouldered poor fellow gurgling and wavering on his feet before he crashed over into the closest table. Still moving, the half-drow planted a foot on the smashed tabletop and shoved upward, lodging a hard kick square into the ribs of the bastard that had punched him with a satisfying crunch. The tavern was roaring, chanting, cat-calling, betting, and cheering by now. Ceres, looking uneasy at the whole thing and noting he'd just lost a bodyguard before he'd even had a chance to say a single word about it, drew the beat up, old-looking rusty mace at his hip while Kieran's small, lithe form moved with disciplined grace. Some folks banged a rhythm on the tables. Most of the servers weren't even bothered—it wasn't as though this sort of thing wasn't a regular occurrence. ((Will roll for Ceres and post separate for his attack next. Bodyguard 2 is out of our initiative since he's dead so now its: Miri Kieran Ceres Bodyguard 2Caim Bodyguard 1 (7HPs left) Talia))
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Post by sojourn on May 17, 2019 19:03:03 GMT
((Preroll for Ceres.))
First mace swing is for Kieran (AC15): tKNcyjpZ1d20+4
Damage: 1d6+2
Second mace swing is also for Kieran (AC15): 1d20+4
Damage: 1d6+21d20+4·1d6+2·1d20+4·1d6+2
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Post by sojourn on May 17, 2019 19:08:32 GMT
"L il' beast couldn't leave well 'nough alone, could you? Well, I ain't havin' that." Ceres growled, swinging straight for Kieran without a second thought. The lithe darkling creature ducked the first wide, hard rush of the blunt metal object with a smooth, easy motion, stepping to one side and bending his body like a reed in the wind as Ceres attempted a second attack. It was barely inches from the half-drow's sneering face, close enough to rustle his pale hair but not enough to leave Kieran looking at all impressed or even threatened, "Y' could jus' give me th' book an' fuck off before I kill you, too. Maybe I'm nice that way. Maybe I'm not."((Caim's turn! Miri Kieran Ceres Bodyguard 2Caim Bodyguard 1 Talia))
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Post by orby on May 17, 2019 23:45:39 GMT
It took only a moment for everything to erupt into chaos. Caim couldn't say how much of the tavern's uptick in shouting was about this mess right here and how much was other patrons latching onto the energy of it to start brawls of their own. Either way, the crowd roiled and its volume surged louder and louder.
Before him, before he could even process it all properly, there was a woman jumping into the fray with a blade in the bodyguard Thom's gut, and she darted away again just as the half-elf recovered from the sucker punch and lashed out with his own sword. The first guard fell and blood sprayed as the half-elf set upon the second one. Stunned, Caim had to press himself tightly back up against the bar as Ceres launched forward, swinging his weapon dangerously close in an attempt to get at his prey.
Yeah, this was officially a very bad place to be. Caim flinched as the mace passed far too close for comfort and muttered a cantrip, abruptly vanishing from the spot in a thick swirl of smoke that left the air tinged with the smell of sulfur.
The spell dropped him back out again a few yards away further down the bar, safe behind the half-elf and his lady friend -- arguably safer, anyway. The sound of glass shattering a foot or two to his left suggested the rest of the tavern had its on violence to dodge. Caim edged in closer behind the woman, hoping he wasn't being counted as a target among Ceres' numbers.
A glance back at Ceres and his maybe-sister, each of them brawny and armed and radiating bloodlust, and on a sudden instinct Caim murmured another spell to hopefully grant the half-elf and the woman a bit of luck. Please don't turn on him next.
((Bonus action to Misty Step out of the fray and then casting Bless, everyone gets advantage on attack rolls and saving throws!))
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Post by sojourn on May 18, 2019 1:20:52 GMT
((Pre-rolling for my sanity.))
Bodyguard 1 attacks Miri with scimitar: TX|6vZ5_1d20+3
Damage if it hits: 1d6+1
Talia attacks Kieran (AC15) because he's closer: 1d20+4
Damage if it hits: 1d6+2
Talia's second attack is also at Kieran (AC15): 1d20+4
Damage if it hits: 1d6+21d20+3·1d6+1·1d20+4·1d6+2·1d20+4·1d6+2
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Post by sojourn on May 18, 2019 1:34:36 GMT
"T hat's enough o' that." Growled Talia's voice, the tiefling near her disappearing in a puff of smoke and the tall woman leaping forward just as Ceres' last swing missed the half-drow. Her very spiky-looking club could have technically be considered a mace much like her companion's, but unlike the man who'd threatened Kieran with the bottom of the sea, she seemed to be a lot more sure of how to hit something. Her first blow caught the smaller man across the shoulder, knocking him off-balance as he was just finding his footing from avoiding Ceres' attacks. Sharp edges dug into fabric and dark skin, Kieran hissing and attempting to shift out of the way, only for Talia to backhand him square in the face with the butt end of her weapon of choice, sending him back against the bar while she huffed and grinned wickedly, licking her lips in wordless threat, obviously satisfied by the pained grunt that was quickly followed by a growled string of curses from the lithe creature's bloodied lips, readying herself for another swing. As she smashed the half-drow, their remaining bodyguard had staggered after Kieran's kick, moving after Miri as she attempted to slip out of the way and swinging his curved blade at her, only to swing into the space the quick young woman had just occupied. ((Ooof. Miri Kieran (11/19HP) Ceres Bodyguard 2Caim Bodyguard 1 (7/11HP) Talia))
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Post by moralhazard on May 18, 2019 1:37:52 GMT
((Pre-rolling for Miri)) Short sword attack against bodyguard 1, to hit: SCcMoD9C1d20+5Bless: 1d4If successful, damage: 1d6+3Short sword attack against Talia, to hit: 1d20+5 Bless: 1d4 If successful, damage: 1d6 If successful, sneak attack damage: 1d6 Extra sneak attack damage I should have rolled: 1d6
1d20+5·1d4·1d6+3·1d20+5·1d4·1d6·1d6·1d6
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Post by moralhazard on May 18, 2019 1:44:09 GMT
“Maybe I just like being outnumbered,” Miri called back as she retreated past the half-drow, comfortably taking up a position behind him. She kept her eyes on the bodyguard as the man who’d had the injured thigh lunged forward, swinging his mace twice at the half-drow and solidly missing on both swings.
The tiefling vanished in a faint poof of smoke. Miri raised her eyebrows – a nice trick! – only for him to pop back into existence behind her. Perhaps the fight at the other end of the bar was getting worse; rather than fleeing, the healer edged slightly closer to Miri. She felt a strange tickle of unknown energy – but it didn’t feel bad. On the contrary, it felt great. Miri drew her second short sword, grasping it firmly, and glanced back over one bare shoulder at the tiefling, winking.
The man who’d started it all with a punch to the gut for the half-elf swung at Miri; she turned to the side, gracefully, letting the blade swish harmlessly through the air past her.
“Better luck next time,” Miri grinned at him and lunged forward. He looked like he was hurting from the smaller man’s kick; Miri was happy to make him hurt a little worse.
The blade hit, solidly, plunging into his chest – and he dropped. Miri pulled the sword out as he fell, using a foot to brace against his body. “Or not,” she murmured.
The handsome and rather impressive woman with a mace had just hit the half-drow twice; Miri darted in, taking advantage of her distraction to cut deep with her blade. “Over here,” Miri grinned. She didn’t pull back this time, holding her position in the thick of the fight.
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Post by sojourn on May 18, 2019 1:53:19 GMT
((Kieran's rolls. Will do Ceres separately..))
Kieran:
Short sword attack to Talia (AC11): QkagUa_n1d20+5
Bless: 1d4
Damage if it hits: 1d6+3
Spending 1 ki point for Flurry of Blows:
Unarmed 1 to Talia (AC11): 1d20+5
Bless: 1d4
Damage from Unarmed 1: 1d4+3
Unarmed 2 to Talia (AC11): 1d20+5
Bless: 1d4
Damage from Unarmed 2: 1d4+31d20+5·1d4·1d6+3·1d20+5·1d4·1d4+3·1d20+5·1d4·1d4+3
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Post by sojourn on May 18, 2019 2:55:24 GMT
P anting, the injured half-drow had seen the tiefling disappear, perhaps just distracted enough by the poof of magical smoke to not feel the tingling of his blessing, instead knocked about by Talia's fierce blows. He rolled with them, however, hardly pausing to spit blood at the woman's feet, letting the force of her second hit sprawl him on the bartop with a clutter of glasses and the rumbling laughter of the 'keep, the wiry man rolling his eyes. "Outnumbered–?" He spoke above the din of the crowd, sarcasm dribbling from his lips even though it was obvious that his focus was burning brightly for the woman who'd torn his dark flesh. Shoving off of the sticky, well-worn surface, Kieran leapt fiercely at the taller, better built woman with a flash of his blade, his reversed grip swing biting in a deep arc from her shoulder to her hip, Talia growling back at him in pain, but unable to move away as he spun, returning the favor of a blow to the face with the blunt end of his short sword and then following the motion to swing a very fast, very hard kick, actually leaving the ground to crash the heel of his foot soundly into her skull. "—can't help you." He breathed, the words meant for Miri, feeling Talia crumple beneath the movement of his leg and watching her drop like a sack of stones as he once again planted both feet back on the ground, "Looks like there's just too much 'f us goin' on right now instead."Only Ceres remained standing. Kieran inhaled again, slowly, wincing only a little while he leveled his amethyst glare at the man, "Y' wanna keep this up? Or y' wanna hand over Guaril's book an' get what's left 'f yours out 'f here, Ceres?" The half-drow's compact frame was already coiled for further combat. The taller human snarled in obvious displeasure but also fear, his wild eyes drifting down to Talia and over to the bloodied remains of his hired muscle. He was clearly fuming but also aware that he might have been able to best one of these assholes, but not all of them. Definitely not. "Finish him!" Shouted some woman in the crowd, tossing coins at Kieran and Miri. "Get on with it!" Shouted someone else. A bunch of other taunts and encouragements rang out, people of all kinds having crowded closer, pressed tighter, growm a little quieter but no less frenzied by the quick, bloody bar fight that had erupted as suddenly as it'd been put out by a couple of quick combatants who apparently hit a lot harder than Ceres had assumed. "Fuck it—" The older, taller man growled, shaking his mace in Kieran's direction while some server giggled as she slipped by. His free hand reached into his threadbare coat and he held the book between the smaller, clearly too cocky for his own good creature and himself, "—c'mon, take it. But this means you're on m' list an' I'll be lookin' for you, you lil' bastard. An' your friends, too."A few folks in the crowd awwwed, but not in sympathy. A few other folks boooooooed loudly. One of the half-orcs at the bar, though? They clapped. "Doesn't look like I've got much to worry about from here, eh?" Spat the half-drow vehemently, smirking despite how the expression made his face sting before he snatched the worn leather-bound book, and some of the inebriated patrons laughed and sniggered, "Next time y' want t' go killin' m' friends, think 'bout this mess."((Combat can be over. Wanted to leave room for reactions. Ceres will probably make a hasty retreat with Talia's body and leave his dumb guards there. The tent tavern will probably erupt in all sorts of ... reactions. Miri Kieran (11/19HP) Ceres (AC11 32/32HP) Bodyguard 2Caim Bodyguard 1 Talia))
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Post by orby on May 18, 2019 4:08:57 GMT
The rest of the clash was quick and brutal. A wink from the woman as she dove back in, vicious strikes on both sides. Only seconds passed before the majority of Ceres' group was bleeding out on the ground, the half-elf poised over the last man standing to finish things.
None of it sat well with Caim. He couldn't deny who struck first, or Talia's own admittance to having killed someone bringing the whole thing about in the first place, but...yeah. A mess all around. He grimaced at what remained of the scene, unsure if he should step in again to prevent further unnecessary fighting or just avert his eyes.
But then Ceres scowled and handed over the book and that seemed enough to put an end to it. Caim breathed a sigh of relief, the sound lost in the jeering and shouts from the onlookers.
The vague sense of peace lasted all of two seconds before crashing and yelling started up afresh from somewhere on the other side of the crowd, some other patrons egged on by Miri's earlier shout still carrying on and stealing the attention of those in the crowd who still wanted to see blood. Caim winced at a harsh snapping sound and subsequent pained cry. He most certainly did not have enough magic in him for everyone in here tonight. The thought drew his eyes back to the thugs bleeding in the dirt, and for a moment he entertained the idea of stepping in to help them again.
Maybe not the best idea, though. It was probably best not to enable them to keep it the fight, not with Ceres still visibly fuming.
That decision was made for him anyway as the humiliated man just stooped to get a grip of his female companion and began dragging her out. Evidently, he was done seeking help from the tiefling. Or maybe eager to escape the scene with some dignity intact. Caim frowned, eyes lingering on the woman's wounds and blood that trailed behind her as they left, but he couldn't help everyone. That much was becoming clearer with every day spent in Waterdeep.
He could still try, though.
Drawing a breath to steady himself, Caim looked instead to the other two. The woman had gotten away without a scratch on her, it seemed, so that was good. The half-drow hadn't been so fortunate. Caim hesitated just briefly before stepping forward, leaning in and tapping at the man's shoulder with a careful touch.
"You're hurt," he pointed out, perhaps unnecessarily. "I can help...?"
Like he'd been helping the man who'd killed the guy's friend, evidently. Awkward. Caim shifted uncomfortably, feeling very much like he was probably butting in where he shouldn't.
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Post by moralhazard on May 18, 2019 4:12:47 GMT
Sleight of hand: 6mSug9ce1d20+5 Bless: 1d4 1d20+5·1d4
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Post by sojourn on May 18, 2019 4:16:37 GMT
Perception to greedy fingers: 1VMawzCQ1d20+4
Still Blessed for success, right? 1d41d20+4·1d4
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Post by moralhazard on May 18, 2019 4:27:49 GMT
Miri kept her shortswords drawn and up, loose-limbed in an easy fighter’s crouch, following the fight attentively. The half-drow had taken down the woman in a quick succession of blows, sword followed by two quick strikes with his fist and foot. That plus Miri’s earlier strike proved too much for her; she dropped.
And then – Ceres, was it? – was the last one standing.
Miri laughed aloud, grinning, the firelight glinting over her skin. She didn’t ease up, not even as he reached for the wallet; she even ignored the coins that soared through the air past her. If she’d been in Ceres’s shoes, she’d not have given up so easy. But it seemed Ceres was made of different stuff; or maybe he just really did care about the woman lying on the ground in front of him. He handed the book over, and went to drag the woman out, leaving a bloody trail on the dirty ground.
Miri sheathed her two swords and straightened up, slowly tilting her head from side to side to stretch her neck. She wasn’t even scratched; perhaps she’d have been better served by staying out of it, with how quickly the fight had ended. She glanced around the room, smiling; most of the crowd that had been by the bar, the old man included, had scattered quickly when blades were drawn. The woman and her customer had gone off – probably to find somewhere quiet out by the harborwater. Miri supposed if the smell put either off too badly, they wouldn’t be in Mistshore.
The dwarf had smashed the barrel to pieces; the slender human was gone, but someone had poured his opponent another round, and they were settling down to a new match as he wiped the last of the foam from his beard. The man at the end of the bar was lying unconscious on the ground; Miri hadn’t seen what had happened there, and she was a bit sorry to have missed it.
The tiefling stepped up to the half-drow. Wasn’t there a joke like that? A tiefling, a drow, and a… something… walk into a bar? Miri stretched her shoulders, arms sliding out wide until – just at the end – her whole body sort of slid into the movement, a slight shimmy that seemed like it should have been a dangerous move, in such a corset. Then again, the contoured leather hadn’t slipped so much as a half inch during the fight; surely a shrug of her shoulders wouldn’t do it. Right?
As the tiefling reached out for the half-drow, Miri pulled her arms back in, fingers lightly brushing along the half-drow’s waist. She palmed his wallet back into her own pocket, stepping forward with hands on her hips.
“You handle your sword well,” Miri grinned. “And the rest of you too.” There was still a spark of excitement in her eyes; her grin remained a little blood-thirsty. She raised an eyebrow at the tiefling. “Didn’t expect to find you on our side.” She reached out, clasping his shoulder with one hand easily enough, and letting go. It was tempting, but - Miri might honestly have felt guilty, taking that one's coins.
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Post by sojourn on May 19, 2019 3:19:28 GMT
K ieran stood and watched Ceres, short blade gripped tightly in his hand, entire body still in a defensive, ready position. His breathing slowed, years of self-discipline allowing him the clarity of thought to slowly begin to relax just a little. Tucking the small book away on his person, he didn't move as the taller man reached down and struggled with Talia's limp but still breathing body, violet gaze sharp and crystalline even though his well-carved, bloodied face had settled into a deadpan expression of calm. His exterior became far less vicious while his insides seethed, full of adrenaline but not at all quite sure he felt any satisfaction in what appeared to anyone else in this godsforsaken tavern to be some kind of worthwhile victory. Kieran didn't feel it, looking down to the dead thugs, to the bloodied woman, to Ceres' angry face. He'd lost a friend somewhere and whatever was written in here really wasn't what he'd wanted. He just knew it was important, but what he'd wanted was a name. A name he wasn't about to get now that Guaril was dead. This was not any real progress on his chasing after those who'd murdered his master, who'd slaughtered the only real family he'd allowed himself to have. It took nearly all of the training of said father-figure to keep him from shouldering his way through the crowd and cutting the fleeing bastard down even if he'd the one who'd let the man go. He already had regrets and there was a bitterness to the metallic tang that clung to the inside of his mouth, pulse still roaring in his ears and heart thumping fiercely in the charred, dark cavity of his chest. It wasn't until he'd watched the pair flee through the crowd and out of the tent flap that the half-drow visibly relaxed, wiping his sword on one of the thugs' bodies before sheathing it. Exhaling through his teeth, his shoulders sagged first before Kieran's entire body seemed to unravel like a piano string that had been wound too tightly until it finally snapped, melting his way toward the bar past a few grinning strangers who immediately descended on the poor bodies once he passed by them, eager to see what was in their pockets. Before he could entirely lean against the sticky counter and assess his injuries, the half-drow glanced up, violet gaze shifting toward the young woman who'd not at all been obligated to step in and offer assistance, opening his mouth to express his gratitude when the tiefling was suddenly, reluctantly clouding his vision with his coppery presence. His touch was gentle, but Kieran tensed anyway, briefly at least, blinking, "Yeah I am, no thanks t' y'self." Kieran grunted, but he smiled when he said it, sinking into a barstool and arching a pale eyebrow at the taller, willowy half-fiend who spoke with a voice that was as nervous as it was sincere. Gods, the poor thing seemed so out of place here in Mistshore but it was a strangely comforting light instead of a jarring, unwelcome one, "Those weren't your people, but y' were helpin' them ... for ... uh ... whatever reasons y' got. An' now y' want t' what? Why'd you want t' do that? Didn't I jus' ruin your night? I won't say no, but—c'mon. It's not that bad—"It was obvious that the half-drow was both defensive about the offer and yet somewhat grateful. Confused and unsure like some feral animal, still quite tangled up in that post-combat rush and the sting of disappointment, he couldn't help but be suspicious for a moment of the tiefling's motives. And yet, who could question the coppery creature's expression? He paused to reach for his torn, bloodied outer layers, about to peer downward at the mace-marred charcoal skin of his shoulder, but the young woman he'd wanted to thank was pouring herself into his personal space like she'd poured herself into those pants—or, honestly, that blessed corset. She felt restless, stretching and leaning, Kieran totally caught off-guard by the brush of hands over his person, her compliments heard but hardly processed above the sharp inhale of breath while he attempted to steady his thoughts. What was happening? His pale eyelashes fluttered heavily with his eyelids, this entire situation far more difficult for Kieran to navigate than the quick, violent fight had been at all. Tongue pressed against the metal ring in his lip at her warm words and he managed to return "—uh, well. Th' same can be said 'bout y'self. You didn't need t' do that—" Step in. Smile at him. Hang around. Touch him. He followed the lines of her body to her hand on the tiefling's shoulder, aware that he was cornered in their company. And aware that he was pretty sure he didn't mind, even if some of the attention felt out of place given everything that had just occurred, "—help, that is. Help me, specifically. Neither 'f you needed t' do that. I'm—it's just—" Finally, Kieran more or less melted against the bar, huffing hair out of his face, smiling, "Thanks, yes. Or somethin'. Listen, sure, fix what y' want. Have a drink. I already said one was on me—why not one more? Hmm?"
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