Re: D&D - Sword Coast - Aftermath

[Tromador]

From somewhere within his robes Limnoch produces a small knife, which he pulls from a leather sheath. It glints in the dim light of the tavern, appearing razor sharp. He studies it for a moment before speaking darkly and with unusual confidence. "A circular incision can be made just below the knee and another immediately above the ankle, before running the blade down the back of the calf. After lifting a corner, with care, the entire panel may now be removed without further recourse to the knife. This is yet one of the lesser tortures, though a graphic one and useful both in the extraction of information from the subject or indeed from those who view the procedure, knowing they in turn will feel the razor sharp caress of the metal. Can I skin? Oh yes. Yes I think I can."

Limnoch carefully puts away the blade. "Of course you think we should fight Chell. You would win in a brawl yes? Yes of course you would. A trained warrior against a trained wizard, proving nothing yes? Nothing except your lack of respect for the talents of others. Yes. Perhaps we should have a magical duel yes? Yes I think so. Spells against spells at 30 paces. Or are you scared to face me on my own battleground? Well?"

He pauses a second, then continues before Chell can answer. "You're a bully Chell. Nothing but a bully."

[The Dark Power]

Sorscha's hand wanders onto the table, reaching like a turtle taking it's first faltering steps on to a beach, before finally clasping itself around her wine glass. She lifts it to her lips without once taking her gaze from her book, totally engrossed.

[^^Truth]

Arman remains watching Chell for a time, before relaxing back as Limnoch speaks, unpreparing himself for battle, as it were.

He then picks up his tankard of wine and takes a small sip, swilling it, "Pigs filth.." he curses, staring at the goblet as if it had offended his mother.

"Truely, Saamech, I do not know why we travel with these kill crazy killers..." he says in jest with the slightest of smiles, glancing between the trio of companions.

"Regardless.." he says looking to Chell, "Limnoch has just offered to grant my armour magical capabilities.. I would ignore any impulses to strangle him for at least a week..." he says sounding rather relaxed about the entire affair.

[#1!]

Chell stares at Limnoch, watching his mouth move as he speaks. She tilts her head slightly to the side, as though trying to understand a foreign concept.

She blinks at Limnoch. "Can't always choose battleground," she says slowly.

Her fist shoots out in a savage, fluid motion. She cracks the wizard right on the corner of his jaw. She snarls, looking ready to jump across the table at a moment's notice.

"Learn. To. Shut. Up."

[#1!]

After watching the group throughout the night, Tyruk looks over at Wolf, raising his eyebrows. Wolf nods and gets to his feet wordlessly, the legs of his chair scraping loudly against the tavern floor, which has gotten oddly quiet all of a sudden. Tyruk follows suit and joins his partner in standing up.

"We want nothing of this. We're done here," Wolf says in a flat tone. Tyruk nods, looking grim.

The pair of them exit the bar, having to shoulder their way past a number of convicts-turned-bandits, who, having caught sight of Chell's outburst, had gone silent. The noise level in the dank tavern rises as they are now just starting to sit up and pay attention to your group.

Amoung the various catcalls, hoots, and jeers, a choice few can be made out clearly:

"Whoo! Yeah! You gunna take that, bookworm?!"
"Slap 'er foockin' coont royght off, mate! Yah gunna take t'at?!"
"AHAHAHA! Gold piece onna girl!"
"The one in the furs or the one in the robe?"
"You're on! Golder on the northern cunny!"
"BWAHAHAHAHA!"
"Stab him. Stab him! STAB HIM! STAAAAB HIIIIIIM!"

[The Dark Power]

Sorscha looks up from her book at Arman 'Does our new pact apply to simple attacks or actual attempts on someones life?'

[Tromador]

Limnoch rubs his jaw for a moment then speaks. "You hit me because you are too stupid to think, just an ignorant fucking savage yes? Yes. Because I say you can't have your own way. Go on, hit me again, stupid bullying bitch. Show the group how it is always going to be. Next time Saamech disagrees with you and you hit him, or Sorscha, or Dimutri, or anyone. Show them your true colours. I WILL NOT SHUT UP BECAUSE YOU SAY SO!"

[#1!]

Chell stares at Limnoch, jaw clenched shut, tendons sticking out from her neck, fists bunched up.

"FUCK YOU! Always saying I force my way! WHEN HAVE I HAD MY WAY, WORM?! All you do is WHINE and COMPLAIN and ARGUE!" she thunders across the table at the magician, slamming her fists into the table to emphasize her words.

[Tromador]

Limnoch stares defiantly at Chell, unimpressed by her temper.

" 'I get scales', you said, not 'Can I have' or 'I think I deserve' hmm? No, you state it like it is fact. So yes, I argue, because someone has to. You can't just say it like that and expect everyone to meekly nod and agree hmm? Won't happen."

He rubs his jaw again. "Nice right hook, even after I offer to enchant armour for you, at cost price yes? Yes, for just the cost of the ingredients."

Limnoch eases back in his chair. "So, want to hit me again, big brave girl?"

[#1!]

Chell rockets up from her seat, flipping her chair onto the tavern floor. Her right hand goes straight for the knife hanging on her threadbare belt. She holds it up and points it at Limnoch.

"Going to take what's mine," she states matter-of-factly to the group as a whole.

Holding the knife at her side, she makes her way through the crowd of rowdy lawbreakers, who as a mass give her enough berth to pass. Her departure is followed by a few drunken catcalls. The thugs drift back to their previous activities once it's certain that there won't be any blood spilt.

A skinny bandit slaps Limnoch on the shoulder in a friendly manner as he passes. "Aye, tha's tha way tah doo it, pal. Don' let them coonts havva lick o' space or they git all uppity, am I right? HaHA!" he slurs, winking at Sorscha before tottering over to his mates.

[The Dark Power]

Sorscha looks at the departing Chell.

'Problem there. Think we might need to put our collective foot down on this?'

[^^Truth]

"No..." Arman replies to Sorscha, before standing immediately.

He then walks around the table, half towards the bar before catching the bandit whom last spoke to Limnoch by the neck and spins him, instantly cracking his right elbow into the man's face at break-neck speed, "We will not let the cunts have a lick of space, unless they get uppity, correct.. mind your manners of my companions" he warns in an angry hiss to the floored thief.

Clicking his neck slightly and balling his fists, Arman then marches out of the tavern after Chell, quiet rage in his eyes. Once outside he scans briefly towards the corpse of the huge draconic beast, spotting Chell instantly and begins at pace after her, "Stupid woman! You take nothing from Arman!" he grunts loudly, as she turns, he breaks into a run, leaping into a mid-air kick aimed towards her neck.

[#1!]

Arman dashes along the soft, slightly water-logged muddy ground in a slightly reckless charge and leaps into the air, laying a twisting, but extremely powerful kick at the barbarian's neckline.

Chell goes flying face-first into the mud, utterly unprepared for the running kick. She rolls over, completely covered in mud and filth. She screams in anger and scabbles to her feet, rushing at Arman with fists clenched.

Stepping forwards into the raging woman, Arman blocks her blow before it even has the power to connect with him, before lashing a straight blow at her nose with strength and power.

He then hops backwards, ducking beneath her wild swings, before darting forward, shoulder barging her in the chest, and spinning upon connection into a powerful elbow at her breasts.

Chell stumbles backward from Arman's retaliatitory strike, her nose exploding into a torrent of blood. Luckily, this saves her from his follow-up blow at her chest. She hisses, whipping her head around before launching herself at the Arabian warrior yet again, fingers stretched out like the claws of some wild beast.

Quickly Arman grabs up at her hand, catching the barbarians fingers in his own, twists her around into a painful armlock and pushes her down to the floor briefly before snapping a powerful kick down at the back of her head.

He then hefts the barbarian around to her front, "You do not demand anything belonging to me!" he hisses, before cracking a boot down at her already fractured nose with as much power as he can manage.

Dodging Arman's hefty stomp by the skin of her teeth, she shrieks back at him "Can't take what's MIIIIINE!". She then springs up at her dusky opponent, attempting to gouge his eyes whilst partially blinded by mud, blood, and pain.

Arman roars in pain as Chell's fingers begin into his eyes, before he grabs her wrists and hefts at kick at her ankles to unbalance her.

As Arman's foot comes in, Chell lifts her own and cracks it down into his ankle, she then then latches onto his wrists and pulls his head close, ramming her forehead into his face.

Grunting loudly, Arman replies with the headbutt by cracking his head back into Chells, holding her wrists tightly he roars in her face, "HOW DARE YOU TAKE THAT FILTHLY FLEA TO YOUR ROOM!".

Her forehead and nose bleeding profusely, Chell spits in Armans face before gripping his even tighter wrists, before slamming her knee into his crotch.

Arman lifts his right leg quickly, displacing Chell's knee to his right hand side, before quickly stepping around her, kneeing in her in the back of the right leg and as she goes down, spinning at her face with a mighty elbow.

His elbow blocked by Chell's left hand, Arman now in front of Chell, takes a single step backwards whilst she is down, legs apart and kicks upwards with a roar straight at her vagina with a grunt.

Chell launches her right arm outwards at the incoming boot, grabbing onto Arman's right leg with one hand, then another. She then attempts to bring him down to her level, down onto his back.

Arman hops once, managing to remain upright despite Chell's powerful yank on his right foot, before hopping up into the air, bringing his left foot at her jaw.

He then drops down onto his back, into the mud, his kick missing, but distracting her, before launching both feet forwards into Chell's chest and thus, breasts.

Chell is knocked yet again to the muddy ground, screaming in fury. Flailing her hand around whilst on her back, she grabs a sloppy handful of mud, which she launches at Arman's face whilst scrambling to her feet.

Arman squints his eyes, trying to turn his head to avoid the blinding mud and just in time as the sloppy mix of earth and marsh water splatters across his left check.

Wiping the mud from his face, "IT IS NOT YOURS!" he shouts, ripping himself to his feet and dashing at Chell, launching a heavy kick at her midrift.

Knocked straight onto her ass, the breath kicked right out of her, Chell wheezes as she picks herself up yet again. Completely covered in grime, she continues her assault on Arman, launching a wild left hook at his chin.

Arman steps into the hook and Chell quickly, bringing his right arm up blocking her hook before it begins. He then lashes his own left hook at her violently in return.

Chell 's head whips to the left, carried by Arman's blow. She falls to her knees on the muddy and scuffled ground, panting and wheezing. The secondary kick sends her onto her back, eliciting a breathless cry.

Arman stands above Chell, panting heavily, "You... do not claim what is.... not yours... especially what... is partially mine..." he says to the semi-conscious warrioress.

"Take...gold...just...want...skin..." she wheezes in reply, her one unblackened eye drooping closed.

Arman stares down at the violent warrior for a moment or two, "Then... ask for it, do not.. demand it.." he replies, still catching his breath.

Chell stares off into the distance blankly for a moment, before her eye closes fully. Bloody drool seeps from her open mouth onto the muddy ground.

Looking down at the broken and beaten warrior for a moment, Arman then lowers himself and scoops her up into a shoulder carry and begins back to the inn slowly, trudging through the thick, watery mud, wiping Chell's spit from his face as he goes.

[^^Truth]

Arman steps back inside the bar, looking a little out of breath, yet otherwise unhurt from the brawl, before laying Chell down in an uninhabitated corner, then heads back towards his seat.

As he walks around the table he cracks his elbow into the nose of the rising rogue whom he previously hit, sending the sorry soul crashing back to the floor, "Mind your manners" he states coldly.

He then sits, "Problem solved. If Chell learns to ask, not take, I suggest we let her have the dragonscales to fix her armour, she is useless if vunerable.." he states, an anger in his voice, before pulling out his only previously put away bong and filling it up.

A moment later, he inhales deeply, his form visibly relaxing, before he exhales a long, thick plume of scented smoke.

[#1!]

The tavern grows quiet at Arman's brutal return. The thugs stare up at Arman, with a mix of fear and awe. Their eyes dart from Chell, propped up in a corner drooling bloody spit, and Arman. Back and forth, back and forth.

The silence is broken by a deep rumbling guffaw of laughter coming from the man-mountain known as Pies. He elbows Mr. Stabby, who is occupied with stabbing the table around his outstretched hand.

"AHAHAHA! SEE?! That's what I'm fuckin' talkin' 'bout, lads! Fuckin' 'ard as nails bastids like 'im." Pies makes a sweeping gesture with a plate-sized hand."Hang yah heads in shame, mah boys!"

"'ow'd yah like a seat at Lord Pies' royal table, friend?!" he calls over at you Arman. He violently shoves the man on his other side out of his seat, freeing up a spot. The pushed man slinks off to one of the captured girls, who are busy waiting on the criminals and taking their abuses. His tone is enthusiastic and boisterous, yet respectful.

[^^Truth]

Arman stares across the room at the ever-loveable Pies, whilst shaking his head slowly, "No... but I wish to talk to you anyway, why do you not join us briefly..." he says leaning forwards and patting the table before Chell's empty seat several times.

He then sits back and sucks upon his bong slowly, exhaling in short bursts from his nose.

[The Dark Power]

After watching with a mixture of shock and amusement at the Arman and Chell show, Sorscha turns her attention to the items of art sitting in the middle of the table, hitherto hardly discussed.

'I wonder what these are?' she mutters, before reciting a brief incantation and holding her hand over the items for a moment, eyes closed.

[#1!]

Pies' face splits into a huge yellow grin. He gets up from his seat and picks his way over to the group's, leaving his companions to their own devices.

"Ah, yer very kind, very kind," he rumbles as he sits down heavily on Chell's old seat, which produces an ominous creaking.

"So! What's goin' on over 'ere, eh?" he booms, smiling his big yellow smile at each member of the group. His gaze lingers on Sorscha, specifically her breasts.

[Tromador]

As Pies heads over Limnoch shakes his head slightly, before speaking quietly. "Ask, not demand. Yes? Yes, Arman. My point exactly. As for the items Sorscha, I can identify them easily enough, if I can but get the required spell components."

He then stands slightly wearily and heads to the bar, to find some rags approaching clean along with some water and strong alcohol before heading over to where Chell is leaning against the wall.

He speaks quietly, but sincerely. "I have some skill in healing yes? Yes. Will you accept some help cleaning up? And shall I have a look at that eye?"

[#1!]

Chell doesn't respond to your questions, Limnoch. It's pretty clear that she is unconcious. Her breathing is shallow, but steady. Your sincerity is wasted.

A couple of the thugs eye Limnoch as he bends down to speak to Chell.

Pies gives Limnoch a cock-eyed look as he leaves shortly after the huge man sits down. He scratches his bushy beard. "Guess not everybody's a people person," he remarks, draining the dregs of Chell's cup. "Ahh! Hits the spot, that."

[Tromador]

Limnoch sighs and nonetheless deals with cleaning Chell up somewhat, mopping away the blood and mud from her face and checking her over.

Finally satisfied there's nothing worse than bruises he leaves the cleaning rags along with the booze by her side and returns to the rest of the group.

As he walks back, he catches the eyes of some of the thugs looking in his and Chell's direction.

"Slangsby!" He calls. "Guard Chell until she wakes up. If anybody messes with her, kill them."

The skeleton clatters toward the unconscious warrior and assumes a watchful pose, empty eye sockets scanning to the left and right, as if daring anyone to interfere with his charge.

"No point holding grudges hmm? No.. no point at all." He notes as he returns to his seat. "At least not if we are working together..."

[^^Truth]

Arman studies 'Lord Pies' for a moment or two, before exhaling a thin trail of smoke.

"I do not know what Saamech has spoken to you about and do not care, I am willing to treat you as an equal, like one that sits at our table, for now.."

"I consider you in charge of the.. freemen. Responsible for. Things are simple." he says sucking on his bong briefly, before speaking smokily.

"We have armed you, we have armoured you, we have freed you from inprisonment, we do not ask much however. Twenty percent of whatever you all earn goes to us. You may all use this area as a base. Whilst we are away, which is likely to be often, raid, recruit, do what you wish and work to fixing this area, improve it's defenses, gather more slaves to work, but do not lead trouble to us. Responsible." he says in a calm and quiet tone.

"If you do not agree with the terms, you will be replaced. If you try to cheat us, you will be replaced. If you try to organise the freemen against us, you will be replaced. Consider this a fresh beginning and a fresh opportunity."

Arman then looks between Limnoch and Sorscha, "We will put money aside from what is available to us for Limnoch to purchase the components he requires to identify the items... two pearls, yes?"

He then looks back at 'Lord Pies', "One more thing, arms and armour aside, we have all decided to gift your group with a token of two hundred and twenty gold, that is twenty gold per man. The moral of the men is your concern, you will have the money to split, or keep, as you see fit."

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