Players: Abrahil, Nin-galad, Heldesteth

Run by: Myrana
Death_Ok

         Excited, terrified, nerve-wracked, a young boy tasked as a runner in a reclaimed suit of maile jingles up to the three of you, one at a time. Marcos has a job for you, he wheezes. No time to go see him in person. Everything's absolutely falling over dead it's so busy in the Resistance Headquarters. Once you're all assembled, he sucks in a deep breath, and explains.
         The infamous red wizard Brei-fen has been spotted among one of the last-to-arrive caravans of Bloodgunni allies before the siege began. He was wounded in coming here, but rumor is that he's on the mend now, tended to by Kinnevack's priests. And -now-, the rumor says, he's ready to summon up all manner of horrible demons in defense of the city and Kinnevack's forces.
 
 What YOU are charged with is going to the Inn of the Yellow Hawk and retrieve his things /tonight/. In the morning, his spell book will be returned to him. It's been kept safely hidden there with his assistants while he healed. You're to go, retrieve his things, and burn his book if you find it before the Red Wizard can use it against the Myrrish Forces.
 
So outside you are, in the eerie mists. Outside of the Yellow Hawk, where things are locked up tight. The fighting has not advanced this far, though the light of battle can be seen just a few blocks away, distant seeming in the foggy night.
 
The street is mostly empty. A solitary candle burns in a third storey window of the Hawk. Otherwise, the building might seem empty.

<OOC> Myrana says, "There. Go ahead and pose having snuck up here, and we'll go from there :)"

"Oh...well. Goodness. That's alot to take in, isn't it?" Abrahil notes when the boy finally runs out of breath. The smallish, if rotund, gnome presses his fingers together beneath his puffy lips. "Oh my. ...well. We'll just have to be sneaky then, won't we? Such an adventure!"

Nin-galad stands nearly silently in the eerie mists, his gloved hands dutifully tightening up the black cloth about his head to minimize any colour on him that is not black. This is one of those Sneaky Missions, after all, and being hard to see is paramount in being sneaky. With his headgear in place he makes sure the fastenings of his equipment are as tight as he can get them without hindering his movements, as next to glowing in the dark the rattling of metallic weapons is the next largest faux pas in sneaking about in the night.

Being of the not-so-dumb persuasion, he is currently located in the darkened alley off to the side of the Hawk and thus out of the view of most prying eyes that might be scouring the street this evening. "Indeed it is," he replies as he finishes securing the sheathed xiphos upon his right hip. "Adventure is always welcome." Especially when it results in rewards.

        Heldesteth keeps his grumbling to a low as they sneak up to the place, trying to at least not deliberately make too much noise, words coming out in a whisper, "Can't believe I got pulled away from the frontline action to retrieve a moldy old book. Waste of my time." His words are barely audible, even by those right near him. He looks at Nin-galad though and sighs softly. At least he doesn't have to be on healing duty today and the company he is with is partially familiar. He gives Abrahil, one he isn't as familiar with, a look of apathy as he looks at the building and then whispers to the two comrades. "So... By sneaky... You mean I should not kick the door down, scythe ablaze like some crazy cultist with a murder-problem?"

<OOC> Abrahil needs to er--cast his 'don't hit the mage' prep spell. Mage Armor? If tis alright?
<OOC> Myrana says, "That's fine! :)"
GAME: Abrahil casts mage armor.
<OOC> Abrahil whew's!
 
 
"Yes, that'd be something we want to avoid if at all possible. If the fellow who owns the book is able to summon legions of demons with the text, then he's probably go a few goons of some description hanging about, and they'll provide you with something to use your scythe on." His eyes trail upwards from the other two near him, looking for any decent handholds in the wall of the inn or any place he might conceivably toss a grappling hook up to. "I could scout ahead and see what's lurking in those dark windows above us, if you two would prefer?"
 
 
"Oh, that would be fine, yes. ..." Abrahil adjusts his lenses as though he might peer above into the dark. The rotund fellow wriggles the fingers of his other hand. "I'm not so good at climbing, I'm afraid, but! I could mimic a bit of scratching on the outside of the pane if you like, or any such thing. Why! I've often done such things for theatre!"

        Heldesteth pauses for a moment and nods at the idea of scouting. "That could help a bit, yeah. Be nice to know what I am hacking into bits before I have to. Gives me a game plan of sorts." He of course already has his scythe out and ready just incase. This IS a warzone, after all. "If you think it would make it easier, I could even cause a ruckus if you spot the book and maybe draw the guards from the room to the main level."
 
 

"Oh, that's just the thing! Why, think of the possibilities!" Abrahil murmurs and takes a waddling, rolling step to the side so he might peer upwards. And, "Oh, my. Well, let me see about getting hidden. You're quite right. Someone might be watching us at any moment!" And the small gnome ducks for--well, he looks about.

<OOC> Abrahil will...hide. X) In the meantime! It may make no sense, but it's theatrical. He likely brought a tiny skullcap. :)
<OOC> Myrana says, "Go ahead and roll :o"
GAME: Nin-galad rolls climb: (1)+4: 5
GAME: Abrahil rolls hide: (20)+7: 27
<OOC> Myrana says, "That was a great series of rolls XD"
GAME: Myrana rolls 1d20+2: (13)+2: 15
<OOC> Myrana says, "Go ahead and roll again. The grappling hook clunked on the street, almost catching on the roof, but then falling down and making a noise."
<OOC> Myrana says, "Lucky for you, it wasn't quite loud enough to wake anybody up. Or at least, no-one came to the window."
GAME: Nin-galad rolls climb: (20)+4: 24
<OOC> Nin-galad says, ".."
<OOC> Nin-galad says, "And, just to prove me wrong. There it is."
<OOC> Myrana says, "You can pose zipping up toward the window."

Nin-galad nods his head as his eyes drift back up towards the wall near them again, eyeing the various windowsills and eventually the evestrough above the rest of it. "Alright then, let's have a go at this." A length of rope is produced from one of the deceptively small pouches at the rogue's waist, a grappling hook following soon after. Both pieces are joined and set to spinning, the High Elf staring upwards for a moment longer before letting it fly.

He winces when it misses its mark and instead makes a clank against the road, the muscles in his arms working fast to snap it back into the alley the instant the sound reaches his ears. "And again," he mutters under his breath and sets the grappling hook to a spin once more. This time, however, the throw goes off without a hitch and the hook catches a proper, secure target. "And up I go," he announces after giving the rope a testing tug and then beginning to shimmy his way up it, coming to a pause about six feet over their heads. "Abrahil, you wouldn't happen to be able to cast any of that blessedly useful mage armour on an elf, would you?"

"Oh! It doesn't work very well with armor, you see. But! This will be an adventure, dear boy--I just know it!" Abrahil looks up from his searching about. And with a finger to his lips makes a duck into the shadows. It may as well be literal--the small gnome waddles into place, and somehow disappears from view with disturbing nary a cobweb.
Heldesteth stands in the alley near the window, pulling out a javelin and keeping an eye on it. "Don't worry, Nin. I got your back..." How good is his aim with a javelin? Well, the words 'I got your back' might take a different meaning if he actually does need to throw that sucker at the window.



Booted footsteps echo down the street.
Growing closer...
 
<OOC> Myrana says, "Helde, you might want to roll hide."

Abrahil doesn't...move. He eyes the scaling elf through his gold-rimmed lenses and tugs at the collar of his shirt. Otherwise, he attempts to make himself as small as a beachball might. Which is to say--perhaps he looks like a discarded children's toy.

GAME: Heldesteth rolls hide: (5)+-5: 0 
 
 
A human guard wanders down the street, swinging a truncheon. He whistles, even. Maybe he's a little drunk. But when he spots Heldesteth, the man blinks, and hurries toward him, not looking up and not noticing the forlorn little beachball in the cobwebs. "Hey! What're you doing out past curfew?"

<OOC> Heldesteth supposes he... Can try to talk his way out of this >.>
<OOC> Myrana nods!
<OOC> Heldesteth is gonna attempt to just scare the guard away with lies and threats XD
<OOC> Myrana okiedokie! Go ahead and roll, then pose :)
 GAME: Heldesteth rolls Bluff: (8)+0: 8
 

Heldesteth looks at the man, eyes filled with extreme annoyance. "What was that, peon? Couldn't hear you over the size of my massively higher pay. I believe YOU should go elsewhere before I tell Lord Brei-fen that I had to deal with some low-ranking fucktard while on watch! Now scram before I shove my size-15 steel tipped boots up your ass!" He doesn't yell, but his voice is filled with rage and he even goes for his scythe now. "Or do you maybe you want to be the first 'offering' when he gets patched up?"
 
GAME: Myrana rolls 1d20: (3): 3
<OOC> Heldesteth says, "woot XD"
 

"G-Gunahkar's balls!" The guard stutters. All the blood goes from his poor face at both the name of the Red Wizard and Heldesteth's shoe size. "I'm, I'm sorry! Sir! I'm sorry Sir! I'll just beonmywaythengoodeveningsir!" And he /skitters/, hightailing it the hell out of there.
 
 
 
 
From his hiding spot, Abrahil doesn't move. He doesn't breathe! The small gnome peers at the guard and Heldesteth through his rose-colored lenses. After a moment, they begin to fall down his nose. And unfortunately, itch.
*ITCH*
 
When the sound of the guard approaching reaches Nin-galad, his eyes shoot down in the direction of the sound. From his already lofty vantage, he can see the guard coming before he gets near enough to spot the cleric who has failed spectacularly at hiding. Muttering a quiet string of curses in Thallasian, Nin-galad plants his booted feet on the windowsill beloning to a very dark room. A cursory glance is used to scan the interior before the High Elf folds himself in against the window and all but disappears.

The rope, too, has suddenly disappeared from sight on the ground level. The length that had been left to dangle is currently nestled against the Elf's chest.

When the guard nearly falls over himself to get out of the alley though, a silent little laugh escapes Nin-galad as he extends his arm and allows the coiled length to slip back down to the alley far below his feet. A soft flutter of cloth announces his movement as the High Elf climbs the rest of the rope like a spider up a thread and disappears onto the roof above.

<OOC> Nin-galad summary poses!
<OOC> Myrana says, "Not gonna peek in the window? :o"
<OOC> Myrana says, "Er, the one with a candle in it?"

Heldesteth snorts a little bit as the guard gets the hell out of dodge. "Jackass guards. Pissin me off. What I would do for a proper enemy to chop in half about now..." He looks up as the rope is lowered down and doesn't believe he will climb up it; he would cause far too much noise for that to be wise. Not that he minds creating noise, but he would rather kick doors in for his noise and at least spare Nin-galad the headache of being spotted.

<OOC> Nin-galad says, "Is that on this side?"
<OOC> Nin-galad says, "If it is, I will."
 
The light of a single candle illuminates the dirty glass pane. Inside, Nin-galad can just see the lumps of four or five slumbering shapes beneath cloaks or thin blankets. The two beds are occupied, though there are too many people in the room to all fit on them. Some sleep on the floor, stretched out, or sit with their backs against walls.
 
 And there, in the middle of all of them, on top of a side-table, a large, ornate book rests. A candle burns on the table a little ways away, the flame flickering and wobbling with all the snoring going on inside that room.
 
<OOC> Myrana says, "Are Helde and Abrahil doing anything while this goes on? :)"
<OOC> Heldesteth is likely keeping an eye on things and waiting to see if Nin gives any signals on what to do.

The rope disappears once again, retracting up into nothingness over the edge of the roof as if by a machine. The hook is readjusted, and a few seconds later Nin-galad is slowly, carefully, lowering himself back down another side of the inn to get a look into the room lit with the candle. He also happens to be upside down, with his booted feet clamped against the fine rope as he slowly handwalks himself down it so that just his eyes and above are visible should anyone glance out the window. The room is scrutinized intently, the High Elf's eyes narrowing before he pulls himself back up onto the roof and within the span of a few seconds he has descended the other side of the inn to return to Heldesteth and Abrahil. "So, news. There are four or five occupying the room in question. All laying about the book like a bunch of watchdogs. Either we need some poison, some fire, or a diversion. I'd prefer some poison."

"Oh. ...well, I might make an illusion of the book! If we stole it then, they'd not be the wiser for a while," whispers the gnome. He crawls out from behind the spider's web for about an inch. And furiously wipes at that long nose of his. He's going to, he's going to...he claps both hands either side of said schnoz, and closes his eyes with a sigh.
 
 
<OOC> Myrana says, "Figure out a strategy :3"
<OOC> Heldesteth is definitely casting Bless before we do whatever we plan... Just incase >.>
GAME: Heldesteth casts Bless.
<OOC> Myrana reminds; the book is going to be destroyed, either by you or by the Resistance. So if you're worried about saving it, you won't get in trouble, per se, if you explode it.
<OOC> Myrana says, "Of course, if you want it for naughty reasons, best not to destroy it. xD"
<OOC> Myrana says, "Or let people know you have it."
<OOC> Nin-galad says, "OKAY. So."
<OOC> Nin-galad says, "What we're going to do is Abra and I shall shimy up the rope. He's going to put up an illusion so the book looks like it is still there and ready Grease while I sneak in with a flask of Alchemist's fire."
<OOC> Nin-galad says, "If it goes bad, he's going to grease and I'm going to throw the flask and run like a Frenchman."
<OOC> Nin-galad says, "Helde is going to be guarding the door outside on the ground level to hack anyone who comes out."
<OOC> Nin-galad says, "We're going to /try/ and thief the book, but if it doesn't work.. FLAMES."
<OOC> Myrana says, "So Abrahil and Nin go up the rope. Helde guards the downstairs door. Abrahil stays on the rope and casts illusion of the book while Nin goes in and snatches the actual book."
<OOC> Myrana says, "Meanwhile, grease on everything in that room?"
<OOC> Heldesteth says, "Abra is readying grease, i think, incase somethign goes wrong"
<OOC> Nin-galad says, "Grease is going to be readied so Abra can just fling it."
<OOC> Myrana says, "Go ahead and pose starting on this."
 
Heldesteth mutters a prayer to his god, Lord Kisin, that they not fear death and that their weapons slice through their enemies like a hot machete through butter. He lets the small prayer wash over him, filling him and the others with a slightly more positive outlook on death and thus, able to concentrate on the task at hand a little easier. "Alright, all set for whatever happens." His scythe is out and he keeps his eyes out for trouble, standing up against the building near the door, pretending to be on guard. If something comes out that door, it is getting a gut full of angry steel.
 
GAME: Abrahil rolls climb: (5)+-1: 4
<OOC> Abrahil erps. X)
<OOC> Myrana says, "Go ahead and roll again xD"
<OOC> Nin-galad pushes Abra up the rope.
GAME: Abrahil rolls climb: (1)+-1: 0
<OOC> Abrahil dies.
<OOC> Nin-galad says, ".."
<OOC> Myrana XD
<OOC> Heldesteth XD
<OOC> Nin-galad shoves with earnesty!
<OOC> Myrana says, "Agaaaain xD"
<OOC> Myrana says, "This is the worst thing to do to him."
GAME: Abrahil rolls climb: (2)+-1: 1
<OOC> Myrana xD XD
<OOC> Abrahil dieeeees.
<OOC> Nin-galad says, "MY GOD."
<OOC> Abrahil says, "The DC is 5, too. XD"
<OOC> Abrahil is big-boned, ok! :D
<OOC> Myrana says, "Again? XD"
GAME: Abrahil rolls climb: (17)+-1: 16
<OOC> Nin-galad says, "DC5 to ride on my shoulders?"

Abrahil limbers up his arms and rubs his hands together. "Alright!" he mouths the words, and grasps hold of the rope. The gnome's weak little arms and his pudgy stomach work against him, however and he lands square on his aa...his butt! He sits there for a moment, QUITE stunned and QUITE embarrassed. His ears are pink! His nose is red! "Oh...oh dear! Well--to the mountains we'll scale!" he whispers, throwing his hand up into the air in a theatrical gesture of determination, and--giving his suspenders a strong snip! marches to the rope again!
 
 
 
 
 
<OOC> Nin-galad whispers, "Should I just carry you up it in my pose?"
<OOC> Myrana says, "Poor Abrahil xD"
<OOC> Abrahil says, "Go right ahead! XD"
<OOC> Abrahil says, "Grab him by the back of the shirt and HAUL!"
 
Nin-galad nods his head as Heldesteth moves off to the front of the building, turning his attention now to the magic gnome who remains near him. "Alright then, my little chum, up the rope we go." The High Elf stands off to the side, waiting for the gnome to clamber on up the rope ahead of him. And waiting. And waiting.

While the High Elf's face cannot be seen behind the tightly bound wrappings about his head, his stare is likely a very deadpan one as he watches the poor wizard struggle with the rope. "Alright then enough of that, up we go," he announces abruptly after watching the latest failure. Moving to the rope, one hand snaps out to take hold of it while the other finds a fistful of Abrahil's shirt. With the gnome in one hand and the rope in the other, the High Elf marches his way up the wall rather swiftly for the burden he's carrying and the awkward way he's climbing. Nonetheless, they arrive at the windowsill in short order.

"To the mounta--urk!" and the theatrical whisper is cut off by Nin grabbing Abrahil by the back of his suspenders and hauling upwards.

 
Abrahil leans against the windowsill. It takes a few moments to find his footing. It takes a few moments to find anything! His long nose twitches just over its top and he adjusts his lenses with a shaking hand. "What adventure!" he mouths, but does not say. And squinting, begins to wriggle his fingers, aiming them at the book on the far wall.
      
<OOC> Myrana says, "Move Silently from Nin"
<OOC> Nin-galad quietly makes a sacrifice. A good one.
GAME: Nin-galad rolls move silently: (18)+8: 26
 
Heldesteth looks up as the pair get up the rope, shaking his head. He hopes they can get the book without any trouble. He would love to get back to the frontline and carve through some foes! Not that he is malicious or anything... Just impatient and feeling a bit out of place in the area of sneaking around. He prefers straight forward killin'.
ooc Okay, you manage to get in through the window quietly and up to the book.

<OOC> Myrana says, "Okay, you manage to get in through the window quietly and up to the book."
<OOC> Abrahil says, "Should Ab try casting? He's aiming to make a copy of the book right next to where it exists, so Nin can easily grab the real one."
<OOC> Myrana nods.
<OOC> Abrahil okay's!
GAME: Abrahil casts silent image.
 
Nin-galad places a single finger against his hidden lips as he looks the gnome before slowly, carefully, prying open the window and with practiced ease, slipping into the room with no more noise than a shadow. Just as noiselessly, he picks his way through those laying sprawled about the room in the grip of deep sleep. In one hand, the flask of alchemist's fire is held at the ready while his other remains free as he moves up to the book curiously. He takes a few seconds to scan it over, along with the base it rests on, checking for any traps. Traps that might send up an unholy cacophony and rouse the entire neighbourhood.

Apparently there are none, because he snatches the book up and begins to make his way back to the window.
The round little mage wriggles round little fingers and with a whispered flourish! a bit of fae light swirls into place, briefly, over the table with the book. A second copy appears just nearby, silent and unmoving--but to Nin perhaps strangely hollow. The stuff of illusions. And then the mage begins to prep his second wish of the arcane sea.

GAME: Nin-galad rolls move silently: (8)+8: 16
GAME: Myrana rolls 1d20: (18): 18
GAME: Myrana rolls 1d20+1: (19)+1: 20
GAME: Myrana rolls 1d20+1: (18)+1: 19
GAME: Myrana rolls 1d20+1: (11)+1: 12
GAME: Myrana rolls 1d20+2: (15)+2: 17
GAME: Myrana rolls 1d20+2: (17)+2: 19
 
 
SNRF! "Oh... Hildebrun...."
 
 One of the orcs rolls over on the floor, one which Nin-galad had just nimbly stepped over a second ago. "Wh...why'y'gotta be so cold, piglet...?" He mumbles in his sleep. And scoots closer to the Hobgoblin he's sleeping next to, snuggling up like a huge greenish-grey burrito-bug in a dirty blanket. He throws an arm with further mumblings in Goblin...
 
 And that's when the orc puts a big tusky kiss on the back of the Hobgoblin's head, waking him up. The hobgoblin sits up, swearing and rubbing the back of his head with an orange hand.
 
 "Damnit Gros, I TOLD you I don't spo-- OH HOLY SHIT!"

The hobgoblin tries to get to his feet, slapping the orc awake and letting out a yelp upon seeing the black-clad elf in the middle of the room. "Wake up wake up!"
 
<OOC> Myrana says, "You get a surprise round."
<OOC> Abrahil will release grease/sudden widen, and drop the other spell?
<OOC> Abrahil looks up. Well, after Nin. You and your high Dex, Nin! I'll get you yet! XD
<OOC> Nin-galad says, "As soon as the grease hits these buggers, I'm flinging that flask at the ground. Roman candles!"
GAME: Myrana rolls 1d20-1: (12)+-1: 11
<OOC> Nin-galad says, "Or, if the grease'll catch as it hits the fire, I'll fling first. Whichever really."
GAME: Myrana rolls 1d20+1: (20)+1: 21
GAME: Abrahil casts grease.
GAME: Myrana rolls 1d20+1: (4)+1: 5
GAME: Myrana rolls 1d20: (19): 19
GAME: Myrana rolls 1d20: (11): 11
GAME: Myrana rolls 1d20: (8): 8
<OOC> Abrahil catches a 20' square. X)
<OOC> Myrana says, "Those were inits for after the surprise round.  
<OOC> Myrana says, "Okie... hold on a second."
 
Myrana has cleared initiatives.

<OOC> Myrana says, "Rolls from everyone again? I'm sorry ^^;"

Nin-galad rolls initiative: Roll: 14 + Bonus: 5 = Total: 19
Abrahil rolls initiative: Roll: 20 + Bonus: 7 = Total: 27  
You roll initiative for Orc1: Roll: 12 + Bonus: 1 = Total: 13
Heldesteth rolls initiative: Roll: 12 + Bonus: 1 = Total: 13

<OOC> Nin-galad says, "I think so, if you trust in my ability to just throw the alchemist's fire at my feet and run. XD"
<OOC> Myrana says, "Abrahil cast grease..."
<OOC> Myrana says, "You'd get to the window by the end of the sneak attack round"
<OOC> Myrana says, "At the beginning of round one, that's where you are, as it'll take another action to get the hell out xD"
<OOC> Myrana says, "Top of the round! Abrahil :)"
<OOC> Abrahil says, "Slide down the rope and Run Away!"
<OOC> Myrana says, "Okay! Pose it! XD"
<OOC> Myrana says, "Nin!"
<OOC> Nin-galad says, "GTFO. XD"
<OOC> Myrana says, "Helde :o"
<OOC> Myrana says, "Listen check."

Nin-galad freezes when the orcs and goblins begin to stir around him, his eyes growing a little wider as the unmistakable sound that inevitably follows being spotted reaches him. Spinning about on the spot, he looks to the goblin staring at him with wide eyes of its own before offering a single, central finger of the hand holding the flask of alchemist's fire before he hurls it to the ground, causing it to erupt into a roar of flames and cover the Elf's retreat as he lunges for the windowsill. Hopefully, that grease will be flying in any instant.

GAME: Heldesteth rolls listen: (10)+4: 14

The tiny wizard waves his hand about and points frantically to the room's interior. "Slippy-kalama-kazoo!" he cries, summoning theatrics to his voice. The arcane sea flexes lightly for such a minor request, and grease coats the floor of the room--and then again as it expands on itself. As he does, the double image of the book winks from existence, and the top thing on his mind is now--running away.
 
 

You paged Heldesteth with 'There is a huge, window-shaking GRUNT from the first floor.'

GAME: Abrahil used a Alchemist's fire.
 
You paged Heldesteth with 'WHAT TH'FUCK'S GOIN' ON UP THERE?!"'
Heldesteth pages: oh god XD
You paged Heldesteth with 'It is literally so loud it hurts your ears if you're at the door.'
You paged Heldesteth with 'And you hear something get up.'
You paged Heldesteth with 'Feel free to react to this :3'
 
<OOC> Myrana says, "Okay! So the Hobgoblins and Orcs shriek and yell and try to get out the window."

When the grease sails over his head and back towards the flames with a horrendous roar of fire as its strength and size erupts several scales, Nin-galad is already at the window. Hopefully the gnome has gotten the devil out of the High Elf's way by this point, because he leaps bodily from the room as it quickly becomes a roaring inferno. Clutching at the rope as he dives, he goes out wide and away from the now-burning building and slides down it's length as quickly as if he had fallen.
 

Heldesteth looks up and calls up as quietly as he can while still being heard by the people descending quickly, "Shit! Guys, something woke up on the first floor and it is loud and pissed! Better get to runnin before it eats you up!" He waits at the door though, scythe held high incase something comes charging out.
 
<OOC> Myrana says, "Everything in that room is pretty much toasted, though."
<OOC> Myrana says, "On the ground level..."
 

A huge, glass-shattering !!WHUMPH!! of alchemist's fire pours out of the window and lights up the night sky, turning the magical fog in the air to red and gold soup for a moment before it billows back inside, crackling and eating up the third floor of the building and all the poor unfortunate guards inside. You manage to get out of the way of the blast and down to the ground without burning yourself.


Abrahil says, "Oh...yes. Run--it sounds like such a good idea!" Abrahil pants. The round gnome doubles over, hands on his knees as he pants there at the bottom of the place they just SET ABLAZE. "There's going to be Protectorate any minute you know! Oh...oh! Let's run, run!""

<OOC> Abrahil is...going to use a Pearl to recall Silent Image. Can we find an alleyway? X)
 
THUMP
 
THUMP

THUMP

THUMP THUMP-THUMP-THUMP crk-CRSSH!!
 
 The front door of the Yellow Hawk busts off of the wall with a splintering of wood and scattering glass, taking a good deal of the wall with it as an Ogre comes barreling out, yelling at the top of his lungs. His shirt has caught ablaze and he hurtles out of the building and leaps to the ground, meaning to roll and put out the flames.
Heldesteth's warning does not go unregarded by Nin-galad as he hits the ground, abandoning the rope behind him to the flames. No time for that now. He works his long legs furiously as he bounds up to the gnome and grabs him up by the suspenders again and sets him aright. He also happens to drag him a good man paces before finally releasing the poor Abrahil from his grasp, but not until they've already wheeled out into the street proper, "Off we go, off we go."
 

GAME: Myrana rolls 1d20+1: (11)+1: 12
<OOC> Myrana says, "He doesn't seem to notice you guys"
<OOC> Myrana says, "What with being on fire."
<OOC> Myrana says, "Are you all running? Or gonna shank poor Frank? :("
<OOC> Heldesteth says, "... Cut him up or run... Cut or run... SHANKY!"
<OOC> Nin-galad is running like the devil's at his heels. XD
<OOC> Abrahil is gonna run! It's Protectorate territory after all. :3
<OOC> Abrahil will shout at the others to find a place to duck into so he can...cover it up. Or somesuch.
 
 
"Find an alley--find...oh!" Abrahil glances over his shoulder at the rolling, on-fire ogre and begins to run. He isn't as fast as the priest, or as limber as the elf, but since there's literally fire on their tails, he might just be up for attempting to fool anyone about that. "Just find a place we can duck! I'll cover the rest!" his panicked cry.
ooc If you're going to attack him, you get an autocrit I believe

<OOC> Myrana says, "If you're going to attack him, you get an autocrit I believe"
<OOC> Heldesteth says, "Oh, and I am"
<OOC> Myrana says, "Your allies are beating feet XD"
<OOC> Myrana says, "Go ahead! :3"
GAME: Heldesteth rolls 8d4+24: (22)+24: 46
 
Nin-galad has no intention of trying to stick a fork in that ogre, his only concern is getting his hollow-boned backside far far away from this inn. He does, however, have the presence of mind to keep the gnome moving along swiftly with him. If Abrahil stumbles, Nin's hand will be there to hoist him up by his suspenders and keep him going as the High Elf looks for the nearest alley before darting down it.
"Dear muffins in heaven. RUN, RUN!" And Abrahil's feet pump mightily beneath his wobbling stomach! He casts about for a place to duck into. A shadowy recess, a bit of of--anything, anything! His face is flushed and he's panting before long.

        Heldesteth looks at the flaming ogre and mumbles a prayer before jumping at the ogre with his scythe held high over his head. At last! A fresh kill! "Goodbye, nasty creature!" His scythe cleaves the ogre cleanly in half, covering the cleric in blood. "Ahhhhh. Alright, I'm good. Let's get the fuck outta here." He sheaths the scythe and follows after his companions. His work here is done, he thinks.

An errant metal rod is snatched up from the wall of a building where it rests near some jumbled piles of crates as Nin-galad thunders down the alley. His reason becomes obvious as he uses it to prise open a sewer grate from a good distance, flinging both grate and rod far aside before he reaches them. This enables the slim, nimble Elf to drop down into a slide and slither down into the open hole in the alley. There is no splash when he vanishes from sight into the darkness, however. Obviously, he had no intention of stepping through a river of brown trout and has found a ledge to skitter along in the blackness.