CriticalFumble.net Forums  

Go Back   CriticalFumble.net Forums > Play-by-Post Games > The Inquisitives

The Inquisitives Rhakir's PBEM game.

Reply
 
Thread Tools Display Modes
  #1  
Old 07-21-2012, 11:40 AM
Rhakir's Avatar
Rhakir Rhakir is offline
Eerily quiet...
 
Join Date: Dec 2006
Location: Where I belong...
Posts: 1,416
Rhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant future
Arrow Inquisitives - Turn 17

Halflings at the office

[Round 4]

[Rh: There is currently only one halfling (number 8 on the map) left awake. All the other halflings and all of the raptors are either asleep or dead at this point.]

14 - Wireburn

Wireburn stepped over the growing pile of bodies to reach the last halfling still conscious. His sword flashed in the morning light, momentarily blinding the Talenta warrior. Wireburn held the position, blade cleanly passed through, his body tense, waiting. A solid blow like that once cut through a charging warhorse, the construct mused. Those were the days...
Spoiler!


When the warforged did move aside, the halfling was still staring, immobilised, kneeling with a short bow in a slack hand. Blood began pouring from the diagonal slash across his body until finally, the corpse fell over drained of life...

[Rh: As all the remaining halflings and raptors are either asleep or dead, there are no more opponents to face. This has effectively ended the melee rounds. Now to deal with the aftermath...]

Durion looked on from the window across the void, holding the sniper’s bow and satchel in clenched fist, satisfied by the finality of Sir Wireburn’s last stroke, Yes, the battle was over, but there was much to do yet. The wounded needed attention, and the surviving enemy must still be dealt with.

The elf looked around for the glidewing and let loose a shrill whistle. He had no idea how he knew to do that, but it certainly had the desired effect; the pterosaur wheeled about and swooped below the window. Durion leapt off and landed in the saddle again. He grasped the reigns and guided the beast back to the office to see to his companions...
Spoiler!


Upon hearing Altus’ cry, Hawksley turned and sprinted flat out towards him, reaching into his pockets for his alchemical supplies.

Hearing Altus, Anselm cursed his luck. He hadn’t prepared a slow poison or a cure poison potion. He would have to remedy that in the coming days. In the meantime, he helplessly looked on.

So Anselm busies himself with binding up the sleeping halflings. Once the sleeping are tied together, he searches the dead ones for clues.

June ran to Mardu and cast a critical eye over him. There was so much blood, but she knew most of it was reptilian or halfling. They shared a significant look that spoke volumes without words. The half-orc placed a hand on her shoulder and drew the sorceress close in a crushing embrace before they both turned to se to the priestess.

The Deneith guards quickly joined Anselm in securing the halflings. They were careful not to wake any of the warriors or beasts as they used reigns and rope and whatever else they could find on their prisoners to bind the diminutive adversaries...

Upon reaching the office door, Hawksley say Altus kneeling down, cradling Raena. She looked pale and ragged, even though the wound in her side was clearly not open. The paladin must’ve channelled his divine energies into healing the priestess, but it was clear that she was far from out of danger. The wolf was standing next to them, a worn leather satchel in its teeth. Golden eyes studied the inquisitive, and it lowered the satchel to the floor and backed away.

Hawksley cast a critical, assessing eye upon Raena, taking in her colour, breathing and a myriad other diagnostic indicators. Without turning from his task, he addressed the paladin”

“Do you have the weapon? With a sample of the poison?”

As he spoke, he set his alchemical tools out, ready at hand, and spared a quick moment to look at the contents of the satchel that the wolf was clearly indicating as important.

The bag contained a field medic kit, military issue, much added to with random packets of herbs and roots; small vials of clear liquid neatly labelled as ‘Alcohol’ or ‘Pure Water’ or ‘Hydrochloric Acid .5%’; there were packets of unguents and soft bladders with soothing oils; rolls of bandages and a small surgical kit were neatly packed away in a waterproof liner. The name sewn into the inside of the cover proclaimed it as the property of Antos Keldoran, Scout for the Royal Brelish Army. [Rh: Full and well stocked healer’s kit.]

Altus pointed to the arrow on the floor next to them. The only remarkable thing about it was the fact that it was nearly one-third blade, and thoroughly covered in Raena’s blood.

Hawksley picked up the arrow, held it up to the light and gave it a quick sniff. His eyes narrowed and he looked at Raena again. “Blue whinnis”, he muttered under his breath. He had his alchemical kit half-way out of his pocket, when he smacked himself in the head. Shoving the one kit back into place, he rummaged around and pulled out a different leather case. He opened it and took out a small vial.

“Altus, hold her... this will treat the poison. I am presuming you can manage her wounds after that, yes?”

The paladin nodded grimly. “I hope that’ll work...”

Hawksley administered the remedy. He then carefully wrapped and pocketed the arrow. Looking around, he noticed Han. His eyes widened momentarily at the severity of his injury. Grabbing the healing kit, he ran over, calling out:

“Han! Sit! Don’t move! You’re badly hurt!”

While they were dealing with the wounded, Wireburn took some rope to bind the hands and feet of the remaining sleeping halflings. He received assistance from the Deneith guards for this. Their sleeping bodies were placed in a line on the ground, hands above their heads, so that when they woke up, all of their hands could be viewed at once. The sleeping raptors were dispatched without
hesitation.

“This is the part of heroic battles that nobody ever wants to talk about,” said Wireburn quietly to himself, as he raised and plunged his blade into yet another raptor.

Han stood around trying to stay out of the way. He was neither a healer nor a warrior, so had no experience in either matter. [Rh: He is also bleeding, with an arrow in his side that cost him a serious amount of hit points...]

***
__________________
Pessimism is just an ugly word for pattern recognition...

Necessity is the mother of moral reletivism...
Reply With Quote
  #2  
Old 07-21-2012, 11:46 AM
Rhakir's Avatar
Rhakir Rhakir is offline
Eerily quiet...
 
Join Date: Dec 2006
Location: Where I belong...
Posts: 1,416
Rhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant future
Default Interlude

Despite the size of the fist hitting the tabletop, the heavy oak furniture jumped from the angry impact. The private dining room suddenly fell silent, as all those present seemed to be afraid to draw breath. All eyes were on the diminutive crimelord at the head of the dining table.

“Twelve? Twelve!” Saidan Boromar growled, his hand still curled in a fist. “You took twelve of our kin and led them to slaughter! I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are, cousin. Twelve! Could anyone have screwed this up any more than you have?”

“Saidan, I’m sorry--” Damian pleaded, but the rope around his neck was yanked sharply from behind, nearly choking him. He was humiliated by the defeat at the bridge, and even more so at being treated like a dog by his cousin’s enforcer. Dravin smiled down at him, clearly pleased with himself. Gods, how he hated that human.

“Do you have any idea how this will look, Damian? You killed one of Verducci’s boys,” Saidan raged. “What do you think is going to happen? Do you think Varducci will simply look the other way? No, you’ve just started a war with the half-urrk, you half-wit. We had him where we wanted him, and now he’s going to take this to the Street instead of playing The Game. I swear, I’m going to break one of your bones for every one of ours that gets hurt as a result of your petty attempt at revenge! Get him out of my sight.”

Damian choked down another apology, choosing to remain silent rather than give his handler a reason to inflict more pain on him. He’d already had a few ribs cracked when Dravin brought him in, and he had no doubt that Saidan would keep his word to visit pain upon him for screwing things up. He kept quiet as he was dragged out of the room.

“We did find some interesting things out by watching,” a young woman said to Saidan’s left, breaking the tableau. The human was fiery-haired and slender, and she toyed with a wineglass as she leaned back in her chair.

“The young man didn’t cast any spells, as your cousin suspected,” she purred. “He might be a Kalashtar, or the like. Either way, we know how to deal with his kind. The warforged is covered in adamantine plating. He’s too well protected to attack head on and will require different tactics to deal with. The Deneith guards were hired by the young man to protect the priestess from you. They can be dispatched easily enough. The half-urrk and golden haired sorceress are obviously attached at the hip. Hurt one and you control the other. The artificer belongs to House Cannith and is worth his weight in gold to them. The wolf was strange, but it took off, so I don’t believe it’ll be a problem any longer. The paladin is stoic and predictable, of course. The elf, on the other hand, is very unpredictable. How he knew the assassin was there I’ll never know. Who was that, anyway? Not one of yours, I assume.”

“No, not one of mine,” Saidan replied. He too had wondered about the archer that had nearly killed the priestess. Damian didn’t hire that man, and it was more than a little puzzling to the crimelord. But he was not about to admit that to the girl. “And what of the changeling?” he asked, changing the subject. “Will he be a problem?”

“Don’t worry about him. I spoke to him already. He won’t be a problem at all,” Shae said with a wicked smile.

“Just make sure the priestess isn’t killed by one of our own. The Emperor would have my head if that happened.” He almost managed to keep his face straight. “If it were up to me, she would’ve been dead for turning down the insurance, but she’s apparently important to him now.”

“Of course she is,” Shae said as she sipped at the Aundarian white. “We wouldn’t want to upset his royal highnessness now, would we...”

***
__________________
Pessimism is just an ugly word for pattern recognition...

Necessity is the mother of moral reletivism...
Reply With Quote
  #3  
Old 07-21-2012, 11:46 AM
Rhakir's Avatar
Rhakir Rhakir is offline
Eerily quiet...
 
Join Date: Dec 2006
Location: Where I belong...
Posts: 1,416
Rhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant futureRhakir has a brilliant future
Default Regrouping

As with all things that involve violence in Sharn, the Watch was summoned. Eventually. Of course, one member of the law enforcement community was already present, and the half-orc intercepted the arriving watchmen to brief them on what had occurred. June never left Mardu’s side, though she did remain quiet through his report.

“So you see, Sergeant,” Mardu concluded, “We were forced to act in self-defence and the defence of others against an unprovoked attack.”

Sergeant Hurik Narathun looked up at the half-orc, taking measure of the report. He stroked his short beard thoughtfully as his team milled about uncertainly behind him. The dwarf knew Sergeant Mardu Tharashk fairly well, and knew of his honorable reputation.

“There will be lot of paperwork on this,” Narathun muttered. “Especially with all the dead lizards. Was necessary to killing them all?”

“We didn’t want to risk any of them coming to and attacking anyone else. Would you want a riderless clawfoot on the loose?” Mardu commented evenly. He really hadn’t planned on killing the raptors, but Sir Wireburn was being efficient and thorough after the attack, and he really couldn’t blame the warforged.

“No. Is making sense. Need to be filling report properly,” Narathun grumbled as he waved his men forward. “Being sure to round halflings up,” he told them. “I don’t want to be hearing you have ‘misplaced’ any, small as they are. We will send for wagon to clear the meat. Perhaps we are making profit at slaughterhouses, no?” Only one of the watchmen laughed at the joke...

The three House Deneith guards maintained position at the door of the inquisitive office while the Watch collected the captive halflings. The archer kept a wary eye on the glidewing that was perched on the balustrade directly in front of them. He was pretty certain the beast was watching him too, with a hungry eye. He wondered what the elf planned on doing with the pterosaur.

Raena paced restlessly despite everyone insisting she sit and rest. She wasn’t nearly as pale as she had been not too long ago, but she was still feeling worn and drawn. The metallic taste in the back of her throat was a lingering reminder of the poison in her system. Or was it the antitoxin that Mr Quinn had given her, she wondered idly. She had cast a Lesser Restoration upon herself, but she still felt weak and sluggish. Maybe it was all in her head.

“Thank you all for what you’ve done,” she said to the motley crew assembled in the office when Mardu and June returned. Hawksley had just finished making tea for everyone and was searching for a serving tray in the cabinet. Sir Wireburn was nearby, hunched over his sword, patiently working out the nicks in the blade with a special whetstone. Anselm was admiring the craftsmanship of the large desk while Han recuperated on the sofa. Altus leaned against the back wall as casually as he could manage, but still appeared very tense. Durion stood next to the couch ramrod straight with his hat under his arm, watching everyone with a critical eye. Oddly enough, the wolf was nowhere to be seen.

“I feel guilty that you’ve all been dragged into this,” the priestess continued, acutely aware that all eyes were on her again. “If I hadn’t stood up to that halfling extortionist, the bugbear might still be alive, and none of this would’ve happened. I’m afraid of how this will all turn out after what just happened. If that was what happens when you stand up to one Boromar, what will happen after standing up to a raiding party of Talenta halflings?...”

[Responses? Comments? Actions?]

***
__________________
Pessimism is just an ugly word for pattern recognition...

Necessity is the mother of moral reletivism...
Reply With Quote
Reply

Thread Tools
Display Modes

Posting Rules
You may not post new threads
You may not post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts

BB code is On
Smilies are On
[IMG] code is On
HTML code is Off

Forum Jump


All times are GMT -4. The time now is 10:01 AM.


Powered by vBulletin® Version 3.8.2
Copyright ©2000 - 2018, Jelsoft Enterprises Ltd.
Copyright on all original post text belongs to the poster.