The cleric did not take kindly to being attacked. When she felt the impact of the blast, she snapped around to glare at the Constable as the spiritual dagger to his backside made her fury known... by missing him entirely. He didn't even need to dodge the blow, it simply swung at air. Another flub like this and Marita was going to scream. She was already angry enough with everything Cavendish had done up until now and his grating attempts at witty wordplay. Perhaps he thought himself a jester with all the quips that spewed from his mouth. She could only hope that giving him a real sense of danger by stabbing him would get him to shut his trap.

However, her anger aside, she wasn't going to rush through the fire and rats to get to him. That would simply be foolish. She could also attempt to get out of range of his attacks, either by finding cover or making more space, but she didn't like that either. Right now, the fact that he was targeting her meant that he wasn't going after the people they were trying to protect as they hopefully fled to safety. So she would leverage that, at least for now. Marita resolved to stand her ground and put her shield up, ready to defend against whatever new attacks he might throw her way.

@Sigil V's up

Victoria took some stock of her surroundings, as best she could from her spot crouching behind a barrel. The cover was extremely useful and gave her an okay vantage point for her odds and ends of Necromancy, but it held another interesting quality - it allowed her almost unrestricted views of her teammates at first. Form there, the Bard could hear their efforts to hack apart the wooden enclosures which held the captured townsfolk. This was punctuated every so often by the discharge of crackling black energy with which Cavendish peppered those he could see. Worse than this, he seemed to have approximated her trick of commanding a swarm of rats from the greater massing of the furry beasties to roll over Kathryn, nipping at her as she still tried to free the prisoners. To his credit, Cavendish's rats were still living. That wasn't a trick that she could accomplish.

But despite this relentless attack, the only one continuing to combat the Constable was Marita. Even Victoria herself was merely attempting to distract and provide him nagging difficulty. Then it dawned on the Bard - Only one person was fighting back. One. There was no point in playing a support role with her limited (and fast dwindling) arcane resources if there was no one to support, except for the other party member who was suited to a supporting role, herself.

Thinking back, Victoria's mind flashed to the smug and condescending Shadow Monk who berated her for getting into the thick of things in the Goblin fight a couple of days prior. There was a reason that she did what she did, and that reason was showing itself again. She gave a quick and quiet supplication to the gods with which she was most familiar; Wee Jas, Jergal, Libitina, the Elven god Naralis Alanor, and even stern, judgemental Kelemvor (though they had some fundamental differences in philosophy). The Lady of Ravens was given a nod in her thoughts as well. "I've often wondered which of you would claim me," she whispered. "Whomever does, please take me quickly and let me die well."

Victoria took up her sword and rose, stepping to her left to fully interpose the two upright barrels between herself and Cavendish. The presence of her preferred magic had already began to show on her face; the grey-black color of ancient bone pooling around her crystal blue eyes and spilling downward, as if darkened tears of one in profound mourning. She had accomplished this with cosmetics the night before. It came naturally now as her soul reached into the Weave to pluck and rearrange the flow of magic to assist her needs, and she dipped into the teachings of the Grey Requiem. What power Victoria had left, she intended to hurl at the wicked Constable.

Perhaps it was her sense of Neutral detachment that brought her to this decision. She didn't have any hard feelings for the prisoners, and in fact had bonded with little Lizbeth enough that she would do whatever she might to bring her aunt back to her. But the prisoners were absolutely not her priority right then. They could be saved at leisure (for the most part) after the factor which threatened them was eliminated. If the others were unwilling to to this, then the Bard would stand with Marita and pour her outrage upon Cavendish until nothing remained.

The first action the took was to address the Cleric. her voice cut across the battlefield with presence and clarity, demonstrating the force of her personality. "This thing is not a Constable any longer, Marita. It isn't even a Human anymore. Cavendish surrendered his humanity for power and contradicted every promise he made to this town to aid and defend its people. He betrayed the Law he swore to uphold and you are in exactly the right place, at the right time, to make him answer for this betrayal. Drop the hammer on this monster. We can beat him. I will help you."

Her second action was to sing. Vocalizations of scales at first, quickly becoming a more complex tune as it penetrated the ears of everyone around her. It seemed to echo for a moment, coming from the air around Cavendish, yet the echo sustained and grew louder as Victoria's voice became quiet. All at once, a splintering, cracking sound punctured the air, like a great glass bowl shattering upon a stone floor. Splits in Cavendish's skin opened in jagged formations and several (but not all) of the undead swarm of rats fell from him; a tradeoff made for the sake of hurting him.

Victoria was now exposed, and as such was a viable target who had just damaged this vindictive, magic-weilding Wererat. But even in this potentially foolish move, there was a glimmer of hope. For the first time in this fight, Cavendish stooped and took heaving breaths. He was hurt, and was finally showing clear signs of it.



Marita now has Bardic Inspiration (1d6).

@Remipa Awesome Kathryn is free to do stuff.

Kathryn wouldn't say she disliked rats in particular before the events of this quest. Sure, rats tore into pantries, and bold rats would steal from any fool not paying attention to their belongings, but as this quest went on, she was developing a distaste for the creatures for sure. She caught Cavendish complaining about something, reminded her of villain monologues from her old storybooks. She wasn't here to feed his ego though, she was here to save people. As he sword and broke out, Kathryn heard the ticking and scratching before she felt it. Taking a moment to bend over and look down, a feat of its own with how her helm rested on her head, she couldn't believe her eyes at first. Then it clicked as the rats began to tear at her through the gaps in her armor. "No! Shite Shite Shite fucking Shiteheads! Fucking shite fuck shite fuck." Kathryn wouldn't say she was panicking, but she wasn't far off. She didn't know if it was the feeling of something breaching her armor, or the fact that is was something so small and that she would normally consider inconsequential. But she was spooked none the less. In a moment of clarity, she realized that maybe trying to whack the creatures off herself with the hammer was a poor idea.

Taking her shield, she pressed it to her chest before forcefully sliding the shield down her person, forcing off the rodents and sending them to the ground. She needed another push or two to make sure they got off her legs, but seemed to have cleared them up rather fast before too much damage could be done. Once she cleared herself of the infestation, she prepared to give the cage another blow, only to stop when the distorted sound had come about. It sounded like the world was falling apart, ready to collapse and cave in on itself. Magic was truly an impressive feat, but it was also a terrifying one. Kathryn taking a moment to look about, she saw the carnage caused, and almost wanted to pity the former constable. Almost. Taking note of Victoria being exposed again, she realized that they were very close to a recreation of the goblin encounter. Only this time it was a crazed power hungry warlock. With trained knowledge of how to kill.

Kathryn deciding the best course of action was to prevent just that, she kicked off a rat still clinging to her boot and pushed her way tot he constable to apply pressure against him. Practically bouncing off the tree next to her as she moved around the barrels, and stomped through the piles of rats both living and dead to bring herself closer. If he wanted to dish out a blow, he would be hard pressed to get a shot off around the half giant warrior. And a damn fool. The distance was nearly closed, and given the chance, she would begin to pound into him as if he were some sort of carnival game. She hoped his ability with a short sword was less than that of the blast he gave Kosara... She also found, her boot was back ontop of more rats. A thought that very much did not please her. But she made sure to lock eyes with Cavendish, and make sure he knew wish wish was granted, and he had her full attention.

@Sigil Kathryn is all good to go! No problems whatsoever! Setting up for a perfectly safe turn! Cavendish may cower in fear now. c:

As much as Cavendish was anxious to get back to the slaughter, there was more than a little regret as the magic from the pretty Half-Elf ripped into him, and everything around him. Bodies of more of his diminutive rat companions were cleft fully through, including the undead ones which were assailing his person, but deep furrows also cut his flesh in ways that connected and spiderwebbed like broken glass. It was then that he remembered the flash of purple that clouded his brain from the last time they tussled, filling him with whispers that he swore he recognized from previous victims. The spectral dagger that bobbed and weaved around him was not forgotten either; a potentially painful gift from the now obvious Cleric on the other side of the fire. It was only a matter of time before it scored a hit on his flesh, and this knife's cut would stay open and bleeding when it did.

To his estimation, they couldn't have had a lot of fight left in them, and if they stayed away because of the rats and the fire, he could pick them off with some expertly aimed Eldritch Blasts. There were two potential targets that might have been able to overpower him - okay, at least match him if they worked together - and one of them didn't seem to want a thing to do with him. Yes, the Constable could pull a win out of this. Even with the Bard's painful and unpredictable spell set, she HAD to be reaching her limit. Not a lot of magical staying power, those musicians.

But damn if they hadn't taken a lot out of him. He still had some tricks, and he did remember the near one-shot kill he delivered to the Tiefling. He could do that again readily enough. Yeah, Cavendish had this fight. And if they wanted to ignore him again, well... the prisoners wouldn't fare as well against black, crackling, eldritch magic.

Oh, and the glee that took his features when the tall one knocked the live rats off of herself and finally came forward was remarkable. Judging by her uneven gait around the fire and through the rats, she wasn't going to quite make it to him before he gave a parting gift to the ones farther back. This did not stop him from gripping his shortsword with expert dexterity and adopting a lower stance in anticipation of the melee to come.

But first! The parting gift.

He barely glanced his eyes away from Kathryn's approach. It was just long enough to select an appropriate target - one who had not felt the sting of his wrath yet, and obliterate her. It was only fair, singing those mortally painful tunes. He strafed to his left about ten or so feet to line up with the suddenly emboldened Bard and released a torrent of magical energy toward her. "Dance away from these," he hissed, the twin ebon snakes of eldritch power sizzling their way toward Victoria. Her trained agility did allow her to barely sidestep one of the blasts, but she caught the full force of the other squarely in the center of her torso, impacting with the force of a powerfully swung maul.

The sight of his most recent attacker in explosive pain seemed to energize the wire-furred form of the Rat Constable. With a sneer of contempt, he fixed his gaze between Marita and Kathryn, exclaiming, "I believe I've found my Second Wind. Come at me!"



- Victoria has taken 13 points of Force damage.

- Areas to the north that are aflame or containing rats are still considered Difficult Terrain, with appropriate movement penalties. The flames have additional, quite painful penalties for being walked through.




From a dark place (and it's always a dark place, isn't it?) a muffled twang of a crossbow probably wasn't heard over the ambient sounds of battle going on. The bolt was readily enough felt by its intended target, however, sinking mercilessly into Tiefling flesh, seemingly out of nowhere. It was Sneaky. And it was an Attack. Luckily, it wasn't as vital a strike as it could have been. Whereupon its firer stood, none could say definitively. Wererats were rather adept at hiding, be it among trees, the detritus of urban decay, or in the shadows.


- Kosara has taken 8 points of Piercing damage.

@rivaan Kosara is up. Per usual, give me a tag so I can "Top O' Round" us, please.

Whatever Kosara’s state of mind was following her near brush with death and recovery, the adrenaline and the hectic attempt at getting back to speed of the fight, it was suddenly brought to a momentary grinding halt when from somewhere on her left...ish direction a bolt came sailing over and puncturing into her.” AH!” She grunted as the thing bypassed easily her non existent armor and only briefly reacting to the mage armor as a flickering light had indicated the bolt had punctured through the magical barrier. This naturally caused Kosara to conclude that NO, this was NOT a good direction to go if the rats had good angle at her from between the damn trees and she couldn’t see it. So she did the opposite and jumped out of the treeline, making a dash around the cage, blood flowing down her left side, mixing with the blood from her earlier wounds, but showing the bolt sticking out of her.” Rats in the trees!” She exclaimed as she passed by V.

Not halting her movement much despite being injured, Kosara did a spin on her heel just after passing the bard, catching brief sight of Cavendish on the distance where he was boasting about something or other again. He did like the sound of his voice. Reminded her of the more prideful and self centered bards she had seen back home at times.” Celestial Blast!” She fired without even registering she had done so, a sort of instinct almost, she had barely noted the blast going wide before she jumped to the right and right in front of Daisy.” Heya. Lemme help here!” She quipped, looked around and readied her sword to deliver her next blow after she catches a bit of a moment to breath. Her front was bloody and now she was bleeding again on the side, bolt sticking out of her, so her expression was just a bit strained. It would have been so easy if she could explode things like V.

All things considered… she wondered when it would be over. Fighting was tiring it seemed. Kosara now just wanted to help the townfolk and have this be over with. Get some rest… maybe a bath. Yes a good long BATH…. But not a shower. No she wanted to soak into warm if not hot water…. She blinked, scattering thoughts away as she realized that maybe… blood loss was a thing and it was making it even harder to focus than usual.

@Sigil There we go

Several events occurred in the intervening seconds between brutal attacks across the battlefield. The fire which lit the tree aflame had completely engulfed the leafy mass now, turning it into a furious but temporary inferno which quite effectively illuminated the open areas of the square. Luckily, the fire had not yet spread to the other trees in its vicinity. This is likely only a matter of time.

Traveling more than a couple feet into the vegetation does wonders to interfere with this uncommon clarity of nighttime vision in this once cheerful town center, as was attested to by the sudden pincushioning of the party's Tiefling Warlock from an unseen assailant. Still, the field of combat was nice and toasty.

Cavendish remained in his anthropomorphic rodent form. His every arrogant syllable issued forth with more guttural hissing than in his otherwise preferred Human shape, but still unmistakably him, provincial accent and all. He was bereft of the undead rats which had plagued him just earlier and was sneering from his relative success blasting the stuffing out of the Bard. Maybe this would cease the bits and snatches of music that, in his mind, were patently ridiculous in a situation like this. His attention was divided between his ranged adversaries and the one which closed to meet him. Cavendish's face twitched into a smile. He brandished a vicious looking shortsword in one hand and let the other trail behind him. This was an opponent that he wanted to humiliate.

The cage to the right was peppered with damage in a couple of different spots. The majority of the damage was on the southernmost side, alongside the shortsword-wielding Halfling cook, Daisy. Tired beyond her previous imaginings, she barely found the strength to lift her borrowed weapon once more and continue hacking at that one spot on the cage. This time, she nearly got through. Daisy's eyes rose at just the right time to see Kosara rush right upon her, prompting the much smaller woman to scramble back to keep from getting trampled. "What?" she chirped, clearly surprised. "I almost have this! Please, just keep those monsters away from us!" she pleaded, looking around to see if anyone was still fighting on their behalf.

The lefthand cage was now open enough to get the Human population therein safely thereout, and they took advantage of this. Beppo, obviously in much worse shape than the others, had to be supported by the burlesque performer and, off and on, by Cecily. The vintner herself kept looking back to those who had already done her great service, wishing she could do more for them. Ultimately, she did move along with the rest of them, taking the route suggested by Baronfjord. The fisherman, ever a man of few words, took up the rear. He gave a quick twirl of his stout fishing rod and flexed his arms, as a localized breeze caught and ruffled the brim of his wide fishing hat in a manner most heroic. He glanced to the other prisoners escaping and then to the Dragonborn Monk, and spoke in dutiful tones, "Nice day for fishin'." He nodded, and moved to cover the escape of his small group of townsfolk.



@Arty Fox Baronfjørd - Time to... stuff. Epically.

The might crash of music, and then an explosion of noise, cut through everything else around. Even behind the empty cage, Blackberry was almost forced to grind his teeth to stop them from rattling in his skull. A moment after he could hear the cries of the others as they fought against Cavendish. It was infuriating how useless he felt at that moment, he had taken one hell of a beating and now hiding with his tail between his legs, even if he could get close enough his attacks seemed unlikely to do any actual damage.

The first moment I get, I must learn a spell.

He eyes flickered between the cage on the other side still filled with hostages and to Kathryn striding across fire and death towards Cavendish. He looked on in horror as a stream of darkness tore through Victoria. As much as his own swelling bruises and wounds hurt, the that that someone else could be injured whilst he could still fight hurt even more. He had to act.

He cast a quick glance back towards the hostages to see them making their escape. And to give the the brilliant Fisherman a respectful nod. Perhaps there were somethings near water that weren’t so bad.

BlackBerry (quickly shunting away several thoughts) then tightened his grip on the broken pole. It wouldn’t do much but it could get the damn ruffians attention away from the others. He surged forwards, tucking the pole under his arm, past Marita and back out into the open battlefield with fiery limbs billowing out behind him. He raced over towards the armoured shape of Kathryn he could see beyond the spilled and unspilled barrels of flames, fire hungrily devouring one of the felled Beasts as he passed by.

“Fancy teaching me a tune after this?” He threw a comment to Victoria while leaping past. “Or perhaps just the encore?”

Blackberry drew next to the nearest unspilled barrel and, revolving around it without stopping, raised the pole up from under his arm and loosened his grip slightly letting a third of the pole slip into fiery liquid. The intense heat of the red flames licking at the tender blue scales of his hand and forearm made him draw an involuntary gasp of pain through his teeth. His flight continued sidelong through the two barrels bringing into view the horrifying sight the wreathing mass of rats, both dead and alive. Thankfully, his foot came down beyond them and the creeping pool of fire to his left. With the lit pole high above his head he took one more step forward to keep the momentum going and, with a twist at the hips which carried up to his shoulders, pulling the pole backwards for a moment to beside his face to line up the shot. He hurled it forwards.

The pole streaked past Kathryn and into Cavendish without much fanfare beside the flames from the pole latching onto him.


@Sigil your turn, please be gentle

Yeah, still nowhere to be seen overtly, covertly, or otherwise. Maybe it's good news. Maybe it isn't. Maybe he's stuck in a huge cage with a great, horned, alien beast bent on doing unspeakable things to him while a child nonchalantly offers him a lollipop. Who can say? Only time will tell, and whatnot. Unless it doesn't. Time doesn't owe any of us shit, let alone a polite conversation.

@Dragoknighte Marita's turn.

The suddenly discharge of a crossbow bolt and its path through the trees snapped Marita's attention away from Cavendish. The two guards had spent so long out of sight, she had assumed they had run off long ago. This single bolt so far into the conflict did not bode well. The cleric's focus changed from avoiding an attack by the constable to attempting to spot the location of at least one of the other combatants. If she could find them, they could better avoid getting shot at while dealing with the warlock.

As her eyes scanned through the trees, she made sure to have her weapon make another attack on the rat to keep him from getting complacent. Perhaps because her attention was split, her dagger failed yet again to draw blood, although this time it at least managed to make contact, bouncing off of his armor, just a degree or two off from finding its way into a weak point. Furthermore, despite her best efforts, she was not able to see any indication of the marksmen, the gloom of the night and fog successfully obscuring them, even with the light of the fire to provide the human-sighted some aid.

@Sigil V

OUCH. This amount of concentrated pain was new to Victoria. She had suffered greater collective hurts prior to this day, but the single blast of black, eldritch energy took a lot out of her. The fact that she was still more-or-less on her feet was amazing to her. She had to have broken a couple of ribs, thanks to the sudden difficulty in inflating her lungs without a sharp report answering her attempt. The damage otherwise felt intense, but at present not life-threatening. Granted, her actions practically begged for a martial response even if she thought it necessary. Too many people were ignoring the crazed wererat Warlock with the best long game out of anyone on the field. This concept fully in mind, Victoria was relieved that she was able to evade the second blast, positive that it would have resulted in her both expressing her mortality in a practical manner, and settling her internal query as to which deity of death or the dead would open their ethereal doors to her.

Maybe it would happen this night. Victoria was prepared for it, even if it would mean that she could not complete her ongoing and long-term personal goals. The idea that this might go unfinished prior to her sudden lack of vitality filled her with questions about the nature of herself and what might happen to her, but even this was academic. If it happened, it happened. There was strong preference to continue pulling air into her body (even if it hurt just now) and sample fine wines, make music, experience life in manners both studious and hedonistic, etc., but a higher priority called in that moment. The others seemed more galvanized in their need to stop the Constable, and she was about to spend the last of her abilities to assist in that very task.

First, the purple-clad Bard looked to Marita, the one who was trying from the start. Curious that she would voluntarily lean her support toward a Law Cleric, but here they were. Perhaps part of it made sense; one of her preferred sources of knowledge was the Jasidan's White Book and other such sources, all of them rather profound in their adherence to Order, if of their own making. But even this thought was immaterial in this crucial time. Drawing upon the last of her reserves, her "force of personalty", one might say, Victoria addressed the Cleric in a voice brimming with infectious confidence. "Almost got him, Marita. Just one more. One more good one and we have him dead to rights!" Her voice faltered a little toward the middle, an effect of her damaged physicality, but the resolve with which she continued shone through.

Far be it for Victoria to limit herself to merely hyping up her teammates, she moved to her right to get a better vantage on their visible opponent, as Kathryn and Baronfjord moved to take forward positions. Once a good line of sight had been established and she confirmed that she was not too far away for her dwindling spellwork to be effective, Victoria began to whisper and chant quietly, seemingly to herself though her eyes never left Cavendish. Whispered words floated across the battlefield, quiet but striking only to their intended recipient, which echoed within his mind as scattered phrases of the dead and dying; those he knew and many he did not, whispering promises of the hereafter and what horrors her would face upon his fast approaching demise. It reverberated, noises clashing upon themselves and turning into a cacophony within his psyche, driving him further and further to senselessness.

Unfortunately, he had been subjected to this very attack earlier, and was able to put up a rudimentary defense this time. The spell did not have its fullest effect, but did gently take him to a headache which felt to truly be splitting, as psychic damage caused noticeable trails of crimson to seep from his nose, mouth, and ears. Were he not in a furred, myanthropic form, one would note a blanching, pale complexion. Cavendish did look distracted as his eyes glazed and fixed in one direction, head weaving uncertainly back and forth for a moment.

Victoria could feel her abilities coming to exhaustion, sooner rather than later. At least she could retain some usefulness as a proficient wielder of a fine, silvered sword. Though she still had one trick left.



Marita has another Bardic Inspiration (1d6).

@Remipa Awesome Kathryn is up. Go be a hitter.

That Bastard. That fucking Bastard. Kathryn was going to make him regret that choice. He had a short window of opportunity to dish out punishment to Kathryn before she was in striking range of the bastard. AND! He went and targeted Victoria! Even when she was trying to get shot Victoria took the hit instead! She hoped the bard was okay... She really did. But she needed to pull Cavendish's attention off the small woman. The Thwack of a crossbow bolt could be heard. It appeared that maybe Kathryn's attempts to isolate Cavendish were not as successful as she hoped. She hoped that her luck would improve with experience. She saw it was Kosara who got hit this time. She had already taken such a beating and she worried about her too. She worried that the party didn't have the ability to take punishment as much as she hoped. The beasts had already dished out more than a fair share of punishment to much of the party. And Cavendish's and the guard's skirmishing abilities were going to be a problem.

Kathryn was surprised to see the flaming pole fly past her and into the constable. The party may be taking a beating, but Cavendish wouldn't be able to take much more either. But he was still putting up too much resistance. Kathryn, doing what she did best, was determined to cave his chain mail into his chest, knock him flat on his back, and make him yield, or send him into the dirt. Through rats both dead and alive she stormed up to him, hammer drawn, and out stretched as she prepared to strike him down. With a wide swing she gave it all she had, and had she taken a moment to calm down and take more control of her situation, she may have made her ploy less obvious. As the hammer was about ready to strike, his short blade came up to meet her. Parrying the blunt weapon, and for a brief moment, holding more control over it than she did. Though she didn't let go, the hammer was almost gracefully forced to bypass the constable. Kathryn regained her footing and made sure her visor was locked to his face. She had to remind herself that Cavendish was not only well trained, but he held experience that she likely could never comprehend. This would not be as easy as inverting what direction a goblins face is supposed to be pointing.

Deciding that maybe direct hits against the man may not work, she figured control was her best option. With her shield strapped too tightly to quickly remove, she stowed her new hammer on her belt and reached her arm behind her back for one of the nets she had purchased the day before. But she kept her shield facing the constable as she prepared her next stage of attack.

@Sigil Cavendish is up! May his dice rolls be comparable to ours. And may his go drop faster than ours…

That damned, psychic damage casting halfbreed bitch. If Cavendish had a regret that very instant, it was that the second of his Eldritch Blasts didn't connect and turn her into a fleshy pile on the cobblestones of his township. Oh, she would get hers as soon a the rest of them were stabbed within an inch or two of becoming soup. And now the mystery was solved as to what hurt his brain and made him wander out of the silversmith's place. Of course. She would get hers.

Almost as annoying as the Half-Elf was the disfigured Dragonborn. Pitiful as his attempt might have been to hurt him (and it was, to his opinion), the dull demihuman was trying new things to hurt him. And true to form, as the shard of wood was simply not up to the task of giving him more than annoyance, the bit of burning pitch on the end seared into his fur and skin handily enough. He hissed, but did not let it go any further. Like hell he would give that creature the satisfaction.

Further, the painfully inexpert attacks launched by that Cleric gave Cavendish a mote of nuanced amusement. Oh, that threat was present and the magical, floating dagger could potentially end him - but putting that into practice appeared more in the realm of the academic than the applied. So he picked and poured over the most appropriate target for his attentions as only a veteran soldier might, which right now wasn't Marita.

But Kathryn. She ticked off all the boxes on the checklist of people he wanted to outright murder, the tall strumpet in crappy armor who carried off his hammer - his hammer - during what amounted to a due application of maintaining public order. And perhaps the greatest crime of all in this horrible set of circumstances is that she couldn't even use it with anything resembling experience. This was fantastic. Cavendish could vent a serious amount of frustration gutting this armored ash tree, while simultaneously getting his favorite hammer back. This was going to be a satisfying event after all. "I'm going to pry you open," he promised, turning his particularly vicious-looking shortsword toward Kathryn like a deranged surgeon.

A spry move forward found the Constable's sword channeling Kathryn's shield out of place. It was not a full and broad opening, but enough to exploit a spot where the interlocked chain links did not cover; slipping underneath a layer of metal and padding - coming out bloody. It was not his best work, to be sure, but it was an excellent start. His follow-up attack did not fare quite as well, probing again for the soft flesh of Kathryn's torso but not getting any more then a scratch.

The Constable, in his desire to end this woman's life as succinctly as possible in a horror of broad, ragged-edged puncture wounds, suddenly felt an uncanny Surge of Action. Bright, bloodthirsty eyes gleamed as he leapt, bringing his weapon down in a forceful stabbing motion with all of the power of his weight behind it. A great, hissing, "GRRRRAAAAAAAAH!" came forth from the Wererat Constable as his blade struck true on Kathryn's skull - or it would have, except that he landed an off-angled blow upon her helmet, twisting the blade off to the side, harmlessly. His feet connected with the ground, amid the swarming rats, and the proud fighter known to mere mortals as Cavendish faltered his last attempt at an attack with an ungraceful stumble, clanging impotently against the less experienced warrior's shield. The frustrated look upon his face was priceless.

Obviously, this was NOT his finest moment.

Well, he was getting one final thing out of the way. One swarm of the rats under his thrall, upon his mental command, moved to swarm over Baronfjord to give him something to deal with, that he may continue his assault against Kathryn unabated. Another negative expression, this one of annoyance, crossed his rodenty features as the swarm couldn't quite latch their dozens of collective paws upon the Monk. They too did not have the best of luck in their endeavors.

Cavendish could at least content himself in the fact that he did spill blood. Just not as much as he might have liked.





- Kathryn has taken 6 points of Piercing damage.

- Areas to the north that are aflame or containing rats are still considered Difficult Terrain, with appropriate movement penalties. The flames have additional, quite painful penalties for being walked through.




The yell sounded across the battlefield, but not from the obscured Guard. From his master, Cavendish: "NOW!" followed by a noteworthy amount of silence from the trees. "ALL THREE OF YOU, FIRE AT WILL!" Yes, his little endgame trap was being sprung. But strangely, it ...really hadn't happened just yet.

Maybe they were going for coffee? Oh! They were just lining up perfect shots, that was all. Right?



@rivaan Kosara is up. Per usual, tag me for the Top Of Round, please.

Kosara’s sudden appearance apparently spooked out Daisy since she scampered back a step or so. She wasn’t going to trample her or something, but the tiefling wouldn’t mind.” Hmmm?” She made a sound as her arm swung at the cage’s damage bars, her trusty scimitar biting into it and she swore she’d almost get it open, but it seemed she was just a sliver shy of it.” So what were you sayin again?” She blinked having completely blanked out the girl’s initial request to leave it to her. As the words worked their way through Kosara’s mind trying to catch up with the rest of the tiefling’s racing mental thoughts, she finally registered. Mostly because she was also busy thinking about using the cage to climb up on top of it to see if she can maybe get a better look from there and jump on top of one of the rats or something if they made the bad decision to get close.

“Ohh sure! Will do that well... will try to do that.” Kosara exclaimed and squeezed past Daisy to the side of the cage readying her scimitar.” Rats in the trees that a way somewhere. Fired a crossbow at me earlier!” She pointed north behind the cage towards the trees from where she got stabbed by a flying bolt. She hadn’t forgotten that. In the chaos and noise of everything going on, Kosara heard Cavendish’s scream about people firing at will. Which meant the rats hiding in the trees were the ones to be firing. Well that was bad, but there was also something else that she couldn’t stop herself from doing, mainly because it was Cavendish.

“CAVEDISH GUY! YOU SUCK ANDYOUR NAME’S DUMB! THE COFFIN GOBLIN WAS BETTER AND MORE INTERESTING THAN YOU!” Kosara’s shouted back at the sound of Cavendish’s shouts. Hey, fancy trash talk was not her forte.

Miraculously, the fire had chosen not to spread any further in the interim moments. It still crackled and roared with hot, white noise as only a blaze of its size might, scented with the acrid aromatics of concentrated evergreen sap. It might even be considered pleasant, were it not in such overwhelming amounts.

The area within the trees holds its mysteries, and any visitors, shrouded in its shadows after more than a handful of feet within. There was at minimum one occupant, evidenced by a spent crossbow bolt from somewhere within the relative dark of the area, though it remained to be seen whether said occupant was still around; there was evidence of either circumstance being accurate.

The Constable, still in his hybrid rat form, was hissing and cursing at himself for an overall uninspired series of attacks against Kathryn. There was a more personal stake against this woman that went beyond the simple need of hurting his enemies in his field of vision. She had his hammer, and she was going to suffer for it. Rage induced adrenaline kept him upright and attacking, despite his building injuries. Even in his frustrated state, Cavendish was an experienced, professional soldier, once upon a time. He knew how to scrap with heavily armored opponents and place the point of his weapon where it would cause maximum damage. His smile, once arrogant and demeaning to those who viewed it, now carried with it a sense of determined weariness.

Daisy wielded her own shortsword, though without the same level of proficiency as the creature which held had held them all at its mercy. And it was borrowed, so to say that it was "her own" is a hair misleading. Regardless, she had one and no matter what else was going on, she was going to keep trying to free her friends. Daisy was tired, showing something near to exhaustion. This was no reason for her to stop trying to open the hastily constructed cage, and try she did. There was a mote of confusion just before when the Tiefling lady appeared from around the side of the enclosure and ran directly into the same space as she was occupying, only to ignore her, whack the cage once, and run back around another corner. But adventurers were a strange lot, if this group was any indicator. All she could do was keep swinging. Luck was finally with her as the Halfling cook hit her blade right in the last groove cut at just the right angle to finally split the wooden bar asunder. It was attached by nails to the top and bottom of the cage but was easily pushed to the side.

Lea, the tavern girl at Neil & Bob's, was the first to move the broken bar and set an unsteady foot outside of the cage. With her first taste of free air, she reached out to support the next person even as Daisy put steadying hands upon her.

The leftmost cage stood empty. The nearby fire had made it potentially more hazardous, but their luck held well enough that it did not spread that far. The former prisoners had exited the immediate area with the exception of the fisherman, who was bringing up the rear - fishing pole at the ready. He paused just long enough to see that no one who had line of sight with him was looking in his direction, silently wished them luck, and departed. It was quite possible that his internal well-wishing involved something about an early time of day, an appropriate outdoorsy activity due to favorable conditions, and a well-meaning chuckle.





@Arty Fox Baronfjørd - Do what you've gotta do. Bear in mind that a swarm of rats occupies the same area as yourself

BlackBerry could hear shouts from the others behind him but he couldn’t quite make out the words, too focused on the scene in front of him to pick out what they were saying above the the sound of Cavendish’s attack bouncing off of Lady Kathryns helmet. The only saving grace right now was that whatever Cavendish had planned for his coneys didn’t seem to be happening.

But BlackBerry had his own worries for the moment; rats surged away from their master at towards him in a writhing mass of bodies. Rats. Horrid, disgusting rats. They swarmed with shrill squeaks all around him. BlackBerry recoiled in disgust from the creatures driving him to madly hop from one foot to the other. The putrid things screamed furiously in their attempts to claw and nib at his heels. One rat in particular gave a mighty screech of fury when BlackBerry snatched away the tail of his robes out of its closing mouth.

His eyes jumped between the swarm at his feet and Cavendish screeching at Lady Kathryn over her shield. Between himself and the two of them yet another warm of rats twisted and furled like a rolling cloud. A sanctuary of clear space lay between the two broiling clouds of rats, his chance to hopefully give Lady Kathryn a moments breathing room to push the lunatic away from her.

BlackBerry jumped forward with a vicious cry with his left fiery limb already surging towards Cavendish’s grotesque form, only for it to bounce harmlessness off of the constable, BlackBerry had misjudged the distance, and he swore loudly.

Desperation took hold, adrenaline pumped through his veins. BlackBerry pulled upon the last well of power within him, ki boiling up from his stomach, through his chest and the astral limbs flared into a roaring blaze as his shoulders. A half step closer to Cavendish, BlackBerry snapped his left fiery limb at the Constable. The Limb missed its mark. BlackBerry bared his teeth in frustration, another step forward, pushing out snarl, powering the remaining right astral limb forward with a twist starting from the hips and running all the way up.

The Astral limb crashed into Cavendish with a satisfying ‘thud’.

BlackBerry let out a few quick breathes as he righted himself. Now he had rats in front of him, rats behind him, and there he was stuck in the middle with no more ki and nearing the end of his tether.

Oh no.



@sigil Guard 1 can take his holiday far away now

minor edit removing the limbs fading as I missunderstood the rulings

While the Wererat Guard struggled to decide where he wanted to take his faraway vacation, many harsh and painful things were going on nearby. But none of those mattered.

You see, he had been to a lovely archipelago not too far off the western coast of the Great Central Sea, controlled by a trad¹¹1e consortium, many years ago and longed to return one day. Or maybe that amazing spot in the Dwarven territories in the Noraljak Mountains where the women weren't quite as bearded as the men, were stout of hip, and you betcha could they yodel. Perhaps instead he would travel not quite so far north as all that, and spend some silver at Khimn City, where that straightlaced circle of Paladins ran things but they also sponsored a grand Arena, with all the crowd-drawing festivities which accompanied it. While he was at it, if he hit paydirt with some side wagers, he'd travel all the way to The Lake, and take a ferry to Argentum. Oh, a savvy man could get lost in a walled city larger than some kingdoms, and there were a plethora of opportunities to start his life over, there.

But the thought that really struck home for him was, despite the fact that when this fight started, the opposing side could clearly see himself and one other colleague, in addition to the Constable - with this in mind, it didn't look like anyone from their group stopped to ask who (or what) it was that toppled over that first barrel, which cut off the eastern thoroughfare.

Yes, while he was already mentally vacationing far away, that was his nagging, intrusive thought.

@Dragoknighte Marita's turn.

Marita wasn't sure what was going on with the crossbow situation and at this point she wasn't sure if she should care. At the very least, she knew that she shouldn't waste anymore time trying to locate where they might be with he limited visual capabilities when the Constable was right there and more than willing to try killing her and all her compatriots. As long as nothing continued to happen from that front, they would be spared further Judgment.

Speaking of which, Marita focused back on her spiritual weapon, making another stab at the wererat, and finally it managed to find purchase, slipping through the cracks in his armor to solidly sink into his flesh. It wasn't as deep a blow as she would have liked, and he still stood firm, but it was more success than she had had in the past 30 seconds or so.

The other thing that required her attention were her teammates' positions. Finally, others were making a direct move on the Constable's position, which was a high-risk, moderate reward position. He had managed to slay an admittedly heavily wounded abomination in a single blow, and if he managed to do something similar to Kathryn or BB while she wasn't close enough to help, things could get much stickier very quickly. Unfortunately, Marita had very little magical stamina left in her, so she needed to be very conservative with her divine talents, withholding their use until absolutely necessary, but she would at least not leave the others stranded with the beast.

The cleric took in a single large breath and steeled herself as she ran through the fire to get close to, but not quite within reach of the two close combat fighters, all the while focusing one making herself a difficult target to hit in case the warlock decided to direct his ire in her direction. Next round if they were both standing, she would be likely introduce his face to her mace.

@Sigil V

Victoria's ribs hurt. Her arm hurt. The side of her face felt like it might be swelling up. She was having problems breathing. Hells, she felt like she got run over by a mule. Luckily, her jacket seemed like it was none the worse for wear (she really liked that jacket). Unfortunately, the battering ram of an Eldritch Blast that Cavendish Others have moved to the forefront. This was good. Positive involvement that hopefully got the situation handled with no more time than was necessary. Quite frankly, Victoria was one classically cast piece of magic away from her well being completely dry, and she was not the most powerful martial spellcaster in the group. Not by a long shot. But it seemed like, in order to keep the ball rolling in their favor and maintain pressure on the Constable, she had to push herself to arcane exhaustion. Buy some time. Hope her party could continue where she could not.

The strings of the Weave showed themselves to Victoria. They were hers to play, if only for one more song before she needed to refresh - which would not be a quick affair. But if she must, she must. Tentatively, she reached her spirit out to pluck that first note...

...and was immediately distracted by Marita running out of the flames to her left. The incredulous look upon Victoria's face might have been a truly comical thing to show others, were a talented and superhumanly fast artist to commit it to canvas. OKAY! New plan! Save her last spell of the day for a potential Healing Word, as one of her associates might just need to pick themselves up off of the cobblestones sooner rather than later. She had to admire the commitment necessary to pull that one off, even if she couldn't see herself committing to running through painful, sticky fire.

With a shrug, Victoria changed tactics. There were still rodent corpses on the ground - almost as many dead as living - but few near enough to her to make a difference. The Bard advanced to stand between Baronfjord and the singed Marita, drawing upon the same ability which she used to animate her favorite porcine companion, except divided among several tiny corpses about them and in the fire. Charred and broken rodent bodies popped back together into a horrid mockery of life and swarmed from around the feet of the combatants and surged toward Cavendish. As before, they were incapable of causing him real damage, but would make for an interesting distraction, hopefully dividing his interest and giving her teammates a better opening. Charred, crushed, slashed apart, or just dead from a heart attack thanks to cheese overconsumption, they massed up his legs and began to nip, tug, and place their bodies in the way of his footfalls. It wasn't the grandest, most heroic thing to do, but it was something to support the hitters among them.


@Remipa Awesome Kathryn's turn.

Kathryn was used to taking punishment to some degree or another. That didn't change the fact that getting stabbed hurt like hell! Though she had been distracted on the constables comment. "I am going to pry you open." She figured that was a comment regarding her armor, and she also figured she had a pretty solid chance of not letting that happen. Kathryn opened her mouth to reply. "You should at least buy a lady dinner before making such Bold comments to her." She retorted to the constable. He couldn't see it, but she grinned at her own joke, that was until he made his move. She attempted to block with her shield, and found that his blade had already passed it before she could properly deflect it. In it went, and quickly back out. "Shite Fucking Bitch Fucker!" Kathryn blurted out as she and the constable separated again. Sure, she could take a punishment, but she had been caught off guard. And she had been struck with a wicked looking blade. It wasn't a pretty wound, but she hoped it wasn't too bad. With the shock quickly passed Kathryn moved to quickly block his following attacks. Blow after blow, he struck with such speed as if he was going for the finishing blow and the kill right in this moment. She felt the blade press against her armor the second attack, but she was pretty sure it didn't pierce. She hoped it didn't...

The blow that struck her helm spooked her. But between the helm that protected her head, and just her arms being longer, the blow could do little more than scratch an already dented and scratched helmet. She had been forced to back peddle, and she was beginning to regret putting away the hammer. But she was committed now. The clunk against her shield was a relief. Sure, good armor made everything nice. But an armor was still attached to ones person, and all it needed was a gap, or a weak point to fail. A shield could take punishment with far less risk to the user. But now, she had a window to attack. Now she had a window to strike back! She briefly debated grabbing the hammer again, striking him down and keeping him down. Though he was a better swordsmen, and he was far faster than she was. She needed to stay committed to her plan, and hoped it paid off. She took a step back as the rats began to swarm the constable. No... not rats. Rat corpses. She shivered at the thought, but she let them do their work. She pulled the net died down to her back, releasing the pull string and letting it go free.

Swinging the net above her head she gave it a few twists, building momentum as the rats kept the constable busy. Blackberry making sure to get his fair share of hits in himself, Cavendish had to drop any moment now... Right? She hoped. She hadn't taken note of the crossbow users in a hot moment. But she hoped that they would back off until the fight was over. Maybe even outright surrender! But she couldn't plan for that. She let loose of the net, letting it fly a few feet in front of her onto the constable. With the weights on the end spinning it and wrapping the constable into a nice and rather uncomfortable looking bundle of ropes. With the weight and force she put behind her throw, Cavendish had been pulled off balance, and sent face first into the cobblestone roadway. Now was her chance! "He's down! Get him!" She would be lying if she said she wasn't looking forward to giving back some of the punishment he had given out.

@Sigil Cavendish may attempt his net check now. Or anything else should he choose to do so.

A net? Honestly, who throws a net anymore? And then shoving him to the ground. Did this woman stop her combat training at playground rules? Then again, he just stood there and had it shoved down his throat while he was powerless to do a thing about it - hook, line, and stinker. A more objective or introspective person might have noticed that, as it was effective, he wasn't in a position to openly criticize. As he was neither of these two things, a seething resentment simmered and burbled in his heart.

Aside from the unfortunate parts of being knocked to the ground and covered by a net, Cavendish did not fail to notice the horrid little rats in various stages of disrepair nor the martial attentions of the Dragonborn and his odd, glowing arms. Even this gaggle of reprobates would get the better of him if he stayed on the ground and allowed the travesty of their presence to continue. Oh, the horrors he would inflict just as soon as he got footing and his crossbowmen responded. Cavendish was positive that they were just delayed, or moving for a clearer shot. Yes, the Wererats could still pull this fight out.

His first instinct was to Misty Step as far as possible, like he had used that day to evade them in front of the Silversmith's, but prone as he was and mostly surrounded by angry peasants, a clear line of sight could not be established. The one direction he knew he could move was not one that he wanted to for his own reasons, so all he might accomplish that moment was to attempt to attain a better vantage. If he could hold on until his men could open fire, the chaos of the moment would give him the advantage he required.

His particularly vicious looking shortsword was still in his hand, which he utilized as best he could to get a swipe at the net restraining him. It was a decent enough slash, despite the weapon's greater efficiency as a stabbing implement; he was able to shear through a few of the cords binding him - just not enough. His backswipe, awkward as it was within the grasp of the hempy restraining device, caught with the flat of the blade and was ineffective. Next, he made the attempt to stand. Regardless of his predicament, being on the ground would make him an easier target. It also gave him the ability to project his voice farther and insist that his Guards follow trough with the plan. "NOW! OPEN FIRE NOW!" he bellowed, though a bit of his chutzpah was spent now that he was bleeding, swarming with undead rats, and restrained by netted rope.

In the meantime, Cavendish made an attempt to grab for a knife at his belt, in hopes of finishing off the net so he might get a better lay of the land and move about less fettered. While he was able to wriggle it out of its sheath, a successful slash with this weapon was not forthcoming.


-

- Areas to the north that are aflame or containing rats are still considered Difficult Terrain, with appropriate movement penalties. The flames have additional, quite painful penalties for being walked through.




A rustling could be barely made out in the general area of the northeastern copse of trees. It did not sound like it was growing nearer. Wherever the sound of boots upon leaves was headed, it was doing so quickly and without regard to sneakiness. Most importantly in this, perhaps, is that no crossbow strings twanged and no blackened shafts flew from the darkness to back up the Constable. Is he betrayed, or is this a play at a larger plan?



@rivaan Kosara, do your thing, tag me for the Top O' Round.