1480 DR
Sword Coast; Baldur's Gate
The Wide

Baldur's Gate, a port city wealthy in culture and gold. Cradled in a crook of the Chionthar river and often swaddled in mist, Baldur's Gate clings tight to the granite bluffs that channel the river. Trade nursed, the city grew from pirates' port to farmer's fort to the bustling urban center it is today.

Generations have worn smooth the cobbles of its narrow streets, and tens of thousands have lived their entire lives in the long shadows of its walls. The city's stone has soaked in the blood of acclaimed heroes and terrible villains. Alongside and atop such stains, nobles and commoners, rich and poor, have lazed and sweat, ruled and bled, as they've played out the stories of their lives-making Baldur's Gate a place of history and a home to legends.

The city it split into three major sections; Upper city, Lower city, and Outer city.

The Upper city is strictly policed and orderly, home to the privileged Patriar class. The Patriars are the oldest families in Baldur's Gate and make up the city's nobility. Living alongside them in more humble, but nevertheless beautiful and well maintained, houses is an upper class of families that boast proud histories as stewards of the patriars (tailors, jewelers, head butlers, master chefs, lead gardeners, retainers, and the like) and as members of the Watch, a civil police force independent of the Flaming Fist that protects the Upper City.

The Crescent shaped Lower City rings the harbor and gains elevation up from the river until it meets the walls of the Upper city. Its narrow, cobbled streets give way to flights of stone steps in particularly steep locations. Laborers and crafters of all sorts, including sailors, salthands, shopkeepers, bakers, and finehand artisans, whose work doesn't quite require noisy forges or noisome vats of ingredients, toil and dwell in the Lower City's labyrinth of small, often subdivided buildings.

A sprawl of paddocks, dirt streets, shanties, and semi permanent buildings outside the walls, the Outer City accommodates everything the Upper and Lower cities don't. It houses the dirtiest and smelliest of trades. Horses, Oxen, mules, and other beasts of burden and livestock aren't allowed inside the city's walls, so they are stabled, loaded and unloaded, or butchered here. Long ago, the Council of Four decided not to pay the Flaming Fist to police the Outer City, so the only law here is what common custom and the Guild-the city's syndicate of thieves, thugs, racketeers, loan sharks, and assassins-impose.

It is in the northern portion of the Outer City where you make your way along the Trade Way, an ancient path of travel that runs north from Baldur's Gate to WaterDeep. Nearest Baldur's Gate the road is mostly gravel, but some granite-paved segments remain from ancient attempts at empire building.

You make your way southwards heading to Baldur's Gate, through the hustle and bustle of the Outer City district of BlackGate. You get your first taste of Baldurian culture, the city (in)famously known as a neutral city state so many immigrants flock here in times of war or famine. People with dozens of different cultures you've never seen before line the dirt streets hawking goods and services for coppers, while large warehouses and stables just off the main road house the goods and livestock not allowed in the city proper.

A throng of commoners waits patiently outside the Black Dragon Gate for their turn to enter into the city. The crowd quickly moves through as the usual toll to enter, 2 copper pieces, is lifted for today only; Returning day. Unbeknownst to most of you, you've entered the city on an annual holiday celebrating when Balduran returned from his voyages afar. All of this is easily learned from the crowds as you make your way through the gate, your attention drawn to a large stone carving of a black dragons head facing outward looming over you as you pass underneath.

You pass through the gate and enter the Upper City, and the beauty of this district is everywhere. Shutters and doors to all the buildings are vibrant in color and smartly maintained, the streets are wide and flat, and above your heads hang ornate lamps, no obvious wick or oil reservoir apparent in any of them. Drains keep the light drizzle off the streets and channeled towards the river, and sewers carry any waste away that would otherwise be collected in pots. Flowering plants hang from almost every window sill and vibrant green flowering vines climb the walls to keep the city beautiful and scented. Walking a few blocks with the crowd you make your way towards the Wide, a huge flat and open civic area where most of the year merchants and tradesmen sell their goods. Today though you see colorful banners hanging from post to post and chains of flowers adorning a stage set in the Wide.

The light drizzle isn't dampening the festive mood emanating from the gawkers and the hawkers of wares in the Wide, a market place packed with people from all strata of society and stalls selling exotic Faerun goods. Cheerful citizens tightly wreath a platform erected along the Wide's eastern edge. Someone wearing an official-looking sash is speaking, but the crowd's noise drown his words.

Moments later, the throng erupts in wild cheers as an older, surprisingly muscular man takes center stage. The ovation continues for minutes unabated. Nearby people eye any of you who are confused with amusement before hollering, "This here's Duke Abdel Adrian," as if that explains everything. The duke, smiling broadly, bows to the crowd and then gestures for quiet. The crowd obeys, except for one person, who shouts, "We love you, Abdel!"

The duke responds, "I love you too, Baldur's Gate," and the assemblage explodes in deafening hurrahs.

Another wave of the speaker's hand silences the crowd. For several minutes, the duke heaps civic praise on Balduran, the founder of Baldur's Gate; expounds on the virtues of shared opportunity; and waves poetic about the future.

As he talks, you notice a disturbance to your right. Some-one is pushing roughly toward the platform. A cloaked and hooded figure emerges from the crowd, scrambled onto the podium, and strides towards Adrian, short-sword in hand.

The crowd grows panicked and starts to run, blocking the few guards as they try their way to the stage. The other officials run leaving only Abdel and his assailant on the platform. You notice one guard make it to the base of the stage but is suddenly stabbed and brought down by a hooded figure. Looking closer you all can see eight figures dressed in similar hoods and cloaks standing near the edge of the stage, kicking people away and keeping the stage clear of anyone who tries to intervene. The assailant lunges at Abdel who is armed with nothing but his gauntlets and plate armor, and the fight for survival begins.

Summary - The half-orc had been travelling to Baldur's Gate in hopes of finding a ship and some supplies to prepare for a sea trip back up north. Upon being led around to the Archduke being assaulted, he has a moral dilemma from the culture shock that most people in this community aren't able to defend themselves properly. In his viking homelands, everyone knew how to fight, and was completely responsible for his or her own safety. After a moment of uncertainty, Kairos draws his weapon and joins the fight against these hooded attackers.

Third-Person Limited
Among the few that stayed was an orcish figure. With yellow eyes, the dark-green colored half-orc was adorned in chainmail spotted with signs of rust. Across his torso from his right shoulder to his left hip was a silk rope, and from the left shoulder to the right hip was a strap to hold a sheath on his back. One hand was at his side, fixated and flexed, as his other hand, the left hand, had all five digits wrapped around the hilt of the greatsword carried on his back. While his stance was stern and confident, perhaps even vigilant, a keen-eyed observer that would rather watch an orc than the archduke get murdered could tell that there was something in his eyes. Inside those irises of yellow determination were pupils of doubt.
Uncertainty.
Hesitation.

Then he randomly drew a handaxe instead and charged into the frey.


Third-Person Narrative
Kairos had vague knowledge of a port city to the south of where the Greysharks had had him contained, so he set off to Baldur's Gate, hoping to find some food, a place to spend one night, someone that can tell him what this odd trinket he found is, a boat, and supplies for a long journey by said boat. His goal was to go back to the Blackfoots and fight with them once again. The fact that the locals seemed to refer to the victory battle celebration (or at least that's what he assumed it was) as "Returning Day" touched the Half-Orc, and it only made him want to return home even more.

As soon as he saw these hooded warriors assault the armored man, Kairos assumed it was vengeance. He could see why such an important figure could cause hardship for another, but, this definitely wasn't the way to do it. Did this archduke wrong all of these hooded ones in one fell swoop? Well, he had seen the chiefs of Blackfoot be in worse situations. This archduke should have been prepared.

But...all these people, why were they running away? As Kairos looked to the left and to his right, he saw the fear in all of them, as if combat were an alien thing to all of them, or that these hooded people were out to avenge against everyone in the whole city...

Kairos decided to draw his weapon. He reached for the sword and grabbed the hilt, but froze as he saw the people be afraid of him as well as they ran. The said fears in their eyes now included a hulking orc-man drawing a sword taller than their children. Did they not know how to fight? In his homelands, everyone knew at least how to rip another's arm off. Sure, the two-handed version of the arm rip was more common than the more practical method involving one hand, but at least they weren't clueless.

Cluelessness seemed to be more common in Baldur's Gate.

Kairos gripped his sword tighter. How would justice by vengeance work if no one knew how to fight? He reasoned it couldn't, but, then, why were these hooded fighters attacking this unarmed warrior, and a human no less? Kairos knew he had to do something, but, even if barely anyone in Baldur's Gate knew how to fight, should he risk denying someone his or her revenge? On a human? Unarmed? That the people seemed to love?

The half-orc couldn't hesitate anymore. He drew the greatsword-no, not yet. He drew his handaxe, and ran towards the attackers.


ROUNDS Round 1

• I voluntarily take disadvantage on initiative for this round due to Kairos's initial hesitation.
• Action and Move -I have two ideas in mind, but one of them might not be acceptable depending on Jozan1's DMing style.
  
  1. Kairos searches the battlefield and then advances into the battlefield.
     
     • Search action. Kairos makes a Wisdom (perception) check (+3) or a Wisdom (insight) check (+3) to note the number of threats in the area and to distinguish between hooded figures and any friendlies, as well as note any enemy that is trying to remain hidden. If I have to choose only one of those to do with this check, I choose to distinguish between attackers and defenders of the duke. (If I accidentally detect a sneaking Morthos/Creed, I would very much like to make a Wisdom (insight) check (+3) for Kairos to determine if Morthos is another attacker or an ally of some sort, since I'm guessing Morthos is probably dressed in a similar fashion with our attackers.)
     • Move up to 30 feet, aiming to get as close to the duke as possible without provoking opportunity attacks. It's not specifically stated as function of Strength (athletics) checks (+6), but if Kairos may make one to bull rush people that don't seem to be trying to hurt one another out of his way towards the duke, then I would like to do that.
  2. Kairos charges through the battlefield towards the duke to provide immediate backup.
     
     • Move up to 30 feet until he reaches an enemy attacking the Duke or an enemy in his way.
     • Make a melee attack with his handaxe (+6 attack, 1d6+4 slashing damage, 30ft. short range and 120ft. long range), or throw it at an enemy attacking the duke or between Kairos and the duke if his move results in him being on his way towards the duke but not quite there yet.

Round 2

• I end taking a voluntary disadvantage on initiative.
• If Kairos is unarmed and more than 30ft. away from the duke, then he draws his greatsword (+6 attack bonus, 2d6+4 slashing damage). If he can draw his greatsword as part of a melee attack against an enemy, then he does so.
• If Kairos is unarmed and less than 30ft. away from the duke, then he attempts to move to the duke in such a path that he doesn't provoke opportunity attacks in order to grapple (PHB page 195) a foe that is attacking the duke.
• If Kairos is armed, then it's basically the same as the other two options except he attacks with his handaxe instead of his greatsword or grappling.

Akra sat at her campfire, looking at the tooth upon the chain hanging about her neck, sighing sadly at the memory of what this tooth had caused, the Dragonborn had wanted nothing but to toss the saddened memory away, what stilled her clawed hand however, was the fact that it also held a memory of pride, of the kill she took to earn such a prize. Looking around her campsite, she finally realized that she would have to venture back to the population if she were to survive another season. Standing up the Dragonborn sighed placing a chaste kiss upon the tooth before letting it dangle against her chest.

Stepping into the city, she sighed once again, she hated crowded areas, more so then she distrusted her own kin. Moving further into the City, she spotted a mounted Dragon head and without thinking she bared her teeth in confusion. Promptly Akra asked a passerby, inquiring why they would have a dragon head upon their city walls. After taking a few looks upon her, she was told the reasoning behind it. Nodding her head slightly she simply moved forward.

Seeing all the colors had the woman cringing, she was used to the monotone of the forests. Vaguely hearing somebody be introduced, Akra paid no mind to it, instead watching a fight brewing and unfolding. Sighing she waited for a bit before pulling her long bow and firing an arrow.

Round 1: Akra will simply stand there debating whether or not she'll join the fray..

Round 2: Akra will shoot an arrow at one of the attackers.

It had been nearly a week now since Hurisk has slain the last slaver that was still chasing him. Five had come, five he had cut down, yet he was still on guard. Rubbing his wrists, he looked down to the manacles that still clung to his skin. Sighing, he decided to set up camp for the night underneath a nearby tree. Slamming his Greataxe in to the ground he sat down beside it and promptly drifted off.

The next morning Hurisk awoke with a start, grabbing his Greataxe and standing he prepared for battle. Closing his eyes and listening he realized that whomever was making this noise could not be the slavers. He heard footsteps, but no clanking of chains, no grunts of oxen pulling carts. Lowering his weapon, Hurisk walked through the foliage of the forest towards the source of the noise. Stepping out on to a large cobblestone road, he saw what was causing the commotion. It was a large group of travellers, they seemed well off, and quite boisterous. A few of them noticed the confused Half-Orc standing in the middle of the road and beckoned for him to join them. Cautiously he strode towards them and their greetings. Almost immediately he was offered food and ale. Under normal circumstances he would have gone off and hunted for his own food, and found a water source to drink from, but these people seemed much friendlier then the slavers that had taken him hostage so many months ago.

For the next three days Hurisk travelled with these people, and in this time he learned where they were going. A large city lay to the south known as Baldur's Gate. A holiday was being held soon known as Returning Day, and all of these people were making their way to Baldur's Gate to join in on the festivities. Not exactly knowing where he was any more after being taken from the forest he called home, he decided to tag along with these folk.

As they arrived upon the outskirts of the city, Hurisk started to feel quite uncomfortable. He never realized how big a city was, and this one was very large indeed. Grumbling to himself he started to drift away from these people he had travelled with. Darting between the people in his way, he made his way to the gates of the city. As much as he hated being in a place so large, he had already come so far and who knows, maybe he could find another of his kind. Eventually he got caught up in group being ushered in through large black gates that had took on the shape of dragons. "At least these people understand the magnificence of these creatures."
Standing among the large crowd that had formed in front of a wooden platform, Hurisk looked onwards as a man in metal armour walked up and started speaking to the crowd. The man droned on about the city, the holiday, and many other things that Hurisk eventually tuned out. As he had stopped paying attention to the man speaking, he couldn't help but notice that something was happening. Much like in the wilds, this hooded figure stalked through the crowd as a predator would stalk its prey. As this one made it on to the stage, and the crowd start panicking, Hurisk saw seven more hooded figures make their way to the wooden platform. "These people are much like wolves stalking a deer... This man needs to be protected apparently."
((OOC; Round 1: Hurisk will draw his Greataxe, enter his rage, and straight out charge the closest enemy.

Round 2: If the enemy he charges is still standing he will continuing attacking it until it isn't.))

1480 DR
Sword Coast; Baldur's Gate
The Wide
"REMEMBER ME"
The crisp morning air that blew gently across the water of the Chionthar River brought the promise of a bright new day as Oskar Ungart stood tall in the saddle, wearing his Studded Leather Armor, armed with Cross Bow and War Hammer, while sitting astride his pony, named Pony, as he once again pondered these now familiar thoughts that were ever present in his mind.

"REMEMBER ME"
The Hill Dwarf War Cleric allowed Pony to set his own pace, as they would be at Baldur's Gate soon enough, so Oskar sat tall in the saddle with his brown hair and brown beard blowing freely in the wind against his Deep Tan Skin, at least as tall as a 5'0" 150 pound Hill Dwarf was able, allowing his thoughts to have their way this day.

"REMEMBER ME"
How could Oskar forget, as his thoughts drifted back over the past 65 years, reminding him of the great losses in this young Hill Dwarf's life.

"REMEMBER ME"
He had been raised a Stone Mason, greatly skilled in his craft. He could see the lovely face of the young Hill Dwarf maiden ... The One ... The Only One ... who had captured his young heart.

Oskar worked hard every day ... seemingly night and day ... while nursing a dream that motivated him to endure the long laborious hours at his assigned craft, in the hopes of one day amassing a small fortune to provide a comfortable life with a joyful family, to share with the love of his heart at his side.

But life can be cruel to even the noblest of dreams. His love was eventually betrothed to another, then soon married, to one of more nobler means and station among the Ungart Hill Dwarf Clan, breaking his young heart, turning sweet love to bitter, resulting in the chains of dark thoughts of murder, enticing him to rescue his lost love and carry her off to some far away land ... a place of living happily ever after ... but it was not to be.

Oskar soon realized that he must seclude himself in the depths of the nearby mountains, the sight of his love escorted by her husband of nobility having become too unbearable to carry within his tortured soul, in an effort to purge these dark thoughts of murder and darker desires to abduct the now married love of his heart, that flooded the passionate blood running through his veins; for if he truly loved her, then Oskar would let her go from that secret place in his heart, for she truly belonged to another.

He spent 12 long years battling these dark desires, especially when Bane, the Dwarf War God of Tyranny came seeking his tortured soul, promising him great reward, if only the young Hill Dwarf would let go of his restraints, allowing the Dark Dwarf War God to lead Oskar Ungart on to a life of vengeance and glory! However, Oskar resisted these dark temptations, continuing his quest to spiritually purge his tortured soul.

Oskar was able, over time, to resist the Dark Dwarf War God; choosing rather a path that would bring honor among friends and family, especially in the eyes of the lovely young maiden become wife to another, who he could never have and hold as his own ... never now ... never later!

During the final two years of his solitude, the recurring visions of a Wooden Shield and a Matching Amulet, both bearing the insignia of Balanced Scales resting upon a War Hammer, were ever before him night and day, as always with the words echoing ‘round about him in the deep caverns beneath the mountains, where he sought solace for his tormented soul:

"REMEMBER ME"
Oskar finally completed his spiritual seclusion, choosing to return to his Ungart Hill Dwarf Clan, in an effort to move on with his life in spite of his deep personal loss, while pondering upon the meaning of the visions of the Shield and Amulet.

But to his utter dismay, upon his return to the home of his Clan, all he found was the burnt rubble from the hideous remains of an Orc War Party ... that had desecrated and massacred his entire Clan!

Being a Stone Mason, he was able to build an adequate dwelling upon the remains of the desecrated rubble; fortunately, he also found hidden reserves of ale and food stuffs, from which he was able to sustain himself, all the while pondering the meaning of the Shield and the Amulet with the words:

"REMEMBER ME"
It was but a few months ago that a wandering Priest found his way to the desolate grave yard where Oskar Ungart was living in complete isolation and mourning.

The Lone Ungart Clan Hill Dwarf told his tale to the old Priest, who in turn persuaded Oskar to accompany him on a few days journey to a newly constructed Temple Shrine of Torm, the Dwarf God of Courage and Self Sacrifice, bearing the insignia of a White Right Gauntlet.

It was there that Oskar Ungart spent several weeks aiding the Priests with his Stone Mason skills, all the while sharing his tale of seclusion beneath the mountains and his recurring visions of the Shield and the Amulet, bearing the insignia of the Balanced Scales resting on the War Hammer, with the words:

"REMEMBER ME"
Shortly before Oskar had decided to leave the company of the Priests of Torm, the High Council of Torm Priests persuaded him to join their Circle for a time of Prayer and Consecration.

It was during this Circle of Consecration that the Priests brought forth a Wooden Shield and a Matching Amulet, with the insignia of the Balanced Scales resting upon a War Hammer!

Oskar was told of the passing of Tyr, the Dwarf God of Justice, who had bequeathed his powers and followers to his fellow deity, Torm.

The Old Priest had been searching for such a one as Oskar Ungart, to carry the memory of Tyr, the Dwarf God of Justice, with the divine powers bequeathed to Torm channeled to this Chosen One.

Oskar stayed on to learn of the Old Teachings of Tyr, until the sudden passing of the Old Priest. Then with the Blessing of the Council of Torm Priests, he was given the Shield, the Amulet, clothes, fishing gear, Studded Leather Armor, a War Hammer, a Light Cross Bow with Bolts, a pony that Oskar named Pony, plus a variety of other useful items for his journey, including Healing and Herbalism Kits.

"Your Fate Awaits At Baldur's Gate"
Oskar Ungart thought upon the Cryptic Message that the Council of Torm Priests had spoken in unison to him, during his final night among the Council.

Pony snorted and shook his mane, which brought Oskar back to the reality of this present morning, as festive sounds from the distant city greeted his ears.

Within the hour, Oskar Ungart had entered the city of Baldur's Gate, found a place to house Pony in good faith, with directions to a Shrine of Torm in the Twin Songs District on the northern side of the bridge to the southeast; as well as some friendly information as to where best to find gainful employment with his Stone Mason gifting!


Having met a trio of Dwarfs, who were grateful to find a new friendship with a rare War Cleric of Tyr, the Hill Dwarf was soon assured of more than ample food, drink, housing and an opportunity to ply his trade ... if he chose to stay in Baldur's Gate?

Escorted along the Trade Way, then through the Black Dragon Gate into the Upper City, by his trio of new friends, Oskar made slow progress among the revelers, stopping to eat and drink heartily with his newly found companions, before making their way through the light drizzle to The Wide.

Oskar took note of the colorful banners and flowers that decorated a spacious stage platform, before the gathered throng of festive Baldurans began cheering the oratory of Duke Abdel Adrian, as he stirred the assembled populace with the historic significance of their Returning Day celebration.

In the midst of the assorted revelers, Flaming Fist police force, the hawkers and the gawkers in the festive market place; Oskar Ungart kept a wary eye open for anything or anyone that might seem to be amiss, or for any fellow strangers who might seem to be out of place among the populace.

As he talks, you notice a disturbance to your right. Some-one is pushing roughly toward the platform. A cloaked and hooded figure emerges from the crowd, scrambled onto the podium, and strides towards Adrian, short-sword in hand.

The crowd grows panicked and starts to run, blocking the few guards as they try their way to the stage. The other officials run leaving only Abdel and his assailant on the platform. You notice one guard make it to the base of the stage but is suddenly stabbed and brought down by a hooded figure. Looking closer you all can see eight figures dressed in similar hoods and cloaks standing near the edge of the stage, kicking people away and keeping the stage clear of anyone who tries to intervene. The assailant lunges at Abdel who is armed with nothing but his gauntlets and plate armor, and the fight for survival begins.
Suddenly, as the Hooded Assassins made their move, causing the gathered citizens to stampede in panic, the Hill Dwarf War Cleric of Tyr stood his ground, surveying the scene before him!

His companions urged him to withdraw to a safe haven, but Oskar dismissed them, saying:

"Go! I Must Weigh the Scales of Justice!"
The Dwarf Trio had been with him long enough to understand that the War Cleric of Tyr had business to attend to, business of which the three had no training, so they quickly departed with well wishes and assurances that Oskar was welcome to join them in a nearby tavern, once the Hill Dwarf had indeed 'Weighed the Scales of Justice!'

"REMEMBER ME"
((OOC: Round 1.) Oskar Ungart loads his Cross Bow, while assessing Friend from Foe and determining exactly where the Balance of Justice would be best served in the midst of this mayhem!

Round 2.) Oskar Ungart intends to shoot a Bolt at a particular Hooded Assassin, in hopes of incapacitating his target, so the Hill Dwarf War Cleric may question him or her, as the case may be!

He will then arm himself with his War Hammer and make his way toward his target for either Interrogation or War!))

Creed pulled his hood gently lower over his curled horns, looking at a slight downward angle to hide his solid gold eyes from view as he moved forward. Dark horns, black hair, crimson skin, and golden eyes did not put the locals at ease. He hated moving to a new area, the fight to reestablish himself and rebuild his reputation from nothing, but a stationary tiefling was more often than not a dead tiefling, and migrating, however vexing, was preferable to the alternative.

It still irked him. He could run a damn good game, but nobody played games of chance against him. They all assumed he would cheat them. He would, of course, but that wasn't the point. He wouldn't have bothered coming at all if a reliable contact hadn't pointed him toward's Baldur's Gate. As reliable as such people could be anyway. This city was, he hoped, the next step down the path he'd chosen.

He weighed his options, such as they were, as he walked with the crowd. A large city meant a large city guard. That could be a problem. It also meant a large underbelly. That could be a problem too, of a different sort. The local toughs woudln't appreciate competition, he was sure. Creed unconciously shrugged to himself, doing his best to blend with the throng of travellers. There was always somebody that needed killing.

Having nothing better to do, and deciding it was as good a way as any to do a first round of scouting, Creed was content to follow along through the upper city, taking note where he could of guard stations or obvious patrol routes. Always good information to have. He stopped with the rest in front of a large stage, decorated with banners and flowers, which were all sagging a bit in the light rain. Not that many seemed to notice or care. He focused there where some Duke Abdel Adrian (as the crowd was kind enough to scream at him) was beginning to speak. Well, pander to the crowd, if you asked Creed, which nobody did. Nothing new there.

He was about to slip back out of the crowd when the cloaked men made their move. Creed couldn't help but smile as panic broke out among the masses, while he began slowly moving towards the group near the edge of the stage. Somebody would handle the fellow on stage he was sure. He didn't care one way or another for this Duke fellow, but there would most probably be a reward if he could distract or kill enough of these cloaked men long enough for the guard to do their jobs. Even if there wasn't, it would jump-start his reputation in these parts, one way or another.

(((OOC: Creed moves unobtrusively through the crowd into sneak attack range with the bow, and attacks the nearest person. If at any point Someone closes on him, he will fight with his rapier, dropping the bow if absolutely neccessary. In the event no one challenges him directly by turn two, he will fire another arrow.)))

Runa moved through the bustling crowd, dipping her hands into other people's purses as she went through the Wide. Just helping people lighten their waist line, the half-elf maiden thought cheerfully.

She loved Returning Day. Nine years ago, Runa had arrived on just such a day, penniless and poor, the forgotten slave of a drowned crew, the lost prize of a long dead victor. Lady Luck had been with Runa, landing her at Baldur's Gate on one of the few days you could enter the city without paying the regular tolls. The half-elven girl hadn't left its gates since.

Now, standing in the Wide, with her hood drawn over her copper hair, Runa thanked her lucky stars for her good fortune. While she lived simply, she also lived free. There was enough wealth in the city and enough ways to gain it, that Runa had rarely run into trouble with the law or even with the city's citizens. Mind you, most of them were fast asleep when you were making off with their wealth, she chided herself. Hmm... that's true. Still, a good night's sleep has got to be worth something, right?
Runa plunked one more coin into her purse before settling herself near the front of the crowd. The Duke was about to speak, and she, like many of the residents of the city, liked the Duke well even. "He is quite dashing don't you think, Unn?" Runa asked her mouse companion.

Unn, who had settled on half-elf's shoulder, safely within the covering of Runa's hood, merely squeaked softly in the maiden's ear. The mouse, while appreciative of Runa's efforts to feed and house him, would have preferred to stay away today. Throngs of people increased the potential of getting stepped on, and Unn hated the thought of death by trampling.

"Well, I think he is very handsome," Runa said in reply, staring at the well built Duke as he began his speech.

As entranced as she was by the honey-tongued Duke, Runa noticed a disturbance to the right. "You see that, Unn?" she asked her friend, already starting the tense for action.

The mouse, noting Runa's muscles beginning to bunch up, moved to the safety of a belt pocket. The panic in the crowd seemed to make his greatest fear imminent.

As the people began to move away, and the hooded assailants made themselves known, Runa tried to hang near the outer edge of the fleeing crowd. Drawing her crossbow, she spun around and took aim at the figure attacking the Duke before letting her bolt fly. Quickly reloading, she attempted to send another one at the hooded foes.

OOC: So, here's what Runa's attempting to do:

Round #1: Runa's trying to use the cover of the crowd to keep herself hidden. And then firing a bolt from her crossbow at the person attacking the Duke (unless someone is threatening her, if which case she'll attack whoever is threatening her). If she is unable to stay with the crowd and still attack, due to distance, she'll keep within range and still fire.

Round #2: If she's able, Runa will move in such a way to duck back into the crowd and pop out somewhere else and fire another bolt. If that's not possible, she'll simply try to find some cover (like a merchant cart/stall) and fire again. Priority is to first attack anyone threatening her, second to attack anyone threatening the Duke, or, third, attack the nearest hooded figure.

The light rain mixed with trickling streams of blood in the Wide as people scrambled to get away from the carnage. On the stage Abdel and his assailant dueled, the advantage of having a weapon painfully apparent as the hooded figure pressed hard leaving bleeding wounds where his blade stabbed. As their fight went on, the crowd pushed the guards further and further away, some even being trampled in the panic. Only a small group of people were left standing near the stage, the three bodies who weren't fast enough to get away and those who were armed, contemplating what was going on.

Akra stood and watched as the humans ran and wondered whether she should get involved, what her part in all of this actually played. No one threatened her directly so running wasn't necessary, and being no stranger to combat the fight on stage did not put her off. So she stood thinking about what the best course of action was. (Rolled 21 on Initiative, action taken to wait out and see)

The stage had two sets of stairs leading up, each set on the left and right sides. In front of each of these stairs stood a man dressed in leathers with a crossbow pointed at the crowd, scanning and looking for something. Seeing Kairos not running from the panic, one of these men aimed his crossbow and fired at the Paladin. The bolt sailed straight hitting Kairos in the left thigh, the wincing pain almost debilitating. Fortunately the heavy chain deflected the broad tip and kept the bolt from piercing, but already he could feel the throbbing heat from the welt it would leave. (20 on Initiative, 17 for attack roll vs. Kairos, 4 damage.)

The other crossbowmen set his sights on Hurisk, seeing the massive half orc not backing down like the rest. He fired his bolt which struck Hurisk in the head, but the thick skull and brawn of half orc stock deflected the bolt away causing only a grazing wound. (20 on Initiative, 18 to hit vs. Hurisk, 4 Damage)

Runa stood farther back in the crowd watching the panic and decided to stay, seeing how things unfolded. The bodies of two revelers and a city watchmen way at the feet of the hooded attackers, clearly making these men something awful. She drew her crossbow and aimed it at the man attacking Adrian, pulling the trigger with perfect timing. The bolt whistled threw the air and pierced the man's leather armor, burying itself in his upper back. The attacker recoils and then disappears as a veil of black shadow engulfs the stage. The two combatants now shrouded in a magical black mist. (19 on Initiative, Attack vs. assailant, critical hit for 15 damage! Nice shot.)

Creed watched from a stall that had been abandoned by the merchant just moments before. He saw the exchange of fire and the veil of darkness, realizing this was more than just a mere street scuffle of sorts. He skulked up from the side of the stage (14 on stealth) to get within range of his bow and fired at the thug armed with a crossbow. With a quick release the arrow found its home deep between the ribs of the thug who stood 80 feet away on the stairs. He doubled over in pain and almost lost his footing, but regained composure and stood his ground. (Sneak attack vs. Crossbow thug with advantage. Rolled a 3, and a 20. Critical hit sneak attack for 12 damage!)

Oskar stood knowing exactly what needed to be done. He needed to bring justice to these attackers, stop them from murdering any more innocents. It seemed as if others thought the same as he wasn't alone in standing his ground. He loaded a crossbow and observed the two crossbowmen on the stairs, and the six other thugs with daggers and knives that created a line in front of the stage keeping anyone away from the fight in the shroud of darkness. (Readied and loaded his crossbow, and established all those who were his enemy. Six thugs with knives in a line blocking access to the stage, and two others on the stairs of the stage shooting into the crowd.

Hurisk, being wounded from a bolt to the head, flew into a rage. The pain faded and the adrenaline pumped as he moved to the thug blocking his path to the stairs, where the man who shot him stood. He raised his axe and brought it down heavy, but missed his dagger wielding foe. Blood had flowed into his eye and his aim was just off, cutting the tip of the man's boot off but nothing else. (Moved up and drew weapon, raged as bonus action, and attacked. 4+5 = 9, a miss.)

Kairos met eyes with the man who shot him and could easily see who the foes were from his temporary allies. He drew his hand axe as he made his way to the dagger wielding thug that blocked his path to the crossbowmen, and made a similar move as the other half orc, Hurisk, had done. His hand axe had found flesh as it tore through cloth and a clumsy block, the man wincing in pain as he tried his best to keep the half orc from the stairs. (Attack roll, 23 hits. 7 Damage)

The six dagger men stood and watched as their line was attacked. The man Hurisk was fighting lashed out to attack, slashing but doing nothing to phase the angered giant. (attack roll miss, no damage taken). His companion near him turned to flank Hurisk and stabbed out, drawing the attention of the raging half orc. ( 18 hits, 3 damage. ½ damage taken for resistance. 1 damage taken). A similar move was pulled on the other end of the stage, Kairos's opponent also gaining a flanking helper. The dagger had little to do against the heavy chains though, and only bit a shallow wound into his back. (19 vs. Kairos hits, 2 damage). The other two eyed the rest of them that had not engaged, waiting for a move to be made.

--End Round 1--

Akra watched as one of the men took an arrow to the side and almost doubled over off the stage. Feeling that being shot with a bolt is something to avoid, she decided to draw an arrow and let loose at the already wounded combatant. Maybe if she could finish him off while he was occupied with his other attacker, it was save her the pain of being shot at. The target couldn't of been easier as it stood still and the arrow sunk deep, biting into the belly of the man. He had finally had enough and fell over crumpling to the stairs below him. (19 hits, 9 Damage for the KO)

Watching his companion get shot brought the thugs attention directly to Akra. With fumbling hands he loaded a bolt and fired lodging the round into Akra's left arm. Leathers and rough scales stopped some of the punch as the bolt only left a shallow wound. (15 hit, 4 Damage vs. Akra)

Runa kept her head low as she stood near a stall trying to get as much cover between her and the bolts flying overhead. She raised her crossbow once more but couldn't draw any sight to her previous target, the black veil hiding any action on the stage. The next most immediate threat was the last ranged combatant, so her finger slid over the lever and squeezed sending a shot sailing passed his head and clattering into the dirt behind. (8 to hit, miss vs. Crossbowmen).

Creed snuck farther up his previous target now down. Eliminating the dangers to him were a top priority so the unsuspecting crossbowmen seemed a perfect target. He drew his shortbow back once more and sent an arrow deep into the man's hip. He turned violently as the bolt slammed his left side and made eye contact with the hooded Creed, worry and fear his only expression. (4, 14 for advantage on attack. 9 Damage for sneak attack)

Oskar spotted one of the unengaged thugs standing in front of the stage, his dagger bloody from killing those revelers too close to the action. He decided justice needed to be dealt and fired his bolt to cripple and interrogate the foe. His shot pierced the calf and brought the man to one knee who now struggled to keep standing. (10 to hit, 6 damage)

Hurisk fought on, his rage building after his initial miss. He raised his great axe and swung once more to bury it deep in the mans chest. His body crumpled to the ground giving no resistance to the momentum of the blow. (13 hit, 11 damage for KO) His only opponent now was the man who flanked him from behind.

Kairos quickly raised his hand axe once more and slashed out at the already beaten back man, who fell under his own dead weight as the axe took the life from him. ( 17 hit, 7 damage for KO) He also had one fighter left on him, but the path to the stage was opened.

The men who tried to hold the stage from the heroes pushed onwards, something surely powerful driving them to attack a foe who completely outmatched them. One stepped up to block Hurisk's path again and attacked while his comrade did the same. The initial attack did nothing to penetrate the barbarian's defenses but the attack from behind found purchase, leaving a thin trail of blood on the back of Hurisks leg. (14 to hit, 1 damage)

The two near Kairos moved up to pull a same maneuver, even wounded from Oskar's bolt. Their attacks found similar gain as the first attacks were mere distractions for the others to find chinks in the armor. One dagger drew blood along his back as the dagger pierced a link in the hauberk.(16 to hit, 2 damage)

Blood was spilled on both sides, and surely if the combat played out even a handful of seconds further, the thugs would have been bested. As everyone readied to attack once more veil dispersed, leaving a scene that would be burned into everyone's minds from that day on.

Abdel Adrian lay dead, a short sword protruding from his side. Standing over him was his attacker who screamed out to the heavens, his heading hanging to the side as if it was broken and his body arched in an almost inhuman way. A horrified hush came over the combatants as the survivor unleashed an unearthly howl of anguish. Bones began to crack, flesh tore and armor squealed and snapped as the victor's body began to warp into a grotesquely muscled mockery of a human being. What emerged from the fading black shroud was no man but a monster. It opened its blood rimmed eyes and stared out locking eyes with everyone who gazed upon it, the horrifying look of madness and bloodlust easily seen. Roaring out once more with a bellow filled with pain and anguish spraying the ones nearest it with bloodied spit, it leapt from the stage and landed near Kairos, killing the dagger thug and the crossbowmen along the way with its dagger like claws.

--End Round 2--

Runa let the crossbow move back to her belt as she eyed the monster in front on her. It was unnatural to be sure, as if the act of killing the Duke had torn open a hole to the Nine Hells within the assassin's body.

The half-elf urchin felt the eldritch power grow alongside her rage at the killing of the Duke. Drawing a small oak twig, Runa cursed the beast even as she unleased a blast of arcane power towards it.

OOC: Runa is using round #3 to draw her arcane focus (move), cast a Hex on the monster (bonus), and cast Eldritch Blast at the monster (action). Round #4 will be used to blast the monster again and maintain her concentration on the hex. My understanding is that the blast does 1d10 force damage and the hex does 1d6 necrotic damage.

The crowd retreated from these hooded assailants, and Hurisk was left standing with a few others who also seemed to be up for a fight. Before Hurisk even could cast a glance at the others, he felt a bolt bounce off his skull. Instantaneously he let out a howl of rage and pain, and within seconds his Greataxe was in his hands and his mind filled with rage. Charging the man who fired the bolt at him he swung the large axe, missing the man but chopping of the tip of his boot in the process. Before he could even recover from the swing, he felt a slight sting in his back as another assailant slashed at him with a dagger.

Rage seething from every fibre of his being, Hurisk once more brought down his greataxe. This time he struck true and howled with delight as the man in front of him crumpled. Wrenching the axe from his body he spun to face the man who dared try to harm him with such a cowards' weapon as a dagger.

Before he could raise his axe against the man, an unearthly howl sounded behind him. Looking back, he watched as the man who attacked the armoured man started to change. As the man turned to beast Hurisk became even more enraged at such a perversion of nature. Looking to the foe in front of, and the new one behind him, he let out his own beastly howl of challenge.

((OOC; Round 1: Continuing with the rage, Hurisk will attack the dagger thug who flanked him last round and attack all out.

Round 2: Hurisk will attack again if he misses or doesn't kill his opponent, if his original target is dead, he'll go after the one behind him

Round 3: Again, if attack misses he'll hit the opponent again, if the second thug is down and out Hurisk will charge the beast that appeared from the duke's assailant.

Round 4: Beat up closest hostile enemy with his axe.

After this Hurisk will have 4 rounds of Rage left.))

Akra stared at the dead body on the stage, memories rushing to her in an almost painful way. Her eyes unfocused for a moment, a moment too long, and when they cleared she saw a monster before a half elf.. Whispering harshly she raised her bow once more, ready to defend someone who she didn't know, to atone for her past.

OOC: Round 1 & 2 - Akra will fire another arrow towards the monster

The next time I tell somebody I've seen worse, or wierder, THIS is what I was talking about.
Creed fought with an instictual panic that the creature seemed to inspire just by its presence on this particular plane of existence. Perhaps he ought to have aimed at the one on stage after all. But its wasn't as if he could've predicted this. Sweeping his gaze over the stage again, he drew an arrow, and loosed it. Perhaps freeing up the half-orc would help move things along.

(((OOC: Will fire arrows at whichever surrounding minion Hurisk appears to not be aiming at. Continue until end of rounds, or both are dead. If both go down inside one round, next shot at the creature, stealthily if it hasn't noticed me.)))

1480 DR
Sword Coast; Baldur's Gate
The Wide
Oskar spotted one of the unengaged thugs standing in front of the stage, his dagger bloody from killing those revelers too close to the action. He decided justice needed to be dealt and fired his bolt to cripple and interrogate the foe. His shot pierced the calf and brought the man to one knee who now struggled to keep standing.
Oskar was satisfied with his Bolt shot producing what the Hill Dwarf War Cleric of Tyr had fully intended to do: wound an adversary so he could be captured and interrogated to discover the origin and purpose of his nefarious actions!

Abdel Adrian lay dead, a short sword protruding from his side. Standing over him was his attacker who screamed out to the heavens, his heading hanging to the side as if it was broken and his body arched in an almost inhuman way. A horrified hush came over the combatants as the survivor unleashed an unearthly howl of anguish. Bones began to crack, flesh tore and armor squealed and snapped as the victor's body began to warp into a grotesquely muscled mockery of a human being. What emerged from the fading black shroud was no man but a monster. It opened its blood rimmed eyes and stared out locking eyes with everyone who gazed upon it, the horrifying look of madness and bloodlust easily seen. Roaring out once more with a bellow filled with pain and anguish spraying the ones nearest it with bloodied spit, it leapt from the stage and landed near Kairos, killing the dagger thug and the crossbowmen along the way with its dagger like claws.
Oskar focused his attention away from the immediate possibility of interrogating the foe he had just crippled in the calf with his Cross Bow Bolt, towards the unexpected tableau of a Monster transforming before their very eyes!

Taking note of those who were among the brave and the bold with abilities to balance the scales of justice and right the wrong brought upon Abdel Adrian by this Monster, also resulting in a grievous wrong brought upon Baldur's Gate, the Hill Dwarf War Cleric raised his Cross Bow in an effort to help inflict mortal wounds upon the blood-letting monstrosity!

((OOC: Round 3.) Oskar Ungart fires a Cross Bow Bolt against the Monster with the intention of Killing or Maiming!

Round 4.) Oskar Ungart moves forward with his War Hammer drawn to assist the others who oppose the Monster! He approaches as though in battle with a Hill Giant))

The bloodied half-orc gritted his teeth, the fear in him only being channeled into anger for battle. A viking never ran from battle, used to either raiding in unfamiliar lands or stuck on a very narrow sea vessel. Retreat was never an option, so the thought of running away was unheard of to Kairos.

This immediate threat was much more of a threat to our to-be paladin, and he switched out his handaxe for his greatsword, staring at this figure the entire time.

Not wanting to test his might against the beast, Kairos took a defensive position, favoring the idea that maybe an ally could hit the thing before it could hit its immediate foe.

He made one step backward, gripping the hilt till his knuckles went white.

What was this creature? Was it a demon sent from the depths? Kairos focused, concentrating in the same way he was taught during his youth with the Blackfoots, all those years ago when he believed that Gruumsh was real. He didn't know why, but he hadn't seen anything as outlandish since those days....

Round 1:

• Five-foot step.
• Dodge/whatever the "full-defense" or "fighting defensively" action equivalent is in 5e. ((I'm in the airport right now and can't exactly access the Player's Handbook.))

Round 2:

• Kairos uses Divine Sense to figure out what the monster is. ((This would only say if the monster is some type of aligned outsider if I remember correctly.))