(Assuming the incident is now drawing some attention...)

Rajikesh starts making his way over to the area.

(making a spot check to see if any soldiers, guards or otherwise, are moving to assist the noble.)

Should any one move to assist the arrogant nobleman, he will do his best to deter them.

(via intimidation, and if that doesn't work, a well place trip attack... using my tumble skills to attempt to make it seem like a performance.)

Kor's rebuttal to the man lacked tack, but there was no doubt that the man could misunderstand his words. Unfortuately the noble was of type that could choose to ignor the words.

She sighed an waited, things could get dicey. She claught Damara attention and made a hand movement, a signal for Damara to move to a position to intercede between the other guard and Kor, she was already in position for the guard closer to her.

Cameron Grey
Bayris: Bazaar
roughly 6:15-6:20
Cameron had been keeping a close eye on the situation, watching to see how the Sil handled things. When it became clear that things may be heading toward violence he made his way over toward the two, arriving shortly after their gisalko companion had stepped in. Straightening his clothes and dusting off slightly he extended a polite hand to the noble, with a courteous bow before stepping between the nobleman and his guild mates and introducing himself. (Diplomacy Attempt)

"Good evening sir, my name is Cameron Grey, and I, along with these other fine gentlemen, am a guildsman of the Crimson Blades. I understand you have expressed some interest in my associate's furry friend, and while I fully understand that a man of your obvious wealth and status (flattery never hurts) is not used to hearing no, might I humbly suggest that you reconsider. This particular wolf belongs to a Sylvari, as you can clearly see; and as we all know, the Sylvari travel with wild animals (play on the man's obvious racism to hopefully appeal to his better judgement). We would not want a feral wolf to be left alone with your lovely daughter, now would we? (more flattery). If you are stone set against getting your daughter a new pet I could gladly suggest a few local animal trainers here within the Market Quarter who could help you find a much more exotic and interesting pet for her."

Should this attempt at calming the stuck up noble fail, Cameron stands ready, though making no obviously threatening movements toward his weapons. (Basically, just prepared without making it obvious, so as not to be caught flatfooted and unaware. +13 Diplomacy btw, because of my ranks in Bluff, could have been +15 if I had only taken one more rank in Sense Motive.)

Arka del’Amro
City-State of Bayris: Lower Quarter
Twenty Hours Earlier
The sound of a key turning in the front door, offsetting the tumblers and releasing the bolt, broke the silence inside the derelict house. Tucked away in the middle of the poorer section of the extravagant port-city, one would easily overlook the run-down home of Mersas Valdian. What was not revealed on the peeling-paint walls was that this house lodged a murderer, one who found pleasure in the deaths of innocents leaving the Hawk’s Talon, too drunk to easily find their way to the safety of their homes each night.

With a groan of un-oiled hinges, the door creaked open, the silhouette of a solitary figure against the moonlight. Unclasping his cloak and hanging it near the door, Mersas stepped inside, his boots thunking on the floorboards with every step. A quick push shut the door behind him.

A few steps carried him to the woodstove in the corner, the iron belly open and the ashes smoldering slowly dully. Mersas tossed in a few pieces of dry kindling, coaxing the embers back to life with short, gentle breaths of air. As the flames lapped back to life, filling the room with brazen light, an eerie shadow looming over him caused him to whirl about, hand reaching for a stout piece of wood for defense, but as his eyes met only the familiar surroundings of him mundane home.

“Just my imagination…” He muttered, turning around and tossing the log into the fire, watching the flames crackled as they devoured the flaking bark. Then he noticed the rolled piece of parchment out of the corner of his eye, sitting plainly atop his dresser. “Hm?”

Snatching it up, he untied the bit of string and unfurled the message, his eyes scanning the three words scrawled in black ink.

Do you repent?
“What the hell…?” Mersas’ words were cut short as sudden force pitched him forwards, his motion halted by a thin snare about his neck. A wire band cut into his neck, the tension causing blood to drip from the bind. He struggled for air, but his windpipe was compressed. Fingers scrabbled at it, trying to loosen the hold, but found no success.

“Answer.” A voice hissed right into his ear, carrying the harsh tones of a file against iron. Slender hands loosened the garrote line, allowing Mersas a quick gasp of air, but no mercy against his assailant.

“Wh….what?” He sputtered, panicking as the wire tightened again.

A few strands of raven black hair brushed Mersas’ cheek as the assassin’s face loomed in beside his own. He attempted a quick glance out of the corner of his eye, and was met with a visage concealed from the nose-down by a black veil. Two white feathers dangled from his longer hair beneath the wide brim of a black hat.

“Answer me.” The noose cinched tighter. “Do you repent?”

Choking for breath, Mersas struggled to nod, which earned him a yank backwards, pulling him off his heels and dropping his body weight against the tightened cord about his throat, slitting his windpipe and sending the last breath whooshing from his lungs. His boots kicked against the filthy wood floor before finally settling still.

“Good.” The whisper sounded like a howl inside the small confines of the room. “But penance cannot absolve you of your sins.”

Unwinding the line from the neck of Mersas, the Man in Black cleaned it off on the clothes of the fallen, wiping the blood into his shirt. As he wound it back up, the firelight revealed that he’d partially sliced into the sides of his fingers during the struggle. He would have to clean those injuries later on.

From the stove, he retrieved a charred stick, pressing the glowing embers beneath his boot to smother them, and strode across the room with a thin trail of dying smoke. Opening the door inwards, he scrawled on the outside of it one word in charcoal.

Guilty
Closing the door with a gentle click, the Man in Black looked up and down the street. He fished about in his belt pouch, and retrieves a small metal whistle. Reaching to his face, he lowered the folded rim of his scarf from about his face, and raised the whistle to his lips, producing a sharp trio of chirps that echoed down the empty streets. He returned the device to his pocket, fixed his scarf, and like smoke into the wind, disappeared among the shadows.

*****

Arka del’Amro
City-State of Bayris: Bazaar
Early to Late Evening
Masks. Always hiding ones true self from everybody else. Isn’t that what fitting into this kind of society is really about?
Arka slipped through the masses, his scarlet overcoat rustling as he brushes past each reveler, out to enjoy the festival. It was substantially less pleasurable to him, but it did provide him with the opportunity to spot those who might prey upon him. And under the guise of celebration, what better opportunity for somebody to disappear down an alley or behind a building?

He smiled slightly. Nobody would know masks better than himself. His bronzed tan skin, the elegant clothing, the toned physique. Even the golden hair, close cropped beneath his ocean-blue beret… None of it belonged to him. All of it, just another disguise, Arka was good at disguises. Good at pretending…

Everywhere he looked, people were enjoying themselves, whether lovers, family, or even just singles out amidst the crowds. Vendors plied their wares adjacent to games of skill and chance, rounding up those gutsy enough to toss away their coins in the hopes of winning some sort of prize. He stopped, looking at one in which people pitched balls at targets, trying to drop a sort of dummy into a basket. Based on the way the balls deflected off the targets, Arka suspected that the balls were either lighter than they appeared, or the targets had something blocking it from the backside. Either way, he continued on.

Deep blue eyes surveyed the masses as he moved through the bodies. Some children filching candied apples.

Minor.
A pair of drunkards hustling some passers-by.

Insignificant.
Thus far, it seemed fairly innocent. None here needed to be brought to justice. None deserved the penalty, even though the watchmen were neglecting these petty crimes. If they got out of hand… Then Arka would come for them. The Man in Black haunted those who got away with injustice, lurking after them until the moment appeared. Then, the guilty would suffer. The guilty would require punishment.

Heaving a sigh, Arka del’Amro looked longingly at some chewy sugar candy. It had been so long since he had been able to enjoy treats like that… Beneath his disguise, none could see the truth of it. None could see him. And that is how it would stay.

(OOC: Hope this doesn’t go outside any boundaries or anything! Arka is under his Hat of Disguise to roam around, looking to spot any criminals evading the law.

As a bit of back information, Arka never uses his true form around others unless hunting them. None of the other PCs will have seen what he really looks like. His current form is his most preferred one.)

The marketplace, filled to the brim with all sorts of characters was bustling ever onwards, and despite the growing argument between Kor and the nobleman, most of the attendees continued on with their own affairs. What was another dispute over prices, in a city where such conversations were an hourly occurrence? Reginald had stood his ground against the Sylvari ranger, and even as the Market Guards took notice of his beckoning, so too did the Crimson Blades make their way across the market to back up one of their own, should anything turn ugly. Cameron, Kajikesh, Damara and Ruahn were all moving closer, while Market Guards did the same, slipping by some, and pushing past others to get closer to the commotion.

“So uncouth you Sil are. I’ll have you know back in Pardinal for your ignorance I’d have you drawn and quartered you insufferable whelp. This is far from over.”

Bodies were so close to one another, the scene so loud with music, voice, and the footfalls of scores of passers by, that those focused on what they wanted to see, were blind to something as insubstantial as a lone stranger, dressed in dark robes which seemed to ripple of their own accord passed into the market square. Slowly, but with a deliberate direction to each step the figure passed through the throng of happy shoppers, and festival revelers. Passing by Arka, the finely dressed man was the first to notice that the man smelled strongly of the sea, saltwater and fish permeated the air as he passed, like a pungent perfume sprayed on in excess. Also noticed was the definite puddle the man seemed to leave as her walked, dark pools forming under each step as he passed. Soon, other’s too took notice of the strange fellow and he was given a wider birth as they parted for him, the visitor’s unsure of whether or not this was yet another part of the Carnival or something more.

As the Market Guards and Crimson Blades faced off against each other, a Blade placed strategically to deter the closest guard, so focused on giving their companion a better chance against the nobleman were they that they didn’t notice the robed figure pass by them towards Kor, Reginald, and Veldrilac. With eyes set coldly against each other, it was Veldrilac that first broke the tension between the ranger and the nobleman with a low growl, followed by a sharp bark which startled many around. A second, and third bark followed quickly, as the robed figure approached the arguing pair, now silenced with the arrival of the odorous oddity of a stranger.

From behind the nobleman stepped forth a man in a fine cotton vest sitting over studded leather armor, smooth clean pants lined his legs, and were tucked into polished leather boots with brass buckles. A well kept coif of hair topped his head as he let one hand fall to a long sword kept in a scabbard at his side, the other reached forward to halt the encroaching figure.

“Halt stranger, stand back from the Master,” the hired guard had stated; but the stranger game onwards still brushing passed the guard’s outstretched hand, fingers passing through the material of the cloak as though it were a running stream, leaving his hand dripping wet, a piece of algae hanging from his wrist and the guard recoiled, catching a glimpse at what lay beneath the watery veil.

“W, What the he…” The guard’s sentence was garbled, as from beneath the cloak and arm with skin suffering from extreme waterlog, (think massive pruning from sitting in a tub too long) grey and colorless save for thin veins of green which ran it’s length shot forth. The stranger’s hand. tipped with ragged nails sharpened into blackened claws dug into the guard’s chest, and the man started sputtering out dark water instead of words, choking right there as the man gripped his chest, the leather armor providing no protection. Nearby woman screamed, alerting all nearby of what had occurred.

As eyes fell upon the spectacle, another shout was raised from between two stalls, as a second figure shambled forth from the darkness, rippling robes covering its features but the smell alerting all of its presence. Soon, a third and a forth entered from the north west and northeast respectably, and off in the distance another scream broke the silence of the night. People began to panic as the sea smelling strangers grew in numbers, and swelled into the streets. One woman in the panic was pushed in the path of one of the creatures, and with a single powerful swipe he knocked her aside into the cart of sugar candy next to Arka, her head split upon impact, a deep gash and blood running freely down her forehead.

“Someone alert the Krag!” Someone yelled over the panic as people flooded into nearby buildings, or tried to hide behind vendor carts, while avoiding the freighting creatures. A baker’s dozen of the creatures had entered from various access points to this particular avenue, with screams and rally cries across the city echoing into the night.

“GUARDS! FORM UP! PROTECT THE CITIZENRY!” Came a loud gruff call, as one of the Market Guards attempted to take control of the situation. There were only a half dozen guards upon this street, but they left those in front of them, and formed a small defensive line between vendor carts at the northern of the street, as three dripping, robed creatures moved forward. A quick look around would place, three approaching from the east, and another four from the west, with 2 circling round further inland from the southwest near Bayris Park; in addition to the one right in the middle of them. They were corraling the populace in this street, crowded with stalls, crates, and fresh bodies, the warmth of their bodies a chill contrast to the cold, watery emptiness that filled the horrid newcomers.

From somewhere in the city a great horn blew, followed by another, and then a third.. They were not alone in this fight.

(alright, so I updated earlier than planned, but everyone capable of posting has, so I figured I might as well give you something to work with comments and questions in the Q/a as always )

"Blades... helping them would help our guild and Lady Z. Shall we?" (He speaks loud enough for the soldiers in particular to hear him over the panic of the crowd.)

Rajikesh steps through the crowd to stand beside the guards. He levels a determined gaze at the oncoming figures and falls into a fighting stance, waiting (and hoping) for his guild mates to stand with him.

(I'm hoping that standing beside the guards will encourage them a bit. I stand defensive until one of the figures attempts to approach. When they get within 20' of me I step up and strike a single time at the creature, in the chest, with a +7 to hit. After that it will depend on if my hand is injured or affected by the strike. If the creature is injured I will continue attacking using flurry of blows (+6/+6).)

Ruahn touched her holy symbol. "Terassor, God of Righteous Battle, bless those who fight the evil," She moves to defend with the others, specifically between the dark creatures and the innocent townsfolk.

She then draws her blade and raises heavens where its highly polished surface reflected the light of the lanterns and torches lighting the street.

"CRIMSON BLADES! TO BATTLE!"

Cameron Grey
Bayris: Bazaar
6:20-ish?
As Cameron steps forward to attempt to defuse the situation he is caught off guard by a familiar smell, that of the sea, and quickly noticed a figure wearing a flowing black robe approaching. He was slightly shocked as the hooded figure lashed out and caused the guard to spew forth dark water with but a touch. It was clear that this was not the time to play peace keeper.

Then the panic started, people ran, screaming, trying to hide. Over the sounds of panic Cameron could hear not one, but at least two of his guild mates calling out, urging them all to join the fray, stand with the guards and protect the citizens.

This would be an ideal time to begin looting, but I have other duties to attend to, a shame really...
Stepping forward, flanking a hooded figure if at all possible without incurring attacks of opportunity, Cameron draws his rapier and strikes at the nearest foe in one fluid motion. (Flat-footed, if possible, thanks to Flick of the Wrist).

If only I had worn my armor today, if things get too ugly I may have to withdraw, tis better to retreat and live than stand and die..
((Just for easy calculating, that's +10 (+5BAB, +5Dex) to attack, 1d6+1(magic weapon)+3(int bonus, if target is not immune to sneak attacks or crits)+ another 2d6 if sneak attack is applicable))

Responding to Ruahn’s hand signal, Damara began to move towards the guards. Sneaking and stealth was not very useful in a crowded square but using a few tricks she had learned would help her-Misdirection and obscuration would be useful, and don’t let others know you destination don’t, obscure your intentions from others. Therefore, she backed up closer to the guards talking, as if to someone in the crowd, “I will meet you in about and hour at the main square. Don’t be late.”

Damara had gotten into striking range if it was need. She as glad she had worn her mithral shirt under her clothes. She did not regret with having her bow as she was not intending to wound or kill and arrows in such a crowded area could always miss and hit an innocent by-stander. She put her hand on the hilt of her sword but though of carious other options that she could use to give Kor a chance to leave the area without risking himself or his companion. She understood the connection Kor had with his wolf, as she had been raised by her mother in an elven community and worked with rangers as a scout. Obviously, the noble did not and being a noble and used to getting what he wanted did not help the matter.

Hatching a possible move in her fertile imagination that would disrupt the guards, she thought that she could foul up the guards by simply faking a faint into their arms since most had gather together to guard the noble from the Sylvari Ranger. That the ranger had made no hostile action did not seem to matter to the noble who had called on his guards to protect him. It was a ticklish situation.

Though she stood ready to act, she was surprised by the dark robed stranger that enters right up to one of the guard s that guard called out in pain. Things rapidly spiraled out of control as the crowd panicked. Damara tried to figure out why that happened. She quickly scanned the area the motions of the crowd to pinpoint the origin of the mass panic and then she spotted other robed figure emerging from all directions driving the crowd before then into the center of the square. She drew her sword, which until this moment seemed a decoration on a festival dress up outfit. Now the wicked steel blade belied wielded with confidence belied that initial impression.

Damara heard Ruahn call for any Crimson Blades, She hoped that some of their guild members were about. She moved forward towards the firs robed figure that had attacked the noble's guard in some way, to make a skirmish attack on the robed fig that had injured the guard from behind.

Arka del’Amro
City-State of Bayris: Bazaar
Early to Late Evening
The pungent stench of fish, salt, and seafoam filled Arka’s nostrils, much stronger even than the times he spent around the wharf, or near the fish markets. It caused his nose to twitch as he clapped a hand over it.

Where is that coming from?
His illusory blue eyes scanned the crowd, trying to spot the culprit for that wretched odor, his keen vision coming up short as he crossed over the strange rippling robe of a passer-by. He watched the figure stride past, admiration showing on the copycat perfect smile that he had so many years ago lost for good. Costumes and disguises were Arka’s forte, having been forced to wear some kind of visual shield most of his lifetime.

Once a sizable distance had formed between he and the stranger, he noticed what could possibly be causing that rotten redolence. “What the hell..?” He muttered, noticing the strange pools of water being left behind in his wake. “What could this be?”

Arka’s first suspicion was that his watching had paid off, having alerted him to a murder-by-drowning, and he fell into step a ways behind the solitary figure.

Carnival-goers cleared away from the drenched wanderer, making the stalking much more difficult, despite the fact that Arka possessed the capacity to blend in to any kind of crowd, and he was forced to drop back and pretend to be one of those so appalled by the figure. However, from the bodies edging away, his line of sight allowed him to spot Cameron moving towards a seeming confrontation between Kor and a well-dressed man.

What is going on here?
So many questions for a night spent on the watch…

Arka froze in his tracks as he spotted one of the most disturbing things he’d ever witnessed. While he could not see the details of the limb in detail, he did see the stranger approach somebody who looked like some sort of bodyguard, and plunge his hand straight into the man’s breast.

Out of nowhere, the man began choking up water, sputtering for breath while apparently drowning in the midst of the festivities.

Before he could act, a shout turned Arka’s head to the left, just in time to see another figure, seemingly identical shambler approaching from between two stalls. That same stench permeated his own senses, and he recoiled from the odor. People began to panic and flee from the scene as more of them began to appear.

Immediately beside him, Arka saw an innocent young woman pushed into the path of one of these wraith-like things, her eyes wide with terror as it slammed her with an outstretched hand. Like a rag doll, she was flung against a candy vendor’s stall and upending the counter. He rushed to aid the woman, seeing a deep gash running through her hair.

“Damn it…” He rasped, not bothering to attempt to hide his true, broken voice in the din of the square. Nobody would hear it, anyway. Arka fired a glance around to see if he was clear before he set himself to get her to safety, or at least out of immediate harm’s way.

His acute senses heard some of the militants shouting to protect the citizens, followed by a great horn blast somewhere else in the city. He didn’t have a clue as to what was going on here, but he wasn’t about to rush in with these things. He didn’t even know what they were! First and foremost, get the girl behind some cover. Secondly, see how he may assist his fellow Blades.

Keeping up the illusion for the time being, Arka grabbed the woman beneath her arms and tried to get her behind the broken stall, ready to take the next step from there.

Protect the innocent. Be their strength when their own is gone. Always.
(OOC: Arka is trying to get the injured woman to safety nearby before making his next move. He’s keeping up his everyday disguise, but not hiding his own raspy voice. If one of those creatures comes near, Arka will draw his dagger out of the nearest shadow patch, either from the woman, his cape, or his own shadow.)

Where only moments before were revelers and merry folk enjoying the festivities of the famed Carnival, now were the screams of the panicked, the endangered, and the pain stricken. The Market Guards, along with the Crimson Blades in the area however would do all they could to grasp some control of this chaotic situation. The guards formed a defensive line, and in their midst Rajikesh took a place amongst them, turning to his brothers in arms, and taking up the defense along with them, waiting for the nearest enemy to step too close.

Cameron, for all his charismatic intentions of dissolving one situation now found himself right in the middle of another, entirely new predicament, and this one much more dangerous. Turning to the watery robed creature who still had its fist impaled into the unfortunate bodyguard, Cameron stepped behind it, in a single fluid motion he drew a rapier and stabbed at the figure in the back. So smoothly was the draw the rapier almost seemed to eject itself from the thin sheath from where it was kept into the swashbuckler’s skilled hands. The strike was perfect, had this been a normal man of the same height and weight, his rapier would likely have punctured a kidney. A debilitating blow to be sure. This however was not a normal man by any account, a fact that became all the more clear as Cameron removed his blade point from the creature’s back, only to find the watery robe swirl forth back to cover the thin hole within it, as more dark water fell from the now concealed wound to the cobblestone beneath him.

All the worse, the hellish creature’s grip upon the hapless bodyguards innards tightened, and the man screamed a silent scream as he spewed for more foul waters, his eyes rolling up into the back of his head, before being tossed to the ground like a doll of straw. It was then that the creature turned it’s sights upon Cameron.

Kor and his wolf companion, for all their focus on the dispute with the nobleman were unprepared for the chaos that suddenly exploded right before them. The nobleman, terrified at watching his hired muscle disposed of so easily slinked in behind Kor, grabbing him for support one moment, pushing him forward the next, towards the foul denizen of the deep.

“I’m a noble, it’s your job to protect those better than you, Keep me safe, I command you!”

Kor stumbled forward as Veldrilac snapped a bark at Reginald, the cowardly ‘noble’man who had laid hands upon his master and friend. The ranger regained his composure, and drew forth his longsword, the finely polished blade all that was between the ranger and the same creature who now turned towards one astonished Cameron Grey.
(Lack of a post or any reason for absence will grant you one Npc’ed action, future lack of communication will result in less than favorable consequences)

Ruahn and Damara were split by only 15’ of actual space, but the frantic people running between them made it seem like much more, as the robed creatures tightened their circle upon the alleyway. Damara had drawn her blade, and moved closer to the same creature that had felled the guard, and now turned its attention towards Cameron. She darted past a woman scrambling before her, and side stepped a stumbling man in a panic to flee, and as she neared the creature, she struck, but her blade passed through nothing but the watery veil covering the creature, rivulets of water cascading down her blades length before falling to the earth as she moved the blade to complete the swing.

Ruahn, a blessing upon her blade however engaged the closest adversary as it neared her, longsword slashing outwards as the creature approached. Her sword passed through the watery veil, and connected with something solid beneath, as a splash of water and ichors hit the ground where the creature stood. It groaned the moan of the sea, like a twisted sound heard when placing one’s ear to a conch, before it lashed out at Ruahn, but the warrior was ready, and with a firm palm upon the flat of her blade, she two handed the weapon as a brace against the strike, her enchanted weapon holding firm, deflecting the blow even as she felt the force of the thrust as her arms and shoulders accepted the power.

Arka was at a disadvantage as well, he preferred the mobility of open quarters. It wasn’t the confined stalls, or even the guards presence which deterred the man, it was the people. So many people were at risk here, as exit points were cut off, and they started huddling in the center of the street, some grabbing weapons or objects from nearby vendor stands as some meager defense as a line was formed around them by guards and guild mates alike. Each innocent here was a liability, just as was the woman before him now was. She was conscious, albeit barely, her eyes lolled about in her head as Arka picked her up, and moved her behind the nearest market cart setting her down gently. No matter where he looked however the creatures were encroaching nearer and nearer, and even her, with the meager wooden stands providing some cover from those approaching from the west, two more entering from the southwest would soon be upon them, (20ft out) and there was currently no organized defense against that side of the perimeter. Reaching into the darkness cast between him and the woman from an overhead streetlight, Arka pulled forth a slender dagger its kris-like curved blade coming forth from the sheath of shadow.

At the northern end of the street, the Market guards along with Rajikesh watched as three robed horrors approached. As they crossed within 25’ of the line, two of the Market guards raised small crossbows, taking their stance behind the line, and firing at the nearest creature. Two bolts silently soared towards their mark, one, sinking into the chest of the creature as brackish water spewed forth around the bolt, the creature seemingly undeterred by the protruding object, while the other, fired by a hand unsteady with fright, soared high and wide, to be lost down the street in the darkness.

Onward the trio of enemies came, their slow swagger giving Rajikesh plenty of time to approach the center of the three, and to send a staggering jab to the creature’s chest just below where the bolt still protruded. As soon as his hand passed through the watery veil, Rajikesh’s mind tore back to his first pit fight here in Bayris, where the strong island warrior had been beaten by a dirty fighting street mongrel, his pride wounded, his ego beaten, and his purse empty. Rajikesh felt hollow, and cold… He remembered the painful memories as he left with nothing but embarrassment and shame as his trophies. Suddenly however his mind shifted to training vigorously, using the loss as a means to better himself, and in another sudden flashback he saw himself standing there above the same adversary who had bested him before, the unconscious youth’s eyes scanning the back of his skull as Rajikesh stood victorious. He pushed the memories away as his fist connected with solid matter behind the veil, and the creature groaned in response. Was this how they registered pain? Who knew, but it was certainly better than him laughing in the pit-fighters face about it.
(Successful will Save)

Rajikesh found himself unable to revel in his successful strike however as the other two creatures approached him, and the one before him lurched out to strike in return. As the only man between the three creatures and the Guards 20’ behind him, the pit fighter soon found himself severely outnumbered and out-flanked. The creature he struck lashed out with a talon-fingered hand, scratching across the warrior’s chest and drawing thin lines of blood, along with a numbing sensation that did little more than annoy the trained monk, his natural temperament to extreme temperatures protecting against the effects. The monk saw the strike from his left coming in and deftly raised his arm to parry it, but this allowed the creature on his right to lash out at an unprotected back, dragging its claws deeply across the side and back of Rajikesh, right along his ribs. This time however a small pang of icy pain registered in the monk, as he prepared to deal with the triple threat that had accosted him.

(Rajikesh 35/49)
(Engaged/ flanked by 3 creatures)

The Market Guards looked towards each other, as if they should do something to help the lone warrior, but the same gruff guard from before raised his hand to silence their unspoken concern. “Hold the Line. None are allowed to get passed here. He can withdraw to us if it gets too tough, and you two bowmen, Get across the street and provide some cover back there!” The guards looked towards their peer, for he was not of any ranking authority, but his grasp of the situation commanded respect and they simply nodded and began to move.”

Two more creatures came through on the east, though only one would reach Ruahn in time. It crossed the last 10’ remarkably quick and it thrust its hand outwards at the flanked warrior, much like the other had to fell the poor bodyguard. The hand jabbed forward, the palm not penetrating the fine mithril links, but the strength of the blow was still enough to rattle the Ruahn’s bones, even as she shrugged off the chill that seeped through her veins.

(Ruahn -51/62)
(Engaged/Flanked by two creatures a third will enter next round)

Ruahn did all she could to hold the eastern side of the street, but now four more came silently from the west, two ahead of two more. They came forward, and pushed through the stalls that blocked there path, shoving the stands aside as they moved into the street, homing in on the pool of warmth and live amassed in the center of the broken ring of defenders. Behind the two that entered the street, the other two stopped, guarding any potential escape down the western alley.

As they were within 15’ of the circle of bodies huddled in the center of the street, one of the merchants took up a silver cistern and threw it at the closest creature, the object clanging against it before rattling on the cobblestone. “Come on, we either fight for our lives or we forfeit them!” He called.

Beside him, his wife fainted…

Ruahn, Shouts, "FIRE! USE FIRE!"

“Yeah sure. I’ll just pull some fire out of my…” The rest of the sentence is lost in a growl of pain as sharp claws rake across his back. This isn’t good. If they were men… but they are something else entirely. Another snarl erupts from Rajikesh’s throat as a second claw rakes down his arm. I’ve got to get out from the middle. Rajikesh moves into a defensive stance, weaving and bending his body as the three creatures press their advantage. One claw slices high allowing Rajikesh to duck beneath it and spring into a diving roll between two of the creatures (5 foot step). At least now I have them on one side of me. Much good that will do. Coming out of the roll the monk plants his feet firmly beneath him and spins to face the three opponents. Gazing at each in turn he whispers a word under his breath before glancing around the plaza for a source of flame.

(Action review: 5’ step diagonally between two of the creatures, and activates his healing belt using 1 charge. I am fighting defensively at this point.)

Cameron was feeling pretty confident in himself when he first struck against the robed creature, but not so much so when the "wound" he had inflicted closed up immediately.

What manner of foe is this, have I hooked a bigger fish than I can reel in here?
When the creature turned its attention to him, seeking to lash out its assailant, Cameron snapped out of this train of thought and began to plan his next move as quickly as possible. Not one to stand and die in a hopeless fight Cameron made the only logical choice in his mind, retreat.

Making use of the acrobatic skills (Tumble +10) he had picked up while working on the ship all those years ago he did a back handspring and rolled backwards away from the cloaked figure, not wanting to wait and see what it could do to him. He made his way in the direction of the guild hall, keeping a sharp eye open for more foes (Spot +4), knowing he would need his armor if he was to be any real help to his guild mates.

((Yes this may seem cowardly, but Cameron's more of a tactical retreat and regroup kinda guy, more of a "He who fights and runs away lives to fight another day" deal.))

Ruahn look for a way to get unflanked, if she can find a place to move to, she will do so, other that taht she will try to regroup with any of the other Crimsosn Blades that nearby.

Her heart was pounding as she searched about for a more defensible place, or another fighter to join. She goes full defensive for now.