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Post by La Moruna on Oct 6, 2016 21:49:18 GMT
Amidst broken and rusty farmtools, a young petite woman laid, her pale face covered in dirty and rustic poltrices. In this nearly empty barn she kept to herself, playing with her pigtails while rocking herself back and forth, glassy teary eyes, mumbling the same words over and over. She ignored the mangly sheep around her and was ignored in return. There was some hard, sandy, moldy bread in front of her, as well as some fetid water; but her lips were chapped by desydratation.
Something disturbed the sheppard dog; as the beast started barking, the woman smelt something familiar.
Smoke.
Something was burning.
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Post by Finn Nibelsang on Oct 7, 2016 0:25:43 GMT
Another village, another set of stories, thought the wanderer to himself. The sturdy man took off his hat, scratching his blonde head beneath it. Yet again having reached a new place in this wild goose hunt that are his notes. Paper flutters in the wind as he tries to straighten out some of the pages in the rag-tag assembly of differently colored sheets that are barely held together by two iron plates, giving the thing at least roughly the appearance of a book. A sigh leaves his lips, as he adjusts his boots and belt. A look at the sky told him that the wind wouldnt go away soon, and he stoped for a moment, binding leather straps around the paper and iron contraption. It told him another thing as well, though. Something was definetly on fire, as smoke, and no small amount of it, was coming from within the tiny outpost.
A festival? He shook his head slightly. No, neither Montaigne nor Castille should have any traditional festivities today. This could mean any number of things.
Any number of things that he didnt know about.
With haste, he put away the book, and adjusted his bootstraps a last time.
Finally, something interesting might be happening, and he would surely not be the one to miss it, his steps hurried towards the source of the smoke.
Within less than a minute, he passed the surrounding fields, and entered into the street. Weird looking wooden houses, big enough to home small families stood to both sides. Many of them connected to one another, forming bigger, complex structures, and some had porches that in turn had another house on it. The people living here werent rich or influental, and from the many renovations it was clear that they had not gone unscathed by the war.
However, castillian pride beamed from every corner. No matter how much the house had to be renovated, no matter what structure of family lived in the more complex ones, not a single garden was unkempt, no window unhinged or wall unpainted. As small as some them may seem, they emitted a feeling that no matter what, another guest would surely fit within in a heartbeat.
One meter after another the wanderer passed down the clean path. The wind had gained some more strength, blowing into his back, as if to tell him to hurry, taking one turn after the next.
So far, he had not seen a single Villager.
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Post by La Moruna on Oct 7, 2016 6:23:45 GMT
La Moruna squeezed herself out of the barn, the sheppard dog waggling its tail as it followed her. With light steps, she continue in the direction of the fire.
The fields were lit ablaze, as the wind pushed more and more smoke towards the village - and soon, the fire. Someone had rolled the dry hay and drenched it in pitch, setting them on, causing the water-starved crops and dried stockpiles of manure to quickly lit.
Twisted shadows could be seen against the disturbing orange hue of the light, maimed scarecrows or the perpetrators of such vandalism?
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Post by Finn Nibelsang on Oct 7, 2016 18:47:31 GMT
With each step, more sound would echo through the streets. The distant cackle of fire, greedily devouring dry grass, the whistling of the wind through the streets. But much more dominant were the voices.
Dozens and dozens of voices, some crying with pleads of mercy, others filled with anger, spouting castillian swearwords in rapid succession.
Shortly before the next corner, the wanderer stopped, and carefully looked around the edge. What he saw was the outside of the city, where a fire was rapidly gaining substance. Much more of interest however were several armed men in inquisitorial clothes, barricading sheds, huts, wagons and a big fence on the middle of a marketplace in which the villagers were locked up, next to other fences with horses, cattle and sheep. From those entraped villagers came most of the noises, seemingly they were well aware that the fire would not take too long before devouring most of their fields, and the city in a big gulp.
Orders to be quiet were made loud from the armed soldiers, to little avail, and proclamations that the fire would cleanse this village of the sins they accrued.
The Inquisition. This organization was not known for its reasonable and fair approach. Whatever happened here, the wanderer knew only so much, these villagers were in need of help. Someone had to do something, or they would be devoured by flames. And as he didnt see anyone else unbound and in a favourable position, it might as well be him.
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Post by Dalai Llama on Oct 7, 2016 20:50:14 GMT
The situation was dire. An inferno was inevitably closing in on the village, the very grain that was supposed to sustain it woven into a carpet of fire, quickly unrolling towards our heroes.
The villagers, on the other hand, were captive to hooded men and women in arms, and one after another questioned and then locked away in the church. While the mob clearly outnumbered the hoods, they seemed too terrified - or perhaps pious - to act. The leader was easily apparant even from afar, his robes and hat distinguishing him from his brothers and sisters in silence.
And as if that was not enough, there were small groups of hooded figures running arround, searching every house, haybale and barrel for something, or someone. Evading them would not be easy.
What will our heroes do?
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Post by La Moruna on Oct 7, 2016 20:53:47 GMT
La Moruna rushes and climbs on top of the barn, the dog whimpering, unable to follow her. Flashes of recognition strike her, as she run, jumping from house to house, troppling water buckets, causing debris to fall, and all and all running around creating obstacles for the Inquisition agents and fire breaks for the raging inferno.
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Post by Finn Nibelsang on Oct 7, 2016 21:13:47 GMT
Time was of the essence. He himself wouldnt be able to stop the fire from destroying the harvest, nor could he take out all these figures.
The obvious choice was get the villagers to help themselves. Wrapping a piece of cloth around his face as a makeshift muffler and mask, he devised his strategy.
Peitsche would give him the advantage on movement in these streets, and he had seen a few sheds on the way that lock from the outside. Lets see how many of them were interested in chasing a masked figure that, with a bang,
would loudly declare that he had what they wanted.
He would lure them away, get them trapped in places, and spread chaos in their ranks, all while hopefully making sure the villagers would get a premiere seat for the show, and realize that their number advantage would only grow.
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Post by Dalai Llama on Oct 7, 2016 22:14:29 GMT
La Moruna:
You wish to delay the inquisition and the fire.
For one raise, you manage all your athletic jumps without a fall, and create enough debris and distraction to delay the Inquisition, as well as drench certain otherwise easily flammable areas with water, delaying the inferno.
The consequence however is your capture by the inquisition. Not only that, but they also start throwing rocks and whatever they can find after you in an effort to get you off the roofs.
You will need to spend 1 raise to avoid capture, and one to evade a painful hit by a random projectile, causing a wound.
From your vantage point, however, you spot something that most others missed so far. There is a small human outline visible in the grass - a child that, dazed from the smoke, has fallen and remains unconscious. The blaze will soon reach the boy, there are but moments to decide his fate. Rescuing him will cost you 1 raise.
Finn:
You wish to spread out and weaken the number advantage of the inquisition.
For one raise, you manage to fool and trap several patrols.
You face two risks. The first is obviously capture. Escaping every last attempt to capture you will cost you one raise.
Not only that, but your bold declaration has touched a nerve - the leader of the hooded figures quickly drew a pistol and aimed it your way. You may spend 1 raise to quickly duck behind cover before the bullet strikes home - causing a dramatic wound!
As you continue to outwit your opponents, you spot a weakness in their patrols opening as they attempt to capture you and La Moruna. Perhaps not expecting the villagers to escape, you have an opertunity to reach the church and outmaneuver the guard. Doing so will cost you 1 raise.
Is that agreeable to everyone?
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Post by Finn Nibelsang on Oct 7, 2016 23:17:34 GMT
The masked wanderer stepped onto the place, a crack of his whip announcing his arrival. "I have to say, for people so dedicated to find it, you are really bad at this." A shrug. "We could have long since escaped, telling stories how we evaded your grasp without the least bit of resistance. But where is the fun in that?" he shook his head in plain dissaproval. "No, I fear I must step in and at least give you a fighting chance. You got to work for what you want, so I advise you to come and get me, unless your legs work as bad as your investigative methods."
That should hopefully press some nerves, and have the desired effect of getting their attention.
A quickly drawn pistol answered this question with a loud ringing YES.
One step to the side behind the wall secured that the bullet harmlessly fractured part of the wall, but didnt reach the masked figure. "If you cant run better than you can shoot, this wont be much of a challenge!" he boasted, while tipping his hat with one hand from behind the wall.
Yelling and many footsteps made clear that the hunt had begun.
Quickly, this game of cat and mouse became appearent to be a tricky one for the cats. Around every corner, the legs of the masked wanderer, or a piece of his coat could be seen fluttering while taking another turn, just to have the followers end up in dead ends. Some ran into buildings with their doors wide open, only to realize that an open door doesnt have to mean that the target actually entered the house, and to have a cart, several barrels, or bags of flour dropped in front of them, slowing and trapping them. One unlucky fellow even almost got a hold of him in the stables, only to end up at the wrong end of a horse startled by a crack and sent flying out into the haybales outside.
Again and again, his pursuers ended with empty hands, and for a moment he had time to think. Their defenses were now spread thin, disorganized, all over the place and most likely confused, but he couldnt see the window of opportunity to get back to the villagers. Maybe it was not possible to do it all alone, the fire drawing ever closer.
The church. How many more villagers were trapped in there? If they reunited, maybe then they would find their honor and pick up their own fight.
Another yell of "I FOUND HIM!" brought him back to reality. He would need more time to get into that opportunity, and there was so little of it!
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Post by La Moruna on Oct 8, 2016 9:05:47 GMT
The petite Castillan woman darts across the rooftops, dousing flamable piles of wood and lay laying around, sprinting and sliding as she throws ladders and debris out of the way.
As the fire starves out, masked inquisition goons chase her. Barefooted, she finds it hard to give them the slip, and while she manages to elude them, she ends up battered, (more) bruised and grazed in the process. It is as she tries to catch her breath that she notices the boy, slowly suffocating.
Without a second thought, La Moruna leaves her hiding spot and drags the boy with her, looking for a safe spot.
(1 raise to stop the fire advance, 1 to escape capture, 1 to save the boy. Suffer the Consequence, taking 1 Wound.
Here to spend Raises and kick ass, and I'm all out of Raises)
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Post by La Moruna on Oct 8, 2016 10:56:24 GMT
(Approach)
La Moruna tries to find a place to hide and sneeze in taking advantage of her small size, where she can both keep the kid safe and spy on the goons and know where their boss is.
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Post by Finn Nibelsang on Oct 8, 2016 21:10:24 GMT
Seconds after seconds. How many minutes passed in this chase? He was bound to run out of breath eventually, and possibly locking his own escape routes by trapping some more goons there.
No, a new plan needed to be made, and a moment of clarity to achieve. Quickly, he began climbing the closest and tallest barn he could find.
(Approach)
Observation of situation on the church porch, number and possibly strenght of the remaining guards vs the theoretically strength of an angry castillian mob, and second entrances/exits in the church. Eagle eyes should give him the ability to do so from a relative save distance.
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Post by Dalai Llama on Oct 8, 2016 21:42:18 GMT
That seems like hide/finesse on both accounts, of course including the bonus for small. Don't roll yet, tell me if you are ok with the pool. Once I got the go-ahead I'll post the risks in detail, and then you can roll - for maximum suspense  |
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Post by Dalai Llama on Oct 8, 2016 21:58:47 GMT
Finn will need 1 raise to remain hidden long enough to get a general idea of what they are facing. Due to his sharp eyes, he can also spend 1 raise in order to spot enough distinguishing factors to be able to identify the leader later on, either by knowledge or potential reference with someone knowledgeable.
The risk is being spotted and surrounded, avoided by 1 raise.
La will need 1 raise to hide close enough to the hooded figures to listen in on some barked orders and mumbled conversations in all this chaos. The consequence is capture, also avoided by a single raise.
Additionally, due to the proximity, she might be able to snatch something from a passing by goon. This would be improvisation (Theft), and hence require 2 raises.
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Post by La Moruna on Oct 8, 2016 22:09:28 GMT
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