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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Apr 11, 2008 6:05:45 GMT -5
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Post by exile on Apr 11, 2008 14:46:28 GMT -5
Maintaining a comfortable distance behind the formidable protection afforded by John, Hadrian added his self assured baritone to the discussion. “Surely you bashers can not believe that a poisoner would bring her child to commit the deed, or drink of the tainted draught themselves? We are as much the victims here as you, irrespective of what badges we might wear. The Taker is right, see to your own. We have no answers for you.”
Not yet at least. If the rabble could be quieted, Hadrian had a keen desire to speak with the bartender, where ever he may have slumped over, and to tour the kitchens as well.
Diplomacy:
[dice=20+9]
[rand=2542767864030606471119629742263797013164112696057216417540521406]
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Post by Stix on Apr 16, 2008 8:54:37 GMT -5
(It's a real catch 22 -- letting the patrons go on vomiting means additional strain and rupturing blood vessels, but leaving them be means they'll be continuing to absorb the poison into their systems. The best bet is to try and find an antidote as soon as possible -- or, failing that, a sample of the poison to try to concoct one yourself.)
Whether the forge laborer is cowed by John's fearsome stare and steel or brought to sense by Hadrian's calm reasoning is unclear, but with a pained hiccup and a grunt he begins to back away, sparing another hard look at Wraith, then considering Aerin. He returns to the door to speak his piece to his fellows, who again begin arguing among one another.
Three more scattered brawls break out as accusations fly and rivalries surface under the strain of desperation. Nearby, a lone githyanki sits still by the hearth, clutching her gut -- and just a few paces away, another table of laborers is staring at her as though about to make an "accusation" of their own.
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Post by exile on Apr 16, 2008 11:37:46 GMT -5
As the forge worker retreats to the familiarity of his companions, Hadrian lets out a long breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “These sodding bashers are determined to leave as bodies,” he hisses with a good deal of venom.
“I’m going to have a look around the kitchen and see what I can find. You cutters can come if you like, I’m not certain what would be safest for you and the boy.”
Hadrian sincerely doubted that the poisoner was still present; what barmy would remain after the deed was done? Still, if the toxin was as fast acting as he believed, perhaps a crowded barroom was enough to trap the villain until the doors were barred. With that in mind, Hadrian kept an eye about him for any other bashers in the establishment who appeared ‘mercifully’ unaffected, or perhaps for a clever sod feigning all the pain and distress but without any bruising or other physical signs.
Quietly, and he hoped unobtrusively, the aasimar picked his way around the periphery of the room with an aim towards the kitchen.
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Post by Stix on Apr 24, 2008 19:21:20 GMT -5
Hadrian enters the kitchen while John and Wraith continue to sit through the steady worsening of the patrons' conditions. After a minute or so, two of them approach the Dustman and Taker.
"Scan this, bashers," says one of them, pained. "If you'll give us the antidote, we can pay you some big jink. Won't hand you over to the Hardheads or nothin'."
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Post by john on Apr 24, 2008 23:10:09 GMT -5
"If I'd had it, I'd be drinking it myself. Give the woman and the other fellow some time to work, they know their business. Mine is killing.... but it looks like I might have just been kilt myself."
He sits down heavily, expression pained and grim. He has drunk the ale.... was he poisoned as well? He looks at Wraith, "Well? I'm not a chirugeon. Figure it out. I'll keep an eye on the boy while you do."
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Post by Stix on Apr 27, 2008 20:41:00 GMT -5
"But you bashers ain't sick. C'mon, it ain't hard to tumble to it. Just help us get out of here alive."
(On that note, please include a DC 12 Fortitude save with your next post, everyone.)
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Post by john on Apr 27, 2008 21:15:28 GMT -5
John shakes his head, and says, "I'd be selling you the antidote if I had it. Could be I'm just that lucky. Or that tough."
"Besides. I'm the Taker of Blood. If you've seen or heard of me fight, you know I only kill people from the front. With a sword in their hands."
John plays to his reputation as a brutal, but somewhat honorable pit-fighter to get him out of this particular misunderstanding.
Fort save! [Dice=20+8]
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Post by exile on Apr 27, 2008 22:17:13 GMT -5
(I'm just going to roll this here even though I'm not technically in the room at the moment:)
[dice=20+6][rand=294480946272025641281209177273953791906691593681616849412260354768]
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Apr 28, 2008 2:29:10 GMT -5
[Sorry I've taken so long to reply, guys. I'll try to get something up tomorrow.  And, for my fort save! [dice=20+6] *fingers crossed* Do I need to roll for Aerin as well?  ][rand=58755733708633041424890208375285790685274074043226592611929400233] |
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Apr 28, 2008 2:31:02 GMT -5
[Ooops! That's actually a +5 to her fort save. Damn.  ] |
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Apr 29, 2008 0:34:39 GMT -5
[The following assumes Wraith starts to get sick, too.]
"I know you're all desperate, but further violence and hostility isn't going to help you now. It'll only worsen your condition. The best thing to do is try to remain calm, so I can get a good look at all of you, while my companion searches for the antidote..." Wraith grimaces as a sudden nauseating pain flares inside her. Gritting her teeth, and clutching her gut, she hisses to the laborers.
"Right; you want to get out of here alive? You're all strong men, so help me round up those of you who are at greatest risk, and I'll do what I can to stabilize your condition, buying you some extra time." It was a long shot, it might not even work. She doubted she even had the tools she needed to help these men. But what choice did she have?
"John, take Aerin with you, and go find Hadrian. Help him find the antidote, or the berk responsible for poisoning us."
Diplomacy
[dice=20]
+2
Knowledge: Medicine [to determine how much time she has, what caused this, and if it can be cured]
[dice=20]
+17[rand=99326848579309967846601668137293642356511170137649185013001006683]
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Apr 30, 2008 21:18:31 GMT -5
[scratch that. Knowledge: Medicine check to determine how much time she has left [for herself and anyone else poisoned], and how this can be cured. Just had a look over previous posts, and she already knows the likely cause.  ] |
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Post by john on Apr 30, 2008 22:05:14 GMT -5
"Right, come along then, kid, your mum knows best." He moves after Hadrian, cursing quietly the situation in general.
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Apr 30, 2008 22:23:19 GMT -5
"Right, come along then, kid, your mum knows best." He moves after Hadrian, cursing quietly the situation in general. Quietly reassuring Aerin that John won't bite, she gives her son a gentle nudge in the Taker's direction, and watches them walk off. I'll have to remind him to watch his tongue when this is all over. She thinks to herself, before turning back to the haggard laborers. Now wasn't the time for such pettiness, however. Wiping the sweat from her brow, Wraith gestures for the men to lead on. "I'll need your help, bashers." She gently reminds them. [OOC: If Wraith hasn't already done so that week, she targets the strongest looking of the laborers with her Suggestion ability.] |
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Post by Stix on May 1, 2008 0:41:58 GMT -5
John enters the kitchen with Aerin in tow. The cook and bartender are on the floor leaking blood from their orifices, and Hadrian is crouched low for a closer look at the sticky floors and cooking surfaces. Wiping the sweat from her brow, Wraith gestures for the men to lead on. "I'll need your help, bashers." She gently reminds them. " WhugganIdo?" the other man slurs, markedly worse off than his more talkative friend. He folds his arms and hunkers forward, edging a bit closer to the fire. |
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on May 1, 2008 3:04:28 GMT -5
The food was also poisoned... Sodding Hells. Wraith grimaces as her stomach clenches again. I'm running out of time, and Aerin ate the food too... Dear Gods, Aerin... Her mind trailing off for a moment, she glances toward the kitchens where John escorted her son. If he falls ill - and he will - he won't be able to tell them. He'd withdrawn completely into his own mind.
Raking her fingers through her hair, and assessing the situation, she comes to the conclusion that if she doesn't do something right now, they were all going to die.
Pointing at the bashers already suffering the final throes of the poison - vomiting blood, severe fatigue, bruises spreading as a dark stain across their ruddy faces, and collapsed on the floor - she says to the laborers with her.
"Get them on the tables, carefully. We can't risk any further injury. I'll have to treat them immediately." With what I have at my disposal.[/i] To the rest of the patrons, those that are still fighting and coherent enough to understand her, she moves closer to the centre of the room and calls out;
"Stop fighting! All of you!" Assuming they heed her suggestion, she turns in a slow circle, including all in her speach.
"We've all been poisoned. What's worse, the longer you fight and bloody yourselves up, chances are you won't be getting out of here alive. While my companions search the kitchens for an antidote, I will attempt to treat you all as best as I can. But in order to help all of you, you'll need to help me. Sit down and rest, and keep yourselves hydrated. Do not exert yourselves, and above all, stay calm. We'll need clean water, or anything else drinkable that hasn't been tainted. Do this for yourselves, and the poison will work its way out of your systems within the hour.
I will treat your wounds, and attempt to stablize your conditions, starting with the most seriously injured, and those who've been drinking all night."
[Wraith uses Suggestion with the first order, and I believe this situation also calls for a Diplomacy check. *fingers crossed*]
Diplomacy
[dice=20]
+3[rand=441850641269565604940757418494812786514107339829617549315386345238]
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Post by exile on May 1, 2008 14:56:27 GMT -5
Stooped low over his find, Hadrian looses a knife from his belt and slides it under one of the white pellets, careful not to touch it with his exposed skin. Raising it up before his face, the aasimar invokes his simple invocation once more to determine if the substance is indeed to blame. Catching the heavy tread of John’s footstep from the door, Hadrian turns to regard the Taker and his youthful ward as the pair enter behind him. Clearing his throat, the Bleaker speaks.
“I think perhaps I might have found something here,” he begins. “Although I’m not certain yet what use it will be in suggesting a remedy. Park the boy over here, and then see about moving him aside.” At this last comment, Hadrian directs a nod towards the collapsed form of the cook. The prostrate man is obstructing the cellar door. “If this poison is as fast acting as I believe, I’m wondering if our poisoner decided to take shelter down there while the lot of us succumb. Who knows, maybe there’s a tradesman’s entrance out the back.”
Leaving John to his task, Hadrian directs his attention towards the taps and kegs to look for signs of tampering.
(OOC: Casting detect poison on the white pellets)
Raw Wisdom Check (if it makes any difference):
[dice=20+2][rand=715191459856930726099371238843533106193507485657981293704698599259]
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Post by john on May 1, 2008 23:23:35 GMT -5
John heaves the cook aside with no gentleness whatsoever. No brutality either, just moving him around as though he were a box or another obstacle in his way. He draws his knife from his belt, and sys to the boy, "Park here behind the spellslinger. I may have a pig to threaten." John then opens the cellar door, assuming it's not locked, and roughly will attempt to force it, should it be, pitting brute strength against it.
[dice=20+4][rand=792039095662415743839828087589560542421944021999068899540222091616]
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Post by Stix on May 4, 2008 22:23:20 GMT -5
(Fortitude saves again with your next posts. DC 12 for John/Hadrian, 13 for Wraith.) Leaving John to his task, Hadrian directs his attention towards the taps and kegs to look for signs of tampering.
(OOC: Casting detect poison on the white pellets)(Pellets = poisonous. In looking for signs of tampering, will that be a Search check, or extra time to take 20?) John heaves the cook aside with no gentleness whatsoever. No brutality either, just moving him around as though he were a box or another obstacle in his way. He draws his knife from his belt, and sys to the boy, "Park here behind the spellslinger. I may have a pig to threaten." John then opens the cellar door, assuming it's not locked, and roughly will attempt to force it, should it be, pitting brute strength against it. The cellar door is easily unstuck, having been held closed only by the sticky film of old grease and beer on the floor. The hatch is small, and the stairs steep and narrow; darkness shrouds anything that could lurk below. (Balance check if/when descending.) I will treat your wounds, and attempt to stablize your conditions, starting with the most seriously injured, and those who've been drinking all night." [/color][/quote] The two nearest laborers obediently begin to help their fellows onto the tables, but their own conditions are rapidly worsening from the exertion. While Wraith does her best to keep some order near the bar (a difficult task in one of the Lower Ward's rowdiest taverns), a hostile situation looks to be escalating near the entrance, where the handful of laborers preventing egress are facing down roughly equal numbers of desperate drunks demanding the right to leave. Both sides bicker loudly. " I ain't stayin' in here to die!" one man suddenly roars over the din of argument, his forceful tone quieting many around him. " I've 'ad enough, it's time to go get some sodding help!" " Pike it and sit down! Nobody leaves before we find out who did this!" orders the lead man. It's only a matter of time before drunken tempers spell a terrible end for a dozen or more unlucky souls. (If I could also have a Spot check for Wraith, please.) |
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][rand=58755733708633041424890208375285790685274074043226592611929400233]
]
]