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Post by john on Oct 23, 2008 23:27:06 GMT -5
John shrugs. He doesn't really know what the decision they're making is about, and he just wants to go back to the Hall of Records and pass out in his barracks-like dormitory.
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Post by Stix on Jul 2, 2009 13:17:09 GMT -5
(OOC: Hadrian will begin distributing the antidote to the most violently ill and work his way up until he runs out as discretely as he can manage.) (Hey, I remember this scene!  ) (Where's Hadrian starting with the distribution? I know it's been a while, so here's the bit about how everyone's faring. We can wrap this up and then I can finally give out the bonus XP for this thread.) |
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Post by exile on Jul 5, 2009 11:15:57 GMT -5
(OOC: Looking back at the log, it appears that Hadrian has 10 vials to distribute, and an eleventh designated for Aerin. Eight will go to the category of those who will die immediately unless treated (includes: githyanki, four brawlers, forceful drunk, two other patrons). Two will be dispensed to individuals with poor chance of survival - in this case large workman barring door and lead workman barring door, because I anticipate it will allow us to clear house faster. That leaves 7 with poor chance of survival, 11 with good chance of survival (includes Wraith), and 6 with excellent chance of survival.
Hadrian will try to spearhead an ambulance caravan to the nearest temple of good alignment to assist the remainder. Not sure how much of this you want to RP.)
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Post by Stix on Jul 5, 2009 13:25:47 GMT -5
(Not sure how much of this you want to RP.) (From beginning to end. Depending on how it's handled, the scene could end up with anything from a quiet, hopeful trek for survival to a lynch mob of thirty desperate sods trying to murder Hadrian and take the antidotes for themselves and their friends.) |
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Post by exile on Jul 10, 2009 14:04:22 GMT -5
There was no way for the aasimar to keep a secret of his ministrations, and to try to do so would only provoke the ire of already strained tempers. The truth however would provoke a riot that only the most skilled of negotiators could hope to stay - Hadrian knew that he could impose a calming influence but he didn't wish to test the limits of his oratory skills in the midst of this potential tinderbox. Misdirection then was his only recourse. He began his rounds of the stricken, proceeding up along the ranks of the most ill and then onwards to the only marginally less deserving. He didn't try to hide the act however - instead he called for everyone's attention.
"I have a plan, cutters," he called out above the clamor. "But it will require all of your assistance to bear fruit. This poison requires the attention of a blood more skilled than I. We are going to a temple - all of us, and no objections! So wrack your brain boxes, and find me the name of a kip belonging to the greybeards of a benevolent Power in this quarter. The only one who will remain behind is the dustwoman who has volunteered to stand over those too ill to walk or be carried. Once I have seen to them, we will be underway."
That last was a hair's breadth away from a lie. After Hadrian had finished distributing the antidote they would still be too ill to walk - but neither would they need to.
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