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Thread: Dale in the Fourth Age: Session Two, "Home Town, Gonna Wander Down Your Back Streets"

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    Default Dale in the Fourth Age: Session Two, "Home Town, Gonna Wander Down Your Back Streets"

    With something to celebrate - and several further lines of enquiry to pursue - our heroes have been engaging in a good old tradition known as a "pub crawl", and after an ale or two in a few of the better taverns in town (and giving Bruno a good send-off) the rest of the fellowship find themselves stumbling out of a watering-hold known to Rowena, rejoicing in the name of "The Merry Thrush" and boasting some of the fiercest hot snacks to be found anywhere East of the Misty Mountains.

    They have been taking the opportunity to show off some of their new purchases (including, in Arewe's case, a tune-up for her strange Eastern bow, which after having its springs replaced with a stiffer set by a nimble-fingered Dwarf bowyer named Austri, now draws exactly as hard as she can pull) and, after taking enough refreshment for one evening, tumble out into the street singing along to the splendid lute Rowena is familiarising herself with.

    It is after the hour when most respectable citizens have sought their beds, but there are still a few people about the place -- including a small number, barely visible in the shadows under the eaves of a couple of rows of close-set houses, who appear to be engaged in a scuffle of some kind. One of them gives out an agonised yell as it seems something sharp finds its mark in his flesh: then there is a cry of "Hook it!" and a patter of fleeing feet, leaving someone in the half-light of the moon spreading a darkening stain across the cobbles.
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    Eli Proudfoot, in a very pleasant ale-enhanced state but not, he thinks, actually drunk, will put his hand on the hilt of his sword and run over to see if he can help the apparently-wounded person.

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    Rowena, somewhere between pleasantly tipsy and utterly numb--the lute is such a splendid instrument it practically plays itself, at least it seems so to her--is slow to recognize the significance of the sounds. Eli's behavior finally catches her attention and she pauses, somewhat stupidly, to gaze after the hobbit.

    "Oh," she says when realization finally seeps through her cider-soaked brain. "Eli, be careful!" After adjusting the lute's shoulder strap to switch it from front to back in a clumsy but fortunately familiar move, Rowena starts off after him.

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    Tom will carefully walk over towards the commotion, ready to cast a spell if the party are attacked.

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    Arewe will quickly follow Eli, readying her bow.
    She can defend the hobbit (or perhaps track those who just fled the scene.)

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    Eli arrives first and sees that the fallen person is a young Man, clutching a bleeding belly wound that looks like it might be serious. Arewe can clearly hear the assailants (or whoever it was that ran away) no more than an alleyway distant. Tom and Rowena arrive about the same time a few moments later, and Rowena recognises Dan Harston, a slightly shady sort; by no means one of Dale's leading lights but with no great harm in him so far as she knows. His eyes struggle to focus on her and his mouth seems to be trying to form words.
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    Eli glances from the Man to Rowena, then presses his own hands firmly over the Man's, over the belly wound. "He needs a healer, and quickly," Eli says loudly, before leaning in close to hear what the Man wishes to say.

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    Horror sweeps away some of Rowena's cloud of drunkenness. "I know him. Dan..." She sinks onto her knees beside Dan Harston and takes his hand with hers. Darting a frightened glance over her shoulder to see if Gade is nearby, she then shifts uneasily to Eli and Tom. "I have--that scroll thing. For light wounds. Does that really work? I don't really know how..."

    Helpless, she tightens her grip around Dan's fingers. "Dan, you'll be all right, I--I promise." She has no idea if this is a promise she should make. The wound looks terrible. She swallows and kneels closer, trying to focus on his face and adding her second hand to sandwich his. "What happened, who did this to you?"

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    Unless Gade appears with a Cure, Tom will use a Potion of Cure on Dan.

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    Arewe will try to spot the assailants - but not at risk to herself (as she can see the others are busy helping the victim.)

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    As Rowena fumbles for the scroll, she remembers her mentor's words. The music isn't something you perform... it is something that you are. It's part of you. Learn to trust it.

    And more than once, the touch of her hand seemed to keep someone alive until help could arrive -- does she yet dare to be that help herself?
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    Uncertain where these thoughts are coming from--the cider? Crazed hope?--Rowena stares back at Dan and tightens her grip. Sick or wounded people have been calmed, soothed, even sustained around her, but surely that's just from... the comfort of a gentle touch? Their own will?

    She doesn't know. Right now she doesn't know anything. Heribert called her a fool often enough--affectionately, but he meant it; said she didn't understand the true power of music, said she needed to conjure light from darkness and harmony from silence--whatever that meant--and he doubted she'd ever see what was right in front of her unless he pointed it out.

    Right now, lost, she agrees with him. All she knows is that Dan hasn't responded to her words, and she's scared he's already gone. If she ever helped anyone stay safe, she hopes that ability somehow repeats itself now.

    She leans in, peering at him. "Dan, it's me, it's Ro. Rowena Ticehurst. Please stay here, we have a healer..." At least Tom has a potion he knows how to use. She tosses another glance for Gade before swiftly returning to the wounded man beside her. "C'mon, Dan, you can't go. Not without using that Harrow deck you won off Elric. New travelers are in town, ripe for the Oracle grift. And Towers, remember, you promised you'd show us how that works?"

    Belatedly she realizes this probably isn't helping her reputation with the others, but she pushes that concern away. Falling silent, and somewhat self-conscious, she closes her eyes and sort of... kind of... prays.

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    Rowena feels a strange thrill run through her, from her heart to her fingertips. Dan gasps and his eyes open. Visibly he is not at death's door and could probably stand up at once if both he and the songstress were a little less bewildered about the whole thing. The formerly-dangerous wound is no longer bleeding.

    "Ro!" he gasps. "Damn, you showed up just about the right time. It was the Scarfaces!"
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    "The right time would've been before they got you," Rowena says weakly. The words are automatic, just a response to fill in the time until her mind can actually comprehend what just happened. Is that how the scroll works? Because while she's comforted people before until they rallied, she's never seen torn flesh become whole. Not without an actual healer stepping in.

    She resolves to ask Tom if he used his potion... even though that doesn't explain what she felt. Shaking the thoughts away for now, Rowena backs up to let Dan catch his breath, then enlists the others to help him back to his feet. Meanwhile she's retreated her hands, almost afraid to let them touch anything.

    At last her bemused brain catches up to what the suddenly un-wounded man just said. The Scarfaces.


    OOC: May I get a knowledge (local) check please? What if anything does Rowena know about the Scarfaces?

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    Tom checks that whether Potion of Cure is needed (rather naughtily thinking it will save the party money!)

    Tom has spent time in Dale - he racks his brains for any local reference to 'Scarfaces'.

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    Arewe is keeping an eye out for the attacker(s), but is not chasing them on her own.

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    A weathered looking man holding a elvish looking long bow approaches. You see a Longsword over his back. His cloak is wrapped around him but his hood is down revealing brownish hair and grey eyes. He appears to be of average height.

    "I am Beecher, is this man a friend of yours? Do you need help? I am a fair hand at tracking if it comes to it."

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    Eli stands and steps back from the wounded man, answering warily, "He was attacked, he said, by the Scarfaces. I think one or more of them just ran away from here. Do you know who they might be, stranger?"

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    Tom introduces himself to Beecher. "I'm Tom. This attack just happened. We cannot allow this sort of thing in Dale."

    (Tom will use any skill of his that might help to see of Beecher is trustworthy...)

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    Arewe keeps watching the direction the attackers fled in, but says over her shoulder "Beecher, welcome. I'm Arewe and I also have some skill in tracking."

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    Rowena has certainly heard of the Scarfaces. Dale has a number of young men (and some women) who stand somewhere between "youngsters who like a bit of fun", on the one hand, and "out-and-out ne'er-do-wells usually managing not to be caught in the act" on the other. The Scarfaces are about the roughest bunch, but there are several groups who band together for mutual protection if nothing worse, rejoicing in a variety of imaginative names. While loitering on the fringe of some of these borderline activities, and not always being above "a bit of fun" herself, Rowena has always avoided actively becoming aligned with any of them nor getting into mischief that would earn more than an official scolding were she ever caught. The Scarfaces... are reputed to have fewer scruples.

    Dan is still wincing a little as he carefully stands up, but he is able to stand and will probably mend well enough in the natural way even if he would be wise not to get into any rough stuff for the time being.

    OOC: Tom has no particular way to assess Beecher's trustworthiness or otherwise, other than to watch his actions. Sorcerers are not the best skill-monkeys
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    Rowena swiftly relates a rushed (and heavily expurgated to be Rowena-friendly) explanation of the Scarfaces to those who don't know of them. She glances at the stranger, not even having noticed his approach. If he's a tracker, he must be great at making sure he's not heard or seen.

    "Thanks, Beecher. Yes, he's a friend of mine. Whether you help depends on...um..." She's trying to avoid staring in admiration at the Elvish bow, a real beauty. "...Depends on whatever just happened."

    Her attention refocuses on Dan. "Are you all right to talk for a moment? Whatever did they want? Was it just random violence--you know, Scarfaces being Scarfaces? Did they steal anything, was it something personal, was it--" Rowena cuts herself off when her mind's litany of possibilities lands on the worst one. She stares at him with wary concern. "Oh Dan, please tell me you didn't pull anything on one of the Scarfaces?"

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    "No!" exclaims Dan. "And they didn't take anything, either. Just told me I was trespassing, and they were going to mark me up a bit so anyone who needed to know could see they meant business. Only... this street has never been Scarfaces' patch, not even close. I know they're a bad lot, but they've never been this pushy."

    He probes his favourite belly anxiously. "Seems if you hadn't turned up when you did, I might've been a bit more of a warning than they meant. Or than I thought they meant, anyway."
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    "Shall we chase them," Eli asks Rowena and this 'Dan' fellow, "or just let them go?"

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    Arewe is ready to go after the gang (and has some idea which direction they went in...)

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    Tom asks "Is there an authority in Dale that the party should report to?"
    If not, he's happy to pursue.

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    Rowena stares at Dan's description of his attackers' words. "Mark you up a bit," she repeats, glancing down at the tear in his shirt still damp with his blood. "I fear what they'd've done if they actually meant damage! As for your luck, usually you've been luckier than any of us have a right to be. Tonight, though... well, I guess we did find you just in time."

    She skims past thoughts of whatever just happened to her sort-of-friend's wound. The Hobbits' questions make her give him a sideways glance. Not a fan of 'authorities', Dan isn't, and truthfully neither is she. "Ummm... it probably depends on how Dan feels about that, Tom.

    "As for giving chase against the Scarfaces--" Despite the situation, she's inwardly pleased by the almost-rhyme there, and she smiles when she turns to Eli. "--You're a strong lot indeed, I wouldn't bet against you normally. They're a particularly vicious bunch when they're on their own territory." Rowena frowns in increasing concern, murmuring, "...Vicious and getting worse, apparently."

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    Beecher quietly starts checking the area for tracks of note. Some oddity in gait or footwear indicated by the prints.

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    Eli rubs his chin and echoes Tom's question, directing it the wounded man. "Would you suggest we report this attack to the Town Watch or other local authority, sir?"

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    Beecher doesn't notice anything especially unusual about the marks left by the now-vanished ruffians OOC: Even with an excellent Survival skill, sometimes the d20 of destiny just doesn't play ball although since they left in some haste not long ago and were several in number, it's likely that he could find something to follow; while the streets are by no means filthy, they are not so pristine as to leave no marks at all.

    This is all a little outwith Eli's experience, even as a Shirriff. Tales tell of sadder times in the days when Sharkey was about the place, but Shirriffs these days as before the War don't often have to mind other people's business for them, and generally have little to do except ensure that any strayed beasts are returned to their proper place... along with certifying that the various wayside hostelries are giving proper measure of liquor that is fit for purpose.

    Dan looks unhappy. "Truth to tell -- though I'm not fonder of a knife in the belly than the next man -- it would feel too much like snitching. And even if not, what's to say? There's not but my word to say all the knife-work was on one side, or that I hadn't as much to do with the quarrel as they. I'd as soon find out what they meant by it, and maybe teach them not to go so far another time, if it could be managed without too much blood shed." As Rowena knows well enough, a little mischief is generally turned a blind eye to, if it's short of actual robbery or deadly assault, and just between equals. Youngsters of both sexes -- but mainly young men -- mainly grow out of such foolishness soon enough.
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    Tom feels that since Rowena knows Dan, it's worth trying to catch the attackers.
    Also the last time this group got involved helping an injured party, it turned out well (and was exciting to boot!)
    So he suggests to everyone that Dan goes home and we hunt the Scarfaces.

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    Arewe nods politely at Beecher and also looks for Scarface tracks (having a slight advantage of having heard them flee...)

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    Ever eager for adventure and to smite (or at least reprove) wrongdoers, Eli agrees with Tom and will join Arewe in looking for Scarface tracks.

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    Looking from one party member to the other, and then over to Dan, Rowena finally lands her gaze down at the old copper ring on her right hand. It's worthless--its weight wouldn't even equal an actual copper piece--but it once had a pretty shine to it. Now its main value is as something to twist when she's anxious. As she does now.

    She's still a little tipsy from all the cider, but not enough to ignore the general consensus here. Her instinct is to wish them luck and go home. But Dan is her friend, sort of, and it does anger her that this gang seems to have hurt him with no purpose, not even in revenge for some swindle or to steal anything he possessed. At least those are respectable reasons to attack--attack but not attempt to gut like a fish.

    What can she offer these adventurers? Her song, her voice, they're encouraging, sure. But having seen the Scarfaces at work, she's uncertain they'll be helpful.

    She's already staring at her hand, and slowly she turns it over, both of them actually, and examines her palms. Did Tom use whatever potion or some other sorcerer-ish power to help Dan? That ugly wound seemed to sew itself up right under her fingers. And she'd felt... something. Despite the unpleasant ripple down her spine now, and the desire to pause before bed to finagle another cider, Rowena sighs. The storyteller in her wants to know what happened--and whether it will happen again.

    Her gaze edges to Dan. "Um... if there's anything else they said, or if you know exactly which Scarfaces attacked, now's a good time to drag it out of your memory. Otherwise I'll help you home. And after that--" After that, who knows what madness she's letting herself in for? Human-plant monstrosities, orcs with the head of a mutilated ram...

    She turns back to the others. "After that I'll join you," she says, not as heartily as she'd intended.

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    "If we're going to track and catch up to them, best we start very soon."

    Beecher looks around, if anyone is in the area that looks like a reliable townsperson, he'll call to them, "Good (sir or ma'am), could you please help poor Dan home? We need to pursue the ruffians who did this."

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    While the good citizens of Dale aren't used to seeing a huddle of people, some of them visibly armed, on the streets at night, there are enough persuasive tongues present -- between Rowena and the two personable-looking hobbits -- that a passer-by is soon convinced of the very reasonable proposition that Dan has been recently hurt and could do with seeing safely indoors. No-one seems very inclined to join in any meddling that goes on.

    Working as a team (*), the two Rangers are able to find enough of a trail to follow, since a small group moving together offers enough of a clue compared to the random comings and goings on the sometimes muddy streets.

    (*)OOC: The normal way to handle this is for one to attempt an Aid Another check and thus give the other a bonus on the actual skill check itself. There's not much need to specify you're doing that in a simple situation like this.

    Even in civilised, prosperous Dale there are some unusually narrow and shadowy streets, and the trail leads down one of these, unsurprisingly called "The Shambles".
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    Tom congratulates Rowena on healing Dan and suggests to her that we follow the tracking Rangers.

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    "By all means," Eli adds impatiently. "Let's go. Time's a-wasting!"

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    Rowena, startled that the others are waiting for her, agrees and will follow them.

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    The Shambles is very narrow in places - the roofs almost meet overhead and there is five feet or even less of clearance between house fronts where, over time, the owners have eked out a few extra inches of living space at the expense of the public access. As the party pursue the fugitives, they are forced emphatically into single file and it will be very difficult to change places. (Gade is present for this scene...) OOC: Allocate a marching order, please!
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    Beecher will take the lead with Arewe next to help with the tracking. (Rangers)
    Lets put Tom Gamgee the Sorcerer next followed by Rowena the local Bard.
    Gade the Druid protecting this pair comes next.
    Requesting Elihu Hobbit Scout to stealthily follow the party looking for any trying to sneak up behind us.

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    Elihu Proudfoot, a trained scout and brave for his size, would prefer to be out front, but will consent to bring up the rear this time.

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    Tom agrees with the marching order (we need to track) and reassures Eli that the Scarface thugs will probably attack from the back!

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    "So much the better," Eli says with a mix of bravado and humor, making sure his short sword moves freely in its scabbard.

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    "I will go wherever you put me," Rowena says, comforted by the fact that this seems to be safely in the middle of the group.

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    Following the two Rangers and in a rather constrained single file, the sextet hasten down the narrow and poorly-lit Shambles. Beecher's keen eyes, with Arewe's to assist, make light weather of spotting where the grime underfoot has been recently disturbed, and after a few moments there is a startled yell from somewhere ahead and the sound of a few pairs of feet quickening their pace, punctuated oddly by a few shrill whistles (the kind made by fingers in the mouth, not musical instruments).

    As the pursuers follow, there is a sudden tearing of the light sackcloth covering an open doorway -- two, in fact, just about opposite each other in the narrows. From either side a small sword lunges, just about neck height for Tom who had passed a moment before, and so about rib or belly height for Rowena who is next. One lunge is wild but the other finds a patch not covered by the minstrel's new mail coat and a tearing pain sears through her. OOC: The ambushers successfully executed a sneak attack although only one of them hit. 9 points of damage.

    Given the narrowness of The Shambles, it is difficult for anyone except Gade, Rowena and Tom to see much of the attackers, and they glimpse only Man-sized assailants behind the flimsy "curtains", one either side. It is unclear whether the sneaks intend to stand and fight or to bolt further into the houses at whose entrances they stand.
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    Tom calls out "Rowena hurt! Opponents either side!" and tries to cast Magic Missile on Rowena's attacker.

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    Rowena gasps and clutches her side near the wound, in as much shock and indignation as pain. She staggers back but doesn't fall, grabbing hold of the flimsy curtain for support. "Why?"she asks, somehow feeling illogically betrayed both by the men who attacked and the armor for not covering 100% of her body. If she really has some... ability... to help people, can she help herself? The question echoes and is nearly drowned out by the blood pounding in her ears and the exaggerated sounds of the footsteps around her outside this tiny 'alleyway.'

    Amid the noise in her head, she hears Tom say her name and looks at him, falling mute, before noticing the vague shapes of the strangers.


    OOC: The damage is only a little over half her hp, so this shouldn't be much of a wound, right? Am I supposed to roll for something?

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    Arewe hears Tom and promptly stops tracking.
    She looks upwards for rooftop archers - if there are any, she draws her bow and shoots them.
    If not, she draws her sword and shield and tries to get into combat (despite the narrow surroundings.

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    Beecher scans ahead quickly as he gets his bow ready, he spins and looks for an opportunity to use a Precise Shot on one of the assailants. He takes Deadly Aim of course. He thinks to himself, "The foes are within 30' so a point-blank shot should be pretty effective."

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