Throwed Apples, pt1
Log Info
- Title: Throwed Apples pt1
- Emitter: Jinks
- Characters: Eztli, Jozi, Nemori
- Place: A07: Lower Alexandria Market District
- Time: Sunday, October 14, 2022, 9:00 PM
- Summary: A market square is recovering after a fiery accident and looky-loos are slowly dispersing. A trio of younger nobles touring amongst hoi polloi have paused to make callous remarks and engage in gallows humor. A few of the locals take exception and barbs are exchanged. Three local mercenaries decide to stick up for common decency and things get a little... heated.
-=--=--=--=--=--=<* A07: Lower Alexandria Market District *>-=--=--=--=--=--=-
Just west of the Northern Highbridge and east of the arena, commerce blooms. Noisy and bustling, most anything may be purchased here for a price. Vendors from all cultures sell their wares from exotically colored carts, and the smells of different nations and far-off city-states mix with local ones from Alexandria and its riverbanks.
For all its commerce, visitors are advised to keep hold of their purses. Even the merchants possess a certain, cunning look. Most are positioned at carts or stalls as opposed to a formal storefront, with trade here being mobile, and visiting from all parts of the world.
Though the quality of goods suffers here compared to Upper Alexandria, the options are more diverse. Too, the oversight of the Watch is slightly less, and during times events are held at the Arena, chaos abounds. After dark, the square becomes a hangout for bards and other entrepreneurs whose business is best conducted by night; the shadows at the edges of the square often contain furtive figures engaging in their own brand of business.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing, in Order -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Eztli 4'6" 140 Lb Sith-Makar Female A two-toned, short sith-makar. Jozi 5'8" 148 Lb Half-Orc Female A brunette half-orcess with a sunny disposition. Nemori 4'10" 110 Lb Mul'niessa Female A tall and slender, dark skinned elf. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= NPCs of Note =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Tamzin Human Female Rail-thin tomboy, new jacket. Big mouth. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= As the GM -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Jinks 3'4" 39 Lb Gnome Male A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
A loose throng disperses and excited chatter dies quickly as people move back about their business. A wagon hung with a wooden sign carved into the Alexandrian sigil rattles and groans as horse hooves clack on the cobbles and it starts off south. The driver and one polearm-armed on-foot escort holler for people to move out of the way. One dazed lucht sits in the back with a cool rag held to his face and two others lay on stretches at his feet.
The smoldering ruin of their small stage is getting a few more pails of water dumped on it for good measure. Grumbling merchants are still working on finding a good place to re-settle their carts after the whole debacle.
A trio of Eldanari humans in nobles' clothing-- likely slumming it on this side of the bridge-- are enjoying some gallows humor about 'the new hot performance' they got to witness. They make no efforts to keep their callous comments quiet.
An Althean street preacher is scowling and working up the nerve to stow her pamphlets and give the uncouth youths the tongue-lashing of a lifetime. Her robes are smeared with soot for helping.
Where there's smoke....
While not on hand for the incendiary improv, in time, there is a newly arrived figure winnowing through the crowd to see what's been going on down here. Jozi's travelling with her typical adventuring load, though none of her weapons are in an active state of readiness.
An artificer could have simply had an overenthusiastic customer or something, after all.
Still, she has a pair of buckets, one to either hand as she 'excuse me's her way toward things, when the on point, if off color humor pricks her ears.
The half orc draws up near the humans yucking it up and clears her throat before askin, "Scuse me, boys, but what's all the excitement about here?"
GAME: Nemori casts Create Water. Caster Level: 7 DC: 14 GAME: Nemori casts Create Water. Caster Level: 7 DC: 14
A small brown and white makari was wandering down to the district when she caught wind of the commotion. Eztli frowns somewhat, looking to the crowd, to the injured people, and finally to the laughing humans.
"You know, if you like a hot performance like that, I could always give you a personal performance, since it's clearly no big deal." The small makari offers.
GAME: Nemori rolls bluff: (10)+12: 22
Nemori had found herself drawn into the debacle herself... and was none too happy about it. She'd been minding her own business, seeking inspiration for a new project.. and then there was fire. And an audience. And even then she might have slipped away, with it being little concern of hers... only, there were people she knew present, and she was fully aware of how precarious the line between following her first impulses, which is to leave foolish people to their foolish fates, and the knowledge that one can only do that so many times before relationships with better natured people than herself start to break down.
So there Nemori is, taking a little bit of a breather break, having given magic and words and perhaps even a little bit of healing to the unfortunate, a genuine seeming smile on her face disguising the thoughts in her head. The eldanari humans themselves she doesn't pay much heed to, initially.. possibly because she isn't particlarly struck by their callousness.. but Jozi and Eztli confronting them does draw her eyes. And provoke an inward sigh.
"You were minding our own business," snarks a young man with curly black hair and a strong jaw in response to Jozi. He wears a dark, velvet doublet that almost seems to swim in the lamplight of the street and has an immaculately-crafted dueling sword at his hip. He doesn't reach for the sword, instead lifting one hand to make a succient 'shoo' gesture even as he lifts his eyebrows and cants his head.
The tallest of the group looks aaaaaaaaall the way down her aquiline nose at Eztli, gathering up her mustard-and-crimson robes and taking a step back. "Ew." Her lip curls and plated gold jewelry rattles as she rests her fingertips lightly at the base of her neck. "Did that thing just flirt with me? How revolting..."
A shorter male with broad shoulders and bare, well-muscled arms sticking out from beneath a similarly colored wrap bracers her shoulder and shakes his head. "I think that was a threat, Edaema. The little rat-lizard clearly doesn't know who our father is." He snears and tucks his chin, half-obscuring the banded golden-and-ruby choker sculpted about his neck.
Edaema titters at the absurdity of that notion.
<OOC> Jinks says, "Perception checks!" GAME: Nemori rolls perception: (9)+10: 19 GAME: Jozi rolls perception: (9)+9: 18 GAME: Eztli rolls perception: (3)+5: 8 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20-5: (8)+-5: 3 <OOC> Jinks says, "Everyone notices what might be juuuust a bit too large to be a giantborn keeping an eye on things. He's not right there but a few quick steps and he would be." You paged (Nemori, Jozi) with ‘He has the look of a man-at-arms and wears a sash on his belt that's the same yellow-and-red that two of the three youth wear. He's got a pretty nasty-looking blackjack on his belt.’ GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+11: (18)+11: 29 ((Tamzin's Stealth)) <OOC> Jinks says, "Could do a Kn.Nobility, too, if anyone has foolishly sunk skill ranks into that!"
"Civic minded sorta gal, pumpkin, so li'l things like this tend ta end up bein my business." Jozi returns with the sort of half bored, half humoring sort of smile that often adorns a parent's face when their child has some troll-logic epiphany, just before they set them straight.
There's a quick look toward the sith who was similarly moved to confronting these three with a more genuine quirk of her lips, though the human woman's retort flips that into a quick frown.
The last 'sibling's comment prompts her retort of, "Lookin tween ya, precious, I ain't rightly sure you know who yer daddies are, neither." She arches an eyebrow, "But, I since we're expected ta ask, who got finagled inta claimin ya?"
Even while the insinuation is out there, she cocks her head a touch and notes, "Big fella over yonder, thinks we ain't noticed him?"
Eztli looked up at the woman, blinked once, and burst into laughter at the thought. It continued for almost a minute before the small makari wheezed and wiped at an eye. "Ah, don't flatter yourself dear, though you really should work on your observational skills." Eztli snorts. "Yes, that was a threat, and don't know, don't particularly care. Only thing I can think of is that they really ought to raise their kids better, but not my place to judge. And if you think you can hide behind them well, if they never taught you to respect others, how much do you think they'll care if something happens to you?"
Working some of the anger out of her system, she turns to Jozi, and shakes her head. "Yeah, noticed someone over there. what about him?" She asks, before waving to Nemori animatedly. Another inward sigh. Sure, sometimes Nemori is in the mood for trading comments, particularly of the caustic variety.. but she's tired and dirty and the mood is not there. Still, she's been noticed now.. so after returning Eztli's wave with a short one of her own, she pushes to her feet and walks over.
Another inward sigh. Sure, sometimes Nemori is in the mood for trading comments, particularly of the caustic variety.. but she's tired and dirty and the mood is not there. Still, she's been noticed now.. so after returning Eztli's wave with a short one of her own, she pushes to her feet and walks over.
The shadow elf doesn't bring the height to the now trio of women facing off against the snootish eldanari, but she's certainly not short on experience with adopting the expression of one regarding filth as she looks at the three humans. "I would hazard that they do know who their father is. Perhaps a manservant. The cook?" She taps her chin a few times, then her eyes widen in revelation. "No! The stablekeeper. That is the one."
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+7: (2)+7: 9 ((Tamzin flings a horse poo))
"Perhaps we could rent your little circus of talking animals as entertainment for the High Hunt garden party," the statuesque young man ventures as he considers the freshly-arrived Nemori. "They speak so well you almost think they could actually be people... and father loves a good curiosity." He smiles wide and licks his teeth, doing nothing to hide his amusement at his own joke.
"Awe, but I had my heart set on the flammable jugglers," laments the trustfund duelist with a forced crestfallen expression. All three erupt into laughter and venture overlapping ideas on how to mingle the two acts: juggling from lizardback, the elf woman on standby to put out fires, the brute lifting two as they juggle between them--
Musings all interrupted with a hollered "yer dropped this!" and a prodigously-sized road apple arcing through the air.
It lands short and smashes on the cobblestones, the dark outer portion shattering to spill and scatter a steamy, pulped yellow-green interior. The smell is pungent, exploding up into the cold air to assault the nose of all nearby.
The brute squad is moving to guard with his bludgeon in hand. The tall, patrician woman is choking and covering her face with delicate fingers, and the duelist presses his hip back into hers as he draws steel.
A few folks nearby begin to guffaw and cheer in amusement.
The half-oruch smirks a bit as the girls get in on this and she glances at the first mouthpiece, "Talk seems about all you got, pumpkin, but at least enough money got put into teaching ya how ta do it without droolin too much."
The air mail draws her attention from the affair with a blink, though the pungence is what really seems to have an impression.
Wow.
With a short whistle between her teeth, she observes, "That horse's eatin stuff it oughtn't..."
With the hiss of steel, Jozi's hand hooks up under the head of her hammer with force enough to dislodge it from her belt frogs, arches back, then snaps closed around the haft at about the proper working grip, "Ya done it now!" she snaps sternly, "Put it down or eat it!"
The small makari stops and stares at the ground, coughing from the heavy perfume in the air, only to snap back to attention as the others draw weapons.
"Really? Someone throws that at you, and your first thought is to draw weapons on people who had nothing to do with it? You shouldn't, unless you intend to use them." Eztli growls.
GAME: Nemori rolls sense motive: (10)+8: 18 Nemori pages: Trying to get a sense if the weapons were drawn on /us/, or more as a defensive thing. You paged Nemori with ‘It's definitely self-defense. Perhaps an overreaction but 'if these animals are throwing their shit who knows what they'll do?' sort of move.’
"Many draw weapons without intent to use them," Nemori cautions Eztli and Jozi, though it is a bitter taste on her tongue to be saying anything remotely in favour of the the trio.. and their approaching bodyguard. "They are stupid, like a child poking a bullette and being surprised it might snap at them, but it is fright that compels them," she adds, pointedly turning her back on the drawn weapon to see if she can spy who threw the poo as she raises a sleeve to cover her nose and mouth. "I suggest we leave. Perhaps we will be lucky and a mob which is tired of them will descend upon them. I would rather not be here when it does."
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+11: (5)+11: 16 <OOC> Jinks says, "You can roll Perception, Nemori!" GAME: Nemori rolls perception: (6)+10: 16 You paged Nemori with ‘You see Tamzin looking quite proud of herself amongst the throng.’ Nemori pages: /roll bluff -- I am so surprise.
"Animals," chokes out the tall woman. One hand rests on the shoulder of her defender and the other continues to cover her mouth as she takes a step back. "... Murderess take this filth," she adds after ducking a half-rotted clump of lettuce. "May you find your children cold in their cribs when tomorrow dawns!"
Her sibling has rolled up onto the balls of his feet and squared his shoulders. His head ducks behind a bent arm and the block absorbs a flung tubar. He's spoiling for a fight but then all three are disappeared behind the bulk of what can only be an ogre.
A clean ogre. An ogre with waxed and combed hair and a trimmed mustache. One in fancy clothes and master-crafted breastplate. But definitely an ogre. The leather of his bludgeon groans as he looms over the closest members of the throng.
Some of the clapping and cheering stops.
Those at the back with the debris aren't so cowed, forcing the quartet to back away while the oversized guard takes the worst of the barrage. It's always the menials.
"Don't make me smash yous," he drawls down at Jozi as he ignores the vegetable shower and slowly backs away. He doesn't much sound like he wants to, either.
"Yeah! 'ard ter run wiv yor socks all pissy!" Taunts a woman's voice from somewhere at the back of the crowd. "Right?! Hah!"
"Don't you put that evil on these folk, ya blatoid fustilugs!" Jozi hisses as she takes a step forward to claim one surrendered, leaving one of her fire brigade pails to drain behind her. She steps around the sundered horse apple, though she draws up slightly as the well groomed giantkin moves to intercede. Fetid lettuce leaves rain in the wake of errant casts, she'll brush them off, later, but there's a bigger concern for the nonce.
"Back atcha, sugar." the half-orc returns evenly, a little surprised by the... more developed reticence in smashing this ogre's putting out, but still, a riot could get some folks dead, "Tell em ta put the weapons away an get outta here."
Eztli sighs, and stifles whatever vitriol she was going to say next when the ogre steps up and forward. The small makari shakes her head, and she steps back. "Yeah, I don't want to hurt him, or the others, really. Teach them a lesson maybe, but not really hurt them. And I don't think now is a good time for any lessons to take hold."
"Still, best you all know that how you act isn't welcome. Maybe you'll get some self reflection out of this? I sure damn hope so, at least." The small makari muses.
"This is not the time," Nemori says, somewhat sharply, her eyes mostly on the crowd still. If the looming shadow of the ogre makes her nervous, well, at least she can rest assured that it will keep a surging mob at bay as well. Not that she'd ordinarily care.. but for some reason her friends have decided that leaving wasn't an option.. and she happens to be between mob and its target. Her expression is somewhat more soured as she spies someone in that mob.. which prompts her her head over her shoulder. "Forget the weapons. Forget the moral lessons. Just get them out of here."
The trio are already backing away without the need for verbal instruction. The filthy masses (and a deluge of produce) have spoken. The wisdom of the day may be 'don't be a horse's ass in a market near to close of business.' Pack animal waste and goods past their expiry date appear to be in abundance.
The smallest of the three actually seems to be enjoying himself, regardless, as he slaps a bundle of vine fruit to one side and then punches a root vegetable back towards the thrower. The duelist cuts through a gourd and lifts a buckled boot before an empty bottle can land atop his toes.
The ogre grunts and rumbles a "no, you" as he sweeps his bludgeon back and forth. The leather 'jack has a horseshoe bolted to the backside of the business end for extra weight.
A Khazadi butcher gets a bit too caught up in the moment and charges ahead with a pair of freshly-chopped goats bollocks swinging like a bola. The bodyguard bats him aside casually with a flat-palmed slap. This knocks much of the wind from the crowd's sails; suddenly people have places to be. Other things to do.
"Rude," moans the ogre, looking like an oversized vegepygmy for all the ad hoc decorations as the other three disappear around a corner.
"... that would've been much better if the shit 'it 'er right in the Nanny Goat Race," opines a rail-thin tomboy standing near to Nemori.
Jozi isn't in position to defend the enthusiastic Khazadi who gets his universe realigned, but she can sidle in his direction as the ogre's restraint is clear enough.
Hammer still held to some measure in a more warding poasture.
There's a glance to the felled fellow and she nods, "Yer good at yer job, sugar, shame yer bosses ain't worth yer talent."
She tempts fate with a, "Go on, now." as she sinks to a crouch and turns toward the ballsy fellow.
Eztli visibly winces when the ogres restrains themself from butchering the butcher, but Nemori gets her attention, "Yeah, lets go, sorry for riling up the people here." She sighs. "Let's get going, everything alright?"
Nemori carefully lowers her sleeve to see if it's safe to smell yet; it isn't, really, but deciding she'd rather have use of her arm, and be able to bring the full measure of her scowl to bear if she needs to, she decides to tough it out. She shakes her head at Eztli. "It was not you who did that, Eztli," she tells the Sith, looking instead at Tamzin. Conflicted. She catches herself nodding to the street woman, but then she glowers. "Perhaps next time when we are not in the middle of what you were trying to start," she acuses. A gesture towards Jozi and the dwarf (not that she actually cares about the dwarf, which everyone here probably suspects.)
Still, the thought of the mouthy highborne getting a facefull of offal does give her something of a warm feeling.
"Ooooooooooh..." moans the dwarf, grey-eyes crossed and full lips in a loose 'o'-shape. "Waste... waste'a good... mountain oysters..." He blinks forcefully and slurps a deep breath to keep from drooling into his short, straight, hay-blonde beard. "Me 'nards..."
Tamzin, meanwhile, rocks on her heels and looks up and to one side. "Weren't me..." she sing-songs before quickly adding a "kiddin', 'course." She shrugs.
"Don't be so no-no, no-no'ri. Try ter have some fun." She waves her hands about to pantomime a shimmy or a dance of some sort. "Yor tough and I bet yor mates are tough..." She smiles at Eztli and then leans to one side to inspect Jozi and the fallen dwarf.
"Me 'and smells orful now, right, ffough! Struth!" She shoves one hand up towards Nemori's face for her to smell. More just to tease as she adds: "'kiddin' again; used an 'handkerchief! Hah!"
<OOC> Jozi says, "i'll use a calming touch, heals a d6 nonlethal and cures stuff like shaken, so this guy can stop tasting his brain" <OOC> Jinks says, "Haha, perfect!" GAME: Jozi rolls 1d6+3: (5)+3: 8 <OOC> Jozi says, "yeah, fatigued shakened and sickened" <OOC> Jozi says, "so he gets 8 nonlethal back"
Jozi continues to put some trust into the ogre while she releases the other bucket and, with a soft whisper in her mother(father?) tongue, reaches out with that hand, now sheathed in a subtle golden nimbus, toward the battered dwarf.
"Easy, sugar, he rung yer bell right good."
As her hand makes contact, the Mother's blessing suffuses his body, mitigating his hurts and probably helping his head get reconnected properly with the rest of his body. She leaves the chastisements to the others, as there's a chance some of that is going to come her way, too.
"That doesn't absolve me of fault either, Nemori, that's something I understand." Eztli chuckles. "Still, thank you for having my back, and you too, miss. Hells, even if it did rile them up, it was funny, if ill advised, not that I set a good example." She responds to the others in turn. "You alright there sir? If you need further aid, I can walk you to the soldier's defence, or something like that."
Nemori's face jerks back as Tamzin presents her hand; the last thing she wants is that kind of filth anywhre near her face, and wiped with a handkerchief or not... the smell.
In fact, it takes no small amount of effort to make sure her hand doesn't complete its grab for her knife in response to Tamzin's hand in her face. Instead, she reaches up and pushes it away should it remain longer than a moment. And it's all she can do not to gag. "You.. used your bare hand.." she says, hardly able to believe. Or imagine. She even takes a step back. "Surrounded by..... ehhhh." She doesn't finish voicing the thought. "Perhaps do not miss next time."
"Should not've done that..." the butcher observes, blinking at the sky again. He grunts and sits up, not too proud to accept any help in doing so. He forces his eyes closed tight and then blinks them open one last time before managing a bit of a smile. "Nice gal. Free haggis if'n y'come by tomorra." A sticky hand pat-pats Jozi on the upper-arm.
The stumpy Khazad rolls onto one hip and then works his way to standing before staightening out his apron. There's a heavy sigh and then he points a sausage finger at a long, narrow shop of stacked stones with a shallow storefront. "Graidh's Grinds." Then he's off.
Meanwhile, Tamzin is busy rolling her eyes at the mul'niessa. "Right, 'cos it were on purpose I missed, no-no'ri." The raises one corner of her nice, new jacket with the hand shoved into its pocket, indicating the dwarf's back. "'least I didn't run in and cop knocked ass over tea kettle. The big bastard were bigger than me last 'ouse."
Speaking of unusually-sized things..!
"Yor awful wee," Tamzin informs Eztli.
