Age of Ice and Blood: A Pathfinder System Heroic Fantasy Quest

Thirty Sixth Day of Elnu-Hamba (Elnu Descendent), 1349 A. L. (After Landfall)

There is a part of you, and it is not a small part that would curse the lot of them for blind fools, to duel over a crown like dogs with a bloody bone while the realm is in peril. To come from war into a port you had thought safe and find instead some plot blooming into malice and men who had fought side by side with you now lying, bleeding in the dirt alongside the woman who by any measured judgement should be queen... It reminds you too much of a war you now regret.

"And there you have it, Lina Osane has narrowly defeated her challenger. She can decide his fate at her convenience. Now that this matter has been settled for the time being, perhaps we can see about preventing the traitors and spirits from destroying the city?" Your voice is even as you pass your gaze over the still gawking crowd. You are not the young knight who had followed along blindly in the footsteps of the greater barons. This time you will see the war though to more than a shameful peace, the battle done for more than a bucket-full of blood.

"Who the bloody fu..."

"I am Roland de Verley, captain by grace of god and pledges willingly made of the Company of Saint Nicholas!" you shout back before the bastard can get more wind in his sails, or the fellow who had been standing beside him gets to Pokum with the all too familiar horn of healing.

You nod to Mark and George, saying in English: "Take him...."

Though heavy words aplenty are spoken, enough to to have gained a whole new slew of curse words even after going to war in the company of Anwa ships it seems the crowd isn't quite willing to walk under arrows or to step forth under Durendal's fel light. God only knows if anything can be done about the arm, though from the look on Zaia's face you would not make any wager for it...

You never see the man raise the throwing spear, though you hear him drop with with a wail as Esha slaps him on the chest. "And the eyes of treason shall be blind!"

From the way the men around her recoil you guess the words have some greater meaning, a curse of the gods for those without honor... though in this hour it was no divine power that had seen it done. Inge looks uneasy in her own skin but does not speak up. Cowed by the show of power and fearful of impiety about half the warriors start to leave towards the north down the narrow alleys, but others seemingly decide then and there to throw their lot in with Lina and her cause.

"Paid for in flesh and blood..." the words are faint and far away as Lina rises from the ground beside Zaia, the ragged red of the stump had been covered with new skin as though it had weeks or months to heal. You know of men who would have counted that a miracle.... and you know just as well that it would be called a tragedy by those who had to bear it.

You would not have been surprised to hear her doubt her path, to turn aside, for a time perhaps forever from the ambition that had already cost her so much, but Lina Osane does nothing of the sort. Water conjured from the air floats around the palm of her left hand and with that hand she bids you follow.

As you advance the smoke grows thicker and the cries of of the deposessed ring in your ears as in the midst of war and as in those times you see scenes of grace and scenes of wickedness. Where some are moved to rush in to do all they can to put out the blazes or to save those caught within, be they children, elders or in one case a heavy coated dog of the sort that would be more at home herding goats than living in a city others take the chance to loot and to pillage. It is as you make an end to one of those sons of birches my means of an arrow in the knee that something moves among the flames, small and swift and cackling-bold, barely seen out of the corner of your eye, Yet you certainly do not miss the miasma of thick black smoke that rises from what had a moment before been low flames

All Spearmen except Tom take -4 to STR and DEX

"Fire Starters," the thought is shoved in your mind so fast it is almost dizzying, along with it the concepts that might have come to Swift Pebble from Zaia or from Esha you do not ask which... it does not matter. Two things are clear as day, these spirits rarely come along, no more than a tongue of fame rises alone from oil soaked kindling and they are craven, petty things who would not fight without the call of some greater master. No mere blooming of the chaos of the city this, but an ambush.

What do you do?

[] Try to put out the fire that is giving the petty fey cover

[] Keep an eye out for the hammer sure to come, you cannot let the flames distract you

[] Retreat, if this is indeed an ambush you do not wish to fight on the foe's chosen ground

[] Write in

OOC: And done, this is getting easier to get down in relatively good time again. Hope you guys enjoy.