COCOA FORTUNE, reARC the First

package churchofproz;
public class cocoa_fortune extends chocolate_destiny {
public cocoa_fortune(Player skraal, Player vroop, Player xenoe){
//Initializing new arc...
Situated on a fertile river delta on the border between Jaquim and Lymesha, San Septmare is a large, bustling, self sufficient settlement. Over the past month it has taken in a good number of refugees from the southern continent, but being farther inland than other ports allowed them to avoid bearing the brunt of the mass exodus. Then word came of Enarou's fall to plague and the resultant hordes of undead swarming out in search of living flesh to devour, adding another entry to the growing list of recent disasters. This had Countess Hannaley understandably worried as her current standing force numbered only a few hundred, assigned to watch over thousands. To make matters worse, unresolved tensions elsewhere on the border meant that reinforcements would not be easily forthcoming from either kingdom. Fortunately for the good people of San Septmare, help arrived from an unexpected source: the Church of Equinince. In recognition of the site's historical significance in their religion, a large contingent of Quinate clerics, monks, and even Dragonborn was assembled, to preserve the city from threats both without...and within.

This is presumably why you are standing in this threadbare wooden room that looks an awful lot like a holding cell, as upon your arrival in this lovely city's harbor you were directed here by a squad of friendly but armed guards for "reasons of national security". The walls are thin enough that you can hear them talking outside.

"...the sad state of this kingdom. All you have to do is look at the filth that washes up on our shores on a daily basis. The beggars and whores were bad enough, now we're getting heretics, pirates, spies, a bloody war machine, and...Swaggafids. My God, it's like we've become the dumping ground of the world! A disgrace, I say."

"I gotta agree with that last part, but I still have my doubts. It all seems so fantastical. Can your man really do all that he says he will? Can he really make Jaquim great again?"
A third guard's voice interjects. "Oi! I thought I told you guys to keep that shit out of the workplace. Let's focus on what to do with our guests."

Sharing the room is a motley assortment of unfortunate foreigners. A few stand out among the rabble: a portly Abatosian in a sailor uniform, a rough looking Feiren man with a red bandanna, a bald Tuonggi woman in colorful rags, and a gleaming mustachioed golden giant wrapped in a purple suit and feathered hat. There is also a native looking youth gripping a strange looking spear.
"Oh, no need to bother Saint Anthony about this lot. They're getting another internment camp set up. Anyone we can't clear immediately we'll just hand off to them."

Wow, that doesn't sound good. It seems like you don't have too long until they come back in to check on you. And so the age old question arises: What wouldst thou deau?
[If you're just gonna wait for their return, just post "pass" or something of that sort]

Pass.

The Feiren man takes a closer look at his cellmates [examine them], and his surroundings. This was his first day on the new continent, and he wanted to make some memories.

"I'm not too eager to be thrown in an internment camp," he hisses, half to himself, and half to anyone in the room that's looking to make some trouble.

A second glance reveals that the Tuonggi woman has a knobbed rod on her back, the Abatosian man appears to be unarmed, and there are many pouches hanging off his belt. The youth is dressed in drab, inconspicuous clothing, and a pair of sunglasses hangs from his neck.
The discerning eye is inevitably drawn to the proverbial elephant in the room, the golden giant. Standing about 7 feet tall, he (and it is probably a he judging by the copious golden facial hair) carries no weaponry, but has a muscular build. Sunglasses conceal his eyes. His wide brimmed hat is a bit squashed against the ceiling due to his height.
The Feiren man notes the oddity of there being two pairs of sunglasses in lands where they are somewhat rare and unnecessary.

As for the surroundings, the room is constructed of dark unpolished wood and is around 30 feet square. There are 10 others in the room, likely refugees due to their worn clothing and dirt-stained complexion. It's difficult to determine their origin, but some appear to be Tuonggi and perhaps another of his countrymen. A table rests in the center, occupied by an olive-skinned family of four.
Having witnessed the building of ships the Feiren man can tell this room and possibly the adjoining structures were constructed rather recently.

Culliac, the youth in the drab garments, starts humming the litany of Thanksgiving to pass the time.

The tune oscillates over an extremely wide range at a high frequency, a feature that no vocal music should rightfully have, but the harmony that is created feels surprisingly natural.

Suddenly, the golden giant vanishes into thin air, as if he was never there in the first place. Nobody else pays this any mind, and you dismiss it as a random hallucination. Perhaps it is someone you may meet later?

"Don't worry," the Abatosian says in response the Feiren, "I'm sure they won't do anything to you if you've done nothing wrong. If you just explain your circumstances to them I think they'll be understanding."

The Feiren man smiles. "Of course. You're from Abatos aren't you? How goes the trade there? I've always wanted to try my hand..."

He makes sure to listen for the guards. He gets ready to attack if he hears them approach.

"And you, spearman? Where do you hail from? And what's that...funny looking thing on your shirt?" he asks, pointing to the sunglasses.

Culliac bows respectfully.

"I am a humble child of Mother Earth, and this Siaue merely grants me safety from the All-Mother's wrath."

The Feiren grins.

"As am I. But from where on Mother Earth? North, South, East West?"

"West, deep in the mountains of the old."

Culliac points in the direction of what should be Lymesha.

"Hm, I've never heard of this aspect of Jaquimish faith before," the Abatosian remarks. "Why would you need protection from your own Mother?"

"I do not come from within the borders of what is considered the country of Jaquim," Culliac replies, "and Mothers can be both stern and kind in their love."

Realizing he has been disrespected, the Feiren grabs the Abatosian sailor by the collar and shakes him violently.

"So THAT'S how it is. You leave me with unwanted advice and ignore my question? You must want to die..."

The Abatosian raises his hands. "Ahhh, calm down sir! My apologies, I assumed you were more interested in conversing with the young man here. I may be dressed like a sailor but I am not nearly so foul mannered. The trade, uh, the trading is quite nice back in the Republic and the surrounding lands, although that's a gross over-generalization of the situation..."

"More ships coming in. Get this bunch sorted out pronto!" a guard outside yells. The door opens, admitting two guards. They are clad in chain shirts under white tabards, each bearing a column of violet foxgloves on the chest. Swords hang at their sides. "Alright, everyone let go of each other and line up for inspection. That means you two lovebirds," the guard on the left* says to the Feiren and Abatosian.
The other looks over Culliac with curiosity. "Huh, how did you get to be here? Greeters must have gotten mixed up or something. Well, you are free to go young man. Just make sure to leave your name and reason of visit with the clerk out front so everything's proper."

*from the perspective facing the door

"Well, I suppose I will take my leave then friends," Culliac waves his hand towards everyone else in the room, there is something off about his Jaquimish accent but it is very hard to tell what exactly.

"And thank you my good sirs." Culliac hurries past the Guards lest they regret their words and try to detain him again, and goes to register with the clerk.

"My name is Culliac E’Taminet, and I have come to aid Jaquim against the dark scourge."

As the door is opened to Culliac, the Feiren sprays venom in the eyes of both guards, and then whacks them with his oar to incapacitate. The 'venom strike' happens very quickly, as he has prepared for their arrival.

From the view of onlookers it seems like a long black tendril quickly lashes out from the Feiren's leg. "Wh-AHHHH!!!" The guards stumble in separate directions clutching their faces. Panic spreads among the other refugees. Wasting no breath the Feiren immediately follows up with his oar.

The member 'Corenat Rovarnus' has done the following action : Dice Roll\'d

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'Coin' : 2, 1

His first strike knocks the guard on the left out cold, but the one on the right does not fall from the blow, albeit still staggering around blind.
In a moment of confusion Culliac slips through the door, where he finds a third guard wearing a polished half helm drawing her sword.
"You! Call for help," she instructs Culliac, "The nearest post is a block east of this building. I'll try to hold them off!"

Behind the Feiren, the Tuonggi woman takes out her knobbed staff, and the Abatosian is backing away into a corner.

The Feiren finishes the staggering guard while attempting to simultaneously move toward the entrance. At the same time, he whips his 'tendril' around towards the Tuongi woman to scare her off (albeit not TOO close, to avoid drawing her ire), and then back around toward the door as fast as he can.

"Culliac, mind your own business and I'll be in your debt!"

If all goes well, he approaches the door with his left arm in front, preparing to spray-in-the-face/restrain the female guard with his tendril and whack her.

Culliac takes a brief look back at both the aggressive Feiren and the woman guard, his brow creased with difficulty.

He then shakes his head and takes off full sprint towards the guard post that he was directed towards to report the situation.

Culliac dashes out into the street and over to the post, which is in this thread: https://churchofproz.forumotion.net/t1483-cocoa-fortune-arc-1-french-toast

The Feiren slams his oar into the second guard once more, and this time he slumps to the floor.
The inky black tendril undulates over to cover his back, hissing menacingly. Several of the refugees scream in fright, and the Tuonggi instinctively takes a swing at it.

The member 'Corenat Rovarnus' has done the following action : Dice Roll\'d

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'fudge' :

In a blur of motion, the tendril contracts and the rod sweeps through air.
"Refugees, stay right where you are!" the guard outside yells. "Anyone who comes out will die!"
The Feiren can partially make her out through the half-open door. He can tell it won't be an easy shot even without the door in his way.
The bald woman remains in a combat poise, her eyes drilling a hole into his back.

The Feiren keeps his guard up for any attacks.

"You think you can kill me?" he yells, in his most bloodcurdling, menacing voice. "I studied the Art of Death under a Fei Grandmaster, who taught me his favorite killing blow. If you're brave, woman, wait right there and I'll rip you apart on the count of three."

He starts the ominous count, loudly enough to drown out noise coming from inside the room, and gets to work.

"Oneeeeeee dead soooooldier."

In between words, he strikes at the Tuonggi woman's staff to disarm her and closes the distance.

"Twooooooo dead soooooldiers."

He grabs the Tuonggi woman and disrupts her balance, using his oar and body mass to force her toward the door.

"THREE!"

He tosses the Tuonggi woman towards the soldier, and, capitalizing on the element of surprise, follows up with simultaneous strikes from his oar, tendril, and his 'favorite buddy'.

The oar-wielder turns to disarm the Tuonggi, but she is prepared for an assault. [Opposed roll]

The member 'Corenat Rovarnus' has done the following action : Dice Roll\'d

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#1 'fudge' :


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#2 'fudge' :

It's a close match but the Feiren manages to break her grip on the staff. He attempts to maneuver the now bewildered woman through the door.

The member 'Corenat Rovarnus' has done the following action : Dice Roll\'d

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'fudge' :

Despite her confusion she is not any easier to subdue, and resists the Feiren's attempts to trip and push her around with all her might. She grabs at the Feiren and his oar, and the two quickly become locked in a even-sided grapple.

"Where are you, Ser Grandmaster? I'm waiting," the guard taunts. "Art of Death. Ha! If you're a grandmaster, I'm the second coming of Seventide himself, and my winged terrors will tear you limb from limb and cremate your guts."

The Abatosian pipes up from his corner after returning something to one of his pouches. "Uh, respected sir, and madam I suppose, you may want to stop fighting now before things get any worse. It definitely won't end well for you if you keep on like this, or for any of us."

As the guard is in the middle of taunting, the Feiren's buddy bites out the Tuonggi woman's neck and he follows through with his plan, using the added strength of his tendril to assist the toss.

The Feiren feels his buddy rippling to life, as his opponent begins to utter a phrase in her native language. A black canine head emerges from his left arm and bites her throat, cutting her short. The refugees scream and start running around. The tendril also latches onto her, and with this combined might the Tuonggi is dragged out the door and flung at the guard.
"Whaa?" The guard backs up as the Tuonggi collapses with what look like multiple bite wounds. At the same time the Feiren moves to the right and closes in for a three-pronged strike.

The member 'Corenat Rovarnus' has done the following action : Dice Roll\'d

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#1 'fudge' :


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#2 'fudge' :


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#3 'fudge' :

The black protrusions lash out, but their bites are hindered by armor. The guard blocks his oar stroke.
Refugees pour out screaming from the room running in either direction of the wide wooden corridor.
"No! Stop!" the guard yells, but she stays where she is while eyeing the Feiren.
"You're gonna pay for that twice over, you foreign freak. For real, what the hell are you, some kinda chimera?"

The Feiren purses his lips and spits a spray of saliva in her eyes if he's close enough. If not, he punts her in the cunt.

As soon as possible, he and his buddy attempt to subdue her arms, while the tendril bites her in the exposed cheek.

The Feiren hocks a loogie at her face.

The member 'Corenat Rovarnus' has done the following action : Dice Roll\'d

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'fudge' :

All those years of practice spitting used substances overboard seem to be no help here, as the spit misses her face. The Feiren's buddy extends further from his arm, sprouting legs, and he goes for another simultaneous strike. [Grab, dog, snake]

The member 'Corenat Rovarnus' has done the following action : Dice Roll\'d

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#1 'fudge' :


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#2 'fudge' :


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#3 'fudge' :

The tendril snaps out but does not manage to get her cheek. The black half-dog is warded off by the sharp point of the guard's sword but its master is not deterred. The Feiren slips past and grabs her sword arm, twisting it away so she cannot hand it off.
"HEY! Let go of me, you monster!" she shouts, and tries to punch him with the mailed fist of her free hand.
Meanwhile the Abatosian man emerges from the room, and regards the scene with dismay.

The tendril lashes out for multiple strikes at her cheek from the side, and will continue striking in quick succession until success.

If the guard continues to try punching the Feiren, the Feiren will attempt to block. If the guard attempts to block the tendril, the Feiren will instead punch her where her guard is down.

Now up close and personal, the grapplers attempt point blank strikes against each other.

The member 'Corenat Rovarnus' has done the following action : Dice Roll\'d

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'fudge' :

[Automatic success]
Despite his best effort to block the guard is able to punch the Feiren smack dab in the face. He reels backward, losing his grip and almost losing consciousness. Seemingly unaffected by the body it is attached to, the tendril darts in and bites into the guard's cheek, resolving into a large cobra.
"AUGH!" She disentangles herself and spins around to face him while clutching her cheek.

The member 'Corenat Rovarnus' has done the following action : Dice Roll\'d

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'Coin' : 1

The Abatosian interjects. "Pardon me for ignoring your warning, ma'am, but you seem to be in trou-"
"FUCK OFF, ABATOS SCUM!"
"Uh, if you insist." He shrugs and runs off.

The Feiren attempts to escape into the city.

Realizing he is now on the side he wants to be on, the Feiren turns and dashes down the corridor.
"No! God damn you...urgh!" The guard gives chase, but the Feiren knows she won't last long. He runs out into the street to find three guards attempting to subdue fleeing refugees with batons.
"Guards! That's the aggressor!" the Abatosian shouts while pointing at him from afar, "He's a Fei shaman and he's already struck down two of you, maybe three! Proceed with caution!"

Before the guards have a good chance to look at him, the Feiren covers his face and continues to escape while the guards are occupied by the refugees.

He prepares his friends to intercept any attack that may come his way.

The Feiren shields his face with his oar, concealing his identity, but the black dog and cobra protruding from his body still make him the center of attention.

"What in God's name?"
"It's a demon! Save us!" a refugee wails as she clings to a guard's leg.
"W-what are you doing! Get him!" shouts the wounded guardswoman.
"Meesh? No, that thing is out of our league, we have to call..."

Running down the street the Feiren breaks free of the refugee melee, but the nearby city folk see him and shout in alarm. From here he can either go for one of the docks, continue down the harbor district, or make for the gate into the inner city.