Röc the Warrior

Röc understands words! Mostly. Dennis didn't use any big ones, at least. Röc's tribe might not have been the best conversationalists, but coordinating an ambush still required a decent degree of communication skills. And Röc's tribe loved their ambushes.

"Only words I don't know are the Grey Society," Röc says. "You don't make them sound so good, with their list. They with the necromancers?"

"I'm in," Röc says. Privately, Röc contemplates how they've left their tribe only to once again find a living fighting. Though perhaps what matters is what you fight for.

Röc thinks he likes this Dennis character.

The meat tastes...expensive. Röc feels like they're wasting some chef's time, when he could just have the meat unflavored. It's not bad, the opposite in fact. But Röc can't help but miss their "poor person's food".

No, Röc doesn't understand themselves, either.

Röc nods along to the plan. He understands the logic; fighting every patrol they see would quickly wear them out. But he can't help but wonder how lucky they'll need to be to catch a home invasion in the act. Maybe if the victim cries for help, they'll be able to locate them? And avoiding the patrols until then will be challenging, to say the least.

Röc's starting to realize this resistance is under-resourced. But they're providing food and shelter, so he'll have to be a loyal soldier.

Before dismissing from the briefing, Röc gets the names and specialties of his fellow soldiers. He'd like to know more about whose watching his back, and whose back he's watching in turn.

Funny. One dwarf talks forever, the other barely talks. Regardless, Röc answers any questions about himself the two may have. It's only fair, given Röc's the outsider among them.

Once chit-chat has concluded, it's time for planning...only Röc realizes they're completely out of their depth. Yes, Röc has attended many ambush planning meetings while apart of his former tribe. But those ambushes were always with home field advantage. The swamps are not the city, and so Röc is broadly unfamiliar with the terrain.

To compensate, Röc spends as much time as possible studying maps of the city, in particular the Market District. Röc spots what looks to be an open plaza near the bridge, which seems to Röc to be too easy to become surrounded in. But it doesn't look like there's any way to avoid it without going past potential patrols, and it has good access to the rest of the district.

Röc presents his findings to the group. Röc shares his opinion that the plaza seems the best place to post up, with both easy access to the bridge and the rest of the district. The group can station there until they hear or see any signs of a home invasion; broken down doors, shouting, etcetera. They'll be able to quickly respond, and if they bite off more than they can chew, retreat across the Big Bridge.

Back in Röc's former tribe, interjections like Gurtha's were usually rewarded with a claw to the face. But Röc decides against such a reward. Gurtha's got a point, anyways: a wide-open plaza isn't the best place to hide from passing patrols.

"All right then," Röc says, "We could lurk in the alleys east of the plaza, where most of the buildings in the district are. It'll take us farther away from the Big Bridge, so if we get into trouble, it'll be harder to fall back. But if the escape across the Big Bridge gets blocked, we'll be closer to the Docks; we could try fleeing there and getting back into Little Grendus from the eastern bridge. All depends on how the patrols react, if an alarm is raised at all."

Röc bellows a breath of slight exhaustion. This plotting stuff is a bit too cloak-and-dagger for him. The entire mission seems ill-conceived; why wait for the patrols to start pulling people out of houses, when they could be attacking the patrols pre-emptively? Sure, this resistance is undermanned, but if the gate houses leading into the Market District could be taken over, even briefly, then any portcullises could be lowered. Cut the pullies, they stay locked shut until repaired, delaying any patrols from even entering the district. It's like how Röc's tribe would divide caravans and block escape routes before an ambush, so none of the meat got away. You don't need to block it permanently; just long enough to delay your enemy's plans. And if the Grey Society's zombies only drag people from their homes at night, then maybe, if the gates were broken until morning...

But Röc is being paid to follow orders. The plan is, avoid patrols until they pull people from their houses. And if Röc doesn't follow orders, he expects to kiss his accomodations goodbye.

Röc lets out another breath, low and grumbling. And he goes with his employer's plan.

Well, that went bad almost immediately. Röc briefly considers chasing down the old man, but decides against attacking a civilian. Even if that civilian is calling the undead watch for the crime of loitering. Röc briefly wonders what other "crimes" this man reports to the watch, and what happens to the "criminals" he reports. The rumors of home abductions are starting to make sense, at least.

Röc places a bet. If he can ambush the incoming watchmen...

"Hide and get ready to strike," Röc says to Gurtha and Brigon. "Or run, if you'd prefer. I'll lure the watch to me." And Röc unsheathes his maul.

While waiting for the watch to arrive, Röc grabs barrels, crates, carts, doors, chunks of pavement out of the ground; whatever's big and heavy and nearby. And, should he be able, Röc places the obstacles to block the path the old man took. Ideally, this barricade will buy time for Röc's fellows or create a funnel for the watchmen. But can Röc complete the task?

Röc pays no mind to the hidden halfling; just another civilian to avoid bothering. Röc's focus is on the undead.

No archers, just clubs. Röc's scales can take a pounding from light weapons, so long as Röc doesn't let his guard down. The only threat Röc sees is in their number. Röc isn't sure how autonomous these watchmen are, but he doesn't want any retreating to alert others.

"Evening," Röc says, readying his maul. "Not a fan of mercs, I take it?"

And Röc leaps into the team of skeletons, and crushes.

That was embarrassing. Still, the plan worked, even if Röc got a bit scuffed up. Normally, in this stage of the ambush, Röc's tribe would be celebrating victory. But this seems a bad time for that.

Röc quickly checks in with their fellows to ensure there's no injuries. Then, a quick debrief:

"I don't think more will come, but we should move anyways. Let's go." And Röc turns to the shadows, raising their voice so it can be heard. "Guide, if you're still nearby: we have no problem with you. Let us be."

Röc is used to the ick of swamps, but these alleys are...disappointing? Röc would've expected a city to deal with its waste better than this. Maybe if the city had a proper government, there would be people trying to improve things.

Röc follows Gurtha silently without quarrel. Part of basic battlefield communication is knowing when to shut up and listen instead of waste time arguing, and this is one of those times.

Röc had prepared for so many battlefield eventualities. But nothing could prepare him for the dreaded, horrible, friendly conversation.

Röc feels the gazes resting upon him. "Uh...hi, Röc says.

...

...

...Röc preferred getting grappled by skeletons.