[Event] Save the Warhouse

Willas and Barrin huddle over a small fire passing a bottle of whiskey between them.  The fire does little to warm them against the cold.  Only the liquor seems to make any dent in the bitter chill.  While they have been friends for years, tonight they argue bitterly.  The storm has frayed the temper of even the closest of friends.  It has been ten hours they have been guarding the warehouse of foodstuffs.  Ten hours protecting food against theft from desperate friends and neighbors.  Ten hours of drinking to ward off the freezing winter.

The argument escalates.

The bottle is dropped.

The small fire blazes into larger life.

The two guards, stunned for a moment, attempt to stamp out the fire, but only succeed in making it worse.  Within heartbeats, the hungry flames rapidly out-step the two men's ability to control...


Make the following tests:

Awareness (Notice):  TN9  -  to notice the fire and determine what best can be saved.
Agility (Quickness):  TN9 - to respond quickly to the threat.
Will (Co-ordinate):  TN9 - to organize the fighting of the fire effectively.
Endurance (Stamina) TN9 - to battle the blaze through the night.

Those who gain 6 or more successes gain 1 Glory.
Those who gain 12 or more successes gain a TDP.

Rolls will determine whether the damage was mostly cosmetic, or if a serious amount of foodstuffs have been lost in these desperate times.

Corrine spotted the blaze very quickly, from the nursery window, and rushed out to try and help. She rallied guardsmen and even fetched a bucket to draw water herself, joining them in fighting the fire, despite being urged to stay back. She fought the blaze valiantly alongside her men, but eventually succumbed to the choking smoke, and had to be carried away by a guard.

Rolls:

Luke was just leaving town when he caught the glint of fire out of the corner of his eye.  He bolted towards the warehouse and burst through the door without much of a thought.  There, he saw the two guards, obviously drunk, scrambling ineffectually to put out what was now well beyond their control.

"Shanking idiots!" he shouted, incredulous at the scene.

"Water.  We need water!" said Barrin.

"From where?  Frozen rainbarrels?  The river is half a mile away."  said Willas.

"You're surrounded by six feet of snow."  said Luke.  The pair simply stared at him, uncomprehending.  "Move you idiots!" he snarled with frustration.

Stepping out of the door, Luke began yelling 'FIRE' at the top of his lungs until he'd managed to catch the attention of the townsfolk, then climbed onto the roof and began hacking holes in it to push the heavy buildup of snow into the warehouse and on to the fire.

Townfolk, seeing what he was doing, began to scoop up buckets of snow to throw onto the fire, while others tried to save what could be from the warehouse.

With any luck, the fire would be dealt with quickly, but lately luck seemed to be in short supply.

Rolls:

We'll do better, he'd promised.

Fuck.

"Up!"  Garlan uses his Warrior's voice, his father's roar, the battlefield shout he'd been taught by the Protector of the Vale and the Master of Arms of House Marsten, alternately.  He's not barrel-chested like some, but when Garlan shouts and means it, he gets heard.

"Up and out!  Fire!  Fire!"  He shouts as he runs, waves his arms, makes eye contact with everyone he sees so they feel like he's ordering them, just exactly them, which always helps to make someone obey.  

"Buckets, barrels, anything that'll hold anything, grab 'em!  You lads, listen!  Strongest the closest, heave the snow hard and fast as you can.  Children and such behind, scooping and finding more buckets.  You're reloading our crossbows for us, aye, so we can shoot 'em."

As he talks, he works the straps on his armor and tosses it down.  He won't need it.  Steel won't help where he's about to go, and maybe someone can figure out some way to scoop snow with it.  Garlan's good blue eye scans the dozen folks in front of him, gives all of them a second for a question, then shoves them to get to work.

"Off you go!"

"And you fast ones..."

Here he pauses for just a second, swallowing a good lungful of cold, clean, air.

"With me."

And in he goes.  Good gloves still in place, cloak steaming and sizzling and half-wrapped around his head, grabbing whatever he can and passing it to the man behind him, then giving him a half-shove.  Then Garlan grabs the next, and the next, hands it to the next man in, shoves them for the door and the cold and the snow.  He doesn't care if their guardsmen or men-at-arms, drunks or beggars or septons.  Whoever he sees in the smoke and the flame, he trusts to take the next crate, the next barrel, the next sack, and then he turns and grabs another.

"Next," he bellows around a cough, heaving and lifting.  And then "Next" again, and again, until he can't, or until he runs out of things to grab that aren't yet afire.

rolls:

"Fire, Fire" Harwin heard the words before he had any idea what was happening. It took a moment to process the words but he bound into action once he had.

There were some men already present fighting the growing blaze and doing their best to organize the rest. He chipped in trying to add a level head to the situation.

“No panic here boys. It’s just another type of work, fill a bucket then pass it forward, the next man tosses it on the fire and passes the empty bucket back. Then repeat it again and again. Solid and steady work here will get the job done.”

Leaving the men to their work, he filled his lungs deep before charging inside the burning building. He’d seen a few other brave souls venture in and he would do no less. Taking whatever he found or was handed to him he made one trip after the other. There was no telling how much time passed but as others took a break coughing and gasping for air, he kept going back in determined to salvage as much food as possible.  

Rolls:

Rolls:

(ooc: Again RP coming soon.)

Fire!" Regyn is jostled from sleep by the urgent yelling from outside the Inn. In this cold and snow, doubtful. Regyn grumbled to himself. But even so a lifelong history of living in the hot city where fire was lethal and not something to be trifled with. Taking his too thin cloak and wrapping it around himself while he moves towards the Inn doors. Opening the door against the strong wind Regyn is rewarded with his efforts by a chill biting his cheeks like a angry pup.

He sees the glow lighting up the crenelations from castle walls and Regyn swears. Yelling back into the Inn hoping to summon help Regyn leaves the Inn hoping that his shouts would rouse some help. Abandoning any decorum of dignity he runs through the cold snow, following the well beaten path towards the castle

Rolls:

"Fire!  Fire in the warehouse!"  The cry penetrates Maester Ronnel's concentration, but he quickly finishes tying off the fresh bandage on old Derya's badly swollen knee.  "Keep ice on it dear, at least it isn't summer, right?"

And with the old woman shaking her head, he throws a cloak about his shoulders and dashes... well, dash might be a strong word for the sort of power waddle the fat Maester performs.  Stilol, it is hurrying for him.

He finds many already hard at work, some carrying buckets of snow to the fire, others carrying or dragging supplies.  An elderly fellow nearly collapses and Ronnel manages to save his sack of... heavy things and take them inside the keep, shouting "In here!" to others.

Soon rooms are filling up with rescued bounty.  They work through the night and when the Maester's wakes, he finds himself almost buried beneath stacks of crates.

It takes some doing, but he wriggles his bulk out from behind the barricade and goes out to survey the damage...

Rolls:

The community comes together and works for several hours. Soon the fire is put out. Everyone is tired, dirty and ragged, but most of the warehouse was saved. The roof is gone, a small portion of the supplies are unusable, but the building still stands and repairs should not be arduous.

[Trivial setback: TNs for Pop and Wlth in next month's Monthly Event are increased to TN12]