Spot = 22 (Nat 20)


Lanius' drunken attempt at a song preceding him, Felix searches the dark for a glimpse of the blacksmith's son, hoping to see if there is anything he might take advantage of to stall the young man on his way back home.

"What do you think Sicarius?" He says, quietly. "How do we stall him?"

Felix has his own idea, but none that involve the horse, and he doubts Ulysses would approve of him leaving the horse behind, or walking him across town.

Such Fine Manners To An Earthbound Beast. If Thou'lt Draweth His Attention, I Shalt Apprehend This Wayward Son.

The unearthly horse moves a small distance away, not trusting his bulk and weight to keep him hidden for long, even in this deep darkness. Even to a drunken fool.

Sicarius: Hide 1d20 + 21 = 17
Lanius: Spot 1d20 - 3 = 6

Distract him...what are you planning to do?

Lanius walks and sings, using both terms generously, still toting a wine bottle in one hand.

Keeping in the dark, Felix thinks of a little trick he learned in his early readings. Probably not 'little' given where I found it. Speaking a single, unearthly sound that can barely be called a word, he focuses on the wine bottle, and it shatters.

If a bolt of lightning had struck the young man, he could not have leapt in greater fright. A wild, horrified wail escapes Lanius as he stumbles back, but it is quickly overborne by the sound of a ton of violent muscle churning the ground in a rapid advance.

A full scream rings out as Sicarius bears down on Lanius, or rather, just near him, the horse skidding to a halt to lean down and snatch the poor dolt about his shirt-collar with unyielding teeth.

Sicarius: Grapple 1d20 + 9 = 27

Too terrified to struggle, Lanius is hauled down the road, past Felix, whom his eyes catch in horrified bewilderment before Sicarius carries him away. His breath comes in frantic gulps, which transition to a pained moan as the horse lets go and shoves him to the ground at Ulysses' feet.

There was a distant shout, a stretch of silence, then approaching hoof-beats that made Tanya stiffen where she stood. "What," she croaked, having turned to see the approaching man-carrying-horse trotting out of the darkness, "is that beast of yours doing!?"

She all but lept away and stumbled back into the blacksmith's fence when Sicarius moved past her, going straight for Ulysses with its prize. "That is not alright!"