My new commanding officer, Sergeant Rollo gathered us up for our morning briefing. The Radiant Festival is finally starting and we're the ones to keep the peace.
Our inaugural diurnal patrol was to be along one of the thoroughfares featuring a panoply of mobile foodstuff conveyors. Due to an apparent oversight in zoning, we came upon a disturbance of the peace in progress in the form of two vendors in a disagreement over their implied rights with regard to exclusivity brought about by their proximity. When we first arrived, a projectile had just started a conflagration in a precarious proximity to combustibles in the form of some oil barrels. Rather than risk injury and costly delay, I immediately conjured an enormous jet of water into the air above the barrels, dousing the fire as well as any interposing property.
This calamity averted, Both places of business appeared to be either structural works in progress, partially demolished, or in the prime condition desired by the proprietors, who were possessed of that goblin ingenuity that somehow transcends the principles of sound engineering.
When we enjoined the parties to come to an accord, the threats of violence and property damage subsided.
We were able to establish a privity between the parties in question in the form of a joint venture proffering "goblin fried pickles." As a show of good faith, my esteemed colleague, an adherent of Abadar, ingested said comestible.
Rarely am I the one to notice such subtleties but I observed his reaction as a matter of prurient interest. His outward mien and disposition appeared to belie his innermost turmoil (as I suspect is true of us all in an existential manner), but he held down his morning snack and we moved on, having unleashed this new culinary novelty on an unsuspecting public. I withhold judgement until such time as we are made aware of any bodily harm suffered as a result.
Not much further along the patrol we heard real sounds of calamity in the form of the cries of a distraught iron-monger whose wares were being despoiled and consumed by a rust monster. Those of us without armor attempted to non-lethally subdue the creature, with the monk seemingly readymade for the occasion. Unfortunately, it did not seem his repeated blows were having quite the soporific effect intended. A new plan was formulated to lure the mindless creature away with such foodstuffs as would entice it back to the menagerie from whence we deduced it had escaped. We commandeered yet more of the poor man's merchandise to assist in the endeavor.
On the way we encountered a far more lethal problem, a loose cockatrice that had petrified one man and had many others cowering in a wagon.
We also spotted an escaped owlbears in a grocer's. It seemed contented with the lettuces, so we bolted him inside and moved on.
In a stupendous display of foolhardiness or bravery, our gnomish ally lured the cockatrice into an open caravan and evaded it's touch to slam the doors shut behind it, neutralizing that threat.
I spotted two hyenas loose in a popcorn booth, but we similarly secured them in place.
At the present moment, two concerns fight for paramount importance: how did these animals get loosed from their restraints, and is this public calamity providing an inescapable diversion to cover some even worse skullduggery? Following shortly thereafter are the whereabouts of the menagerie's proprietors who have either fallen victim to foul play, or are about to face some crippling fines for negligence, public endangerment, neglect, affirmative acts of abuse, and whatever else I can come up with once my ticket-writing quill is wet. We're going to hope someone can afford to unpetrify the cockatrice's victim(s) as well.
We whistled for backup a minute ago... I'll have them set up a perimeter and protect the statue, erstwhile bazaar shopper.
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