Dark Days in Sion - Act 3: Scene 1

Svexyn

The look Svexyn gives the older man is one filled with ice in his veins, as he simply answers, "Vengeance?" Glancing back at the smoldering ruins and the bodies nearby, he turns to face the rest of the group.

"Justice..." he answers; adding, "but not tonight. Together we have strength, but more will be needed. I have seen them in action. They are trained well. Something we will have to learn. Together, if you would have another ally."

He moves to join them as they head out, glancing at the goblin one last time. As the goblin finally meets his eyes, Svexyn answers him in his own native tongue, to make sure there were no chances of being lost in translation.

IN GOBLIN: "Folg was brave, honorable, and died to protect me. The next word you speak ill of him, may well be your last. This is no threat, simply the truth..."

narayan said:

As you knock your arrow and draw your bow it is clear to you that you are not quite fast enough to aim your arrow before the half drow will pull the trigger of his crossbow... thus you commit an early action and whistle first, distracting Chuth and giving you another half a moment to aim before you let your arrow fly before he can aim his crossbow at you.

[Note:Committing an early action changes the form of that action. Speaking is normally a free action, but speaking as an early action is considered a 'switft' action. Likewise, attacking early (out of phase with your initiative) increases an normal attack action to a full-attack action. Thus you will not have a move action after you fire your arrow.]

Your arrow hits Chuth in his abdomen, prompting an immediate groan and a flinch, (-1 to all his checks) but also an immediate counter-attack! He has no issue spotting your silhouette easily in the dark and the damp with his darkvision, especially since you purposely made a noise immediately preceding your attack. Crossbow bolts that were intended for the other thugs now fire towards you! (I will be generous and assume you are firing from a position of cover granting you a +4 to your AC)

Chuth:

1. Light Repeating Crossbow First Attack: =26, Hit)(Location: Left hand)(Damage: =6 + Poison)
2. Light Repeating Crossbow Second Attack: = 21, Hit)(Location: Left Arm)(Damage: = 8 + Poison)

You feel terrible pain as a bolt pierces your left hand between your knuckles, pinning your hand to the bow itself! The second bold embeds itself into your left forearm. As your heart races at the realization of your wounds, you also feel a terrible tingling/burning sensation creeping through your veins. His bolts are poisoned!

[Aust: Make two Saving Throws vs. Poison, both DC 16. Also, you suffer a -2 to all checks while you still have two arrows embedded into your flesh. (See House Rules on the Sion wiki page if you are unsure what checks are required to remove the arrows) However, because of your early actions, you will have to wait until next round to attempt to remove them.]

Chuth: Moves closer towards you cautiously (5 ft step), although he can't identify exactly who you are until you step away from cover. His finger remains on the trigger of his crossbow as he asks -Speaking Common in a hiss- "Show yourself!"

[Aust: Roll a new initiative for round 2, given that your former initiative roll was for a surprise attack and you are now both wounded. It changes things enough to warrant another initiative check.]

Meanwhile, the two thugs Chuth was aiming at are now being surrounded and tackled by the town guards. You successfully managed to save their lives... for what it's worth.

[Aust: Gain a bonus Fate Point for acting so bravely & selflessly]

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~Pain.~

Aust felt the bite of the bolts nearly immediately after his released his arrow. The pain was instantaneous. The weakness took a moment. His composure waned. He had allowed his instinct regarding the Drow to cloud his judgment. He thought he could engage this Chuth and win.
The poison was fast-acting. He had observed as much from Chuth’s exchange with his retainer; however, Aust was not dead. He staggered backwards visibly in spite of himself, catching himself barely enough to stay away from Chuth’s eyesight.

(Aust Thale Save vs Poison crossbow bolt #1: 1d20+2 = 20 (took 4 rolls + 3 fate points to roll))
(Aust Thale Save vs Poison crossbow bolt #2: 1d20+2 = 17 (on 1st roll) )
(Both Saves vs Poison at DC 16)

~ Must be the rain. The poison is diluted. ~

A brief moment of focus, he accentuated his stagger to project more weakness. He took a deep breath and focused again. An image came to mind. A vignette in his mind. Remembering from years…no…decades ago…his brother. “Aust, what the hell did you say?” You aren’t allowed to speak in that tongue. Where did you learn that? Father will tie you to a pole and lash you like a goblin. I’d love to see him do it, but it would kill mother. You crossed the line.” Aust smiled. That smug little rodent pellet would presume to tell him what he could and couldn’t say.

~Bite me Chuth. I’m not dying in this mud. ~

The longer this went, the higher the chance both he and Chuth would encounter the Vulkyrie. Chuth had to sense that. He seemed supremely composed, but he was wounded also. Aust eyed the arrow in Chuth’s gut. Chuth had shot him on reflex, and now he was trying to collect himself. The key was to keep him off-balance. Surprising even himself, Aust cleared his throat and spoke calmly in a low tone, barely audible to Chuth. He wanted Chuth to strain to hear him. He spoke softly enough that Chuth wouldn’t hear him clearly. Loud enough that Chuth would be familiar with the words.

“Dos hojjau Chuth. “ Aust spoke in Drow…”You failed Chuth.”
“Xuat khaless jaluss.” “Don’t Trust Anyone.”
“Usstan kyorl mina nin. Nind doer. Huertar.”…”I see them now. They come. Hurry (with urgency.)”
Aust looks calmly but deliberately up and away from Chuth, a look of stifled fear on his face.
“Maristo zhahus dosst houj. L'Vulkyrie orn cal udossa whol ol.”…”Tonight is your failure, and the Vulkyrie will eat us for it.”

If and when Chuth turns to look as well, or if he hesitates, or even for a moment takes the crossbow a different direction or becomes unfocused, Aust bolts for a building corner and sprints with everything he has south and east toward another corner and away from the range of the crossbow. He focuses on moving swiftly away from Chuth and hiding from guards. He endures the pain of the crossbow bolts in his hand and arm until he reaches safety, then pulls the bolts from his limbs, putting them into his quiver. Assuming no more encounters, he carefully moves well east past Jabbar’s to avoid the Vulkyrie, guards, and Chuth. Unless Chuth is stupid, he’s focused on removing his own arrow and finding cover himself. Composure isn’t worth much if one is bird food.

[If Aust needs a bluff/hide check, please let me know.]

Jabbar's residence was more homely that Burrai imagined it would be. He was expecting something more functional - an attic above a warehouse, or an office hidden behind or below some workshop or other. A place where a smuggler might keep a palette to sleep on, but otherwise functional. Instead this living space was properly furnished and stocked for comfortable living. Even the shopfront looked well kept and tidy. It had more personal touches than Burrai had come to expect from a line of work where staying in small spaces gave kept business well hidden. For a smuggler to set down such solid roots, Jabbar's operations may well be more extensive than he'd heard.

He followed the group inside, taking one last look out onto Cabarda's streets through the layers veils of fine rain. Despite the calls of the guards vaulting across the rooftops, the streets looked quiet, deserted. Perhaps it was the town cringing at the thought of Vulkyrie patrolling overhead. He slipped inside and pulled the door shut, leaning against the wall just behind it. An old soldier's habit that, taking station out of sight should someone burst in....tonight he was glad his old habits were looking out for him. He propped his shield and axe against the wall by his feet, ready to hand and hoping they were unnecessary.

When Ren hissed at started fussing over the wererat blood, Burrai nearly went for his weapons. It was a measure of how the last day had worn him down that he didn't - his nerves had been scraped raw until finally they were dulled. Instead he shook the tension back out of his shoulders and watched Bill, Ren and Jabar get to work, talking about this grey elf, Aust, who'd seemingly caused all this panic. But his ease didn't last....

Elloral said:

What I sense is... a lingering aura of dark, divine magic... from an unholy magic item perhaps? Something it carried and used against your partner I would expect?"

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Burrai immediately pushed up from the wall. Elloral's words rang too much of their conversation the previous night across the book she still kept hidden at her waste. There was a flash of memory: Dark ink becoming brighter, seeming to drift upwards as the page beneath fell away into some abyss, the words floating before his eyes while a hundred scratching, hissing voices muttered dark incantations in a language he knew nothing of. Ellroal's face looked the same too, etched with concern and disgust. He walked over to her, stood at her shoulder and stared at the floor where nothing was, but something foul had been.

"Does this feel the same as the evil in....in the item we wish Jabbar to inspect?" He spoke quietly, just in case. Another old habit. "If so, now might be a good time to bring the matter up with Jabbar. If the two are linked, perhaps any information he might have would pour important light on the matter." He scowled for a moment, the skin on his neck prickly with goosebumps. This didn't feel pleasant, not at all. "Even if it isn't, we should raise the issue anyway. The Rhat seems insistent on taking us to the sewers and I'd very much like to know how good an idea taking the....item down there is."

Alic, Bax, Ordechai, Svexyn, Wrenwil

Ordechai's mood is darkened by the death of his friend Asusk and the need to sacrifice his former slave as he makes a pack with quick and angry movements, no more prepared to carry such loss upon his shoulders than his own equipment and supplies. Meanwhile, Bax dutifully un-hobbles the hogs and attaches leads to their nose-rings, walking them up to Ordechai who kneels before him.

Ordechai: -Speaking Goblin- "You must lead these Hogs back the way we came to the main road and head north as quickly and quietly as you can."

Bax: Blinks with confusion. -Speaking goblin- "And where will you be, master?"

Ordechai: -answering in goblin- "We must split up to confuse the assassins that will soon be hunting us. The rest of us will take a longer path, but we will meet you in the town of Tabba."

Bax: Looks unhappy."I don't want to split up!" He says sourly.

Ordechai: Nods understandingly."I wish it were different, but this is the best chance for all of us. You are good at sneaking Bax, I am confident you'll make it!" Ordechai says with a rather obvious lack of conviction. "If you sense the assassins or their jackals are close, abandon the hogs for cover and make a break for it!"

Bax: "What do I do once I get to Tabba?"

Ordechai: "March into the office of the Masoud Trading Company. Take this letter and coin-purse with you..." He says handing the goblin a belt pouch with several gold coins and a piece of folded parchment concealed inside. "Do not lose these! Without this letter, or this coin, your life may be forfeit entering a civilized town by yourself."

Bax: Raises his chin up defiantly. "Bax is free! Not a slave!"

Ordechai: Places his hook on Bax's shoulder. "That's right, you've proven yourself more than capable as an ally. Let no one put chains on you again!"

Bax: Nods with pride.

Ordechai: Places a gemstone in the palm of the goblins hand. "This is insurance to be sure you have something to fall back on. Do not permit yourself to be captured or robbed and we shall meet again!"

Bax: "How long will you take?"

Ordechai: Looks sad. "It should not be long. Spend that coin wisely and you should have no trouble finding shelter and food. If we do not arrive in time, use that gemstone to convince someone to hire you for a job to earn yourself more coin."

Bax: "I do not want to work for anyone else!" He chides.

Ordechai: Shakes his head slowly. "I know Bax, but you have skills now, and experience with people. You can work for whoever you want if you put your mind to it. But for now, concentrate on survival!"

Bax: "I will do as you say master! But you will not die, I know we will meet again soon!" He says with all the conviction he can muster.

Ordechai: "I am sure we will." He says with the placating tone of a parent to a child. "Oh! There is one more thing, a very special gift to help you!" he says removing a hidden cord-necklace beneath his tunic with a small vial on it, placing it around the goblins neck. "This is a special potion to make you invisible! If you sense the assassins or the jackals near upon you, drink this and they won't be able to see you! But you have to wait till the last moment, it doesn't last long!" Ordechai says falsely. (Bluff Check: =22)

Bax: Stares at the vial with awe. "Thank you master! But why is this potion so small? Usually they are bigger?" He asks confused. (Sense Motive: =9) yet obviously lacking the wisdom to comprehend the obvious falsehood.

Ordechai: "Small creatures don't need full size potions. You can get the same benefit from only a third of the usual amount. Now go quickly! Do not stop till you reach Tabba!"

Bax: Steels himself for his new mission and quickly darts away from the camp back east, tugging on the leads for the hogs who reluctantly follow in their usual docile fashion.

After a few minutes watching the bait move away from camp Ordechai turns to the rest of you with cold eyes.

Ordechai: -speaking common- "Those hogs will be quickly tracked by those Jackals, of that I have no doubt. When they draw close Bax will unwittingly poison himself so there's no chance he'll be captured." He says matter of factly.

Alic: Clears his throat uncomfortably. "I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but that goblin doesn't deserve to die like that!"

Ordechai: "It's a kinder death than the jaws of those beasts or the slow torture offered by the assassins. It's the least I could do for him... but enough talk, we have miles to move and no time to waste!" He says pointing in a vaguely southerly direction.

Alic takes the gist and moves on ahead, hefting his masterwork heavy crossbow with a bolt already loaded (Svexyn and Wrenwil you may choose to follow in any order you wish). Ordechai trails behind for the first few miles, occasionally changing direction and dusting the earth behind you with something (Dust of tracelessness) that he promises will help conceal your tracks.

Of course those measures won't mean much if anyone was audacious enough to carry torches (Sorry Wrenwil, no light sources for you!). After some time, something restless in Alic's mind finally has to be asked...

Alic: "What was the letter you gave to Bax?"

Ordechai: "A Gallian recipe for turtle-soup, my favorite." Ordechai answers dryly.

Eventually, after winding your way over and around dunes and dry dusty hills headed down into the Aluja Expanse, you start to believe you have successfully evaded any hunters... until the snarls and hungry howls of the jackals start to gain as they finally catch your scent!

Ordechai curses helplessly, long ago having exhausted his supply of magical dust and encourages you to move faster, until you are almost at a run, but then suddenly he shouts...

Ordechai: "Wait! Don't take another step!" He shouts as Alic rushes towards a few gnarled dead trees surrounding a few lonely, looming and foreboding, rocky hills.

Alic: Pauses, panting. "Why not? Those hills should offer some cover?" He suggests.

Ordechai: Moves up beside the dwarf. "No Alic, those hills belong to something far more dangerous than the jackals on our heels. They belong to Kumbakarna!" He says in between gasps for breath.

Alic: Huffs. "And who is that?!"

Ordechai: "A sometimes-friend of smugglers, wanderers, strangers and wayward travelers, so long as he's in the mood for company." He says by way of a non-answer.

Alic: Glances back into the darkness worryingly. "What are we supposed to do, wait to be invited?!"

Ordechai: "Exactly. The expected way to announce our presence after dark is to carry a torch." The half-dwarf says pulling one out of his pack and sparking a flint.

Alic: Stutters. "But, the light!"

Ordechai: "It's ok, were safe for now... from the jackals at least." He says igniting the oiled cloth.

Almost immediately, there are howls as the jackals spot the light... but none of them come closer, and suddenly you understand why. The flaring light of the flame illuminates thousands of bone fragments littering the sand and dusty earth around your feet! Jawbones, femurs, scapulas and crushed bits of skulls of all types of humanoid and animal alike... all bleached white by the sun.

More bones can be seen now hanging from the dead trees in a rather macabre display, and leading away from the trees are two path's clearly marked with different painted stones. One path has red-stones... the other, white-stones.

Alic: Stares... "What is this?!"

Ordechai: Snorts. "This is not good, there's a new path."

Alic: "Which one?"

Ordechai: "The path-of-the-red-stones is the path of blood, to be used only by those seeking to join the family of Kumbakarna. The-path-of-the-white-stones is the path of bones, to be used only by those seeking to see their dead reincarnated..."

Alic: Mouth falls agape. "SAY WHAT?!" He exclaims.

Ordechai: Raises his hand for quiet. "Keep your voice down! Obviously we'll avoid that path..."

Alic: "Which is the new path?"

Ordechai: Points to a third path a short distance from the trees angling towards a low cave in the hills marked by black-painted stones. "That one..."

Alic: "What does that one mean?"

Ordechai: "That is the path of doom. It is only added when the cave is occupied by some fearsome monster."

Alic: "Any why by-Moradins-blessed-beard would we ever go down that path?!"

Ordechai: "Because the alternative is to head back and face the jackals. Kumbakarna doesn't take kindly too trespassers... the moment my torch burns out the undead buried all around us will rise and kill us."

Alic: Regards Ordechai aghast, clutching at his holy symbol with trembling fingers. "What madness is this?! Moradins-might save me!"

Ordechai: ignores Alic's outburst. "If visitors are permitted to approach tonight, a lookout will light a torch on the hillside and we can move forward. Smugglers like myself always enter through the cave in any case... though normally that path is marked by grey stones."

Alic: "The path-of-death perhaps?" He snaps.

Ordechai: "The path-of-promises. It's what all smugglers do when they come to barter with Kumbakarna; they promise to bring something worthwhile. Sometimes they chose wisely, sometimes not..."

Alic: "Have we brought something worthwhile?"

Ordechai: "I have sure... I don't know about the rest of you?" He says sighing with obvious fatigue. "In any case, assuming we see a torch, we have to battle whatever is in the cave before we need to worry about that. It amuses Kumbakarna to watch newcomers fight against dangerous beasts he occasionally captures. It's nice at least that he bothered with the black-stones. Sometimes he forgets."

[Svexyn, Wrenwil: What do you do?]

Aust Thale, Chuth

Aust Thale said:

~Pain.~

Aust felt the bite of the bolts nearly immediately after his released his arrow. The pain was instantaneous. The weakness took a moment. His composure waned. He had allowed his instinct regarding the Drow to cloud his judgment. He thought he could engage this Chuth and win.
The poison was fast-acting. He had observed as much from Chuth’s exchange with his retainer; however, Aust was not dead. He staggered backwards visibly in spite of himself, catching himself barely enough to stay away from Chuth’s eyesight.

(Aust Thale Save vs Poison crossbow bolt #1: 1d20+2 = 20 (took 4 rolls + 3 fate points to roll))
(Aust Thale Save vs Poison crossbow bolt #2: 1d20+2 = 17 (on 1st roll) )
(Both Saves vs Poison at DC 16)

~ Must be the rain. The poison is diluted. ~

A brief moment of focus, he accentuated his stagger to project more weakness. He took a deep breath and focused again. An image came to mind. A vignette in his mind. Remembering from years…no…decades ago…his brother. “Aust, what the hell did you say?” You aren’t allowed to speak in that tongue. Where did you learn that? Father will tie you to a pole and lash you like a goblin. I’d love to see him do it, but it would kill mother. You crossed the line.” Aust smiled. That smug little rodent pellet would presume to tell him what he could and couldn’t say.

~Bite me Chuth. I’m not dying in this mud.~

The longer this went, the higher the chance both he and Chuth would encounter the Vulkyrie. Chuth had to sense that. He seemed supremely composed, but he was wounded also. Aust eyed the arrow in Chuth’s gut. Chuth had shot him on reflex, and now he was trying to collect himself. The key was to keep him off-balance. Surprising even himself, Aust cleared his throat and spoke calmly in a low tone, barely audible to Chuth. He wanted Chuth to strain to hear him. He spoke softly enough that Chuth wouldn’t hear him clearly. Loud enough that Chuth would be familiar with the words.

“Dos hojjau Chuth. “ Aust spoke in Drow…”You failed Chuth.”
“Xuat khaless jaluss.” “Don’t Trust Anyone.”
“Usstan kyorl mina nin. Nind doer. Huertar.”…”I see them now. They come. Hurry (with urgency.)”
Aust looks calmly but deliberately up and away from Chuth, a look of stifled fear on his face.
“Maristo zhahus dosst houj. L'Vulkyrie orn cal udossa whol ol.”…”Tonight is your failure, and the Vulkyrie will eat us for it.”

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Aust: (Fate Pool Bluff Check: =21)

Chuth: (Sense Motive Check: =8) The half-drow looks taken aback by this sudden dialogue in drow-speak. Confused, startled even. Your glance into the sky was perfectly timed and before he realized he was reacting to it, he also glanced up.

Aust Thale said:

If and when Chuth turns to look as well, or if he hesitates, or even for a moment takes the crossbow a different direction or becomes unfocused, Aust bolts for a building corner and sprints with everything he has south and east toward another corner and away from the range of the crossbow. He focuses on moving swiftly away from Chuth and hiding from guards. He endures the pain of the crossbow bolts in his hand and arm until he reaches safety, then pulls the bolts from his limbs, putting them into his quiver.

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Chuth: Curses inwardly the moment he realized he was duped. ~Well played!~ He remarks inwardly, not bothering to attempt a pursuit because at that moment he realizes who you must be. ~So it's you again Aust Thale! Clever of you to call attention to us before we burned down your partner's trade shop, but tracking us in the storm was unexpected... and using my language against me to throw me off guard... clever! Too clever! It seems I underestimated you.~ He comments inwardly, reaching for your arrow stuck in his side. Gritting his teeth he yanks it free (Suffers +1 DMG). ~With any luck you'll die before you get back to safety. That was a very deadly spiders poison I used on these bolts tonight. I doubt very much you have an antidote, or even a vial of anti-toxin.~

Chuth focuses back on the other two thugs being arrested by the guards. ~Damned fools. Once the Vulfear questioner get a chance to put eyes on them they'll be tortured for sure. Those pair are known associates of Noro, and Noro himself is attracting too much attention trying to act like a big shot these days!~ Chuth thinks as he spits.

~The thieves guild of Cabarda is as dysfunctional as it gets! A council of guild-masters? ...rediculous! Noro is only one of the first who'll attempts to seize power but he's too ham-handed with his methods. I didn't argue when he ordered me to burn down Jabbar's Trade Shop, but that sort of thing hurts commerce and anything that hurts commerce attracts the ire of the Vulfear. Now with those two thugs in their clutches, his show of power has backfired!~

Chuth regards Aust's bloody arrow in his hand. ~I'll be needing this to deliver a message soon~ He thinks as he moves back towards his regular meeting spot with Noro. ~Noro won't be happy with this failure, but I'll explain exactly how we were outsmarted by Jabbar's partner and that'll focus his anger on him more than me. Noro hates being outfoxed, especially by the likes of Jabbar. He's jealous of his reputation. Noro's weakness is vanity!~

~The fact Jabbar strolled through the old smugglers caves that Noro claimed for himself, killing the one he put in charge, was the final straw. I expected this reaction when I heard the news, and I didn't bother trying to talk him out of it because there's no stopping Noro when he puts his will to something. No doubt he'll order me to come at them again after this. But next time I'll do it my way...~ He says steeling himself. ~...there are bigger things at stake than Noro's silly ambitions after all, and I can't let an elf like Aust take notice of anything else now that he's noticed me!~

Aust Thale said:

Assuming no more encounters, he carefully moves well east past Jabbar’s to avoid the Vulkyrie, guards, and Chuth. Unless Chuth is stupid, he’s focused on removing his own arrow and finding cover himself. Composure isn’t worth much if one is bird food.

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[Aust: Where exactly do you go?]

Bill finally gets some rest... hopefully

Seeing that Ren is feverishly and devotedly cleaning the smell away with the vinegar, Bill decides to leave the task to him;

Bill sets his bow, quiver, baldric, and 2-H sword on the table, and begins to unfasten his breastplate. He removes the breastplate, along with the leather undershirt; he also removes his gloves, along with both studded leather forearm coverings, to allow his skin to breathe.

Covering his left forearm, from wrist to elbow, is an elaborate tattoo, which depicts an eagle clutching a cluster of arrows in its talons. The eagle is in mid-flight, soaring upward, above the tree tops of an illuminated forest, toward a large, full moon, surrounded by twinkling stars. Underneath, is a banner with the motto, "Shaenellon Multyr," which is elven for "Shoot The Moon." This is the mark of the Sacred Order of Elsalemar, an elite scout unit of the elven army, whose members are all master bowmen. On his right forearm, there is a nasty-looking, bright pink scar, which looks to be the bite pattern of some large beast. It is evident that he has seen his share of action.

You notice that Bill's abdomen and ribcage have fresh wrappings on them, which Bill proceeds to remove. Underneath, the skin is red and tender-looking, but there is no actual wound. "Looks like the potion you gave me worked great," Bill says, with a nod of thankfulness directed at Jabbar.

[sblock="Note to the DM"]Bill is still down by 3 hit points: he is at 29 out of 32. Without the breastplate on, Bill is at AC 14.[/sblock]

Bill then grabs all of his things off the table, and goes to the Southwest corner of the room, where the L-shaped bench is, and sits down, placing his gear directly at his feet. Propping his elbows on his knees, and holding his face in his hands, Bill says, "We need to have this discussion soon," nodding towards Burrai and Elloral, "I need sleep, I'm completely exhausted."

~I sincerely hope that this Aust fellow hasn't gone and gotten himself killed or captured. Here's hoping he shows up soon. I have no desire to go looking for him in this weather, nor under these conditions.~

Aletia: Spilling with details

narayan said:

Kayote:
"They knew I could find another skilled mercenary to replace Omar easily enough, so breaking my will was their next move. However, now that Rhea is old enough to look after herself, I feel inclined to fulfill my vengeance against whoever was giving the orders and making plans against me in the first place!"
[Aletia: What do you do?]

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This was going well for Aletia as the intoxicated warrior spilled forth with more and more information. She wasn't sure if it was trust and the seeds of friendship being sewed, or just a consequence of the man's intensive consumption of brew. Probably a little of both.

With talk of Burlock's family, Omar and ultimately revenge now on the cards, the young elven lass started to wonder how much of this Master Burlock would likely remember come dawn. Such a tragic life, so many painful steps that this soul had taken, honour, duty to family, preservation of bloodline, the creation of equity, all taking a heavy price.

Aletia felt great sorrow for Burlock, his affliction and heavy addiction to booze with its resultant effects on constitution and mind. One thing was for sure. If Burlock had any intention of making a mark in the Black Network's side, he'd need to clean himself up, and fast. Was he truly committing to a crusade? Or were these the idle dreams of a man who'd lost his soul to regret and self pity?

Other issues began to scratch at Aletia's mind too. She'd clearly stated her position. Her needs. Her offer for an exchange of "services" that might see her leave this meeting with a roof over her head, and maybe even the musings of a future. So far though, Burlock had spoken much, unearthed many truths that Aletia truly sought to know, yet had failed to really "commit" to anything at all. Was it time to give things a little push?

She new all too well that negotiation with drunken souls was impossible. However, Burlock hadn't spoken a resounding "no" at any point. Perhaps this was the man's way of saying "yes"?

No. She wasn't going to push. This was as close to Vallio's wake as she would likely ever receive, and valuable information and insight was spilling from the man like a barrel split in two. Aletia would go with the flow, soaking it up, and finding strength in speaking with her former Master's friend, whether he would remember or not. She would. She'd remember all of it. Every second.

narayan said:

Kayote: Takes a deep draught of his Tejj and nearly chokes on it at your last comment. "Such strong words from a lady! You remind me of my daughter." He comments matter-of-factly. "She's hardened as much as I have from the loss of our family. You have that in common with her, I can sense it..." He says sadly, regarding the flames in the hearth thoughtfully. "Without loved ones, we have much in common with the evils we hate. Once I sat here and told stories to my sons. Now I only brood on how much I failed them." He says irritably. "If you take any advice from a bitter old drunk its this... don't start a family! Not here in this cursed land they call the Kingdom of Vulkh anyway." He scowls.

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"I have no doubt that Rhea is strong, surely, as she has your blood in her veins. This is as much a ladies world as a man's Master Burlock, and we share the same feelings of regret, struggle and loss. She loves you dearly. I see it in her eyes that she fears for you, for the ways you punish yourself for those things you could never have known would take so much from you. She wants to see you well Sir, as dare I say it, she may feel responsible as much as you do. You need each other. You need each other's strengths, and I too stand and offer mine, as one friend of Vallio to another."

"Family?" Aletia laughed a little nervously at this suggestion. "Oh Burlock, I assure you now, that I have no intentions of gifting the moon to my offspring any time soon. My heart is elsewhere, with Vallio, and finding a way to make sense of his death. After all, I am yet to find a young man worthy of my hand should truth be told!"

narayan said:

The Black Network dealt with Omar with an assassins blade, but their real target was striking against my family."

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"You and Rhea must stay together and safe. We must ensure that their striking is never again endured, and that all that you have worked for remains with your blood, to once again grow both strong and true. It is for this reason, that I hope, as an outsider, a newcomer to these lands, that I might offer you the service of someone anonymous, a woman, an unlikely target, who can sift for information and work with your allies to protect all you have left. This would honor Vallio, as would the demise of any Black Network scum who dare make themselves vulnerable as I hunt for the answers... and opportunities."

"I feel your burning desire for revenge Burlock, your need to equal the scales of suffering, and to that end I am here for you. As all that Rhea has left, only you can decide that which comes next, though I expect she would rather have her Father here, alive, strengthening himself, preparing for whatever might lie ahead. Until you are truly ready, and certain of Rhea's long-term safety, let me make preparations, and seek strands of knowledge to expose their weaknesses."

"What say you Master Burlock? Do we have a deal?"

She extended her hand, ready to seal their allegiance.

"Shall we get Rhea Sir? We should tell of... at least some of what has come to pass here tonight. That I shall serve you in this house, and assist your family, and in return you will be introducing me to a colleague, for whom mine eyes and arrows might be required at times, all in the name of protecting your family? One step at a time we will work against the Black Network, and secure strength and longevity for all of us."

[sblock=Aletia Stats]

[/sblock]

Avar, Billanverthorne, Burrai, Elloral, Ersun, Jabbar, Ren

Ersun said:

Ersun amusedly follows Ren around in the room. He is not sure coming here was the best course of action, but so be it, he will see.

He inspects the room a bit, taking in the feeling of surfacer quarters. He inhales the smell of woody furniture and rainy air, and finds it most ecxoting.

He sighs, finds a place to sit, and watches the events unfold.

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Burrai Steelborn said:

Jabbar's residence was more homely that Burrai imagined it would be. He was expecting something more functional - an attic above a warehouse, or an office hidden behind or below some workshop or other. A place where a smuggler might keep a palette to sleep on, but otherwise functional. Instead this living space was properly furnished and stocked for comfortable living. Even the shopfront looked well kept and tidy. It had more personal touches than Burrai had come to expect from a line of work where staying in small spaces gave kept business well hidden. For a smuggler to set down such solid roots, Jabbar's operations may well be more extensive than he'd heard.

He followed the group inside, taking one last look out onto Cabarda's streets through the layers veils of fine rain. Despite the calls of the guards vaulting across the rooftops, the streets looked quiet, deserted. Perhaps it was the town cringing at the thought of Vulkyrie patrolling overhead. He slipped inside and pulled the door shut, leaning against the wall just behind it. An old soldier's habit that, taking station out of sight should someone burst in....tonight he was glad his old habits were looking out for him. He propped his shield and axe against the wall by his feet, ready to hand and hoping they were unnecessary.

When Ren hissed at started fussing over the wererat blood, Burrai nearly went for his weapons. It was a measure of how the last day had worn him down that he didn't - his nerves had been scraped raw until finally they were dulled. Instead he shook the tension back out of his shoulders and watched Bill, Ren and Jabar get to work, talking about this grey elf, Aust, who'd seemingly caused all this panic. But his ease didn't last....

Burrai immediately pushed up from the wall. Elloral's words rang too much of their conversation the previous night across the book she still kept hidden at her waste. There was a flash of memory: Dark ink becoming brighter, seeming to drift upwards as the page beneath fell away into some abyss, the words floating before his eyes while a hundred scratching, hissing voices muttered dark incantations in a language he knew nothing of. Ellroal's face looked the same too, etched with concern and disgust. He walked over to her, stood at her shoulder and stared at the floor where nothing was, but something foul had been.

"Does this feel the same as the evil in....in the item we wish Jabbar to inspect?" He spoke quietly, just in case. Another old habit. "If so, now might be a good time to bring the matter up with Jabbar. If the two are linked, perhaps any information he might have would pour important light on the matter." He scowled for a moment, the skin on his neck prickly with goosebumps. This didn't feel pleasant, not at all. "Even if it isn't, we should raise the issue anyway. The Rhat seems insistent on taking us to the sewers and I'd very much like to know how good an idea taking the....item down there is."

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Elloral: Speaks over her shoulder to Burrai in a whisper. "It is not the same evil as that, small comfort that may be..."

Billanverthorne said:

Seeing that Ren is feverishly and devotedly cleaning the smell away with the vinegar, Bill decides to leave the task to him;

Bill sets his bow, quiver, baldric, and 2-H sword on the table, and begins to unfasten his breastplate. He removes the breastplate, along with the leather undershirt; he also removes his gloves, along with both studded leather forearm coverings, to allow his skin to breathe.

Covering his left forearm, from wrist to elbow, is an elaborate tattoo, which depicts an eagle clutching a cluster of arrows in its talons. The eagle is in mid-flight, soaring upward, above the tree tops of an illuminated forest, toward a large, full moon, surrounded by twinkling stars. Underneath, is a banner with the motto, "Shaenellon Multyr," which is elven for "Shoot The Moon." This is the mark of the Sacred Order of Elsalemar, an elite scout unit of the elven army, whose members are all master bowmen. On his right forearm, there is a nasty-looking, bright pink scar, which looks to be the bite pattern of some large beast. It is evident that he has seen his share of action.

You notice that Bill's abdomen and ribcage have fresh wrappings on them, which Bill proceeds to remove. Underneath, the skin is red and tender-looking, but there is no actual wound. "Looks like the potion you gave me worked great," Bill says, with a nod of thankfulness directed at Jabbar.

[sblock="Note to the DM"]Bill is still down by 3 hit points: he is at 29 out of 32. Without the breastplate on, Bill is at AC 14.[/sblock]

Bill then grabs all of his things off the table, and goes to the Southwest corner of the room, where the L-shaped bench is, and sits down, placing his gear directly at his feet. Propping his elbows on his knees, and holding his face in his hands, Bill says, "We need to have this discussion soon," nodding towards Burrai and Elloral, "I need sleep, I'm completely exhausted."

~I sincerely hope that this Aust fellow hasn't gone and gotten himself killed or captured. Here's hoping he shows up soon. I have no desire to go looking for him in this weather, nor under these conditions.~

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As the elf speaks Jabbar's eyes linger on the wet spot on the floor, nose crinkled at the sharp odor of the vinegar, his mind in turmoil with all the nuances and possibilities of these nights events. His brows furrow, stuck on the question ~What does it all mean?!~

Jabbar: "...yes... we must..." He starts to mumble.

Elloral: Taps her staff once loudly against the floorboards to snap him out of his reverie. "Do you have a room we can use to speak in private?" She inquires.

Jabbar: Blinks and nods quickly. "I can do better than that." He says stepping over to a wall beneath the stairwell, pushing at a particular knot in the wood to open a hidden door. "This is my secret cellar." He explains before looking to Avar directly. "Avar, please keep Ren and our other guest company while I talk to the dwarves."

Avar: Nods, arms crossed, keeping a close eye on Ersun in particular without being rude enough to stare directly.

As Burrai and Elloral move to follow Jabbar into the cellar, the old smuggler grabs a sunrod he keeps in a sconce at the top of the hidden stairwell to brighten the way down. Yet before he takes the first step he touches an invisible rune to prevent some nasty warding spells from taking effect. As you descend down the stairwell (shutting the door behind you), your discerning dwarven eyes note its construction of bricks and mortar is rather crude, constructed slowly over the course of several years with differing types of bricks of various shapes. By human standards it's functionally adequate, but barely even so...

As you enter into the cellar itself, you note the ceiling is somewhat low for a tall human, but comfortably high for the likes of dwarves as you step down unto a brick floor constructed the same as the stairs and the walls themselves. All around you are crates, stacks, piles and bundles of various types of illicit items. (Yet nothing outright evil)

Jabbar: Notes your stares and comments. "It's all worth a fortune its true, but I've had a long career in this profession because I don't get greedy. Somethings in this cellar may take months, even years, to find the right buyer. I don't simply wink at a stranger in my shop and hand over a vase that conceals something extra. That sort of low dealing is foolish to the extreme! I've had vulfear agents in here many times trying to trick me into saying something, or revealing something, that hints at my true trade. What I do takes patience. I thoroughly vet potential black-market customers before I agree to any meetings. Business deals rarely happen face to face, and if they do it it's always far from this shop and the prying eyes of the public."

Elloral: Adopts an aloof expression as she states. "Impressive as your stash is, I'm a cleric of Valkhauna. None of this means anything to me. We came to you because of your reputation for knowledge about the Black Network."

Jabbars expression tenses, clearly familiar with them.

Jabbar: "I'm not surprised to hear that's why you came. Strangely, you are not the first to come to me tonight seeking information about those villains." He states without offering pause for related questions. "Is what you carry related to them?!" He asks with obvious eagerness, and even fear.

Elloral: Nods. "It's something I stole from one of their agents."

Jabbar: Inhales with apprehension, and also hope. "I see... bring it over here." He says gesturing to a table in one corner of the cellar that features a small shrine of Ishvar and a copy of the Ishvaran, their holy scripture.

Elloral: Notes the shrine, and the scripture. "You are one of the faithful?"

Jabbar: Shakes his head humbly. "A corrupted wretch like me is unworthy of that title, but I believe in such ideals, even if I routinely fail to live up to them."

As you stand next to the desk you glimpse other subject matter of a darker nature littered across its surface. Maps, journals, sketches... and other clues related to the Black Network!

Elloral: Gasps. "You've been studying them!"

Jabbar: Sighs. "The longer I keep at it the more dangerous it becomes. I've survived more than one of their ambushes..." He states unconsciously touching at his scar as if it still pains him."Someday my luck will run out." He states matter-of-factly.

Elloral: Reaches into her belt pouch and removes the journal, still wrapped in cloth. "Perhaps this will help." She states hopefully, placing the bundle on the desk, happy to have it out of her hands.

Jabbar: Reaches over with hesitant fingers and carefully unwraps the journal, bound in a strange pinkish leather that could literally be skin that he dares not touch directly. His lips tighten as he stares, immediately recognizing it for what it is. "...I never imagined I'd actually see one of these!" He says with awe and borderline horror.

Elloral: Clutches at the silver clasps of her braids that bare the holy symbol of Valkhauna as if to purify herself. "Take care, the language scrawled on those pages is foul and corrupting. It makes you... feel... and think of things painful to stomach!" Elloral says with an almost gag-like reflex at the memories. "It took weeks, but I managed to translate a small portion of it. A simple comprehend-languages spell won't work. It's been warded somehow against such magic, especially from a priest."

Jabbar: Glances at her with deepening respect. "Impressive that you even managed that! I have my own experiences attempting to read their infernal text, so that's no surprise to me. May I see the translation?"

Elloral: Looks to Burrai for his permission first.

[Burrai: What do you do?]

Wrenwil: All downhill

The old cleric cursed as they plodded along, and again when they stopped at the intersect.

"So this is the junction..." he said before pausing and resting the butt of his staff on the earth.

"... between a field of undead, a path of stones to battle an unknown foe in the hopes of offering up a treat, and maybe... the safety of a cave for the night, or a back littered with assassins and foul blood-hungry wild throat-tearers. Well... ****, how does one choose with a smorgasbord of options!"

He cursed again, before looking to the crew and pointing down the way of the stones.

"Let's hope they light that bloody torch then."

Turning to Ordechai, Wrenwil nodded respectfully. "Forgive my outburst friend, I am aware of all you've sacrificed here, your hogs, your friend. I shall not forget all you have done either, scattering your magic dust and keeping those wretches off our tail for all these hours. You have my trust. If we walk the stones, then walk we shall. Death at the hand of some beast is surely the better option to whatever ill schemes those arse-breathed fools behind, will use to extract information from us."

He looked to the distance, anxiously awaiting the light, the burning torch, that tiny flame of hope.

"I have learned Ordechai, that a thieving creature can be atoned and live and die courageously like a man. I hope that all of us here can be as brave as your friend Bax."

Wrenwil's face soured a little as he ran through the chain of previous events.

"Sacrifice..." he said. "I truly fear for our Knight. It wounds me to abandon him. It mocks me to run while he is likely being torn to shreds, or worse. Yet... he asked for my trust... and I gave it. Now it appears it is I who should have asked for his trust, leaving him alone to do as he wishes, perhaps finding his memories, perhaps being bent in the wicked ways of Herrod, or perhaps bleeding as we speak. I failed him."

Looking to the ground at his feet, Wrenwil let his regrets be known. Would the knight understand? Would he forgive the healer of Pentos for putting the lives of this party before his own? Would he even see the shining wielder of sword again?

"**** it. We do what we have to do." He decided in that moment. Living with the consequences of their actions would be something to deal with later, if they saw another day.

Having accepted reality, and their fate hanging on some distant man's desire to light a torch, Wrenwil moved to Ordechai's side and quietly stated, "Masoud Trading Company? An interesting choice..."

[sblock=Wrenwil Stats] [/sblock]