Dark Days in Sion - Act 2: Scene 5

[97mg]

Wrenwil: Insomnia strikes again

Alic: -Shouts- "UP! UP! UP! THEY ARE UNDER ATTACK!"

Even though he'd actually only been half asleep, Wrenwil was mightily unimpressed. "Oh for heavens sake, what the Yaldson this time!" As his cussing bellowed within the tent, the old cleric sat up. ~Where are they?!~

His eyes slowly became accustomed to the dark and Wren quickly realised that Alic and the knight must have gone outside, seeking the cause of some kind of "disturbance". He grumbled, returning the open book which lay in his lap, delicately back into his pack. ~Once was a fine maiden indeed, yet even she can't gift a decent nights rest. Right, let's see what foul buggery we need to weevil out of this time.~

Using his trusty staff as a third limb, the aging and sleep deprived sod levered himself upright, snapped up his hand-crossbow, and head out.

It wasn't a particularly comforting scene, the flicker of flames, the silhouette of Kryslogious striding out to confront some unknown adversary. Wrenwil did the numbers.

~Bad.~

He followed some distance behind his friends, calling out "Kryslogious, Alic, be careful what you gamble with!"

~Pentos my lord of all that is just, guide us this flame touched night.~

[Casting Guidance on Self. +1 competence bonus on a single attack roll, saving throw, or skill check. Must choose to use the bonus before making the roll to which it applies. Please let me know when 1 minute duration is over.]

[sblock=Wrenwil Character Details]

View attachment 71470

WRENWIL - a tough old boot on a terrible holiday Sheet: http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=209300 Level 4, Init 2, HP 20/27, Speed 30 AC 15, Touch 13, Flat-footed 13, Fort 6, Ref 3, Will 10, Base Attack Bonus 3 Masterwork Staff +7 to hit (d6+3) Spells: 5/5/3

[/sblock]

 

[narayan]

Aust Thale

As you crack open the back door of Jabbars Trade Shop you poke your head out to look around...

Aust: (Fate Pool Spot check: =12)

...at the largely deserted and shadowy streets outside. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary you step outside with the heavy sack across your shoulders. Those who've lived in Cabarda as long as you know the sewers are not just sewers. They are also home to a rather sizeable population of Rhats and other species of small humanoids. Odds are any bodies dumped into the sewers will be eaten by scavenging creatures, but there is still a small chance they may be found by something intelligent. Nevertheless, it is the only option that doesn't require you to hide the body (or otherwise dispose of it) at your premises...

Alas, you underestimated her weight and you can only manage to stagger a few paces into the dark with your meager strength. Just as you consider turning back to perhaps fetch a wheel-barrow, you hear voices as two dwarves approach you from an alley across the street from Jabbars shop. The way they emerged from the shadows tells you volumes about the sort of lives these two must live. They both appear very comfortable slinking through alleyways.

These dwarves don't appear to be mountain dwarves, they are too tall... but nor do they appear to be hill dwarves given the generally shoddy look of their garments and less than neatly-kept beards. By the way their pale skin contrasts so brightly with their darker hair, you'd have to guess these are sundered dwarves, also known as the cursed ones by their own ilk.

One of them is the same height as Avar (4'10") strapped in well-worn armor (studded-leather with extra iron rings sewn over it) over a warriors physique. He walks with a bardiche in his grip like it was a walking staff; a wicked-looking weapon likely capable of cleaving you in half! A tattoo of iron chains is inked across his face so his eyes appear to peer between the links. The second is a few inches shorter wearing less armor (only a breastplate) partially concealed beneath a cloak with both his hands clasped together in its sleeves. However, something about the way he stands indicates he's even more confident (and perhaps important) than the warrior beside him.

Sundered Dwarf 1: -Speaking Common- "Looks like you could use some help with that?" He asks with a deep voice that reminds you of an echo spoken into an empty ale-barrel.

Sundered Dwarf 2: -Speaks with a less-friendly tone- "This is Jabbars place yes? We are looking for Avar."

[Aust Thale: What do you do?]

 

[Hillsy7]

Burrai Steelborn

"You know I can't tell you that, but i will say this.....you have no one to blame but yourself for this."

"Scum like you give mercenaries a bad name! None of you are better than thugs! Someday you'll all earn a reckoning for this offense. In the name of Valkauna I swear it!"

"WHAT TROUBLE IS THIS?!"

"NO TROUBLE! WE ARE LEAVING!..."

Burrai watched the exchange silently. Kong and his men backed away, exchanging barbs with Elloral and softer words with the guards. As they retreated around the corner to where the flight of helpful arrows had emerged from, Burrai gave a placating wave and a nod to the guard – ~nothing to see here, lad. Just an old dwarf facing down a group of pups who’ve slunk away. Move along.~ Suiting his thoughts, Burrai turned and herded Elloral towards the inn.

“Not sure whether that elf sold us out or not,” he said, moving to stand in a pool of shadows to one side of the door. “On one hand he chased us straight out into an ambush. On the other – well – when you consider the accuracy of whomever it was firing into that fight possessed, I’d say they’d warrant owning a bow of the craftsmanship he had. It could have been him and this is all just a coincidence.” He scanned about, seeing no one close by, and opened the back door into Putyuks a crack. (There are no windows open to the back alley) Even though the place was still reasonably full, he thought he spied the elf at the bar, and someone who might’ve been Avar seated across the common room. Assuming he wasn’t just seeing what he wanted to see. Most soldiers knew to treat their own observations with a little suspicion.

“I think he’s inside, but I can’t be sure. Either way, I think we should have a few more words with that elf, but somewhere I choose. Come on, Elloral. Let’s wait over there where we can wait for him to leave. Then we’ll have a little chat, see what he has to say.” Off to one side there was a bench sitting in the lee off an awning, awash with pale starlight but far from any torches. A perfect location for watch – not suspiciously dark nor well lit. Just a place where two indistinct townsfolk might be sharing a pipe and conversation.

“And in the meantime, you have any idea what Kong meant by bringing this on ourselves? While, if I’m not mistaken, pointedly looking at you? I may only have one good eye, but I’m not totally blind.”

 

[Aust Thale]

Sundered Dwarf 1: -Speaking Common- "Looks like you could use some help with that?" He asks with a deep voice that reminds you of an echo spoken into an empty ale-barrel.

Sundered Dwarf 2: -Speaks with a less-friendly tone- "This is Jabbars place yes? We are looking for Avar."

Aust Thale: ~Splendid. Simply splendid.~

Shifting the weight on his shoulder he stands with the sack toward the dwarves, his opposite hand within reach of his rapier. Using the strain of the load to mask Aust's re-direction of the nosy dwarves' questions, he replies: "Well met! Actually, thank you no. I'm 'earning my keep'. Let's hope Avar appreciates it (with just a hint of feigned indignation). If you are looking for him, try Putyuk's or another tavern nearby. And if you find him, tell him thanks for leaving me this chore."

Sharpening his focus, Aust hones in on their intent (Sense Motive skill?). These fellows showing up at this time of night right after this bad business is a little too coincidental. Sundered dwarves are shaping up to be right up there with gnomes. They can have Avar. If they are here for Jabbar or me, however, they will find themselves 'responsible' for this murder, or worse. And I will be dragging dead bodies to the sewer all night.

 

[narayan]

Ersun, Ren

"I will be right with you, Ren, lead on." he turns to his little companion as they hurry away. As they get going he quickly checks that there are no loose noisemakers on him, nor anything reflective. He is excited to be in this new and alien environment, one that could easly turn hostile, so he puts his focus on moving with Ren quietly, prudently, watching shadows and corners... and sometimes upwards too.

The diminutive Rhat moves with a natural grace and quickness that will easily impress. This race would be difficult prey, even for some of the predators of the underdark. It is challenging to spot and hear the way it instinctually places its feet (which have no need for shoes) to avoid making any sound. Similarly, it also has a instinctual talent for avoiding branches and brambles that would tear or snag on its garments.

You on the other hand are once again as ignorant of your surroundings as you were when you first started ranging under the tutelage of Sassan. Every sound, every thing, every creature that crawls, scurries, chirps, or hops... distracts you. Of course you do your best to focus on staying alert for threats. filtering out the rest... but there's no denying this new environment has taken the edge off your awareness.

[Ersun: Make a Wisdom Check, DC 15. If you succeed you will have no penalty to your Listen, Sense Motive, Spot, and Survival checks for the immediate future. If you fail you, will suffer a -1 to said skills for every 2 points you roll below a 15. Consider this a situational modifier until you have a little more time to adapt to your new surroundings.]

As the pair of you slip out the postern gate, Ren gestures to a pair of guards that patrol the grounds around the manor. The guards appear to be Akhenaten males dressed in cloaks holding crossbows and magical lanterns (clubs with the light spell cast on them).

Ren: -Whispers- "Those guards are not friendlies. We have to avoid being spotted or they'll sound an alarm. It doesn't mean they'll hurt us, but we can't afford any delays to answer their questions. Follow me!" Ren says darting away from the gate to duck behind some shrubs some yards distant. (Hiding is easier for him with his size advantage of course)

[sblock=Guard 1]
Guard 1: (Spot Check: =15)
Guard 1: (Listen Check: =16)[/sblock]

[sblock=Guard 2]
Guard 2: (Spot Check: =6)
Guard 2: (Listen Check: =12)[/sblock]

The terrain is gravely/rocky hillside with scattered shrubs.... it is still desert so there is little in the way of natural grass... but there are enough wells in the area to irrigate crops. Rasus' manor is among others within line of sight, but the majority of the homes up here belong to farming families. There will be barns with animals in them, pens with goats and hogs in them, dogs tied up to peoples back-porches... that sort of thing.

[Ersun: Make Hide & Move Silently Checks]

 

[Fangor the Fierce]

Svexyn - Dragon Shaman 4

The smell of burnt hair and flesh brings the searing pain back... The blade, that damnable blade... Svexyn was dying, and there was not else to be done...

One eye opens, barely able to adjust to the heat and pain. It was swollen shut, almost, but something prevents him from passing on. The coldness of death's door mocks the searing flames around him, taunting him of the inevitable...

His head won't move, as he lays on the ground, blood pouring from the viscous wounds of the rapier. ~DRASUS! That cruel duelist sent his minions, the hooded ones. They are vile and evil, but how did they get so close without alarm? Hobgoblins aren't that good naturally...~

As Svexyn's vision blurs in and out, he makes out something white.. ~What the... FOLG!~ The kobold bones are easy to recognize, as the broken skull is already being devoured of flesh and scales from the flames. Folg was brave, and was to start his journey on the path of a Dragon Shaman... but it wasn't to be...

~My life is spent... I feel the flames coming near.. It won't be long...~

With a final effort, Svexyn uses all his might to turn his head away from the mangles remains of Folg, only to stare at the imposing figure of Drasus.

~The scoundrel hasn't finished his evil deeds yet. Well, I won't let him have the satisfaction of finishing the job... My aura has prevented my death, but I have failed... It's time to release myself of this burden. Of the deaths at my hands...~

Having learned his skill to enable his healing aura at sleep, Svexyn sucks in the last of his breaths, and prepares himself.

"You have my attention... Explain...." he spat venomously ready to end him should he tread any further against Kryslogious' nerves.

~That voice! The armored turtle! What cruel joke is this? Is he challenging Drasus? He will die alone... unless... let me rest just for a minute... and see what Lady Luck has in store for me...~

Svexyn searches his strength, but it is waning. Realizing that his weapons were gone, his friends dead - yes, though they were hired, they were friends none the less - and his life ebbing away, he holds onto the aura, and lets fate spin the coin. Where it lands, with life or death, was no longer up to him...

[sblock=Svexyn Status]-2/46 HP, No weapons, Draconic Aura = Fast Healing +1HP/Round[/sblock]

 

[narayan]

Avar, Billanverthorne, Burrai, Elloral, Jabbar

-whispers tersely- "Turn around, walk away, you don't know me. Wait for the thugs around back to leave. Then come inside and sit down."

Bill stands, quickly stepping around the corner, and casually walking back into the front entrance of Putyuk's Inn. He puts the smile back onto his face as he slides gracefully up to the bar, placing a single gold coin onto the counter. "Ale,"

Bill scans the crowd, to see if the man (who was with the cloaked woman) is still around; if so, Bill takes casual notice of what he's doing. Bill is also looking for Burrai and Elloral, expecting them to come back in through the back door.

Bill: (Fate Pool Search Check: =25)

[Sblock=Results of Search Check]You do not see the man who was with the robed woman. However you did get a good look at him so you'll have an easy time spotting him if he shows his face again anytime soon.[/Sblock]

At the bar, a squat, chinless, round-faced Okian of poor breeding serves you an ale. His eyes are small, black and expressionless... as his perpetually scowling mouth. His long hair hangs low down his back and over his shoulders. He wears a stained apron and carries a pair of strange knives tucked through his belt. This is Putyuk, the owner of this less-than-fine establishment.

Putyuk: Slides the gold coin over with greedy fingers and bites on it. "You want anything else elf?" He asks in an unpleasant tone, worsened still by a harsh accent.

Meanwhile Avar and Jabbar enter after you and take seats at the table closest to the front entrance, glancing in your direction without looking like they're looking.

Burrai watched the exchange silently. Kong and his men backed away, exchanging barbs with Elloral and softer words with the guards. As they retreated around the corner to where the flight of helpful arrows had emerged from, Burrai gave a placating wave and a nod to the guard – ~nothing to see here, lad. Just an old dwarf facing down a group of pups who’ve slunk away. Move along.~ Suiting his thoughts, Burrai turned and herded Elloral towards the inn.

“Not sure whether that elf sold us out or not,” he said, moving to stand in a pool of shadows to one side of the door. “On one hand he chased us straight out into an ambush. On the other – well – when you consider the accuracy of whomever it was firing into that fight possessed, I’d say they’d warrant owning a bow of the craftsmanship he had. It could have been him and this is all just a coincidence.” He scanned about, seeing no one close by, and opened the back door into Putyuks a crack. (There are no windows open to the back alley) Even though the place was still reasonably full, he thought he spied the elf at the bar, and someone who might’ve been Avar seated across the common room. Assuming he wasn’t just seeing what he wanted to see. Most soldiers knew to treat their own observations with a little suspicion.

“I think he’s inside, but I can’t be sure. Either way, I think we should have a few more words with that elf, but somewhere I choose. Come on, Elloral. Let’s wait over there where we can wait for him to leave. Then we’ll have a little chat, see what he has to say.” Off to one side there was a bench sitting in the lee off an awning, awash with pale starlight but far from any torches. A perfect location for watch – not suspiciously dark nor well lit. Just a place where two indistinct townsfolk might be sharing a pipe and conversation.

“And in the meantime, you have any idea what Kong meant by bringing this on ourselves? While, if I’m not mistaken, pointedly looking at you? I may only have one good eye, but I’m not totally blind.”

Elloral: "Kong was gloating because he knows I stole the journal. Thugs like him are the worst sort of scum, the type attracted to great evil and proud to be accepted by it. He only said that so we take no satisfaction forcing him to withdraw. I'm sure we'll be seeing him again. He knows what happens to those who anger the black network. ...In other words... we can run but we can't hide." She sighed.

"I'm in no mood for waiting..." She says brushing past you through the back door to approach Avars table directly.

[Billanverthorne, Burrai: What do you do?]

 

[Tellerian Hawke]

Billanverthorne: Let's Blow This Taco Stand!

Bill smiles at Putyuk and replies, "Not at the moment, my fine host; but if I think of anything, you'll be the first to know."

Bill grabs his mug and swaggers happily over to Jabbar's table, arriving before Elloral. "Cousin Finnigan, I thought that was you!" Bill raises his mug in a drunken salute, "I swear, whatever Bubsy said about me was a lie. Come on outside, and I'll explain everything! Oh, look," he says, indicating Elloral, "here comes Teresa now. She'll confirm what I say!"

Bill motions for Jabbar and Avar to rise and follow him. Bill casually sets his drink down on Jabbar's table, and whispers tersely before moving quickly toward the front door,"The lady dwarf is with Burrai, let's move this outside before she makes a scene."

Bill moves quickly, yet casually, toward the front door, all the while, wearing a carefree smile on his countenance. As he opens the door to step outside once more, he pauses for the briefest of moments, and scans the area quickly from behind the door, while it still offers partial concealment; he wants to make sure that no one is waiting for him on the street.

~Hopefully, cooler heads will prevail, out here in the night air. Plus, there's safety in numbers, we can all walk together to a safer location, where we can then talk in private. Let's just hope there are no unpleasant or unforeseen interruptions...~



[sblock=Bill's Spot Check] Bill's Spot Check = 18!!! Woot!!! [/sblock]

 

[Hillsy7]

"I'm in no mood for waiting..."

Burrai scowled as Elloral brushed by. She had always been forthright, but clearly the events of the last few days had ground her temper down to rock dust. Caution, especially after the ambush not a few moments ago, was wise. Sensible. Hurtling around in a town like Cabarda to speak to people they’d not met more than six hours gone, in the shade of a Vulkyre temple, carrying a book literally written in evil, seemed at best rash. He wouldn’t say foolhardy – Elloral wasn’t, hadn’t been, and never would be, a fool.

“Elloral, we’ve just stormed out of there. I don’t want to sit outside as much as the next dwarf, but I don’t think risking suspicion by playing rock hop with an inn door is the best – “ And then, just as she disappeared inside outrunning his words, the reality of what she’d said really hit him. “Elloral! Wait! What do you mean they know you have it? Kong and the Black Lions are employed by…? How do you know they…? Oh by the bloody sacred mines of Dal Moreth!”

And with that he darted inside after her.

Putyuk’s seemed to largely ignore his re-emergence. A few patrons turned his way, sotted grins plastered across their faces along with ale foam. He shouldered through the crowd, catching a glimpse of the Elf leading Elloral, Avar and another out towards the front door. He growled, becoming more irritated by the constant running around than by Kong’s ambush. At least that was something he could face – this felt more like chasing mine dust through breezy caverns.

He managed to hold back from knocking people aside, opting for the less conspicuous route of weaving round the patrons, and finally stepped back outside. The noise dropped suddenly, like a bubble bursting, spilling quiet onto the empty streets. The Elf slunk to one side in the shadows, eyes darting about. Elloral and the others huddled nearby, caught between inaction and caution. Burrai took a deep breath, calming himself.

“Well,” he whispered, “now we’re all here can we decide on a location to talk and stay there? Because if we traipse in and out of one more inn I swear I’ll find Kong right now and cut some answers out of him.”

……Perhaps the constant tension was fraying his temper too….

 

[narayan]

Aletia

Damn the bouncers here were good. Too good. Professional and straight to the point. It was going to take more than a smile and a winsome face to wiggle out of this one, ~no trouble? I agree. Because it was paid for in full! So blondie wants to "chat" huh? She better tread carefully less I lose my wits.~

Aletia retained her smile during the discourse, but found herself biting the corner of her lower lip a little. It seemed unfair to get double takings for a room for the night, unless of course her obliging "friend" had, in fact, been like most young men, just as mother had always said... deceitful and short-minded.

With eye contact unbroken she replied to the Inn's guard, "it would be an honor to meet the lady of the house. If it is about the room, I will most happily pay, though I do believe the coin was already settled. I do though respect your diligence and time, the safety you bring... us humble patrons. Have a good evening sir."

The bouncer walks you over to the other side of the common room where the 'lady of the house' notes your approach and steps away from the other patrons to face you. She has the pale features and skin tone of a Barossan, not an Akhenaten. You'd guess her age to be late-twenties, but the confidence in her cool blue-grey eyes makes it clear she not be underestimated as just another pretty woman. The 'lady of the house' has clearly earned the title after several years assessing strangers in a leadership position.

Her garb is definitely not of local flavor, more in style with a female swashbuckler with tight leather leggings, tall boots and a very revealing purple-velvet blouse, accentuated with white lace around her neck that spreads across her shapely bosom. She may not be as strikingly beautiful as you in truth, but she could still easily turn every head in the room dressed like this. Red ruby earrings glitter beneath stunning platinum-blonde curly hair. Yet not everything about her garb is purely fashionable. Some aspects even even hint at talents besides administration.

For one thing, the belt strapped around her waist has a long dirk, a wand, two pouches and a potion affixed to it. Her demeanor, attitude and stance bear no hint of cowardice as she looks down at you with a heads-height-advantage at 5'9" vs your 5'. You sense anger in her body language and an expression anything but friendly as she introduces herself.

Lady of the house: "You must be the mystery guest I was told about? Aren't you a pretty thing..." She remarks in a somewhat patronizing tone. "My name is Rhea Burlock... this is my place. And you are?"