Dark Days in Sion - Act 3: Scene 1

[narayan]

Kryslogious, Saraesh

There was an eerie pause as the flames lapped about breaking the silence. Moments seemed to drag as the two figures stood silently facing each other, Saraesh awaiting his reply. Kryslogious was shaken by his words, his self internalized fear of his past was quickly coming to fruit. He stood rigid and emotionless, then suddenly a thud rang as his shield dropped to the ground. he raised his arm slowly to the back of his helm and unlatched and removed it slowly revealing his young unmarked face. He turned his head to the side talking to his cohorts behind him.

"Ill be back for my crossbow, use it well my friend." he said referencing Alic. "Sir, ask your trust in me." referencing Wrenwil

he looked back to Saraesh and replied.

"Show me... we talk along the way..."

He picked up his shield and flung the helm back on his head.

"lets go"

He needed answers, about himself and about what he feared was plaguing this world in his name.

Saraesh stood slowly, a smugly-wicked smile cutting across his face.

Saraesh: "At last... the time has come to stop hiding!" He said tossing his wig into the flames before he leads you into the night, away from the others. Snarls and glinting canine-eyes surround you in the dark as the large dire-jackals move in close, sniffing at you, mocking you in their unique barking yowl.

Saraesh: ignores the beasts and calls out a command. -speaking goblin- "Tuul ogaal'daan!"

Seven cloaked warriors emerge from the shadows momentarily thereafter, dressed in the same garb they used on patrol when they were observed by Folg, Svexyn and Mogan earlier; garb stained now with their blood.

Saraesh: -Speaking goblin- "Kaagaach or dhalaan!"

Slowly, the figures throw back their cloaks revealing cold expressions on scowling, dishonorable faces. Each one of these assassin evidently fashions their own armor out of bits of leather and hide, strapping it around their forms with ease of movement an obvious priority. Some have bits of steel and chain over critical areas, but each one is different in how exactly they do so. The only thing in common about their appearance is the nasty scar of Herod's 'brand of obedience' burned into their forehead in such a way that its point is marked into the bridge of their nose between their yellow eyes.

Their hands are gloved, some featuring razor-sharp blades between the knuckles or at the fingertips, but each carries different weapons that vary as much as their appearance. One carries short-swords, another gauntleted-daggers, a third has hand-axes, the fourth a half-spear and a bladed-buckler, the fifth uses a spiked-chain, the sixth has a pair of picks and the seventh... the oldest of the lot judging by the grey tufts of beard around his jawline... carries a bastard sword across his back and a Pole-sword (a Chivalan version of a Naginata) in his hand.

In addition to their main melee weapons each has at least three other daggers and an assortment of bola's, darts, throwing-axes, nets, garottes and other ancillary weapons and/or tools to poison, trip, capture or maim their victims. In some places where their dark red/orange skin peeks through... you see marks of tattoo's in Herod's infernal script. These warriors devoted their bodies entirely to the mission of death and carnage. You sense their minds are already devising how to exploit the weaknesses in your plate and use it against you by how they stare.

Saraesh: -Switches to Common addressing the assassins- "Behold! Herod has sent us a mighty harbinger of his will, a tool of might and power to crush his enemies! This is none other than Kryslogious, the Slaughter Knight!" He exclaims with verve. "The time has come to finally enact our plans of conquest that have been centuries in the making! First we will capture and interrogate everyone at the inn. Those that can be turned will live, the rest will be sacrificed in our temple and lend their body parts in a trail to the trade road. Adventurers and so-called hero's will flock here to avenge their deaths at their own peril!" He adds with a laugh.

The jackals lend their voices on que and howl as the assassins regard you skeptically. The eldest bows his head towards Saraesh asking permission to speak.

Saraesh: "You may speak Cholgal Death-master, but use the common tongue in deference to our honored guest!"

Cholgal: -Speaking common- "Spy-Master, perhaps you should not so hastily declare this one to be thee slaughter-knight?! He hardly fits the description."

Saraesh: Snorts. "You question the word of a Quresh on matters of history Cholgal?"

Cholgal: "I only speak from my own, limited, knowledge Spy-Master... I have been to Chival myself and I can read, unlike some of these youngsters in our tribe..." he comments glancing left and right. "...which means I recall the words used to describe the armored terror your own scholars described in detail."

Saraesh: Nods. "It is true Kryslogious is not bedecked in his full battle attire just yet... but legend speaks of his re-emergence into our land in his original form, that of an honored Chivalan-knight in mockery of Pentos on the eve of the unholy crusade!"

Cholgal: Clears his throat. "Forgive my ignorance, I would never question Herod's will... if he is truly the one you say he his, all I ask is a demonstration of his might and commitment to evil!"

Saraesh: "It is not your place to ask anything!" Saraesh scolds. "You are merely the instruments of death, nothing more... nothing less!"

Cholgal: Frowns. "With respect Spy-Master, have I ever asked for anything before? I have a hundred slayings to my credit... visions of the demon king appear in my sleep... Herod takes pleasure in my deeds and takes account of me I am sure of it!" He says with pride. "I admit I am no cleric or unholy warrior, but we all carry the right of prophecy in his name."

Saraesh: Glares, but relents. "Very well, you have that right to challenge since he is not in fact a Quresh, but you do so at your own peril! Commanders have the right to destroy a subordinate for blaspheme against the chain of command!"

Cholgal: Smiles slightly. "Perhaps, but i have killed Chivalan knights before... and will do so again unless he goes back to his camp and personally dispatches those other travelers he came with! The way he regarded them and moved to protect them, I am not so sure he is capable of it!"

Saraesh: huffs. "You do not know those others as I do Cholgal. Ordechai has frequented my inn before and admitted to many crimes. I'm sure you also noticed he recently took a goblin as his slave? I believe he can be persuaded to join us."

[Kryslogious: What do you do? Declare actions and roll initiative if you actions can be regarded as aggressive]

 

[thisthingcantbedeleted]

Ersun

Ersun looks at the sky with awe as the rain falls from the darkened clouds. It is rather overwhelming, the sheer size of it. His eyes widen even more so to the occasional flash of light that preludes a thunder. He feels like his heart is drumming in his ears while the enveloping noise of the rain muffles the surroundings. At least some of it, as he notices the ground turns to mud and he can't quite place his feet not to make a noise. He shakes his boot a little and wonders how Ren deals with the sludge from the deluge. He wipes the drops off from his brow and sticks his eyes on his little companion, in caution of losing him in the shadows.

He stretches his shoulders and tries to focus on the tasks at hand. Ren said they are going to Putyuk's first, then if that doesn't work, to his shop. From the time of the day he assumes Putyuk's must be some kind of public house, it should come handy later if he manages to remember the way. Not that it is easy, as used he is to the tunnels of underdark, as unused he is to the labyrinth of buildings the city consists of. Nevertheless, he tries to take notes of some points and locations he can use as reference.

Once in view he inspects it quietly, but makes no assumptions yet. He can't really control how to make less noise in the mud, so he only hopes the rain covers it somewhat. As for the white of his hair, his leather cap at least covers some of it, and his coat the rest as he tucks it underneath. He realizes he should've thought of that sooner, as the wet braid sticks to the back of his vest. Although exciting, it is not really comfortable to be out of his place so much, and he keeps a sour expression away from his face.

As they approach closer he tries to listen to the sounds inside, hoping he can make out something of it, or at least get a hint of how much could be heard of them from the inside.

[Move silently check: 6]
[Hide check: 4]
[Listen check: 14]

 

[narayan]

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

Ersun & Ren________________________________________

The pair of you move towards the inn, not doing a great job of hiding in truth, but there isn't much use in moving stealthily towards a building that exposed. Better to move casual and unobtrusively. For a moment you peek through the front windows, observing how surface folk take their meals and drink. The food may differ, but they eat as loudly and messily as anyone below ground ever did.

Ren: (Listen Check: =15)

The keen-eared Rhat is the first to notice other voices near the Inn, but in truth if you weren't slightly overwhelmed by your first night on the surface you would have heard them first. Together you slink around behind the inn to avail yourselves of the natural shadows in the alley, away from the light of the windows. Ren whispers to you as the voices get clearer.

Ren: -Whispering- "It's Jabbar!"

Together the pair of you eavesdrop for a few moments, getting the gist of some kind of 'artifact' and how they need to move away to a private place to speak more frankly about it. Then the Rhat suddenly darts out of the shadows into full view of Jabbar and the rest. The Rhat is still partially concealed under his cloak, but his hands are held high and open holding no weapons.

Ren: "Jabbar!"

Jabbar: Reacts with a start at first, but recognizes the rhats high-pitched voice quickly. "Ren? What are you doing here?"

Ren: "My master must meet with you!" He says with all seriousness.

[Billanverthorne, Burrai, Ersun: What do you do? Make Spot checks please.]

 

[narayan]

Aust Thale

As you move away from Jabbar's shop, wheelbarrow in hand, rain begins to pour, washing your traces off the streets as soon as you move through them... but the rain has another unfortunate side effect. It blurs infravision making heat-sources less defined, clouding the temperate aura's they emit.

[This is not a literal penalty to your Spot skill because you are still capable of spotting movement in the rain the same as any other creature without infravision does. However, it does mean you are not guaranteed to to spot something purely based on their aura and you must rely on a spot check like everyone else.]

[Aust: Make Listen & Spot Checks please.]

 

[Tellerian Hawke]

Bill Wants To Get On With It Already!

Bill is somewhat surprised by the Rhat's sudden appearance, his hand instinctively reaching for his bow; however, at Jabbar's recognition, he relaxes once more.

~Vandria's eyes! Can anything else unexpected happen this night?!? At least Jabbar seems to know this creature. Still, we shouldn't tarry long out here.~

To Jabbar, Jokingly, In A Quiet, Almost Whispered Tone: "With all of these meetings, side trips, and summonings, it's a wonder you find the time to conduct proper business, my friend."




[sblock="Bill's Spot Check"][/sblock]

 

[narayan]

Alic, Bax, Ordechai, Svexyn, Wrenwil

[/COLOR]"Let us not debate this in full, not yet. I must return to my tent for my pack, and then together, we will search these burning ruins for clues before I dig hole besides hole to bury the dead."

~The Tome! I must never let it leave my grip. Never, never.~

[Wrenwil intends to retrieve his pack from the tent, and then search the murderous site. I won't roll anything yet as Alic and Ordechai probably need to react first.]

As you move to your tent, Alic and Ordechai share a long look.

Alic: "Do you believe him?"

Ordechai: "I believe he believes in the good of Kryslogious. But is the knight a person of real flesh-and-blood? Let us not forget his soul is bound by magics, with past lives and memories even he cannot remember... Can we truly trust him?"

Alic: "He saved my life when the Vul hunter attacked."

Ordechai: "Aye he did. He also saved me from the clutches of Garrisan Greaves. Yet Saraesh spoke to him like his appearance here was foretold. How do we know he will remain on our side if he has an older relationship with them? The truth is we know nothing about him or what he is capable of."

Alic: Frowns, brows furrowed as he ponders. "I admit I did not catch the words they shared?"

Ordechai: Pauses, moving his good hand over to scratch at the stump that remains of the other. ..."There is great danger here, I can feel a tingling where my hand used to be. I only feel that when I'm close to the sort of evil that tortured me so many years ago. I've been such a fool!" He remarks bitterly. "All this time I knew Saraesh, I didn't see him for what he was..."

Alic: Nods "I share your shame. I felt the same about Garrisan."

Ordechai: Spits. "Evil is so clever, revealing itself only when it's too late! We may be doomed if we stay here, but i'm not sure we could outrun those jackals if we tried to flee."

Alic: Straightens his posture a bit. "I'm not one for fleeing from a fight!"

Ordechai: Regards the young dwarf pityingly. "You are brave Alic... but you have not felt their grip holding you down as I have. I tried not to scream when they placed the cold steel against my wrist and started cutting, I failed. I could not stop screaming when they put the torch to my eye..." He grimaces.

Alic: -Finally realizes what Ordechai meant when he said 'I did not seem him for what he was'- "Saraesh is one of the Black Network?!"

Ordechai:-Sighs- "Aye he must be... he mentioned a name I have never forgotten. The dark lord of their evil organization, the demon-king... Herod." He says, muttering the last word with great contempt. "The ones that maimed me whispered it in my ear over and over. They promised the pain would stop if I swore obedience to him."

Alic: Stares. "They were trying to recruit you?"

Ordechai: -Swallows painfully- "I never gave them the satisfaction. I bit my tongue so hard it bled to prevent myself from saying it. They gave up after a while, commenting about how I was just as stubborn as the mules my ilk was likened too. I swore I would never speak that name... but sometimes, late at night, I hear myself repeating it in my head over and over... and I don't know why..."

Just then Svexyn can be seen, rising from the ashes.

[Svexyn, Wrenwil: What do you do?]

 

[Hillsy7]

Burrai Steelborn

Burrai had just begun to turn, expecting this Jabbar to follow suit and head to whatever haven smugglers in Cabarda retreated to when requiring secrecy. Instead, a small shape burst from the shadows, gibbering Jabbar's name. It was almost automatic - one hand snuck behind him, through the straps of his shield, the other clutching the familiar twine of his axe handle. It took less the the swing of a pick, then the realisation no one other than he and the elf had gone for their weapons. There was comfort in that, the tension of a soldier that never left you, no matter how long you'd being farming turnips in a remote homestead. Another part of him though felt a pang of shame he'd not read the body language sooner. Still - better to draw and sheathe than bleed.

"With all of these meetings, side trips, and summonings, it's a wonder you find the time to conduct proper business, my friend."

Burrai snorted - the elf ran a good line in wit. He'd met many a soldier who could find the humour in tense times, and almost to a man they were worth three other men in battle. It took awareness, calm and focus to make light of dark times.

"Agreed," Burrai rumbled. "It seems you're services are in demand tonight, Jabbar. Considering, judging by this Rhat's concern, that Kong's ambush isn't the only threat abroad tonight, I'd say it's probably best if we stay close until our business is concluded?"

......and if it transpired this Jabbar was yet another threat in the night. Well, he'd prefer to be close enough to show that Burrai Steeelborn's axe was a sharp as the stories said.....

[sblock="Burrai's Spot Check"]Spot check: 19[/sblock]

 

[Aust Thale]

As you move away from Jabbar's shop, wheelbarrow in hand, rain begins to pour, washing your traces off the streets as soon as you move through them... but the rain has another unfortunate side effect. It blurs infravision making heat-sources less defined, clouding the temperate aura's they emit.

[This is not a literal penalty to your Spot skill because you are still capable of spotting movement in the rain the same as any other creature without infravision does. However, it does mean you are not guaranteed to to spot something purely based on their aura and you must rely on a spot check like everyone else.]

[Aust: Make Listen & Spot Checks please.]

Aust Thale:

AustThale37 rolls 1d20+5 = 8 Listen Check
AustThale37 rolls 1d20+5 = 19 Spot Check


~ This will serve well. ~

Rain in an arid climate was a welcome event. Desert living had its moments, not the least of which was that the dryness wasn't particularly messy. However, occasionally, when it rained, Aust missed his old life. Certainly he did not miss his brothers. But he missed his parents...his mother in her doting of him, and even his father. As stubborn and haughty in his search for wealth and finery as he was, he never missed a moment to teach Aust, or rather Vander, to appreciate the little things...not the least of which was rain. The fresh smell in the air prior to its coming, and immediately after its passing. It washed away the trials of the day, and it rejuvenated the landscape. He would like it to wash away the Vul in this place. Oh would he be so fortunate.

Quickly snapping to, he scanned the area around him as he walked with the wheel-barrow. The white noise of the rain would reduce softer sounds such as footsteps and voices, and not hearing his surroundings troubled him. He focused on his sight to compensate. His elven vision was keen, even dulled by the darkness and rain. Hopefully, if he were to run into complications, he'd still see them with enough time to adjust accordingly.
And at that moment, he had a simple, but terrifying thought. ~ What about above him? The Vul could fly. ~ He adjusted his eyes and looked up in a 360 degree circle, slow enough to notice shapes against buildings, terrain, and against the sky. Nature didn't make straight lines. He whispered to himself in a half prayer and half self-criticism. ~ Archaeos straighten my backbone.~ And he hastened his pace ever so slightly.

 

[thisthingcantbedeleted]

Ersun

Ersun comes moves slightly closer, enough to be out from the shadows, yet keeping enough distance to not get dragged into the conversation by mistake. He takes, and shakes water off from his cap, crosses his arms, and curiously inspects the three man present. The scarred and aged man Ren spoke to, Jabbar, the one they are looking for. He supposed that went easily enough, but then again, this seems to be only the first step of many steps. He is rather curious how will they discuss this alliance.

Then he inspects the other two, whos first reaction was reaching for their wargear. He muses on that a little, it is such an obvious sign of nervousness, or at the least being on the lookout for pursuit, a kind of jumpiness. The dwarf has the look of a soldier, or mercenary, he is not sure about the bowman yet.

He looks around at the other patrons to gauge what their perspecive may be on the ongoings. That, and if they seem to think on it with queer eyes or expression, tries to remember their faces. Not that its easy, on a quick glance all the surfacers seem alike.

Then just as he took a few glances around with such intention, he also remembers to watch the same thing about him, he is a new face afterall. Remembering the recent adventures in his home, he might be a little paranoid about spies lurking around, but considering what he heard about the Vul so far, he figures it could be a healthy habit in this case.

[Spot check: 10]

[sblock]Ersun Durim is a male underfolk, a subrace of humans. His build resembles a stout elf rather than an average human.
He has skin of ash gray, although as an underfolk he can change its coloration within limits, similar to a chameleon, either to emphasize a social interaction, or to camouflage himself. He has large, deep set jade eyes and also bigger ears than what would be expected of a human. His silvery-white hair is cut short on the front, but kept in a long braid at the back, reaching halfway down his back. He has thick eyebrows and a round beard on his bony face.
Although his hair and beard might make him seem old at first, he is no more than twenty-five years old, and moves firmly with the fitness of youth. He has a calm, collected presence, and speaks with a rumbling baritone voice.
His choice of clothes is somewhere between elegant and practical for travel, never knowing what to expect next. It roughly consists of a pair of heavy boots, leather breeches, belt, shirt, a fine chain shirt, a vest, a coat and a modest leather cap. He also carries a sword sheath about the size of a long-knife on his back.[/sblock]

 

[Tellerian Hawke]

[COLOR=0000]OOC: Way back In Act 2, Part 2, Scene 2, I posted a description of Bill; I am re-posting it here to refresh everyone's memory.[/COLOR]

The elf standing before you is a rough-looking customer; he stands over 6 feet tall, and he wears a longbow and a greatsword on his back. The greatsword is sheathed in a special, quick-draw rig, and the longbow looks as if it would require a good deal of strength to nock. His raven black hair hangs well past his shoulders, although it is tied into a large, single braid. His icy blue eyes betray his stern demeanor, along with a hint of danger and unpredictability; his face is lean, and his arms are long, and leanly muscled.

[sblock="Cool stuff you don't notice at first (Spoiler Alert.)"]
(What you can't see, due to the presence of gloves and leather forearm guards, are important details as to his past experiences; if his armguards and gloves were to somehow be removed, or if you were to somehow possess X-Ray vision, you would notice the following details: )

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.

[/sblock]
It is evident that he has seen his share of action. The breastplate he wears looks both well-worn, and well cared-for. He has the look of an ex-soldier /professional mercenary about him, and the very way he carries himself suggests that he is confident of his abilities, perhaps even looking for an excuse to fight. An initial analysis of him is that he should not be taken lightly, and that any approach or contact should be conducted with caution.