Dark Days in Sion - Act 3: Scene 2

[Aust Thale]

Adding Color

~ Been a long, long night...~

Aust is exhausted...a little disoriented. And overloaded with his predicament and that of his friends, both old and new.
He listens carefully to all the conversations going on around him. The whispering of the Rhat and Ersun & Avar and Elloral.
He finishes his food, determined to get a little more of it in him.

#1 Stay alive. That means getting to this priest and removing this curse of lycanthropy.
#2 Protect their people. The slaves and indentured servants that work for Jabbar and Aust are innocent. To Noro, their are sheep to be herded, sheared, and slaughtered. They must be protected.
#3 Protect their shop. This will be tricky. A lot of angles where this could skew off in odd directions.
#4 Protect the city. x10 on the tricky part. More ways this ends badly than better.

He listens again to the whispers of the Rhat and Underfolk. Poor Ren, fidgety by nature, he appears nearly apoplectic about getting back to his master.
He has a point. But he has the benefit of hiding in the shadows or in the sewers. Aust isn't about to do that right now unless forced to.

A thought comes to him. "Ren, I have some questions for you. How similar are Rhats to Were-rats?
When were-rats turn, do they remain themselves? How much instinct takes over for lucidity or thought? And if something is out of place, how adaptable are they and how quickly? I have an idea or two. (Looks at Jabbar). But I want to know about how they work. Fight. Cooperate. And the like."

OOC: please pull from rolls or roll for me on this one. wifi is spotty, and it took long enough to get this going.

[Sblock=Aust FATE POOL Rolls]
(FATE POOL Listen Check: = 18, Success)
(FATE POOL Hide Check: = 28, Grand Success)[/Sblock]

[Aust: You manage to overhear the whispering between Ersun & Ren without being observed doing so. Consider everything they said to each other when I called for the check to be known to you.]

 

[narayan]

Aletia

[Aletia will proceed East to the best of her knowledge if Burlock offer's no directions or landmarks to look out for. Rolled an Int check = 11, just in case it is of use.
Once out of view, she will cast Disguise Self (40 minute duration), to appear as a poor skinny local boy. A ragged, tired looking street dweller.]

As you step into the downpour the force of the storm almost shoves you off your heels, tugging and tearing at your garments with cold wet fingers. Undeterred, you make your way out into the streets, most of which are packed earth with drainage ditches run over a buried sewer system; Which, by the way so many puddles and small rivers of rainwater are forming around and between the iron drainage grates, is clearly past its prime creating little island-chains of muddy ground between porches and street corners. All around you the sounds of the storm echo and howl as the wind rattles shutters and windows, dislodges roofing-tiles, detaches signs and lanterns and the odd random pail or flower pot.

At this late hour, in such deplorable conditions, very few souls risk the wrath of the weather or the town guard. You find yourself alone, darting under awnings and rooftops as much as possible to avoid getting soaked or accosted by squads of town guards. Whenever you do catch the eye of someone sheltering indoors or huddling somewhere to stay dry they barely bother to pay you any attention. Under the spell of your magical disguise you appear to be just another street-brat who carries nothing of value. As undeserving of attention as a wet dog.

You pass by a tavern named The Fire & The Flagon, a Mercenary Outfit called The Black Lions, a brothel known as The Tart & the Tramp and another inn called Putyuks Rooms before at you find yourself near Jabbar's Trade Shop located near the Temple of Ishvar next to the Fools Gold Tavern. It is a two story stone structure with large doors suited for a carriage house and two regular entrances. The shop door is clearly marked 'closed', but there is also a rear door that probably serves as the main entrance to the living quarters.

Both the upstairs and downstairs windows are shut fast, but by the dim light peeking through the shutters and the trails of smoke curling out of its single chimney it seems likely someone is still astir inside.

[Aletia: What do you do? Your Disguise Self Spell will run out within 5 minutes.]

<Approximate time in game; 2:30am>

 

[97mg]

Aletia: A Local Discovery

Vallio trusted Burlock. Burlock trusted Jabbar. Aletia trusted that Burlock knew what kind of hours this enigma of a man might call his own.

She hadn't minded the weather so much, not with the moon overhead somewhere, obscured by dark clouds... yet still hanging in the skies as it had done for aeons.

Darkness. Poor weather. It had all worked in her favour, cept for her temporary tattered clothes now clinging tight to her skin and the sloshy puddles trapped within her well-worn boots. The places she had noticed along the way though, she committed these to memory.

~All knowledge is good knowledge, and I've endured far worse discomfort than this.~

So this was Jabbar's place. A Trade Shop. Stood outside for a moment, the young elf wondered if like her new Master, Jabbar's trade indeed spread well beyond the mask of yet another "legitimate business venture". The real question though, was how to approach this? Sneakily with caution or openly with transparency and grace? It was in her nature to go with the latter. There was already an element of trust here, if only on her part. The rest, she would have to prove... if anyone were to answer the door.

With innocence, she stepped up to the back door and dropped her illusionary facade. The silk of her dress was truly sodden, clinging to the pale skin beneath as though not much more than a thin wash of dark ink. Long strands of wet jet-black hair trailed down her shoulders, and behind them her bow was strapped ready.

Crafted of her own skill, and reflecting the little light from above, Aletia's earrings jingled as she stepped forwards to make herself known. A firm first, and three attempts to tap loudly at the door.

"Excuse me. Hello?" she called out as she knocked.

[sblock=Aletia Stats]

ALETIA - Shining in the darkness Sheet: http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=725599 Level 4 Sorceress Init 3, HP Max: 22 Current: 22, Speed 30ft AC 14, Touch 13, Flat-footed 11, Fort 3, Ref 4, Will 4, Base Attack Bonus 2 Longbow +5 to hit / D8 damage (+1 point blank +1 with magic arrows) Longsword +2 to hit / D8 damage Familiar Crez (Tiny silver viper) Init 3, HP Max: 11 Current: 11, Speed 15ft AC 19, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 4, Base Attack Bonus 2 Poisonous Bite +2 to hit / D1 damage (+poison) Abilities: Deliver touch spells, Alertness, Improved evasion, Spare spells, Empathic link

[/sblock]

 

[thisthingcantbedeleted]

Ersun ...

Then he glances at Aust as he starts discussing wererats. He is curious what Aust thought of, and it is useful to share whatever knowledge they have of their enemies anyway. He himself gathers his thoughts as well.

Before he would add anything, he hears the knock on the door, goes still and looks towards Aust, Jabbar and Avar. His palm itches a little as he wonders if it is time to hide again, or if he should ready himself for a fight. He stretches his fingers and shoulders a little, and gives the three host a questioning look and gesture about what should the procedure be. Should they hide downstairs, prepare for action, stay still, or something else?

[They are somewhat long shots, but here are his knowledge skills in what manner they might be relevant for wererats]
(Geography, culture and behaviour as people: 19)
(Dungeoneering, underworld dweller dangers: 13)
(Arcana, the sufferers of a magical curse: 12)

 

[narayan]

Kryslogious

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 Ordechai's group. 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 themselves to be Hobgoblins bearing 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]

Kryslogious was not going to have him running his mouth. any unneeded attention to his cohorts was dangerous and he needed to nip this issue in the bud. "Let us demonstrate, the difference between us." he announced raising his shield for a battle.

Chogal smiled in amusement as he faced Kryslogious. The others forming a circle around the two making an arena. Kryslogious sized up his opponent who stood smiling at him with sheer amusement of the situation.

"Though it has been some time since I have fought a Chivalan Knight I do not remember any in particular being good enough to remember." he chuckled mocking Kryslogious.

It was in a flash you could see them come towards each other simultaneously but Kryslogious was just a hair faster granting him the first attack. His sword glove grasping onto Chogals breast plate attempting to force him to the ground but as he applied his strength he felt a familiar warmth coming from Chogal. It was an inviting intoxicating feeling, a most euphoric power. He knew the feeling as the blessing of Herod! Chogal was able to tear Kryslogiuous' hand from him and retaliate. He swung his bladed gauntlets at Kryslogious grazing off his armor in sparks but not penetrating. He knew though the strength behind those blows as he too at one point in his past had Herod's blessing.

'This battle is far from fair, I must end this' Krysoiguous thought to himself as he swung his arm against his opponents chest and swinging his foot behind his. Chogal slips on the loose dirt unexpectedly from such a low strength throw and finds himself staring up at the steel clad knight. Coming down with a shining silver dagger which almost seeming appeared into his hand he drives deep into Chogal's stomach and is leaves it in the wound. Chogal grabbed at the blade in his stomach and tore it free in his off hand along with another dagger resting on his belt in his primariry throwing both at Kryslogious, a heavy clang could be herd as they bounce from Kryslogious' shield.

'I need to press my advantage' Kryslogious calculated drawing his cold iron dagger and forcing it under his right shoulder plate armor, again leaving it in the wound. in a frantic effort Chogal grabs the last two daggers on his belt and attempts again at throwing them to no avail as they bounced off his chest plate and helm. It was at this time Kryslogious reached for the holy longsword on his waist and drew it fourth. As he took a swing with the blade Chogal rolled to the side stopping the hit with his shoulder pad and then retaliating with a throw of sand to Kryslogious' helm. In a quick jerk of his neck he kept the sand from getting into his eyes and sees Chogal rising to his feet. In the commotion he swings again but the enemy is quick to dodge the swing.

Kryslogious' advantage quickly evaporated as Chogal in one swift moment pulls the bastard sword and swings but the dagger in his arm causes him to swing wide missing entirely. The moment the bastard sword flew by Kryslogious he quickly let go of his shield and attempted to grab him with his left hand but Chogal sees his move coming. He spins around Kryslogious winding up a powerful swing of the blade that comes down hard onto Kryslogious' right calf. The blade hit with such force the armor crunches and bends into his flesh, a loud crack could be herd as the bone broke upon impact. The sword came back in an attempt to decapitate him but a last moment jerk just shot spark across his visor as the blade ran across the cheek.

There are mixed reactions in the crowd between disbelief and cheer as blood shot across the ground. the jackals yapping trying to jump into the arena against their handlers will.

"Chogal cant be felled by such weak hits, watch him slay this pretender!" one cheered

"A hit like that would of slain most normal men, maybe there is more to this slaughter knight!" another retorted

Kryslogious felt his chances of victory fade as time seemed to stand still, a familiar feeling of despair that has racked him for centuries had flooded his senses as he cursed Herrod for plaguing his destiny once again. 'I will end this cycle Herod, I have been your puppet for too long!' he though angrily to himself as he reached fourth with an vicious arm and grabbed Chogal by the neck. He attempted to rip himself free with his off hand but in a show of strength Kryslogious throws him to the ground and thrusts down hard with his longsword into his left shoulder piercing it deep to the bone. Chogal swings his sword specifically at his right leg attempting to put Kryslogious on the ground with him. The tip of the blade hit into the previous dent spattering more blood across the dirt but not enough to dislodge his footing.

Kryslogious comes down hard in one motion grabbing up his shield and thrusting hard on his blade again, this time piercing his left shoulder and pushing through into the sand pinning him to the ground. Chogal laughs looking at the knight

"It seems Herod's will was to prove your strength. I will join him now, as will you one day... Slaughter Knight... 'Supplicium Militare'" Chogal said as he fainted from blood loss.

Kryslogious fell to his knees leaning forward over Chogal and ran his dagger across his neck. Blood sprang fourth across his scarf and chest plate. Confirming Chogals death he fell backwards onto the ground and took in every breath of heavy air... he had won.

There is an odd sense of appreciation for the death of Chogal by the other assassins. They respect only strength and live to honor the king of demons and devils with their skill in killing. Herod expects nothing less. Each one of the Hobgoblin assassins slowly bows their head in deference to your superior fighting prowess. In their eyes, there is only bloodlust and awe... not fear, not regret, and certainly not sadness for a comrades passing. Chogals death in challenge to another servant of Herod, to prove his worthiness and establish rank, was a worthy sacrifice.

Saraesh: Speaks reverently staring down at the Hobgoblin's corpse. "Lord Herod, consume this soul and grow ever-stronger for it!"

Assassins: "Herod! Herod! Herod!" They chant.

Saraesh: Looks to Kryslogious "You have proven yourself worthy of our company Slaughter Knight! Chogal was the strongest of us, there is no shame taking a wound from his blade." He says placing a potion of Cure Moderate Wounds in your hand before he continues. "We have much to plan, but first, what is your opinion of those others you came with? I know Ordechai of course, but the dwarf and the other Chivalan are newcomers. Who are they?" He asks.

[Kryslogious: Gain a bonus Fate Point for your bravery. What do you do? Any attempt to lie about the identities or motives of your traveling companions requires a bluff check vs. Saraesh's Sense Motive. Roll 2d8+2 for healing from the potion btw.]

Kryslogious: Clamps his jaw with pain, sweat dripping into his eyes as he kneels down to remove the damaged armor around his right calf and downs the healing potion to stop the bleeding. (2d8+2 = 8 Hp's Healed) Gingerly he stands and speaks to Saraesh. (Fate Pool Bluff Check: = 5) "I know very little except how to swing my own sword with wrath and anger. I has yet to com to grips with mine own reappearance. Memories of this place are dark and faded for me, as are my own deeds."

Saraesh: (Sense Motive: = 9 ) Raises his voice with conviction."Have faith, all will be done as the Demon King wills it! Your presence here is proof of his great plans! Together we shall claim vast territories in Herod's name! It is our destiny!" He states with fervor.

Each of the assassins raises a blade in salute. The one wielding a half-spear with a bladed-buckler appears to be the next-in-line in terms of strength and seniority among the rest. He kneels down before Saraesh and Kryslogious to speak frankly, introducing himself as Tieg.

Tieg: "We are honored to have you here Kryslogious. As right of challenge you have claim to all of Chogal's possessions."

Kryslogious: Eyes the fallen hobgoblin with disdain, reaching down to pull his blade free from the corpse. "I shall take his bed, food and drink. Keep his weapons and armor for yourselves."

Saraesh: Nods with pleasure. "Yes! Celebrations are in order! Let us return to the temple, there are preparations to be made!"

Together you and the assassins head across the dunes surrounding the Restless Sands Inn until you find yourselves overlooking a ruin of several structures largely swallowed by the sands. At the center is a low depression. The sands are not as deep here revealing hints of flagstones. It it towards this central courtyard that Saraesh leads your group, flanked by the outlying jackals. Tieg raises his whistle to his lips and blows out a burst of three sharp tones. Immediately other Jackals emerge from the courtyard, rushing out to join the rest. Together the larger pack circle the ruins as you descend into the courtyard.

As you step unto the ancient flagstones three figures in black cloaks emerge from the shadows of the ruins. The third one, trailing a step behind the other two, holds a lantern. As they step up close the third one steps between the other two and raises his lantern high illuminating an elaborately tattooed face and the uniquely golden-yellow-eyes of his race. His tattoo's, as well as his demeanor, have a clearly sinister quality. Somehow you sense great danger from him, despite the fact he appears to be unarmored and carries no weapons. The other two beside him, still concealed within their cloaks, you sense do carry weapons.

Behind you, each of the Hobgoblin assassins immediately kneels in a small semi-circle, eyes downcast while Saraesh raises his chin with pride and addresses the one with the lantern in their own harsh language before he continues in the common tongue.

Saraesh: "Fardorbn grus, Isao... Behold! Before you stands none other than Kryslogious, the slaughter knight, come once again to fulfill the legend of his destiny!"

Isao immediately affixes you in a stare of very serious implications as the other two figures tense and shift within their cloaks.

Isao: "Es kenen nit zeyn!..." He speaks with a hiss in Quresh, before he adds in common. "We shall see... bring him into the temple. The priestess will want to see him."

[Kryslogious: What do you do?]

 

[Tellerian Hawke]

BILLANVERTHORNE'S DREAMS

At the point where Aletia is knocking at the door, Bill is already downstairs, disrobed, and stretched out on a rug. He is asleep as soon as his head is down. The previous day has taken alot out of him.

~Bill's Dreams: (Focused upon the memories of what he told Jabbar; his mind is ever-centered on his guiding purpose.)~

OOC: ~Bill decides to reveal all of what he knows about Jarahdrin to Jabbar. ~Perhaps the minor biographical details to which I am privy might have more significance to Jabbar; perhaps these details will reveal to him something that I was unable to deduce.~ "My new-found friend," Bill says to Jabbar, "I have found the following information from credible sources: Jarahdrin is half-Ahkenaten / half-Grey Elf, son of an Ahkenaten trader named Hadi Masoud, who married a Grey Elf named Kyesti Sumoro. Jarahdrin's parents met in the kingdom of Seillon while Hadi was buying goods in the market. After a brief romance (which was highly frowned upon) Kyesti began to carry Hadi's child..." Bill pauses a moment, then continues: "The Sumoro family is part of the Merchant-house caste and are thus very rich and influential in Seillon. They forbade Kyesti to marry a human. Nor was Hadi or his son allowed to remain in Seillon indefinitely. Eventually they were pressured to return to Vulkh after Jarahdrin was old enough to leave his mother. House Sumoro did support Jarahdrin's upbringing with a small fortune which Masoud invested in the most prestigious boarding schools. Jarahdrin spent most of his adolescence with other privileged youths of various merchant lords and wealthy officials." Bill refills his tea, takes a long drought, and continues: "Meanwhile Hadi's trade business grew quite prosperous and eventually he hoped to leave the reigns to Jarahdrin when he was old enough to retire. Jarahdrin had other plans however because he was altogether enthralled with the mysteries of history and obscure lore. He had no interest in the family business but Hadi insisted he involve himself. Therefore, Jarahdrin did a fair amount of trade throughout the kingdom by his fathers side but he quickly grew bored with it and began to travel further abroad on speculative trade ventures. He did this for several years, rather unsuccessfully because he was busier investigating local lore and exploring than actually making deals happen." Bill smiles as he concludes the brief biographical lesson: "Eventually his father became too infirm to manage the business properly and called for Jarahdrin to take over. Jarahdrin only did so until his father passed away twenty years ago, than he left the management in the hands of a small group of merchants while continuing to collect the lions share of the profits for himself. Things have remained that way ever since and most people aren't even aware of Jarahdrins' ownership of the Masoud Trade Company... So you see, my friend, Jarahdrin is a merchant in name only, for the sake of his father's dying wishes, and for the sake of having enough money to live well and pursue his own interests, that being the obscure lore I spoke of earlier. It is this hobby of his, this passion for obscure lore, which interests me. I suspect that my father Terrandar, knowing of his knowledge, went to him for advice and consultation, once he began to discover things..." Bill pulls two scraps of paper from his pouch. One is his father's letter to Jarahdrin. The other is the partially burned journal page. "Read these, my friend." Bill says. Terrandar, So glad you got a chance to read The Definitive Guide to the Olympian Glades of Arborea, I found the chapter regarding wine making very amusing! Surely that could not be true! I'm still working on your copy of The Mating Habits of the OwlBear. I'm not sure whats more frightening, the material or imagining how someone managed to observe that behavior so closely and lived to write about it! I'll send it back to you when I'm finished, although I must say I hope your next offering is something of a lighter read. Cheers! Jarahdrin *unreadable* ...with him briefly this morning. I didn't even... *unreadable* ...my suspicions before he confirmed them. He says the enemy may sometimes know our routes before we leave on patrol. There must be spies or informants in our midst! *unreadable* ...prove this... *unreadable* ...perhaps some of the ambushes... *unreadable* ...particular soldiers who say the wron... *unreadable* Bill allows Jabbar and Avar to peruse the papers for a minute or two, before continuing: "The Definitive Guide to the Olympian Glades of Arborea is obviously a reference to information gathered about the Elves, perhaps about the Gray Elves in particular. The Mating Habits of the OwlBear is a reference to what my father had discovered about the humanoids of the Skull Mountain Hegemony. I'm not sure whats more frightening, the material or imagining how someone managed to observe that behavior so closely and lived to write about it! This is obviously Jarahdrin expressing his concern about what Terrandar knew or suspected, and he is obviously hoping that Terrandar is mistaken, or perhaps exaggerating somewhat. I suspect that this is wishful thinking on Jarahdrin's part." Bill gets a look of deep concentration on his face as he speaks. "I will tell you what I think it all means, in a nutshell. I think it means that the Grey Elves are somehow in league with Skull Mountain. Consider carefully the following facts:" "1: My grandfather was killed on the slopes of Mt. Gythmora 400 years ago along with all his men. After the mountain went dark and no word was getting out the court feared the worst. my grandfather (Billanverthorne Sr.) was sent to recover a gray elven wizard sent by the court to the stronghold of Kurukshetra (capital of the former Dwarven kingdom of Whurgythmora). 2. Those same scouts reported a dwarf (matching the description of a Whurgythmoran prince named Beloch) lured my grandfather and his men into an ambush of hobgoblins. Bill Sr. managed to seize Beloch and demand he release his men, but a hobgoblin assassin backstabbed him. The rest of his men fought on and they all perished. 3. The court sent word to Torgrimm IronAxe about an inner-clan betrayal and demanded compensation for the loss of their soldiers. 4. Torgrimm IronAxe amassed an army with the other dwarf lords and marched on Mt. Gythmora. 5. The high elves called to assemble the army and join Torgrimm, both to avenge the deaths of Bill Sr., and company and prevent a strong evil from occupying the mountain. But that call to arms was vetoed by the gray elves." Bill gets a grim look on his face. "Number 5 is what bothers me the most. Why would the Grey Elves be so reluctant to act against Skull Mountain? It is a mystery that I am hoping that Jarahdrin has already looked into... and hopefully has found answers to..." Bill sighs, long and slow. He rubs his eyes with his fists, and then runs his fingers through his hair, the way people do when they are exhausted, and are trying to stay focused. "There you have it, Jabbar, Avar... You now know everything that I do. I will not rest until my father and grandfather have been avenged. And more importantly, until justice has been served! I also intend to find the taint within the Grey Elf kingdom, and remove it like an amputation of a rotten limb. The vastness of their network be DAMNED... I WILL HAVE MY DAY OF RECKONING!"

 

[Hillsy7]

~4 hours?~ Burrai thought, amazed at the racing time. The day had been long, true, and the night thick with events – and a not inconsiderable amount of frustration – yet it hardly seemed a few hours gone since dusk had crept by. Perhaps so much had gone on, his mind had been working too furiously to notice. Maybe he was to energized to feel tired; after so long in his home, and with his books, he wasn’t desensitized any more to the narcotic of adventure.

But plans were afoot now. In the morning their roughly entwined group could take their various actions, laying the bait for a meeting between Chuth and the Vul, gathering intelligence on Noro’s hideaway with the Cult of Vermintrax, convincing Rasul to stick a fatal blow to his enemy, binding further alliances with this Kayote. But all that was for the morning. For now…

His axe and shield leaned by the door. Avar sat on a chair, heavy arms folded, so different in his skin from all the dwarves he had ever met – and yet despite being Sundered, he was still a dwarf with a Dwarf’s resilience and pride. And a Dwarf’s honour.

“Avar. I don’t need my blankets for a few hours yet. Burrai Steelborn will be at your side should you wish.”

He felt his grip tighten on the twined leather of his axe’s haft, a tension spreading up his arm to his thick bicep, a strange carnal urge to swing and hew. Oh yes, tonight had been full of frustrations that a fight would ease, and fresh adventure was indeed a powerful drug….

 

[narayan]

At Jabbar's Trade Shop

A thought comes to him. "Ren, I have some questions for you. How similar are Rhats to Were-rats?
When were-rats turn, do they remain themselves? How much instinct takes over for lucidity or thought? And if something is out of place, how adaptable are they and how quickly? I have an idea or two. (Looks at Jabbar). But I want to know about how they work. Fight. Cooperate. And the like."

Ren: - Answers Aust -"Wererats are the mortal enemies of Rhats. Most other races presume Rhats have more in common with wererats than other races because of our mutual affinity with rats. We consider this very insulting. The truth is our differences are far more important! Wererats tend to start life as rogues or thugs. They only work together to spite other races. Rhats are communal creatures; we appreciate camaraderie and cooperation with other races. While we are curious, polite and hard-working wererats are cruel, greedy and murderous."

"As far as their tell-tale tendencies go, wererats tend to shirk bright light and open spaces. Their character tends to be very selfish, skittish, observant, prone to envy, and back-stabbish. If you encounter them in their hybrid-form, they may seem wild and animal-like because their words are mostly growls... but remember they are still able to remember people's identities and think with reason. It is just only speaking in that form is difficult."

"Their animal form is different. In that form that they are at their most wild and primal state of mind. It is not guaranteed that they will remember people's identifies, and even if they do, they are not really aware of any desires beyond survival, stalking, searching, eating and killing. Two important rules to remember dealing with lycanthropes. Firstly, silver is poison; second, they get meaner (and tougher to kill) the closer they get to their animal-form."

"Wererats have less of an established hierarchy than other types of lycanthropes, but their Alpha's (leaders) are completely dominant. If you can kill their alpha, any resemblance to discipline collapses in that group until another appears and reestablishes dominance. My best suggestions for battling wererats is to locate their alpha and kill them first, and lure them into open spaces whenever possible."

__________________________________________________________

Part 1 of 2, to be continued...

 

[narayan]

At Jabbar's Trade Shop

____________________________

Part 2

Before he would add anything, he hears the knock on the door, goes still and looks towards Aust, Jabbar and Avar. His palm itches a little as he wonders if it is time to hide again, or if he should ready himself for a fight. He stretches his fingers and shoulders a little, and gives the three host a questioning look and gesture about what should the procedure be. Should they hide downstairs, prepare for action, stay still, or something else?

Jabbar glares towards the door as Avar rises from his seat, frowning, hand-axe in hand.

Jabbar: Appears frustrated and very weary, holding a hand up in a gesture for patience & calm stepping over to the door to open the viewing port, calling out into the rainy dark. (There is no lit lantern outside the door to shed light on who's knocking) "Yes?"

[Aletia, Ersun: What do you do?]

 

[97mg]

Aletia: A Word in Hand

Jabbar: Appears frustrated and very weary, holding a hand up in a gesture for patience & calm stepping over to the door to open the viewing port, calling out into the rainy dark. (There is no lit lantern outside the door to shed light on who's knocking) "Yes?"

The young Elf was a little startled by the swift response to her tapping at Jabbar's door.

~Alas it seems someone is awake at this moon-touched hour! Traders are hard working folk, much as my dear Mother used to be. No time to ponder too deeply on that now though...~

She took a step back from the door, and replied, "Please forgive my unexpected intrusion at this late hour Sir. My name is Aletia Moonborn, a humble employee of the Red Sands Inn. If he is awake or not disinclined, I bring word for Jabbar, and Jabbar alone, if he will see me."

~A few moments in front of a warm fire wouldn't hurt either.~

[sblock=Aletia Stats]

ALETIA - Shining in the darkness Sheet: http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=725599 Level 4 Sorceress Init 3, HP Max: 22 Current: 22, Speed 30ft AC 14, Touch 13, Flat-footed 11, Fort 3, Ref 4, Will 4, Base Attack Bonus 2 Longbow +5 to hit / D8 damage (+1 point blank +1 with magic arrows) Longsword +2 to hit / D8 damage Familiar Crez (Tiny silver viper) Init 3, HP Max: 11 Current: 11, Speed 15ft AC 19, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 4, Base Attack Bonus 2 Poisonous Bite +2 to hit / D1 damage (+poison) Abilities: Deliver touch spells, Alertness, Improved evasion, Spare spells, Empathic link

[/sblock]