For More Than Glory

[Memnus]

Fleck aims a withering glare at Fahlias' departing back, adding in Gnomish, "When I thought no one could be denser than Drack..."

(Treasure split, in round numbers... Drack, have the ring of the ram; Zerash, the scrolls and 2500 gp. Fahlias, 2500 gp and the second bead of force. Also, have four bottles of silversheen, paid for before the split because everyone used some. Fleck, 5500 gp. Any claims on the second ring? Fleck won't use it.)

 

[Dragonwriter]

Fahlias returns with Sventcharir. He casts a spell (Speak with Animals) and leads the silvery wolf to the footprints on the wall (( Is it just me, or does that sound really weird? )). The wold sniffs then begins trying to catch the scent of the attacker. (Does my wolf have any luck?)

 

[Memnus]

"Don't bother. You won't find any trace of him." He looks in disgust at the arrows still in the bed. "You've heard how vampires are created, right? Now remember why we were in that gods-forsaken whorehouse in the first place." He gives Fahlias a moment for his inherited dragon intuition to kick in, and goes back to staring out into the night. Without turning, he asks of no one in particular, "I wonder how much elf there is left of him..."

 

[Dragonwriter]

"I was merely hoping it might be someone else. There was always the possibility that it was Valdir. I just wished to be completely sure. Though I hardly knew him, he certainly deserved better than becoming undead."
Fahlias goes to the bed, inspecting the arrows. He begins loosening his gloves.
"Fleck, how long ago would you say the High Priest was shot?"

 

[Ezieer]

"Well isn't this just a pickle barrel we are in. I really hope there is another explaination fer it. Maybe he's just gone insane?" Drack says... grasping at straws.

 

[Memnus]

Though you're apparently cut off from your usual official information sources, the newly returned army will clearly not be getting any rest. Blacksmiths and leathersmiths across the city are overwhelmed with rushed repair work. Little is heard of either Valdorane or the Kaiser, even in rumor. The thieves' war seems to have gone underground, with no further property damage and only a small rise in the number of bodies in gutters. Zerash's inquiries into restoring the undead to life confirms that an animated body cannot be raised, but there's nothing preventing the animation of a formerly animated body.

After several days of hiding, Fleck eventually emerges from his refuge, looking grim. Bristletail trails at his heel, following even closer than usual, trotting agitatedly. Fleck fishes in his pocket as he addresses Zerash. "I'm the only one that he'll listen to. Here..." He presses a small pouch into Zerash's claws. "I'll lead you to me in the morning. You'll need to raise ... one of us. I don't know which."

He lowers his head and turns his back, hurrying away, ignoring any response.

 

[Memnus]

Zerash is watching a half-orc through a scrying pool, recuperating from the wounds you've delivered him. After a short silence, he looks up again, talking to someone outside reach of the scrying.

"What do you mean he didn't have the bolts? ... Didn't show up? We paid his creepy messenger last night! ... Unless he's been eaten by his scorpions I'll ... No, I wouldn't put it past that one ... what, the east gate? Yeah, I ... fine, send Drundle. Thick brute."

He rolls over again, grumbling.

 

[Memnus]

Recap of recent events:

After Fleck's disappearance, the group was ambushed by two cloaked figures with poisoned crossbows. They lured Drack and Fahlias into a crowded alley, where a splash of alchemist's fire ignited a bunch of crates filled with ... something. In the resulting blast and smoke, the attackers got away, though not before one sustained major wounds. Zerash put the fire out before it could spread, but not before attracting a whole lot of attention. The sergeant of the responding guards believed their story, and offered them a place to stay for the night, because Fahlias was pretty badly poisoned.

The next day, Zerash tried scrying on their attacker. Not a lot was gained (beyond the above), but a stakeout of the east gate proved a bit fruitful. A fox headed out of the city, followed shortly by a dwarf. Zerash headed out to follow them and caught the dwarf, losing track of the fox. Turning on the charm, he scared the wits out of the dwarf (with Drack's help) but didn't get much besides the name of who sent him: Big Fritz, some big boss in the southeast part of the city. The dwarf fled, and Drack tried to follow but gave it up when it was obvious his quarry was onto him.

Zerash sat to wait for the fox to return, who eventually did. He was being skittish, though, and eventually Fahlias came out to talk to him. Something didn't seem quite right, and Zerash did a True Seeing to check. Turned out the fox was a transformed human, and the disguise being up, turned to flee. He was temporarily halted by a Command from the priest, and was grappled before he broke his mind free. Turning into a horse got Zerash off of him, but he was halted again by a blade barrier, and saw reason when called on to surrender. He returned to his human form, but was entirely mute, not talking at all and refusing to give nonverbal answers to direct questions. Zerash's only remaining idea was to take him to the temple of Os to have the spell lifted...

 

[evandariel]

(Assuming we can FFW to morning, and get some of this roleplay out of the way...)

Brennan returns with the morning light. He is still covered in his rugged combat gear, and the seemingly huge chain, studded with spikes, is particularly visible in the rising sun. His hair, while not necessarily dirty, is somewhat matted and touseled, almost as if the man himself had grown a mane. Despite his night in what would appear to be discomfort, he walks with strength and seems well rested. He moves toward the edge of the campfire and squats beside a tree, chewing idly on a piece of grass. "'Ey, gnome, I dun think I heard yer name, less me memory be slippin' somewhat. Mine's Brennan." He glances around at the others, paying Drack's bastard sword a bit of respect as his eyes dart in what most would not recognize as an alert and professional manner around the assembled party. "The dogs smelled somethin's scent aside from yall here, bugger me fer not noticing myself. Look a bit sleep deprived, though. Somethin' come upon ya in the night, other th'n me beautiful self?"

 

[Memnus]

Fleck is sitting cross-legged when Brennan returns, his books open around him. He looks up at Brennan, and manages a small smile. "Spingear Spindlefingers. Or, well, Fleck if you must." He closes each of the three books in turn, slipping them into the flat bag slung over his shoulder. As he stands and stretches, the bag shimmers and evaporates. "Forgive my rudeness last night. When hunting vampires, you can't trust anyone until you've seen them in the sun. But, here you are. And no, you weren't our last visitor last night, but I daresay the most, well, least unpleasant one. What are you after, in your travels?"