The Game of Kings

Doral adds, "Glasia, thank you for the warning in regards to the guards. You acted promptly and impressively. May I ask how your own magic is holding up? I am beginning to feel drained, myself, and will probably benefit from some rest."
 

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Glasia blushes slightly at the compliment.

"I didn't come with much prepared that might help in our current situation. But I'm feeling well enough, and I have scrolls to supplement my memory." She cranes her neck to the side to look out the window.
 
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Banderelli Artifice and Alchemical, Port Verge (nighttime) – Everyone

The tired group, shedding drops of rainwater onto the dusty wood floor, drags the bugbear's body into the shadowy shop. The front room, once filled with Carver's master's creations, is devoid of enchanted valuables, but components and reagents still lie scattered on tables and strewn on the floor. Wary Vhir glances in the room's corners, lit dimly by lantern-light, and sees only his allies and their prisoner.

With Carver's aid, 'Parlinor' drags the unconcious bugbear up onto a table, sweeping a ledger and strangely shaped bones to the floor to clear it. Lacking rope, he looks about for a length from one of his companions.

Meanwhile, at the window, Glasia gazes past a corner pane of cracked glass into the night. She spies an old man hobbling on a cane under the opposite building, taking advantage of what shelter from the elements its eaves afford. She glances either way, but the only other movement is the unrelenting rain, falling in showers and streaming off roofs, dripping steadily from signposts and shingles.

[sblock=Doral]The beguiler's spell gives him a view of the captive's mind, but that mind is closed for the moment; his forced sleep is dreamless. Turning to his companions, he can sense surface thoughts, like Glasia's dry mental response to Dragen.

OOC: if you want to get a more thorough description of what other PCs are thinking, you can't really read their minds without their players noticing. The spell will let you have in-character knowledge of any thoughts they put into their posts, but if you want more detail, you or I will have to ask other players for it.[/sblock]
 

Banderelli Artifice and Alchemical, Port Verge (nighttime) – Everyone

"Ready to work your 'magic', Vhir?" Partash asks the kobold.
 


The kobold double checks the bounds that hold the bugbear, then instructs Carver on some appropriate infusions to bolster their efforts. "This belt, infuse it with the capability to frighten and turn the will; this cloak, you can focus it to strengthen the presence." Then, making sure their captive is in an indelicate position, with someone's sharp weapon pointed at sensitive areas, the kobold looms over the incapacitated bugbear. He then signals Parlinor to heal it enough to consciousness.

As the beast awakens, it sees the glowing red/purple eyes stare intently into its own. "Time to speak, little one. Time to tell us everything you know." And with that, the interrogation began.

OOC: Ask Carver to infuse skill infusion: intimidate and eagle's splendor. So, that's an Intimidate check +21 (+19 base, -4 size, +4 infusion, +2 eagle's splendor). He'll spend an AP if the roll is less than 25.
 
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"You know... you think you're pretty sh-smart," Morika observes to Vhir. "Don't think I could help with this guy, unless you juss wan' me t' be my own sweet self." The shifter woman's brain was slowly beginning to work, and somehow it was percolating that they might be in danger. However, that was currently small potatoes compared to her pumpkin-sized headache. But threatening someone was usually fairly entertaining, and it might take her mind off the nausea.
 

While Carver transfers the energy of his infusions into the kobold's garb, Parlinor spots a length of rope looped around Morika's rucksack. With it, he binds the hairy humanoid's limbs to the table as securely as he can, with several knots looped on top of each other. Testing the bonds, the priest finds them secure.

With a little less grace than he might desire, Vhir, his face like a demon's, hoists himself onto the table. He plants his legs on either side of the bugbear's shaggy head, and with a nod to the priest of the Soverign Host, watches through blood-colored eyes as his captive awakes.

The bugbear's eyes flutter open marginally as it groans deeply, but in an instant they go wide in shock. Stretching his neck away from the hellish kobold, he flexes his thick, bulging muscles and strains at his bonds, violently trying to break free as he roars curses. The table wobbles unsteadily; its legs were probably not built to hold well over two hundred pounds of angry goblinoid. Before his convulsions rip it apart, a fit of coughing cuts them short--the magical healing did not restore all of his injuries, it seems.

"What in Khyber are you?" he rasps, spraying heavy drops of spittle onto the terrifying kobold.

The action point wasn't necessary for the intimidate roll.
 

Glasia looks away from the interrogation, keeping her attention focused outside the window. Poor creature, she thought. He has a employer he serves just like we do. Concentrating on anything other than the events happening in the room, her mind wanders back to home and her sister.
 

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