The Mourning After (Horror) (IC)

[Kobold Stew]

"Well, familiar voices, it seems. So nothing too worrisome. It's funny you should mention a trip," Tillington says taking a sip, and sitting on his hands again. He's not had time to wash them of the blood. "Mmm! No, not a match, but I might be ready to leave town for a while, myself. I've, uh, found myself in a situation, and I might need to leave town for a while." He smiles. "Perhaps you'd do me the favour of letting me tag along?"

 

[Neurotic]

Malix sips his beer in a darkened corner where his dwarven build and visible beard make no doubt that it is indeed a dwarf there.

Staff and healers bag complete the image of an itinerant healer.

 

[JustinCase]

Mal's other eyebrow rises, too, as Tillington implies many things but does not seem willing to share them yet. So Maladiel does what he often does when changing tactics -- he smiles like nobody else.

"Splendid!" he cries out joyfully. "We could both use a holiday! More drinks, please," he motions for the bar, hoping there's someone else serving them now that Nisa left.

The Khorovar looks around the room, seeing if anyone is out of place or overly interested in their conversation, and his eyes lock with a dwarf healer in the corner. It is only a moment, then Mal looks away and acts as if nothing has happened.

"Need those hands cleaned?" he whispers quietly to the gnome, in between summing up fantastic locations they could be visiting but probably never will.

OOC: Deception to make sure nobody else hears the whisper to Tillington: 1D20+5 = [20]+5 = 25 Deception to give spectators the impression that it's really about a fantastic holiday: 1D20+5 = [12]+5 = 17

 

[Kobold Stew]

"It's been a long evening," admits Tillington, as he gratefully accepts Mal's help and shows his hands. "There are some who will be looking for me right now, and I'd prefer they didn't find me. You, er, know my history of providing documents to those that need them. Well, tonight something went wrong. The constabulary would be a headache, but that's because of other things I've done. It's the others that I'd prefer not to find me for a while."

Tillington's reticent to share more, but he's found someone who knows what he does already, and that's as good an opportunity as he expects right now.

"Where were you thinking of heading?" he asks, hoping to look forward.

 

[JustinCase]

"I've won a few tickets to Gatherhold," Mal says before muttering an arcane word under his breath. Tillingtons hands are clean within seconds as the magic from the half-elf sorcerer passes over them.

Then he looks the gnome into the eyes. A few silent moments of hesitance, and Maladiel decides to put his cards on the table. From inside his fine jacket, he produces the letter he received from Yamyra Boromar herself and presents it to Tillington to read.

"You, my friend, are invited, of course. But I've got some more tickets, and perhaps you know of someone who is fun to have around on this trip? Someone to make sure our luggage and ourselves are kept safe, perhaps someone to help retrieve things we have lost?"

Mal tries to be as clear in his language as he can without giving away too much to casual listeners. Even within a Boromar hideout, not everyone can be trusted.

OOC: Can I use prestidigitation to clean the gnome's hands? It's a matter of DM interpretation of the spell. If not, minor illusion can at least hide the blood for a while.

 

[Kobold Stew]

"Hmm. There's a dwarf -- Ozzar Nadabar? Nabadar? I forget which. He might have access to a cart for us, which would make our trip the easier. He might have to steal it, but at least he could swipe, or borrow, a clean one, freshly washed before its morning rounds."

 

[Leatherhead]

The Imp and Owl.
Callestan District, Sharn.

Outside of the bar.

As Ozzar greets the new day with a walk home, the day greets him with a group of people walking into the bar he just left. It was a bit early to start a pub crawl, but something about the way these three moved seemed like they weren’t after a drink. Two tall figures obscured by cloaks, and a fidgety gaunt-looking human.

Inside the bar.

The leatherworker was annoyed at being used as a ladder, but thanks to his drink, he did little more than issue a low growl and get up to leave. After placing a tip on the bar, he made his exit.

Or at least he would have, had he not walked into the trio of people coming in. The air was thick with tension as everyone stopped. After realizing just how bad this could get for him, the man mumbled an apology and stepped to the side, allowing the trio to enter before he hastily left.

The bartender, a middle aged half orc with one eye, puts your drinks down. Then glances at Nisa. “Can you get me more Eye of Newt?” She nods and disappears into the back room.

GM: Insight checks: DC 7: One of the figures in a cloak moves strangely, as if their legs are too short for someone of that size. You can tell they have scales, but their body type doesn’t quite match anything you have seen before. DC 9: Nisa looks at Mal and waves her index and middle finger at him. A sign that the Boromar Clan uses meaning “Be careful”. She is scared. DC 11: The human can’t seem to keep still, constantly darting their eyes around at nothing in particular. Their lips are dry, and caked with a red crust. These are marks of Dragon’s Blood addition. DC 13: The Bartender put their hand under the counter for a moment, reaching for something. DC 15: The remaining figure goes to great lengths to hide their face, a muzzle similar to a hyena. Gnolls are a common enough sight in Lower Sharn, mostly due to how they stand out wherever they go.

 

[Kobold Stew]

OOC: 1d20+1=3. Lol.

Tillington is unaware of the trio who have entered the bar.

 

[MetaVoid]

Insight: 1D20+3 = [13]+3 = 16

Even half-drunk and tired as he was, Ozzar is still a copper. And if his instincts were correct, these three are up to no good. Taking a police button in one hand and the horn in another, he walks away from the bar until he sees the three enter it at which point he quickly turns back toward the closing door.

He listens at the door for any disturbance. After all, the guys are shifty, but even criminals just go to a pub just for drinks sometimes. But this, being Boromar hidey-hole, is a dangerous place to just drink.

He stands ready.

 

[Neurotic]

Insight check: 1D20+5 = [16]+5 = 21

Malix notes the entrance of the trio and a small sign from the waitress. He readies silently for combat, unobtrusively putting his leg out of the bench and putting his elbow on the table, leaning forward.

He refrains from motioning back to the waitress, but he notes the person to whom she sent the signal doesn't notice the new arrivals. Maybe new ones aren't here for him after all?