(1) Atalantia - Scourge of Magic

Game Master mdt

(Any way of getting a map of those oasis, mdt? Without getting scammed. You could just add them to the Savatha map.)
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (17) + 0 = 17

Yes, you'll have to pay about 200 GP. You get the feeling they aren't all that valuable, but since you're buying a bunch of crystal, the merchant is wanting a premium on top of a premium.

Selvan will go out at the next opportunity with one of the three able to go out (not Sam).

Selvan's trip will be slightly more social/military. He's looking to try and derive the general politics of the place particularly paying attention to their relations to the ogre mages and dragons in the area. Also looking at things like aerial defenses.

Oh, and he's looking for a good restaurant.

Just let me know what rolls you need.

"Too much for me." Connor replied, choosing the costume jewelry within his limits (25 gp each, or 18.75 gp with the 25% markdown?).

(All done. Alys, you want to go back now, tell the others what we've seen?)

Selvan and Reaghar would be the other group to go out, once Connor and Alys get back.

No rolls needed for most of that.

There doesn't appear to be any aerial defenses. There's a ton of anti-siege weaponry (ballista, catapults, etc) that could be used for anti-air with a little adjustment however. But nothing specific for it.

Good restaurant is not something he's likely to find, unless he likes lizard. The staple meat is lizard, and it can be found fried, boiled, baked, steamed, grilled, and raw.

As far as the dragons and ogres, the orcs don't seem to have any relations with them. Considering their distance, that's not a surprise. Plus the desert doesn't have a whole lot that others want, other than sand and dust. The orcs do seem to be good at stone and glass work though. You've seen very good glass in all the windows that have them. And the smell of glass smelters wafts over the city from time to time from the south.

I've seen enough.

Connor will start a discussion with Selvan and Reaghar when they get back, before the others leave, and continue with Sammark after the other two have left.

::They have mundane crystal and deep crystal here!:: Connor said excitedly as soon as Selvan reestablished his link with him and Alys. He showed them the "costume jewelry" of a simple thick bracelet and dangling earring. ::This makes the trip worthwhile with just this information. Think how the Captain would change the mission if she found out we could get deep crystal!:: Connor told them how the jewelry was considered poor quality, found around oasis locally, and the Surface-elf tribe that dealt in deep crystal. "The merchants are as brutish as you might expect, with slaves of every race, and prices for everything at sky-high rates." Connor added normally. Except no halflings. "I ran out of gold just picking up this cheaper jewelry."

Connor looked outside. "It's hot now, so take it easy. I'm going to be writing all of this down." he said to Selvan and Reaghar before they left.

Afterwards, with Sammark and Alys, Connor concluded "There were no exotic mounts that we could find, Sam. So it's the palanquin ride on the way back as well. We must have set a record for getting from Kalliert to here. Messenger pigeons would just be arriving now. And if there is a magical way to communicate back to Kalliert," Connor pointed at his brooch given by Gashan, "we know it's possible, but likely out of our gold range."

Connor wrote of his findings in his journal, alternating between Common and Auran.

"You should make sure that crystal works for what you want it to work for before you go blowing all your money."

"Given how good I am at making things with wings like me, that's probably for the best. Oh well," He looked wistfully out the window at the strange city, "And when we get back to Kalliert, things might get messy but I'll need you to collect whatever remains of me and give it a proper burial."

"Better have fun with it, then. Messier it is, less remains for us." Reaghar says with a smile.

"Well, if things get too out of hand you may be mopping me up, let's hope I'm mostly in one piece, yeah?"

"I've positively identified it." Connor mumbled to Reaghar. (What, I'm supposed to question the GM when he says I've found some?)

----------------

"Just who did you meet in Kalliert?" Connor asked Sammark. "A gambling boss?"

"Would you believe me if I said it was my wife?"

"What, here on the Surface? How?" Connor replied.

"Slavers faked her death, sold her as a slave to be the repository of some sort of eldritch something-or-other. You know, the usual. I'll try to make introductions before she liquifies me."

"Wha...?" the young Humavian said, trying to take this all in. "So between Tenfa and now this, you really don't have a reason to go back with us."

"Certainly not go back to the gods forsaken island to be looked down upon and live on the edges of society. If I stick to the continent, I have a chance to improve my station and get the love of my life back. Of course, for now I am still a peon. I need wealth and power. Going along with you lot seems to be the best way to gather both. Once the opportunities dry up, you can expect me to leave Atalantia behind. I'll build Tenfa her temple, get the wife out of her gilded cage, and settle down somewhere on the coast."

"Hmmmmm married or enslaved? Not that there's much distinction in some circles."

Several days go by and the group falls into a routine, with two people spending the morning walking around, and then two others spending the afternoon walking around, and then the rest of the time spent in the inn that Gashan took over.

Gashan comes and goes frequently, apparently highly satisfied with his arrangements. The group begins to get the idea that Gashan is very happy with them basically providing nothing in the way of protection for him of a physical type, but instead providing protection of a different type. He's able to move around without suspicion, people being more relaxed in their tongues around a simple errand boy.

Finally, after 4 days of routine, he returns one evening. "Alright, good news. Tomorrow we meet with the local ruler, Lord Grugash. He's an old orc, who's still in charge. I hope you folks know enough to know what that means."

(Four days? Crafting summaries for Reaghar and Connor, if Reaghar doesn't mind.)

Connor addressed his new Power Stone, just in case. He never intended to actually use it, and put the quartz crystal on his necklace next to the entangling ectoplasm stones he had purchased so long ago on the floating islands. Powers. Connor wanted more powers.
Psicraft check DC 16: 1d10 + 12 ⇒ (10) + 12 = 22

(To see if we're being followed or attracting undue attention.)
Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13
Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4 (Blissfully blind, confound it.)
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"He's killed any halfway competent person under his command. His favorite drinking cup is made from the skull of the last person to try and invade his city or overthrow him." Connor deadpanned, trying to beat Sammark to the punch line. (The smart-aleckness of youth.)

Reaghar crafts as Connor asks.

"And he's smart enough to plug the eyesockets of that skull with jewels from his trove to drink the plundered wine without worry."

"You're learning, boy," Sam said sagely.

"Right, good, then you know exactly what to expect and do, and I don't need to explain how to keep from getting beheaded or spitroasted or used for target practice. Always nice to work with professionals, saves time with explanations." He nods, apparently pleased. "Good enough, the appointment is at dawn tomorrow morning. Make sure you're ready to go, and you can understand them, try not to let on you can." The gnoll pulls a small pearl out of his bag, and hands it to Sammark. "Put it on your tongue, it'll let you speak a dialect of Ransini. The Ransini are a tribe of hobgoblins that live on an island chain in the far eastern ocean, isolated, and have a very odd way of talking, even for hobgoblins. Their tongue is a variant of hobgoblin, but unless you actually speak the language, just using magic to translate is useless. They communicate in historical references. The pearl gives you the knowledge of the language. Tomorrow, boy, you are Galvais. So if I reference Galvais, I'm speaking about you. So if I say Galvais like someone who was angry, you begin looking angry, and say something back. Doesn't matter what, I'll translate whatever I want to say. If I say Telthant, that's me, so if I say Galvais like someone ordering Telthant, you point and give me an order." He gives a name to each of the others in the group.

Alys -> Alvania
Reaghar -> Rogavart
Connor -> Lownar
Selvan -> Vellan

Hobgoblins using historical references as metaphors. Connor thought to himself. With the third person. An interesting cypher. As well as their geographical location. But their employer not only knew the language, and the history, but knew that the orcs here did not know. Gashan was either well-informed or well-traveled or old. Possibly all three; the half-fiend's age was not apparent, despite the age of his children. To turn that experience into the trading business meant greed won over power. Unlike Grimjowl.

::I say we stay silent slaves and use Selvan's Net.:: Connor telepathed to the others through Selvan's Net. Changing their names was meaningless, given their unique appearances. Unless there was magic that could track by a person's name alone, without hair or feathers or an article of clothing.

"So, 'Telthant', I'm guessing no weapons, with at least one of their priests or magic-users in the throne room to counter any magic brought in?" the young Humavian asked. ::As long as it's not a dragon, we should still be able to manifest. But I'm going in armored beforehand.:: "Will 'Master Galvais' need his palanquin, or are we all going to walk to the palace?" was his second question.

Sam eyed the pearl for a moment as Gashan explained the situation before popping it into his mouth.

Selvan listens carefully and then asks his own question. "And should negotiations break down?"

Sorry everyone, finally have free time again. Kuwait is now the last half of the month.

Also, there appears to be a misunderstanding. He's not changing everyone's names. He's giving everyone a code name, so that if he tells Sammark 'Like Blah doing Blah' Sammark can look towards Connor for example, and make motions and say something. Then he can 'translate' that Connor is supposed to pick his nose to demonstrate his nose picking skill for the orcs, for example.

"If they try to kill us, then we kill them, and whoever takes over for him, we try to negotiate with afterwards, and hope he feels grateful for his new position of power."

The next day, the large gnoll dresses in his best armor and accessories. The group parades through town, Sammark on his platform. They draw stares, of course.

They arrive at the meeting, which is held in a large round room that reminds the Atalantians of a fighting pit. Large burly armored orcs line the walls, five feet apart, each in a breastplate with a crossbow on his hip and a polearm and spiked gauntlets.

On a large throne made out of humanoid bones that have been coated in lead and then had tanned hide (you're not sure you want to know what donated the skin) sits an old orc, his hair pure white, but his body is still strong looking and lean. On either side of the throne are orcs, one is a burly looking younger orc in platemail, the other side has a female orc in robes, her visible skin heavily scarred.

On the floor in front of the throne are two female elves, their bodies covered with tattoos. Their heads have been shaved, making their elven ears obvious. Both wear a loin cloth and a heavy metal collar with a chain attached that's currently bolted to the throne. Each elf has needle sharp teeth and razor sharp looking claws, which is obvious due to the way they hiss at the party when they enter.

Gashon ignores the elves and other orcs as Sammark's platform is set down. He instead addresses the older orc, and begins speaking to him. He tells the older orc that his master, Sam'Mark is pleased to meet the orc. Pleasantries that seem as much threat as diplomacy are exchanged, with the orc stating he hopes to see the group leave with business concluded, rather than their brains splattered, and Gashon responds in kind that Sam'Mark would lose much face for having to kill the old orc.

(Ah. Code names for action, not changing names. Got it.)

(The morning of...Sustenance, two Medium-sized Astral Constructs (with wings), Natural Linguist (Orc) and a maximized Inertial Armor. No time to craft. Google Docs updated, going in without the backpack or spiked gauntlet.)

---------------------------

Connor stayed close to the palanquin, keeping up the appearance that he needed proximity to the "summoned" constructs (and keeping 5 feet near the psicrystal for the Perception bonus). The "arena" was all Connor had expected it to be - a show of strength, as well as a killing zone. The occupants of the throne were interesting. One man-at-arms, check. One magic-user who would advise the king, check.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23
Knowledge: Nobility: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (11) + 9 = 20

The wild elves gave the young Humavian pause. Were all the elves on the Surface barbarians? What had happened to their culture, since they could live for hundreds of years? Did Elrohir meet such a fate when he had vanished? Connor had already manifested Natural Linguist and Inertial Armor on the way here, but he kept his eyes avoiding anyone else's in the room, just in case. Not much to see here, Hero. Connor sent to his psicrystal. But tell me if I've missed anything. On Selvan's Net, Connor said ::I believe I have identified the magic-user next to the king. I'm staying near my constructs in case she can somehow sense my mindpowers. Remember Gashon's instructions.::

(Reaghar can use the DC 20, DC 17, DC 17 effort to manifest Natural Linguist if he wants. Alys, if there's a show of power required, your Soulbolt gun is an obvious display.)

Reaghar's fine getting a play-by-play of the conversation rather than tuning in on his own.

The old orc looks the PCs over, his gaze lingering on Alys. "Pretty guards, wings so odd, very pretty though. How get wings on slaves?" He says, still eyeing Alys. "Maybe we trade? Trade you one of the elves for that one?" He nods at Alys. The two elves look up, then preen for Sam'Mark.

Gashan 'translates' to Sammark, giving him the gist of the questions in the foreign language by talking about some man who traded his sister for a horse. He waits for Sammark to respond with something, and goes back and forth with him a bit with basically nonconsequential chatter. Then turns back to the Orc. "Sammark's family spent many generations of breeding to give their slaves wings. Bat wings, like mine, easy by breading with demons and devils, or dragons. The birdlike wings and insect wings required much magic and time breeding slaves with oversized insects, hippogriffs, pegasi, and other creatures. While Sam'Mark is honored by offer, and likes Elves looks, he is under strict instructions not to sell or trade family slaves, to prevent others from breeding their own."

The old orc looks annoyed at being told no. He opens his mouth to respond, when an amused female voice cuts through the room. "Oh, I think I know where to procure a few of them. Master Sam'Mark's relatives don't appear to have the same honor when it comes to their 'slaves'." The female voice says, mildly amused.

Through the doorway comes a woman dressed in furs and robes, her skin a dark purplish grey, with heavy tattoo's. Her eyes are a piercing blue-white. Behind her are two white wolfmen. Both wearing furs and hide armor, the first with a staff with a crystal on the end, the other wearing hide armor and carrying a great sword on it's back.

The old orc grins. "Salishana, you always find a way to satisfy my wants." The orc says, as the woman and the wolf men walk closer. As they draw near, Connor's skin develops goose bumps, and the sweat on his skin crystalizes, the trio exude a bitter cold. No doubt they'd be surrounded by fog if the room wasn't nearly devoid of water vapor in the air.

Gashan rubs his chin. "I thought todays negotiations were to be private, Lord." He says to the orc.

The orc waves a hand dismissively. "Oh, Salishana asked to join, and you two not compete, since from different areas. So I agree. Besides, now two pretty ladies to admire while talking." He laughs.

(Link doesn't work for me. Is this correct?)

Connor was careful to divert his eyes away from the Orc King, from nearly everyone in the room, while the negotiations started. This was the problem with Surface barbarians. Tribute as bribes, and unless you showed wealth or power they were jealous of, you were written off as weak and exploitable.

The woman entering with her own escorts caught Connor off-guard. Their attire was completely out of place until the freezing aura hit him. ::Magic!:: he warned everyone. Obviously she wasn't a local. Freezing cold meant much northern latitudes, or extremely high mountains.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7 (Swing and a miss...)

Connor stared at one of the half-men's accessories. That could not be a psicrystal staff. Not here. Not in this place. Not held by a Surface half-beast.
Knowledge: Psionics: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29 (Grumble, grumble, switch places, you two...)

Connor used his detect psionics, to be absolutely sure. He also dropped his psionic focus, regaining it as the thunderclap of sonic. Both heat and cold would be useless here. As long as this Salishana talked, he might as well sense all the magic in the room.

No, try this link instead. First image, 1 of 18, wolf man with staff

Connor gulped, and made as to inspect the rope of the palanquin. ::Everyone, alert.:: he sent over Selvan's Net. ::The woman and the wolf-men have psionic as well as magic items. The woman and the one with the staff are psionic. But not Atalantian. Be cautious.:: Connor realized their bluff was likely to be seen through; it was hard to hide two man-sized astral constructs in the middle of the room.

The magic items held by the various occupants around them was not as startling as the revelation of the woman and the two half-men. One with a psicrystal staff! Psi-staffs raised the level of the psicrystal mounted upon them. How high a level was that wolf-man? Enough such that his psicrystal was telepathic? That was Hero's next step as it grew in experience. But they were not of Atalantia! Furthermore, they mixed their magical items alongside their psionic items! Which meant there were no magical storms in their homeland. Oh sure, he and Sammark had a few magical, or divine, trinkets on them. That was different if you could use the strengths of magic to complement the weaknesses of psionics without repercussions. That freezing aura of the woman had not been anything psionic that Connor had studied before.

Worse, if he could recognize deep crystal in the city's marketplace there was no doubt that another psionist could as well. Connor's dream of having the Ashen Edge's hold filled to the brim with dark crystals faded away. Now he had to secure more information about the Black Ice Elves without others finding out about his inquires.

Without an actual mind shield, Connor filled his thoughts with rope tying and treating Sammark as a master with Gashon doing the talking.

"Oh! Deary, did you realize those three can do the same talk without talking trick you can? I thought you said it was... how impertinent! Talking to me without my permission."

The staff holding wolf-man grunts, and his ears flick back.

::Does that mean they have a network of their own, or that they are capable of listening in on our conversation? Hey, are you eavesdropping on our conversation?!::, Alys shoots a glare at the three newcomers.

"No deary, they... I don't quite know how to say it... their network is vibrating differently than yours... Yours vibrates like Selvan's brain.. their's is vibrating like the drow girl's brain."

The negotiations continue, with the drow woman sniping Gashon whenever she can, always politely and done in a way to 'help' or 'clarify' things.

By the end of the day, Gashon has managed to negotiate an agreement, but it's rather obvious on the way back to the inn that he's not really happy with the results. Sammark isn't looking happy either, but that's mostly due to Gashon indicating he should be angry.

Once back in the inn, Gashon quietly pulls a piece of wood about the size of a two-by-four out of his bag, and proceeds to slowly and methodically reduce the 3 foot length to kindling. He does so by the simple method of squeezing the last 4 inches of the length with first his left hand, then his right hand, pulverizing the wood and dropping the splinters onto the floor.

When he's reduced it to nothing but dust and shards, he cleans it up, puts the kindling in a small sack, and then puts the sack back in his larger bag.

"One of these centuries I'm going to have to spend a decade killing that b!!%@." He says calmly, as he puts the bag away. He looks thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe two decades..."

He sighs. "Well, that was annoying. But at least I have the trade deal now. And we're unlikely to be assassinated by the trade guild, at this point. Her presence explains why we weren't attacked earlier, obviously they expected her to completely derail the negotiations."

Gashon is about to say something else when there's a knock on the doors leading to the private suite of rooms. When the door is opened, a tall white wolf-man with a crystal staff is there.

Selvan listened and stayed as stalwart and alert as a stone gargoyle.

1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16

Would everyone here speak humanvian? Didn't think that was a separate language.

Connor stayed alert and silent for the rest of the negotiations. That didn't stop him from using his autohypnosis, memorizing the appearance and details of the Orc king, his retinue, the Northern woman Salishana, and the two wolf-men.

The way back to the inn Connor's head was filled with possible stratagems his homeland might need, based on what they had just seen. He also had to fend off some crude suggestions from Hero as to the exotic half-elf slaves and their possible talents.

Back at the inn, Connor communicated with the others over Selvan's Net. ::Our overall mission has not changed.:: he argued. ::Who knows, the Clan elders might even know of this 'Salishana', and her relationships here on the Surface.::

----------------------

Connor was waiting for a good moment to speak with Gashon about the "costume jewelry" they had discovered when the interruption from the wolf-man came.

::If no one has any objections?:: Connor mind-flashed to the others. ::Let's not give anything away.::

Using his native tongue instead of the tradespeak, Connor replied, "Whether or not we can accept Mistress Salishana's offer depends upon our employer's permission." He intentionally stressed the possessiveness of the noun while leaving the identity of the person ambiguous. They still had to give the impression to outsiders that Sammark was the employer, and Gashon merely hired muscle and translator. Even if this Salishana knew otherwise. "And a guarantee of safe travel back and forth, under the current treaty in the city. With those in agreement, we may have permission to meet with Mistress Salishana." Connor finished.

(Anybody else want to add anything?)

The wolf laughs, his muzzle open wide in a doggy grin, tongue on display. "Of course, your... employer... you would need privacy to talk to him and get permission..." He eyes Gashon as he speaks, still using Humavian. Humavian is Atalantian Common, so everyone can understand the wolf. The wolf salutes with his crystal staff, and then turns and leaves. He says nothing about a guarantee of safe travel.

"Interesting. So let's discuss for a moment what we can say and what we should avoid and, most important of all, what we should flat out deny or not give away."

::Non-Atalantian psionics who also carried magical items.:: Connor told everyone over Selvan's Net. ::Am I paranoid, or should we consider them automatically hostile? We have no dedicated Telepath among us, for mind shielding.::

Connor let out a long breath he had been holding in. "It looks like your, uh, fellow merchant is, uh, interested in us." he said to Gashon. Connor looked sideways at the half-fiend. "Is this just a way to kill us to get to you?" the young man asked.

The open conversation was held at the same time as the telepathic one among his friends.

Gashon eyes the group, looking mildly annoyed. "I doubt it. Oh, she's tried to kill me in the past, at least 3 times. The last time was 40 years ago though, I doubt she's still mad about that. I had wondered why she was interfering, we weren't competing for anything, and she didn't put all that much effort into thwarting me, just enough to be an annoyance. It seems she was interested in you lot, not me, this time. Which makes me wonder about you... I get the feeling you aren't 'deserters'. I'd suspected as much since I found out Sam'Mark was associated with the Creature... but I hadn't suspected you were messing with the Icebound at the same time..."

The large gnoll, as he talks, adjusts his stance so that his back is against the wall, so he can face everyone at once.

"Master Gashon, we did leave our airship at Kalliert. We are on our own here. We've never seen nor heard of 'Icebound' until today, and the shock is all ours. Why this Mistress Salishana wants to meet with us is a mystery. I had thought our 'differences' to be unique here, on the Surface. Certainly our wings have not been seen before. But to meet someone else with powers, like the healing we did days ago on your arm..." Connor tried to assure their employer, "...well, it would be like learning about a new pantheon of gods laying claim to this continent, or a new race to appear suddenly."

"But we are still under contract. You get to decide if we meet with this Mistress Salishana, or not, or even leave Org’trassah today, right now. There is nothing keeping us here." Connor paused. "Well," he admitted, "save for a curious discovery in the marketplace. Another 'difference' between what we do with our powers and what others do with magic. Two types of crystals, one from the 'Black Ice Elves'. Our former home would pay us in trade for those crystals."

::Don't worry about the mundane crystal and deep crystal.:: He said over Selvan's Net to the others. ::If Gashon found out later, it would deepen his suspicion of us. Best to let him know we consider it a trade good. But only in quantity, not as costume jewelry. He might know more about these 'Black Ice Elves', or they might even be the 'Icebound' he talks about.::

::Makes sense. I had my doubts of our ability to monetize the knowledge anyway.::

"New Pantheon?" Selvan laughed over the net which spilled over as a wry smile in meat space. "How reassuring."

"Still." Selvan says aloud. "It's a healthy paranoia you have if a bit unfounded. We're not assassins or spies. We're disgraced, dishonored, disowned, and for at least one of us." Selvan's eyes flicked briefly towards Sam. "That's been true since birth. It's ironic to think the despite your birth and heritage you may have better chances where we're from than near all of us here. That is if your head didn't explode near the end of the journey. Our home is rather inhospitable to magical creatures."

(Thanks, Selvan. I think you made a better argument than me.)

Gashon looks the group over, and then shrugs. "I figured you might be gathering information on the area for your traders... One reason I brought you along. I figure you lot are opening trade routes, and I wanted in. Sounds like they like to pick people who can be lost without impacting their bottom line as scouts." The gnoll grins. "Hard to argue with the logic, unless you're the disposable scout. As to the Black Ice Elves and the Icebound, two names for the same thing, boy. It's not Elves of the Black Ice, it's Ice Elves who are Black. The arctic drow. Not sure which of the pointy eared freaks are safer to be around, the Icebound or the cannibals."

"Up to you if you want to go. You could probably learn more about the Icebound if you go, but if you go, you should be aware of what you're dealing with. I'm over 400 years old. Salishana's what they call a Noble. Not title, although I'm sure she's some sort of nobility too, but blood. Noble Blooded. I think she was around when the last of the humans were driven off the continent, about a thousand years ago. So it's up to you, if you think that whatever information you get is worth the information she'll intuit from every word you speak, then by all means go. I doubt she'll try to kill you, no offense but you're not really worth the effort for her to kill. It would be like me trying to go kill some diapered cubs."