Govannon steps up, nervously, and opens his mouth. He removes the smoke, stubs it out in something not the table, and speaks.
”I seek knowledge and the spirituality that can be found when the body and mind act as one, in accordance with itself.” Govannon says somewhat philosophically. He looks at the others with a plain look on his face, What?
Aliseya hesitates, allowing the adorably inept cigar roller to step forward. Though curious what the crone has to say about her own fortune, the gypsy is more curious at the moment about the green lady herself. Not only because she could really use a nail file, a sight which causes the gypsy to slightly recoil with disgust. But perhaps more pressingly, why does the crone stir unclear emotions deep within herself? Feelings about memories of a past which... which she cannot quite recall.
Dare she even ask?
As the man & women each pursue their own comprehension of their present circumstance, the young boy seated among them seems to withdraw into himself.
'Well, was an entirely unexpected happening...'
Garbed in velveteen dinner jacket with a corded waistcoat & trousers over a heavily bloused, unbleached linen tunic, Grey's expression hints at an inner conversation.
'You suspect we are somewhere...
, than where our senses imply?'
'That would be the obvious conclusion. Sadly, of us have the experience needed to effectively sieve fact from fantasy wholly, and I am not sanguine of our likelihood of piercing this...
unaided. Your friends are puissant, but I fear another hand at work in our 'success'. Do we even Kendra's actual fate?'
'You know thoughts, action achieves more than contemplation. Bring me fore and we will better be able to address your concerns with present.'
'Aie'
Sighing, the boy begins a low, murmuring chant.
"În casa mea fericită, abia am respira."
"În brațele iubitului meu mă găsesc ușurare."
"Există un cer care se schimbă, și o pasăre care cântă."
"Nu o dată în viața mea a rătăcită licitați suflet prejudiciu."
"În arem iubitul meu, eu aștept dimineața."
"Te implor Dumnezeul meu, să vorbească și rupe-mă în afară."
"Mi-ar pune jos pe corpul meu, mi-aș pune în jos brațele mele."
"Nu o dată în viața mea dulce scurt înseamnă un rău nimănui."
"In my lover's arms I find relief."
"There is a sky that is changing, and a bird that sings."
"I never once in my wayward life did bid a soul to harm"
"In my lover's arms, I wait for morning."
"I beg my god to speak, and tear me apart."
"I'd lay down my body, I'd lay down my arms."
"I never once in my sweet short life mean anybody harm."
As the last syllables fade away, a spectral figure reminiscent of a diminutive, beautiful warrior coalesces nearby. Nodding amiably to the others, she pipes up. "Any thoughts as to we are, and how much of what we recall actually happened?"
"Not a clue." Naught gets out inbetween bites of food. After the whole ordeal she had focused on the food presented. She would have gotten to the game Ali wanted to play, once her hands were empty and her stomach wasn't that was, but then the Crone put a stop to that.
So Naught kept eating.
The crone stares long and hard at Govannon. "You seek unity of mind and body. Your suit is the stars. Choose your card!"
You draw a card with a purple skinned woman with long silver hair and empty eye sockets. The woman's fanged mouth holds an eye ball that stares at you. The woman holds up her left hand with four fingers raised. "The mute hag. A dark fortune. The hag may be silent, but the eye she holds lets her see into the hearts of men. You will soon encounter blood pacts and poisonous secrets, the kind that turn brother against brother and son against father."
The crone now begins the spread. "In your past, I see the trumpet, the teamster and the owl. The trumpet is fully aligned, which is a declaration of power. Within the depths of the oubliette you discovered an inner strength that will fuel your rise to glory."
"In your present, I see the courtesan, the keep and the carnival. The courtesan is the card of political intrigue. Her mask embodies the social niceties that must be followed. If the mask slips, negotiations can take an unexpected turn. Soon you will have to use diplomacy and your wit to right a great injustice. Do not let the mask slip!"
"In your future, I see the snake bite, the beating and the cyclone. The cyclone is fully aligned! The cyclone is a force that tears through whatever it meets. This disaster does not come in the course of natural order but is one that comes from the plots of intelligent beings. The Cyclone signifies war, arson, or other plans that destroy everything they touch. In the future you will unleash the cyclone at a place of ancient evil called Gallowspire."
The crone turns to Aliseya and Naught. "My children. Which of you is next?"
Ali's attention is diverted temporarily from Gov's reading as she hears a familiar "young man's" voice singing a tune. Spotting Gray and Ysme, she smiles back at them, but merely shrugs at Ysme's query with a wide-eyed expression that clearly conveys 'Beats the hells out of me at this point.'
When the crone calls to her and Naught, the gypsy's gaze intensifies. Looking the old woman in the eyes, she seems to be searching her for something. Yet still, she is reluctant to step forward for a reading.
The crone's choice of words, they make her feel... uncomfortable.
She averts her gaze by looking down now. She asks in a curious tone, "Children? Do we look like kids to you?"
Govannon is quite taken aback by the hag's statements. I wonder if this is true? he asks to himself. He shudders a little at the memory of the oubliette.
"Well, I'm not very diplomatic ma'am, but I'll try. Thanks for the view beyond." He turns to the others, "Anyone know where Gallowspire is? Doesn't ring a bell."
He grows quiet as Aliseya steps up.
The crone only stares at Aliseya with her penetrating gaze. "Yes, until you assume your destined form, you are little more than children. In your heart you know the truth. Your lineage ... is complicated. But we will get to that soon. For now, ask your question. What is it that you seek?"
The crone looks expectantly at Aliseya and Naught.
Aliseya looks at Naught, shrugs, and then looks back to the old crone. "Okay. Well, like, I guess..." she stammers a bit, stepping forward to pick her cards.
Growing more confident, she remembers herself and states, "What do I seek... not much, really. I seek peace, love, and beauty. I like to dream, to be creative, to be free. That's what life is all about, really: to be yourself. Having the freedom to dream, to be me and for you to be you, and to love and be loved."
With a smirk and a hand flourish indicating her elegant attire, "And looking good helps, too."
"It does." Naught chimes in before going back to eating, since no one else was.
The crone nods slowly, "You seek the fickle embrace of love. Crowns is your suit. Draw your card."
From the nine cards you draw a card with a unicorn on it. The unicorn sits in green glen surrounded by drooping lavender flowers. A green pear is impaled on the unicorn's horn - the pear has a single bite taken out of it. "The unicorn - a good omen! The unicorn offers everything asked for by the seeker. You are destined to find the true love that you seek!"
The crone now spreads the nine cards in front of you. "In your past, I see the demon's lantern, the queen mother and the lost. The demon's lantern is strongly misaligned, which represents an opportunity or a guide arriving at a perfect moment to show you the way. Your friend, the magus, arrived at an opportune time to help you traverse the dangers of Harrowstone - look to him in the future when you are lost."
The crone slowly flips the middle column. "In your present, I see the hidden truth, the liar and the vision. The hidden truth symbolizes the ability to see past the obvious and the banal to a greater truth within. Within the town of Lepidstadt, look to the alchemists for the truth."
Finally, the crone lifts the right most column. "In your future, I see the survivor, the peacock and ellipse. The peacock is a creature of astonishing beauty, but it is a beauty that can only be retained if frozen like a cockatrice’s statues. Smarter people accept the passage of time and dance out of The Peacock’s way. Its appearance always signifies a sudden personal shift in attitude or societal change. In Caliphas, you will have to shift your view of the undead if you are to survive - your enemy must become your ally."
The crone now looks at Naught. "It is your time, my deviant child. What is it that you seek, troubled one?"
Peacock, huh? So that's what that pretty bird was. I hope he's okay.
"Deviant?! Oi! There is absolutely nothing devfiant in me liking other women, thank you very much." Naught angrily replies while hastily wiping her hands on the tablecloth.
"What do I want though? The same as Zelda, for the people I care about to be safe and happy." She liked stories, liked collecting them, liked telling them, for the interest and joy it brought other people. But what you like and what you want weren't always the same.
The crone nods, "You seek the health and safety of the community. Shields is your suit."
You draw a card with a skeleton crucified on a crossed spear and sword. The crucifix rests in a thick bed of leafy green thorns. "The tangled briar. An ill omen. The tangled briar is a card of ancient deeds. It indicates an object or person from long ago that will somehow have great influence on the situation. The object or person in question is one lost or murdered in some foul way. The ghosts of Harrowstone are not yet done with you."
The crone lays the spread and then reveals the first column. "In your past, I see the lock smith, the brass dwarf and the beating. The beating signifies coming under attack from all sides, but it can also indicate the dissolution of the self—mentally. Whether the strength is of the flesh or the mind, it dissolves under the relentless attack. You were broken physically and mentally in Harrowstone. Now you will be reforged into something stronger."
The crone flips the middle column. "In your present, I see the desert, the inquisitor and the survivor. The survivor is misaligned, which portends terrible news or a profound loss. You will lose a dear friend in Lepidstat. Beware the Count's aberrant promethean."
The crone then reveals the final column. "In your future, I see the owl, the trumpet and the theater. The theater is the card of true prophecy, but for you the theater card is misaligned - indicating false prophecy. The prophet Adivion Adrissant promises only death for his followers and discord for the lords of Ustalav."
The crone now pulls back the heavy cowl to reveal the hideous face of a green hag. Blackened and pointed teeth snarl at you. Red burning eyes shift between Aliseya and Naught. "So completes your harrowing. But there is one last piece of business that must be attended to. The question of your true identity ... my children."
The crone stands and offers her hand to Naught and Aliseya. "Now is a time for choices. Now is the time for you to begin your transformation into what you were meant to be. Take my hand and I will pull back the veil of reality to reveal the truth. Discard your frail shell and accept the mantel of power!"
An irresistible gravity seems to be pulling you to the hag. You sense a heavy pressure rising around you. Your breathing becomes labored and you begin to sweat. Darkness crowds the edges of your vision. Aliseya, the cyst in your leg begins to throb with a red hot pain. You feel the room begin to spin.
"Quickly now! Make your decision! I can't keep you here much longer. Take my hand and accept your destiny or return to your cruel fate in Harrowstone!"
A black gate begins opening in the seams of reality behind you. The room around you begins transforming back into the collapsing halls of Harrowstone. The crone stands silently with her hand extended to Naught and Aliseya.
"Ali?" Naught asks her friend.
As the crone's words inexplicably sink deep into Aliseya's psyche, the room swirls in her head. What was she meant to be? The thought had long compelled her, deep down. Even though she'd also long feared knowing the truth, doing her best to pretend there was nothing wrong.
And now, in the presence of the hag, Aliseya begins to remember...
...the plate shattered into many pieces. Her aggressor wrestled the young gypsy to the ground, pinning her with his superior strength. He stifled her cries for help with one hand while preparing to force himself upon her.
Frightened, about to be violated, and unable to do anything about it, a bizarre calm came over the young gypsy. Her eyes glazed over as she stared back at the young man blankly. Soft murmurs distracted the rapist. Telling her to shut up, the dark syllables only got louder. The disturbing dreamspeech impossibly began to bore deep into his head, profoundly wracking his mind, and softening him out of his hard intent. Unable to proceed, he smacked the girl in the face a few times, trying to get "the witch" to stop.
But the dark man received an even darker visage staring him back from what was the young girl. Young Aliseya then uncharacteristically licked her bleeding lip rather sensually. Smiling with sinister intent, the young man was intrigued by her change of mood, and lapsed a bit in his hold on her. She reached out to give him a hand...
The pain began deep down below, but it came to wrack his entire body soon enough. As his vitality and strength were being sapped out by some wicked enchantment, his flesh tuned grayish, lifeless, and his eyes reflexively rolled upwards. Unable to find the strength amidst the overwhelming pain to cry out for his own help now, the young man's body fell to the side, a look of sheer horror frozen upon his dead face.
Young Aliseya smiled wickedly at the lifeless body...
When Naught calls to her friend, her own face now mimics the horrified expression of the young man she'd killed. She... was a murderer?! No, not her... whatever it was that took hold of her... A tear streams down her face as the memory brutally thrusts itself into full consciousness. Whether her or her alter ego, the tragic recognition of who she was reached deep into her soul, stunning her. Not just the mere memory of the event, but every feeling, every sensation of that unspeakably terrible night... including the evil pleasure she'd felt from taking a life.
Aliseya cannot find the wherewithal to even respond to Naught. She stares back at her, continuing to look quite horrified, as more dark memories return to her vulnerable mind.
Overwhelmed, Aliseya's eyes shift and unfocus. Her body begins to collapse, suddenly ceasing mid-fall. Bones crackle loudly and most uncharacteristically as the young woman straightens herself up once more.
The tear resting upon her cheek is now out of place on a face no longer horrified, but intent in terrible purpose. Her beautiful eyes now sink deeper into their sockets, a darkness beyond her mere eye shadow twisting them to be more horrifying than beautiful. Her one red eye seems to almost glow brighter, approaching the intensity of the hag's red eyes.
Turning to the hag, Aliseya utters some dark syllables to her, and approaches, reaching to take the hag's hand...
At Aliseya's words Naught's face goes grim, then simply blank for seemingly the longest time. And then she spoke.
"Ya'know what? F@@$ that noise." The storyteller then promptly wraps her arms around the Dancer's and scoops her up before hauling in a mad dash towards the rest of their friends.
The scene opens in the Lepidstat Sanitarium for the Mentally Deranged. In the darkness of the witching hour, only a few red burning coals in a wall mounted brazier provide any light. Six still forms under starched white hospital sheets lay motionless in iron framed, utilitarian cots. As time progresses, the six begin to shake fitfully, as if being pursued in their dreams by some unimaginable horror. A lone figure in black silently watches over the tragic heroes. As the six begin to stir, the figure slips out of sight into the shadows.
You wake to a heavy stillness. The wall across from you is lined with barred windows that are buffered in the darkness by a driving downfall of thick, heavy snowflakes. The opposite wall has an iron door with a small, sliding cage door built into it. Next to each cot is a steel table covered with medical instruments of some sort. Shivering in your drafty medical gown, you attempt to sit up, but find that you are somehow bound. Startled by your immobility, you realize that you are completely constrained within your cot by a strait jacket! As the fleeting images of your vivid dreams recede, the darkness of a completely unknown environment takes hold. You realize that you have absolutely no recognition of how you came to be in this place!
Weapon Equipped = Medical Instrument
Conditions = None
melee: Attack: BAB +2, Str +3, Power Attack -1 Damage: Str +3, Power Attack +2
ranged: Attack: BAB +2, Dex +1 Damage: +0
Arcane Pool (su/swift): 4/4
You may channel negative energy that deals an amount of damage equal to 1d6 × your character level (3) to a creature touched. This effect heals undead creatures as spells like inflict light wounds. (1/1)
Spells (Caster Level 3, Concentration +6 (+4 defensively))
Zero (13): Dancing Lights, Detect Magic, Prestidigitation, Ray of Frost
First (14): Color Spray, Shield, Shocking Grasp, Shocking Grasp
Govannon Gittins is a bit rough, even for a human. He’s a little unshaven, his blond hair is sometimes unkempt, and there’s dirt under his fingernails - one of which is chipped far down into the finger. He's well built, but crooked somehow. Like he's uneven.
He struggles against his bonds to get free.
He gets lucky as his jacket must not have been tied off properly.
Govannon stands and quickly checks the medical instruments for a blade of some sort he can use as a dagger - a weapon of any kind.
He stands and sits with purpose, like a man that knows his place in the world. Behind the eyes you won’t find the smartest mind, but his experiences and faith more than make up for it.
Caracotl sits up and matter of factly states, ”Well, my travels and Goddess have landed me in an interesting place this time."
He then hops off the bed and struggles to get out of the jacket, but fails to get out.
Anyone here really good at getting out of bonds such as these?”
Seeing the blonde man get out of his.
"OH! never mind, some assistance would be much appreciated, fellow 'crazies'. Caracotl here, traveling cleric." He gives as much of a bow as the jacket allows him.
A lovely young Varisian woman's eyes slowly open. Her jewelry probably taken by the orderlies of this institution, she wears the loose-fitting harem pants of a Varisian gypsy as well as her straight jacket. Her multichromatic eyes, one of hazel and the other an unusual red for a human, show the clear signs of having recently shed tears. In contrast to the more vibrant and jubilant young woman her friends have come to know, she now seems exhausted and world weary. Older than her youth would otherwise indicate. Perhaps the white tips of her long, dark hair make her seem older... a sight quite new to her friends.
She seems to take her time before finally sitting up and beginning to interact with the others.
Was it all a dream? she wonders to herself, fully aware that it most certainly was not. She all-too vividly remembers the appalling thoughts, feelings, and actions of her hideous alter ego... of herself. The irresistible urge to go with that green old crone... her mother? Impossible, she thought. Or was it? It had to be impossible... the loving woman her father told her about was her real mother, of course. The woman who died shortly after she was born...
The entire experience jarred Aliseya to her very core. Somehow, she felt, she'd never be the same again.
...
Recognizing what kind of institution she appears to have found herself in, she at last speaks aloud, "Maybe I belong here."
Seeing the faces of her friends, and a couple of new faces as well, she looks to Naught, Zel, Gov, and Grey, "But you certainly don't"
She tests her restraint, perhaps seeking to break free for her friends' sake. But the bonds are too strong. Visibly growing complacent, she accepts her fate, withdrawing back to her own private contemplations...
The young Varisian woman is quite sober, appearing quite drained and exhausted. The two whom have never met her before might take her for a more somber and depressed personality.
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Zelda appears quite surprised by Aliseya's comment
"Of course you don't belong here! We just survived a building falling on our heads then the ugly horrible women! You are just shaken up thats all. I will get out of the bonds in a moment and then help you. Once you are free and have a chance to clean up you will feel your old self again!"
Hearing the murmur of voices, another body slowly stirs. A thin man, just over average height, appears from under the sheet. He is a study in contrasts; almost cadaverously thin, but somehow he doesn't look weak. Shockingly, inhumanly pale, but with coal-black hair on his head and face. He looks around at a room full of strangers, confused, and begins to twist and turn, trying to slip loose from his straitjacket.
He manages to slip his bonds with little trouble, and runs a hand over his head, frowning. Oh my, well past time to shave. Looking around at the others, he says "Good day ladies, gentlemen. Aleksander Albus, paladin of Alseta, at you service. I must say, I can't recall how I ended up in this particular kettle of fish. Where are we, exactly?"
That said, he turns his attention to the medical table beside him, looking for knives of some sort. He likes knives.
Stretched out as much as her jacket would allow and snoring the petite woman with very dark hair, no, not hair, tendrils that slowly writhe and bat wings where her ears should be contently lays around until Zelda raises her voice.
"...Whaz-ung-WHA?" she mumbles as she comes too. Yawning, showing off a mouth of teeth more fitting for a shark than a young woman, she adds "What's with the all the shouting so early? Hey, wait, what is this?!"
Realizing her confines she begins to struggle in the jacket, cursing and grumbling the whole while.
"Grah-sonuva-Ha ha!" she triumphantly lets out as she frees herself from the jacket.
Flexing her arms and fingers, claws showing out from under the long sleeves, she looks around the room as the new voices talk.
"Huh, how'd we end up-HOLY CRAP IT'S A BUGGUN!" she lets out with some excitement upon spotting the Grippli. Happily she stares at the man, her eyes gold surrounded dark.
Even without makeup and with tear-stained cheeks, the beauty of the Varisian woman is quite stunning to her new acquaintances. She glances back at Zelda, a half smile on her face. "Yeah," she half-heartedly responds, knowing her friend knows not the full scope of her recent and very dark revelations. Revelations she herself is still trying to piece together...
Noticing the gray man free himself and take a liking to the knives, her motivation is rekindled anew to escape the straight jacket. The gray holy man seems polite enough. Yet he did just break out of a straight jacket, which may have been on him for good reason... Then again, her friends and herself are also in straight jackets for no apparent reason.
She succeeds, sliding the jacket up and over her limber body. The Varisian woman's midriff-cut blouse is quite revealing, showing off her rather voluptuous and alluring figure. From the back, a hand-sized butterfly tattoo rests on her lower back.
When Naught reacts to the frog-man, Ali's interest in Caracotl piques. "You see the talking frog, too?" she reveals, a bit surprised. "I was still hoping this was part of a dream..."
A haggard voice from within the recesses of her mind robs her of any lingering hope that it was all a dream. You know it's not, fool child. Pushing aside her inner demon for now, her courage is returning to her for her friends, if not for herself.
To Caracotl, "I... never saw a... someone quite like you before. Sir. No offense."
Eyeballing the gray paladin again as she drops the straight jacket to the ground, she introduces herself to both of her new acquaintances. "I'm Aliseya." She immediately approaches Zelda and tries to help her remove her own jacket while addressing Aleksander, "No idea where we are. Some kind of nut house, apparently. But... so, goddess of gateways, eh? Know anything to, like, gateway us out of this asylum?"
Naught nods to the dancer before moving to help the frog man out of his jacket, either through finesse or through claw. "My name's Naught, I collect stories. What's your name Mister Froggy?"
Caracotl chuckles at Naught's excitement, "It is true my people do not often leave our swampland or jungle homes, but I assure you I am not worth that much excitement, just a simple traveler, and follower of the Starsong, here. Well, maybe I am now that I've supposedly gone insane, though I don't remember going insane. Caracotl is the name."
Whenever he manages to get out of the restraints, Caracotl immediately moves his hand to his chest to check for his holy symbol. Not finding it he instantly looks distressed.
"We should probably not stay here, guards don't usually like their charges out of their bonds. Hopefully we can find our accoutrement, I had some personally important items."
"Pleased to meet you, Mister Caracotl." Naught happily says as she goes about freeing him.
"Yeah, we're all missing our stuff. I hope Mister Peacock got out okay..."
"Naught!" the gypsy sharply whispers at the story teller. Her mannerisms are apologetic towards Caracotl as she gently reprimands Naught for calling him 'Mr. Froggy,' "Don't call him that. He might not appreciate being called a... a you-know-what. Be nice."
Naught's innocent impertinence gives the gypsy a chuckle, temporarily lifting her out of her funk.
Alas, it does not last. "Yeah, the peacock... and Kendra!" she whispers more loudly. Not seeing the Professor's dear daughter since the prison collapse, she fears for Kendra's survival.
Of course, if she and her friends are really all dead after all, then not seeing Kendra might be a good thing...
"Sorry, Mister F-Caracotl, I didn't know what else to call you." Naught apologizes after Aliseya's admonishment.
Turning to the Dancer's concern Naught tries to reassure her. "Well the others were getting Kendra out of there so hopefully they're all okay, and hopefully Mister Peacock went with them."
With the assistance of Govannon, Naught and Aleksander, the remaining group members are freed of their bonds. With caution, you explore the room around you.
In the shadows, on tables lining the edge of the room, you find six sacks that appear to contain your clothes, gear and other personal items. You are surprised to find several new items intermingled with your belongings - an exquisitely crafted scimitar, a glowing gold ring and an ornately wrought mithral dagger. Also among your possessions is a pouch with 500 gold pieces and a hand written note that says simply - Thank you. Finally, you note that you still possess the silver warden's badge that you discovered in the torture chamber under Harrowstone.
Next to the sacks containing your gear you see a familiar chest of oak and iron. Opening the chest, you find the old tomes from Kendra's home. The tomes remind you of that overcast autumn day where you laid your friend Petros to rest. With a bitter smile, you recall the reading of Professor Lorrimor's will:
And so, over the course of my lifetime, I have seen fit to acquire a significant collection of valuable but dangerous tomes, any one of which in the wrong circumstances could have led to an awkward legal situation. While the majority of these tomes remain safe under lock and key at the Lepidstadt University, I fear that a few I have borrowed remain in a trunk in my Ravengro home. While invaluable for my work in life, in death, I would prefer not to burden my daughter with the darker side of my profession, or worse still, the danger of possessing these tomes herself. As such, I am entrusting my chest of tomes to you, posthumously. I ask that you please deliver the collection to my colleagues at the University of Lepidstadt, who will put them to good use for the betterment of the cause.
Flipping through the first three tomes, you again find a note from the Professor asking you to deliver the tomes to one Montagnie Crowl, a professor of antiquities at Lepidstadt University. The fourth tome, titled the Manual of the Order of the Palatine Eye, has a rich purple cover and contains a brass scarab set with a single eye in its center. The fourth tome has a note indicating it should be delivered to Embreth Daramid, a judge at the Lepidstadt Courthouse. The note stresses that this delivery in particular should be handled discreetly, and includes the address of Embreth’s home so that the PCs can deliver it there.
"Thank you for the concern Aliseya, but I've been called much worse than Mister Froggy, including somehow being confused for a boggard, which just confuses me. I'm only 2 feet tall, our twisted cousins stand as tall as humans, and are quite violent, but that's enough about me."
As Caracotl finds his sack of stuff he first and foremost digs through to find his holy symbol and places it back around his neck. Before donning the rest of his gear.
Aleks chuckles uncertainly as the Varisian woman addresses him, and unconsciously touches the Alsetan holy symbol tattooed on his right hand. He had never been comfortable around women, especially pretty ones. Growing up, most girls avoided him due to his...affliction. "Well, there is a door over there." He says with a smile, gesturing to the door in the far wall.
Once their things are found, Aleks tries to find an area of the room with at least a bit of privacy to change into his clothes. Once he pulls on the smoky gray leathers and shirt of polished mail, straps his own daggers at their proper places on his hips, and so on, he rejoins the others. Gesturing to the new items, he asks "Has anyone examined these for magical auras and the like?"
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Reassured somewhat by Naught, Aliseya embraces a free Zelda with a short hug, "Thanks. Maybe you're right, though it doesn't feel that way right now."
She then embraces Naught. "And thanks, you too. I remember you dragging me back." Looking around at the dismal place, "Not sure this is a great place to take a gal on a date, but I'm glad to be here here with you guys instead of..." Her smile fades with the thought of what might have happened had Naught not intervened.
"Right. Let's get busy." Though still not really jubilant, Aliseya is more motivated at least.
Aliseya is tempted to ask Caracotl if he's really a prince who will turn back into a human if kissed, but thinks better of it, for multiple reasons, and merely smiles back in response at the grippli priest.
Ali rolls her eyes with a friendly smirk at the paladin's response. "Well, like, obviously."
Spotting the golden ring, Ali's eyes sparkle. "Shiny." She picks it up and is about to wear it when the paladin suggests the possibility of magic. "Huh. No. Actually, I don't remember having these things before."
Finding the familiar notes and tomes, Ali is puzzled. Holding the note of thanks in particular in her hand now, she muses aloud while wondering if the handwriting looks familiar. "Why... who... Okay, like who would leave us in a cray cray house, bound up, and also leave us with the important stuff we left in Kendra's basement?"
The idea that this is all a dream is starting to make more sense to her again. Nonetheless, "Well, whatever. We need to get this stuff to the people the professor willed us to."
"Whew, I was starting to really get chills." The gypsy dons her matching suede boots and winter coat, makes a shiver, straps her heavy-looking leather handbag over her shoulder, and takes her walking stick.
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Zelda looking embarrassed by her lack of skill escaping the bonds dons her weapons and armor.
When she is properly prepared, she looks at the new rapier then at her old one, well sort of old one. "Hey guys is that rapier better than mine? Can someone do that magic stuff and check please?"
At the mention of the door Zelda searches through her pack for her new Lock-picking, then begins to work on the door.
[ooc]I will take 20 on the door for a 33 if possible after looking for traps(perception 7) otherwise..[ooc]
"Professor? and Kendra? Do you mean Professor Lorrimar? I knew the man and owe him a debt, what happened?"
After hearing what happened with the Professor Caracotl asks.
"The professors involvement explains some of the weirdness going on. I would very much like to assist you in this endeavor. Is that possible?"
Caracotl will cast detect magic and then try to identify any auras that he senses on the items.
3 spellcraft checks in case all 3 are magical.
That's probably a failure to identify the properties, but I should know which if any are magical.
Naught happily hugs the dancer back, chuckling at her quip. "I'm sorry, I'll try for some place more fun next time."
Since she didn't have much to wear from before she simply sets her armor back on, then the straitjacket, more akin to a normal jacket (she liked the way she could make the long sleeves flap about). Looking over the Lorrimor coat she let out a sigh ash she picked it up. She still felt bad about taking it in the first place.
The Grippli's request snapped her out of her glumness though. "Of course, Mister Caracotl." she happily responded.
Govannon is very pleased to see his gear again, though it be meager. He collects his comfortable clothes, slipping into his chain shirt, and assembling his scimitar and morning star at his belt. He quickly finds his tobacco pouch, and shakily crafts a bulging, poorly rolled cigarette. He stuffs it in his mouth and lights a tindertwig, thinking something to himself.
He takes a deep breath and a slight smile hints at his lips before he puts out the tindertwig and settles into the rest of his gear.
Anyone here really good at getting out of bonds such as these?” Seeing the blonde man get out of his. "OH! never mind, some assistance would be much appreciated, fellow 'crazies'. Caracotl here, traveling cleric." He gives as much of a bow as the jacket allows him.
Oh dear god! he looks in surprise as the frog speaks. Seeing him on the table like that takes him back to biology class a moment… he shakes his head to clear it. ”Excuse me, sorry, I’m Govannon. Uh, pleased to meet you. Ah, let’s see what we can do.” he leans in and helps him free of the bonds.
He manages to slip his bonds with little trouble, and runs a hand over his head, frowning. Oh my, well past time to shave. Looking around at the others, he says "Good day ladies, gentlemen. Aleksander Albus, paladin of Alseta, at you service. I must say, I can't recall how I ended up in this particular kettle of fish. Where are we, exactly?"
Alseta? Who’s that? Clearly these are well travelled men. ”You’re guess is as good as mine sir knight. I’m not sure where we are, or how we came to be here.”
Gesturing to the new items, he asks "Has anyone examined these for magical auras and the like?"
”Good call. Let’s see what we have here.” Govannon casts Detect Magic and takes a closer look at the items.
Caracotl will cast detect magic and then try to identify any auras that he senses on the items.
As the small creature examines the items, Govannon stays quiet, politely waiting his turn to ID the items. ”Good that you can do that too, I miss things all the time.” he says appreciatively.
”What I really need is a bow and a few other things. I hope we can sell a few items too like maybe that spirit board. Thing gives me the creeps.”
As hears the familiar striking sound of the tindertwig Naught just rolls her eyes. "You could have waited until we were outside the tiny room to do that, ya'know..."
Aleks casts Detect Evil, holding it for 3 rounds. Mostly wanting to check the items, but you never know what else he might notice.
Akeksander detects no evil in the area.
Zelda inspects the door and finds it securely locked. But, with the aid of her lock picking tools, she easily releases the sliding bolt mechanism and opens the door.
The space beyond is a long hallway lined with similar doors. To the left, you hear the faint echo of sobs and muffled screaming. To the right, the hall opens into a large, lighted space.
As hears the familiar striking sound of the tindertwig Naught just rolls her eyes. "You could have waited until we were outside the tiny room to do that, ya'know..."
Govannon's about to stub out his cigarette murmuring, "Sorry." when Zelda pops open the door. He puts it out anyway when he sees the scimitar. He quickly describes what each of the magics are, before coming back to the blade.
"Hey, this is perfect for me, I've needed a magic one of these, and this is just the ticket!" he hopes he can, at least for now, carry the wonderfully magical weapon.
Once that is sorted one way or another, he moves to the front left. "Sobbing's not good, I don't like sobbing. And screaming's right out. Shall we?" he gestures in that direction as he listens to see if he can hear more.
Naught nods in agreement.