DM Maslen's Second Darkness PF Conversion (Inactive)
Game Master Pathfinder Maslen

The elf stiffens, and regains his composure. "I will wait for Tippy. Don't hold out on my account." he says, with an airy smile. As his companions make partway down the street his voice lowers to a hiss.

An urgent whisper appears in your ear, the bitter anger of a man scorned lacing his words. "I would speak to you. Tonight. Alone."

You make your way through the River district where most of Riddleports trade items are manufactured. It is more aptly named the Reek District for the foul odours enveloping the area. The stench of rotting fish, tanners cuttings among every other manner of remnant and refuse that is discarded directly into the river.

Between the Reek and Windward districts is a building of clapboard and shingles which appears to be a large, rough-and-tumble tavern. Great bay windows of leaded glass look out over the river, often lit by the revel ongoing through most hours of the evening and night. A sign bearing the symbol of a dented ale mug hangs above the door, and written discreetly beneath it in gold letters are the words “Publican House and another sign painted in bright red letters in several languages directly above the entrance states “No Cyphermages

The Windward District is an affluent section of Riddleport which consists of sturdy timber structures built upon the slopes of the city’s western ridgeline. Winding paths with steps cut into the bare stone provide egress through this steep district, and most buildings are several stories high with numerous balconies, many connected by narrow bridges. Moving about the area are mostly robed persons, with ocean winds buffeting them, their garb flapping and snapping in the gusts.

The Cypher Lodge is a grand structure of stone and timber and sits perched upon a lonely crag nestled against the very slope of the mountain and provides a panoramic view of both the gulf and the city. More importantly, its three wings look directly out over the Cyphergate.

Sit down, He holds up the wine bottle. A seemingly friendly gesture but he does not smile. The barkeep assured me this was one of your favorites...meet Apollo, he's going to be working with us now. Samson has been retired to a better life than I can offer.[b]

He pauses to note Iscarel has not moved. He motions to the chair on the other side of the table. [b]A tale and an apology. Is the bard interested?

At Iscarel's words, Tippy shrugs and the daggers disappear into their sheathes. "Why not?" and with a parting glance at Tam, follows the bard.

The elf sighs dismissively. "So tell me, Tippy." the elf says, conversationally, throwing his palms behind his head and slowing to the halfling's pace. "What is it that you do for fun?"

"Fifteen years in this city, and without the abbess' welcoming thighs it seems a whole different place." he says, mournfully, taking a swig of the port from the morning before and holding the skin outstretched.

"Will you join me? This is a matter I fear I can trust only to you."

"I remember, when the temple took you in." the elf says, distantly. "It wasn't often the girls took in foundlings. Especially a boy..." he says, trailing off. "Come, let us find some food. My treat. I expect the kitchens still reek of blood."

"Do you trust me, halfling?"

The elf strolls forward, nonchalantly, eyes scanning the lonely street. "Sister Pamodae has named her price. The edge we need against Clegg." he says, with a disturbing nonchalance. "All I ask is that you don't breathe a word to Saul, or the fool ranger."

Iscarel places a hand on his chest in mock-hurt and shrugs. "You know, I think I'm entirely more honest than you people give me credit. As honest as one can be in this city, anyway..." the elf says, stooping down and lowering his voice.

"Bojask. Saul's drunken sot of a bodyguard. Silenced. In return, we know when Clegg will make his move, and will have time to close the vice..." the elf says, steadily, watching Tippy intently. "Besides. I'm sure he deserves it."

His expression sobers, however, as he returns to the grave topic at hand. "I don't like it any more than you do. I'd hoped to learn the very same, my friend, but Marcus did not exactly leave me in the best position to negotiate. I will have faith that the lady smiles on this vengeance... That it is just. I will deliver him to my sisters alone, if it spares us Saul's men breaking down our doors and cutting our throats..." the elf says, a desperate tinge to his voice. "It's risky, and I will not ask your aid if you aren't willing..." the elf says, imploringly. "But if you will not stand with me, then I pray you, keep your peace."

The elf straightens, dusting the remnants of Riddleport street-food from his chin. "Let us speak no more of this 'til morning. This is no subject for a night of frolics. Tell me, Tippy. Do you know any songs?"

This'll be the last post for me tonight. Whether Iscarel and Tippy return to the Goblin singing songs or looking over their shoulders is up to you.

"It's not a happy song, though, for a night of frolics."

Marcus looks to Iscarel with what in his eyes? Sorrow? You know me for a dog barking and biting at those around me. I did not begin this way. The anger has always been there. My master said it was my biggest failing. I was taught to fight by a Tetori Monk by the way. Best elf I've ever know. He never drank. He showed me the WAY to Irori. That elf was....You should have seen how many he took down before he fell.

He pauses again, realising he.was rambling. I am supposed to be a follower of Irori. My heart chooses that path. I want so badly to rise above this. To say goodbye to my friends and accept thier passing and move on. But my rage and YOUR lady won't let me. I have been having dreams, Iscarel. I relive every horrid moment at night when I sleep. Have you ever lost someone you cared for? Worse, have you ever found what's left after their life.has been taken and thier.body mutilated? You see I feel as if I am swimming in the opposite direction to the current in a river of anger and madness. Calistria speaks to me in these dreams. Telling me to accept my fate and swim with the current. I do not think she cares about or wants me. i think she has chosen me because Shayleigh was her acolyte. Because it was our love that wrought the jealously that caused the attack. Maybe she chose me because over a hundred elves died that night and only I survived. Maybe I'm simply going mad.

He rubs the dogs head.

I have decided to stop fighting her. So I will follow and be counciled by Ethaniel... and perhaps even you. There is more to your gooddess than pure vengeance and that is all I wish to have in common with her, but maybe I should learn more. I guess the reason I hate all this so much is my lack of choice in the matter. Self Control is VERY important to me. A monks whole focus is based on Mastery of one's self. Today when you had the priestess use that spell on me, you took my will from me. Do not do so again. Especially with the quick wives. My heart and body are my own to give and I do not take coupling lightly. I am here to make peace with you Iscarel. You are not the sorcerer. As must as you remind me of him. Ascaria is not Sheyleigh.
I am not your enemy. I am sorry I called you Rivvel.

Marcus finished his glass....Ethaniel and I are headed to the Cypher Lodge tomorrow. You expertise would be appreciated. My temper will likely get us turned into frogs or something.
We have a clue about the demon. They might provide some insight.

Marcus gets up to leave, collects his scimitar, yet leaves the wine.
As he opens the door to leave with his new.dog.
I will grant you the respect you deserve, Iscarel. Perhaps in learning to work with you I can accept the path I find myself on.

The 'reterner elf', Iscarel, flamboyant and extrovert demeanor puts Tam on warning... he has seen this ploy before... 'play the fop to hide the killer...' It was not lost on Tam when he saw the mirth drain from Iscarel's smile and lit the subtle fire of wrathful vengeance in his eyes at the human Marcus' caustic words. He files it away...

{There will be bloodshed soon here... as sure as the sun rises; best to not be caught up in the crossfire of vengeful spirits such as these!}

"Good. Some entertainment!", heard as if from far away...

{Silence you!}

Tam follows Ethaniel slowly keeping his gaze on the entrance to the temple brothel until...Ah... what he was waiting for... The halfling exits... blades in hand...

Tam pulls up his hood to conceal his features looking up as if gazing at the moon to hide that fact he watches them from the shadow of his hood. He can hear nothing but knows scheming when he sees it for they talk too long for it to be ... just casual friendliness... especially with the glare of displeasure the halfling gave the 'returner-elf' inside when sent like a servant to retrieve drinks.

Tam satisfied he'd learned some of the dynamic of what was going on turned away and follows after Ethaniel quickly to catch up to him and the human ranger Marcus. He mentally sighs... so much strife and hurt pride... followers of CALISTRA sowed mistrust and reaped vendettas... for fun!

It was not his business and he would avoid any situation that would draw him in... but he could not remain silent in good conscience...

Tam speaks seemingly at Marcus but not actually addressing anyone, "It is not my business... nor do I impinge any slight however minor... but wisdom speaks volumes. Me thinks, a little less venom and a bit of forgiveness might serve better.. amongst those who revere a artistic and suitably cruel vengeance. The 'Reterner-elf' Iscarel, was deeply offended... there will be bloodshed if such interactions continue. If that is your desire, do not turn your back on him lightly... if it is not... only you can forestall its coming ...sting. Just saying what I see... the matter is all your business. I have spoken and shall say no more on it - not my concern."

Then directly addressing Ethaniel, "'Sting' Ethaniel, it is a few hours until midnight... I'm new in town a meal would be nice. I only wait until the midnight hour because the... haunting is strongest then. I need to know if I am already corrupted by its touch. I would ...favor a ..'last meal'."

With that, Ethaniel walks out the door. Another enemy gained, I suspect. But spurn the will of my Lady, I have not. Iscarel acts with frivolity rather than cunning. In this matter, he treats with teasing, and not with vengeance. There was no sting here. My Lady's will indeed...

And yet, where bloodshed was averted, anger and pride yet bleed, and give birth to Calistria's work.

Ethaniel jumps nearly a foot in the air when Iscarel's words come to his ears on the winds.

He grimaces. He's hiding something. "I've cut down a human for less, and an Oathbreaker doesn't rise to her position." he says, with conviction. "I owe my allegiance to more than that penny-pincher.", tugging at his shirtstrings and revealing an ornate tattoo on his breast-- a wasp with three stingers.

"Things... used to be so much simpler, back home. [i]A... Nallalasse...tel aa' menealle nauva calen..." he says, as a mournful afterthought.

{They must trust this Gaming Hall... more than would see wise. Perhaps they have some ...history with its proprietors? Regardless as long as I get what I need from the 'Sting' all should be well... unless this is some elaborate trap... but why bother with a stranger? I'm prepared to deal with that too anyways. Have some food and wait... paranoia is its own personal hell...}

Tam does not take a seat with a back to a wall instead siting cati-corner in a chair toward the interior of the game hall...giving him a wide range of moment options... should a rapid egress prove needed. He merely nods in silent acceptance of Ethaniel's previous engagement with Iscarel and watches as he leaves the table... leaving him and the brooding Marcus alone.

... ...

"...boring. Can we begin some blood letting...? There's too much quiet and not enough screaming and bloodshed here... you should drag one of those lovely buxom barmaids into one of those private booths with a tight gag and 'tickle' her with a blade for an hour or two... at least that would be interesting."

{F#$%& off!}

There is the flash of a stern annoyance in his expression briefly and his gaze is unfocused for a moment as if he were concentrating one something intently. Then just as fast the expression is gone and his eyes refocus on Marcus...

"Hahahaaa... no. You missed that opportunity just a scant half-hour ago... Stray. You need to enjoy living - more rape and pillage of a few helpless mindless trollops... it would improve your attitude... and your company!"

There is a ...poignant and uncomfortable silence that stretches between them broken only by Tam ordering a simple meal from a passing barmaid.

He seems to be relaxed outwardly but his posture in his seat shows he is ready to bolt at a moments notice if needed. His eyes violet and fierce are another matter... there is turmoil in his gaze a tacit tightness to his eyes which makes one wonder if he is angry for some hidden reason...

Finally he says to Marcus,"...I do not know, how long I'll need to be here in this... Riddleport dive... is there any mercenary work or security work available to your knowledge? In... Kaer Mega... I was a thief catcher and did a fair amount of sword for hire security. Not sure how much work will be available for a rogue gone legal here in ... this ...town..."

He is polite and his voice is soft but obviously his opinion of Riddleport is not high... at all...

There is a pause as he take a sip of his beverage a weak ale, "...you understand Drow, Undercommon? That's a odd language to have piked up... for a human. You ever travel to the Darklands?"

The question is delicately asked... but the tension in his eyes is not missed...

"You sold the hound, then? Curious." the elf says, a hostile edge to his voice. His fingers uncurl from his blade.

the elf cuts himself off as Marcus pours the wine. Mere seconds after the ranger sets the bottle on the table, Iscarel snatches it up. "Corentyn..." he says, with a half-smile. "For me, you said?"

The elf unfurls his cloak, tossing it over the door. He draws his dagger and stabs it into the table, sending a slow ripple through the freshly poured glasses. "I hide behind my blade, you behind your hound." he says with a bitter laugh, his shoulders relaxing. They both take a sip, and Iscarel folds his arms as Marcus begins his tale.

"This man..." the elf says, partway through. "Did you insult him in that vile tongue and get run out of town?" he says, with an eyebrow raised. "Forgive me. I would hear the rest of your tale. Though you have not told me where this village is."

When the half-elf speaks, it is in a hushed tone. He looks over his shoulder, then turns back to the bard. "This thing, then, must be done. From the way you speak, it sounds as if you intend to do it yourself. Is this true?"

"The halfling says that Pamodae is trying to play us against each other. To tear the Goblin apart from within." the elf says, the stiffness in his shoulders vanishing and his posture relaxing somewhat. "Tippy is no fool, but I would value your counsel as well. One does not trade in secrets by being untrustworthy, but you know how much Shorafa loves her little games..."

"It's been some time since I've stuck my neck out for anyone... I'm beginning to remember why." he says, gingerly. "I'm content to drink my wine and sing my songs while the fools stab each other in the back. But if Saul means to strike..."

[b]"What should we do? Will you aid me, mellonamin?

1: charm person, ear-piercing scream, mage armor

When she enters the kitchen, the others are not there yet. Seems to have been a long night... That bitter taste is back again in her mouth. After the quick and bland breakfast, she leaves the kitchen and nearly bumps into Marcus on her way out. "Oh, sorry, I... I did not see you..." she stammers. He looks tired. And... sad...

"Listen, you wanted to bring Samson to that acquaintance I mentioned. His name is Mathis. We can go now if you want..." Marcus nods in agreement and mumbles a few words about breakfast and water as he shoves past her.

A little while later, the two of them are on their way, Samson's happy barking and chasing after the odd cart being meagre compensation for his master's glum mood. Ascaria does not talk much either but as the two of them get nearer to the Leeward district, she finally begins a conversation.

"Marcus, I... you're so quiet. It is the thought of parting with Samson that's hurting you? I can completely understand that. But I assure you, Mathis will be a kind and good master for him." She grows silent again for a few moments. Then, she takes a deep breath and continues, "I noticed that you and Iscarel... you don't get along very well, do you?"

Tam eats a bit more of his meal.

He comments, "If you don't mind my asking... if you have such disdain for this town why are you here? I have few places I can call refuge that my father's past will not catch up to me. You seem competent enough... surely you could get decent employment in a big city... and a nicer abode for you and your woman? I assume you have a girl.. a man does not turn down lovely free companionship in a brothel unless he's a saint or he has another woman on his mind and especially in his heart!

He takes another sip of his slowly nursed ale and meets his eyes gauging Marcus' reaction...

"This town is a place for scum, vermin and... the damned to hide and fester. A place for those both morally and spiritually corrupt - anyone can tell... you are NOT of that ilk. Why stay here?"

"We... wept for them, you know." he says, almost trance-like. "I had not been in this city long, you see. And so much death..." He swills back a long draught of wine, swaying slightly and shaking his head. "Perhaps I had you figured wrong too." he says, drearily. "I watched your rage, and your mistrust, and your foolishness and saw a man who thought the world owed him recompense." he says, smiling. "But I will give you this chance to prove me wrong, and perhaps next time I will be choosier in my gifts."

"If you wish my counsel, I will give it. I will fight by your side. In time, you may come to call me friend. But you insulted and threatened me in my home, and had me cast into the cold night. Know that these slights I will never forget." he says, with conviction, softening. "But I will sleep easier this night." he says, he says, raising his glass in thanks. "I thank you."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15

Ethaniel surveys the main hall of the Golden Goblin once again before turning back to Iscarel. "This was your course, and your bargain made, so the deed falls to you. In coming to the temple and sharing the faith, I have born witness to the bargain, so I will assist you. Marcus and Saul shall hear none of it. But what of Tippy? You mentioned his name."

"I'm obviously not going to fool you with anything," he says, pouring a liberal amount of brandy into Bojask's mug. "Truth be told, I'm satisfying some curiosity. I think it's pretty obvious to tell, but my friend Marcus doesn't exactly hold you in the highest of regards. Now, what I can't figure out, is why. Is it just because you tend these animals he's so keen to see not down in these pits, or is there something else? As far as I can tell, he never set eyes upon you before we started working here, but I'd have more luck getting that drunk Iscarel to give up the booze before I'd get Marcus to say two words more than he's willing. Anyways, Marcus and Iscarel and Ethaniel went out today on some errand for the Silken Veil - you like whores, Bojask? They don't tend to look at the little folk with the same respect they give you longshanks, so they're just more depressing than they're worth, really. Anyway, like I said, the lot of them headed out today, so I thought I could ply you with liquor and get you to tell me if you two have some sort of history I should or shouldn't know about. More brandy?" He reaches up to pour him some whether he agrees to it or not.

Sense Motive to gauge any reactions Bojask makes to mention of Silken Veils or whores (or Marcus, for that matter): 1d20 ⇒ 10