Death and Taxes - GM Budd the C.H.U.D.'s Feast of Ravenmoor

Game Master Budd the C.H.U.D.

In life, only two things are inevitable - death and taxes. An investigation into a missing tax collector from Magnimar led our heroes to the isolated village of Ravenmoor, but what they found there was a community dominated by a cult of Ghlaunder, God of Parasites. They also uncovered the identity of the twisted being responsible for the corruption of the town, and learned that this same being has sinister plans for a small, isolated city in the mires of Ustalav. Carrion Hill beckons...

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Enormous Radioactive Monster - - hp tons/tons - - AC nuh-uh I got forcefield

Magnimar - Ordellia District

The Drunken Dog is not exactly the finest tavern in Magnimar. While the Ordellia district is more known for its counterculture stylings and self-styled anti-establishment dissenters than food and drink, any of you could have picked out a half-dozen far nicer establishments from the moment you crossed the Yondabakari river without much effort. But the Dog is small, tucked away in an easily-missable side street, the sort of place even most of the locals might never have heard of. In that, it is a perfect incognito spot to rendezvous with your newest client.

It is sundown, and the skies over the Varisian Gulf are reddening. There's no real crowd to speak of in The Drunken Dog, not that this surprises you- the burly barkeep almost seems surprised to see you come in. "If you're here to see Miss Anikee," he grumbles, "she's got the table over there." He points toward a large, round table near the windows, where a bespectacled woman sits, busily pawing through a small stack of papers.

Jeminda Anikee is about thirty years old, give or take a few, with dull brown hair tied back in a sloppy bun, and a plain, if well-tailored, dress. She is an attractive woman, if a bit mousy. Her only notable adornment is a simple silver holy symbol of Abadar hanging around her neck. She rises to meet you as you approach, introducing herself with a hint of a stutter and shaking your hand. Hers are somewhat clammy, and she wipes them on her dress before retaking her seat.

"H-hello," she says. "Jeminda Anikee. I work for the city. Pleased to meet you."

She has summoned five of you here today- each of you having gotten word of this mission through your own methods and contacts. She glances over each of you appraisingly, and while she wears a calm smile, she is clearly anxious.

Feel free to introduce yourselves to Jeminda. When you are done, she will proceed immediately into the debriefing for your mission.

"As you may have heard, I am a clerk- not a high-ranking one, of course, just a humble bookkeeper, you see- in the tax office here in Magnimar. I recently ran into a bit of a pickle- er, ah, a problem, yes? I was doing a routine audit when I realized that there had been a little... cock-up, if you gather, regarding the collection of taxes in a tiny little holding called Ravenmoor, way up the Lampblack River north of Galduria. It seems that somebody- not me, of course, that's not precisely my job- had been neglecting to double-check Ravenmoor's back taxes for the last... er, several years." She pauses to breathe, glancing around nervously as if embarassed to say it. "A little clerical error, you see. Ravenmoor's taxes owed have not been collected in nearly a decade. I can understand how it was missed for so long- it's such a tiny community that they hardly owe much, but after so many years, it turns out that they owe the city of Magnimar some 500 gold in back taxes. I can't imagine this was due to some malicious neglect on Ravenmoor's part- more likely it's because, thanks to this little oversight, we haven't sent anyone out there to collect anything from them for so long that they simply forgot they owed anything at all. But you can see how this could be a problem, yes? 500 gold missing from Magnimar's coffers is no small matter. I could... well, I worried there might be a chance I could lose my job if the higher-ups caught wind of this and decided that I was to blame, so I chose to send a tax collector out that way to see about retrieving the money we're owed before reporting the whole farce."

"I needed to keep the whole thing on the down-low, as they say, so I turned to one person in particular I could trust implicitly to do the job: Elias Kyle. He's my brother-in-law, you see, so I knew I could count on him. We've been close ever since my sister Rumelda- his wife- passed on a few years back. We've taken care of one another, because really, neither of us really has anybody else to count on..." Her voice lowers almost to a whisper, and you detect a bit of a stammer in her words. "I'm sorry, I digress. Elias only recently started working for the city- he'd gotten himself cleaned up, kicked his drinking habit, was all worked up and ready to accomplish something great other than getting into bar brawls, so it seemed like this kind of mission would be a perfect fit for him. He was enthusiastic about the idea, so we agreed to send him off to Ravenmoor to collect the 500 GP and resolve the matter before any real stink could come of it."

"A week after he set out, I got a letter from him- sent from Galduria. He said he was making good progress, would hit Ravenmoor in a couple of days and be back in Magnimar in a week and a half. But... it's been weeks, and no word back from him. Elias has gone missing." She unfolds a small sheet of parchment and slides it to the center of the table so that everyone can see it.

- - - -

Elias' Letter:
"Hey Jem! In Galduria! Making damn good time, weather's on my side. Be in Ravenmoor day after tomorrow if I'm lucky! Weather holds true I'll be back in Magnimar in a week and a half! Galduria's a drag but Ember Lake sure is pretty! Mel woulda loved this place. You should come out here sometime and see it. Anyway, I had to show some wannabe tough guy the hard side of my shiny new mace! Wotta laugh! Tell you more when I get home, many loves XOXO Eli"

- - - -

"So... what I'd ask of you here is twofold: retrieve the missing taxes from Ravenmoor, and find out what happened to my brother-in-law. Please, move as quickly as you can, and take care of yourselves- Elias was no professional fighter, but he could hold his own. If some kind of foul play has occurred- Gods, I hope that's not the case- then this Ravenmoor could be a lot more dangerous than any of us imagined. Elias would have left an impression wherever he went, I'm sure- he's not much of a looker, kind of a squat, lumpy-faced fellow- face like a pug dog, my sister always said- 'cugly,' I think that was her word- with bright red hair and patchy scruff on his face. He's been in a lot of fights, so he's got a bit of a knob for a nose. Elias's safety is a huge priority, but at the end of the day... the collection of those back taxes is still your official primary objective, so to speak..."

Sense Motive (DC 15):
That's clearly the tax official in her talking. She looks and sounds as if telling you that the taxes are more important than her missing brother-in-law is agony for her.

Sense Motive (DC 20):
It's not easy to tell, considering her nervous mannerisms and busy hands, but you get the distinct impression that there's something she's not telling you- something that seems to be on the tip of her tongue, but she can't quite bring herself to say.

"So... terribly sorry to ask this of all of you, but... I'm sure you can see why I had to call your lot in. I can't have word of this getting back to my superiors before we know what happened out there. My career is on the line here- I can promise you 200 GP in payment right now to recover the back taxes, but if you're able to figure out what happened to poor Elias... well, I can't put an exact number on it until I know whether or not I'll be keeping my job, but I can promise you that I can make it worth your while."

"Any questions?" she asks, twiddling her fingers. Her eyes bounce back and forth amongst you anxiously, as if she expects you to toss her into the bay for daring to hire you.

If you have anything to ask Jeminda about, go for it. Once you're done, we'll move you all along the Yondabakari river to Galduria, where Elias Kyle's final letter came from.

- - - -

Sometime later, deep in the Churlwood to the north...

Calwen (solo):

The Churlwood
These are a far cry from the lush evergreen forests of the northern lands; the sky above you is blotted out by a ceiling of thick, tangled branches with sagging, half-dead leaves; the earth beneath Whitemane's hooves is squelching muck one step, slick, greasy moss the next. Huge, knobby roots creep across the forest trail, making each of your steed's steps slow and deliberate. The hot, humid air is nearly suffocating, and the buzzing of insects rings constantly in your ears. They are more than just a noisy distraction, however- more than once, you have been forced to swat a fat, eager mosquito from your neck. The Churlwood more than lives up to its unpleasant name. And to think: you haven't even had any run-ins with beasts or bandits as of yet. Both, your intel suggests, call the Churlwood home.

Galeth's dryad- Lyila, he calls her- should reside somewhere nearby, if the map he provided you is accurate. Still, given the state of the Churlwood, the fact that anything- much less the nature-loving fey- could stand to live here is surprising.

After hours spent navigating the sweltering wood, you finally see a hint of respite: the colors of the leaves begin to grow more lush, and the trickling of some nearby stream reaches your ears. The dryad's domain is near.

You enter into a glade wholly unlike the rest of the Churlwood, where the trees possess a sort of keen vitality to them, and several small streams converge into a large, tranquil pool. At the center of the pond is a large tree, gnarled and twisted like its neighbors but possessing a singular peculiar beauty about it; its thick, ropey branches stretch upward and outward, its canopy filtering through several beams of sunlight that splay across the pool. Enormous roots arch up like bridges before plunging back into the pool. It is a dramatic and beautiful sight, exactly the sort of tree one might imagine being bound with a dryad.

As you near the edge of the pool, Whitemane trots forward and bends down to drink from the sparkling pool. As he does, three tiny heads poke up from beneath the water and stare up at you with curious eyes. These tiny, aquatic fey women are Nixies. Though every bit as capricious as the rest of their fey brethren, they seem harmless enough. The tiny girls giggle, and each one pops its head up out of the water to speak in turn:

"An elf's come to see us, girls!"
"From the great white north, from the looks of it!"
"Pretty thing, she is! What's your name, elf?"
"Quiet, you! She's here to see Lyila, I'd wager!"
"They always come to see Lyila! She's not the only pretty fey around the Churlwood, you know..."

As the trio of tiny fey continue to banter back and forth, you feel a brisk wind slip through the trees and send ripples across the pool, seeming to originate from the enormous tree.

"Oh, would you look at that? Seems ye've got Lyila's attention already," one of the fey in the pool pops up to say. "I'd get in there and impress her, if I was you, elfy-elf. Don't worry, we'll watch your pretty horse for you. Less'n an owlbear comes 'round looking for a meal, o'course. Then I'm afraid you lot are on your own."

What to do next is all you, Calwen.


- - - -


Male Human Monk 3
Stats:
HP: 30 || AC: 16 ||Initiative: +6||Perception +7||Fort: 5||Ref: 5||Will: 4

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18

Dalton pulls up a chair next to the table where Amikee sits. His trepidation remains, but her mousy nervousness is endearing to him. He feels a sudden protectiveness for this sheltered tax clerk, and recognizes her dedication to duty.

He smiles reassuringly. "I speak not for the others, but know this; Elias will be found. From his letter, it seems that he has already faced violence and come out the other side unharmed," his smile fades, "but the possibility exists that someone who knew this "wannabe tough guy" wanted revenge." the monk brings his fist down onto the table firmly. "Whatever is at stake here, I wish to help. I have never been to Ravenmoor...the experience should be educational."


Male Human Fighter 2 / Wizard 3 - AC 17 (Mage Armor) | Flat 14 (Mage Armor) | Touch 13 | Fort +6 | Ref +4 | Will +3 | Init +4 | Perc +0 | Prescience 6/6

Dramin continues to stand instead of taking a seat, there is a possibility of anxiousness but at the same time the amount of disinterest he shows in her plight is palpable; with that he doesn't pay too much attention to her emotional response and doesn't notice something may be amiss.

A moment later he speaks to the woman while eyeing the rest of the group up and down. He smiles wryly and attempts to feign interest.

"So this Ravenmoor, what would have been the route your brother in law took? He looks upon Dalton with keen interest. "As the monk has a point here, he may have been sought out by someone else for his... mace usage. With that in mind, perhaps there may be dangerous encampments on the way that could have proved fatal." His words come out flat and without much empathy.

"Despite anything, I'm heading up there so I will help you simply due to efficiency."


[Img] [Stats] [Info] Female Elf Cavalier 3

Calwen is concerned as she travels the strangely sick and compromised forest and removes and loosens pieces of her slow weather equipment bit by bit. As she comes closer to the fey grove and the forest around her is more and more healthy it is relief to her, but the sensation of a threat remains.

When the nixies suddenly show up Calwen smiles, but it is not an entirely unburdened smile. "Shall sun and rain embrace you, ladies of the forest." she returns in Sylvan, "I am afraid I am indeed here to see Lady Lyila, whose beauty has left quite a mark on the White Rose. Yet, it appears that my friend has veiled the secrets of this grove well when he did not speak of your charm and your beauty."

She removes Windmanes saddle, reins and other great strapped to him, piles the equipment on a stack and add her own sword and shield to it - she would not need her weapons to speak to dryad in her own grove. She also drops her backpack, but takes the small case with the flute out of it. "Enjoy playing with the fey" she whispers in elven into Windmanes ear, before she leaves for Lyila's tree. Fey are quick to anger, that's true, but this one was important to Galeth and hers was the about only beautiful place in the forest for many miles... if not the entire forest at all.


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Oracle (lvl 5) | HP 30/30 | AC:19 (23 CoD), T:12, F:15 | CMD:15, CMB:+3 | Save F+1, R+3, W+5 (+4 vs Illusions, Disguises, Divinations) | Init:+3 | Perc: +9 (DV 60ft) || Wands CLW 25/50 || Spells: lvl 1 (6/7) | lvl 2 (4/5)

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17
Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (18) + 11 = 29

Sebastian listens to the monk and the fighter. He'd spent some time researching them, but this first interaction is important. His gaze takes in the tax clerk as well. There is more to the mission than gold...well a lot of gold. And what else besides money can cause more trouble in my line of work than love?

Budd: Knowledge check in this Elias Kyle. What sort of shenanigans has he been up to...and whom might he have crossed?

Bacarov shares a look with Marsh and poses the question. "Being that you are close with Mr Kyle, what sort of trouble might have followed him out of the city? I ask not from the point of view of my office, but with the point of view of a man approaching a dark horizon, curious as to what the dawn's light will reveal."


Male Human Fighter 2 / Wizard 3 - AC 17 (Mage Armor) | Flat 14 (Mage Armor) | Touch 13 | Fort +6 | Ref +4 | Will +3 | Init +4 | Perc +0 | Prescience 6/6

Dramin glances quickly at Barcarov and Marsh, as they clearly have some past history together, and decides to keep track of the two of them.
If there is going to be trouble, they have the upper hand in any chaos thats going to be caused in a melee.

The fighter decides that he must make a trust-call regarding the woman providing the information the only way he knows how, through comparing information that is willing to be shared. He tries to recall whatever he can about potential noteworthy sites, caverns, clearings or terrain formations that could be used as a bandit hideaway near Galduria before she can form a response to his query and taint his train of thought.

I may not know if she's holding back on us, but at the very least it may set her up to fall if she is.

Knowledge (geography): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12


Human Barb 1/Rgr 2/Rog 2 HP 41 AC 19, touch 12, flat-footed 17 Fort +6, Ref +8, Will +1 Init +4 Perception +9 Sense Motive +7 Evasion

.


Enormous Radioactive Monster - - hp tons/tons - - AC nuh-uh I got forcefield

Sebastian:
Somehow, you've actually heard of the man. A few years back, he was arrested multiple times for public drunkenness and assault, but came out of each legal scrape relatively unharmed. Although he was a bit of a troublemaker in those days, you don't know of anyone who would still wish him harm. As far as you know, he's been clean and out of trouble for a while.

Dramin:
Just north of Galduria is the Churlwood, an expansive forest that is known to be home to, among other things, scattered bands of lowlifes, ruffians, and bandits. Though they seldom venture out onto the main roads (choosing instead to prey upon those foolish enough to enter the woods of their own volition), when they do, they often fall upon small groups of unarmed travelers. It doesn't seem far-fetched to you that bandits like those hiding out in the Churlwood could have come after Elias Kyle.

Jeminda seems heartened by Dalton's smile and reassuring words, and blushes slightly. However, Dramin's apathy seems to bother her. "You're allowed to sit, you know," she says quietly between questions. "...I mean, unless you're more comfortable standing, or... uh... Hey, I ordered prawns. Anybody like prawns? They have good prawns here..." She takes a long swig of her wine glass and averts her eyes, choosing instead to focus on Sebastian's question. "If you had asked me that a few years back, I would have had an answer for you. But considering it's been ages since Elias really got into it with anybody, I can't think of anyone who might have wished him harm. He might have had an unpaid bar tab or two left open, come to think of it... but I thought I paid all of those off for him..."

- - - -

Calwen:
"You flatter us, madame!" one of the nixies chirps in Sylvan at your compliment.

Seeing you remove your flute case, the nixies look at one another and nod, impressed.

"Either this one's done her homework, or she's got good instincts! Lyila's a real music lover!"
"Go get 'em, lady!"
"There's a bit of a sinkhole over there on the right, watch out for that!"
"Don't get your armor rusty! And don't go around in wet boots, you'll get a fungus!"
"Quiet, you! Elves don't get fungus. You're gross."
"Your face is gross!"

The nixies continue to banter as you approach the tree. The pool is about knee deep, but seems to get deeper as it grows closer to the tree.

If you'd like, you can give me a Perform (wind instruments) check for your flute to see how well you play.

Also, sorry, I got your horse's name wrong. :| Will fix this from here on out!


Male Human Fighter 2 / Wizard 3 - AC 17 (Mage Armor) | Flat 14 (Mage Armor) | Touch 13 | Fort +6 | Ref +4 | Will +3 | Init +4 | Perc +0 | Prescience 6/6

Dramin looks at the mousey woman with a sigh and decides to sit down, realizing that they won't be on the road any faster even if he continues to stand. He ponders on the information regarding the raiding parties and decides to hold back on it, seeing that she's opening up to the other two.

He reaches out towards the prawns and decides to plate some for himself. If I have to be here, I might as well keep myself full..

"So perhaps nobody decided to hurt him, or perhaps they did," He began to think back on the highwaymen, "regardless though, there may be more to this and you have the word of the great Dramin Jodare that I will leave you a completely satisfied customer."


Female Human Investigator (Spiritualist) 3, Medium 2 || HP 33/33 | AC 15 | T 12 | FF 14 | Fort + 2 | Ref + 5 | Wil + 9 | CMD 15 | Init +2 | Per + 10 (+12 vs surprise) | Sense Motive + 10 | IP 3/3 | Influence 0

I intend to do all of Warshawski's posts in traditional, first person noir narrative. As such, her internal monologue will be italicized while anything said aloud will be bolded as per standard PbP procedure/

The note on my desk said there was a new job for me. Technically it was off the books and the money'd go straight into my pocket. That suited me just fine. I didn't have any open cases so I was just spinning the old wagon wheels until a new tax dodger attracted the boss's attention.

Only an idiot walks into a room with a blindfold on, though. I made sure to do my homework. I knew Jeminda Anikee just from passing her in the corridors at headquarters. I could pick her out of a crowd but that's all I knew. If she wanted me for a hush job I needed to know more. More than one investigator found their head off their shoulders and onto the floor thanks to the words "keep this job quiet".

I'm making a Diplomacy check to Gather Information and find out information on Jeminda Anikee, any cases she might have open and any trouble she might be in. I'll be checking with both corporeal and spiritual contacts.

Diplomacy + Inspiration Die: 1d20 + 1d6 ⇒ (8) + (3) = 11

Once I'd asked around on both sides of the veil I headed for the Drunken Dog. I wasn't on time but Parker always taught me that only a sucker showed up on time. Either you get their early to scope the place out or you get their late when the trap springer's sloppy from impatience.

I spotted Anikee straight off. Back in the corner, hoping for privacy. That set off warning bells for me. People who picked the darkest corner of the bar wanted secrets kept but didn't know how to keep them. The best secrets are dealt right out in the open.

I took my time approaching the table. There was a nice little crowd gathered, destroying any chance of making this a clandestine meeting. I recognized Bacarov and his sidekick, Marsh. The guy with the painted face and the tough with the light hair were new to me.

I grabbed a chair, spun it around and plopped up onto it. The weight of my front pressed against the ugly, wooden back of the chair.

"Bacarov. Marsh." I nodded to both of them. Barcarov didn't have a spirit hovering around him. Means he probably wasn't on the job yet. The souls of the dead like to stick close to the detective assigned to their case and keep tabs on the work in progress.

I turned my full attention to Anikee. My eyes narrowed as I considered the little mouse of an accountant and I waited for her to continue with her words. A wise woman knows the best way to look foolish is to open her trap.

Going to do a Perception check to see if I can spot any spirits hanging around. That's standard operating procedure for Warshawski.

Perception + Inspiration Die: 1d20 + 1d6 + 9 ⇒ (20) + (5) + 9 = 34

Also assuming I arrived before Ms. Anikee told her story so I'll do that Sense Motive check.

Sense Motive + Inspiration Die: 1d20 + 1d6 + 9 ⇒ (7) + (2) + 9 = 18

There was something Anikee wasn't telling this little gathering. Something important. I wouldn't sweat her right in front of the others. I owed her that much since the same agency put coin in our purses. But before I left the City of Monuments this little bird would sing. I promised myself.


Oracle (lvl 5) | HP 30/30 | AC:19 (23 CoD), T:12, F:15 | CMD:15, CMB:+3 | Save F+1, R+3, W+5 (+4 vs Illusions, Disguises, Divinations) | Init:+3 | Perc: +9 (DV 60ft) || Wands CLW 25/50 || Spells: lvl 1 (6/7) | lvl 2 (4/5)

Bacarov grins at Dramin's bravado but masks the gesture by smiling a greeting Warshawski's way. Then he thinks on the clerk's response.

Love then...maybe duty to her sister.

He runs a finger down his nose with one hand while pulling his rosewood pipe from his pocket, a signal to Marsh that the girl's story on Elias checks out. "Prawns sound good, Ms Anikee." Bacarov answers and fishes out his tobacco pouch. The smell of cherry oak tobacco wafts from it. He fills the bowl and speaks as though he's making a list. "Nothing from behind but from ahead...perhaps highwaymen...or perhaps someone wanting to cover over the reason for Elias' own investigation."

He lights the pipe and soothes over the last part. "Rest assured, Ms Anikee, if your Elias is half as resourceful as rumor marks him to be, then he may be well. We'll look into his condition with as much weight as this tax revenue." He puffs away, curious to her reaction on calling him "your Elias".

He meets Warshawski's eyes and wonders if her ethereal friends are flitting about this evening. Tell me, lady...tell me Elias' spectre isn't floating over my shoulder.


Male Human Fighter 2 / Wizard 3 - AC 17 (Mage Armor) | Flat 14 (Mage Armor) | Touch 13 | Fort +6 | Ref +4 | Will +3 | Init +4 | Perc +0 | Prescience 6/6

Dramin looks at the new arrival who is looking around. This must be the medium. He looks at her quickly then proceeds to look over her shoulder and nods a little knowingly, his eyes glowing with the need for discussion.

He turns back to Ms. Anikee and the town guard and decides it may be time to see what might happen if he tried to... use a little tact for once.

Prescience: 1d20 ⇒ 19
5 Remaining today

"Ms. Anikee, I apologize for earlier, I am a little bit shaken with recent work and I truly just want to get on the job as quickly as possible for all of our sakes. I only act so blunt because I know how painful things may be to talk about. I myself know all about bottling it up inside. So please, if there is anything else you know about your lost family, tell us. We are here to help after all and it benefits no one to keep secrets."

He looks at Bacarov.

"We are just here to help and I stand beside him. I take my work seriously, no matter the plight."

Diplomacy: 19 - 2 = 17


Enormous Radioactive Monster - - hp tons/tons - - AC nuh-uh I got forcefield

Warshawski:
All you know about Jeminda is that her numerous failed relationships have been the subject of much gossip around the watering hole, and that she's seen as a perennial worrier. She's mostly considered to be awkward, a bit odd, but nice. A little too nice, maybe- people tend to walk all over her. You also picked up that she went through a pretty deep depression following the death of her sister, and her coworkers claim that it led to her being left at the altar by her fiance. Rough stuff, but then again, it could all just prove to be fruitless gossip.

There are quite a few spirits lingering about- you spot a few very angry-looking spectres hanging around a rough-looking bloke seated at the bar chatting with a well-dressed nobleman... a hitman, perhaps, haunted by his past victims...? None of them seem to have any connection to Jeminda, however... at least, until you catch a lingering glimmer of a spirit flitting about over Jeminda's shoulder as she talks. You get a vague impression of a similarly mousy woman with almost identical features, who seems to be worrying a good deal about the accountant... and her story.

Jeminda barely seems to notice Sebastian's mention of "her Elias," only momentarily cocking an eyebrow and then going back to poking at her prawns. As Dramin makes an effort to lower her guard, she sighs and slumps in her seat a bit.

"There's a chance... a small chance, and one I don't particularly want to consider... that Elias might have, uh... fallen off the wagon, so to speak... In regards to his drinking, I mean. He'd been doing so well these last few months, but... Well, I suppose you should know that he has entertained the idea of moving to Riddleport in the past, you know, once he got some money together. But- but he wouldn't do that. Not now. Not when he has me relying on him like this..." She sinks in her chair and stares at her plate. "I refuse to believe that he could've taken the money and run. Still... I can't very well send you out there without full disclosure..."

Warshawski, again:
You detect that this may have been the secret she was harboring before. As much as it seemed to pain her to say it, her eyes seem a bit clearer for having gotten it off her chest.


Male Human Monk 3
Stats:
HP: 30 || AC: 16 ||Initiative: +6||Perception +7||Fort: 5||Ref: 5||Will: 4

Dalton looks profoundly uncomfortable. "Keep faith in Elias. We will find him, and it will have nothing to do with his drink." he doesn't sound particularly convinced himself.


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Human Barb 1/Rgr 2/Rog 2 HP 41 AC 19, touch 12, flat-footed 17 Fort +6, Ref +8, Will +1 Init +4 Perception +9 Sense Motive +7 Evasion

1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 6 + 2 = 22 Sense motive human

"Heh, you sent an alcoholic by himself, to pick up a half a grand of gold, you needed to pay off his tabs---plural--- for him before, and he had a dream of gettin a lump a dough skippin town? Your relationship with the guy is yer own gig, but are ya sure you've given it to us straight? I mean sisters often share a lot of stuff between them. If there's anything else at all, now's the time to spill it. That last little bit ya gave up was important, but I guessed it."

Marsh dips a prawn and scarfs it down.

"Mmmmmmm now that's delicious. Great marinara sauce <<<lip smacking>>> I like it when they get the tangy flavor of the vinegar balanced with the acid of lemon juice just right, ya know?"

He chucks the tail into the discard pile.

"So, Ah, say we dicover lover boy skipped off with the loot or opened the world's biggest bar tab or somethin. I'm guessin we turn em over to Warshawski an call it good? Or?"


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[Img] [Stats] [Info] Female Elf Cavalier 3

Somewhere deep in the forest:

Sorry, I first overread that the giant oak is in the pool.
Since it turns out that she will actually have to go into the pool and the air is relatively warm and pleasant she continues undressing - dryads don't usually wear clothes as far as she knows, why would she? "You are right, everything I carry, other than this flute will only burden me. Could you watch out a little for my belongings? We elves depend on the things we carry. Regarding the flute - a good friend has given me that hint, but I love to play it either way." she says with a wink to the nixies. Fey have different few on property than other civilized races. Technically the fey could rob her blind without even considering it be theft be feyish standards, yet everything else but leaving her equipment behind would be a disgrace.

Then she approached the majestic oak and started to play. Don't think too much, just play. she thought, so she started with themes from elven epics and improvised from there. Whether it would be an homage to the beauty of the fey, something dramatic that reflected the threat of the blight or something that reflected her own emotions and recent history she did not know or even plan. True music must come on its own.

In a way she understood they fey as she stepped naked into the pool and let the water embrace her. There was no man here who may have seen it as a provocation, only the true natural self, without borders or boundaries, only one's own beauty in alignment and contact with that of the natural world. She had hardly ever felt more true - and even though she did know how many got lost in the world of the fey for that beauty, she was here to help and the fey would probably not enchant her to stay. They needed the help of the rose.

She casts a quick glance over her shoulder to see what Windmane does.

Perform (Wind Instruments): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25
3 ranks + 1 Cha bonus + 2 item (masterwork flute) + 1 trait (an ear for music)


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Female Human Investigator (Spiritualist) 3, Medium 2 || HP 33/33 | AC 15 | T 12 | FF 14 | Fort + 2 | Ref + 5 | Wil + 9 | CMD 15 | Init +2 | Per + 10 (+12 vs surprise) | Sense Motive + 10 | IP 3/3 | Influence 0

I let my eyes linger for a moment on the tough and his nobleman friend. The angry shades around them spoke volumes even if the evidence didn't. As I had so often done in the past, I drew a scrap of parchment and some thin charcoal from my pocket and quickly wrote down descriptions of the dead. Like marble exposed to time and weather, souls usually lost their features but a few remained. Enough to give some clues.

A good clue could solve any case.

I slid the parchment over to Bacarov and nodded towards the hitman and his new patron. Murder was his beat. Let him deal with it. I focused my attention back on the job just in time to hear Marsh's witticisms.

"Don't be a goblin's a*+*&$!$." I smacked Marsh in the back of the head for good measure. "And don't talk about things you don't understand."

I couldn't help it. Seeing those two sisters there, one on this side of the veil and one on the other, both worried for the same man. I've always been a bit of a soft touch, I guess.

Another scratch of parchment and I could write down an address. This one I gave to Jeminda.

"Go here." I tried to sound kind but I was about as good as being gentle and soft as I was at breathing water. "Talk to Sister Kaye. Tell her about your sister. She'll help you. Don't worry about your brother-in-law. We'll take care of things and contact you when we get back."


Male Human Fighter 2 / Wizard 3 - AC 17 (Mage Armor) | Flat 14 (Mage Armor) | Touch 13 | Fort +6 | Ref +4 | Will +3 | Init +4 | Perc +0 | Prescience 6/6

Dramin stared, amused and surprised at the words that came out of his mouth and their effects on the woman. He would never have managed such a feat without his little gift, truth be told. Upon hearing the profanities from the medium however, he turned his gaze over to Marsh and smirked.

Well as long as he is pushing to leave, at least I don't have to play the badguy. I suppose I can entertain a facade for the time being. Time to hedge my bets and goad the big man.

"Look here Marsh, if you don't care for the case and would like to drop out, I'm sure we would be happy to take the slack from you, and whatever comes with it.".

He grabbed the plate of prawns to emphasize his point, taking a few and placing them on his own plate with a little weight to the motion.


Human Barb 1/Rgr 2/Rog 2 HP 41 AC 19, touch 12, flat-footed 17 Fort +6, Ref +8, Will +1 Init +4 Perception +9 Sense Motive +7 Evasion

"I didn't say nothin about not takin the case, but I don't need to go around givin false promises either. Just because the lot of you hadn't figured out she was holdin back doesn't mean I had to remain ignorant. If she wants em back, then the best bet is to give all the details she's got."

"For instance . . . Let's say he stayed on the wagon right?. You still got a guy with a shinny new mace, lookin like the FNG who isn't a professional fighter pickin up a load of coins---by himself mind you---and everyone in town would likely know it. Tell me that doesn't scream rob me."


Female Human Investigator (Spiritualist) 3, Medium 2 || HP 33/33 | AC 15 | T 12 | FF 14 | Fort + 2 | Ref + 5 | Wil + 9 | CMD 15 | Init +2 | Per + 10 (+12 vs surprise) | Sense Motive + 10 | IP 3/3 | Influence 0

I growled in anger then counted to five. I didn't have time to count to ten before Marsh opened his fat mouth and let more brown slip out.

"Shut your yap, Marsh." I leaned over and whispered to the thug. I didn't care who I had to sprawl over to do it. "The man's sister-in-law AND his dead wife are both here and NEITHER needs to hear this. Understand?"

I dumped my backside back into my chair and looked to the mousy looking client.

"Go, please." I tried my best for a reassuring smile. "We've got this."


Male Human Monk 3
Stats:
HP: 30 || AC: 16 ||Initiative: +6||Perception +7||Fort: 5||Ref: 5||Will: 4

Dalton raises an eyebrow, glancing over at Warshawski without turning his head. Dead wife? he thought to himself. She's a soul-seer? At least she's demonstrating that she still has a heart, despite her connection with death. I wonder if...

His eyes flicker forward again as he wills his mind to stillness once more. That isn't important right now. Whatever her talents, she wishes to help in this adventure. She will be an interesting ally. The gruff one, Marsh, speaks good sense, albeit brusquely. Sensei Torben was like that. I can respect it. He glances at the ceiling, feigning interest in the patterns in the wood to avoid glancing at Dramin as his mind touched on him. He's been trying to discipline his eyes to not give his thoughts away. The fire of confidence burns brightly in that one. Let us see if he is a hero, or merely a blowhard masking his fear through bravado. At least he knows when kind words are needed. It is good to see evidence of consciences in my traveling companions...

When the tax clerk rises from her seat, Dalton will as well, inclining his head toward her respectfully. "See you again soon, with good news," he says to her, with a reassuring smile.


Human Barb 1/Rgr 2/Rog 2 HP 41 AC 19, touch 12, flat-footed 17 Fort +6, Ref +8, Will +1 Init +4 Perception +9 Sense Motive +7 Evasion

"Heh, if this was a simple money crime then I'd say you had the floor Warshawski, but that's why you work tax crimes isn't it? Can't stomach havin to ask the real questions while you sit there makin your charcoal doodles tryin your best to be reassuring, but just comin off awkward. Facts is facts, you can't change em, you don't have to like em, but they're important."

"So, if he was to try and skip town he'd need help right? So it might be useful to know if he had any other family or friends in town, even if they were astranged. Or hey, how about you might find out where he lived so you might check the place for clues, like did he clean out the place or does it look like he planned to come back. Get a list of places he liked to drink or visit after he got dried up, heck check in on his barber. Find out what he bought for his trip, was he askin about ships to Riddleport, etc. Unless of course the spirits can tell you all that, otherwise us mere mortals are going to have to do an ol'fashioned investigation."

"So please Warshawski, unless you already got all those answers . . . We got this."


Enormous Radioactive Monster - - hp tons/tons - - AC nuh-uh I got forcefield

Calwen:
Wow, another lovely post. And that perform roll was just meant to be, wasn't it? I would've thrown another bonus on top of that for the quality of the writing if you hadn't already blown away the DC.

For a moment, you become lost in your music, filling the glade with a melody so eerily beautiful that even the chattering nixies are forced into silence by it. They stop tying braids into Windmane's hair long enough to stop and sit at the edge of the pool, watching you perform with wide, enchanted eyes. Windmane, too, seems moved by the music, and lifts his muzzle from the pool to stare at you. Those eyes of his

You are not sure exactly when Lyila first appears, but after what feels like an hour of playing, you look up to find the dryad sitting atop one of the great oak's enormous roots, serenely listening to your song. She is impossibly lovely, in that way that only the fey can be- with brown skin swirled with woodlike patterns, long hair tied into a hundred braids interwoven with vines and leaves, and long, elf-like ears. She rests her chin in the palms of her hands with her elbows on her knees as she watches.

When at last your song draws to an end, Lyila relaxes, lowering her feet into the water and kicking playfully. "Welcome, Knight of the White Rose," she says. "Friend of Galeth. I see that you share his gift for music... perhaps surpass it, even. Your song was lovely. Thank you for it." She grins and adds: "I wonder, should I perhaps just keep you all to myself? I could have Galeth send for yet another friend within his Order..."

Her expression sobers somewhat as she considers this. "...but I fear I may have waited too long as it is. Not every life lingers as long as our own. Tell me your name, maiden fair, and I shall tell you the true reason for which you have been called to me."

Feel free to do so, along with any other conversation you might wish to make before she moves along.

"I have many friends within this forest," Lyila says. "Not just among the fey or our kin, but even among the dustlings- humans, you might call them- that live here. The Churlwood is, for the most part, a beast of a wood, but it nonetheless bears at its breast a great deal of precious life that needs protection. There is no true order to their numbers, but several druids live in this forest, many of whom I have a quite cordial relationship with. We help protect one another and the life of this wood, you see."

"One of these druids is a half-human named Armand Rastveille, a young bloke alongside whom I have hoped to solve the mystery of the blightings that your Order or Galeth no doubt has informed you of. Armand has been looking into the matter for me at some length, as these horrid outbreaks have been increasing in frequency as of late- many fey have been caught up in the corruption, I fear, and turned into broken shades of their former selves. A faun I was quite fond of was caught up in one blighting, and twisted so far that I fear I had to drive him from the Churlwood altogether... mmm, such a tragedy."

"Armand seemed to have a lead, you see. There is a dustling village not far from the Churlwood's edge- Ravenmoor, they call it- that suffered from one of the very first blightings, several of their lifetimes ago. And yet, somehow, they have nursed that land back from the dead through some means that is beyond even me. The curse that brings these blightings is powerful indeed, so there must be some trick to how a town of simple farmers were able to salvage a blackened land from the brink of utter desolation..." She pauses to sigh, as if her own inability to solve the matter is an insult to her pride. Knowing the fey, that very well could be the case. "And now Armand has stopped communicating with me altogether. It could be because he learned of Galeth not long ago- poor boy was in no mood to listen to my explanation, can you believe it? It must be the dustling in him. They seldom understand the way love works between us fey and our kin. But I fear now for his safety- his dwelling is deep within the Churlwood where no other fey will travel, and I am, of course, bound to this place... Even the trees no longer whisper his name. I worry that Armand might have stumbled onto something sinister. Please, would you do me the honor of checking into poor Armand's wellbeing for me? And, should indeed he no longer be capable of it, learn what you can of this strange matter in Ravenmoor? I can, should you require persuasion, make the matter worth your while."

She watches you expectantly and bats her eyes like a child asking her mother to buy her a sweet.

- - - -

At the Dancing Dog...

Jeminda frowns at Marsh's not-so-subtle implication of her having some sort of tryst with Elias. "Oh, come on. What do you take me for? He married my sister, for goodness' sake! He's family, so far as I'm concerned, nothing more. And he's not an alcoholic- not anymore, I mean- I hope, anyway- and besides, tax collectors travel alone all the time... and..." From the way her face is reddening, Marsh has clearly gotten under her skin, and the theory she had no desire to entertain before is now quickly shoving all others aside in her mind.

Luckily, Warshawski manages to defuse the situation. Startled by the thought that Rumelda could be there with her, she glances about with widened eyes before remembering that, as a medium, Warshawski is likely the only person who could see such a thing. She accepts your note and advice to seek out Sister Kaye with an understanding nod, and whispers: "Thank you." From that point on, even Marsh's more cynical view of Elias' probably whereabouts fails to worry her.

"Mr. Marsh," she replies calmly to the man's rebuttal of Warshawski, "if you wish to check his home, then I can certainly let you in- I rented out my spare room to him after Rumelda passed, you see. I've already checked his belongings for any hints as to what might have happened to him, but I'm sure a more practiced investigator could do a better, more thorough job. If you're looking into friends or family... don't bother. Elias and I rely on one another because we're all we have left. No family, no friends aside from casual associates, and even then I doubt Elias had many of those. When he stopped drinking, he lost the few he hadn't already driven away already. But, again, feel free to double-check."

"It seems you lot have all this well in hand," Jeminda says finally, returning Dalton's smile and reaching across the table to shake each of your hands again. "Once you depart Magnimar, you'll be taking the Yondabakari river up to Galduria, I imagine? It's a safe route, the one I understand Elias himself took. From there, you'll probably have to make the rest of the trek on foot or horseback- the Lampblack Trail, if I recall- up to Ravenmoor. Hopefully, that's as far as you'll need to go, but I'll leave all that up to you. There's not a great deal of information available on Ravenmoor itself, I'm afraid- all I've gathered is that it used to have quite a few rather fine vineyards up that way in the past, but several generations ago, some rather nasty blight blew in and nearly killed the town. It seems to have recovered somehow, but the vineyards remained dead and they never really did reclaim that prestige- seems mostly they get by on pig farming and more standard crops these days. Population's fewer than 200 as of the last census, and the mayor is a fellow named... Kriegler, I believe? When you get to Ravenmoor, I'd seek him out. He'll have been the one to deal with Elias when he arrived, I'd imagine."

She rises from her seat and bows slightly. "Thank you all for this. I wish I had more to pay you, but... well, I only have so much in my savings account, you see. Again, I'll have quite a bit more to give you by the time you return, I hope. I'm entrusting not just Elias' fate, but my own career, to you all. Please do your best to preserve them both." She starts to go, but stops to grab one, two, three prawns from the plate, carrying them awkwardly in her hands as she moves to depart the Drunken Dog.


Male Human Monk 3
Stats:
HP: 30 || AC: 16 ||Initiative: +6||Perception +7||Fort: 5||Ref: 5||Will: 4

Dalton thoughtfully bites down on a prawn himself as he watches her go. He glances over at Dramin, then the others, then swallows. "Is there passage we can book on the Yondabakari river, or are we walking to Galduria? I'm new to this area, so I don't know how travel is arranged in these lands."


Enormous Radioactive Monster - - hp tons/tons - - AC nuh-uh I got forcefield

At The Drunken Dog:

Knowledge: Local DC 15 or Geography DC 10:
There are two main paths to get to Galduria: the Lost Coast Road from Sandpoint, or up the Yondabakari straight to Galduria. Although the Yondabakari is actually the slightly longer of the two routes, it involves a great deal less footwork and practically no threat of goblins or ogres showing up. It's your basic conundrum- the short way, or the safe way? In any case, a river boat ride up to Galduria might take a little less than a day longer, but it's only, on average, 5 gp to book a trip.


[Img] [Stats] [Info] Female Elf Cavalier 3

Somewhere deep in the forest:
"Thank you for your welcome to this sanctuary; If I was to be kept in one place forever, I would like enjoy that place to be this glade. But my spirit is not yet ready settle down, but to I unfold as leaf of the Rose's blossom. Galeth's heart, however, is already with you in this place and might very well remain so forever, if that is your choice, Lady Lyila." Lyila didn't seem to take the relationship with Galeth very seriously, otherwise she would have not talked so casually about that faun she was fond of. Still she cast a silent prayer to Shelyn that there was space for more as she walked up with all her elven pride to the fey until she met her eye to eye.

A slight shiver runs down her spine as the dryad looks at her with that look. There may be many creatures on this world who would be able to deny her a request when she looks at them like this. But if it is so then I am sorry for them. "I will do whatever I can, and with me the White Rose. So, if you feel you need grant me a favour in turn, you know which part of the Rose might flourish most by your kiss." she couldn't help but show a bit of a queer smirk as she Lyila started to speak of druids.

She had seriously hoped to stay out of druid business. Druids could be very funny if one stuck your one's in their business, but they were usually a good people if one did not. "Have you considered the possibility that this village may have prevailed when everyone else did not by making a deal with the evil that causes it? That they are themselves compromised, even if the forest around them is less so?" she paused on this grave thought for a moment.

Finally her mood lightened up a bit she added with a mild smirk: "Regarding Armand... what can you tell me, woman to woman, in detail about Armand? Half-human, half... elf or fey? Do you claim him in any way? if you do, now might be a good time to mention it." The smirk briefly became a grin. "Does he tend to change into any interesting beasts which annoy you or you are fond of? Private details you tell me in this regard will remain between us forever and ever, by my love for the Eternal Rose and all the music in my heart." The Eternal Rose was no reference to the White Rose, of course, but to Shelyn.


Male Human Fighter 2 / Wizard 3 - AC 17 (Mage Armor) | Flat 14 (Mage Armor) | Touch 13 | Fort +6 | Ref +4 | Will +3 | Init +4 | Perc +0 | Prescience 6/6

Dramin tunes out the monk for a short second and focuses, taking note of the history of this small place and the way it was ruined by blight. He begins to formulate a theory on what disease or plague could have crushed the industry.

Knowledge (Nature): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (16) + 10 = 26

He turns back, thoughts storming in his head and tries to assist the monk.

"How to get there... To me I would prefer the fastest route, whether or not it is expensive is inconsequential to me. This Ravenmoor is getting much more interesting by the minute." The glee in his eyes for the dull town isn't human and his focus isn't on the route as much as the destination. Though he thinks he remembers enough to assist and get the best way there.

Knowledge (Geography): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (8) + 10 = 18

He also decides to share the information regarding potential bandits on the road there and uses it as a way to push the faster boat idea.


Female Human Investigator (Spiritualist) 3, Medium 2 || HP 33/33 | AC 15 | T 12 | FF 14 | Fort + 2 | Ref + 5 | Wil + 9 | CMD 15 | Init +2 | Per + 10 (+12 vs surprise) | Sense Motive + 10 | IP 3/3 | Influence 0

I kept my temper until Jeminda left. I spotted her grabbing those prawns. She couldn't afford to pay the lot of us for this job. I'd have to make sure my share slipped back into her pocket somehow. I'm not going to beggar the poor woman.

"You are an idiot, Marsh." Now that the client was gone, I felt free to grab a prawn and pop it into my mouth. Not bad but I prefer my shellfish dipped in tongue-searing spices. "Nothing you said actually helps us. If you really wanted to find out if he was genuinely out on the job we'd need to track down the courier the message came from and follow that chain. See where it came from. Ransacking the man's life and, by extension, our client's life is an idiot's waste of time."

Still, I was proud of Jeminda for standing up to the pig. Good for her. When this whole mess was over, I'd buy her a pint.

Knowledge (Local): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12

I sat back and grabbed another prawn and something to drink. I wouldn't be much help planning the route. My business didn't take me outside the city that often.


Male Human Monk 3
Stats:
HP: 30 || AC: 16 ||Initiative: +6||Perception +7||Fort: 5||Ref: 5||Will: 4

Dalton holds up a placating hand, palm outward. "Peace, peace. We will be working together for some time before this business with Ravenmoor is concluded. I think we should do what we can to ensure our association together is painless. Save the...vehemence for the proper perpetrators."


Enormous Radioactive Monster - - hp tons/tons - - AC nuh-uh I got forcefield

I love this party already. >:D

Calwen:
The dryad's lips curl up into a grin as she listens to you speak. "Your words are a music all their own, my dear elf. I would bid you return here when your task is finished, should it not offend your sensibilities, that I may hear more such poetry spill from those lips. And do beware of speaking of kisses, lest I steal one from you myself." She giggles and twirls one of her braids with a finger. "But in all seriousness, no, I hold no claim to poor Armand, as his is a life too short to bind so tightly; it would sadden me to relieve him of the will to come and go as he pleases. That said, when he chooses to stay close by and visit near-daily, I have no complaints... In truth, Galeth is the one who has ahold of my heart as of late. I fear poor Armand is still a bit sour over this fact."

"Regarding the possibility that Ravenmoor might have made some terrible infernal contract, I believe that was one of the theories Armand was looking into at my behest. It certainly seems a likely explanation, but any knowledge useful in putting an end to the blightings as quickly as possible is knowledge worth seeking."

She leans back and sighs, staring thoughtfully up at the twisting branches of her tree. "Armand is half-elf, as it happens. He's quite fond of wolves, as he takes one as his trusted companion, but to the best of my knowledge he is not one terribly inclined to wild-shaping. I saw him turn into a falcon once; he flew straight into a tree branch and took a nasty tumble. Terrible luck, that poor boy has. I'd have had him become a frog for my amusement, but he seems terribly frightened of the prospect- why, I haven't the foggiest! What harm could I do him if he were a frog? Alas, I shall share more still: He sometimes bears an unpleasant smell beneath his boots. He is allergic to raspberries. He likes to nibble. Do with that what you will."

Her glee soon fades into melancholy. "Ah, and now you have me missing that poor, silly boy. Please do collect him for me, so as to set my fears at ease. Armand is a dear friend, and I would be broken if something terrible has happened to him. If he indeed is fine, and I worry for nothing, would you mind terribly having a look at that blasted village for yourself? Ravenmoor has captured my thoughts of late, and they are not pretty ones. Also, Galeth may have told you of the whisperings of the trees. They speak to me of a coming, an advent-to-be, regarding this town. I will consort with them while you are away and learn as much as I can; perhaps it is a stroke of your Eternal Rose's famous luck that a party will soon approach Ravenmoor searching for answers of their own. I am no Norn, but I trust my instincts and the words of my verdant brothers and sisters enough to declare this: there is something shared between our plight and theirs. 'Twould seem your fates are bound to become intertwined before long." She lifts a leg and points past you with her foot. "Off with you, now, southward two hours or so to Armand's home. Watch for the reed men, they will show you the right path. When you see the tree of one of my long-dead sisters, you will know you have come to the right place."

- - - - -

Dramin:
Your knowledge of nature is sufficient to tell you that there are a hundred different manners that a "blight" could set about a town- natural or supernatural. The vineyards could have become infested with insects, perhaps- that alone could bring about a serious problem, but treating an insect infestation with the wrong sorts of chemical solutions or inappropriately-applied magical spells could have created an even bigger problem. Plagues are not uncommon in more rural areas, particularly ones that are isolated from the rest of civilization; Ravenmoor, from what little you know, seems to fit the bill. You're vaguely aware that the region around Ravenmoor is known to have a little bit of a bug problem.


Oracle (lvl 5) | HP 30/30 | AC:19 (23 CoD), T:12, F:15 | CMD:15, CMB:+3 | Save F+1, R+3, W+5 (+4 vs Illusions, Disguises, Divinations) | Init:+3 | Perc: +9 (DV 60ft) || Wands CLW 25/50 || Spells: lvl 1 (6/7) | lvl 2 (4/5)

Cripes, it's Sandima's Night Club all over again. Bacarov sighs, glad for the monk's effort but concerned it won't be enough to stop Marsh from getting his dander up. He puffs his pipe, eyes flicking down to view Warshawski's note. Hitman'll have to wait...

But his investigative mind is already turning. Bacarov slips a glance in the direction of the alleged ne'erdowell. Warshawski's spectres couldn't sit in for for a barrister, but they could manage a clue or two.
¤ Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (7) + 11 = 18 (the hitman-type)
¤ Knowledge (nobility): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27 (the nobleman)

He let his mind pour over his memories like well-known scrolls, cataloged in such a way that only Bacarov knew the ups and downs of the system. But outwardly, he leans forward and whispers to Marsh, "Ní Tá súil tráchtearra forbidden, deartháir. Tá iarr duine éigin tá sé is fearr chun ligean chun é. Teaghais i dathanna dorchadas ar fud an domhain i claonadh."

Halfling:

..
"Hope is not a forbidden commodity, brother. Sometime's it's best to allow for it. Dwelling in our kind of darkness, colors the world in our bias."

He turns to Warshawski and smiles. "Glad we could pick up where we left off, but I'm with our disciplined ally here. Cooler heads for such an undertaking would be better. Vinnie has his ways of getting to the truth, you have yours." Bacarov pinches the stem of his pipe in his teeth and scoots some of the dipping sauce over and gathers a few prawns. "Besides, I'm sure there's a time when you've said the right thing in the wrong place. 9 hells, I've mistakenly told a woman her husband had been killed only to have him walk in the door behind me." He shrugs, not liking the memory of his first year year as an inspector. "Right message, wrong flat."

"I'm thinking that this Elias bit off more than he could chew. Marsh here might have the right of it, walking into a town down on its luck and trying to leave with the coffers and the linens..." He takes a bite of prawn, chews and swallows then continues. "...I'd say we have 200 suspects in Ravenmoor that need questioning regarding the 500 reasons they had to put a hurt on Elias."

¤ Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (17) + 11 = 28 (routes)

"My vote is to go the same way Elias went, follow his backtrail. Maybe he opened his mouth along the way and his mission was compromised. Judging by his note, he didn't have a problem bragging a smidge. Passage up the river is only 5 gold." Bacarov glances Marsh's way and then to Warshawski then to the others. "My other thought, even if it's overkill, is that a look-see at Elias' flat might not be out of order. Marsh and I could handle it, if no one else is interested. 500 gold is a lot. If someone else had the interest, they could have been following him from Magnimar."

He looks to the others to gauge their response.


[Img] [Stats] [Info] Female Elf Cavalier 3

Somewhere deep in the forest:
"So I shall, but take this gift from me, so you will not be forced to steal." Calwen gives Lyila a kiss on the cheek (if she doesn't back away) and curtseys as she takes a step away. With a smile and no more words she takes her leave, and only send out for Windmane mentally. She lets him play a bit more with the nixies, curious how his hair is gonna look in the end, and puts her clothes, armor and equipment back on. Finally however, there is no more reason to delay her departure and with a deep sigh and a look back to the place where she met the dryad and a blown kiss to the nixies, she rides out into the corrupted forest.

He likes to nibble. the thought still echoed in her mind. Quite cheeky of the dryad to plant that thought into her mind.


Male Human Fighter 2 / Wizard 3 - AC 17 (Mage Armor) | Flat 14 (Mage Armor) | Touch 13 | Fort +6 | Ref +4 | Will +3 | Init +4 | Perc +0 | Prescience 6/6

"You heard the lady, the flat has already been looked at. I understand you're professionals but we need to head out as soon as possible. The trail gets colder by the day and the more time we waste acting like vultures", Dramin looks at Marsh, his gaze neutral and non judgemental, "the more likely he is either dead, dying or in the middle of something just as unpleasant."

Dramin crosses his arms and leans up against the wall's corner eyeing the rest of the bar; or more specifically the door. He quietly moves his hands and let's off a quick Detect Magic in the area, part habit, part boredom. He doesn't know what he's looking for in particular.

"Let me know when your conscience speaks up."

His self righteous words are very flimsy, he knows it and he doesn't care who notices or doesn't as he pulls out his book and starts to read.


Enormous Radioactive Monster - - hp tons/tons - - AC nuh-uh I got forcefield

Sebastian:
The tough you can't quite identify, though you've seen his type before: a professional. The fancy-dressed fellow, however, you can name: Alberto Raldhing, owner of a popular up-and-coming restaurant in the Marble District. This is not exactly his neighborhood, nor does the heavy he's engaging in hushed conversation with seem his type of company.

Dramin:
You don't detect any particular magical auras aside from some of the gear worn by your new comrades, and the rapier on the well-dressed man at the bar.

Calwen:
Lyila does not draw away as you kiss her cheek, and in fact gives you a quick peck of her own before you can step away. "Be careful in the wood, sweet elf, and let the wind carry you swiftly. Farewell for now."

Windmane, whose mighty locks are now tied into a number of tiny braids dotted with colorful rocks and shells, snorts and trots toward you, and the nixies wave goodbye as you depart. The clarity of the air and the refreshing quiet present around Lyila's pool vanish suddenly once you reach the edge of her influence, and again you are struck by the dense humidity that makes the air feel like syrup. As you make your way down the sparse trail, you spot from time to time a tiny human-shaped doll woven from reeds attached to a tree trunk or hanging from a branch.

Windmane carries you down the trail for just over two hours before you see a large, dark pillar of wood sticking up in the middle of a small clearing. Many of the trees around here are cracked and dying, if not already dead- sunlight pours in through the gaps in their branches, lending the area an eerie contrast. The air here is still, stagnant, and some awful stench clings to the place.

The clopping of Windmane's hooves slows to a crawl as he comes through the treeline into the clearing. The huge shape you saw before is an enormous oak much like Lyila's own, but without the pool of water, and with the same sort of dry, cracked texture as the rest of the trees nearby. Dead- as is the dryad that was once bonded to it. A large hollow has been carved into its husk, and within that hollow is Armand's little shack.

It is little better than a hut, really. Evidence abounds that the druid had made some effort to repair the area around his home, judging from the moss and vines criss-crossing the exterior of the structure- some of which has crawled out into and across the broken, long-dead tree. Holly and mistletoe dangle from the awning, and the door of the shack hangs slightly ajar.

How you approach from here is up to you.


Female Human Investigator (Spiritualist) 3, Medium 2 || HP 33/33 | AC 15 | T 12 | FF 14 | Fort + 2 | Ref + 5 | Wil + 9 | CMD 15 | Init +2 | Per + 10 (+12 vs surprise) | Sense Motive + 10 | IP 3/3 | Influence 0

I felt my jaw clenching at Bacarov's words. I took a breath, counted to ten in three different languages, then released it.

"You're right. We can't discount old gambling debts or an old friend with them." I washed down the prawns and then stood up. I wished I had some better ale to do the job right.

"And you're right." I motioned towards the fair-haired man. Jodare. "We need to pick up the trail as soon as possible. But starting on the journey midday's not smart. We want an early jump to have as much travel time as possible."

I closed my eyes and listened to the whispers of the spirits. Souls far older and more experienced than mine. I nodded my head in time to the music of their mutterings, piecing together the advice I needed until I knew what to say next.

"So, here's the plan." I pointed at Bacarov. "You and I will go to his Elias's room and investigate. That's our job, after all. Marsh, take the tattooed man here and check the usual dives and haunts. Ask around. If Elias owed money, if he planned on stealing money, if someone wanted to steal from him, there's word of it out there. Five hundred gold not as much as it seems. It would be a tempting target but not for the higher class of criminal. The sorts that would be interested in it aren't known for keeping their yaps shut. Jodare, go and book us passage for tomorrow. If you can, find the boat that took Elias. If we can spend our time traveling questioning the people on that boat we'll be killing two phoenixes with one crossbow bolt."

I opened my eyes and looked around the room. All men except for me. Figures.

"Any questions?"


Male Human Monk 3
Stats:
HP: 30 || AC: 16 ||Initiative: +6||Perception +7||Fort: 5||Ref: 5||Will: 4

"With respect to you, Mr. Bacarov, I feel I must agree with Dramin. I have an uneasy feeling about this town. I wish to get to the bottom of why that is, as soon as possible." Dalton looks around. "I'll...go check the price of a boat trip upriver."


Female Human Investigator (Spiritualist) 3, Medium 2 || HP 33/33 | AC 15 | T 12 | FF 14 | Fort + 2 | Ref + 5 | Wil + 9 | CMD 15 | Init +2 | Per + 10 (+12 vs surprise) | Sense Motive + 10 | IP 3/3 | Influence 0

Perception to search Elias' room. Spending an Inspiration Point on it.: 1d20 + 1d6 + 9 ⇒ (4) + (4) + 9 = 17

Current Inspiration Pool: 1


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Oracle (lvl 5) | HP 30/30 | AC:19 (23 CoD), T:12, F:15 | CMD:15, CMB:+3 | Save F+1, R+3, W+5 (+4 vs Illusions, Disguises, Divinations) | Init:+3 | Perc: +9 (DV 60ft) || Wands CLW 25/50 || Spells: lvl 1 (6/7) | lvl 2 (4/5)

"Dividing up the toils will save time. We'll get the early start and make up some time if the wind's on our side." Bacarov responds. "If we're happy about who does what, let's get moving. Shall we meet at the tavern near Red Kestrel Imports? East side, I don't rascal the name but there's a giant carp all painted red for a sign. Can't miss it."

If all is well with the plan, and after sharing a word with Marsh about not cracking skills if it's not necessary, Bacarov pulls his own notebook and scribbles down a note. Once done, he addresses it to Aureleum in the legate office. Sebastian will find a runner to deliver the message, offering the requisite delivery cost plus 2 silver.

Note:

...

V,

I've been graced with the loquacious presence of a new proprietor out of Marbles. He's a d ishy sort, but injects a rare bouquet to engender affable nuances.

I'm noticing the weight he draws, intentional it seems. Better see who might be writing bad reviews.

See you at dinner,

S
-------
The bolded letters will call out the name Al Raldhing. The rest is cryptic reference to his association with a professional criminal. The last, Bacarov had never kept a dinner date with her. It's reference to the possibility of a case.

That out of the way, he holds the door pen for Warshawski and they make their exit.

--------
After:

"Thanks for the tip earlier. I've sent word to have a look at Rahlding...the fancy dressed gent back there." He walks along in silence, eyes sweeping the street, pleased at the more diverse crowds native to Ordelia. "How are things?" Bacarov asks finally. "Haven't seen you since that business last year."

At Elias' Room
¤ Diplomacy: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (2) + 11 = 13 (working neighborhood fixtures for info on Elias)
¤ Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (11) + 9 = 20 (checking Elias' room)

If we gain access while Anikee isn't there, Bacarov has a look around her area of the flat.
¤ Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22 (checking Anikee's room)


Female Human Investigator (Spiritualist) 3, Medium 2 || HP 33/33 | AC 15 | T 12 | FF 14 | Fort + 2 | Ref + 5 | Wil + 9 | CMD 15 | Init +2 | Per + 10 (+12 vs surprise) | Sense Motive + 10 | IP 3/3 | Influence 0

I walked with Bacarov to Anikee's home. Getting in wasn't hard. After all, we were invited. There wasn't much to search. It wouldn't take us long.

"I don't like the games the noble play." I confessed to Bacarov. "Even if they don't call themselves nobles in the strictest sense here. Lives matter. They shouldn't rise and fall at the toss of a coin and the flash of a knife. I've been fine. Busy. Always people trying to get out of paying their fair share."

I began searching the room, taking my time and trying not to make too much of a mess. I've never been fond of the toss and dump method of going through a place.


[Img] [Stats] [Info] Female Elf Cavalier 3

Somewhere deep in the forest:
The contrast could not be much steeper. The vivid, sensual dryad Lyila and the home of a dead dryad, a giant dead oak which is looming as a threat over the forest now. To think that the place was once a place like Lyila's glade was highly unsettling to say the least. She waited for a moment when she arrived at it, but Windmane didn't seem to pick up anything. Right now she would have found the smell of half-man or wolf very soothing.

Perception (Windmane): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8
Consider scent as well, please

Calwen strapped her shield on before she climbed of Windmane's back and drew the massive bastard sword from her back right afterwards. "Be on your guard."* she whispered to her trusty stallion and circled around the tree and the hut first in order to get an impression, find anything that doesn't seem to fit. She would check out the interior of the hut afterwards. But just to make sure she called out in elven: "Hello, friend. Calwen Snowpaw of the White Rose wishes to speak to you on behalf of the lady of the forest." Lyila might not be "the" lady of the forest, but it was close enough.

Then she started her round.
Survival: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23
She is looking for tracks around the hut and tree that seem out of place
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19
She searches for anything that seems out of place.

---
* Trick: Stay


Male Human Fighter 2 / Wizard 3 - AC 17 (Mage Armor) | Flat 14 (Mage Armor) | Touch 13 | Fort +6 | Ref +4 | Will +3 | Init +4 | Perc +0 | Prescience 6/6

Dramin notices the tattooed man deciding he wishes to check on the harbour. There's a slight twinge of actual empathy for a second for the man, and its just enough to push Dramin.

"Hey you. He says pointing at the monk, "I'll come with you. Not to discredit you, but if you're new here you never know what might occur. I would hate to see you lost in this cesspool personally." Dramin was sure the monk could see through his demeanor and to his own personal agenda but again, he didn't mind. It saved him the trouble of having to explain himself.

"If you don't mind, give me a minute here, I feel something may be relevant. If you wish to go on ahead I understand." Dramin walks up slowly to the man with the magical rapier, unsure as to why.

Strange to see someone with gear like that in a place like this, well discounting current company of course. Lets see if he could potentially be a threat, after I pin down the weapon lets see if hes here out of sheer coincidence.

Prescience: 1d20 ⇒ 12
4 Uses Remaining today

Appraise: 12 + 7 = 19

Also perform a Spellcraft check (+9) if he's capable of determining the spell signature on it.


Male Human Monk 3
Stats:
HP: 30 || AC: 16 ||Initiative: +6||Perception +7||Fort: 5||Ref: 5||Will: 4

Dalton waits patiently for Dramin to finish.


Male Human Fighter 2 / Wizard 3 - AC 17 (Mage Armor) | Flat 14 (Mage Armor) | Touch 13 | Fort +6 | Ref +4 | Will +3 | Init +4 | Perc +0 | Prescience 6/6

Dramin cocks his head to the monk and back to the man, circling back to Dalton. In reality hes using it as a ruse to get a different angle on the man's face and wonders if he recognizes him.

Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (16) + 10 = 26

He feels he might but is unsure as to whether or not he's here for the atmosphere or to potentially keep an eye on the group.

I must be getting paranoid like Giacomo.

If there's nothing of real relevance gained by the few checks (Appraise, Spellcraft, Knowledge (local)) Dramin will show Dalton the door and head out with him.


Enormous Radioactive Monster - - hp tons/tons - - AC nuh-uh I got forcefield

- - Magnimar - -

The Anikee Residence
When the group arrives at Jeminda Anikee's residence, she welcomes them inside and immediately ushers them to her missing brother-in-law's rented room. "Anyone want tea?" she asks, eager to keep herself busy and get out of your way. "I'm going to make tea. And biscuits. Anyone want biscuits? Yes? No? Well, I'm going to make some, so, er, do as you will. Call if you need me."

Elias Kyle's room is about what one would expect: filthy, with clothing strewn across haphazardly and little order to anything. His records, for instance, are stowed underneath at least three different pairs of dirty socks, none of which match one another.

Bacarov:
You find little of interest. You do find Kyle's lockbox, which is curiously unlocked- and empty. It appears as though if he had any savings in here, he must have taken them with him. You also find a few booklets of "adult illustrations" tucked away at the bottom of a drawer that seems well-used. Sorry about that. Earlier, while canvassing the neighborhood haunts, you learn that Elias had not been getting out much lately, and that he had begun acting "all high and mighty" since getting his job as a tax collector, and had made a concerted effort to separate himself from his "old crowd" of surly friends.

While Jeminda is cooking, you take a moment to break away and peek into her room, which is just one door down. A quick but thorough assessment finds it clean and well-maintained, but with little of note aside from a wastebasket full of what appear to be rejected drafts of submissions to a local personals column (describing Jeminda as "quirky and voluptuous shapely kind"). An ink drawing of Jeminda and her sister, who appears very similar to her in appearance, is framed on her nightdesk. They look very happy together. A pile of bills is neatly stacked nearby.

Warshawski:
You find nothing useful, but plenty of flyers for local adult clubs.

Bacarov and Warshawski both:
An aged pamphlet about Riddleport is tucked between his mattress and bedsprings. In the back of it, a map of Riddleport has several locations circled, then crossed-out. It looks as if it has been beneath the mattress for quite some time.

- - - -

At The Dancing Dog & Later, near the docks

Dramin carefully observes the well-dressed man's rapier and attempts to discern the magical signature upon it as Dalton watches. The well-dressed man completely fails to notice this or Dramin, for that matter, and continues on his way- but not before Dramin is able to identify that the rapier bears an enchantment that enhances its already-formidable ability to strike an opponent's vital areas. It's a +1 keen rapier, in case you're wondering. You recognize the man as a local restaurateur, Alberto Rahlding, who has a popular up-and-coming eatery in the upscale Marble District. As Rahlding departs, you decide to go ahead and take your leave.

The docks are lively as ever, bustling with heavyset workers and thick with the smell of sweat. Prices on vessels heading up the Yondabakari appear to average out at about 5 GP, if the signs and banners happen to be accurate.

- - - -

In the Churlwood:

No answer comes from the shack.

Whitemane snorts and clops anxiously at the ground, and though he seems to have no idea what it might be, he seems disturbed by some smell nearby. Perhaps it is the gloomy, dead aura hanging over the area like a penumbra.

You examine the ground around the entrance to the shack and, though they seem to be weeks old, you find several sets of tracks dotting the soft, muddy earth around the great dead oak's roots. Most of them appear to be the size and shape of the average human male, though one set appears considerably larger- still within human range, but larger than the rest by more than a few boot sizes. There are also a number of strange, pinprick-like holes in the muck as well, but those do not fit any sort of track you recognize.

You begin to cautiously make your way around the back side of the tree, noting that the tracks continue around and into the wood. Strangely, as you peer into the darkness, you spot something hanging in the trees about a hundred yards back, your elven eyes straining to make out the shape.

Want to see what it is, or look into the shack?


Human Barb 1/Rgr 2/Rog 2 HP 41 AC 19, touch 12, flat-footed 17 Fort +6, Ref +8, Will +1 Init +4 Perception +9 Sense Motive +7 Evasion

"Say whatever you want I'm going to check his room. Don't move anything around I want to see what it looks like as it was left. The best place to start is always from the beginning. Besides I've got to have Sebastian's six, and yours Warshawski. You have a tendency to attract bladed weapons and nobody likes a tax collector. Luckily I don't actually hate you. One thing though. Don't hit me again unless you want help crossin over to float around with the ghosts you love so much."

"It's great to try to be all warm and fuzzy, but don't tell a mother don't worry we will find your child, because often times you don't. Don't tell em it's gonna be okay, cause a lot of times it isn't. Talkin out of your ass doesn't help anyone."

"Heh, Dalton that's a good one buddy, tell me if you seen mine."

"I specialize in hunting down men. That's why I'm here. I can't wait to see what Warshawski does if it turns out this guy did steal the gold, she'd cite her own mother for a mistake on her deductions. Let's get goin."

"Like vultures, heh heh, good one I like that."

______________Later at the rented room_______________

perception: 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 6 + 2 = 24


Enormous Radioactive Monster - - hp tons/tons - - AC nuh-uh I got forcefield

Marsh, you can take a look into the spoiler boxes for Bacarov and Warshawski in the previous post. Your perception check doesn't uncover anything new, but you spot all the same things the two of them did. Feel free to draw your own conclusions. ;)


Female Human Investigator (Spiritualist) 3, Medium 2 || HP 33/33 | AC 15 | T 12 | FF 14 | Fort + 2 | Ref + 5 | Wil + 9 | CMD 15 | Init +2 | Per + 10 (+12 vs surprise) | Sense Motive + 10 | IP 3/3 | Influence 0

"Order me around again, Marsh, and you and I will be having more than words, understand? You are not a trained investigator. I gave you the benefit of a doubt that you could actually do intelligence gathering. That's why I asked you to gather the damned intelligence. Instead, you're here, putting a third man on what's a two man job. Wasting time. Wasting resources. Just like you always do."

Yeah, I was angry. The man was not only telling me how to do my job, he was trying to do it for me.

"Bacarov, reign him in or if this turns south, we all die because his ego will keep him from actually sticking to any actual plan."

I turned back to the evidence. If you could call it that. He liked adult entertainment and he thought about escaping to Riddleport years ago. Given his wife's death, I didn't blame him. Assuming it was his to begin with.

"There's nothing here that suggests he ditched and ran." [i]I poke to Bacarov. He was at least a colleague. "If he did, he went to Riddleport but even then he wouldn't have done it until after he got the coin. Which means we're still going to Ravenmoor."


Male Human Fighter 2 / Wizard 3 - AC 17 (Mage Armor) | Flat 14 (Mage Armor) | Touch 13 | Fort +6 | Ref +4 | Will +3 | Init +4 | Perc +0 | Prescience 6/6

"So welcome to the glorious docks." Dramin patted his new buddy on the shoulders, the scent of the water and work in the air. "I'm going to look around to see if I can find his last whereabouts, what boat he was on, who was with him; all of that. I don't know what you know, but keep your hands in your pockets. Feel free to come with I suppose." He walks off with barely a glance at Dalton, clearly unaware of the man and what he can offer.

Dramin wasn't too familiar with the area but it wouldn't take long to learn the ins and outs. He observed the workers for a little and found one who seemed to have a little more know-how and wasn't nearly as gruff.

He walks up to the man, "Hey you there! I'm looking for passage to Galduria, do you happen to know of anyone who does travels up to there? Or if not travels, shipments? I see all the signs for up the river but I'm looking for that little place specifically."

Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28


Enormous Radioactive Monster - - hp tons/tons - - AC nuh-uh I got forcefield

You got that one easily, Dramin.

"Yeah, sure," the dock worker says. "There's the Lucky Dragon- does a run up to Ember Lake and back every week, docks in Galduria for a layover during the night, I think. Captain's a halfling named Bach. Good lad, he is. Prolly shouldn't call 'im 'lad,' though- considerin' he's older'n me- jus' a bad habit, s'all." The worker scratches his scruffy neck. "If you're headin' up to Galduria, I'd suggest lookin' his way. Most blokes here do, if they know what's good for 'em- Bach won't screw ya over like some of these dogfish. He'll take passengers, cargo, whatever y'like- but his boat ain't too big, so I wouldn't recommend it to groups too large. No more'n ten folks at a time, I reckon. I'd ask 'im yerself if ye've got any questions."

He gestures toward the Lucky Dragon, where you spot a stout halfling with graying hair and a cigar sticking out of his lips milling about on its deck.

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