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Pharast 16th, 4715
Mostly ignoring the Dottari during their visit to Laria's, Leila continues munching her breakfast and coming up with a fun trick. Afterwards, she and Mr. Flap Flap begin their communion.
Casting Wing Bounty as per usual [dice=Berries]2d4+6
Stepping out into the city, Leila wanders near to the Opera House and casts Insect Scouts (creates one magical insect scout of Fine size. 1 HP, 20 AC. move speed of 5ft or 20ft flying, w/perfect movement)
"Ok buggy bug. You have a special job. Go to that big building there, and see what you can find in there. Anything interesting at all would be super duper helpful. But watch out for the bad men that are in there."
[dice=Scouting duration in hours]1d6+3
[dice=Scout Perception]1d20+6
[dice=Scout Stealth]1d20+19
After casting her spell, Leila proceeds to the Devil's Nursery and offers berries (ie food) or aid to any in need.
[ooc]Berries 29 (11, 7, 11)
** spoiler omitted **
You distribute berries to a number of destitute in the Devil's Nursery, who are grateful for the assistance.
Trying to keep as low a profile as possible, Rath spends most of his day over at Clenchjaws hanging out.
After repaying Lily the gold she most graciously lent him to improve Bessy, he heads down to the Newt Market.
Upon reaching the Newt Market, the ilicit drugs left back at the hideout for now, Huck tips his hat to the closest vendor. As he has never actually met this proprietor, Huck spends a moment browsing what may be on display before speaking out. Though I would have gathered a general description from the group before heading out.
Reaching his hand out, a gold coin tuckeded within his grip. "Ho there partner, I was wonderin if you could be so kind as to point me in the direction of the Newt. I was hopin to talk some business if he's rightly available."
Huck, tipping his hat in greeting. "Well allo, name's Huck, and I had a hankerin to talk shop with ya if you have a moment to spare. Someplace a bit more private mayhaps?" Huck takes a pull from his flask before offering one to the Newt, following if we are heading somewher else.
"Ya see, my friends and I are, well we are workin on something pretty big here in this fine city. I got ta thinkin, I reckon you would be a mighty helpful addition to this work we are doin. Ya see, throughout our endeavors here, we may come across some rather frowned upon items. Now, I got to thinkin that you may be interested in said items in exchange for future services. I reckon down the road we may need some help with funding or a discreet gathering of some not so favorable items. Could prove to be a rather profitable relationship."
Taking another pull from his flask "Now before I go gettin all specific and such, ya think this may be something you reckon you may be interested in?"
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After repaying Lily the gold she most graciously lent him to improve Bessy, he heads down to the Newt Market.
Upon reaching the Newt Market, the ilicit drugs left back at the hideout for now, Huck tips his hat to the closest vendor. As he has never actually met this proprietor, Huck spends a moment browsing what may be on display before speaking out. Though I would have gathered a general description from the group before heading out.
** spoiler omitted **
** spoiler omitted **
Pharast 16th, 4715
The Newt is small even by gnome standards, with bright yellow eyes and dull, jaundiced skin. He dresses in simple clothes in earth tones, with no jewelry to note that this is one of the most wealthy men in the city.
You're lead into a small, cramped office. The Newt sits behind a tiny desk, neat and orderly. The only ornamentation a small, golden holy symbol of Abadar hanging on the wall above his head.
After your pitch, he chuckles.
”So you want to sell me, what, drugs? Poisons? Contraband religious material? Well, say not another word! I'll purchase what you have, and more besides. But, it sounds like you don't want to just sell me stuff—you want me to be in your debt.” He shakes his head.
”No. That's not how this works. You can buy or sell anything you want in the Newt Market—I can set you up with a stall right now, if you like. I take a cut of the proceeds, which goes towards the bribes and guards that make this place possible. But, I think, that's not what you want. You don't want to get your hands dirty. You don't want to push Pesh to a man who's got nothing else on his mind—certainly not the family he's neglecting.”
He snickers. ”Bring your goods, and I will buy them. And sell them, to whoever has the coin. That is the nature of things—there should be no barrier between the flow of goods from he-who-has, to he-who-wants, only the blessed medium of currency. I will dirty my hands, for you, sir—charging only a reasonable vigorish.”
"Good Newt, you are quite right there, to an extent. Here's what I'm fixin to bring to the table." Taking a pull from his flask before continuing. "I'm not lookin for a means to simply sell of these goods, but rather I'm looking for someone I can rely on to assist me and my compatriots when needed. Be that the purchase of some rare items not normally found, contacts to turn to for any kind of useful information, or some kind of discount in future endevors. The only condition I have for these transactions is that the items we provide cannot be sold to the innocent, to the children of Kintargo. Who knows, mayhaps at some point said bribes and guards may not be needed."
Huck, reaching his hand out for a gentlemans agreement. "So Newt, what do you say, do we have an accord?"
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Pharast 16th, 4715
”Oh, of course, I won't sell to innocents!” He exclaims, wide-eyed. ”Perish the thought.”
His face goes slack, his faux-outrage gone. ”Innocents don't have any money. The rest of us are stained. I sell to whoever has coin.”
”As far as what you want out of the deal—besides the right to dictate my business arrangements according to whatever myopic and half-thought-out moral code is the operating paradigm for your little organization-- I don't think we need a special arrangment for that. I will sell you anything I have, regardless of rarity, assuming you can afford it. I will sell you information, including contacts, without compunction or hesitation, barring only the professional courtesy due to operators of our kind. And, seeing as I have never offered anyone a discount before, I can see no way a bit of contraband would so drastically change my approach to business as to even bother discussing it at this juncture.”
He sighs. ”Mr. LeBerry, I have a number of gifts, but the one that has done me the most good in my life is my ability to read people. I can tell, you are one of nature's true believers. I am much the same. The world is full of people who drift from event to event, with no guiding purpose, no bedrock beneath their feet. And so I sympathise. I know how you find yourself in my uncomfortable little office, asking a person you likely find morally contemptable to make a deal.
“People out there will tell you that the Newt is a hard man, a nasty little bugger—and likely much worse. They aren't wrong, but they aren't right either—they just have no frame of reference to deal with people like me—and, I think, people like you. They can't imagine us. It almost makes it like they can't see us—we aren't really there in front of them. They just see themselves, in our clothes.”
”I will deal Shiver directly into an orphanage, Mr. LeBerry, because it's the right thing to do. I'll do it with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. Why, my feet scarecely would touch the floor! Now, if I'm much mistaken, and you are just fine with that, when you strip all your pretty words away, come on back. Bring whatever it is you've found or taken, whatever the Black-and-Reds have decided Must. Not. Be. Sold. Bring it to me, and I will pay you a fair price for it. Otherwise, I believe we have no deal.” He smiles sadly at you.
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Declan was rather annoyed at the interruption to his conversation with his father, especially as he was denied even the opportunity to respond to his belittlement at his father's hands. It took him a moment to even process his brother's question.
"What? Oh, yes. He's perturbed alright." He raised his voice pointedly, "Your colleague--Egregious is it?--certainly committed quite the faux pas. Someone should remind him it is not wise to interrupt his betters. Father was dangerously close there to expressing open anger."
Declan chuckled before sighing and continuing as he walked with his brother through the halls of Tanessen Manor, "As usual he is disappointed in yours truly. However now that you mention it, I couldn't help noticing that his disappointment seemed to actually deepen upon Old Creeky's announcement of your arrival. If I didn't know better, I'd say that father dearest does not approve of something you are up to."
While Collin was surely not cruel like his other brother, father's approval--and attention--always seemed to come so easy to him, so seeing it withheld gave Declan real satisfaction. After allowing himself that momentary pleasure, he refocused on the task at hand, and played the supportive younger brother, "I apologize, that was unkind. You'll have to forgive me feeling a bit of camaraderie at sharing with you, father's disfavor. However, while I may be a lost cause, you certainly are not. Perhaps I can help."
Jeeves interjected, "But Master how can you help? You know nothing of master Collin's activities of late and--"
"That's enough! Declan silenced him with a glare, before sighing and continuing with Collin. "Unfortunately my presumptuous manservant is correct, I am not in the know, as it were, of your activities of late, so I cannot speculate on which might be troubling father. But that just means that the two of us have some catching up to do!" Declan said returning his brother's clap on the back from earlier (with all the strength he could muster) with a big smile, "What has my big brother been up to? Spare no grizzly detail!"
"Did I hear correctly earlier? Old Chauncey took a bottled torch to the face, eh? Perhaps he will finally reevaluate that high opinion he has of himself." Declan laughed before shaking his head and continuing on a more somber note, "Alas, I shouldn't laugh as our city rends itself. I trust at least that you have the culprits in custody?"
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Pharast 16th, 4715
Collin's laugh is booming and infectious, as always.
”Oh,you should see him, Declan. Padraig said something, cutting, I wish I could remember it exactly, something about him having the pink sheen of a worm to match the temperament.”
He sits down at the table, grabbing a hunk of bread and pouring himself a glass of wine.
”Well,” he begins, mouth full, ”we didn't get many of them. Or, to be more precise, any of them,” he says with a look of chagrin. ”Regegious ordered a fighting retreat. He killed a couple, but they proved resistant to post-mortem interrogation. We killed more of them then they killed of us, but still, bit of a fiasco, really.”
[b]”They were quite well prepared. Two pronged attack—one group hitting Chauncey, the other breaking out the people they had doghoused.”
”They're traitors, but they're clever. Luckily, we've got our own clever people. I wanted to go straight to the source, find that retired professor that leads them and drag her off to the Holding House or the Keep. Both Declan and Darius said that would be a mistake. Can't say I understand the arguments, myself, but Declan said they were keeping an eye on her, and they'd take care of her soon enough.”
”As for what I've been up to, not much to say, really. Mostly I'm muscle—wasn't born with the brains of my little brothers!” he laughs again, and drains his wine glass.
”Darius and his father are worried that the anarchists will graduate from attacking Dottari to attacking the cities Nobles, so I'm probably going to get stuck on bodyguard duty for someone. I've got seven stout lads in my squad. Common birth, but brave, and good patriots. Bit bloodthirsty at times, but I'm doing what I can to temper that.”
”But enough about me, what have you been up to?”
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Pharast 16th, 4715
Rath learns the following during his day at Clenchjaws:
“The Nidalese Embassy has been abandoned—agents of the Umbral Court have withdrawn to their own nation during these troubled times. Still, the high priestess of Shadowsquare on Temple Hill hasn’t fled town. Wonder if she’s got personal reasons for remaining in Kintargo?”
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All it took was hearing Collins laugh to soften Declan. It really had been too long since he spent time with him. It didn't take long before he was laughing along with him, not in his usual constrained chuckle, but in deep belly laughs.
"Pink sheen of a worm? Okay that is perfect! Shame to hear about the loss of your men, and honestly it is a shame to hear about the death of more of our citizens, even treasonous ones. The route that our Lord Mayor has taken certainly is a bloody one. It undoubtedly seems like there must be a diplomatic solution somewhere. Then again that would require Barzilai to compromise."
Declan let that thought hang for a moment and then cleared his throat. "Forgive me, brother. I let emotion get the better of me there. It is surely foolish to say such disloyal things to a member of the Chelish Citizens Group--even if he is my big brother!" he laughed and joined his brother for a glass of wine.
"You ask what I have been doing? Well I guess I have been spending too much time in taverns, hearing the sob stories of the common folk whining that they're being persecuted," he laughed and refilled Collin's glass while he carefully took small sips of his own. "In fact I tried to offer my help to Padraig for the Dottari to act as a pair of eyes and ears among the people, as well as making sure that our side, as the ruling aristocracy, is heard. Alas, father forbid it apparently on the grounds that I still dine at his table. As if he truly wants me out there seeking lodging at a time like this?"
After refilling Collin's glass again, he adopted a slight slur to his words "So it s-sounds like Padraig and this Egregious fellow are calling the shots? Aren't you the big brother? The elder member of the elder family? S-seems to me like they oughtta be lis-stening to you! If they are so sure this professor is guilty why leave her on the streets? Ugh! Do you remember playing chess with Padraig? He would take sooo long to take his turns and would never seem to go on offense. He'd just spend all his time creating these elaborate traps. Ugh, it was exhausting!" Declan said, rolling his eyes.
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Pharast 16th, 4715
Jeeves can tell Collin is uncomfortable with criticism of Barzilai Thrune, but he plays it off with a laugh and a shrug after Declan appologizes.
He shrugs. ”Well, Darius' father founded the Chellish Citizens Group. And Darius is a good leader, a very clever man. There are plenty who think he's gotten above his station—the Regegious family is barely nobility, if you listen to some of them—but, technically speaking, he's just a lieutenant in the organization. Chauncey and I both outrank him, so far as that goes. I just don't care much about that. I just want to help keep the peace, and he seems to have a better shot at that than just about anyone else I've listened to.”
He shrugs again. ”I'm all game for grabbing her, but tell you the truth, I'm not looking forward to another go-around with Padraig on that. 'Oh, Collin, don't you know they're anarchists? They have a, what do you call it, 'non-heirarchical organizing methodology', or whatever. He says there's no point in grabbing her, it'll just embolden them to make more attacks. He thinks she's the cleverest of them, but that just makes her more cautious, and less aggressive. So less fatalities. I don't know, I guess it makes sense.” He frowns, but shakes his head.
”Anyway, there's a whole lot of layers of legal mumbo-jumbo involved. We've been given some statutory power, and it mostly involves quelling disturbances of the peace, which this definitely qualifies as, but we're still beneath the Dottari in most ways. If they say no, it's a no.
[b]”Still, got to make father a little proud, a Tanessen rising so far in the Dottari. He always used to drone on about service and sacrifice for the state. I wonder why he forbid you to join up?”
Jeeves senses no indication that Collin is suspicious of Declan.
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Pharast 17th, 4715, around 9:00 AM
The following morning, Rexus gathers everyone together to share what he's deciphered from the documents.
”Well, I've learned some truly fascinating things from the cache of Silver Ravens documents we recovered.
“I've learned the names of what I believe the most prominent members of the Silver Ravens to be. Besides Jackdaw there was Amyreid, a female half-elven priestess of Milani; Ba, a male halfling enchanter; Kyda, a human scoundrel and thief; and Brakisi, a male human ranger.
“Our noble predecessor's succesfully saved the city from being conquered no fewer than a dozen times during the Chelish Civil War; five times from power-hungry noble families, four times from agents of House Thrune, once from an invasion of Skum from the sea, once from a cabal of Nidalese vampires, and once from a blue dragon named Rivozair.
“The Silver Ravens apparently maintained their headquarters in the Kintargo Opera House. I haven't been able to find any other indications of any other safe houses. I wonder if any legacy of the Ravens could still be found in the Opera House, after all these years...”
Laria comes down the stairs, carrying a bouquet of roses, with a curious look on her face.
”Lily, I think these are for you,” she says, handing them over.
”An urchin came in, and said these were for the lady with the scar. She said a man payed her an entire gold piece to deliver them. When I said I didn't know anyone like that—it was hard to lie to the poor child, I'll admit—she said the man said I would say that, but to take them anyway. I gave her a pastry and sent her on her way.”
There are a dozen red roses, with a small card. The card reads:
My Dear Ravens,
You are not alone in your fears for the nest we share, but for now my flock and I must remain hidden. The time will soon come when we must meet, but until then keep building your contacts and resources. Do not rush into opposition against our common enemy, The time to retake Kintargo will come, but to strike to soon will be to lose the war before it begins. Recruit. Prepare. Remain strong in your patience. We shall speak soon.
–The Rose of Kintargo
Laria speaks up. ”The Rose of Kintargo is supposed to be the leader of Kintargo's church of Milani. I've interacted with him—or rather, with someone claiming to be him, I guess—several times, but only through letter. He is careful, as is the entire church—worshipping Milani in Kintargo is certain death, should the Dottari find you.”
After Rexus' news Declan yawned and said, "We really need to discuss a more reasonable time frame for these meetings. It is conspicuous, and damned inconvenient, for me to be out this early. It is interesting and all to know the names of these long dead adventurers, but I am not sure how much that helps our cause. Their list of good deeds reads like bad myth, too. Who itemizes the number of times they save a city broken down by who they defeated each time? No offense to you, Rexus old boy, I know you are just the messenger, er translator." he said with a pat on Rexus' back. "On the other hand, the notion that their potent artifacts might be contained within the Opera House is worth investigating."
Upon seeing the roses arrive for Lily and seeing the card, Declan visibly stiffened and frowned. "I don't know if we should trust mysterious benefactors right now. I have learned some troubling facts. Darius Regegious continues to be a threat. He seems the most cunning and dangerous of opponents. Fortunately it would seem that his leadership hold on the Chelish Citizens Group is tenuous as he is only a lieutenant in the organization and barely nobility. If we can cast doubt on his leadership skills, hopefully we can weaken the direction and effectiveness of the whole group. Or we could kill him. I'd enjoy that," he smiled, "but sadly I suspect from his performance last week outside the Opera House and other tales of his swordsmanship, I worry that he may be too potent for us to take head on at this stage."
"On a more pressing note however, Huck, you should know that the Dottari are wise to your anarchist friend. They could snatch her up at any moment. However, they have not done so yet because they are clever enough to know that they are anarchists after all, so removing the current leader would only turn her into a martyr and create a power vacuum that could be filled by someone they are less familiar with. They are apparently confident that she while she is clever, she is also more cautious and less violent than her colleagues, so they feel she is less of a danger to the city than her replacement might be. Instead they have chosen to keep her under surveillance and I am sure are keeping record of all of those she is seen to associate with. As such, we should be especially cautious with any contact with her, and warn her to redouble her efforts for secrecy."
"Or perhaps we could use their surveillance to our advantage and give them a decoy or lure them into a trap? Perhaps she could hand off leadership to a trusted lieutenant of her own. She would have to maintain an illusion of remaining in command of course or they might just snatch her for interrogation if they learned the threat of replacement had already come to fruition. Just a thought."
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Declan made his way down to the servants quarters where he knocked on the door to Crakehall's office. He had spent much of time growing up 'below stairs'. Not that he realized it consciously, but he sought out their attention and approval when he found his father's lacking. Some certainly were annoyed by his presence, and some found it rather inappropriate, but he usually charmed his way into everyone's good graces eventually.
"Good morning, Creeky! How are those old knees treating you today? I trust that ointment I procured for you is helping?"
"I couldn't help overhearing father burdening you with an extra task today. I'd planned to pay my old friend Chaunceworth a visit today anyway, so I would be happy to save you a trip and deliver those scrolls for you."
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Pharast 16th, 4715
”Ah, that would be very kind of you, young master Declan.”
He opens a rosewood box to display the two scrolls within—vellum, scribed in your fathers own spidery handwriting—before closing the box and handing it to you.
”Two uses of disguise self per scroll, if your fathers index is correct, which we both know it is,” he says with a knowing chuckle.
”Will that be all?”
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How have I forgotten about Father's cache down here?! What a treasure trove! I am sure he wouldn't mind if I borrowed a few things. I am sure it will all be part of my inheritance someday afterall.
"Wow, it has been too long since I have had a peek at father's index. Would you indulge a curious boy?"
I think we should look into the Rose of Kintargo. If he is the leader of the Chuch of Milani he would be a trustworthy ally. He obviously knows who I am, who we are and what we are doing so if he wanted to do something he easily could have already. I will look into what I can about him.
Lily then takes the flowers and puts them on the Altar she has of Milani downstairs thats underneath the Silver Morningstar of Milani and prays.
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Pharast 16th, 4715
Crakehall frowns.
”Hmm. Your father has rather strict rules about who has access to his Arcanarium. Still, I don't suppose it would hurt, if you'd like to take a look.”
Across the estate, the Arcanarium is beneath your father's library. Crakehall unlocks the door, whispering the passcode to surpress the magical defenses present, then steps into the Library.
The Library's two wood golem guardians creak, but make no effort to stop you as Crakehall leads you across the library, pausing only to pick up a tome left idly on a table and return it to its place in the stacks, before approaching the iron gate leading to your fathers magical laboratory and sanctum. Using a different key, made out of what appears to be mithral, he unlocks the door, again whispering a magical passcode.
The gate creaks open, leading to a stone staircase, leading down. Portraits of various Tanessen spellcasters line the spiral staircase down. At the bottom of the stairs, a pair of columns depicting beautiful women carrying greatswords, holds up the ceiling to this chamber.
The Arcanarium is a fairly simple affair. A pair of permanent summoning circles, formed from molten silver, line the floor. A scrying table, complete with crystal ball, sits off against a corner, near your fathers work desk, and the single bookshelf that represents your fathers rarest arcane tomes, and his spellbooks. The magical wealth of several generations of Tanessen's is here: several locked chests, a weapon rack, a faintly glowing set of full plate mail, and a bronzewood staff, the top of which is made of smoldering cinders that don't seem to harm the stone wall its leaned against.
Against the wall, next to the clay golem that guards this area, is a repurposed wine rack, whose criss-crossed recesses contain dozens of scrolls. A book on a podium, left open, keeps meticulous detail on when the scrolls were crafted, when they were removed, and why.
”I imagine it still looks much the same as when your father took you down here, before you left for school,” Crakehall rasps.
"Well look at that, flowers for Lily. Gonna have to step up yer game Dec ol' boy, someone's showin ya up proper." Letting out a mighty good laugh while giving Declan a nudging pat on the back.
"I reckon the list of accomplishments that our previous title barers kept was more for moral boosting than their own self inflation." Pausing for a moment, realizing that he sounded more Declan like than he cares to admit. "The only reason you don't wanna go acceptin help from Lily's new admirer is because YOU didn't go givin her those roses. In the reality of it all, seeking out this Rose of Kintargo is not a bad idea, at least in the long term. With what we are fitin to do here, we can use all the support we can muster."
Taking a step back as he pulls from his flask, Hucks face goes a bit flush as Declan mentions Emm's little issue. "Well this just won't do. I can't have these snoutlickers intruding on Emma's little party, can I?"
Pulling out his little raven figure, speaking the command word, and providing the following message to deliver to Emma.
I hope my little friend here finds you well, and I wish I could bare better news. It has come to my attention that certain intellectuals have come to be wise of the ongoings of your devices. I feel we should meet for an enjoyable discussion about The Great Debate. I reckon drinks will be required.
Provisionally yours, through this dance and the next.
Looking to the group, before sitting down and planting his feet on the table nearest him. "It's time we start thinking and taking a more passive action here. It may be time we focus on finding a place to call our own. No offense Laria."
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Pharast 17th, 4715, Later
Around 1:00 PM, you notice one of the members of your Street Performers team, a human man named Morgar Manthai, hastily scrawling something on a sheet of paper. Something about his demeanor strikes you as suspicious—and that's before he stuffs the paper into a pocket. As he turns to go, he sees you spotting him. He immediately looks down and starts moving towards the door to exit the Wasp's Nest.
Your Concern, as ever, is a great comfort to me in this tumultous time.
I am unsurprised to hear that we have gained Admirer's, but greatly saddened that they are so imprisoned by their shyness as to need to keep their distance—but, given the weighty matters we Discuss, this can be nothing but expected.
We have already taken measures in these matters, and you will likely find our output less Voluminous and Incendiary in the coming weeks. We would not like our Light to scare off our Admirers. But rest assured, the great work we Set ourselves To will progress Apace, as, I am sure, does yours.
You have our Regards, and best wishes. Stay safe out there, for As long as you Can. When you All can't Stay safe, stay sharp.
-E.
If no one passes the Sense motive DC, the day passes uneventfully, unless you want to make it eventful.
Listening to all the information both excites him and gives him great feelings of trepidation. So wondering what he's gotten himself into, Rath looks around the Nest continually as everyone is relating their info
I would assume my speed is way greater than this guys....
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Pharast 16th
Declan could not have concealed his wide-eyed wonder at his family's treasures even if he wanted to. He had been certain that his distant memory of visiting his father's glorious Arcanarium as a young boy could not be accurate. Yet if anything his memories did not do the place justice, or the collection had improved significantly in the last decade. His mind raced with ideas of robbing the place blind, and while the challenge should have deterred him, the thought that did deter him was that it would most likely require harming poor Crakehall to gain access, and certainly would lead to him being blamed when the theft was discovered.
Declan approached the podium and pored over the book in detail, making a mental note of all that it catalogued.
Afterwards, he wandered a bit like he was in a museum.
"I think I still remember some of my schooling. May I examine some of these?"
Once Crakehall indicated he was beginning to overstay his welcome, Declan sighed contentedly and smiled warmly at his father's valet.
"Thank you, Crakehall. I greatly appreciate you indulging me. You have reminded a lost son of what could have been. Alas, someday perhaps I can climb back into father's good graces, but I fear I have squandered those chances. Nonetheless, I mustn't tarry any longer if I am to get these scrolls where they are needed. Good day to you!"
After sending his letter off to Emma, Huck parts ways with the group of ruffians and heads back to his little hole in the wall to craft up a few bits of ammo to resupply. The evening drawing near as his little raven returns to him. Reading the letter that was sent to him, he chuckels a bit before returning to the coffee shop to see what his friends can make of the coded message.
"So I heard back from Emma, wiley little minx sent us a code. Or at least I reckon she did."
Sitting back on one of the stools, propping his feet up on the table, as he does, Huck pulls Bessy from her holster and gives her a good bufferin. "So, who did ol' Morgar piss off to get tied up like that?"
After catching the guy, Rath picks him up of the ground and shakes him a little. The beginnings of his rage just under the surface, he makes sure the guy has his full effect before he pins him and gets a rope to bind his hands.
no one leaves until we figure out what's going on
Folding his arms access his chest he glares at the rest of the teams that are assembled
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Pharast 16th, later
Later that day, Declan made his way across the greens to the Sarini estate. Seeing their butler answer their door, he immediately fell into old habits, "Good to see you, Baxter! It has been far too long! You are looking well. My compliments to Mrs. Parsons, and to Countess Sarini of course, as she is keeping this house all too well!"
"If only this visit were for a more pleasant occasion. I have heard the news of master Chaunceworth's dreadful accident. I can't imagine he is in the best spirits today. I only hope that you have not fallen victim to his temper. As a matter of fact, I come bearing gifts from Lord Tanessen to cheer him up."
Declan flung open the door to Chaunceworth's room after being shown to it, exclaiming "Chauncey, old boy! Wake up! The greatest of all your chums is here! Upon first sight of his face though he gasped loudly. "You poor, poor thing. Just look at you. I cannot believe those ruffians would assault such a defenseless creature. They clearly have no respect for the aristocracy. Well rest assured that the Tanessen family has not forgotten you."
Declan produced a single scroll, the other safely stored with Jeeves. "A gift from father. This contains two incantations, written in my father's own hand, to help hide that hideous face they've cursed you with. May these help you keep a stiff upper lip and soldier on, without embarrassment to your family name."
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Pharast 16th
Declan could not have concealed his wide-eyed wonder at his family's treasures even if he wanted to. He had been certain that his distant memory of visiting his father's glorious Arcanarium as a young boy could not be accurate. Yet if anything his memories did not do the place justice, or the collection had improved significantly in the last decade. His mind raced with ideas of robbing the place blind, and while the challenge should have deterred him, the thought that did deter him was that it would most likely require harming poor Crakehall to gain access, and certainly would lead to him being blamed when the theft was discovered.
Declan approached the podium and pored over the book in detail, making a mental note of all that it catalogued.
Afterwards, he wandered a bit like he was in a museum.
"I think I still remember some of my schooling. May I examine some of these?"
[dice=diplomacy]1d20+11
[dice=spellcraft #1]1d20+7
[dice=spellcraft #2]1d20+7
[dice=spellcraft #3]1d20+7
[dice=spellcraft #4]1d20+7
[dice=spellcraft #5]1d20+7
[dice=spellcraft #6]1d20+7
[dice=spellcraft #7]1d20+7
[dice=spellcraft #8]1d20+7
Once Crakehall indicated he was beginning to overstay his welcome, Declan sighed contentedly and smiled warmly at his father's valet.
"Thank you, Crakehall. I greatly appreciate you indulging me. You have reminded a lost son of what could have been. Alas, someday perhaps I can climb back into father's...
Pharast 16th, 4715, Later
”Ah, careful,” Crakehall exclaims. ”Your father maintains a number of illusions and traps in this room, to prevent mischief. Why, you wouldn't want to find yourself plane shifted to Avernus, would you?” he laughs.
Later, at the Sarini estate, you find Chauncey in bed, a servant hovering over him.
The wounds—what you can see, anyway, under all the bandages and ointments—indeed look quite ghastly.
The servant speaks.
”Master Sarini is too injured to speak, but he thanks you, and your father, for your kind and generous gift.”
Eyes rolling with rage, he can hear his grunts of anger as you leave.
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Pharast 17th, 4715, Later
On hearing about this code, Rexus looks excited.
“I love puzzles!” he exclaims, and nearly snatches the letter away from you.
“Hmm. C-A-D-V-I-L-A-S-T-A-R-A-C-A-S. Well, VIL looks like v'il--that's the Varisian genetive, 1st person plural-inclusive. So, if its Varisian, Cad... v'il. Astar is 'ready', in the 1st person plural as well. ACAS—could be 'aca' and then S...no. Oh! I know this, its from a book. Alysande Benedict of Andoran, from her letter to the League of Free Men in Korvosa. Cadore v'il astar, acasão va si tuvade amas vrieccio. 'Until we are ready to die, we spend each day afraid to live.'
When cornered, Morgar blanches, and all fight leaves him. He doesn't struggle as you tie him up and return him.
The letter in his pocket contains notes of your discussion with Laria early—scattershot, and sometimes wrong, as though he was listening at a distance, and not hearing everything clearly.
He begins to babble.
“I-I-I had to you, see, the voice, the voice wouldn't stop, first it was just the letter, but then poor Nivas, poor Nivas, poor Nivas...”
Declan hung back as soon as he saw they might have a spy in their midst. He used his telepathy to ask questions through Jeeves. When he heard Morgar mention being forced by a voice, he cast Detect Magic and scanned the man for any active magical effects or lingering auras of old effects.
”What are you talking about? What letter? What did the voice tell you to do? When did you first hear the voice?”
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[dice=Jeeves’ sense motive on Morgar]1d20+14
Declan hung back as soon as he saw they might have a spy in their midst. He used his telepathy to ask questions through Jeeves. When he heard Morgar mention being forced by a voice, he cast Detect Magic and scanned the man for any active magical effects or lingering auras of old effects.
”What are you talking about? What letter? What did the voice tell you to do? When did you first hear the voice?”
[dice=spellcraft]1d20+7
Morgar appears to be under the effect of a suggestion spell. This is not a lingering aura--the effect is still ongoing.
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Pharast 17th, 4715, Later
”I think I'm going mad,” he explains. ”The voice comes, always when I'm alone. It orders, and I obey. I do not remember how long this has been going on—I don't sleep much, every time I close my eyes I remember the way Nivas looked...”
“Just a few minutes ago, in the Workroom, near Rexus' desk. I saw a rat walk out from between some of those old crates. It spoke to me, and told me to write down what I heard this morning, and to bring it to the Dottari. I am going mad.” He lets out a shril, barked laugh.
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”Just a few minutes ago?! We need to find this rat or more importantly his master!
”In the meantime, don’t worry you are not going insane. You have been ensorceled and compelled to act against your will. So it is not your fault that we’ve been betrayed, but now we need to do damage control. So it is very important that you tell us what have you told the Dottari about us already. We can still turn this to our advantage.”
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Pharast 17th, 4715, Later
”The voice told me to send the letter...the one that brought them here, a few days ago. It just said that there was some suspicious activity happening here after closing time. I heard they showed up, and you convinced them there was nothing going on. The voice was very irritated that that didn't work...”
While Jeeves is searching, in the large chamber, he catches a scent—faint, but present—of sulphur. He hears a faint, whispering scrape, as though something is attempting to move away from him. He sees nothing around him, however.
Jeeves could hear and smell the creature, but knew they could never catch it without some ability to see it.
Quickly, you need to fetch a sack of flour from Laria upstairs!
I need to what? Fetch?! How dare you!
There isn’t time! Look, would YOU rather get caught? Or this rat?
With a huff and a grumble about Jeeves getting above his station, Declan ran off to find Laria and came back a few moments later struggling to carry a sack of flour. With help from Jeeves who’d stood guard to ensure the rat didn’t get away, they scattered the flour over the vicinity they’d narrowed the rat down to.
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Pharast 17th, 4715, Later
You hear a tiny scream of frustration.
”Agh, fine!”
A tiny woman, with bright red skin, black hair, and horns—appears before you. In one hand she holds a set of pan pipes, in the other a wand. She waves the wand menacingly at you, and backs away a step, but makes no effort to attack.
”Just burn the contract! That's it! Burn it and I'll leave you alone!”
”Whoa there! Whoa! Let’s all calm down now. What contract are ya talkin’ about?”
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Pharast 17th, 4715, Later
The creature nearly throws its wand down, but thinks better of it. Still, it nearly vibrates with rage, swinging its arms wildly about.
”Stupid! You stupid, unobservant, lazy, oafish, anarchistic, filthy...the contract! It's in the documents! If you'd just look!” The creature gestures towards the pile of recovered papers from the Silver Ravens cache.”[/b]
Rexus, who has approached, speaks up.
”Well,, I have been through every sheet of those papers, and I've not seen anything resembling a contract--”
She laughs shrilly.
”OF COURSE YOU DIDN'T. THOSE DAMNED SARINI'S DISGUISED IT! Some form of illusory magic! And none of you are clever enough to see through it. So now I'm STILL STUCK HERE!” She gives a command word and discharges the wand, causing a jet of acid to strike one of the nearby crates.
”Gah!”
Coming up empty on his end of things, Huck moseys on over to the party that Declan and Jeeves are having. Coming into thing just as mention of a contract arises and the wand goes off.
"There you go makin friends again Tanner ol' boy. Is this the demon, person, thing that's been causin our friends ta go mad?"
Propped against the wall, flask in hand, and lookin welcomingly at our new dance partner.
"Well arent' you the the most adorable evil lookin person I've seen yet. Well, next to ol' Tanner here. Did the burly man scare ya? Bah, pay him no mind. You speak of a contract, I reckon yer casuin all this ruckus to get to said contract, amiright? Well, my name's Huck, and if Rex here says he aint seen no contract, I'm fittin to believe him. That said however, if I go burnin up that there stack o'paper, will you put yer blastin wand away and talk like normal folk?"
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Pharast 17th, 4715, Later
The creature is an Imp—one of the least powerful forms of devil. It is a LE tiny outsider with the Devil, evil, lawful, and extraplanar subtypes. You get one question.
Both the Imp and Rexus begin speaking at once.
Rexus”Under no circumstances are you going to burn those documents!”
Imp”Yes, burn them!”