Gryfford goes to bed.
The first quarter of his night is an uneasy one, as images of zombies keep coming to him, their deformed faces morphing into the familiar visages of friends, past lovers and family.
Finally he goes up from his couch, and wanders a little in the corridors of the temple. He sees light in the library, and hears the rustle of dry pages being turned, but decides not to go inside, enjoying his privacy at the moment.
Passing near Adriel's room, he smells an unfamiliar but not unpleasant smoky scent.
He passes next in front of Alia's room, stops a few seconds there, his thoughts vague and lustful, before resuming his walk.
He goes back to his room and his bed.
Comfortably tucked under his sheets, he begins to hum a orcish nursery rhyme his half-orc nanny used to sing to him: guttural syncoped verses depicting grotesque and outré scenes of mayhem, bloodshed and destruction.
The farcical nonsense has him soon dozing, before he finally falls deeply and peacefully asleep.
Upon returning, Arasmes retires for a nap. He stores his dog carefully, struggles out of his armour, falls onto the bed and sleeps.
Around eleven he awakens, the vibrant call of the night making it impossible to sleep any further despite being up so much of the day. He pulls out the map and starts to study it, looking for any signs. He runs the information they have discovered during the day over and over in his head.
All things considered, it went surprisingly well he thought. His mind turned to his companions Surprisingly good in a crisis. he reflects pleasantly Grandfather had told me those in the Lands of Light often acted destructively without reason, and their short lives left them prone to short sighted actions. My companions are obviously exceptions.
As midnight approaches he goes outside - unarmoured - and lets the cool of the night wash over him. He looks to the moon, and he walks. He knows when he has reached the right place, and he sits cross legged on the cold ground. Time passes, and then he is once again himself, his vigor and reserves restored.
Wandering back to the temple, he goes to the kitchen and attempts to fix himself a simple meal. Habit causes him to check for any signs of break-in, and he comes across Yolk passed out in the library, obviously working himself till he was overcome with fatigue.
Debating with himself whether to rouse the Dwarf to share what few insights he had gained, he decides in the end that Yolk has earned his rest, and indeed his actions make an excellent example for Arasmes' own.
Returning to his room he engages in his chores - caring for his equipment, repacking his supplies. Finally, despite his abundance of nocturnal energy he resolves to attempt sleep.
Lying down he does his best to fight back his insomnia and gain what rest he can for the trying diurnal excursion ahead of him.
The sun rises early. As you each make your way downstairs Alia is back in the kitchen helping prepare breakfast. Angus is eating at the table again and as you walk in he looks up, "Ahh, good morning. I trust you slept well? Eat up, it's a full day's travel to the Capitol, so we should leave as soon as we have eaten." You notice that after you all have assembled in the small room that Jean seems to not be there any longer.
Taltōsh finished the meager preparations needed for the morning, before joining the others to break his fast. The sage nodded to the others as he took a seat.
Looking around, he noticed that Jean was missing. Looking to Angus, he asked, "Master McDarrow, where is Jean?"
Upon hearing that the inquisitor departed suddenly, Taltōsh shrugged. "Ah well, perhaps it is for the best."
Returning to the topic of the day's journey, he asked, "Where exactly in Magnimar are we going?"
Disheveled, with the cowlicks of his beard and head standing on end, Yolk comes running into the breakfast area clutching an old leather book to his chest. He scarfs down a meager breakfast, his stomach still curdled from the previous days events. Something important was sitting just under their noses.
If only the words weren't smudged, was Alastair crying when he was documenting his last pages of notes?
Putting the book on the table after his breakfast was cleared away, Yolk says, "Gather round everyone. *Cough*
Clearing his throat, he continues, "Think I may have found somethin, maybe just enough to help us."
Flipping open the page in the book he had face-planted into as sleep took him, Yolk shows them them dateless entry.
"Aye, looks like Alastair had been a busy man, up until this Amulet and the man Nikolai. Right here, between the two smudged out words, I read . This might be related ta the amulet, or not. It might be a biography on Nikolai. Although, me thinks it would be a book more on the amulet than this man. Unless this Nikolai is a flamin' noble, then maybe it is a book of his history... Scratching his beard and smoothing his cowlicks he looks into each of your eyes and you can see a glint of excitement in his grey eyes.
"Please excuse me, I must go pray, let me know what our plan is after I am done." Yolk bows out and leaves the temple, headed to the back of the temple, he prays to Torag.
Adriel joins them at breakfast, geared up and ready to leave.
He moves slowly though, clearly he has a headache, Good morning, have we made any plans?
"Well, I don't know about you, but I plan on eating as much as I can before I have to go back on trail rations!" Arasmes announces, seemingly in good humour - if tired.
"Yolk was just saying he may have found a clue about the amulet; the cryptic words 'Grey Novel'. So I guess our next stop is Magnimar."
Arasmes hands Adrien's map to Adriel.
It's a map of Varisia, with several spots marked on it.Sandpoint has an x through it, and there's a spot north of town with a circle around it as are a few other places.
"Though given that you're sort of local, maybe you could tell me what some of those marks are. Mother always said I'd regret not paying more attention in Geography, and it looks like she was right."
Arasmes butters some toast and grabs an apple
"Yolk's right - I feel a bit bad about avoiding the obvious trap, myself, but I think we're going to need all the information we can get."
Arasmes cuts into a cold boiled egg and then stops
"Oh - I almost forgot."
Arasmes puts four stakes on the table
"Given we're going up against a vampire, everyone remember to dress appropriately." he adds flippantly.
Taltōsh gingerly picked up the wooden stake. "Yes, well. Thank you, I suppose," he said with obvious discomfort.
After securing the weapon in his belt, the hooded man returned to his meal as the discussion continued, listening intently, but unsure as to what he could contribute.
Adriel looks quizzicly at the stake.
You realise I AM a witch, right? I'd have morebchance making it an ally than using this.
Reguardless he tucks it into his belt
Gryfford shows up the last at the breakfast table.
He looks all the more rested for having slept late. He is dressed as if is ready to go, his trusty falchion secured in the sheath on his back, and his backpack slung over one shoulder.
"Good morning, everyone !" he says, putting his backpack down before grabbing a leg of ham which he gulps down in three mouthfuls, followed by a hearty pitcher of water.
"It's been ages since I slept so late, the sea air is doing me good !" he says, putting the pitcher back on the table, obviously in a good mood.
He picks up one the wooden stakes presented on the table.
"Ha, the indispensable accessory of the valiant adventurer: the pointy stick !"
He makes a thrusting motion with his stake.
"Where are we supposed to plant this on Nikolaï ? Between his eyes ?" he asks Arasmes.
Without waiting for an answer, he tucks the stake into his belt and goes to take a look at the map of Varisia unfolded before Adrien.
"What I can't fathom is why our enemy left us an obvious exposition of his interests in the region." he says cheerfully.
Noticing the apples on the table, he catches one and bites on it, thoughtfully considering the answer to his own question.
"Unless Nikolaï is setting us up for finding the amulet on his stead before he swoops down on us and slaughters us all before abscounding with his prize."
"In that case, we will have to cut him down before he does us in." he adds with a murderous grin.
"I just assumed it was so Angus would go chasing him to find Mary and fall into a trap."
Arasmes smiles
"I hadn't considered he might need us, or Angus, to secure the amulet."
"I am curious about the comment that 'this time he will succeed'"
"I, for one, am new to all this sort of thing. However, I would suggest that we not make assumptions or jump to conclusions. We must keep an open mind and be prepared to abandon theories that prove false in favor of ones that prove true," Taltōsh said emphatically.
Looking to Adriel, he added, "Like you, a stake is not my best option, but depending upon how events play out, it could mean the difference between success and failure."
Turning to Arasmes, Taltōsh said, "Gryfford had a good point. If we are forced to use a stake on a vampire, where should we aim?"
Angus looks at you and smiles at the comments made. Alia brings over his bag and he stands up. He checks through it quickly then thanks her. He strokes his thick beard contemplating his words. "I've already thought about Nikolai trying to trap us, and as much as I'd like Erastil's wrath to descend on the one who's caused such pain, we must research this."
He looks at the map and carefully notes each point on the map. "Hmm, odd...Anyway, the Great Library in Magnimar should provide some information. And perhaps we can pick up some supplies that will help us on our venture." He picks up one of the stakes Arasmes set on the table and smiles, "And perhaps more of these."
Settled then. Let's go.
After his prayer, Yolk renters the Temple of Erastil.
"have we decided? I am ready to leave."
"So am I."
Gryfford turns to Alia:
"I suppose you'll stay to take care of the temple, Alia."
"In that case, the one thing I'll miss in our trip to Magnimar is the pleasure of your company." he says with a charming grin.
Let's out a roaring laugh in Gryfford's direction.
"at least this ones unruffled!"
"Yolk, if you are already ready, can you give me a hand to get my armour on? It's a lot easier with a little help." requests Arasmes
"seems harmless enough, get yer butt over here!"
A chill runs up Yolks back, remembering back to when his channeling had afflicted Arasmes.
Shrugging it off, he finishes with Arasmes and steps back a little ways from him, trying to be as nonchalant as possible so as not to rouse suspicion.
he's an ally, yet... strange.
Yolk doesnt know what to make of the dhampir but has never rushed hastily into anything and refuses to rush Judgement on Arasmes.
"Yolk, as I'm sure you've noticed, I am a Child of the Dark, and you Channel the Light."
"Those Necromancers who can Channel, almost always Channel the Dark. My ability to not just ignore their Channeling, but actively thrive on it, removes one of their greatest weapons. It's the main reason Children of the Dark are so good against Necromancers. They cannot even heal their minions without also healing me."
"This little group of ours is vulnerable to the Dark, but used correctly your ability to Channel the Light could prove a decisive victory against undead minions. I can't ask you to forego that, but if you intend to channel the Light, warn me and I'll get me and mine out of your way."
Angus gathers his things, and holds the door wide as you pass through out into the street of Sandpoint.
As you travel down the road, Angus speaks up. "Thank you all again for choosing into this task. As you have noticed our companion Jean seems to have found another opportunity." He sighs at this," I should've done this before, but if we are to be seeking this out we should get to know one another better. Please tell me more about yourselves so that I can understand our strengths and weaknesses..." he trails off and looks at the dhampir first.
"Where to start? Most of you know the basics of my story already, but I suppose we have time for the long version."
"I was raised in the upper upper class - if we had a hereditary aristocracy I would have been nobility. Like many children born into privellege I took it for granted. My mother wanted me to train as a Chaneller, so I flirted with the various major religions, but none really caught."
"My mother pressured me to choose a career when I reached my majority, but I was too busy being a dilettante. She cut off my income - something I resented at the time. She was right though, having to actually work for a living made me see through different eyes."
"One of the girls I was seeing was murdered. The investigations were going nowhere, so I went to my mother - who was a very experienced investigator - to help me seek justice. Together we caught the murderer and he was executed."
"I realised that Civilisation stands on the Law, and that the Law stands on those who maintain it. All the things I cared about were only possible because people like my mother worked tirelessly to keep them going. I resolved then to fight my selfishness, and I apprenticed myself to my mother."
"It took about a week for me to get tired of the constant jokes, but my mother was the best, and she trained me. She finally made me a hunter, and I've done a good job. Trouble is, I need to get out from my mother's shadow or any promotions are going to look like nepotism."
"My mother had a similar problem when she was young - my grandfather is Kemnebi - and she advised me to hang on, ignore the taunts, and look for a way to prove myself."
"When my current case came up, I jumped at it. I've tracked this target halfway across the world. Most of my equipment has been lost, used, stolen or destroyed in the process. But bringing him to justice will affirm my position as a hunter in my own right."
"Strengths and weaknesses?"
"Well, I've had a good education - mostly squandered unfortunately. I have had excellent training in hunting - though my mother says I am still too trusting. I know how to fight with stake, glove, crossbow and construct."
"I was born as a Child of the Dark - the only second generation one I know of - and more..." He holds up a hand to reveal a red skull birthmark on his palm, the gauntlet leaving the palm clear "... this connects me somehow to the Dark. I can use it to Channel the Dark to heal, to harm or even for more complicated things."
"Oh, and this..."
Arasmes places the dog he's been carrying on the ground, walks twenty feet off, then says a few strange words
"Unfreeze. Follow me. Don't attack."
The dog suddenly trots over to Arasmes and starts walking behind him.
Taltōsh listened intently to Arasmes.
When the dhampir was finished, he cleared his throat before saying, "You already know my story."
"However, I have not shared my capabilities. I am a sage sorcerer, which is one of the wildblooded--that is, I am of a mutated bloodline."
"My power derives from my intellect, and it allows me to hurl projectiles of pure magical force. I also possess several minor talents such as the ability to generate light and to detect magical emanations."
"In addition, I am a student of all things arcane, and my travels across Varisia means that I am familiar with the customs and peoples of the region."
He paused for a moment, unsure as if he should add anything to his resume. "Hopefully, my power will grow with time, so that I may be of more use."
Adriel was hesitant, he knew he was a witch and so did they, but what did that mean? He was only new to the profession himself. Hey, I have some connection to a patron I don't know or understand, plus I'm REALLY into Mistleaf. We should all get high together!
I am a witch, believe what you will. I am formally schooled in the arcane by my father and taught the magic of nautre like my mother. I my selection is nowhere near as broad as a true wizard but the spells I do know are just as potent. Chatterbeak here is my familiar. Don't speak to him or he will not shut up without being scolded. I also know.a rarer form of magic trick called a Hex. Most of these powers can be used repeatedly but only once a day per person. I know only 2 as yet. The magical slumber you have already seen but I can also heal by touch. It was actually how I intended to make a living. Come to me with your minor wounds before bothering the clerics. Other than that I am a extrodinarliy poor fighter, but my armor protects me while leaving my arms free to work magic. You may want to consider a set Taltosh.
Taltōsh smiled beneath his hood. "Thank you for the suggestion, Adriel. However, I am also capable of protecting myself with an invisible barrier of mystical force. It is as effective as physical armor, although it only lasts for an hour or so."
"Weaknesses ?" says Gryfford with round eyes in response to Angus' inquiries.
"What weaknesses ?".
He smiles to show that he's joking.
"I was raised as a gladiator, like you all know, so I am able to stand my own in any fight involving blades, bludgeoning tools, tears and blood."
"I know next to nothing about magic, as you should have guessed by now."
He reflects a little and adds:
"That's not quite true, in fact. I have seen some battle mages in my time in Tymon, enough to know not to stay in front of a gout of eldritch flame. But I know nothing about the how or the why of magic."
Gryfford softly touches the hilt of his falchion. "My soul is in this blade... figuratively speaking I suppose. If Sharpest... I mean: if my falchion stays in my hand I am quite deadly, and I will become more so as time goes by and my expertise grows alongside my battles."
"So you can count on me for being at the forefront of our fights. I am sturdy, as my numerous scars will attest." he says, not bragging, just stating a fact of his life.
"Ho, and I am a quite capable weaponsmith. I studied with the best smiths of Tymon. If you need to fix something with your weapons, you can come to me, and I will be able to help you - provided that I have a forge, an anvil and a hammer at my disposal for the most extensive repairs or modifications."
"As for weaknesses... I am quite partial to red wines, red gamy meat à la orc and red-headed lasses, in no particular order."
He muses a moment, looking at the sky with a faraway gaze:
"And I have this dream of a irrepressibly lascivious but at the same time demure elf woman dressed conservatively on the outside but with one of these Callistrian outfit under...
Snapping back to the present: "Hu, ho, did I say that aloud ?"
"Hu, anyway... my allies in battle say that i can be easily fascinated sometimes by sorcery effects, given my alleged obsessive nature."
Gryfford pauses.
"Well, folks, that's all I can think of right now."
"You'll have to tell me about my other weaknesses when they become obvious to you, so that I can endeavor to correct them." he concludes with the sincerity of one totally devoted to his art.
Gryfford looks at black Chatterbeak perched on the shoulder of Adriel.
"I must say I am quite disappointed not being able to speak to you. I looked forward to some fascinating man-to-bird conversations." he sighs.
You couldn't say if he's serious or not. Probably not.
Angus listens patiently to each of your stories, smiling as he takes it in. Time flies by quickly as you travel down the road, and before you know it the sun is high in the sky and you see the paladin head off to a small clearing on the side of the road.
He pulls out a small amount of rations from his pack and sits down eating the food.
As you look down the road toward the Capitol you see brightly colored cart being pulled by a pair of horses. Driving the cart is an elderly man with similarly bright colored clothes.
Taltōsh smiled, though no one could see beneath his hood. Ah, a fellow Varisian, he thought.
Quietly, and with an amused tone, he said to his companions, "Keep an eye on your purses."
The sage settled himself and withdrew some of his own hard tack rations to eat.
Gryfford sits down in the clearing and extracts a trail ration from his backpack.
As he begins to eat he looks with interest at the cart approaching.
"Suppose I can talk a lil bout myself." Yolk begins.
"Well, where to start, I've been cooped up in the temple in Janderhoff mostly all of my life. Once I was ordained a cleric of Torag, I left Janderhoff and begin a pilgrimage."
"My strength lies in my ability to protect others, by bolstering their faith in dvinity."
"I have certain gifts to help me battle the abominations of the world... however, Arasames seems to defy my teachings. Perhaps that is why I was sent out into the world. Maybe there are some things that books just can't teach."
Gryfford looks at black Chatterbeak perched on the shoulder of Adriel.
"I must say I am quite disappointed not being able to speak to you. I looked forward to some fascinating man-to-bird conversations." he sighs.
You couldn't say if he's serious or not. Probably not.
The birds responds in a wierd high pitched voice , Do not worry swordman. Chatterbeak loves to talk. Maybe when Master is not looking, Chatterbeak can tell you about things. Chatterbeak is very smart. Knows about lots of things he does. Chatterbeak is much better than sword-familiar that does not talk or fly. Do not look sad swordman. Chatterbeak likes swordman. Has nice hair for nest making. Oooo...Cracker, thanks master
Adriel keeps the feed up for two more crackers.
Now you have done it.
He looks sternly at his familiar , Now quiet yourself and keep your eyes open. You'll be helping me keep a lookout and running messages only
The sage watched the exchange with the familiar with both amusement and appreciation. Chatterbeak will definitely come in handy, thought Taltōsh.
Gryfford cannot help but smile at the bird's words.
As the traveler passes you by you see on the side of his cart is a large banner that reads HAL'S HANDY HOME HELPERS!. He stops for a moment as he looks at your group.
"Well, what do we have here? You're a most unusual bunch. Off to Magnimar are we?"
"and who ye be? Hal is it? What is this cart here?" Yolk says as he begins fidgeting with the handle of the war hammer attached to his belt loop.
Curious to see how the others react, Arasmes allows them to take the lead.
"Hello, traveler !" says Gryfford, waving his hand in a friendly manner.
"Yes, we are travelling to Magnimar. Did you go to the city recently ? How are things up there ?"
He then turns about and seizes his group with one glance: the two dwarves, the cloaked Taltosh, the sinister looking Elf and the strangely pale and exotically garbed Arasmes.
"We can't seem to fool your sagacious eyes, merchant. We are most unusual indeed, for we belong to a rarefied and turbulent faction of good-minded troublemakers: we are ADVENTURERS !"
"And proud of it, too !"
Taltōsh stayed quiet during the exchange, but instead carefully watched the merchant.
The man is clearly aging, but trying to hide it. His brown hair has streaks of gray hidden just barely beneath his brightly colored hat. He smiles at you and steps down off the cart. You see him wave his hand and the side of the cart swings upward and streamers fall down from the sides Inside you can see trinkets and vials of all shapes and sizes. Colored liquids and various devices.
"I'm nothing more than a merchant peddling my wares, my good Dwarf."He turns to look at Gryfford."Ahh most excellent, it has been long since I catered to Adventurers." He laughs out loud."If it pleases you, you may take a look at my wares. Perhaps something would strike your fancy... " He gestures to the cart behind him.
Gryfford looks at the merchandise exhibited.
"I wouldn't get your hopes too high, good merchant. My purse has seen fatter days."
"Aye, lemme look at yor merchandise too." Yolk says.
Nudging Gryfford, he continues, "Don't worry bud, I can spare a few gold for ya if'n ya need. You shared me a few laughs, that's worth something!"
Adriel holds his tongue. Sure, I'd love somethimg to smoke..
He walks around the cart, trying to look disinterested
Taltōsh remained near Angus, saying nothing as the merchant hawked his wares.
Snatching it up in exchange for 5gp he holds it up to the light, "ooh, what is this!?"
Gryfford reaches for his purse, opens it and carefully counts 7 gold pieces, which he places in the merchant's open palm.
He then seizes the bottle filled with the intriguing blue liquid, enjoying its freshness in his hands.
It is expensive, but that could be used as the perfect pick-me-up for an elven woman.
Unexpectedly, Gryfford has a mental image of the fair skinned Alia, with her delicate features, her lustrous red hair tied in a bun and her sweet smile making dimples in her cheeks.
I wonder how she would look with her hair untied he muses on.
Adriel gives the man a slight grin.
'Not interested in that kind of smoke
Sorry, fellow. Far too rich for my tastes.