Network |
Sandru is able to make a ballpark guess how to twist the orb ever so lightly, to simulate Reeva's touch. The degree of rotation to use. He knows to slip a dagger's edge between the two hemispheres to balance against the pressure of his monstrous strength. The orb charges up with a high-pitched whine and is orbited by black, circling particles. The death energy runs down the sides. The pink glow recedes and the sphere becomes in his hand a cursed apple, a dehydrated shrunken head, the beating heart of an enemy ripped out as a war-trophy. Enervating waves lick against his hand, so icy it burns.
Then, it ricochets off his palm, passing back through the orb, and shoots a black bolt across the room into one of the walls where it is grounded. All that's left is a scorch mark beside one of the paintings.
The orb no longer glows pink or black energy. Now, it is just a steel ball. There's a click. The top half rotates and rises up slightly. Hello Reeva. Activation complete. The lid flips back like a music box. The interior looks like a hollowed out piece of fruit. Along the inside surface is small, ghostly blue lettering.
It reads -
Today is Oathday.
Network |
Blackacre looks skeptically at Quinn. "You're a good soul...a bit too trusting. If she betrays that it is on her head." He looks down the hall towards the interior of the mansion, and mind always working answers Sandru's question. "The sorceress is gone. Even though I don't have her to watch anymore, there's still odds-and-ends to stay and clean up. That'll be quite enough to keep me occupied."
Kwanjan Quinn |
Quinn responds, "Brother Blackacre.... I am no killer. Killing monsters is one thing. Killing humans is different. I offered her the chance to give up and I am honor bound to the promise I offerred her. We can not offord to take prisoners so the wisest choice was to let her go."
"Sandru, I took it upon myself to let the Carlisle witch go. I was not going to kill her and we got all the info we could from her. I offerred her the choice to come with us but she chose not to. We know what she is capable to do and we will be prepared if she ever crosses us."
Network |
Blackacre listens to Quinn's explanation. "Monks!" he huffs. He turns to Caromarc. His usual manner is very direct; he doesn't know how to respond, how to not make things worse for him. "Hergelund's spy was taken by the head of the Salon. He teleported away with her." He looks around at the walls, agitated. He too is uncomfortable. Best to channel that into constructive energy.
"God help her now."
He takes his leave of you, and sets to work removing the dead sorcerers and clearing up the general mess of the battle.
Earl J V Caromarc |
Caromarc shudders and stands.
"Ianez, thank you. This could be very useful. It'll take me a little while to do this, and I need some peace. Sadly I don't know how much peace we'll get in this next little while. If we get, oh, 15 minutes or so then I will."
Mechanical Manservant |
"Sir, I'm currently running my motivator at a hundred and fifty percent full power. I can't do anything about that until the fuel I injected burns out, but may I request we either rest long enough for me to repair my motivator or go now"
Sandru |
I'm fine, Copper. If you want to do your trick I'll be scouting ahead. Exiting the mansion, I test my granted climbing ability. I climb up to a spot with a slanted roof. I'm starting to enjoy the rain as I look upward and outward.
I wait for the others. Perched, still... A gargoyle against the darkness.
Network |
Your party crunches over broken glass and exits the way you came in.
After the lush, languid interior of the Salon, the cold night air is invigorating. It feels odd; you entered as nine, and leave without the doctor and the inquisitor, and with Caromarc and La Siréene so dramatically changed. Yet, the collective mood seems to cheer "Onward...to the key!" and uncovering a vital clue to this whole mystery. Though weary from your fight with the sorcerers, this new leg of the journey is buoyant with high hopes and expectations.
The rain sheets down, a continual chill shroud. You leave Ashcaster Lane and make your way to Clank Street. It is easy to find. The street is paved with cobblestones in a state of disrepair. It is uneven and filled with potholes; you can't help but splash through deep puddles. Clank Street is staid and unremarkable with tall, brownstone buildings. Number 37 is several stories tall. There is a solitary light on in a second-floor window that is framed by heavy brocade curtains.
From time to time, you get the sense that you're being followed. An eerie feeling, the splash of a puddle... Sandru sees a shadow tumbling in and out of alleys. It is trailing your group.
Kwanjan Quinn |
the trick that Sandru stated is the casting of the Message spell, level 0 mage spell, onto him. this way I can hear him speak while he his scouting.
Quinn whispers to Sandru, "I think we are being followed. How about we set a trap?"
Hergelund |
It's a replay of the first time you met. At least when most of you first met him.
"I hear ya," a gruff voice says from the darkness. "No need fer traps. Unless I'm the one settin' 'em. Which I usually am." This is followed by a wheezing cough. "Quinn, what kind of dainty lady clothes do yer have yerself all gussied up in now? Like I said before and I'll say it again. Yer a dunderhead."
The dwarf, Hergelund, hobbles out from a darkened alleyway. "Where is S?" he says. He gives a low whistle. "She didn't make it, did she?" His cheek twitches. "Those sorcerers, a bad lot they are."
"I am glad I caught up with ya. Did ya get the key?"
Sandru |
I let the Copper deal with the crazed dwarf. Instead I case the lation, putting the new goggles to use.
Stealth: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (2) + 15 = 17
Perception, extra +6 for secret/hidden, +8 for traps.: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (17) + 15 = 32
38 hidden/secret, 40 traps.
Kwanjan Quinn |
Quinn, upon reflex, draws on the bow towards the dwarf then immediately lowers his weapon once he realizes who it is. "These clothes were a disquise to enter into the Salon, Short Stack. Anyway, you missed all the fun with the sorcerers. We had some casualities." The monk points to Lady La Sireene and Master Caromarc.
"S was taken by Ludo. She is alive for now. Two of their sorcerers are dead and we captured and questioned the other one. We let her go once we realized we got everything from her. I wasn't going to walk around with a prisoner. Two of us stayed back at the Salon to do some clean up."
"As for the key, well.... it's suppose to be somewhere in there." Quinn points to the house marked as 37 Clank Street.
Gaston Blackacre |
Once he has finished straightening up, Blackacre makes himself invisible and sneaks around for a few minutes, looking for S, Ludo, and what might be left of Volst before he heads out to meet the team.
Stealth (+20 for invisibility): 1d20 + 29 ⇒ (13) + 29 = 42
Network |
Sandru slinks over rooftops strong-limbed, like a panther. He is unseen to monsters in the streets, and fortunately the odd monster in the sky is otherwise busy or doesn't seem to care. An ominous shadow, all wings and claws, flies erratically across the faint outline of the moon; it's enough of a reminder to Sandru to stay low to the ground, or in this case, to the rooftops.
However, nothing turns down Clank Street. At least for now, it knows a tentative peace.
______________________________
It looks like water cascades over Blackacre, erasing him until there's just the faint outline of his form. Walls behind him are visible through where he used to be.
Kwanjan Quinn |
"Sandru is the point man in this operation. He is scouting the area and will be the 1st one to go into the building to determine if there are any traps."
"Hey Herge, you acting a little anxious for this key."
Network |
Sandru scales up the wall of the brownstone under the effects of spider climb without incident.
There are scorch marks around the edge of the window and on the windowsill, as if there had once been a fire.
Sandru |
Edit: Perception, trapped window... Boom: 1d20 + 23 ⇒ (10) + 23 = 33
Sandru |
I return.
Through the window, I saw what looks like a young girl's bedroom. The furnishings simple and few. There is a bed with a white down quilt with a border of roses on it, a nightstand with an oil lamp, a rocking chair, and a teacup and saucer set. The floor is hardwood.
There are scorch marks around the edge of the window and on the windowsill, as if there had once been a fire. Maybe the girl is dead. Something isn't right.
Let's check the entrances for wet footprints, maybe Paige Carlisle came here. Any suggestions?
Network |
The intensity of the two small auras grows stronger, then weaker, then stronger again, then weaker again...like a signal tuning in and out.
Make a Knowledge (arcana) check.
Sandru |
This is what we got from the sorcerers. Maybe I was wrong in using the boots and goggles. It's been bothering me.
I crouch to the balls of my feet, unpacking everything... I take the goggles off, toss then into the pile. I take off the boots, replacing them with my own original ones.
Earl J V Caromarc |
Caromarc pauses
"I sense there is a strong aura on the building... coming from an aura inside. There is a weaker aura inside as well. They're growing stronger... stronger... diminishing now..."
Can I identify the strong aura on the building with Spellcraft? 1d20 + 16 - 1 ⇒ (12) + 16 - 1 = 27
Mechanical Manservant |
I think the items were identified and enumerated
"Mr Sandru, you seem the one best able to sue such paraphernalia, so why not keep them? The bead might work for Mr Quinn, given his fondness for taking prisoners. As the only member of the group for whom petrification is not an issue it might be best to keep the salve on my person. Perhaps the bag could go to Mr Ianez?"
La Siréene |
La Siréene, strangely enough, appears somewhat distracted. ”As far as I am concerned, Sandru, you may take these items. That which we have no use for, we might later sell to Madchën Sabina.”