Owen the Younger |
I think we are leaving Cerpera to the care of the priests, since it seems like she would be more comfortable with them. I am okay with investigating tonight. I, for one, did not use any spells.
Seconded. Also, Owen didn't use much in the way of spells, but miraculously gained two extra spells slots (nice catch, GM Tordek)...
GM Tordek |
No one seems to object to investigating tonight. So let's proceed.
Reaching a consensus to investigate the possible lair of Maxkevlay Soncatim located somewhere near the Brothers of the Seal shrine this evening, the group departs from the pool chamber. Nyxalia carries Cerpera in her arms.
On the other side of the door, they find Hortiln waiting. As he looks at each of you, he is taken aback with a sense of unease. "I trust that your audience with Cerpera has gone well. The Lady of Graves has bestowed special favor on this dear child. When Cerpera came to us, she said that Pharasma has called to you as well. May I be of any assistance before you depart?"
Zarine Panchal |
"Can you tell us aught of the Brothers of the Seal?" Zarine queries of the good brother, gold eyes sizing him up in an oddly alien fashion, "Or provide us with healing potions in case we run into trouble?"
GM Tordek |
Hortiln answers Zarine, "Normally, the church is closed at this hour, but given your special purpose, I am sure we can find some healing potions for you before you depart. As for the Brothers of the Seal, they confine their conflict to themselves. They shouldn't give you any trouble unless you get in between them or appear to favor one side over the other. Best to stay neutral as far they go and avoid them as much as possible."
Ulath Hawkshaw |
"So they are a bunch of raggamuffins and rogues, fighting wit' themselves? Or are they a cowled gaggle of dodgy mystics, all politics and in-fighting? Any recommendations who deals fair with thee." Ulath asks trying to figure out the situation.
Owen the Younger |
"So they are a bunch of raggamuffins and rogues, fighting wit' themselves? Or are they a cowled gaggle of dodgy mystics, all politics and in-fighting? Any recommendations who deals fair with thee." Ulath asks trying to figure out the situation.
"Either way, situation possibly to our advantage."
GM Tordek |
Hortiln turns to Ulath. "Oh their fighting is real and quite deadly. The battle between the two factions first erupted on the streets of the Oriat district about 30 years ago. Several innocent bystanders, caught in the cross fire, lost their life that day." Hortiln pauses for a moment to reflect on the deceased and then continues, "The other factions, led by the Ardocs and the Widdershins Constabulary, quickly quelled the riots and drove it back underground. Since then, the battle has raged on mostly in the shadows. The leader of the traditionalist, they call themselves the 'Faithful' is Father Zho. He welcomes any who are neutral or better yet, sympathetic to their cause. The other faction calls themselves the Scions. They are led by Aldair Eamon, a red-headed showman of sorts. You will see him around town preaching about the rightness of their cause. As I said before, don't get caught between them and you'll be safe."
GM Tordek |
Hortiln leads you back to the Godsmouth Cathedral. He unlocks a side door and guides you into a small vestibule. The light is dim, as only one candle illuminates the room. Great carvings of Pharasma's holy symbol have been worked into the wooden paneled walls on each wall. He pulls a rope hanging on the other side of the room and waits patiently. In a few minutes, the door opens and a young priest peers into the room. Hortiln whispers into the priest's ear. The priest gives you an odd look, then nods and turns away. "I have asked him for some healing potions to aid you in your quest. He will also summon another priestess to take charge of Cerpera."
A few more minutes pass and then the door opens again. The original priest accompanied by an elderly priestess enter the room. The priestess moves to Nyaxlia. "I will take the dear child." Taking the sleeping child with surprising ease, she continues, "The poor girl must be exhausted from her ordeal. We will take very good care of her." The other priests hands you 6 small bottles. "These will help you in case you are injured." 4 of the bottles are potions of cure light wounds and the other 2 bottles are potions of cure moderate wounds.
Nyxalia Blackstone |
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Nyxalia hands Cerpera over to the priestess and moves to join the others.
She stands quietly off to the side, as is her norm, and pulls the gift of the Goddess out of her pouch. Power pulses through her, not as much as when she first received the item, but enough to reinforce her connection to it. Strangely, for anyone looking, the small crystal orbiting her head seems to dip closer to the object she holds with each pass around her. Looking more closely the the object in her palm, she notices something and a curious look comes over her face.She quickly snatches the spinning crystal from the air and brings it down to meet whatever she is holding. A smile spreads over her face and she grips the item tighter, before putting it back into her pouch, the small crystal no longer orbiting her head.
GM Tordek |
You gather the potions and depart into the dark. Based on the information you have received about the Brothers of the Seal, you head for the Oriat District in the northern section of Kaer Maga.
To learn more about Oriat, make a knowledge(local) check.
Zarine Panchal |
K(l): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25
I'm interested in the Street of Sighs.
"Good, we are well on our way. Unfortunately, the former home of the Brothers of the Seal is no longer intact. We'll have to search the ruin for signs of where to enter their domain," Zarine mentions offhandedly as the group traverses the streets towards the Oriat District.
GM Tordek |
The name of the street comes from the clicks and whistles that form the Sweettalker's curious form of speech, which evolved by their strange practice of sewing their lips shut.
The Sweettalkers come from a distant Eastern nation of Tian. All Sweetalkers revere the same monotheistic god with complete piety. They believe that to speak anything less than the true name of their god is to sully the divine gift of language. None of the Sweettalkers encountered in the western lands have judged themselves worthy of speaking it. As a coming of age ceremony, youths aspiring to adulthood, stitch their own mouths shut, called "the Kiss", amid a great celebration. Over time, their jaws lock in place and their skin grows together, leaving only a small central gap for communication, and the pulped fruit, milk, and broth which they consume as food. Despite their appearance, Sweettalkers are a friendly group and they make natural merchants, traders and bankers. Communication is achieved through a complex system of whistles, sighs, and clicks as well as elaborate hand gestures. image of sweettalker
GM Tordek |
As you approach the Oriat district, you see the glow of roof top bars from the distance. Moving closer, the clink of glasses and laughter of couples, the sound of a fiddle beckon you closer.
Once you enter the district, you see stall after stall of artist showing their wares, colorful portraits, abstract collages, ceramic pitchers, and fine jewelry. A small troupe, dressed in long coats,boots and bandanas and brandishing a crude black flag with a skull and cross bones approaches you. "Ahoy matey's, we seems to have lost our man'o'war somes where while we be spendin our booty at the local establishments. Ave's you seen it? It be a stout ship, wi' two oars. Aye, pillagin gives a man quite a thirst!"
Owen the Younger |
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"Ahoy matey's, we seems to have lost our man'o'war somes where while we be spendin our booty at the local establishments. Ave's you seen it? It be a stout ship, wi' two oars. Aye, pillagin gives a man quite a thirst!"
Well that was sort of meta...
GM Tordek |
GM Tordek wrote:"Ahoy matey's, we seems to have lost our man'o'war somes where while we be spendin our booty at the local establishments. Ave's you seen it? It be a stout ship, wi' two oars. Aye, pillagin gives a man quite a thirst!"Well that was sort of meta...
yes it is. I'll take inspiration from anywhere. The beauty of creating our own adventure.
GM Tordek |
The pirate captain roars with laughter. He points to Savendir and says, "This one's a right smart one he is. C'mon matey's, tis time to sail on." With that the troupe of actors moves past you, laughing and carrying on with other bystanders on the streets.
Its not difficult to find the hulking ruin that was once the home of the Brothers of the Seal. It is pressed against the tall city walls. The charred structure stands in stark contrast to its brightly colored neighbors. Aside from a few small groups of onlookers moving past along the cracked sidewalk in front, the building looks deserted.
Owen the Younger |
Zarine's eyes crinkle above her veil. "Done and done. Anybody care to join me? Or should we split up and scout the place separately?"
"Prefer to do things on my own, but considering circumstances, splitting up inadvisable. Plan is fine for now."
GM Tordek |
As you look across the street at the Broken Monastery, you see crumbling walls scorched black from fire. A few charred rafters above are all that remains of the roof of the monastery. Two large double doors hang askew, straining to free themselves from the remaining hinges holding them upright. Windows on either side glare back with jagged teeth. The only signs of movement are the fluttering of pigeons returning to their nests near the top of the monastery.
Owen the Younger |
Savendir considers a moment. "Those suited for it can scout ahead, but only within view of the rest bringing up the rear. We should not be separated, I agree." He doesn't seem to relish agreeing with Owen about anything.
Owen nods slightly, and disappears into the shadows ahead of the group.
Stealth: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25
Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22 (+1 vs. traps)
Ulath Hawkshaw |
The dwarf scowls at the drunken sailors', as if they had insulted him with some sort of strange joke. However he looks to the decadent houses with an incline of his head.
"I ain't t' most quiet 'n' sneaky, suppose I could keep to t' shadows a bit." He volunteers knowing his lack of agility.
GM Tordek |
First Owen, then Nyxalia and finally Zarine enter through the broken door.
Illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the gaping holes in the roof of the monastery, the interior is cast in dim light. A large gathering hall stretches out from the entryway. On either side, 5 stone brick rooms define the walls of the room. All of the rooms are open, their doors consumed in the fire. Marble columns, blackened with soot, rise up in two rows 15 feet apart running from front to back. The columns reach out to the night sky above holding nothing but a few remaining rafters that survived the fire.
Everything is quiet except for the cooing of the pigeons above.
Zarine Panchal |
Zarine follows the tracks, peering into the gloom with her newfound ability to pierce the darkness. Acquired darkvision 60' with mythic.
Stealth: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (3) + 12 = 15
Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19
GM Tordek |
The door swings easily and silently as Nyxalia opens it. Pausing for a moment to listen for movement on the other side, Nyxalia hears nothing. She opens the door wider.
On the other side of the door are very wide stone steps winding down to the right. On the walls, sconces dimly illuminate the stairway. From her vantage point, Nyxalia cannot see how far the stairs go as they bend away out of her sight.
GM Tordek |
Savendir and the others move through the broken door of the monastery. Ulath can see Nyxalia peering through an open door at the other end of the great hall as Zarine and Owen stand by and watch.
The room at the other end of the hall is too dark for Savendir and Illias to see much beyond the center of the room.