Tark's Council of Thieves: Nobles without a House (Inactive)

Game Master Tark the Ork

Sclivian looks at the situation a moment. "I still suspect a trap..." he whispers to Tok. "Let's check."

Merax removes Arael's gag. "Greetings Arael. Janiven sent us, I hope we didn't keep you waiting too long." Merax smiles as he continues to untie the half-elf.

As Meraxilar pushes past sclivian and opens the door himself the man seems thankful to get the gag out of his mouth. Blech! I think one of them used his underwear as the gag. Thank you. Janiven sent you? Than praise Iomedae and praise her. Yes, I am Arael, if you wouldn't mind untying me and returning my equipment to me from the sack beneath this seat I think it best we leave this place before real Hellknights show up."

"Quick, anyone left alive, put them in here. Let's get out of here now!"

Tok helps heft the bodies of the unconscious enemies into the carriage. "You think that one who got away will be able to describe us? Or, you lot rather. I'm not sure I can be disguised."

Tok helps heft the bodies of the unconscious enemies into the carriage. "You think that one who got away will be able to describe us? Or, you lot rather. I'm not sure I can be disguised."

Well we are all wearing the hoods that Pollux made last night Right?

"Do not worry Tik-man's-Tok we can hide your light under a bushel."

"Quick, anyone left alive, put them in here. Let's get out of here now!"

"But the horses won't fit!"

"Arael, can you walk? We must leave before the mounted escort returns." Meraxilar helps Arael up. Merax then begins to remove the armiger armor before tossing the pieces into the wagon like trash.

Putting my own armor back on when I'm done.

Caldazar also assists loading the unconscious bodies into the carriage. He makes a quick check on those still breathing to make sure that wounds are staunched and they have a chance to survive.

Checking in.

Pulls out the harrow deck "Anyone for cards?"

I saw on the OOC thread that Tark was going to be on vacation this week, so we might be taking the week off.

Yep - he's off on a forced familial visitation as far as I can gather

Ah, I didn't realize it was family he was so opposed to visit. Poor guy.

Pulls out the harrow deck "Anyone for cards?"

I bid three no trump.

Now that there is a pause I just want to say how much I am enjoying this game. You guys are really bringing your characters to life. Merax is properly frightening, Tok is solid and implacable. Ruttle really has the harried clerk in over his head down pat and Caldazar has the air of a leader overlooking the failings of his troops as he forges them into something greater.
In short I'm having a blast!

I concur. Pollux, your brand of crazy is simultaneously entertaining and off-putting. I love it. I can't wait to continue this soon. You guys are awesome.

Checking in as well, been tied up some this holiday weekend, but now I'll be posting again more often. I'm also off this whole summer. :) Looking forward to more of our crazy misadventures with cursed dice.

entertaining and off-putting.

Exactly the effect I was going for. Please let my know when I go too far, I expect I will at somepoint. No more mass murder stories than usual so I suspect our fearless leader will return soon.

rael helps as best he can as he buckles his sword belt and throws his armor back on. Caldazar does what he can fdor the wounded need heal checks sir though there is little he can do for Meraxilar's victims one being without a head and another being dead on account of an axe in his brain.

The sleeping ones start to stir before Tok gives them a sharp thwack over the head knocking them out lomg enough to be shoved in the carriage. Much to Pollux's chagrin Castor admits that he doesn't know any good means of shrinking a horse to get into the carriage except by perhaps eating their legs off. But that would take an inordinate amount of time and Castor has only one set of teeth.

Addressing Azrael "Do you have a use for the horses or should we cut them free?" Caldazar speaks with intent, knowing that there is little time.

TarkXT - not sure if we've looted the bodies yet, but would like to suggest that if we haven't

"I say we give the horses a pat on the rump and send this wagon back to their Citadel with a flower or two." Merax replies with a grin, and begins to carve out the words "Send more Armigers." into the side of the wagon.

"I say we give the horses a pat on the rump and send this wagon back to their Citadel with a flower or two." Merax replies with a grin, and begins to carve out the words "Send more Armigers." into the side of the wagon.

Pollux smiles at this idea and begins gathering flowers. Castor helps be placing them in likely spots on top of the wagon.

Sclivian swiftly closes up the back and replaces the lock. "Let's get this cart away..."

Leaving the cart to the more devious members of the team, Sclivian examines the corpses for anything useful before heading out.

Tok watches Pollux gather flowers and shakes his head. "Are we ready to be off, then?"

The flies start gathering over the corpses of the dead by the time you slap the horses rear and send them on the way to the citadel. Arael doesn't seem to care for the antics but says nothing as you travel back to the horses. Caladazar can savebut one with the others injuries far too grievous for his limited skills (i.e. he's yet to learn the trick of reattaching heads).

When you get back warm greetings and teary hugs are exchanged between the reunited members of the Children of Westcrown. Loading up n the horses you make your way back cautiously to Westcrown.

As you start heading back towards westcrown Arael puts a hood over his head to hide his features before turning to the rest of you.

"I don't believe we've had the pleasure of a proper introduction. I am Arael, a priest of her ladyship Iomedae and the leader of this group of spirited men and women before you."

"Caldazar Rothern" extending a hand in formal greeting "Not quite a priest, not quite a soldier, but I aspire to be one of the thorns of the Everbloom"

Mr. Ruttle barely manages to catch his breath by the time he gets back. "I can't believe I actually touched a corpse! Are you always so incredibly belligerent?"

Carefully looking his fingers over for detritus before presenting his hand, Sclivian responds to Arael, "Sclivian Ruttle, Esq. Partner of Ruttle and Goldfist, karcist accountancy and protection."

Tok nods. "Tok Goldfist, student of the Master, and...uh...other partner of Ruttle and Goldfist."

Merax pats Caldazar on the back, and spins the handle of his axe with his other hand. "And thorns we will all become, friend Caldazar." Merax adds with a laugh before turning to Arael and extending his own mailed hand. "Meraxilar Zoon, just a man with an axe to grind with the rulers of Westcrown. It was fortunate that we were able to get to you before you reached the citadel. You can thank Janiven for that, she appears to be very well informed and a capable leader." Merax shoots Janiven a look of admiration, and nods with a bold salute. She has both cunning and beauty despite the Iomedean flaw. I am intrigued.

Looking around at the other (younger) Children of Westcrown, Merax then adds with a sly smile "A very capable group indeed."
Best to bolster more confidence while the iron of this small victory is still hot, they might prove useful here and there after all.

A few minutes later when things settle down and after the introductions are in order, Merax approaches Janiven privately. "Milady, apologies might be in order for the lethality I used on the road today. A roof-mounted small Ballista tends to change one's view of a situation, more so when you are struck by one. I hope you don't hold a lower opinion of me." By the Worldbreaker, I hope she's not wary enough to see through me.

Pollux examines Arael tipping his head from one side to the other, Castor perched of this shoulder chewing on a thistle bloom.

"We salute you, leader of spirits." "This is Castor, he is a rat. I am Pollux. I failed as a corpse so I became a traitor. I am not sure if I have failed at that yet."

"Nonsense, Pollux. You are a prince among vagabonds. So there are now two things you have yet to fail at." Merax says warmly.

Seconding Merax "Aye Pollux, you play a large part and our group would be lesser in your abscence"

Turning to Ruttle, Tok asks quietly, "Why do our companions lavish such praise upon the crazy?"

"It's often best not to disturb the unstable," Mr. Ruttle whispers in return.

"It is better to endorse them?" Tok shakes his head in disbelief.

"There is no record of endorsement," Mr. Ruttle instinctively replies.

Arael smiles. "I'm glad we have such capable people joining us now. I admit we have...enthusiasm but without skilled individuals like yourselves I'm afraid we wouldn't inspire much. In truth our little group would be much larger if we had more men like you. There's at least twice as many people who know of us but are reluctant to join for fear of the hellknights, or lack of interest."

Janiven smiles at Meraxilar's compliments but says nothing.

The journey goes uneventfully as Tarvi asks lots of questions of Scivian about magical application. It seems she's interested in the creation of magic items.

Feeling emboldened by her companion's straightforwardness Mathalen, the meditating woman from before, approaches Tok curiously impressed at his discipline and apparent self calm in the face of fighting several armed men apparently unarmored and unarmed.

Castor, dislodges himself from his usual perch and climbs up into Vitti's hair. No real reason. He just felt like being surrounded by green. Vitti doesn't seem to mind.

As you near the city Arael puts a hod over his head to try and hide his features not altogether confident he won't be recognized. As you get into the gates of the city everyone dismounts and Gorvio starts gathering the horses to return to his father. Janiven turns to the rest of you. "We need to return these horses. I have to take care of Arael, he's the stubborn sort who won't admit he jsut took the beating of a lifetime. Would you be so kind as help Gorvio get them to the stables?"

Caldazar nods his assent at Janiven's request. "Come Gorvio, let us be done with this errand quickly. I am keen to speak with Arael afterwards"

"Come on Castor. Ride your boy this way. We need to put the furry toys back in their box."

Sclivian turns to Tarvi. "You show promise, I'd like to work with you on this. We will start with scrolls, and help you begin a spellbook of your very own."

Once back at the safehouse, Sclivian leafs through his ledger, finds a free page, and scribbles a list of items. "Here is your first lesson. Find and gather this list of items. Note that I am rather particular regarding the base of the materials--a devil's sweat and tincture of mandrake, for example. Also purchase a book, well-bound, made of paper--parchment will do, but no papyrus. I suppose we could also use human skin, but you'll need an extra permit for that, so let's not. This is not cheap, but once gathered, we will have enough material to scribe cantrips onto two scrolls, and a cantrip in your spellbook. Do this, and we'll build from there."

Once his instructions are given, he gives her a reassuring hand on her shoulder, then heads for the stables. He's already wrinkling his nose at the thought.

Tok is encouraged by Mathalen's enthusiasm. He speaks almost gently with her as they return the horses. "The Path of the Master is not easy. But it is well-traveled. If you follow in the footsteps of those who have gone before, you can achieve greatness. Tell me, do you desire to be a student of the Master?"

Merax brings up the rear as we go through the city.

@Scivian: Tarvi takes what you say to heart and wanders off muttering your grocery list under her breath adn tries to put connections between them in her own head.

@Tok: Mathalen thinks for a moment. "That sounds...intriguing. But master of what exactly?"

You go with Gorvio to deal with the horses and you smell the stables before you evre see them. Over the typical city smells of people, garbage, spices, and various odiferous things that have no bisoness near human habitation you smell above that horses, sweat, horse manure, burning charcoal, and fresh oats fermenting in the evening sun.

As you round the corner with the horses you see what is a typical stables for an inner city of course being Westcrown the doors on it are fitted with very strong locks and bars on the gates to prevent the horses inside from becoming some night beasts favorite prey.

Will have more later tonight when I get home from work.

However the thigns that catch your eye are somewhat disconcerting to the good members of the group. First is a man who could not be mistaken as anyting but quite handsome, but also extremely arrogant looking. He is talking animatedly and quite loudly in a berating tone to another man who appears to look much like Gorvio. Upon seeing them Gorvio runs to join the man being berated by his side.

"THIS! IS! INTOLERABLE! Don't you know who I am and how important that I have a white steed for my part in the Elopement of the Dowager Princess tonight! Do you know what I'll do to you if I do not get that horse instantaneously!" The handsome man waves his hands about and seems bigger than he actually is with the way he chews the scenery and hams up the scene. He stops for a moment to catch his breath before preparing to go into another string of insults. Self consciously many of you turn to indeed see quite a beautiful white mare in the pile of horses you brought here.

Untrained Knowledge Local: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

Walking towards the two men "Ho and welcome good sirs, I'm sure we can resolve this before it comes to blows."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24

TarkXT - I'm assuming Gorvio's dad knows we took the horses?

"Why there is a fine white mare among the number my fellows and I are returning." fishing out a couple of gold pieces "She is a fine beast and should serve you well?"

Untrained Knowledge Local Check: 1d20 ⇒ 1

Tok has no idea who this man is and watches and listens as Caldazar approaches him. To no one in particular, he says, "Why does it seem that people are the kindest to those who are so undeserving of it?"

Untrained Knowledge Local Check: 1d20

Tok has no idea who this man is and watches and listens as Caldazar approaches him. To no one in particular, he says, "Why does it seem that people are the kindest to those who are so undeserving of it?"

Pollux answers Tok. "Because we are doomed transitory fragments of an mindless and uncaring universe. We are so steeped in lies and self-delusion that we have fooled ourselves into thinking that meaning is possible and that our own actions are rational."

beat

"But I thought you knew that."

Knowledge local, untrained. 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20.

To the shouty man. In a robust, noble and authoratative voice. It is startlingly unlike his own and Castor is nowhere to be seen.
Charm hex on Thesig, dc 15
"Well here is a horse of a different colour. Take it with my blessing Thesig. It served us well enough at the Contessas Masque."

To the stable owner. Condesending, insincere noble voice.
"A thousand apolgies my good hosteler. The contessa simply would not hear of us leaving before we had dined."

Dismissing the rabble, i.e. everyone but Thesig, from his mind with a visible sneer pollux continues to speak to Thesig now in a familiar yet very superior tone. "Tell me Thesig, I have heard rumors of last minute changes in this production of The Elopement of the Dowager Princess. Are you departing from the composers origional vision or is there something to the hints of financial difficulties that are wafting about?"

That ought to do it. He will have no idea who I am but the vast difference between my appearence and my voice and carriage should cause confusion. The mention of a costume party and the blurring of memory, events and meaning caused by the charm hex should sow enough doubt that he will latch onto the "shop talk" as a way out of what could be an embarassing situation should I actually be a possable patron or noble that he met at some party somewhere.

Knowledge(local) 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14

"Wait a moment," Sclivian observes. "You're Thesing Umbero Uvaud, the opera maestro! Well, then," he continues to the others, "if Maestro Uvaud requires a white horse for his role, he knows what he needs. He wouldn't ask for something that didn't properly accentuate the role. Maestro, will the steed be required to perform any acts or stunts other than carrying yourself?"

Knowledge (Local), Untrained 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2

Not recognizing this actor, Merax sizes him up. "Ah, You must be playing the part of the new stableboy. Perhaps carrying a pail full of oats or a bale of hay would make your costume abit more believable." After a moment, Merax looks thoughtful.... Do you think you could get us free admission? I would love to see this play."

Poor caldazar adn that was a decent roll too. *sigh* Lemme calculate up the penalties and benefits. Maybe Pollux's charm will do some good, nope, doesn't look like. Okay let's see if pollux can at least be a decent bluffer, hmmmm nope. AAAnddddd turns out Thesing does know somehting about the nobility. Shame, and that was well thought out too. This is going to get ugly.

Thesing seems stunned by the sudden arrival of the group and listens for a brief moment as he listens to the various members of the group be diplomatic, rant madly, or be straight up insulting.

He pauses for but a moment to rally the full force of his acidic tongue before unleashing it. "What maggot infested hole of madness and utter stupidity did these....these." Briefly he seems lost for words as he gestures wildly at you and roars. "Madmen! Utter madmen! Stable boy!?! STABLE BOY!! I would not be caught dead playing less than a prince! You've taken my horses! You insult my name and it seems only a pair of you has any sense of manners! And you dare claim nobility! You're as noble as the rear end of a mule! There was no costume party for I would have been invited you petulant alley scum!"

Thesing continues into a loud rant on your failings as people, then as things less then people, than as things even less than that. On the bright side he's not going after the boy's father.

Sclivian look at Thesing and mutters something about a temporal debt.

He then continues as if nothing had happened. "Well, then, Maestro, your horse is here. We all know the importance in getting you ready for your part this evening, and we all know the great Maestro Thesing Umbero Uvaud, and his critical performance this evening, correct?"

That was a Memory Lapse (DC 15) Mr. Ruttle cast up there. Let's rewind that, shall we?