So here it is, the night of the meeting with Ilyssia, the fabled Lady in the Tower. With dark as your shroud all you need to do is arrive without attracting the attention of Maralictor Orms and his men. Or Enzo Garrick and his Rough Bloods. Or the town watch, such as it is. Actually this may be far easier than you thought... Each of the aforementioned groups seem intent on enforcing the curfew on each other, though so far there does not seem to be any blood spilt because of it.
With caution each of you makes your way to tower, close calls, alley cats and at one point an inebriated prostitute have your nerves jangled by the time you even get to the 5ft wall that surrounds the tower.
What an odd thing... Better at home in Egorian, or maybe better still in an age ago in Oppara the tower stands here as a thing of beauty, defiant in this place of mud and dust and rock and toil.
The gate stands open, as do the doors to the tower, though the later are manned by two armed men. They do not stop you, or even question you. Once inside, you are struck for a second time at the wealth that built and furnished this place. Here and again are cushioned seats, and bright lamps, and this is the entry room. Upon entering a man and woman stand ready to assist you in removing any cloak or covering that protected you from the chill spring air. As they complete their task They motion you into a large room that is furnished much as the ante-chamber was. Opposite your entrance is another set of closed double doors. There is stained glass in the windows of this room, though it is not currently easy to discern what it depicts.
Moving through the room are several young women, sisters perhaps though separated by a handful of years. They bring plates of food, offering it to you and the other guests. Here a platter of cheese, blue and pungent, there dried apples, or figs, or skewers of chicken and bacon, or fresh rolls. They also offer water, but curiously, there is no alcohol offered.
A lack of stout seems to be agitating Darian Vysni, a tall broad chested man of perhaps 27. His hair is already thinning and his build, though impressive is not well cared for and you can see the fat starting to overtake the muscle. He is pushing one of the girls to bring something stronger than water.
Also in attendance is Orim Causen, a thin and serious minded young man whose greatest pleasure seems to be the discussion of why Iomedae is to be worshiped and calling all to her banner.
Hirm and Tirm are 2 dwarven brothers that are newer to Haugin's Ear. They have largely kept to themselves, though have hired themselves out as day laborers and none dispute their ability to work. They have been here for a couple months at most.
The esteemed Pathfinder Society also has representative in attendance. Sem Dumas is wiry and quick witted. His shoulder bag is full of maps and drawing and and notes and he has been in Haugin's Ear for several weeks with regards to the supposed petrified giants head that gives the town it's name.
Last but certainly not least, at least in the order that you notice them is Mirian Espitz. A red headed beauty just barely 21. Men 3 years her senior try to find occasion to converse with her. She flirts and flits, but as of now seems unattached despite the trail of broken hearts she seems to leave everywhere she goes. The truth is she is past beautiful and simply radiantly captivating!
Please feel free to describe your arrival, and any precautions taken and your initial interactions with each other, or with the other guests. Jagger and the Lady have yet to be seen.
Seneca leaves the monastery and slips into the darkened streets of Haugin's Ear. Prince of Darkness, why in all nine of your orderly hells does the Superior insist that I creep through the night streets instead of receiving an escort from Maralictor Orms.
He steals through the streets, worried about stumbling over Enzo Garrick or worse Orms himself. What would the Maralictor think if one of Asmodeus's own were caught sneaking through these streets after curfew.
At last, Seneca arrives at the tower. Strange, I've never seen the gate open and unguarded. A failed attempt to talk to the guards leads only to a nod at the interior and at last Seneca makes his way into the tower, surveying the room. Interesting. I guess I'm not the only one summoned to attend Ilyssia this evening. May as well see what I can learn before she arrives. I'll start with that fool Orim Causen.
Seneca takes a small plate of cheese and apples with a glass of water and walks over to the young man conversing with Abbas, "Greetings Orim. What brings such an earnest young lawful man out after curfew on a night such as this?"
Relieving himself from the goings on between the the Maralictor and Garrick, Bryndyn makes his way using well known back ways to Ilyssia's tower. She, whom once spoke for a mere babe, wanted help and Byrndyn would give it.
He moves past the guards and their normal tense reaction at the sight of a Lizardfolk male entering the tower was expected and ignored. They knew him and it didn't matter if they liked him or not.
He turned a toothy grin at one of them and the man stepped backward, getting out of Bryndyn's way.
A few more moments and he was in the room with a fair amount of people. Uncomfortable, Bryndyn sought a shadowed corner - a place to watch and avoid being watched. Near him, in silent understanding, are the two dwarves. They are looking for a bit of solitude as they wait for this meeting to unfold themselves. He would grant them that.
|Pluchak del Oktar|
Pluchak pulls the cowl of his cloak further over his face as he walks into the night, his eyes drinking in the the darkest corners. He sometimes forgot that most other creatures could not see in the dark as he could and that they were as disoriented as he felt in bright light. People didn't seem to mind him as much during the night either, maybe is green skin didn't as much bother them when they couldn't see any color.
He had decided to leave his long spear at home for this meeting, as it would make him more conspicuous. There were not too many who had heard of him in town, and as long as he could stay away from the groups of "order bringers" that clanged around in their heavy armors he would be fine. He heard a group from across the way and dodged behind an obelisk until they passed and then made his way toward the tower. Had it been the Rough Bloods or the Hell Knights? It didn't matter, they were all the same to him.
The half orc came upon the many-windowed tower in the night, its glow warming the heart of the town. As he approached there was a bit of a din on the inside and he wondered how many were going to come. If the Lady were to assemble her own force to combat the trouble brewing in the streets, it would have to be a sizable amount. The realization hit him a little hard, and he realized that he would probably not get a chance to talk with the Lady alone, and this both disappointed and relieved him.
Taking a look around the room, most everyone stiffened as he came in. He handed a cloak to the servant woman as she flinched when he drew near. It was a normal response that never failed to disappoint. He did notice the suspicious eye of one Mr. Vysni glaring at him over a crooked nose. Plucak rolled his eyes at him. Ever since Darian had tried to pick a fight with him a few days back and broke his own nose after passing out in the street he had vowed revenge. If we had gotten in a real fight, I would have torn your throat out instead of dragging you home, you swine, he thought to himself, and did his best to avoid him by moving to the other side of the room. Keeping to himself, he grabbed a wooden skewer of meat and took a bite, wood and all. He also grabbed a couple of rolls and started to ponder the stained glass to see if it held any mysteries.
He spied the Lizardman in the shadows and decided to not bother him for the time being, since he seemed to want his solitude. The conversation between the reverential ones also seemed to be none of his business, so he had none of that either.
Elinor and Narnel are an unlikely duo moving through the quiet streets of Haugin’s Ear, Narnel’s wariness at odds with Elinor’s confidence; she seems more worried about getting mud on her skirts than the chance of a run in with one or other of the possible adversaries. Tall for a human, even an Ulfen, the height of the elf next to her does not make her seem freakish when they enter together. She sweeps the heavy winter cloak from her shoulders and hands it to one of the servants with a slight smile of acknowledgement and breezes into the room ahead of Narnel who stops at the entrance scrutinising everyone there and fixing the layout to memory.
Elinor is dressed in the garb of a Linnorn noble. A mantle of white fur overlies a heavy brocade gown patterned in green and grey whose smooth lines accentuate her figure and whose colours remind one of a stormy sea. Her golden hair is drawn back in a complex braid revealing a graceful neck adorned with silver and gold chains. On anyone other than an Ulfen the long sword she wears at her right hip would seem out of place; on Elinor, its carved pommel completes her. Even with Mirian present she attracts a second look.
Elinor takes some refreshment and mingles skilfully within the gathering. Her glance slides past the half-orc without apparently noticing him at all while she startles at the sight of the lizard-man seated in the shadows. She explains gently to Orim Causen that ‘Old One Eye’ (Erastil) will spank Iomedae if she ventures too far north and is captured by Sem Dumas to explain the different types of giant to be found in northern climes. She’s obviously spoken with dwarves before because she can converse with them without looking down on them. Her voice is musical and slightly accented, the common tongue of the south not her native speech.
|Abbas of Cheliax|
When he is summoned, Abbas finishes reading about the mating of the Chitterwood dragonwyrms. The pictures look good on that page.
The young man decides to leave the quarterstaff next to his couch. He gets up smoothly and puts the book on the Chitterwood animals away. By then, the quiet girl is outside the waiting room and he follows her.
Abbas arrives first, in plain grey tunic, brown trousers and thick sandals, his wooden symbol of a half black/half white face nestles on his chest hair. No weapons at all. He is deathly pale-skinned like a true Cheliaxian but the broad face and shoulders are more in keeping with other races. Abbas stands over six foot tall and moves like a hungry wolf.
Up close the eyes are bright blue, all in all he is cut in the mould of an undiscovered hero from bardic legends.
Having eaten and drunk here earlier, Abbas waits. Orim's approach and subsequent chat about Iomedae gives him a chance to listen. When the faithful servant finishes and Seneca joins them, Abbas steps back a little to give them room, but keeps half an ear open. His attention fixes on the arrivals.
Which can help me?
Narnel, as always, was vigilant in his journey to the tower with his new companion, Elinor. She gave him a sense of peace during their journey due to the fact that she garnered a great deal of attention. This allowed him to meld deftly into the shadows, as would be his preference.
When they arrive at the tower, narnel calculates distances from various points of ranged attacks in and around the structure.
One can never know when he may have to defend his position from assault.
Upon entering the tower, Elinor hands over her cloak with a flourish. Narnel bows his head slightly and holds up a palm to indicate that he would rather keep all of his belongings on his person. One cannot help but notice the fine Elvel Longbow slung across his back, nor the Rapier at his side.
After surveying the room near the entrance for a moment or two, he casually strolls to Elinor's side as she converses with Sem Dumas, an obvious agent of the Pathfinders, about the type of beasts present in Elinor's homeland. Narnel pulls back his hood and inclines his head to Sem.
I am Narnel Falerathon - well met. Beyond a fishing expedition for mundane facts from my friend, what brings you to the call of the Lady Illysia, Sem, is it?
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17
|Harlynn P. Quinn|
So the night finally comes of the town meeting, perhaps the Lady will tell me why she has banished me here Ponders the scrawny Chelaxian as he wanders in to the Moot house. As the shroud of night creeps over the rest of Haugin's Ear, he seems unphased by the curfew At least I dont have to worry about the Hellknights. I am of valuable service to them. The real tyrants here are those Rough Bloods. No order, they do as they please, even their leader seems unqualified to lead troops, just the most mean and most intimidating of the bunch
As he removes his cloak at the coat room, and a silver piece to the one that took his cloak. There is a man, who appears perhaps 17 years of age. Clean shaven, or perhaps unable to even grow the peach fuzz that hints at a beard. With the hairstyle to befit a youngster. He wears nothing that gives away his profession save for a large messenger bag.
He looks over at the several young women gives a wink and a smile. Perhaps one or three of them will entertain me in the coat room tonight
Diplomacy1d20 + 10 ⇒ (8) + 10 = 18
Bluff1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14
He sees Darian, and looks a little disgusted but his face does not portray a stoic demeanor. He then hears Orim preaching of Iomedae and tries to enter into a religious debate with him, trying to steer the conversation to mimic the order in the nine hells to break apart his argument
Diplomacy1d20 + 10 ⇒ (17) + 10 = 27
Knowledge Religion1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16
Hopefully he can start a conversation with Seneca during this religous debate. He seems like one Harlynn would get along best with
Upon seeing Mirian he goes over and introduces himself with his best foot forward, thinking that she will make a fine addition to the other young lasses later
Diplomacy1d20 + 10 ⇒ (14) + 10 = 24
Bluff1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12
0:Acid Splash, Detect Magic, Read Magic
1: Burning Hands, Color Spray, Summon Monster I
Aidan has been sitting perfectly still for nigh two hours already when dark falls, just outside the tower. The best way to avoid the curfew, is to not violate it. Recalling the need for secrecy, Aidan answers queries directed at his perch with I wait for the signal from sky herself, careful not to actually lie. Wait he does, until sky signals night.
What could this be about? I hope it does not take long, I hate to be apart from Tkurzhan.
Lost in thought, he idly shrugs off his furs and hands them to the doorman, taking in the spectacle of wealth arrayed before him. When Aidan arrives in the larger room, he casts a quick gaze around, his eyes lingering contemptuously on any soldiers in the room. When approached by a servant, he replies brusquely, Water, please. That will be all.
Relatively small of stature, Aidan stands just under average height for a human. His slightly unkempt hair and beard have a natural appeal, and his sharp eyes are dark. He lacks the traditional white skin of a Chelaxian, but his hawklike features betray his parentage. He settles into a casual lean against a wall, seeming slightly uncomfortable as he idly spins a handcrafted whistle made of bone.
If approached, Aidan shrugs of conversation with curt but courteous replies, his velvety voice somewhat at odds with his demeanor.
Survival(Picking out Tracks in/out of tower) 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28
Perceptions: Outside 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19, Antechamber 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22, Large Rooom 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (20) + 10 = 30
Taedric sighs as Trumps stops short, and follows his mount's gaze off to the left, his gnomish eyes seeing the Hellknights and their light off in the distance. He pats the black-and-red wolf reassuringly and motions right, thankful for their dull eyes and need for torches on a moonlit night. A good thing, too, I have to think a gnomish wolf-rider would be the sort of thing they'd investigate -- even as quiet at Trumps can be.
Once down the side-street, he pauses a moment to get his bearings, trying to mentally determine the best route to the tower after this, his fourth detour. North, north, then east, and I should be back on track.. He rides on in the quiet for a moment, stopping again and tucking himself against a wall as a circle of illumination reveals itself at the next intersection. He freezes, gently nudging the wolf into the shadows with the smallest of twitches in his right knee. His heart begins pounding as he sees the Rough Blood patrol reach the intersection and turn toward him. Bleach me now!, he curses silently, wondering how close they'll pass and whether the shadows are enough to conceal him. Best not take any chances... It's not like we exactly blend in with the locals. He takes a breath and whispers a small prayer to Desna for luck, I sure hope this works... as he reaches into himself and draws upon his fey heritage, creating four small balls of torchlight down the street behind the patrol and quickly ducking them into a side alley, toward the patrol of Hellknights. He releases his breath as he hears the Rough Bloods call out about the light and start after it.
I suppose I should be grateful they're letting me have any fun at all, especially since they closed down the tavern, he laughs to himself as he sneaks past and hears the two groups throwing accusations at each other. It's so very tempting to add a few voices to that and make it worse.... but, no, I have business to attend to... and besides, when those idiots do start pounding on each other, it'll be the townfolk who suffer... He sobers with that thought, absently running a hand in Trumps' fur while progressing in silence.
After what seems like a hours of skulking about, he finally sees the gate to the tower courtyard, though he stops a moment when he sees that it is open. He motions the wolf slightly, stepping into another shadow, carefully watching the entrance for a few minutes.. That looks far too much like a trap to my taste, and I'd rather not leave everything up to Desna's blessing -- sometimes, we need to make our own luck. Seeing a few others enter the courtyard and then the tower, and assuring himself that none of them were Hellknights or Roughbloods, he motions the wolf forward, tentatively at first, but then picking up speed and running when he realizes that they cannot avoid the light, even for human eyes.
He rides forward into the room, pointedly ignoring any glances at the wolf below him or indication that he should dismount, At least I can look you in the eye while standing in the saddle. He surveys the area, looking for the Lady who invited him... Realizing she is yet absent, he begins to study the others in the room. Did we all get the same invitation, I wonder? He directs Trumps toward one of the serving girls, smiling reassuringly at her and saying, "There is nothing to fear lady. Trumps, here, only eats those who would harm the innocent." He takes some of the offered cheese, relishing the smoky taste for a moment before returning his attention to the room. Well, there is one sure way to get the measure of these assembled men and women... He stands on his saddle and bows, saying, "Well met. I am Taedric Starfell of Umok. Anyone for a game of cards while we await our hostess?"
Elinor turns at the dramatic entrance and her hand falls quickly to the hilt of her sword when she sees the wolf. At the gnome's words she relaxes.
"Hah," she says, covering her momentary alarm with a smile, "I know better than to play cards with a svartalfar. If you win the stolen gold will turn to dew at the touch of sunlight, and if you lose you always find that you wagered far more than you bargained for." She steps towards the strange rider and curtsey's slightly. "I was taught not to give my name to one of the small folk, but you may call me Ellie."
The day passed into evening and I pulled myself from meditation. Leaving the small shrine and my tiny world to meet its greater dangers is going to be hard. I have trained and I am ready to spread the goddesses message of redemption and love. Moving through town was easier than I guessed it was going to be as I had heard about the commotion that these "law bringers" had brought to what was mostly a quiet place in the last few months. It seems that they are more intent on each other than the movements of this woman, who may appear no more than a gypsy to the untrained eye--with her wild hair bound back with a colorful scarf, large earrings, and flowing robes, but look closer and under her cloak you will see the glint of a scimitar.
She enters the courtyard and looks at the others that have gathered, as with all those she has not met she assumes their path is toward redemption and will treat them with all kindness.As she moves through the crowd she bends her head in respect and says, "I am Larayn, child of Serenrae to serve those that bring the world good." moving towards the man who serves Iomedae as she knows he is a righteous soul.
Taedric chuckles slightly at her statement and looks up at Elinor, his eyes innocent, "But, surely, Lady Ellie, you have heard that we Gnomes have not been amongst the wee folk or the First World for centuries?" Though some still seem to miss it... He winks mischievously and smiles, "Why, I, myself, haven't stolen a child in years. I don't even think I would remember how. And besides which, the Order...", he motions to the shield strapped upon his back, "...would likely not approve, either."
Taedric tries to get an idea of the mood of those in the room.. Sense Motive 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13
Orim smiles at Seneca.. "Hello Seneca! I might return the question! Surely Asmodeus does not give his leave if the matter involves hors d'oeuvres. But being serious for a moment, it is my view that the law exists for the betterment of all, and where it can be seen that worse can happen from obedience, then even the law might be unlawful to a higher legality, that of mercy."
"Take for example this curfew... if you hear your neighbors house burning at night, his children screaming, does the law protect your inaction towards his plight?" Orim seems delighted to be engaged in the conversation, but Abbas used the moment to retreat.
Sem moves about the room, trying to learn what he can about his interest. The Ulfen woman was not able to expand his knowledge much with regards to the head. Giant head indeed! A giant giant if such a thing existed. Maybe in older days it had. Narnel's inquiry turns his head, and his is embarrassed that Elinor's beauty had caused him to fail to even notice the elf. "I had assumed she wanted to hear my tales of adventure and misadventure. It is a common request of people in power, but alas I cannot believe she also hired me an audience, so I am as mystified as you are."
Harlynn finds the serving girls resolutely uninterested in his advances. In fact anything other than questions about what is being served is ignored. He is readily admitted to the conversation with Orim, and finds the young man up for his challenge in debate. The only time he seems to take less enjoyment is when Harlynn's attentions are caught by Mirian. His charm sucks her in and she is flirting back with abandon, enjoying his attention, but when he clumsily suggests a tossle in the coat closet, she smiles and moves away.
|Pluchak del Oktar|
Ellie, the Half-orc thought to himself as he caught the goings on out of the corner of his eye. He honestly didn't know what to think of her. Best to avoid, she could be trouble.
As he went for more food, having finished what he had already, he took a glance at the Lizardman in the corner. He hadn't really seen one before, but understanding the flinch from the woman from the North as something he had endured before, he couldn't help feel a bit of kinship for the person. If he treats me with respect, I will definitely do the same. This world is harsh enough for those of us who are different. No need to add to it. He gave the corner dweller a quick nod of respect and returned to his pondering of the stain glass.
|Abbas of Cheliax|
Abbas makes a decision. He strides around Seneca and Orim discussion and walks up to the mounted Taedric.
"You're a gnome! I am Abbas." The man may be blessed with heroic features and a winning smile but he keeps his conversation simple. And direct.
"You got a nice wolf. Is it Trumps?"
He stops next to Elinor and Larayn and shrugs, "hello." His blue eyes flicker like diamonds in the bright candlelight. Clear and bright like daylight through a window pane.
Narnel stands slightly behind Elinor and listens to the conversation with the Gnome.
And I am Narnel...well met.
|Abbas of Cheliax|
Narnel glances at Elinor, and with a grin says to Abbas,
Abbas, I am here to answer the call of Ilyssia with my friend, Ellie, here.
He places a hand on Elinor's shoulder.
"Rumour has it my uncle was stolen away as a child. Certainly he, or his changeling, came to a bad end." Distracted for a moment by Abbas, Elinor glances at him, her stormy grey staring into his sapphire blue. "Come on then Abbas, we can't let him perch on his wolf all night." With or without the Chelaxians help she drags a table across the room to Taedric and Trumps and bows theatrically inviting the gnome to step onto the steadier platform. "Given the lack of respect for innocence around here, maybe the dog should rest under the table? We can always toss him the remains of anyone who steps out of line."
Taedric smiles at Abbas and says, "I am, indeed. Have been for decades, now. Well met, Abbas. And yes, this shaggy beast is my friend, Trumps."
Narnel reaches under the table and rubs the head of Trumps.
Vysni is working himself into a rage... The serving girls do not seem to care what he is demanding to drink. The menu has been chosen without their, or apparently Vysni's input. Just as his bellicose outbursts reach a point where all civility demands interference the closed doors open, and in steps Jagger. He gives the appearance of a rabid poodle. He is wearing the clothes of a minor Chelexian noble, but such is clearly not comfortable for him. Immediately behind him comes a beautiful woman in a white floor length gown. The gown has a high collar, and long sleeves and glimmers in the light. It is snug and flattering, but is not indecent. The style of the dress is well out of fashion. The woman in the gown, a brunette with piercing eyes appears to be in her mid 50's. She has a regal bearing and clearly comes from blue blood. As the room falls silent, she asks Darian if there is a problem. Her tone is even but it clearly puts the large man back on his heels. He murmurs a reply and shakes his head in the negative.
To Jagger she says, "This is all of them?" When he tells her it is not, she shakes her head momentarily marring her stately features with a look of worry or annoyance.
To the assembled group she raises her voice, My apologies for the secrecy of this assembly. I hope shortly you will know why. Also accept my gratitude for accepting this summons even as it is much less easy to move about. The invitation was made before the curfew as you know, but I would have found it hard to find much fault if you had decided not to come.
Please start by knowing this; You have each been hand chosen to be here. I need your help, and more importantly Haugin's Ear needs your help.
Gillamoor is fallen to the dead. This curse moves our way now. I have found an ancient ward that can keep us safe, but I need several things to work it. Because of my limitations I need 2 groups to retrieve the final components, and I need a third to get information about a report of orcs. Goblins are one thing, but orcs still another.
Despite what you may think of Mr Garrick, and the Maralictor subtly is not their strength, and while they argue tonight about what is the best bedtime for all of us, a truly sinister curse is on its way. By the time I convinced both of them, or either of them of what is happening it will be too late. So I pick you, some loyal to the Hell Knights, and some to Garrick, some I hope to me and others to wider powers... Misters Ayrvar and Dumas, your presence here honors us all in an effort to build a coalition or a consensus and move forward with a sense of unity.
Here is what I need specifically. There is an herbalist somewhere between here and the village of the Lizardfolk. The herbalist, a somewhat morbid soul, has grown something called a corpse flower. I am not sure there is any other for a great distance, but our last interaction was far less than positive and I am sure that there is not a price that she would sell it to me for. With proper persuasion, she might sell or give it to you.
Secondly, and this is more dangerous, I need a team to go into the devils hole. You who have grown up here have heard of it and know it has a reputation for being haunted. The rumors are true. I have divined that there is a knife deep there. I need a blade ancient as that one is, and I need 3 skulls from where it is found.
Finally, I need a team to observe the old fortress and see if indeed orcs have taken it as a home. There is no expectation to fight the orcs, simply get an estimate of their number, if they are there at all. For this mission, I would like Mister Vysni to lead, and please take Tirm and Hirm with you for their physical ability and Misters Causon and Dumas and Ms Espitz with you for support.
For the first 2 errands I will let the rest of you organize yourselves, and shall answer questions as I am able. I expect the second errand will be the most dangerous. Please begin these errands as soon as you can. First thing tomorrow if possible. The town cannot be safe until you return."
Narnel leans close to Elinor,
I am with you, Ellie...I follow your lead.
Bryndyn Is surprised when the Gnome brings in the wolf...not so much by the wolf itself as with the fact the men at the gate didnt stop it. Still, he understood wolves, perhaps mores than many others, They were solitary creatures at times...and part of a pack at other times...just like him. "I wonder if they have to chose between packs" he thinks.
The conversation about stolen babies upsets him, but the only thing that shows is a stiffening of his head fin. He almost stepped out of his shadowed corner to comment, when the Lady came forth and made her requests. When she was done, he did step forward.
"I can guide either group. I know the local area well."
|Harlynn P. Quinn|
The Chelaxian with the boyish good looks says, I am afraid my talents do not lend themselves to the natural world. I will lend my aid to the second group and gain the knife you my lady. as he steps forward taking some meat of a table and placing it inside his messenger bag. He thinks for a moment and says, My name is Harlynn Quinn, a graduate of the Egorian Academy, so I am of the more Arcane bend to things, but it seems as though we are entering into a contact my dear lady. I understand this curse is coming out way but what are the details, or I hope I am not overstepping my bounds when I ask what the compensation will be?
Diplomacy1d20 + 10 ⇒ (10) + 10 = 20
Nicodemus hurriedly skulks through the streets and alleys of Haugin's Ear darting between shadows and around corners, deftly avoiding notice of the wandering Hellknights until at last he arrives at the tower. He tips his wide-brimmed hat briefly to the guards as he passes, a gesture he manages to make look vaguely insolent, before continuing quickly on into the inner rooms. He doesn't bother to check the pocket watch beneath his heavy leather duster, he knows that he's late to the curious summons.
He flashes a crooked smile to the woman as she speaks, and settles against the wall to listen as she explains the task. As she expounds upon the problems the faint smirk fades from his lips and a spark of anger flickers in his dark eyes.
"Nicodemus, as requested, and my apologies for my lateness." he says, doffing his hat and bowing slightly to the Ilyssia before turning his attention to the others called to the tower.
"I'm here to help; I'm something of a specialist in the sort of things that we might be encountering. They're a bit of a...hobby of mine." he says, and despite his pleasant smile, his eyes flash dangerously as he says the last bit.
Aidan steps forward at the mention of his name, holding his white staff proudly. The ash quarterstaff bears burnt markings, as though a hot stone was drawn across the wood. For those with keen eyes, in the bright light you can make out the runes that curve around the staff: "Երդվում եմ, որ ճնշել կրակները մարդու, որ Ֆլեյմի պատերազմի Երդվում եմ Հերիք է շոգին անարդարության. Երդվում եմ, որ հակված էր անտառը: Երդվում եմ չվնասել այն, ինչը չի դուրս էներգախնայողության. Երդվում եմ վերաբերվում բոլոր հրդեհների առումով, եւ ձգտում են վերջ տալ դրանց:", though you cannot puzzle their meaning. I would prefer to stay away from the restless souls, and venture into the mets k’anakut’yun, the wild. He adjusts his grip on the staff, looking at the floor. Tkurzhan and I are willing to lay forth our lives to prevent this coming, but not heedlessly. I will march to this Orc fortress to report; but only if I am truly needed there.
I doubt brawn alone will win out, and that Dumas figure looks shifty. I'm not so sure about the dwarves... We shall see.
|Pluchak del Oktar|
Pluchak stepped forward when there was a sufficient gap in volunteers. My loyalty is to you, lady, but my powers are best used in persuasion He cracked his knuckles loudly. I will go to this herbalist you speak of and... talk with her. Reasonably, if need be. I am ready to leave right away.
He looked around him, knowing he was the first to mention this particular task. He didn't want to go spy on the orcs, there would be too much questioning into his heritage then. But he didn't want to know of his heritage. He just wanted to live in peace in the only place he had found any. His gut told him that this lady had the ability to keep it that way, and he had nothing else to listen to.
He stepped back, awaiting others to volunteer. He was ready to do it by himself if need be. But to be honest, a quest of this magnitude, he hoped to have at least someone to watch his back.
|Abbas of Cheliax|
Abbas nods sagely looking like he can follow the conversation. One hand rubs his chin as he listens to the others. He murmurs quietly to the adventurers he is stood beside, without even realising it,
Narnel, Elinor, Taedric and DM Only
He walks over to the magess taking a circular path around the room, allowing himself the time to attune his senses to the sights and smells of everyone in the chamber. The man is calm and looks thoughtful. Eventually he reaches a point against the wall near the Lady, leaning back to rest his back there and crossing his ankles.
Lots said by lots. Not sure who is good at this and who is not. Why do this not knowing who can do what?
"I's Abbas. Can protect with staff. Can I go with gnome - he is red and good?." The image may slip a bit with his confused speech.
Taedric listens carefully to the Lady, his face frowing at the news. He listens carefully, cocking his head as he considers the options, finally saying, "I will go to the herbalist -- my own skills are to be persuasive. . . Although perhaps a mite less forcefully than our friend, here."
|Abbas of Cheliax|
What say you Ellie, should we join Larayn and Harlynn in the haunted hole?
So that's Narnel, Elinor, Larayn and Harlynn for the hole, knife and skull searching.
|Harlynn P. Quinn|
A Wizard, Cleric, Rogue, and Fighter. That sounds about has balanced party ever written. Haven't done that party make up in about 15 years.
Harlynn makes it a point to greet everyone and offer his hand in friendship. Harlynn, a pleasure to meet you.
Well met, friend, I am Narnel Falerathon.
I care not which way I go. I would prefer the hole, but would understand if the group would prefer me for the herbalist says Bryndyn simply. The large group is daunting to him, and he is looking forward to a direction...any direction other than this throng of folks he doesn't know.
Aidan twists his staff in contemplation. Perhaps Nicodemus should assist in the acquisition of the knife, as his aforementioned hobby may be of greater benefit there.
He casts an eye over Seneca, scratching his beard.
I suspect that you may be of more help against what we may face heading to the herbalist than in a hole fighting the restless dead.
Aidan gives Taedric and Trumps an analytical and wistful look. I hope Trumps will get along with Tkurzhan, but your prowess and celerity will be welcome on our journey.
Aidan waves a hand at Bryndyn. Follow your heart, friend. I will guide the expedition to obtain the corpse flower. As for the rest of you, hajoghut'yun.
So that makes Nicodemus, Narnel, Elinor, Larayn and Harlynn for the knife, Taedric, Abbas, Pluchak, Aidan, and Seneca for the corpse flower. That summarizes everyone who has posted, I think. Post on discussion board with concerns.
The lady addresses Harlynn, Mister Quinn, what value do you place on your services? I am asking for the preservation of all that I value. She waves with her hand, indicating the room, This place was not built by the hands of slaves. Name the price of your services, or better, wait until you return and tell me what your travail is worth. You choose a harder task. At my word, I would not have you feel ill used.
My assumption is that the teams strike out at first light. Any variance to that plan, please let me know. Please also let me know any last minute preparations, now that you have your tasks.
With the lady choosing a team for Vysni, he looks very pleased. Mirian, looks much less so, especially as the big man tries to wrap one of his beefy arms around her.
Aidan offers to guide the other group, so Bryndyn nods and moves toward Narnel.
He is pleased... He would find out about those stories now...
we leave early... Rest now...
I am on biz travel til tomorrow so my responses are a bit shorter than intended
"Yes, I will be happy to join those of you going to the herbalist for the corpse flower. This should be...interesting."
[ooc]First light is fine. Prepared spells will be 0: Detect Magic, Enhanced Diplomacy, Guidance and 1: Cure Light Wounds, Shield of Faith and Disguise Self (Domain)
|Pluchak del Oktar|
Aidan offers to guide the other group, so Bryndyn nods and moves toward Narnel.
He is pleased... He would find out about those stories now...
we leave early... Rest now...
If we must, I would rather travel at night as this task seems quite urgent. He looks around at the ones who are coming his way, But I can wait if need be. Unlike others among my heritage, I do not mind the light.
The large Half-Orc turns and walks over to the gnome. The lack of flinching and the good food in this room has put Pluchak in a good mood, and in his own mind he tempts fate by trying direct conversation, although he says it quietly so not many else could hear. We can try it your way first. My way might be effective but it might get ugly. The less force used, the better, especially if we all have undead to face.
My eyes are not as keen as yours, hresh, so I would that we wait until dawn.
The way he says hresh, you know him to mean Orc. Though he puts emphasis on the word, it is not a callous tone, nor an angry one- at least, not openly. It could be pity, or disdain, or even awe; you notice an alien inflection, as though someone with only passing knowledge of humanity had taught it.
Elinor seems slightly amused at Harlynn's youth but tries not to patronise. She curtsey's so that she is almost down to his level and takes his hand in a calloused grip. She may dress like a noblewoman, but she's worked with her hands at some point.
"I am Elinor, daughter of Knut Liefsson. What do you bring to the party, friend Harlynn?"
With Bryndyn, Elinor is uncomfortable, her right hand flexing for a shield that is not there.
"How far is this 'hole'? Reaching a barrow just before dark will mean we stay but." She pauses. "KKssssssss Chaaak rek'n s'tithhhh m'krun s'tsssss nngggg ksss r'kllll accch m'rKK fssssss."
Turning to the priest and priestess she smiles.
"I suppose I should encourage the two of you to stand behind me when we enter this hole. But if the deed come for us that's where I stand behind you."
Elinor addresses the Lady Ilyssia.
"Lady Ilyssia. My friend Narnel can see in the dark like a cat, I am not so fortunate. Do you have lanterns, oil, rope and for that matter provisions if this De'il's hole is distant?"
|Harlynn P. Quinn|
Harlynn stands poised. When elinor grips his hand he twists and places a kiss on the back of her hand before answering her question I assume you mean besides wit and charm my lady. He pauses a moment takes a breath and reiterates, I, my dear, lady have a silver tongue and a massive intellect
When she asks the lizardfolk the questions he takes note but does not respond.
|Abbas of Cheliax|
Pluchak has a warrior's strong grip, but then Abbas had heard that half-orcs were powerful. He shakes the hands of Aidan and Seneca as well, happy with the way things have worked out. They seem to be confident and skilled, much like Abbas tries to appear.
He takes the time to say goodbye to the others as well. Maybe his comment about not becoming a ghost too was not so well timed or wise, but he was only trying to show he cared.
"Need someone to wake me. Sleep like a dog, mum said before. Got to get things from Yancar. Only got staff here."
Abbas waves his empty hands about his belt and plain clothes.
Narnel looks over Bryndyn.
Bryndyn, I am narnel Falerathn. Well met! Where do your skills lie?
He cannot help but recognize the sidelong glance that Elinor gives to the Lizard-like creature.