The Torture Chamber (Everquest RPG PBP)

Game Master Xenh

Abandon all hope, ye who enter the world of Norrath.


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Revery (Erudite Enchanter) in somnis veritas // Kspress (Iksar Monk) Your pain is the breaking of your shell.

Revery was not paying attention when they bought the casks of Brew. "How much do we each owe? Oh, and thanks for the cash, Gwendalyn.

"If we're all ready, shall we move onto our next task?" suggests the enchanter.


Vah Shir Beastlord and Bast Kejek Tiger

Retreating into his own mind Sajeek, falls silent for most of the day. He leaves under the pretence of going shopping for items. In truth the vah shir wanted to be away from everyone. His clawed feet lead him around and the scowl etched onto his furry muzzle helps to discourage others from approaching the Beastlord.

Sajeek hated this place. He couldn't stand the thought of actually having to live in such a crowded place. The vah shir buys a pair of clawed handwraps from a merchant. The man had started his sales pitch until a silent glare from the Beastlord nailed the man's tongue to the roof of his mouth.

'I can't wait until we have completed what we need to,' the vah shir thinks, eyes moving over the gathered crowds of people. They moved in great herds, much like prey animals.

Finished with the few odds and ends, Sajeek begins to make his way back to the inn. He finds the others with little problem. The Beastlord eyes the hat atop Revery's head for a few moments. He joins them at the table, sitting with a small nod sent in the direction of the others.


Barbarian Shaman (Luminary Gwendalyn Shaughnessy the Giant Slayer)

Gwendalyn thinks for a moment at Revery's query. "Hmm. I would assume 26 gp each except from Kwen, since our reason for wanting to learn iksar has nothing to do with him -- and sorry again that we can't explain it."

Ooc:
Sorry again that I forgot that we couldn't explain it.


Angels bleed from the tainted touch of my caress

No stratagem was employed during the entirety of the day, nor reconnaissance of the place where the group was seeking to possibly be engaging in mortal combat. By the time you have arrived the moment is upon you.

The curtains of night are drawn across Antonica, finding the group in position in the appointed alleyway. Fropze chose well, for this 41' long and cramped passageway (one person can move comfortably, and fight using a piercing weapon, anyone else is at a -2 to strike and no two-handed weapon can be employed) is debris-strewn and particularly foul, having the unfortunate position of being between a fish monger storefront on one side, and a cheesemaker on the other side. Each seems to be in a competition for who can fill the alley with the most repugnant thing imaginable. Thick black flies, tough enough to brave the night's chill, coat fish skeletons. It is a full olfactory assault, which stings the eyes with its intensity.

Two floors tower above your head stealing much of the light from the moon's gaze.

Gwendaylyn (Spot/Listen): 1d20 ⇒ 31d20 ⇒ 5
Kwen (Spot/Listen): 1d20 ⇒ 141d20 ⇒ 16
Nogglegrop (Spot/Listen): 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 21d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14 (critical failure)
Revery (Spot/Listen): 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (18) - 2 = 161d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11
Sajeek (Spot/Listen): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 231d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7

Guard 1 (Hide/Sneak): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 71d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18
Guard 2 (Hide/Sneak): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 201d20 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5

Fropze (Hide/Sneak): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 211d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16

Only Sajeek is able to catch a glimpse of both guards at once, for the other moves like a very loud shadow. The beastlord is used to the movements of the insects, and they show him the movements before his eyes lock in. Each of the group are able to see the lead guard, for he is moving as if intoxicated. Kwen is the only one that hears the iksar, in the form of a slight turn of calloused feet sliding over stone. Sajeek sees a glimpse of him a moment before he slides past the group.

The guards are not in their uniforms, or armour. This outing does not appear to be official. There is a stagger to their movements suggestive of drink. Too-loud voices bark out orders for the iksar to stop so they can kick him again. Well-crafted short swords bounce off the alley walls in a taunting manner meant to intimidate.

The men move slow as they are forced to dance around the clutter of debris that fills the alleyway. It is this clutter that hides you from their eyes.

Fropze slides past the party as if he did not know that they were there, though of course he did since they stand out as beacons in his night vision, and whispers in a heavily accented voice, "14 paces behind." The iksar continues through the alleyway, leaving behind a trail of blood from a single puncture wound to his left arm.

Diplomacy was not normally the group's forte, but it was the group's choice for this situation.

Initiative
- Group
- (2) Freeport Miltia

(include only one group diplomacy check in your post)


Revery (Erudite Enchanter) in somnis veritas // Kspress (Iksar Monk) Your pain is the breaking of your shell.

Revery waits for another to announce, as talking to strangers is surely one of his lesser skill. He reflects that if they were more educated and knowledgeable than he currently assumes, he might have some common ground upon which to converse. But as it is, they seem like bullies and not scholars.

He shall chime in as necessary, he resolves, but only after another has broken the ice.

checks:

Diplomacy, aiding another:
1d20 - 1 ⇒ (12) - 1 = 11


Angels bleed from the tainted touch of my caress

Revery moves to the fore to make his presence known, but he is the last member of the group one would want to speak for them. Luckily no words spill out of his maw. He just stands there with what he hopes are kind eyes, though they are more reminiscent of a stalker. Perhaps it is the new hat that has thrown off his game.

The enchanter expected backup, for poetic phrases to come from his companions, but that had not transpired, and it leaves his ass hanging in the wind.

Two drunken Freeport Militia-employed brutes stop dead in the alleyway, having had no idea that it was occupied by other things that scurry in the night. Threats fall from their mouths, as hands wielding short swords drop to their sides. Blinking a few times the lead man says, "Referi, moves 'side." He then moves to sweep the enchanter aside and continue along after his prey.

Sense Motive: 1d20 - 4 ⇒ (6) - 4 = 2

There is not star-eyed worship of the group, or even an exceptional amount of politeness to his tone. You have moved up from street scum to at best on par with an average militia solider's level of respect within the eyes of this faction. Your recent work permits you to speak and be heard, but does not give you esteem to wave around.


Vah Shir Beastlord and Bast Kejek Tiger

Sajeek curses himself for his stupidity. They had all of the day to scout out the alley and prepare themselves. The vah shir wasn't that tactically minded, but he was certain that Rev and Gwen were. And they had all wasted their time. All they would have had to do ask Noggy where the meet was. 'Stupid beast,' was the mental mantra of the Beastlord at the moment.

The young Beastlord was of the thought that they others were going to try diplomacy first. Some type of lie saying that the iksar was part of their investigation. And that Captain Hazran was personally invested in the reptile's aid. Or something. Planning, obviously was Sajeek's strongest trait. But what could one expect from an animal that walks on two clawed feet.

Thinking that most of his fur was covered by his dervish robes, Sajeek pulls abit at the strip of linen that makes up his turban. He pulls on it, and wraps his face as well as he can as the vah shir begins to stalk after his prey. He clenches his fists, realizing that outright killing the Milita members would be bad for them. Unless they could identify the group. Then, they would have to be slain.

Having been spotted and curses and threats thrown at them, Sajeek comes in low and fast, wanting to get this over as quickly as possible. The Milita could makes to much noise, or worse, scream for backup.

rolls:
Attack and Damage:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 91d4 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4. Starting off with non lethal damage.


male Half Elf Rogue /Markus Vardin Human cleric (Giant Slayer Blackguard Kwenilithmor Eridosan)

Kwen groans inwardly to himself, this was not the correct set up, having let himself get distracted by the other's he had not made the time to set up the perfect ambush. Nor did he look over the area and make plans to silence the guards non lethally, inwardly raging at himself for being such a novice. He started to pad forward, getting ready to try and fast talk the guards into hopefully leaving the iksar alone. Then he sees Sajeek go for an attack, and knows that diplomacy might not be in the cards tonight, leaving the guards into dreamland is on the table.
With a curse he makes sure that his hood is turned up, and ties a black strip of cloth over the lower half of his face. Kwen would try to use diplomacy, but it seems that the drunk guards are going to push Revery aside too get at there prey.
Kwen knows that they are in a bad side of town and that the drunk guards are off duty, annoyed that he can't get a good angle of attack for the lead one. Kwen tries to change his accent to one like a sailor and says " Eh 'now, Lubber. That un 'heir 'wes us a wee bit o' coin, 'lso t'nite 'es ur 'unching bag."

disguise check:
1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22
bluff check 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9
next round depending on how things go will either be the dipolmacy check or an attack action.


Revery (Erudite Enchanter) in somnis veritas // Kspress (Iksar Monk) Your pain is the breaking of your shell.

Revery stays put and responds to the man who skewered his name, "You boys are lost, I can see. Turn around and go back that way. And leave the Iksar alone, please. He's a valuable ally of ours."


Barbarian Shaman (Luminary Gwendalyn Shaughnessy the Giant Slayer)

The plan begins to fall apart almost immediately, when Gwendalyn freezes up and forgets what she was going to say, and the others all react differently to her failure. She tries to salvage it; since they'd already recognized Revery, she steps out and crosses her arms, frowning. "Oh, I'm not sure I'd go so far as 'ally'. Valuable 'resource' more like, but still. You two are a disgrace. Look at yourselves! This is very unprofessional of you. Leave the resource alone."

Spoiler:
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (7) + 0 = 7


Vah Shir Beastlord and Bast Kejek Tiger

With a swing and a miss, Sajeek stops himself dead. A thought had occured to him as he pummels the air. The Beastlord knew how to fix everything. He knew what city dwellars loved most of all. Money. Coins that flowed from their hands. Sajeek liked the stuff himself, but he mostly spends his coin of food, drink and merriment of the carnal varity.

Standing up straight, Sajeek grins at the drunken guards. He slids his pack off his shoulder.

"I think we have all gotten off on the wrong feets," Sajeek says. "How about I give you guys 700 gold in gems to leave our friend alone, for good." The vah shir tugs out his large pouch of gems. Using his teeth, he tugs the drawstring so that the bag is open and the gems flicker in the bit of light that manages to fight it's way through the swarm of flies.

Sajeek holds out the pouch and slides his pack back over his shoulder.


Angels bleed from the tainted touch of my caress

Neither of the heavily intoxicated men were particularly observant in the half light, totally missing the attempted assault on their personages by the lord of the beasts.

Spot (Pheus): 1d20 + 2 - 4 ⇒ (8) + 2 - 4 = 6
Spot (Vasl): 1d20 + 3 - 4 ⇒ (3) + 3 - 4 = 2

The pommel strike is in the air before the word "disgrace" fully falls from Gwendalyn's lips. The blow almost takes Gwendalyn's head from her shoulders.

Pheus (Strike): 1d20 + 12 - 4 ⇒ (20) + 12 - 4 = 28 (critical threat)
Pheus (Confirmation): 1d20 + 12 - 4 ⇒ (8) + 12 - 4 = 16 (confirmed)
Pheus (Nonlethal Damage) 2d6 + 18 ⇒ (6, 3) + 18 = 27

Even drunk these men are impossibly quick, and likely far beyond you.

"NEVER open your CUNT mouth and spit words like that in the direction of one of the Freep..."

Pheus stops in mid-rant as he is handed a fortune in gems. Nudging Vasl he points to the pile of wealth, far beyond anything they have ever held or seen before.

Their tune changes considerably.

"Sure thing, the iksar is all yours. You have bought his freedom or something, all yours, never talk to him again, have a nice night."

The men backtrack out of the alleyway never asking where you got the gems, or honestly caring.

(end of combat)


Vah Shir Beastlord and Bast Kejek Tiger

Sajeek winces at the speed and force of the blow. 'That's gonna sting in the morning. Actually, I think it stings right now,' the Beastlord thinks before turning his eyes back to the two guards. Releaved of the gems, Sajeek nods at the two guards and gives them a friendly wave goodbye. He turns back to his friends as soon as their out of sight.

"Well, that could have gone very badly for us. I am beging to think every Miltia member is magically aided. Or really good fighters," Sajeek says with a shrug if his shoulders. "Uh, Noggy do you wanna check on Gwen? She's looking a little, uh, brain loosened," the vah shir looks at the barbarian woman and is proud to see she still stands. Barely.

The young Beastlord turns to the iksar and uncovers his face, grinning.

"Greetings Noggy's friend," Sajeek says, nodding to the Iksar. "We have your brew." The vah shir thinks for a second. "Oh, and let Noggy take a look at your stab wound."


Angels bleed from the tainted touch of my caress

Two guards had wandered intoxicated through the most dangerous part of the city (Dockside) without wearing armour. They were either fools, protected by their affiliations, or incredibly powerful. After seeing them move you understand that it is a bit from column B and a large dose of column C. Guards were not duffers in this city, which demonstrated how deep a hole that Feitmere was in.

Nogglegrop pats Gwendalyn's leg, trying to not look directly at the expansive welt forming on her face. His touch takes away much of the sting of her wound (18 subdual healed).

Light Healing: 4d6 ⇒ (2, 3, 3, 1) = 9

Fropze returns with wide eyes, looking at the group as if they are nothing short of gods treading upon the ground. There is a slur to his voice wrought by heavy drinking, to get up his courage to lure the guards on purpose, as he invites them back to his room at Ooma's Flesh Palace for a nightcap of the only drink worth drinking: Ol'Tujim's Fierce Brew.

Nogglegrop mentions, with echoing laughter, that the uniforms of the palace are a little more revealing than the party might be used to.

Ooma's Flesh Palace (#20 on the map) is located directly off the dock. This building is not much to look at on the outside, but the inside of the downstairs common room is quite colourful. The walls are draped in swaths of coloured fabric, matching and not. The room is crammed with couches, chairs, settees, and all manner of sitting and lounging furniture. The first floor is where a patron can choose his pleasure, pay in advance, and move into one of the tiny rooms off the main hall. If the patron wants more space, the second floor has regular-sized rooms, some of which even have silk-covered beds and other comforts - for a hefty premium.

Madame Ooma is the owner of Ooma's Flesh Palace. She is a very large ogress who dresses in garishly bright colours, plunging necklines, and heavy makeup. She insists that all of her entertainers are welcoming and pleasing, and she likes to be able to provide whatever a patron asks for, even if she doesn't currently have it. Ooma is willing to overlook almost any indiscretion for the right amount of money, although she is actually very protective of her workers.

Her door shows the black ribbon mark of the Coalition of Tradefolk Underground.

Ooma's trusted assistant is Loxiasha, or Loki as Nogglegrop calls her, and you are surprised to find that she is a dark elf. Not normally available for private entertainment, Loxi is the "muscle" for the Flesh Palace, acting as both bouncer and Ooma's bodyguard. She is fiercely loyal to Ooma and allows no one to lay an unwelcome finger on either Ooma or any of the entertainment. Loxi's reputation is generally enough to keep patrons in line, but she's perfectly willing to resort to violence if needed - fingers have been lost to the keen, lightning quick edges of Loxiasha's twin short swords.

You are shown to your room, a day early, and given a chance to get settled. You reside in the basement, but there is more than enough company among the wharf rats that are a constant plague. The room is expansive, damp, dark and filled with casks and supplies. Bedrolls have been laid out for you.

Your uniforms would be hard pressed to be used as hankerchiefs and leave little to the imagination.

Your cleaning duties will be to accompany Fropze on his rounds, which is a good thing, since he will teach you his tongue as you walk.

(will require at least 3 full ranks in the iksar tongue for proficiency, 4 ranks for fluency upon your next levelling)


Revery (Erudite Enchanter) in somnis veritas // Kspress (Iksar Monk) Your pain is the breaking of your shell.

Revery resigns himself to the lot the group have got themselves into. He's glad the encounter didn't end in violence, and that he didn't threaten the guards with spells, as now he can walk about, once out of these embarrassing clothes, with his hat on.

He thanks Sajeek for his quick thinking and generosity, and suggests to the group that once they get some funds, they should pay their share of the seven hundred gold he paid the guards off with. In the meantime, he gives the 26gp to Gwendalyn for the Brew, and he offers 10pp to Sajeek, which is most of what he has. (126 gp equivalent removed from character sheet).

As he notices the rats, Revery decides to try an experiment. Each rat he sees, he tries to note the markings of. Once per day, approximately, he casts his fear spell on one rat he notes. His theory, and hope, is that the rat grows fearful of him, and that he remembers that fear and retains a semblance of it, so that whenever that rat sees him it recalls that fear and quickly avoids him. Anything that will make them stay away is welcome.

He also asks Sajeek if he can scare them off, since he was always talking to animals these days...

Finally, he studies his new spell and writes it into his book.

Spell writing:

DC 17 to write into book:
1d20 + 15 ⇒ (17) + 15 = 32


Vah Shir Beastlord and Bast Kejek Tiger

Following Fropze to their new home for the time being, Sajeek keeps an eye out for anyone tailing them. Namely, Militia members. He was very glad things had gone as smoothly as they had. 'Well, it had kinda sucked for Gwen,' he thinks, muzzle twitching in faint grins that vanished as soon as it had appeared. He would rather not get his ears cuffed by the large barbarian woman.

Reaching the docks, Sajeek sizes up their new home and place of employement, and learning. To say he was not impressed was an understandment. Then the wobbly iksar lead them inside. It took Sajeek a few stuttered heartbeats to pick his jaw up off the floor. It was going to be a great time spent here.

"Well, at least the scenery is nice. We've certainly had worse jobs in recent history," he says with a snicker, glancing at the others. The downside was that they were "employees," and not here for enjoyment. The upside was that Fropze seemed to like them. Looking at up at their new boss, Sajeek smiles pleasantly at Ooma. He would sooner shave his fur off with a rusty spoon then anger an ogress. They knew they were large and in charge. Watching Loxiasha for a few moments, (without staring, he wanted to keep his eyes in his skull), Sajeek notices the smooth movements of a skill hunter. Or killer, which ever the situation may call for.

Looking at his new "uniform," Sajeek can't help but chuckle. He wasn't bothered by nudity. The vah shir looks at the others when they get into the large basement. As they look over their new formal dress, he laughs out loud.

"Living with Gwen's people, I was cuffed across the ears for wandering around the dwelling without clothes. They were just jealous of my luxurious soft fur." Sajeek laughs. And well they should be of the vah shir's dark grey fur cut with deep red stripes. Sajeek did find most humaniods reactions to being "in the buff" funny. "It took my foster mother years to get me to wear clothes," the Beastlord says emerald eyes distant, looking at a faded spot in his memory. Shaking his head back to the present, he looks at his friends and Fropze and grins.

Sajeek grins at the offer of paying him back. The young Beastlord just shrugs his shoulders.

"I'm not worried about the getting the money back," the vah shir waves off Rev offer of platium. "I'd just spend it getting drunk or chasing after tail." Sajeek pauses few seconds a puzzled look on his face. "Which is an odd expression for a bunch of people without tails to be using, I might add," the vah shir says with a strangly dignified look.

"Although, I believe Fropze has invited early to celebrate with this fine brew," Sajeek grin slides from ear to ear oily. "And I believe the city dwellers rules say that would be rude to keep our host waiting." Setting his gear up near a bed roll, Sajeek hangs what he doesn't want rats crawling on his spear.

"I'll see what I can do with the rats," Sajeek says. Looking over the squeaking wharf rat, he chuckles. "But I think the odds might be against me."

Sajeek sets down next the Iksar and celebrates his newfound freedom from the two guards that had been tormenting him.


male Half Elf Rogue /Markus Vardin Human cleric (Giant Slayer Blackguard Kwenilithmor Eridosan)

Kwen gives a sigh of relief, glad that it really hadn't come down to blows, he flinches when Gwen was struck, his blood rose at that sight. Breathing out of his nose, he pushes the anger off, and his eyes widen at the amount of money that Sajeek had just given over.
Kwen knows that it was a small fortune that the beast lord had just passed over, but for the amount that they had payed, it would hopefully stop the guards from attacking. Kwen burns the image of the two guards into his brain, how they talked and what they looked like. Kwen made a promise to himself that these two guards were going to be relieved of their wealth as soon as he was able to make it happen. His mind already making notes of what poison's could be used to drop into their ale's that would make them pass out early and then leaving them in a comprising position. More then likely Kwen would have them stripped naked and then have one of them mounted the other one, to be found in an alley.
Kwen files the thoughts of revenge into a box in his mind, as a future project. Following the others and the Iksar to there new if only temporarily base of operations. The docks were familiar to Kwen, he had spent a day hiding out in the dock when he first arrived to Freeport, it was a good place to gather information, and his friend Vincent spent most of his time working part of the underworld scene here.
Upon entering the Flesh Palace, Kwen let's out a small whistle at the scene, it wasn't the first time that Kwen had hidden out in a brothel/"Entertainers" But that had only been for a few days at the most. Seeing the black ribbon flying Kwen gives a sly smile, now knowing that at least the guild that he was a part of (if not loosely) had there fingers in this pie as well.
Kwen's eyes widen at meeting the Madame of this establishment, and make's sure to not upset Ooma and she looks like she could easy break every bone in his body. Kwen almost gives a start at her lieutenant, but understands why Ooma would have a dark elf as her enforcer and makes note of her out of the corner of his eyes.
Kwen doesn't find it too odd and does note her figure, while she is quite pleasing to the eyes, there was also the air of confidence that the dark elf was projecting. Trying to push off any thoughts of a intimate encounter from the dark elf, Kwen put's his mind more on the tasks at hand. Following the other's into their new bolt hole, Kwen gives a sigh at the sight of all the rats. The rats were buggers, going after food that a person could have on them, and that there teeth were extremely sharp.
Then of course Kwen sees the uniform that he would be forced to wear, and let's out a much more audiable sigh, not thrilled at the lack of ways to hide things in the... well what ever one wanted to call the outfit. Shaking his head he knows he will just have to deal with the lack of his gear that he could hide on his body had just dropped to almost none of it.
" Well how about this Sajeck, since you just payed for the next year of drinking, I'll pick up the rounds of ale at the inns and taverns to help even out what you just payed." Kwen says, letting the other's drink, Kwen preferred to keep his wits about him. 'Of course that could just change after tomorrow' he thinks to himself " If you could do something about the rat's too not go though our stuff and defecate on everything I would gladly help out, if you can convince them. This many rats though, we might just have to deal with it, and hope we don't get chewed up too much while sleeping." Kwen finishes, while trying to search for a pun or some joke to help with the situation and coming up empty.
' I wonder why they need to learn how to speak and read the Iksar tongue' Kwen thinks to himself, looking for some way to secure his clothing with the bow strings. Resolving that issue, the half elf also thinks that having another spot to store his gear safely, or at least having a cache of his gear might not be a bad thing as well. That way in the event that something happened to his everyday kit, he could have a few backups. Pondering talking to some of the members of the underground to give him a few locations, or area's where he could set something like that up. Also he starts to think about getting a couple of place's set up as safe houses as well, if not seeing about acquiring a deed to a place or two, in the city of Freeport might not be a bad call.

knowledge local lore:
on Loki 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11


Angels bleed from the tainted touch of my caress

You are accepted a bit too readily at Ooma's, and considering her nefarious lineage, and the lineage of her bodyguard, you deduce a bit of the dark deals the Militia has made with the darker aspects of town.

In short order Kwen will learn that Ooma herself is connected with the rogue guild, and the rogue guild works directly for the Freeport Militia.

Nearly three-and-a-half feet of gnomish mayhem comes streaking through the cellar, casting aside a small colony of rats, like the prow of a mighty warship. Though not a physical specimen, not that a 50 pound creature would ever be labeled as one, the gnome has little in the way of fat about his frame. He is a handsome little thing though, with his white beard and white shock of hair. Upon closer inspection you realize that he is wearing his uniform, which consists of a sling and some leather strips to affix the sling into position.

Nogglegrop grabs a rag, and drags a heavy bucket along with him, then sets himself to the task of whistling his way through the horrors of the a cleaning session. If it got bad enough he would let forth a mighty yaulp and destroy stubborn stains. If it might scar him then he will cast divine aura and run away.

None could know what their quest was. None could directly translate the parchment that Sajeek held. To ignore such things would lead to them losing the ground they had made up. They would need to earn it the hard way and learn the language.

The parchment will be revealed in slow degrees, but the sum total will not be known until the entire language is theirs. After the group learns the tongue of the iksar, they can unlock the mystery of the bones that need to be destroyed and the directions scribed in blood on the tome page that Sajeek holds.

It would take months before they would learn the spell, which would give them a great deal of time to consider the lessons as of late, come to terms with the horrors of the world, train and most importantly get to know the others and plan the next steps of their journey.

They would be at the Flesh Palace long after the meeting with the dervishes was scheduled to take place.


Revery (Erudite Enchanter) in somnis veritas // Kspress (Iksar Monk) Your pain is the breaking of your shell.

Revery holds off on donning the ridiculous costume he is forced to wear until the very last minute. This turns out to be a mistake, since the work is quite physical, and the outfit requires some adjustments at the beginning.

When he first enters the private room with his uniform on, his discomfort is palpable, and the others can't help but laugh. Revery turns a dark red, and the laughs get louder. At this Revery considers turning into a chair or a plate, but decides against it. Who knows where the mob he calls his friends might place him, so that he reappears in the most compromising position possible?

The leather straps chafe at his skin, and the scant coverings of his most private areas are the least comfortable things he has ever worn. A rat had eaten away at one of the straps, and it threatened to break at some point in the near future. "You're a big cat, Sajeek, can't you chase off those giant mice?!!" He complains, his voice breaking in a most unmanly fashion.

Revery says, frustrated, "It is not appropriate for an engaged person such as myself! Nogglegrop, I shall get my revenge for this, I swear it!" With that he stomps from the room, and only appears after threats and other coercion.


Barbarian Shaman (Luminary Gwendalyn Shaughnessy the Giant Slayer)

Gwendalyn is stunned by how fast and hard the militiaman strikes, nearly knocking her out with a single blow. Then she's stunned again by Sajeek's sacrifice of his life savings to save their lives and their quest. "We will find a way to make it up to you, somehow." She casts a spell on herself to relieve the building headache left over after Nogglegrop's welcome ministrations.

Minor Healing: 1d10 ⇒ 9

Gwendalyn would raise her eyebrows at their room, but they were already as high as they could go from their "uniforms". She wasn't a prude, but covering just a little could be more enticing than mere nudity, and she'd have rather a lot of skin left on display. "I fear that I will have to crush more than one hand before we're done here. But first we need to get our gear off the floor..." She works to figure out a way to suspend her pack from the rafters, as she would suspend it from a tree limb in a forest.

Then the young shaman takes advantage of their settling-in time to try to learn a spell that she'd been carrying around with her for what seemed like ages. Unfortunately, she's distracted by occasionally blinding a rat with Flash of Light when it wanders too close, and spearing it with her heavy pick; the spell remains just barely out of her reach.

Spellcraft vs. DC 17 to learn Frost Rift: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13


Angels bleed from the tainted touch of my caress

Each of the party find themselves on hands and knees, using heavy bristle brushes to scour the floor of the kitchens long after the kitchen staff have retired to their beds for the evening. This is a task that must be completed every night, and since their own meals come from this very kitchen it behooves them to keep it free of rat droppings and grime.

Nogglegrop, with annoying optimism and good humour, splashes the others more than the floor, and has more dirt on him than he has cleaned off, but his little shaking bum dances prise even the most surly of companions out of their ill humour. Speaking loud enough to be heard by the others, but no other ears he says, "Tell me again of your pasts my friends."

Speaking more to Kwen he fills the rogue in on what brought the other's together.

"I was aboard the same doomed vessel as these three." He smiles as he remembers that the last time he spoke words like this he was a bit more naked than he is right now.

Nogglegrop speaks as if he is in that moment...

"Others escaped the second ship, and that ship was filled with races most nefarious: black hearted humans, trolls, ogres and dark elves. Fate conspired against me and I ended up cast adrift with them rather than the goodly races as was my lot. It was their pet ogre that was saving me for a repast, if his dark words and lingering looks could be trusted. A rowboat filled to the brim with slavers was taken, while my dark companions were far from welcoming I must admit to their efficiency in dispatching those that once incarcerated us, and many many days passed as we sailed on to this island under the power of 8 oars and a sail. Though blindfolded I know I heard at least 4 voices, the ogre I can place with ease, but the other was much higher like an elf."

"The shore was non-existant at the most southern edge of the island, so last night we dropped anchor a short distance out, swam and climbed a short distance up the rocks. Exposure to the elements was sufficient to numb their reaction times and once we were high enough I immediately dived off the edge and into the surf. My leap was poorly executed, I must admit, and I battered myself on the rocks on the way down. We had closed in on the end of things, and the ogre was salivating considering its meal, and after days of threats and being cut and abused I knew it was now or never."

Never one to dwell long on the negative Nogglegrop chuckles and continues on with his tale, "I drifted in and out of consciousness until the waves spit me onto shore and gnome and wizard rescued me not that long ago." He giggles impishly, "Bristlebane love them, they did what they could, but know nothing of how to treat a injury. Luckily I am gifted with the healing arts and tended to my own wounds."This must be one tough little gnome to survive a dive off of a cliff, especially after potentially weeks of mistreatment and exposure.

Realizing that he had drifted into the past he smiles and continues scrubbing.

"My past is nothing special, as I am nothing special and a complete embarrassment to my family. To follow the clerical path is uncommon among my people, but to not even show the slightest inclination towards arcana is enough to almost get me exiled from my people." The words come out with a laugh, but there is an edge of pain there. "I never fit in..."


Vah Shir Beastlord and Bast Kejek Tiger

Sajeek can't help but laugh good naturedly at Revery's discomfort when he finally is forced to change into their uniforms. He sticks out his tongue at the enchanter when he mentions chasing the big mice. His head was still a muzzy from the drinking last night with Fropze. The Beastlord was pretty certain that the iksar was drunk again. Or still, he wasn't sure. The vah shir was going to have to do something about the rats.

Grabbing a bucket, stiff bristled brush and a rag, Sajeek follows as they begin their rounds for the first time. What ever messes and fluids that awaited to be cleaned couldn't be worse then what they had encountered before. A shudder runs up his spine as the memory of the cyclops and orcs slips into his mind.

Listening to Noggy tell Kwen how he met the group, Sajeek attacks something that seeks to stain the wood. Remembering meeting the old elf and gnome who had found Noggy, the vah shir wonders if they made if off the island. Ears twitching at the sound of laughter, Sajeek keeps focused and working. The Beastlord notes the edge underlining Noggy's laugh. He looks over at Kwen and raises his eyebrows.

"What about you Kwen? You're sort of the new card here, so let's hear a little about you," Sajeek asks of the half-elf. "Then I'll share my upbring raises by powerful spirits and beautiful women." The vah shir holds a straight face for a moment. Sotting Fropze wide-eyed gaze of amazement, Sajeek laughs. "I'm lying, nothing that interesting. I'll fill you in as when we start cleaning the kitchen."


male Half Elf Rogue /Markus Vardin Human cleric (Giant Slayer Blackguard Kwenilithmor Eridosan)

Kwen gives a chuckle at Revery's discomfort, and gives a whistle when he turns to leave, saying " Aw come on! Think of it as cleansing your soul, through dirty work. If you don't help, I'll start docking your wages." He finishes with a grin, letting Revery know that it was all in good fun... at least for the half elf.
Kwen was wearing the uniform, and the group can see quite a number of scars on his chest and back. There is a large number of the scars on his upper back that look like whip marks, where you guess he had been flogged. Not an ounce of fat can be found on the half elf, and you could count the number of ribs he had. The muscule that Kwen did have stood out, but there is a grace to his movements that would surprise a number of foes. That grace must have came from one set of his parents, the one that was an elf.
Right on Kwen's forearm is a brand, which is two inches in length and is in the shape of a rose. His chest has a number of old white marks where you guess he had been stabbed by a number of blades, a few new one's are around from the dervish's that haven't faded yet.
" Alright fine, I guess I can say a few things about what happened and how I choose this noble life." He says with a bitter tone in his voice, although just barely loud enough to be heard even by the party. Kwen clear's his throat then starts his tale " Around the age of 5 I lost my parents, I can't remember there names, and sadly after all this time I have a hard time picturing them. I was 'found'" He says with an anger that you could feel across the room " By an order of Rogues called the Crimson Rose. Now this order, trained it's member's as soon as they could and they found there new member's by killing the child's parent's and then rescuing the child. Or by buying the children from place's like this one."
He words stop for a few moment's as he focusing on a rather stubborn liquid that was trying to become the new center peace of the floor. " Needless to say the training isn't enjoyable, as you are taught too steal and kill from the same target. After you reach the age of manhood, you are branded, after that I found out that they were responsible for my parent's death, and well I finally got revenge." He stops, closing his eyes against the rush of emotions that ran through him.
" I used another half elf body, and burnt the keep, with a batch of poison mixed into the flames, and took off. As far as I know that group no longer exists, I changed how I look, was betrayed my first year on the streets, and I've pretty much have been running for the last three year's from city to city. I washed up in Freeport a while back and haven't left."
Kwen opens his eyes and you can see that his green orbs are blazing with a fire, as emotions flicker past too quickly to read. " The lessons I've learned, were quite harsh. The price for failing in the order were quite painful, also I learned in my first year to expect that worse from other's. I was taking refuge with a women that I was quite enamored with, she wanted more then just the coin that I was bringing in. I lost part of an ear, but she lost quite a bit more when I got out of the cage she had locked me into." Kwen touches the necklace that is around his throat, it looks like just a bunch of metal in odd shapes and sizes.


Revery (Erudite Enchanter) in somnis veritas // Kspress (Iksar Monk) Your pain is the breaking of your shell.

Eventually, Revery starts to speak to the others again. He tells his story, starting sort of in the middle...

"I have hardly any family left. My father, long gone. My mother died... while I was in school. My sister is alive but she has become a Shadow Knight, and so I have not communicated with her for some time."

"Before we all met, I had been in school for several years, at the Tower of the Craft Keepers. It was an exciting time for me - hard work but much learning. My favorite class was Magic Theories, for it allowed me to explore what is fundamental about all thing magical. For instance, did you know that Bartholomew Earpuller postulated that using a base nine number system makes casting teleportation spells much easier. This may be true, except learning the base nine number system to the depth required by those spells, and then the required modifications for even one of them is much more difficult than simply learning the spell in the standard base four, ten or twenty-seven systems. Earpuller was able to do it, but nobody could really tell if it was easier or harder as he claimed. "

"My other favorite course was the series on divinations. The problems related to the duality of the Dweomer sitting inside the sortilege versus the other way around is one of the hardest things to wrap your head around, but I figured out early that if you treat the duality as a Dweomer duality - one inner, and one outer, the two being connected by an augural lisle, one fiber of which is divin, one paradivin, and one sesquimanifold cant, through the sortilege layer, it becomes much easier, don't you think?"


Angels bleed from the tainted touch of my caress

Each of the group showed signs of their time in chains, with whip marks across their bodies, and scars of where the shackles bit deeply into flesh. Kwen also showed those marks, which was a surprise.

Everyone had a story.

Nogglegrop finishes his tale, as he finishes obliterating a stubborn streak of grease that has crawled down the side of one of the kitchen counters. Much of the grease finds its way into the gnome's beard.

His grey eyes fix upon the brand, made all the more obvious by the contrast wrought by the rogue's exertions.

Nogglegrop dismisses the impulse to make light of the loss of the half-elf's parents, though he wanted to loan out his judgemental parents to any seeking parents, he understood that the wound was still deep.

With a nervous gulp the clerics asks, "How did you get your revenge?"

He wanted to ask how Kwen happened to have a half-elf's body just hanging around for burning, but had not worked up the nerve to do it yet.

"If you would like to burn that foul mark off of your forearm, I will heal the wound."

Feeling the mood could be lightened a bit, Nogglegrop adds, "Always watch out for ear-eating b$*~*es. They're harsh." He giggles in his labours.

(if your background include lies, either overt, or ones of omission, please include a bluff check in your next post)

Sense Motive (Nogglegrop vs. Revery's Bluff): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23


Vah Shir Beastlord and Bast Kejek Tiger

Sajeek listens to Kwen's tale of his youth. The half-elf had certainly overcome his fair share of difficulties growing up. To learn the the very people who had "saved" him where actually the ones who killed Kwen's parents. That was nasty way to gather followers. At the half-elf's off hand mention of being trained to kill Sajeek's ears perk up.

Concentrating on what he what he was pretty certain was honey, Sajeek misses his chance to ask Kwen as Rev begins to talk. When the enchanter begins to talk in detail of magical things, the vah shir felt his eyes begin to glaze. He was positive that Rev was speaking another language. Staring at Rev as he scrubs with his brush, Sajeek shakes his head.

"Totally. I prefer the rod into slot solution myself. Less complicated," the vah shir says with a straight face. He chuckles after a few moments. "I didn't understand pretty much everything before you asked us what we thought." Sajeek laughs.

The Beastlord looks between Rev and Kwen.

"Uh, two things that I would love answers too: One; You said you have been trained to permentally lay folks out," Sajeek points at the half-elf, furry eyebrows raised. The Beastlord's gaze swings to Revery. "You're sisters a what kind of knight? Umm, could you clarify to make sure what I'm thinking is correct." Sajeek looks at Rev, kinda hoping that what he is thinking is wrong.

Ooc:
Sense Motive:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10


Angels bleed from the tainted touch of my caress

There is a catch in the erudite's voice, which attracts attention. The cleric watches Revery closely as he babbles off the distracting theories, wondering if what he heard was suggestive of deceit.

Nogglegrop gives a comforting look to the enchanter's words, and ignores the deflective gibberish. "How did you parents pass away Revery?" He honestly hoped that it wasn't another couple cut down by the Crimson Rose.

Splashing Gwendalyn and Sajeek with sudsy, yet filthy, water, the cleric sparks them to push away the drudgery of the task by sharing their stories.


Barbarian Shaman (Luminary Gwendalyn Shaughnessy the Giant Slayer)

Gwendalyn yelps when she would've rather yaulped at Noggy's soapy prod. "My story is not so interesting. I have loving parents and an older brother, Tudan. He started to learn fishing from our dad, and I started to learn sewing from our mom, but we both found other callings. In playing with other boys, he discovered a talent for swordplay; and at church, I felt drawn to the divine justice of the Tribunal. You don't have to venture too far from Halas to find wolves and little gnolls, so we practiced fighting together; but he was annoyingly overprotective."

She gives an unladylike snort. "I'm not some delicate little flower that needs to be protected from every little slash of fang or claw, so his constant apologies for not preventing every injury were getting on my nerves. Sometimes we'd go drink together after our little battles with the local wildlife, but sometimes I'd ditch him and go by myself, and so he wasn't there when I was drugged and kidnapped. Most of you know most of the rest of the story." The statuesque Northwoman's leather bikini shifts as she shrugs.


Revery (Erudite Enchanter) in somnis veritas // Kspress (Iksar Monk) Your pain is the breaking of your shell.

Revery sighs, as he answers questions he doesn't really want to answer.

"Sajeek, my sister became a Shadow Knight. Kind of a mix between a warrior and a necromancer. They are ugly spellcasters, but they can manage to cast them while wearing armor. Erudin is a good place, but we have our share of people with bad ideas and intentions, and my sister... became one of them.

As for my parents, Noggy, my father actually left my mother when I was but a newborn. I heard many years later that he had died, from some sickness, but I really didn't care. My mother died in bed, while I was tending to her. She was ill from some sort of consumption, so I took a bit of time off school to take care of her. I went to bed... She was so cold. In the morning when I awoke. I felt guilty, since I was supposed to be taking care of her. I still have nightmares, because she felt so cold... "

Revery's eye twitches with the memory. He gets back to scrubbing, wishing he could wash away the worst of the memories for good. As he gets worked up, he realizes it and starts to think of what he learned from Quellious - peace, tranquility, calm. He's thankful for that lesson.

Rolls:

Bluff for omission:
1d20 - 1 ⇒ (17) - 1 = 16


male Half Elf Rogue /Markus Vardin Human cleric (Giant Slayer Blackguard Kwenilithmor Eridosan)

Kwen shrugs, " Well escaping the cage that she had put me into, as she wanted to make money by selling me into slavery, wasn't that difficult. It was child's play, of course I had to fight my way out and she was in my way. To answer your question Sajeek, the order of the Crimson Rose took jobs to steal people's wealth, and for an additional fee killed the target that they stole from. Leaving behind a black rose that was soaked with the victim's blood, so yes some of the training that I received was killing target's. The dervish's that we fought could do the same thing, how do you think that there blade's were able to find our most vulnerable spot's to stab."
Kwen pauses at Reverly's words mulling them over, wondering what it was like to have any living family. " As for escaping the order, I found out that one of the students there, was the son of the man that had 'recruited' me. That half elf son's name was Vililithmond, who tried to stab me in the back to gain favor with his father. After that happened, I found out the truth, then got a lot of oil, whiskey, and some different types of poison. I dressed Vil in my outfit lit his corpse on fire and bolted. The fire spread the sleeping poison and the paralyzing poison quite quickly. I barely made it out alive, and took to the road, I had spent 14 year's as a slave and for the first time I was free."
Looking over at the gnome Kwen says " But the ear biting one's are always the hot ones." Kwen gives a chuckle at Noggy's words " Honestly I hadn't thought about reburning the skin to remove the brand, I was too busy moving around, also that is why I've called myself a 'Free Agent'. If you are willing to cast the healing spells, then yes I would gladly like to get rid of the brand. I owe some coin to Brittlebane, for seeking shelter with the church on some nights before I met all of you. I'd be glad to donate, of course you getting us into this fine mess." Kwen say's while scooping out a handful of water and flinging it onto the gnome " Might mean that I don't need to put coin into the church coffer's for a while." Kwen says with a sly smile getting the last of the center piece of grease off from the floor.


Angels bleed from the tainted touch of my caress

The cleric patiently waits for Sajeek to share of his upbringing, but is distracted by the shaman's words.

Nogglegrop wields his coarse-bristled scrub brush like a soapy rapier, brandishing it at Kwen's forehead, "Most know the story, though there are some here that do not. I know not what happened before I met each of you, and Kwen knows much less. Please tell the tale Gwendalyn, of course omitting the details we swore to keep secret, and push away the drudgery of this task." There is mischief in the gnome's eyes as he offers the rogue a charming smile. They had sworn to not reveal their quest, but that didn't mean they couldn't torture Kwen with the mystery of it.

Gnomish intuition dominates erudite proclivity towards deceit. Revery was lying about his mother, but the cleric does not pry further. One day the enchanter might trust enough to tell them more. "Do you still talk to your sister Revery?"

Nogglegrop gets up from his ravaged knees, tsks that his blood was messing the floor, stretches his back and gives out a groan. Moving over to the cooking fire, that heats the chamber, he places a heavy blade into the coals and leaves it there until its lower half is white hot. Bringing it over to Kwen he hands the man a rag to bite down on. "Would you like to do the honours - or have one of us do it?"

There is nothing but compassion in the gnomes eyes assuring the rogue that healing spells would be cast a split second after the pain starts.

Together they would burn away one of the reminders of his brutal past.


Vah Shir Beastlord and Bast Kejek Tiger

Looking over at Rev, Sajeek shakes his head and laughs. He sister was pretty much what the Beastlord had thought when the enchanter had mentioned "Shadowknight." He shook his head amazed to think that someone like Revery could have such a dark sister. Sajeek felt for Rev, when he recounts the loss of his mother. 'I bet Rev still beats himself up over his mother dying of her disease," the Beastlord thinks, looking over at the enchanter.

"Right, note to self: do not hit on Rev's sister if we ever cross paths," Sajeeks chuckles to lighten the mood. "I think her idea of a good time might involve whips and chains. And skinning." the vah shir laughs out loud.

Emerald gaze falling on Kwen, Sajeek respect for the half-elf grows. Kwen had gone through amazing trails to gain his freedom. Sajeek felt that Kwen's slaying of those whom had hurt him so badly as a child; slaying his parents, his revenge had been more then justified.

Standing up and stretching with the natural grace of his people, Sajeek looks over the cooking area, not fully satisfied. Before he sets off to attack more grime, he watches Noggy heat up a heavy blade. The vah shir's eyes greedily absorb the light of the coals as the gnome shifts the metal around.

"Hmm, well I guess you could say I had an somewhat nontypical childhood," Sajeek begins, as he starts attacking more stubborn grime. "I grew up feral. My clan was slain when I was barely able to walk. I wish I could remember my birth parents, but all I can remember is the scent of a flower my mother wore," a bittersweet smile moves across Sajeek's muzzled face. "The only reason I survived was because I was adopted by a tigeress. She raised me along side her own cub. So, I guess I would say I am very lucky." Sajeek laughs, seemingly at his own joke.

"The tigeress raised us for about three or season before it was time for us to go out on our own," Sajeek pauses, a happy smile on his muzzle as he remembers the jungle he survived in. "My brother and I lived well in the jungle for a good time." The vah shir returns to cleaning. It was becoming apparent that the drunken iksar was a little vague when it came to cleaning. That or the cook was very sloppy.

"My brother and I eventually went our own ways, and I lived in the jungle on my own for the first time," Sajeek attacks the grime once again, stiff bristled brush cutting into the filth. "It was..," the vah shir pauses, searching for the right words. "exciting and terrifying. I was maybe ten or so years old perhaps at this time." Sajeek chuckles. "I did my fair share of running away from larger predators. It was a good thing I was quick."

"I lived for about three of so seasons on my own, when outsiders came into my territory. The group had been sent out to find missing colonies. My peoples had been out of touch for over a decade, so I never did figure out why they arrived after all this time had passed." The vah shir once again ponders over that very question. With a shrug of his grey furred shoulders, he continues. "Anyway, I stole food and shiny things from them. I hadn't realized it at the time, but, I had been stalking the ruins of my birth village. They eventually captured me after a few weeks," Sajeek moves away a few steps back, looking over his work and nodding.

"The warriors and explores didn't know what to do with me. While I looked like an adolescent vah shir, I was as wild as the tigers that raised me. I didn't understand them, nor did they me, for I had no words at the time." Sajeek stops for a few moments as he watches the coals. "I met the woman who was to become my foster mother. My to her husbands dismay," Sajeek chuckles, remembering more then one argument due to his misbehavior.

"It took several years, but she taught me words and educated me as best as able. I was not the easiest boy to teach," Sajeek smiles. "The rest of the warriors under my foster father's command regarded me with suspicion and mistrust. Feral children had never been tamed. Not to mention, I guess the dark red of my stripes is considered bad luck." The vah shir shrugs. "My guess is that my foster mother was a powerful shaman and wonderful, patient teacher. I believe the spirits helped her as much as her own motherly instincts. Otherwise, she might have strangled me at some point," Sajeek chuckles once more. "I'll skip a few years of boring stuff like my training. Although, one interesting tidbit about that. I went through five different teachers. Several I got into fights with. They said I was no more then a beast that walked on two legs instead of four. I didn't take that too well." Sajeek grins, his sharp teeth glinting in the light.

"Before I was captured and drugged, I was searching the plains for signs of my foster parents. They came to Norrath, very suddenly. Almost liked they were chased, or afraid for their lives," Sajeek pauses , looking a little guilty. So, I sort of crept into a sacred area without permission to use the portal to Norrath from the moon." He coughes, and avoids looking at anyone. "I might, sorta, not be exactly welcome back home. I sorta started a fire ," he grins, embarrassed, ears flickering back and forth.

Wanting the attention off of him, he looks over at Gwen, hoping that she would distract Noggy. Sajeek was beginning he had really missed them during his time in jail. 'The gnome must be a little crazy,' Sajeek thinks with a lop-sided grin.


Revery (Erudite Enchanter) in somnis veritas // Kspress (Iksar Monk) Your pain is the breaking of your shell.

"Wow, all your stories are so different. I can't imagine being in most of those situations. I know I wouldn't react well to them... Noggy, I know how it is who have parents who don't appreciate you. My mother was like that.

Kwen, I'm amazed you've survived until now. You must be very strong, and I don't mean your muscles."

Revery watches as Noggy heats up the knife. He shakes his head.

"I wrote to my sister, twice, when I was home last year. I tried not to judge or be preachy. After all, if it is merely knowledge she is after, why should I be bothered by that? No, so I wrote her once to tell of my adventures, and again, recently, to tell of my engagement. I have not received a reply, but she may have responded to the second letter and I would not have received it after I left home to come here." He looks around the pleasure parlor with disdain.


male Half Elf Rogue /Markus Vardin Human cleric (Giant Slayer Blackguard Kwenilithmor Eridosan)

Kwen nods at the gnome's words, grabbing the rag and rolling it up and bites down on hard on the towel. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he takes the hilt of the dagger from the gnome. Tensing up he presses the blade down on the burn, remembering the last time that he had to do something like this. Except this time it wasn't a brand, and this time there was a healing in the same room, nor was there a cleric to heal the burn right away.
The stench of burning flesh hits Kwen's nose, then the searing pain flairs up, as the nerves and travel along his arm, start screaming at his brain. The searing agony hits him, but thanks too Kwen's time in the desert, he is able to slightly distance himself from the pain.

fire res and damage:
fort save to for the fire resistance 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15
damage from fire: 1d6 - 2 ⇒ (4) - 2 = 2
Fort save to not scream (muffled due to towel clenched in his mouth) 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20

Kwen hold's the blade onto the brand until Nogglegrop let's him know otherwise, then removing the blade from his arm. His body already flooding him with endorphins, the survival mode part of his brain already trying to dull the pain, and to go into flight or fight mode. Kwen's left hand un-clenches, his knuckles were white and half moon marks start to slowly ooze out blood.


Angels bleed from the tainted touch of my caress

"What flower do you remember the sweet perfume of Sajeek?" His words feel ineffectual, but he needed to say something. "Where would you go to find your foster parents? The Karanas? What did you learn that brought you down t...wait, what fire?" The gnome's eyes are wide as he looks at both Kwen and Sajeek, wondering why they resolved things as arsonists do.

There was so much pain in the recent and not-so-recent pasts of these people. Like blades they were tempered by trials and cooled by tears.

Nogglegrop snaps his fingers the moment that he smells the flesh char, removing the pain and healing the wound as soon as a scar is likely to have formed. Bushy white eyebrows knit together as the cleric looks over the wound. Unsure if there is still any remnants of the wound he casts a likely redundant spell as quickly as he can (free action, quicken spell, 38/48 mana).

Minor Healing: 1d10 ⇒ 61d10 ⇒ 5

Assured that Kwen's wound has been dealt with, after brushing away ashes to reveal a thick and healthy scab in the shape of the end of a large blade, he nods and offers a smile to the rogue.

Moving back to his labours, after patting Revery on the shoulder, the gnome shares a moment with the enchanter. They both understood the horrors of the disdain of those that should love them unconditionally. It is a hole in the heart filled with acid. A pain that will never heal, for it can only fester.

While waiting for Gwendalyn to fill each of them in on the background of the group he asks, "What drives you to travel when a life of potential leisure awaited? A year passed for most of us, yet we all met at the appointed place and time."

Nogglegrop answers his own question, "There is no place for me to go back to. Painted smiles await me, but there is no depth to their expressions or warmth to their words. I am tolerated only for I am an outcast. I seek others like me, for among them I will finally know family."


Barbarian Shaman (Luminary Gwendalyn Shaughnessy the Giant Slayer)
Xenh wrote:

The cleric patiently waits for Sajeek to share of his upbringing, but is distracted by the shaman's words.

Nogglegrop wields his coarse-bristled scrub brush like a soapy rapier, brandishing it at Kwen's forehead, "Most know the story, though there are some here that do not. I know not what happened before I met each of you, and Kwen knows much less. Please tell the tale Gwendalyn, of course omitting the details we swore to keep secret, and push away the drudgery of this task." There is mischief in the gnome's eyes as he offers the rogue a charming smile. They had sworn to not reveal their quest, but that didn't mean they couldn't torture Kwen with the mystery of it.

Gwendalyn gives Nogglegrop a hard look that softens as she realizes the truth of his words. "This then is the story of what happened." She begins the tale in a sing-song voice. "The true story. I awoke naked in the hold of a sinking ship, chained to the wall, and willed that it would not end that way. So I pulled on the pipe again and again as the hold filled with water, until I was free. But then I couldn't see anything, but a dwarf led me to a hole in the bottom. I met him again later, but not for awhile."

The janitor/storyteller pauses and continues. "We made our way to the surface, some easier than others. I found a piece of hull -- someone was already on it, I think? -- and helped some others up. We survived the frigid waters with difficulty. I was constantly having to cast healing spells, and nearly succumbed to the cold myself, despite my heritage."

Gwen swallows as tears well in her eyes. "Maruusk the Vah Shir and Quinaweniel the Koada'Dal. They were with us, all the way to the island. Then we impossibly found the dwarf again along with a Feir'Dal bard and even a cave, but it was inhabited. We defeated the one goblin that was there, but then when two others came back, one was a wizard and killed Maruusk and Quina. After enduring so much together, just like that, they were gone."

She stops her scrubbing to cover her eyes as her breath turns to gasps. "That's all I can say now." The tears spill over.


male Half Elf Rogue /Markus Vardin Human cleric (Giant Slayer Blackguard Kwenilithmor Eridosan)

Kwen spits out the towel, trying to get some moisture back into his mouth, his voice horse from holding back screams from re-burning his arm " In your own time Gwendalyn, I think all of us can understand bad memories, if you don't wish to say anymore about it, then let's put it back into the past." Although hard to hear it, there is an undercurrent of sympathy in Kwen's words.
Looking over at Nogglegrop Kwen says " Well now, that we all have had our share of the bad memories, what's next? Shall we talk about some possible plans we might have for the future? I haven't thought too much on that, one has little time for navel gazing while always moving." Kwen says with a grin, a sheen of sweat can be seen on the half elf. His left forearm feels tight as the skin is reacting to the new blister on it, what little pain there is from the burn is easily pushed out of the rogue's mind.
Kwen's back felt uncomfortable from having to kneel and scrub every surface that had grease, dirt, and other stains on it. Looking over at Revery Kwen says " It didn't feel like it was strength, it felt more like fear at the time, always running, hoping that you wouldn't get caught. After a while the fear faded into the background, and I found myself not trusting anyone but myself. After a while I thought there was nothing, I learned much and at the same time nothing, just trying to make it through the night. Spending the day either sleeping, setting up in a safe house that I paid for, or tying to make sure that no one had found me. I guess looking back at all those years, I couldn't let other's go through the same thing. A good portion of the money I've made went to urchins..." Kwen trails off trying to think about what he had done over the years, finding that most of the days on the run had blurred together. It was hard to find out if anything had made him happy, sure there was the thrill of opening a lock that other's had said were impossible, or lifting a drunken merchants purse, then giving money to other's that were needier then Kwen had been.
Giving a snort he start's to scrub harder at a stain, not truly seeing it, giving time to think about the past had reopened old scars in the half elf's heart. Spending the time in his head, hoping to mend old wounds was going to result in much introspection. Bending over, so his face was hidden from the others, Kwen feels a tear run down his face. Clearing his throat, trying to regain some of his composure, he wipes his face trying to make it look like he was getting sweat out of his face.
" Sajeek, you said the first fire wasn't your fault huh, if you don't mind how did the accident happen." One could almost hear the smile in the rogue's voice.

bluff and disguise check:

bluff 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16
disguise 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16
hiding his face from the others 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13


Angels bleed from the tainted touch of my caress

Nogglegrop guesses these named dead were friends from before, which is why their deaths were so important. Perhaps as many as 150 slaves went to the bottom of the Timorous Deep that day, so to mourn specific losses was surprising otherwise.

The drugs, that had been applied to all the goodly creatures, muted many of the gnome's memories, which helped in deflecting much of the horror, for those that fell that day were more akin to dream characters than real people.

The group had a story that was familiar to the gnome, for he too had woken in a hold trapped under the waves, though the threats of the deep were a secondary concern for him compared to the other occupants of the slaver's lifeboat.

Lifeboat Link

"I was in the water watching the slaver's slaughter each other as the triangular finned fishes circled and filled their bellies with flesh. I was saved by an iksar of all things. Perhaps because of my healing, because I was fun to torture, or for my healing, mayhap....ah damned the fates, who knows why."

Nogglegrop shakes his head free of the unhappy memories, his hearing had been amplified under the waters, and hearing the sound of sharks bite down on screaming slavers was not a kind memory.

"Now that the reason to run is seemingly gone Kwen, what makes you wish to travel with us? To earn money for the street urchins?"


Vah Shir Beastlord and Bast Kejek Tiger

Sajeek had moved over and given Gwen a warm hug, licking tears off of her chin.

"Hey, it wasn't your fault. You need to stop beating yourself up over their deaths. Be angry with the slavers, not yourself. You did everything possible to save them," the Beastlord says kindly, yet there was a hint of steel to his words. "Had you not survived, not of us would be alive now." Sajeek releases the barbarian woman and then gives her a friendly punch on the upper arm. He scoots out of slapping range with a laugh and goes back to work.

Looking between Noggy and Kwen, Sajeek grins.

ooc:
Sense Motive and Spot to cut through Kwen's attempts to show no tears:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16;1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23

Sajeek notes Kwen suddenly turning from the and brushing his face slightly. The Beastlord thinks it rather odd that some with Kwen's reactions would get dust or grime on his face. Rather then say anything, Sajeek turns his emerald gaze to Noggy.

"The scent my mother wore was lilac. I think it's a more common Norrath flower. I remember one of my teachers saying it rarely grew on Luclin," Sajeek shrugs. "As to the reason why she might have left, I don't know. Her father is the leader of our big city on the moon. He and I never got along. He never approved of my foster mothers actions in taking me in and raising me as if I were one of her children." While the vah shir's voice is still light, his face had hardened considerably. There seemed no love lost between Sajeek and his grandfather.

"I had found out that they had left maybe a week after they had done so. From the little I could find out, they had fled to Norrath. No explanation or reason behind it," Sajeek once again muses over his foster parents vanishing. "Which was odd in itself. They had never mentioned coming here. Hells, from what I had overheard, my foster parents never wanted to step foot here."

Looking over at Noggy, Sajeek grins impishly.

"To answer you question Noggy, I stole the slip my grandfather had written down the words to activate the portal to Norrath," Sajeek glances at the ceiling as if concerned it might be listening to him. I kinda messed up his private rooms looking for it. After I found it, I had to sneak into one of our sacred areas. It's said to be blessed by the spirits. All I know is that they must have approved of what I wa doing because none of them tried to stop me. And they could have easily done so."

The slightly guilty look steals back over his face.

"I was discovered when I got to the portal, It was guarded after all. In the struggle, I was grabbed from behind and lifted off my feet," Sajeek's emerald shift back and forth as he tries to avoid eye contact. "I sorta kick over one of the brazier's stand nearby. It wasn't my fault that the coals hit the tapestries! I don't think anything do bad happened, the castle is made from solid stone." Sajeek looks a little guilty. "I think that room held a lot old fabrics from when our city was still on Norrath. All I know is it was dusty. The bookshelf went up in seconds. I hope nothing real important was in there, it was just an old sitting room."

"I went through the portal, but I think I got the words garbled, because I ended up outside the city that the portal leads too," Sajeek stretches once more before attacking a different corner of the room. "I did get really lucky. I ran into a guard after a few days, whom had remembered seeing a pair of Vah Shir matching my foster parents description. The had left the city to search the wild plains of the Karanas. The guard didn't have a clue, but he did remember seeing them leave with a great deal of supplies." Sajeek pauses for a few moments.

"I spent the next year searching the plains with no luck. Of course, I had to be sneaky about it. There are a lot of beings that would have squished me like a bug in the plains. Perhaps not as bad as the desert, by it certainly keeps on their toes," Sajeek laughs, trying to not let the frustration of not finding any trace of them what so ever show on his face. "Well, I didn't find any solid evidence, but towards the end of the year, I was getting a feeling that I was getting closer. And two days after I started thinking I might be getting close, I was attack, drugged and sold."

Wiggling his nose at the scent of fresh charred skin, Sajeek looks at Kwen and Noggy. He turns back to his work.

"As far as my plans go? Well, finding out what happened to my foster parents would be nice, but they are probably dead. Or they might still be alive, having started a family of their own. Either way, I lost their trail," Sajeek says with a shrug, a look of bitterness takes hold on his muzzle for a few moments. "I mean, maybe if I had spent the last year back in the plains, I might have something a little more solid to go on. But, I do not regret the year I spent living with Gwen's people, it was fun." Sajeek grins.

"I guess the real thing that keeps me putting on foot in front of the other is what I vowed to do. Other then that, I don't really have any big, world shaking goals or anything. I don't have the brains to think that far ahead of things," Sajeek laughs. He thinks about his foster parents for a while.


Revery (Erudite Enchanter) in somnis veritas // Kspress (Iksar Monk) Your pain is the breaking of your shell.

"Yes, money. The blood that makes society's heart pump. I never really craved it, but there are practical matters to consider. I trained as a jeweller, and a metal sculptor, and even served as an apprentice at that vocation for a while. Though I enjoyed doing it, somewhat, I admit I wouldn't have done it, wouldn't do it, if I didn't need the money," says Revery, thinking.

"I think I set out from that, after quitting it, trying to prove myself. To others, and to me. It seemed the best way to test my abilities, learn more, and perhaps gain some coin along the way. So far the first two goals have been much more successful than the third. But along the way, I also made some of the closest of friends. That, I had not been expecting, or even hoping for. So, I suppose the second time I set out, several weeks ago, I wanted to test that knowledge, and that friendship. Also, I suppose, my own courage. You see it's almost as if I hadn't believed I had done what I did on that cold island. It began to seem so far away in the past, as if that were another Revery and not me."

He stands up to adjust his silly costume. The scars on his body are relatively few, and the others could likely guess the specific battles they came from. It had been clean of those, before the slave ship.


Barbarian Shaman (Luminary Gwendalyn Shaughnessy the Giant Slayer)

Gwendalyn accepts Sajeek's unique ministrations and dries her eyes. "I suppose it seems silly, mourning just those two who died later when so many died when the ship sank, but I knew them. I worked so hard to keep them alive, sleeping in a pile with them to conserve our body heat, using magic to heal their frostbite -- and I didn't have as much back then as I do now. When we were on that makeshift raft, there was one time that I had to cast a healing spell on myself when I was so close to succumbing to the cold that the act itself put me under, and then the spell revived me so that I could heal another. If it hadn't worked, probably none of us would've survived to meet Noggy. That's how close it was." The scantily-clad shaman looks somber.

After pausing for a few moments, she sighs. "Anyway, that's the past. I found that I was stronger than I knew, that I could survive unimaginable challenges, and that I didn't need Tudan. I wanted to see you all again for old time's sake, not really expecting all that would happen as a result. But it did, and now here we are."


Angels bleed from the tainted touch of my caress

Wisdom was a cleric's greatest attribute and Nogglegrop was no exception. Keen insight detects subtle nuances in the rogue's deception.

Sense Motive (Nogglegrop vs. Kwen): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24

Nogglegrop is quiet, giving time for everyone to speak more of their stories, fill in their motivations and generally just get to know one another. You have already entrusted your lives to the others, and would so in the future, and it would be better to do so with the unwavering support of friends, rather than the blind support of an unknown acquaintance.


male Half Elf Rogue /Markus Vardin Human cleric (Giant Slayer Blackguard Kwenilithmor Eridosan)

"Nogglegrop, that might be a good idea, at least give other orphans a stable place to be. I'm sure I'll probably train some of them the basics. In no way will they get the same training style that I had. No one should have to have that type of recruitment. At the very least they will have a safe haven, all though who truly knows what all outcomes of the future can be, besides the gods." Kwen says. " All of us have had our challenges, things that forged us in different ways, all though it seems that we are all trying to find the inner strength that we didn't know we had. So what about you Nogglegrop, what could be your plans for the future hold... that is if you feel like telling us." Kwen grins, his eyes showing a hint of merriment in them.


Vah Shir Beastlord and Bast Kejek Tiger

"Did you do anything interesting in the last year Noggy?" Sajeek asks rather suddenly. "I mean, I didn't too much. Studied a bit with the barbarian beastlords and got myself into trouble around the city," Sajeek grins. "I think I got Gwen into trouble just by being around. It's sort of my thing," the vah shir chuckles. "The dark red stripes in my fur mean that I am followed my a spirit of bad luck. Or something along those lines. Although I might receive some aid from animal spirits, no such bad luck spirit tracks my footprints," Sajeek says with a snort of amusement.

"I think it's a superstition among the City-Dwellers of my people,' Sajeek laughs. "Even here on Norrath, I get the same look from Vah Shir. Maybe my clan was infamous, or did something crazy." The Beastlord scratches his chin. "Although, I think someone would have told me about that by now," Sajeek adds with a shrug, turning back to scrubbing.


Angels bleed from the tainted touch of my caress

He grinds the bristles extra hard into the leg the butcher's block, "My kin looked upon such a journey as this as a foolish waste of time." The gnome chuckles and shakes his head. Among most of the races on Norrath he would be at least be considered average, if not gifted, but among his own people he was treated like a moronic child.

Nogglegrop shakes his head, "Much of my year was spent arranging for or traveling upon my journey from Faydwer to Antonica. Ak'Anon is buried deep in the Steamfont Mountains, so I needed to join a convoy to travel to the docks held by the dwarves of Kaladim, and book passage across the Ocean of Tears. Oh, and I fled from an arranged marriage with a wealthy family, but that is a story for another time." The last is said with a smirk.

  • Nogglegrop sought kinship
  • Revery sought wealth
  • Sajeek sought his foster parents
  • Kwen sought to help orphans
  • Gwendalyn sought to prove herself

Nogglegrop fields Kwen's query with a smile, "As long as the dust of the road cakes my armoured boots I am happy."

Pointing to the rogue he nods, "That is a good idea, this would be a good time to establish what we plan to do from here, beyond the thing we cannot discuss of course."


Revery (Erudite Enchanter) in somnis veritas // Kspress (Iksar Monk) Your pain is the breaking of your shell.

Revery cleans without complaint, though all can see he is not enjoying the task. He is looking forward to tonight's lesson in the Iksar tongue. It will keep his mind sharp, at least.

"Regarding that which cannot be discussed, I don't know if there's much to discuss, since we rely upon our current situation being completed before the details of the next step will be revealed."


Vah Shir Beastlord and Bast Kejek Tiger

"Well, we're going to need traveling coin, that much is certain," Sajeek says as he looks over his latest efforts to clean the kitchen. He winces as he stretches. 'Spirits, we still have the rooms to do later. No wonder Fropze stays lit all the time.' Sajeek thinks to himself casting his emerald gaze towards the iksar. Who sat slouching in a stool, possible watching them work from under half-opened eyes. Or perhaps sleeping off his celebration of freedom from the two guards, it was hard to tell. "So, what do peoples normally do to earn coin?" Sajeek asks, not having a great deal of experience in the field of working.

Unconsciously touching the white clawprint that stood out on the dark grey fur of his right bicep, Sajeek goes quiet, his eyes distant. 'A great deal of traveling,' comes the thought from the deeps of his mind. Whether it was his own or a mumbling thought from the spirit was unclear.

"As far as coming up with coin? Hmm," Sajeek walks over to where Rev is scrubbing and pinches his left rump. "Your a bit too bony, but I suppose you might be able to work one of the rooms." Sajeek laughs and skips away from the enchanter. His eyes grow wide. "Ooooo, maybe you could work for Ooma personally." Sajeek laughs, and goes back to work, his eyes twinkling with laughter.


male Half Elf Rogue /Markus Vardin Human cleric (Giant Slayer Blackguard Kwenilithmor Eridosan)

" Well it all depends on how we want to get coin." Kwen says with a wink, laughing at Sajeek's words and what he did to the enchanter. " Nah I don't think that she would give much coin for Revery. There are many ways, some of them are well, not legal, but that holds a rather large risk. Plus I don't think that I have time to train all of you to be look outs for me." Kwen says with a grin " I don't think that working in the city itself, in day jobs will net us much coin. Perhaps bounty hunters might make us some decent money, I really don't know about back breaking labor is something I'd want to do." Kwen finishes, his mind already thinking of the possibilities of low risk, high reward ideas.


Angels bleed from the tainted touch of my caress

The quest will span years and take the group to places that only a select few have been brave enough to tread.

The dust of the planes will cake their feet before they are done, but as long as they do not waiver they will each wield weapons of impossible power.

Such an epic quest will require each member of the group to stand tall against powerful foes and as such they all needed seasoning in terms of the combative capabilities.


Revery (Erudite Enchanter) in somnis veritas // Kspress (Iksar Monk) Your pain is the breaking of your shell.

"Ooma, Ooma? I think I'd rather disappear!"

Revery spouts a few words and makes some hand motions, and does disappear. (Invisibility, mana 59/64)

He stands there and looks at himself, or tries to. He walks quietly over to a stool and sits on it, resting. Revery's disembodied voice from the back of the room says, "If we need lots of money, Sajeek, manual labor is not the way to get it. Laborers are paid peanuts. Risk brinks reward, as Kwen said, but it also brings loss. But perhaps we'll know what we need once the fruits of our current labors are tasted."

check:

Sneak attempt: 1d20 ⇒ 13

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