Tora no Senaka - The Back of the Tiger
Game Master Dreaming Warforged

Knowledge (local)1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7

Know:Arcane 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (8) + 11 = 19
Know:Local 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14

Sorin thinks for a moment. "I don't know, I can't think of any spells that will last long enough to be useful. I will search my spellbooks later to see if I missed something though. To be honest, if there is a question, we can simply talk about shared past history to verify we are who we say we are, if there is a situation when there is doubt. That way there are no passphrases to be overheard and copied, nor any overt signaling."

Struck by this realization, Garand speaks up, "I just remembered that a blood-feather raven is, in legend, a servant or familiar to dark powers, not typically a shapeshifting threat unto itself."

He adds with an attempt at self-depracating humor. "So, if you haven't been already, just ignore anything I've said for the last few days about shapeshifters or whatever..."

"More evil sorcery", Raith grimaces. "If we see that bird, we kill it."

Struck by this realization, Garand speaks up, "I just remembered that a blood-feather raven is, in legend, a servant or familiar to dark powers, not typically a shapeshifting threat unto itself."

He adds with an attempt at self-depracating humor. "So, if you haven't been already, just ignore anything I've said for the last few days about shapeshifters or whatever..."

Koya smiles at Garand: "You're too hard on yourself. I hadn't noticed it had a blood feather. It could also be a shapechanger looking like a raven with a blood feather, just to throw us off! Mmmmh..."

"I think that I am going to see what I can find in the libraries, bookstores and temples of the city. I want to see if I can piece together a better picture of what has been happening in the Empire for the last 25 years. That might give us a better idea of what we face."

Shalelu, perhaps a little confused, asks, in a military tone: "Let's go over this! We park in the Bones, but find a place to stay in the Stone or Oak quarters, right? Then we need to find that lion head guy, the sword, and possibly a way to cross over the Spine, right?"

Koya adds: "Sounds right, but we said we would stay together at all times, so who's keeping an eye on the caravan? And who's going to disguise Ameiko? We could just cut her hair..." She flashes a smile at Ameiko as she blushes and they both start to laugh.

Sandru offers: "My guys can keep an eye on the caravan, and report to us if something happens. But together at all times? It's a big busy city. The eight of us will take a lot of space, unless we move as smaller groups, but always in sight of one another?"

Pavel stays silent in the background for the most part, translating for Kelda and only interjecting with one idea.
"Shuh'Shalelu, Raith and me could shuh'shadow the rest o' ye in the city if ye thuh'think there's a need. Unless muh'my skills at translation and cuh'cuh'cuh'considerable charm are required.", he says before slicking back his hair... somehow making it even more of a bird's nest than usual.

The evening is spent around a traditional Varisian meal of deer and potatoes, served with fresh berries, prepared by Koya, who required the assistance of each of you. During the meal, she offered a plate to Desna.

The night was chilly, passing clouds dropping a light rain. Nights are now very short, and you guessed that only a few hours went by with the sun below the horizon.

At sunrise, you set out for Kalsgard. Quickly, the network of roads expands, with groups of farms spattered with greater frequency. Ulfen and Gnome farmers are already hard at work in their fields. Traffic picks up as well, mostly bound inwards, with stout blond bearded merchants and farmers bringing goods to the metropolis.

All eye you with a smile, often waving at the caravan, but tinged with an afterthought of suspicion.

By the end of the day, you finally catch sight of the fabled metropolis of the North. Kalsgard truly is a great city. A patrol signals you to take a road meant to get you through the Bone Gate, a wide opening in the city's thick and high wall underneath which flows a small tributary, where you will be able to park your caravan. There is a lot of traffic that afternoon, but you are finally waved in without too many questions.

The air suddenly gets filled with dust and the smells of horses, nice and worse, as you reach the parking fields. The rest of the day is spent settling and getting your bearings.

Ameiko spent the day in a wagon. When she emerges, she seems to have gained a few pounds and her hair are now short and all black and her cheeks seem covered with a light nascent beard. She wears a loose yellow silk gown underneath a stained leather apron, with a set of tools at her belt, making her look more like an man and an artisan than a female and a minstrel. With her usual boyish grin, she says: "Call me Mike. Now we find a place to stay?"

Map of Kalsgard at the top and in Campaign Info.

Kelda takes her leave, swearing as she looks longingly at Pavel, that she will return once her family knows she's safe.

You get your bearings, and make your way to the Stone Quarter. Most streets are very narrow and the city seems overcrowded. You're also surprised to find the Ulfens always bearing arms in open, often of the highest quality, with sumptuous helms adorned with wings, spikes, plumes, antlers. Street performers are frequent on your path, showing their acrobatic skills, singing powerful songs for all over the world, telling stories for children, and for adults...

The Quarter Guard is omnipresent and seems different for each Quarter. You don't notice any petty crime on your way.

Crossing into the Stone Quarter, you follow a main street all the way to a great temple dedicated to Torag. Around it, the best blacksmiths of the Lands have their shops. You also see small fortified shops selling arcane wares and ancient books. You realize easily that the value of everything drops as you walk away from the temple...

You make your way to the Oak Quarter, and now become surrounded by woodcarvers, carpenters, and craftspeople. You trace the path of logs, timbers and blocks of precious woods back to the river, where small factories process the timbers floating down the river and herded by long boats. The most precious woods are instead imported, arriving on ships that traveled months to the other side of the continent. The tangle of docks, piers, lumberyards, factories and warehouses constitute Kalsgard shipyard, extending beyond the Oak.

Where do you wish to stay and what will you do first?

"This town seems far less... grim than I had expected." Garand says, wide-eyed at the size of the city and it's large-living people.

The lowlanders think both the Shoanti and the Ulfen 'barbarians,' but there truly is little in common between our peoples...

What's our agenda? Find the Ulfen with Ameiko's sword? Find the Ulfen who hired the raiders? I'm not sure what we're supposed to do here.

Well the ulfen with the sword is a king. So stories should be pretty prevalent for an Ulfen king armed with such a blade. We should be able to do that pretty easily. I think that is priority number two. Priority one is staying hidden the best that we are able. There may be some incidents, but we don't want to gain the ire of the guard. Priority three is figuring out who attacked us and determining if we can do anything about it. If he is an ulfen king some distance away, we will not have the opportunity to travel to him without exposing Ameiko to greater danger.

Raith suggests, "We should take a look about for this Asvig Longthews. He's the one that sent them raiders after us. We should know his people by their armbands. We should seek out the sword in the image. I'm assuming the Ulfen man that bought it is dead. But maybe just an old man now.

Knowledge-local1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15 to see if Raith might know where Asvig Longthews might be around here. Or any legends concerning ancient swords he's heard from the locals.

Pavel blushes red when Kelda looks back in his direction.
"Uh... Sh'Sure. Wuh'we'll be around here. Wuh'when you're ready."

"I'm all for huntin' down this As'Asvig guy. Buh'but let's get a place to stay fuh'first. This quarter seems okay, ruh'right? Luh'let's take a look around."

We find an inn. Lead us to a good inn, Celestial.

Finding an inn is easy. Finding one with enough room for all of you, plus meeting certain requirements for discretion, not so.

Please roll Diplomacy.

Someone else should do that. Raith is not the best choice to talk to people about finding inns.

Diplomacy 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16

With no grasp on the Ulfen tongue, and suspecting that nobody here will speak Shoanti, Garand sticks to Varisian, asking random passersby if they know of a good inn.

It takes a while for the group to find what they are looking for: an inn of some respect, but still a bit out of the way and quiet. Night falls when you push the door of the Happy Harpy. The inn has three floors and is located a stone away from the docks, near the gate leading to the Fire Quarter. The innkeeper is a chubby and balding half-elf going by the name Harrin. His palms are clammy but his rates are good, his sheets are clean, and his coffee is actually warm, though he sells it a fortune.

The lot of you get settled in four bedrooms, namely taking the whole second floor. You crash in deep beds for a quiet night under a roof.

Garand allows the others to move ahead of him, attempting to usher bear-spirit up the stairs with a minimum of fuss, hoping to avoid any sort of incident. His companions unnatural growth-spurt has led to him appearing much less the 'cute bear cub,' and he doesn't want to provoke any sort of extreme reaction either to or from the exciteable animal.

This lowlander, or, in this case, highlander, custom of sleeping in these enclosed spaces, shut away from the sky and the stars, is still somewhat new to Garand, and a part of him longs for the open road with the caravan.

Still, they are not in this city to dwell, but merely to acquire what they need to move on.

How many others thought the same?, he wonders. How many souls have found themselves bound up in debts or times of service, selling their freedom for the conveniences of city life, or convinced themselves that they are not trapped in this place, not slaves to food and drink they have not gathered with their own hand, and not chained for life to rental fees for land and structures that were never theirs to own, and will not be theirs to hand down to their sons?

He remembers his teacher's wisdom, couched as warning, "The pale men are pale within and without. They kill and die to possess that which has no value, and leave behind what is priceless. Do not try to understand their ways, lest you lose your own in fruitless pursuit."

Nice post Set!

Sorin settles into the rooms with the awareness that he will not enjoy the pleasure of a good bed and a warm inn for some time after they depart the city.

Its good to have a place that we can rest, relax and build our strength for the coming ordeal.

Hmmmm. I wonder if the weather is going to turn for the worse soon?

After settling his gear, Sorin stands up and stretches, looking at his roomates.

"Well. I think that I am going to start my investigations with the kitchen and the wine cellar, anybody interested in joining me?" he asks before leading the way down to the common room and a warm meal.

Sandru beams a warm smile, raises his hand and follows Sorin: "That Harrin looks like he's eating well!"

Garand places both hands on the sides of bear-spirits face, demanding his full attention and attempting to impress upon the animal the importance of this command. His seriousness is interrupted by bear-spirit choosing this opportunity to lick at Garand's nose, causing him to sneeze, and startling them both.

Catching his breath, and laughing softly to himself, he says, "Stay." adding words the bear cannot understand reflexively. "I will return soon, with warm food."

He turns and joins the others, leaving bear-spirit behind in their room, rather than risk him being exposed to the unpredictable common room.

Raith stows his meager possessions in the room he chose next to Ameiko's room. After seeing to the horses and wagons, Raith walks the inn and the area around the inn taking in the terrain and people, noting faces, names, clothing, weapons, assocations, voices, smells, and the like. He especially looks for perched birds on rooftops, windows, or hidden nooks and crannies in buildings where a bird might hide and watch. He listens intently to the tongues spoken, trying to pick up Ulfen words that he has heard.

Is it ok if I assume that Raith spent some time with Pavel learning the Ulfen tongue? I think I'll spend a skill point on some languages as we go on, seems like it would be helpful to roleplaying absent common.

Raith spends a good long while walking about. Probably around three hours or so, well into the evening.

Perception:1d20 + 12 ⇒ (15) + 12 = 27

Sandru beams a warm smile, raises his hand and follows Sorin: "That Harrin looks like he's eating well!"

Pavel yawns, scratching the side of his neck.

Some of you come down to the common room for a meal. The smell is tantalizing. A stew of beef with roasted potatoes and fresh carrots. The sauce is rich if humble, and the meat has clearly cooked slowly for most of the day. Harrin's here, smiling and making small talk with the patrons, half of which do not seem to stay at the inn. You can see a barrel-shaped lady of great age and height coming and going, bringing dishes or food when necessary.

Garand savors his stew, enjoying the rich flavor and tender consistency that a day's simmering had produced.

He turns to Sandru, "Who is this Harrin you speak of? Some local figure of importance?" Seeing the man in question greeting and speaking with many different people, his eye raises appraisingly, "Or merely a man who speaks to many different people in a day, and who might be useful to seek out as a source of information..."

"You know Sandru, if we are looking for local legends about the blade, we could do worse than asking the inkeep here, Harrin? I bet he hears plenty of stories...he might point us in the right direction. You know him best, do you mind asking?" Sorin asks as he tucks into the savory stew.

Sandru looks at Sorin, somewhat bemused: "Aye, friend! I spoke with him a minute more and you say I've known him all my life! I can try..." He waives Harrin to the table. The pudgy man walks up to you with a smile. Sandru mentions that some of you have heard of a powerful sword sold here a long while back. Harrin shrugs: "Everyone here is selling and buying, and everyone has heard about a great sword... Was it a dwarf, was he Taldan? I need to know more to help you."

Things have slowed down a bit. Please let me know how I can help.

Pavel looks around to everyone else in the room, shrugs and then just blurts it out.
"He was a Tuh'Tien."

Typhoon Pablo in the PI has caused some...waves at work. I haven't even had a chance to breathe in the last few days. We should do a roll call to see who is still here tho...holidays seem to slow all the games down.

Harrin's face goes blank, and he mutters some generalities about the Jade Quarter. You set out the next day in search of information. This proves harder than expected. The Ulfen are a bit suspicious and you can't seem to find the way to have them open up. Even Pavel finds his heritage pretty useless.

Hours become days as you explore Kalsgard's quarters, and they soon feel like impossible chores. You'd gladly go get a tooth pulled instead.

Sorin's Knowledge (local) 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (11) + 9 = 20
Pavel's Intimidate 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15
Garand's Diplomacy 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25
Raith's Perception 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (15) + 12 = 27
Raith's Sense Motive 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (15) + 12 = 27

Finally, your luck turns as you find a dwarven brewer by the name of Broc of the Stone, located in the network of caves under the metropolis. He buys from a Tien trader some secret ingredients that are imported from Tian Xia. "Foi Luk is very old, and might remember something about a sold sword. Anyhow, his guide I know well enough, a scumbag named Ulf Gormundr. Yeah! That's the one you want. He knows the way across the Crown AND how to survive through AAAAND he's not signed to a merchant for exclusivity. Last I heard, he was working with a tracker named Uksahkka. They have their "office" at the Varisian pub in the Fire Quarter."

A day later, Harrin comes to find you at dinner: "I thought you should know, Broc got a visit... Some men asking questions about you: who you are, where you're from, where you're staying, what's your business... He said nothing he said. But he sent his son the next day to warn me." He walks away as discreetly as he came.

You locate Foi Luk, a wealthy merchant of the Jade Quarter. As you're about to approach the shop, Raith stops you at a corner and signs for you to lay low. Soon after, you see a murder of crow flying from one rooftop to another, perhaps with an unnatural intent... A breath later, the path is clear, and the crows have disappeared.

It takes a while to get the merchant to loosen up, but he eventually puts together the pieces you slowly feed him. "Ay! Ay! I remember, but that was a while back!!! Yes, the family was without money, so it was a bargain for Fynn! Yes, that's it! Fynn Snaevald. He became a famous collector. Made his name with that sword, I'd say! Don't know if he's alive still. I am! So may be he is!"

Later that day, as you cross the Gate into the Oak Quarter, Raith spots someone shadowing you from a distance...

Wow, thanks for rolling that Diplomacy for Garand!

Does Raith mention this uninvited follower we have picked up?

Nice movement forward, Celestial. That's what I was looking for.

Raith says in a casual, subdued voice just above a whisper, "Seems we have attracted some interest amongst the local folk." He'll keep an eye on the shadower relating the details of his appearance as we walk.

Garand resists the urge to look back and possibly alert any follower that they have been spotted.

"Perhaps we should stop for a meal, at some tavern that does not appear too busy, and if the follower enters as well, we can wait by the door to ask him his business..." Garand whispers back. "Or go out the back and ambush him in return, if he waits outside the front for us..."

Please roll bluff and/or stealth if you decide to go that route.

"Wuh'we should separate. Yuh'you 'n Sorin stay together, Ruh'Raith and I'll head down a sidestreet. Wuh'we double back around stealthy whu'while you guys continue on and stuh'stop at an inn to eat. We can cuh'catch 'em between us if we're cuh'careful..."

Raith nods slightly and follows Pavel's lead.

Stealth:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (4) + 9 = 13

Sorin and Garand, roll Bluff, while Pavel rolls Stealth (Raith has already rolled).

Bluff 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 1 = 14

Garand invokes a silent prayer to the god of communities that the pursuer somehow fails to notice that the party has suspiciously split up.

Stealth: 1d20 + 10 - 1 ⇒ (8) + 10 - 1 = 17

Sorin can't bluff his way out of a paper bag...

Bluff? 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18

Sorin continues walking down the street, suddenly nervous about the subterfuge. His voice sounds too loud, too excited as he points out various obvious things about the street that they are walking.

"Garand...did you know that the Street of Bone isn't actually named after anything actually related to the material? The street was actually named after a musical instrument, the Bone Zithar, that the bard Yendin played on this very street nearly 150 years ago. I imagine that the locals have forgotten that bit of history..."

"I've seen flutes made of bone, and even windchimes, but a zither? Strange sort of bard, this Yendin..." Garand replies as he seeks out a tavern or inn or hostelry that they can step into, hopefully drawing their pursuer closer as they leave the street and pass out of sight.

If at all possible, he'll attempt to enter with some others, in the hopes that their watcher somehow failed to notice that their party just halved in size, and mistakes the random other people for the missing party members...