Perception 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (3) + 9 = 12, to read lips? Sense Motive 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (3) + 12 = 15, any falsehoods?
Sand Lotus... The old scholar retreats into his mind palace to turn up where in the wide world he might have heard that term before.
Knowledge (nobility) 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (4) + 12 = 16, Knowledge (history) 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (6) + 11 = 17, Knowledge (local) 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (18) + 11 = 29, Knowledge (religion) 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (3) + 12 = 15
He doesnt seem to lie and his mouth movements do not make any sense to the old wizard.
He does however remember hearing of a slave in Isteroth who defied her masters, was arrested, overpowered her captors, was arrested again, fought her way through the fighting pits to become Grand Champion, fought her way free of the slave pens and disappeared into the desert sands to the north of her homeland. She resurfaced nearly a decade later, but has been mostly idle as far as the wizard knows.
...or perhaps not so idle.
So, just to avoid confusion, Thaegrin heard of the accomplished former slave referred to as Sand Lotus? Sand Lotus is her name?
Thaegrin puts a hand to his narrow chin. At length he shrugs. "Brilliant. Thank you, Ezkal. Now, can someone please get this corpse out of my room? Sergio, are you still with us?"
The body of Karthus seems to drag across the ground towards the door on its own, without anyone touching it. Wizard Variel raises his eyes to the Drolleye, and then Iskandarr. "It may be wise to burn the body, and while Sergio can carry it for you, he might need help with the fire..."
Karthus softly thumps as he is pulled limply over the threshold of the door. "I think that will be all," he says, lastly turning his eyes to the Halfblood. "Thank you."
"Oh, and Iskandarr, the preparations I asked of you this morning, I will need more for the morrow."
Bluff to pass secret message 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (6) + 12 = 18
Thaegrin suggests that Iskandarr prepare more Scryings tomorrow.
As his associates dismiss themselves, he frowns at the bed. He doubted he would get any sleep tonight after that excitement.
I'm gonna go out on a limb here and ask for something odd: could I roll an Intelligence check for Thaegrin to make some logical conclusions that I, the player that does not have a 25 Int score, might be missing? Intelligence 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13
Woo, thanks dice...
Iskandarr nods his understanding. "I can accommodate that request,but do you have a moment?"
Thaegrin mutters something in his native tongue to the Halfblood.
"When Eonan sailed into port, I told this impostor-slave to make preparations for the five of us to set sail for Amerys in seven days. In truth, I intended us to depart tomorrow, and not by ship, but by cover of night."
Not sure how much to spell out, but Thaegrin was hoping Karthus would send some misinformation to his superiors about disembarking in a week, and snail-sailing to Amerys. Since someone in Amerysi command already knew Thaegrin was coming, better to give them a false arrival time than have them rush immediate preparations. Thaegrin plans to have Anga use his cloak to transport the lot of us to the Ached Islands just south of Amerys. There we can maybe sell some of the loot we have and gather some information before crossing into Amerys borders.
Indicating that the spymaster may go, Thaegrin nods to the Beast-Man and lowers himself into the chair at his desk. He listens.
Facion nods at the wizards words and says to the others before they depart. "It would do well to meet back here tomorrow, I will have something to share with you all." He nods again and makes his way towards the door, only at the last second slipping off to the side as the door shuts.
Perform (Act) 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14
Stealth 1d20 + 26 ⇒ (18) + 26 = 44
Anga is wanting to hide in the room to eavesdrop on Thaegrin and Iskandarr. Hiding so they can't see him! :D
|Tholan the Drolleye|
Tholan pauses to look over the body (Perception 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (5) + 11 = 16) to see if anything of value has been missed, then grabs the body under one arm, and slings it up over his shoulder with a quietly exhaled curse. "No reason for any ceremony for this one, is there? Easily enough burned to ash." He walks toward the doorway, then pauses, turning back to those in the room. "Does anyone need any mending or care? No serious injuries sustained I hope. And should I move my quarters close by in case of any further trouble?"
Once everyone has left, Iskandarr looks at the wizard "V prípade , že sú sledovaní , by ste chceli , aby som hovoriť Draconic alebo jednoducho napísať , čo som videl , znova?" after a pause to confirm, Iskandarr continues however the wizard deems fit.
Translation "I went to scry vice Admiral Jonathan Trenton and what I saw was quite a grotesque sight. I saw a ship, swathed in blood and ichor, to the point where I could not tell you where the vice Admiral began and the lowliest deckhand ended. I know no animal could have wrought what I saw, but I have a hard time believing it was by physical strength, either."
After the others leave, Thaegrin makes no move for his writing equipment. His nod indicates that the Man of the Lake may speak. When he is finished, the old Feraweni frowns.
The draconic translator isn't working right now :(
"Fascinating. Thank you. I will meditate on this, and speak with you tomorrow. Good night."
Thaegrin is ready to call it a night and start the next day.
|Tholan the Drolleye|
Seeing no objection, Tholan leaves the room, heading downstairs and toward the edge of town. Finding a spot reasonably clear as far as his clouded eyes can see, he stretches his shoulders and murmurs, "May this task be done quickly, and the ale be plentiful." Cast Enlarge Person to dig faster. He then digs a pit several feet deep, taking care to heap dirt on any nearby plants or flammables, then tosses the body in. After lining the edge of the pit with stone, he spits on the corpse. "May the flames consume your body, and our Lord in Iron consume your soul." Cast Wall of Fire into the pit. Tholan stares into the flames for a minute, then turns away to let the flames die down and the pit cool, unslinging his blade from his shoulders and using the minute to let his blade dance in the light of the fire, then the embers, then finally the light of the moon.
Kicking the rocks onto the ash, Tholan jumps down and uses his increased weight and the covering of stones to crush the remaining bones to fragments, then climbs out and heaps dirt onto the stone.
Finally done, Tholan returns to town to find a large flagon of ale, then sleep.
The Ached Islands has an outpost and a good sized market. You can sell and buy most things there except slaves. The Islands are not Amerysi territoy, but they are heavily occupied and regulated. The Amerysi wish to absorb the island into their country and are leaving the matter to a vote of the island's elders. A vote that has been inconveniently delayed for various reasons.
Night passes peacefully and as the dawn break our heroes...
What's happening folks?
Prepared spells updated.
Thaegrin rises from his bed. His body felt rested, and his mind seemed somewhat clear. The events of the night before turn over in his head as he dresses and packs for the day. It reminds him of another nocturnal visitor -one he tasked to begin a drug trade in a port city to the south. A known resistance to the Emperor’s seizure of power. He idly wonders whatever happened to that pawn of the Silver Tabby.
His wonderings are short-lived as he sits down and pulls open his spellbook. It was imperative that he record the discovery he made last night. Long narrow fingers stop at a chapter with simpler incantations, and the arcane scholar jots down in his personal shorthand, along the margins of the chapter heading, just how exactly he was able to quicken the casting time of these easily-learned spells. Easily-learned, slowly mastered. He pauses when he is done, and contemplates the day ahead. Hopefully, a peaceful one. A day of travel, trade, and gathering of information. I would like to pass through the Ached Isles unnoticed…
Afterwards, he spends the next hour reviewing the incantations for which he anticipates a need.
Anga told everyone to meet him back here, so Thaegrin is content to wait for that meeting to happen.
|Tholan the Drolleye|
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Iron incarnate, it spins and weaves through battle leaving seeping stillness in the midst of chaos. The holes cut in lines don't fill, they remain gaping, crimson, soldiers shying away from the fallen. Utter destruction, the mass of blade and plate moves unchecked through lines of steel and flesh and life, and leaves only torn steel and broken flesh in its wake. The few blades which rise to meet it, or fall to strike at it, find no purchase in flesh or blood. The arms tear from the bodies which wield them, and soon there is only silence.
Tholan wakes with a song of war in his heart, his pulse beating the steady metronome's hammer of war. "A day to seek out the beginnings to new battles," he hums out in a low rumble. He find a seat in the room, and begins tending to his blade, cleaning and preparing it for the next battle. Power thrums beneath his fingers as he hones the blade, and the magic drained from the day before slowly flows back into his being. Blade tended and magic renewed, he looks to his armor and gear. This second set of armor... It served me well, but I can only wear one at a time. With a sigh, he resolves to sell it when possible, then stows and packs his equipment.
Prepared for the day ahead, Tholan leaves his room, and finds himself meat and bread and another flagon of ale to welcome the day. Pack secure and belly full, Tholan moves to the wizard's quarters.
|Ezkal the Ordo Hereticus|
Morning arrives without further incident.
Ezkal finds his manacles and is last to arrive at the wizard's room where a nonplussed slave is reporting that the man in charge of overseeing the company's preparation to make sail has vanished.
"How should we proceed master?" The bewildered man asks Thaegrin.
Iskandarr rises early in his quarters with a stretch and a yawn. Leaving the confines of civilization, he finds a peaceful place to sit and quiet himself in nature, to allow his soul to become renewed in the life and essence of the forest.
Having fed his soul, he made his way back to civilization and finds a suitable breakfast, then heads to Thaegrin's room.
"This is an island. Are you certain he is not hiding somewhere, shirking his duties? Was all manner of watercraft was counted and recorded? I hope we do not find ourselves one short." The court wizard indicates to the colleagues approaching his abode. "I have guests. Find a suitable replacement for the overseer. Appoint yourself, if you believe yourself up to the task. If the original overseer is discovered, clasp him in irons and use the replacement anyway. I am sorry I cannot be more helpful, but there is much to do today."
"Now go, please," he commands flatly. "There are many preparations for our respective roles. Do not disturb our meeting until the following day."
Now free of the simple distraction, Thaegrin is silent as the others enter his chamber. He trusts that they will take seating if it is desired. The wizard offers nothing to them, indeed, he is scarcely in the room. Event after event replays in his mind, recalling exact wordings of conversations past, as motes of light in space. His concentration splits and scours his library of knowledge for any connection, no matter how bizarre. Each connection draws a line, in his mind, to a memory, until a tangled web of information slowly forms. With a practiced breath to relax the tension building his neck, the scholar releases the third concentrator, into the scholastic arms of philosophy and logic. Thaegrin tasks the effort with charting the points and lines. The Inevitable Cartographer. A sequence is sought in the mapping, a formula by which to predict which cog will turn next, in the world that loosely follows the orders of nature and man.
Thaegrin is gonna retry that INT check. Intelligence 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26
Ignorant to those that enter the room, the old Feraweni stands stock still, staring fiercely at a plain wall. The back of a nearby chair is under a white-knuckled grip. The intensity of his facial expression toward a mundane wall seems a little odd, but then again, wizards are an odd folk.