"Well, we now know that the barbarians of Ragneron Forest support the King thanks to you. Trey La has still given no response. I am told their deliberation chamber stinks from 6 doors away; they've been in there near a month now! From Veir, the King aims to take The Guantrim and use it as a base to attack and subdue the horsemen of valley."
Eonan says as matter of fact as you please. "Oh." He says leaning forward "And Sorcha is unresponsive. Lehrehn is sealed up tighter than a miser's a$~~*&$. The Amerysi war on Thelkon is about to end and they will concentrate their efforts on us!" He shouts.
"This cannot happen. We must gain the trust of the King before Amerys attacks. We must be invaluable to him. What would you do to achieve all this?"
He speaks to Thaegrin, but the tone is meant for everyone to voice any opinions they have. (This is the part where you find you next available quest lines. Lol)
Take the Guantrium? They did not kneel to the Emperor?
Thaegrin clicks in disapproval, but is otherwise silent as he thinks for a moment. Then he raises two narrow fingers, the edges still stained from the scribing done that morning. “War is a machine that is fueled by ambition, but the moving parts are greased by gold.”
“After returning from Veir with Jathus’ body and the news of the Emperor’s intentions, I told you what I thought the house ought to do. Take the Thanon mines. The close-quarter fighting of the mountains means the skill of every warrior counts, giving our superior slave soldiers the advantage. With the Rudianos in control of the mines, the Emperor will need the house to bring the other dominions in order quickly. With support from a few well-prepared Ragneron mages, the fortress guarding the mines can be annexed easily.”
The old Feraweni’s gaze does not blink or turn away from the Grand Confessor for what he says next. “However, I think our diverse talents are better suited elsewhere. I have a task in mind, but in truth, the less you know of it, the better. There are more eyes and ears on this island than I would like. I’ll admit this much: it will result in slowing the Amerys war machine. Something the house needs at the moment, yes?”
Thaegrin is setting us up for a heist mission in Amerys, but anyone else is free to put in their 2 coppers as well!
I would like to hear from everyone. Put in some good effort here and the story will become that much more fun. Even if your character would not speak aloud, their thoughts need to be written so I know them,. From this I can learn what interests you and the plans you have for your character and thus make the story more fun.
This game moves slowly. I am okay with that. However, Thaegrin is really the only one invested int he story (or so it seems). Every character has wants, goals, pet peeves, etc. Play them out. Don't fight each other is my only rule.
As Iskandarr listens to the discussion, he reminds himself of the need to scry on the various individuals in the Amerys war machine. His mind gradually wanders to the dragon they encountered, but focuses back on the task at hand. Still, his mind wanders. I wonder what has become of Iskandeer...
Facion stays still from his spot near the door. Listening intently he watches as the conversation moves from person to person. Amerys and Thelkon are close to peace? We cannot allow that to happen. The wizard says his piece. Taking on the tone of one used to submitting to orders he says, "I agree with Master Variel. This group is ill suited for front-line heroics. Better to stay where we're more effective. The sideline."
|Ezkal the Ordo Hereticus|
|Tholan the Drolleye|
Closing his eyes, Tholan muses over the presented options. Crippling their war effort without open war... Supply raids? Infiltration? Hm. The codger will share with us when he's ready. Rivers of blood follow us wherever we go, there will be endless opportunity for battle. Pausing to allow a few moments of silence, Tholan nods his agreement. "We've travelled and... worked together long enough to learn to compliment each other well. I'd say we're best working together." He pauses for a moment, thinking, then continues, "I'm not fond of avoiding battle, but someone needs to stay around to keep the Wizard alive. He's yet to lead us astray in pursuing Rudianos' best interests."
Tholan unconsciously begins to tap out the rhythm of a dance on his thigh. I'll need to hone my blade before we travel to further danger. No use in having a blade if it's stuck in a man's shoulder. Shame we can't reallocate more skilled slaves to the forges. A good blade is hard to find.
Thaegrin looks to Ezkal. "There are enemies closer to the Emperor than across the sea. You were not in his grand hall when he dissolved the conglomerate dominions of Erenon into one empire, but that is the truth of it. Some of the sovereignties would not bend the knee, and right now a civil war builds across Erenese soil. For moment, Rudianos sees the wisdom in supporting the Emperor in his ascendance to power. I think Eonan speaks of the domestic opposition to the crown. Presently, Amerys makes no war against Rudianos or Erenon, and I would like to keep it what way." If for no other reason than returning to the peace and quiet of my research. The wizard gives a small nod in deference to the Drolleye's vote of confidence. "I am here to serve. Blunt force might open a locked door well enough, but we are each a tooth of the same key."
|Grand Confessor Eonan Rudianos|
Thaegrin blinks. At first he wonders if the Grand Confessor tests him again, but he could not see the conclusion Eonan would hope to share. Perhaps he does not understand.
“How many slaves are you reclaiming today? I would not like to assume every single one is accounted for. That is what I mean by the overabundance of eyes and ears here. I will not tell you our plans, not now anyways, for fear of spies. But I cannot stop you from observing our actions magically.”
Bluff 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (10) + 12 = 22 to pass a secret message to Eonan. He could piece together Thaegrin’s general plan of “a heist mission on Amerys” from what Thaegrin has said so far. Namely, “war machines are greased by gold” and “we plan to slow the Amerys war machine.”
Bluff 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (15) + 12 = 27, the bit about not stopping scry attempts is technically untrue. Thaegrin could.
Eonan frowns furiously. "Will. Not. Will not?" I am surprised at you Thaegrin. No doubt your reception when next you visit Lehrehn will reflect this choice."[/b] The Grand Confessor stands coldly and sweeps out of the room.
"Good. I will await you in Lehrehn with a reward for your success. PLay up the apparent discord between us to find the rats."
sense motive: 1d20 ⇒ 17
A worried expression on his face, Iskandarr watches as the grand confessor leaves. Hopefully if anyone is watching, they will believe what they saw.
Sense Motive 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (16) + 12 = 28
Facion keeps his face posed in a mask of passive humility as the Grand Confessor makes his equally grand exit. This little... group, Anga hesitated to use the word team, did it's best work when left to its own devices. Though they were all in the "employ" of house Rudianos, they couldn't operate at max efficiency of they were constantly being hounded by the lords of the kingdom.
Once they were alone, he turns to his companions. "We've spent far too much time on this rock. Let us finish what remaining tasks we have so that we might finally be rid of this place."
|Ezkal the Ordo Hereticus|
Iskandarr cocks his head in thought. I can't tell him plainly, if someone is listening, that could cause problems.
Sense Motive 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (20) + 12 = 32 pfff, thanks dice. I'll need a 20 later when it counts...
The wizard watches the Rudianos leave in silence. His lip twists slightly in disapproval at the spymaster’s desire to leave the island, though he could not blame the Halfblood’s restlessness. His mind’s wanderings are interrupted by Ezkal’s question. Was he even listening?
But he does not answer the hulking Thelkonlander right away, and takes slow, ponderous paces across the banquet hall. He turns to Facion. “No, there are preparations we must make. I do not anticipate leaving here for another week. It will take us two days alone to properly audit and rectify the ledgers. Beyond that, we must see to the repair of the island. Some of the greatest structures drew the ire of the slaves and need to be restored.”
Bluff to pass a secret message 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (19) + 12 = 31. Message: “We leave in two days.”
He looks over to the Warbringer. “Little was decided here, it seems the Grand Confessor merely needed a briefing. A waste, if you ask me. I am concerned for the state of Lehrehn, but I need to see to the long-term success of the house rather than what appears to be the actions of a petulant child. We will learn of Lady Sorcha’s intents when we are finished…” Considering Lehrehn’s locked state, and Eonan’s implication that he could not get inside, it disturbed Thaegrin that the eldest Rudianos was the one who responded to his hail for slave transport. Iskandarr’s messenger ought not to have erred, so how did Eonan know? He decides to trouble on this later, pausing to take a deep breath. Thaegrin looks to Tholan, Ezkal, and Iskandarr in the eye. “You may go. I will see you tomorrow.” He maintains his gaze on the man-beast with his dismissal, hopefully reminding him of the scrying reports he expected in the morning.
Another Bluff to pass a secret message! 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (10) + 12 = 22. Message: “Anga Facion is not dismissed.” He’s in truhhhhbuuule!
The old Feraweni sighs as he paces further, his steps echoing in the hall as he faces away from the expanse of the empty room. Nearly empty. I’m nearly to the point of assuming the Halfblood is in any quiet room at any given moment…
At length, he talks into the air in the Feraweni tongue. “I miss my study. It is quiet, organized, and clean. Even the mice are not so bad, they are familiar, after a fashion. Here, are rats and mice…”
A brief guffaw echoes as the wizard laughs to himself. “I should have brought that cat that lurks the tower. Perhaps a trap by my door will have to do...”
And a THIRD Bluff to pass a secret message! 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (9) + 12 = 21. Message: “The spies that are here might be those of the silver tabby. One will visit me soon. Catch it.”
Iskandarr nods and leaves without a word. It's interesting, politics are politics, no matter where you are. Tribal or civilized, they're different breeds of cat, but are distinctly still cats. As he ponders this he finds himself walking through the woods, looking for a different pool than the one he had visited prior. Finding one, he casts Owl's wisdom and again assumes the form of a tiger. Focusing on the pool, he again casts scry, this time on Vice Admiral Jonathan Trenton DC 21
Anga exhales once, loudly, at Thaegrins proclamation of staying for at least a week. After the wizard has said his piece the man of shadows exits the room and seems to disappears into a quiet corner.
Stealth 1d20 + 26 ⇒ (19) + 26 = 45
It's my intent that Anga tail Thaegrin and keep watch over him. A silent guardian. A watchful protector...
A dark knight.
An image of a large ship as seen from above at a great height appears in the pool. The entirety of the ship is swathed in gore. Slowly, the image fades to a dull gray before dissolving entirely.
Evening arrives to find the slaves still working diligently to restore the island and audit the stores and provisions. The Grand Confessor sailed with the tide just before sunset with the greater part of the island's wealth and some of its most promising slaves.
1d20 ⇒ 17
1d20 ⇒ 3
1d20 ⇒ 5
1d20 ⇒ 6
1d20 ⇒ 2
1d20 ⇒ 3
1d20 ⇒ 15
1d20 ⇒ 17
1d20 ⇒ 4
1d20 ⇒ 10
1d20 ⇒ 20
1d20 ⇒ 7
1d20 ⇒ 12
1d20 ⇒ 2
You are positioned in the rafters, in a dark corner of Thaegrin's improvised study. He does not know you're there, but he may suspect. Read his spoiler, you also have a surprise round.
Having just finished a meal, Thaegrin reclines alone in his improvised study. At his order, the half-blood stands guard outside the door. Suddenly, and barely audible, Thaegrin hears the window's lock click and a chill breeze circles the room.
Someone or something has opened and closed your window. You have a surprise round.
The ale in this place is superb. Of course it is, the hops and barley came from Thegn Floki's fields. Nothing tastes better then home.
Suddenly, you hear a boot scuff stone quieter than a whisper. It came from the nearby window...
You have a surprise round.
You can be with the brothers if you wish. If you are, read their spoiler. If not, you get a peaceful night :) Feel free to discuss your scrying at anytime after these encounters.
|Tholan the Drolleye|
Sense motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5 Tholan shrugs his shoulders. "Bah. Ledgers. If you need us, we shouldn't be hard to find, Father Time." With a grin, Tholan turns to his brother and nods vaguely in a direction. "Perhaps we will be fortunate enough to find some reminder of home in drink and slaves."
Later that evening...
Nearly missing the familiar scuff of shoe on stone, Tholan's brow knits for a moment, and he sets his mug down. He glances to his brother and gestures with a nod toward the window. Then his face turns to a smile. Cracking his knuckles, Tholan stands at the ready for an armed opponent. Tholan readies Pilfering Hand if an armed opponent shows himself.
Iskandarr cocks his head at what he saw. Interesting... Thaegrin will want to know this. He then heads back towards the city, taking a longer route along a game trail to collect his thoughts and avoid suspicion of anyone who may be watching.
Thaegrin is going to develop acute paranoia, if he hasn’t already :)
Finishing his meal, the agent of the Rudianos is mildly disappointed when the administrator slave from before fails to report to him that evening. Forgetfulness is not fitting to one so thorough. It must be something else…
Halfway through a rather dull work of fiction he had found on the island, Thaegrin bristles under his grey cloak and a sideways glance moves to the edge of his vision at the sound. He dared not move his head or give any other sign that he heard the prowler. Like a fool, he sat facing away from the window, but the cool felt around his ankles is unmistakeable. He casually wondered if his stealthy visitor is the Halfblood. No matter. This is what he gets for sneaking in here uninvited…
He quickly calculates the space between himself and the window and the placement of the sparse furniture of the room from memory, and he still does not turn around. The old scholar flips a page, not really reading anymore, and sighs audibly. “Such a disappointment,” he rumbles, adding an incantation to his commentary.
A swathe of tiny, glowing gold particles appear all around the area of the window, coating everything in sparkles. The fine dust threatens the sight of anyone caught within the conjured golden shower.
Cast Glitterdust, Will save DC 19 to resist blindness.
Without hesitation, the wizard cranes his head around to look on his unwelcome guest.
From his place in the rafters Anga bears witness to the dullness that is an old mans dinner. A lesser person might conclude that there was nothing to be gained by waiting on a wizards hunch, but if there was one thing Facion had learned in his many years of survival; it was that patience matters. And those who posses it often win out over those who don't.
As the evening wears on the man in the rafters slowly and methodically flexes his muscles to keep them loose. Careful to not move or otherwise betray his position. From time to time he reflects on passages from Endless Night, leastwise the ones he's had time to commit to memory. All the while keeping his senses carefully attuned to the room and everything happening (or not happening as it were) in it.
With the sound of the opening and closing window Angas eyes flick across the room searching for the intruder.
Perception (to see who entered) 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (10) + 14 = 24
With a deft flick of his wrist the assassin feels the blowgun fill his palm, poisoned dart primed and ready to fire.
Ready action to fire dart with rainbow jellyfish toxin at the intruder, should the creature appear to be actively hostile.
1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20
The shape of a thin man becomes visible in the glittering dust, though a well placed hand keeps his eyes safe from the abrasive stuff.
"Hello Thaegrin." The face of the slave-scribe is unmistakable though the rest of the man is entirely altered. A heavy, short sword and matching dagger hang at his sides and tightly fitted leather plates hug his rather lithe form. Gone are the downcast glances and stooped scraping. Here is a man used to getting his own way. "You were so quick to trust me it's almost laughable, and here you are alone with your books and your dusty magic." The intruder shakes his head and draws the sword. "Anything you'd like to say before the end?"
He seems ready for a fight. Maybe even to spring to the attack...
Blowgun Readied Poison Sneak ATK 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9
DMG 1d2 ⇒ 2
Sneak ATK DMG 5d6 ⇒ (6, 5, 1, 6, 4) = 22
Rainbow Jellyfish Toxin paralyzes people on contact, I believe.
Stealth (For Sniping) 1d20 + 26 ⇒ (13) + 26 = 39
I don't know the penalties for sniping, so I only included the normal bonuses that Anga gets.
|Ezkal the Ordo Hereticus|
Anga's attack misses, but doesn't seem to betray his position to the enemy.
You notice a blowgun dart zip past the enemy. It was a bad miss and came from the rafters behind you.
Tholan, appearing to be alone, watches calmly as pair of cloaked and hooded figures materialize from the shadows at the far end of the room. Neither appear armed, nor do they speak.
By the time the assassin produces a blade, Thaegrin has two and a half gloating monologues constructed in his mind, both scathing to the recipient. But then he recalls a proverb from a priest that advised the father of the late Lord Rodrik Rudianos, Answer not a fool with his own folly... Surely, the look on the spy’s face would be a sight to behold when it is pointed out to him that his own ambush served only to doom himself. Certainly, the assassin-informant should know that his guise scarcely qualified as amateur, and that the court mage spotted him with little effort. That by locking the window behind him, he trapped himself in a room with one of the most powerful wizards of the realm. But is the satisfaction of beholding that look worth the enunciation of the admittedly verbose rebuke? The court wizard is unconvinced, especially if Thaegrin did not intend to let the intruder live for every much longer.
Perception 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (6) + 9 = 15
A sharp spitting sound realigns Thaegrin’s focus back to the immediate threat of danger. The ever-watchful Halfblood, perhaps… His face takes on a resigned expression, and with a voice old and tired, sighs, “You got me.”
Inspiration is an odd phenomenon. It cannot be forced, or predicted. Perhaps it was the wizard’s internal lament at his own lack of brevity. Perhaps it was the haste demanded of the situation. The source scarcely mattered; in that moment, the cogs in Thaegrin’s mind turned over, a puzzle piece snapped into place, and the wizard realized he could apply advanced arcana theorem to one of his simpler incantations. A shortcut, in novice terms.
In the space of a blink, he reconjugates the modified incantation. With a terse magical word, scholar vanishes from view. He follows the muttering with another spell, one oft used when the Rudianos agent cannot be troubled with small tasks, and then wastes no time moving from his seat. The boring book falls to the floor with his disappearance. Stealth 1d20 + 8 + 20 ⇒ (8) + 8 + 20 = 36
|Tholan the Drolleye|
Tholan's eyebrows raise as the two figures appear, his hand scratching a bearded cheek. Looking closely over the two figures, his hands ball to fists as he strikes his forearms together, a prayer to Gorum accompanying the motion. Cast Shield of Faith In common, his voice fills the room. "What is your business here, shadow walkers?"
Sense Motive to determine hostility 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (7) + 11 = 18
1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22
1d20 + 10 ⇒ (1) + 10 = 11
1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8
1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24
1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10
1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18
The figures answer with more than 2 voices..."We are here to put down a pair of rabid dogs. Where is the other?"
You guys go first. The two figures are 25 feet away in a 10 foot wide doorway.
The intruder's face goes dark and he rummages inside a belt pouch. "Honestly old man, do you suppose I haven't prepared for such childish measures?" He draws out a fist sized bottle full of clean white sand and hurls it toward Thaegrin's vacated chair. The glass shatters into the bookcase behind and sand sprays in an arc, but nothing is revealed. The would-be assassin gulps and takes a tentative step back.
Silently cursing his poor aim, Facion watches the drama play out below him. The spy can almost see the wheels in Thaegrins head as they spin. Turning his attention back to the intruder he notices just how similar in stature he himself and the unknown man are. Eyes narrowing as his own mind's mechanics whir, what could have been mistaken for a smile takes the half-blood's face.
Moving quickly Anga changes minor details of his outfit and kit, an added strap here, shirt tucked there. Lastly he tousles his own hair in an approximation of the hair-style sported by the man on the floor beneath him. Making sure a dagger is sheathed prominently on his hip, he grips the hafts of his swords and prepares to drop down.
Quick Disguise (minor details) 1d20 + 11 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 11 + 5 = 31
The alchemist flicks an eye over the spray of white sand, idly wondering if there was more to the substance than mundane granules. Craft (alchemy) 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (18) + 11 = 29, Spellcraft 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (9) + 18 = 27
Thaegrin senses his most trusted servant nearby, Sergio. He quietly orders the unseen aide to open and close the drawer of the nightstand on the other side of the bed, before his scrutiny returns to the assassin. Fixing the mask of the Silver Tabby over his eyes, the wizard activates one of its infused divining properties and studies the assassin once more. Activating the mask’s Arcane Sight spell, to determine any active magical auras on the spy (aside from Glitterdust). Thaegrin has a Spellcraft modifier of +20 to identify properties of magic items.
Thaegrin still has a 5ft step, swift, and free actions left to take but it might change based on what the Arcane Sight turns up, if anything. He probably has something to say, and would like to time what he might say to precede Sergio’s furniture worrying.
|Tholan the Drolleye|
A grin spreads across Tholan's face, his hand sliding to War Dancer, swinging it down and around himself, beginning to spin it in the first dance. "May your blood be a pleasing offering to our lord in Iron, your bones a shattered altar for the sacrifice, your soul a torn testament to his power." Cast Prayer. As he speaks, the familiar rhythm and low hum of his spinning blade swings ever faster, the dancing blade glinting as it catches the firelight in the room. First dance 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (19) + 11 = 30
|Ezkal the Ordo Hereticus|