Kegi's page

I shimmy back down the tree and run to each body in turn collecting the longest strands of mistletoe until I have a sizable bundle.

I say to the others, "If I be rememberin' my Warden sermons, this 'ere mistletoe be the symbol 'o nature. And yon lady ... or fellow ... there be th' most unnatural thing I 'ere did lay eyes on. Now it ain't hardly a good rope as a sailor would 'ave, but it did hold them bodies up 'til they was good and ripe. Do ye think we could bind 'im up with it and send 'im back down his hole?"

The warmth of the object in his hand gives Maddock pause. He holds the lens up to his eye and looks through it at the hollow creature, at the gnome, and at his companions.

"What vision greets ye, Maddock? This place is a riddle which I cannot break. Though perhaps ..." I look up at the elves and faeries dangling lifeless from the sickly branches of the trees "... they be a part of it, too."

Riddles. Bah. Never was one for riddles. What do we have here. Think man! Think! OK. Gate - that's clear now. Creature - came through the gate. Getting somewhere. Must put creature back through gate. Must bind and seal creature back on other side of the gate. But what to bind it with...

Staring back up at the dangling corpses, "Has any of ye some good stout ..."

I rush to the nearest tree and begin to climb.

Looking a little shocked at the damage apparently caused by my arrow, I turn to the group and say to no one in particular.

"Well, ye wanted 'im off the throne, didn't ye."

What is wrong with me. I didn't mean to loose that shot yet. The little bastard didn't even have a chance to speak his piece - if he had one. And now we're certainly no better off than before ... and this mark on my arm. No shifter has a dragonmark. At least not a legitimate one.

I notice the gnome twitch slightly and his chest rise and fall with his shallow, ragged breath.

"There may be some life left in 'im, though. Be any of ye a healer?"

Kegi fixes the gnome in his sights and glances back towards Maddock expectantly. A thin bead of sweat forms on his brow and trickles down past his eye.

"Are ye goin' or not, Gatekeeper?"

I guess we'll need a ruling as to whether I have shield or ray of enfeeblement. I'd use the former. The latter isn't really my style. But I'll let Logos decide...

"Aaaagh!" I grit my teeth against the pain and look in horror at the shimmering purple green tattoo seemingly etching itself in my left forearm. A thin wisp of pallid smoke rises from the new dragonmark. I feel my skin tightening and hardening around the mark, adapting to the magic-infused aberration.

"Soldiers! Stand Respect!"

"Lucienne! Romulus! Stay together! If that,...THING gets out of that circle, fire at will! Kegi! Cover Maddock! Maddock, GET.THAT. GNOME. OFF. THE. THRONE!"

Fury! I thought the military was behind me! Still, Fireball here probably isn't one to be crossed.

Reacting more by instinct to the shouted command than out of deferrence or respect to Akallabeth, I nock an arrow and, still flinching a bit from the pain, step simultaneously backwards and sideways moving away from hollow man in such a way that I can target the gnome without it getting cover from Maddock if he takes a direct route to it.

It's better if I shoot before Maddock attacks; but I'm not shooting until I know he's going in. Therefore, I ready an action to fire on his initiation of an attack. Initiative at +6 (+10 base -4 pain)16

Addressing the gnome, "Pennywise, is this part of the job? If it is, then be mindful that you'll be owing me and my partners here a lot of overtime."

"Eh, this be the one that was doin' the interview? I like not the look of this, nor this strange ... magic, if that be what it is."

"Gnome, if ye have any words, speak them now. Our patience be as dry tinder"

Trees and dead elves. Great.

"Courtesy o' the Crown o' Breland, I be somewhat experienced in leadin' a march. If ye like, I shall go ahead."

I move forward at half speed, keeping my senses trained on the world around me. Once I get to the trees - assuming I haven't seen or heard anything, I will take cover at the base of the second tree and motion the party up.

Here are my rolls Listen/Spot then Hide/Move Silently (1d20+5=25, 1d20+10=26). I just rolled once for each pair of skills since I have the same bonuses and I don't know which you want.

I slowly draw an arrow from my quiver and twirl it on the tip of my finger while taking a position a few step away from anyone else. I'm looking behind me and to the sides to spot a path clear of obstructions. Gotta get my magic 10' :)

Now it comes to it. Dol Dorn guide my eye/let wound ravens fly!

"Just so as ye know. I ain't gonna be standin' still when whate're it is comes a callin'. So grab what cover y' can."

A Gatekeeper orc ... what brings this tree-brother so far from the wild lands?

"Psst. Lucienne - delay somewhat if ya can. Th' newcomer may be a' some help ta us if 'e be willin'."

I steal over towards the orc.

"Brother Gatekeeper - if that be yer callin' - how come ye amongst such a den o' demons? Though, if darkness be what yer lookin' for, y'r in th' right place. Behold th' dancers and singers an' say - if ye can - this place be not under a strange spell."

"I am going through that door. Who goes with me?"

Storm the gates ... yes, perhaps some boldness is what the occasion calls for.

I move to meet Lucienne as she approaches the door then keep pace with her, motioning for Akallabeth to join us. I presume we're headed towards the door to the interview, not to the 'outside'

"May Olladra favor us." Or may we sate the Devourer with the blood of our enemies.

Dancing ... music ... this gets more bizarre by the minute. Now he's doing the eye thing again.

"Do ye think ye can keep all the good news ta y'self, now, Akallabeth? Tell us where lies the threat that we may respond ta it!"

I take notice as they call Lucienne's name. May the Host protect her. Though in this place, even that may not be enough.

"We will await ye, Lucienne." I hope!

I look at each of my new acquaintances in turn, "I think the children may have the best solution to this little dilemma," I continued, giving them my best canary-eating grin. "I say we go tell teacher!"

What the Five, this could be fun.

Keeping my bow at the ready, I follow Akallabeth, staying a few paces behind him so that I'm about midway between where he is and where Lucienne is. As we walk, I look from side to side trying to spot anyone who is better armed or armored than the average Rupert.

Course I can't kill what I can't see, so I'd better find me a target here ... suppose any of these would do ... but some may be better than others.

"By the way," I added as I felt the burning power in my eyes increase, "the names Akallabeth."

"I am Kegi. Be ye a wizard, then? Th' fire is clever, but this place is built of stone. Y'll need more fire than that ta burn it down."

Though a good fire might go along way towards removing the stench.

I then turn to Lucienne slightly.

"The score be twenty to us three, and those be the ones we can see. I see little worth fightin' for.

"Hark, the cripple emerges, shall we try to even the odds and perchance learn somewhat of our host?"

"Don't see why not," I replied as I reached the table where the two were standing. "Not much else to do while we wait but talk, or throw away good money."

"I be fresh outta coin, so talk it be then." I give the stranger a crooked smile and absently spin my bow in my palm.

Handsome fellow up close, I'll give him that ... and tall, too. I'd think a chap of this stature could do well in some parts o' the city. I wonder why he is here ... and why my heritage seems of little surprise to him. What else does he know?

"The lady and me smell an evil stink about this place. What speak ye to that?"

Hmm, another fellow with a hat like mine ... maybe this is the part where the man in the hat kills the other man in the hat ... best not to be a man in a hat, then.

I stand up as well, tossing my hat on the back of my chair as I do so. I hold the top of my bow loosely in my left hand, allowing the butt to rest on the floor. Without the hat, my hair flows freely past my shoulders and the tips of my ears are visible. If someone wants a fight, best to oblige them.

Quitely to Lucienne, "Mark th' new fellow at the bar. I care not for his eyes - they talk too much."

Then louder directed to the man in the hat, "Ho stranger! Wouldst ye to join us? Come, there be plenty of chairs."

I motion to the chairs Lucienne and I just deserted. Well if it was a haunted chair this could be amusing ...

"You're not the only one. I just felt something, too."

Strange ... does our host mean to test us with parlor tricks? Or is something more sinister going on?

"There be a foul taint in the air, yes? Have ye means ta defend y'self if it come ta it?"

Under her breath, she says, "What am I reading? Oh, just an old story about a self-confident young man who gets his butt handed to him by a cripple.

I chuckle a little to myself. The arrogance of the Brelish never ceases to amaze me. Perhaps she is too young ... but all that book learning ... surely she would know of Marguul Pass.

"An old tale indeed, an' one that never tires for the tellin'. Too bad none e're listens."

I look around suddenly as if expecting to see someone behind me. Of course, there is only the wall. Hearing voices now am I? I slowly scan the room looking for anyone competent enough to present a genuine threat. Meanwhile I adjust my quiver and rest my right hand on the fletching of an arrow.

"Methinks it be time for ol' Rupert ta get himself home," I say quietly, gesturing to the person at the next table.

At the Battle of Marguul Pass (970 YK) the Brelish sent their mobile fortress Veldarren and a large contingent of soldiers against the Hobgoblins of Darguun as retaliation for the Hobgoblin's brutal treatment of Brelish settlers. In a loss akin to the Japanese at Midway, the outmatched and outclassed Hobgoblins carried the day, handing Breland a stunning and embarrassing defeat. (See The Forge of War p. 33)

"You sure about that?" the young woman asks quietly. "Everybody in this room is a book, if you know how to read them. Come, sit down. So far as I can tell, nobody here is planning on starting trouble. My name's Lucienne, by the way."

I pull a chair around across from the woman, but turn it sideways so I'm still facing towards the center of the room. Sliding my bow off my back, I sit with my bow on my lap. This isn't exactly what I had in mind. But most of the folk here seem harmless enough. Though this one ... is she an aristocrat, a wizard, or what?

"Well met, Lucienne. I go by Kegi. What book be you reading now?"

Though I'm talking to Lucienne, I don't make eye contact, leaving the meaning of my question ambiguous.

"Alas, we ha' begun and they call the cripple. Gods help us if they be that desperate.

When the fellow with the broad-drimmed hat wanders over to my area of the room, I look up from the book I'm half-reading, toss him a glance, and, turning back to the book, say with a smile:

"You look like you're on the prowl, scoping out prey. See any likely lambs?"

Of all the people to see here a girl reading a book is the last thing I expected. Best to keep an eye on her. Anyone so out of place in a den of knaves like this is more than they appear.

"I've no cause to rob these 'ere ... peasants. Not like ta find a penny among 'em, me thinks."

I tip my hat slightly by way of greeting, careful not to let the dim light fall on my face. No need to be uncivil. I straighten up a touch, trying to sureptitiously glimpse the title of her book. Probably wouldn't understand it anyway ... so little published since the Mourning and anything not valuable has been burned for fuel. Which means this book is probably valuable ... maybe there is something of value in this place after all.

"Reading, eh? This ain't a library."

EDIT: (added description) I am short and lean. Thick black hair spills out from under my broad-brimmed hat, which is pulled low over my eyes, cloaking my face in shadow. My clothing identifies me as a tradesman, but the bow slung across my back and sword at my belt suggest otherwise. I have an easy gait and a quiet manner, cautious but not nervous.

The air in this place is bad. Most of Sharn stinks, but in here it is putrid - death and decay paritally masked by sweat, vomit, and cheap liquor. I make my way to the bar and order a small beer. It looks and smells like urine. Still probably better than the water. Rather than stand at the bar with my back to the door, I make my way to a side of the room where I can lean against the wall and see the door. I try to get a rough count of the people and see if any look dangerous. Quite a collection here - though most look like they belong on a farm or in a shop. What desparate circumstance has brought them here? If they knew what was good for them, they'd lock themselves in their homes.

The beer tastes as bad is it smells. I quietly pour it out on the floor behind me and, leaving my tankard behind, circle around the perimeter of the room keeping my eyes and ears open and one hand near the pommel of my sword. What in all that is holy am I doing here - with these ... people?