R. Victocora's page

Rexus, of a more practical and less diplomatic bent than Dee, steps forward and raises his free hand. "Avaunt, noisy denizen of the dark." A coruscating rainbow, difficult to look at, radiates from his hand at the bird-creature.

Will vs 15: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22

It remains standing after the rainbow fades, shaking its head, then looks straight at Rexus, opens its beak, and emits a long hiss.

Rexus's eyes go wide. "Wuh-oh." He brings his cane-sword up and swallows hard. "Hey, that would have just knocked you out. You're kind of scary, and I didn't want the rest of these guys to kill you. Really."

”Hey! Ugly! Over here!” Having little hope of hitting or damaging the huge reptile with his cane sword, Rexus sets up a hue and cry, poking and slapping at the beast to try to distract it from its prey.

AA: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10

Success! +2 to Ensis' AC for his next turn.

Aid Another: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14

As Bertom sets up the snare in the water, floating the noose buoyed by a makeshift arrangement of broom parts out a little way in the water, Rexus helps rig the scent bait in a better position, using magic to keep it in the optimal place so it doesn't drift off when Valexia starts her own magic.

Cast prestidigitation on the trap to help keep it positioned properly.

"There's a supply room just upstairs," Rexus points out, "And a kitchen. Maybe they have a joint of meat we can use. And a rope? Or there might be a rope somewhere down here." The nobleman shrugs. "Maybe if your smelly cloth doesn't work."

The corpse can be hooked at broom-plus-arm length and dragged to shore without too much trouble.

It is bleached and decomposed and (disturbingly) incomplete. This is rather a shame, since it wears one rather nice boot, while the other leg is entirely missing.

"We could have left it there," Rexus gags from about ten feet back, holding the lantern high in one hand and a handkerchief over his nose and mouth with the other.

"That metal box is full of papers that need to be decoded. We pulled them from the Silver Ravens stash tonight. I need a quiet place to work on decoding them and thought you might be able to help. I, er, may have given them the impression you are a criminal of sorts... maybe a smuggler?" Rexus reddens. "Mother never actually said that, but I received that impression from her. Deepest apologies if I'm wrong."

Rexus nods. ”I don’t know about ale - she might have some - but it’ll be close to dawn when we arrive, and you’ll probably be glad for some of Laria’s brew. She’s an old friend of my mother’s who has a place that should be safe. Unfortunately, it’s clear across town. Tell you what: we hike out of this area and I’ll spring for a carriage, if we can flag one down. There should be one on the main road. I don’t have much, but those pearls should help out the Silver Raven’s treasury. Otherwise, we’ll be walking until noon, and I don’t care to have the guard see what’s in this box.” He pats the metal carton full of documents affectionately.

"I think I know a place we can go to keep this stuff safe, if that's OK with you?" Rexus looks at the group questioningly.

Bertom digs out his tools. "Step back and let a pro handle this."

Taking 20 on the check, Bertom opens the lock in a couple of minutes.

Inside the metal box is a stack of documents along with several pieces of rolled vellum. The vellum has writing in what seems to be a personal set of symbols, while the documents are written in a strange mix of somewhat familiar characters. Rexus' eyes light up at the sight.

"There's the Elven character leem... and that one looks like Celestial. That scratchy one looks like the Strix âsh..." He trails off as his enthusiasm wanes.

"I think this is a code cobbled together from several languages. I might be able to translate it... given time." The nobleman shrugs. "Which I've got, if I can find a safe place to work. Being on the run and sleeping rough is not conducive to scholarship. And with all this material, it's going to take a while."

Rexus looks grim. "If it gets much worse, I fear my mother overestimated me greatly." He sighs and looks around. "If anybody - or anything - is nearby and meant to eat us, it would have joined in with the blob devils, don't you think? Maybe we can at least look around this room and see how much more there is of this unexpectedly large stable. Dee can sit here quietly and recover. Or sit here noisily. Whatever suits milady." He bows to Dee and picks up the lantern, holding it up to better light the room.

The room is quiet now that the creatures are dead.

I believe that brings Dee back to 0 hp, but stable.

"Maybe easier on the pepperment next time?" Rexus suggests, waving away mint fumes.

"She's not waking up," Rexus frowns, patting Dee's cheek. "Does anyone have another potion?"

Rexus rushes to aid Valexia, pulling a potion from his belt pouch as he does so. ”I’ll help Valexia get Lady D out of here. Let’s pull her clear so I can give her this potion."

Move to Y26, obtain potion of cure light wounds from belt pouch.

Rexus reluctantly moves back out of the slop and continues out of the way of the swordsmen.

Move to AA29.

"It could not hope to succeed, milady," Rexus backpedals hastily.

With a curse, Rexus dashes forward into the muck. Seeing he can't reach Dee in time to help protect her from the next attack, he drops his sword cane and makes a tossing motion with his now-free hand, intoning a quick, hissing syllable.

Move to X28, cast acid splash.

Rexus acid splash RT: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20
Rexus acid splash dmg: 1d3 ⇒ 1

"Hey, ugly! Leave her alone!" he yells in a desperate (but futile) attempt to distract the thing.

His handful of acid flies true, but hisses and bubbles down the surface of the creature without leaving a mark.

”I have no clue about these things,” Rexus offers, ”Let’s see if this stops them.”

A bright, chromatic flash bursts from his upraised hand, engulfing the arrow- and bolt-bedecked devil. It roars and shakes its head as if to clear it, glaring straight at the noble.

”Uh, I think not. Annoys, yes. Stops, no.” He draws his blade and steps back, obviously not at all confident in his ability to take on the monsters.

Red line/blue fill is color spray range.

"More an organization treasure than family," Rexus clarifies, "I imagine the Silver Ravens' headquarters were more glamorous before they were defeated... though perhaps not. I have very little desire to explore this dank chamber, and I'm sure that is what they wanted. The Infernal sigils worry me, though. Do you think Thrune's agents have been here already?"

K(arcana or planes) to decipher the writing.

"I don't think this is a midden. Looks more like a cistern that was contaminated with... something," Rexus opines.

"Those of us who weren't hit appreciate the cleanup just as much, I think," Rexus observes, nose wrinkled. He gestures at the items in the nest. "Looks like the gremlins have been thieving at best and... well... hopefully scavenging at worst. Those bones look gnawed. Maybe they're animal bones. Maybe not. Either way, I don't like having them at our backs, but hate to waste time poking in holes in the wall, or wasting bombs we might need later. They don't appear to have the Silver Ravens' treasury - at least, I hope this isn't it! Think we should move along with one person keeping an eye out behind us? Another lantern or torch could come in handy." He shrugs. "I'm open to other suggestions."

Rexus darts into the room with the lantern. Seeing everyone’s attention on the wall, he keeps watch in the other direction to be certain nothing sneaks up on the party from the shadows. "I'll watch for trouble; you guys get rid of those horrid things!"

"Hurry through to the next room, and I will follow with the light," Rexus urges Ensis and Valexia.

Rexus looks startled at Ensis' statment, then grins. "They'd have been better off using dogs. Might have taken over Cheliax that way."

He plops down on an old barrel in disgust. "I can't find a damned thing. Next room, do you think?"

"Uff, nasty place. I don't suppose they'd have stashed important things conveniently in the room at the bottom of the ladder?" Rexus wonders, poking around the bins. Pereption: 1d20 ⇒ 3

"No, that'd be too easy."

Ben can see nothing in the pitch-dark hole until Rexus brings the lantern close. The light reveals a ladder descending quite a long way down a narrow shaft onto a level floor below. An eye-watering, ammoniac stench rises from the hole.

"This looks promising," Rexus says in a muffled manner as a handkerchief is clamped over his mouth and nose.

Rexus makes an end run to join the others on the killing floor, holding the light near the panel.

Building map.

"Not a clue. Maybe poke around in that room we haven't looked in yet?" Rexus peers through the grate at the mallet near Ben's foot.

K(n): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7

Rexus peers at the ring in turn. "Not my family's, I can tell you that much. And that's about all I know. Still, it's an odd thing to leave in a stable. Maybe it's a sign?" Rexus peers around in the lantern-light and watches Ben unsuccessfully attempt to climb into the rafters. "Where do we go from here?"

He pokes around a bit as well. Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 1

Snake eyes!

Rexus also stirs from his stupor and swiftly glances around to learn the tale from the bodies and bloodied weapons. He pushes to his feet as Valexia helps Dee to hers, and takes a moment to retrieve a small bottle from his belt pouch, which he hands to Dee. "I can tell from the aftertaste that I used up healing you should have had, lady," he says wearily, retrieving his lantern, which somehow remained unspilled in the turmoil.

Rexus gives Dee a potion of cure light wounds.

DC10 Con Check to Stabilize: 1d20 - 2 - 1 ⇒ (14) - 2 - 1 = 11

Rexus is now stable.

"Dilapidated is right. Where's a building inspector when you need one?" Rexus jokes quietly, though perhaps a bit nervously.

"'Actual autobiography'," Rexus snorts, "Only if House Thrune's redactors didn't get hold of it, like they did everything else. All those books should be titled "History According to Thrune." Of all the treasure we could find, I would value a real account of events in Cheliax the most."

He rises and paces, wringing his hands unconsciously in excitement. "So, my friends, we will meet two days hence to seek our Fair Fortune. When should we go? It's in a rather warehousey kind of district, but there are still people around during the day. There are fewer at night, but then, of course, there's the potential problem with light - both having it, and having it seen by passing guards." The problems seem to please rather than discourage the slight nobleman.

"You are welcome to stay as long as you like, Signorina," their host bows amiably, "Take time to plan or simply let the streets clear. Or even buy a book!"

"We have a bona fide dagger, at least," Rexus laughs. "Why not take what loose gold you need for healing potions, master brewer, and we'll save the signet against an emergency? It can serve as a badge of trust in the event I need to send you information via a messenger strange to you. But remember it can be sold in need."

He makes a circuit of the room, refilling glasses as he talks. "With luck, we will soon be heir to the material legacy of the original Silver Ravens. I am excited to see what might be in that old stable if my mother is correct -- and she usually is. Was."

He strides to the center of the company and raises his own refilled glass. "My friends, a toast: to the memory of the old Silver Ravens and a brave start to the new! The Silver Ravens!" He downs his drink and hurls the glass into the cold fireplace, where it shatters.

Rexus splashes more of the bottle's contents into Ensis's cup with a nod and smile while he listens to the discussion. He cocks a slender, dark eyebrow at Ben and quickly turns away to examine, with some urgency, a small, mouldering stuffed owl that rests on a nearby bookshelf. He picks up the decoration and toys with it absently while again turning to Bertom, traces of a smile fading from his lips.

"A werewolf. That's what he said, yes. My great-grandsire was known to have quite the vivid imagination. As for letting go of the remnants of the family fortune, almost everything is gone already, burned to ashes. What remains of my parents is locked in my heart and mind, not in these trinkets." His thumb punctures the fragile skin of the owl's breast, releasing a trickle of sawdust, and he hastily returns it to the shelf. "Using these things to advance their hopes seems a fitting tribute to their memory. Besides," he adds more quietly, eyes downcast, "Not to criticize them, but perhaps if there had been a little less scholarship and conversation and a little more action, the Night of Ashes might have been averted, as well as all that has followed."