Vissakiel's page

"Do these smoothskins have names? How do they call themselves? Are these people warriors or do they wield magic?" When the kobolds have answered, he continues questioning.

"And who is in charge? Is Skorgatch their leader or does he work for them?"

Vissakiel gives Khismia a reassuring look, then turns to Diviha and Fiani. He speaks to them in the language of the elves. "I would rather not risk alerting a hoarde of creatures that we are about to invade their territory, but I'm not fond of mindless slaughter, either. It occurs to me that these kobolds might not be all that interested in raiding on their own. If we were to eliminate this bugbear...Skorgatch...then they might choose to leave the area and stop bothering folk. At the very least, the bugbear and his 'smooth skin' companions are most likely to have collected the professor's belongings."

Turning to the kobolds, he speaks to them in Common. "How many other smooth skins are working with Skorgatch?"

As the creatures respond, Vissakiel tries to measure the truth of their words.

Sense Motive: 1d20(7)= 7

Vissakiel searches his memory, trying to recall anything useful he might know about bugbears, particularly anything that might tell him why he might seize leadership of a kobold tribe.

Knowledge (local): 1d20(14)+2= 16

The elf nods slowly at Diviha's words, indicating he understands the choice before them. He then turns to the talkative one.

"Who is your boss," he demands again in Draconic.

Vissakiel pauses, but only long enough to convince the kobolds that he is seriously considering Khismia's suggestion. He glares at the larger of the two kobolds and snaps at them in Draconic, letting is voice drop low, like a rumbling landslide: "Where are the belongings your tribe took from the gnome traveler yesterday? You will tell us what we wish to know, or you will die."

Intimidate: 1d20(15)+7= 22

Where did everyone go? And what's all this about penguins?

An angry hiss escapes Vissakiel's lips as he sees the kobolds in front of him. The elf quickly recovers. Thrusting his arm out to point a finger at the closest kobold, he unleashes a thin, bluish ray of freezing air and ice.

Initative: 1d20(20)+2= 22 (Woot!)
Ray of Frost ranged touch attack: 1d20(2)+4= 6 (Not so much.)
Ray of Frost damage: 1d3(3)= 3 (Not likely, but just in case.)

Clever, he muses. Insanely vicious...but clever. I think it would be best for Diviha to go first, Khismia. You can watch her back and our fronts.

Vissakiel nods and is about to speak when he hears the first crunch sounds from under their feet. He glances down, relying on his elven eyes to show him the source of the sound.

Perception: 1d20(4)+2= 6 (I hope this thing is easy to see.)

Vissakiel smiles broadly at Diviha's success. Well done, Mistress. The word rolls off his tongue, followed by a low chuckle, which he shares with his other companions.

He then turns toward the tunnel and hunkers down, preparing to enter the deeper caverns which he suspects must be at the other end.

Vissakiel halts suddenly, then quietly directs Diviha's attention to the wire and tar. He speaks softly in a deep voice to keep the usual hiss of a whisper from carrying into the tunnel. "It appears they are worried about intruders."

Vissakiel raises a single eyebrow in response to Fiani, as though he has no idea what she is talking about. However, a light seems to dance in the elf's large ice-blue eyes. When he turns to move down the narrow path toward the cave, there is also a spring in his step, despite his attempts to move quietly.

By the time they have passed into the tunnel, the elf's demeanor has become more serious. Pausing to examine the moss, he takes a handful of it and places the stuff in a pouch at his belt.

Turning toward the back of the cave, he silently scans the shadows for any sign of danger and keeps his sensitive ears alert for the slightest sound.

Stealth: 1d20(19)+2= 21
Perception: 1d20(19)+2= 21
(Wow. Two 19s in a row? I'm hope I'm not blowing all of my luck early in this campaign.)

The elf is visibly concerned about the lack of activity, but says nothing. When Khismia suggests moving out to investigate the tunnels, he merely nods and grips his staff tightly, as though ready to strike out at the first enemy to present itself.

Vissakiel fixes his blue eyes on Diviha and Fiani in turn, as he considers their words. They sparkle as a warm smile spreads across his pale face. Then he turns to the fighter, Khismia, do you think your blades can wait a bit longer before they go to work? It appears we have the first stages of a plan."

Turning back to Diviha, he says, "And as our Mistress of Stealth, we'll need you to determine a good location for us to hide so that all of us are out of sight, while we can still keep an eye on you...just in case."

Vissakiel smiles at Diviha and nods in approval of Khismia's desire to charge ahead, but he pauses before speaking. "I have a feeling time is of the essence, and I am as anxious to rid the region of these pests as you are, Khismia. However, we should remember that while a single snowflake melts instantly in your hand, enough of them put together can crush you to death."

The elf turns to look down at the cave. "Besides, I'd like to have some idea of what other wonders they may have hidden in that cave before we rush in there. Let us spend a night observing the kobolds' comings and goings. If we can get a sense of their patterns and how many there might be, we'll have an easier time of it once we get inside. Also, if we wait until after they've returned from their nightly raids--assuming they do raid nightly--we can use Diviha's ruse and create a disturbance when they have not had so much time to rest."

Vissakiel smiles at his three companions, hoping he has managed to merge the proposed ideas into a cohesive plan. Or the beginning of one, anyway.

Vissakiel senses the sudden tension between Diviha and Fiani, but sets aside those concerns for a moment.

"I think it would be better to observe the cave for a bit longer before taking any action. We have no idea what kind of activity takes place, here. I would like to hear Diviha's ideas, but I want to be sure that we know what we might be luring out of that cave when the time comes."

As he watches from his hiding place, Vissakiel ponders the situation. He whispers aloud, mostly to himself. "If these kobolds had the ability to fly in and attack the professor, they might well have the ability to fly from this cliff down into the ravine and land at the mouth of the cave. That would explain the strange markings at the cliff edge. Of course, it doesn't explain why they wouldn't feel the need to post any kind of guard at the main entrance to their lair."

OOC: Vissakiel will wait until Diviha returns before proposing any further plans. Unless she spots additional guards, it would seem that we need to go into the cave, but it would probably be smart to observe the place for awhile before we go charging in.

Vissakiel smiles warmly at Diviha. "Good luck. I'd say 'be careful', but that would be contradictory." Moving off to the side, he does his best to hide in a location that still gives him a good view of the approach to the cave. He watches Diviha pick her way through the underbrush for as long as he can, then carefully watches the cave for any signs of danger.

Perception: 1d20(2)+2=4 ... Apparently, Vissakiel doesn't see much more than the leaves of the bush in front of him.

Vissakiel shakes the Professor's little hand before he departs, then silently watches the gnome begin the trek to town. Once the professor is gone, he turns and heads in the other direction with the rest of the party.

True to his elven heritage, Vissakiel is completely nonplussed by the physical contact. He also gives no sign that he is concerned by Diviha's apparent frustrations. There is plenty of time, after all. ;-)

With a deft motion, he wraps his horse's reins around his walking stick and uses it to lead the animal.

"I must confess a certain ignorance about kobolds," he says matter-of-factly. "I suppose there are things everyone knows about the little beasts, but only the rudest stereotypes. Does any of you have information about the creatures that might help us gain an advantage? Even as small as they are, a large enough group can prove dangerous to the unprepared."

Vissakiel looks back the way they came and frowns. "I agree. It would not be wise to let the kobolds get any more of a lead than they already have. Professor, do you think you can make it back to the city on your own? I do not wish to leave you helpless, but time seems to be of the essence."

"That would perhaps explain the loss of one village, Professor, but how would it relate to the other two? I think you may have quite a lot of information that would be helpful for us."

Turning to his companions, he says, "If his research was taken by kobolds, it seems that locating them and recovering Professor Stumbleduck's possessions has become the next goal in our mission. What do you think?"

Vissakiel searches his memory for any information about something called "the valkyrie's curse".

Knowledge (arcana): 1d20(17)+6 = 23

"I did not know that flying kobold bandits were such a problem in this land. I don't suppose this curse has anything to do with three villages in the king's lands, do they?"

Vissakiel looks around the group, then nods to Khismia. "Let's get you down and then we'll discuss the problem of kobolds with flying tents." The elf chuckles good-naturedly as the gnome is brought down from the trap.

"What was this message you were carrying? Do you have any idea why kobolds would be interested in it? Or, for that matter, how they would even know about it?"

Oops...I'm a bit too slow. ;-) Edited to match up with Khismia's actions above.

Visskiel glances around before dismounting. "Let's not be too hasty, my bold friend. We've no idea who set this trap and they may still be laying about waiting to spring an ambush. I think you and our tracker should keep an eye out for danger."

Vissakiel looks at Diviha, making sure she knows he is addressing her, but taking care to avoid mentioning her name. "I think your particular skills would be of great use in making sure there are no other traps in the area."

The elf then climbs down from his horse and moves over to the gnome. "Once my companion has ensured there are no other dangers, she will cut you down. I will catch you to make sure you are not injured in the process of regaining your freedom."

Me, too. And I forgot to change my alias, again, too! Dangit!

Prompted by Fiani's supposition, Vissakiel takes out the map and looks at the orientation of the villages affected by the curse. "Is it possible that there is a pattern to these calamities? At the very least, we need to know which one is closer."

And, of course, that last post should have been posted under my alias. Grrr...

"Thank you, Your Highness. With your permission, we shall retire and gather our supplies for the journey ahead. We will, of course, require directions to the villages affected by this menace. A map of the surrounding lands would be helpful, as well, if one is available."

Once their business is complete, Vissakiel bows deeply and departs with his new companions.

"I suppose that went as well as could be expected. Do any of you know this town well? I do not know where to find the best supplies. I am ready for the journey, for the most part, but we should make good use of the king's offer."

I'm thinking we need tents, rope, lamps, blankets, rations, water, aleskins, and torches. Those are just the items that jump up at me first. I also think we should consider hiring pack animals and mounts, if we are able. As for potions and scrolls, I'm assuming healing potions would be the way to go, but I'm open to other ideas.

Vissakiel nods. "Your generosity and honor are legendary, Great King. I am sure whatever tools you can provide will prove helpful. I wonder, however, how your subjects will respond to outsiders investigating these troubles. Would it not be wise for us to carry some sign of your hand in our workings? I would not presume to display such a token openly unless the need were great, but there may be some who refuse to speak to us unless we carry the full authority behind your throne. In truth, it was to this--the extent and symbols of our authority--that I referred when I mentioned the terms of our contract."

Vissakiel stands next to his new companions, listening to the king's request. The news of three villages suffering this strange fate intrigues him.

"Great King, I do not wish to insult you, nor do I wish to talk myself out of a job, but I must know. Have you no other scouts or spies who might be able to determine the source of this mysterious threat?"

Vissakiel raises his mug to join Khismia's salute. "Your scar was earned honorably. And from your story, it sounds as though you made the right choice in turning from service to the Rough Beast. Still, I know what it is to be far from home. You do us honor with your presence, Khismia." The elf pulls a draught from his mug and places it firmly on the table. He spends a few moments watching the dancers before shaking his head and looking back to his companions and smiling slyly before turning toward the king.

Vissakiel clears his throat, then speaks up so that he can just be heard above the music and rumble of the crowd. "Your Highness, I think I speak for all of us when I say that your generous hospitality does us more honor than we deserve. We hope to show you an equal measure of respect in completing the service you require of us."

He rises and hoists his mug to the king. "To your good health and greater success. Long live King Blood Eagle."

Vissakiel raises an eyebrow at Diviha's question. "It is certainly possible. It seems to me that lowly bandits would not have the skill necessarily to injure such a dedicated warrior. I am intrigued, though, and would be happy to hear your story when you are ready to tell it." The last comment is directed to Khismia, along with a respectful nod.

The corner of Vissakiel's mouth curls up in a smile, which he makes no effort to hide. "Straightforward," he thinks to himself. "This is going to be interesting."

Vissakiel takes a drink from his mug, watching and waiting for the woman's answer to Fiani's question.

Vissakiel smiles gratefully as his mug is refilled with the amber liquid. The snow elves prefer heartier fare than their southern cousins, allowing them to better appreciate the heavy meade and ales of the Ulfen people.

He raises his mug to Fiani, thanking her with a broad grin, for intervening and averting the minor crisis of an empty drinking cup.

"It seems that we are already becoming a team, does it not? It is good to know that one has allies willing to take action and provide assistance in times of trouble."

Then, he looks on the faces of each of his companions at the table and, in Elven, says, "It is also a great pleasure to see such flowers blooming through the frozen ground."

Vissakiel joins his laughter with Diviha's. "Well, then I suppose we're guaranteed to find something interesting on this mission, whatever it may be. I must say I'm intrigued at the notion the king would choose such a diverse group of people. But I suppose that is a mystery to be solved tomorrow. Tonight the only mystery seems to be when my tankard will be refilled." Vissakiel turns his mug upside down for emphasis, confirming that it is, in fact, empty. He looks around the room for a servant carrying a pitcher.

"Hmmm...I do many things well." Vissakiel smiles conspiratorially, and lets the comment hang between them for half a breath before continuing. "But at the moment I am a wanderer. It is my time to seek out knowledge of warmer lands before returning to my brother and sister Snowcasters. As for dancing, I do a bit of that, too, though I am not well-versed in this style."

The elf watches the Qadiran dancers a while, then turns his attention back to Diviha. "And what is it that you do...well or otherwise?" When he speaks, his tone is different. The lasciviousness it had a moment before is gone, replaced with an air of playful banter.

The elf's eyes sparkle as he shares a measure of the woman's exhuberance. "I, too, feel a strong desire to know more of my parents' homeland." As he speaks, an oddly wistful expression begins to creep into his features. He shakes his head slightly, though, and glances across the room at the dancers. When he returns his gaze to Diviha, the expression is gone.

"I am Vissakiel. Scion of the Snowcasters." He offers the woman his pale-skinned hand while he unabashedly, yet charmingly, assesses her with his eyes as only an elf can do.

The snow elf watches the women at the table for the span of several breaths, observing their reactions to the king's announcement. He can't help reflecting on the odd turn of events that brought him down the Rimeflow River to Svienn Blood Eagle's festhall. He had been fortunate to escape the Blackravens near Trollheim when they had mistaken him for one of the Witch Queen's servants--not the first time his strange affinity for the fey had worked against him.

Still, seated among such interesting company, he feels that his fortunes might actually be looking up for the moment. Of course, that might all change at a moment's notice. Even the unyielding glacier comes crashing down with surprising speed when the right forces are applied.

Perhaps the Blood Eagle's proposition will provide more clues--to both his future and his past.

Though he shares Fiana's enthusiasm for the upcoming mission, he is intrigued by Diviha, whose appearance is unlike that of any woman he has seen before.

"Tell me, Diviha, whence came the winds that have brought you to the gates of Kalsgard?"

Vissakiel scans the room, taking in the revelry with brilliant blue eyes sparkling with inner mirth. He wears a strange, half-smile that accentuates his sharp elven features. The warmth in the festhall (and the ale in his belly) brings a flush of pink to his normally pale skin, while his nostrils flare wider to take in the scents of smoke, food, drink, and the assembled crowd.

At the king's words, the elf nods his head and raises his mug in salute. When the king looks away, he mutters softly to himself, "Finally. Events must be in motion, at last."

Greetings! I am Vissakiel, known to my Snowcaster brethren as the "Shard-born". I will lend my sorcerous might to support our righteous cause.

The system let me create a profile straight away, as well.

Edit: Not sure how I typed "Shadowcaster" when I meant "Snowcaster". Fixed now.