All's Well that Ends in a Well

Game Master Choon

You crest the last hill and finally the complex comes into view. In stark contrast to the lush greenery of the hills you just fought your way through lies a large sunken graveyard laid out in the shape of a cross. Rather than towering  above the ground, the graves have settled into depressions, and the  main mausoleum, a building of strange green stone, rests in the deepest depression some 40 ft. below the ground on which you now stand. At the other end of the grave-filled hollow stands what appears to be a stone well. There are no gravestones near it. The  normal sounds of wildlife are gone, and large carrion birds circle  overhead. An ominous silence rests about the place.
Each of you knows in your heart that you have found the legendary dungeon of Rappan Athuk. And though none dare speak it, you wonder if you  will live to return to the warmth of hearth and home.

The medium-sized, black pantheress walks alongside the Catfolk by the name of Simon Blue-Eye as always.
Her body seems to straighten, as if ready for a jump - or an attack.
Her yellow eyes hush over the graveyard below and the birds high above.
She seems ... uneasy but ready.

Just a small dot-post for now.

A hooded man tenaes in anticipation, piping his knuckles and growling slightly.
also a dot

dot, post will come later

You have found the legendary Dungeon of Rappan Athuk. It wasn't hard. The wilds were dangerous, but you managed to get there and instantly realized that there's no way you're doing this alone. You are capable, not suicidal.
You return to the Bristleback Inn with an eye for a team to enhance your strength... and bolster your weaknesses.

The Bristleback Inn is as bright as ever in spite of the low ceiling. The windows are open and a small fire prevents the chill in the air from the landward breeze off the sea. It's not a harsh chill and the air feels brisk.
Several people mill about the room, adventuring types, mostly. There's a hobgoblin, a catfolk, several humans, a half orc or two, and other professionally suicidal types all enjoying a nice lunch provided by the indefatigable Amelia and her girl Ysbel. The room is filled with hearty smells and pleasant conversation. More than a few aren't speaking in favor of shoving as much of the food as possible into their faces.

In a table beside the fire sits a young, slender catfolk with white-grey, fluffy hair, broad whiskers and a long tail.
He is (rather obviously) enjoying a meal (that seems to consist of meat, fish and meat).
At his feet, upon the fur of a bear, lies a big, black cat gnawing on some meat as well. The animal is foreign to this land and you likely never saw one of her kind. Way bigger than any local wild cat you know, the fur black and shiny and with yellow eyes.
At first your not sure, but both defiantly emit a low, deep purring noise that is barely audible in the noisy room.

A heap of goods, armor parts and weapons (short, curved blades and a long bow with lots of arrows in a broad quiver) is stacked near his table and you wonder how he intends to carry all of that around.

The filthy dwarf Dalkk finds a table to sit in. After lighting a cigar he pulls out a whetstone and starts to sharpening one crossbow bolt after another, making sure his equipment is in order. He looks around the room, puzzled and unsure of who he might approach. Instead he continues to set more gear on the table in hopes his presence will attract others. In front of him lay bits of paper, an axe, some vials, a salted fish, some flint, and a bedroll. Proud of his selections, clearly this will tell the room of his intent.

Yes, this is meant to be awkward.

purr, purr, purr
gnaw, grom nom, gnaw
purr, purr, purr

Dalkk sees that there is another person with heaps of equipment! 'Ah... must be an adventure like me' he thinks to himself. His eyes dart around his table and dirty hands exchange whetstone for fish. He breaks it in half and tosses it best he can towards the large black feline.

Marco kicks in the door and bundles himself in his cloak, obscuring his figures as he heads for a corner of the room where he can see all the entrances

The fish sails through the air, landing a few feet beside the black cat. It springs to its feet, quicker than eyes can follow, fixating the dwarf with her yellow eyes.

The Catfolk looks up as well, turning his head to one side.
After two awkward moments, he makes some noises that sound like miarchrr-prrr causing the black cat to relax and turn around to look at her master. He nods,mand she trods over and swallows the half-fish in one go, before heading back to her previous place to settle down.

The catfolk looks at the dwarf with a smile - and an asking gaze.
"Maybe that's some dwarf-tradition? How should I respond? Ahh, of course. Rather obvious, isnt't it?"
With a fluid motion, the humanoid cat picks up a small piece of meat from his meal and throws it over to the table of the dwarf.
Tradition is tradition.
Ahhh, I see, you're a man of culture as well ;-)

Gods of inviolate order help me, everything they said about this place was true.

Ignatiza Thrune, Signifer of the Hellknight Order of the Gate, watches in silent horror as the dwarf and catfolk throw food at each other.It was appalling, and it took a great deal of effort to prevent her from applying a large dosage of psionic charming on each of them so that they would stop.

She currently sits at a table by herself, nursing some sort of beverage while looking over a notebook of some sort, occasionally jotting something down in it.

Who to get into coming with me... So far, the crowd around her seemed... underwhelming. There is a certain appeal to just throwing a horde of people at the dungeon- quantity has a certain quality all of it's own, but I'd like to have a town to return to. Besides, it's not necessary.

There was no rush- the dungeon wasn't going anywhere. She took a sip of her drink and decided to wait for the sight of people displaying a higher degree of competence.

Nothing personal, but typically throwing food at other people makes for a poor first impression :D.

Vuzi looks up from her own meal as the fish goes flying toward the catfolk. She tilts her head as meat goes flying back at the dwarf.

That's waste of good food. Why are they tossing it at each other like that? She feeds a small piece of bread to her familiar which is sitting on her shoulder. The Greensting scorpion is dark green and stripped with black lines.

She studies the piles of gear in front of each person. They look prepared for, something. I wonder if they are here to explore the Dungeon of Graves as well.

Vuzi the tall half orc woman wearing dirty ceremonial armor leans back and decides see what happens next. Next to her own table sits a small backpack on the floor, and a longspear leaned against the wall.

Lol

A rather tall and thin elf walks through the door, clad in what look to be brand new adventurer's clothes. No sign of patchwork on his cloak, pants crisp and unstained, his boots look like they've never been through a puddle. He shivers faintly, and moves towards the fire, standing beside it with his hands on the mantle.

Just then a fish goes sailing across the room, landing only a few feet away. Maglin looks across at the dwarf who threw it just in time to find a piece of meat land on his table. Maglin nods slightly, looking back and forth at the gear on their tables for a moment before noticing the rather large cat at his feet.

Gah he cries, jumping back reflexively, which causes him to hit his head on the mantle, ow. He looks up at the room, embarrassed to have broken the silence, ahem he begins rather timidly, and grimaces before starting again, this time with more confidence.

Hello! I'm looking for some friends, adventurer types; the kind you would read about in a storybook: ready for anything. He scans the room once more, hopefully not finding just blank stares.

Whatever the elf's hopes might be, he gets little more than a blank stare from Ignatzia. It's not entirely blank- there is a bit of condescending pity mixed into the gaze as well. If you're looking for anything 'storybook', you've come to the wrong tavern, island, and archipelago. she silently thinks to herself.

"Hey, Mister-" A voice begins to call out from the inside of the woman's backpack. The backpack.... might... be able to fit a small halfling, but there doesn't seem to be any more noise.

<<Quiet. You don't get to help recruit.>> Ignatzia uses her mental bond with her psicrystal to command it to be silent as she begins to pack a few objects into her pack.

<<But he's looking for you Ignatzia! You're friendly, an adventurer, it's just like the stories he's talking about. Do you remember...>> The psicrystal continues to ramble inside her mind as she heads over towards the table with the half orc.

To think that she's the best option I have right now. The Hellknight thought to herself silently as walked over to the half orc's table uninvited. The good news was that she seemed at least decently strong. But Ignatzia wasn't betting on the woman being a fighter- whatever her weapons, she knew what functional armor was, and the woman wasn't wearing it. This meant that she was either a fool, or drew her power from some other source.

The psion places her pack down next to her as she sits down across from the half orc. With a smile that most would mistake for kindness, the woman begins to speak,"I have a proposition for you. Have you heard of Rappan Athuk?"

The <<>> marks along with bold and italics indicate telepathy.

Vuzi turns her away from looking at the elf. She gives the woman who sat at her table a long stare. Her gaze has a bit of glow, and it's hard to look away. "He's never going to make eet. He'll get ruffians who vant to take vhat he has, and leaf him dead along the road."

Vuzi gives the woman a half smile showing a bright white tusk. Her eyes don't change expression. "Haf I heard of Rappan Athuk? I doubt there is anyone in this tavern, meebe the vhole town, vho hasn't heard uf Rappan Athuk. I'f got my own reasons for being in a tavern near de Dungeon of Graves. Vhat's your proposal?

The hunk of meet isn't on the table but a second before being snatched up. Teeth split the cooked bit and in two bites the meat is slurped down in what was certainly a less dignified manner than the large black cat. Dalkk stands, though the difference in height is not significant, and swishes around some beer in his mouth before swallowing. Cigar in mouth, beer in one hand and remaining half fish in the other, he approaches the catfolk's table near the fire and takes a seat. He tosses the remaining fish on the table before the blue-eyed feline as another offering.

"so, erhm. Ye goin' som'ere? Wit all ye stuffs it must be ah interestin" place. Tell me about it."

His head turns up to elf looking for and with complete sincerity and completly straight faced, with the assumption the elf was speaking directly to him, the dwarf replies "Sorry imma nah much of a friend and the only kind of book I'm interested in is the one I'm writing. Now if ye need something blown sky high ye let me know..."Dalkk turns back to the catfolk but still speaks in reply to the elf"...or if ye be goin' to Rappan Athuk."

Marco raises an eyebrow at the commotion these idiots are going to die..... unless someone bails their asses out... he sighs guess that's gonna be up to me then he stands up and makes his way over to the group
"I heard there was some talk of entering the dungeon. I have a capable sword-arm if you're looking for aid"

A capable sword arm is what I'm in search of, yes, and I am planning to go to Rappan Athuk. Decent folk who've got experience with similar places and a wide range of capabilities, that's who I'm looking for. The last time I tried exploring a cave I got lost within the first few days. Never a good idea to go alone, and they say this is where adventurers gather. You notice that Maglin enunciates clearly and never stumbles while speaking. He isn't talking fast, but any hesitations between his words are measured, as though he is entirely sure of what he is going to say long before he opens his mouth.

The name's Maglin. I studied at the Korvosan Academae for three years, and only left because it was no longer interesting for me to stay. I'm rather good at all aspects of the arcane.

"right... you aren't going to be the navigator then"

Ignatzia nods at the orc's hypothesis about what the ultimate fate of the elf is going to be, then shrugs at her suggestion that everyone here knows what Rappan Athuk is. "It can never hurt to clarify such things. But in any case- I am planning on entering that place and need allies, preferably ones that can handle themselves in danger. You seem to be one of the more competent people in this establishment."

The human woman takes a sip of her drink before she continues. "So- what can you do? If you're interested in coming with, we'll have to learn eachother's strengths and weaknesses."

Her ears perk up as she overhears some of the men in the bar speak of the dungeon of graves themselves. More fuel for the fire, perhaps? She decides to raise the issue later- after an initial alliance is secured.

"oh, another intellectual, perhaps we can exchange notes... well if find ye be going ta the depths of that dungeon I belie' I can help." After a long drag of his cigar he continues "but we'll need a healer...."

I can prepare healing cordials, but only a few each day. And when I do, it means that I've prepared one less cordial of a different sort, which would likely have served our ends better. So I agree we should look for a healer. Maglin shrugs off his pack and looks around for a good place to put it, rubbing his shoulders. Someone who's strong enough and wouldn't mind carrying my pack would be welcome if they can do something else to contribute. I'm not interested in any dead weight. Maglin grins broadly, looking quite pleased with himself.

What do you mean by another intellectual? Are you a wizard yourself? Have you spent lots of time researching the alchemical sciences? Those are my main areas of expertise that I imagine would be extremely useful and fairly common among adventurers. It is obvious from the way Maglin says this last part that he doesn't consider himself an adventurer. If that wasn't obvious enough already.

"I am also interested in entering the dungeon. Vhat can I do? I'm an oracle and sorcerer. My affinity is vith," she leans forward and whispers, "de dead." she leans back. "Some folks around here don take to controlling dead. Sometimes de think I'm efil."

"I haf some healing capability as vell. Vhat about yourself?"

"oh aye ta da sciences" The disheveled dwarf with burnt matted hair looks up at the fellow who visually is nearly his exact opposite. "I think ye would call it self study or close to. More potent than mos' all ta same doh. My pal L'nshpad could prolly help you with yer gear too, seeing as yer hands be so soft and all."

It takes Maglin a second to process Dalkk's words, he's clearly having some trouble understanding the thick accent easily. I'd love to meet your friend L'nshpad, are they in here? And perhaps we should exchange notes, I'd love to learn anything new that might prove useful. Might teach you a thing or two as well, I did some research on the boat over in preparation for The Dungeon.

What's your name, friend?

Under his breath

And in Common "Dalkk. To some circles, Duk" is muttered. His speech stays the same tone without inflection. He is clearly attentive but as he has his whole life is unspirited. "L'nshy be outside in the stables."

The dwarf reaches into his clothing to his inner chest pocket, I dinnae haf much coin, but by Brigh there is noffin' more important then spreading knowledge. I would not be able to tip ye for yer knowledge but you may read mine for free iffin' you truely do know the art." The dwarf looks around and then back to the pristine elf. "Or perhaps when more convenient?"

A pleasure to meet you, Dalkk. Maglin hold one hand out towards the dwarf as though he is expecting something.

What could go wrong?

+++ The first usher of entering the dungeon / As Dalkk approaches Simon +++
"This is my target as well - miarch!
Something terrible is down there ... Sucking out the life of this island-grrrr."

+++ Now +++
Remaining silent over most part of the conservation, Simon speaks up now - after having accustomize himself with all the different ways of talking and people around him!
His voice is deeper than you would have thought and he seems to have a habit of ending sentences with an occasional cat-sound that seems to vary with the meaning of the sentence.
"This meeting seems destined. So many adventurers in one place, all with the very same destination-miarch!
My name is Simon Blue-Eye and this is Emily-brrbrrrh.
We are both good fighters, move silent and are capable trackers and can survive in the wilds - animals are my allies-purrrr. I can heal minor wounds if needs be as well-brrbrrrh.
Who's in-miii?
The evil down there will get stronger the longer we wait-fchrrch!"

Dalkk looks at the hand and hesitates with a puzzled look. A half second later in a flash of recall he remembers this social queue. In contrast to the rest of him a calloused thick-skinned but otherwise surgically clean hand reaches out and takes the elves fingers. Dalkk takes the cigar out of his mouth and holds it with his left before he bends forward and presses his lips to the back of Maglin's hand. The hand being pressed to thick facial hair has an effect similar to squeezing out a sponge. Although not soaking it is far from dry and full of recent dirt, food, beer, and nasal secretions. After kissing the hand Dalkk looks up rather proud of himself for remembering his manners and nods to Maglin "and you M'lady."

"Hah, and I thought the point-ear ... how are they called right ... ah yes, Elves ... was a male.
Good thing the dwarf figured it out in time.
Would be embarrassing to mess that up!
They could make for some good friends after all!"
Simon looks over the collection of people, his gaze stops at the Lady of clear Cheliax-origin.
A low, barely audible grrr slips him as he looks her over - much more careful than the others...

Maglin's hand goes limp when Dalkk kisses it, and he withdraws it rather hastily. I'm a male, he says simply, waving his left hand in the air oddly. Victo cristo aido he chants, not looking at the dwarf.

And his hand is cleaned.

"are ye now? Well that's interesting." Dalkk turns to the Catfolk but before he can speak is cut off by the hiss. He leans in trying to match Simon cheek to cheek to see who deserves such a reaction. "Trouble? What is it.. uhm.. boy?"

Simon stops staring at the female Cheliax immediately as the dwarf leans over and speaks to him.
In a low whisper he answers:
"I had ... problems with people from her country-grrwl."
Then with a louder, welcoming voice:
"Come over here, adventurers heading for the dungeon of evil-fchrr.
Let's share a drink and talk about our plans.
Ysbel, one round of ... milk for all those brave souls-miaurr!"
To underline his words, he clears the table he and Dulkk are currently sitting at and fetches a couple of more chairs
from the surrounding tables.

Interesting, yes... Maglin looks around the room, following the catfolk's gaze. He seems only slightly offended, and more uncomfortable than anything else.

Taking a seat at the table, Maglin waves away the milk. As a result of magic, I haven't had anything to eat or drink in a few months. I would like for things to stay that way until something special comes along, which will be all the more special and memorable as a result.

Seems like we've made a decent start, you said you could heal minor wounds? How minor?

Simon looks bewildered at the explanation about magical sustenance and the
not-drinking-milk part, but otherwise follows the explanation of the elf with
clever eyes and open ears.
"So ... you're doing this for money-mii?" He looks over to Dalkk in
surprise, but continues after a second or two.
"Well I can treat you with bandages and can try to counter diseases and
poison by ... traditional means of course.
Using my magic, I can ... maybe heal a handful of wounds a day, if I use all my
powers that is-purrpurrr.
Then again, I bought a wand full of healing magic during my travels in case of
dire need."

Takes the round of milk greedily with both hands and brings it hastilly to his lips. Milk dribbles down the sides of his beard while he gulps it down. He slams the cup down and wipes his maw with a forearm. He looks back to the blue eye'd cat person. "Do ye have a name? Iffin ya do or nah.. your an eager little wazzit... I think we might be best to go it slow and sure-footed. Think ye can manage tha?"

He turns to the hooded figure, "And for that matter, what brings you here? Do ye have a name? Are ye male too? I've been fooled before."

I didn't see any items on your sheet Marco, if you don't have a sword visible consider the following added. "I thought you mentioned a sword but I dinnae see one... be ye a priest?"

Another puzzled look follows this promt.
Didn't he already told the dwarf his name ...?
"My name is Simon Blue-Eye and my people are called Catfolk-prrrhrr.. You're Dulkk, right?
Careful - yes of course. The dungeons is deemed very dangerous-grchrr."

Scratches his own chin "That name sounds familiar..." Looks down to the large black cat at his feet "Do ye talk too?"

The black pantheress looks up, as the dwarf asks her.
She shakes her head and emits a well-audible:
"Grrroarch!"

"She can understand you but cannot talk back.
Sadly she lacks the anatomy for it-mieh.
But I share her feelings and can see through her eyes if I wish to.
We share a deep band of kinship-purprrbrr."

Takes the round of milk greedily with both hands and brings it hastilly to his lips. Milk dribbles down the sides of his beard while he gulps it down. He slams the cup down and wipes his maw with a forearm. He looks back to the blue eye'd cat person. "Do ye have a name? Iffin ya do or nah.. your an eager little wazzit... I think we might be best to go it slow and sure-footed. Think ye can manage tha?"

He turns to the hooded figure, "And for that matter, what brings you here? Do ye have a name? Are ye male too? I've been fooled before."

I didn't see any items on your sheet Marco, if you don't have a sword visible consider the following added. "I thought you mentioned a sword but I dinnae see one... be ye a priest?"

"the name is Cain. Marco Cain. I come to test my mettle in the so called dungeon, I will be plenty armed when the time comes, but I wouldn't call myself a priest. Any more questions dwarf?"

Is taken aback by the sharp tone but presses on "Ye seem confidant... haven ye been there before? Also... do ye know anyone who can patch up a bloodied body? Seems most of us can do some, but nothing o'er the top."

"I am also interested in entering the dungeon. Vhat can I do? I'm an oracle and sorcerer. My affinity is vith," she leans forward and whispers, "de dead." she leans back. "Some folks around here don take to controlling dead. Sometimes de think I'm efil."

"I haf some healing capability as vell. Vhat about yourself?"

Where many would begin to grow nervous at the prospect of working along side a professed necromancer, Ignatzia simply smiles and nods her head. Convenient. I'll have to compare notes with her at some point. While not her particular forte, necromancy did always have some interest to her. "You have nothing to fear from me- that particular talent is hard to come by and quite useful. My own specialty is controlling the minds of weak willed creatures- with a little bit of prompting on my end, they can be convinced to turn upon eachother. I dabble in some mystic talents that let me see objects through walls, from far away, and even behind doors."

"As for the proposal- it's fairly simple. We travel through the dungeon and more or less take anything of interest that isn't nailed down to the floor. You'll find that I'll be quite reasonable in dividing whatever we uncover."

One way or another. If simpler persuasion wouldn't work to get her what she wanted, a simple bit of psionics would make that problem go away.

She couldn't help but overhear the comments coming from the more... uncouth table. She takes a moment to turn around and look over at them, thinks for a moment, then turns back to the half orc. "Should we invite them along to? There is strength in numbers..."

Not to mention more targets. The last time she had gotten into a fight against a monster who attacked her in melee had been rather unpleasant, an experience she did not particularly want to repeat.

"So ... you're doing this for money-mii?

Yes, you could say that's why I'm here. Maglin seems almost forlorn with these words.

Later

He does seem quite confident, this is one of the most dangerous dungeons any of us will ever venture into. Your mettle will be tested, but if you have skill at arms as you say then I'd like you to be in front of me.

Vuzi studies the gentlemen at the other table, an eyebrow goes up when the dwarf kisses the male elf's hand. That was unusual. I hope his highness doesn't expect me to do that when I meet him.

"Vhy not. It never hurts to have more hands in a fight." she nods. "I agree ve'll split what ve find fairly including dat lot. Better to haf someone vho is committed than someone vho vill run at first trouble because you vere paying dem."

Ignatzia nods her head but says nothing- at least, nothing with her mouth. She does however, give hold a brief mental conversation with her psicrystal.

<<Go get the fools. You know what to do.>>

<<YAAAAAAAY!>> The psicrystal enthusiastically cheers in her mind. Anyone watching the woman's backpack would watch as a piece of flint with legs made of light scurries across the floor and climbs up onto the table where an elf, a dwarf, a catfolk, and have all gathered around.

"Ahem." The mobile piece of flint makes a sound as if it's clearing it's throat- not that it actually has a throat to clear. Probably

Whatever the answer to that little enigma might be, the rock begins to address all of you in a surprisingly loud voice for such a small object. "Greetings mighty travelers, adventures, and heros! I am Araquiel, the humble servant to the mighty Ignatzia, a psion of great might and prestige. At this, one of the rock's legs points towards where a Chelish human woman sits with her back turned to all of you. She's at the same table as a half orc. "My Lady is looking for those with courageous hearts and keen minds to join her on her quest to plumb the depths of the terrible Dungeon of Graves, Rappan Athuk."

"What say you? Shall we be comrades in arms and fight against the darkness? Shall we carve our names in the great annuls of history our stories being told generation after generation?!? I ask you again, friends- what say you?!?"

Still refusing to look at the wretched talking mineral with delusions of grandeur, Ignatzia lets out a sigh and rests her face in one of her hands. The worst part about all of this is that the damn thing is actually going to convince them to come along. It's actually going to work.

Looks with wonder on the talking flint and after the speech attempts to pick it up out of curiosity. "Ach what a fascinatin' lil' whazzit. Let's git ye back to ya's Mum." The dwarf offers his hand to carry it but either way takes his chair and drags it over to the table, unceremoniously departing his company and conversation.

Dalkk sits at the nearby table and if it followed attempts to keep petting the magic stone. "Now that is delightful... but e'en better it'd be if one of yaz was the healing type?"

Marco raises his foot as though to crush the rock