Aubrey's Eberron campaign. (Inactive)

Game Master Aubrey the Malformed

Spoiler for Ezreal, Runzyl and Janosz:

I leave instructions for the alphabet brothers to meet us at the Ghallandan Inn, and then head there myself for the rendevous.

So we're meeting up at the Ghallanda Inn. That's where I'm headed. Sounds good to everybody, right?

If we all end up in the hoozegow, can Sebastian come in on a bit-part deal and be our lawyer? ;)

When he arrives, "Ho, Flamebearer Xativa, come let me buy you a drink!" I order a Thranish bottle of wine, Silverflame label, and use my hand to indicate a place for Rodergo join me.

"We didn't have much time to be properly introduced before, but if you will be fighting at my side... My name is Trose d'Tharashk, and for the moment I seem to be an inquisitive. I--"

I stammer for a moment, then with the brief interruption of the arriving wine, and pouring the glasses regain my composure.

"I regret the disappearence of your brother, it was foolish of us to stay at the temple that first night, and I have pledged to use what ever resources I can draw from the House to undo the wrong we have done. Please, accept my apology, and let me know if there is anything me or Tharashk can do to help you in finding him."

If we all end up in the hoozegow, can Sebastian come in on a bit-part deal and be our lawyer? ;)

An intriguing notion - cameo appearances. It must be done!

"Aaah, well met, Trose." Rodergo stops, powerslams whatever potable is offered him. "Yes, Brother Erfan....we will see him freed. I tried to the best of my abilities to win that Sargent Croke to our cause. I failed miserably. I thought since he was a 'busy man' to make my needs known quickly. I asked him several questions about the case, and he showed me the door. So he said he was surveilling the shrine, and our bungling had ruined his case. So...I asked him, point blank: 'if you were surveilling the shrine, you saw the whole deed go down?' and he explained to me like I'm an idiot that they were doing so AFTER the event. Well, why would they come back afterwards? So his pumkin-faced bumpkin bullyboy showed me the door. Me, a Man of the Cloth! This nimwitted bobbin that was playing pixieball when I was sewing up half his hemorrhaging country during the damn war! (no offence to Brave Breland, good my fellow, honored to do it again, and will!)
They have Erfan, and they're using him to bring US to THEM. Why would he think that faceflipping wank with his yammering beastly goons would be coming back, two hours later? They're in their dens getting drunk and celebrating right now, and playing tug tug games with rags, or whatever gnolls do to pass the time."
Rodergo looks around the place.
"I think I did more harm than good."

"So,...how was your day?" ;)

"HA HA HA ha ha!" I laugh heartily. Seems we have similar styles and thoughts. I think it was I who put the good sergeant in a fowl mood. I came in, well slightly disguised as a Flame pilgrim, no offense, to see if I could find any clues."

"They had me in chains thinking I was the changeling, the man is overworked, and needs a full night's vacation down in..." I stop before describing in detail my awareness of Sharns brothel houses.

"Anyway, it seems you enjoy the taste of your foot nearly as much as I do mine. I hope we have taken every advantage we can for the coming battle. You are right, they will be expecting us, though hopefully, not so soon."

I pour more wine.

...accepts the wine...
"Aaah, something to wash away the rank taste of foot. So, when we rescue Erfan, what next?"

...accepts the wine...

"Aaah, something to wash away the rank taste of foot. So, when we rescue Erfan, what next?"

"T- By the flame," I almost got the choice of phrase correct, "I guess you don't know. It isn't church business, but it is how we got to be all involved..."

<Insert summary of a couple hundred posts>

"...so hopefully we can find the missing Cannith, and find out what is going on there, without getting burned like months in the flame," I inwardly curse myself, "it'll be the end of a rather busy week."

More wine, that is what I need.

Having finished their shopping binge at the markets, Ezreal and Janosz head for the Ghallandan Inn with their newfound swag, arriving as Trose wraps up his tale. As Ezreal holds the door open, a sweaty and disheveled Janosz staggers in, carrying the massive bag across his shoulders.

"Evening, guys", he wheezes, before gingerly easing the load down next to their table. "Gifts for everyone. Do we have a room here, or at least a somewhat more private space?"

The alphabet brothers.

:D

** spoiler omitted **

Trose finds a friend at the bottom of the bottle:

I sing, somewhat drunkenly:

Ramblin' Rover - Empty Hats

we should all get a room...to divvy up the goods.
"Yes, a room indeed." Rodergo asks the nearest wait(whatever)* who to see about a room.
*I was going to say waitperson to be P.C.(politically correct) but I guess the waitist doesn't necessarily have to be a person.

"-hiccup-, I think a room, perhaps two would be wise, -hiccup-"

would wait being be approproiate?

You guys are going to regret this in the morning.

You guys are going to regret this in the morning.

Nuh uh, alcohol is a poison, and Hero's feast cures all poisons... drinkity drinkity drink

You will still regret it from the period you wake up to the time you eat the heroes feast.

For Runzyl:

Some time later, Runzyl makes his way into the Inn to meet up with his companions. Aside from a beaming look of eager joy on his face and the dazzlingly intricate double scimitar hooked into the sheath on his back, he looks no different than before save for several beads of sweat on his brow and a few perspiration stains on his clothes. His breathing is one of someone used to periods of prolonged activity and he does not seem overly fatigued. As he spies his allies within the common room, there is a glint of true happiness and camaraderie in his eyes.

"Ah, a fine close to the day! Tomorrow we shall face our enemies in battle and honor the dead with their blood!" He approaches the group and clasps Ezreal and Janosz on the shoulder firmly, an excited smile on his face.

"I shall partake of this wine tonight," he began to pour himself a glass from the bottle that rested amongst them, taking a seat and adding solemnly "for tomorrow I may have no thirst to quench."

"Ha ha! Well met, Steelsong! Let's have a toast, to tattooed ladies in peril!"

"I like your thinking, priest. Just let me take care of that room first". If we do not already have a room at the Inn, Janosz rents one, and then drags the bundle of weapons and other recently bought goodies up there, securely locking the treasures inside. He hangs the room key on a string around his neck and then rejoins his festive companions. "Now, who were we toasting again?"

After that, Janosz probably (unless something unforeseen happens, like a gnollish raid or the staff telling us to shove off) to get severely s@#&faced, complete with singing, ancestral bragging, folk-dancing and the occasional bout of crying; after all, the wondrous magical feast is supposed to cure our ills, and, as Runzyl pointed out, we might all die tomorrow anyway. Drink up!

I'm gonna go grab my wand of cure light wounds and my scroll of hold person. I don't want nobody gankin' my shtuff.
Officially on my character sheet now.

After a few drinks and some casual banter, Runzyl's eyebrows furrow in thought and he turns to Lightbringer. "My friend, how are you finding yourself tonight on the eve of this battle? I know you wish to free your priest from their clutches, but have you thought about how we will do that? Do you wish to speak with the Daask, as you have insisted on speaking to all of our foes to date? Or do you believe that justice can only be had at the edge of a blade for this act of cowardice? If we give them knowledge of our approach, they may slay your man before we find him. Stopping to speak with them may only serve to bring his doom upon him sooner. Think carefully, paladin. I shall trust in your wisdom, but my conscience is not the one that will suffer if you are wrong."

Lightbringer thinks carefully, trying to ignore the drunken singing of Trose and Janosz, before answering Runzyl.

“I must pray to the Flame for guidance, but the burden on my soul has been eased by the confession I gave to the Flamebearer earlier today. I have been blaming myself for what happened at the shrine, but I see more clearly now. Certainly, more wisdom and caution by myself could have prevented this, but the blame for what happened lies with the evil of Daask. I am a paladin, my role is to purge evil with blade, flame and deed. I feel that the time for talking is over, the time for action approaches.”

He looks at Runzyl. “From what I know of Daask, and the humanoids which comprise most of its force, they understand action and violence more clearly than they understand words. I will accept their surrender if it is offered – I may even ask for it. But for the main, I intend to act in a language they will understand.”

“Gelb is the possible exception. If we can take him alive, we should do so. He may have answers for us, and death will be too light a punishment for him, he deserves the wrath of the city’s lawgivers.”

He turns to look at his other companions. “Runzyl, why do they poison themselves like this on the eve of battle? Would it not be wiser to find comfort in their gods, or hone their skills for the coming battle?”

Lightbringer also finds time to equip himself with his new possessions, and returns the 5gp he owes Nox, with thanks.

He turns to look at his other companions. “Runzyl, why do they poison themselves like this on the eve of battle? Would it not be wiser to find comfort in their gods, or hone their skills for the coming battle?”

"I do not pretend to know much of your gods, but I can tell you why drink and song often precedes battle," the elf took on a very sober and extreme demeanor. "When a warrior faces battle, he knows that all of his skills, his convictions, and his spirit will soon be pitted against another's. When battle is soon upon you, one evening of drills or one night of meditation will do nothing to change you. Battle is ferocious. It is a fury of sweat, steel, and blood. Every second matters. Every instant could be your last. If you should fall in battle, will you go to your ancestors and say 'I failed' or will you go to them and say 'I fought without fear?' These moments of happiness are timeless. Each second drags on for an hour and each laugh echoes unto eternity. This revelry is the opposite of battle. Treasure each second of it. Let the savory flavors of delight and companionship linger on your tongue. Tomorrow, you may taste only blood and iron in the instant before your afterlife."

"Three's my limit. We have...things to do in the morning."

Lightbringer shakes his head. “It must be a biological thing I suppose.”

He then nods in response to Xativa’s comments. “Yes, remember that our Feast is scheduled before dawn. I look forward to it, it is rare that I have an opportunity to ingest something with some benefit.”

Whilst the others are drinking, Lightbringer tries to recall the location of the Tannery (untrained local knowledge check: 10 – if applicable) or makes sure one of his companions does. If not, he asks around of staff and patrons at the Inn, buying drinks for people where necessary (untrained Gather Information: 4+1 = 5 – that aint gonna do it, - 3 hours, 1gp ), spending hours doing so if required (retry, 16+1 = 17. 2 hours, 4gp)

A few hours later...

"My dear waitress stress-test, I need four fried chickens, and a coke..."

Two seconds later I am laying face down and unconcious on the floor.

Lightbringer, still in the common room keeping an (increasingly disapproving) eye on his companions at this point (or gathering information, as the case me be), shakes his head, then picks up the unconscious finder and carries him up to his room.

Oh, we’ll pay for the cost of rooms, drinks and meals from the stash.

Janosz meanders after the knocked-out drunk Trose and his warforged samaritan. "Ah, Lightbringer, you are tshuly a worthy companion. Much better than me, for shure... Shinshe you are not drinking, could you make shure all of us are preshent and accounted for at the ritual tomorrow? I think I musht go to bed now, too. Nice shword you got there..." He tugs his boots off before tumbling forward onto the bed, leaving the key forgotten in the door. "Tomorrow we fight. And we'll win, thanksh to guys like you. Now, we musht shleep, though". With that, he dozes off.

Rodergo goes to bed too, with his handy "Traveler's Guide to Sharn" and miscellaneous holy scriptures for reading.

“Biology,” Lightbringer says, softly and wonderingly. He ensures that all his companions are safe and secure in their rooms, before settling himself into a position where he can keep an eye on the rooms, and begins praying to the Flame. He prays for guidance and strength in the morrow’s battle, he prays for victory over evil. He prays for the soul of Reka, and for her family, and he prays that Brother Erfan has the strength of body and spirit to survive his captivity.

He would have liked to spend more time planning tomorrow’s battle with his companions, but he is also wise enough to realise that no battle plan ever survives intact on contact with the enemy. Besides, there will be a little time for planning during the morning’s Feast. For the main, things should be simple enough – charge in, and take down anyone who stands against them. The shapeshifter, Gelb will be more difficult, as will the ‘liberation’ of Norn – assuming he does want to be liberated, which is uncertain. They should also try to ensure that they are not followed by the agents of the Lord of Blades, another complication.

Runzyl keeps himself largely sober, having only a couple of drinks as the night progresses. He feels that the eye of Daask may be upon them even here in this sanctum and it would not do to be unfit for battle.

As the night drew to a close, he joined Lightbringer for some small part of his vigil. The others, the humans, would need twice as much sleep as he would. If he was to fight alongside this living machine, he would need to know his capabilities. The elf and the warforged spent a couple of hours discussing their respective styles of combat and a few finer points of religion, though the vagaries of the worship of the Silver Flame were largely lost on the Valenar warrior. After some brief conversation, Runzyl reveried for several hours and (assuming nothing goes wrong...) awoke in plenty of time for morning. Lightbringer was right where he left him and the others were still fast asleep.

The halfling staff carry the human revellers up to their rooms after their evening of debauchery. Lightbringer and Runzyl look on as they snore and mumble through the night. Eventually, just before dawn, there is a knock at the door of the room Trose is in. When Lightbringer answers it, he finds a halfling maid.

“There are four half-orcs downstairs asking for Master d’Tharashk.” It is obviously time to rouse the sleepers.

When they come down, the humans staggering blearily, they find the four mercenaries and a stupendous feast laid out for them. While it is a bit tricky forcing it down at first, everyone is soon tucking in with gusto. Heads clear, eyes brighten, and hangovers are conquered. Even the mercenaries are moved to eloquence. “Hmmgna – good food,” growls one between mouthfuls.

OK – you all get the benefits of a heroes feast spell, which is 1d8+5 temporary hp, immunity to poison, +1 to hit and Will saves, and immunity to fear effects, all for the next 12 hours.

Nox stands to one side, not partaking. After about an hour or so, he shakes hands with his former companions and the manager of the inn, shoulders his pack and takes his leave.

After the meal, it is time to head for the tannery. The party, plus hired help, head for the rickety lifts that lead to the dockside area of Cliffside, by the river below Dura.

Assume you have time to pray or prepare spells as necessary. Lightbringer did some asking around last night while everyone else was getting blasted. The tannery is on the northern tip of Cliffside, and is hard to miss, even in area as generally foul and reeking as that. You can find it with no difficulty. Make sure everyone has the relevant bits of kit purchased and allocated on their character sheets.

Hour long meal, with strategy brief

"Well friends, today is the day we give yet more to Daask, this time in defence of what we hold dear. Friends, holy men, faith, justice, honor, or just gold," staring at all the gathered faces in turn, "lets not be foolhardy or too hasty in our endeavors."

"Runzyl, Lightbringer, the two of you are by far the most capable of us in combat, so you along with half the mercenaries will be on the forefront of battle. Don't be too hasty, make sure the rest of us can keep up, and don't hesitate to use the tanglefoots and thunderstones we purchased, they are there to keep us from being out numbered."

"The other two mercenaries should be split between Ezreal and Xativa to provide close security. We'll need them using their spells, not their daggers to get through this."

"Janosz and I will be following you through, securing survivors, and lending a hand where we can. I expect close quarters for most of the time, so crossbows or long bows will have limited value, but neither of us is useless with a blade either."

"I wish we had time to do more investigation of the place, it would help to know the layout, and where they might be holding someone. As it is, we will be going in basicly blind, without knowing which way to go. I sincerely hope that we can find the prioner, or prisoners as the case may be, and get them out before the Daask bastards put them down so they have less baggage to run with."

"And don't forget we want the changeling alive--" A stray thought crosses Trose's face and mind.

"Ezreal, I hadn't thought of this sooner, and that concerns me. Perhaps I should have found the wine a bit later last night. Anyway, there is a spell that some of the Tharashk blood hunters make use of, I believe it is called Reveal Shapeshifter, and I think we would be wise to try and find a scroll of such if we have the time before the assault. If not, we may have to do so later, I don't doubt at al that Gelb will be the type to try and replace the priest if it means keeping his own skin."

"And that means anyone we find might be the changeling. Until we can confirm the identity of the priest or the Cannith, assume they aren't who they look like. It may not make us friends, but it may just keep a dagger out of our backs."

As one of the waitresses comes around I ask her if she has enough napkins of a distinctive color for us each to take one, I will pay as necessary.

"Here, carry one of these with you, but keep it concealed," I pass out the napkins, "If we get split up, this will be the first hint that we are who we claim to be. The cloth and the word," thinking for a moment, "the word Sarlona, will be recognition."

"I know, I know, I have been prattleing on too much, so feel free to comment question or over rule."

It becomes apparent that Trose is quite use to getting hammered and being to work on time the next morning.

"Reveal Shapeshifter" - can I have a reference, please? Also, bear in mind the time - you won't find too many magick shoppes open at this time, in this place.

"Reveal Shapeshifter" - can I have a reference, please? Also, bear in mind the time - you won't find too many magick shoppes open at this time, in this place.

Magic of eberron or races of eberron, not sure which... and I forgot it until too late so if we is hosed, we is hosed

EDIT-Discren Shapchanger Complete Arcane 103 or Races of Eberron 184

rolled 5+5=10 extra h.p. spells prepared: 0lvl=det mgc(x2) light(x2) 1lvl= prot from evil, shield of faith(x3).
note to self: immune poison, +1h, +1 wil save, immune fear fx 12 hrs.

Although he doesn't put away any serious quantity of alcohol, Ezreal is amused by and shares a few toasts with his companions during their revelry. The mood is entirely unlike anything he experienced during the war. Of course, fighting for Karrnath you always knew that should you fall in battle you would likely be joining it again the next day as a soulless corpse. The natural effect of such knowledge on his riverboat had always been a more grim and somber mood before engagements. An evening spent tightening armor hanging loose on corpses, polishing their shields, and tending their weapons was not uncommon. Better they use them well than I take them up tomorrow. The mage retires early enough to spend some time working out a new spell he'd been piecing together and make some decisions about the ones to be prepared in the morning.

In the morning...

At Trose's mention of a spell to identify the changeling Ezreal nods, "Hmmm that certainly would simplify things. But even if the Emporium isn't open in time I like where you are going with the cloths and code word. You should also know that if we find it necessary to pull back, I will likely draw a thick mist around myself to frustrate snipers and obscure our retreat. If it seems advantageous I may fill the mist with sounds of battle or maybe even death cries to draw them off. Should that be neccessary- keep moving until you are on the other side. However, having said that," Ezreal looks around the table at the groups current size and the remains of the feast, "I don't think Gelb is going to know what hit him."

Spells Prepped-
0 - Read Magic, Resistance x2, Ghost Sound
1st - Color Spray, Mage Armor, Ray of Enfeeblement

Temp HP= 12 which doubles me to 24.

Just before we anticipate jumping into the fight (assuming we get to choose that moment) I'll cast the Resistance spells on a couple of us who aren't under Protection from Evil. +1 to all saves, stacks with Heroes Feast on Will, but not with Protection from Evil. Only has a duration of 1 minute though.

Unless I missed something we don't have any reason to believe Norn will be there do we? Norn went to Daask for protection and if I understood, Gelb is more like a part-time associate of theirs. Contract killings, and occasional enforcer gigs- building this drug trade out of the tannery. So we are hitting a smalltime affiliate, not one of daask's main hq's."

Unless I missed something we don't have any reason to believe Norn will be there do we? Norn went to Daask for protection and if I understood, Gelb is more like a part-time associate of theirs. Contract killings, and occasional enforcer gigs- building this drug trade out of the tannery. So we are hitting a smalltime affiliate, not one of daask's main hq's

Our only clue is that this is the known hang out of the changeling we believe to be the one from the bar first night, who was involved in the Norn thing obviously.

Temp HP: 5+5=10

The lift drops down the side of the grey cliffs from Dura to Cliffside. It is still early – dawn is turning the clouds above the towers pink, but it is till pretty dark in Cliffside, which in the early morning stands in deep shadow. It is fairly quiet; the odd call of a seabird, the clank of the elevator mechanism, but few voices. Cliffside is a shoddy network of wooden shacks and lean-tos, jetties poking out into the Dagger River, and a forest of ships’ masts. The whiff of mud, fish and rot wafts up as the lift descends.

At ground level, the place is fairly deserted. A few drunken sailors sleep off the night’s revels while goblin urchins rifle their pockets, and some remarkably large gulls watch on balefully. The roads and alleys are composed of filthy mud or, in places, wooden walkways. Water gurgles under slimy wooden piers, and an early morning mist obscures the far bank of the river.

The tannery is at the northern tip of Cliffside. The residences at this end are mean even for Cliffside, being little more than crude shelters. The place can be smelled before it is seen – an eye-watering mixture of stenches that defies description. A broad, wooden trackway leads up to the large double gates which seal the entrance in the south. The whole place is surrounded by a rough wooden fence about 8’ high, and inside can be seen the roofs of what appear to be various sheds. The site is dominated by what appears to be a large water butt, about 20’ high, at the northern end. The whole place is squeezed in between the river to the west and the cliffs to the east.

A sign above the gates reads “Quarlo Tannery”. Scrawled crudely underneath are some Giantish runes*.

For those that can read Giant:

Spot check - if you get 15 or more:

"Heh, 'Tresspassers will be eating' poor conjugation," I say indicating the giant runes with my chin, and then something catches my eye, "Well well, looks like something moving atop the water butt there."

BAM!!! Nat 20 on the spot check!!!
query: does my "twentymeisterness" aid me in any fashion? (I don't expect it to).

Temp. HP: 6 + 5 = 11; Brings me to a terrifying 39!
Runzyl's nose wrinkles at the offensive odor of the area. As the group approaches the tannery, he snaps his weapon into his hand, bowing his head in a moment of reverence as he does. His eyes scan the surroundings coolly but, at Trose's statement, he glances up but sees nothing.

"What was it?"
Spot: 11 + 2 = 13