If there are no objections, yes. No one else wants to taste test the potion?
I'm unable to determine the qualities of this potion. Perhaps one of you can give it a go? It's difficult, but not impossible, for one not trained in arcana to do this--just give a tiny taste, it should be safe.
Morkeleb puts only the slightest emphasis on "should," and holds the potion out, gently shaking it, making eye contact with each of the group, offering it to them to identify.
I'm unable to determine the qualities of this potion. Perhaps one of you can give it a go? It's difficult, but not impossible, for one not trained in arcana to do this--just give a tiny taste, it should be safe.
Morkeleb puts only the slightest emphasis on "should," and holds the potion out, gently shaking it, making eye contact with each of the group, offering it to them to identify.
Ferox takes the offered vial.
I'll see what I can do.
He takes a wiff of the liquid to discern its properties.
Perception:
Gaius takes the vial from Ferox and rolls his eyes. He takes an extra bit of time to make sure he's examined the substance fully.
Perception (Takes Twenty): 29
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Let's start here:
The party makes a stop at an apartment close by Zellara's. It's only one block over, so Ferox heads out, quiet as a mouse, to Zellara's.
Ferox regroups with everyone at the apartment.
Some disturbing news, gents. The house where we met Zellara is abandoned. There was no sign of any food or drink, or of anyone living there. It was after getting a good look through the window that I realized how hungry I was. Anything we ate there was an illusion.
I didn't enter the house, thinking that it would be best if we entered together.
While Lamm needed to be stopped, I don't care for the manner in which we were led to him. Hopefully, we'll be able to find some clues as to what was actually going on when we met Zellara earlier tonight.
Psheh, Illusion. I probably should have guessed.
Morkeleb shows a clear disdain on his face, but is also agitated at the fact that he was duped--by an Illusion!!--along with everyone else.
You were wise not to enter again, Ferox. Whatever trickster did this, he or she or it was powerful enough to create a very convincing fantasy. Best that we face it as we faced Lamm, together. Once Odric returns, we should check this out right away--this time with our eyes open!
I disagree. One sip, swished, swirled, savored and FULLY tasted.
But very well, thou art my Dungeon Master!
This potion is clearly a Potion of Heroism.
Yeah. And if I take or roll 20, I have a 29.
While waiting for Odric and Ferox's scouting. Grym takes the dog, which he has started calling "Gramps" (cause of his old age), for a walk. The ranger begins to make a greater evaluation of the dog, of how trainable he seems to be, and of temperment. If Gramps is too old to be a good working dog for Thorgrym would he make a decent pet for someone else?
Not sure if I need a handle animal check, if so
Is Odric back w/ us yet? (If he is)
Illusion or not, let us go as a group to Zellara's empty place to find some information.
You determine that he'd still be a good pet, but not an adventuring dog. He seems to enjoy the name gramps. You worry that it may also be the fact that you're being kind rather than abusive .... that gramps has never had a loving owner
knock...knock...knock...knock,knock,knock...knock...knock
Staging
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Odric shivers in the brisk night air as he makes his way from Master Bartleby's after returning Kip to home and hearth. The big man took some time at the house to clean himself, thus removing the majority of the foul stench that lingered around him. The only thing lingering now are the faint puffs of his breath in the clhill night air as he makes his way to the rendezvous with all haste.
While he walks, Odric thinks about the tearful reunion and a lump in his throat threatens to re-start the tears that flowed freely and quietly down his grimy face an hour ago. In returning Kip, Odric realized he had taken the first steps towards realizing the path he always wanted his life to take but never quite knew how.
He felt the shame of his failures melt away as he stood awkwardly by as father and son embraced in the warm den in the light of the dying fire. Odric knew success and a feeling of accomplishment for the first time in what seemed like years.
Now striding through the streets purposefully, none of his bar mates would recognize him. Not due to some dramatic physical change, rather his attitude which has undergone a polar shift from a layabout and boastful drunk to a man with a purposeful step, a set to his jaw and a gleam in his eye. He shrugs his cloak more comfortably around his shoulders, thankful for its warmth.
The adventurous spirit Odric had expostulated upon for so long in so many smoky and dimly lit barrooms across the city had finally settled in his breast. Odric feels newly alive and excited about the prospects of continuing in this vein.
As he walks, he looks into several taverns where in months gone by he might have never passed by and sees the warmth and camaraderie and feels a slight twinge. It would be satisfying and pleasant to pass some hours before the hearth regaling new-found friends with tales of heroism, triumph and honor. Odric passes by though. He has new companions. They might become true friends in time, real friends rather than the friends ale and spirits make for a rowdy night who disappear the next day to be replaced by a hangover, maybe some unexplained cuts and bruises, and an empty purse.
Odric glances briefly at the address scrawled hurriedly as he parted company with Morkeleb and abruptly turns left. He's close.
As the big man crosses the intersection outside the rally point, he takes a moment to collect himself. He wipes his face rapidly up and down several times with both hands to ensure no telltale streaks remain on his cheeks. He takes a deep breath to ensure the lump is gone from his throat and knocks with authority on the doorframe, in the pattern agreed upon earlier.
The door opens shortly and the seeking snout of Gramps meets him. The old dog decides Odric is not worth the worry and trots back to Grym's feet. Odric enters the room and looks around he dimly lit room quickly.
Have you gentlemen discussed what may have happened at Zellara's earlier?
Morkeleb describes in some depth the arcane possibilities to include illusion, phantasms and glamers. He mentions dopplegangers several times. The terms used are archaic and technical, and while he grasps the gist of it Odric doesn’t completely feel comfortable with the explanation.
Odric, do you feel especially hungry, like you haven’t eaten since lunchtime? Morkleleb asks pointedly, apparently prepared to follow through with a stunning point of logic to demonstrate the veracity of his claims.
Odric looks down at his bountiful stomach, then looks back at the slender wizard and points out that his voracious appetite is one of the principle reasons for his apt appellative. Friend, tell me a time when I haven’t felt that way!
Odric posits the hypothesis of a twin sister. It is a much more probable explanation… he asserts to the group, looking to Gaius for support.
Regardless of what happened, if what Ferox says is true from his reconnaissance, we ought to make our way to the house to investigate more thoroughly! What if Zellara came to some harm?
Odric glances to the hatbox which lies open in the center of the floor. He hastily adds, …Or her twin sister? Far from a stupid man, the complexity of the problem is starting to make his head spin nonetheless.
Thorgrym interjects, Illusion or not, let us go as a group to Zellara's empty place to find some information.
I agree with Grym, A nodding Odric states bluntly. I propose we go to the house where we met the lady Zellara. We enter the house warily, with weapons at the ready and allow our wizard here, Odric indicates Morkeleb deferentially, impressed with the man’s suitably mystical suggestions earlier to conduct a survey of any energies or magicks he might sense. Gaius could inspect for clues of a more mundane nature, I assume the task is similar to the trap-checking you did at Lamm’s? Odric finishes looking questioningly at the rogue.
In any case, I say we make haste, the truth of what happened might slip away from us if we delay here much longer, although I do thank you for waiting for me!
The party is off to Zellara's...
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Odric can make fine use of the oil. Gaius tosses him the vial.
Come, Friends. Let us away.
To Zellara's.
@Odric: A twin sister who was able to make a perfectly presentable establishment appear ramshackle and disused in a matter of hours? In all honesty, I find "it's magic" to be a more logical answer! But yes, let's return and see what we can see about this mystery.
I think Ferox can use some magical healing. We have another potion among us, yes?
I've felt better. That gator took a chunk out of me.
Hold... First our friend Ferox needs some healing. Does anyone know a cleric? Second, during my walk back here, I saw something really ...odd. A city guardsmen passed me, reeking of grog. Korvosa is a city with many vices, but a drunken guardsmen is a rarity. He mumbled something about "it's all over now." then stumbled into a building and passes out in the doorway. I attempted to rouse him, but he clearly wished to make friends with a blackout.
What do you say we find him, ensure he is safe and sound and can sleep it off here. We can question him as to what he meant when he wakes up. Once we get him here and while he is "sleeping" we can solve the mystery of Zellara's twin's poor housekeeping.
Odric begins the now-familiar routine of limbering up. He is somehow able to swing his straightened leg straight up in front of him to the point his knee almost touches his chin.
Odric continues his warm ups. He is surprisingly limber for a big man with the amount of extra weight he is carrying on his frame. Once he has thoroughly stretched out his legs, he begins swinging his arms around at an alarming rate. Grotesque sounding pops issue from his shoulders and he is working up a sheen of sweat over his pasty countenance.
It is important to be ready for action at any time. Odric lectures to the room in general. I've always been a proponent for good physical fitness, although lately I've been a bit negligent in my exercises. the large man admits.
I learned these stretches from a sailor one afternoon on the docks, actually just a few blocks east of here. This sailor had just come back from a voyage of exploration west of the Varisian Gulf. He had tales to tell of strange lands, of monsters larger than a ship rising up from the sea beautiful maidens with tentacles for legs and seaweed for clothing, and daring men who barely escaped with their lives and a tale to tell. He told of an uncharted island where the men never speak but for one week a year. The rest of their lives they spend honing their acrobatic skill sand training for feats of strength and daring during their annual festival.
Odric pauses his arm swinging to begin lowering himself into a fairly deep split. His trousers are quite plainly near their ripping point. The other men in room look away in alarm.
As the sailor recounted, "These men were near their festival week when we arrived, so the village grandmother invited us to stay. The men came out on the appointed day and began this very warm-up routine. They taught their guests some of their distinct unarmed fighting style and began their tournament." As the sailor told me, and I have no reason to think he might have been lying, as he had never done so in the past, they used this tournament to choose mates for the final night of the festival.
Odric begins wheezing through a series of high jumps interspersed with running in place.
In exchange for a few mugs of rum, this sailor taught me these very moves! We nearly fell off the docks as the lessons went on through the afternoon and into the evening. The island men, once the competition was in full swing would challenge their fellows to feats, the winner advancing in some convoluted scheme to determine an ordered ranking for all the men in the village. The men then chose their wives for the year in the order they were ranked from the competitions, and went into the night with them for a final night of intimacy before their year of sequestration, silence and training began again.
With his clothing disheveled, his hair matted with sweat and his cheeks an alarming shade of red, Odric finally appears to be finished. He cracks his neck once to the right, once to the left and rests, panting.
Stories like these, yarns told over a mug or before a dying fire, birthed an adventuring spirit in a young Odric. He feels like for the first time in his life that he might be embarking on a tale of his own. Odric passes a pale blue potion to Ferox, hoping this will speed the party along this epic tale towards Zellara's twin's messy and decrepit home.
Damn, what was this guy's name? Where do I know him from? ...no matter. Hail and well met sir!. The firm handshake and meaty thump on the back are designed to put the man at ease. Although calculated, the greeting and personal warmth are nonetheless genuine.
What do you mean strange goings on, friend? I have been engrossed in some personal business this night and haven't heard any talk. Odric reaches into his breast pocket and retrieves a small shiny flask filled with decent quality spirits. His big thumb and forefinger gently unscrew the cap and he offers the man a drink.
Odric takes a quick swig and asks, Have you heard that Lamm has been slaughtered? The giant can't help but let a bit of pride seep into the question.
Families all over the city may rest a bit easier knowing that Lamm and his slimy familiar Gogglegut are no more.
Waving the flask at the alley, Odric recounts the strangeness of the drunken guardsman and his cryptic uttering earlier. Care for another? The flask is freely offered again.
Damn, what was this guy's name? Where do I know him from? ...no matter. Hail and well met sir!. The firm handshake and meaty thump on the back are designed to put the man at ease. Although calculated, the greeting and personal warmth are nonetheless genuine.
What do you mean strange goings on, friend? I have been engrossed in some personal business this night and haven't heard any talk. Odric reaches into his breast pocket and retrieves a small shiny flask filled with decent quality spirits. His big thumb and forefinger gently unscrew the cap and he offers the man a drink.
Odric takes a quick swig and asks, Have you heard that Lamm has been slaughtered? The giant can't help but let a bit of pride seep into the question.
Families all over the city may rest a bit easier knowing that Lamm and his slimy familiar Gogglegut are no more.
Waving the flask at the alley, Odric recounts the strangeness of the drunken guardsman and his cryptic uttering earlier. Care for another? The flask is freely offered again.
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"I can't say i rightly know." starts the man whose name remaind dangling on the tip of your tongue. He continues, [b]"There's some commotion at the castle methinks. I don't ken what it is though. Good to hear bout that solly slop. Korvosa has long needed a bath to wash that grunge off. Just be careful young Odric. I suspect many men will come by their weird tonight..."
Gaius approaches Odric and the citizen, and is gentle but firm when he puts an arm around The Stout, leading him back to the staging house. He speaks to the citizen.
Ah, thank you, sirrah. My uncle is in his cups again. He always speaks with bluster and bravado when he indulges. He's known to tell a tall tale or three as well. Come Uncle Cassius, let's get back inside and I'll get you something warm to drink.
Still surprised by Odric's actions, Gaius finds himself flustered and knows that his particular lie wouldn't fool an ogre with a head injury, so he quickly ushers Odric away and to the hideout without waiting to see the citizen's reaction. He's furious with Odric and can barely keep it to himself. Hopefully, this man won't think too much on the bluff.
Once they are around the bend and out of sight, Gaius looks to his drunken companion.
Odric...
Gaius pinches the bridge of his nose and hangs his head with his eyes closed, as if he has a headache.
Odric, you may be new to this particular line of work so I'll be polite. When one commits murder in pursuit of vigilante justice, one does not *share* that information with anyone. Lamm had it coming, true, but the law may only continue to turn a BLIND eye. Do you understand? Now come. If the Inquisitor has seen to his wounds, we can all head back to Zellara's for some answers.
Odric The Stout nods, but Gaius remains unsure if he was understood or humored. He narrows his eyes at Odric and makes a couple of mental notes--one to set up a fake alibi for himself in the morning. The other... Time may tell.
Odric plays along with Gaius' ruse and allows himself to be lead away.
Gaius, why the worry? Lamm was scum and the city is better off without him! We are much more apt to be thanked than prosecuted! I say we stand behind what we've done, it is a boon to the citizenry and in cases like that, we may benefit from our good deeds.
Odric looks at Gaius with a twinge of pity. That the rogue can't recognize true heroics when they arise, even when the man himself was a part of them, baffles Odric.
Let's hurry back to Zellara's twin sister's house with haste and in force. As we look towards unraveling this mystery so anxiously, standing around here trying to sidestep our glory isn't helping.
Odric starts back to the rendezvous to gathe the other companions.
He calls over his shoulder, I have been privileged to speak to many men who have dispatched tyrants or evildoers. If not the men themselves, then those who tell tales of them. Critical in each case to a tale of their deeds being told is that first telling of their part! That or a witness.
As they walk back, Odric continues regaling Gaius with several examples of tales he's heard told, some that might risk the protagonist's arrest in certain circles, but all surely for the betterment of mankind.
As Gaius and Odric return, with Odric telling tales of deeds good and brave for The Good Of All Goodly Folk, Morkeleb simply narrows his eyes a bit, and raises one eyebrow.
To Zellara's sister's dirty house!
Are we at the house yet?
I cant do brackets on my phone, would someone please roll for Grym.
Normal sense motive is plus 3, plus 5 vrs humans.
Sense Motive: <--ppfffhahahahaha
Grym Sense Motive:
Okay... I'd better roll well here. This is my wheelhouse.
Sense Motive:
Damn. I have the worst luck with this online die roller.
OOC, Thanks for giving me the good roll Mike.
Sense motive:
w/e
FEROX:
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With many of the group lost in the aether of thought, it is Grym who directs attention to the change in Korvosa. It's not just a drunken guard, it is a change in many small things, like the epiphany of seeing an aminals track by the sum of the hints the forests provodes.
The streets are quieter than normal a touch. The patrols are slightly less frequent. The fires in the distance distributed a touch differently.
Something is amiss....
Assuming Grym wakes the rest of us out of our reveries to notice the world around us . . .
Hmmm--I find it difficult to believe that anything we did would have such an effect, but let's at least go through the thought experiement; do you believe this to be substantively different than just before we dealt with Lamm?