"No, you're not. But you are from the North. Are you Irriseni? Half of you look it. Did Teb send you?" Rokhar looks ready to do something desperate, despite the greater numbers surrounding him.
Dez leans out the window and scowls: "You are in no position to be asking questions. What is it you would have us tell Teb?"
Chiquq gazes darkly at the man.
"We are from the north, yes. And you hold kin of my kin hostage. Draw his blood and yours is forfeit. Let him go, now, and we will talk with you."
Chiquq is not scary, holding only her dagger!
Imendri lets the rage settle in his heart, seeing his companions speak instead of fight. It doesn't make sense to him, but the group has spoken. Imendri takes measured breaths and looks straight into the man's eyes as his wounds knit and mend.
"Hallit. Strong. Put yor sword down."
"Hal--Kellids? Kellids. By the Hells, this is confusing. Why should I trust you? You came in here and killed half my men." Rokhar is unfazed by the Kellids, eyeing Braegan, and not moving his sword.
Chiquq continues to gaze slow murder at Rokhar.
"Your men are thieves and killers. As are you. That we offer you your life-- we are generous. And I am of the north, and I keep my words... drop your blade from his throat, now, and you may still walk away today. If you do not, you will certainly die. This is a promise that I will also keep."
Slowly, deliberately, she bends and reaches for her bow in the snow, keeping her eyes locked on Rokhar's.
Braegan's gray eyes squeeze to skeptical slits. He makes a circular gesture in the air as he takes a moment to consider the situation. Aska continues to make ever-expanding circles in the air, keeping a watch on the area as Braegan draws on his gift to scan the area for magic or additional threats.
"She's right," Braegan growls darkly. "You're out of plays here, Rokhar. And if you make a single move that any of us think might be threatening, it'll be the last thing you do. Now, where is the Lady? And who is Teb?"
"And while you are at it, tell us what it is that I hear moving around upstairs. Another one of your abominations? And what is the crackling sound I hear coming from there?"
You detect magical auras. (Gonna keep concentrating? I assume so...)
Rokhar falters at the oracle's menacing tone and his sword hand lowers slightly. He seems to be weighing his options. Finally, he swears under his breath and sticks his sword in the snow, greenish oil oozing off the blade. When he looks up, it's a somewhat expression.
"All right. It seems you won't kill me outright, as you need information. Nothing personal, Kellid, as you see I've decided not to take you to the Hells with me in the event I were attacked," he says to Imendri. "Successfully, that is, great hairy Rovagug's backside, tiefling, you're a poor shot," he says to Dez. "Very well. In order. I'll show you the Lady. And I'll tell you about Teb, and I have some other things to show you in the Lodge--yes, tiefling, I have more undead up there. I was certain that Teb and Izoze--she's the mephit over on the bridge, you can't see her unless you get close--were going to betray me soon enough. My men are half dead with chillbane shakes and it's just getting colder here." He sighs. "I just wanted the Lodge and a base of operations--can you blame a local bandit lord? Yes, I suppose you can. Now look."
His face grows sharper and colder. "I know these woods. Inside and out. The fey here are on my side, or so they think, and so if you think you're going to truss me up and carry me back to Oppara or that little pesthole of a village nearby, you'll be dealing with very angry fey who will surely overwhelm you. I will personally guarantee it. But," says Rokhar, now relaxing into his bargaining stance, "You leave here with the Lady, and with information about Teb and Izoze, and I'll leave my way, unhindered. I have no wish to truck with these Irriseni dogs any further--it was a losing proposition. Do we have a deal? If so, I'll show you the little winter-touched I've...detained...in the Lodge. And then, The Lady."
Rokhar is a terrible, terrible person and would gladly kill you all.
However, he's telling the truth.
Dezső, while taking no offense at Rokhar's remark -- it WAS a lousy shot -- is overwhelmed trying to take in and process all the information and has no idea whether Rokhar is good for his word or if he is trying to trick the group. But he does ask one question about something that strikes him as illogical: "You're saying the Lady is here? That makes no sense at all. Why would someone go through all the effort to take her and then leave her with the likes of your group after a short journey?"
Chiquq watches the man darkly, her bow lifted. She bends to brush off some snow from her knees, her mouth moving silently. Then she lifts her head and says, "Imendri, you need healing."
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Imendri's wounds continue to close as the blood slows to a trickle out of some ruptured flesh underneath his clothes. He smiles at the pattern of blood in the snow at his feet. Looking to Rokhar, he says cheerily, "Det's a botterfly det's made from blood in de snow, haha. Praise Desna!"
Yrja opens her mouth to say something to Rokhar, but is distracted by Imendri's "botterfly". "No, see, it's more like a man and a goat dancing. There's the horns, see? And the man is wearing a funny hat."
She was a little annoyed about the bandit leader not dropping like an insensate, snoring log. And after all the trouble they've had on his behalf, she wasn't partial to just letting him walk. Perhaps Dezső's talk of practical justice has rubbed off on her a little bit. She quirks an eyebrow at the others close by to try and gauge their take on the whole situation.
Chiquq gazes at Yrja with one brow arched in turn, to see if the other woman has anything to say to her magically-aided whisper.
At Chiquq's look, Yrja shakes her head, hoping the other woman will understand her meaning. To be sure, she mumbles under her breath. "No good, no."
”We have no reason to trust your word, bandit. Release our captive, hand over anything you’ve stolen while in this area, give us any information you have on these fey and this winter …. THEN we can discuss terms.”
Imendri nods thoughtfully, looking first from Rokhar to Yrja, then back at the snow.
He nods again, a little cresfallen.
Rokhar looks at Braegan and nods. He steps away from Imendri, his hands up, and reaches into his cloak. "I have the key for the Lady right here," he says.
A wave of necromantic energy erupts from Rokhar, hitting all members of the party.
Rokhar was grabbing at an unholy symbol. He's no arcane caster!
That was a negative channel--he's a priest of an evil god.
A priest of Norgorber, god of murderers. In other words, a real jerk.
Round...Three?
Rokhar
Yrja
Chiquq
Imendri
Braegan
Dez
Horse 1 [still behind a door]
Caelum
The evil energy nearly knocks Braegan out cold, and he reacts instinctively, screaming at the man.
"This dog serves an evil god," Chiquq hisses through the pain. "You will not be allowed to hide again, sneaking coward!"
She calls out to her own god and the spirits of nature, and blue flames erupt around Rokhar, doing no harm to his flesh but glowing like a beacon.
"ILA!" Chiquq shouts again. "COME!"
The tiefling girl hisses in pain as the negative energy hits her. "You sneak!" She balls up her fists, glaring daggers at the bandit... well, not just a bandit, is he? She is so angry at being duped, she almost screams. In fact, she does scream, although her companions do not seem to be able to hear it. Curious, that.
Rokhar clutches his ears in pain, and is clearly dazed--Braegan's spell affects him as well, but it is not possible for the man to be more dazed by two spells.
He also glows a pretty blue violet along his perimeter.
”Secure or kill him!” Braegan barks out as the man goes slack, ”either way we end his threats now!”
He stumbles around the man, looking to ensure there is no easy way to escape, then tries to take Rokar’s blade.
Caelum winces in pain as the wave of energy hits him. He then moves to Braegan and places his hand on him while whispering a prayer.
Dezső is shocked and falls back a step at the wave of dark pain that emanates from Rokhar, but he narrowly resists taking its full force, perhaps aided by the shelter of the building.
Dezső quickly recovers from Rokhar's attack and shoots his crossbow at Rokhar, in case the group is unable to subdue him. He then reloads and maintains his current position to be able to deal with any surprises from upstairs.
But the shot goes wide.
Braegan easily scoops up the sword from Rokhar, its poison wiped away by the snow.
Imendri takes the full effect of the magical damage, hops closer to the evil idiot and swings down on him with a mighty yell.
Chiquq wastes no time sending an arrow at their foe. The time for talk has passed!
....she does waste an arrow, though. Scowling, she pulls back to be away from that nasty pain he can bring. Ila finally lumbers out of the house and stands on the porch, looking for anyone with apples.
"It looks like Braegan dazed him! Grab him, Imendri!"
Vaguely, Imendri is able to hear "grab" through the haze of his fury, and the idea feels good to him. The visceral reality of hands on flesh allows for a greater release of rage sometimes, and not always do you get to act on an enemy while they're dazed.
He drops his sword and nearly leaps at the man, hands out, fingers splayed, screaming.
Imendri easily apprehends the dazed bandit leader-priest; though Rokhar isn't a small man by any means, he is dwarfed by the raging Kellid.
You can still hear the occasional bump in the stables from the undead horse.
"Best take that symbol away from him." Yrja maintains a cautious distance from the immobilised bandit, remembering all too well the searing pain of his magic. She looks at Dezső. "Shall we finish checking upstairs?" Just as she speaks the sentence she seems to remember something else. Turning towards the stable, she breaks off a few branches from the nearby bush, using them to try and jam the doors closed, just in case. Picking up a twig, she dips it in Rokhar's blood and scribbles on the door "DANGER!! Do not open!!". Satisfied, she turns back to Dezső and gives him a nod to signal she's ready to proceed.
Braegan quickly stoops and takes the holy symbol, "Bind him and let's take everything but the clothes he needs to stay alive. And I wouldn't mind if he were unconscious while we go look for the Lady."
Braegan looks up at Aska, making a vague gesture for her to 'keep watch' while the team deals with Rokhar. The ashen bird alights on the roof, overlooking the bridge.
Then he begins digging through Rokhar's gear, removing any-and-everything save his clothes.
"So," Braegan grunts as he works, straining against his nearly overwhelming injuries, "he mentioned Teb, Izoze, a bound winter-touched, the lady, and more undead. Anything else we need to be looking for in the lodge?"
Finally, he stands and looks at the dwarf, actually taking a stock of him for the first time. "So," he says with a weak grin, "I'm hoping the fact that you didn't just run off when we released you that you're not going to be a problem. I'm Braegan." He gives a nod that includes his teammates, "We've all been sent to retrieve a woman taken by Rokhar here. What's your story?"
Dezső stays in the Lodge, to watch over things inside. "Well done everyone. That was great teamwork. We have done a quick search of everywhere in the Lodge except the upstairs and the room where the sick raiders are. I will search a little more while you are taking care of things outside."
Dezső takes 20 (for a total of 24) to search the downstairs of the Lodge (including the porches), with the exception of the sick room. He then returns to the window and listens to the rest of the exchange outside while keeping watch.
Rokhar is securely bound by the team, his eyes to the ground. He refuses to speak during the process. Braegan finds the following items on him:
-the short sword taken by Chiquq, which is masterwork
-10 crossbow bolts
-a dagger
-a light crossbow
-a scroll, presumably of a spell. Spellcraft to identify it, plz.
-an empty vial of that greenish poison
-two vials of some sort of oil. DC15 Alchemy to ID these.
-a spellbook. Pufos may want to ingest this...
-an unholy symbol of a black, one eyed mask. This is of the God of Murder and Thievery, Norgorber.
Dezső enters the lodge, still hearing the occasional scrabbling at the door to the sick room, and some much more eerie scrabbling upstairs. Despite these unnerving distractions, he finds a trap door under the bearskin pelt in the middle of the Lodge.
Aside from this, Dez does not find anything else on the first floor.
Yrja examines the gear curiously, focusing on the book and the scroll. Mahb didn't much hold with written things, being of the opinion that the things you knew in your bones and in your flesh were better than some scribbles on parchment. Still, Yrja wasn't going to turn away knowledge in any form. Although she is hesitant about its particular source, it may be useful later on.
Imendri hangs out while the team does their thing, twisting Rokhar's arms and grinding his rough hands against them, causing friction burns if possible.
The moment the others have bound him and they are at least a foot or two away, the big brute trips Rokhar and slams him to the floor, banging his head against the frozen dirt until he goes unconscious. Standing, bearing the withered telltale signs of evil magic damage, he smiles to the rest. "All done, I fink! Also, det was lots off pain."
Dezső continues his search while the group outside is subduing and stripping Rokhar of his equipment.
He smiles in satisfaction at finding the trapdoor and inspects it for traps and checks to see if it is locked, without opening it.
When the group comes in, he nods in approval at their treatment of Rokhar, adding a gag around the evil cleric's mouth for good measure.
If necessary, he will attempt spellcraft on the scroll when the group comes inside:
"Look at this trap door I found under the rug. Should we check it out first or go upstairs first? It seems whatever nasty Rokhar has upstairs is contained for the moment, so maybe we should check out the downstairs -- at least to see if it is a large area to explore or not. What do you think?"
Braegan helps wrestle Rokhar down as Yrja magically examines the gear. Once they're convinced the man won't get free, he gives Imendri a grin.
"Nice work, big man."
Neither Dez nor Yrja can identify the scroll, but it radiates sinister necromantic energy.
Yrja does note that Rokhar's cloak radiates magic.
Imendri drags the big dumb divine asshat into the house, and stands with the limp form gripped in hand as he looks around and waits for the trap door to be opened.
Chiquq shakes her head as Rokhar is finally subdued, and, limping from the lingering pain of the unholy energy, she huffs inside with the others, directing Ila back to the door of the sick room to sit her mammoth ass back down once again.
"Let's tie him to the table. We do not want our hands full as we search," she suggests.
(Ila breaks some plates underfoot as she tromples back through the lodge.)
Braegan follows the group, "What's down here?"
Once the group is gathered in the Lodge and Rokhar is secured, Dez listens at the trapdoor. Assuming he hears nothing and it is unlocked and (apparently) untrapped, he quietly opens it and looks inside.
The group waits as the tiefling investigator peers into the trapdoor. Meanwhile, the fire crackles merrily and Rokhar resembles a bloody sack of potatoes tied to a table.
You see into a cellar. There are a bunch of boxes and barrels taking up most of the space of this rough underground room. There is a pitiful blanket on the floor next to a bowl of half-eaten food. A ladder leads down into the cellar.
There's the sound of a window opening in the sick room. Those geniuses are going to risk goin outside!