|
Desmond sees that the hag surrounded by Varg, Bazresh and Yushua seems to be well taken care of. Thinking that those three will have the hag dead or unconscious before too long, Desmond decides to make his way into the cloud, where it sounds like another creature is wreaking havoc.
He drops his bow as he jumps down from the bar...
...and runs to the south side of the tavern, drawing Dingo out and practically running in to the hag.
In the midst of the mist, he calls out a command.
"Sahrek, ATTACK!"
The wolf obeys, stalking carefully to catch the hag vulnerable.
The wolf snaps at the hag!
---
---
---
---
South 36 hp, shaken
-Posted with Wayfinder
|
|
"Fall before the power of Sarenrae!"
+1 Keen Merciful Adamantine Scimitar Power Attack
[dice="Redemption" attack 1]1d20 + 12 - 2[/dice]
[dice="Redemption" attack 2]1d20 + 7 - 2[/dice]
Enforcer:
If successful, shaken for number of rounds equal to damage dealt. If critical, frightened for 1 round and then shaken for number of rounds equal to damage dealt.
|
So let’s see … we’ve tried cold iron, silver, piercing, slashing … but we HAVEN’T tried blu …
“Guys, I think I know what the hags might be vulnerable to … blue weapons!”
Luisila moves 30’ to take a position between the two battle groups and *casts* Prayer.
---
---
---
---
---
---
Combat over! ... though now there's this other problem,
The mist persists for at least another 20-some seconds, but you can hear a lot of violent motion by the door and loud, verbal nonsense from one Tribune Bourtze (though no actual dialogue.)
|
|
Luisila moves towards the ruckus coming from the direction of Tribune Bourtze.
Luisila says quietly. “Baz, I think you and Yashua should just duck out of sight for a few minutes. I believe he’s suffering a cerebrovascular accident.”
She works on the Tribune thoroughly and professionally if he lets her. “Hello. My name is Luisila. I have some training in healing and can help you if you’ll let me.”
She coaxes the man into a sitting position against a convenient wall, loosens any tight clothing, with the side affected by any paralysis facing slightly downwards. If there is any dribble/vomit from the affected side of his mouth she will remove it periodically, without drawing attention to what she’s doing.
Calmly. “You’re going to be fine now, Tribune. Des, Omrax, Varg – anyone got a blanket to drape over him? Otherwise, I’ll use my cloak.”
Luisila also checks none of the hags are in channelling range. “Cleaver, this is for you as well.”
“Omrax, would you mind glad-handing Varg to cure some of his wounds, please? The Tribune may need some more healing as well??”
Luisila rips off a slightly-restrictive (and expensive-looking) emerald-studded brooch and tears away some of his finery, props him up, favoring his right side. The Tribune moves as directed as best he can, though pained as it is. His speech is slurred as he seems to have trouble finding his left arm as Luisila blankets him. He ramblingly speculates on his rapid-fire thoughts, "Noh... yesh... I... I dohn't... th' bohrder... th' Kelish... they... they musht have... musht have crosshed... losht the... shtole the... the ihtemsh... but... no... Th'... Disarens... th'... jester..."
He is visibly ready to pass our from exhaustion from the whole ordeal, but is fighting the process, trying to take in the whole scene. Luisila's energy heals him some, though his state is still one of panic.
|
|
Once she has made Tribune Bourtze comfortable, Luisila stands up to speak quietly with the others.
“It seems the Tribune’s suffered a ‘conventional’ stroke brought on by diet, age and the stress of battle. I think he believes Baz and Yashua may be the vanguard of some Qadiran invasion as well, poor man.”
“I’ve done all I can for him for the moment. And I don’t think we should move him in this condition. Can we question any of the Devil Fork’s patrons about his words … the jester and the Disarens?? Sounds like the Tribune thinks the items we’re after have been stolen.”
Luisila turns to the Ulfen axeman. “Varg, are you healed up?”
|
|
Desmond gives a quick flick of his wrist and a small wand appears.
"Come over here, Varg - I can patch you up."
Des gives Varg a few thwaps with his wand of cure light wounds
"That help you out, you whiny baby?" The ranger asks with a smirk.
"Yep, you're doing a good job there with all that, Luisila."
|
Omrax will scan for evil in the room and near the inn, looking for auras from the hags.
"Sir Varg hold still so we can close your wounds. We cannot have all that ale going in your mouth and spilling out your cuts onto the floor."
The paladin says with a wink.
on Varg or tribune (save a charge for Desmond)
The outside world is a bit of a panic, though largely only because of the smashed out window and the sight of an quasi-conscious Tribune. He finally gives into sleep (the good kind) for a few hours until awakening. A few hours later, he wakes up, still slurring, but far less excitedly. "What's... You're...Luishila, right?" He tries to get up, though stumbles at the lack of support of his left side. "Thahnk you. Dhoo you knhow what'sh ghoing on? Did you shee a Kelish man with a big vashe?"
|
|
While the Tribune sleeps, Luisila will search the tap room thoroughly for clues or items of interest. However, she will NOT enter any of the other rooms in the Devil’s Fork without backup from the others.
Once her patient wakes, Luisila makes a half-curtsey to him. “Yes My Lord, Luisila is my name. I trust you are feeling a little better.”
Luisila will hold her palms out to discourage the Tribune from rising, but she thinks it unlikely that Tribune Bourtze will remain on the ground among foreign visitors where his own subjects can see him.
In which case she will offer to help him stand, before guiding him to one of the chairs in the Devil’s Fork.
“May I present my companions and fellow Pathfinders? Bazresh Izzakesh of the Healing Flame, Mistress Chelsea Flamebrand, Desmond Aesculus (and Sahrek), Omrax – called the Bold One, Varg Stollufsen – called the Cleaver and Yushua ibn Ayorik of the Everlight.”
No idea what a ‘vashe’ might be.
“We have seen no men of Qadira, My Lord and are sadly ignorant as to what is going on.”
”Before you slept, you mentioned 'stolen items', ‘Disarens’ and the ‘jester’. May I beg you to enlighten us regarding your exact meaning.”
The bartender returns to a standing position after the foggy clouds settle, "I'll just, uh, start prepping tomorrow's overnight stuff then. You guys clearly need some privacy... Maybe I'll look for some boards for the window, too..." She states moving to the back room, trying to distance herself from the public meeting, taking some miscellaneous foodstuffs with her.
These guys are illegals... Also...
He goes even paler at the mentioning of both the Healing Flame and the Everlight and interrupts her, all the while attempting to work around his slurring by speaking slower and enunciating harder, "Whe shouldn'ht tahlk herre. Bhring mhe bahck to mhy mahnor, plhease. Whe'll have privashy."
, he doesn't answer any of the questions until he is moved to his manor. The trip is made easy by the charity of a passerby farmer whom is willing and eager to allow use of his pull-cart to transport the Tribune back to his manor-house. On the way there, he whispers to Luisila, "Yhour friend ish right abhout the man whith the vhase. Lhook fhor ahny Kelish whith an urn-sihzed vashe."
Upon returning, a butler initially resists letting the party in, stating that there "Has been an incident, and Tribune has--", though the Tribune puts this difficulty to rest with a mere utterence of "Ohpen up." The butler swings open the door and guides the group (at request of the Tribune) to his quarters on the second floor while inquiring as to what happened.
A small Taldane girl in her very early teens wearing servant's clothes is already there, moving numerous sliced-up and bloody rugs out of the room. The room, in its entirety, is bloodied and tore up, as if some large, purple woman murdered a few people in here. "Ah! Tribune, sir! Are you okay?!? What happened?!?" The Tribune responds, slowly and slightly more clearly than before, having adjusted a little to his condition, "I'hm fine, Goosegrass. Bhring me my whife's emergency bhox, please."
She nods and runs off, but returns within the minute with a small chest. "Which one works, sir?" The Tribune shrugs, "I have troublle fheeling my lheft side."
The small girl rifles through the box of papers, having some manner of difficulty simply pulling them from the box (as if the bottom of the box is trying to hold onto them) and chastises the parchments quietly. "Get... get out here, you!" She also removes a clear stone from the box and looks over the scrolls through it. She uses one of the parchments from inside with little effort, Removing his Paralysis.
The Tribune, yet again, checks his arms for existence, though is much happier with the results this time. He pats her on the head, "Thank you, Goosegrass. You are dismissed. Me and my new friends need to discuss something." She nods happily, taking the small box and contents with her.
The Tribune now openly answers the questions asked. "I apologize for the hassle, but this is a bad place to discuss one's faith of the Kelishite Empire. I am Makarius Bourtze, Tribune of Evondemor. I had thought you mentioned the Dawnflower, though I clearly misheard."
He clearly did hear you and understood the names of the Dawnflower, but wishes to not discuss it in the future, as if it never happened.
He waves his hand to dismiss the thought and continues, "For centuries, my family guarded an accursed relic seized during Qadira’s wretched invasion. Tonight I found the items stolen! My guards and I almost caught the thief, but he unleashed those murderous creatures against us. The thief is a jester named Sabas. We thought him a simpleton, but clearly he was a spy sent by our enemies!"
He looks to the ceiling, "After my wife’s death, friends sent entertainers and other diversions to distract the household in its grief. That’s when Sabas arrived, begging a place. He seemed a simpleminded innocent, a natural fool with a gift for ridiculous nonsense."
He turns back to Luisila, "We kept the items in a hidden vault, protected by magical guardians. Somehow, the jester learned how to bypass the vault’s defenses. In his arms, he held three things that I could see; a magical urn, dreaded for its dark power to issue forth horrors; a mace that drives its possessor to murderous madness; and a necklace that throttles anyone who dons it."
He sits up and pounds his fist once on the bed, still somewhat pained though fueled by rage. "Only the scum of House Disaren would be so brazen! Our two houses have longed to destroy one another for centuries. The Disaren are justly infamous; this horror would be nothing new to them."
|
|
Luisila screws up her face in confusion. “The Dawn Flower? Elysium forbid, My Lord! I said the Born Rower – I mean look at the biceps on Cleaver and Omrax, will you?”
“I have witnessed Cleaver rowing a vessel called Tevryn’s Terrapin on the Sellen River. While Omrax has seen service in the Navy of And… an enemy of vile Cheliax! Both men are clearly born rowers.”
Luisila abruptly diverts the subject to the Tribune’s recent robbery. “Any idea how Sabas managed to breach the vault’s defences? Did it seem like he was working alone? Was he particularly friendly with anyone about the town or in your household? Have you any idea where the jester may be now or his method of escape?”
“Have you any objection to us searching the Devil’s Fork or your Vault, My Lord.”
Hmm … I think we need to organize a way to speak to Goosegrass on her own as well …
”House Disaren and House Bourtze have quarreled since the late 4070s, ever since the Padishah threat marched across the southern borders and Stavian I appointed us the foremost authority on repelling the invaders. House Disaren found it a slight against their name that our ancestors were appointed to control the borderlands, and the feud has lasted ever since.”
”The only thing that has been stopping them from marching over our dwindling town was the Urn. Stealing it through a Kelish agent is clearly a cover-up, to hide their dirty tracks.”
He then looks to Luisila to answer her questions. ”I saw no accomplices with him, and he merely stumbled into town when he arrived. I do not recall him ever being truly friendly, outcast for his supposed lack of intellect and social graces, though he was able to control the urn, bringing forth those demon women you fought earlier so I am only sure I have no clue of his abilities in the crafting of spells. He fooled us all…”
”He’s sure to head west along the abandoned canal and then turn north toward House Disaren’s lands at the northernmost point of the Thistleridge Barrens. An old road that leads across the Alycean Valley meets the canal there.”
He looks to Omrax and continues to answer the inquiries, ”He was able to pass our guardians peacefully, though the end of the vault’s dangers ends with a collection bowl that requires the blood of one from our family lineage to deactivate the tunnel from collapsing in upon itself. However,” He pauses, possibly dramatically, ”with the creatures that he wrought from the Alabaster Urn, a collapsing roof was no longer a danger. Every failsafe before then failed to end him, including the direct attention of myself and my guards.”
"I have no qualms with you investigating, but know that every moment spent not chasing after the jester may be a moment wasted." He then looks to Yusha. "ذنوبكم من دخول هذه الأمة هي أقل أهمية بكثير من جرة. إذا كنت تمر بهدوء، ثم أنه يجب أن يكون كما لو كنت لم مرت على الإطلاق."
"Anyone with the pass codes to the guardians. How he learned of them, I haven't a clue. Unless you mean the vault in its entirety, only myself. I'm the last Bourtze. Even my wife needed attending in the hall when she would enter."
-Posted with Wayfinder
|
|
Desmond's face scrunches up as he tries to follow everything the Tribune has been saying.
"So, what else can we expect from this Alabaster Urn? I mean, can it summon any kind of monster?"
The ranger looks around at his fellow Pathfinders. "You know, nevermind. I don't know if it matters much one way or another. Let's just find this jester."
With that, Desmond makes a move towards the door, but glances back. "If this thing is as powerful as he says it is, we probably oughta find it quick."
He strikes out into the town, hoping to track the jester and this magical vase down.
|
|
“Agreed, let’s go get the jester. If there’s anything else to do in the village, I guess we can do that later?”
When they’re out of earshot of Tribune Bourtze, Luisila will say to the fiery filly. “Chelsea, I don’t know if you’ve picked up on it, but Goosegrass looks a lot like other members of the Bourtze family. Also she seems to be haunted by something. This is speculation now, but maybe it's by a family member??”
“Also, I’m sorry about that crack about Cheliax before. I wasn’t thinking when I said it and didn’t mean anything by it.”
|
"I suppose I'll talk to her later when time is less pressing." Chelsea responds before quickly changing course and addressing the half-elf with a suggestive smirk. "However, you really should not be dismissing the city of Cheliax so lightly. I'm not from there, but spend a few nights with the Paracountess and you may very well change your mind like I did."
|
|
"Definitely some family connection involved. Whether willingly or otherwise. The faster we find this Jester, the sooner we can end this and recover the accursed artifacts. Greater evil could be done while they remain in the wrong hands."
Omrax ponders the other conversations.
The girl is definitely involved, but how. How could I have missed the family resemblance?
Listening to Luisila and Chelsea as they leave the Tribune.
Interesting. The Paracountess must be an exceptional litigator to convince someone to switch to an alliance with Cheliax. I would guess she was the captain of her debate team back in the Society training program.
"Sir Desmond, what have your keen eyes found of our quarry?"
He was about to answer the Ranger, though ceased after deferment. He then looks to Baz, ”She is a servant girl named Goosegrass, indentured by birth. I assure you, our accommodations for workers are the best we can afford them. I would doubt she had seen anything relevant, but should it be needed for your search, then far be it from me to stop you asking her anything. Just do not underestimate Sabas as I did. It nearly cost me my life and would have, if not for your band.”
-Posted with Wayfinder
---
Throughout this scenario, nighttime fog limits vision to 60 feet, although tall objects such as towers may be visible further away, as the mists grow thinner higher above the ground. Distances beyond 40 feet grant concealment. After sunrise, the fog dissipates within 2 hours and then returns within 2 hours of sunset.
---
Desmond, unable to find any leads that don't end only meters (metres?) out from whence they started (even taking twenty times the normal amount of time to search), leaves the party to fall back to the plan on going to the village of LoraiardThe party gets only an hour out of town before the more perceptive of the group find shattered ruins looming up through the mist, limestone walls covered in some kind of carvings. The tracks lead into this encampment. Approaching closer, one massive slab depicts a radiant figure blessing a pair of worshippers. The remains of a small campfire stain an adjacent wall with smoke. Above the coals, a roast snake dangles from a stick, badly burnt.
A man stands overseeing the overcooked serpent, waiting for someone to enter the walkway. The heavily-armored man props himself up on the butt end of his guisarme. He seems slightly confused as to the number of people entering, but directs his question to everyone by looking around while speaking. "Alright, jester; Where’s my brother? Enough of these tricks; Explain yourself."
|
|
Desmond shifts his weight on her feet and puts his hands on his hips. "Wrong guys, pal. We're lookin' for this jester too. He decided to sic a couple of purple she-beasts on us, and not the sexy kind."
He looks around at his companions, "We have word that he's on his way to Loraiard. I'm guessing you haven't seen him..." Desmond reaches around and scratches the back of his neck casually. "We're from the Pathfinder Society and we gotta get our hands on this fella. What're you so interested in him for?"
|
|
Luisila drops her basket and backpack and takes a look around for hidden threats.
Could this be a ruined temple of the Born Rower, I wonder?
She calls out to the man trying to turn a potential foe into a potential ally.
“We also have a beef with the jester. Maybe we can help each other?”
“I am also looking to make peaceful contact with a learned, honorable man named Khenankantra. Do you know him? I bear a gift for him.”
---
He's also meanly up-front about everything he's saying. Notably mean, though.
---
He watches the first wave shuffle in and raises an eyebrow at the pleasant sight in downtrodden Taldor. "So he's headed back this way, then..." He looks past Desmond to the Calistrian, "No deal, sweet cheeks; After all, he betrayed us. Not you. Get off his trail; We don't need your big, happy family giving us away when we sneak up to him to gut him after he answers a few questions."
|
|
"Alright you guys," Desmond calls out to those trying to hide in the fog, "you don't need to hide from us!"
He turns his attention back to the snake-griller. "Watch your tone when speaking to the lady, snake-gobbler. You'll do well to not cross us. Now, we need to find this jester - are you going to help? Or do I have to make sure you stay out of our way?"