At the first opportunity Thren gets off the stage and starts for the catwalk, trying to remain out of the view of the audience. She uses her sleeves of many garments to get her attire to something resembling normal for one of the lighting crew as she goes.
When the bard arrives she keeps her eyes open for anyone else. "What's going on up here? Why aren't the lights right?"
"There was an imp up here attacking stagehands and mucking with the works. Taniwha attempted to capture it, being faster than I, but he has failed in the attempt. Given the nature of the imp, unless he had some other assistance, these men are likely poisoned, but unlikely to die from it."
Corwin continues to watch the sylph's work above. He points out to Lark where he was headed so that the captain can attempt to rendezvous with Kahuranga as quickly as possible.
His face grows somewhat pale as Lark makes for the rafters. Grumbling about not being able to guarantee his safety, Corwin steps out of their box and tries to figure out the best way to get up towards the lights from where he's at.
While the imp has flown, Taniwha hears (and sees, if he pokes his head through the still open hatch) the traitor gaffer trip and fall on the slippery roof tile. He conveys to Kahuranga there is time to catch up and give chase!
Lark runs up to the upper back stage area, which is curiously empty. He canhear others approaching behind from a distance, likely opera house staff trying to figure out what is wrong. At the far end, he sees Taniwha hovering at the hatchway to the roof. He can sprint and leap through the hatch at a successful DC 20 Acrobatics attempt. The dragon can simply fly through.
Thren when she arrives on the catwalk can see the now defused firework, and the darted, unconscious gaffer nearby.
Corwin can try to catch up with Lark at a pressed run (DC 15 Fortitude save or be fatigued for one minute) or climb up the curtains to the catwalk from where he stands, DC 15 Climb.
Thren looks around, wondering what's happening. If she can see Taniwha, the bard races in that direction.
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Lark rushes to the roof hatch flings himself through, drawing a dagger as he moves.
Taniwha will flit upward, trying to keep an eye on the gaffer.
Dagger still in hand, Kahuranga's new jacket flaps in the breeze as he zips over the catwalk and up through the hatch.
Corwin breaks into a run to catch up with Lark.
Threnody and Lark run off at full speed before twisting into a breathtaking series of maneuvers to make a parkourser jealous, seem to practically fly through the hatch as gracefully as Kahuranga actually literally flies through it.
Corwin, lacking the lithe agility of his companions, makes up for it in sheer stamina, covering the distance with his giant long legs. He pushes a chair in front of him as he reaches the hatch to help him climb out.
The gaffer picks himself up and, suddenly seeing he is now being pursued by three dapper operagoers, a tiny dragon, and the (if now dressed down) Mighty Bodyguard of Lady Soroya, gives an audible yawp and scrambles atop the roof, quaffing a potion as he goes. He seems more surefooted as he tries to create distance.
All of you are standing on the roof of the Thrice-Horned Hall. As implied by the name, the domed roof rises into three curved spires, like horns, at the north, southwest, and southeast corners of the roof. The waning gibbous moon illuminates the outdoors well enough, especially reflecting off the copper alloy roofing material. The rest of the grand city lays out before you in beautiful silhouetted skyline... and well below you. You are probably at least six stories above ground.
The gaffer runs toward the northernmost spire... and begins to climb it with ease... as though he were an insect. He gets 10 feet up the spire. He is about 100 feet from you.
You can
1. Chase him up the spire by whatever means you have available to you. (Please roll an appropriate skill or ability check)
2. Head him off if you can fly (I'll need a Fly check to maneuver tightly around the spire)
3. Try something else that occurs to you (scream at him, look for the imp, or anything else that comes to mind.)
Thren races up to the spire, a knowing grin starting to cross her face. She stops a bit short once she spots the gaffer and chants a spell.
Lark nods in approval at Threnody's work, then hurries after the gaffer.
At the base of the spire he calls out, "We dress fancy, but we fight dirty. Best surrender before this gets messy for you."
Hmmm, what can be his exit strategy from the top of the spire? Or does he intend to climb inside somehow?
Kahuranga races toward the spire, thinking to get above him. Taniwha's wings flap furiously, attempting to keep up.
Corwin follows along slowly and carefully, the domed roof not being a place of sure footing, casting a menacing shadow in the moonlight. "We can break down that spire if we need to," he adds to Lark's threat.
The gaffer's hands slip, and he "falls" against the spire, arms and legs wrapped around it as he slowly slides downward until his feet leave the slippery area and he can stop himself. The scary people yelling at him don't help.
He tries to regain his grip and continue his ascent, in spite of his slippery circumstances.
He climbs only 10 feet higher than where he was before, having lost height from the grease--but this also gets his hands clear of the slippery spot.
"Come on, come on, where are you?" he mutters.
The maneuver definitely has slowed him down and Kahuranga comes to easily hover above him.
Lark is about 60 feet away (bearing in mind he is running across a sloped roof, it slows him down but his athletics keeps him upright).
A flock of ravens (odd for this time of night) suddenly fly into view, encircling the spire. Lowering themselves downward they particularly get between Kahuranga and the gaffer.
1. Flying creatures trying to approach the gaffer will have to move through the ravens, automatically taking 1d6 damage and needing to succeed upon a DC 13 Fortitude save or be distracted AND need to take a DC 13 Reflex save or be blind for 1 round (the Reflex save is needed only if the Fort save is failed).
2. You can try to approach the gaffer by climbing, though now there is grease between you and him with the usual saving throws and Acrobatics checks required. If you don't have a climb speed, you need to succeed on a DC 20 Climb check simply to enter the greasy area before attempting the saving throws and Acrobatics checks; if you do have a climb speed you can ascend with the saving throw and Acrobatics check succeeded upon to move at half speed.
3. You can try other things against the gaffer and/or the raven swarm.
Lark nods at Corwin's suggestion. "Let's try and shake this punk loose. Thren, can you help Kahuranga with those birds?" He quickly examines the spire before throwing his effort behind Corwin. I wonder if these things have a weak spot?
"Hey Kahuranga, can you do something about the birds?" Thren calls up. She starts looking around, suspicious.
"I'm not dressed for this," Thren mutters as she moves towards the spire. She focuses her attention on her spell, letting it go.
"By the abyss.... Dealing with small avians is not my specialty. Hopefully this will not destroy our errant stage technician. I would hope to question him..."
Kahuranga moves to a point where he can target the ravens and the gaffer without hitting the roof or the spire (probably dropping down to level with the gaffer). He draws a bit of rabbit fur and a small rod of glass from a pouch at his belt, rubbing them together before pointing the rod at the gaffer.
Taniwha catches up with his friend, his claws sinking into the leather pads on the shoulders of Kahuranga's new duds.
Threnody notices a faint scent of brimstone in the air.
The first thing obvious to Lark about the spire is it is quite wide at its base--it is after all something to be seen from all over the city--and would be very difficult to break from sheer size at its base alone (were the gaffer close to the tip--he is about halfway up). Corwin's threat was more bravado than a practical solution. The unusual shape and construction material further makes him unable to notice any particular design flaws.
Corwin offers to get some rope from beneath the hatch if that would help.
"I smell brimstone and it's not me," Thren warns. "Don't know if that's from an imp or what."
The ravens fly apart at the strike of lightning, dissipating the swarm. A stench of singed feathers fills the air. Many of the birds circle more widely, while two shiver in a strange way and in a burst of smoke now become two imps, who grab the gaffer on the arms and pull him off the spire.
Corwin has run off to get some rope.
Lark climbs up the spire and might be able to grab the gaffer's leg...
"Lark! Can you grapple him with your grapple?" Thren calls as Lark gets close to the gaffer.
Lark makes a grasping lunge at gaffer's leg.
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Lark manages to grab the gaffer and needs no magic doohickey for assistance. Cornered by Lark and dangerously close to the wind witch who zapped them, the imps give a cowardly squeak and flee. Released, the gaffer falls, nearly straight on top of Lark, but still surrounded by enemies on all sides, he holds up his hands.
Threnody, being the type of sensible (in this particular way, anyway) First Mate and Performer who pays attention to the technical workers who make her work possible, recognizes the gaffer. With the paranoia on board in general at the operahouse (and throughout the city), the director was short on tech crew as well as performers. This fellow--Max? Maxin?--was hired on late to help with the lighting work after another crew member had a bad fall. He is trained in the bardic arts and was skilled with the magic needed to run the tech part of the show.
Corwin () helps hold down the captive and ties him up with the rope he procured.
You see "ravens" hovering near the area but seem reluctant to get too close. Whatever they were up to, they're intent on avoiding a fight now.
"Let's get him back down and stash him somewhere, then look to make sure any other surprises are accounted for. Then we can turn him over to the local authorities." Thren suggests. "And quick. I need to be ready to take a bow in a bit." She adds, tongue in cheek.
"Yeah, Thren you go finish up whatever you need to do. Corwin can drag this fellow along with us." Lark glares at the tied-up gaffer, "If he knows what's good for him he'll tell us right quick if there's any more fireworks in store."
As the group heads back to the roof hatch Lark prods the gaffer with the flat of his dagger, "Well? Start talking."
The gaffer is winded and terrified. He clearly wasn't expecting this. "No, no. Only needed the one... No one should have noticed, gods dammit..."
I did. You messed up the lighting. Anyone on stage might notice that. If the Lord is a big fan of opera as I hear, he might have noticed too." Thren tells the prisoner smugly. "So what was the plan here? Who was the target?"
"You didn't take a look at it? Where is it?" He is frowning, half smug, half worried.
Corwin lifts the man off his feet by the scruff of his neck and shakes him a bit. "Where's what? What else are you hiding?"
"The firework, you brainless wall of meat! You did find it, didn't you? Or else why are you wasting your time here?"
"Damn it! Beat him senseless if you gotta Corwin. We need to find that firework and make sure it doesn't go off."
The bard starts the search in the catwalk area, knowing it gives a good view of the theatre from above. She focuses on any location where someone might easily hide something or that gives a good view of the stage or the Lord's seat.
Lark growls at the gaffer, You're some piece of work. If you're so worried about your little toy then you can look forward to helping us take it apart. Come on Corwin, let's drag this toad to the catwalk."
You run back to the catwalk, but the firework is nowhere to be found, and there is no sign of any others. Another stagehand, usually one who does not run lights, is now up on the catwalk, frantically tapping the lanterns to be sure the right ones are on and chatting with the stage manager via a message spell. He is wearing goggles and earplugs. The final battle is being waged on the stage below, with Andaro about to cast his big spell...
Maxin, your captive, struggles, trying to reach for his pocket. (If you look, there is also goggles and earplugs in the voluminous pockets). "Oh gods," he says, paling.
Because this is when, as Threnody is aware, all of the fireworks set in the semi concealed chutes on either side of the theater go off.
The new stagehand runs to the edge of the catwalk and ducks. The little rockets fly high into the ceiling. The opera boxes are hooded to protect the occupants from ash, though ash does rain down on the greater masses--but the ceiling is high enough that it is--or should be--harmless. The fireworks erupt into what is for the audience, a splendid, colorful display that inspires them to rise up in a roar of joy.
From up here, however, it is awfully burny, smoky, and bright.
The display stops after a good several minutes. Your prisoner begins weeping and shaking. But when the display ends, people are still cheering. The prisoner opens his eyes and sighs in audible and obvious relief, realizing whatever it is he thought was going to happen didn't.
The cheering crowd keeps cheering as the hero and heroine go into their final duet. Curtain call is soon.
Fireworks go off in amazing sprays of sound and light. Thren pauses in her running around to enjoy the show and a smile of childlike wonder crosses her face as she remembers a better time in her childhood. Lights and smoke and loud booms go off and she claps her hands together in glee. As the smoke starts to settle and clear, Thren's expression grows wistful. She turns to head down the catwalk to the stage and realizes the smell of smoke has changed. Looking around to see if something is burning, she realizes that what is burning is her clothing. The Mighty Bodyguard stops and hits the floor, trying to put out her shirt before she goes up much like the fireworks but without the pretty colors and loud booms.
Lark squints through the brightest lights and sidesteps a falling ember. The young man smiles fondly at Threnody's obvious enjoyment of the show. As the smoke thickens he steps over to help Corwin hold the tied-up gaffer, just in case the big man is shaken up by the pyrotechnics.
Lark startles when Thren drops and rolls, but he stays put since she has the small flame well in hand. "Ah, Thren, I'm sorry about your costume, but a little fire doesn't really faze you, does it. Do you need to go take your bow? We'll keep this fella wrapped up."
When there's a chance Lark will question the replacement stagehand "Hey, did you see a spare firework here on the catwalk? Was anyone else around when you came to fill in?"
The winds that surround Kahuranga deflect the worst of the projectiles and smoke. He immediately feels Taniwha's discomfort as his delicate hearing goes silent.
This performance has suddenly become much less enjoyable...
"Should we return to our seats, or be found here for an awkward explanation?"
Lark grabs the attention of the new stagehand, who sees Lark and Kahuranga flanking Corwin, holding the struggling, bound saboteur, who is coughing wildly. The stagehand looks the group of you up and down, but also takes note of Threnody running back toward the stage.
"You'd best wait here." He touches his ear and messages someone, asking them to meet a party on the upper level by the lighting entrance.
You wait through to the end of the performance, and the curtain call. You are greeted by one of the security-ushers in the opera house (the security here is a bit more heavily armed than you might expect elsewhere--this is a pirate town, after all), who asks you to follow him backstage, to join Ms. Nocturne.
Meanwhile, Thren makes it for her bow, Quinn waiting backstage who, while fixing Thren's shirt with a mending cantrip, notes they are supposed to meet with the director in her office after the show, with a look of "what the hell is going on?" (If the party agrees to follow the guard, they are also taken to the director's office)
"Thanks Sandara. I didn't feel the fire really, but I was trying to get back to the stage for the final curtain call. Otherwise I'd have fixed my shirt myself." The bard nods. Then she leads the way to the director's office for the after-show discussion.
Lark leads his group after the guard to join Threnody in the director's office. If the director asks Lark will layout the story of what they saw and how they intervened. "I know what we'd do with this fellow at sea. What I've heard, the lord of this town is maybe even less lenient. I'm just sorry we don't have that imp to hand over as well."
When the party arrives, the director, a bit of sweat on her brow, waves them in. Marizee is a tall, sharp-jawed, stern-faced woman. Worry tinges her eyes.
The long firework sits on her desk, partially wrapped in a cloth.
Another man none of you recognize stands with her, dressed in clothing that is simply cut but made of fine fabrics, with a gold-hilted saber at his hip.
Marizee asks you your tale, and you tell it. She explains she and the stage manager noticed the lights weren't going right and sent someone to explore, shortly after Thren had bolted.
"I wish you had said something to one of us instead of just running up there, but I'm glad you and your associates caught the scoundrels in the act. Leesa wasn't getting responses to her messages from the lighting crew, but there was a problem with one of the curtain pulls that delayed her. No doubt sabotage as well." She glares at Maxin.
"Unfortunately, the first crew member who picked up the firework got its contents all over his hands. A poison in powder form. He's now catatonic. Not too hard to figure out that the firework would have gone off at the same time the rest did, but sprayed the poison all over the audience. Some of the most powerful people of the city, all knocked out long enough for some real chaos to happen all over the city. Though, I will point out, it was not a lethal poison--though who knows what follow up act Maxin and the imps had planned. We'll soon find out, won't we, Maxin?"
Maxin whimpers. "No one was gonna be hurt, you said it yourself! Was just a message! None of us can live when everyone accuses us of bein' a spy for spittin' in the wrong side of the street!"
Lark offers his observations at this point.
And then the gentleman with the saber speaks. "No, my lord is not lenient. Spy or no spy, you have declared yourself an enemy of the people, and an ally to the devils--and I don't mean the Devil's Own." The last, you have picked up while in the city, is the name of Endymion's personal retinue and crew. "I am Darius, Lord Arronax Endymion's First Mate. And I will be sure to tell Lord Endymion to whom he owes the assurance of the safety of himself, his people, and his opera house--not to mention," he turns to Threnody, "A fine, fine performance. Sadly, it shall be your first and last, for this show. On behalf of Lord Endymion I am ordering the other performances cancelled, so that better security measures can be installed into the opera house."
Marizee sighs, visibly dejected.
"Lord Endymion of course will fund the security measures," he adds, though this seems of little comfort to the director. He then turns back to the rest of you. "I'll take the little bastard from here." Corwin hands him over, roughly. "And my thanks to you and to Besmara's Whim."