The body guard takes each of your papers and nods you in. He gives each of you a sharp look. "I don't want no trouble tonight. I trust House Kundarak wouldn't approve of misbehavior from their hired hands."
You enter and see a table next to the fireplace. A group of rough looking men throw bones at a nearby table. One of them is clearly drunk, "Rumor is that the church is trying to seize control of the city. I even heard some Emerald Claw agents have infiltrated the White Lions..."
An attractive human female walks over to the table. "Evening gentlemen. What will you have?"
Rhorn sits back and doesn't speak, my lack of gold needs to be remedied fast...
Askari fixes her with a steady and serious glare. ... No.
The cloaked, sinister figure finishes his drink, then slowly gets up and exits the pub. He moves slowly and steadily through the streets until he turns into one of the empty side alleys. After passing beneath a patch of deep shadow, there is the faintest ruffle of a cloak and then out steps Soldier No. 2, a rather mundane-looking fighting type with a weatherbeaten traveling cloak pulled back to reveal a studded leather jerkin. The man steps out the other side of the alley and into the back streets, winding his way to the marketplace to pick up a few traveling supplies.
After an afternoon of shopping, the nondescript soldier moves back to the stabling area and stores the trail provisions and other assortment of goods with the mule. By the time that job's done, the soldier passes back across the servants' threshold. After a deft tug of the cloak to invert the lining and a few shifts to drop his tunic back over his armor, Olyvvar Merriman, actor, poet, legend strides forth back out into the street.
A couple of inquiries gives him the location of the Tasty Troll Tavern. He tries to assess the quality of the establishment based on the answers he's given.
Chetiin climbs up on the seat and looks around.
"want to come sit on my shoulders? You will have a goo view?" he offers
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"I'm no child, chib."
"Did not incline you are a child, but you have a better chance of spotting something than myself"
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"No need. better to peek. see without being seen. these not my lands, they will notice me easier here."
The priest makes himself at home, sitting in a chair and crossing his legs. "The church has a job for you. The courtier you are escorting does not need to arrive in Wroat. We need to trust that you can see to it that she has an accident along the way..." He trails off looking sharply at you.
Harika frowns. "If I do not miss my guess, the courtier we are escorting is a member of the royal family. Their disappearance will not go unnoticed."
"A basic ale will be fine, along a small bit of whatever you got cooking in the stew pot." After making his order, Arcavic settles down into an empty chair, and largely ignores all but his companions. Chuckling a bit at Chetiin, "I probably wouldn't even bother with the peeking. Looks like a fairly standard dive to me, filled with a great many drunks, ne'er-do-wells, and people who think that they are far more important than they actually are."
Rhorn looks over the tavern, his eyes scan the nearby area for any loose change...
perception
The waitress leaves and returns shortly with a tray of ale. She also places a bowl with some meat, vegetables, and fried potatoes in the center of the table. "Your meal is on the house tonight gentlemen. House Kundarak has covered your expenses while in town. Please let me know if you are in need of anything."
As you eat and discuss travel plans, the tavern starts to fill up with patrons. A female bard sits next to the fireplace and plays a drum while reciting stories from the Last War. The men throwing bones get louder as they continue to down mug after mug of ale. One of the gamblers gets up and stumbles over to the table. "So...what are you here for? Getting a free meal and all..." One of the others, still seated at the table, keeps a sharp eye on Chetiin.
Olyvvar asks around and get quite a bit of information on the tavern:
Olyvvar makes his way through the merchant district and ends up a block away from the tavern. A man in fine clothes, carrying a case that appears to hold a violin, notices the playwright. "Playwright Merriman! What a pleasure! I am Herman Nestlewig. I am a HUGE fan!"
The Priest looks sharply at you. "And sacrifices often need to be made for the better good." He pulls out a beautiful silver holy symbol and looks at it. The symbol is one you caryy yourself, a stylized dragon skull resting atop a glowing red teardrop-shaped gem meant to symbolize the blood that is central to the beliefs of the faith "You do remember your oath to the church?" He stares at the symbol awating your answer.
perception check
Rhorn seeing where this was going speaks up, his aim to diffuse the situation...
Cease and Desist drunkard, lest I decide to open up your mind and carve it up.
intimidate
Back me up, we don't want to start a fight here.
Chetiin and Rhorn do not notice anything out of the ordinary. Shocked by the bald man's words, the gambler draws back. "Why the threat stranger? I just asked a simple question."
The bouncer walks over from the door and gives Rhorn a sharp look. "Do you have a problem sir?"
The other two gamblers laugh. One of them speaks up. "Seems like the strange one is a little on edge. Jim just went over to meet them and ask if anyone wanted to join us." The other one comes in where the first lets off. "Says he is gonna carve Jim's brain up or something."
The bouncer looks back at Rhorn. "Did you threaten a patron sir?"
diplomacy
I did, it looked like he was going to do something stupid... Like start a bar brawl, better to have threatened him and stopped a brawl then to have risked it's occurrence... I am sure that House Kundarak would agree, especially where there money and property is concerned.
[dice=sense motive]1d20+6
Chetiin knows that the gambler is lying. The man who approached them is up to something, but the Goblin is not sure what.
diplomacy1d20+10
** spoiler omitted **
The bouncer grabs his ears and closes his eyes as he receives a message mentally. "Get out of my head freak! You can't go around invading minds and passing out threats!"
The bartender gets involved from behind the bar. "You guys settle down over there or I'm going to call the White Lions"
The gamblers at the table have sly grins on their faces. The situation has taken over the room and all the patrons are watching now.
In a low voice, Chetiin tells the others of his party "Knew we shouldn't pick up that chat'oor. Going to get us in trouble. Gamblers are playing game with us, know we can't fight back. Ignore them."
Rhorn grimaces as he hears Chetiin speak and decides to solve the problem... Rhorn sees the attractive waitress near the gambler's table and decides to make use of his talents...
To get in range he moves to the bar (7C) and speaks, I need a damn ale, these superstitious fools cause a psion to weep in frustration...
As he moves Rhorn takes note of the attractive waitress's position near the gambler's table and manifests a brief but effective countermeasure against the idiots... Using his mind he jerks the waitress's skirt as she is near one of the more rowdy gamblers and her eyes are focused on Rhorn... Not on what is behind her...
Rhorn grimaces as he hears Chetiin speak and decides to solve the problem... Rhorn sees the attractive waitress near the gambler's table and decides to make use of his talents...
To get in range he moves to the bar (7C) and speaks, I need a damn ale, these superstitious fools cause a psion to weep in frustration...
As he moves Rhorn takes note of the attractive waitress's position near the gambler's table and manifests a brief but effective countermeasure against the idiots... Using his mind he jerks the waitress's skirt as she is near one of the more rowdy gamblers and her eyes are focused on Rhorn... Not on what is behind her...
bluff
Arcavic just shakes his head at the scene. Dealing first with the drunken man, "Our business is not your concern, any more than your business is our concern. And after a long day on the road, I have little patience for busybodys. Consider yourself warned." That done, he turns to his companions, "I would suggest that if we are not able to eat in peace here, we retire to our room and relax there. No need to ruin our night because of a few drunks. And please, please stop using your secret message trick on everyone you meet. It's useful occasionally, but very few people appreciate it when used constantly in public places."
Olyvvar tips his hat politely and flashes a winning smile. Why, thank you! Always a pleasure to meet those who appreciate the arts. You have the look about you of one with good taste. Good day, he nods, and continues walking, his spirits lifted considerably.
You walk about two more blocks and see the sign to The Tasty Troll. Upon entering, there is a small commotion. A bald man stands pointing at a table of gentlemen throwing bones. A human bouncer is trying to control the situation. A female bard attempts to entertain in the corner, playing a drum and singing.
Gyro simply stays seated. These people were drunk, and his own are also getting aggitated. He will remain quiet. Untill attacked. Mortals...
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Chetiin makes no outwardly threatening movements, but remains prepared to defend himself. He certainly made no attempt to intercede on behalf of the bald one.
As Rhorn takes the flagon of ale he begins to chug it, this land's insanity must explain the sheer love of alcohol... It is the only way they can cope with the madness around them.
Bartender, I have heard tale that an organization calling itself House Phiarlan is reputed to run more..."quiet" establishments. If you would tell me of the nearest such establishment I will as soon as I have procured the necessary funds vacate these premises and never return...
diplomacy
The Priest looks sharply at you. "And sacrifices often need to be made for the better good." He pulls out a beautiful silver holy symbol and looks at it. The symbol is one you caryy yourself, a stylized dragon skull resting atop a glowing red teardrop-shaped gem meant to symbolize the blood that is central to the beliefs of the faith "You do remember your oath to the church?" He stares at the symbol awating your answer.
The man was a buffoon, hitting people over the head with his supposed authority like a cudgel instead of using the influence he could wield like a scalpel. Harika manages not to sneer at him and remind him who he is talking to, simply nodding once and keeping the same slightly annoyed expression on her face.
"I remember my doctrine, as well, abector. I seek the divine within, and listen for its promise in the rush of my own blood. Do you suggest that assassinating a royal scion has anything to do with my- or your- Divinity Within?" Basically, 'what's in it for me,' couched in terms of religious belief.
The man sneers. What are your aspirations? Ambition to progress in the church? What do you seek young one? Power? The church is more than following 'the blood within'. Your feelings are temporal and can be driven by emotions or selfish desires. They can betray you. Each of us requires the leadership of the church to lead us away from these traitors within...no matter how subtle they are. Do you think you are wiser than our Bishops?" He leans back in his chair and looks down his hooked nose at you. "I have asked you not to step in should tragedy befall the scum of the royal family's loins. Do you have problems with orders?"
Olyvvar glances to see if there is a side entrance at first, not wanting to interpose himself in the impending fracas. Regardless if he sees one or not, he slips in and circumnavigates the commotion and finds himself a table. He gives the nearest waitress an inviting grin and orders a goblet of wine, when she gets a chance.
The man sneers. What are your aspirations? Ambition to progress in the church? What do you seek young one? Power? The church is more than following 'the blood within'. Your feelings are temporal and can be driven by emotions or selfish desires. They can betray you. Each of us requires the leadership of the church to lead us away from these traitors within...no matter how subtle they are. Do you think you are wiser than our Bishops?" He leans back in his chair and looks down his hooked nose at you. "I have asked you not to step in should tragedy befall the scum of the royal family's loins. Do you have problems with orders?"
Harika's only ambition is to amass enough personal power to ensure she would never again be under the thumb of such a ham-fisted man as this one. Kings and Bishops are more threat than role model, and if this man is an example of leadership within the Blood then even the lowest level of authority is something to be denied, if not actively acted against.
But she of course says none of this. "You ask me to stand aside if some tragedy should befall my ward. Who's to say I will even be there when she needs help? Anything could happen on the road from here to there."
He grins wickedly. "Exactly...you could be elsewhere when trouble appears..." He is pleased with your response. "Then that is what you shall do. Be elsewhere when it happens." He stands to leave. "You will have the church's gratitude should the courtier fall. I will personally see to it you are rewarded." He licks his yellow teeth and walks over to you. He reaches for your hair in an attempt to smell it. As he leans his head in, "I could even reward you tonight..."
He grins wickedly. "Exactly...you could be elsewhere when trouble appears..." He is pleased with your response. "Then that is what you shall do. Be elsewhere when it happens." He stands to leave. "You will have the church's gratitude should the courtier fall. I will personally see to it you are rewarded." He licks his yellow teeth and walks over to you. He reaches for your hair in an attempt to smell it. As he leans his head in, "I could even reward you tonight..."
This time, Harika doesn't hide her sneer as she slaps away the priest's hand. Contempt is thick in her voice as she growls at the man, and while someone else might have shied away from his presence she holds her ground. "The only reward I care to see from you in that manner involves hot pokers and well disinfected blades. You may be placed higher in the Church's hierarchy, but that does not make you superior to me. Remember who I am, abector. I will not always be at my current rank."
She reaches down and opens the door. "You may leave now, abector."
Bartender, I have heard tale that an organization calling itself House Phiarlan is reputed to run more..."quiet" establishments. If you would tell me of the nearest such establishment I will as soon as I have procured the necessary funds vacate these premises and never return...
The bartender responds to Rhorn. "House Phiarlan is just around the corner to the North." With that information, Rhorn turns and leaves the Tasty Troll.
The gambler; who walked over to the table with Chetiin, Gyro, and Arcavic; hollers out as the Psion leaves "Good riddance!" He gives the three of you a smirk and then returns to his previous table.
During the commotion, a handsome gentleman dressed in fine clothes enters and takes a seat at a table on the East side of the room.
The bouncer nods to the three remaining at the table. "My bad. I thought he was with you." He returns to the door.
The attractive waitress walks over the Olyvvar's table. She gives him a warm smile. "Can I get you something to drink sir?" She appears to be doing her best to sound as if she were from a higher class.
Across the room, the female bard resumes to her playing her drum. Olyvvars keen ear realizes that she is average at best.
The priest looks down at his hand as blood slowly fills it capsules redening its hue from the slap. He looks up and grins. "We like the fiesty ones." He turns and walks to the door before looking back at you. "Three guards from House Kundarak have arrived in Karrntath. They are currently dining at the Tasty Troll. You need to make contact with them as soon as possible to make plans to leave in the morning. They will be easy to spot. Just look for a warforged, a dark elf, and a goblin." He gives you one more disgusting smile before departing. "Do not fail us."
Olyvvar returns the smile. Red wine, please. The local vintage will suffice.
He leans back in his chair and sighs, taking what amusement he can from the ambiance.
Harika waits a few minutes before opening the door again and leaving the temple. She hails a carriage. "The Tasty Troll." Still dressed in the blood-red gown she wore to the royal concert, with her family crest pinned to her silk-lined sable cloak, she is almost comically overdressed for the Tasty Troll. Lucky for her, she doesn't care.
Arcavic focuses on his comrades, "So how big of a role did you two have in the recent war? I personally didn't care much for it, as it made merc work very difficult to get without also getting way too many politics on the side. At one point I almost considered trying out Stormreach for while, but ultimately I decided I wasn't quite that annoyed by the war."
"Ah. I the war my role was to destroy siege weapons. I would go with other members and come up behind enemy lines so we can take out their artilliry. Hence this beauty" he pats the over sized hammer
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"War outside same as war in Darguun. I only care about Darguun politics. Outside Darguun, only money."
An attractive lady enters the tavern, who appears overdressed for the evening. As she arrives, the bartender goes to a back room. He comes out a few seconds later with a rather well dressed Dwarf. "Ah! Bless Olladra! You have all arrived. I am Jambree! He points out the five of you and ushers you to a door behind the bar that leads to a stairway to the basement. The room at the bottom of the stairs looks as if it is used for private gambling. Multiple card tables litter the room. He ushers you to one of the larger tables where he has a map laid out. "Please sit." He points to the caravan guards. "I guess I will make the introductions. The goblin here is Chetiin. He displayed his excellent combat strategy in the pits of House Kandarak. This is Arcavic, well known for his scouting and hand to hand combat."
He pauses and walks around the table. "This is Gyro. He is our man. House Kandarak that is. He will be responsible for guarding the royal ambassador." He gets a serious look on his face. "We are transporting merchant goods, but let me be straight with you. The real reason for this trip is the courtier. Kaius has chosen our House for this very important task. He has hand picked these two...Olyvvar, Playwright." He points to the human male. "and Harika, Priestess of the Blood, to accompany you. Their responsibility to to disguise and care for the passenger."
He walks over and sits, pointing at the map. "You will be taking the straight route to Wroat. The King's passenger will be disguised as a priestess of Vol. When you arrive in Wroat, you will take her to the castle. Do you have any question?"
"what you expect attack us?