The dwarf responds to the Goblin. "We are not sure. There has been some disagreement between the royal family and the Church." He turns to Harika. "No offense m'lady." He continues. "The King fears they may try to interfere with the ambassador's mission to Breland."
He stands and points out a spot on the map where there is a choke point through a mountain pass. "We always worry about bandits in this area, looking to make away with out goods." He leans back. "Besides that...wild animals, magical beasts, damnable abberations, shifters, Silver Flame Zealots..."
He returns his gaze to Harika. "The King must really trust you to involve you in this."
Arcavic manages to mostly hide a grimace as he listens. "Must be a great deal of distrust to feel the need to resort to outside guards for an official task. Overall, seems like the relatively standard enemy list for Khorvaire these days, which is to say, probably everyone. Shouldn't be overly difficult, though the flashy clothes probably need to disappear sooner rather than later; these jobs are much easier when those involved are not making the task any harder than it already is." The last line is clearly directed toward the lady wearing the problematic attention grabbing clothes.
The one introduced as the playwright bows to each of the individuals with a flourish. His appearance is impeccably groomed and he wears a confident expression as he introduces himself. Olyvvar Merriman, if you please. I am an actor, first and foremost. I compose my own productions to make sure the stories are worthy of my talents. It is for those talents that I have been tasked to participate in this venture.
Although not quite as overdressed as the priestess, he certainly has an air of refinement about him as well. At Arcavic's comment, Olyvvar nods deferentially, clearly not taking insult. Quite true. The deception has been provided to us. Therefore, all of us must believe the tale we are crafting for our as-yet-unknown audience. I would advise everyone take the cues I provide in case we encounter scrutiny.
Arcavic suppresses a sigh as he assesses the newcomers. "We have done doing quite well so far following our cues as soldiers and guards. I was unaware we needed anything else."
The dwarf responds to the drow. "It is not all about might and sword Arcavic. Deception is a powerful ally. If Olyvvar is able to pull this off, he may save us from even facing combat."
"Different people find different ways of deceiving. While I welcome someone with the gifts of words, it does not negate nor automatically override those methods we have already been employing."
"Different people find different ways of deceiving. While I welcome someone with the gifts of words, it does not negate nor automatically override those methods we have already been employing."
The dwarf smiles, "And that is one of the reasons you were chosen!"
"I understand the need, but it is not my vocation. I am only here to lend a powerful arm and hammer where diplomacy and subterfuge fail"
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The overdressed woman- identified as a priestess, though she is dressed like a noblewoman ready for a party- glowers at Arcavic and nods in Gyro's direction. "Quite right. You are guards. You will guard, not offer opinions on matters that have already been decided." She sounds unhappy about the decision that has been made, though she also certainly doesn't seem amused by Arcavic's comment about her clothes. "I and the ambassador have been advised to take cues from the poet," Harika gestures at Olyvar, "and the king and I trust you will do the same. Regardless of your past successes and methods."
She waves her hand dismissively at the dwarf's suggestion that she has the king's confidence. "The king commands and I serve. I merely do my best to see his orders carried out."
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"Well...there are rooms here for you all. Be prepared to leave by sunrise. Olyvvar, the courtier will arrive first thing in the morning." The Dwarf leaves you to enjoy the night or retire for the evening. Those who choose to stay in the inn find it a very comfortable night.
You lay down and almost immediately fall asleep, fatigued from the day's events. You are suddenly awakened by a voice. "Do not fail me." You look around, but see only the darkness of the room. You close your eyes again and return to sleep. After a few minutes, you feel something sliding up you leg. When you open you eyes, King Kaius is lying next to you in a robe. He grabs the back of your head and kisses you deeply. You lose control of your will. He slowly climbs on top of you...fade to black. You awaken in a cold sweat. You are all alone. The sun is shining through the window, lighting the room. You realize the encounter with the King must have been a dream. It takes a few minutes to collect your thoughts...your emotions. You can not seem to get the passion of the night out of your mind. You feel something warm on your wrist. As you look down, you see a trail of blood running down your hand and causing the sheets to turn crimson. The wound burns. Had you hit your arm in the night? You reach for a cloth to wipe the blood and see a letter folded on the nightstand by the bed.
I have left you a gift in the common room. He will be loyal to you only.
You are awakened by a rap on the door. You get yourself together and cross the room. When you open the door, a beautiful young lady stands before you in a white silken gown. She can not be older than nineteen. "Good evening sir. I am Marrisa." She courtsies respectfully. "I was told you would help me?" She looks vulnerably at you.
After a night of rest, you all enjoy the aroma of breakfast being prepared downstairs. The three guards enter the common room first. They can hear the sounds of the horses and wagons being prepared outside. You are alone in the room except for a hooded figure who sits quietly in a corner, staring down at his table. The barmaid greets you, "Good morning gentlemen. Will you require anything before you eat and set out?"
He instructs her to stand in the middle of his room as he looks her over, appraising while twirling his tapered beard. Marrisa is it? Well, you'll have to leave that name behind, and only take it back up once we're in Breland. Get used to that idea; I have not been given much time to instruct you in the ways of immersing yourself into a role. Hopefully, you'll have a knack.
He turns his back on her, starting to sort through a number of his costumes. Casually, he asks, So, tell me about yourself?
I am not sure what to say." She is obviously intimidated by the handsome bard. "I have been in the castle since I was a child. I am the King's niece. My father was killed in battle during the Last War. I never knew my mother." She trails off and looks down at the ground. "I have remained in the castle my whole life. Recently, I was instructed to travel to Wroat to meet my aunt, Haydith."
Haydith is the 15 year old sister of the King. He sent her to Breland as a peace offering. Supposedly, she has won the favor of King Boranel.
She looks sheepishly again. "It is no longer safe for me here."
No, he cuts her off sharply. Then he softens his voice. It might not be safe for Marrisa-- he lets the thought hang in the air a moment -- but it will be perfectly safe for Claudia, priestess of Vol. He punctuates his statement by handing her a frock that will pass for one of the clergy's.
You get to be someone else, milady, he says with a twist of a smile. Think about it: leave yourself behind, and become someone new. Sound like fun?
She seems young enough to treat this like a game. That's good; I can use that if I get her thinking in that direction, he muses.
For the first time since arriving, a smile appears in the corner of her lips. "Yes. I would like that very much. I've always wanted to be someone else." She looks sheepishly again as she turns and pulls off her gown. The white, silken gown drops to the floor. She quickly slides on the frock. Her slip is tight and Olyvvar can see she has a sleak, muscular frame. Once she has slipped into the frock, she turns and smiles at Olyvvar. She spins flapping the bottom of her new dress. "How do I look? Hi...I am Claudia, Priestess of Vol." She giggles at the thought.
Arcavic just yawns a bit as he heads off toward his room. He comments quietly with a slight chuckle to Gyro and Chetiin as he leaves, "And people like that are the reason I am content being a guard. I feel sorry for the poor bard." He settles in the for the night and after a sound night's sleep, is at the breakfast table early.
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Chetiin crams food into his big mouth at the breakfast table, function checks his new hand crossbow, and straps it to his leg.
Clapping his hands together and rubbing them, he smiles, Let's get started, then?
As he works on her hair, clothes, face and posture, he also talks about subtlety. Remember, you don't need to tell anyone what you are if it is readily apparent in the way you look. Don't invite anyone to doubt who you are by calling attention to it. You'll be with another priestess, so take your cues from her.
Gyro is waiting for them as each wake from their sleep
"Good morning. Good to see you slept well..." he thinks for a while
"Sleep... sounds so... boring..."
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Claudia stiffens up and stands at attention. She deepens her voice. "Sir...yes sir." She gives a mock salute then loosens back up. "By the way, I was told to use this." She hands you a hair pin with the holy symbol of Vol on it.
Olyvvar stops abruptly and ponders the uses of such a magical device. Wheels turn as he begins to formulate a plan. He paces about the room, waving the pin about, while he muses.This opens up possibilities, he starts.
Olyvvar puts the pin in his own hair, and wills himself to a close approximation of Marrisa. You see? He plucks it out, dispelling the illusion, and passes it back to her. Now try me.
Harika wakes late and outfits herself in the kit she'd sent a runner for the night before. She hadn't wanted to have to deal with the abector, and the throne had arranged for the room so it was more than adequate. When she walks down into the common room she is wearing intimidating armor made of what looks like preserved bone. At her hip is and over her shoulder is more bone, one looking like a long leg bone capped with a knot of bone covered in spikes and the other a shield made of bone.
When she sees her present, standing in the middle of the common room as still as a statue, she smiles. In that battle-scarred bone armor, the incongruous smile is more than a little unsettling. The priestess walks down the stairs to stand right in front of her present.
She points at the nearest chair. "Sit," she commands.
The present complies. It is encased completely in black armor, its visor is closed shut, its curved sword in its scabbard and a shield clamped to its left arm as if ready for battle. The armored thing sits in a chair directly behind it, giving the impression that if the chair hadn't been there it would have continued straight down to sit on the floor.
Harika nods appreciatively and makes a small effort to exert her will over the creature as she gives more complex orders. "Stand. Follow two steps behind me and one to my left. Defend me if I am attacked. Do not impede my movements or those of my companions; if you must move in order to comply with this directive, return to two steps behind and one step to my left as soon as possible."
She turns and goes to get breakfast, giving the armored thing no further thought.
The black armored being does as commanded, following Harika to the breakfast and standing behind and to the left of its master.
"Claudia" takes the pin and slides it into her hair. She closes her eyes and wrinkles her nose, trying to concentrate on the task. She slowly transforms into a bad representation of Olyvvar. She opens her eyes and looks at herself. Taking a step back, she attempts to imitate his voice. "Hello! I am the famous actor, Olyvvar Merriman! How may I be of assistance?" She bows deeply and then breaks out laughing. Her acting is horrible, but their is a charm to her innocence. She pulls the pin from her hair and looks at it. "This thing is pretty neat."
Jambree enters the common room. "Good, good! Almost everyone is ready. Where is that silly actor?!" He walks behind the bar and pours himself a mug of ale and downs it. "Is everyone's papers in order?"
When the others look intently at the armored man, they notice there is a red hue to his eyes.
The creature is undead. He may have been one of the soldiers created by Karrnath during the Last War. Using them as soldiers, has been outlawed. It is not uncommon for one to "work" for a priest or priestess of Vol in Karrnath. It is frowned upon in most of Khorvaire though.
He passes one hand over it several times while chanting softly. Suddenly a swirl of colored smoke rises from the pin. The smoke swirls around the girl, then is drawn back into the magic item. Olyvvar stops his chanting, then cautiously takes the pin and pricks his finger with it. He touches a small drop of blood to Marrisa's forehead, then places the hat pin back upon his own head. Don't be squeamish, my dear Claudia. You are a priestess of the Blood, remember, he comforts, while assuming her image again with the wondrous item.
Unseen beneath the illusory image, Olyvvar shifts himself into the likeness of "Claudia" as he has disguised her. With a slow, deliberate motion, he takes the pin off and hands it back to her.
Inspecting his dainty hands and touching them lightly to his cheeks, he makes a show of confirming that he looks like her. It worked. I can now duplicate your image without the need for the pin.
There might be a time when I would do better to play the role of Claudia, when the eyes are on her, rather than Olyvvar, he whispers conspiratorially. Agreed?
Not really waiting for her agreement, Olvvar turns back and plucks a fancy cloak off a coat rack and spins it around his shoulders, and in that smooth motion and the moment he is obscured, Olyvvar Merriman is back.
After returning the hat pin back on "Claudia" and wiping the spot of blood off her forehead, he instructs her in the device and has her try several times before deeming her ready.
Then he heads downstairs with the young priestess of Vol.
Silly, you say? he announces as he enters the room. One does not rush genius. And I believe you will see the performance of your lives on this journey. I am already beginning to think it might make an astounding play. Acquit yourselves well in this endeavor, and you all might be immortalized in a wonderful work of art.
He then escorts a young priestess of Vol into the common room.
A young priestess of Vol follows the playwright into the common room. She stands behind him and takes in the scene. After a second, she introduces herself. "Good morning. I am Claudia. I have been ordered to travel with you all. Olyvvar here is to escort me." Her voice shakes a bit, giving away her nervousness. She makes sure to make eye contact with all of you.
While looking at you, her brow wrinkles. Her eyes travel from your shoulder down to your hand. They stop on the bandage on your wrist. You catch a look of surprise and fear in her eyes before she quickly looks away. It is obvious that she noticed something about you.
The warforged gets up, picking up his hammer
"If everyone is ready, we should get going, we have waisted a lot of time allready"
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"Agreed. The sun has been up for far too long for us to be still sitting here."
Harika nods curtly at Claudia. "Priestess. Gather your things and we will leave as soon as you are ready." She doesn't acknowledge the other woman's look.
I, too, am ready to set out, with one small adjustment, Olyvvar says before turning his fancy cloak inside-out, revealing a much more plain interior lining. Letting it drape over his shoulders, he also musses his hair a bit and affects a plainer stance. Within mere seconds, he looks no longer like the haughty thespian, and ever so much like a weary traveler ready for the road.
It seems to me, he says in a slightly changed voice, that Olyvvar Merriman should also go incognito. Call me... Alvain.
Priestess Claudia gathers her belongs and follows Harika. You all gather together around the wagons. The Dwarf leading the caravan climbs up onto the lead wagon. "Prepare to depart."
The caravan sets off. You leave the urban surroundings of Korth and hit the rolling hills of North East Breland. After about four hours of travelling, the caravan arrives at a check point. Arcavic is scouting ahead.
Two well-armed humans step into the path. One has a longsword in one hand and the leash of a vicious guard dog in the other. Another human sits upon a tower looking down on you. The one with the chain coif calls out. "Prepare to show your papers!"
Harika holds out her hand to Claudia and Olyvar. "Give me your papers, I'll present them." She hops down out of her wagon, assuming Gorch will follow its orders and follow her, and walks toward the guard with the chain coif.
As Harika walks up to the guard in the coif, she notices a couple of extra guards hiding
The guard in the coif looks down at Harika, eyeing her weapons. He quickly glances cautiously at the heavily armored man that is following her. He sneers, "Let me see the papers." He takes them from the priestess. As he is reaching for them, Harika notices a tattoo on the gentleman's arm. It is the symbol of the emerald claw. Emerald Claw
He shufles through the papers and looks up and down at Harika once again. "And the others?" He looks at the warforged, the goblin, and the drow.
Harika looks back over her shoulder and shouts at the others. "One of you bring your wagon's travel papers up here!" She turns back to the man with a frown on her face and talks while they wait for someone to come up with their papers.
"You are impeding a priestess of the Blood." She doesn't raise her voice, speaking only to the tattooed guard. "Not only that, but you are treating a fellow soldier," she says it as if her armor isn't clearly from one of the undead shock units operating during the Last War, "like a smuggler or a spy. If you're looking for someone who is on the run, it is clearly not us." Harika cocked her head curiously. "Is there a fugitive we should be on the lookout for?"
Chetiin pulls out his papers to be taken to the front. He holds them oht to be taken by whoever is going that way.
The man in the coif jerks Chetiin's papers out of his hand and checks them. Not looking up at Harika: "That was then...we are no longer welcome in Korth. The b$$!$ Moranna made sure of that." He drops the papers he is holding and draws his weapon. "Surely you are on our side priestess? Give us the little royal slut and we will leave you to your fine caravan trip to Wroat."
The one in the tower lifts a bow and aims it at Harika. "Which one is she? Are you the slut we are looking for priestess?"
Claudia shifts nervously and looks to Olyvvar with pleading eyes.
Olyvvar is aware of Claudia's discomfort, but he remains focused on the guards and hoping she does so as well.
When the one in the tower shouts his insult, he barks out a loud laugh. What wonderful manners! I cannot possibly imagine why Korth, or anywhere else would not want such fine upstanding gentlemen as yourselves returning!
Stepping out a bit to draw attention to him and not to the others in the party, he continues. You have missed the mark considerably, I'm afraid. Whatever task you have, and whomever you apparently seek, you are mistaken. What's worse, you have gravely insulted a very true and real Priestess of the Blood, to her face.
His pleasant demeanor changes in the blink of an eye, and suddenly there is a heavy menace in his voice. You have scant seconds to stammer your half-witted apology and flee before she unleashes your worst nightmares upon you.
[dice=Perception]1d20+3
[dice=Intimidate]1d20+6
The guy in the coif responds: "And you have seconds to hand over your female passengers or the upstanding gentleman in the tower is going to put an arrow between your eyes!"
Initiative If Needed:
Order:
Arcavic
Olyvvar
Chetiin
Leader (coif)
Soldiers
Harika
Gyro
"I was going to be nice, and show you my papers, but with an introduction like that, I think I have something appropriate to introduce you to. Your friend upstairs would be wise to pay heed." Arcavic goes from laid back to combat mode in a flash as the morningstar seems to just appear in his hand before coming down hard on the guard. Turning to the bard, "I gave you a chance to try your way. Now we do it our way."
The leader calls out: "Kill them all"
Initiative:
Arcavic
Olyvvar
Chetiin
Leader (coif)
Soldiers
Harika
Gyro
Harika doesn't immediately draw her weapon. Instead, she turns her head minutely and speaks to Gorch, gesturing at the man in the coif. "Kill this one first, then the others." she sneers at the guards' leader. "I was on your side, idiot, until you threatened me. I cannot suffer such an insult to my honor. Prepare yourself for the afterlife, for your time on this world is surely done."
Olyvvar gestures, incants, and produces a few components from his belt when the man in the tower takes aim.
And how is he to do that when his bow is down here? Olyvvar taunts.
Then Olyvvar draws his rapier with a flourish.