Feel free to dot in here. Will get the action started soon enough.
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A tiefling with dark skin and red eyes leans against a different wall, cautiously observing the people who are coming into the lodge. He is dressed in the simple leather and wool clothing of a woodsman with a long gray woolen cloak pulled around him. From underneath the cloak a black, scaly tail lazily whips about.
Leaning against the wall next to him is a musket almost as tall as him. The wood is black like it's been scorched but the barrel and metal parts of the weapon are completely smudge-less and shiny with gun oil. On the buttstock of the gun there is a stylized engraving of a bow and arrow, which is the symbol of Erastril and below that are the words, "Let your aim be true."
He acknowledges Wit Stills with a polite nod, seemingly in approval of the rugged halfling's style.
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A pale lady with golden eyes clearly of a slightly outer planar heritage travels with you. She is dressed in simple robes but a good glance notices a thin layer of elven-style leather armor tightly hugging her skin. Aside from a few daggers and wands and a sling she doesn't appear to be armed. A polished-smooth wooden holy symbol of Calistria is tied around her neck like a choker resting at the base of her throat. Her voice is sultry as she smiles and speaks.
"So good to meet all of you. I am Sindelle Lifewater and it's my duty to you all to make sure that you stay nice and healthy during our trek. I can keep a link active between my life force and yours at all times if you want that will keep your bodily health in good order. Just say the word and I shall make this connection with you"
After questions about the mission and such dies down and we are about to depart, Sindelle touches a few of you to get your attention and speak to you quietly.
"In times of great stress, or in the middle of a fight, I'm told that I might not sound like myself...can any of you understand... or "
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The next to arrive is a hulking half-orc dressed in a set of very fine looking full plate armor and carrying a large single-edged sword that one could almost consider an axe. He wears a white tunic above his armor with the symbol of Sarenrae boldly emblazoned upon it and has a Wayfinder with the emblem of the Shining Crusade hung on a short chain around his thick neck.
"Me Stugbu!" he announces as he enters the room, looking around to see who has arrived before him.
A frown creases his brow as he notices Ignatius. "You good guy, or not? Me not want to be 'racy' but you look bit like devil. Stugbu know that things that look bad not always actually bad, so just want to be sure!"
He looks like he is about to say something to Wit but then notices Sindelle and gets distracted. "You very pretty!" his voice cracks a little as his eyes drift down to his boots. "Me...er, me ah, like to stay healthy. Your magic is good magic, yes? Stugbu have little bit of good magic too and can do bit of healing as well." When she then speaks in her different tongues, Stugbu just shakes his head. "Me not understand funny languages. Stugbu not even that good with common words." He smiles, revealing a pair of shiny white tusk-like fangs.
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His fingers are stained with ink, but oddly enough, his clothes are rumpled and covered in twigs and thorns as if from the woods, rather than a library.
"Valandil Anwamanë, " he says with a short bow.
"I'm recently been studying magical Magaambyan lore. While I'm not a huge help in a fight, I know a large number of abjurations to help protect us from a variety of threats... if we are well informed in advance about what we might face."
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The dwarf named Touchy does not look the typical adventuring type. His hair has almost completely gone gray, and hangs in greasy strings from underneath a plain metal helmet perched on his head. A pronounced pot belly pokes out from beneath a grimy breastplate that looks like it is one size too small.
He walks in, and immediately starts leering at those present, especially Sindelle once he notices her holy symbol. He himself sports rather prominent religious trappings of Calistria. Though, where the aasamar is seductively subtle, the dwarf is in-your-face crude.
"Worry not!" He exclaims, holding his arms out expansively, as if waiting for a hug. "Lord Touchy has arrived."
He grins lasciviously. "And I know the only language that really matters!" He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, to emphasize his meaning.
"Prayer services always available!" He adds, with a grin, though what
Aram Zey strides into the cramped chamber, his withering glare boring into anyone who dares to meet his gaze. One of the smaller rooms in the Grand Lodge's Skyreach tower, the room is nearly filled by a large table on which lie tarnished funerary brasses and heaped parchments, leaving scant room for occupants. "I am pleased to see you all here," says the Society cantankerous Master of Spells, his chilly expression contradicting his words. "The Society needs it most capable members on this task."
Unrolling a massive map of Taldor, he continues. "A rare opportunity stands before us. A Taldan noble named Makarius Bourtze has sent inquiries to Oppara and Cassomir, seeking buyers for a trove of lore about Qadira's Grand Campaign against Taldor. Bourtze is the Tribune of Evondemor, a small town some six days' journey from Oppara." Tracing along the chart, his finger points out an isolated village on the Tandak Plains.
"Your mission is to visit this backwater, review the offered items, and acquire them if a reasonable price can be arranged. While we can offer gold, I'd like to instead suggest several fine sculptures in trade. They depict well-known Taldan heroes, including several of Bourtze's ancestors. Since his line was once quite distinguished, I'm optimistic that they'll interest him." Aram hands over a bundle of carefully drawn sketches depicting the statues.
"Frankly, we considered sending a less experienced team, but Bourtze's motives make me uneasy. The man's wife was a scholar of ancient magics who recently died in some sort of magical accident. If something in the collections caused the mishap, we fear the Tribune might try to unload it on an unsuspecting stranger."
The Society has arranged for transport to Oppara in Taldor the next day. Along wit the portfolio of drawings, you are also given a writ authorizing the bearer to withdraw 5000 gp in Society funds from an Abadaran bank in Oppara.
Aram Zey frowns at the question. "It or some part of it may be cursed, we don't know yet. Find out would you? If they are, you don't need to remove curses, because we may want to study the items anyway, but if something is inherently dangerous or unstable, I don't expect you to get duped."
"I have made ready a letter that allows you to withdraw 5000gp from our banker in Oppara. Between that and trading for these sculptures," he taps the portfolio of drawings, "I expect you will be resourceful enough to come back successful."
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Stugbu looks in confusion as Ignatius heads out of the room. "Was it something me said?"
He then frowns in disapproval at Touchy's entrance and suggestive behaviour, especially when he leers at Sindelle. "Don't stare at pretty lady! She nice to Stugbu...oh, and me think you need a bath!"
Trying his best to follow along with the briefing, he looks relieved when Valendil starts asking the questions. Elfs always so smart!
The Society arranges travel by the the next ship leaving Absalom for Oppara. The travel isn't comfortable but the trip is relatively short. After navigating the endless bureaucracy of Taldan customs officials, you make your way into the city which is the heart of the decaying empire. A novice from the local Pathfinder lodge meets you outside the harbor and leads you to a flat-bottomed barge that will take you up the canal system into the Taldor hinterland.
The travel is slow and boring. The canals are well-aptroled by teh Phalanx and many heavily laden boats pass by headed into the city, most carrying foodstuffs from these outlands to feed the teeming masses. After a few days travel on the barge, the captain indicates your disembarkation point has arrived. Here in the central Tandak Plains a decaying road winds in the direction of your destination the village of Evondemor.
These areas of the Taldor are surprisingly barren. The roads are in great disrepair, the villages on the verge of abandonment or worse, completely empty. The plains are filled with scrubby grassland, in some places cultivated into poor-appearing fields. Needless to say, this is not the opulent empire that the cities of Taldor still try to portray.
A thick fog settles in during the evening a few hours before dusk and burns off again each morning a few hours after daybreak. The fog makes the visibility difficult, only about 60' in front of you at any point, but there really isn't much to see here anyway, so you don't miss much.
After two days travel along the rutted or overgrown roads, shortly before nightfall, but after the thick fog has rolled in, you see the village of Evondemor loom up through the mist. A muddy ditch and lichen-encrusted palisade guards the perimeter of the town. Two veteran, who both appear to have many years behind them, occupy the gatehouse and the woman shouts out you cantankerously. "No armed bands allowed in town without the Tribune's say-so. Get on over to the Devil's Fork Inn and wait there for Tribune Bourtze."
The guards then wave you through the gate and point out the inn a few blocks down the main (and only) street of the town. Within the village, empty cottages and sagging, roofless structures testify to the town's decline. The muddy streets are nearly deserted, the few obviously occupied cottages have their doors closed and barred. The towers of Bourtze Manor stand at the far end of the village, its towers barely visible through the rising fog.
Upon entering the Inn, you see that flickering candlelight dimly illuminates the common room of the Devil's Fork. Stained and mended tablecloths cover rickety tables, but the walls hold an impressive display of Chelish fighting gear. Battered shields carry the heraldry of the Order of the Lash, an iron barbazu beard rusts in one corner, and a military fork bears dozens of infernal symbols. Men and women sit and drink at various tables. Behind the bar, a dispirited-looking woman listlessly wipes leather tankards.
No one seems to notice you, welcome you, or take your order.
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Prior to the briefing Sindelle will give Touchy a grin and a hug seeing that he also follows the savored sting. "And it's the best language to know!"
As we travel and leave larger settlements behind Sindelle will connect everyone in the party to her using Life link
Sindelle will tend to any wounds anyone acquires during the trip as well as any sorts of comforts that any of you might want during the journey, leading you to also learn about the seductive nature of her healing magic. <~
Other than keeping Life link active Sindelle will just stay near the more heavily armed and armored men in the party while we wait!
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Valandil uses a well practiced cantrip to remove vermin from the area about the table he chooses to sit at. With another flick of his hands he removes stains from the table cloth.
Sitting down carefully the mage considers how healthy the food and drink offered here might be... or might not be. With a sigh he suggests.
"Maybe if someone goes up to the bar and puts in a good order she might prove talkative?" He pointedly doesn't offer to do so himself.
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Stugbu nods at Valandil's suggestion and stands up ready to take everyone's order and head to the bar. Smart elfs always have good ideas!
"What everyone want? First shout on Stugbu!" The big half-orc waits until he's got everyone's order and then heads to the bar.
"Stugbu get drinks for his friends. We new in town. Waiting for Tribune!" Stugbu smiles a big toothy grin at the barkeep while he waits for the drinks to be poured.
"You know him? He a good guy?
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As we travel and leave larger settlements behind Sindelle will connect everyone in the party to her using Life link
Wit feels very uncomfortable at the thought of having anyone take damage on his behalf, but he hesitantly agrees.
As they arrive at the tavern, Wit looks for a place to sit or stand that will give him a good vantage point to see the people around the room, and anyone who might enter. He looks around for anyone or anything out of the ordinary (particularly anyone who seems to be eyeing him or his companions more than they should be), and says very little (though will accept a drink if one is offered).
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"Ah, Taldor. Down on their luck nobility, all scratching to remain relevant." He grins. Given his own claims to nobility, you find his reaction interesting. "Further out we go, the more desperate they will be. No wonder someone's selling off their family heirlooms. Probably couldn't afford to keep themselves in cheap wine."
As it quickly becomes apparent they are going quite far out indeed, he starts pointing out points of interest along the way.
"Been a while since I was out this way. That's the the World's Edge there." He points to a range of mountains that have been rising up into the sky to the east for much of the trip.
"My home citadel is right down the end of that road, there." He offers at one point, pointing down a road that apparently leads to the dwarven sky citadel of Kravenkus. "Stodgy lot, those dwarves. Don't much miss it."
"And we're going even more ass-end than that." He adds cheerfully, as they pass it by, heading further north.
Wit doesn't see anyone who looks more ordinary than a day-laborer or field hand, and none of them seem to be paying the new group any more mind than such a crowd would normally attract in a small, closed-off place.
Stugbu tries to be diplomatic with the bartender/waitress, smiling his best smile. She smiles back at him, her teeth withered and blackened from rot. Its a sight he can't unsee now. She pours the drinks and tips him a wink, her hand lingering a little longer on his than needed when the coins are exchanged. She bats her eyes at him, but he recognizes she is truly hideous...
Stugbu returns to the table, a bit shaken from the encounter, and just as he does, a blood-spattered man throws the inn's front door open and storms into the common room. Clad in a blood-spattered heraldic surcoat bearing stars on a golden field, this man is the Tribune of Evondemor, Markarius Boutze. The frantic nobleman gasps out, "Bar the doors! They're right behind me!" and the inn's dozen or so patrons scatter in panic.
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Touchy has no problems hitting on the waitress, seeming to have few scruples or compunctions of any sort.
He is just in the process of closing the deal, at least in his mind, when the Tribune bursts into the tavern and slams the door.
"Moneylenders?" He calls out, with a wicked grin, laughing at his own joke.
The man, who Touchy recognizes from his heraldic pattern as the Tribune Makarius Bourtze himself, is out of breath, huffing and puffing while his bulging eyes dart around the room, obviously in great fear.
"Explain later. Bar the door! They are coming! NOW!" He drops a longsword that he has been carrying and leans against the nearby table, trying to recover his breath and wits.
Wit closes the gap to the door in a moment, despite the milling crowd. Stugbu leaves the drinks with the horrible bartender and follows his smaller companion, drawing his sword and wayfinder.
Sindelle stands, casting a necromantic spell on herself, and grabbign her shield and wand.
Valandil questions the tribune while warding himself from attack with a different magic spell.
Touchy cracks a joke, but no is in the mood for laughter.
The room starts to empty of commoners who flee for the backroom, but not before a pair of burly men put a large bar across the front door, hopefully keeping whatever is outside at bay.
"The Jester released them from the urn! They slaughtered my men and I fled back here. They're horrible, evil creatures all claws and terrible teeth!" cries Bourtze obviously still stricken.
Just then, clearly audible above the din comes a loud knocking on the door. A panicked voice cries out "Help! Open the door! Don't leave me here with them! It's too horrible! I followed his Lordship through the mist. Don't leave me out here!"
Stugbu's initial use of the wayfinder to detect evil indicates an evil aura outside the door. After a few seconds more, he can divine that there is but one aura of evil, and it is faint in strength.
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"There only one bad thing out there...and only one voice!" Stugbu announces. "Who are you?", he asks the voice behind the door before turning back to Bourze "...oh, and who 'Jester' by the way? Me getting a little confused!"
Stugbu stands his ground but contines his Detect Evil going, in case more evil creatures come into range.
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Touchy gives an exasperated sigh.
"Well, open the door, and find out." He exclaims. "If we're going to have a party, invite everyone! No one wants to shout through two inches of wood."
He pauses for a moment, then adds with a grin. "Well, except maybe the parishioners at the temple, the last time Lord Touchy dropped by!"
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Sindelle is suspicious after the aura revelation from Stugbu, but is probably too distracted by the bad joke to tell anything useful.
She will extend her life link to the tribune as well as the party and whisper to Touchy "maybe not the best way to advertise your services, love." but will still give him a little wink.
The voice behind the door gets more insistent. "They are here now! Let me in! Don't let them get me" Valandil completes another warding spell, and while you don't see anything different, he is covered in invisible layers of force.
"For the love of Aroden! Open the door and let the man inside. Whatever is out there in the mist -- it's a terror. It killed all my men. Don't let another one die!" Bourtze moves to the door to try to lift the bar off but won't be able to for a bit, unless someone aids him.
[dice=Bluff]1d20+7[/dice
Together, Bourtze and Stugbu lift the bar off the door and the nervous soldier behind pushes his way into the saloon, "Gods be praised!" he stammers wild-eyed. He has a bleeding wound, which he has bound with a cloth. "Those monsters were going to get me for sure! Can someone look at this wound?"
As the man speaks, a loud crash interrupts the discussion. Shards of glass and splinters of wood fly inward as a powerful pair of hands shatters the window and surrounding frame and steps into the Devil's Fork from the misty night.
The creature is a repulsive, hunchbacked crone with skin the color of a fresh bruise. Despite her hunch, she looms taller than a human, standing nearly 8' tall. her long claws and evil sharp teeth are filled with bloody ichor from prior victims and leave no doubt as too her intention.
Hunter in the Mist - Round 1
25 Wit
21 Annis Hag
17 Sindelle
15 Stugbu
10 Valandil
8 Touchy
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Wit hesitates only for a moment, still concerned about the wild-eyed man's tone of voice. Something just wasn't right...but we have more immediate concerns.
Wit moves quickly toward the wall and toward the creature, drawing a shuriken, etched with the image of an exploding volcano, from his belt. He flicks his wrist to throw the shuriken at the creature. He stands back on his heels in a defensive pose immediately after throwing it.
AC: 27
Ki Pool: 4/5
Hunter in the Mist - Round 1 - continued
Reacting quickly to the sudden intrusion of the hag, Wit steps forward, within reach of the hag, and throws his shuriken. The weapon pierces the thick hide of the hag, and also bursts into flame on contact roasting her a bit. He takes a defensive stance which gives him added protection from a counter attack.
Smoking and smelling worse than usual from the flames, the hag sees the defensive stance of Wit, and chooses to turn her attention on an easier prey. Unfortunately, Touchy seems to also be within easy reach and she bites him unmercifully, then rakes him with both claws, also rending his flesh as if it were paper. Her long sharp fingers then grab the injured dwarf, holding his mangled body fast in a grapple.
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Sindelle gasps as the hag rips into Touchy so violently! Her Life Link heals Touchy 5hp and she takes 5hp automatically! She then runs around the tables to put her hands on Touchy's side casting Cure Moderate Wounds on him while the hag is grappled and not able to attack her!
Then as a swift action Sindelle casts Liberating Command that lets Touchy make an Escape artist check as an immediate/swift action with a +10 to the roll!
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Touchy's eyes go wide as the hag burst into the inn.
"A fan!" He cries excitedly, only to get grabbed up and promptly torn and rended.
"Woah... hold up! *gah* Not so fast!" He cries, though its hard to tell if he's resisting or encouraging. "There's enough of Lord Touchy to go *erk* around! My safe word... is .... cinnamon *gah*"
As Sindelle's healing energy flows into him, followed by the warm touch of her healing hands on his side, he smiles, teeth red with blood.
"I had this fantasy... once." He grunts, teeth clenched from the pain, one of the whips falling from his suddenly numb hand. "Started just like this!"
"Sure, in my dream you were a little easier on the eyes." He adds, with a forced smile at the hag. "But that's why I carry the bags!"
"But you're perfect." He adds as a quick aside over his shoulder, to Sindelle
"You wanna see Lord Touchy's goods, you just have to ask!" He shouts, before uttering a prayer to Calistria.
With his free hand, he reaches down grabs the edges of his clothing, and reefs hard. Just like that, they pull away, as if designed for just that. Suddenly he is showing far more pasty flesh than he was a moment before.
The entire view is thankfully obscured from everyone else, by a sudden flash of divine energy.
He then steps away from her, grinning, looking like he's enjoying himself... but the dark look in his eyes says something completely different.