Realms Beyond Imagination-Reign of Winter (Inactive)

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"We? Oh, pardon my rudeness, I didn't realize we were interrupting! They call me Digger." He extends his hand.

William moves with Naajy, placing the rifle on his back but keeping the revolver close. "Does he know that not many people speak Chinese around here?"

Hearing his buddies being invited in, Jazz gets down and knocks on the door if it is closed, otherwise if he makes it down in time before they close it, he just walks in last.

"Digger? Not the name your mother gave you, unless I miss my guess. I am Cindren, Roger Cindren, and these are my associates, John, Walter, Thomas" Each of the men nods at you in greeting. Mr. Cindren moves out of the way, ushering Digger in. Thomas is about to close the door as William and Naji come out of hiding.

Thomas' eyes grow large, "Hey, boss, there's a negro with a tiger comin' toward the house with a white man. Are you circusfolk?"

Roger seems at ease, but the other three are tense, and they have the feel of men who are not unfamiliar with violence.

Thomas blocks the door, his hand in his jacket pocket.

Roger puts his hand on the man's shoulder. "It's fine Thomas, the beast seems to be under the man's control. And that is not a negro. Unless I miss my guess, he is a Vu---I mean, an In-dian."

Thomas moves from the door at Roger's entreaty, allowing all of you in. Roger motions all of you to the fireplace and whispers in Walter's ear, sending him to the kitchen.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, good folk. I know it sounds clichéd, but it's some odd weather we're having, isn't it?"

"Yes, strange weather. And especially strange for such an odd assortment of you to be wandering the woods? What brings you into such trouble? It looks like your man there is worse for the wear." He motions to Fang.

"Where you fellas from? Ya don't sound like anyone from the city I ever heard! What brings ya ta these locales?"

"Might as well be polite for awhile. I wonder how long that is going to last? I wonder what Vu.... are"

"You are quite correct, sir. Both in realizing that Haamid is no danger to anybody who doesn't threaten me and for recognizing that I come from the subcontinent. I am Major Naajy Singh of the Dogra Regiment. You seemed to think that I was a Vu" he suddenly starts muttering after the "Vu"

Looking at Naajy, it's clear that Fang is waiting for him to translate.

Oops. Sorry

Jazz eyes up the nice place admiring it. Say, where are we?

Fang nods to Naajy and then moves to stand next to the fire. As he moves, it's obvious without being too revealing that he is naked underneath the ill-fitting coat he wears. He stands and faces the fire, letting his body take in the warmth and he listens to the sounds in the room.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20

Hmm. Last night I posted a long answer to Jazz's question and it isn't here.

"Up until about 30 years ago, this place was known as the High Sentinel Lodge. It was build by a men's club, almost a sort of secret society, if you will. They were involved in a the abolitionist movement, and used this as a hiding place for runaway slaves on the way to Canada. After the War, they lost their way, a bit, and as their members died off, they eventually sold off their holdings. My father bought the place, and my family has used it as a hunting and fishing lodge ever since. The creek is full of trout, the woods full of deer and the occasional black bear. My men and I were up here fishing when the cold weather hit."

--------------------------

Fang hears the sound of rattling pots off to the west, and the coughs of a least two different men from the room to the south.

Are we still in Manhattan New York?

"My dear fellow, the cold must have addled your senses a bit. Where is Ten-Penny with that coffee? No, sir, we are in North Westchester County. Well North of Manhattan."

A bullish looking woman enters the room from beyond the fireplace. She carries a silver tray with a glass coffee carafe with a silver handle. On the tray are several bone china cups. She sets the tray on the grand table and begins to pour.

"Thank you, Ten-Penny. I'm sure these gentlemen will appreciate a hot beverage. Why don't you see if you can manage some sandwiches, and bring a tureen of the soup you were making for later."

The woman nods quietly in acknowledgement of his thanks and moves back toward the kitchen unless one of you intervenes.

Roger pours coffee for each of you from the carafe, only pouring himself a cup when he has poured one for each of you.

"I'm afraid I don't know much of the care of big cats. Is there anything that need be done for your beast? Is he of tropical, temperate, or sub-arctic variety?"

"He comes from Tibet. He is quite comfortable in the cold although he, likes all cats, also likes it when it is nice and sunny and warm"

Naajy doesn't touch the cup at once, instead he looks at it as if he is thinking of something else.

Assuming that he can do fairly subtly, Naajy is going to try and use psychometry on the cup he was passed. He doesn't really expect to get any interesting information but perhaps something will come of it. At the least, he should learn something about Roger since it was Roger who last touched it.

appraise: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (20) + 10 = 30

Hard to addle that mind any more.

William takes the coffee, but as he's about to sip it something clicks in his mind. Covering his mouth to the cup, he whispers to Naajy.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22

The fire was glorious. Fang turned towards the fire and opened his purloined coat, allowing the heat to blast his body warm. After several minutes, he realized he should warm his clothes, and so retied his coat and pulled out his clothing, allowing it to warm by the fire for a few minutes until they were no longer wet or cold either.

Turning to the others, Fang would say

William switches back to English, swirling the scalding liquid in the cup without tasting it yet.
"Tigers are wonderful creatures. Brightly colored, and yet so skilled at hiding, even in plain sight, that one doesn't notice them until it's too late. You might be next to one, and never know that a foe is so close to you."

1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22

bluff to send secret meaning: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (8) + 12 = 20"Yeah, I like how it lays there. Lies there? Lies there."

Since it hasn't gone too far, I'm going to fix one miscommunication. The woman Naajy saw in his flashes is not the woman serving you. The woman serving you is a thick boned peasant woman with a flat blotchy face. The woman in the visions is thin, pale, blond hair, aristocratic. If she is here, she must be hidden away.

When asked about a place to change "Yes, of course. There is an unused bedroom just there." He point to the door to H12.

Jazz disappointed that he can't prove supernatural stuff is going on so he can stuff it in Williams face, who's attitude he dislikes, will make a perception check to find out these people are not human, if that is in fact the case, or look for supernatural occurrences, using any and all senses he has perception: 4 + 1d20 ⇒ 4 + (1) = 5

"Man, upstate really is a whole nuther place. I didn't think the weather was this different! You guys used to this?"

"No, this weather is most unseasonal. Are you saying that the freak doesn't reach as far south as The City?"

Bump, bump.

I'm still here, waiting for someone to point me at the bedroom to change.

Naajy points out the bedroom to Fang.

I get the impression we're all waiting for somebody else to make the first move :-(. Fine

AFTER Fang returns from changing,

"Where is the woman in charge? The woman in the green dress? It is time to stop dealing with underlings"

Agreed, Naajy. It's a Mexican stand off without any Mexicans. Fang, you want to get up to anything while you are unsupervised? Or are you just trying to get your clothes on?

"Alright, then. Please excuse the time it took, but I reckon that all of us are quite better off now that this man has some clothes on."
William drops the untouched cup on the nearby table. "So, how about we dispense with deceitfulness and deception, and start speaking sincerely?"

I'll just dress and return. These stupid white people will need my help =P

Roger's eyes flare, but he keeps his cool, raising his voice only slightly, "The only woman here is Ten-penny, my cook. And I assure you that there is no lady in a green dress who is in charge. Now that you are warm and clothed, perhaps it would be best if you move along."

bluff: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (19) + 13 = 32"She wouldn't much like to hear that when we talk to her. She was right about your disloyalty. Good thing she sent us."

Now that Jazz knows where he is after asking he wants to know the distance he traveled since this group departed and how much time it took to get there knowledge geography untrained: 1 + 1d20 ⇒ 1 + (18) = 19 to figure it out.

It was about 4 miles from the house to the accident site. From there, you've travelled another 4 miles as the wolf runs, taking nearly 3 hours due to the rough terrain and the snow.

To Digger, "Of course, dear boy. Let me just show you the way."

He turns away from you and moves around the fireplace into the room beyond. He lifts up a bear skin rug, revealing a door into a cellar below. He raises the door, pointing into the darkness.

"I believe what you seek is here."

"Nothing suspicious about going into the basement. No, nothing at all"

Naajy would like to try and do a sense motive on Roger to see if Roger is trying to send Digger into a trap or to see if the woman really is down there.

Some GMs prefer to roll Sense motive themselves which is fine with me. If you prefer for me to roll:

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22

Sense motive: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (13) + 12 = 25

Generally speaking, I don't have anything to hide as a GM. We are all working to tell a great story. If someone really just can't separate player knowledge from character knowledge, I guess I could be persuaded.

He doesn't have the best of intentions, but he isn't sure how to get rid of you without just shooting you in the head.

I think we're having the same problem he is :-). Its interesting to see how ethics can stall a group who are NOT seasoned murder hobos but are rather normalish people caught up in strange circumstances. In character, there is no way we know enough to escalate things into violence :-(

It is fascinating. You guys are doing a good job playing reasonable modernish people, and I tried to make him a little more complex, which is keeping him from gunning you down in his home.

Roger seems almost to crumble before regaining his composure. Still, his voice drops to a whisper as he chokes out.
"Gentlemen, listen. Gather closely. There is a woman here who is not my maid Ten-Penny. She is imprisoned below here in the cellar. She was kidnapped by these men, but there is far more than that. There is a creature here, a creature lurking in the snows outside, who is watching the lodge. If I allow the young lady to leave, or if I allow you to escape, this creature will strike us down with cold. Already she has killed some of my men. While you would not be the first men I have killed, I have no reason to harm you, but you must see that my hands are tied...

Ok, first things first

sense motive: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13

"Why did you kidnap this woman in the first place? Please tell us more about this creature. Perhaps together we can drive it off or kill it and then all go about our business. After you've freed the woman you kidnapped, of course."

Not being murder hobos is a really pleasant deviation from the norm.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Is this silliness unending?
"I- uh, I beg your pardon, a creature? Who would strike you down with cold? For instance, wielding an icicle? I know of an ape in Sumatra who learned to make spears, but there are no such primates in America. Well, perhaps in the Amazon, but not here..."

I'm willing to kill the creature, even if it is an unidentified species

"Uh, OK. Of course you are ..." Chrissake, that one is a lunatic. Glad he's on my side, I guess? And here's this guy just straight admitting kidnapping. Digger, you've found a doozy here.

"The creature is like a small woman, not like a girl, but with a woman's body. Her skin is mottled blue and frosty, and she has a mad shock of white hair. She looks like a gargoyle from a gothic church."

Roger crosses himself and looks warily into the rafters as if she might be watching. He seems to be telling the truth, or he is one of the most masterful actors you have ever seen.

"She said that she needed a young woman, and so I paid a local inn keeper to tell me if one such was staying at the inn. Someone who would not be missed, who was not from the region. When I received word or her travelling, my men and I intercepted her auto."

William's eyes blink several times. "A fairy. You are describing a fairy of some kind. And, so help me God, you aren't joking and don't look mad. Are you utterly sure you weren't deceived? Did you recently eat any rye bread? Came into contact with nightshade? Mushrooms of the slender kind?"

Interestingly, while they did not become public until 1919, the Cottingley Fairy photographs were taken in 1917.

"Sir, while I have been the victim of a strange series of events, I assure you that I have all of my wits about me. If you wish to contest the reality of this monster, I suggest that you proceed out the doors here and across the bridge above the ravine there. I am certain that she will not approve of that, and will make her presence known in a most unpleasant fashion. As for freeing the lady, she has been given opium and will not wake any time soon. I assure you she will remain safe here. Feel free to attend her below if you wish."