Mirian leads the party through the slum section, dodging beggars as she goes. Finally she comes to a ramshackle hut leaning against the wall of the city. There are two dangerous looking Zamoran men leaning as though they belong there.
"Wait here for a moment". Mirian whispers to the others, and approaches the men. They are silent, but alert as they watch her approach. She leans to whisper to one of the men "Mama Tshilaba".
The mans eyes widen with surprise, and maybe respect as he nods, then consults with the other man. He then leans in close to Mirian. "Under the potato sacks, down, then follow till the path emerges in a small grove of Olive trees". "You'll see the camp there, but they'll see you first". "Here wear this scarf about you and they won't kill you before speaking to you". "If you ask for Mama they will take you to her wagon".
Mirian beckons the others forward, and they enter the decrepit lean-to then uncover the trap door with a ladder leading down. The tunnel they enter takes them under the wall, and after about ten minutes the path emerges into a cave entrance in a small olive grove. As the party emerges they spot a ring of ornate wagons, surrounding a small bonfire. Before they take a step, Hakketh feels the cold of an iron blade against his neck.
Mirian speaks the name, and displays the scarf, and the party is escorted guardedly to a small wagon painted jet black with stars, moons, and planets painted on it that seem to glow under the moonlight. One of the men knocks at the door of the wagon and a few minutes later an old woman emerges. She is very tall and frail, and even stooped over she is eye to eye with the rest of the group. "Who disturbs the rest of Mama Tshilaba"?
Mirian
Black Benny expenditure results in more than a simple one time bonus. Mama Tshilba is a recurring NPC that Mirian will be able to call on from time to time. As she is a Gypsy, and part of a traveling group, she is not necessarily tied to one location. Though she has some strange mystical powers, and can read the Tarot, her real skill is in brewing and administering potions, and folk cures.
Mirian met the woman just after she arrived in town. A rowdy caravan entered through the city's main gate, and somehow Mama was knocked to the ground, in real danger of being trampled. Mirian sensing her distress made her way through the dangerous mob, and helped the woman to her feet, shielding her from further harm. Then going above the call of duty, she escorted the crone to a nearby vendor, and provided her with some herbal tea, and waited till another of her tribe arrived to escort her home. The woman thanked her profusely, and tried to reward her which Mirian reluctantly refused.
When Mirian removed her traveling clothes that night, she found a small note from the woman. When in need travel to the end of Tanin Blvd, and ask for me by name.
Just to speed things along. the crone applies some pungent poultices to the parties wounds, and gives them potions to take.
"You will sleep soon after taking these potions, but they must be imbibed within the hour to work with the poultices to heal you". "My Nephew owns a small in just south of the Square of the Peacock called The Ravens Roost. Ask for Petyr by name and show him this token". She then removes a small amulet from around her neck with a round disk with a hole in the middle with some unknown script on its surface. "He will put you up for the day...but is not a rich man, so if you can pay, then I ask that you do so". "You should sleep until noon then awaken healed and refreshed". Then turning to Mirian. "My debt to you is repaid...still I feel that our paths are destined to cross again". "May The Earth Mother protect you".
The woman then turns to enter her wagon, turning back to look at Mirian one final time.
Mirian only
NOTICE
As the woman turns and eyes you that final time, you swear that you see her shadow take the form of a cat before she enters the wagon.
"Come I shall take you to Petyr". one of the young guards replies, and leads the company back into the maze of the city, to the inn in question. Arriving shortly before dawn the party finds the inn welcoming with the owner already up making fresh bread. He speaks with the escort for a moment, before showing the party to a small room in the attic with several sleeping pads arranged about the floor. As they party settles in they notice that two of the other pallets are already occupied...but there would be time for that in the morning.
Mirian streches her neck and looks groggily around the room. She test her left arm and notice that her wound has almost healed entirely. "Impressive. I'll have to ask if she does stiching next time." She instinctively reaches for her tankard, then frowns as she find it empty. Slightly disappointed she leans back towards the wall and studies the Ophirian and Nemedian. "This is not the ordinary suites. What brings you two up here?"
The Nemedian noticed the woman stirring and carefully set down the quill in his hands. He then retrieved a nearby pitcher of water and a small bowl.
“Ah, finally awake, are we? I was beginning to get concerned.”
He moved closer, pouring her a bowl of water.
“Drink this slowly,” he instructed, his tone fatherly.
“My name is Demetrio. I’m a traveling – well, I suppose Scholar, will do. I took the liberty of looking over your wounds.”
At the look she gave him he sighed.
”Nothing inappropriate, I assure you. I do have some rudimentary knowledge of healing. Besides, it looked as if the three of you had been repeatedly stabbed, and for a moment I thought I had awoken next to murdered corpses.”
And indeed he points out how the three of them are covered in blood – and not a small amount of it their own.
“Someone left clean clothes over in the corner for you. You must have some good friends,” he said with a smile.
"I'm curious, how did you end up in such a state?"
The Ophirian lounged in his pallet, propped up against the wall, gently struming a gentle air on a rather battered lyre.
"Indeed, I can vouch for Demetrio here, he was most solicitous in his concern for you all." he says , his supple fingers continuing to pluck gently at the strings.
Pausing in his playing, he cocks his head at Mirian's question, "Hmmm, yes...itinerant entertainer, thief, spy..." he waves his hand "Take your pick, but you can call me Barnabas." He rises smoothly from his pallet and delivers a passable court bow to the lady.
Demetrio chuckled.
"Forgive my friend here. He has a flair for the dramatic," he says to the group.
He then turned to his room mate.
"One day, Barnabas, you're going to introduce yourself plainly, and I will fall over dead from the shock," he teased with a smile.
Barnabas grins at Demetrio as he rises, lean and wiry and places a hand on his hip and looks over the three newcomers.
"I share Demeterio's curiosity. I'm sure you have an interesting tale to tell."
Septimilius wakes slowly, his mind and body rested after a frenzied night, but not eager to continue at that pace straight away. He still can’t quite understand how Mirian was able to provide them safety, but it came at a needed time. Eyes closed and face pressed against a pillow, he hears her asking a question and a reply from a man. Can’t rest all day, he thinks.
Sitting up, he swings his legs over the side of the pallet and takes in his surroundings. Two men, an Ophirian and a Nemedian, are there. He catches the Ophirian’s bow to Mirian. So that makes the other one Demeterio. He nods and flicks his fingers in a sloppy greeting. ”Septimilius,” he says. ”Well met.”
He stands and stretches, scratching his torso, yawning. What can he tell them without revealing too much information? How trustworthy are they? ”Well I-- we tried to rescue a man last night. You can imagine how well we succeeded based upon our wounds.”
Hakketh is the last to awaken and lies very quietly listening to the conversation pretending to be asleep.
However, he bolts to an upright position once Septimillus explains the prior days activities. "Wrong, wrong, wrong," he says in the same annoyed tone he had taken the evening before. "We went to a temple because my colleagues would not listen to my superior instincts. We need to get into the tomb below the city before a foul Necromancer can be awoken. We have a chance to stop him now but once he regains his powers we will be as fleas to a dog. Annoying but not dangerous."
Hakketh proceeds to tell the newcomers what he learned from the sage.
Mirian tumbles and rolls gracefully to her feet. She looks skeptically on the bowl of water before draining it. "Don't you have anything stronger?", she asks and hands the bowl back to Demetrio.
Hakketh is the last to awaken and lies very quietly listening to the conversation pretending to be asleep.
However, he bolts to an upright position once Septimillus explains the prior days activities. "Wrong, wrong, wrong," he says in the same annoyed tone he had taken the evening before. "We went to a temple because my colleagues would not listen to my superior instincts. We need to get into the tomb below the city before a foul Necromancer can be awoken. We have a chance to stop him now but once he regains his powers we will be as fleas to a dog. Annoying but not dangerous."
"Superior instincts? Do you mean your 'visions' that promised me dead inside the temple and bathing in riches if we went to the catacombs? Yet here I stand, alive and with two scrolls taking from their shrine", she says playfully and walks over to the pile of clothes. [b]"Let's see what you have here. Last nights activities seems to have ruined my shirt. My name is Mirian, by the way. Mirian Greyfeather.
"Pleased to meet you," he says absently as Hakketh tells their tale. His eyes widen at several parts.
Barnabas' face become rapt as Hakketh recounts what he learned, turning momentarily to spare a wide smile for Mirian at her greeting. Turning back to Hakketh, he tries to recount anything he may have heard....
History
Wild
Septimilius’ jaw drops loosely as Hakketh proceeds to tell them about last night’s adventure. How can he trust these men so easily? If there’s a reward for us, they could turn us in. He swallows and crosses his arms, face taking on a serious, stone-like appearance. Grayfeather admitting to theft. Wonderful.
He waits for a lull in the conversation. ”Well neighbors, any food in this place? I’m fairly famished.”
"Pleased to meet you," he says absently as Hakketh tells their tale. His eyes widen at several parts.
[Dice = Legends and Lore] 1d8 + 3
[Dice = Wild] 1d6 + 3
Demetrio >
You have heard of the Xul, but merely in passing as a necromancer who used to terrorize the area...Not a nice guy... No particulars.
Barnabus >
You know that there was a decree offering rewards for finding necromancers in the past, but not the particulars...just that many were rounded up and executed or forced to flee.
TO ALL It's time for a benny reset.
As the group stretches and gets acquainted you can all hear a commotion outside the partially open small window under the eaves. When investigated you can see a squad of city watch talking with Petyr, and demanding entrance to the Inn to search for three wanted criminals. Petyr asks for a description, then claims to have not seen any meeting this description.
About that time the hatch to the attic room opens, and a teen girl obviously kin to Petyr shushes the group. She then excitedly whispers.
"This way, and be quiet". "I'll let you know when it's safe".
She heads towards a linen trunk against the opposite wall from the window, and pulls out a bunch of linens. The then does something with her fingers, and a false back falls from the chest leading into a dark cubby hole. As you enter this cramped holding spot you notice the smell of dank sweat in the darkness. She hands the group a shuttered lamp, and closes the hatch behind them. As you hear the lid to the chest close, you also hear the sound of bootsteps on the ladder outside the hatch.
Demetrio shares a look with Barnabas and conveyed his intention to follow the outlaws.
An artifact belonging to a necromancer was just too dangerous to leave in any man's hands.
He made a split decision before taking the bloody clothes that had been left in the corner and throwing it into the cubby hole.
He then sat back at his desk and pretended to be looking over the parchment again.
Craning his neck to see the ruckus outside, Barnabas says quietly but excitely "Oho! You've managed to rile the local constabulary! They're outside right now, suspiciously looking for people who look just like you three! "
When the girl appears with the escape route, he says "Quickly now!" waving his hands to hurry the fugitives.
Once the secret door has closed, he flings himself back onto his pallet, picking up his lyre and fingering a calm peasant song.
Agility
Wild
"The downsides of acquiring renown", Mirian laments and takes a linen shirt from the piles of clothes before moving into the secret hiding hole.
The Aquilonian swears quietly as he squeezes into the hiding hole. ”I prefer anonymity to fame and renown,” he whispers. He inhales deeply, sucking in his abdomen and pulling his elbows in tight.
Hakketh also enters the hiding place behind the others, and just in time too, as seconds later there is a tromp of boots at the door, and a key turning in the lock. From outside you hear Petyr's voice.
"Ah it is unlocked already". "My daughter must be cleaning the room". "Are you sure I cannot provide you with some refreshment". "I get so few chances to show my appreciation for all the Watch does for us".
As these words are spoken, the girl begins to straighten up the room, beginning with rolling up the used bed rolls.
"No"! "Just let us in the room". "There are dangerous fugitives about". "You can help us by letting us do our jobs".
The door springs open, as the guards enter pushing Petyr over like a surging tide.
The guard sergeant looks about the room taking in everything in a hurry. He quickly looks at Barnabas and Demetrio, and dismisses them as suspects. Then turns to the Inkeeper.
"Are there any areas of the Inn you have not show us yet"?
Petyr replies "No this is all...except for the root cellar". "I can take you down there now".
Persuasion
Notice G1
Notice G2
Notice S
"Yes". "All seems to be in order here". He then instructs one of the other guards to hand some printed handbills to the two men in the room. "If you see these people, do not try to apprehend them yourselves". "They are very dangerous". "There is a reward of 50 gold crowns for information that leads to their arrest".
The guards then leave the room, and head down the stairs.
The room is stuffy, and dusty, and a few times a sneeze is imminent, but the gravity of the situation led to it being painfully muffled. You can hear everything that is said outside. It is very dark in the room, and at the back opposite the trunk entrance, you can see a crack of light, as though there might be a back way out of this room to the roof. The three fugitives remain hidden from the watchful guards.
Barnabas, and Demetrio, finally see the guards leave the building, and watch from the window, as they turn the corner leaving the street. The girl begins to open the secret entrance, and everyone is once again standing in the room. Petyr enters a bit later, and begins to speak to the group.
"I am sorry, but I must ask that you find somewhere else to stay". "I cannot afford this trouble". "Perhaps when all is revealed I can welcome you back with all hospitality, but for now...".
Then bowing to Barnabas, and Demetrio. "Of course you are welcome to stay as long as you have the coin". "Come Selma". "We have work to do".
Petyr then leaves the room followed by his daughter.
Looking at the "wanted" hand bill shows that the Othbanes was unfortunately very observant, and whoever inked the likeness of the three was very good, as the very recognizable faces of Septimilius, Hakketh, and Mirian stare back from the paper, just below the reward offer.
”Thanks for your help,” Septmilius tells Petyr. He nods to the man in sincere gratitude for all that he’s done.
Septimilius studies the hand bill. ”To have the number of these you say, they must have had a dozen scribes working all morning.” He taps his portrait with a finger and chuckles. ”So this is what it feels like to be wanted. I’m the guy normally hunting the people on these.” No reason any of these will get to Tarantia, but having my name and face on this... he thinks. He steps away from the group and starts stretching his body, warming up his muscles.
”Thanks to both of you as well for keeping quiet. 50 gold crowns. That’s tempting.” He does a few shadow strikes with his mace. ”Hopefully we can find another place to hide for a few hours. And find some food.”
"These are unfortunately very well done. Might I suggest masks in the future? I hear they are quite the trendy fashion statement among most criminals."
He then sighed as he stared at Mirian.
"You'll need to lose the tricorn hat. Painting your hair might also help, but you don't really have that kind of time. In the meanwhile take your hair and drape it over the eyepatch. It won't really hide you very well, but with a little misdirection it should be enough."
Demetrio then drew his razor sharp dagger from his belt.
"As for you 2 gentlemen, I hope your not particularly attached to your hair."
Looking at the "wanted" hand bill shows that the Othbanes was unfortunately very observant, and whoever inked the likeness of the three was very good, as the very recognizable faces of Septimilius, Hakketh, and Mirian stare back from the paper, just below the reward offer.
Mirian takes the time in the saferoom as a opportunity to change out of her ruined shirt into a new one she grabbed from the pile of clothes. She's just finishing lacing her bodice as she emerges from hiding. "We appreciate all that you have done for us. May Mitra look favorably upon you", she thanks Petyr and his daughter.
"They got the hair all wrong", Mirian complains as she studies the wanted poster. She twiches somewhat when Dementrio mentions her eye, but tries to play unperturbed. "They've made you look shorter than you are", she tells Septimilius trying to shrug off the subject. "And the hat is not going anywhere. What's your stake in this anyhow?"
Barnabas waves off Septimillius' thanks with an airy flip of the hand , then listens to Demetrio's fashion lecture.
Taking the poster, he compares the images to the real thing. "Despite your objections, they are a good likeness. Any half-way observant guard or mercenary in town will be on the look out for you three, 50 crowns tends to sharpen the mind."
Looking at the "wanted" hand bill shows that the Othbanes was unfortunately very observant, and whoever inked the likeness of the three was very good, as the very recognizable faces of Septimilius, Hakketh, and Mirian stare back from the paper, just below the reward offer.
Mirian takes the time in the saferoom as a opportunity to change out of her ruined shirt into a new one she grabbed from the pile of clothes. She's just finishing lacing her bodice as she emerges from hiding. "We appreciate all that you have done for us. May Mitra look favorably upon you", she thanks Petyr and his daughter.
"They got the hair all wrong", Mirian complains as she studies the wanted poster. She twiches somewhat when Dementrio mentions her eye, but tries to play unperturbed. "They've made you look shorter than you are", she tells Septimilius trying to shrug off the subject. "And the hat is not going anywhere. What's your stake in this anyhow?"
Hakketh > I will award you a "Grey benny" to make up for your loss of anonymity.
Septimilus > You're SOL as your mask was ripped off in the combat.
"If there is a necromancer on the loose committing dark rituals, my stake is the same as everyone else's. This needs to be investigated."
Demetrio frowned when a thought suddenly occurred to him.
"You bled in their temple," he said in a quiet voice.
"If they have a sorcerer, and they were able to take some of your blood, there might be nowhere for any of you to hide."
A grim look settled on his face.
"We need to leave now. They already know you are here. These papers are just to make you stay put. "
Hakketh realizes with a sinking feeling that he's now being hunted by the minions of yet another deity as if being the target of the evil god Set wasn't bad enough. I'll have no issue sending a few of these death priests to their grave.
Demetrio, I will take you up on the offer of a shaved head. Head shaved, Hakketh will shove some bedding under his robe to make him look chubby instead of his normal fairly malnourished state.
I've been hunted by priests before; for some reason the priests of Set don't like it when I kill a dozen or so of their brethren and burn one of their foul temples to the ground. The key to staying alive is to keep moving. We should find a place to hide until evening and then we can enter the tombs below the city.
"Stake? We'll the moment I heard Necromancer...well it brought back memories of certain lucrative bounties on such nasty individuals. Most civilized people have a certain issue with people who bring the dead back to life. "
Hearing Demitrio's revelation, and Hakketh's admission, Barnabas leaps to his feet and in a matter of moments has his gear packed for travel. Well, we all have our run-ins with the unsavory dregs of society, you however seem to have a special talent! Count me...um, us , in!" he says , sharing a wink with Demetrio.
...
"Fair enough", Mirian accepts the two newcomers interest in her situation but scoffs at the notion of a blood rite finding them. "That is just superstition talking. Why not try for the tomb right now? There should not be any guards patrolling down there. Or is the square the only way down there?"
Septimilius nods at the new men. ”That’s very courageous of you. Not many in this cesspit of a city would do the same. It says much about your character. Thanks.” He finishes his stretches and warm-up exercises.
”Let’s not forget Otto. Turel wants his brother back. We can try to rescue him again after the catacombs, right?”
Septimilius nods at the new men. ”That’s very courageous of you. Not many in this cesspit of a city would do the same. It says much about your character. Thanks.” He finishes his stretches and warm-up exercises.
”Let’s not forget Otto. Turel wants his brother back. We can try to rescue him again after the catacombs, right?”
"I have a feeling that we'll find our fat benefactor in the catacombs. Of course, he's probably zombie Otto or ghoul Otto by now."
"Fair enough", Mirian accepts the two newcomers interest in her situation but scoffs at the notion of a blood rite finding them. "That is just superstition talking. Why not try for the tomb right now? There should not be any guards patrolling down there. Or is the square the only way down there?"
"I can assure you that blood magic is quite real. But for the moment, I'll admit that it is purely speculation on my part. Regardless, staying here is not wise. The only question is whether to make an attempt on the catacombs now, or wait until nightfall?"
"And personally, I agree with Mirain that we should risk an attempt now. Or, at the very least, take a look around. Barnabas and I can scout for you, since as far as I know we are not under suspicion."
"Most excellent! Not only are we on the hunt for a necromancer, we have a rescue mission as well." Barnabas is all but rubbing his hands together in his glee.
At Demetrio's last comment, Barnabas nods "Demetrio here is pure as the whitest sand, I however do have my own cloud of suspicion, but it is of no account!"
Not ready to accept the possibility of being tracked through magic Mirian dismisses Demetrio's concerns. "The cult seemed to be focused on the dead which keeps me out of danger as I plan to remain among the living." She accentuates her statement with a nonchalant flick of the wrist to exhibit her lack of concern.
"So you are a scholar?" Mirian continues in order to change the subject. "What do you make of these? Are they worth something?" She shows Demetrio the two scrolls she stole from the temple.
Demetrio takes a moment to look through the scrolls.
Demetrio is able to determine the purpose of the spell on the first yellowed scroll.
Demetrio>
Dispel Evil
The other scroll seems to have three separate spells on it.
Let me know what your next plan of action is. (Besides paying young Petyr for his trouble!!!) We need to come to a consensus of if you're going to try to find a catacombs entrance now or are waiting for darkness. Also how do you plan to find out this information.
You attempts at disguise will probably keep you from suspicion for now, but probably wouldn't stand up to close scrutiny (Like from someone from the temple battle).
Looking out the window, Hakketh can see his dog wandering around the streets dodging kicks and thrown objects from the cityfolk, who assume he's a stray looking for a handout.
Barnabas curiously peers over Demetrio's shoulder as he examines the scrolls. Seeing nothing of interest to himself, Barnabas turns away and asks the others "So I take it the catacombs lurks somewhere beneath our very feet...do we know how to get into it?"
Demetrio's eyes widened.
"It's -- it's sorcery," he answered surprised at what he was seeing. "This first section here is a spell to dispel evil magic."
He then looked over the others.
"Give me a moment."
11
"Sorcery? Are they valuable?" Mirian asks and furrows her brow.
"So, how do we find an entrance to the catacombs? I would like to ask around but as you are aware I'm wanted by the city guard. We need to get to the poorer districts. The watch won't be as present there."
"They are quite valuable. But finding a buyer whilst you've a bounty on your head, will be virtually impossible. It's almost a shame, I don't know any sorcery myself. We could use these."
"Perhaps our hosteller knows something. The locals always do."
Barnabas rises and goes downstairs to find Peytr.
Septimilius indicates the sides of his head that Demetrio can cut. ”Do you think Petyr has any glue? I’ll attempt to make a beard with my cut hair.” He rubs his chin, apparently trying to imagine how to make it halfway real while the scrolls are investigated.
Before Barnabas goes downstairs, Septimilius says, ”Sorcery. Best leave it alone. Almost everyone I know who dabbled in those practices met a grim fate. Here’s a thought. One of you approach the temple, say you have information about our location. Somewhere across town. You don’t want to go to the city guard because you don’t trust them. Hmmm. No, no. Never mind. Too dangerous to get dragged along with them.
“Oh it’s only fair I warn you. There were ghouls in the temple. Two. I’m lucky I escaped with my life.”
”Sorcery?”, Mirian says with a raised eyebrow. ”As long as the buyer is wealthy I see no problem with that. Unless you can use the spell, Hakketh? Ward off evil magic sounds useful.”
”Sorcery?”, Mirian says with a raised eyebrow. ”As long as the buyer is wealthy I see no problem with that. Unless you can use the spell, Hakketh? Ward off evil magic sounds useful.”
"Yes, I should be able to use them and I have a feeling we may need them in the crypts that have long lay hidden and forgotten under this cess-pit of a city.
Demetrio >
a. False Life
b. Contagion
c. Magic Circle against Evil.
Barnabus>
When you speak with Petyr, he seems surly and uncooperative for some reason."I am but a poor, lowly innkeeper". "What would I know of such things". He then turns his back on you, and takes a bundle of rags back into the small kitchen.
The now much different group takes themselves from the inn, and Hakketh whistles for his dog, as they make there way from the area.
Knowledge: Local
You do remember that in the Square of the Peacock, there is a row of vendors who 'claim' to sell artifacts from the catacombs of the city.
How do you intend to find you way into the catacombs?
"Don't be silly. Hakketh couldn't possibly use any of the scrolls, unless -- Ah, I see. Never mind then."
Demetrio cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"Anyways, these other scrolls are spells of False Life, Contagion, and a Magic Circle against Evil. All quite useful, of course."
Later, as the group made their way towards the Square of the Peacock Demetrio remembered something.
"I do believe I recall seeing vendors in the square who said they were selling artifacts from the catacombs. It might be a swindle, but if not we could gain some useful information."
Hakketh will tag along behind Demetrio, lost in thought.
"At the square which holds the very temple we infiltrated last night? I'm sure it comes as no surprise that you will have to gather that information on your own", Mirian says and tugs uncomfortably at the cowl shading her face. A necessary precaution yet an irritant as it hindered her field of vision. Having her hair tied up in a knot also bothered Mirian causing her to shake her head from time to time. "The faster we get down into the catacombs the faster I can get out of this terrible disguise."