The Darkest Corners (Inactive)

Game Master Nidoran Duran


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It's would be a dingy grey day in Absalom where it not for the strange streaks of colour across the sky. The fourth time in two weeks it happened, and the citizens of Golarion's sprawling metropolis were no less confused or amazed by it than they were the first time. Aurora ribbons waved softly to and fro in the overcast sky for minutes at a time before dissipating, only to appear again, differently coloured and moving in new directions hours later. There was certainly unexplained weirdness afoot in the city, and it brings mind to the letter in your pocket.

It would have been a mark of insanity to follow a vague letter preaching nonsense about shadows and undeath, delivered by a clockwork carrier pidgeon. But there you are, standing before The Gilded Unicorn, an inn that while certainly not run down or broken, is a far cry from what the letter described as "one of the finest inns in town". A reputable place that in a metropolis like Absalom could have been much seedier, The Gilded Unicorn is an old building kept in good shape, with the afternoon drunkards stumbling out of it seeming on the classier end of the afternoon drunkard scale. Still, it doesn't do your hopes many favours, even if you're walking in regardless, holding onto the key that promised to be for a paid-for room.

The interior is the same as virtually every decently reputable inn/tavern combination in Golarion. Lots of wood that's tended to even if the shine has been taken off a little by repeated, endless use. Tables surrounded by chairs litter the spacious floor messily, like a handful of flowers strewn with little car for evenness so long as none were too close. A bannistered staircase that almost looks too nice for the establishment greets your right, leading upstairs, and right beside it as the bar.

There's sparse clientelle given the relatively early hour, leaving plenty of empty tables strewn across the spacious floor. Those who are there don't seem too sketchy or of ill repute; people staying at the inn enjoying lunch and the usual fare of tragic alcoholics drinking away their days. A matronly, plump dwarven woman whose smile hasn't been dashed by age tends the counter. A stage sits lavish and ready but without a performer. Occasionally, a grizzled, grey man whose scowl makes him look older than he is limped out of the kitchen carrying a bowl of stew or a plate of potatoes that the woman then calls for the orderer of as the cook walks right back to where he came from.

If this is all some grand setup or fraud, it's at least executed with a hint of subtlety.


Male Human Alchemist 5, Init +2, Hp: 55/55, AC: 18/ Touch: 13 / Flatfooted: 15 ; Fort: 6/ Ref: 6/ Will: 2, CMD: 20, Perception +9; Mutagen 1/1 (Darkvision),
Extracts:
1st lvl: 5/day; 2nd lvl: 3/day

The door opened to admit both the light of the cloudy day and the sight of a rather odd figure. Standing at 6'3 and as thin as a man who had never eaten in his life, the gangly fellow with a long brown coat and the clothes of a scholar entered the inn. When the door shut behind him, closing of it's own weight, the light of the tavern reflected off of his glasses, making it hard to see his eyes behind the circular spectacles. The large pack on his back, along with the several smaller ones around his waist, clicked and clattered with every step he made toward the counter.

When he stopped and lowered his gaze, those glasses of his slid down his nose a little, revealing pale blue eyes. His hair, which had looked almost black in the contrasting light of the doorway, was now clearly a ruffled and unkempt brown mop on his head. Looking up, one could see the tall lanky fellow had a few days worth of fuzz on his chin as well, and not the kind that could cause people to mistake it for shadow or think it endearing and roguish. Despite the perfectly clean coat, quite nice really, and the scholarly clothing beneath, he looked... homeless really. The man reached into his pocket without any ceremony and brought out a key, placing it on the counter.

”I'm expected.” He said, his voice curt and brisk, his eyes already leaving the dwarf woman as if she found her uninteresting. They swept over the bar, just as they had when he had walked in, to take in the typical patronage. Nothing out of the ordinary within, though outside the lights were curious. He would have to look at his books to see if he could figure out what it was. Simple light refracting off mist high above the city or potential magical energies being directed through confluences. He glances back down to the dwarf woman, and even though it's only been a moment he asks in a slightly impatient voice, ”Room number?”


As the disvheled man approached, the dwarf had the usual courteous smile of a tavernkeeper eager to keep what new business had wandered in, but as they was put down before her, her smile widened considerably, into something warmer than the professionalism of a courteous hostess. The silver-haired dwarf did not bat an eye at his curt manner as she washed out a flagon. "That you are, sir. Your room is 205. The stairs beside me will take you to bit, but hopefully you're in no hurry. Whoever your patron is has left you a generous down payment to enjoy our hospitality on, and while I would certainly enjoy to hold it all, it's unlikely any one man could eat as much as has been put aside for you." She laughed at little at her own remark.


Male Human Rogue (Investigator) 5 (HP 45/45 | AC 19 | T 13 | FF 16 | CMD 16 | F +3/+4 vs trap | R +8/+9 vs trap | W +4/+5 vs trap | Init +3 | Per +10/+11 vs trap)

The clockwork pidgeon's timing was like clockwork. No sooner had he left his commander's office after surrendering his shield than the artifice landed on the sill of his own much smaller office window. The way its metal surface caught the morning sun half-blinded the officer at first, but after shielding his eyes he reached out to take the envelope in its beak. The wings made the sound of an angry ratchet before it took off into the sky again.

Laurence didn't open it right away. As unusual as it was to get a letter without a return address from a clockwork carrier pidgeon, the situation he found himself in was even more unusual. "On leave without pay" might as well have been unemployed. His public humiliation and the prospect of having to rearrange his ordered life around the absence of a good, living wage yawned like a vast pit with him teetering on the edge. It must have been similar to how the Aspis agent felt, only without the purchase of solid ground beneath his feet. His commander made an effort to pitch it sweetly, to promise that the case was under review by internal affairs and that his years of service would certainly count for something, certainly for something. And then reminded him not to leave Absalom anytime soon. He put the envelope in his coat pocket and fastidiously cleaned out his desk and took his belongings back to his flat. Before he could even get a key in the door, he was assaulted by a creature with the eyes of a weasel, the voice of a shrew, and the disposition of a starving magpie! He greeted his landlord with the best smile he could muster, but Mrs. Myrtle zeroed in upon the box of personal belongings and eschewed a "good morning" (which was never her custom to begin with) for an interrogation about his prospects for keeping up with the rent. Once he had navigated that conversation with a note of shame, he shut himself up in the room, bathed, dressed in his day clothes, and left to visit his parents. His mother said she was pleased with his heroism and displeased by his superiors, but the hint of mirth behind her eyes betrayed the secret joy she took in her treacherous son's misfortune. His father was unavailable, the warden reporting that he was under a physician's care after a minor scuffle in the mess hall.

On the walk along the boulevard back to his flat, Laurence stopped at an outdoor cafe and ordered a bowl of hot tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich, the same lunch he often had on a nice day before sleeping the afternoon away before a long night shift. The lunch tasted different. It may have been that the soup was oversalted, or that the cook was using a sharper cheddar, or it could have been the realization that nothing was going to be the same, even the flavor of his clockwork lunches. Reaching into his coat pocket for a case of snuff, he found the envelope instead and opened it, reading. As he read, his appetite increased. The pitch was well-stated, but Laurence couldn't help but detect an appeal to...what, his vanity? His ambition? When someone writes to you about being one of the few who can solve the world's ills, it should be taken with skepticism. He immediately concluded it must be a ploy by the agents of the Aspis Constorium to set him up for revenge, so he went straight to the hotel in question and asked for his room. The dwarven proprietor was kind enough and seemed very glad to see him, offering the key to his room with a large note of gratitude - more for the person who purchased the rental on the room than on Laurence.

The first night he spent alert and hiding in the wardrobe. All night, except for the few minutes he dared to sneak out and visit the latrine. No revenge play.

The second night he rigged the doors and windows of the room with small bells and littered the floor with small tacks and dozed uneasily in the bed, sap in hand and rapier within arm's reach. No revenge play.

The third night he knew would be the classic charm, and he waited in the wardrobe again until his back started to hurt and then he climbed out and swept up the tacks and crawled into bed and went to sleep by the time the sun came up, feeling quite the fool. Still no revenge play.

That day he visited Mrs. Myrtle and paid the rest of his month's rent from his personal coffer. She couldn't have been happier to break his lease, she reminded him, pointing out that his name in the broadsheets was giving other tenants indigestion. He moved his meager collections into the room at the hotel, living, at least for the time being, "rent free" until this business, whatever its nature, was concluded. With no steady income it seemed the most sensible arrangment. Absalom had no shortage of housing, he thought, and he could certainly do better for a landlord than Mrs. Myrtle, anyhow.

On the night in question, Laurence Aguehart sits on the public balcony above the Gilded Unicorn's entrance, reclining in a patio chair. The balsawood pipe's white rim glowed a harsh red from the hash embers as he took a long draw and breathed a trail of sweet smoke into the air, peering through it at the curtains of color in the sky. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he was relaxed, having a good time, feeling like a real asset to the community. For the past couple of weeks or so at the hotel he had taken up a hobby of minor community service, escorting the career drunks back to their homes without incident and offering to help the proprietor with any security matters that might arise, such as an unruly patron. Though it was unlike to happen, Laurence's approach is a diplomatic one, petitioning the belligerent with reasonable dialogue unless a swift and sudden blow to the jaw with a sap becomes necessary.

He looks down upon the gaunt man with haunted eyes who enters, but merely gives a nod of greeting, shifting his booted feet to cross one over the other as he lounged, pecking at a puzzle book with a graphite pencil:

MAIL
EXIT
GOSH
CITY
NEWT
DENY
MINI

"Add one letter to each and rearrange into a word. The seven added letters are an anagram of a seven letter word...hm." Puff puff.


Male Human Alchemist 5, Init +2, Hp: 55/55, AC: 18/ Touch: 13 / Flatfooted: 15 ; Fort: 6/ Ref: 6/ Will: 2, CMD: 20, Perception +9; Mutagen 1/1 (Darkvision),
Extracts:
1st lvl: 5/day; 2nd lvl: 3/day

The gaunt man seemed to be a little less unfriendly when he took the key back off the counter. Perhaps it was her nice demeanor. More then likely, it was the mention of food. His metabolism was extremely efficient these days but that only helped so much. In truth, he still needed much more food then the average person. The smile he gave the dwarf woman was likely a little unsettling for the fact that it was actually happy. For some reason, it was a disturbing look on the man.”Have a meal prepared. Whatever is just coming out will do.”

The thin, tall man made his way quickly upstairs to his room, spent five minutes looking for traps, and then set his larger bag down. Keeping the smaller bags he returned to the Tavern downstairs.

A half an hour later, he was still there and still eating, likely on his fourth or perhaps fifth serving. He didn't seem like he was going to be slowing down but there was no real way that he was eating as much as he was. It didn't seem entirely possible. The fact that he ate rather messily, yet still his clothes seemed to come out looking clean, was another confusing part as well. It wasn't until midway through his seventh serving of a full on meal though that he seemed to finally wind down. This meal he ate as normal, slowly, enjoying the taste. He propped open a book during it and would pause every now and again to scribble a line or two in the book. Others attempting to read it over his shoulder would find the task quite difficult, as the page was an odd mix of letters and numbers that seemed to be largely gibberish.


Male Human Gunslinger (Pistolero) 5 (HP 65/65 | AC 16 | T 16 | FF 10 | CMD 21 | F +7 | R +10 | W +4 | Init +6 | Per +10

Erasmus Ames woke with a start at the sound of whirring clockwork, his still-sleeping brain already sending his body tumbling out of bed reaching for his guns. Alert, he poked his head up over the edge of the bed, training one revolver on the source of the sound - a metal pigeon now sitting on his pillow, an envelope in its beak. He crouched there for a long moment, waiting for the bird to make a move. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, his finger twitching right next to the trigger, but the thing just sat there.

With a sigh, he dropped his gun back down, his other hand striking out to snatch the little machine. It didn't protest as he turned it over in his hands, examining it for signs of a maker's mark. It didn't look like Alkenstar tech, so he set it aside, keeping a suspicious eye on it as he ripped open the letter it carried. He squinted as read it; it set alarm bells ringing in his head, but there was something else to it that kept him from disregarding it entirely. Absalom, huh? That's plenty far from Alkenstar and Geb. Picking up the key that had fallen out, he stared at it like it held the answers to all his questions. He whipped his head around at the sudden sound of more whirring to see the bird flying back out through the window. Suppressing the urge to shoot it out of the sky, he turned his attention back to the key in his hand instead. The gears in his mind started turning as he considered the implications. The City at the Center of the World...

***

It took them awhile to find the place; he hadn't expected 'one of the finest inns in town' to be found in such a pedestrian neighborhood. Raz raised an eyebrow at Baqir as they entered. "You sure this is the place?" He glanced around the room, taking in the details - haphazard table placement, entrances and exits, windows, corners, vantage points. But as soon as he eyed it, he made a bee-line for the bar. "Check us in, I'll get the drinks."


Baqir Iskandar had to be pecked awake. "A man who sleeps soundly is one who is untroubled" he had always said. Baqir said a lot of things, and it was true, he found himself to be very untroubled of late.

The metallic beak drilling into his sleeping face was trouble. Baqir, eyes still closed, pondered whether or not to simply dispatch the offender. He flips a coin in his mind... and watches it land.

Mademoiselle Luck feels fickle today.

He opens his eyes and sees the clockwork avian. He takes the letter. Reads it. Takes the key and watches the bird depart.

And it seems Monsieur Fate has joined her.

= = = = = = =

"I'm quite sure."

Baqir glanced at Raz. Funny that both of them would be chosen. He had always figured after Geb... never mind.

"You know what I'm taking anyways," he says as Raz heads off to the bar. He looks around for whoever seems to be in charge here, and if he finds her, slides both his and Raz's key out.

"Rooms for two. I imagine."


Laurence's stay had been mostly without interruption or event. Mrs. Davids, the dwarf who tends to the inn and most caringly looks after her clientelle, had not encroached upon his privacy, leaving the open offer for him to have his room cleaned during the day if he so desired, but otherwise simply tending to his food needs as required and otherwise keeping her distance. At nights, a few familiar faces stand out, including the bright-eyed elven woman who sings each night, with her cropped short blond hair and unbreakable smile, and a pallid Tien woman with a holy symbol of Pharasma around her neck, passing letters to a rat-faced human seemingly living by the bar before promptly leaving. Little of note or interest happens otherwise in the tavern, save for some rowdy patrons. His offer of aid is turned down with gentle appreciation from the stout woman, whose regulars are more than willing to throw out problematic customers who threaten the grey woman.

The lack of specification in Dr. Grey's order means he's treated to a massive, overlarge portion of stew and mashed potatoes, with the dwarf promising more and pointing him toward the menu off to the side, a winding list of different meals, which becomes a little surprising when only the one grizzled old man ever seems to enter or leave the kitchen. The dwarf dotes on her gaunt guest, respondingly with hospitality to every request, insisting that if he is to stay there that he make himself as at home as he possibly can.

"Rooms for one," is how the dwarf greets the clearly very foreign man. "At least, rooms for one were put aside for each of you. If the two of you would rather larger rooms, or a single room for two, I could certainly make those arrangements." As she tends to Baqir, she rings a bell to call the attention of the man in the kitchen, who limps his way out of the doorway toward Erasmus, responding with an inquisitive grunt as to what he would like.


Male Human Alchemist 5, Init +2, Hp: 55/55, AC: 18/ Touch: 13 / Flatfooted: 15 ; Fort: 6/ Ref: 6/ Will: 2, CMD: 20, Perception +9; Mutagen 1/1 (Darkvision),
Extracts:
1st lvl: 5/day; 2nd lvl: 3/day

Grey was surprised by the food and the warmth of the dwarf. The food, first off. It was good. And there was a lot of it. The fact that his unspecific request had been met with more then less and it was good was surprising. He was used to getting the stale stuff for some odd reason. Better yet, the fact that he even noticed how good the food was was in itself odd. Grey rarely paid attention to such things and when he was certain the Dwarf woman wasn't looking he pulled out a vial and procured a small sample, curious to find out if he had been poisoned somehow. Later of course, there was more food to eat. If he was poisoned it was already done, might as well enjoy it.

The kindness of the hostess was also unusual for Grey, who was used to curt and direct treatment from those he dealt with. It was also a little uncomfortable. He bit his tongue twice when she came over to make sure he was enjoying his meal to avoid demanding to know why. Even he knew that would cause him trouble and trouble was best avoided until he knew who his mysterious benefactor, so interested in his talents, was.

Each time he had been unspecific with his request, simply asking for 'more' in that curt manner he always seemed to speak with. It didn't seem to matter what was placed in front of him, it got eaten. By the end of it, even Grey was starting to feel a little full, and he had certainly eaten enough meals to feed half a dozen people much stouter then him.

It was around this time, while he was scribbling in his notebook and working on his last meal, that the two new others entered. One was clearly from out of town, or at least that was what Grey would guess being from out of town himself, and he had walked in with the other. Curious. The fact that they asked for rooms supported his theory that the letter he had received was going to intrigue at least a few others. In his line of work he had only 'enjoyed' brief encounters with other hunters and vigilantes like himself. What could be so dire that a group is needed?

It puzzled Grey, but not in the way that inspired fear. He was curious, deathly so, and was eager for this meeting to finally arrive. The good doctor, his food done, reached into the pocket where he has stowed the vial of soup. He couldn't tell if it was poisoned, what with the food itself being in the way factor, but he did have some advantage. He eyed it curiously as he swirled it around in front of him, searching for any sort of unnatural energy, even latent amounts.

To anyone else watching, he looked like a gaunt man carefully studying a small, thin glass container of stew.


Male Human Gunslinger (Pistolero) 5 (HP 65/65 | AC 16 | T 16 | FF 10 | CMD 21 | F +7 | R +10 | W +4 | Init +6 | Per +10

Raz is about to rattle off the usual order when he spots an open menu. He peruses it for a moment, surprised at the list of different options. "Something dark..." He points to a random line on the Dwarven Stout page and says, "Two o' these. And," he says, sniffing the air, "a couple o' bowls of whatever you got back there. Smells good. A loaf of bread with that, too."

Finishing the order, Raz finds a table close to a wall with an unobstructed view of the room. He pushes his chair back and hunches over, pulling out his revolver to clean and oil it as he waits for the food.


HP , AC , DR | Ft + Rf + Wl +, resist cold/elec/fire 5 | Init +2 | Perception +, darkvision

They pair had been relaxing in their common room, cleaning their gear and discussing the burial crypt they'd ventured into the night before. A spiteful third born noble's son had gotten it in his head that as a necromancer he could claim his family's fortunes, and he had decided the final resting place of his forebears was the best place to study his dark arts. Hey may have been successful too, if the fool had not kidnapped the son of Mathias and Miranda's favorite barkeep to use as a ritual sacrifice. Silly nobles, you didn't mess with this pair, or Mathias' need for a good drink. They laughed and joked, and then they saw it, sitting on the sill.

The clockwork pigeon clattered gingerly toward them, the envelope dangling precariously. Miranda snapped it up quick, checking for any signs of ill intent, whilst Mathias picked up the steel bird and examined its craftsmanship. Content that it was not trapped, Miranda opened the envelope and produced the letter, reading it openly to share with her partner. She chuckled, "Seems we have another potential job, though the employer is being quite secretive." Mathias leaned back, "Offering us quarters, in a fine establishment no less. Guess we could leave this place to collect dust for a spell. Though if the bed is crap I'll be coming back here to sleep, you know how my back can get... it's only across the city after all." Miranda shook her head, then started to pack for their new gig.

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

The duo made an odd pair cutting through the streets of Absalom. Mathias was twice the height of Miranda, yet the pair clearly walked as equals. A strangely large raven split time between perching on Mathias' shoulder and swooping up and down the alleys after random vermin. While some they passed gave them a wide berth, others offered smiles and greetings, recalling the nobles deeds the duo had done for a friend or loved one.

Pushing through the door into the Gilded Unicorn, they both took stock of the common room and its occupants. Calming speaking to his companion, "Strange there'd be so many intriguing persons in'n oth'rwise unremarkable establishment, on such an afternoon..." With his words still trailing off, Mathias turns to the dwarven innkeep, placing a few silver on the counter, "Goo'day, miss. Two flagons of ale. By chance would ye have a room for my friend an' I? Under the name Gabriel I should think. An' how many of these other men did ye have a room waiting for as well?" Lifting the first flagon to his lips, he drinks deeply while awaiting the innkeep's reply.


hp 50/50|Fort +6 Will +6 Ref +6|AC 19/14/16|Perception +13 (+14 vs traps)|Darkvision 60ft., Scent|Initiative +3| Status:

Miranda made her way towards The Gilded Unicorn together with Mathias - one thing was for sure when travelling with her companion: she never had to worry about bumping into people! And there it was - 'one of the finest inns in town'. Unless appearances where deceiving, it looked like their benefactor had a different set of standards then herself. So it was with a suspicious look and one hand firmly on the holster behind her back that she followed Mathias inside.

Seeing no intermediate threats - quite the contrary - the halfling quickly eased up. With a laugh and a soft nudge she replied to her companion - "Coincidence? Maybe they just want your autograph!" Turning to the innkeeper she grinned for a moment before exclaiming 'oh' and diving a hand into one of the many pockets of her cloak. With a wide and toothy smile she pulls out a pair of keys and puts them on the desk. "I think we're supposed to show these too!"


hp 50/50|Fort +6 Will +6 Ref +6|AC 19/14/16|Perception +13 (+14 vs traps)|Darkvision 60ft., Scent|Initiative +3| Status:

With that taken care of, the halfling deftly hopped up on one of the bar chairs and took a proper look around. From her new high(er) vantage point, she could properly see the other patrons - and not just their legs. Her curious red eyes hopped back and forth between them - some got barely a glance, on others they lingered longer. Least interesting where the ones that looked like regulars - the one that were merely drinking the afternoon away. Somewhere in the middle where the one oiling a strange firearm. Most intriguing - most peculiar - was the thin one examining food in a vial. Probably his portion size, given his looks ... Suppressing a soft giggle she nodded back at her companion.

"You're right as usual - I do think there is something special up!"

Flashing another wide grin at the innkeeper she inquires

"You know who paid for all this anyhow?"

---

Miranda is currently clad in a dark cloak of indeterminable colour and a earth brown dress. Both seem to have plenty of pockets, but that is seemingly not enough as she also carries several pouches both on her belt and a bandolier. A bit above the base of her spine there is a barely noticable bulge in her cloak, most likely from another pouch or perhaps an holstered weapon. In the spirit of the day, she wears her best pair of black boots.

The halfling herself is almost half of Mathias length - if one would subtract the thick soles of her boots, probably less. Given her choice of clothing, her build is hard to determine but judging from the ease of which she leaped the chair earlier there must be some trace of athleticism. As an outlier - she is probably the only red eyed halfing you ever seen. Not bloodshot red either, her irises are the colour of wine - but the exact hue is hard to judge given the distance. She also has a rather wide mouth, which turns her friendly smile into a maniacal grin.


Male Human Rogue (Investigator) 5 (HP 45/45 | AC 19 | T 13 | FF 16 | CMD 16 | F +3/+4 vs trap | R +8/+9 vs trap | W +4/+5 vs trap | Init +3 | Per +10/+11 vs trap)

Laurence watches the foreigners enter the Gilded Unicorn from the balcony over the doorway, marking their features out of habit. Individually they fit a profile that warranted a casual check-up now and again, but together? It was Absalom, the City at the Centre of the World. The unusual wasn't as unusual here as it was elsewhere.

When Mathias' ivory tower figure came into view with an orbiting halfling, Laurence rose from his chair and tucked his puzzle book under his belt loop and set the chair against the railing at an angle to keep rainwater from pooling in the seat. He empties his pipe, knocks it against his boot, and then curls his fingers through his mustache to clear away any flecks of ash that may have settled there. By the time he reaches the stairwell, Miranda is already seated on a bar chair. "Fancy meeting the two of you here," he says to Miranda and Mathias, elbow perched on the bottom of the railing. "You're quite a ways from the office."

Laurence is a well-built man with a solid structure, the result of physical training for service in the Watch eroded a bit by long night shifts and recent overeating brought on by unrecognized depression. But he is nonetheless trim and maybe, just maybe a little dapper in his sleek striped trousers, starched white club collar shirt and navy blue tweed frock coat. A black silk puff tie is pinned smartly by a tie tack in the shape of a small golden key. "Taking into consideration your specialties, I am almost afraid to ask - are you here working a case?"

The investigator steps forward to offer a familiar but stiff handshake to Mathias, meeting his eyes and looking away only to smile at Miranda. If she smiles back, he has no visible reaction, having long since practiced his acceptance of her unfortunate orthodontic condition.


Male Human Gunslinger (Pistolero) 5 (HP 65/65 | AC 16 | T 16 | FF 10 | CMD 21 | F +7 | R +10 | W +4 | Init +6 | Per +10

At hearing the big man's question to the barmaid, Raz snorts and glances up from cleaning his gun. "Real subtle there, Tombstone," he mutters under his breath. Guess that mean's Baqir and I aren't the only ones. His eyes dart around the room again, paying closer attention to the other patrons. The bookworm who looks like he's meeting food for the first time, the newcomers Tombstone and his tiny friend, and the dandy-looking fellow coming down the stairs to join the party. Including himself and his friend the walking snow drift, that made six. Six weirdos, all dressed up and nowhere to go. There'd been plenty of weirdos back in Katapesh, but at least people there knew better than to talk about it openly. Good manners is what sets us apart from the mutants, after all.


Male Human Alchemist 5, Init +2, Hp: 55/55, AC: 18/ Touch: 13 / Flatfooted: 15 ; Fort: 6/ Ref: 6/ Will: 2, CMD: 20, Perception +9; Mutagen 1/1 (Darkvision),
Extracts:
1st lvl: 5/day; 2nd lvl: 3/day

"Mild saturation... likely invoked by external energies..." The man muttered as he swirled the stew vial in front of him, then uncorked it and touched a single drop to a calloused finger, raising it to inspect closely with his eyes. "Natural energies..." The man sighs as he realizes it was about what any natural stew would have, which was basically nothing, at least not in terms that most people understood. He rolled his eyes and corked it again, still certain he should test it for poison later. Never know with these kinds of jobs.

"Have I ever had a job like this?" He asked himself aloud, realizing that he actually hadn't. Which wasn't unusual he thought. It came with the territory. Hunt things people don't think is real and then be considered crazy by those same people. Never mind that when he left a town they likely had less disappearances, it wasn't really important. His research had little to do with lives and everything to do with taking the right ones. He eyed the others as they gathered. If this was a trap by a particularly clever or connected creature, such as those curious undead with the tendency to drain blood, then a strike would likely come at night while they all rested. He wondered how much of them had considered that possibility? How many of them would be staying up tonight rather then sleeping, waiting for the potential trap to be sprung? Or was it a possibility or simply hubris to think such a creature would go to such lengths?

The doctor's eyes went to someone coming down the stairs. Someone he had seen upstairs earlier. He seemed ordinary enough, really, unlike the rest. In particular the short woman intrigued him. The way her eyes shone and her mouth seemed to stretch brought curious possibilities to mind. Half-orc perhaps? Painful coupling to be sure, for the halfling at least, but it would explain the wine red eyes and unhinging jaw. Perhaps goblin blood instead? More and less likely for different reasons. Curious. His fingers twitched but he stopped himself from wondering what made those eyes so red. It was starting to be a habit when looking at people with oddities and it while it was harmless, really, he was certain that it would cause him trouble once people learned about his... hobby.

Certain because it had. How many times had he actually been accused of the disappearances? Twice, he thought with a condescending smirk. Ingrates. And when he showed them the body to try and escape a lynching they would claim it fake. Idiots, most people were, to ignore what hid in the shadows. To be fair he had been one of them once.

It only occurred to him in just this moment that he was sitting in a tavern that now had, as he had counted, at least five other individuals who knew what stalked the night. Bats and men not withstanding. He was sitting near five other possible peers. Perhaps they had notes they'd be interested in comparing? Would he share his own? Probably not, unless they offered equal trade. A paranoid habit from his days as a research, perhaps, but one that translated well into this dark new world he had jumped into. Never knew if the thing you were sharing details on how to kill a monster with was said monster in disguise. How many times had that happened? Well, none of course, largely because he had killed them before they could change shape.

It came as no shock to Dr. Grey that he had been sitting there for a good three minutes simply staring at the new comers. That didn't bother him, really, nor did what they thought of him. What bothered him was three minutes wasted when he could have been observing. He fixed his glasses, which had again slid down his nose somehow despite it being a slight crooked, and his eyes focused on them once more. Thoughts of what to do about them were pushed to the side for the moment.


hp 50/50|Fort +6 Will +6 Ref +6|AC 19/14/16|Perception +13 (+14 vs traps)|Darkvision 60ft., Scent|Initiative +3| Status:

"Laurence!" Miranda exclaimed in an overly familiar tone and sat up straight in her chair. She returned his greeting with a wide smile of her own - as habit were. With a brief glance back at the thin man and his vial, she refocused all her attention on Laurence. She hadn't seen him in ages - not since - what was it? He was tracking some cult! Yah, that was it ... With a conspirational wink she chirped. "Maaaybe - hard to tell just yet." With another wide smile she carried on, determined to catch up as best she could. "Did you ever find what organization you were looking for? And what do you think of the weather recently? We were just talking about that earlier today - I'd think its kind of neat..."


The old man grunts affirmatively at Raz's order, "Spiced potatoes." Up close, he smells of onions, spices, and braised meat, his apron speckled by splashes and stains. He then turns back toward the kitchen, limping his way in. The innkeeper pours some on-tap stout as she deals with Raz's companion.

Mrs. Davids couldn't help but be a little happier when Mathias and Miranda arrived, though the two newcomers wouldn't have known it from the normal greeting of new business. "Oh, certainly sir. Both you and your friend each have a room of your own, and," she pushed the silver back gently toward him on the counter, "A stipend for food I doubt you will be able to run through any time soon. Enjoy your stay, and don't worry about your tab." When Miranda slips the keys onto the table, she nods. "Oh good, thank you dear. For a second I was worried that you hadn't been given your keys." She laughed softly, pouring Mathias his ale and slipping it toward him. "Your rooms are 203 and 204." At his last question, she simply shrugged. "It's not my place to discuss the business of my other patrons, and I ask very little when a man is willing to put down money for a room or two long-term, regardless the purpose."


Male Human Rogue (Investigator) 5 (HP 45/45 | AC 19 | T 13 | FF 16 | CMD 16 | F +3/+4 vs trap | R +8/+9 vs trap | W +4/+5 vs trap | Init +3 | Per +10/+11 vs trap)

What a charming young lady. Too polite, Laurence assumed, to admit she might already know the answer to the question. Whether she knew or not, in that moment, he was a little bit more endeared to her for addressing the subject with such politic.

"Indeed I did, though, ah, it was not as I thought it. Still, a mess tidied up and order restored. I remain now as I was then grateful for your assistance..."

Laurence watches the innkeeper pouring a stout and, if he can catch Mrs. Davids' attention, indicates with a nod of his head that he would appreciate one himself.

"I do not know the significance of the colors in the sky, but they are...hauntingly beautiful, in their way. Though I suspect they must have the arcanists in the palace in a tizzy."


hp 50/50|Fort +6 Will +6 Ref +6|AC 19/14/16|Perception +13 (+14 vs traps)|Darkvision 60ft., Scent|Initiative +3| Status:

Miranda nods understandingly at the innkeeper and takes her key back, handing the other to Mathias. I knew it! I should have asked the bird while I had the chance ... Not the one to linger on the past too long, the wishful thoughts were soon gone. Besides - the inn seemed clean, the scent from the kitchen was wonderful and the food was free. Could be worse. And old faces too! With a smile she continued the conversation with Laurence. He seemed a bit hesitant about the first topic - but order was restored so that was that. The topic of the clouds fascinated her more - as well as the reason someone had called them here. Perhaps?

"Mmm. Very pretty - but the fact that no-one knows anything about them drives me out of my mind!" She paused for a moment before once moer switching subject. "Have you gotten any interesting mail lately Laurence?"


Baqir returns to sit besides Erasmus.

"We're obviously not the only ones who've been summoned tonight. You still feeling up to this?"

Baqir has a smile on lips. He's obviously pleased that there's company about. For where there's company, there's always excitement.


At this point, unless I feel the need to for one reason or another, not much for me to do since you guys are in roleplay mode amongst yourselves. When you're done, just have your character head up to their room for the night. I'll wait for everyone to do so before I advance the scene. Enjoy.


hp 50/50|Fort +6 Will +6 Ref +6|AC 19/14/16|Perception +13 (+14 vs traps)|Darkvision 60ft., Scent|Initiative +3| Status:

Okay :)

I imagine we'll have a tinsy bit of more rp before we are ready for some real plot (just no advanced manticores just yet^^)


For a six-player level 5 party an Advanced Manticore is a totally fair encounter.


Male Human Rogue (Investigator) 5 (HP 45/45 | AC 19 | T 13 | FF 16 | CMD 16 | F +3/+4 vs trap | R +8/+9 vs trap | W +4/+5 vs trap | Init +3 | Per +10/+11 vs trap)

Laurence spares a glance over at the man in the physician's coat he saw enter earlier while a hand slips between his vest and tweed jacket. Both eyebrows raise a little at the piled dishes around him. Laurence began to suspect that maybe the man was homeless. At least he looked and ate the part.

When he focuses on Miranda again, the hand slips back out of his vest again, displaying a familiar envelope and broken seal. "That I did. I assume it is part of the same trail that's led you here? It is very curiously worded. I've been staying here for some time already, and it's been very quiet."

He doesn't have to look at Baqir and Erasmus. His words implicate them all the same. "Until tonight, that is."


hp 50/50|Fort +6 Will +6 Ref +6|AC 19/14/16|Perception +13 (+14 vs traps)|Darkvision 60ft., Scent|Initiative +3| Status:

But they feel kindof out of place inside an inn, don't you think ? (But I must admit, I thought they were much higher CR then 5 - probably Heroes giving me a false perception...)

Miranda takes one quick look at the letter and nods. "Mmm. Perhaps tonight is special then. I mean, we are here now." She flashes another wide grin. With a giggle she continues. "Or maybe we will have to join you and suffer trough free accommodations and meals for some time. Woe us!"


HP , AC , DR | Ft + Rf + Wl +, resist cold/elec/fire 5 | Init +2 | Perception +, darkvision

Slipping his key into an inner pocket of his longcoat, Mathias nods to Laurence though let's Miranda handle the guard officer. It's good to see a familiar face, seems we will all play a part in whatever this will turn out to be. That makes a pair of minds to back up my blade, and I have to assume the thin one in the corner is much the same. As for these two, a pistolier and a bedouin, that remains to be seen. Well, time to see! He politely takes the coins back from the innkeep, though it feels somewhat wrong putting them in his pouch.

Finishing his first pint, he gestures to the innkeep for three more mugs, then takes them to Erasmus and Baqir's table. Placing the ale down, he slides one to each of the men then casually pulls up a seat for himself. After taking a healthy pull off his second ale, he looks to Erasmus, "Tombstone, eh? I kinna like it. But come, as for subtlety, ye go yer pistol all played out on the table, as though t'wer a set o' cards or som'tin. Ye two stand out just as surely as Miranda and I, and that's sayin' som'tin. But come, where's me manners. The name's Mathias Gabriel an' that lass is Miranda Redblossom. Now, will ye have a drink with me?" He raises his mug expectantly.


Male Human Alchemist 5, Init +2, Hp: 55/55, AC: 18/ Touch: 13 / Flatfooted: 15 ; Fort: 6/ Ref: 6/ Will: 2, CMD: 20, Perception +9; Mutagen 1/1 (Darkvision),
Extracts:
1st lvl: 5/day; 2nd lvl: 3/day

Grey had stopped studying the group now. He had seen enough to know that some knew others, they had all received letters, and they were going through the boring introductory phase. How dull. A couple commented on the lights but offered no theories as to their origins, disappointing the Doctor further. He sighed and closed the book he had been pretending to read, one he had actually already memorized and simply kept for moments where he wanted to be discrete, and instead stood.

He thought about moving over to join the growing group and briefly weighed the pro's and con's. The fact that some were already drinking or preparing to was disconcerting. Hardly professional behavior. Instead he went to the small woman instead. At the moment she seemed to be the most curious, and admittedly the puzzle of her eyes might have been making him biased in this choice. His voice was low, rather soft, and somehow despite not carrying a single word of insult seemed a little contemptible. "It seems, with many of us gathering here on this day, that it is likely all those invited will arrive shortly. If they have not already. I imagine we'll be hearing soon from our soon to be... employer."

Those cold eyes in that sunken face moved from the far wall down to the woman he had heard called Miranda, studying her the way he had the vial. "Have any insight to offer on this mysterious fellow who would summon us?"


Male Human Gunslinger (Pistolero) 5 (HP 65/65 | AC 16 | T 16 | FF 10 | CMD 21 | F +7 | R +10 | W +4 | Init +6 | Per +10

Raz flashes a grin at Baqir, still looking at his pistol as he finishes cleaning it. "Course I am. Don't know 'bout you, but I'm happy to have a sea between us and the sand." Looking up, he adds, "Looks like we've got company."

Raz takes a look at the ale the big man slides him and raises the mug that he'd ordered with his meal. "Got one, thanks." He takes a pull from it before setting it down. "Got some big ears if you heard me from over there, Mr. Gabriel. Big mouth, too." Holstering his revolver, he pulls out an actual pack of cards from a pocket and starts dealing them out. "That's fine by me; Frosty here can't hear me ten feet away most days. Name's Erasmus Ames." He flicks his eyes up at Mathias. "You in?"


HP , AC , DR | Ft + Rf + Wl +, resist cold/elec/fire 5 | Init +2 | Perception +, darkvision

Mathias smirks as Erasmus pulls out the cards. "T'would seem yer ears are as good as mine, giv'n that ye heard me words with the innkeep from the same distance, an' I wasn't shoutin' to the hilltops, if'n ye catch me. A pleasure to meet ye, Erasmus Ames. An' as for a big mouth, when the game is laid plainly for all to see, there's lil' point in playin' the ruse... An'way - " he pulls back the mug he had offered to Erasmus, "more fer me. An' yes, ye can deal me in."


hp 50/50|Fort +6 Will +6 Ref +6|AC 19/14/16|Perception +13 (+14 vs traps)|Darkvision 60ft., Scent|Initiative +3| Status:

Remaining at the chair by the bar, Miranda waved and smiled as she was introduced. She'd join them later - there was something she wanted to try first. If the messenger won't tell, then perhaps the message will! And then ... Her train of thoughts where interrupted by the doctors voice. With a blink she looked up and grinned. There was something off-putting about him that she just couldn't place - but she had never let that stop her before.

"Hi works too, you know!" the grin evolved into a full blown smile, complete with a set of impressive pointy teeth. "I'd imagine that you're right. But with a bit of luck, we get to enjoy the perks first. As for insight - we'll see!"

With a conspiratorial wink she pulled out the letter that brought her to the inn. Since it seemed like it was hardly unique, she didn't see any harm in revealing it. Besides ... Carefully made sure the bar-desk was dry and somewhat clean before putting the letter down. Her small hands pressed it down, straightening folds. Her little ritual done, she stared intently at the piece of writing. The text was upside down, but that didn't seem to bother her.

"What shall I call you? It is going to be awfully confusing having *two* 'mysterious fellows' to refer to."

Miranda is attempting an Object Reading on the letter she received. While it is unlikely that the letter is either magical or historically significant, it might be a psychic footprint left on it. Hopefully from our mysterious employer him/herself ... : )

I copied the text on Object Readings here and put the relevant parts in italics. You'll note that the type, quantity and sort of information is very much up to you, the GM : )

Object Reading (Su):
At 2nd level, the occultist learns how to read information from items he examines. Examining an item in this way requires him to spend 1 minute handling the item. If the item is a magic item, the occultist learns its powers and command words as if he had successfully examined the item using detect magic. This does not reveal if the item is cursed unless the occultist’s class level is equal to or greater than the caster level of the item. If the item has any historical significance, the occultist learns one piece of information about its past (as determined by the GM). Finally, the occultist learns one piece of information about the last creature to use the item, so long as it was last used no longer than 1 day ago per occultist level he possesses. This information might be a glimpse of the creature’s appearance, a brief vision of what it saw while using the item, or perhaps its emotional state when it last used the item. The GM determines what information is gained in this way.


Male Human Alchemist 5, Init +2, Hp: 55/55, AC: 18/ Touch: 13 / Flatfooted: 15 ; Fort: 6/ Ref: 6/ Will: 2, CMD: 20, Perception +9; Mutagen 1/1 (Darkvision),
Extracts:
1st lvl: 5/day; 2nd lvl: 3/day

Dr. Grey neither leaned in nor leaned away from the toothy smile or the points. His mind briefly considered the possibilities. Half-orc, perhaps? Though in that case the toothy smile would have come from filing the teeth. Goblins had naturally sharper fangs given their diet but even then... The mystery of what she was continued and grew when she turned to study the letter on the counter.

"It serves quite well as a neutral form of greeting." Grey agree's with a slow nod, recalling his social research before his current life had taken hold. His tone even suggested he agreed with her... yet he made no move to correct his lack of greeting all the same. Instead, he watched her intently when she studied the letter, though her voice surprised him as he assumed she was doing something that required concentration. The man went on in that quiet voice of his, neither loud nor urgent.

"My peer's knew me as Dr. Grey or simply Grey, depending on how familiar they felt with me. I saw little difference between either nomenclature myself. Have you a manner with which to study it? My own chemical analyses did not pick up anything strange with the paper or ink." He fixed his glasses again as he spoke, the spectacles apparently more stubborn then the doctor in deciding to slide down his nose. That either meant that there was nothing strange about the letter or it was too subtle for his senses to pick up. Considering how much he had to dilute or change something to make his own, fairly specific, supernatural sense study something it was also possible the process destroyed whatever magic was inherent in either. Oddly enough his normally unsettling tone grew a little excited with the question, as if the idea of discovering more had unearthed actual emotion in him. It put a stark contrast to his normal way of speak and made it easy to figure out that part of what was so disquieting about his speech was that it was normally devoid of such things.


Male Human Gunslinger (Pistolero) 5 (HP 65/65 | AC 16 | T 16 | FF 10 | CMD 21 | F +7 | R +10 | W +4 | Init +6 | Per +10

"Well, you know what they say about men with big ears and big feet..." Raz deals Mathias in with two cards and lays the deck in the middle, pausing for a bite of the spiced potatoes. "'m starting to come around to this place," he says, talking around a mouthful of potato. "Game is Blackjack with a ghost dealer. You're familiar?" Raz spreads the dealers cards, showing a 10 of hearts and a 7 of hearts. He licks his lips as he folds his own hand up toward his eyes, glancing at them. "So what d'you reckon this letter business is about, Mr. Gabriel?"

May have bitten off more than I can chew with the card game. Ian Fleming, I am not. If you want to play a simulated game, I can draw from an actual deck.


Miranda:
As you handle the letter, a half-second vision comes across your sight, gone as soon as it comes, but lingering in your mind to examine and consider. You're seeing through the eyes of the writer, who is sitting somewhere in the very tavern room you sit in, some time in the deep of night, as evidenced by the familiar counter in the side of their vision and the matronly dwarf, who is currently engaged in conversation with a woman in a heavy suit of armor that bears the symbol of Iomedae proudly across its breastplate. There are other figures that aren't so easy to make out in what seems like remarkably low lighting for a tavern at nighttime. At the bottom of your vision are "your" hands, and you can make out the sleeves of a very nice and expensive coat, the sort that belongs to someone who would frequent better taverns at such an hour, and would reasonably have their own study in which to compose letters.


Male Human Rogue (Investigator) 5 (HP 45/45 | AC 19 | T 13 | FF 16 | CMD 16 | F +3/+4 vs trap | R +8/+9 vs trap | W +4/+5 vs trap | Init +3 | Per +10/+11 vs trap)

Homeless or just suffering a severe deficit of social grace, Laurence concludes when Dr. Grey interjects himself into their coupling without an excusal or greeting. Miranda takes it in stride and comments; the official says nothing at first but does shift his body weight to a more guarded stance, giving the looming man some berth. At his height, the doctor sets an imposing figure and there was something to him, just under the skin, something cagey. Like an unquiet soul, or a criminal instinct. Laurence hoped for the former.

"She has a very unique means of study, and can divine details from an object just by handling it. A remarkable talent."

It seemed only polite to introduce himself after Dr. Grey does so. "Laurence. Laurence Aguehart. Where did you receive your doctorate, sir? Are you a physician or do you pursue other sciences?"


hp 50/50|Fort +6 Will +6 Ref +6|AC 19/14/16|Perception +13 (+14 vs traps)|Darkvision 60ft., Scent|Initiative +3| Status:

Acknowledging the doctors introduction with a faint nod Miranda continued to stare at the letter for some moments. Laurence explanation was good if not complete, but she wasn't compelled to elaborate just yet. The doctor was a strange man - Grey fits. Drab at first glance... But I wonder what lurks beneath - what would those spectacles say? Laurence didn't seem to fancy him, but he was courteous as always. She stole a sizeway glance at them, only now realizing how tall Grey - probably as tall as Mathias (he did lack a bit in bulk compared to her companion however).

As the vision flashed past, she closed her eyes to not contaminate it with other visual input. In her mind, she examined the scene. With a frown she tried to place the writers location within the room, but it was hard. She always had problems with point-of-view visions and taller folks. Too far off from her own perception of the world. But there were other details. Mumbling, she described what she saw to the others. "It was written here - the letter. It is dark - the room is barely illuminated. It is hard to make out faces in the gloom, but there are others. Probably a human writer - too large hands for a halfling and most others can see better at night then this. Expensive clothing yet lingers in a bar - doesn't trust his peers? Could be treachery afoot, but there is a knight if the Inheritor there too. She is speaking to the barmaid..." Opening her eyes again she takes a quick look around in the room. Perhaps she could find where the writer sat?


I'll allow a Perception roll to work out relative to what you can remember seeing where the spot was. DC 15. If you succeed, roll a second one if you want to search the table and its surroundings.


Male Human Rogue (Investigator) 5 (HP 45/45 | AC 19 | T 13 | FF 16 | CMD 16 | F +3/+4 vs trap | R +8/+9 vs trap | W +4/+5 vs trap | Init +3 | Per +10/+11 vs trap)

"I have been watching this place for two nights now. Although I have spied some interesting characters who are regulars, I do not recall anyone fitting that description. And a knight of the Inheritor would certainly stand out in my memory."

Laurence says this quietly, however, so as not to threaten the small woman's concentration.

Edited as per GM note! My reading fail.


The letters were timed so that the people who were far away from Absalom would have received them first; travel and shit. Laurence has only been staying there for a couple days.


hp 50/50|Fort +6 Will +6 Ref +6|AC 19/14/16|Perception +13 (+14 vs traps)|Darkvision 60ft., Scent|Initiative +3| Status:

"Mmmh. Probably all the letters were written at the same time ?" Miranda muses as she jumps down from her seat. At random she walks around inside the tavern, climbing up on chairs and standing on them looking around. With some luck, she might find the right one!

Perception: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (2) + 13 = 15

Perception: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (6) + 13 = 19

Hooray for skill-mods : )


Miranda is able to figure out which table it was written at, but in trying to look for anything around it, finds that in the days since her letter was composed, the table has been cleaned off and swept around quite a few times.


HP , AC , DR | Ft + Rf + Wl +, resist cold/elec/fire 5 | Init +2 | Perception +, darkvision

haha, no actual game necessary

Mathias takes another long pull, finishing the mug of ale. Smiling, he replies, "Indeed, I am familiar with a ghost dealer... an' such things in gen'ral. Giv'n the nature of the letter, I assum'd t'be an offer of employment ~ the lass and I, we deal with dangers in the dark. But upon seein' ye'all, I be wonderin' a bit meself. Beyond cleanin' yer gun, what tings do ye, and yer companion, fill yer time wit?"

Mathias looks at his two cards slowly, "Hit me."


hp 50/50|Fort +6 Will +6 Ref +6|AC 19/14/16|Perception +13 (+14 vs traps)|Darkvision 60ft., Scent|Initiative +3| Status:

After trying a few chairs Miranda finally seems content. She sets the letter down and looks around. "Well, it's not much ..."


Baqir watches silently the rest of the coming and going. Not much for small talk, at least not with strangers, he taps Raz on the shoulder and whispers in his ear.

Spoiler:

"I'm afraid our gathering in the common room is making me a little nervous. Too many unknown variables left to chance. I'll make my way upstairs to my room. You have a pleasant evening friend. Be sure to wake me if any action begins."

He then leaves, making no attempt to hide himself to his room.


Male Human Alchemist 5, Init +2, Hp: 55/55, AC: 18/ Touch: 13 / Flatfooted: 15 ; Fort: 6/ Ref: 6/ Will: 2, CMD: 20, Perception +9; Mutagen 1/1 (Darkvision),
Extracts:
1st lvl: 5/day; 2nd lvl: 3/day

Grey looks toward 'Laurence' and cocks his eyebrow. For a brief moment he gives the impression of a man who was in conversation and wasn't taking well to being interrupted. Rather ironic considering that's what he had done. But a moment later the expression passes and he's distant again. "I earned it rather easily in at the University of Delta."

He fixes his glasses and seemed like he might have been about to go on, but then Miranda speaks, and his eyebrows rise again as his face becomes animate with curiosity. He follows her to the table and watches her method, but until she finishes he does not interrupt. It was a small, but professional, form of respect from one learned person to another.

"Fascinating... you saw so much... I wonder if such could be distilled... There are rumors of some more savage... Goblin tribes who use the roots of a plant for visions." Again he was mumbling, mostly to himself, but the mention of goblins seemed to be of curious note in his words. It was an attempt to learn more about the smaller woman while also trying to work things out in his head. Why do one thing when you can do two just as easily?

After a few moments he seems to shake free of his reverie and turns toward the table. "This is a kind place. Warm. The atmosphere is welcoming, purposefully so, and the woman who see's to people is friendly. But it is clearly not the 'finest' in the city. At least not from a professional sense. The word... finest... It reminds me of the time before I became a noble. Places I went to when I could afford better, simply for the familiar and comfortable environment. Perhaps he was not born into but earned his status? It's a possibility this place is familiar to him in a pleasant way, such as a tavern he frequented before he became wealthy."

He pauses, then nods slowly. Aside from the curiosity about the answers she had uncovered, his voice was as empty as always. Not even a hint of whimsy or nostalgia in his tone despite speaking of his own past. It was very... clinical. "But mistrust is a good reason too. Often the right one."


hp 50/50|Fort +6 Will +6 Ref +6|AC 19/14/16|Perception +13 (+14 vs traps)|Darkvision 60ft., Scent|Initiative +3| Status:

Noble? Doesn't sound very noble to me! With a soft chuckle Miranda pockets her letter again and returns to the bar desk. There was something about Goblins and roots and such, but she wasn't sure how that fitted into his story - she missed that. His tavern theory was interesting however. "That would explain the choice of inn, if it was simple personal preference." And it is certainly a nice place. But still, why write the letters here? Perhaps they had a secret meeting or something - But I'm certain that barkeep knows more! With another thought she added "I'm not even sure our benefactor is a 'he'..."

What is the time, approximatively ?


Dinner time, roughly. There's some coming and going by people, but it's not major enough to note much happening.


hp 50/50|Fort +6 Will +6 Ref +6|AC 19/14/16|Perception +13 (+14 vs traps)|Darkvision 60ft., Scent|Initiative +3| Status:

Know Local/religion: 1d20 + 9 + 1d6 ⇒ (1) + 9 + (6) = 16

It's a longshot, but maybe Miranda knows something a bit about the Inheritors Knights :)


Knowledge (Religion) 15:
You're able to recall the general tenets of Iomedae's Knights, who swear to uproot evil wherever it lies. They are righteous and devoted, not the sort to wantonly murder and question their decisions later, but certainly not the investigative type. If a Knight of the Inheritor has been to the tavern and the place is still open for business, it's likely there was no suspicion of evil among the establishment or its proprietors.


hp 50/50|Fort +6 Will +6 Ref +6|AC 19/14/16|Perception +13 (+14 vs traps)|Darkvision 60ft., Scent|Initiative +3| Status:

No prominent/public figures (women!) she would have heard of? Shall I go for Local check on that :)?

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