The first of Lamashan, 4711AR - music.
It had been a beautiful day on the road. The sun shone from a clear sky, here and there a fluffy cloud drifting by. Were it not for the vivid colours of the falling leaves, one could almost imagine that summer had decided to stay beyond its time - the light was warm on your skin, although the shades held cold, promising a cool season to come. The hills rolled on, and as you travelled, gave way to fields, brown and freshly tilled. The farmers were hard at work; it was time for sowing.
The fields gave way to the town; you made your way into Ravengro as the sun drew near the horizon. The town was a quaint affair: single story half-timbered houses with blue brick roofs abounded.
The funeral procession set out at eleven tonight, which left plenty of time to kill. Eventually, you found your way to the one inn which was open for business that evening; The Laughing Demon, run by one Zokar Elkarid.
You made your way west from the town square, just as the sun was setting on the horizon. The sunset was quite spectacular.
All the while, the sky was an explotion of colours, yellow, orange and red all bounced off the clouds; the sky itself was steel grey, in places broken by the clear blue you only get at sunset.
The inn itself was a black silhouette, broken only by the golden light shining from its leaded windows
Walking up the stairs and into the inn, you noted a marked drop in volume, as the patrons got in a good stare at the new arrival. For a few moments, the only sounds are the clangs of pots from the kitchen, the clicks of spoons hitting plates as people were eating, and the cackle of firewood burning. The fireplace was the only source of light in the room, beyond an eerie blue glow coming from a table in the back. The cieling rose high above the rafters, night was falling outside, all conspiring to lay the room in a cozy sort of darkness.
A boy ran about, lighting candles at the table, removing empty mugs and plates he went.
Most tables seated locals, stout men, mostly, enjoying a pint after a good days work. Others were just enjoying a pint. There were a few empty tables, as well as a couple of sparsely populated ones.
One of the empty tables, the biggest in fact, sat squarely in the middle of the room. It was round, and had room for eight people. Others were spread around, three clustered near the back.
The other patrons had shied away from the occupant of the backmost table. He seemed unfazed, perusing a book in the blue light of a glowing sphere that hovered over his right shoulder.
Across the room, another patron had a table for himself. Instead of reading a scroll however, he was staring into a mug, although no less intently.
By the table window table sat four young people, playing cards.
"Easy there big guy; I know you're not." Her voice went from teasing to soft.
The other man didn't seem all that interested in the exchange; he was looking at the half-elf, who was studying her cards. The smaller of the two men was quite handsome, really. His skin was light brown, and he'd shaved his head, leaving only a patch of short curls covering a triangle on the top of his head. All four of them had swords leaned against the wall or hung on the back of their chair, easily within arms reach.
Eventually, the inkeeper made his round, taking orders and filling mugs.
Burns takes in the new place, weary from his travels and eager to get a bit of rest before tonight. He wondered how many people here knew the professor. Probably all of them. The Professor had always been the friendly sort.
"That's a cheery sounding menu sir. Perhaps just a liquid ghost for me." Strange, naming all their food after such untasteful things. He wondered if they ever got many travelers in this small village. "I'm here for a day or two. Where might be the best place for me to get a bed later?" He listens to the din, noticing more occupants of the place than he can see. A popular enough place then, or perhaps the only one in this village?
Zokar does a double take at Burns' furry face.
"Yes. Well..." He collects himself. "Cheery is the best thing for dour. Nothing's so bad that it can't take a laughing at, that's what I always say!"
"As for beds, I've got a few rooms out the back for rent, can do breakfast too, as you like. Normally I don't go recommending the competition, but Sarianna is a sweetheart; You might also try the Outward Inn, back by the square, only it's closed today, same as every other starday." His voice falls in speed and cadence, and he leans forward. He smells of sweat and spices. "It's haunted, that's why. They say there're dark shapes in the night, and strange sounds coming from the basement; people tell stories, 'specially around these parts!" He winks at Burns.
He returns with your mug, and sets the pint down in front of you.
"One liquid ghost! Enjoy!"
The ale is pale, almost white, and gives off a sickly green light in the darkness. A careful sip reveals that it's somewhat sweet, and not too strong.
|
Dianne takes in a deep and satisfied breath as she reaches her destination; the air here is soft and pleasant, a distinct departure from the heavy, industrious smells she had become accustomed to in her homeland.
Upon entering the inn she is struck by the difference in mood; the pleasant wind of the quaint village gives way to the somber atmosphere of the building as the customers stare holes into her. Her mood is relaxed for a bit at the cheery demeanor of the innkeeper and his son, but that dissipates once more as he lists off the macabre menu.
"Ah, umm, yes... Thank you. I think I will have the chowder, if you please." As she waits for the man to return with her order, she notices the older, studious looking fellow in the back; Dianne feels she may have met this man before, but cannot put a name to the face. She rubs her temples in thought before giving up and pulling a small book out of her pack.
Professor Lorrimor's death shouldn't really have come as a shock but it still hurt. He was the only one that knew his goal, his belief's. It was liberating to be able to tell someone finally. And not only that but to be...well, accepted wasn't the right word. More like understood. He didn't condone it but he knew my intentions. Knew I would never associate with...them. But then he was taken away. It wasn't too hard to figure out the leading culprit. But the fact that Lorrimor had left things to him left a bad taste in his mouth. Did that mean Kendra was dead? That would be awful. She was such a smart and gentle woman.
Jacob walk into the tavern with a large man in tow. It was a stupid idea, it really was. But he had been meticulous in the disguise. He only hoped no one had any form of detection going. He'd be found out instantly. And most likely killed. But he wanted to show Petros his creation. He had finally done it. His first undead. It was made from the body of a dead half-orc bandit. The man had committed several murders, was caught and then hung. As the mortician, he got the body. No one ever knew the casket was empty. No one would care.
It was wrapped up tight in leather armor and stuffed with an alchemical foam to give it bulk. The face was masked and the long cloak thrown over it. And as a half-orc no one would question the smell. He was rather proud of the job he did.
Jacob mostly ignored the boy and scanned the room. He took note of the odd dwarf, the gamblers, the attractive half-elf, and then Adrissant. No surprise there. Him and Lorrimor were colleges and Jacob himself had attended several of his lectures. Seeing a likeminded individual, he headed over. The mindless hulk followed.
"Hello professor. I am Jacob Romero. I attended of lectures and studied under Lorrimor. Might I join you?"
When the Innkeeper approaches he scoffs at the selection. Jacob knew there some foul creatures Ustalav but even this seemed to be in poor taste. Especially for a funeral. But he didn't comment. "I'll have wine thank you. My companion is fine."
Dear Mr. Xantrian
The tall man strode through the cobbled streets of Ravengro with practised ease, as if the town were an old friend he hadn't seen in years. His boot-heels and cane clacked softly in a steady rhythm, his stride restrained and purposeful, the hem of his overcoat whspering horasely around his calves. In his other hand, he carried a heavy trunk, which rattled or clinked as he shifted the weight.
It is with my deepest sympathies and regret that I must inform you of the passing of Professor Petros Lorrimor.
The setting sunlight kissed his face, bouncing warmly off his high cheekbones and thin lips, sliding across the silk of his cravat, glinting off the silver pin. He paused at the door of the inn, sweeping off his overcoat and draping it over his right shoulder as he entered. The coat went on a hook, the trunk stayed at his side as he made his way to a table near the man with his scroll.
It is by his request that I invite you to his funeral.
"New in town, eh Mister?"
The boy's voice drew him from his reverie, and he looked the child over even as he took his seat, tucking the trunk safely under the table with his traveller's pack. The boy's speech barely sank in, and he was left to marvel at the ability of youth to speak so rapidly and in so many words, and say barely anything of note.
Arrangements have been made, that the internment of the deceased might be delayed untill the first of Lamashan, that you, and others likewise named in his will, might have time to participate in his last rites.
It was good to see Professor Adrissant again. Henric had fond memories of the professor's lectures - he had a distinctive way of explaining things that was laced with elegant wordplay and pleasing rhythms. It was a shame the academic had already been approached by a skinny fellow with a large half-orc in tow. A most peculiar smell was emanating from the larger of the pair.
As mentioned above, you have been named a beneficiary of the deceased's last will and testament, the reading of which has likewise been delayed until after the funeral rites, at your convenience.
The amount of body hair bursting from the innkeeper was offputting, but his demeanor was friendly enough. Drawing his journal and inkpen from his pack, Henric replied in a low, clipped tone, "I'll have the vampire steak, rare if possible. For a drink, the virgin's blood. Bring another in half an hour." He handed over his coin, and began reading.
Please make haste to Ravengro, that this matter might be resolved in a proper and timely fashion.
It was still difficult to believe Petros was gone - and with him, one of the few sould who knew Henric's secret. The young man sighed, running a thumb absent-mindedly over one of his old friend's notes, scribbled in the margin of his book. You shouldn't use so many different tongues - it's a bloody marvel you can keep track of this mess! Yes, that was Petros, always teasing him good-naturedly, envying his apparent youth, keeping his secrets safe.
My heartfelt condolences,
Sir Vashian Heartmount, Acting executor of Law
Victoriana, staying low to the ground, deftly sidesteps the noisy serving boy as he corners another newcomer with his loud chatter. Focus might be needed here, and she stops against the near wall to look and listen.
Somewhere in Ravengro, most likely staying in this inn, is someone whose name she's seen in the Professor's will—someone actually supposed to be here. Hopefully, it's not the creepy old man in the corner. Well. In any case, food can wait. Her first task will be to learn how to fit in here in Ustalav without making a fool of herself, and that means interactions with the right sort of locals. Luckily, the tavern feels comfortably Varisian in its level of chaos.
As Victoriana starts forward again, she throws her traveling cloak over an arm, and makes sure the small crossbow and shield slung across her back don't look too threatening. Keeping a wide berth around the innkeep (she'll want to find out what's happening over behind the kitchens before she commits to a meal), she walks towards the gaming table.
Idly, she pulls a few coppers out of her pocket and begins playing with a Prestidigitation, coloring the coins blue and red and bouncing them in the air before letting them fall in a rainbow shower next to the half-elf's cards. "All right, boys!" Victoriana bellows, facing the large man, "What's the game, and what's the buy-in?"
Stiff shoulders. Nervous? Or unable to move them? Stitching in the flesh, visible through sleeves. An old wound? Or something more? Henric mulls over the possibilities, his curiosity eventually growing too great.
"Excuse me, sir," he says in a low voice, leaning across to the next table to mutter to Jacob, "your friend seems rather tense. Is he perhaps unwell?"
There is a tense moment as Jacob looks across at the stranger. Henric can tell a lot is going on behind that calm mask but it is hidden well. Lorrimor had warned him about this. He used to be far to unfocused, easy to read, and easy to interrupt. A bad weakness to have for a caster. So he practiced the Professor's suggested concentration exercises. He went over as many scenario's as he could imagine. And with his intellect, he could keep track of many. This one was no different and his delivery was perfectly natural. "This is my bodyguard. I imagine he is tense because it his job." His eyes flick to the large man and its...mask looks at Henric. "Now if you don't mind? I am trying to have a conversation with one of my professors. We are both close associates of the deceased." I hope he doesn't have Detect Magic. That one is going to be harder to explain. I really need to find a Disguise Other.
Henric replies calmly, one eyebrow raising ever-so-slightly as he studies Jacob. He notes the slight dilation of the pupils, the tiny pause in his breath as the boy works on his response. "The professor happens to be one of my academic associates, as does the deceased Lorrimor. I would advise against harrying Adivion, though - predisposed as he is, I doubt he would take kindly to your interrupting his reverie. I am simply attempting to spare you the faux pas of doing so."
Leaning back in his chair, he gestures to the one opposite him. "If it's intelliogent conversation you seek, I have plenty, accumulated over four decades of study. The late professor and myself were in fact exchanging letters as recently as two months ago, concerning the possibility of extending one's natural life through alchemy. Not that you'd know anything about alchemy, of course - you lack the telltale stains on your fingers, and your eyebrows are in place -" He gestures to Jacob's face at this "- but perhaps you'll be amusing enough to converse with while I await my drink."
The professor's nostrils flared as Jacob and his companion approached him. He looked up, contempt clear on his face. As he took in the young man and his companion, the expression was wiped away, replaced by casual interest. The change was rapid enough that one might think to have imagined it.
"Take a seat." He folded up the scroll he had been reading with precise movements of his long fingers. Meanwhile, the light over his shoulder floated to the middle of the table, howering just above eye height, and grew more warm in its hue. "Allow me to extend my condolences. The loss of a mentor is not an easy experience." Despite its size, the scroll appeared to fit seamlessly into the inner pocket of his jacket.
It was then that Zokar made his way to their table. The professor cut off both Jacob and the large man.
"We will take half a bottle of wine. Bring a glass for Mr. Romero. That will be all."
The proprietor harrumphed at the rudeness, but strode off to welcome the other guests.
Zokar threw Dianna an extra friendly grin as he returned with her meal and a pint of the sickly green ale, setting it down by her book. "On the house. Welcome to Ravengro, miss!"
The chowder itself was a thick, cream-based gravy, with small pieces of some kind of meat, tasting and, when cut in half, looking like chicken, throw in. It was deep red, somewhat sweet, and rather spicy. He served it with a hunk of fresh-baked bread. It was really quite delicious, even though it didn't seem an example of traditional Ustalavian cuisine.
As he brought Henric his meal and drink, he was apparently driven to comment on the amount of books, ink and paper that had accumulated in the back section of the inn. "By Pharasma's Veil, now I've seen it all! Turning the Laughing Devil into a scholar's lounge, are we?" Thoughtfully, for him, he added "You should go see old Alendru up by the unfurling scroll, he'd like you!"
That last comment got a couple of sharp glances and even some indistinct complaining noises from some of townsfolk.
"Oh go back ter' your drinks! It's my inn, and I'll say as I like!"
Henric's steak was rare and juicy. It also had a a length of wood driven through it, about the length of a hand, and sharpened at one end.
The large man, Vrodish, laughed at Victorianna's tricks and brash demeanor. "It's a game of dragon poker," He told her with a smile. [/b]"You can buy in at ten coppers - we'll tell you the modifiers as we go along."[/b] Moving the teddy bear that had been sitting in the chair beside him onto his lap, he made space so she could sit. "As you can probably tell, I'm Vrodish. And this little bundle of noise," He mussed up the halfling woman's hair; she punched him on the arm in retaliation "Is Riff. These are Leromar and Trestleblade."
Leromar just nodded at her in greeting. The half-elf smiled, somewhat hesitantly.
She started dealing the cards. "So what brings you around to these parts?" Riff was the first one working up the courage to ask.
oh thank the gods finally he brought the hush he was only gone ten minutes if anything its too fresh juicy still mooing tacky as anything
Quiet, all of you. I'd like to enjoy this.
Henric gave the proprietor a strained, yet appreciative smile, instinctively closing his journal to hide the thesis from casual observation - not that it would have mattered much, as he very much doubted the man could decipher the complex Draconic runic alphabet. "Well, I'm working on my thesis, it see," he explained, folding his hands over the cover. "After forty years of studying, the time has come for me to earn my place in the annals of academia. While the funeral has taken some time from me, I can still find enough quiet moments to continue my work." He carefully removed the stake from the center of his meal and set it aside, ignoring it as he feigned casual interest. "The Unfurling Scroll, you say?" he asked lightly, cutting into the steak, appreciative of the warm, rich smell wafting up from it, the red juice pooling around it on the plate. "Is this Alendru another scholarly fellow, then?"
He began chewing as he waited for the proprietor's response, his eyes turning briefly to the professor a the next table. The steak was perfectly cooked - it had been some time since he'd had the chance to appointed such hearty fare, and while the stake had been a juvenile touch, the meat was tender and flavoursome.
As he was about to swallow, an image flashed into his mind - a grisly scene of blood-soaked tendons exposed to cold air, maniacal laughter echoing in his ears. Though it was gone as quickly as it had come, he felt suddenly quite ill as he swallowed nervously, glancing down at his steak. It looked far more sinister now. Perhaps medium next time.
"If it's no trouble," he asked calmly, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, "would you be able to cook this a little longer for me? I seem to have misjudged my own taste."
Books, eh? she couldn't help but overhear. She'd have to file those names away for later, in case she wound up spending as much time here as she hoped.
"Dragon poker, eh?" Victoriana replied, improvising a few phrases at her normal rapid pace, "Y'talking three-card golden, or red/black hold'em, or... never mind, rules are bound to be different this far from Korvosa. I'm here by request of the Professor, ol' wossname, Lorrimor. Traveling scholar 'n expert here, you know the type, emphasis on the traveling. Anyway. Something in his will, I heard, don't know the details, but looking to kill some time until a lawyerly fellow comes back tomorrow with some further papers."
And, with a friendly chuckle added, "Oh, right, an' here's ten coppers—I'm not about to spend it on a mug of anything that turns out to be actual blood. An' so, you fellows—local, or some sort of company?"
Jacob catches the cold look but is unsure if it is directed at me. It might be that he just didn't want to be disturbed. He doesn't know does he? Lorrimor gave his word. No. If he knew then he probably wouldn't hesitate to oust him. Necromancy has a bad reputation here. Which makes it the perfect place to gather information. "It is not," he responds. "I doubt it is any easier to lose a colleague and friend either. I have to ask though. I received a letter saying that I was mentioned in his will. Does that mean something has happened to Kendra? I hope she is alright."
Then Henric approaches.
"If it's intelliogent conversation you seek, I have plenty, accumulated over four decades of study. The late professor and myself were in fact exchanging letters as recently as two months ago, concerning the possibility of extending one's natural life through alchemy. Not that you'd know anything about alchemy, of course - you lack the telltale stains on your fingers, and your eyebrows are in place -" He gestures to Jacob's face at this "- but perhaps you'll be amusing enough to converse with while I await my drink."
"Four decades? That means you're lying or your Varisian disguise needs some work." His eyes glow ever so slightly as they slip into a different spectrum to see magical auras. "Even if you got started as early as me that would put you in your 50's and try as you might, certain signs are difficult to account for." He almost said disguise. That would have put the word out on the table and had this perceptive man thinking about it unconsciously. Best to keep his focus on Jacob. "Gray roots, sagging skin, wrinkles. I see none where there should be something no matter how well hidden. But you are correct. I am no dilettante in alchemy. My forte is magic, both divine and arcane, with a specialty in illusions," he says inclining his head to Henric as if indicating the man's own illusion. Keep him focused on me or himself. "I was aware Lorrimor had a pen pal helping him with research from the field. A Samsaran named Henric. That must be you. I am Jacob Romero, one of his students," he says extending his hand in greeting.
"Well i'll certainly be on my guard from such creatures. Here for business. Is there an apothecary or chemist shop here in your village?"
Could prove useful if there is. Perhaps I can acquire some rare ustulavan herbs for my collection. What the Professor sent me is almost run out.
"Four decades? That means you're lying or your Varisian disguise needs some work." His eyes glow ever so slightly as they slip into a different spectrum to see magical auras. "Even if you got started as early as me that would put you in your 50's and try as you might, certain signs are difficult to account for." He almost said disguise. That would have put the word out on the table and had this perceptive man thinking about it unconsciously. Best to keep his focus on Jacob. "Gray roots, sagging skin, wrinkles. I see none where there should be something no matter how well hidden. But you are correct. I am no dilettante in alchemy. My forte is magic, both divine and arcane, with a specialty in illusions," he says inclining his head to Henric as if indicating the man's own illusion. Keep him focused on me or himself. "I was aware Lorrimor had a pen pal helping him with research from the field. A Samsaran named Henric. That must be you. I am Jacob Romero, one of his students," he says extending his hand in greeting.
Edit according to suggestions.
I don't like this. He's too perceptive. I need to change the focus back to him. What do you see? What can I use? What has he said? Think. Scar on the lip. Arrogent. Slight discoloration on the right cheekbone. Light toned. Same color in the inner ear when he turned. That's odd. Make up? Most likely. Ashamed of heritage? Why? Human features. 40 years. No signs of aging. No signs of covered aging. Long lived. Not half-elf. What's left. No sharp incisors. Not particularly lithe. Sharp features. Maybe... Kendra mentioned a drunk raving about a man he dueled that bled water. Clear blood. Samsaran. Wounded on the lip. A Lepidstadt scar maybe? Coincidence? Worth checking. The thoughts soared through Jacobs mind in the blink of an eye. The only outward hint he gave of such a rapid thought process was a thoughtful look at his target.
"Yes, amusing. I was aware that Lorrimor had a pen pal. A man named Henric. And now that man sits before me. And he is a baffling puzzle. He looks Varisian but he certainly isn't. At least no Varisian I know ages so well. 40 years? And perfect complexion. Well, almost. You have a little spot on your right cheek. Right here," he says miming the spot on his own face. I had heard was a secretive man. But I was never one for idle gossip. Kendra was though. I remember she came in once talking about a drunkard that would tell the same story over and over again. One about a man he once dueled that bled water. Preposterous right?" Though he says this casually he watches the finely dressed man with rapt attention. Looking for all the usual signs of annoyance or recognition.
hes looking studying well let him theres no way he could you fool he already knows just look at
That's quite enough.
Willing silence, Henric returned Jacob's studied expression, his face a mask as he sipped at his drink. I see you studying me, young one. But how much do you know? he mused silently, listening to the speech that quickly followed.
he knows he knows he knows he knows he
His lips curled in a smile, he let out a small chuckle in response to the line of questioning. "I have many secrets, as would any academic. After all, I cannot have my thesis falling into the wrong hands. That would be most unfortunate, you understand." He patted the tome before him with one hand. "Henric is indeed my name, and I was born to Varisian parents on a Varisian caravan, through and through. However, if I may let you in on one of my secrets? My grandfather was an elf." He leant back with a conspiratorial wink, drawing a pair of spectacles from the breast pocket of his frock coat. "Unfortunately, I didn't inherit his keen senses, nor his delightfully exotic ears. It's strange how these things turn out, isn't it? All I gained from him is my extraordinarily long youth. To be perfectly honest, I think I'd have preferred the ears - it's so awkward falling for some pretty young thing, only to find out she could be your daughter!" A disarming chuckle followed his wink.
Keeping his hands firmly on his book to avoid the temptation to rub his cheek at he mention of a spot, he raises an eyebrow at the final part of the speech. "Bleeding water? Simply preposterous. Why, unless the fellow was of the very elemental plane itself, that sounds like the ramblings of a simple drunkard." He took another sip of his drink, coolly keeping up the lie. "I studied anatomy, and I'll have to tell you, everything bleeds something decidedly more complex. Elf blood is thinner than that of humans, while orcs seem to have far more in their bodies. Dwarf blood is more viscous, while the merfolk of the oceans have blue blood. Can you believe it?" Another sip, remaining calm.
Though his words are convincing, there are some half-truths and at least one outright lie in his story - betrayed by the tiny beads of sweat at his hairline.
|
|
Dianne was relieved to find the food satisfactory; her easy living at home had cursed her with a somewhat weak stomach, and she had had some... unpleasant experiences on her way to this town. As it turns out, there is little that will insult an innkeeper more than throwing up his food. Dianne made a mental note to tip well; "on the house" or not, it would bother her to leave a good meal unrewarded.
As he brought Henric his meal and drink, he was apparently driven to comment on the amount of books, ink and paper that had accumulated in the back section of the inn. "By Pharasma's Veil, now I've seen it all! Turning the Laughing Devil into a scholar's lounge, are we?" Thoughtfully, for him, he added "You should go see old Alendru up by the unfurling scroll, he'd like you!"
Alendru, Alendru... Dianne wondered if this was a name she had heard before. He seemed to have a bit of a reputation locally, judging by the sharp glances the innkeeper had received at mentioning the name. Dianne looked back to her old professors, maybe someone mentioned in a textbook once...
"He owns a bookshop up north, just afore the bridge. Don't mind this lot here; he'd never hurt a fly!"
Zokar wiped his large, sweaty hands on his apron, and grabbed Henric's plate without further comment, taking it back to the kitchen.
Professor Adrissant rested his elbows on the table, swirling the wine in his glass as he idly watched the conversation unfold. Jacob had the distinct sensation of having his measure taken. The older man seemed as disinterested in Henric as he'd been in Jacob's companion. Well, come to think of it, that wasn't strictly true; he had looked at the bodyguard once.
The innkeeper did know of an alchemist in town. He was also helpful, even to strange, furred strangers. "Aye, you'll be wanting Jominda's, by the town square! Are you in town for the funeral? She'll be there tonight, right as rain!" His brow furrows. "Mightn't be the best time to talk business, come to think of it!"
"... Dwarf blood is more viscous, while the merfolk of the oceans have blue blood. Can you believe it?"
Zokar picked that moment to return with the steak. "I certainly can. I should have you write the menu, young man! Or maybe just let you go on like that, and the regulars will have material 'fer a new song in a jiffy!"
He hummed as he left the table.
"...
Orcs, they spurt something awful!
and Elfsblood is dreadfully thin,
but Virgin's Blood is what you'll get
down by Elkarid's Inn!
The friendly mood fell sharply at Victoriannas mention of the professor. The group at her table exchanged significant, somewhat suspicious glances. Her deflection tactic worked well, however; Leromar was appalled at the suggestion that they be part of a mercenary company. "By the Lady, no! We're the town deputies, ma'am." He deepened his voice, and affected a weighty drawl "And by the by, I'm afraid gambling isn't allowed in public spaces. We'll have to see about a serious talk, down by the station." His antics drew laughter from his friends. Difusing the tension. The young man winked at the gnome with a smile, leaned back in his seat, and took a swig from his mug, looking over the hand he'd been dealt. They seemed a bit young to be deputies, but it was the sort of claim you couldn't really make in an inn full of people who'd know if you were lying.
The halfling spoke up. "I guess we don't really know all that much about the professor. I never spoke to him, myself. You'd hear all these crazy things, but then... What was he really like?"
Burns nods at the innkeepers words, he was right. "Yes best to wait till after. Here for the funeral yes but may stay several days if Jominda has something interesting for me." Burns takes the drink he had ordered and goes to sit at the back with the old greyed fellow.
"Greeting sir may I sit with you for a time? I am but a tired traveler all the way from Absolom. Say, what are the goings on of these parts lately? I have never traveled to these lands before."
Burns:
Overhearing that Burns is here for the funeral, Jacob approaches, curious. "You know Lorrimor? I wasn't aware Ratfolk lived this far north." The comment comes across as callus but he sounds genuinely curious. A very large masked man stands over Jacob, panning his head back and forth with robotic efficiency.
Dianne Lizbet:
Seeing a familiar face, Jacob and his silent companion approach Dianne. She was a student of magic like him but while she split her focus with martial study, he split his into the arcane and the divine. He didn't hold it against her. Mainly because she could beat his feeble form into paste. The large bodyguard behind him gave him a small measure of encouragement. Its origin however, neutralized that advantage. There were already enough wizards here. "Dianne. Good to see you again. How fairs the border skirmishes?"
Victoriana Whitecap:
"Victoriana," Jacob says with no small amount of acid. He respected Victoriana. And if he was honest, he liked her. They could talk for hours about arcane theory but she could also talk his ear off about any number of mundane topics. She was intelligent but easily distracted. She was driven and determined. But Nethys could she talk and talk and talk. "Still as good as ever at speaking yet saying nothing I see."
Henric Xantrian:
Perspiration? Good. Focus averted. Now to give him an out and distract him from further observation. Maybe I could play on the alchemy. Acedemics love to talk about current projects. "It's not as preposterous as you might think given the adaptability of humans. Do you realize how many different races can affect their physical and mental attributes. Demons, angels, djinn, dragons, elves, orcs, efreet, jann, shaitan. And in the case of Fetchlings, even the planes can apparently alter their physic. I have yet to see that kind of versatility in any other race. Now if only their natural elasticity applied to a moral flexibility as well. So many taboo's and exceptions. And they change from society to society. Its very frustrating."
At Victorianna's table, Riff triumphantly threw down the winning hand. "Ha! I know who's paying for my next dri-" She was interrupted by flames springing from her cards, jumping from one to another, soon encompassing the deck in its entireity.
The fire grew into a white light, blinding your eyes, eventually growing to encompass all senses, high-pitched sound, smell, and an omnipresent feeling of touch so intense it was almost pain. It fell away, as swiftly as it came, and there was nothing.
There was nothing in the abyss to mark the passage of time, beyond the stream of consciousness. There was nothing, until your sense of smell came back.
It carried the scent of burning timber, with the rancid stench of burning flesh in close pursuit.
Suddenly, sound. Fire crackled, the sound deafening in the silent
And then, the screams came from below.
With that, you all came back to yourselves. Customers startled, fell off their chairs, and spilled beer on their clothes.
As the general ruckus died down, some effort was made into investigating the cause of this queer event. The fire had definetely seemed to erupt from the cards, and so the table and its players were the focus of much attention.
The harrow cards had burned to cinders, all but one. A single card had passed through the flames unmarred; Strife lay face-up on the table, a sinister warning of things not yet come to pass.
Or so the villagers seemed to think, anyway.
*End of scene*
So we'll use harrow cards as a type of modified action points.
Rosalind has drawn the card 'The Lovers', the Lawful Neutral card of Charisma. The card can be traded in as described in the CC player's guide.
Henric has drawn 'Cruelty', the Chaotic Evil card of Constitution. Again, player's guide describes what that does.
I like your draws. Henric's is especially poetic.
Further, I've been thinking of adding the Defense bonus rules to the campaign, as I think it fits your characters and the tone I'm trying to set pretty well. The defense bonus rules go like this:
Find the class with the heaviest armor proficiency you have. You gain an armor bonus to AC, depending on how heavy armor your heaviest class gives proficiency in. Taking Armor Proficiency as a feat will not change this, but multiclassing can. Consult the following table;
No armor proficiency: +2
Light armor proficiency: +3
Medium armor proficiency: +4
Heavy Armor Proficiency: +6
At third character level, and at every third level after that, this bonus increases by +1.
Being an armor bonus, it doesn't stack with other armor bonuses, and can't be increased with enhancement, as that attaches to an existing, physical armor. If you have armor on hand that gives a better benefit, that becomes advantageous, but otherwise there's very little gain in wearing armor. Shields are still good, and you may want to wear light armor for the special magical abilities attached.
It has implications, though. NPCs would use the rule as well, and certain foes would be a good bit tougher for it. It would not extend to monsters, only creatures that can adequately be described as NPCs.
Example: A weretiger fighter 4 is an NPC. A troll fighter 4 is a monster.
What do you think? Yay or nay?
That would be pretty cool, though as the person who can't wear armor and would be able to save a round and a spell known on not getting Mage Armor, I'm a little biased.
I've done less writing than I thought I would tonight. The opening post is only half done. On the plus side, I got a lot of actual work done, so that was good.
As for the defense bonus variant, I'll instate it as a houserule unless El Ronza expresses a disliking for the idea.
We will begin friday, as scheduled originally.
Alright, cool. I'm not too attached to it if, El Ronza's not fond of the idea. Still have Mage Armor.
Hey, sorry. Had a busy time lately. I'm in Australia, so I suspect time zones are a big part of my silence.
I don't have a problem with the rule. I can wrap my head pretty easily around like bonuses not stacking. So if I were to wear chainmail (+6 armour bonus), I'd just take the +6, and all the regular penalties of the armour, correct? And if I were to out on +1 light fortification leather (+3 bonus), I'd just keep the +4 from my medium armour proficiency, the penalties associated with wearing the leather, and gain the light fortification ability from it?
I'm down for it. I like the idea of Henric facing the horrors of the world in sleeve garters and a frock coat. :-)
I too find my harrow draw poetic. And hilarious. I mean, s~!&, that's just brilliant.
And I've just noticed both our characters hear voices... That's going to be interesting. And fun.
How old is Rosalind? I'm imagining her being fairly young.
I think we have a good synergy, though. Henric has skills out the wazoo (11 points per level, if I'm remembering correctly), full BAB, and plenty of martial tricks. And Roalind has a solid selection of buffs and the ever-solid magic missile, as well as far more charisma - Henric will pick up a few social skills, but Rosa is definitely better suited to actually talk to people. He's a bit too... Well, Sherlock Holmes-y.
I'm fond of the oracle/sorcerer combination. It's kind of like mystic theurge on steroids.
I'll finalize Henric, but for now I have a couple of questions. GM, how much will traps feature in the campaign? And would poison be useful/used at all? I'm considering choosing archetypes that will remove class features that won't benefit me much.
And what would your advice be regarding my dream of two-weapon fighting? Should I go strength-based and pick up the TWF line through ranger combat style talents? Or should I go for dex and weapon finesse? I seldom play martials, preferring skillsy types.
Judging by our GM's defintion of "tonight" being my dinnertime, I'd say the three of us are pretty scattered, all things considered. With a party of our size we shouldn't have any problems moving forward in spite of that.
The voices will definitely make things interesting, since they've both got completely different masses pesering them. I notice we've also both got strange blood; I was originally going to put Rosalind into Black-Blooded Oracle, but I didn't want to have to juggle healing between both negative and positive energy; seemed like way too big of a hassle. I'm keeping the aesthetic bits of it though, because even if I can't have them mechanically they've become a big part of her concept. Hope you're ready for things to be made a little worse when she spits up some ichor or turns pitch black at the wrong time.
I didn't put anything down for age, mostly because I don't really narrow those down when I'm thinking of a character, but definitely young. Early 20s at most. Young, sheltered, and now very alone, with a low Wis to make things pretty s~#*ty for her.
Between us, we've definitely got everything covered. With two full spellcasting classes, Rose is going to be a solid mix of buffs and blasting to keep us pretty solid even with the numbers disadvantage. Social skills is definitely on her, but she'll do a pretty good job at it.
I'll finalize Henric, but for now I have a couple of questions. GM, how much will traps feature in the campaign? And would poison be useful/used at all? I'm considering choosing archetypes that will remove class features that won't benefit me much.
And what would your advice be regarding my dream of two-weapon fighting? Should I go strength-based and pick up the TWF line through ranger combat style talents? Or should I go for dex and weapon finesse? I seldom play martials, preferring skillsy types.
There'll be a fair amount of the time where I'll only be able to put in the minimum three posts per week myself, so it's quite all right if you can't pay attention to the game 24/7.
Regarding armor, you're spot on. As for two-weapon fighting, I personally prefer strength-based when I can swing it, as it allows you to adapt to the loot really well, but dex-based is cool too. If you go that route, feel free to pick up Deadly Agility (Scroll down), but you might run into trouble with a dearth of light weapons. Or not. I haven't looked into the loot that closely, beyond the first book.
Dex also has the bonus of letting you be more proficient at using ranged weapons, if you want to do that. Of course, a 14 in dexterity could let you get by with guns just fine, since they target touch.
If you do go strength-based, I'd see about dipping a level in fighter, cavalier, or some other heavy armor class for the +2 AC boost.
As for traps, there'll be some. Likewise with poison.
The abilities will be useful when you happen across their subjects, but those are a little far between, perhaps what amounts to 1-3 encounters per AP each.
First post is up.
Rose: everyone's totally going to think we're mad. Hearing voices, vomiting black ichor, speaking in tongues (haha, another thing we both do!), confusing the events of the past ten thousand years... Yep, we're totally suited to be heroes. ;-)
I'll put some points into social skills eventually, so I can at least back you up. I mean, I've got plenty to go around. Just don't let me die while I'm getting my hands dirty in melee :P
GM, I might go for STR-based, then. Adapting to loot is good. And firearms for ranged wins me over with rule of cool ^^'
I'll look into a dip, then. I like going full investigator/slayer - keep both sides moving at the same rate - but an extra +2 would be damn handy, I wish Lore Warden didn't give up its proficiencies, as that would be a marvelous dip...
I just had an Idea as for how to incorporate Rosalind into the plot. This is going to be good.
That is both intriguing and worrisome.
That could be either very good, or very bad. I like it when GMs do such things...
Hey. Sorry about not posting for a few days. I went to my grandmothers funeral tuesday and, well, this game had some bad associations.
I'm good now though, so I'll be putting up the next post tonight.
Ouch. Yeah, I can see how it would :( Glad to hear you're good now.
Ouch. No worries, man. That's pretty rough.
Thank you.
Please roll a sense motive check each.
Also, if you'd like to make some changes on account of the variant rules (Mage armor and str based TWF, hint hint), it'd be good if you could make the updates to your aliases before the first encounter.
Mage Armor has been replaced with the most useful 1st level spell in the game.
I'm currently updating Henric in Hero Lab. Considering going investigator/fighter for level 1, with investigator/slayer from there on out. Gets me the +2 armour bonus, extra feat, and only delays my slayer goodies by one level. Also allows me to play up Henric as the academic duelist, and allow the corrupting influence of his slayer side to be slightly behind.
GM, you mentioned in the recruitment that:
If your character is focused on one of the following areas:
Natural Attacks, sneak attacks, mind-affecting magic or fire damage,
You should be prepared to create an alternative combat role for yourself that you can be just as effective in as your primary focus, in case that one turns out to be infeasible some of the time.
(Emphasis mine.)
Given that, would you advise against setting myself up with feinting feats? In a party of two (with Rosaline being a buffer-and-blaster caster type), I won't be able to set up flanking, and I'd like to know whether I can expect to use sneak attack much at all.
Basically, a dip into fighter gives me an extra feat, and if I'm going for STR-based TWF, I won't need weapon finesse. If feinting is something I could take advantage of regularly, I'll take TWF and Combat Expertise, so I can set myself upo for Two-Weapon Feint.
If, however, you advise against it, I'll take an alternative. You mentioned that in urban settings, we can buy early firearms and ammunition at one-fifth the normal price. If I were to take Gunsmithing as a feat, would that enable me to craft firearms at one-tenth the normal price, or is that not your intention?
If that's a no as well (hell, maybe even if it's a yes), I'll probably end up going with Two-Weapon Defense, because that would set my AC at a neat 19.
Of course, all of this is moot if you'd much prefer I stick with investigator/slayer for my first level and put in the fighter dip later ;-) What can I say, I tend to overcomplicate things for myself immensely.
Feinting feats are going to be useful the vast majority of the time, but less often than in other adventure paths. I think it'd serve you well, although not through the first book.
Gunsmithing gives a cost reduction as usual.
Having played through some more of the game yesterday, I think we're going to go with the Medium xp track, instead of the slow one.
Are you sure you don't want dodge over TWF defense? I'd say Dodge bonus<Shield bonus.
I rolled your knowledge roll. As far as Henric knows, there's nothing more to it than the ravings of a madman.
Alright then. I'll work towards feinting after the first book. ;-)
Took Dodge, because... yeah, you're right, it's pretty good.
As for the knowledge check, no worries. No harm in asking, after all, and I kind of like the idea of some such checks being made in private. Adds a bit of mystery to the whole shattered psyche thing :P
Do you have something you'd like to use as tokens, or should I just go with your profile pictures?
Profile pic works, for as much as it's frustratingly far enough off from my mental image of her.
That diplomacy check was high enough to get the crowd to disperse, no additional rolls needed after this point.
However, I would like to get some more RP out of this scene, if you don't mind.