Thralls of Thrune, Part 1: The Sunless Citadel (Inactive)

Game Master Mike Kimmel

Current Date: ?? of Kuthona, 4712 AR (early winter)
Location: Somewhere in Cheliax...

After your capture, you are taken to Egorian, the City of Thorns. The jagged towers and minarets of red and black marble might impress you, if only you were allowed to leave your cells to see them. You stay in the city is brief, lasting only long enough for you to meet your new "companions" and the Thrune agent now responsible for you: Marius Vasdralo.

You are not told where you were going when you are taken from your cells in the dark of night; nor when the Hellknights, their armor decorated with thick chains and their faces concealed by hideous masks, load you into a covered jailer's wagon; nor when you spend several days on the road, let out of your wagon only as necessary and always with thick cloths over your eyes. Not allowed to see the stars or even the road, you have little idea where you are.

Then, one night, the wagon comes to a halt. Chains rattle, a key turns in a lock, the heavy iron bar groans as a guard lifts it, and the cool night air rushes in as the wagon's doors open. "Uncover their faces. Unbind them." Vasdralo, giving orders. To the point, as always. The guards obey. Shortly, you find yourselves standing on the road, still muddy from last night's rain.

The light from two of the guards' torches illuminates your surroundings: baggage horses, two wagons (including the one you have become so familiar with), a dozen guards, Vasdralo dismounting from his horse yet still towering above his fellows. His morningstar hangs at his side, as always, its cruelly-spiked head glinting in the torchlight. He gestures with a gloved hand for you to gather 'round. He is dressed slightly differently than when last you met him, back in your cell in Egorian: while he still proudly wears the black and red of Cheliax, he no longer bears the symbol of House Thrune anywhere on his person. Not visibly, at least. Nor do the guards, whose dress suggests they are soldiers but does not give any indication of their house or rank. You are reminded of the symbol magically branded on your person in a discreet location, and wonder if the guards are similarly marked.

Vasdralo calls out an order, and a guard walks on ahead. You think you see a building, but Vasdralo addresses your group, demanding your attention. "We have arrived at our destination. This is the town of Oakhurst. It is... insignificant, but for its location. There is an ancient citadel to the south. That is where our interests lie. Tomorrow morning you are to go to the citadel. If anyone asks, you are to say that you are on a mission to retrieve the bodies of two members of the Hucrele family: Talger and Sherise, brother and sister, who went to the citadel a month ago and did not return." Vasdralo pauses and looks each of you in the eye before continuing: "You are not rescuers. You are not here to save a pair of fools who got lost in a dusty old ruin. You are killers. You are to find the druid Belak, who we suspect makes his lair in the citadel, and end his life."

The guard returns, approaches Vasdralo, and whispers something to him. The Thrune agent nods and turns to you once more. "I could lock you in the jail for the night, but it would draw suspicion. We have paid for your stay at the common room of the Old Boar Inn. Go there. Enjoy your hot meals and your warm beds by the fire. Or not - I do not care. But do not draw attention to yourselves, except as adventurers who wish to help the Hucrele matron to find her poor lost children. Seek out rumors, go shopping if you must. Your possessions will be returned to you. But if you make any indication to the populace that you work for House Thrune, I will know. If you speak of your true mission, I will know. If you try to escape, I will know. Now go. Just after dawn, I will meet you outside the Inn and answer your questions. I do not wish to hear from you until then."

The guards return your possessions and escort you into the town of Oakhurst. The Old Boar Inn is crowded with those seeking a warm meal on a cold winter's night, but a table is ready for you. Heads turn as your assorted group enters the Inn, but the townsfolk, used to minding their own business when soldiers are around, quickly resume their activities. The guards leave you at the Inn and head to wherever it is they will be staying for the night...

In your introductory posts, please feel free to describe your experiences before/during/after your capture and the trip to Oakhurst. Then hop right in and let us know what you do now that you're here! We'll spend some time in town getting to know one another and then get to the adventure. How much (and in what manner) you interact with the townsfolk is entirely up to you. Feel free to make knowledge checks and other skill checks to find out more about what's going on, where you are, that sort of thing. Or just wander obliviously into the dungeon... it's up to you!

Val looked around the barroom of the Old Boar Inn, and old feelings stirred within her: Fondness of barrooms and the years she spent entertaining common folk with Varisian songs and stories... both interwoven with the legends and teachings of Desna the Starsong. And also a feeling of regret, as it was in a bar not unlike this one a year ago, where she gave her last performance before her arrest.

Addressing her companions, "Well, friends, it seems that our table is ready! Let's sup first and then discuss our plans for the morrow. I, for one, am famished!"

As she crossed the barroom, she tied shoulder-length wavy black hair with a yellow kerchief patterned with blue butterflies. It matched a second kerchief tied loosely around her neck. Under a loose-fitting tunic, studded leather armor could be seen-- clearly marking her as some kind of adventurer. She was also rather well-armed: she carried a morningstar, and had two daggers at each hip. A starknife hung at her left side, and a lute hung from her right. Between the hair and clothing, she appeared to be of Varisian ancestry, although her slate gray eyes betrayed a mixed heritage.

Easing into a chair at the table set aside for her group, she waved at one of the serving wenches. "Good evening! I think we'd like a round of ale over here." She then looked at her companions with a raised eyebrow, inviting them to join her at the table.

Bellicus donned his armor slowly, fastening the buckles and tightening the straps with practiced familiarity. He picked up his shield, stowed it, and then tied his scabbard to his belt. He went to pull his blade to check its sharpness when he noticed two things. First, the blade was peacebonded. Second, the guards readied their weapons as his hand lowered to the blade. He smirked at the sudden attention. "You're a jumpy lot, aren't you?" He snapped the hilt back into the scabbard. "I'll check the sharpness when I get to the Old Boar. After a real meal and washing. We all smell like we've just been in a prisoner transport."

He surveyed the room, and noticed the way the folk reacted to the presence of the soldiers. We must still be in Cheliax. That much is certain. I'm not sure where, though. That'd be nice to know, but hardly relevant to the task at hand. He flagged down one of the wenches' attentions. "Half a moment, if you please. My friends and I are famished from our long journey. Ales and bread all around, and whatever the cook has hot back there we will be more than happy to tuck in." He smiled at her, his eyes lingering upon her as he watched her leave. How I have missed seeing the blossoms of Chelish roses!

As the wench left to fetch drinks and bread, he looked at the six other people sharing a table with him. "Well, here we all are," he said quietly. "Seven souls in Oakhurst, here to do the Devil's work. If there's going to be any chance for this to end well for us, we need to know what we bring to the group. I am Bellicus Tonore, imprisoned for aiding foreign nationals in an operation in Cheliax. I'm a warrior, pure and simple. My sword is sharp, my shield is stout, and my heart is Chelish. I will meet our foes on the front lines, and it will be my sword that brings them to their end. What of the rest of you?"

Hmmm, Oakhurst... thought Val. Have I ever heard of Oakhurst before?

Knowledge (geography) - untrained: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 1 = 19

Turning to Bellicus, Val extended her hand. "Well, good sir, we have been traveleing companions for days, but I feel we haven't been properly introduced. I am Valeria Balladin, a simple troubadour of Varisian folk songs. I'm from Kintargo, originally. Please, call me Val." So, Bellicus is a warrior. He sure looks the part! He says he's still devoted to the realm, even given what it's become, and what it's done to him. I wonder where his primary loyalties lie.

She continued, "I must have offended someone with a particular song about how much Varisians value freedom. I was arrested last year, charged with sedition, and convicted. My punishment was enslavement. I was sold to Paracountess Aspexia Krupt, as a house musician, and taken all the way to Egorian, where I've spent the past several months. But I managed to offend her too... and here I am."

She leaned in closer and lowered her voice, "I can work magic through my music. I think that's what offended the Paracountess... and why House Thrune wanted me." She paused, and looked to the other faces around the table. "But I'm no assassin. I'm not killing people on some Thrunnie's say-so... at least not without a very good reason!"

 
 
<< Previously >>
 
 
 
 
The guard smashes up against the wall, the clatter of chainmail armor rattling as a pair of clawed feet strike his chest. The sword in his hand falls free from his hand, clattering down the stairs. Coughing violently as he slides down the wall, the guard eventually slumps onto his side and curls into the fetal position. Two more emerge into the room, wooden shields raised and spears held out. Crouched over the fallen guard, a feline figure with blood-soaked hair matted to her face stares up at them, the firelight of torches reflecting in her lupine eyes.

Advancing into the room, one of the guards lunges forward with a spear and the creature springs to the side, pushes off of the wall in the narrow room and leaps at the armored man. His shield keeps her off, even as he sees her fingernails scraps down the enamaled wood. A shove sends her sprawling back, followed by the violent thrust of a spear into her leg the drops her onto one knee with a howling scream.

The creature looks up, still bleeding from the cut on her head, and hisses like a cornered animal before being struck square in the face by the shield and pressed bodily against the wall.

Then, darkness.
 
 
 
 
<< Some time later... >>
 
 
 
 
Cold water shocks the beast awake, eyes snap open and see ankles and arms instinctively lash out towards them only to jerk back at the taut snap of chains shackled to bare wrists. Scrambling barefoot on wet stone, the creature twists itself into a crouched position and bares sharp teeth with a low, throaty growl, ears folded back. The man standing in the room, dressed in a suit of chainmail armor with a red and black tabard over it stares her down without fear now that she's restrained.

His expression is flat and observational, watching her subtle muscle twitches with partly hooded eyes. His head cants to the side, eyes move up and down before fixing on the gold, lupine eyes staring back. He nods, once, raises a gloved hand and beckons two figures into the room. The clatter of plate armor sounds foreign and terrible, but is nothing compared to the visages of terror that a pair of hellknights represent. They stride fearlessly into the room, one with a barbed whip and the other with a black cloth sack.

Both are utilized to different degrees.
 
 
 
 
<< And then... >>
 
 
 
 
Dark, rattling, the rumble of a carriage traveling over a rocky road. Chains rattle, clatter noisily and test their limitations. Sound restraints, implying a longer imprisonment. But the darkness is cloying, suffocating, until with a blink everything becomes muted shades of gray, and unfamiliar faces haunt the corners of a too-small wooden room. The creature with gold eyes yowled like a lost animal the entire ride.
 
 
 
 
 
<< And now... >>
 
 
 
 
Sitting on the floor by the entrance to the tavern, the creature looks wildly out of place and remarkably untamed. Were it not for the clothing it wears, the creature might well seem to be little more than some feral creature that wandered in from the fringes of the forest. Patchwork leather and quilted fabric in a fitted jacket, leather breeches that cut off at knee length to accommodate the haunches of a pawed animal, and a loose sweater-like shirt of roughspun wool. Her tall and athletic frame is hidden by hunched posture, squatting with hands on the floor and knees bent just inside the doorway, nose twitching to sniff at the air and ears tentatively folded back.

Gold eyes survey the tavern as much as those furred ears and twitching nose survey the sounds and smells. Lashing behind her, the creature's sinuous tail of matter fur and leathery scales seems much like the rest of her; bestial juxtaposition with no seeming rhyme or reason.

The others know this creature came from the wagons with the rest of them, but she seems bewildered and disoriented, skittish like a timid forest creature and wholly unprepared for exposure to the elements of even a small town like Oakhurst. Swallowing anxiously, it gets lower to the floor and stalks forward on all fours for a moment, then rises up into that squatting posture again with back arched and nose tilted to the air.

For all its feral qualities, it has the posture of a frightened housecat.

Just saw the post about writing in past tense. I'll try but I can't promise I won't slip up. I haven't written much in past tense in quite a long while.

Leynus stretched after his dismount from the cart. The journey had been an unpleasant one, to be sure, but he had grown used to the discomfort of imprisonment from his time in the Egorian dungeons. And at least during the ride there had been the chance for a scent of fresh air, however brief it may have been.

He listened to Vasdralo's instructions with only a passing interest, although he perked up at the mention of bedding and food. Leynus had suspected that the deal he had made with Vasdralo would not have an entirely pleasant outcome, and the knowledge that he was being forced into assassin-hood was unsurprising. He accepted his gear back and straps it all on with only a summary review of the items' condition. He did, however, resist the urge to make sure of the good condition of his drums.

Once in the inn, Leynus followed Bellicus and Valeria to the table and took a seat. He listened to their exchange before offering his own information, "I am Leynus Chet, from the southern continent of Garund. I'm a bard by passion and profession. My own reasons for imprisonment were less... involved, it seems, than yours. I accidentally interrupted what I have since learned to be a rather regular tradition of sacrificing slaves to the foremost archdevil of Hell, at the Midnight Temple in Egorian." And then, at Valeria, "And to be blunt, my friend, I would consider regaining our freedom and leaving Cheliax far behind a very good reason."

The serving girl dashed off to the kitchen. When she passed the bar on her way back out, the barkeep - her father, judging by their similarly dark and curly hair - grabbed her elbow and whispered something to her, glancing over at the newcomers' table and jabbing a finger at the tray she carried. She returned to the kitchen and came out a few moments later. This time, the bowls of stew were filled much more generously, and the lump of butter had an extra lump added on. The girl smiled nervously as she laid out the travelers' meals and drinks. "Oh, your meals are paid for!" she exclaimed, not even waiting to see if any of the adventurers had reached for their purses before scampering off to serve more familiar customers.

Your maximum result with an untrained Knowledge check is 10 - sadly not enough to be familiar with a town so small as Oakhurst! However, with that result Val is able to easily recognize that you are indeed still in Cheliax, and probably in the heartlands.

At Leynus' last remark, Val smiled sardonically. She extended her hand to the Garundi. "Good to meet you, sir. I see we have similar callings. As to our task: To me, they made me no promise of freedom in the end. What freedoms we'll get, I fear we'll have to take." She looked around suspiciously, leaned in, and lowered her voice to a whisper. "I'm not expecting House Thrune to live up to their end of any bargain-- at least not in the way we'd hope!" She leaned back, and smiled. "Of course, that's the kind of talk that tends to get me into trouble."

Val took a piece of meat from the table in her hand. She turned toward their bestial companion, and knelt beside the crouching, scared creature. She held out the meat. She spoke softly and gently, "Here, child. Take this. I am Val. Can you speak?"

Before leaving, one of the guards spoke with the barkeep, nodding pointedly at Akshara. "Feed it, and ignore it. That's probably best. If it causes trouble, do what you must. We'd prefer not to be bothered, though..."

The barkeep cursed under his breath as the guard left. "You handle this... this... creature!" he said to his second, younger daughter as she scurried towards the kitchens.

She walked slowly towards Akshara and spoke soothingly, "there there... don't you like coming in out of the cold? Here... come this way... in the corner, here by the fire. Your... uh... friends... have the table nearby, so you'll be safe." She looked over at the companions diving into their meals. "Right?" Looking back at Akshara, she said, "My name is Calia. Do you have a name?"

"Stop jabbering with them and get back to work!" Calia's father called from across the room. Calia grimaced and reluctantly obeyed, retreating to the bar to help clean a spilled drink.

The elder sister returned at that moment with more ale. "Don't mind her... always prying, never working hard enough!"

Around the room, people cast nervous glances at Akshara, but the barkeep's willingness to allow her in the inn put them somewhat more at ease.

Just saw the post about writing in past tense. I'll try but I can't promise I won't slip up. I haven't written much in past tense in quite a long while.

No worries. I'll probably slip up too, to be honest. Please see discussion thread - if enough people want to use present tense we can use present tense, but I want to make sure we all use the same tense.

Elion slowly regained consciousness. Confused, he started to shake his head but immediately regretted the motion as his face throbbed with pain. "Did anyone see who was driving that wagon?"
Moving carefully he assessed his situation. He was sitting in a chair, hands tied behind his back, hood over his head and the taste of blood in his mouth. His face throbbed with pain but as far as he could tell nothing was broken. Cautious exploration with his tongue reveled that all of his teeth were still in place, although a few were a bit wobbly. "What in hells happened?"
Memory started to return. The Noble at the bar with the cruel smile. Planting the false coin in the man's purse. The mailed fist that had so abruptly halted his dash for the door. "It must have been one of the noble's guards. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I didn't even see him."
There didn't seem to anyone else in the room so he went to work on the bindings on his wrists. (escape artist d20+7 = 1 fail) He was still attempting to squirm free when someone entered the room.
"So clever lad, awake at last?" The hood was pulled off Elion's head leaving him blinking and squinting against the sudden light. "Ah, I see that you are. It's about time, I thought you were going to sleep all the way to Cheliax." The man drew a wicked looking dagger from his belt, "I have a deal for you boy. I don't want to be bothered with keeping you bound and my guards don't want to be bothered with feeding and cleaning up after you. So, If you promise to behave, I'll cut you free."
"Uh, sure. What do you want with me?"
"I told you, I have a job for you." A quick slash of the knife and Elion's hands were free. "Nice of you to volunteer. Your methods were a little unorthodox , but effective."
"Volunteer? What kind of job?" Elion asked, counting his fingers to make sure they were all still attached.
"You will learn in due time. What's important now is that you vow not to try and escape."
"Yes, of course. I'll do whatever you say."
Elion was lying of course. He fully intended to run at the first opportunity (bluff d20+7 = 1 he's not fooling anyone ). He did run and, of course was caught.
The noble didn't even bother to look disappointed when Elion was dragged bleeding before him. "If you try to run again. If you inconvenience me in any way. I'll let you go."
Elion looked up in disbelief, "You'll let me go?"
The noble flashed his cruel smile, "Yes, I'll let you go... then I'll travel back to that s@#@hole I found you in and pay a visit to the rest of your family. Do you understand me?"
Elion understood.

Elion gets off the wagon with the others and trudges towards the Inn. Whatever was coming was bound to be unpleasant and probably fatal but he can see no way out. It's not until the others start introducing themselves that he realizes the they are being forced into this as well. Nothing to do but make the best of things.
He nods to the group, "Hi, my name is Elion. I don't really know how much help I'll be, but I'll do what I can. That noble grabbed me after I planted a fake coin on him. It was just a joke but I guess he didn't see the humor." Turning to Leynus, "I wish I could take off but I can't. If I run he'll go after my family."

Leynus nodded in agreement with Val. He responded quietly while looking on at her attempt to coax the strange creature to eat. "Don't mistake me. I don't trust them either, and I don't intend to enter a conflict that I have no personal stake in, beyond my immediate urge for self-preservation. The fact of the matter, however, is that we're going to be watched up until we enter that citadel and will be returned to the care of House Thrune afterwards. If we do not complete our mission, we will never hope to return to the lives we lived previously."

After Elion's introduction, he turned back to Val. "And you hear that? Not all of us have only purely personal stakes in this. If one of us falters, all of us will be punished. That being said..." And here, he lowered his voice even further and leaned forward, "If we can supply them with evidence that we did complete our mission in full, perhaps we can walk with both our freedom and our morality intact. Perhaps this druid will prove to be agreeable towards us. After all, an enemy of an enemy is a friend."

Having said what he felt, he straightened back up and flashed a smile. When he spoke, it was at a slightly increased volume. "I am glad to see another bard at our table, and one so cheerful, too." With that, he turned to his stew and dug in with a vengeance.

Another bard? Was he talking about me? I sell tin pots for a living.

"If it's OK with you guys, maybe some of the locals know something about this ancient citadel."

Elion will push back from the table and try find some patrons who are willing to talk to him. He'll buy a few rounds (or a lot of rounds), get them lubed up, and try and start up a conversation where the local expert try to outdo each other in Knowledge Local. If he can gain their confidence he'll steer the conversation towards Talger, Sherise and the citadel.

When Valeria made her way over with a piece of meat in one hand, the creature took a few steps backwards with eyes wide and posture flattened towards the floor. She eventually backed up into a coat rack that clattered against the wall and startled her, sending the creature scampering to the other side of the entryway, looking around with short, jerking motions of her head, ears flattened back in discomfort and fright. Her nose twitched, eyes flicked to the meat held out in offering, then back up to the dark-haired Chelish woman.

The creature's brow pinched reflexively at the term child, and it looked puzzled by the affectation. With Valeria's posture having been non-threatening and gentle, it allowed the creature a moment to consider her actions and words rather than be immediately on alert. Gingerly she reached out with one hand, slowly and cautiously, as if she expected to be struck. Then, at the last moment, the creature snatched the piece of meat up in one hand and sprang back over to where the cost rack rests skewed against the wall.

For all her skittishness, hunger was a more pressing demon than fear, and the creature hastily devoured that single morsel in a single swallow. Those large, yellow eyes never once left Valeria as she ate. Calia's approach once more elicited looks of suspicion and uncertainty from the wild creature, but likewise to Valeria posture and mannerisms were non-threatening and gentle. Angling her head to the side, the creature considered the barmaid's words and those of Valeria. Her yellow eyes flicked back and forth between the two for a moment, then focused beyond them both to the fire with a nervous furrow of her brows.

Skirting around the two women as much as is possible in the confines of the inn, the creature slinked across the barroom floor on all fours, that sinous tail lashing back and forth behind her under the tail of her patchwork jacket. Once she made it past the two women, her gaze flicked back to them from moment to moment, before she crept right over to the warmth of the fire, squinting at it momentarily before squatting down beside the hearth in its warmth.

The creature's nose rankled, and after a moment she reached out as if to warm her hands on the fire, but instead simply plunged one of her hands into the open flame. She didn't jerk her hand back from the edge of the flames, but once the cuff of her coat started to blacken and smoke she pulled her hand out and looked more concerned about the condition of the hem than anything else, carefully patting out the blackened area, pinching it with two fingers. The creature's hand, remarkably, unscathed.

With that tested, as if having seen controlled fire for the first time, the creature straightened its back and lifted its hands from the floor to peer up onto the table, ears perked forward alertly and eyes wide, trying to get a sense of everyone else at the table.

Val looked at their feral companion with a mixture of concern and bewilderment. Her hand is unscathed-- she's immune to fire? What is she? Was she born that way? Or is the poor thing the result of some damned diabolist's experiment? She seems to be mute-- I wonder if she can understand speech? Hmmm... Have I ever read about creatures like her in the church library?

Knowledge (religion) to know anything about creatures like Akshara: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13

She turned to Leynus. "I like the way you think. Of course, I'd like to know more about this druid, Mr. Belak, and why House Thrune wants him dead. It's possible, however unlikely, they they do indeed have a good reason. " I wonder what the locals know about Mr. Belak?

Val then turned her attention to dinner-- she was famished! Before she ate, she closed her eyes for a moment and silently prayed, Thank you, Desna, Song of the Spheres, for this new path to follow. May it lead to many new places. I pray that I may learn as much from the journey itself as from the desination, and may it lead me back home again, someday. Thank you for the song and the dream, for in dreams are hope, and in hope is life. She then tucked into the stew hungrily.

As Calia the barmaid returned to the table with another round of ale, Val turned to her, "Thanks! We've heard that there are two children who went missing at an old citadel south of here not long ago. Have you heard of anything about that?"

Diplomacy check: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6

"Oh, and thanks for being kind to that one," indicating the cat-wolf-girl, "she seems to have suffered a very hard life."

While she watched those gathered at the table, the creature lifted her hands to curl her fingers over the edge of the table. Long, chipped and black nails dug gently into the hardwood and visible scales at her knuckles and on the backs of her hand had the greenish-gray hue of some kind of lizard, much like the ones on her thin tail. As the moments dragged on, she began to become braver; leaning in closer to inspect plates and mugs, sniffing the air all the while.

Some Diplomacy rolls...

Each check made to gather information will take 1d4 hours, and it's DC 10 for common knowledge. Less common knowledge is a higher DC. You rolled five times: 1d4 ⇒ 31d4 ⇒ 41d4 ⇒ 11d4 ⇒ 21d4 ⇒ 2. You only have time for the first roll before people start to leave for the night. Since you are buying drinks we'll give you a +2 bonus, but it'll cost you 5d10 ⇒ (1, 8, 7, 2, 7) = 25 copper pieces. Your result of 12 is good enough to get the townsfolk started...

Elion spent a few hours talking with the locals; lucky for him, the citadel seemed to be a popular topic. After a drunken lout regaled him with a tale of grand adventure - "there I wash, jusht me and the draggin, nuttin' but me knife an' me torch..." - several of the townsfolk laughed heartily, and conversation turned more serious.

"There really are dragons in the citadel! The place used to be overrun with them... back in the day," one man claimed.

"Bah, ain't been dragons there for a good long time. Just goblins and what not. They kill our cattle from time to time, but mostly they leave us alone," a farmer-woman chimed in.

"Except at midsummer, when they come to town and auction off that magic healing fruit! Poor Talger and Sherise... went to try and get one for themselves and never came back..."

"That's ridiculous! Everyone knows the fruit doesn't actually work. The mayor said so himself! Madam Hucrele would never have let her children go off on such a stupid adventure..."

When Valeria finally managed to catch Calia's attention and mentioned the missing Hucreles, the girl's eyes lit up with hope. "Oh, they aren't really all that young... my age, really. But far more brave! I only wish he... I mean they... were still here. I told them not to go with that knight... but..."

A scolding shout from her father sent the girl off on some task or another. That seemed to be the last that anyone would get out of Calia on the subject. For the rest of the evening, Calia's older - and much less talkative - sister Miliverna serves your table.

The unfortunate results of Valeria's Diplomacy check: Caron, the barkeep, is now "unfriendly" towards you, forcing his daughter Calia to be "indifferent." You can still try to get information from her, but you will have to beat the father's DC or find her at some time when he's not around.

People are leaving while Elion is still buying? Must be a different crowd than the one's I'm used to hanging with :-). I deducted 30cp for drinks and tips

As the crowd thins and conversations dry up Elion glances around the tavern looking for someone else to question, er talk with. "Magic fruit? Who in their right mind would buy magic fruit from a goblin? What is it supposed to do?"
He'll try to engage Calia, Miliverna or (if all else fails) their father in conversation long enough to ask. (diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22)
(let me know who is willing to talk if you would like some dialog.)

It was as it was, as it always was. Through lives, births, deaths, rebirths, there remained The Forest and The Cycle. For longer than he could remember, Anton had served as guardian and servant of both. Predators and prey kept in a delicate balance ...rarely did Anton need to interfere, but if one population began to outgrow itself, he did what was necessary. Over generations and rebirths, Anton grew old and died many times. He noticed his mind eventually changed ...no human brain was meant to hold so many memories. But the beats of the air and the land needed no such memories, and neither did Anton.

In time, Anton knew he would cull this disease. Until then, he would learn, listen, and grow.

Moodily intense, Anton said little on the the trip to Oakhurst. He spent most of his time trying to catch any glimpse he could of The Cycle. It had been too long. Unfortunately, their path wasn't very scenic. Upon arrival, he simply listened to their keeper's words. It was not until he mentioned another Druid that he truly came to life. Alas, his memory told him nothing of the man. The "magic plants" spoken of also caught his attention.Knowledge Nature vis a vis the fruits: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21

At the tavern, Anton again went back to silence. He sipped his ale and wished, to no avail, it was wine.

-----

As the group begins talking, Anton listens intently to what each one says. If he were to be bound to these people, it would be good to know their capabilities and loyalties. Still, he knew better than to trust any of them, at least yet. The feral girl intrigues him ...reminding him ...of something. Someone? At this point, it would be hard to say. Upon a pause, he starts himself.

"I am Anton Moorson. I am a Druid. I have walked this earth longer than you can count, studying, protecting, and being protected by The Cycle. I am here to serve my sentence and return to the better world of green and brown." His attempt to be imposing ...not so much of a success now that his face lacked even a slight beard.

For the creature at their table, being woefully unable to perform even the most basic of arithmetic, Anton's statement was exceptionally true.

Last into the tavern trailed an unhappy-looking young man. He cast a resigned look around the room, gave an unsatisfied-sounding sigh, and walked to the table where the motley crew sat. He took a chair, flipped it around, and sat down, arms crossed over the chair's back. As he examined each of their faces, they noticed he seemed to have very little reason for his melancholy - tall, strong, and rather strikingly handsome, with a longspear in a sling across his back, most would have expected him to call loudly for ale and a wench by now.

That is, unless they noticed the metallic undertones to his skin, or the slitted pupils to his eyes.

Not too inclined to idle chatter, he nonetheless grudgingly offered a greeting, and his name. "Call me Teral. Hope this works out."

He didn't seem to think it would.

Anton: you know that a fruit with healing properties must be very special indeed. Trees bearing such fruit do not grow without a reason; the tree was likely either purposefully cultivated by someone with magical knowledge, or grows in a location that is somehow significant.

Elion tried his best to get the townsfolk to talk more about the fruit, but most of them seemed convinced that it was just a lie, some trick played by the goblins. As he pressed the issue further, asking who would want to buy a magic fruit from a goblin, Caron the barkeep grew irritated and strode over to the companions' table. "The mayor bought the last one to prove that they don't really work. He didn't want anyone else wasting their hard-earned money! Oh, aye, they were rumored to have magic healing properties. But... no one believes in that any more..." his voice trailed off and his daughters briefly glanced up from their work, then lowered their eyes, neither of them speaking. Caron continued, "now... I don't mind feeding you lot 'til you burst, gods- uh- Devils know it's all been paid for, but I won't have any more talk of magic fruits and I won't have you troubling my daughters any further with stories of those Hucrele kids!"

Later, against her father's wishes, Calia whispered to Elion as she reached to collect his empty mug, "Father bought one of those fruits a few years back... our mama was sick. But it didn't work... she died anyway... and we try not to talk about it... oh, please find Talger! And Sherise, too! I told them the fruit doesn't work, but they wouldn't listen! Somehow they had it in their heads that they should go with that awful knight and look for it anyway. Those goblins have probably already eaten them all up!" She rushed off, forgetting to take the tray of drinks, tears welling in her eyes. Her older sister came by a short while later, shook her head at the sight of the tray, sighed heavily, and continued cleaning off the table. "That girl..."

Your follow-up Diplomacy was just good enough to get some more out of them - nice work! Your next check tonight, if you want to learn any more from them, will be even harder.

Leynus raised an eyebrow at the interesting contributions of the last two members of their group. At the end of the evening, having finished his stew, he got up to attempt to assuage Caron and perhaps open him up to talking at a later time.

Diplomacy:
1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20

That should be enough to bring him back to indifferent. I don't intend to get anything else out of him this night, so hopefully that covers just making him less irritated at us.

Leynus approached the barkeep and put on his most endearing smile. "My apologies. We did not mean to pry into business that is not ours. Our presence must be putting everyone on edge. I can see that you and your people are not much enthused by the presence of soldiers in your town; I also could not help but hear your remark about our... friend, here." (indicating Akshara) "I can imagine having someone of her nature in your establishment could be bad for business and any overreaction on her part could be damaging to more than your income. However, you should know that we are only here to help. There are people missing, and we are here to retrieve them. Our sole intention is to make sure of the safety of two children. Surely you must empathize with that?"

Elion will watch as Leynus 'de-irritates' the innkeeper (Nice job by the way). After Leynus is done, Elion will wait a little while then try a sense motive: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10 and, if the innkeeper seems calm enough he'll go over and spin a gold piece on the bar top and wait. Hopefully the Innkeeper will approach him and ask what he wants with an eye on the coin. If all that happens (a lot of if's!) he'll ask about the Knight that one of the 'villagers' mentioned.diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19. If he gets an answer he'll leave the gold piece on the bar, thank the man, and head back to the table with the others.

While some of the others go about the productive process of gathering information and investigating the very reason they've been brought here, the creature that has been put in their company has since wandered slightly away from the table to sit closer to the hearth in a crouch. Her attention to the flick and shudder of the flames is fleeting, more interested in the sounds of the tavern as the hours progress. She sits alert, ears pivoting towards the loudest or most obvious source of noise, eyes wide and attentive. People watching, it seems, is a marked fascination of hers. Though by her posture it seems as though the creature is ready to bolt at a moment's notice, never quite comfortable.

Anton joins the creature. "Do you like fire, my child?"

Caron listened to Leynus and nodded solemnly. "I don't generally react that way - my family sees a lot of strange folk, seeing as we run an inn and all - but I must admit you lot are a bit stranger and more numerous than usual. Sorry if I've been inhospitable. I... we... are glad that you're here to help. Of course we want to see the Hucreles returned home. I just don't want my family caught up in any of this. We've been through enough! Please don't bother them in the future... and keep that one," he indicated Akshara, "in check."

Later, as the regulars had left and only travelers seeking a bed in the common room remained, Elion approached Caron, who seemed to have calmed down somewhat, with his gold piece and his question. "You again..." muttered Caron, eying the coin, "aye, there was a Hellknight that came through here, about a month ago. We don't ask too many questions when Hellknights are involved, so I'm not even sure I got his name. He was looking for a guide, someone who knew the area well, so I told him to look for the ranger Karakas. The knight left about the same time as those two Hucrele kids. My daughter Calia is convinced that the Hucreles went with him to the citadel, but he never actually said where he was going."[/b] Caron paused and looked thoughtful. "Now that I think about it, I haven't seen Karakas since then, either. He usually stops by once a week. Maybe I'll head down the Old Road to that decrepit farmhouse he calls home one of these days... when all this nonsense with the citadel is cleared up..."

Caron accepted the gold piece and bid the party goodnight.

Nice Diplomacy rolls. The coin helped, too! Anything else you want to do before morning, go ahead and post - then we'll get to the next scene with Marius Vasdralo, we'll do shopping real quick (see discussion thread), and get on our way.

Missed Valeria's Knowledge (religion) check earlier. Valeria knows that the creature is a tiefling, but it is hard to say just what her ancestry might be. Devil? Demon? Something else? In any case, tieflings are frowned upon in Cheliax - they are reminders that humans are not always in control when it comes to devils. Valeria does not think that being a tiefling in and of itself would cause a person to be this wild.

Before the after-dinner crowd thinned out too much, Valeria pulled out her lute and tuned it. She looked at the old and battered instrument somewhat critically, but then strummed a few chords. She pushed back her chair.

"So, would anyone care for a tune?"

She started with the old Chelish folk song "Sir Patrick Spens", about a knight not known for his seamanship who was tricked into becoming the captain of the King's new ship, and how he sank it.

Takes 10 on Perform (lute): 10 + 6 ==> 16

After that, Val went into a darkly humorous Varisian song (sung in Taldane) "Allison Cross," about an ugly witch who tried to woo a young nobleman, failed, and ensorcelled him instead.

Takes 10 on Perform (lute): 10 + 6 ==> 16

Assuming that went well, she played "Matty Groves," a much darker song about seduction and betrayal, that ends in a double murder.

Takes 10 on Perform (lute): 10 + 6 ==> 16

Succumbing to temptation, Val closes her short set with a traditional Varisian folk song, "Oni Cam Iz Preko Morasung" in Varisian. The tune is fast and rousing.

Perform (lute): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18

"Thank you! Thank you! May the road lead you home safely, and may your dreams tonight be blessed!" If anyone tosses any coins her way, she'll hand them all over to Caron. "And thank you for your hospitality tonight."

Teral listened to the bard's songs with mild interest, chuckling incongruously at "Matty Groves". The music seemed to pull him out of his personal gloom a bit, and he followed the crowd in appreciative applause. As she came back to rejoin the table, he nodded to her. "Not bad...Val, was it?"

His strange eyes glittered with a dark sort of humor as he added in a low voice, "Perhaps a good thing our...friend didn't overhear that last one, though."

Having watched Anton warily when he first approached, the creature's ears flattened to her head and shoulders hunched forward. Her entire posture was all too familiar to the druid of an animal that felt threatened. But, like a druid, Anton's demeanor was preternaturally soothing and comforting, a reflexive mennerism that made it obvious he is at home in the wilderness and around the wild. It took only a moment for the creature to sense this, sniff the air near him, and relax easier than she had with the others.

"Do you like fire?" she parroted back in a coarse and raspy inflection of the common Taldan tongue. Yellow eyes viewed the druid side-long before she -- without warning -- slouched down on her side and then rolled onto her back, lounging in front of the fire. The creature considered the words, mouthed them again silently.

As if only then grasping their meaning she responded with a simple, "no." There on the floor in front of the fire, the creature stared up at the ceiling, lifted up a clawed hand to idly thread a greasy lock of black hair between pinched fingers. She hadn't been paying attention to Valeria, not until the first strum of her lute anyway. That noise caused the creature to bolt upright, scramble away from the fire and stared with eyes wide and ears perked up at the sound as if unsure what to make of it.

The creature exhaled a breathy snort, looked back to Anton, then the bard as she began to play her first melody. Head canting to the side, the creature seemed fascinated by the music. She crept closer, stalking the bard as if she were a particularly noisy bird with bright plumage. Never getting too close, though, the creature stayed at a table's distance away, peered out from behind chairs or from under tables. After the first song transitioned to the second, the creature stalked back to Anton by the fire.

"What is?" She asked with wide eyes, then glanced back to Valeria as she began her next song.

Apparently this was her first time encountering music.

Elion carefully watches Akshara as he sidles back to the groups table, "What's with the cat lizard? I don't know whether to scratch her behind the ears or run away screaming." Once everyone is back at the table he'll share what information he's gleaned.

Bellicus did his best to keep a stiff upper lip as he listened to his compatriots introduce themselves. So, this is the group that House Thrune has given me to regain my honor. A Varisian agitator, something from the Abyss, an elf that's more of a flight risk than aid, a common cutpurse, a man who just wants to return to pressing flowers, and a man that seems to be either more or less of a man. I suppose I should have expected the dregs of society, but surely there had to be others that the House could have gotten. Well, nothing for it but to move forward. You rarely get to choose the hand you're dealt, but you sure as Hell can try to make it work.

He kept an eye on the thing with the thrashing tail that had stalked its way over to listen to Valeria, glad at least to be out of the wagon and free from its insipid yowling. When the barmaid returned with food and drink, he quickly forgot much of his manners, devouring the food placed before him. Gods, it's been too long since a decent meal!

As he listened to the reports the others brought in, he scratched his scraggly beard. "A tree with magic fruit, and a Hellknight that escorted the children into the citadel," he wondered aloud. "Perhaps we should check out that farm house when the cock crows tomorrow. There might be some ideas on why one of the Orders had received such a low housing. He clearly could have had his pick of any house in town - why that one?" He drained the last of his ale, and held his flagon high. "Wench, another!", he cried. "And what exactly do we know about the Citadel itself? Whose was it before it was abandoned and goblins came to roost in it?"

Miliverna answered Bellicus's inquiry: "It's been goblins as long as we can remember... some say it used to be the home of a strange cult of demon worshipers, or dragons, or maybe both. Nobody but goblins has lived there for decades, maybe even centuries. Those Hucreles were idiots to go there. They were sure to find nothing but trouble and they knew it!"

"Music, my dear. One of man's rare gifts.". The druid affords himself a rare smile. The tune is fine and well-sung. The singer comely and-the smile faded. Such frivolous thoughts ...another curse of this new life.

Bellicus nodded in thanks to the wench. "Maybe they were. It begs the question why they needed to go there in the first place, if everyone knew the danger." He shrugged and caught her arm before she left. "Tarry a moment longer, if you please. I know it's late, but I should like to make myself more presentable. Where would I go to acquire a straight razor and powder?" He ran his fingers through the unkempt growth of hair upon his chin. "And a knife as well, to begin the work."

Miliverna pointed Bellicus in the direction of the washroom and brought him the things he requested for his shaving needs. "By the look of you, you're some kind of warrior, too... Are you a knight? I don't mean to pry.... I just want to know if there's going to be trouble... if that other knight meant to hurt the Hucreles, or if he did something wrong, or... oh! Not that Hellknights usually make mistakes... I mean... oh dear." She sighed and handed him the shaving kit. "I'm just trying to look out for my sister. I hope you understand."

Bellicus grew silent and distant as the woman tripped over her words. "No," he said at last flatly. "I am no knight. And I understand the meaning behind your words, though your tongue be tied. Thank you, milady, that will do for now. Once I am done here, though, I will need a hot bath. I only hope my words have offended you and your family less than my hygiene." He gave a half-smile, then set to work to clearing away the growth.

It was slow going at first, taking handfuls of his beard and slicing them away with the knife. The washroom floor was soon covered with tufts of blonde hair, casually discarded as the blade did its work. He wet his face with the water provided, and applied the powder, working up a good lather. He unfolded the razor and began to slide it over his skin. The growth refused to yield at first, but as with everything in Bellicus' life, his skill with the blade brought down this tenacious and resilient foe. At last, he ran his hand over his freshly shorn face, noticing a few spots that blossomed crimson. He patted at them with a towel, letting them clot and scab over. Once he was satisfied, he went in search of Miliverna and the hot bath he requested.

After her set, Val smiled at Teral's compliment. She raised an eyebrow, and said "Mulțumiri! Nu mi-am dat seama că ai vorbit Varsani. Atât de puțini o vorbesc aici. Este, de obicei, sigur pentru a cânta acest cântec netraduse. Îmi place țara mea de Cheliax, dar urăsc și tem de regimului."

She smiled again, although mirthlessly. In a low voice she continued, "It is hard to resist singling what's in my heart. I know we are merely in a much larger cell, but it's so refreshing to at least have the semblance of freedom. At least for the moment."

Val also noticed the feral tiefling had been watching her intently while she played. She sat down next to her strange companion and showed her the lute. "Have you never seen something like this before?" Val plucked a few single strings as if showing a young child how the instrument worked. She then struck two strings together, and showed how the tone changed when the string was pressed against a fret. "Music is... well, it's a series of tones that are pleasing to the ear." She strummed a major chord, then a short major progression. "I believe that music is a gift from the gods, and is the stuff of dreams." Val paused to see what the tiefling's reaction was.

She continued, "My name is Val. Do you have a name?"

Miliverna ("just call me Millie") drew a bath for Bellicus, nodding at him with a look that said "that's much better" when she saw his now clean-shaven face, and handed him a towel and soap. "Here you go. You look much less a vagabond and much more a warrior without that scruff, and I imagine the bath will help as well. You say you are no knight, but you do not behave like an unkempt traveler or even half so bad as some of the men in town. You all are a mysterious lot... but it had best stay that way. I have a feeling I don't want to know what it is you want here in Oakhurst." Despite her apparent curiosity, her caution seemed to get the better of her, and Millie turned and started to walk off, leaving Bellicus to his bath.

Meanwhile, her little sister Calia seemed entranced by Valeria's music. When the songs stopped, Calia clapped, and her father looked around the inn cautiously, the hint of a smile on his face at seeing his daughter's delight. He clearly recognized the language, but not the words, and seemed content to have the rousing song in his establishment so long as nobody was (apparently) around to be offended. Nonetheless, he approached Val and opened his mouth, apparently about to protest, only to be interrupted by the assortment of silver and copper pieces she handed him. He opened and shut his mouth a few more times, trying to decide what to do or say, then simply nodded gruffly and walked back to the bar, clearly pleased with the arrangement.

You earned Caron 1d10 ⇒ 7 silver pieces for your evening of music, the last song in particular drawing the most coin. It doesn't seem as if anyone in the tavern speaks Varisian (other than some of you).

After comparing notes with his new (and scary) companions, Elion will push back from the table hiding a yawn with his hand, "It's likely to be a long day tomorrow. Begging your leave, I think I'll walk off some of this ale then find my room. Good night to you all." He'll go outside and take a quick stroll through the village (keeping his eyes open) then, making good on his word, find his room and turn in.

The town was quiet when Elion went on his walk, and dark as well, lit only by the occasional firelight coming from a home or lanterns hung on the corners, the starlight hidden by clouds. Elion noticed someone following him for a while - one of the Thrune guards. Elion took note: the guard was easy to spot, and probably would be easy to evade if necessary.

Elion's Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16 (I will occasionally, but not always, roll certain things for you in order to speed things along.)
GM Roll: 1d20 ⇒ 12

"Aye, do you have a name, girl? I am Anton." Something about the girl reminds Anton of ...someone. Had he a daughter at some time? Knowing he might never know for sure, he nonetheless felt a connection to the girl.

Music was a foreign sound to the creature, evident by the perplexed look she had on her face when confronted with it. But the concept of music, perhaps even the word, was a familiar one. Her eyes had lit up at recognition, if not quite true understanding. Those yellow, lupine eyes settled back on Anton, one ear perked towards the bard and the other the druid.

The lute was regarded with as much curiosity and lack of understanding as the song itself was. From around one side of the creature, that sinuous tail crept out and toyed with one of the strings with enough manual dexterity to pluck and sound a chord. The creature twitched, nervously, at the reaction, then leaned in closer with wider eyes.

"Akshara," finally was said in spite of her mystified state with a rolled 'r' sound. It is a word not belonging to any one language, but a motly portmanteau. As much a linguistic representation of her as its meaning.

Then, with a twitch of one ear, Akshara's eyes had lifted to Valeria. "What is... gods?"

Though not asked, Anton chuckle-grunts. "Gods are the fools that thought nature wasn't enough, so they made man to foul it all up."

Bellicus afforded himself a smile as he watched Millie leave - an inspiring sight indeed. He disrobed and quickly sat in the bath, a sigh of relief escaping as he felt the hot water over his body. Gods, I needed that. I almost feel human again. He soaked himself for awhile, letting the heat work out the knots in his muscles. Withdrawing the soap from his pack, he washed his hair and body, noting the burns and scars he'd endured during his time training with the Hellknights. No doubt there will be several more before this is through. He felt a bit sorry for Millie - the water was foul by the time he finally felt cleansed of his time in prison.

He donned his weapons and armor again, returning to the bar. By this time, he noted the pitborn thing seated on its haunches, listening to the agitator play her lute. He scowled at the creature. "So, it can do more than howl like a dying cat. Just know your place, pit-thing, and stay out of my way."

Ears folded back and eyes narrowed to slits, Akshara watched Bellicus after his remark. Pit-thing seemed to be a term she was familiar with, even if only just. Body language spoke more from Bellicus, and his stand-offish demeanor and the tone of his voice resonated with her more than his actual words did.

Leynus frowned. He pushed his second (now finished) bowl of stew away from him. Leynus then leaned out towards Bellicus and rapped his spoon across his knuckles. "Don't be rude to her. We're all companions in servitude, now. You don't treat her with respect, and maybe one day she'll return the favor. Could be bad for you. Could be bad for all of us." "And considering your manners, you appear more hellish Abyssal? than she." "Now, if you'll all excuse me, I am going to retire for the night as well. Goodnight to all of you."

Knowledge (religion):
1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20

Just to make sure Leynus recognized Akshara's heritage as well, so as not to be confused by Bellicus calling her pit-thing. I'm not sure if it was implied that Val shared her knowledge with the group. Doesn't seem like it was. Currently I'm just assuming that Bellicus knows because he's Chelish. Might be enough to determine her exact heritage as well.

Val had not shared her assessment of what sort of creature Akshara was with the rest of the group.

Val regarded Akshara strumming the lute with her tail with a mixture of bewilderment and amusement.

"Akshara?" Val tried to pronounce it the same way as the tiefling girl. "That is a beautiful-sounding name. I've never met anyone using that name before. Does the name mean anyting? Most people just call me 'Val,' but my full given name is Valeria. That means 'strong' or 'brave'... I've always tried to live up to that."

In response to the tiefling's question about the gods, Val raised an eyebrow, then inhaled deeply and paused for a moment. The poor thing doesn't even know about the gods? I shudder to think what her childhood was like! However, Anton voiced his cynical reply before she could. A look of annoyance crossed her face as she turned to him, but then she half-smiled.

Takes 10 on Knowledge (religion): 10 + 5 ==> 15

"I take it from that comment that you're a follower of the Green Faith? Fascinating! I've met a few other druids before, but they all revered Gozreh the Skyfather. If we ever get a chance, I'd love to talk theology with you!"

Turning back to Akshara, "The gods are beings of great power that live in the Great Beyond. Each of the gods has power over an aspect of life here on the world. Some of the gods are good, others are evil, and still others don't bother themselves with such things. Most people worship one or more of the gods: we make small sacrifices to them to gain favor, or ask for their blessings, or seek their wisdom. A few people are blessed by the gods with a tiny portion of their power. These people are able to work miracles in the name of the god they favor." Val paused to see if Akshara had any level of comprehension of the things she spoke of.

Sense Motive check: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20

"There are many gods. Let me name just a few of them. There is Sarenrae the Dawnflower, goddess of the sun. Gozreh the Skyfather, god of weather and the sea. Shelyn the Eternal Rose, goddess of beauty and music. Pharasma the Mother of Souls, goddess of birth and death. And Desna the Starsong, goddess of the road, the stars, and dreams." Val smiled at that, again waiting for Akshara's reaction. "But it's getting late now. We have a very busy day tomorrow. You should rest." Val leaned in closer to Akshara, and said very quietly, "And may Desna bless your dreams tonight."