Way of the Wicked by GM SnowHeart (Inactive)

Game Master SnowHeart

Daidalos, still cloaked as Blackerly, leads the way down the bridge once Price opens the gate. At the end of the bridge, he knocks twice in the door and, signaling to the others following him to wait for a minute, enters.

You begin to cross the wide stone bridge and marvel at the last few hours. From the condemned to the -- nearly -- free. Salt water flows beneath the bridge and crashes into the rocks.

At the far end, you see the guard house. A squat, grey stone affair. A stone archway extends from it supporting an upside down portcullis, controlling passage between the shore and the bridge.

Daidalos-as-Blackerly is unable to knock on a door as it is actually on the shoreward side of the portcullis, but he can call out to the guards.

Who has proceeded down the bridge? Who is in the Gatehouse? Where is Grumblejack?

Ineluki will take to the air as the group nears the guard house and circle about 10 feet above the group...

I assumed Timo followed still disguised as one of the guards (do I need another disguise check?) in order to provide cover. Though with the door on the other side, I'm not sure what kind of support I'd be able to give.

Timo, you're good. No need for another disguise check.

Price will be 30' back, behind the Blackerly group, staying in the darkness (hopefully) with Grumblejack in tow.

Stealth: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8

"Oi! Get out 'ere, ya layabouts! I wanna talk ta you!" Daidalos calls out, in Blackerly's voice. He tries to add a slight drunken slur to his words, to excuse any oddities in his speech.

I would currently put Grumblejack about 60-80 feet from the building, or however far back is needed to make sure he can't be seen.

The aristocrat-in-disguise falls in behind not-quite-Blackerly and pretends to be yet another bored guard who obviously isn't enjoying the fact he got dragged all the way out here by the drunk serge.

Bluff: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (20) - 1 = 19
Don't want to leave the arcanist alone and while I'm not sure if a bluff check is needed, I figured it prudent to roll one just in case.

Morthos keeps in step with the others, his hand on his sword just in case.

I'd say put GJ on the #2(or maybe a step or two behind it) that is on the bridge/walkway whatever. That's about 50' or so. I think that oughta do it. With the guards concentrating on us, it shouldn't be a factor. And if it is, then he can come and help us smash these guys.
Either way.

Affyria stays back about 60 feet from Daidalos and the building, watching how things play out.

The door to the small structure opens, light spilling out from some lanterns, and a guard steps out. This man is a bit older, perhaps in his late thirties and with a bit of a gut (though not enough to challenge Blackerly's portliness).

"Sarge! What... what brings you out here? We're fine. Is everything fine there? I mean, back there?"

Perception: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (4) - 1 = 3
Heal (untrained): 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (18) - 1 = 17
While Daidalos missed the visual cues that the man might not be 'all there,' his pupils dilating wildly and slight missteps as he came out gave away his borderline drunkenness to the keen wizard, and he hid a smile as he realized his opportunity, "Everything's jus' fine in the keep. However.... I was hearing a few rumors that you lot were drinking on-duty, so I decided to come an' check it out for myself, just to prove them all wrong. Nothing ta worry about, of course. Jus' a quick look around, make sure there's no alcohol around. Now, if there is any, I'd have ta... confiscate it, of course. Now, if you wouldn't mind..?" he motions that he would like to come inside to look around.
Bluff: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21

"I, uh, of course, Sarge. Just a minute while we lower the portcullis." The man turns around and heads in while a dog pads outside and starts sniffing.

The dog ambles up to the portcullis, sniffing at the air...

Wind Direction; 1 is from the North: 1d8 ⇒ 3

An wind from the ocean to the east blows any odd scents you might be carrying down the coast, obscuring any irregularities the dog might have picked up on, as well as Grumblejack. The dog ambles off, finding a tree to piss on about 20' away.

About a minute later, the portcullis begins to grind its way down into the stone.

Perception: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (17) - 1 = 16
Daidalos, as soon as the portcullis is down, signals for the others to approach a little closer, and strides boldly into the gatehouse, looking around.
Perception: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (14) - 1 = 13

He calls out to those inside, "All righ', you lot! Stand over there while I look around, understood?" he signals the wall opposite him, and begins to 'search' any furniture for alcohol.
Perception: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (4) - 1 = 3

So, a few questions about the scene: is the dog where it's noted on the map (does it have a leash)? Do the guards have weapons at the ready? Is there a table or other 'difficult terrain' in the gatehouse?

Map updated with estimations of where everyone is; I moved Affyria and Grumblejack onto the bridge on the smaller scale map but did not adjust their tokens' scale. Dog is unleashed; currently taking a piss outside.

The older guard who met you by the portcullis comes back into the first room. He rolls his eyes slightly at the sergeant's pompous mannerisms but it's also of no surprise to them; Blackerly's always been like this. They stand in the corner, not really looking up (they're both a little drunk and think that by not looking Blackerly or the others in the face it will be less obvious). Yet, the did manage to hide the hooch fairly well (at least to Daidalos-cum-Blackerly).

The first room is a simple affair with a couple of chairs around a small table in the southwest corner, a weapon rack on the north wall containing a few old spears and longswords just starting to rust from the salt air. An open door leads to the room to the south, which has a cot, some crates of supplies, and a winch to operate the portcullis. Nobody else is present.

And, I'll tell you what... as long as you don't take grotesque liberties, I'm going to let YOU write how the guards and the dog react to your actions. As always, however, the same liberty does not apply to other players. This is an exercise in collaborative writing. Do as you like with them, as long as you don't do something stupid like start dancing naked in front of them and boast about how you're escaped prisoners while leaving them with their weapons... the scene is yours. (Goal is to just move this along expeditiously, so please don't make it overly complicated.)

Oh boy. I was just going to Color Spray them to be on the safe side, but this will be much more fun

"Hmmm... Well, it seems as though you're in the clear fer drinkin'. But how are your weapons? Let me see your swords, and I hope I don't find so much as a speck of rust on 'em."

The guards hand him their swords, and he makes a big show of looking over the blade for any traces of rust, "Aha! What do we have here! Ah see some spots on your blade! Come here, soldier! Both of ye. Tell me, what's this?"

As the guards attention are focused on the sword, and the dagger is concealed by his illusion, neither of them notice as Daidalos lays his hand on his dagger, ready to pull it. The guard whose sword it is looks over, studying the blade as Daidalos holds it out at him "Where? I don't see any- uhh!" he's cut off as the sword is thrust into his stomach, leaving him dying.

Before the other guard can react, Daidalos whips out his dagger and slices him across the throat, leaving him bleeding out. Almost on cue, his illusion flickers out of existence, leaving Daidalos, undisguised, holding a bloody dagger and standing over two dying guards, "Oh, my bad. I guess they were bloodstains."

As he wipes the blood off his dagger onto a dying guard, Daidalos looks over at the three standing at the doorway, "And that's how it's done. So, who wants to take care of the dog?"

I'm assuming one of the martial types will handle the dog since I'm at the back of the group... Maybe GJ can growl and scare him away? :)

Price leans against the wall by the portcullis, studying the prison's books. She chuckles.

INT Check?: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 1 = 19 Based on your clues, SnowHeart, I'm assuming Blackerly 'cooked the books' to pocket a profit. And I imagine that roll is good enough to piece it together.

She enters the gatehouse, takes a dagger, and cuts off one of the guard's hands. She returns outside and - with the dagger - pins the log book open (at the offending pages) to the gatehouse door. Then she uses the blood from the severed hand to pen a message on the wall in her most elegant script. She hums a little tune under her breath.

To whom it may concern:
We found your hospitality and guard staff lacking, so we've departed. It appears Blackerly and Warden Richter were siphoning money from your enterprise, which may explain the abysmal service and your helpful guards. We refer you to the attached document for proof. We've executed Blackerly for you; You're welcome. We leave the disciplining of Warden Richter in your most capable hands.

Yours Diabolically,
Miss Price & Co.

Work done, she dumps her 'pen', washes her hands, and turns to Morthos savoring the clean air and open vista. "Now, good sir, tell us where we are to meet your lady love.... There is a wide world out here and if I don't have a clear direction to travel, I will pick my own."

Raising an eyebrow at the Inquisitor, "Three days, Price, that is all we have. We shall follow the Old Moor road. I will inform you of when we arrive at our destination. Let us move." With that, if no one finishes off the dog, Morthos will and then immediately head out toward said destination without hesitation, getting as much distance as he can from the prison until rest is absolutely needed.

Price leans against the wall and examines the map, in no hurry. She corrects him, "No, you have three days. I didn't agree to anything. Normally, I'd be inclined to meet your patron to thank her, because it's polite and I'm curious. But I don't work on a leash - not a Mitran one and certainly not yours. I figure I helped to get you out... so any debt I have with her is settled." She looks skyward, drawing on her memory, "As I recall, you said 'once free, we shall all meet her in three days'. Perhaps you were fibbing, maybe she is only interested in you... in which case, I really owe her nothing. But if you were truthful and she wants all of us... I wonder how she'll react if you show up one person short?" She offers a kindly smile at the other members of the motley crew. "And what if I'm not the only one who wants that answer now and is willing to set their own course if they don't get it? I confess, I'd love to see your patron's reaction if you show up alone at this mystery location with just that half-used veil and your dick in your hands... all because you weren't willing to share a reasonable bit of information." Price glances at the others, curious to see how they side on the matter and Morthos' next play.

His arrival preceded by the rhythmic bass of his feet pounding across the bridge, Grumblejack ambles up to the portcullis, ducks his head to pass beneath it, then stretches his arms wide. Even he seems to appreciate being freed of the prison.

As Price squares off with Morthos, his eyes fix on the two of them, flicking back and forth as each speaks. He remains quiet during the exchange.

He throws a hand in the air as he doesn't stop walking away, "Do what you wish," is all he says as he continues on.

Price watches Morthos storm off, amused. She looks to Grumblejack and enjoys another large breath of clean air. "You are free, 'Jack. You've been a good companion. What will you do now?"

The ogre blinks in surprise at the question. He looks at Morthos walking away and the others preparing to leave. He looks back at the prison, then around the countryside. Finally he looks back at Price and shrugs, "Grumblejack not know. You good at killin' other little 'uns. Grumblejack have fun. Lots of food. Grumblejack come with little 'uns? Help kill other little 'runs like those?" He gestures back towards the prison.

Price smiles, "It would be grand to have you with us! You are strong and funny - both good qualities. Unfortunately, you will need to decide with whom you wish to travel. I won't blindly follow Morthos and he, it seems, expects trust but doesn't offer any." She looks at the map and compares it to the terrain.

SnowHeart, what is the terrain like? Windswept coast, forest, the Bog of Eternal Stench?

Ineluki changes form back to humanoid and stands looking at MOrthos' retreating back and back at Price and the others. "I have no strong allegiance either way, to be honest, but I AM curious as to who this unknown benefactress is and why she arranged our release, and how. I see no harm in at least going a bit farther to meet with her... I've no other pressing agenda and no resources to make my own way even if I did."

Price rubs at the small wound on the meat of her thumb and nods, disappointed. "You have to make the choice that is right for you, Luke. I've really enjoyed meeting you, even under these circumstances." Her eyes flick back to the prison briefly. "Thank you for not flying off when you had the chance. That level of loyalty makes you a rare man. Take care of yourself." She offers the skinshifter her hand in farewell.

With the last guards dead, Timo tears off his tabard and throws it on the nearest corpse, while taking a big breath of fresh air, free air. "Finally... Hopefully I never need to look like one of them again"

As he hears Price talk about going her own way he subtly frowns. "Now my dear Price, I myself loathe having people tell me what to do. Asmodeus knows that I've had enough people command and control me all my life, first my family, then the damn Mitrans. Right now is the first time I haven't been forced to do something.

With all that said, we are currently without funds and without allies. I see no harm and at least seeing what our mysterious benefactor wants. If we don't like it, we walk away and find our own path, no harm no foul."

He then leans in to whisper to Price with a grin, "Besides, it could be fun to see who's ego gets them into trouble first, Morthos's or Daidalos's. My money is on the wizard."

Ineluki takes Price's hand and gives it a little friendly squeeze.. nothing intended to hurt or intimidate or anything like that "If you don't come along with us, that's your choice, I guess... You'll be missed... Our friendship and alliance may have been short if that's the case, but no less valued for its brevity. Take care of yourself and be well."

@ Timo

Price laughs and resists the urge to pin the handsome warrior against the wall and make a small down payment on her earlier carnal offer. Instead she replies quietly, "No bet! And that would almost make it worthwhile... But the last time I followed someone's lead blindly, I wound up with a brand on my arm and convicted of a half dozen high crimes. It's difficult to put my neck in that sort of noose again unnecessarily."

@ Luke & Timo

She gives Luke's hand a squeeze in return and looks at both men. "You've both given me matters to consider." The Inquisitor turns to regard the castle, weighing loyalties and burgeoning friendships as well as her convictions.

Affyria adresses Price, "Well, apart from the both of us, the rest of our associates are either dead or rotting in some other prison. I admit I have no idea where to go, apart perhaps from that nearby village the servants mentioned.

Besides that, I admit I'm simply curious why someone would spring the lot of us, so I say we see what this person wants. I doubt very much it can be worse than the fate we had waiting for us in there," she motions towards Branderscar.

Daidalos looks at Price's handiwork approvingly, "Nice touch. Did you really need the whole hand, though? Wouldn't a finger have sufficed? Ah well, I may as well leave my own calling card." he musters a quick arcane phrase, and traces out a shape- ∆- on the stone next to Price's signature. While he wishes he could make it gold, he knows that enchantment would last an hour at best. Instead, he simply cleans the stone- removing the decades of exposure the stone has undergone in seconds, leaving it pristine and sure to last a while.
Using Prestidigitation to clean the stone of filth, which should leave a distinct difference. Lots of lichen, smoke, and more would be sure to have discolored the stone over the decades.

While Price and Morthos are having their little squabble, Daidalos smiles knowingly.
"Miss Price, if you shall depart our company, I must say, it was a pleasure knowing you in the short time we were acquainted. Where on Golarion could you possibly make it to? Before Branderscar, we were all some of the most wanted individuals in all of Talingarde. Now? After that little stunt? There won't be a place in all the land you could hide for long. I was only able to evade capture for a month, and that was because I had an artifact in my possession. They will find you, no doubt. And when they do, you won't escape this time. And you will be executed." he then turns to Morthos, "And you, friend, would it kill you to share at least a little of where we're going? What if we get separated? How are we supposed to possibly find our benefactor? We're not asking for much. How far can you get on your own? Halfway there? Three-quarters? It took all of us to get out of those cells, and there's no way it won't take all of us to get to the Old Moor Road. What does it cost you to share such information? I, for one, do not appreciate being led blindly."

His piece said, he waits until everyone is through the portcullis and have no intention of returning. Then, he takes the dead guards and drags them to the bridge, hiding them behind something so they're not visible from the road. Next, he enters the guardhouse and lowers the portcullis, trapping those remaining in Branderscar. Finally, he asks for Price's help, "Price dear, could you give me a hand? Would you be so kind as to sabotage the portcullis so it can't be raised? Let's have the guards be its new prisoners. If they can't get out, they can't raise the alarm. If they can't raise the alarm, nobody will be looking for us for at least a little while."

Grumblejack looks about, processing the exchange between the little 'uns and seems to actually understand most of it. "Little 'uns catch Grumblejack alone. Catch all of you alone. Grumblejack think best chance to kill most little 'uns is with big group. Go with what biggest group."

The map shows fairly clearly the Old Moor Road heading north away from the coastal road that serves the various communities.

Price shakes her head, clearing the image but not the impression left. She gives Affyria a wide-eyed look. "Did you see that? Our benefactor has an opinion and impressive skills. That answers my concerns... so it seems our paths are not diverging." Issue decided, Price starts moving with purpose again.

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19

Price will head down the road with the group as soon as everyone is ready. She'll keep the spear, bow, armor and Mitran tabard on (for the time being).

Timo blinks his eyes several times, unsure of what happened. "That was .... unpleasant..." Timo says a bit unsure of himself. At Price's words, he continues, "If by that you mean our benefactor's impatience forcing a map in my head, then yes I saw that. I suggest we make haste before she takes further liberties out of impatience."

Price chuckles at Timo's observation. "I'll take that kind of 'unpleasant' over branding and getting force fed terrible food. Besides, this displays our benefactor's soft and squishy side." she jests, "She's a romantic."

Sorry, Daidalos, just noticed your request for a 'break the portcullis' attempt. Will do.

Disable Device (Take 10): 10 + 10 = 20 MW Tools

INeluki divests himself of the Branderscar tabard, leaving it behind at the guardhouse. "I'm ready to go... I'm glad you're coming too, Price. I ... I like you! You're strong and strong willed, that's a rare combination in my experience." He walks along with the others along the road... Flight would be easier, but not really faster or more advantageous at this point... but he muses if push comes to shove and we are captured again, I WILL keep my freedom.

The inquisitor matches the skinwalker's stride in a companionable silence for awhile. Eventually, she gives him a light hip bump to draw his attention, then says quietly, "I'm fond of you as well." Less intimately, she offers, "I think Talingarde's sky would benefit from flocks of your brethren soaring across it. I'd like to see that."

Luke in Hybrid Form?

Daidalos looks around, confused, "Did I just miss something? What just happened?"
Assuming someone tells him, he tries to think of what sort of spell might accomplish something like that.

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (9) + 12 = 21
Knowledge (arcana): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12

Daidalos does not get the impression there was any sort of mortal magic at play.

Knowledge (religion)?: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (1) + 9 = 10

Daidalos knows sometimes the faithful receive visions from their patrons but whether this was such a thing or something else... who knows.

yes, Luke is in hybrid form presently, taking the +4 to perception rolls

luke in hybrid form

Daidalos looks around, confused, "Did I just miss something? What just happened?"

"Sorry, yes. A few of us received a rather intrusive and impatient vision of where we need to go. We head up the Moor Road. Our goal is a large, old, manor with a single lamp burning in an upper story window. In case we get separated - that's what you are looking for."

As they walk, Price considers the source of the vision.

K:Religion: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16 Jumping on Daid's attempt, any idea who sent the message? Or any feeling whether it was a masculine/feminine/neuter sender? Initially I thought it was Veil Chick but it would be uh 'interesting' if it was someone higher up the diabolic food chain.

@ Luke: Good to know! Also, my blue text above was a link to a cool hybrid-vamp video. Not sure if you realized that... If ya did, feel free to ignore me. :)

Knowing that his past was truly a closed book by now, Asturu felt like he had only but a few options. One was to roll over and die. Another was to set out in this world all by himself, ill prepared to deal with the hunting party that would come looking for them after the slaughter at Branderscar. The third one was to follow this ragtag group of individuals and meet their benign benefactor. Surely what had been done for them would demand reciprocation. The world never gave without taking.

"I'll follow you to this place you've seen. If anything, it would be rude to not take the opportunity to thank our mysterious benefactor for helping us escape Branderscar. Besides, I'm but a simple writer and philosopher, and I'm not entirely sure how I'd survive the challenges ahead all by myself."

Admitting such weakness didn't feel like a flaw to Asturu, for it was plain to see to all that alone, not a single one of them would make it in the days yet to come.

Price raises an eyebrow in amusement, "Didn't someone say 'the quill is mightier than the sword'?"

Timo casts a cocky grin, "I'm not sure about that Price, my sword is pretty mighty, some might even call it great"

Grumblejack listens to the banter and, not fully understanding it, interjects with, "Mine is biggest." If anyone looks, he shrugs and lifts the club he's wielding. "Biggest." He points at the club with his other hand in case it isn't clear.

"I don't think he was talking about that kind of sword, Jack... " Ineluki says, looking at Jack's crotch rather than his weapon, hoping the big lug gets the idea.

The ogre looks at Inelukii in confusion for a moment, looks at his own crotch, the club, his crotch, then over at Timo. He shrugs again. "Seen many little 'un nibblets. Still biggest:"

Price runs her eyes over the warrior - a thorough sidelong look. "I certainly hope this 'sword' we're discussing is metaphorical as well as literal... I've got uses for both."

She looks at Grumblejack. "I might pay to see your nibblets. I like setting the bar high."