Hells Rebels (Inactive)

Game Master Daniel Penfold 351

"It's only polite to not ignore an invitation." Kira has been going a little crazy trapped in the Wasp's Nest and is eager for any excuse to leave, now that the search has hopefully died down. (She knows some gnomes don't mind, but for her being so far away from the stars is just plain unnatural.)

Fine with heading to the Tooth and Nail.

The Tooth and nail may present the facade of a run down tavern but it is a popular hangout for the district's artisans, merchants and adventurers. Inside it carries the stink of stale beer, tobacco smoke and other odours. You are greeted by a short human woman who asks you yo be seated in a side room while she gets you a round of drinks.

"Thanks for coming, it was good of you."

Adonara is quieter than usual on the way, at least in the sense of being more pensive, rather than stealthier. The profusion of rumours she’s collected this morning is something else. The wilder ones she dismisses out of hand – dragons indeed! – while others make more sense in combination: how the Order of the Torrent could conceivably be framed as a threat to law and order, for example.

She is especially concerned that with the closing of Lady Docur’s School, she is losing contact with a promising confederate for the Ravens only days after reaching out to her. There couldn’t actually be something to the idea that – and yet, if Adonara could imagine that some of the students could provide useful allies among the local gentry, so could Thrune loyalists, and opinion in Kintargo is certainly divided enough that she’s not sure where the school stands, generally. She’s not too worried, in the end. They’ll find a way to keep in touch. As Erisia, her friend and mentor in the felonious arts, would say, it’s not just love that laughs at locksmiths.

The weight of years on the buildings of the old town, in concert with warm memories of Adonara’s own girlhood, provide a comforting, grounding sense of history, and by the time she and the others are settled in the Tooth and Nail, she’s her normal self again.

The Tooth and nail may present the facade of a run down tavern but it is a popular hangout for the district's artisans, merchants and adventurers. Inside it carries the stink of stale beer, tobacco smoke and other odours. You are greeted by a short human woman who asks you yo be seated in a side room while she gets you a round of drinks.

"Thanks for coming, it was good of you."

Over the drink that’s handed her, Adonara considers her hostess frankly. After a moment, she speaks gently but to the point. “Not at all, though I am curious how you thought of us.”

The implied questions hangs only briefly as she continues, “I presume this is about the Lord Mayor’s new proclamation and its bearing on Octavio, your…?”

"My cousin. He's an obstinate and difficult man, but he's also an honourable one. He's led the Order of the Torrent for a decade, and during that time they've rescued dozens of missing people and other unfortunates from abduction. The order's members aren't all stationed here in Kintargo-they work throughout Avistan, after all, and I suppose it's something of a blessing that most of their two dozen or so members were elsewhere when Barzillai made the order illegal.

In any event, assuming he's not in the clutches of House Thrune I think I know where my cousin is. He'd probably hate me if he found out that I told you this, but the Order of the Torrent sometimes uses a small shrine just south of the city in the Argo swamps as a safe house. The place is warded against magical observation, and they've used it in the past as a staging place for smuggling those they've rescued into or out of Kintargo. The place is the Shrine of Saint Senex, and if my cousin is anywhere, he's there.

Knowledge religion or local

Add coffee-slingers as well as bartenders to the list of people who pay too much attention, Adonara thinks when Setrona mentions Laria and the Ravens’ previous escapades. She restricts herself to a small smile that neither confirms nor denies anything.

It’s a relief to hear that the Order of the Torrent seems to be interested in better work than most Hellknight orders, though Adonara wonders why they don’t just discard the infernal trappings, then, and find a more suitable source of symbolism. That’s a point to be taken up with the lictor and whoever else is in charge, though, so she says, kindly, “We do know what they say about good turns. We’ll find out what happened to your cousin, and don’t worry – he won’t hear from us how we learned about his safe house.”

She considers what she knows of local religious lore. Kn. (religion): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (12) + 10 = 22

Adonara, you know that the Shrine of St Senex was founded by a group of seafaring mystics a few hundred years ago, the shrine is devoted to the memory of sailors who lost their lives at sea. Senex was an oracle of the waves who devoted much of her later life to the recovery of drowned sailors, to return them and their belongings to their families. Since the Chelish Civil War Saint Senex has drifted into obscurity. Her shrine has been tended by an ever dwindling staff of seers and guardians who are unlikely to be welcoming of intruders.

After a beat or two, the courtesan wiggles her toes in her new boots as complications occur to her. It’s not that she doesn’t like the great outdoors – she loves it!, and the wildwood is delightful, even before one factors in what one can get up to among the flowers of a more carefully cultivated arbour – but she gathers that the inmates of St. Senex’s are a dour lot.

“Is there someone particular at the shrine that your cousin dealt with most often?” she asks the tavern-keeper, before turning to the others around the table to explain.

“We may have to think a little about staging. From what I know, they’re good people at the shrine, but perhaps just a bit piqued by the directions in which religious feeling has tended to flow in Ravounel for some time. Their loss, but they’re not going to be especially thrilled to deal with a woman like me. Perhaps if we time it so that we make our appearance as travellers benighted, with no hope of continuing on to the city proper in the dark and after the gates are closed for curfew?”

She lifts her chin defiantly for a moment before demonstrating the role she has in mind. Opening her eyes wide and drawing her shoulders in as if under an imaginary cloak, Adonara is the image of a wistful, heart-sore young thing. The only problem is that while all of those things might be true, it is also clear that she is performing the ingénue.

Well, there's that, or I guess Kira could talk to them oracle-to-oracle, maybe?

"Not that I know of. Octavio did mention that there's some kind of guardian at the shrine that would attack if people didn't 'prove their worth' but he didn't go into any details."

Pellius thinks for a few moments as he listens to the conversation. Prove your worth, huh...

"Is there anyone that you know of that would be expected to show up at this shrine? We have been... somewhat adept... of impersonating people of late. And I spent the last few days learning a few new tricks to try in aiding that. Lady knows that our foes are stepping up their tactics, it only is fitting that we do as well."

"Not really, the majority of people in the city don't remember the shrine is even there. In theory sailors would be more likely to pay their respects."

Of course there’s an ordeal. “Hail, brave pilgrims! Do you mind if we try battering you around a bit before you pay your respects?” No wonder the shrine’s struggling, Adonara thinks.

“We do have a sailor to call on soon. He might have suggestions as to the appropriate overtures and offerings, and it’s almost on the way. Of course, I’ll trust our leading man’s judgement if we’d rather just head to the shrine directly and improvise from there on our own,” Adonara offers.

“There are plays about the majesty of the sea, aren’t there? Some of the more famous ones we’ve even heard of back home,” A wicked grin flashes across her features as she thinks of one old human work she knows that’s somewhat thematic. Her expression hints (to strain a definition) broadly that the productions she’s known inclined more to travesty than earnest. “Though I’m pleased to boast that no one's actually had the impertinence to call me Buttercup.”

(The video quality in the link’s awful, and I don’t think Adonara would be quite so campy – the stuff with the skirts, really! – but much closer to that than how the song is normally done, all pathos and melodrama. :) )

Her smile softens almost immediately to show that she’s only teasing, unable to resist pushing gently against the proprieties of Chelish military and naval tradition while the group deliberates.

Pellius just give Adonara a raised eyebrow as if to say, 'Do I look like a Chellish tar to you?' before whistling a tune from the operetta she was making a reference to.

Fun fact, I actually was part of a production of that musical at my college. Not a leading or named part, mind you, but one of the sailors in the back. ;)

"As much as I am for just going into a role blind and praying for success, I think a few acting tips from a subject matter expert might be useful. After all, we want to convince these people we are all on the same side, or close enough. Probably better to do that with as little blood spelt as possible."

With their course set and charted, Pellius hums a tune to himself as they walk toward the docks.

Presuming we are going there. Two seem for it.

You leave the city and head out to the western shore of Argo Isle. The shrine is mostly underground, carved into an upthrust escarpment of stone that overlooks the Yolubilis River. A 2 foot wide path rises up from the marshy ground leading to what appears to be a heap of stones and driftwood.

Beneath the shrine's dome await two figures dressed in tattered rags who watch you intently.

Thought we were going to the dock first to talk with this sailor Adonara mentioned before heading to the shrine.

Likewise. I don't mind just rolling with it, though. What's the worst that can happen? :)

Sorry- that's my fault, i misunderstood - we'll retcon that

The Scourge of Belial is moored in the Old Harbour, just west of the Salt Gate. It is a sleek three-masted warship. Busy activity on the ship's deck is slowed by your arrival as the crew eye you somewhat suspiciously. At the top of the gangplank is a half even woman dressed in the red and black uniform of a Chelish naval officer with a rapier and a pepper box pistol at her side.

Her tone is not hostile, but is wary.

Pellius waves at the half-elf with a smile.

"Ahoy there. We are here to speak with one of your crew if he has a free moment. We request permission to come aboard."

As he speaks, the bard keeps his hands out ahead of him in a friendly manner, away from his weapons.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (13) + 11 = 24

"Also, I am more than happy to provide you with some songs and shanties while you work. I am somewhat known for my singing voice, and work goes by faster when accompanied by a rousing tune."

So saying, he breaks into a quick shanty to put proof to his chops.

Perform: Sing: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (12) + 12 = 24

Adonara occasionally backs Pellius up as they make their musical way to the docks, when she feels remotely capable of following such a talented singer. She quiets and slows once the piers stretch out before the group, not wanting to make too obvious a beeline for Captain Sargaeta’s ship. It gives her time to consider the situation and, even if it’s not her usual part of town, let her presence be felt, exchanging a few coy glances with likely-looking individuals as she keeps an eye out for the Scourge of Belial.

Pellius waves at the half-elf with a smile.

"Ahoy there. We are here to speak with one of your crew if he has a free moment. We request permission to come aboard."

As he speaks, the bard keeps his hands out ahead of him in a friendly manner, away from his weapons.

"Also, I am more than happy to provide you with some songs and shanties while you work. I am somewhat known for my singing voice, and work goes by faster when accompanied by a rousing tune."

So saying, he breaks into a quick shanty to put proof to his chops.

She follows Pellius’ lead as he approaches the ship, marvelling at how disarming his friendliness can be when he breaks into song as natural as you please. She’s half carried away herself, and she’s in on the business. After a couple of beats, she contributes her own efforts to keeping the crew off-balance. Diplomacy, to aid Pellius, not that it looks like he needs it: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10 Yikes! Well, at least that’s just barely good enough for an Aid Another check. Hmm…

Picking her way up the gangplank as far as she can politely go, she specifies, insinuating that she already knows Sargaeta, “Some of my new friends also have business with the captain. Something about this misunderstanding that’s keeping him from actually visiting the city himself.”

She alludes briefly to Thrune’s latest ridiculous proclamations before introducing herself, extending a languid hand to the smartly turned-out officer, brazenly fishing for compliments as she murmurs, “Strixis. Companion to the discerning.” I’ll leave it to GM discretion as to whether Adonara’s problem on this occasion is that she’s being too obvious or not obvious enough. ;)

"Come aboard, you'd best speak to the captain."

With that she steps aside and lets you on board. She leads you to the captain's cabin which is richly appointed, with windows of stained glass and walls hung with seascape paintings and nautical antiques. The cabin is large and spacious, taking up the entirety of the aft quarter of the ship's deck, and smells of pleasant spices and rare incense.

Before the desk stands a man in a pristine captain's uniform, with light brown hair and a neatly trimmed goatee adorning a well-defined jawline. He sips tea from a delicate porcelain cup decorated with a delicate floral design.

Pellius nods appreciatively to the lady and comes aboard, following her.

"Thank you. We will endeavor to be brief. By the way, if you happen to need entertainment, just drop a line to the owner here," he hands her a small piece of paper with the address of the coffee house, "and ask for Pellius to perform. I have no problem coming here and showing you all the citizenry's appreciation for all you do to keep us safe and supplied."

As they enter the captain's room, he gives the man a formal bow.

"Beg your pardon if I don't salute. I never was in the army or navy, so my etiquette might be a bit off. My name is Pellius Aulamaxa. Before you bow or give me undo courtesies, yes I am related to House Aulamaxa, no I am no where near the line of succession to take over the house proper." Mentally, he adds, And Sheyln please keep it that way in these trying times....

"My associates and I hear that you have been docked for some time. We assume that this is on account of some reason, and we hope that we can be of some assistance with whatever that reason is."

Once safely ushered into the captain’s cabin, Adonara puts on – figuratively speaking – another mask, schooling her features to seriousness as if abandoning a frivolous persona. That the additional layer of subterfuge soothes the sting of her misstep on deck is entirely coincidental.

With a bit of effort she can pose for an able, if disconcertingly slippery, assistant of the Aulamaxa scion. With a modest nod in Pellius' direction, as if following an unspoken cue, just in case the captain isn’t feeling immediately forthcoming, she dangles a hint of a bigger picture, wheels within wheels, and, discreetly, a measure of reciprocity. “There is also a matter that we have been authorized to speak of, that would stir the heart of any true and loyal servant of Cheliax and the best traditions of her Empire.”

She chooses and emphasizes her words carefully to make it clear that while of course the captain isn’t being accused of falling short, he is quietly being offered an opportunity to make clear where his loyalties lie. Anyone with a strong opinion on the matter would pick up on the fact that the elf woman is rather pointedly not identifying the Crown, the House of Thrune, and the Empire with one another and with Cheliax’s finest traditions.

Basically, though as slowly as necessary, whatever this guy’s story might be, Adonara’s also feeling her way towards assessing the possibility of using his boat to smuggle out any Order of the Torrent Hellknights out of the city in due course.

"I can't deny my disappointment. I expected more...towering giants of myth, someone more...grandiose. Alas, this is what the waves have washed up on my shore. That said I have heard how you rescued some people from the Salt House. Anyone who does anything to screw over that bastard Barzillai is alright in my book. What can I do for you?"

I suppose what they say about the directness of sailors’ speech must be true, Adonara thinks, her eyes flickering briefly between the captain and his officer. Considering how much room she has to keep adjusting her role, she decides to continue more formally for now, as if she’s a suitably priggish – when she’s not in a disarmingly blatant persona - right-hand woman to match the one across from her.

In her guise as Pellius’ assistant, Adonara continues smoothly as if she’s used to unpacking offers and counter-offers that others would prefer not to have to voice themselves. That is also certainly true, it occurs to her, as she carefully keeps her expression neutral. What she says is, “We gather you’ve been moored here for several days, and can imagine you must be feeling restive, given this unfortunate regulation concerning visiting captains. We anticipate the arrival of … a certain cargo to our holdings here in the next few days, which we would very much like to move on just down the coast, discreetly.”

“It’s nothing that should put you or your crew at risk. It will load and unload easily: we’d just need word in the last watch before the tide you choose to sail on. If not, no harm done. In exchange, of course, we’d be happy to see if we can secure anything particular for you from shore that you haven’t been able to, confined on board. It will clarify to certain parties that it will do them no good to make proclamations they have no business making.”

She helps herself to pen and paper on the captain’s desk to write down Laria’s coffee house address and what she estimates – based on what Setrona said – the tonnage of at the very most a dozen heavily-armoured humans might be. Basically, if we can break the Hellknights out, Captain Disgruntled here looks like an ideal person to just land them someplace safe outside the city limits, if we can just sneak said Hellknights on board in the last few minutes before the Scourge of Belial weighs anchor. That way, we can avoid gate patrols and all that, and give the captain the pleasure of getting a bit of his own back against Thrune.

"Anything I can do to annoy Thrune is fine with me. I'll help you, provided afterwards you help me with something that's been bothering me."

Pellius smiles graciously at the captain, giving a small bow.

"Well, if we went around looking like rebellious souls we would not be doing our jobs well. Or rather, we would soon find our time in the resistance... shortened."

He laughs at his own implied joke.

"We would be happy to provide you with assistance with your... problem, once we know more details. There is, however, one other thing we could use from you or your crew over and above the possible transit of cargo. We are attempting to make contact with another group of potential allies that have recently become," he pauses for a moment, as if attempting to pick the best way of describing the situation, before settling on, "more sympathetic to our cause. The problem is they do not know it yet, and we have been told that this contact's last known residence has a guardian. While I doubt that you have personally visited this place, it is known to be a holy site to sailors. The shrine to St. Senex, on Argus Isle." The bard searches the captain's face for signs of recognition as he continues.

"We do not need an escort, unless you think one would be absolutely necessary. What we do need is any information you or your crew might have on how to get past the guardian with as little violence as possible. No sense in making enemies inadvertently, right?"

"Ah yes, the shrine. I've only been there once. To get past the guardian you need to breath air onto the statue of the drowned statue at the entrance."

“How fascinating,” Adonara remarks, the thought escaping her mouth before she quite thinks, though her tone is neutral enough that her mask of capable assistant doesn’t slip too badly.

Partly to recover, but also out of irrepressible curiosity for snippets of other religious traditions, and with the hope of ending the current round of negotiations on a friendly note, the priestess tactfully nudges the conversation back to Pellius’ question about the help the captain wants in exchange. “Is there any initial assistance we can provide with the matter that’s been bothering you? If nothing else, we’d be happy to offer a prayer and a token of esteem for the saint on your behalf.”

She considers the likely votives an oracle of the waves might appreciate, especially given what the captain’s just said about how to gain access to the shrine. Something that suggests warmth, for saving from drowning? Everyone loves candles, and a light on the shore would be thematic.

"I need to make some more enquiries into my matter first, but I welcome your prayers and will help you as much as I can."

Pellius smiles and nods.

"Of course. We know that you and your crew are likely busy, albeit probably less so than you might be under... more normal circumstances. If you wish, we can come back later after our meeting with the lovely folks at the shrine. Or, if you prefer we can be reached at the coffeehouse. Just have someone request a 'nautical themed performance of shanties' and we will know what you mean."

The opera singer smiles and adds, "Hells, I can even actually do said performance so as to throw off suspicion. No sense in playing your cards against our current regime until we are ready to make a major difference, right?"

Kira remains quiet as they make their way to the docks, preoccupied with her own problems...and with the guilt she feels for being preoccupied by them.

Selfish. An entire city at risk, and all you can think about is your father. Focus Kira, there's work to be done...

No matter how hard she tries, she can't quite distance herself from the manuscript she has continued to fail to decipher. She's eager to let Pellius and Adonara take the lead as they talk to the ship's captain.

And nearly falls off the boat, (despite not being anywhere near the edge), when the captain just...admits to being willing to commit treason.

"Um. Yes. We can...certainly help you. Hopefully. Depending on what the problem is." She's babbling, and she knows it, but she can't seem to stop. "Thank you? For your advice. About the shrine." She casts a somewhat panicked look at Adonara. If this captain was as forthright to any stranger, they could be placing themselves even further at risk.

Or maybe she's just being unreasonably paranoid. They had just pulled off a bluff in front of one of Thrune's right-hand people, it's bound to affect her perception of how risky certain endeavors might be.

"Do you know how long it will take you to make those inquiries?"

"I should be able to get the information I need in 24 hours."

“Thank you, captain. That’s most helpful.”

Adonara meets Kira’s look as coolly as she can. She can’t blame the young student for her consternation: the captain is speaking very freely indeed. Still, she muses unhappily, the Ravens’ options are limited. In the worst-case scenario – well, she supposes just an unfortunate case, as her imagination promptly provides several dire, concatenated calamities – they can just cut the captain loose before he can do too much damage to their plans for the Hellknights and so forth. Of course, if the captain is plotting treachery, that all depends on outrunning it, so Adonara raises an eyebrow in discreet acknowledgement: Yes, let’s get out of here.

As the conversation winds down, the courtesan drifts towards the door of the cabin, visibly relaxing into her more playful persona.

“Sirs, misses,” she says, holding the door (a last trace of the personal assistant) for Pellius, even as she quietly hums the tune for an old, old shanty. What do you with a drunken sailor? She knows the question admits of many answers, many of which can be scandalous, some several ways at once. She is unable to resist, and glances coyly at her naval counterpart.

“Is it true,” she murmurs curiously, “that there are only two shanties officially sanctioned by the Chelish Navy?”

I think we’re done here, unless someone else thinks of something? Although planning a nautically-themed performance does sound amusing, not least because of Pellius’ gifts for soundtracking our rebellion to date. :)

As they leave, Pellius lowers his voice to answer Adonara's question.

"Are you kidding me? The only two tunes that are officially sanctioned are the Chelish national anthem and their blasphemous attempt at rewording the old Arodenite naval hymn." The singer shakes his head and spits. 'Infernal father, strong to slave' indeed.

"No, officially shanties are not kindly looked upon, but most captains and officers know better than to try and kill the tradition. Mutinies have happened for less, after all. Now, shall we head to the shrine?"

Well, I am the bard... that means its my job. ;) I might miss on occasion, but I am expected to try. In seriousness, I am glad that someone is enjoying them.

Great video Pellius

Going to move things on to the shrine.

The shrine is mostly underground, carved into an upthrust escarpment of stone that overlooks the Yolubilis river. A 2 foot wide path rises up from the marsh leading to what appears to be a heap of stones and driftwood. The mound has an opening on the southeast side, flanked by two poles sporting gouts of fire that dance erratically in the ocean breeze.

Beneath the shrine's dome are two figures, a man and a woman clad in tattered rags, seashells are woven into the man's beard whilst the woman's braids hang down past her waist, shells and bits of driftwood knotted in their lengths.

As they leave, Pellius lowers his voice to answer Adonara's question.

"Are you kidding me? The only two tunes that are officially sanctioned are the Chelish national anthem and their blasphemous attempt at rewording the old Arodenite naval hymn." The singer shakes his head and spits. 'Infernal father, strong to slave' indeed.

"No, officially shanties are not kindly looked upon, but most captains and officers know better than to try and kill the tradition. Mutinies have happened for less, after all. Now, shall we head to the shrine?"

Well, I am the bard... that means its my job. ;) I might miss on occasion, but I am expected to try. In seriousness, I am glad that someone is enjoying them.

“That’s appalling!” Adonara exclaims – once everyone’s a safe distance from the ship.

“Though not, I suppose, surprising. I think you may be right about how to respond when Captain Sargaeta contacts us. Cover for a message, and raising spirits of whatever sailors we can lure to Long Roads or wherever we can woo them with dulcet, dissident tones? It sounds marvellous!” she enthuses, a few ideas already bubbling in the back of her thoughts, though she puts them to one side until after the visit to St. Senex’s shrine.

Great video Pellius

Going to move things on to the shrine.

The shrine is mostly underground, carved into an upthrust escarpment of stone that overlooks the Yolubilis river. A 2 foot wide path rises up from the marsh leading to what appears to be a heap of stones and driftwood. The mound has an opening on the southeast side, flanked by two poles sporting gouts of fire that dance erratically in the ocean breeze.

Beneath the shrine's dome are two figures, a man and a woman clad in tattered rags, seashells are woven into the man's beard whilst the woman's braids hang down past her waist, shells and bits of driftwood knotted in their lengths.

As the group picks its way along the narrow track, Adonara realizes just how quickly the shrine’s star must be fading, if she can guess anything about what the condition of the path says about how much traffic it sees. She tries to focus on Sargaeta’s instructions for approaching the shrine, and she blinks in surprise as she spots the odd raiment of the pair within as she looks for the statue the captain mentioned.

Takes all sorts, she thinks equably, even as she’s reminded how much asceticism is really not her thing. Putting back her cloak’s hood from where she’d drawn it up against the breeze, she greets the mystics diplomatically, already thinking of how to negotiate quite a web of spiritual – and worldly, if the Hellknight lictor is indeed somewhere about – affiliations. “Greetings! We’ve come to pay our respects to the saint, and the powers of this place.”

Let’s see: we’re bringing Calistria, natch, Shelyn, and Desna, and as for who's in place, well, who knows with oracles. Probably a fair bit of Gozreh, and, oh, maybe Naderi, Pharasma, and (why not?) Besmara. :)

Can you make a Diplomacy check please.

Pellius merely shrugs. "What can I say. I wanted to be a singer. Shelyn willing, I still will be able to become one once all of this... unpleasantness is resolved. Granted 'sea shanties' aren't exactly fine opera, but you have to pay the rent and keep your proficiency up somehow, right?"

At the shrine, he lets Adonara take the lead, merely adding, "Yes, we have reason to pay our respects... to the Saint and to others."

Aid other: Diplomacy: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (1) + 11 = 12 Yikes... good thing I decided to try to aid Adonara, not roll myself... looks like you are on your own on this one...

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12 That doesn't include the +2 bonus from Pellius' help, and if Adonara's bonus from Deific Obedience applies, that would be another +4 on top of that. (Or split, because she's trying to talk around two people at once.)

Adonara steps forward, putting a halfway to plausible pretext together, but she's weaving enough threads that it's not as compelling as she would like, even as she lowers her mental barriers to touch on the heartache she normally tries to keep concealed. "We come not only on our own behalf - more souls than one are hurting - but we are here, knowing that the saint can help all the storm-tossed, those ship-wrecked even on dry land." (With apologies to an anonymous poet preserved in the Palatine Anthology, who we're riffing off right now. :) )

There's enough conviction and truth in her words to keep them from falling entirely flat, but leaning so heavily on her own vulnerability makes her just so uncomfortable that they do come out a bit stilted.

That could have gone better. Guess it's up to Kira and/or Lodoro to save the day!

I'm really sorry that I've been absent (again). I thought I had things sufficiently under control to keep playing but, obviously, was wrong.

Its time to officially bow out of the game. Its been a lot of fun but I just don't have time for it right now.

I HATE it when people just drop a game :-). At least this way you KNOW that I've quit. Should have done it awhile back. Sorry for both quitting and not doing so earlier.

Keep having fun. Great group and great GM. The problem, as they say, is me and not you :-) :-)

Edit : One last diplomacy check :-) diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (12) + 12 = 24

Edit the 2nd : If you want to bot Lodoro feel very free to do so.

"It seems a bit out of the way for you to come out here when there are many shrines in the city itself."

Well, at least they’re not trying to bash our heads in or stab us in the face – yet, Adonara thinks, doing her best not to enjoy the diplomatic fencing too much.

She picks through her words carefully, trying to avoid anything so obvious as to get anyone in trouble. Fortunately, even a theologian less bookish than Adonara has a wealth of liturgical language that can serve as well as any scoundrel’s cant. “The clergy and the temples in the city are godly folk, but their concerns lie elsewhere, while the merciful saint, we know, helped those who were and had lost, especially at sea.”

“Would you really turn away a Lost Maiden?” she pleads. “I know the waves are often troubled: currents churning and Torrents in tumult, but we mean no harm. We’ve all lost something or someone precious to us, and don’t know where to turn. For my part, all I ask is leave to say a prayer at the shrine, light a taper, for –”

She takes a breath before plunging on, the knowledge that Via would be amused to be enlisted in Adonara’s stratagems twisting the knife, “– the memory of my beloved, and for the heartache shared with one of our other friends. If nothing else, I know a light for Senex, herself a light to those in peril on the waves, would persuade the Unquenchable Fire to smile on the saint and the guardians of her shrine.”

She’ll try to drop a hint that she and the others are allies to the Order of the Torrent that’s in trouble, and otherwise generally try to kiss up. If we can at least get access to the shrine proper, we can try to roll a bunch of Perception checks to look for signs of Lictor Sabinus, or secret passageways or the like, before kicking up a fuss or otherwise getting into trouble. :)

Pellius nods, and adds, "Besides. We carry the breath of life to give to the saint, on behalf of all those in peril who may need it. If we do not offer it here, how else would we give our offering?"

"Very well, you may enter, but show all due respect."

They step aside and you step inside.

The ceiling of this damp chamber is seven feet high, bolstered by square supports of rough hewn wood. A shallow pool of water lies in the northwest corner of the room, where a rusty iron ladder descends from a hole in the ceiling above. An iron gate blocks access into a corridor to the east. Piles of sail canvas and jumbled coils of rope litter the stony floor, and the walls, floor and ceiling have been carved to look like wood. Brown paint clings in patches, and it's easy to see how the room may have once looked very much like the hold of a ship. To the west stands a statue carved from driftwood depicting a woman dressed in robes, holding the body of a drowned sailor in her arms.

Kira looks around the room curiously. As a worshiper of the Starsong, it's always seemed strange to her how many shrines blocked all access to the sky. It's almost claustrophobic in here. Not to mention chilly.

"We have every intention of being respectful," she adds absentmindedly. "Is there something in particular we should do, or not do, in order to be respectful?"

Pellius looks at Kira, then the attendants. "I believe it would be most respectful to present our offering before anything else. I will start, given I have the most breath."

As he approaches the statue, Pellius bows with the practice of a theater performer, then approaches the statue slowly. Breathe on the statue of the drowned man, huh. Well, Captain, time to see if you were correct.

Taking a deep breath, Pellius breathes over the face of the drowned statue with the force one would attempt to give a rescue breath (although without placing his mouth directly over that of the statue's or touching it physically), not stopping until his lungs scream at him to take a breath himself.

Pellius nods, and adds, "Besides. We carry the breath of life to give to the saint, on behalf of all those in peril who may need it. If we do not offer it here, how else would we give our offering?"

Oooh, well-played, sir, I must say! I thought I had to address that before actually posting something more substantive. :)

Adonara falls a few steps behind as she rummages in her things to extract a few votive candles. Three, she thinks: one for Vianthemis, one for Captain Sargaeta, as promised, and one, maybe, for finding the Lictor? Or more generally: one for the gods and everything that she’s especially worried about right this moment, one for mortals, wherever they are, one for the dead.

She’s very much a landlubber, but she can appreciate the effort and enthusiasm that went into decorating the shrine, and as she approaches the statue that dominates the space, a small, sad smile softens her features.

She is hardly, however, entirely disarmed, and just before stooping to the statue to offer her own breath in turn, she murmurs to the others in Elven, indicating the ladder with the slightest toss of her head, “Is this it? I can set myself up here while you go on ahead, and catch up if you find anything. Just give me long enough to say some respectable prayers – but don’t feel you need to rush either.”

After all, as an elf, she is more than capable of putting together a litany to fill a surprisingly long time if necessary, and that without artifice.

As you move into the chamber the coils of ropes moves and form into a golem like creature. It watches you and as you breathe into the statue it nods approvingly and forms back into a coil of rope again.

Can you make Perception checks please

Kira jumps backward, eyes wide as the rope creature suddenly appears and disappears just as quickly. "I know the captain mentioned a guardian, but I must say I was not expecting that." Once it becomes clear that the rope intends to remain a rope, she starts looking around the room for any sign that Octavio, (or anyone else), may have taken refuge in the shrine.

Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (8) + 10 = 18

Pellius sighs in relief as the guardian disappears. "Remind me to find out if the Captain likes wine. I will have to see about having my parents sending him some if he does."

His offering complete, Pellius starts to look around as respectfully as he can.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22

Thinking of the human guardians of the shrine, Adonara tries not to show too much surprise at the coiling apparition.

That was interesting. I wonder how much rope one needs..? she muses, approving the thematics of the construct. She sets her candles in front of the statue, using her need for a light and a suitable place to settle herself for her prayers as an opportunity to look quickly around the room. Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20