"Rocs and Griffons? That's not good. Not good at all." Fulk says, shaking his head. I've got my bow, but I don't know how much use it will be against foes like that.
"What does Naximarra need help with? Can we take care of it in between killing the dragon hunters and heading to Ashpeak?"
"Naximarra needs help with the Giant hunters."
”More fookin’ air combat? Great. Let’s make sure we have a way to fly. Otherwise me and Fulk will be about as useful as Icetusk at a Brevonian masquerade.”
Quietly he was proud of his sister. She didn’t always speak up, but when she did it was damned useful. After the attack on the town, the party had been seized by indecision. They had thought that getting to Ashpeak would be easy, but when the very location proved elusive, it seemed like they would stall. But Ingrahild had gotten them all back on track and moving with a purpose. It was enough to warm her brother’s cold heart.
"Naximarra needs help with the Giant hunters."
Argea's blank look turns to embarrassment as realization dawns. "Oh okay! Yeah, I don't have an easy way of flying either, and I can throw my hammer but my range isn't that good. Guess I'll need to butter up Naximarra..."
"We should see if we have some other way to fly, dears," Vashta suggests. "Perhaps some potions in town? My armor will let me take to the skies for a few minutes, at least, but the rest of you?"
”I...don’t have the gold for any potions. Nor can I fly.” Ulmo said, his cheeks flushed. The best I can do is teleport short distances.”[/b]
"If Naximarra would" Fulk pauses, searching for the right word not "let me ride her" "carry me into combat, I would be much more useful. I won't actually need a saddle, but if she'll wear Icetusk's, we'll both be better off." after a pause, he adds "I may need help convincing her."
"If Naximarra would" Fulk pauses, searching for the right word not "let me ride her" "carry me into combat, I would be much more useful. I won't actually need a saddle, but if she'll wear Icetusk's, we'll both be better off." after a pause, he adds "I may need help convincing her."
”Actually...aye. Aye! Heh. This might work. I have a little trick called Telekinisis. Fancy words for moving things with me mind. I can try and knock them giants off of their mounts. Bring ‘me to the ground. Aye. That’ll be me plan.”
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”Actually...aye. Aye! Heh. This might work. I have a little trick called Telekinisis. Fancy words for moving things with me mind. I can try and knock them giants off of their mounts. Bring ‘me to the ground. Aye. That’ll be me plan.”
"She's big enough to carry...well, at least 3 of us, right?"
Dizzy realized she had a hole in her spellbook: she needed to learn the fly spell.
75%
While her companions attend to their own affairs, Vashta starts asking around, trying to find out if the Sczarni had indeed come to Trunau. She's slightly upset that her family could have arrived without her realizing, though she has been distracted.
Argea will ask around as well, probably with a lot less subtlety. She'll seek out Trunauans she recognizes, introduce herself, and use that as an excuse to talk about security and ask if they've seen any suspicious characters.
Trunau: The Aftermath
Argea and Vashta go out seeking more information on the possible spies. And the folk of Trunau are more than happy to tell all they know about the strangers who have begun walking the streets. You don't find a lot of instances of threats, theft, or extortion. Instead, it appears that the black scarved Varisians are asking uncomfortable questions, eavesdropping, and skulking about.
Your interrogations while successful do take 3 hours and seem to have drawn the attention of your quarry. Said sneaks follow you at a distance, not hiding but not confronting either...
If you approach them, they back off, but not going so far as to try and flee or admit troublemaking.
With your much talk about Naximarra's age, Ingrahild has had enough and blurts out:
"I'm pretty certain she's an adult dragon, between maybe one hundred and two hundred years. She'll have potent magics, but not likely those of the fourth circle as you suggest."
The Old Cistern building sits in the far edge of the High Quarter, beside the Hopespring. It's not particularly large, but houses a massive underground reservoir that once fed from the same spring that feeds the Hopespring below. There are indeed old tunnels from when the inhabitants dug out the cistern, but most have been walled off. It is possible that they potentially could intersect with Uskeroth's tomb, but you've seen no evidence of this from inside the tomb and there's no record of it either.
The tunnels go from 10 ft. to 5 ft., meaning they're not suitable for a mammoth. Neither is the building, but the cistern itself could theoretically hold the creature albeit getting up and down should be an issue assuming it's dry.
You can confirm that the Sczarni have indeed set up shop in Trunau in force. In addition to a dozen or so thugs and thieves (about half of which are probably impressionable teens), you know your Aunt has brought a pair of fearsome enforcers and a mercenary tattooed mage. None of these really strike you as threats you couldn't handle yourself, much less with your allies. You doubt they'll even prefer to fight given the option to negotiate. In the face of clearly superior force, they'll scatter and regroup.
Other than your aunt Juliac, only one member of the organization is more than distantly related to you. Your second cousin Jevlan is among them as a footpad, not yet a man. The last time you saw him, he was a small boy.
You are aware that the Sczarni are definitely in town, operating out of a hideout in the Old Cistern. They number about 15-20, which is a lot for the Sczarni. Most are low level thugs and thieves, but their leader is a petite Varisian woman with graying hair and extensive tattoos. She's usually accompanied by a pair of dangerous looking heavies, who aren't wearing any obvious weaponry. Finally, they have an old man that appears to be a caster of some kind. He's bald and every part of his body that isn't covered by clothing is marked with arcane tattoos.
None of these seem like a match for you, much less the party. But there's something odd going on under the surface. The Sczarni seem on edge, even confused or distracted. There's been talk that their leader reports to someone else... but who?
Argea will go find Vashta to compare notes. "Sounds like there's maybe a score of Sczarni down in the cisterns, mostly rabble. The biggest concerns are an older lady, I guess the leader, a couple thugs and a caster goon. It sounds like someone else is pulling the strings though. I'd like to try to talk them down if we can. Especially if Juliac Denaria...she's your family, right? Are you okay with this? How are you feeling?" She reaches out to put her hand on Vashta's shoulder comfortingly.
”Aye. But we go in armored just in case. Even a goblin can slit a sleeping throat.”
Before the group goes in, Fulk confers with Halgra and makes sure she has the stable under extra watch. Returning to the others, he says "I'm ready to go when you are."
"Thank you, darling, but yes, I'm fine. And, yes, she's family, of a sort. Perhaps not the type you want to keep close, but family nonetheless," she says.
"My second cousin, Jevlan, is also supposedly with them, but I haven't seen him since he was a boy. Hopefully they'll be happy to see me..."
She frowns a bit at the comment about a score, which is more than she heard about, but it's possible one of her sources was wrong. Or Argea's.
Dizzy finishes checking in with her family then joins the others getting ready to explore the tunnels.
Trunau: The Aftermath
Having made your plans, you gather and move out to the Old Cistern. You may well be only dealing with a gang of low-life thugs, but you've learnt very recently the price of being unprepared.
It's not difficult to notice that you're being followed, as at no point there's less than one teenage ruffian wearing the iconic black scarf of the Sczarni tailing you. They as usual don't impede or threaten you, and back off if approached.
Your journey to the Old Cistern takes barely ten minutes, but by the time that you make it there almost a half-dozen of the Sczarni are following you. Outside the building are a trio of lookouts, two youths and a man in his twenties. They spot you with relative easy on your approach, and despite their anxiousness make no move for their weapons. The man steps forward and clears his throat, speaking with far less confidence than he'd like to project:
"Juliac said you'd come, and to let you in. As long as you don't make any trouble, you won't get any from us."
It's pretty clear that the man is well aware that what trouble they'd offer you would be a minor annoyance at most. These are punks, not trained fighters.
The man knocks on the door, which is unlocked and opened for you. The lookouts stand aside to let you pass. You can see inside the shadowy building another two thugs, who eye you suspiciously but don't have weapons drawn.
Apparently the Sczarni want a meeting. What do you do?
Nothing to see here.
"Lovely, dears, then it sounds like we won't have any trouble. Quite the family reunion," Vashta says lightly.
Keeping ready -- she knows better than any what family is capable of -- she enters. Certainly some Sczarni are more violent, but her family at least always preferred to get its mark without leaving a mark.
"That's actually pretty smart. I can't imagine what your friends might think if you got beaten by girls." Dizzy remarked, her face neutral but her eyes shining.
”Let’s get this over with.” Ulmo growled. ”The dead cry out for vengeance, and I’ll have it even if it requires a thousand years and bloody genocide. Either these folk help us find those responsible, or...” His steel hand gripped his spear tightly. ”...I’d see the world drown in blood if it meant getting those who took me home.” He muttered, darkly. It didn’t require an expert to see that behind his eyes was the potential for swift and unrestrained violence.
Fulk stands silently, menacingly, behind Ulmo, his lance gripped in both hands.
Argea nods in support of Ulmo's proclamation but leaves it at that.
Trunau: Day Three
With Ulmo's terrifying, almost maniacal proclamation of bloodshed, the thugs go pale- as pale as their olive complexion will allow, anyway. One of the two teenage lookouts is a boy of perhaps fifteen- a patch of wetness appears at the seam in his pants, and begins to move southward down his leg. The other teen, a girl of closer to 17 simply stands paralyzed in fear- trying hard not to hyperventilate. The three more hardened enforcers say nothing- trying desperately to conceal their terror. The doorman gestures you into the doorway.
Should you enter, you find yourself in a single large room, almost like a small warehouse. The ceiling is about 10 ft. above you- but the building is about 20 ft. tall, implying a second floor. A wide mouthed cistern fills most of one side of the floor- almost 10 ft. in diameter. Even from here you can see it is filled up to about 2 ft. from the top. On either side of the room there are a pair of doors- likely leading to offices. Beside the cistern is a stairwell leading up to the second story.
But what draws your attention is a Varisian woman, with graying hair concealed by a black scarf. She sits at a wide desk, settled beside the cistern. Flanking behind her are a pair of tough-looking Varisian men, in their early forties. They scrutinize you intensely but do not speak. Hovering above the Cistern is a cloaked man- every inch of his skin you can see is covered in tattoos. His eyes glow an ethereal blue, scanning over you . There's a mild smirk on his face- in contrast to the others in the room.
With a single motion, Juliac Deneria waves her hand to the half-dozen Sczarni goons in the room:
"Make yourselves scarce. This doesn't concern any of you."
The floating mage and the two bodyguards remain behind. The rest file out of the building, relieved, unless you stop them. None have any desire to tangle with you. The mage's smirk becomes an outright grin, while Juliac's personal guards only grow more anxious.
"Vashta, darling, it has been too long! I do hope you remember your dear aunt. We should catch up sometime- but I imagine that is not why you and your... friends are here. You want to buy information, no? Or do you wish to persecute your own family, because abandoning your family and disgracing your family's name was not enough for you?"
All the time, the woman smiles- but her gaze is piercing. Her eyes bore into Vashta's mind- past all her defenses, dredging up old memories the woman thought were locked away forever.
The mage's grin has become a full smile, but he's not looking at Vashta- he's looking at the rest of you... eyes still ablaze with arcane light.
Tattooed Mage detect magic round 1/3
Juliac stare Vashta (-3 Will, attack rolls, sense motive, intimidate DC)
Pre-cast glibness, eagle's splendor, undetectable alignment
Fixers study Vashta, Umlo or Argea
If relevant:
Ulmo met the mage’s grin with a scowl, as he tried to figure out why the man looked so pleased to be so near death. But he held his peace. For good or ill this was a family affair, and it would displease Torag to be glib about something so important. Still, his own eyes showed that he was using some Divination magic of his own.
Dizzy, completely unfazed by anything in the room, begins her patented "talks until everyone is dizzy" style of questioning:
"So this is a thieve's guild. Neat! Where's the guy with one eye who sells stolen trinkets? I guess he's probably hiding somewhere back there. Oh, and a fellow arcanist, although he looks like 100 pages short of a spellbook, if you get my drift. So, why are you here trying to hurt my friends and profiteering while we're at war with an army of Giants? I mean, I try not to take these things personally, but it's really, really, really hard when you show up with a half-wit sorcerer and try to intimidate us because you're afraid that we're here to stop you; which, too be fair, we would be, but out of respect for Vashta we're not immediately kicking in your teeth, regardless of how much I really want to; you see, she's my sister, I care about her feelings, unlike you. I have to say though, if you keep acting like a jerk, I'm going to do something really, really, really not nice."
Fulk glances at Dizzy, raises an eyebrow, then looks away, focusing on the...sorcerer? Wizard? Mage of some sort, surely.
Vashta glances over the mage, letting her stare linger on him for a moment , before turning her attention back to her aunt.
She lets a warm smile cross her face.
"Auntie Juliac, so nice to see you," she says, letting warmth fill her voice, though probably no more sincerity than her relative.
"I'm afraid you must be misremembering, dear, which can happen sometimes when we get older. I didn't abandon the family. Aunt Syeira sent me to a new family. I suppose I did leave Jardani, but if he couldn't keep me, well ... we all know how the family feels about ownership of things you can't keep hold of, don't we?
"I'd be happy to catch up, perhaps we could share a bottle, if only I weren't so busy right now. You might have noticed, dear, the giants just attacked the town? They seemed to be coming from my friends and I. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you? Perhaps someone accidentally let something slip, maybe for a few coins? I'm certain they didn't know what would happen..."
Trunau: The Aftermath
Juliac's smile becomes just a bit more plastic, as her sickly sweet tone grows a bit more hollow. She responds to Dizzy with more than a little bit of patronizing disdain:
"Dear child, unless your people too have been persecuted, discriminated against, and outright massacred by people who look just like... oh, well, you, I can't think you could possible understand the conversation we're having. We've done everything it took to survive after your kin took our homelands from us. Best to keep your sweet, innocent mouth shut."
She sighs, and turns back to Vashta. Her smiles becomes more genuine. To see you standing up for yourself- you can tell she's proud of you. A Varisian giantslayer and hero, even if you're currently at odds with one another.
"You still still have fight in you, good! I knew you were too good for Jardani. If it matters- and it doesn't- I fought the others to the last on this matter. But I was alone, and well, you know how the family is. Or you did know. But once a Denaria, always a Denaria. It's in your blood, even if you deny it still. But yes, I have a bottle- why not share it now? I'll even allow for your friends, though I doubt they'll take the offer..."
She produces a bottle of wine from her desk, moving slowly and deliberately enough to prove no intent of harm. Juliac then pours the drink into a simple wooden cup, takes a swig, and offers it to Vashta- a sign that the cup itself isn't poisoned and secretly a Varisian sign of a trust. Juliac sighs and continues, regardless of whether anyone drinks- she'll provide cups for the others or let them drink straight from the bottle if they wish.
"Giants, yes. And a dragon. The whole Outer Quarter is a mess, though I'm told your brave actions saved the whole town. We are quite grateful to you. I did hear rumors that the giants were quite effective in seeking you out- not something one would expect from lumbering brutes. But when they march in armies across Varisia, what can you expect?"
Another sigh, and another swig.
"Oh, we certainly did not pass information to the giants. They have no love for the smallfolk, I'm told, and we have enough tyrants in these lands as it is. But my little birds may have heard something, certainly. Something you might find very, very interesting. But what is in it for your dear aunt? Coin only goes so far in a world this... tumultuous. Unless we're talking about, well, a queen's ransom."
Tattooed Mage detect magic round 2/3
Argea had been taking in the conversation, looking stern and pensive. She finally speaks up. "Madam Juliac, you speak of the persecution and culling of your people at the hands of invaders. Would that we could absolve the sins of our forebears and set things right, but I think you will find that today of all days, under the threat of giants, we understand better than you'd think. Let's not let our differences divide us when we, the small folk, are all under the threat of subjugation and extinction. Tell us what you know, and your kin," She puts a hand on Vashta's shoulder, "will have a better chance to confront and bring an end to the threat that looms over us all. Deny us the advantage, and the giants may well grind us all into dust."
"You do know my dad is Varisian, right?"
”Argea raises a good point. As does our hosts. The giants don’t want to work with any of us. They want us enslaved or dead. Already a bloody Sky Citadel fell. And those are better defended than any other city in the world. If we don’t stop the Giant now, there will be no more trade anywhere. No more profit. Stoping them is an investment. More than that, it saves any possibility of business in the future. And, of course, what is done now will he remembered later...and can be capitalized on. And of course, information is valuable enough to make a good investment, aye?”
Ulmo swallowed his anger, telling himself that what he needed now was information. Not dead humans. And to get that information he’d need to speak their language. Which seemed to be one of self interest and greed.
Vashta takes a swig of the cup. She knows all the tricks -- Juliac certainly had time to take an antidote -- but family is family, and she's certain she can handle most of any possible effects if she's wrong. Or her companions could.
"I'm always willing to dance with someone who wants to dance with me, Auntie. The family taught me that," Vashta replies sincerely, meeting her aunt's eyes. "I don't have a queen's ransom, but perhaps ... As my friends say, simply stopping the giants will benefit you -- there's no profit in a destroyed village -- and maybe there's something else to sweeten the pot?"
Fulk stands silently, well aware that he is no wordsmith. No need to talk. Vashta's got it. Now, what is so strange about that mage? He makes me uneasy. He edges toward Ulmo.
Trunau: The Aftermath
The petite crime boss eyes Argea up and down, for the first time surprised. However, she doesn't voice her confusion, agreeing with the woman but not without twisting the knife a bit further.
"Perhaps we should cease the sins of your peers before we worry about our ancestors. But you are right- the giants discriminate little between us. We're merely cattle to them. Which is why Jardani sent us here in the first place- to offer our services to you. It was only a matter of time until you came to us, distrusting or otherwise. We've even done the legwork... though it's almost poetic that you now come to us for your salvation, no?"
Juliac Denaria nods politely to Dizzy, and speaks curtly before proceeding to ignore her entirely:
"Your father is dead to us. He died when he willingly took a diabolist as his wife, and spawned a devil-child. You are Chelish, not Varisian, my dear."
The wiley woman meets Umlo's eyes, her piercing gaze cutting him to the core.
"You want to kill us, yes? For a crime that you don't even know we've committed- in fact, a crime we haven't committed. But when this 'Storm Tyrant' falls- most likely at your hands- I'm asking for a better world for me and mine. My children, and their children. And of course, you're asking for the favor upfront, for after all, when have Varisians been cheated by such deals?"
She then turns back to Vashta, and takes another sip.
"But this woman, I trust. She's blood. Family protects family. Jardani is getting old- and I think we could use a woman on the throne for once. And as a gift to my beautiful and ferocious niece- I give you this: the giants indeed have spies in your city. They have found shapeshifting creatures- faceless stalkers they are called, I believe? They have replaced several townsfolk. We believe they plan to replace the entire council, given time. In fact, we had one imprisoned- but Jardani wished us to ship it off to him. I disagreed, but I did was I was told. We do have a few leads... if you're interested."
Tattooed Mage detect magic round 3/3
Dizzy had been quiet when when the woman had called her some not nice names. Because she doesn't know any better Dizzy had thought at the time.
Then the woman said it. The woman decided to insult the two nicest, sweetest people in the world: her parents.
"You take that back. YOU TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW OR I'M GOING TO BURN YOUR HOUSE TO THE GROUND AND STOMP OUT THE ASHES!"
As she started screaming, Dizzy began to radiate heat. It rolled off her in waves.
Though they had been adventuring together a long time, none of them had ever seen Dizzy this angry.