The instructions left at your resistance dead drop were brief, but clear, be at the Poison Apple Pub a little before midnight on New Year’s Eve to meet a contact that goes by Torrent, and to use the alley door.
The people of the city know an army is on the way, so the streets are fairly deserted and normal New Year's eve festivities muted, as you head to your rendezvous. The pub is in a poorer district about a mile from the western city wall, full of slush-covered cobblestone streets and dark, snow-filled alleyways. The evening is dark and claustrophobic, the multistory buildings of the city looming in the night, no lights in most windows.
The pub is a two-story building attached by a rooftop bridge to a neighboring house. The door and windows are boarded up, and the curtains drawn. A notice has been posted on its door:
Trehan Finner, owner of the Poison Apple Pub, has been taken into temporary custody under the protection of the city guard, until such time that he can be questioned by representatives of the Ragesian Empire, and found innocent of hostile collusion. The Poison Apple Pub is hereby closed until further notice.
The alley door opens a crack at your knock, but is soon opened fully by a tall, distinctive looking woman with tanned skin and short white hair who invites you inside. The darkened pub is mostly empty, its many tables and chairs pushed to one wall and covered with sheets. A single table sits in the middle of the room, with several chairs around it. A small oil lamp and a keg sit on top of it, along with several mugs. At the back corner of the common room beside the bar, a staircase leads upstairs. The windows and door facing onto the street are closed, and you know they have been boarded up from the outside. On the wall behind the bar hangs a bronze bust of the former emperor of Ragesia, Drakus Coaltongue, a regal, aged half-orc with a scar cutting diagonally across his face.
“Thanks for coming,” the woman says. “Have a drink. Just because we’re about to go to war doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate the new year. We'll get started once everyone is here."
"Only thing worse than dying is dying sober." Khardon remarked. The dwarf was not, by any stretch of the imagination, pleasant to look at. Where his face wasn't covered by beard, it instead showed the tell-tale pattern of burn marks. And his natural arms each ended at the forearm, replaced with steel replacements. The arms were a testament to dwarven craftsmanship, as each was inscribed, from within, with thousands of expertly crafted runes, which gave them life. He looked around, somewhat warily, before reaching for and taking a drink.
The door opens just enough to admit first the nose, then the remainder, of a small human boy of around 12 years old. The lad softly makes his way across the empty tavern floor and pulls himself up into a chair too big for him. He watches carefully as the mechanical dwarf drinks from his tankard before pouring one of his own, the mug much too big for such a little guy.
He certainly has no problem drinking from it, though, or at least wouldn't if the shadows, aplenty given the gloom, weren't somehow holding the tankard fast to the table. The boy shoos them away with practiced patience, all the while examining Khardon from head to toe (and takes a moment to confirm that the arms are the only artificial limbs on the man).
"I'm Froy."
"Khardon." The scarred dwarf replied, finishing his mug. He eyed the gnome up. The two were about as opposite as could be. The dwarf looked like a bruiser with barrel chest and corded muscle, covered by hardened leather armor. The gnome, on the other hand, looked frail, with light clothing and a scarf adorning his frame. And where the dwarf's features, never what one would call handsome, were ruined by flame, the gnome was fair of feature. Realizing this, the dwarf smiled. "So." He said, putting his mug down. "Ye don't look like the sort to swing a blade. And ye don't have the walk, or the colors, of a sneak-thief. And I don't see a book o' spells." He tapped his own, which hung from his waist. "So yer a priest, then? Or am I off me mark?"
After the the two men follows a human woman. Her hair is cropped short, though without a barber's skill so it stands to reason she cut it with her own sword. Said sword hangs on her hip, it's blade carried diagonally so it doesn't touch the ground. It looks unwieldy for singlehanded use yet short for use with two hands. In addition she carries a large crossbow on her back. When seen from the corner of one's eye there also appears to be a pair of translucent wings on her back, but they vanish upon closer inspection.
The most remarkable things beyond those are the crimson scarf around her neck, the emblem of a sword with a crossed wing dangling just below it and what looks like the defaced markings of a Ragesian officer on her armor.
"I'll skip the drink, thanks. No use being hammered if the Ragesians come tonight." Instead she places wooden cup on the table, mumbles a short prayer and the cup slowly starts filling up with pristine water.
"Looks can be deceiving, friend Khardon, a fact which you will quickly learn if you spend much time in my company. Nothing is every how it seems," he adds mysteriously.
"I wouldn't worry about being too inebriated. This swill isn't nearly strong enough for that."
At that moment, the door opens again and a towering half-orc confidently strides into the room, not particularly bothering with caution. His beard and goatee are both neatly trimmed, and his chain mail and wicked-looking polearm seem very well-maintained despite the battle damage. He carries a far more sophisticated and reserved aire compared to the average brute, and also has... 'something', a disciplinary martial presence of sorts that he seems to impose upon others simply by being.
"Hm. Luxurious and spacey as far as secret meetings go. Could be dangerous," he states as approaches the table. There, he nods at the portrait of Drakus Coaltongue. "Good taste, though."
He sits down and straight, then takes the drink. His gaze glides across Khardoun's mechanical arms towards Eleana's equipment, and he nods, apparently satisfied.
Until it lands on Gilfroy. "My name is Arakar, former Ragesian officer. My thanks for this drink and the invitation. However... I'm concerned to see a child here at this meeting. It endangers both us and him."
Gilfroy looks devastated at Arakar’s “concern”.
”But, you just can’t send me away! I’ve wanted to join the Resistance ever since I was a small boy. If I can’t fight Ragesian invaders, what will I have left? Endless games of hopscotch? Rolling my hoop along the street? Oh, big strong man, sir. What else can I do? I don’t have any more frogs!!”
Gilfroy wails hysterically for two seconds then resumes drinking his beer.
Destin reads the notice and lets out a sigh.
I don't get what happened. What caused us to become traitors to our own neighbors... We're supposed to protect the citizens, not deliver them to death.
A man in leather armor, reminiscent of the standard gear of the guard division, that is mostly covered by a thick trench coat enters a little later than the others. At his side hangs a heavy flail, and on his back rests a crossbow and shield. His blonde hair is cut short, his beard is trimmed neatly at an 8 O'clock shadow and his eyes carry an intensity few can match. Despite his clothing, he holds an air of authority about himself. A pair of Manacles hang loosely near his flail. He glances around the room, taking in everything. His eyes clearly lingering on Arakar and Eleana longer than the others. He gives a nod to Gilfroy, mildly surprised to see him.
As the others introduce himself, he makes a remark after Arakar finishes speaking. His voice deeper than the norm.
No more than having two potential Ragesian spies here does for any of the rest of us. If you want my opinion, you are a larger concern than him. Though, perhaps not much worse than my own background. He glances around the room again.
He will walk up to the counter, pour a glass of liquor and turn around while sipping it. Eyes moving back to Arakar. Before speaking again
Some of you know me already. He glances towards Eleana and Gilfroy. Those who don't, may call me Brandt.
The woman introduces herself only as Torrent, and peaking beneath her cloak you catch glimpses of an emblem of swirling waves etched into her breastplate. She sips from her own flagon of beer and passes the the time making friendly chit chat, while the party assembles and you make yourselves comfortable.
In the distance, you start to hear the faint ringing of bells, as Gate Pass welcomes in the New Year. Torrent grimaces and straightens in her chair, “Another year gone. I guess it’s time to get down to business. As you know, the city’s in trouble. The Ragesian army is almost upon us, and reports indicate that it will be here by tomorrow. But before then, we have a mission."
"I used to study at a magic academy to the south, called Lyceum. They’re good people. So when word reached them about Ragesia’s ‘Scourge,’ they sent out messages offering sanctuary to anyone fleeing Ragesia to come to them. They want to stand against the Ragesians, and the resistance wants their help. We just need to get a message to them."
"Normally we would have sent something by teleporting courier, but something strange is going on with planar magic. The last courier who teleported into Gate Pass, well rumor has it is that he showed up burnt to a crisp. So if we’re going to make contact with the folks in Lyceum, we’re going to have to go overland. And that’s a problem, because, as I'm sure you've noticed, the city’s walls are sealed."
"Ever since their emperor died, the Ragesians have been trying to show that they’re not weak, and they've set their sights on us, since the mountain pass we’re in is apparently ‘strategically valuable.’ Either way, a few idiots on the city council want to negotiate with the Ragesians, and our sources say that they’re going to invite a group of inquisitors into the city to look for ‘magic-users who are hostile to the empire.’ They’ve sealed the gates of the city so no one can get out, to make sure they look like they’re cooperating, and only military personnel can get in or out."
“We’re going to have to get out of the city, and I’m open to suggestions as to how. Once we’re out, I can get us safely to Lyceum, but before we get ahead of ourselves, we have a mission tonight."
“The short version is that we’ve got to meet a contact — a gnome named Rivereye Badgerface — in about an hour at a guarded depository about a half-mile from here. He’s carrying a case of vital military intelligence which he stole from the Ragesian palace, and the heads of the resistance think that it needs to reach Lyceum. We’ve got to get that case, get out of the city, and get far away from here before the idiot city council lets the inquisitors in. Once that happens, the odds of us escaping are-“ she finishes off her mug of beer in one long guzzle “- slim.“
"I know I’d love to stay here and fight against the Ragesians, but I’m no soldier, and this mission might be more important. Worst case, you get to escape the city and we can part ways a few days down the road. Best case, you can come with me to Lyceum, and we come back with an army of our own to drive off the Ragesians for good. But we’ve got to act fast either way. Are you ready for this?”
Hearing that their first task is to meet with a gnome, Gilfroy perks right up. Pulling out a handkerchief, he wipes some strategic grime from his face. Straightening his hair, he no longer looks like a boy with an oversized nose. He smirks at Arakar, then says, ”Im sure if anybody can figure out how to get us out of the city, our illustrious guardsmen and former soldiers are up to the task. Could we disguise ourselves as military personnel? Disguises can be very effective tools, wouldn’t you agree, Arakar?”
Khardon raised an eyebrow at the word 'disguise.' Between his arms and his face, he did not know how it would be possible to disguise him without the use of magic. But then again, was that not what Gilfroy specialized in?
"It would seem that we do not have much time to waste, once we meet with Mr..eh...Badgerface. And Gilfroy, would you know any magic that could make all of this-" He waved his metallic hands at himself "-look like military personnel? Otherwise the only disguise that would work on me is a hooded robe that covers everything. And I'm afraid that would tend to stand out."
As Khardon mentioned his iron hands she laid a gauntleted hand on the table. "I don't see an issue there. Gauntlets are a normal thing among military personnel and Dwarves are known for their elaborate metalwork. Add those two together with a normal uniform and we could easily pass you off as a soldier. Now getting Arakar and myself past could be more of an issue, especially once the inquisitors arrive. They probably will be on the lookout for any deserters. I'm just happy we were released before the council figured they could give us as a peace offering."
I could perhaps... Brandt pauses, seemingly in some personal conflict Attempt to forge documents and a story. I am, as far as anyone knows, still part of the guard division of the military. So we could potentially use that.. Though I doubt it would be easy to convince them. Much less with you two appearing as you are. He tips his glass to Elana and Arakar.
Though..that may prove difficult even with disguises. Especially at a time like this.
Arakar stares at Gilfroy for a while before nodding. "I suppose appearing as a human child is a good one, yes. Quite convincing. Is that magic at work?" he asks, taking another sip of his tankard.
He then remains silent as Torrent lays out the rather lofty goals without much of a specific plan. As options are laid out he sits forward, resting his bearded chin on his fists. "I agree trying to leverage our knowledge of the Ragesian military is a good idea. I've seen and written enough orders to help Destin make a hopefully convincing forgery."
Turning to said man, he continues. "I'm not sure what these orders should say, however. Since the city falls under the militia instead of the Ragesian empire - and it 'll remain so if I have anything to say about it! - the story about us being spies sent to infiltrate the resistance becomes less likely to work. Even if we can convince them that we volountarily went to prison to maintain our cover as Ragesian turncoats, they'd probably insist we turn over that information to the city before letting us leave. Good chance they'd capture the others in the process too, if only to question them."
He shrugs. "Of course, we could also go with something like a supreme edict stating that anyone who reads it has to cooperate with us without questions. Threatening the wrath of the Ragesian inquisition and public execution by beheading might do the trick. That's betting the average guard doesn't have the spine to gamble on it being false."
”Militaries have procedures and standard operating procedures for all the normal stuff, but when truly unique things happen, soldiers flounder trying to make those procedures fit. For example, none of the men guarding the gates have been trained to deal with an invading army leading a group of inquisitors bent on killing an entire realm of magic users, so anything that goes along with that circumstance is outside their experience, and therefore their training.”
”We don’t really need a lie in this situation, when the truth will work even better. How fortunate for you that you have a prisoner, a small, weak little priest of Shelyn who refused to bend the knee, and how fortunate that you were able to beat out of me the location of others like me, hiding on a farm to the south. There’s a group of magic users the Resistance may be counting on to come to the rescue, and you’re the scouts letting me lead you to their hidden location, so you can alert the inquisitors, a present to the Ragesian invaders.”
Torrent nods along, "That's a daring idea, but I fear what may come if the soldiers see through the ruse. We want no fight with our own men. Plenty of people are sympathetic to our cause, so we might not need to do this alone. We just need to find someone with power who would be willing to help."
Two potential avenues of aid come to mind:
One of the city councilman, Erdan Menash, has a well know reputation of being a friend to adventurers and has been vocal in his opposition to allowing the Ragesian inquisitors free reign of the city. He has as much authority as anyone in the city.
Gabal’s school of wizardry has a slew of powerful mages with magic that could aid in by-passing the outer gates. While officially the school has accepted the city council's decision, there's bound to be some that disagree and might be able to be convinced to help.
She puts her mug down. "Regardless, I am glad to hear that you are all onboard. We should get moving soon, if we're going to make our rendezvous with the gnomish contact. We can plan out next move after that. Any other questions before we head out?"
"I do really need to pass by my grandmother before we continue though. She has to lay low and understand that currently the fact her son is imprisoned for speaking up against the current leadership and her granddaughter is deserter carries more weight than the fact her deceased husband was a war hero. Besides, she might have ideas on who we could approach for help. They were much loved guests among the councilmembers while grandpa was still alive." After that they dropped her like a brick as she wasn't the war hero. But still, she had some connections.
”Well, if you think there are influencers who might help us, then so be it. A daring ruse can be our plan of last desperation.”
He drains the rest of his beer, hops off the stool, uses his prestidigitation to make the metal tankard shine, and uses the reflection to reapply the dirt and whatnot he uses to look like a human child. It’s just a few small changes, but with the different way he holds himself, it’s easy to see why Arakar was fooled.
The problem with putting military personnel outside their training is that more often than not, they will seek answers from a superior. Which would be bad for anything we were doing. I think it would be better to keep a story that wouldn't make them think. If they start thinking because they are trying to figure out what to do.. well, people on guard are harder to deal with. If we were to try and disguise our way out, a military patrol would be the best bet. Though your idea has merit as well Gilfroy.
Thinking for a bit, Brandt continues.
If we are going to seek further aid. I can think of two options. Erdan Menash, a councilmen who has been very vocal in his opposition to the councils decision. He could likely help us in forging a reason for leaving.
The other, and my less preferred option, is to try and find someone at the school of wizardry to help us magically bypass the gates. The issue being, we would have to find someone not only against cooperating with the Ragesians, powerful enough to help, and willing to help.
My suggestion is the councilman. As with his aid, I believe we could, bluff, our way out. This option would also pose the least risk for others.
”Aye. Simple is best.” Khardon agreed. ”The more complicated a plan is, the more chance of it goin’ wrong. This councilman, think we could get an audience with him right quick?”
"Sounds like your family has a deep-rooted military history, Eleana. So both you and your father are against the new regime? What about your mother?" Arakar comments and asks. "But sure, if you think it will help, it shouldn't cost that much time to visit this grandma of yours. I'd suggest against hanging around too long as the Ragesian cavalry scouts will get here much sooner than the main force, and might just be even more dangerous to us outside than an infantry mass will."
He then nods thoughtfully at Destin and his proposition. "You know a lot about this place. It does sound like the councilman is both more likely to work and less dangerous. Almost a too good and easy option, if you ask me. Should prepare for a trap if he was really that vocal about it. They'd know the resistance would try seeking him out, and it'd make sense having him watched. If we go to him, I say we move out carefully and have someone gifted in being less obvious look for signs of a setup before we all move into his place or wherever this meeting takes place."
"Those are some solid leads Destin," Torrent says. "It's nice to have some options. I don't know who's more likely to lend aid though. Arakar makes an interesting point, but I'd like to think that not everyone is against us. Most of the city isn't happy about just giving up without a fight, it's just a matter of whether or not they are willing to do anything about it. In any case, we don't need to decide on a course of action just yet."
To Elena, she says, "There might be time for a quick stop, but I'd rather make it after meeting with our informant. I doubt he'll wait for us if we're late."
Outside, the clamoring of the city's bells fades, as people finish ringing the new year. Relative silence descends on the city once more.
As the noise of the bells fades, you hear the creaking of floorboards from overhead.
Gilfroy holds his hand up suddenly, and points to the ceiling above.
"I assume we are supposed to be alone in here?" he whispers to Torrent. "Is there a backway out?"
Having missed the sound, the half-orc's eyes narrow and instantly snap to follow Gilfroy's indication. "Damnable maggots! Seems like we were followed... or they already knew we'd be here."
Not wasting any time, he quickly casts a spell, then draws his Bardiche and heavy shield. In what can only be described as a telling display of raw physical strength, he is apparently able to wield the two-handed axe-polearm in a single hand.
Then he stops, listening carefully for any indication of someone approaching them. "If he's right and you're not expecting anyone else," he says, nodding his head sideways towards Gilfroy, "This would be a good time to withdraw."
Brandt will, while still looking to the ceiling, draw his heavy flail and pull out a vial of luminescent green liquid.
He once again glances towards Arakar.
Yes.. that is a possibility, though how they would know is hard to determine... though, while they likelihood is low, they could be a mere passerby, so do not strike unless attacked.
Torrent jumps to her feet. "There shouldn't be anyone else in here, but I didn't sweep the building when I showed up. Could just be a squatter or a thief taking advantage of the pub being closed."
"The door to the alley is the only other way out besides the front door."
She tilts her head to one side, "Do you hear that?"
Distant muted thumps fill the air, like the sound of ripe fruit landing on the roof of a house.
Eleana was just about to acknowledge that they could visit gran on the way back from the contact when Gillfroy pointed out the sound, after which Eleana heard it as well. She drew her blade.
"Whatever this all is, we should get moving. Now. Even if it's a generally harmless intruder, they might still sell us out if given the chance." Then the thumps came, "And I don't want to stay and find out whether those are explosives."
"Agreed. We move. NOW!" The soldier quickly rushes to the alley door, and opens it once everyone is moving and close. Expecting to find hostiles behind, he readies his axe...
Khardon threw back his mug, finishing the contents, and then got to his feet. "Aye. Off we go." He said, keeping an ear out for signs of pursuit as he did so.
As Arakar goes to open the alley door, there's a loud crash, and the front door flies open. In the doorway are a pair of rough looking men with a battering ram. Neither are dressed in any recognizable uniform, but both wear a red armband on their right arms. One of them shouts, "Drop your weapons and come quietly. We don’t want to break your valuable little heads."
Torrent just laughs and says, “Just try it, buddy.”
Combat Order
22 Eleana
16 Destin
13 Khardon
13 Baddies
12 Gilfroy
9 Arakar
A quick glance at Torrent is all Arakar needs to confirm violence was sanctioned. "We don't have time for this! Get out of our way, runts!"
With a roar, he strikes at both of the man with a sweeping strike of his Bardiche!
Unfortunately, his axe crashes into the doorframe and the swing fails to connect with either of them. He curses as he pulls it back out.
Hoping to still use his reach to his advantage and allow others past if desired, he then moves back slightly.
Khardon walked over to Arakar and stood by the half-orc's side. The runes on his right hand began to glow with a cold, white light as he quietly spoke the words of power to activate them.
Brandt moves up to the door to cut off potential entry to the building and so he can see the men. He downs his extract and a small sheen similar to glass glimmers over his form for a brief second.
He speaks to the two men
What authority do you think you have here? Are you thieves or cutthroats? You have quite the gall to be attempting to assault a member of the guard division. Stand down.
While the others talk, Eleana moves to block access for the two goons. As she moves the two translucent wings become apparent once more, though they still vanish upon paying closer attention.
"On the authority of the Ragesian empire. You're coming with us, whether you like it or not."
The two men attack Eleana with saps:
There's a clatter of footfalls from above and you see another man appear in the doorway leading to the stairs. Suddenly, the building shakes and a deafening boom sounds overhead. Ceiling boards crack and give way, as flaming oil starts leaking down from above, dripping like a fiery rain. Khardon jumps back to avoid a tumble of flaming debris. Overhead, a handful of horrible screams sound out, but are quickly cut short.
"By the gods, what was that?" Torrent shouts, tying to pat out the flaming oil that clings to her. "We need to get out of here." She moves to the alley door and opens it, only to be met by the snapping jaws of a snarling dog straining at the end of a leash held another man in a red armband.
Gilfroy pushes past Torrent, tumbling into the alleyway to avoid the dog's jaws, then pops right up in front of the dog and carefully weaves a colour spray spell, hitting the dog and both red arms.
Will save DC 16 or (presumably at this level) fall unconscious for rounds.
Seeing the rest of the party move to the east, flames and enemies surrounding them on all sides except east and Eleana hit pretty hard with a sap, Arakar readjusts his grip and calls out to the party. "Fall back to the Alley; make them come to us through the fire! I'll cover you! I'll be damned if I let some back-alley thugs get the best of me!"
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Brandt's eyes narrow, as he hears more in the alley, he quickly calculates the best route and decides the front likely to be the easiest path.
The Ragesian Empire has no authority in Gate's Pass. You have assaulted citizens of the city and under article 3, subsection B, paragraph D, you are no longer under protection of the laws until a time which you stand down and surrender.
To punctuate his statement, he swings his flail at the man in the doorframe.
Destin lands a mighty blow, sending the man sprawling in a spray of blood.
In the alley, the dog and one of the men collapse senseless in the wake of Gilfroys magical display, but the other manages to shake off the magic.
Singed by the oil and hit by two saps , Eleana is already feeling down on her luck. Then one of her new comrades drops one of the goons, giving her an opening to get away.
She attempts to make a swift cut so she can use that as cover to make her way out.
DC 13 fort or 1 point of str damage
With the doorway open, Khardon moved past Eleana and out into the open air. As he did so, his right hand began to softly glow from within as it filled with arcane energy. Wisps of cold smoke came out of it as he moved. As he came out into the open he gave a backhand slap at the man who was still standing. From a regular person it would have been naught but disrespectful. But from a steel hand filled with magical power, it promised death and destruction should it land.
The man just manages to duck Eleana's swing and then Khardon's strike. Khardon, now outside, sees a man in grey plate armor sitting astride a mighty warhorse, standing watch across the street. His weapon remains sheathed and his helmet hangs from his belt. He makes no move at your appearance and has a general look of distaste on his face.
More striking though is the fact that the city is aglow with flames and in their light, you can make out the swooping shapes of large winged creatures wheeling overhead. The famed Ragesian wyvern riders have come, and they drop flaming death from the skies. Screams fill the night air and terrified citizens are starting to fill the streets.
The man next to Khardon steps back and takes a swing at the dwarf:
In the alley, the remaining man steps over the unconscious and helpless dog to take a swing a Gilfroy:
, but misses.
Inside the burning pub, the two men from upstairs advance on the party, dodging flames and Arakar's thrusts, and attack:
, but all their bobbing and weaving puts them off balance, and they fail to connect.
"All right. One down! Now for another..."
Arakar looks at the figure that just attacked Eleana and makes a lunging attack through the flames!
Seeing the man fall, Arakar wastes no time and brings his polearm back down on his prone figure!
"You'd better run, or you will be next!" He cries to the remaining bandit next to them, hoping to draw some fire from Eleana.
DC 13 fort or 1 point of str damage
Khardon took the blow but did not fall. Rather, he growled, and filled with the arcane rage emanating from the song, buried a steel-fist into the offending's man's stomach with enough force to rupture the unfortunate's internal organs.
Destin deftly doges the blow, using a flaming section of the building to keep some distance from the attacker. He responds in kind to the attack, slamming the head of his flail into the face of his attacker.
He will also cast a glance out the door and catch sight of the mounted figure. He frowns further as he moves to aid Eleana.
It seems the councils decision has indeed thrown the city to the wolves. We may not have time or need to find aid in leaving the city at this point.
Gilfroy will back up and try the same spell again. Then whether it works or not, he'll use a move action to load his light crossbow.
Will save DC 16 or fall unconscious for rounds