GM Pudding's Night of the Gray Death (Inactive)

Game Master Tom G

In Galt's short history the small nation has undergone a series of unending rebellions, each one violent but ultimately inneffective at achieving real change. The only constants have been the Gray Gardeners; ruthless masked enforcers who act without accountability, and the Final Blades, the magical guillotines they use that take souls as well as lives. Now after so long there are whispers of events that might change the cycle of destruction, and of the legendary heroes that might change the destiny of a nation.

Dot in here

A middle-aged woman dressed in the comfortable leathers of an aristocrat sits at writing desk in a well appointed study. Around her old sagging walls that have been freshly painted, a stone floor worn smooth. She has dark skin, and even inside wears a lush red scarf over a metal choker. She dips a quill into an inkpot and puts nib to page. She writes carefully but quickly, and folds the letter into a thick envelope bearing the name "Gregoth Paalus" written in exquisite caligraphy. She melts some wax over a candle and drips it over the envelope's seal, before stamping it with the crest of her house.

She picks up the sealed envelope and collects another four from a drawer, each already sealed and bearing a different name. Marie-Félicité-Denise Pleyel is on the top, the writing slightly smaller to fit it all on. She stands and walks to the door, and when she opens it hands the envelopes to a guard standing at attention. The guard salutes, barks "At once milady", and spins on a heel before leaving. The woman returns to her room, takes off her scarf to place it carefully on a stand, and looks at a portrait of a woman on the wall who could be and older version of herself. "Soon" she whispers. "Soon"

The letters find their way across the Galt and the Inner Sea to each of you.

The letters also contain a small map with the address of her manor

For your own reasons, you each decide to accept the summons, and as luck would have it you arrive in Isarn on the same morning. Galt's capital city is grand and imposing, its famed public monuments and ubiquitous stone buildings in an intricate gothic style are known across the inner sea. For those of you who may not have visited Isarn before however, the reality is a little less than the stories would have you believe, for many of the buildings show signs of damage, are caked with grime or disused. Some of the damage is from neglect, but occasionally a building is missing a large chunk, presumably from canon fire or magical exploisions. The locals are quiet and furtive, not eager to meet your gaze.

The manor of the Camilia Drannoch is a short walk from the Monolith, the blackened fortress and prison that serves as the seat of government in Galt. Those of you who know the city may choose to take a longer path around the monolith, because the Final Blade "Madame Margery" that stands in front of it never fails to provoke dread in those that witness it.

As each arrives at the modest manor house you are bade to await the Chairwoman's return from the monolith in a gloomy study. Signs of its recent and incomplete redecoration show through where the paint has begun to flake at the corners of the room and in the many grooves in the floor where furniture has been dragged. As you arrive and wait others are also ushered in, until five heros of reknown are gathered.

And we're off! When your character is finalised please introduce yourself and describe your journey to Isarn. There's no rush, I just wanted to make sure we had a place for folks to check-in to say that they're ready

Never thought I’d be back here.

Bellaluna solemnly stares toward the Monolith, her mouth dry. She stares at the imposing guillotine in front of the fortress, almost unable to look away. She instinctively moves her hand to her neck—she can still hear the brief sound of its blade flying downward. It had only moved a couple of inches, maybe a foot, before it jammed, but she sound is still etched deeply into her mind. The elf doesn’t realize just how long she’s been holding her breath until she suddenly needs to inhale again. She smirks, though it is far from sincere, as she looks at the guillotine like it were an old acquaintance. ”It’s been quite some time, Margaery.”

Bellaluna finally tears herself away from the dear madame as she makes her way to the Chairwoman’s estate, her trusty crossbows at each hip with only her cloak concealing their presence.

Why the hell did I come here?!

The elf never wanted to see this city ever again, especially not when someone here knows who she is. She should have burned the Drannoch’s letter and laughed it off, telling herself that it was probably someone she had long forgotten looking for an alias that Bellaluna had long moved past. But not even Bellaluna could sell a lie that outrageous. Someone here knows who she is, and if she ignores it, then that could put everything she built at risk. If she walks away now, her identity would be given to the Gardeners, and Margaery would finally taste her blood.

Bellaluna cautiously moves toward the manor, her paranoia built from years on the lamb not eased in the least. She places herself down on a recently-moved couch in Camilia’s manor and pulls out one of her crossbows and begins fiddling with it, an action that belies her elven beauty. As her soon-to-be compatriots continue to file in, she pays them no mind, not wanting to be the first to speak in this situation.

... you are bade to await the Chairwoman's return from the monolith ...

Oops, a slight correction is needed there. She isn't at the Monolith because she's gravely ill. Instead you were just told that she would join you shortly

Félicité arrives in Isarn clad in mourner's clothing, an elegant black dress in slight disrepair and a hat with black mesh around the edges. She feigns disinterest in those around her, but through furtive glances she studies them carefully.

She stops by a tavern where some musicians are playing traditional Galtan music. It is no longer "her" music, but it reminds her of her childhood. Their play is technically proficient, but lacks the joy and carelessness she associates with her memories. The servers bring her a complimentary glass of wine, mumbling some half-hearted consolations for her loss. She leaves the watered-down wine half-finished, and a few coins on the table.

At the manor, she finds herself in the foyer with an elf that catches her eye.

Perception: 1d20 + 30 ⇒ (7) + 30 = 37

The elf is playing with a crossbow, but has straps to hide them otherwise. Self-confident enough that she hides her weapons, the polar opposite of the guards that brandish their weapons and armor with few skills to use them, Félicité thinks to herself.

She offers a polite smile and a dainty handshake.

"My name is Marie-Félicité-Denise Pleyel, Félicité for short. Has Madame Drannoch called you here, as well?" she asks Bellaluna.

Bellaluna raises an eyebrow at the elderly human, particularly the barely visible wings that come from her back, but otherwise smiles warmly and accepts the handshake. ”Bellaluna. Pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss…” She stumbles over the woman’s name for a bit before just saying ”Felicity.” She knows it’s partially incorrect, but the elf doesn’t fully care. ”And no; the lady of the house is a friend of mine. I just decided to pay a visit to the poor ailing Camilia.” Bellaluna is fully aware of the unlikeliness of a Revolutionary Council member being acquainted with someone such as herself—she was just openly brandishing a crossbow, after all—but she has learned over the years that the slightest bit of information can lead to an eventual downfall.

Deception: 1d20 + 31 ⇒ (11) + 31 = 42 Technically this is a secret check, but considering everyone knows that I’m Lying I figured it fair to roll it publicly; plus it’s just for roleplay, anyway.

Turrey Butterhill was just nearing the end of a two-week engagement performing at the White Grotto in Absolom's Ivy District when he got the letter.

Who am I to turn away a cry of distress...and so soon after hearing from Thibeault about his loss? Perhaps this is a sign: a chance to soothe an old friend, and also honor Shelyn by restoring some of Her beauty to that battered nation?

Five days later, Turrey arrived, flying overhead on the enchanted carpet he'd been given by the Satrap of Qadira. His first stop was to visit his old flame, Thibeault. Turrey arrived at the potter's workshop, and was pleased to see that Thibeault's skill had grown over the years. His wine jugs were shapely, and boldly glazed. When he saw the man--gaunter than he remembered, rings under his eyes, grey stubble on his jaw--he smiled soberly. They sat for hours. Thibeault told Turrey tales of his husband, Olivier, recently executed by the artless Gardeners. Turrey listened, gave Thibeault the space he needed to cry...and then they drank and sang.

When it was time for Turrey to meet the Chairwoman, Thibeault walked him to her manor. The path they walked took them through trampled gardens and past broken statues, which brought tears anew to the eyes of the bard. Turrey had heard many a tale of Galt's decline, but seeing it first hand was another thing entirely. "Thibeault, it grieves me to see such beauty squandered. Thank you for continuing to practice your craft. Your pots and flagons bring some light to this nation. I pray to the Eternal Rose that perhaps, while I'm here, I can do the same."

. . .

As the elf and the grieving widow introduce themselves, a halfling enters and bows dramatically. He wears a rich green cloak with a silver clasp in the shape of a stylized songbird over a fashionable orange jerkin with gold trim. He has a shortbow on his back, and a mithral trumpet hung around his neck by a purple ribbon. He gives each of the strangers a warm smile. The presence he commands far outsizes his small frame.

”Greetings and salutations, kind souls. Turrey Butterhill, Singer of Songs, at your service. Do we await the Chairwoman together? If so, pray, tell me who might you two be?”

DC 10 Society to recognize Turrey Butterhil, and know of his fame as a legendary performer. Those who’re aware of him “usually have an attitude toward you one step better than normal”...though of course that really just applies to NPCs.

Deception 1d20+31 = 42 vs DC 38

Félicité sees no reason to doubt Bellaluna's story.

DC 10 Society to recognize Turrey Butterhil, and know of his fame as a legendary performer.

Society: 1d20 + 30 ⇒ (4) + 30 = 34 vs DC 10

"Monsieur Butterhill, I am a big fan of your music. I do not often find myself in Absalom, but when I do, I always make sure I attend a concert. I had no idea I was in such august company.
Marie-Félicité-Denise Pleyel," she introduces, extending her somewhat shaky hand. She's never met a celebrity before.

The halfling bard grins, takes her hand, and kisses it. "Please, madame, call me Turrey.

"I know not how demanding Councilwoman Drannoch's request of us will prove--I assume that's why you're here as well?--but my fervent hope is to be able to perform a concert as well while I'm here in Galt. I've performed many places across Avistan and Garund, from Oppara to Nantambu to Kyonin, but I can already see that Galt badly needs some of The Eternal Rose's light. I trust there's still a concert hall or stadium here, for lovers of the arts?"

He pauses to nod at the elven warrior beside Félicité as well. "I know little of this Councilwoman Drannoch, and my curiosity is piqued. What do you know of her? And who are these others she has called together here today? Surely she hasn't just called musicians to her aid?"

Literally cannot fail that Society check.

Bellaluna glances up at the newcomer only to do a sharp double-take to confirm who it was that she just saw. She stares completely dumbfounded at the halfling until he turns his attention to her. She stumbles over her words a bit—partly because she’s unsure how to follow up on her previous lie, partly because she’s in the presence of a literal celebrity.

”Well, uh, sorry, but I’m not really at liberty to discuss Camilia’s private life to strangers, even incredibly famous musicians…Sorry, but why in heaven are you here? Surely you’re a busy and very booked man; coming all the way to the hellscape that is Galt would require more than a little convincing.”

Turrey smiles (a smile that has melted many hearts). "What can I say, I'm a romantic.

"I received a letter from an old beau of mine from many years prior, letting me know his husband had been killed by Galt's brutish, artless Grey Gardeners...and not two mornings later, I received a plea for help from Madame Drannoch, who apparently was moved by one of my concerts in Oppara. I took it as a sign from the Eternal Rose, and decided to see if I could bring a bit of comfort to an old flame, and perhaps even to a bit of beauty to a nation with a glorious past, that has lost its way."

He offers his hand to the elf. "And you? I don't believe we've met, but I know an able warrior when I see one. What's your name? You say you work for Madame Drannoch?"

The sound of heavy, uneven footsteps arrives in the foyer before their owner does. The shadows of the rafters cling to the tall human, as if loathe to give up their nests in the craters and jagged scars that crease and wind their way across his weathered face. His grey hair is stuck to his forehead by sweat and road grime - the unkempt beard below looks to be in similar condition. A dented and pitted breastplate hangs from his shoulders, its cracked surface haphazardly patched a dozen times over until it is nearly as warped and uneven as the man underneath. His eyes, cloudy with age, drift as though tracking some unseen movement out the door and down the street and back to the guillotine in front of the prison before snapping back to the scene in front of him.

Society vs DC 10: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (4) + 0 = 4

"'Scuze me," he murmurs softly, rough voice like that of someone who had spent the evening prior screaming at the stars. "This's the Lady Drannoch's house, right? Oh, pardon me..." Quickly he pulls a patched leather glove off his left hand. "Name's Gregoth - uh, Gregoth Paalus if'n't pleases you. Who might you all be? Relatives?" He holds the hand out, his eyes lingering on the black-clad woman's mourning clothes for a moment longer than the others. "Oh... She ain't dead already, is she?"

"Oh, no," Félicité explains, "These clothes are in memory of my husband."

"Monsieur Paalus, my name is Marie-Félicité-Denise Pleyel, it increasingly seems like we have all been called here for the same unknown purpose."

”Bellaluna. I’m just a friend of the lady of the house. Though it seems that this was an interesting time to make a visit.”

Arriving in Isarn, Kaldren wastes little time heading straight for Lady Drannoch's home. Though he deliberately goes out of his way to avoid passing the Final Blade. At the manor house Kaldren shows the letter he received and is directed to a room to await Lady Drannoch.

Surprised to find the room occupied, Kaldren stands in the doorway taking a long look at each of the people gathered within. Kaldren is a large imposing human man in his later years, his hair is grey and thinning and his face is scarred and etched with the lines of many decades. He is dressed in a black cassock embroidered with Pharasma's spiral on the chest. A huge war flail hangs at his side and a pack is slung over one shoulder.

Anyone who meets his gaze gets the impression that he is looking at something deep within them and considering careful what he sees there. Finally after a slightly uncomfortable amount of time he bows deeply and speaks in a low powerful voice "Greetings to you all, I am Kaldren and I am a servant of the Lady Pharasma. Who might you be?"

Just moments after Kaldren arrives and before anyone has a proper chance to introduce themselves, the door opens again. This time a finely dressed middle-aged woman wearing a red scarf enters the room, trailed by a servant. She strides with confidence to the other side of her writing desk, no sign at all of any illness or frailty. She is dressed practically in a well-tailored doublet, but wears a red scarf over a metal choker even indoors.

I've updated the slides with a picture

"Ah you've all arrived, excellent. Wesley, some tea please; and bring the other items as well"

After Wesley has bowed and closes the door, she turns a grateful smile on all of you.

"Thank you so much for answering my call. I apologize for the misdirection in bringing you here. I'm playing a dangerous political game — one in which I hope you’ll join me — and a bit of deception helps us both. I'm sure all of you already know that the Gray Gardeners are Galt's ruthless executioners, some of you know it all too well."

Her eyes flick an apologetic glance toward Félicité and Bellaluna before she continues.

"They maintain the final blades, magical guillotines of such power that they trap the souls of executed victims within them. They Gray Gardeners have a stranglehold on Galt's future. Their arrests, executions, and political machinations ensure my country can't ever rise from the stew of chaos in which it's boiled for half a century"

She speaks with such passion and with such natural charisma that it's hard not to get swept along with her.

"Because the Gray Gardeners are always masked or hooded, no one knows who they are. Maybe they're magistrates or shopkeepers. Or perhaps they're beggars or cultists."

She draws in a deep breath and closes her eyes for a second to steady herself.

"I have hated the Gray Gardeners from the moment they executed my mother in the final blade named Silent Lenore many years ago. But I knew enough to play the long game politically, and I've risen to the top of Galt's messy politics while waiting for a moment to strike back against the worst villains of Galt"

Carried along by her own fury she rises from her chair and leans over her desk toward you all.

"That moment is now."

"The Gray Gardeners operate out of an old monastery in the riverside city of Litran. I have received an invite to a masquerade they are hosting a week from now. I have reliable intelligence that the executioners have an ulterior motive, and their leadership is being recalled to Litran for it. Dignitaries from across Galt are attending, and it's likely some of those dignitaries are themselves Gray Gardeners. I am feigning sickness and staying here for three reasons. First, I want to quell the ridiculous suspicions that I'm one of the Gray Gardeners by not going at all. Second, my illness gives a good reason for agents I trust — you — to visit Litran in the guise of seeking a rare herbal remedy. Finally I don't trust myself to keep my sword out of my hand around those responsible for murdering my mother and so many others."

She does look to Félicité at this point, meeting her gaze if possible

"I've called in favours and employed every asset in my intelligence network to gather you here, the most skilled and powerful adventurers and investigators on the continent. I believe we can use this rare opportunity to strike at the Gardeners and break their hold on Galt. Will you help me?"

Society +23 to Recall Knowledge on anything related to the final blade Silent Lenore? (Does it have a “home,” like Madame Margaery in Isarn; any well-known officials that were beheaded with the guillotine; etc.)

Bellaluna smirks as Camilia comes out completely healthy. ”Well, well, well. Looks like I’m not the only one to casually lie about false pretenses.” This is, surprisingly, the first genuinely honest thing the elf has said since arriving in Isarn. She is genuinely impressed by the councilwoman’s deceitful thinking.

”A party where everyone is parading around in masks while completely ignoring the hell going on outside? Sounds like the perfect place for the Gardeners to gather. But how did you get an invite, dear?” If she Lies to Bellaluna it’s DC 41.

”Secondly, what even is the plan here? Go to the party, figure out what’s going on, then smack some Gardener tush? I mean, I’m fine with that, but it definitely seems too impulsive to just squander a great opportunity like this one.”

Félicité flinches a little when Silent Lenore is mentioned, but meets Camilia's gaze. Félicité maintains a neutral face as much as she can - vengeance on the Gray Gardeners would be quite a prize, but she's been made this offer before, and that which seems too good to be true usually is.

"Camilia, how will we know who is a Gray Gardener and who is not? Do you expect us to infiltrate the meeting and take care of this problem ourselves, or do you expect that we'd report back to you?"

Camilia takes Félicité's question as a good sign.

"I have a trusted friend in Litran, Keznin Nevarmo. I can vouch for him, if there is one person in this country who I can say for certain isn't a Gray Gardener it's Keznin." She smiles as she thinks fondly of some memory."He is a herbalist and follower of Pharasma, "

She pauses to bow her head slightly toward Kaldren as a sign of respsect.

"I propose that you travel to Litran to meet with Keznin, under the cover of retrieving a herbal remedy for me. Such concoctions take time to prepare, giving you time to look around Litran and find out what you can about the Gray Gardeners: why they're meeting, who their key leaders are, and what they're planning. If you see a good oportunity to infiltrate or even overthrow the wicked organiziation, then strike while you have the chance, for a better one may not come again."

As she's looking each of you in the eye to see what you think of her plan, the door opens and Wesley enters with a tray of tea enough for all of you. On the gleaming metal tray is a black velvet pouch that looks like it might contain a few coins. Wesley gives the pouch to Camilia who looks pleased, before he starts pouring from the steaming teapot into some fine china mugs and handing them around.

"As I said I have invested considerable resources into finding a group of people with the capability and the motivation to help me. I offer these as a token of my faith in you, and of the hope you represent for all the people of Galt. May your blades be as sharp as theirs"

She hands the pouch to Félicité, who finds 5 runestones inside each etched with the same rune.

They are five +3 weapon potency runes

"I commissioned these specifically for your weapons, and I have trusted servants who can apply them now if you can delay your leaving until tomorrow. It takes 3 days to travel to Litran, so you will still have 3 days before the Masquerade"

She looks up at you all to see if you agree, or have any further questions.

Félicité looks a little displeased at having to give up her primary weapon for a whole day, but acquieses and nods at the servant.

"Madame Drannoch, I accept your sign of good faith, and agree to the plan as you've outlined."

Félicité makes a mental note of which weapons her new allies hand over.

"Do we have appropriate skills for infiltrating a masquerade ball, or do we need some additional items?"

Kaldren listens carefully to what Lady Drannoch has to say, though his hand does stray toward the haft of his flail at the mention of the Final Blades. "I am not well versed in the ways of infiltration, but If there is the slightest chance that I can assist in the destruction of those abominations the gray gardeners use to meet out their so called justice; then I am willing."

He draws the flail from his belt and places it into the servants hands causing them to stagger slightly as he releases the weight of the weapon."These runes can not have been easy to obtain, I will accept the gift but know that it is not necessary."

Turrey smiles, and sips his tea. "Councilwoman Drannoch, I am touched that my music stayed with you enough that you invited me into this circle. The Grey Gardeners are butchers of beauty. If I can help some poet to reach their final stanza, I willingly accept."

The halfling bard take the bow from his back and hands it to Wesley. "Thank you, friend."

Sitting back and sipping his tea again, Turrey muses aloud, "I wonder if the Gardeners have settled on the entertainment for their event? Shall I arrive incognito? Or see about them hiring Turrey Butterhill to play for their guests?"

"Speaking of which," Turrey stands, and bows to Kalden and Gregoth. "We were ushered in in such a hurry, I didn't yet get to introduce myself. I am Turrey Butterhill: grand master bard of the Rhapsodic College in Oppara, who turned the tide of the frozen dead's assault on Vigil with a song, brokered peace between feuding efreet and shaitans, and brought a tear to the eye of Queen Telandia, with my rendition of the Starfall Sonnets. You two look like mighty warriors--as does Madame Drannock's old friend Bellaluna here--and I pray to the Eternal Rose that I'll be able to keep you in merry spirits as we go about our tasks.

"I think you said you're Kaldren, yes? If you serve the Mother of Souls, then I welcome your company. And Gregoth, yes? I know not yet who your Muse is, but judging from your appearance they are a demanding one. Speaking of which, would you care for a prestidigitation to freshen up a bit? It looks like you've been traveling hard for days."

Kaldren returns Turrey's bow "It is a pleasure to meet you Turrey, and the rest of you." Returning to his seat Kaldren turns his attention back to Lady Drannoch and asks "Is there anything more you can tell us about this gathering? What is the current situation here?"

“… who turned the tide of the frozen dead's assault on Vigil with a song…”

Gregoth stiffens partway through handing a longsword with notches and chips in its blade to Wesley as the musician speaks. “I don’t remember hearing no music when Vigil was destroyed,” he says at last, low voice almost a growl. “Don’t recall no frozen things attacking the city ‘fore it fell neither.”

"Oh my, were you there in '19? I wish I'd be near--I was deep undercover, infiltrating a Rahadoumi slave ring--though if I'm honest I doubt I could've done anything that time, from the tales I've heard of the Radiant Fire." The bard shudders. "No, I was called to Virgil near the end of the 4711 assault. The troops were wavering under the onslaught. It was their blades that pushed the Tyrant's army back, that time...but I'll claim some credit to, in helping them to rally when they began to falter.

"It's tragic to know that it's rubble now. If you have tales to tell from the fall, I'd gladly hear them over a meal and a flagon of mead. Songs have been written of it already, of course, but I dare say the tragedy deserves more."

”’’19’? That was two years ago; you don’t have to refer to the year like it was several decades ago.”

Bellaluna reluctantly hands off one of her crossbows to Wesley as she speaks.

Turrey smiles at Bellaluna. "It's a bardic thing. Helps with the meter--Not so much in Elvish, admittedly, but in Common--and after enough years, it becomes a habit."

Then he looks Gregoth up and down. "Say...I think I've heard of you. Are you the one they call 'The Survivor'?"

“… If you have tales to tell from the fall, I'd gladly hear them over a meal and a flagon of mead. Songs have been written of it already, of course, but I dare say the tragedy deserves more."

“You ain’t gonna wanna hear ‘bout it over food - unless you ain’t eager to keep it in your belly.” Gregoth answers shortly. “And the dead ain’t comin’ back, no matter how much you sing to them. Let the ghosts lie.” The air darkens slightly around him as he speaks.

"Say...I think I've heard of you. Are you the one they call 'The Survivor'?"

“Don’t know ‘bout what ‘they’ say.” The warrior rubs the back of his neck with his ungloved hand. He doesn’t meet the smaller man’s gaze, glancing at the floor to the side instead. “Reginald used to call me a ‘right bastard’ - at least before that flyin’ skeleton shot him with its own rib. Vellectin called me ‘dead man’. Condrelle… They liked to use ‘racehorse’ on account of the leg.” He touches the breastplate across his chest, the shield strapped to his back, an icy-blue half-mask hanging from his belt. “But they’re gone, and I’m still here… Don’t know if that makes me a survivor, or somethin’ else.”

Camilia was about to answer Kaldren's question, but she catches herself when Gregoth's reply to Turrey introduces some tension. After a moment's pause after the exchange, she resumes.

"I'm afraid here in Isarn I have little more to go on that the invitation, which was devoid of any details, and had to be returned in any case. My hope is that with Keznin closer to the action in Litran that he might have some more information for you, or at least be able to tell you where to start."

She takes out a piece of parchment from one of the drawers in her desk and unfolds it in front of you, revealing a map of a small city with the name "Litran" in ornate calligraphy in the corner.

Slides updated with a map of Litran

"Keznin's shop, "Soul Mother's Herbs"" is here," She jabs a finger at a small street at the southern end of the map. "It's tucked into a small side alley, but you'll smell it before you see it, herbs and flowers wafting on the breeze"

She doesn't mark the map before she hands it over to you.

"I suggest you stay here tonight, I have four guest rooms that are already made up, I'm afraid two of you will need to share. My craftswoman Marion will be leading the work on your weapons in the workshop, please feel free to supervise if you wish; they should be ready by first light"

If anyone has any funds left and wanted to pick up a third property rune for their weapon as well there's a chance to do that. For our purposes Isarn is a 12th level settlement so has common items up to that level readily available. I'm about to pack my computer up for a few days so I'll move us on to the next section, feel free to describe any evening interactions

After spending the night in the relative luxury of the chairwoman's manor, you set off for Litran armed with your freshly engraved weapons of rare power.

How do you want to travel? On foot it's 60 miles to cover so will take you three days, leaving you three days before the masquerade. You could get some horses to speed that up (it looks like that would shave a day off the travel time, Turrey's magic carpet has the same speed as a horse at the risk of drawing attention), or if anyone has any magical means that's an option too.

A riding horse is only 1 sp/day, so I don't think there's any reason to travel by foot. The carpet seems fine - we're going to draw a ton of attention anyway, he's super famous.

Camilia's steward Wesley recommends a nearby livery that has a sister establishment in Litran, and you procure a set of healthy horses to carry you and your equipment across the well-travelled route.

The first day of travel is unremarkable. The road to Litran is well maintained, and you pass travellers on foot frequently, most travelling the same direction as you. The weather is beautiful, a warm and sunny autumn's day, but each and every traveller keep their eyes down and remain quiet as you pass, not even a traveller's greeting to be heard, or a remark on the halfing flying alongside the horses. Occasionally one will look up and gasp when they recognize Turrey, and that serves as an opener into some roadside conversations. You learn that most are travelling for the "Harvest Jubilee"; a festival that was due to be held in Litran four years ago to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Red Revolution, but that has been postponed each year due to the ongoing troubles. The travellers are excited for the festival this year, and some even speak in hushed tones about a special event at the Gray Monastery that the Grey Gardeners are holding.

"... not that I'd ever get an invitation to such an event", one particularly star-struck young woman confides to Turrey as you pause your travel to water the horses and make conversation, "but I wouldn't be comfortable among so many executioners regardless".

The second day of travel passes much as the first, but by the time you are approaching Litran the traffic toward the city has swelled, and you begin to wonder if you're going to have trouble finding somehwere to stay. As you approach the sun is setting and thick clouds have gathered, and your eye is drawn to the huge gray castle overlooking Litran; the Gray Monastery that serves as headquarters for the Gray Gardeners.

There's some art in the slides

Moving through the streets anonymously is made easier by the throng of visitors here for the Harvest Jubilee. You can easily make your way to the location of Soul Mother's Herbs, and as promised the pleasant floral aroma is detectable several streets away. When you enter you're greeting with a fairly large shop made crowded by hundreds of flowers, dried and living, bottles of herbs and ingredients, and alchemical equipment of every imaginable kind. The shop is empty save for a bespectacled tengu grinding some herbs at a desk.

"Greetings," the raven-headed tengu caws, setting down his pestle and extending his hand in welcome.

"Keznin Nevarmo, herbalist, at your service. I suspect you've come a long way. Please, come in and close the door behind you so we can talk about what you need."

There's art of Keznin in the slides too

After you're in all and the door is closed behind you, he moves to the door and flips the sign over so that it shows "Closed" to the street, and he locks the door for good measure.

"Please, if you'll follow me into the greenhouse I'll be able to see to your needs"

He takes you through a set of double doors into an expansive greenhouse arrayed with some chairs. He closes the space off by drawing some curtains, and then takes a seat. After a few cagey exchanges he establishes that you are agents of Camilia.

"I've been expecting you, so I've been gathering what information I can. The "event" is an invitation-only masquerade ball, to be held in four nights in the great ballroom of the Gray Monastery. The monastery has always been closely guarded, so this event provides an unprecedented opportunity to gain access. Invitations seem virtually impossible to come by. Certainly, those who have been invited don't seem to want to advertise it."

He peers down over his spectacles at you all to make sure you're all listening.

"There seem to be more Gray Gardeners in town that usual, and many of these could be highly placed in their clandestine leadership. It may be that they're all here for the masquerade, but I wonder if they might have other operations in town too. In addition, there are rumours that the Gray Gardeners are planning some kind of revelation or announcement for the masque attendees, but no-one is sure what it will be. Perhaps you might have look asking around town. I will help however I'm able. You may stay here in my shop if you wish, I know Litran is crowded at the minute. I have also brewed you some elixirs to help you"

He hands each of you an Elixir of Life (Major) before sitting back down.

"How can I help?"

Does anyone have any questions for Keznin? After that you'll have four days to find things out in Litran. You can use the Gather Information activity of Diplomacy, but you may also use other skills to the same effect, for example you may use stealth to hide and listen to conversations, deception to impersonate an official. Other skills may be ok too, if the justification is reasonable. You could also aid someone else's check. All are secret, so pick a skill and a justification (if not diplomacy), and I'll roll and tell you what you learn. Sorry again for my slowness, which may persist for a while yet as I get moved in and setup

Made equipment adjustments to my character sheet.

Bellaluna has been mostly silent during the travel to Litran, keeping things closely to herself. When the group meets up with Keznin, though, she is a bit more amicable.

”So, I take that as meaning we’ll have to scrounge our own way into getting an invitation? And what do you mean by ‘more Gray Gardeners than usual’? How much is ‘more’?”

For the four days afterward, I’m actually going to do something kinda risky: I’ll use Deception (+31) to try and Impersonate a Gray Gardener; people generally don’t want to oppose them, and it ensures a little bit of safety since they’re specifically supposed to be anonymous.

Keznin shakes his head apologetically.

"Yes I'm afraid so- I don't travel in the sort of circles that might have received an invitation, and I don't know where you would even start. As for the gardeners, they're not an usual sight here in Litran as you can imagine, but even so you could walk across town and not see one, provided you avoided the monastery. Now with all the visitors it's hard to tell, but I seem to see them more often, and my customers have complained of the same. Perhaps twice as many as usual?"

In my haste I forgot something important, when you perform your investigations you can choose to focus on one of the following topics. Your progress is cumulative, so if multiple people focus on one topic you'll learn more about that quicker

The Masque
The Gray Gardeners
Masque Attendees
The Gray Monastery
The Final Blades

"Well, seems we need to get an invite to a very well-to-do party in the next few days, then."

With that, I'll choose to learn about the attendees, as that would make the most sense to be asking about as a "fellow" Gray Gardener.

Gregoth bows awkwardly to the helpful shopkeeper, trying not to hit his head on a low-hanging bundle of dried grass. “That’s very kind of you, sir. Uh, if you don’t mind me askin’, why’re you sticking your neck out for us like this? And why wouldn’t the fancy folks who’ve been invited not want to let other fancy folks know?”

Gregory will use Diplomacy (+21) to gather information on the Gray Gardeners, coming at the topic from the perspective of an outsider traveling through town. If possible, he’d like to use Spiritual Guides if he fails (but not critically fails) the skill check today.

Félicité, being from Litran, will revisit old acquaintances and openly ask about the Gray Monestary. She looks carefully at clues to see if her friends have changed. Biographical Eye

I'm petitioning to use Society instead of Diplomacy.

As they travel, Turrey reclines on his carpet, playing his concertina and singing songs of love and heroism and beauty.

He happily takes time to chat with admiring fans on the road, and sing them a tune, and asks with interest to learn more of the Harvest Jubilee.

When they meet Kenzin, Turrey gives him a theatrical bow. ”Greetings, my fine-feathered friend! I will endeavor to repay your trust, and your warm welcome. We know from Camilia that neither of you have any love for these Drab Gardeners.

“I do have a few questions, if I may. First, I have some gift in disguise...but not so much in appearing as tall as most folks around here. Can you tell me what smaller folk reside in Litran? Any significant population of halflings, gnomes, goblins, kobolds, or the like? Any that might be in the employ of the monastery, perhaps as servants? Or alternatively, do you know if there are any human children that live at the monastery?”

Turrey will attempt to use Performance to learn about the Masque...and in particular, how he might get a hold of tickets for himself and his companions. He’ll start by seeking out fellow performers and asking things like: Who is booked to perform at the Masque? Who is booking the entertainment? Can he trade a favor with other musicians in town to gain entrance? Is there someone who would want him to join them for part of a set, in exchange for tickets for the group? Turrey is also interested in potentially learning more about the Harvest Jubilee. He’d be happy to perform there, if it doesn’t conflict with the Masque.
.
NOTE: I bought an elite disguise kit, and an L3 scroll of Illusory Disguise in Isarn. I also decided to add an elite concertina to his inventory (that he’d have had for years). Finally, if it’s not too late, I’m toying with squeezing in Melodious Spell as a feat. GM Pudding, is it too late to fiddle with feats? If not, any reccs (from anyone) of what to trade? Maybe I’d lose Inspire Defense or Dirge of Doom, though I love’m both!

After you've all spent a little time in Keznin's shop, you start to notice something that wasn't immediately apparent before, subtle spirals woven into baskets of dried flowers, into the arrangement of a set of vials. He also bowed deeply to Kaldren when he entered.

To Gregoth, Keznin leans back in his chair and ruminates before answering.

"As you can imagine, Camilia was deeply upset when her mother was sent to Silent Lenore. She threw herself into radical politics, and I was among those present at a speech she gave in Isarn about destroying the final blades. It changed my life. When she was captured in the streets and thrown into a jail cell to await execution herself, well..."

He looks around nervously, uneasy admitting to a crime even in his own home.

"Suffice it to say that she knows she can trust me, and that I'd do anything for the cause."

Keznin looks serious and emotional, and thoroughly relieved when Turrey expertly brings the conversation round to more practical matters.

"Halflings are the most common non-human ancestry here in Litran, there are a few hundred families, spread amongst the social classes. Class is very important here. We also have a number of gnomes, though they are not quite as numerous, and one Tengu!"

He squarks a laugh but becomes more sober at mention of the monastery.

"Residents at the monastery are a closely guarded secret I'm afraid. No one knows just how many live there. Certainly no-one in the city works there that doesn't live there, and if they did, it would be death to admit it. And children? I shudder to think of it. Lady willing, I would say not."

As we haven't actually rolled anything yet, I'm OK with a feat swap

Litran Investigations

Day 1 - AM

Gregoth - Gray Gardeners (diplomacy)
Bellaluna - Masque Attendees (deception)
Félicité - Gray Monastery (society)
Turrey - The Masque (performance)
Kaldren

Kaldren is up!
I'm doing these investigation segments one at a time because you may learn things in them that give you different things to do

Kaldren returns Keznin's bow and looks pleased to see the subtle signs of the alchemist's reverence for his deity.

Kaldren will focus on the Masque Attendees, If there are any Pharasman clergy he will start by speaking to them. Kaldren has +24 to Diplomacy or if there are members of his faith in the town then he has Exhort the Faithful which would allow him to potentially use Religion with a +2 bonus (+32 total).

After you've all spent a little time in Keznin's shop, you start to notice something that wasn't immediately apparent before, subtle spirals woven into baskets of dried flowers, into the arrangement of a set of vials. He also bowed deeply to Kaldren when he entered.

Félicité will ask openly about this.

"This is an unusual design," Félicité says, "I grew up here in Litran and I've never seen this design before. Is it a recent fashion?"

She'll pause for a second, and then ask pointedly, "... Is there some kind of secret behind it?"

Can she identify it with Recall Knowledge? Arcana +28, Nature +24, Occultism +28, Religion +26, Society +30.

"Ah," Keznin says when Félicité comments on his spirals. "They are just my small way of showing my faith in the Mother of Souls"

He gestures toward Kaldren's cassock as he says her name. "Pharasma worship is as popular here as anywhere else, despite the affront the final blades represent. I find myself thinking of the spiral often, so I like to work it into my designs where I can. Don't you think that things often move in something like a spiral? Events repeat, but never quite the same, always winding around but never quite meeting themselves..."

Keznin good-naturedly babbles on about Pharasma and your work here, and you learn that he specialises in herbal remedies that aid with childbirth and those that ease the pain of dying. Eventually you settle in to a cramped night's rest amongst the dried herbs and set about your task the next day.

You each find that the visitors in town for the harvest jubilee are relatively eager to talk, but know little of interest. The locals though are more withdrawn and nervous, and despite trying for several hours, Gregoth fails to find anyone willing to talk. It's not until he's ready to give up and return to Soul Mother's Herbs that he hears the familiar sound of spirits whispering at the edge of his hearing. They guide him to an old man sitting outside of a tavern nursing an ale who is happy for Gregoth's company, and finds his no-nonsense manner comforting. He confides in Gregoth that the Gray Gardeners have been moving the final blades from city to city. A carogrpaher named Tristel Liendi is said to know more specifics about these unusual movements

Fail turned into a success with Spritual Guides, and the location of Tristel's shop has been added to the map

Bellaluna's transformation into a Gray Gardener is magnificent. Within a few minutes of emerging in her disguise she is approached by a nervous looking young woman wishing to report a rumour of a possible invitation for sale, apparently by someone from Isarn who has purchased one of the old mills and is renovating it into a grand residence, and has been heard telling people that she has an invitation to sell. She "thought you'd want to know". A little later while mingling amongst the upper class citizens, she overhears that Miona Rallaree's shop "The Oval Mirror" must be getting a lot of business seeing as she's the most esteemed tailor in Litran.

Locations of the Old Mill and the Oval Mirror added to the map

Félicité takes tea with her old acquaintances, spending a morning of rigid etiquette which requires all her finely honed skills to navigate. The topic of the Gray Monastery is one that no-one is eager to discuss, but Félicité wields protocol like a sword and fences her opponents into positions where they cannot refuse. She learns that the monastery is so old that it predates Galt by millennia, though it was an abandoned ruin before the Gray Gardeners established their headquarters there just over fifty years ago. Any deity or philosophy the monastery might once have been dedicated to is long forgotten. In its centre is a grand ballroom, surrounded by offices, dining halls, and servants' rooms. They Gray Gardeners maintain very few servants, all of whom live in the old monastic cells and never leave the monastery. During Félicité's second visit of the day to an aging widower delighted with the company, she learns a juicy secret, whispered behind a colourful fan decades out of fashion. Apparently the final blade known as Silent Lenore has been brought into the Gray Gardener's monastery as the centrepiece for the upcoming masque.

Turrey begins performing in the streets, drawing a large crowd very quickly, even attracting the attention of some Gray Gardeners, though they too seemed moved by the masterful performance. At one point an audience member shouts that he should perform at the masque, which earns a snort of derision from a Gray Gardener and sends a ripple of nervous quiet through the rest of the crowd. A quiet word after the song informs Turrey that no performers from Litran have been employed for the masque, and that whatever entertainments there might be are like so much about the Gray Gardeners, a secret. That does set off a good amount of discussion of the masque amongst the crowd nearest Turrey, allowing him to overhear that the premier place in Litran to acquire high fashion is a shop called the Oval Mirror, run by a famous designer Miona Rallaree. After the crowd has almost dispersed he gets into a conversation with a well dressed man who confides that he has heard the masque's highlight will be the Midnight Unmasking, when the guests unmask simultaneously and reveal all at once the Gray Gardeners identities! He also tells Turrey that an elderly, one-eyed human was also asking about the masque, and he had said that anyone with further knowledge should seek him out at the old shrine to pharasma.

Location of the old shrine added to the map

Kaldren starts his day by asking around about Pharasma clergy, and learns only that an abanonded shrine to Pharasma exists just outside of town. The priests were all executed for sedition decades ago and now no-one visits it. The person who tells him this eyes his cassock approvingly, and laments the state of affairs. He seems to find Kaldren's faith reassuring, and confides in him that rumours among Litran's well-to-do say that Lord Alastring Harble has an invitation and is seeking agents in connection with it. Perhaps it has something to do with how ill he has been recently?

That was a lot more information than I think they expected you to get in the first round! Harble Manor added to the map

Meeting back up at Soul Mother's Herbs, you share what you've learned with each other, have some food and plan out how you would like to proceed.

What would you like to do with the rest of the day? Also, while in the shop discussing things, I'm assuming Bellaluna is keeping an eye out for trouble (scouting), is anyone else doing anything other than making plans?

I think it would be more accurate to say that Bellaluna’s Searching, since Scouting in this particular context doesn’t really make sense, as the group is stationary at the moment.

Apparently the final blade known as Silent Lenore has been brought into the Gray Gardener's monastery as the centrepiece for the upcoming masque.

…the masque's highlight will be the Midnight Unmasking, when the guests unmask simultaneously and reveal all at once the Gray Gardeners identities!

”Ha!” Bellaluna laughs condescendingly at Turrey’s account, all the while peering over her shoulder in paranoia that she isn’t even conscious of anymore. ”I could believe an unmasking ceremony, but the Gardeners revealing themselves to anyone?! That is the biggest load of roc droppings I’ve ever heard! But the guillotine being there for all to see? It’s risky, but definitely not out of character for the Gardeners to do.

“We desperately need to get into this party; if I know the Gardeners, then they’ll try their damnedest to keep the riffraff out, so an invitation is our best bet. That Harble guy or the mill should be our first stops.” And is the location of the old mill somewhere on the map? It wasn’t marked.

"Agreed, we need an invitation. Let's go find this supposed person with an invitation to sell."

“ I could believe an unmasking ceremony, but the Gardeners revealing themselves to anyone?! That is the biggest load of roc droppings I’ve ever heard!”

Gregoth frowns in thought. “It sure do sound suspicious, unless they don’t think they’ll be needing to hide their identities any more afterwards - and that anyone there’s either a Gardner or someone they don’t mind knowin’. Maybe we want to get a better idea ‘bout what’s really planned before we go asking around for something that’s sure to get us noticed?”

@GM - that’s quite a few folks making their invitations available. Does it seem likely that we’ll each need our own invitation?

"I think we should stick together as we do more delicate inquiries - asking around for an invitation to a strictly controlled event seems like it will attract attention."

Coincidentally, someone steps on a twig outside, and Félicité immediately jumps into a defensive position with her bow drawn. Her jumpy demeanor seems to vanish as quickly as it manifested.

"I fear that there will be other attendees there, ones that have not been invited as guests, but invited as a demonstration of the blade's power. I agree we should head for the Harbor Manor or the Old Mill, but let's make sure to follow up on the one-eyed man, as it would be nice to know if we're on the same or opposite sides."

From what you've heard the invitations are for the bearer and their retinue, so one should be sufficient

You're discussing in the shop area while Keznin is out gathering herbs. Félicité and Turrey are seated in a sofa, while Gregoth and Bellaluna lean against the opposite wall and Kaldren leans against a desk. Félicité hears a noise outside then relaxes, but then suddenly the bursts open, having been forced by a warrior wearing an executioner's hood. They are huge, the top of their head obscured by the doorframe as they must be over seven feet tall, and they point toward you all.

"Get em!"

Two similarly dressed but not quite as infeasibly large enforcers move to do just that. What little skin is exposed seems very pale.

There's a picture of these enforcers and a map for the encounter in the slides

Bellaluna draws one of her crossbows lightning fast, but everyone else is taken by surprise by the sheer force on display and caught off guard.

All the enemies beat all of you on initiative. If I've forgotten any "when initiative is rolled" abilities please shout and we can retcon as necessary. Likewise you all gain your reactions at the start of this combat so if you have any that might trigger let me know. Only Bellaluna has a weapon drawn thanks to 10 paces

One of the smaller more eager enforcers moves in and up to Gregoth, wielding a spiked chain. They send it flying at him with incredible speed. The wickedly sharp spikes tear flesh wherever they touch.

◆ Stride
◆ Stride
◆ Strike
Spiked Chain: 1d20 + 33 ⇒ (14) + 33 = 47 Crit!
Fortification DC 17: 1d20 ⇒ 9 Still a crit!
Slashing: 3d8 + 11 ⇒ (6, 1, 4) + 11 = 22
44 damage to Gregoth! Also 2d8 persistent bleed. Kaldren could use glimpse of redemption on this if he wants

The other normal-sized one rushes in toward Kaldren, hissing at the spiral on his Cassock.

◆ Stride
◆ Stride
◆ Strike
Spiked Chain: 1d20 + 33 ⇒ (13) + 33 = 46
Slashing: 3d8 + 11 ⇒ (6, 2, 6) + 11 = 25

25 damage to Kaldren! Also 2d8 persistent bleed

The huge one moves in with purpose and less speed, ducking under the doorframe and standing to their full height, nearer to eight feet than to seven. They stomp over to Gregoth and swing their chain at him.

◆ Stride
◆ Strike
Spiked Chain: 1d20 + 35 ⇒ (2) + 35 = 37
Slashing: 3d8 + 13 ⇒ (8, 1, 4) + 13 = 26

26 damage to Gregoth!

◆ Grab

The end of the chain wraps all the way around Gregoth and the huge enforcer pulls him in, getting right up to his face so that Gregoth can taste his rancid breath.

"Get out of Litran while you can!"

Only half of his chain is used to wrap Gregoth up, the other half is still dangling threateningly.

Retribution

Round 1

Enforcer (2)
Enforcer (3)
Hulking Enforcer (1)
Bellaluna
Turrey
Kaldren -25, 2d8 persistent bleed
Gregoth -68, 2d8 persistent bleed, grabbed
Félicité

Everyone is up! Again just let me know if I've forgotten abilities that might have triggered, I expect it will take me a while to remember your characters

Félicité immediately reaches for her shortbow again and comes up with a plan.

◆ Devise a Strategem: 1d20 ⇒ 20
◇ Recall Knowledge with Devise a Strategem. I've put her recall modifiers in her tagline, since this is obviously going to be coming up a lot.

It is an excellent plan. She draws her bowstring ◆ and shoots #1 in the neck ◆.

Shortbow, Devise: 20 + 29 = 49
Piercing: 3d6 + 6 ⇒ (1, 4, 6) + 6 = 17 plus Sonic: 1d6 ⇒ 3 plus Precision: 4d6 ⇒ (2, 5, 5, 3) = 15 plus 1d6 bleed
Deadly: 1d10 ⇒ 6
76 damage

"You dare? I'll run you out of Litran, if anything."

Strategic Bypass: Félicité ignores an amount of resistance equal to her Intelligence modifier (5) for each resistance that applies against your attack.

Didactic Strike: When Félicité uses Shared Stratagem, the foe is flat-footed against the first attack from each designated ally before her next turn, and each ally's first attack deals an extra 2d6 precision damage to the target if it hits.

Félicité's perfectly placed shot takes a chunk out of the neck of the hulking enforcer, causing it to start spurting blood. The blood is oddly dark and languid.

"What is this? This is a mortic - a living creature with a decaying body."

She hisses towards it, "Urgathoa sent you, didn't she?"

As the first enforcer reaches Gregoth he raises a hand and says "Please, consider your fate should you continue along this path."

Reaction: Using Glimpse of Redemption on the creature attacking Gregoth.

Wincing at the pain of the second enforcer's strike, Kaldren snaps his fingers and with a flash of light heavy plates of metal appear over his clothing and a pair of ethereal black ravens wings spread from his back.

1 Action: Dismiss Instant Armour to return Kaldren's Half Plate to his body.

I realise I never actually posted it, but I had intended for Kaldren to cast Instant Armour as part of his daily preparations. This means that strike would be a critical hit. As I didn't explicitly say it I'm happy to say he had the armour on under his cassock. But I really like the image of having it appear on him. Happy to go with whatever ruling you think best.

lowering his hand, Kaldren draws out the massive war flail and takes a two handed grip.

1 Action: Draw weapon.
1 Action: Adjust Grip

Raising his weapon into a guard position Kaldren tries a final time to dissuade the attackers from their cause of action "I ask you all again, consider your fate lest my lady look unfavourably upon your souls; for if you persist I shall send you to her court."

Bleed Damage: 2d8 ⇒ (1, 2) = 3
Flat Check: 1d20 ⇒ 3