[AP] Iron Gods by GM Rutseg

Game Master Balacertar

"Let's not go to the compound for now. Let's head to Sovereign's Watch for Zzvkgrogk's scrolls and to check it out. Isn't that where Hyrsek said he was? Or we should be eventually? Or something? I can't quite remember." Yambul grins, unsure. "It can't be any worse than this neighborhood. Poor people."

He also secretly plans to get a board for Rhoreen...

"Once there we can do some information gathering over lunch. Maybe we can ask around about the Mockery, carefully. I'll do the talking."

"I suppose we could - though I get the sense that a messy place like this probably has more people willing to talk once they understand that you're friendly. Especially if you can convince them you won't turn them in to the authorities - if you can call them that." Rūha eyes the League enforcers in the streets tensely. (Sadly no diplomacy on my end to gather info on any of our desired topics. I'd also be fine doing Sovereign's Watch first and then gathering info after.)

Rhoreen does help with the gathering information checks…by not helping at all. Her participation in such might not help much, but will try not to be actively snobbish in front of the Technic League city rabble.

”Let’s get to Sovereign’s Watch,” Rhoreen agrees with Yambul.

It just occurred to me, I should provide some helpful rolls once we’re in Sovereign's Watch.

Gather Information: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (13) + 19 = 32 Hours: 1d4 ⇒ 1 Information about the Mockery
Bluff: 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (15) + 20 = 35 To try and hide what he's asking with hidden messages

Zzvkgrogk quaffs some extracts before heading out -- on a more or less empty stomach, no less.

He also quaffs a mutagen and suddenly becomes more robust looking somehow. +Con, -Cha
Ooh, I forgot how zesty these are.

Heightened Awareness (Lemon), Tongues (Babelfish)

Diplomacy Aid: 1d20 + 2 - 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 - 2 = 6

After awhile, he decides everyone might be better off if he just kept his mouth shut.

I sound like Izzkvitgrk. I wish I had my laser pistol.

You leave behind the Street of Lights and follow the lifeless pulse of industry eastward. The morning smog lifts only slightly as you cross into Sovereign's Watch. Broad iron towers rise like broken teeth from an uneven grid of streets. Some shimmer faintly with security wards; others are watched by quiet drones or black-helmed guards with blank visors. This is where the city's remaining mercantile interests survive under tight control: the best place to find scrolls, tools, and whispered truths, for a price.

Further in, you find the shop you were pointed to, Sootspindle's Salvage & Sundries, a dense and cluttered mess of salvage, relics, and actual magical goods. The gnome behind the counter is pale from too many years indoors and half-buried in scrolls and potions of all kinds.
Standard prices are offered

Yambul works the crowds like a shadow among machines. Careful phrases, half-questions slipped in casual talk, comparisons between crime groups and old boxing rivalries. He listens more than he speaks, drawing out stories like threads from worn cloth. By mid-afternoon, one thing becomes clear: the Mockery is real, and they have been active of recent, hitting low-tier League supply lines and smuggling medicines. Most importantly, Yambul gets a few directions about places where the kerogen is used to manufacture oil. All four are in Killbox. Two are lead by city nobles, one by the League and a third one has seen is activity discontinued and lays abandoned.

Zzvkgrogk alleviates the gnome from some of his scroll burdens.

(3 second, 7 third, 10 fourth. The gnome is suddenly rich.)

"Shall we check out the rain of stars metal, then take another look around Killbox?"

”Ohhh, that’s suspicious. Should we check out the empty kerogen-oil manufacturing plant?” Yambul is excited by the lead after he shares what he learned with the group.

Once Zzvkgrogk is done shopping, he agrees they should check out the metal star, ”Since we’re already here.” he nods and heads off in that direction.

Rhoreen will help sell the items while examining things that might be of interest.

"Yes, we should follow that plan. Metals first, then Killbox. Sounds delightful."

"Killbox? Truly... what a naming convention..." Ruha shakes her head "I wouldn't put it past one of the city's nobles secretly working against the League behind the scenes, but I agree the abandoned one seems the most likely to be a place we'll find the right kind of trouble."

She looks over to Zzvkgrogk "Rain of Stars metal?"

The group heads towards the Palace of Fallen Stars. There is a high wall defending the inner area of the city where this and the League's compound sit. Accessing into this area proves easy, as despite there is a patrol of two gearsmen and four Leaguers at the gate, people come and go with just a visual inspection. Your presence raise looks but you are not stopped.

After a minute or so you are inside and quickly spot the palace made of Stars rain metal.

C. Palace of Fallen Stars
Looming over the city like a great obscene monolith stands the decadent keep of the Black Sovereign of Numeria—the Palace of Fallen Stars. Its slick walls rise high and terrible, worn smooth in places by the passage of time, but jagged and rough in others where new additions have been built. The central structure is capped by an immense metal dome, while numerous squat towers rise around the circumference. Statues of the Black Sovereign adorn the facade or stand atop plinths, greeting visitors with scowls and threatening postures.

The entrance to the palace is guarded with two Kellid who greet Yambul on sight "Hej kollega, velkommen"

C1. Sovereign’s Approach
A long hall leads up into the palace, passing through a column-lined hall. On either side stand statues made from old robots bound in thick iron chains, ironically meant to symbolize Kevoth-Kul’s conquest over the Technic League.

New Palace of the Fallen Stars firs floor map is available!

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 22 ⇒ (17) + 22 = 39

Ruha nods to the guards, already considering how difficult it'll be to escape from this walled section of the city if the League decides it's time to close the trap. Thankfully she has a collection of flight potions in her pouch.

As the group approaches the palace of the fallen stars, she crosses a pair of arms "Well, I can't say our host is appearing particularly humble with all those statues. Nor particularly welcoming. And the chained up robots are more than a little ironic..." She inspects them briefly to see if they're not still somehow functional.

Engineering: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (17) + 16 = 33

Rhoreen obviously chooses to completely ignore the looks of the guards, who are they to judge her in any way?

She follows closely behind Ruha, not flying for this part of things. She instead uses her legs (like a common chump) rather than let her prodigious magics carry her.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (8) + 13 = 21 vs DC 25

Yambul nods back to the guards, "Thanks. Uh, Danke."

"Where's the monument?" he wonders aloud to the guards, not expecting all this. He doesn't know what to do with all this. It's too much!

The small shard left behind stops spinning and falls flat on the table surface. It is rough-edged and black with a subtle sheen, like cooled pitch or ancient glass. Under the light of the fireplace, you spot thin amber veins shimmering just beneath its surface.

Khalia looks down on Casandalee's forearm, now her forearm, and imagines the light of her nanites running through similar veins, their mysterious circuitous patterns ever changing when she demands something powerful from them. The shard intrigues her, its symbolism and connection with the red haired woman something the Zzvkith will uncover with enough time.

...

Making their way through the city, Khalia remains stoic and silent, content to hear the words of the others as strategy and investigation is bandied about. When Sovereign's Watch is targeted, the android has no objections, as she faintly feels the sadness of the current neighborhood.

...

"Impressive, Yambul. To loosen tongues without giving away your interests... It serves us well."

Their entrance into the Palace feels like intrusion. "A place like this should be guarded better, shouldn't it? What's to prevent us from taking to the stairs and entering bed chambers and private libraries?"

As if goading her own person to test the boundaries, she tries to open a door leaving the main hall. First door on the party's right as it enters, the android tries to open it, though she won't deign to pass through doorway, should it prove to be a way out of the main hall.

Image of the Palace

The palace guard lazily scratches at his neck as Yambul asks his question "Monument? You mean the thing outside?" he grunts, then jerks a thumb behind him toward the massive chained robot-statues near the door you came in through "That's Kevoth-Kul's little joke, calls it a 'monument to victory.' Personally, I think it just creeps out the dogs"

Another guard nearby snorts "I heard he talks to them at night. The left one's named Trundle" the first guard shrugs "Better than talking to the heads, I guess"

As you step past the bound robot statues and into the Lower Court, the sudden surge of noise and motion nearly overwhelms the senses. The air reeks of unwashed animals and meat left out too long in the sun. The high, vaulted hall is a chaotic procession of life: servants bustle to and fro, dragging carts laden with food, scrubbing dried blood from the floor near one of the pillars, or awkwardly dodging the snarling wolf hounds that prowl the edges of the space. Overhead, several figures hang limply from chains, some groaning faintly, others swaying lifelessly.

Clustered throughout the chamber, you see groups of richly dressed individuals, some in fine silks, others in more traditional Numerian finery laced with polished circuitry. They chat in low tones, a few have the pale complexions and unreadable stares. One figure even chuckles aloud as a servant stumbles, then shoos him off with a wave of a wand.

Khalia moves deeper into the hall. No one stops her. No one even seems to notice.

She moves through the court's controlled chaos to a side door, unwatched, unguarded, its edges worn from use. With a calm hand, she opens it and looks into a narrow, dimly-lit corridor. The air here smells of spices, ash, and something acrid beneath it. A single flickering torch sputters on the wall. At the end, a second door stands slightly ajar. Beyond it, the corridor opens into a larger chamber, its curved wall and rising ceiling revealing it as the base of a tower, and likely the palace's kitchen.

Inside, you hear the sound of pots clattering, metal scraping, and someone shouting in panic about "burning the stew again".

As Khalia turns to explain her findings, a skinny servant carrying a platter piled high with greasy bones nearly collides with her. He staggers back, barely saving the plate, and mutters with theatrical indignation, "By the Gears of the Bronze Lady, elf! Next time warn a man before you materialize like some kind of haunted toothpick!"

Ruha winces at the hanging bodies. She listens in to the conversations of the richly dressed individuals to see if she can catch what the talk of the court might be, as well as if she can learn why they're torturing some unfortunate souls here.

Perception: 1d20 + 22 ⇒ (11) + 22 = 33

Seeing a potential frank (if not friendly) voice in this place, she addresses the servant carrying the platter "Sorry, we're visiting, are there any places we shouldn't go?"

Rhoreen keep pace with Ruha, letting the giant take the lead. She wonders if being here is a mistake, but also wants to see what she can see.

"What a place!" Yambul mutters under his breath. To the others he adds, "Well, let's check it out while we're here. But be careful, we don't want to get hung from the ceiling."

He'll move through the crowd checking things out once Rüha is done questioning the staff.