Darkness Gathers (Inactive)

Game Master Edeldhur

" My the Tears of the lady shine on you and your blessed children" Selene said softly in the direction of the mother. She was already quite good at Oskar's compliment and seeing two wonderful children with a dotting mother warmed her heart. She never had the chance to have a child with Bors, some thugs took that away from her,but it wouldn't stop her from wanting children to prosper be them hers or not.

" And it's okay Oskar, I know my appearance is alot for some, but just a secret between me and you. Women be them any age enjoy an honest compliment. No need to be flowery or poet just be honest and preferably not crass." The six foot almost six foot two inch tall tiefling woman said. She was tall and a little bit plump in places but it wasn't hard to see that Selene could be considered intimidating as well as alluring.

The priestess looked around taking in the surroundings and looked at the other group and blinked. Is that woman in trouble? Are those men? Will I have to intervene? I'm not good at easedropping maybe one of the others are?

perception to eaves drop: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (16) + 0 = 16

The conversation of the men and women draws Davorox's attention. They seem to be in disagreement with each other over some point thgat Davorox tries to sort out in his head.
insight: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12
He attempts to not be "seen" eaves dropping as he and his group continue out the door.
deception to avoid being noticed eavesdropping: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14

Johnny Boy gives Oskar a knowing wink before moving off and keeping to his own council.

He meandered along the streets neither hurried nor rushed, just taking in the sights. He utilizes his shillelagh for its original purpose, swinging it in great strides as a stick to aid in his walking. It's solid wooden *tap* *tap* *tap* accompanies his quick little steps.

To the two little bairns he tips his hat in quick salute. He does the same to the four men, appreciating a good, honest drunk when its worn with such pride. But when what can only be described as an 'altercation' does break his peace, his curiosity must needs be satisfied. Never one to keep a tight rein on such impulses, he allows his steps to be drawn toward the arguing crowd.

"Top o' th' mornin' to you lads and lassie!" he says, uncaring that it was now near perfect dark. It had to be morning somewhere. "I was just standing a wee pace away when I couldn't help but overhear it seems ya might be in a wee bit of a tight spot. It just so happens that old da told me t' never pass by a stranger in need, so mayhap if ya could tell what the spot o' bother is, I could do a wee bit of helping out!

I mean, I've never yet seen a problem what can't be best settled over a pint."

It would later be debated who exactly 'started it' but right now there was no doubt: there had been a declaration of total war.

The bounty of Autumn outside the Kettle consisted of a number of fist-sized pinecones, and someone (either Reu or the children) had drawn first blood in the conifer confrontation. It was two against one, and Reu knew he would have to win the battle through tactics, not brute strength.

"Suck cone, gnome!" a charming runt screamed with a mile-wide smile as he launched his ballistic missile. It was a direct hit, and the calculating inventor realistically simulated the physics of the collision with a correctly scaled recoil to the children's delight.

Of course it was all just a ploy to make a rapid roll to the left, where Reu had stashed a healthy supply of backup ammo. "You'll never take me alive, hellspawn!" he retorted psychotically using the dreaded double whammy technique(two pinecones attached together), executing a quick barrage of flying pinecones as his opponents scattered.

Oskar has a hard time listening on the conversation, while Davorox, seemingly more attentive manages to make out some words - "Pay what you owe... Business... Mangy dog... Welcomers"

It all turns into an awkward moment of silence when Johnny Boy addresses the group.

"We don't need any help half pint" - one of the men snarls in reply, after a few seconds of looking you up and down. His whole attire, mostly black in color, looks disheveled and dirty. He is unshaven, with dark, sunken black eyes and greasy hair - "So move along, mind your own business, and we will mind ours" - he is missing half of his left ear.

The other two just stare, while the woman fidgets nervously.

Stealth: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19

Using the the sudden outbreak of full scale pine cone conflict as a distraction, Oskar slides into the shadows, slips his short sword free, and slinks closer to the group accosting the woman. Staying hidden he readies himself to back up the halfling or snatch the woman from harms way depending on how things break.

Selene was about to scold Reuleaux, when The halfling she had just dined with appeared with the group of the men and the woman. Selene stood straight up amd began to stride towards the group. She would back up these folks.

Selene made sure she was ready her Spear and shield should she need it. The sister hoped to diffuse the situation with words, but should that fail she would fight to defend the woman and her companions.

Johnny Boy laughs at the man.

It's long and loud. The kind of laugh one does at unserious words. "Oh 'half pint' is it? My but that's a good one. I've never been called that, no I haven't. Surely such an original and biting remark is a statement on what kind of man you are. Or aren't." The leprechaun deliberately dips his eyes to around the man's waistband. "From what I can see 'twould be more accurate to call you 'no pint' for you are desperate need and want, methinks.

I don't even think it would hurt that much if I popped me shillelagh into the twig'n'berries," he says making a quick jabbing motion with his walking stick, "so just run along little boy and let the adults sort things out now."

Casting message on "little boy"

Run away before he gets mad. Run away! Davorox howls through his spell in the ear of the "little boy" Using spell to allow me to intimidate intimidate: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16

"Run along..?" - the man chuckles with his companions - "Did you hear that boys? Half pint thinks he can just give orders around" - then turns to Johnny Boy again - "Look here you..." - his words are cut short though and he takes a step back, eyes darting around apparently looking for something.

"Did... Did you guys hear that?" - he stammers, hand going to his hip, where you can now notice a dagger - "I heard a voice, whispering something. Did you hear it?"

The others look confused to one another - "What are you going on about? I didn't hear anything, just the yapping of that one" - one of them replies, nodding at Johnny.

Your interloper continues backing away - "Nevermind then half pint!" - he snarls at the halfling - "Like I said, mind your own business, and we will mind ours! Lets go boys" - he adds, motioning to leave with the others and the woman.

Selene begins to cast Thaumaturgy causing the area the man is standing to tremble, then another to make sounds of Abyssal whispers to emerge from nowhere around him. She just waits and watches.

Johnny Boy turns and gives the group a grateful wink before turning back and hooting the young toughs off. " Ooooh ha! Off ya go now ya great tiddly-widdlies! Run away! Sod off proper before I gives ya a right thumpin!"

As the boys shuffle off he favors the lady with a knowing smile.

From the shadows, Oskar watches the woman as the other men start to back away. Looking for any sign that she was in actual trouble or just having a hardy disagreement with her mates. He tries to focus and maintain his concentration but it is difficult to ignore the half dozen faceless spirits circling his open blade, their keen calls echoing in his ears. Calling for blood, calling for him to open the portal to death's realm. Whether to draw his own soul to the other side or that of another, it didn't really matter as long as their hunger for mortal souls was satisfied.

WIS(Insight): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11

As the autumn grasshoper leaped into the open gnome's mouth, Reu sensed he was losing the battle and certain new combinations of thoughts arose prompting him to tap the aspect of innovation: those arcane winds that shuffled reality like a bustle of green leaves. There would be no call for truce.

Finding new methods to launch objects into classic projectile motion was a dead end. Reauleaux had tread that road a thousand times already, and while the Bison Footlocker Delivery System 2000 was a crowning achievement a pregnant, enraged bison (however useful) wasn't something the gnome wanted to deal with at the moment. So, rather than develop yet another launching method he focused instead on precision.

What loved children more than anything?

Witches of course. The broomstick riding, wart nosed, sacks of cackles couldn't resist these plump little younglings. If the pinecone were actually a witch, he reasoned, it would seek the targets itself (with at least a 10-fold increase in accuracy). Of course the effect would have to be temporary, releasing eldritch power of such a nature here (under these circumstances) would be rather tasteless.

Taking a moment's cover behind a rain barrel, Reu opened a conduit in the Weave that could transmogrify cone to hag. Using the modern techniques of Lantan, the raw energies were shaped into a pointy black hat and false nose the gnome could easily handle. It was then a simple matter to adorn the cone with said enchanted costume before its maiden flight.

Throwing it straight up, the costumed cone sure enough transformed into a tiny witch straddling a broom, which then (just as Reuleuax predicted) took the shortest time path directly at the child's face. Inches away, the dweomer reversed again to cone form, and those who were keeping track quickly tallied a number of direct strikes in the gnome's favor.

Using True Strike to dominate foes.

Leaving the tavern behind the others, Ispen plods along at his usual steady pace, his demeanor confident and sure. If'n I'm ta be a bodyguard, then I'd best act the part...

His thoughts trail off as his newly assembled companions become almost instantly distracted by the arguments of three disheveled men and a young woman. Before the firey-haired dwarf can act, he sees Johnny Boy move to intercept the other group. Ispen pauses, incredulous at the delay, takes in the conversation as best he can and tries to ascertain what's happening there.

insight: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

...and finds that his own irritation at the situation is too distracting. At this point, the dwarf drops a and to the harness of his axe, and tries to look tough. "People," he mutters, "We got places ta be..."

*drops a hand

As the men and the woman move away, the ground below them starts to rumble, and whispers from beyond can be heard faintly. Now they seem truly scared and pick up the pace as fast as they can, apparently whatever dissention between them becoming unimportant in face of this witchcraft....

Oskar and Ispen have a hard time reading the woman's mindset among all that is happening around her - for the time being, she seems to have joined efforts with the men in getting away from there as soon as possible. And the glances she throws back at you could either be a cry for help, or a 'look over her shoulder' to see if they are not being chased.

@Reuleaux: How do you use True Strike to dominate foes? :D

Let us go. We have a task to be about. the dragonman states in a crisp voice. I guess our ruse worked.He continues with a quiet belly laugh.

@Reuleaux: How do you use True Strike to dominate foes? :D

He was getting attacked by children throwing pinecones at him, so he dressed up the pinecones like witches with magic. Since witches love children, they then became homing missiles and turned the tide of battle. Was a bad joke, no worries moving on.

Oskar sheathes his sword silencing the baying, unsatisfied spirits for the moment. Seems like it was just a dispute between comrades. He thinks and quietly nods his agreement with the dragonkin and dwarf.

"Someone should gather up the gnome before we've a mob of angry mother's charging after us for sending miniature witches after their precious little darlings." He tosses back over his shoulder as he starts legging it toward the rendezvous.

"Master Reuleaux, You are an Adult! Those are children, Apologize." Selene says coming over to place a hand on his shoulder as she smiles at him.

"If you do I'll take a look at your equations and see if I can find any errors or solutions you don't see okay" The Tiefling says trying to be warm and comforting to the gnome in hopes he understands.

Johnny Boy shrugs as to say that he had done all he can and an attempt was made but they can't all be winners. Then he's off, following along and galumphing down the road.

He says with a smile, picking pieces of cone out of the fibers of his vest "All in good sport, my planestouched companion (besides it is they who in fact started it). Conflict breeds innovation! A challenge well met means problems to solve. But yes, I sense a crisp autumn breeze from the north..." he raises an eyebrow mysteriously seeking something invisible, wetting a finger and putting it into the air "...humidity 77%, barometric pressure fluctuating. Let us quickly find the warmth of cape and steed and begin the journey proper."

Ispen arches a bushy eyebrow at the odd gnome, and shakes his head slightly, "Aye. Let's be getting on. Fer the journey "proper", like ye say."

A pause, then to Sister Selene, "An where were that, again, M'lady? I ain't too sure o' where we're headin', specific-like. I know we're ta be meeting these fellows, but beyond that..."

The interruption settled, the group gets underway toward their destination - according to the details provided by Ms. O'Leary, it is a 20-minute walk to the abandoned barn on the outskirts of Phlan. Indeed it takes you no longer than that, as the streets are mostly deserted, bare of both civilians and any Black Fist Order patrols.

From a distance, the designated meeting place looks like no more than a simple structure, about 30 feet wide and 80 feet long. Here and there you can see farming implements left behind a long time ago - rusty pitchforks, shovels and all manner of worn out tools, a broken down wagon tilted to its side, and overrun with some sort of bush like vegetation, and overall a large amount of weeds and wild grass dotting the whole area.

From where you stand, the barn's main door appears to be closed, and everything seems otherwise deadly quiet.

I'll go by the side of Oskar as if a body guard Davorox volunteers drawing his great club. A few cursory swings reminds his muscles of the proper use of the unwieldy cudgel. He runs his hands across it almost in a caress before slinging it up to his shoulder in an "at ready" position.

From out of nowhere Reu brought The Weapon forth.

*zzzip klik wRRrrr*

Deep blue, arcane energies glistened across its polished brass surface. It had a ratcheting system that looked foreign and didn't seem to make mechanical sense. A copper string played some kind of stabilizing song, a sequence of 3 notes (that actually sounded more like syllables) gripping a quarrel on the edge of explosion.

But it was Reu. The light from his face filtered through another attached lens device, focused into a narrow beam that lit the projectile with an inner source of its own.

The wizard held it at the ready, smiling, a shimmering globe of radiance.

Casting Light on my quarrel and standing around.

Selene walked, her body shifting with each step. creaks and clanks could be heard as she walked, as she was awkward in her armor. Selene seeing Rueleauxs' light smiled and touched the tip of her spear. A gentle prick of her finger let the blood dribble down feeding her spell as the metal tip flared to life. Pale Silver moonlight began to shine.

The priestess stood slightly behind Oskar and spoke." I shall be back here. I can better observe and assist should anyone need healing or defense. If you need a job for me, Personal assistant is something I feel is believable? Though I am open to suggestions"

"We canna have all our eggs in one basket," Johnny Boy declares, looking around. "If'n I were to lay in a surprise, I'd do it by that o'erturned wagon.

Imma stay by that. In case anyone tries t' lock the doors and burn ya all alive," he concludes, nonchalantly.

Ducking low, he does a fairly adequate job of skulking silently over to the wagon.

Stealth!: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6

"DOPE DOLIN BOLLUCKS GOBEEN!" he yells at the unseen spot of briar that pricked his ear hard enough to draw blood. "Right eidgit sap langer not enough for a geebag," he mutters.

The dwarven fighter watches as the group prepares, blinks at Reu's creation, then shrugs and takes position on the opposite side of Oskar, mirroring Davorox.

"Let's do this..."

Nodding at the others, Oskar makes one last attempt to straighten his tunic and ragged cloak before finally giving up with a shrug. Going up to the main door, he tries to slide it open.

The group goes through a few short preparations, and then Oskar pushes through the door, flanked by Davorox and Ispen. Sister Selene and Reuleaux follow shortly behind, while Johnny Boy 'hides' by the overturned wagon.

From the inside, the barn is as unimpressive as from the outside, consisting of a large open area in disrepair and abandon, with a ladder at the far end opposite the open doorway, leading to a hay loft 10 feet above the floor. All around there are old burlap sacks and old farming tools strewn about, in a scenario very similar to the one outside.

The big difference however, is the presence of a sinewy elf in gray clothes staring at you with a smile on her lips, and the four men standing just behind her - "I told you they would come. A dragon egg is just much too valuable to pass up" - she comments to them, then turns back to Oskar - "Now, shall we do this quickly? Here is what you asked for" - holding a very large hide backpack toward him.

"You throw the payment over to me, and we will leave the egg here. We will exit the barn, and then you can leave after five minutes have passed. No fuss, no muss" - but then the elf pauses, looking more closely for a split second - "Wait, wait, wait... Something is not right here... No one told me anything about a long hair or trimmed moustache... Who the heck are you?!" - she adds with a raised eyebrow at the rogue, hand going to rest on the hilt of the scimitar at her waist.

Oskar listens to the elf woman talk, keeping his features as neutral as possible. Yet, inside his heart races at the casual mention of what they were purchasing. A dragon's egg. God's please don't let the mother show up. Ghostly moans and groans of concern fill her ears as half a dozen of his former neighbors flicker in and out of his vision in worried spiritual consternation. Trying to blink away the ghosts, is eyes flick toward Davorox but fears of the dragonkin's own reaction to the item being sold are quickly tossed aside when the elf's hand drops to her scimitar.

"Hey now! Hold on a moment." Oskar calls out, raising a hand and doing his best to keep his voice calm and easy going. He rattles the coin filled pouch in his off hand. "Course nobody mentioned 'em. Probably didn't mention the peasant look either. But when I'm dealing with black market goods, I prefer not to advertise my business to any potential spies or simple passersby who might take note of a man of means visiting a broken down barn in the wee dark of the night."

He takes a careful step forward holding the pouch. "Now let's not take a simple sale for goods delivered between like minded parties and turn it into a bunch of bickering and bleeding. Hmmmm."

"So, if you'd be so kind as to let us see the egg?" He adds holding up the gold, and raising an eyebrow to see if she's truly willing to go ahead with the sale or instead fight it out.

Deception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22

perception upon entering barn: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (8) + 0 = 8

Noticing nothing but the marks, Davorox stretches slightly making himself appear taller than he was upon entering. Upon hearing their comments about the mustaches and such he draws himself to full height and shifts his club to a ready position.
Boss, they ain't much to deal with if they only believe what they been told. I'd say let me just take what they have. NO need for them to insult you by their disbelief Davorox glares at the elf and compatriots. Focusing his glare at the elf.
intimidate: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15

Reu appeared to have simultaneously a) invented the adult diaper and b) swallowed a fast-acting laxative. His face swirled and contorted like the image on a pond's surface in the rain in some indecipherable combination of shock, disbelief, and pure energy. Drool ran from both corners of his mouth, and he was also softly crying.

The gnome's hands shook slightly less than the rest of his body as he reached for a handkerchief, promptly proceeding to clean out his ear holes with a tiny vial marked 'hydrochloric acid'. His skin was as bright red as a cardinal's crown, and indeed from the look of the goosebumps he was about to sprout feathers and invoke the eternal spirit of Daedulus in a triumphant ascent.

Such was the struggle to maintain composure before even his nose began to bleed. An attempt was made to say the word 'dragon', but alas nothing came save a high pitched squeal resembling a lazy baby trying to cough. His focus had been wholly stolen, replaced with trembling anticipation.

If a real dragon egg was about to be plopped here before the Lantanese guildsman, it would be the first domino to fall in a chain reaction leading to god knows what...

"Y'know, the inside is kinda cozy," John mumbles to himself, having eventually wormed his way in to the underside of the upturned wagon.

"Man I am so glad I'm not in there. I still give it better'n'even that thing goes up in flames," he muses idly.

The son of Traghor Ironborn glares at the elf and her four henchmen. Just glares in the manner of a bodyguard, much the way he'd seen guardsmen do at his father's brewery, when one of the customers was getting a bit too rowdy.

Furrowing his brow, Ispen takes in the surroundings, sizing up the 'competition' as well as the inside of the barn. As he does so, he crosses his arms in front of his broad chest.

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5

Neither Davorox nor Ispen notice anything particularly interesting about the barn, apart from their interlopers.

He takes a careful step forward holding the pouch. "Now let's not take a simple sale for goods delivered between like minded parties and turn it into a bunch of bickering and bleeding. Hmmmm."

"So, if you'd be so kind as to let us see the egg?" He adds holding up the gold, and raising an eyebrow to see if she's truly willing to go ahead with the sale or instead fight it out.

Boss, they ain't much to deal with if they only believe what they been told. I'd say let me just take what they have. NO need for them to insult you by their disbelief Davorox glares at the elf and compatriots. Focusing his glare at the elf.

"You don't look much to look at yourself, you overgrown liz..." - one of the men on the back begins to respond, but is cut short by the elf's hand, which has left the sword hilt and is now upraised in a silent command.

"Now, now... Like it has been wisely said, let us not turn business into mayhem" - she nods and smiles again, this time at Davorox - "Yes?"

Reaching into the backpack, the elf then produces an item about the size of a small melon - it has an oblong shape, and seems to be almost completely black, except for a few slivers of bright orange or red - "How about it? Looks good?"

"And more importantly" - she chuckled with a surprisingly pleasant and melodious voice, looking at the squealing Reuleaux - "Is he ok?"

Boss? Davorox waits for Oskar comment as if he was really a body guard awaiting orders.

Ispen doesn't move, but his eyes follow the elf's gaze, and then he grimaces at the gnome's reaction. It takes everything in his power, but the dwarven fighter somehow refrains from commenting.

Selene softly speaks her voice husky.

"I still think you look handsome with the long hair and mustache, Let us hurry up so this transaction can be done, and I can give you a personal reward. You'd didn't hire me just for my muscle" Selene says softly but so the others could hear. her face appearing over Oskars' left shoulder appearing to be all into the rogue. She hoped it was convincing enough for the thugs to believe her.

Oskar tries to suppress the flaring blush that erupts on his cheeks as Selene leans in close. His smile is more a grimace as he seeks anything to provide a quick distraction. With racing thoughts he quickly turns a furrowed brow back toward the gnome. He waves a hand as if having Davorox stand down, while shaking his head sadly at the quivering gnome.

"I'd just recommend avoiding the fish special at the Bitter Blade." He says casually to the elf. "Poor man hasn't been right in the gut ever since. Gets these odd stomach fits, and trust me, you don't want to be standing too near when the whole thing um peaks."

"Do you have anymore of the foul smelling herbal concoction the healer gave us?" He says to Selene, his face still flushed. "Ahem...um...perhaps its time for another dose before there's another...incident." Another quick glance at the tiefling. "For that would surely ruin any reward you may have had in mind."

He shrugs apologetically to the elf for the interruption in business and spends a few more moments peering at the egg. A moment to calm his racing heart, because really, he doesn't have much of a clue what an actual dragon's egg is supposed to look like. Finally he nods as if satisfied with its authenticity and throws the woman a wide smile.

"Excellent."

"All seems to be in order. Let us finish our business and we can all be on our way." He adds stepping closer to hand the elf the Harper's coin pouch.

Upon seeing the motion of Oakar, Davorox settles his club back to his shoulders and settles on his heels again. He presents as more relaxed but still on edge and watchful. Take the elf first if needed, something still feels off with this whole thing. Maybe we should have asked for a way to authenticate the "item." Ox thinks as he settles back to wait. We still have to set it up so they can be tracked as well...Dang wish I could remember what we needed to do that.

"Thanks for the tip" - the elf chuckles again, now at Oskar's words - "Don't think I would want to go through whatever he is... Hmm... Experiencing" - she adds, moving closer to the rogue for the exchange. One hand is extended to the pouch, while the other holds the backpack with the egg inside.

"Pleasure doing business with you"

Reu's eyeballs actually extended out of their sockets a few micrometers, tracking the egg's position with incredible accuracy. He wanted to dissect it...examine and deduce every property of shell, yolk, and albumen. He had a tiny scalpel in his hands at the ready, but the prolific amounts of sweat pouring off his body made it super slippery...resembling a back-alley rogue tumbling a dagger in hand.

Speech was still impossible, this time the noise from his mouth resembled a simple G7 chord (it was wholly unclear how he was actually able to produce multiple notes at once with just his mouth, but rather remarkable to the musically inclined).

Sleight of Hand: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23

Handing the elf the pouch his other hand simultaneously slips the Harper pin into a fold of her cloak as he grabs the backpack. The whole move happens in an instant with the gnomes clever bit of throat singing providing the perfect distraction.

With the pin in place, the egg in hand, and Reuleaux seemingly on the verge of a catastrophic breakdown, Oskar bows his head to the elf.

"A pleasure indeed." He says, turning to leave, letting Davorox and Ispen cover his back and hoping Selene can manage the gnome long enough for them to get away.

Ispen holds fast as Oskar turns, maintaining what he hopes is a stoic, but non-threatening glare. Only after the rogue passes him (hopefully), will the dwarf turn and follow.

DM, can I try my Artificer's Lore rock gnome ability to assess the so-called dragon's egg?

Int(History): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20

Turning languidly, the dragonborn follows the "boss" casually but alert. deception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13

Selene by this time has walked over and rests a hand on his shoulder. Leaning down so she can whisper she speaks. " Igamination comes once it is in our possession. Also no harm is to come to it it remains intact"