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A city made rich by trade from across Lake Encarthan, Caliphas has long been described as the very soul of Ustalav. Caliphas is Ustalav's largest city.
Resting on the shores of Lake Encarthan allows Caliphas to take full advantage of that massive trade route, and Caliphas is consequently a rich—some might even say decadent—city. The city is also very cosmopolitan, a relative rarity in suspicious Ustalav; many travelers visit from foreign parts, and some never leave, their disappearance rarely noticed by the population.
Since the relocation of Ustalav's capital from ancient Ardis to Caliphas, the city has been home to the Royal Court of Prince Aduard Ordranti III, a nest of power-hungry merchants, treacherous nobles, and corrupt courtiers.
Each of you received the following letter bearing the royal sigil of the house of Ordranti.
"Your aid is urgently requested in the city of Caliphas. Word of your deeds have spread wide and your skills are needed to avert a potential crisis. Bring this letter to Castle Stryithe and I will brief you on the full details of this request. A payment of 10,000 gold pieces along with the promise of potential property if you so choose to take up this mission. Time is limited. May Pharasma protect your souls."
As each of you arrives in the city it's clear something is wrong. Guards seem to be stationed at every street corner and businesses seem to close immediately at dusk, unheard of in such a huge city. As the street lamps are lit and the fog begins to roll in, it's clear the city seems under the grip of fear. Of what remains to be discovered.
Having shuffeld off the A young man, dressed lightly, having trailed off behind, taking in the sights and sounds, as he lazily walks through the city. Enjoying the sights, sounds and smells. Pulling off to the side, leaning against a wall, pulling his small satchel pack from his back to his front-allowing for a more comfortable wall lean, as well as guarding against sneak-thieves- the main draws a letter.
Reviewing it yet again he ponders "It is never good when a requests asks a god or goddess to protect your soul. Still, 10k gold is serious travel money. It shall be a fantastic addition to the supporting fund form my series of works I hope to publish when I return."
Caught up in his revelrie, Malik completely missed the city's tone-until the humming and buzzing voice lingers in his brain to pay attention. Filling away his letter and taking a closer look. The city so tense.
Approaching a guard, in what he hopes is a friendly manner the young archivists inquires "Excuse me sir. I'm Zell, a job offer has been extended to me by House Ordranti. Would you know where that is?.... Or perhaps would you recommend I find an inn immediately-Recommendations?"
Zell's attire is reasonable for the weather, further he seems to have far too little luggage for someone who has been traveling so far in distance and time. A simple side satchel, purple in colour, seems to be the only baggage he carries. Attached to the side is a small tool kit.
Upon shaking his hand, a faint smell of medicine and spices tingles the nose.
It seems dreadfully unfair to compare a city like Caliphas to the City of Wonders, but Goka had been home to Yau Lie for many years, and the metropolis dwarfed this town with its shuttered-up businesses and afeared citizenry. No, no, of course, it was three times the size of Yin-Sichasi where Lie had grown up, but that fact no longer impressed him. After Goka, the only city that could impress him in Avistan was probably Absalom.
And so, it is no small embarrassment to Lie when he finds himself lost almost immediately upon entering the city. He had confused some of their letters in a sign--probably something written in their Varisian tongue instead of Taldane--and ended up at the Majesty Hotel instead of instead Castle Stryithe. You wouldn't think it would be tricky to find the largest building in town but Lie decided to simply chalk up his confusion to poor urban planning and people whose directions were unbearably inept. Certainly his ability to navigate well-executed city grids could not possibly be brought into question.
Eventually he made his way down to the docks and broaches the threshold of a tavern called Hound's Tooth. Thankfully, Lie didn't need to ask for any permission to enter an abode, unlike how some local vampires and their spawn were reportedly limited. There were plenty of strange-looking people about, but Lie had made no attempt whatsoever to blend into Ustalav's fashion since disembarking from the ship off of Lake Encarthan.
The dhamphir strides into the Hound's Tooth looking completely out of place in armor that--if anyone in this town had knowledge of a place outside their own borders--they might regard as that worn by a samurai. Leather straps fix together heavy iron plates, affording protection as great as the finest full-plate armor worn by this nation's knights, but with far greater style. Each plate is painted with a scene of victory over fearsome beasts; the shoulder-guards appear as the heads of dragons; and the helmet resembles a red-faced oni, all fearsome scowl and horns. Lie removes the helmet as he walks towards the bar and sets it down. The pallid face underneath has no less of a scowl as he locks eyes with the bartender.
The bartender regards Lie for a moment, scanning him up and down, from the fearsome-looking armor to the enormous sword sheathed on his back. "You want to pay as you go or start a tab?" he asks after a moment.
Lie blinks at the man for a moment, processing the question. It was slang he wasn't quite familiar with, so he struggles to understand the expression. There is a moment where Lie's pupils rapidly shift back and forth as though calculating something, and then he nods. "To tabulate, as though arranging in columns, thus acquiring more before final payment," he reasons. "Yes, I will start a tab."
"What's your pleasure?"
Another moment, and Lie holds back a sigh of frustration at repeated colloquialism before he responds appropriately. "I will have a whiskey with no ice, of whatever brand you would recommend."
"Whiskey neat, coming right up."
Sigh.
The bartender pours Lie something called Old Erebus and engages him in a bit of small talk. It's a good chance for Lie to practice his Taldane, but he eventually turns the conversation to business. "I cannot help but notice that the city seems quiet tonight," he says, taking a healthy sip of his whiskey. "What is going on to frighten people from their drink?"
No one in this big city takes notice of the dirty and wiry small halfling that is now walking through the narrow streets. Exept for those that notice the skunk circling Bruce's feet which actively avoid the bad-smelling pair.
Bruce lived outside the city in the woods, but is no stranger in Caliphas. He regularly visits to restock or take on minor jobs, when his expertise in geography and star chart reading are required. It's a necessity he came to terms with a while ago. The city streets stink, but it's very different from his own more natural ordor and the too notes clash heavily.
Wearing some sort of lether armor, a wooden buckler and a leather sack, he approaches a guard at Castle Stryithe. "You can't do this yourself, can you? You had to call for me and drag me into this rotten town?" He didn't let the surprised guard respond and shoved the letter of invitation in his stomach, the highest point he could reach. All while observingly looking around and percieve the scene. As the guard wanted to say something Bruce continued. "Look at poor Rosemary here," he pointed at the skunk between his feet, "She really doesn't like the city. Poor little thing. I think she's coming up with a fever or something. Clearly not feeling well. But I can't leave her alone in the forest, can I?"
With a leather booted foot, a halfling dressed in dark green and gray clothing steps off the riverboat. With a few steps into the city, he makes sure all his belongings are in order, with the letter of invitation in one of his many pockets. The cramp alleyways, were his main route towards a main plaza. Before he were to make contact, Griswald needed to wet his tongue from his long travel from Magnimar, and the Hound's Tooth was talked about by the boat hands.
Entering the establishment, it takes a moment for his eyes to become accustomed to the light before he makes out the bar. Making his way through the crowd, Griswald finds an open spot and leaps onto a stool before holding up a hand to gain the barkeep's attention.
"Oi, I 'ave a question fer ye, after me tongue is wet o'course. Any brandy or mulled wine? Th' fog o' here chills more tha' I like, and somet'in' ta warm me up be nice," he spouts off quickly while sliding two gold coins on the counter. "A way to Castle Stryithe, would be 'preciated. The host seems to have need fer me skills."
Upon closer inspection of him, Griswald is dressed not in blacks, but more, dark shades. His cloak of a near black green, and clothes of a patterned grays and green. His armor is of a dark, form fitted and leather like in appearance, with a small mace at his side. At his other side, were two belt pouches, and on his back a well worn travel pack.
Leaning over, and hearing Lie's foreign tongue, listens in on the strangely dressed man before speaking up. "Th're be undead in Ustalav traveler. More so tha' other places, a'least tha' be the rumors. First timer here in Caliphas? Ne'er been 'ere meself, but got a job ta do."
Lie looks over and down at the darkly dressed halfling. Halflings were not unknown across Tian Xia, especially in Goka, but the appearance of one talking to him in such a thickly accented voice perplexes Lie immediately. He strains to pick up on what the halfling is saying, but certainly hears "Castle Stryithe" and raises his eyebrow.
This was to be one of his work partners on this job. But he was so...small.
"I know of the undead here," he says quietly, aware of the irony of the statement. Perhaps the halfling did not recognize Lie's heritage. "But it is my first time visiting." The dhampir takes a sip of his whiskey and tries to learn a bit more about the halfling before he plays his own hand. "What sort of job takes you to Castyle Stryithe? What use do they have of your skills?"
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Lie doesn't seem to notice the bartender's cold demeanor, or if he does he is unbothered by it. He also doesn't pick up on the deflection that the bartender provides. "But I did hear this from you," he objects quizzically. Still, he listens to the tale, his interest piqued.
"As I said, I am new to this area and would like to learn more of this Butcher of Caliphas. He sounds like the kind of person--" the dhampir rests a hand on his sheathed sword, "--that I am predisposed towards putting back in the ground."
Matilda arrived quietly in the semi-familiar streets of Caliphas as the fog began to roll in, taking in the sights of the city in the brief moments before they were shrouded in a sea of grey.
She was wearing a somewhat ostentatious outfit, and carrying only a small bag and a decorated walking stick. Between her a tall hat and a red striped jacket, she looked like some variety of performer, moving about the darkening streets with only the faint glint of her eyes as illumination.
While she was somewhat familiar with the city, it wasn't long before she became lost. She may have been able to see in utter darkness, but fog was another matter, and she's always been a bit nearsighted.
Lost as she might be, her unusual appearance as she strode through the dim streets kept at least minor hoodlums away. Between glimmering eyes, a pair of pointed horns, her red skin, and her eccentric outfit, she'd intentionally cultivated the appearance of some lesser fiend, accentuated by an overly long belt she had cut to resemble a whip-like tail.
(in truth, she was the descendant of at least one member of genie-kind, but such distinctions rarely made a difference to most folks, and the air of danger her diabolic persona presented tended to attract more customers to her wish-granting services)
Lost in thought, she was caught off guard as she nearly stumbled over Malik. Dropping a worn journal she had been leafing through in the process, currently open to a crude map of the city and scribbled notes.
"Ah! Sorry, pardon me. I was distracted. The fog is... disorienting, to put it lightly.
Taking a sip of his wine, Griswald keeps silent for a moment, waiting for his bar-mate finishes speaking. "I 'ave, a way ta git in places folks ain't wanted." Shivering slightly as the liquid warmed his stomach, nods towards the bartender. "Oi, I ain't famous 'ere yet. Guess the Prince 'eard o' me from someone wi' loose lips. No complain's fro' me though, jus' need be more cautious. As fer yerself!" Chuckling, he pats Lie's arm, "He means no' say to anyone who told you tha rumor. Thi' Butcher though, sounds bad. I should be o' me way, though the wine was good compared to the grog tha river boat had. I'm sure ta be back once me job is done."
His eyes stayed on both the bartender and his drinking companion as he loosened his cloak's hood. The boy might be an ally, but seems a bit off. perhaps we'll meet at the palace. This task, might be one to test me skills again. Sliding to the floor, he pats himself down putting the hood over his head. "I'll be headed out. Griswald's me name, an' I hope ta meet you again.... I never did get yer name."
Having just finished his dicussion with the guard, and started along the pathway recommended, "Prince... I really should research towns more before I walk in. Obvious in retrospect. Well, live and learn....and get less distracted by rice bowl recipes. The jingle it the back of his head makes him pause, and he starts to react to sudden snake heads with a form before realizing its a staff and back steping from his beginings of a combat stance as the woman stumbles and drops paperwork.
"Yes this fog is terrible.....Matilda? Is that you? I recognize that staff and that damn jacket. I haven't seen you in...what a year? What was it last time, that village with the rabid squirrel hiding their coins? Whatever are you doing here, this isn't your kind of gig." he asks her, bending over to help collect the scattered paperwork, "Lost as always? The guards are rather helpful with directions."
"A bit. Malik, right?" she asks, retrieving the notes. "I think I still have a scar from that little bastard. I'd thought it was just some local metaphor until it bit me."
She paused a moment, flipping through the journal for her rough map, the pencil markings a bit smeared with mud now.
She paused for a moment, glancing up toward the dreary and ever-darkening sky.
"I'm surprised to see you here, especially on a night like this. The fog draw you out? I could swear you travel with the weather at times."
"As for myself... apparently someone at the castle has heard of my little 'sermons' and has sought me out. I'm just hoping I haven't let my bravado get ahead of me."
She crossed out another branch on her tiny map.
"Not that I'm having much luck finding it."
Bruce was a patient nature. Living out in the wilderness was a peaceful life after all. He loved staring and observing things. This was a bit more difficult inside a building, but he could at least check out the ancient artwork.
"What do you think, Rosy. Should we get one of these for our cave?" he laughed.
The skunk who doesn't understand sarcasm answered: "Why? No. It would get dirty and rot!" Rosemary was not at all interested in the art, but did feel very comfortable on the plush sofa.
"Well, hopefully they're more "hey I heard itsa fun show" and less "evil witch burn her" huh? " Retrieving his letter and waving it briefly before putting it away again, "I'm heading there too, I've got a job offer, the guard pointed the way. Come, we can find the way."
WIth such an offer Malik heads back attempting to maintain travel to the castle.
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(Yau and Griswald) The bartender grabs a glass and begins to polish it as he begins his story. "Well, fifty years ago the body of a proustite was found stabbed to death in the gutter. At first, no one made much fuss out of it, sadly enough. Then, a guard was found slain, stabbed so many times his body looked more like meat then a person. Victim after victim began to appear. Man, woman, child, it didn't seem to matter to the bastard. He killed for an entire year, putting 24 poor souls into the dirt. Rumor has it the killer finally slipped up and was caught fleeing the scene of a murder.
The city had gone through enough. Before the guards could even react a mob had formed to track him down. By the time the guards managed to break through the crowd the butcher himself had been mangled. Stabbed, clubbed, torn to shred, and immolated. They say there were hardly any remains left when his body was buried. Rumor has it no one ever saw his face, the mask he wore resisting any attempt to pry it off. Strangest of all, they claim he never uttered a single noise even as he was killed.
With his body having been stolen, many people are scared that he may have returned. I think it's just a prank by some stupid kids. Still, nothing seems to stay buried long in Ustalav. The guards are taking it seriously thankfully enough. I'll be happy when the populace comes to its senses and I can start making some money at night again.
(Malik and Matilda) It's not to difficult to find entry into the castle with the assistance of the guards. The young man at the gate stops the two of you before checking the notice you received. "Please follow me this way. I will lead you to the waiting room." He leads you both to the same waiting area Bruce is already in. After the guard leaves, an ancient-looking man in a butler uniform steps in. He looked to be about ninety but spoke low and loudly. "Greetings honored guests. May I fetch you a drink or perhaps a cigar while we wait for the remainder of our guests?"
"Sounds like thi' Butcher got sloppy, though it be strange a word no be said. Tha' mask, also sounds peculiar." Tapping Lie's stool with a booted toe, he motions to the man before speaking. "If yer headed to tha same place I am, by perchance could ye join me? We small folk can get twisted in new places without a known landmark."
"Mmm, would you have cider?I'd enjoy a cigar. Please do not cut or lite it. I prefer to handle the details myself. Pray tell, please consider recommendations for an inn for post our meeting with the honored host. Thank you sir." Malik takes advantage of the offerred nicesties, while he does not smoke he will not refuse a gift.
Noticing the prior arrival, Malik offers greetings, "Howdy. I'm Malik, would you also be here concerning an offer of contracted employment?"
"I am Lie of the House of Yau," the dhampir responds, "He who makes spiders quake in their webs, banisher of eldritch horrors, and hunter of nightmared." The man makes some sort of gesture that one might construe as a salute, but then settles down for the answer to his question.
When the bartender finishes, Lie nods. "If that is the beast your Prince wants slain, then it is good that I have been invited. I shall join you, Griswald of the Unknown House. Thank you, barkeep."
Lie settles his tab with an extra tip and walks out with the halfling.
"Tha's a wee bit formal fer me, Mis'er Yau. Can call me Gris, if ye want, from tha Fleetfoot family." Chuckling to himself, he looks towards the fog-laden sky grins. "Got yerself a few titles too. If ye must know, Griswald Fleetfoot is an acquisitions expert. If tha Prince called fer me, I think me skill is wanted for tha. Migh' need ta shop though, after 'earin why we are wanted." Shivering slightly from excitement, the halfling picks up his pace to meet his benefactor. It's been a while. Might have to actually talk "proper" when in the castle. I wonder who else was selected for this, since it seems Mister Yau.... Or Lie? Whichever it is, he seems strong and a choice companion if beatings are needed.
"Something hot, and preferably spiced. Mulled wine if you have it and it's not on my coin."
She leaned back, stretching a moment before warming her hands by the fire.
"And I'm Matilda. I entertain and aid those I can and those that can pay. I grant wishes. Within reason. I can't make you wealthy, but wounds, aching muscles, a wolf eating sheep. That I can solve."
Noticing the prior arrival, Malik offers greetings, "Howdy. I'm Malik, would you also be here concerning an offer of contracted employment?"
The dirty halfling staining the expensive sofa does look startled at the new arrivals, but Bruce quickly gains composure.
"Oh. I guess so. It seems to be more than a one man job apparently." Bruce is obviously disappointed."My name is Bruce. And this snorring piece of fur is Rosemary." he points at the Skunk claiming its own armchair.
"And I'm Matilda. I entertain and aid those I can and those that can pay. I grant wishes. Within reason. I can't make you wealthy, but wounds, aching muscles, a wolf eating sheep. That I can solve."
"Entertain? How? Can you juggle?" Bruce seems excited and interested in her skills. "I wish you juggle!" he says with a friendly laugh.
"Very well Griswald of Fleetfoot," Lie says, placing his fearsome helmet back on his head and securing it with a few tugs and snaps. "I do not know this town, but we shall accompany each other and ask for directions as needed."
Lie joins Griswald, walking through the unfamiliar streets of Caliphas, using the barkeep's directions to help them navigate towards the Castle. "I, too, find myself in the business of acquisitions. Tell me, Griswald of Fleetfoot: what do you believe about the interaction of people and their treasured possessions?"
"True it may, that I make me coin off acquisitions, it's me practice ta follow me contrac' to tha word. No qualms about where me job take me, or those I may cross, since it's jus part o' tha hit," he says, keeping up with Lie. "As for pilferin' coin and trinkets offa normal folk, tha's not good fer me business. Leave that with the rats an' cats o' tha streets, less they try and slip me pockets. If tha 'appen, a quick slip in tha alley will solve tha trick."
As he gets to the steps of the castle, he bows to one of the guards and shows the letter. "Me thinks this be the place tha me friend and me were invited. 'Ere is me letter, me lord."
Lie similarly produces an immaculately folded letter to show the guard. He notes with some amusement the way they the halfling had taken his question: towards separating people from them, rather than investigating the potential connections.
Matilda hesitates a moment, smiling as she thinks, before reaching into a seemingly impossibly deep coat pocket and retrieving a trio of large acorns.
Her eyes catch the flicker of the fire for a moment, reflecting like a cat's in the dark as the acorns slowly begin to float and orbit around her hand as she moves it.
"I lean more toward 'practical', but how's this? It's but a simple trick, but even those have value."
(using Prestidigitation and/or Mage Hand to make them float, whichever seems more appropriate)
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The guard is happy to escort Yau and Griswald once the letters have been produced. "Your companions should already be in the meeting room." The guard brings the pair to the room just as the butler arrives back with the cigars and drinks for everyone. Mulled wine and other top-quality options along with a box of cigars, a cutter, and some small alchemical tindertwigs are on the table. "Hello gentleman. May I get you a drink or smoke? I have produced our best goods on the tray but would be happy to provide other options if they do not suit your taste. I believe that you all have arrived as well. I will alert the Prince that you are all ready. I encourage you in the meantime to prepare for it as well. When he is ready, I will escort you to the royal chambers so you may meet him." With that the butler exits to retrieve the remaining drinks if they are requested.
Lie nods his head respectfully to the butler--never look down on the help because they might conspire to stab you in the back if they were mistreated--and takes one of the cigars. "Thank you," he says, smelling it for flavor before deciding that it will almost certainly meet his refined tastes. He retrieves the cutter and makes a practiced chop, indicating that he has done this sort of thing before, before striking the tindertwig and puffing until he gets a decent smoke going. He inhales the earthy tobacco and other spices, letting them mull over his tongue as he closes his eyes. With a puff of his cheeks, he ushers out a cloud of smoke and half-smiles. It was good. The city might not be particularly large or metropolitan, but its nobility knew what they were doing. While the smoke is still roiling on his tongue, the dhampir takes a healthy sip of the mulled wine, which he also decides meets his satisfaction. Even better, they were paired well.
"Yes, these will do quite well," he says to the butler with a generous nod. He takes his cigar and his glass to a corner of the room where an ifrit is spinning acorns around her hand to the seeming amusement of a halfling encrusted with dirt. Nearby stands a human smelling of spices. And some sort of weasel-looking creature lounges lazily on one of the chairs--one of their companions, perhaps. Were these to be his cohorts on this mission? He was not used to working with so large a group.
"Greetings to all of you. I am Lie of the House of Yau." He decides to forgo his usual recitation of past deeds. "Whose company am I joining this day?"
One, two, three.... So five of us in total, not including the animal, having been invited. That, is a lot of coin for what this Prince wants. Eyes darting about the room, Griswald holds up a hand towards the butler without looking at them, "Drink an' smokes are temptin' but tha' can wait fer af'er the meetin'." Now that he was at the palace, his guard was up, as it wouldn't have been the first time violence broke out during a planned meeting with a benefactor, especially rich benefactors. Side-eyeing Lie and exhaling audibly, the halfling makes his way to a cushioned chair and inspects it before sitting.
"Ye seem to be relaxed, so with me assuming, it's fairly safe here? I see ye 'ave a stink dog wit ye, while tha mage be entertainin' the dir'y one. Don like dogs meself, but they has their uses. Ye, the one
with tha strong smeels. What brings you here?" Crossing his legs, he points at Malik with a smirk. "Got a lot o' trinkets on ye. wonderin' what they might be for. As fer meself, the name is Griswald Fleetfoot, specialist of aquisitions."
Shortly after the Butler leaves the room, as Yau Lie begins his self introduction. Malik takes one Cigar, and puts two more in his bag with one tinderwig. Instead of cutting the tip he just puts it in his mouth unlit for now. Never having tasted one before, but figure why not claim a few if they're offered so freely.
"Howdy you both, I'm Malik. No house associations." he answers the strangly pale one. "Tools of the trade mostly. I'm an archivist working on field acquisitions, so to speak. Although today I'm here just as Malik-Who needs traveling money. Relax is a matter of perception however. " Gesturing at the juggling, " Attention getting means less attention on me, while I can focus my attention. Win Win."
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"Haha, I like it!" Bruce responded amused. He behaved a little like a child and not because of his child-like size. He simply wasn't accustomed to other people, but a playful lifestyle in the forest.
"Rosey is not a dog!" Bruce shouts at the other halfling that had arrived and ignores him for the rest of the gathering.
His face made a confused look, when even more people arrived. And his jaw dropped, when the butler announced a meeting with the prince. "Ey, Matilda, can you this clean up spell that makes my clothes look less dirty? Maybe, the way I am, I'm not well prepared for this."
Lie looks curiously as Malik Who-needs-traveling-money introduces himself. "Ah, so your culture is a mononymic one?" he asks, somewhat uncertainly. No placenames, occupational names, toponyms, patronyms, or matronyms, nor an adoption by a benefactor.
As the not-Griswald halfling names the ifrit--Matilda--and the not-dog (but still maybe weasel?) named Rosey, Lie continues to make notes. "And you," he says, looking down at the yet-unknown person. "The halfling with the not-a-dog. Who are you?"
"Well, you'll make more of an impression this way... but I do see your point. Lucky for you, it's a magic I mastered at a young age. Though I've used it more for cleaning soot off myself than dirt and dust."
With a flick of her wrist, Bruce finds his clothes becoming cleaner, as well as acquiring the faint scent of woodsmoke. "A minor side effect, but better than nothing, right?"
She began to sip her wine, conjuring a small flame from a fingertip to warm it. "I do wonder just what the prince has in mind, if he's sought out so many people."
"My name is Bruce, Mr. Lie" something house of I don't remember, he answered and tried to be polite.
Then he looked at his familiar and continued. "And this nice little piece of fur is a Skunk. Don't make her angry, or she'll make you stink." How does one not know this. Where does this strange man come from?
"Thanks. Better than ever" he answered briefly to the Ifrit.
Mr. Lie? Wouldn't it be Mr. Yau in this culture? Agh, Lie hadn't figured out Avistani customs. And yet, Lie appreciates the honorific deference that Bruce displays towards him, and the non-condescending sharing of information. Lie decides that he rather likes Bruce on first impression. He likes Bruce even more when Matilda's prestidigitation scrubs some grime off of him. He wonders if Bruce had sone something to make Rosey angry and then gotten her stink on him. That seemed to be the implication.
"A skunk," he repeats, taking a pace towards Rosey and then bending down to look at her more closely. He takes a puff of his cigar, letting the smoke fill his mouth and nose and studying the striped creature. The dhampir slowly exhales the cigar smoke through his nose, looking for a moment (in his helmet) like a dragon. "Thank you, Bruce."
He stands back up and finds a plush chair to sit in, setting his implements aside for the moment so that he can rest comfortably, idly smoking and drinking. He responds to Matilda's point. "Well the letter said that our 'skills are needed to avert a potential crisis'. It is rumored," Lie remembers not to say by whom, "that the Butcher of Caliphas has risen from the dead after his grave was robbed. So that may be why we have been summoned."
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The party is left alone for about ten minutes to mingle before a knock is heard on the door. Ten seconds is given before the butler opens the door and gestures out. "If you all would follow me please." The butler leads the group along an old stone corridor, ancient faces glaring down from paintings lining the wall. The hall ends at a large pair of double doors that he pushes open. "Welcome to the court of Prince Aduard Ordranti the third! Also in attendance is the royal advisor Diauden, and High Priest of Pharasma Lurtho Andun.
The large court hall echoes with every step toward a large multi-tiered table. At the highest chair stands a late middle-aged man, greying hair cut military short dressed in royal clothing. At a lower seat to his left is a sleek balding man dressed in well-maintained black clothing. To the right is a plain-dressed old man, well worn with wrinkle spots whose crystal blue eyes seem to command respect. Around his neck hangs a chain bearing the holy symbol of Pharasma.
[b]"Greetings. The court has called you here to assist in retrieving an artifact stolen from the custody of the kingdom and church. An onyx skull was stolen from the vaults at the temple of Pharasma where it was being guarded. The only clue that was left was a note left where the skull had once been."
The butler reaches into his uniform and produces a rolled piece of parchment that he hands to the party. The note itself reads "If you wish to dance with the dead, be prepared to sink into an early grave.
The priest is the one who goes on. "Divinations have directed us to an abandoned graveyard on the border to Virlych, about a two days ride from the capital. The team we had dispatched has not checked in since arriving and all attempts to communicate with them have failed."
The prince nods solemnly before going on. "As stated in the note, you will be entitled to 10,000 gold pieces upon bringing back the skull. Any wealth discovered on your mission will likewise belong to you. In addition, a land grant will be bestowed upon you all to share ownership of. I ask that you make all haste. We do not know why someone would steal this artifact, but I do not wish to give the thief more time than necessary with it. We are happy to answer any questions you may have as well."
"What does this skull do? Why is it worth so many gold to you?", Bruce asks bluntly without hesitation.
Bruce doesn't know what diplomacy is.
Although Prince Ordranti III is not his prince, he is a prince nonetheless. Lie removes his helmet and bows upon entering the room.
"May it please your royal highness," he says after Bruce's bluntness. He doesn't care about the cost, but he is curious about the function. He begins with his recitation of deeds--something that usually worked in Tian Xia, but of which he was uncertain of the impact in Avistan. "I am Lie of the House of Yau in Shenmen, servant of The Lash and the Plough, slayer of qlippoths, and retriever of the lost. If this is your will, we will see it done. I would ask of you three questions to begin. First, who were the members of your originally dispatched team. Second, what measures have you used to contact them? And finally, as Bruce has asked: what is the nature of this onyx skull? Any spellcaster worth their salt is aware of the association of onyx with powerful necromancy. If we are to be successful in this search, it would help us to know why the skull was being protected and what the thief may be seeking to do with it."
"Before we start on thi' venture, mind tellin' what ye may be bitin' yer tongue fer about thi' skull?" the halfling asks while looking at the Prince with a lazy smile. "Mostly, so I migh' be prepared for any peculiarities it has. Meself, I don' care about the magics o' it. Tha coin and promise o' land enough brough' me 'ere." Bowing after speaking, Griswald eyes the others in the group, hoping to hear about any more information for his new job.
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"The first team consisted of four individuals. The leader was an aasimar paladin of Iomadae, Ael of the Divine Light. The wizard of the group was a human wizard by the name of Vincent Cushing. Thirdly was Longshade, a half-elf rogue. Finally, working under Lurtho himself was Laurence Helfside, a member of the church of Pharasma. All attempts to currently scry or send messages have been met with failure. They sent us a message that they had arrived at the graveyard, but no word has been received since then. That was about a week ago."
When more information on the skull is requested he looks to the two advisors near him and closes his eyes.
"This information will not be allowed to leave this hall. As you know, agents of the no-life king still hold power over certain areas of Ustalav. The item itself was called the Death Head's Gem. It's an artifact that was recovered back during the crusades against Tar-Baphon. Legend has it the gem has the power to not only assist in raising undead but granting them certain abilities as well. Granted to say, any necromancer who finds himself with it could wield vast armies."
Lie notes the names, descriptions, and skills of the original group--not overly dissimilar from this new group. Should any of them still be alive, they could be rescued. But they might be mind-controlled and/or undead. Multiple scrying attempts failing was an ill omen indeed. "If your first team yet lives, then you well know a variety of possible fates that could have befallen them. And if they do not, then let us not speak of what someone with the Death Head's Gem could do with their remains."
He nods his head solemnly and his hand shimmers with the faintest hint of positive energy.
Taking a gander around, but being polite about how much his eyes linger on any given place. Malik follows suite with polite entry, and listens intently.
Having had his fill of undead for his life already. Yet once again into unsettled sleep of undeath, and badly caretaken graveyards. At least this time it wasn't his fault they're badly taken care of.
"For clarity's sake. Is touching the skull a hazard? Or simply the use of it?" Malik inquires, pondering if they will need of care for transport. Or if it can be a smash and grab situation.
"Better here to prepare for the worst than hope for the best and be caught off-guard. If we expect to find them controlled and instead find them alive, then that's just a plus and we can adapt our plans at that point."
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With those knowledge checks Matilda you recall that the Tyrant himself had been seen once holding the skull. Malik and Yau recall records that the skull had been spotted being held by generals of the Tyrant's armies when leading armies of undead in siges. Those battles were also well known for the odd sense of cohesion and intelligence displayed by the normally mindless undead.
"No, unprotected living creatures have safely handled the skull without any adverse effects." Answers the head priest.
Although Lie had not studied quite as much of Avistan's history, the legend of the Whispering Tyrant had reached across to Tian Xia. Lichdom was not uncommon in Tian Xia either, though none to Lie's knowledge had risen to the level of infamy of Tar-Baphon, having been struck down before they accrued as much power.
"Thank you for being forthright," the dhampir responds. "Those are all the questions I have."
Bruce's face showed astonishment. Who are all these people. They're so...professional.
"Well, I have certainly heard of the Tyrant, but I'm no expert on the unliving. I very much prefer the living. But if I can help in this endeavor to keep another undead plague or similar from happening, I will!" His insecurity faded and was replaced with the eagerness typical for any Halfling.
Looking at the group answering, he smiles. This is why it's best to take learned individuals on jobs like this.
"Tha' be tha case, me blade was trained on tha unlifed kind. 'Oever took thi' skull, it'd be best t' no' le' them use it. We migh' no' see eye ta eye, even I know thi' be bad fer tha worl'." With a straightened posture, Griswald begins looking at the various entrances into the room. "May the Tyrant never rise again," he whispers under his breath, surprisingly without his thick accent.