‘Eκάτη's Endless Night

Game Master ‘Eκάτη

The giant aberration looks in surprise at the arrow in its chest, grabs it with all four paws and slowly falls back... The crowd above first quiets down, and then explodes with screams. Someone accuses someone of cheating, shouting that this deep giant was sick and sluggish, someone reminds that no one should underestimate the fighters of the Great Houses, someone suddenly screams in pain and the sound of a limp body falling is heard... And so on. Life is in full swing right above you. Meanwhile, the grate rises behind your backs and a couple of creepers show you that it's time to leave the arena.

And six seconds later the Gug takes 4d4 more Acid. And six seconds after that takes another 4d4. And Soryan Dirge is disgruntled that he wasted Acid Arrow instead of a Magic Missile. ;)

Still Invisible, Soryan Dirge answers Terzarin Lightbringer in a whisper, "Alas, I spent so many quests of my youth alone that I never think to use my Spells to aid others." He feels the awkward silence and tries to come up with something. "I can scribe spells onto scrollpaper but it requires time and gold. If we have time, and you provide the cost, I will make for you whatever Scrolls I can, including both Invisibility and See Invisibility."

Ref: 1d20 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 6 + 1 = 24

Cuthalian did not slip and the blow of his blade that entered the gug's body in a couple of moments before it was hit by an arrow would certainly have been no less deadly for the monster.

Cirok frowns.
Thought it may last a bit longer.

The Rogue smiles. He orders his Unseen Servant to reverse his previous actions and to return outside.

Cirok then bows to the crowd and exits stage left....

Cuthalian follows. "Soryan, a little prestidigitation to clean off the muck if you will."

" Just a little prestidigitation?! After wading through that slime you three smell like Dwarves!" Soryan Dirge doesn't even allow a glance or playful smirk in Colgrim's direction but rather looks straight ahead, doing his best not to laugh a little -- after at least several Cantrips of Cleaning.

Colgrim shrinks back down and slugs down a potion of CSW to keep himself from dying.
CSW: 3d8 + 6 ⇒ (6, 6, 3) + 6 = 21

Too bad it didn't; last longer.

Terzarin puts a hand on Colgrim's wrist if possible. "Wait, save your potion. I can heal you when no one is watching."

If you say so.

You do not meet any sentiments or honoring the victorious heroes of the arena. You are led through smelly corridors so that you do not meet with patrons. Сreepers do not take you back to the streets of Drashes, but to a certain hall that could serve as a place for strange and wild feasts. The stone table in the middle of this large room is very roughly made and could accommodate a dozen creatures larger than typical drow. Now there is only Xomos and five of his bodyguards, of whom, however, only one is sitting at the table and the rest are standing along the walls trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, like pieces of furniture.

An impressive victory, and a very quick one. I think Liver is very upset. Well, I warned him. Gambling does not lead to anything good. We don't bet, we play for sure. He nods at Cirok. I sent a servant for the necklace you wished as a reward. A couple of hours and you'll have it. In the meantime, you can have some wine and we can discuss future plans. As I said, you need to kill someone and maybe save someone, although most likely the latter is no longer relevant. I think that the potential objects of salvation have already died in very painful ways.

His cold eyes are studying you.

If you want to get this job, you'll have to play by my rules. And now you will have to make a decision whether you are ready to accept the job first, and then find out who exactly will be the object of the work. And we will not bargain on this point. Yes is yes, no is no, sellswords.

Cirok looks at Xomos carefully.
Whatever and whomever dies dies.

"They probably deserve it."

I agree.

Let's assume that your squad has democracy .)

Xomos nods. Her name is Vi’Ing. Derro. He studies you for a couple of seconds, sees the absence of some kind of reaction like recognizing a name (it doesn't seem to surprise him), and continues. She and her band of derro slavers. This maniacal flesh peddlers run a risky game, capturing the poor and sick of Ghenavoc and selling them to derro outside the city for all manner of perverse experiments. I believe many of the city’s matriarchs and information mongers know of the insane conspirators, yet let them run their deadly game, sometimes secretly utilizing this band to disappear their own enemies.

No one will cry for them, the derro is an unreliable and disgusting tool. I wouldn't care about them, but more and more often my people become the targets of their kidnappings. I sent a couple of clear warnings, but the derro is the derro. He twitches his neck like it's cramped or like a brawler kneading his body before strangling someone with his bare hands. It's probably a gesture of annoyance.

To summarize. Vi’Ing must die, as must the maximum of her gang. I'm not encouraging you to hunt them all over Ghenavoc, just eliminate everyone who ends up at their base. This is an old abandoned and dilapidated warehouse. Probably with a large basement. He makes a gesture with his hand, as if to show that this is not uncommon here.

And do it without beautiful gestures. I am interested in you precisely as drow who are not affiliated with me. I will arrange to spread the rumor that I lost money on this fight... Which is almost true. Some of my organization, as you know, really lost some gold. No one will think that I sent you. I don't need street wars here. As well as the matriarchs of the Houses, by the way... You are not taking revenge, you are fixing the problem. It should be anonymous on my part. But for you... He shrugs and chuckles cheerfully. No one will ask why the warriors from the Greater House killed several derro. Why not, actually?

Xomos taps his fingers and continues. If there are still living and ... sane ... caligni there, let them go. I don't care about the other prisoners, you decide for yourself. I will reward you additionally for some returned living сaligni. There's a better chance of that if you go right now. However, those who got caught are to blame themselves. So it's up to you. You have already spent some resources on the deep giant. Not very big, though.

About your reward. I have something from those who were not so good at fighting in the arena. I've noticed that a good mercenary is always looking for ways to improve his equipment.

This means two magic items, which can be (in any combination) +2 weapon, +3 armor or wand with 3rd level spell of wizard or cleric spell list with 35 charges. The Xomos collection has a lot of exhibits, so I'll let you figure out for yourself what these items are, adjusted for the fact that it shouldn't be something obviously inappropriate (for example, something clearly from the surface or something related to good gods and so on).

Soryan Dirge discusses briefly with Xomos some of his Wands, but mentions what he would really appreciate are the small small gems and other accouterments of Scribing Scrolls. He explains he needs the time to craft the Demonic Riddles of Magic for Areshkagal to put on the Scrolls. He also insinuates that he'd love to have access to some Arcane Spellbooks.

Ultimately, Soryan Dirge chooses a Wand of Ray of Exhaustion.

Cirok suggests that one of the items be a Wand of Heroism .

The Rogue grins.
Better for everyone.

A Wand of Invisibility would also be good, but may want a Ring that we can share?

The Rogue will eat, drink and patiently wait the arrival of his Necklace.

That wand sounds like a good idea.

Xomos slowly discusses with you the reward for future work and clarifies what Vi’Ing looks like and which building is the base of derro (on the streets, this place is called the Scree), and soon a new necklace is brought to Cirok. See you soon.

You are being led out through tunnels.

Big Map updated! (do you still remember about it? by the way, let me remind you that handouts contain comments on every place you know on the map; the Scree is number 7, next to 6 - Draches). Your next most obvious options are to find Gadak at the tavern and return to the Vonnarс house (a very long day, right), or go straight to derro... Or anything else )

Cirok nods in gratitude to Xomos. The Rogue places the Necklace inside his Haversack.

Once in a secure(ish) area, he will have Soryan Dirge inspect it for sensors, traps or anything else.
Does it work?

Once it seems they have a safe space to talk. "I don't like this assassination thing. We should have killed all of his bodyguards and made him work for us. We are working for a Drow noble house, which eats up most of our day, and now we are doing chores for the city's underworld and we are no closer to finding out what this Armageddon is, how these drow intend to implement, nor how to stop it. We need information, not jobs. We need a target so we can destroy it and get back to the surface. I am untrained in the ways of information gathering but I can't help but feel we are wasting our time. And time is short." Cuthalian says to the others.

Hmm.. They might be good at gathering information. I don't know a thing about magic rituals but they might be able to sniff out if there is a big magical meeting going on somewhere that might be what we are looking for.

Terzarin pokes around the "safe place to talk" looking for strange items that might be used in eavesdropping. He casts Detect Magic as well as squishing any bugs or mice.

Only two of us are injured, I believe.
Channel 1: 6d6 ⇒ (6, 1, 3, 5, 5, 4) = 24

"Everyone refreshed? I have to agree with Colgrim. The more we poke around and defeat evil, the more likely we are to discover something."

So where will you go next/now?

Draches to find Gadak at the tavern. He can take us to the derro.

Works for me

Cirok stops. The Rogue listens to....
I feel the pull to visit two other Taverns in Drashes for....something. Not quite certain, although I did hear it was Lady's Night somewhere.

The Drow smiles.

Well lead on, 'ladies'. Might as well quaff some booze after the fight.

Colgrim leads the way to the tavern.

Cuthalian follows along quietly brooding about the lack of movement toward their goal.

Cuthalian follows along quietly brooding

Terzarin whispers, "You're doing that really well. You look just like a <youknow.>"

Cirok winks at Cuthalian at Terazin's compliment. He is pointing at Colgrim.

It is not difficult for you to find a Gadak. With a very satisfied look, he drinks wine in an unnamed diner and when you enter, he casts an expressive glance at a pair of gloomy-looking dark elves who were clearly waiting for him to leave here. Gadak grunts and, without finishing his wine, heads towards you. Your share of my bet. 500 gold pieces. He imperceptibly puts the purse into Cirok's hand.

When he hears about the tavern, he shrugs his shoulders. Yes, it's an interesting place... By his tone, however, you don't think so.

1d100 ⇒ 72 1d5 ⇒ 5

The Broken Chain. An inn hollowed out inside a stalagmite, resting next to another huge stalagmite from floor to ceiling. A stalagmite, almost completely blocking the view of Zirnakaynin from the windows of the tavern... or hiding the tavern from the all-seeing eyes of the dark elves of this city? (see 1 in the big map)

A variety of creatures sit, eat and drink at mushroom tables indoors. Grey-skinned dwarfs - duergars, dark stalkers, several muttering derro, a group of troglodytes, someone of an indeterminate race in tight-fitting black masks and gloves, a couple of disgusting blue-skinned humanoids similar to the undead but still not dead, and even one real undead - ghoul in rather luxurious clothes. And also, of course, there are a lot of drow here, but at least some of them look a little different from those whom you observe these days. Different style of clothes, different manners... Nonresident? However, cruelty is also visible in their eyes.

It is at this moment that Terzanin meets the eyes of a creepy spider-like monster the size of a horse. Your gaze lingers on the creature that shocks you and it meets you with its four eyes. You see in them intense pain, eternal rage and such burning hatred that it's hard for you to say how it hasn't killed itself yet... What the abyss are you staring at, you bloody freak?, the creature roars at you and the tavern goes quiet.

The drow behind the counter, wiping a glass, looks at this with one eyebrow raised. From his firm gaze, wide shoulders and a couple of scars, you can tell that he is not a timid man. However, the drider now literally does not notice him, focusing on Terzanin.

"I noticed your glass was almost empty. I was thinking of buying you another!" Terzarin stands tall, afraid of nothing with his powerful friends nearby.

Colgrim glowers.

Soryan Dirge sarcastically whispers, "Careful; he has a 'Death-Sentence' on twelve systems.

Yet the Wizard looks not at the Drider, but rather around the tavern to see if anyone is paying more than superficial interest -- not just at Terzarin and the Drider, but to Blood Currency us as a whole.

Soryan, it's hard for you to judge this confidently. No one directly points a finger at you or pronounces the name of the squad...

Diplomacy (Terzarin): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17

The words sounded good, but not good enough. Drider grabs a spear and swings it... And at that moment, a crossbow bolt slams into his back. It was extremely difficult to notice at what point the heavy crossbow appeared in the hands of the bartender, but the result leaves no room for doubt - the bolt entered the body somewhere near an important organ. The creature is staggering... The rest of the bar's patrons look at this with curiosity, especially derro, who seem to have gone crazy, shouting some nonsense at the top of their lungs, and the ghoul, who stuck out his tongue with appetite looking at the still living body...

Your actions? No initiative, I just want to understand what you will do. If you want to attack, describe it and make the appropriate rolls. If you stand aside or something else (step back?) then describe it too.

"He should have been more polite." Cuthalian says and walks to the far end of the bar so the drider could not accidentally fall on him. "Bartender, a drink please. Whatever you have on tap."

Colgrim shrugs and follows Cuthalian. I'll have what he is having.

Drider staggers, swings his spear, accidentally hitting one of the bar patrons and falls. It's obviously poison. The bartender slowly reloads his hefty crossbow, and hides it under the counter loaded. I warned him not to do it again. Take him away. A free drink to whoever does this so that I don't see this piece of meat here anymore. At the word "meat," a ghoul in expensive clothes and gold jewelry sticks out his tongue even more, but does not get up from his seat. But the group of derro enthusiastically and noisily gets down to business, sticking several hooks into still-alive drider and dragging the carcass out of the tavern by ropes. The tavern keeper's look shows that he is glad that he did not promise expensive drinks. And only when derro finally pulls out the body under bartender's heavy gaze, he turns to you. Well. I can offer you a duergar brandy if you want it stronger, or spider wine from our northern neighbors if you want it milder. Aye, and mushroom wine will never get old.

Corok politely accepts the pouch from Gadak. The grinning drow then ignores the commotions of the drunk drider. He walks easily up to the bartender, as the bolt bullies pass him to greet the drider's concerns.
Blood Currency would like to open a tab.

He places the pouch on the bar in front of him.

Not seeing anyone paying close attention to them, Soryan Dirge looks about for Profane Symbols of Divine, if horrifying, priests and dark gods. If he sees any for Areshkagal, he thinks to himself, he will likely approach that individual. If not, he may venture to a different individual disciple of a vile Demon Lord. Or, if the bar seems to be filled only with secular patrons, perhaps he will just introduce himself to the Ghoul in the expensive clothes and jewelry who seems to be wrestling his own tongue.

I'll have a go at the brandy. Colgrim is determined to enjoy some good booze after being cooped up in the mansion.

"Brandy for now. And one for yourself, for your troubles."

Terzarin sips carefully at the first brandy. The second one might go faster.

While Сolgrim gulps down the first but certainly not the last cup for today, Terzarin takes a careful sip and sniffs. The swill is so bitter that it's even hard to believe...

Blood Currency would like to open a tab. He places the pouch on the bar in front of him.

The bartender nods understandingly. He does not hide that he has heard this name. You still have reason to assume that you have not become stars yet, so this elf with several scars is clearly aware of the events around and does not hide it. Any special requests?

Not seeing anyone paying close attention to them, Soryan Dirge looks about for Profane Symbols of Divine, if horrifying, priests and dark gods ... if the bar seems to be filled only with secular patrons, perhaps he will just introduce himself to the Ghoul in the expensive clothes and jewelry who seems to be wrestling his own tongue.

There is no doubt that drow probably worship demon lords, and the duergars most likely honor the Master of the Dark Furnace, but none of them wear open symbols. Apparently, they are simply not priests, anti-paladins or fanatics.

The ghoul looks up at the dark elf, pulls in his tongue and does what you would least expect from any ghoul from the surface - responds calmly and extremely politely. Greetings, good sir. My name is Sadiki. He gestures that you can sit down. Despite his politeness, his speech and manners are not ingratiating. The stench characteristic of ghouls is also absent. A close inspection leads you to believe that this style of clothing and jewelry was in fashion among humans of the southern lands of the surface at least a millennium ago... What are you looking for, *elven* wizard? You understand this word as "elf", but a more accurate translation would be "true elf". This careful choice of word can be considered a hidden compliment. It's also interesting that he immediately identified you as a spellcaster.

"I'll try your mushroom, I think a good drink for entertainment but one where I can be assured of keeping my head about me." Cuthalian responds and then drinks normally from the offered container. "What's the mood in and about town, barkeep? I've been stuck in drills and patrols for far too long. I feel totally out of touch."

Cirok waves to his companions at the bartender question. The Rogue seems to only have eyes for the interaction between their wizard and the smartly dressed ghoul. Cirok especially seems interested in others that seem unobtrusively interested also.
Perception : 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (2) + 13 = 15 (+4 Traps; Trap Spotter (Ex))

Fort save: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (10) + 12 = 22

Colgrim downs it in one swift gulp. Ah! Fire down me throat! Just the thing after a scuffle.

Terzarin passes his drink to Colgrim. Interesting. Now may I try the mushroom wine?

Сirok unobtrusively looks around the room, but does not notice any direct interest in you. Well, rather, no more than the interest from which, somewhere on the surface, a simple merchant or peasant could sweat out cold in a tavern. The predatory interest of many eyes ready to stab you in the back with a dagger and take everything you have. But here it is so normal that at the end of only the fourth day in the dark city of the drow, you no longer pay attention to it. Most of those who covertly look at you greedily and maliciously will not dare to hold your gaze and will not attack such dangerous guys like you.

"What's the mood in and about town, barkeep? I've been stuck in drills and patrols for far too long. I feel totally out of touch."

Name's Pharnis. Pharnis Xharn. And yours, soldier? The bartender pours mushroom wine to Cuthalian, Terzarin and Cirok (and with a quick glance at Сolgrim pours another brandy for him). Nothing serious these days. After most of Azrinae left the city, it became calmer. Although it's only for a while, obviously. Well, chaos is an option for business... The main thing is that all my clients would also look at it that way. He is referring to the large number of non-drow in his tavern. If you are interested in something specific, ask me. A good story sounds especially good with a good drink. And good drinks for good stories don't come cheap.