Sense Motive (On Thaegrin) 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (19) + 12 = 31
Anga quietly steps into the shadows around the corner of the building. With a quick hop he reaches for any surfaces on the face of the inn and attempts to haul himself to the roof.
Moving quickly the half-blood crosses the roof collecting the thrown torches and tosses them off the side into the street near the innkeeper and Thaegrin before stepping off the edge himself.
Acrobatics (to make a graceful descent) 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (1) + 17 = 18
"If we're going to help him, let's do it with haste. Otherwise...
The man of shadows glances meaningfully at what flames remain licking at the woodwork of the building.
Probably won't be long before folks from the city show up to put out the blaze.
Anga's mind races as things come to a head. Considering his options the man of secrets tries to remember what he knows of the Archard islands and their history.
Knowledge (Local) 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17 Can Anga think of any frightening myths or boogymen widely know in the Archard Islands?
Anga lets the barkeep move past him towards the door as he listens to his compatriots discuss the plan of action. Nodding mostly to himself he sheaths his dagger and loosens his rapier in it's scabbard.
Glancing out the front windows he considers the front face of the bar and the street that will soon be their battle ground.
Perception 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (3) + 14 = 17 Trying to determine how many shadows are in the street, preferably behind the group of 'soldiers'?
Blade tip pointed at the floor the Thelkonese Scout holds an empty hand up in a placating gesture towards the armed barkeep. "I'm up for a brawl as much as the next, but are you sure this is the best course of action to take? Those men out front don't seem interested in friendly terms...?"
The agent of Rudianos is just about to pass by yet another way house before he hears the tail end of a shouted insult. Followed quickly by a familiar voice returning in kind. Something just shy of a grin tugs at the half-blood's mouth as he ducks behind a waist-high-wall and once more changes his appearance.
With the paints and odd bits of hair and even some fur he once took from an alley cat, Anga fashions himself into someone completely different than before.
Any careful observer would have seen an Amerysi tradesman duck down behind the wall, and a tall, somewhat rangy Thelkonland scout pop back out. Gray hood half-way pulled up and wild hair pointing in nearly every direction at once the man brusquely pushes into the bar and spots his comrades.
Newly muddied boots stop across the room until he reaches Ezkal and Tholan's table. Slapping each on the shoulder a big smile splits the scout's face as he bellows. "Ha! I'll give the Archards one thing, they sure charge a fair price for their brothels!" He tilts his head back in a bone rattling guffaw before snagging a half full flagon from a nearby patron and guzzling it down.
Waving one of the staff over he orders a round for his companions and one for the individual who's drink he just quaffed. Bemused and contented he surveys the room continuing his loud proclamation "And such beautiful women here!" His eyes lock on the square-jawed man "And some lovely men!" The Thelkonland scout winks and turns to accept his new beverage from the server before holding it aloft in silent toast to the Archard Islands.
Thanking the vendor Anga makes his way outside and surreptitiously slips the gloves onto his hands. Satisfied for now, the merchant of Amerys sets out to find his companions.
Would he be able to make it back before the dude starts yelling about Thelkonlanders? It would be great if Anga was just outside the pub when that happened...
Taking care to not make any undue noise in the effort, Anga empties the box and secrets the money and ring away. She is careful to not touch the accessory directly, placing a scrap of cloth between her hands and the ring. Placing the key inside the now otherwise empty lock box, Facion closes it and returns everything else to how she found it before swiftly taking her exit, back outside.
At the soonest convenience he removes his disguise and adopts another, this time as an Ammyersi merchant, plump and jovial.
Disguise 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (16) + 11 = 27
Making his ponderous way through the city streets, the modestly well to do trader seeks out those who may sell more circumspect items, those not common to typical business transactions.
Ducking quickly into the nearest alley, Anga regards the key with a keener interest before glancing back at the shop just exited. She appraises the building from her vantage point and decides on the best way to enter unseen. Approaching as circumspectly as possible, the Archard woman quickly and quietly attempts to enter unseen by anyone outside, or inside the structure.
Moving softly the assassin come thief moves through the building searching in likely places for valuables. Behind counters, under desks, even checking behind any paintings she may come across.
Quick, nimble fingers examine the key with curiosity even as the man from Veir secrets the currency in the many hidden pockets and storage pouches kept on his person.
Perception 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (2) + 14 = 16
Trying to determine if the key is the type for say, a shop door? Or something smaller and more precise? Like a strongbox?
Anga's face pinches up, obviously regretting her offensive words to the shops proprietor. Quickly she steps up to the man and pats him reassuringly on the arm.
"No no, I'm sorry. I only meant to say that you apparently don't carry that which I seek.' She brushes closely to well-dressed shop keeper as she makes her way to the door. Pausing for a moment on the threshold she turns and gives a little wave that is almost entirely dancing fingers before passing through and back out into the street.
Sleight of hand (to steal whatever was in the secret pocket) 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (12) + 12 = 24
Inwardly Anga grimaces, One more try then... she thinks to herself. Starting as if startled by the question Anga turns to face the man, a confused look on her face. "Oh, no I'm sorry." She says "They are lovely, but I don't deal in anything so crude." She smiles apologetically, pityingly. "I'm afraid my stock is of a more, ephemeral nature. Requiring finesse."
She slowly turns towards the exit, giving the shopkeeper time.
Sense Motive 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (12) + 12 = 24
Probably isn't any info worth gleaning here, but Anga is trying.
Anga sashays into the shop with casual grace. Stopping once or twice to admire the various crystal works. She carefully works her way into conversational distance of the well appointed man. With a lilting tone and pleasant smile she addresses him.
Anga stays long enough to hear the wizards words to their companions before stepping away quietly. Observing the populace around him the man of shadows ducks into an empty corner and quickly adopts a more conventional appearance.
Cloak of shadow walking safely stored in his pack, the Acherd Woman steps back into the busy street, draping her familiar cloak of resistance over her shoulders and pinning it shut. She quickly makes her way out into the city, seeking out the shadier elements.
Knowledge (Local) 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8 Anga is looking for a place where he can find the criminal underworld. Perhaps a pub? Or warehouse?
At that moment Facion slips quietly through the door and says. "I had matters to... Attend to." Drawing forth his cloak of shadow paths, Anga secures it around his shoulders and feels it's familiar weight not only on his body, but also his mind.
Making sure his weapons were clear and loose in their scabbards the spymaster turns back to his companions. "I assume that your presence indicates you're ready to depart?" Not waiting for a response he continues. "I would remind you, that lest you wish to stay behind, do not let go." His clear, gray eyes scans over each individual before quickly drawing the blinds and pinching out the few candles in the room. Grabbing Variel and the Drolleye by the shoulders he waits until everyone is physically connected, and then steps into darkness.
Trying to head to the Achard Islands? Still not sure of the process. :P
Also hopefully didn't railroad too much here? I figured we were all ready to go!
Facion nods at the wizards words and says to the others before they depart. "It would do well to meet back here tomorrow, I will have something to share with you all." He nods again and makes his way towards the door, only at the last second slipping off to the side as the door shuts.
Anga, wearing the face of the deceased Karthus, looks to the groups newest arrival. "I doubt he'll know anything. This Master of Revels has shown himself to be careful in the past. If I were he, and I'm not," He casts a glance at Variel "I wouldn't allow any of my cells or operatives to know of any others in the organization." He indicates the body on the floor and Inquisitor standing near by. "For just such an occasion."
Stepping lightly through the room the man of secrets kneels down and begins to search the body, adopting a more mundane method of acquiring information.
Searching for whatever Karthus had with him, with specific interest in documentation or sigils or the like.
Easily turning aside the blade again, Anga shoots back at the would-be assassin. "YOU are Thaegrin Variel. A half-wit wizard, of little consequence, apparently. He looks down his own swords blade at the man before him. "Still, it's puzzling how you learned of the Master." Facions gray eyes turn deadly as his words lash forth, cutting far sharper than any knife. "HOW DID YOU LEARN OF THE MASTER OF REVELS?!"
With a surprised look, Facion attempts to bat away the magical lights with his sword. But the attempt is fruitless as the illumination flows through him, writhing with apparent pain he is quick to adopt a defensive stance towards the confused assassin cum hedge-wizard. He puts up a brave face and coughs a little through the "pain" before addressing "Master Variel."
"Heh, there you are, I knew you still had your magic somewhere in your addled mind." A slightly curious look starts to form on Anga's brow. "Though you really seem to believe in your farce. I wonder if your years of magical nonsense and cryptic musings have finally broken the wall between fantasy and reality? Tell me, Variel, who do you think you are? What purpose do you pretend to achieve here tonight?"
"Why do I look like you?" Facion asks with no small amount of incredulity. "Really, Variel, I expected more from such a powerful wizard. This is just pathetic. I saw you cast your witches hex! You cannot fool me, wizard!" The spy gestures towards the man's weapon. "I'm surprised you're still holding that, I'd have thought youd try to magic me by now..."
Drawing both short sword and rapier as he falls, he quickly hides one of the blades, only openly presenting short sword for all to see.
Using Deft Palm (Slight of Hand) 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (1) + 12 = 13
Thus positioned he calls out at the assassin, mimicking the mans voice as best he can. "Ha! Found you! Thought you could hide from me, wizard? Your sorcerers ways fail you, surrender." Facion points his short sword at the assassin with accusation burning in his eyes.
Silently cursing his poor aim, Facion watches the drama play out below him. The spy can almost see the wheels in Thaegrins head as they spin. Turning his attention back to the intruder he notices just how similar in stature he himself and the unknown man are. Eyes narrowing as his own mind's mechanics whir, what could have been mistaken for a smile takes the half-blood's face.
Moving quickly Anga changes minor details of his outfit and kit, an added strap here, shirt tucked there. Lastly he tousles his own hair in an approximation of the hair-style sported by the man on the floor beneath him. Making sure a dagger is sheathed prominently on his hip, he grips the hafts of his swords and prepares to drop down.
From his place in the rafters Anga bears witness to the dullness that is an old mans dinner. A lesser person might conclude that there was nothing to be gained by waiting on a wizards hunch, but if there was one thing Facion had learned in his many years of survival; it was that patience matters. And those who posses it often win out over those who don't.
As the evening wears on the man in the rafters slowly and methodically flexes his muscles to keep them loose. Careful to not move or otherwise betray his position. From time to time he reflects on passages from Endless Night, leastwise the ones he's had time to commit to memory. All the while keeping his senses carefully attuned to the room and everything happening (or not happening as it were) in it.
With the sound of the opening and closing window Angas eyes flick across the room searching for the intruder.
Perception (to see who entered) 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (10) + 14 = 24
With a deft flick of his wrist the assassin feels the blowgun fill his palm, poisoned dart primed and ready to fire.
Ready action to fire dart with rainbow jellyfish toxin at the intruder, should the creature appear to be actively hostile.
Anga exhales once, loudly, at Thaegrins proclamation of staying for at least a week. After the wizard has said his piece the man of shadows exits the room and seems to disappears into a quiet corner.
Stealth 1d20 + 26 ⇒ (19) + 26 = 45 It's my intent that Anga tail Thaegrin and keep watch over him. A silent guardian. A watchful protector...
A dark knight.
Facion keeps his face posed in a mask of passive humility as the Grand Confessor makes his equally grand exit. This little... group, Anga hesitated to use the word team, did it's best work when left to its own devices. Though they were all in the "employ" of house Rudianos, they couldn't operate at max efficiency of they were constantly being hounded by the lords of the kingdom.
Once they were alone, he turns to his companions. "We've spent far too much time on this rock. Let us finish what remaining tasks we have so that we might finally be rid of this place."
Facion stays still from his spot near the door. Listening intently he watches as the conversation moves from person to person. Amerys and Thelkon are close to peace? We cannot allow that to happen. The wizard says his piece. Taking on the tone of one used to submitting to orders he says, "I agree with Master Variel. This group is ill suited for front-line heroics. Better to stay where we're more effective. The sideline."
Anga sets down the quill he'd been using for the past several hours. With a wave of his hand he dismisses the 37th interviewee of the day. Most of the slaves had been of little help providing information regarding the, however brief, Amerisy occupation. Still, the man of secrets hoped that the meager intel would prove useful in the long run.
He is about to summon the 38th slave of the day when a knock on the door turns out to be his newest traveling companion, the Cat-Druid from the lake. Hearing the summons, Facion suppresses a sigh and stores his quill and ink-laden parchment for reference later.
Rising to his feet he accompanies Iskandarr to the meeting.
Anga watches the sun rise the morning after the confrontation between the agents of Rudianos and the Amerisi soldiers. The spy hadn't been able to sleep well throughout the night. Visions of shadow and light played through his mind as he tried to get comfortable. It left him ill-rested and anxious. And ill-rested and anxious was how he met the sun.
Nonetheless as he rose to begin his morning stretches he felt his tired body surge with power and vigor. Drawing rapier, the gray-eyed man spins and parries, practicing the long-memorized sword forms of his training.
The night previous was a stepping stone, though a significant one. Ultimately it was all simply a means to an ends; and Facion knew that with this success it was only a matter of time until his goals would be met.
Slash after slash and form after form the man of shadows practices until the sun is high in the sky and sweat beads on his brow. This marked the second time the spy-master had lost track of time during the blade dance. Breathing steadily but deeply, he looks to the day-star midway through it's daily arch through the heavens. The light hurts his eyes and burns his skin.
His expression ever unchanging Anga lifts his hood to cover his head, sheathing sword in the same liquid motion. He steps quickly, seeking the shelter of one of the commandeered buildings. Finding a secluded corner he draws forth the dusty old tome lent by the wizard Variel. He opens to where he'd last left off and begins to read.
Now that more slave hordes have appeared out of the building, would they maybe have left the grates open? Would Anga be able to see anyway into the structure?
Anga, from his place in the dark, summons the powers of the mask yet again. This time calling forth the voices of ghosts to incite panic amongst the ranks of newly freed slaves.
Cast Ghost sound on the group above where Anga hides. It sounds like scared people panicking at the onslaught of the warriors below. Misery and defeat in it's tone.
Watching the battle beginning to unfold, Anga stays where he's at. It wouldn't do to lose the element of surprise just yet. He sorts through his pack before producing a small vial of cloudy liquid. Uncorking it, the man in the shadows downs it, while keeping a close eye on his enemies.
Potion of Cats Grace +4 to DEX. Stealth 1d20 + 25 ⇒ (12) + 25 = 37
AC is now 27.
Okay, so Anga doesn't know about the ladders inside the structure. But since he can see a bunch of people up there, and no visible ladders or stairs outside, would he conclude that there's a way up to the top from inside the structure?
Crouching in the dirt next to the platform Anga's mouth compresses in a hard line. It was upsetting that he had been unable to remove the weapon. Only just beginning to reassess his options he hears the call from the Iron Lord. Reveal? he thinks to himself. That wouldn't do, wouldn't do at all. Quickly he steps to the side and conceals himself under the cover of darkness and shadow once again.
His palm seeks the hilt of rapier as he waits precious moments to see what sort of witchery the woman conjures.
Stealth 1d20 + 40 + 25 ⇒ (12) + 40 + 25 = 77 He's hiding in that original spot of shadow where he showed up. And he's doing so after coming to a halt, so I think that's the full +40? It should hardly matter though if she gets rid of invisibility.
So, 77 with Invis, 37 without Invis.
Eyes peeled the keeper of shadows searches the courtyard for other places from which to strike.
Perception 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (8) + 13 = 21 Looking for any other places of shadow and/or piles of hay, large shrubberies, or conveniently placed tiny, empty rooms from which to strike.
Also, for clarification, he moved 5 feet and held action. Not a 5-foot step though, cause I might have him move some more depending on what the guys do.
I think so, yes. At first I put 40+25 because I wasn't sure how the check worked. I thought it might need a new stealth check after the movement. But if it's part of the movement, then yes, it should be 20+25.
Anga watches from the dark as the slaves search for the wizard. He's confident they won't pose any threat to him or his companions. No, it would be their general that would be the most valuable target on the field. But the woman next to him, she might be more easily neutralized. The Lords armor is heavy and thick, Anga's not positive his blade could find it's weak point.
Still, if they were going to come out of this engagement unscathed it would do to find some way to lower the warriors threat potential...
Gray eyes slowly come to alight on the mans sword, a massive thing hanging from his back. With little effort Anga folds the shadows around himself and disappears completely from view!
With a few quick steps the man of shadows is on the platform next to the hulking warrior, sheathing his blades in the process. He comes to a complete stop next to the general and with quick, lithe fingers reaches up and graspes the hilt of his foes weapon, drawing it forth and quickly hiding it underneath his cloak!
So not sure how just taking something works. I figured slight of hand made most sense. He's invisible, but he's not really trying to be sneaky about it, he's just grabbing the sword and hiding it.
Satisfied, Facion leaps backwards off the platform, landing in the dirt with a soft poof.
Anga assesses the field from his place in the shadows. He recognizes the sounds of his compatriots as they sing their battle hymns, and knows they will be arriving soon. The fighting will likely be fiercest where the brothers, and new forest-mystic, would undoubtedly charge the enemy line. If there were only some way to ease the pressure...
From the back of his mind he feels the now ever-present presence of new-found power circling through his thoughts. Almost without realizing it, the master of secrets summons forth the sound of an approaching armed force, well trained and eager for battle, marching in from the East.
Cast Ghost Sound as far past Q1 as it can reach. The sound of 30 heavily armed mercenaries marching against the slaves. Not sure how many actions I have, so just gonna assume he can do the rest here.
As the nigh-unbidden calls of a phantom army cut through the air, Facion turns to face the group in the center of the fortifications. This time trusting in the arcane, he forms in his mind the will to unleash the madness bottled inside the mask on the minds of his foes. Gray eyes narrow to slits as the whispering void spreads forth.
Cast Confusion centered on H9. Will negates, and I'm not sure how to determine the DC for it. 15ft burst, lasts 8 rounds. Placed an aura to show where the spell affects.
Staying back in the shadows he's known his whole life, the spy watches what works his wroth had wrought.
