Venedictus wrote:
"Yes, ummm, neither am I," Venedictus says, refusing a drink.
I think a bluff check is in order for that though: 1d20+5
Smenk Sense Motive: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16
Smenk smirks. "That ain't what I've heard me lad, but suit yourself." He sits down in one of the chairs and takes another sip of his wine. "So, you're the one's I've been hearin' about." He looks at each of the group in turn, then takes another sip of wine.
"There's an evil at work in this town, mates. And bein' the noble heroes that ye are, I figured ye'd want to know a little about it. There's terrible things happening beneath Dourstone Mine. Now, I know what ye're thinkin'. That I'm just trying to cast aspersions against me rivals, but that ain't the case. They make aspersions against themselves without m'help. No, when I say evil, I mean evil that makes me skin crawl.
"They call themselves the Ebon Triad. A weird cult that worships Zon-Kuthon, Urgathoa, and Lamashtu as some sort of three-in-one god. They believe that those three are going to join together and become some sort of supreme overgod or some such nonsense. Now, I don't believe a word of that, but whether they're or wrong isn't the point. The cult is dangerous. They're led by a bloke named the Faceless One. They call him that because he always wears a mask to hide his face. Don't know why he does that. Don't care. He's a nasty one. Believe me, I've met him."
He pauses a moment to take another sip of wine. "Now, ye may be wonderin' how I came to meet this bastard. He's runnin' his operation from Dourstone Mine, and what was I doin' there? Well, Dourstone contacted me some time ago with some ideas to further cooperation between our businesses, ideas he said would be beneficial to us all. Well, I resisted for some time, but the other mine managers were startin' to get in on it too, so I agreed to a meeting. They brought me down into the mine where I met this Faceless One. He demanded that I start supplyin' his operation with food from up here. His cultists, many of which are not human, can't walk openly in the city, so they need a supply line. He wanted me to be that line.
"At first, I was willin' to work a deal. For the right price, I could acquire food, but as he showed me around, I started to get suspicions. Fear is a rare feelin' for me, mates, but I tell you, I started feelin' it down there. Something just ain't right about those people. So I started workin' a plan.
"They've got these strange green worms, apparently from some kind of unkillable zombie. Well, I nicked meself one, and called in an old friend of mine from Kaer Maga. He was an expert in the undead. He came down and set up in the old observatory north of town to research that worm for me. Unfortunately, they must have found out about him because he's dead now. They tried to make it look like he'd lost control of his undead minions, but they did a poor job of it.
"So I sent word to them that I was out. They would get no more food from me. Yesterday mornin', I awoke with the head of me right hand man next to me. In me bed! They had somehow snuck in in the middle of the night, got into me bedroom, left the head, and got out again without anyone the wiser. I'm telling you, I ain't never been so scared before in me life!
"Mates, somethin' has to be done about that cult, and that's where you come in. Surely, fine, upstanding heroes like yourselves won't allow something like this to go on in your fair town."