Sounds like Hal's deception has done the trick. Are we done with this scene? If so, let's go roust Viscount Turick out of bed and come back at dawn with a bunch of his men to arrest Cust and retrieve documents and the artwork.
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Safe in the shadows of a bush, Char grins broadly and resists the urge to laugh. She waits to see that the others are safely out, then lingers a few moments longer to watch the guard and see what he does after escorting them out.
Concealed behind a bush, Char pays close attention to the unfolding scene. She nocks an arrow, but doesn't draw yet.
I deliberately held off posting on that because I sometimes feel like I have too much influence on the course of the adventure. I'm glad we're handling this in a way I wouldn't have thought of.
Mel has the Fast Stealth rogue trick. She doesn't take penalties on Stealth for moving at full speed. That's pretty much an auto-pick rogue trick for me on any character I play that has access to rogue tricks. So if you're shutting the window, I guess I can get a round of the Boots of Haste back and just double move, winding up in exactly the same place.
Oh good. I think Kazador makes a much better guard than a thief too.
Char blinks slightly, but closes the window, taps her heels together, and melts into the shadows, pulling out her bow as she goes.
Uh. I had to go do research. I think Dimension Door out of a Create Pit spell would work. Most teleportation spells forbid extraplanar travel. Buuuuut, Create Pit generates an extra-dimensional space. Meaning it's not technically part of any dimension. It's a weird grey area, but I'm inclined to think you can probably dimension door or teleport out of a created pit. I'm also inclined to think that the Teleport Trap effect would indeed extend into the newly created extra-dimensional space. But that's another weird grey area also, so reasonable people might disagree. Overall, I suspect jumping in a created pit would probably work as a means of bypassing Cust's Teleport Trap, even if the Teleport Trap were to extend into the area of the created pit. At this level Túrion's spiked pit would be at the maximum depth of 50 feet, and Teleport Trap works in 40 foot cubes. Even if Cust was paranoid enough to extend the effect below the level of the bottom floor of his manor, I somehow doubt he'd go with more than a single forty-foot-cube down. High level magic (and permanency spells) get real expensive. He would want good coverage without bankrupting himself, like any good businessman. Pity this didn't come up before we left the nicely concealed basement room. Ah, well. At this point, I suspect that casting any spells with verbal components is simply going to confirm that someone is here, put the guards on high alert and probably rouse the house. If they discover the secret room has been tampered with before we can get back with reinforcements, Cust is likely to flee. And he probably has an escape plan -- or multiple escape plans -- already in place. Not sure what to do, to be honest.
That would be good to know. It'd also be nice to know if there is any other cover in the area. Bushes, trees, walking around the corner of the building at the opposite end. I thought about dusting Kazador's boots with Silence Dust before we exited, but didn't follow up on it. Ah well. Hindsight. And the +5 bonus, while nice, still probably wouldn't have saved us from low rolls.
Char takes the lead, trying to point out any creaky floor boards or similar to the others as they make their way back the way they came.
Char tucks the small portrait into her bag, box and all. "Let's get out of here," she says. "I wish we could just teleport straight from this room to some back alley somewhere, and avoid risking raising the alarm on the way out. But we would need some way to suppress that pesky teleport trap, and I don't think we have anything that can do that."
Char looks excited. "Wych elm? I've heard that wood is great for bows. Most of the planks in these crates are long enough, and it's beautifully seasoned. I'll have to see if I can get a few pieces once we're done here."
"What has he done with the rest of them?" Char wonders, looking at the empty crates. "There are definitely some missing."
"What do you mean?" Char asks, walking over to the empty crates and checking them out.
So, Cust got paid in artwork for weapons to arm the Lakefire Rebellion, eh? I like it. Very flavorful. I bet GM has been waiting for that reveal for a while.
"Of course!" Char says. "We knew we were looking for an old treason -- one dating back to the Lakefire Rebellion. Cust is an arms dealer. He supplied weapons to the Lake family, in exchange for their art collection. And yes; if the Lakes had won, they would have regarded Cust as a hero. But they lost, and thus he became a traitor." "As for next steps," Char says, "I think we get out of here -- fast and quietly. We get back to Turick with one of the paintings, and then we come back with a detachment of his men to surround the place, kick in the door and arrest him. He may try to claim innocence, but this is definitely enough to get Turick moving. He lost soldiers in the Lakefire Rebellion -- cut down with weapons Cust supplied." "I wonder if the Reaps found out later and blackmailed him? Or if he used them to deliver the weapons on the sly. Either way, this must be their handle on him." She tries to fit the painting into her handy haversack, then shakes her head. "Opening's too small for the painting to fit," she says. "If we don't have a larger one, we'll just have to carry it."
"Art is not really my thing," Char says. She looks dubiously at it. In the background, past the fleeing wolf, she spots a snowbell blooming in the grass. "But ... I don't think this is a fake. And if it's real, why isn't he showing it off? Unless he stole it. Then showing it off would ID him as the crook. It would make perfect sense to hide it away down here while he looks for a way to sell it..."
Char stares at the painting and ponders. Perhaps a local art forgery ring? Or theft? She racks her brain to think about potential illicit schemes involving art.
She also examines the painting carefully for any sign of tampering. Perhaps things concealed in the frame or behind the painting.
Char blinks. She blinks again. "Huh," she says, showing the painting to the others.
"Let's see what we've got here, then," Char says. She opens one of the crates -- gently, trying to avoid disturbing any powders or liquids that might be inside.
"Some more light would be good," Char says. "I doubt it will attract much attention here in a windowless room with a hidden door."
"Let's get in there," Char says. "And close the door after us. I want to see what's in those crates."
Char selects an unopened chest and checks it carefully for traps.
Before stepping in Char studies the area, looking for patterns in the tracks.
She also surveys the room more generally, looking for labels, records, or really anything that stands out.
It might be a good idea for Hal to disable it permanently before we enter. There's no chance of setting it off while it's suppressed, of course. I imagine Hal can probably get it on another try -- he rolled a six on that first attempt, and that was evidently pretty close. He's got pretty good odds of rolling better than a six on another go.
"It's here," she says softly. "But there's a magical trap of some sort. Anyone know how to deal with that?"
"I'll take it," Char says. "Thanks." By the ruddy glow of the torch, she searches the room, looking for an entrance to the secret chamber.
"This way," she whispers. "Downstairs. Quietly. Do any of you still have that silence dust? If so, this might be a good time to use it." She skulks toward the stairs, keeping an eye out for signs of life.
"All right. Let's keep moving." Char cautiously opens the door and takes a look at what lies beyond.
"Inside, everyone, quickly," Char urges. "Whoever's last through should close the window. Also the curtains -- we don't want to be seen." She goes to the door and presses an ear to it, listening for sounds of activity on the other side.
She also checks to see if the door is locked.
Char keeps an eye out for approaching guards while Hal works.
Before they teleported in, Mel assumed the form of Char. "Best not get my public face seen breaking and entering, eh?" she says, pitching her voice low. Char pulls out her concealed thieve's tools and goes to work on the lock of the window.
"Blast," she mutters under her breath. "I'm just not very good at this."
Infiltrators: Char scoops all of the papers into her handy haversack, then closes the drawers tidily. She looks thoughtfully at the diamonds a moment, then pockets them. She goes over and checks the books on the shelves and starts scanning for anything of interest. But then she stops. The longer I'm here the greater the chances I'll get caught. Grab it and go. She quickly packs the contents of Harcourt's shelves into her handy haversack. It's getting quite full towards the end, and she has to transfer a few smaller items from the main pouch to one of the side pockets, but it all goes in.
Returning to the desk, Char takes the diamonds out of her pocket and stares at them. They glitter in the light from her glowing tindertwig, eight of them, small but flawless. Harcourt's a jerk, she thinks. And very likely involved in a plot to start a war. But his son is blameless. And his wife, for all her faults, does not appear to be an active participant in any of this. Sighing a little, she takes the eight diamonds, and puts them on the green leather blotter atop the desk. She arranges them, as best she can, in the shape of a hawk grasping a snake: the house sign of Duke Roger Beaumont. With only eight to work with, the shape is rather abstract, like a constellation. I hope that gets the message across, she thinks, extinguishing her light source. The message being: You have attracted the attention of someone greater than yourself, Harcourt. Moving cautiously in the dark but familiar with the layout of the room now, she opens the curtains on the window again, then unlatches the window and swings it wide. Someone who does not care about your paltry diamonds. She moves back to the hallway door and retrieves the towel she laid across the door jamb. Someone who's not me. She resumes the form of Eugenia Crixton, and listens for any sound of anyone in the hallway.
Infiltrators: Well, I'm committed now, she thinks. There's no re-locking these drawers without the key. The office door -- he might have just forgotten to lock it. Maybe. But this? All three of them plus the door? No. I may as well just take it all. She takes the papers off the desk and shoves them into her handy haversack, then opens the drawers one at a time, cautious of making noise, and checking for false bottoms or other concealed hiding places.
Apropos of nothing in particular, if you lived in a world in which magic existed, and you suddenly developed a compelling need to eliminate magic from the world entirely, how would you go about it? And I'm not talking about eliminating knowledge of it or practitioners or anything -- magic itself has to stop existing. I've been trying to think of a real-world analog, and I guess it would be something like trying to eliminate electricity. You'd have to figure out how to alter some very very basic facts about physical reality. And if you succeeded at doing so, you'd probably screw up physics to the point where the universe stops being capable of supporting life. At least we know it.
Infiltrators: Char carefully puts the papers back where she got them, in the same order. Then she pulls out her lock picks and goes to work on the drawers.
Infiltrators: Noting the petty tactics for making guests uncomfortable, Char rolls her eyes. Typical, she thinks.
Char spends a moment to note the positions of everything, so that she can be careful to leave things in their original positions. Then she examines the papers on the desk, being careful to keep them in order.
Infiltrators: After the third failed attempt, Mel thinks Dad, I'm really, really sorry I didn't pay more attention when you were talking about locks. She takes a deep breath and gives it another go.
The lock relents, and opens with a satisfying snick. Mel lets the breath out, opens the door and ghosts into to the study. She closes the door softly behind her, so that nothing will look amiss if anyone happens to come by.
Inside the room, she murmurs a word to her Hat of Disguise, and becomes Char. If I'm caught, at least "Madame Crixton" won't be compromised, she thinks. If someone had caught me in the hall I could plausibly have claimed I got turned around on my way to the garderobe. In here, though ... better not to be the tutor. "Lady -- let me see clearly," she prays quietly, and pulls out a candle, together with a tindertwig. Before she can strike it, however, light blooms in the tindertwig. She looks at it in surprise. Then a broad smile crosses her face. Thanks, Ostara, she thinks.
Setting the twig down, she takes a towel she filched from the garderobe and lays it across the base of the door to prevent any light from seeping under the crack below. With that done, she picks up the glowing tindertwig again, returns the candle to her haversack, and examines the room.
Tavern: After whiling away half an hour sipping tepid, not especially noteworthy beer, Char concludes that this is a dead end. She abandons the remains of the beer -- still three-quarters full -- and departs into the night, moody and annoyed at her failure to learn more about Davis' handler.
Tavern: Hmm, she thinks. Nothing nefarious about that. Doesn't look like he's reporting to anyone.
Briefly, she is tempted to return to the linen shop and search the place while he is absent; but then she remembers that the other fellow is still there. Unless this one isn't actually involved, she thinks. As far as I know, Davis' contact was the other man and this fellow might have nothing to do with anything. Damn, I didn't think that glass would be so noisy! Feeling rather disgruntled and briefly aware that that feeling must be going back to her allies, she orders an ale at the bar, slapping down her 4 copper pieces. She slips into a table not far from her target and attempts to listen in on him, covering her interest by watching an ongoing dart game.
Tavern: What an interesting night it's turning out to be, she thinks. He's probably meeting someone in there. I don't want to come in too soon after him. Five minutes, then I go in. But just in case ...
Char uses her self-imposed delay to cautiously circle the place, checking for back doors, in case going into the tavern was merely a pretext to emerge on the other side. She makes a note of the tavern's name or sign, as well.
Spoiler:
Char patiently resumes tailing him.
Spoiler: Char enters, casually looking over the room to see where her target might be, as well as to get a sense for the layout and clientele.
Linen Shop: Interesting, Char thinks. She studies the man intently, looking to see if this might be the same man as the thickly set one she saw earlier, only wearing a disguise -- or having removed a disguise.
Linen Shop: Char watches Davis as he passes, trying to get a sense for his emotional state.
She lets him go, reasonably certain that he's going home. We know where to find him if need be, she thinks. She returns her attention to the linen shop, waiting to see if there is any further activity worth noting.
Spoiler: As she waits, Char suddenly hears a masculine voice, apparently from right next to her. "... will be awfully cold tomorrow," it says. She whirls toward it, one hand going to the dagger at her side. There is no one there. The street is empty. She pauses, tense, scanning for any sign of the speaker. Nothing. A shiver runs up her neck, setting the little hairs on end. You're losing it, she thinks to herself. Thoroughly unnerved, she moves carefully to a different observation spot and resumes waiting.
Linen Shop: Once Char is sure she hasn't been pursued, she circles back and settles in to watch the shop from a shadowed nook with a reasonable view of the door Davis entered.
I daren't try to eavesdrop again. They'll be on their guard. But sooner or later he'll leave. Perhaps I can get a glimpse of the person he was meeting as he does. If I am very lucky, they may even leave themselves to report to someone else, and then I can follow them to see where they go. She grimaces. But I may have already used up my luck for the night. We'll see. After deliberating a moment, she takes out a potion and swallows it. The darkness fades into sharp black-and-white clarity as it takes effect. Sure would be handy to have this all the time, she thinks. These potions are expensive.
Huh! Good tip. The BBCode implementation on this site is ... quixotic. The candle is a good idea, though of course it's too late now. Also, I think that the candles I bought are at the house currently. I'll be sure to grab a couple of those later and stash them in the haversack.
DC 5 seems rather low to me -- perhaps we were envisioning different windows? I was thinking of one of those multi-pane models where no individual piece of glass is more than about 4x6 inches. Particularly since she wasn't violently smashing it, I don't think it would make all that much noise. Though I'll readily grant that it might depend on how far the pieces fall and whether they hit a solid surface at the bottom. I went over and over my inventory looking for something sticky or any way to keep the bits from falling down and just had nothing at all that would work. And yes, Mel will be happy to put a point in Disable Device, just as soon as we level again. So, that may take a while. Last level was just over a calendar year, if I recall correctly.
At the Linen Shop: Crap, Char thinks. She grabs a rock from the ground, tosses it in the window to give the impression of vandalism, and then immediately ghosts away around the corner of the building and out of sight of the window.
At the Linen Shop:
Char frowns at the window thoughtfully. In adventure books, she thinks, This is where the heroine whips out her trusty set of lockpicks and reveals that she learned the art from her locksmith father. But here I am, locksmith father and all, and never paid even the tiniest bit of attention to what he did. I'm pretty sure I would recognize a lockpick if I saw one, but that's not helpful right now. Anyway, windows don't have external keyholes -- they lock on the inside.
I'll have to take a page out of mom's book instead. Reaching into her haversack, she produces the bag of jewels she bought as easily-portable cash. She pulls out a single, small, nicely-cut diamond worth about 50 gp, and tucks the bag back into her haversack. Just in case, she gently tries opening the window to confirm that it is in fact locked.
If it opens:
Lucky! Char thinks. She tucks the diamond in her belt pouch and slips into the room. She skirts around the edge of the room, keeping her feet close to the wall to avoid creaky floor boards, and listens by the door.
If it's locked: Pressing one sharp tip of the diamond against a window pane, she presses firmly and slices a rough circle in it. She follows up with an X across the circle. The diamond makes a whispery rasping noise as it bites into the glass. With that done, she tucks the diamond into her belt pouch, wraps one hand in her cursed cloak, and applies firm, steady pressure against the weakened pane.
I hope this doesn't make too much noise, she thinks.
XD ... thanks? Current Campaign
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