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The innkeper, who finally mustered up the courage to face his tormentor, bursts from the inn with a crossbow trained on the Mimic's position only to see that the Thelkonlanders have things well in hand. He stops short at Tholan's question. "Erhm. There's a pump 'round the right side of the building." He stares at the twained cephalopod. "Too quick. That bastard deserved to die thrice over!" The aging man is getting worked up again, when he suddenly notices the captured man. Slowly, he levels the crossbow at the prisoner, speaking to Ezkal. "This one worked for him, took his coin, stood by for all I suffered. He's mine. I don't care how big ye are. Stand off big man."
Ezkal explodes from the smoldering inn in a tangle of steel and beard. His sword chops into the nearest man and bites him deeply and shakes him to the core.
The man Ezkal hit, drops his sword and falls to his knees. "I surrender! Please don't kill me!" The other three break and run, disappearing into the darkness, and leaving their injured ally and boss behind.
When no one immediately appears, the Mimic shrieks, "Burn it down!" The tell-tale whoosh of torches in flight, then dull thuds as something hits the dry shingles of the roof. Instantly, smoke curls dance among the rafters and small flickers of fire can be seen licking at the roof.
Iskandarr: After hearing the Mimic order the inn burned, the fog cloud is vaporized. Iskandarr sees the tail end of what seems to be some elaborate gestures from the Mimic.
Thaegrin's best guess is that the Mimic and his men have incurred a bill no less than 56 gold pieces. The balcony door swings open with an barely audible hiss on well oiled hinges. Now outside, Thaegrin can see a man'sized something under a bloody canvas leaning drunkenly in a small alcove sunken into the walls to either side of the door. Ever thorough, Thaegrin checks the other alcove only to find it empty, then checks the drop: 30 feet if its an foot, but there is some straw below, though it looks a bit moldy.
The barkeep frowns at Tholan, then clomps to the window where his eyebrows attempt to lead off his face. "The inn is closed!" He shrieks. "Everyone out the back, like we practiced." The barman scowls and rushes behind the bar and grabs frantically at some items beneath, muttering all the while. Thelkonlanders perception DC 15:
"We are not doing this again. I won't be pushed around like this. Not today." The barkeep emerges from behind the bar with a broad axe tucked into his apron and a loaded crossbow in his hands. It takes a moment for the crowd to comprehend, but then everyone hurriedly grabs their things and shuffles out the back. There is surprising little jostling and the whole process takes only a few moments. Meanwhile, Tholan springs up the stairs to see Thaegrin enter a room at the far end of the little hall. There is a strange, sour odor on the air and some cloud-like substance thinning rapidly among the rafters. Thaegrin:
Inside, you notice 5 leather packs matching the armor and kit of the mimic and his men. 3 cots have been hastily set against the walls and two straw piles covered in haphazard bedding lay beside them. I huge canopied bed dominates the large room with space to easily sleep 4 large men comfortably. Apart from the "beds", Thaegrin spots a rather impressive desk of dark, oiled wood. It is strewn with paper and parchment, a dagger so large it's nearly a short sword, two inkwells, and a mug of warm sour ale. A small table stands in the corner nearest to the balcony window with the heaped remains of a modest meal set on top. Ezkal:
The "Thelkonese scout" shouts as he sees the barkeep going for the front door, armed, and with murder in his eyes. "Old man! We have a situation and it's like to get wet!" Anga subtly draws a long knife and holds it along his leg to detract attention. Thaegrin and Tholan Perception DC 18:
Standing close to the window, Thaegrin can see it's about 15 feet to the cobbles below. He also notes that the adjacent room seem to have a small balcony overlooking the backstreet. Moving down the hall, Thaegrin tries the next door and finds it open. Inside, the scent of some bizarre incense hits him as hard as a slap to the face.
Thaegrin recognizes the sharp, acrid smell of Burnt Othur Fumes even as the toxin burn his notrils and lungs. A pale yellow cloud expands to dissipate in the hall.
Upstairs, Thaegrin eases open the first door. Inside is a disheveled bedroom: clearly well lived in. Perhaps the innkeeper? An unmade bed slumps against the far wall under a leaded glass window. A small desk and a large trunk are the only other furnishings.
In the street, Tholan can see the Mimic's men lighting torches at his orders.
The crowd begins to chuckle along with Thaegrin and the bartender, but the become positively riotous with laughter when Thaegrin "moustache" the Mimic if he is a spy. Red faced and sputtering, the Mimic roars for silence and succeeds only in fanning the flames of laughter. Finally, exasperated, he leans in and shouts to Thaegrin, "I'll not take this abuse! Outside and draw your steel!" The man and his men file outside.
The hall grows still before the gout of laughter from the old Farenweni. Nervous titters follow from most, but the man nearest Thaegrin joins with the old man to taunt to Mimic, laughing loudly. "Knobbed it up, innit my son!?" The Mimic looks nonplussed, then embarrassed and angry. His men, hands on weapons, look nervously from the crowd to their commander, unsure what comes next. The Mimic stands, eyes locked on Thaegrin. "You dare to mock me? Have you any idea to whom you speak?" His eyebrows quirk up in pleasant surprise. "You are one of the long-lived. Are you not a foreigner yourself? Perhaps you too are a spy?" Thaegrin: The Mimic is trying to save face and using his reputation, experience, and menace to carry through the blunder. He's thinking he'll just arrest people until everyone else takes him seriously. His men are battle hardened and ready for anything, but there is some fear. It seems they think the Mimic can be a bit unhinged and they worry what atrocities they may have to endure or commit in their service to this man.
Nothing to see here.:
Thaegrin: The Mimic and 2 or his men are highly suspicious of Tholan, but seem to believe him. The other two are thinking of food and beer. Thaegrin thinks he spies a pair of Isterothi men sitting in the corner closest to the exit, but their hoods are up and there is a haze about them from the long pipes they smoke. The bartender is praying for no bloodshed, but his hand is blindly groping for the crossbow that he can't remember if he loaded or not...
Remember, Iskandarr cast scrying and learned that the Amerysi were pulling out of Thelkon to refocus efforts against Erenon. The reasons were that Thelkon was taking too long and costing too much, and because they think they have a foothold on the former slave island. They intend to launch an assault on Veir next spring then conquer the country. I'll let Tholan redo the action, or I can just apply his bluff skill to the diplomacy roll instead.
The man furrows his brows in mock confusion. "I do not understand. You are not here to fight, but you are scouting for knowledge. Your mission is unsanctioned and you do not have the power to offer or accept terms. Moreover, you claim that the war between Thelkon and Amerys is ending." He leans in whispering. "That's really where you blundered. You see, no one knows that as yet." He sits back up. "So! It would seem you are not ambassadors after all." He raises his voice to cut across the chatter in the room. "It seems to me that the word that best describes you three is " One of his eyebrows raises in amusement as most every face present turns to scrutinize the Thelkonlanders. Hostility roils around them all like thunder yet to be unleashed. Thaegrin:
"I will have fish." The cloaked man says the the barmaid: his voice is soft and calm. "Crispy, with burnt bacon with a sweet roll on the side. My men are content to wait." He does not glance at his men, nor does he break eye contact with Ezkal. "So! Tell me, my convivial sons of Thelkon, what brings you so far south in so few number?"
With no apparent signal, the dice and cups are swept aside. 4 of the figures rise from the now clear table and take up positions around the walls. The seated figure lowers his hood revealing short cropped black hair salted at the temples. A bushy mustache dominates his upper lip and droops around the corners of his mouth. He peers at you from beneath a shelf of brow where two huge, black caterpillar eyebrows hang lazily. "I won't refuse your hospitality. Please, join me." The request somehow rings with command: like this man is not used to being denied.
The man blinks stupidly at Ezkal's remarks. Before he can do anything about them a commanding voice sounds from the back of the tavern. "And who, exactly, says that war is over?" The speaker is not immediately evident, but the crowd parts to reveal5 cloaked figures sitting at a round table, dice and drinks scattered on it's surface. The game continues uninterrupted and they seem intent on what they're doing.
The scruffy patron brandishes a table knife at Ezkal. "Wot exactly 'r' you insinuatin' mate?" He briefly loses his focus on the Ordo Hereticus as a rangy Thelkonese scout enters blustering. When the scout winks, the square jawed antagonist explodes to his feet. [b]"F^ck these Thelkonese dogs! I want 'em out! It's 'ese type 'ere perpetuatin' the war innit!? Gettin' 'em gone 'd do a lot t'wards endin' the fightin' an' showin' Amerys that Archard is ready t'be incorporated! Who's wit' me!?" Tholan, scans the faces in the crowd and finds at least half nodding along with the square jawed man. He also realizes that most of these people will have served or are waiting to serve in the Amerysi military.
Anga spots a storm drain behind the shop and quietly slips into the dank dark. She quickly notices the "hidden" hatch, unlocks it, and slithers through. The smell of the shop hits him, but this is not the showroom. A small bed and dresser are all that furnish a room almost not big enough to contain the furniture. Anga located the hidden drawer in the molding around the dresser and slides it open. Inside lays a thin strongbox. The key slides in and the well oiled lock makes no sound. The box contains a modest ring of gold with a pitiful diamond set into it and two stacks of Amerysi bills totaling 2000 gp.
Cormac's mouth snaps shut even as his eyes grow wide as wagon wheels. He nods apologetically, but doesn't seem willing to speak further. The evening air is no less hot that the afternoon blaze, but a cool breeze off the sea offers some respite. Not 50 yards down the street, Thaegrin spots the massive silhouettes of the Thelkonese brothers through a tavern window. Just then a patron happense to swing the door open and stumble into the night. Thaegrin catches the smell of sour wine and the sound off men boasting in their cups. ____ Inside the Tavern: "All 'em Thelkons 're sheep f#*$ers and bloody reavers! We 'nt need their kind 'round 'ere!" The man's square, scruffy jaw juts out defiantly as he condemns the Thelkonlanders. KN: Local DC 14: By the man's apparent age and the officer's waistcoat he wears over his civilian garb, you can tell he has likely just completed his first round of compulsory service in the Amerysi army. This also likely indicates he would have spent time on the Thelkonese front fighting against Thelkonlanders.
"It is my greatest pleasure to have met you, Master Hiliver." He adds a stiff, awkward bow. Cormac does indeed seem relieved that you do not practice necromancy then furrows his brow in thought at the wizard's question. "I didn't ever meet any associates of Ser Vancets, he insisted on secrecy and was convinced "THEY" were going to find him. I found him by chance. I was an urchin on the streets of Alisar after my village was sacked in the civil war. I tried picking Ser Vancet's pocket and he threatened to kill me, but I begged to serve him instead. He dragged me to some rundown watchtower near the mountains in the north. He's still there for all I know. I hope he's dead."
The man nods as Thaegrin shows signs of understanding. "Yes, I certainly understand, and I agree most definitely.
His grin widens and his nod grows more vigorous as the subject shifts toward concrete learning and the possibility of an apprenticeship. [b]"I say what can I do to convince you? I will as hard as anyone. I want this."
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