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The week passes quickly and before the Children are ready, the day of the dress rehearsal is upon them. Tonight they perform in full regalia in the Limehouse, the greatest danger the heckling of the patrons, however tomorrow they perform an unsurvived murder play on the stage of the Nighthouse in front of the mayor and the city's nobility.
The crowd moves and changes as the sun rises and the actors perform in earnest, by the time the sun is sinking back towards the horizon they are covered in dust and sweat a long days work completed, their throats raw and dry. But they gathered more and more attention as time passed, even nobles stopped to watch them for a time, and word of the murder play to be performed is the topic of many conversation as the word spreads.
When they return to the playhouse Robahl gives them a terse congratulations, and tell them not to slack or be late for final rehearsal tomorrow. The open dress rehearsal fast approaches and the master of the Limehouse is tense, his employees picking up on their master's frayed nerves and equally on edge. Wat: Over the time spent with them you learn that most of the crew are Varisian and have little love for the diabolical monarchy, more interesting Robahl himself while he proclaims faith in Asmodeus regularly and loudly has no real conviction, and in fact is scornful of the devil-church.
The silver coins dissappear into the boys clothing rapidly, they will be a great help for him to survive on the streets if they don't get taken from him. He looks up at 'Rosa' with dark eyes from a smudged dirty face, nervousness engraved into him. 'I'm Cosimo missus.' A small crowd starts to gather as the costumed actors enter the area penned in by the short fence.
The drunk sniffs and stumbles out into the night, and the bar becomes still for a few moments, before the usual barroom clangor begins again. The rest of the evening passes more quietly, and without event, the group subdued by the confrontation an example of what they face in hoping to change this city. Calsienica makes her pardons and leaves early, the rest of the group following soon after. They have a long day ahead.
The next morning dawns bright and clear, Westcrown is a riot of acitivity and color, the oppressions of Thrune, and dark of the night forgotten for a little while as merchants hawk their wares and children run underfoot. Robahl dispatches the party from the Limehouse early, sending them to a corner on a main thoroughfare to perform the third act, in costume, without script and on the street. They arrive to find Vizarno scolding an urchin for trying to climb into a little are that has been fenced off for your performance.
The drunken noble lurches to his feet to a series of murmurs, some complaining about drunks, some disgusted at his behaviour, but there are also some who seem to agree. As he stumbles past with two of his friends he spots Krazga, and swaggers over. 'I say.' *hic* 'Why have you brought your rabble,' he looks at Ignatio and gestures at his friends 'And your stinking pet.' At this he looks Krazga up and down, disgust plain on his face. 'No wonder this place has lost its charm if their letting just anyone bring their animals in.'
Calsienica sits on the edge of her seat, and listens raptly before raising her glass. Despite her talent and strength of character when playing Ilsandra, she is shy and quiet off-stage. In the far corner of the room, a loud drunk noble starts to shout about ahow if half the poor were sacrificed to Asmodeus, and the other enslaved, Cheliax would easily overrun her rivals and neighbours.
Vizarno and Calsienica meet you at the bar, Robahl doesn't socialise with his crew, the other crewmen are busy and Millech doesn't drink, but the 7 of you find a nice table, not far from the fire in the cheerful inn, the outside is as grim as expected, but the inside is a cheerful place with pretty girls serving the tables. One of them makes eyes at Ignatio as you take your seats. Calsienica has already procured cups and a bottle and pours a dark red Bristlewark which makes a strange pop when it opens, a sound that sounds like laughing children had been trapped in the bottle. 'To our continued success!'
Robahl returns with a dour expression and takes his, you now realise customary seat in the front row, and commands you to begins with a lazy wave of his hand, his eyes half-focused on a copy of the play, a match to each of your own. The play begins slowly, each of you doing their best to quote the lines while maintaining the character of the part they play, Thesing and Calsienica soon join the party of stage, and the stagehands directed by Millech behind the scenes keep everything flowing. As you act Robahl puts down his copy and stares intently at the party as they begin to get truly into the play, Wat distinguishes himself and even evokes a smile on Robahl's face with his pratfalls, but the portly directors attention is focused almost entirely on Ignatio, much to Thesing's visible and growing chagrin. As the first act finishes Robahl hops to his feet and claps five short times. 'That was... That was actually quite good.' Though his praise seems sparse, the looks of shock on the faces of the stagehands show how rare and hard-earned it truly is. 'If... IF you can all play this way on the night, the Mayor may name us all lords on the night! Well done. Tomorrow you play the second act, and I expect an even better preformance!' True to the man's word, the next two days pass rapidly in practice, during which you are informed of that your pay will be a part of the cut on the night, Ignatio can easily inform you that the percentages offered are more than competitive, even considering the danger you are likely to face. You grow closer to the cast and crew, and Thesing and Ignatio's bandied words grow increasingly vicious, on the morning of the third day Robahl had you preform the play in its entirity and told you that you were no longer allowed scripts on stage, and more importantly, that the dress rehearsal was at the end of the week, and the actual play two days after that. That night Calsienica invites you to go for a drink and offers to meet you at any place you happen to name.
'Its lovely to meet you both! I had best go and get change if we are to perform the first scene! She smiles shyly at you both before retreating behind the screen. You costumes lay out, Drovalid's costume involves black armor paint and a diabolic helm, but the Baliff's costume is simple black leather with a mask it is just small enough to fit but be uncomfortable for the hulking half-orc. Tybain's costume involves a Arodenese tabard, and a large floppy hat in a ridiculous outdated fashion. Monris is clad in dark cloth and bindings obscuring all but her eyes. Finally Lazaord's garb is that of a penitent nobleman, stripped of jewelery, in dark colors, but still in fine cut and shape, it fits Ignatio almost perfectly. After you are dressed Calsienica returns in a very revealing black costume, with fake red horns adorning her now highly elaborate hair style and black silks cut to be seductive. She smiles shyly on her return and bows to the party, her voice suddenly quite husky as she says 'Come let us mount the stage and take this day in hand!'
'Well. You certainly caught me off-guard, I'm not as familiar with Andoran players, the country lost alot of its true appreciaters of fine arts when they let peasants run the show. But I'm glad you've returned to the fold of true civlisation, and of course the mark of true civilisation is great acting. Between yourself and Aulamaxa here, you should put up quite the show.'
'You? You are Lazarod. Ha! I guess we will see indeed,' the smug victorious manner of Thesing's smile lets everyone know that he doesn't expect them to survive to the play's finish. 'Well let's get in costume and rehearse the first scene then shall we. My sweet little Ilsandra should be along any moment now. Perhaps your green friend can play the part of the Baliff for this scene? Its normally enacted by illusions on Millech's part, but it would be a waste of magic for a petty rehearsal,' he turns to his servants and tells them to go and prepare his room, before nodding to Ignatio, bowing in an exagerrated fashion to both Serjia and Euphemi, and sneering at Millech before leaving the stage. 'That...' Millech announces unhappily. 'Was our Henderthann, Umbro Thesing. His reputation precedes him, and even Master Robahl cannot criticise him, his part in the play is our only guarantee of a show in the mayor's great new playhouse.' Millech leads the party backstage and shows all of them their costumes, though Krazga need not change into his. 'Most of them can be worn with or under armor, Millech says as he holds up Tybain's tabard. [b]'And you'll need all the armor you can get I'm afraid.' As the party are nearing the completion of thier costumes, a beautiful young woman enters, and smiles shyly at them. She is slight and fair, with green eyes and faintly coppery hair, her features are elven and delicate, though she is undeniably wholly human. 'Hello,' she says, raising her eyes to look around at the gathered heroes. 'My name is Calseinica. Are you the new actors?'
Millech looks around before turning to Serjia, 'Ilsandra is played by the beautiful Calseinica Nymiss, a rising starlet, Master Robahl found her working in the dockside taverns but she has a great voice and poise. However the Dame does not like her very much...' Millech trails off as if this conflict deeply upsets him. Turning to Ignatio he says 'Henderthaan however is played by-' Ignatio! Old boy! An immaculately well-dressed man has entered the hall now. He is the image of Chelaxian, high Azlanti cheek-bones, pale unblemished skin and handsome features, his sharp blue eyes contrast greatly his shock of pitch black hair which is also immaculate in cut and condition. He strides down the main aisle with his arms spread wide, a pair of serving men trailing at his heels. 'What brings you here with a bevy of winsome beauties,' he looks over Euphemi and Serjia with a cheeky grin, 'and your servants.' He looks over Wat with less enthusiasm and seems downright scornful of Krazga. 'Come to see my paly have you? I play a mighty Henderthaan, the only man for the job. Its a difficult piece, unlike the rest of the rabble that have to fight for their lives rather than the audiences admiration. Robahl's hired on some ungodly platoon to do battle I'm told. So my friend, what has you in the Limehouse?'
Robahl sits through Serjias passionate acting, stifling a yawn, before leaving her to stand still he eventually announces. 'Passable, but your awfully young and female. Millech will have to work a considerable amount of magic on you. But I do not have many spellcasting actors so you'll pass.' He leans forward slightly as Ignatio takes the stage but leans back and finds himself unimpressed at the young bards theatrics. 'Your a little too convinced of your talent Aulamaxa, that was twice as long as I wanted to listen to you. But... but your man carries weight, and if anyone can make a leading man of you it is I, Robahl Nonon.' When Krazga takes the stage, Robahl rolls his eyes and grits his teeth as if expecting physical torture, but his eyes light up at Krazga's performance. He jumps to his feet as the audition ends. 'Excellent! A truly chilling figure, though we need to work on your intimidation. Casting a half-orc as Drovalid. The upper classes will be scandalised! Why I could rewrite Dentris and Monris as female and be hailed as a true visionary! I'm a genius!!! I must go enact rewrites, Millech will run your through stage directions! Your quiet sneaky friend is my Monris! I'll be back in time, and you had all better up your game by then, we have a show to put on ladies and gentleman, the greatest show in Cheliax! Asmodeus be praised!' Robahl rushes off to his office, and Millech returns to stage and runs the party through the first scene. 'Our Ilsandra and Henderthaan should arrive after we break for lunch. But first I had best get you all arranged for the first scene, our Henderthaan is an exacting man, but we must bear him as he is popular now after his last performance.' Sense Motive DC 13: Millech is quite smitten with the actress who plays Ilsandra, and despises the actor who plays Henderthaan.
'A passable performance,' Robahl announces from the front row, 'But the accent alone will nearly carry Tybain. Who else will step forward, for the more serious and challenging roles!?'
You arrive at the playhouse early the next morning and are admitted by Millech who smiles warmly at you as you enter. 'Welcome back my friends. Nothing but chaos again this morning. Dame Aulamaxa has decided she doesn't want to sing from he left so we're moving the chairs from one of the balconies to the other side. One must love theater life,' the ugly hunchback says it with the fervor of beleif, he quite clearly loves the lifestyle and madness of preparing for a play. 'Follow my sirs and madams. His highness is on stage.' Millech leads you in and around to the backstage area, where costumes and vanities await in a profusion of color and variety, before bringing you up onto the stage where Robahl paces back and forth fuming. 'Hurry along would you all! We've got a busy day. I've already cast Henderthaan and Ilsandra, but I have yet to cast my five remaining roles. The four traditional characters and I've decided to reinterpret a classic addition, Monris as Lazarod's silent fiendish right hand man. A genius interpretation.' He then mutters something to himself before continuing. DC 15 Perception:
It might help you all survive aswell. 'So stand up and quote some lines!'
Ignatio leads you to a companionable bar called the Unfound Duck, its sign displaying a duck hiding being a rock. The interior is warm and comfortable, the innkeep a large woman with a big smile and a bigger voice, she had attempted to be an opera singer years ago, but her low birth prevented her rise in that cutthroat world. Her serving girls are her daughters, all three suprisingly slim and tall, with slightly pointed ears.
Ignatio is caught almost unawares, and manages to whack Wat hard with his stick, before the large Andoren man gets a shoulder into Ignatio's midsection and hurls the man five foot away, to land on his posterior on the stage. Just as the party are preparing for yet more hectic combat a sharp, piercing whistle sounds from the audience. They all turn to see Robahl rising from his seat with a calculating expression on his face, quickly replaced by magnamious cheer, he claps softly a few times, the sound loud in the hall no occupied only by the parties panting. 'That was crude, it was flurried, you blocked each other from the audience, your voice weren't aimed correctly... But by asmodeus, even I'll admit you have alot of potential. With some relentless drilling I'll make of you lot a show to be remembered! We'll put on a play that the critics will talk about for centuries! No get out of here and come back in the morning in clean, plain clothes and well rested,' he looks the party over again, smiles for a moment, then his stern expression returns. 'Millech! Get that lazy varisian off my stage!' Robahl strides backstage leaving you on the stage as Millech hobbles his way out from behind the curtains.
Robahl is leaning forward as he watches now, his bored sneer replaced by a calculating expression as he watches every move, and marks every word and intonation.
Vizarno collapses to the stage with a thunk, instantly unconcious. Robahl claps from his seat in the front. 'Well played! Very flashy! Still, a little better posture, throw your voice and by the scourge of Hell would you ever emote!'
'Dame Aulamaxa is as young as she is slender. But yes, I recognise the family look about the man.' 'I'm feeling generous today, so I'll tell you what, Millech will take you backstage, get you some dress armor and wooden swords, and you can act out a stage combat. You may use magicks, but nothing lethal and nothing that will damage the stage! The stage hand Vizarno can join in, then pick two teams of three! Get about it! MILLECH!'
Yah, its really annoying. All I can say is that you should preveiw before you post, so that if you roll a 20 ou can ham it up, or if you roll a 1 you can describe your own terribleness! What does everyone think of our lovely director? :p
Janiven herself accompanies you to the theater, chatting amiably, paying especially notable attention to Wat as you walk through the bustling steet of Parego Spera, this is one of the few parts of the city still as vivid as in its heyday, full of the middle class and new rich, as well as traders and travellers, actors and street preformers. You eventually arrive at a small theater bearing a simple sign depicting a critic being eaten by a giant saber toothed lime in a comical style. The Limehouse is famous as the headquarters and dress rehearsal space of many plays that go on to become hits in the bigger theaters, the reason for this is the fame and immaculate perfection Robahl Nonon brings to his preformances. You enter to find the windows sealed and shuttered, the interior lit bey several everburning torches, a small furtive halfling in his middle years introduces himself as Scebbly in the lobby and brings you in through the double doors to the main play area. Rows of seats line both sides of the central aisle and the moderately sized stage has a balcony built ten feet above it, as well as two balconies for more prosperous audience members above the general seating. In the orchestra pit a hideous humpbacked man is noticeable, wincing graphically as a large, widely built man, who may have been strong in his youth but has gone to seed is screaming and roaring abuse at a pretty young woman on stage. Also on stage, and barely concealing a smirk is an enormous, fat woman in heavy make up and a vibrant and expensive gown. Ignatio grins on seeing the large woman and exclaims 'Auntie!' before hurrying up on stage to great the woman. This draws the attention of Robahl, who stops his tirade, allowing the young actress to flee the stage in tears. He scowls at Ignatio but decides to turn his attention to the decidely awkward lookign bunch of you milling in the central aisle. He strides up and in a loud, deep naturally musical voice says 'And who pray tell has Scebbly dragged in now!? Who are you ill-clad and poorly postured invaders!? And what brings you to my temple of talent, though it is hard to find any such thing these days. Well? Answer up, nows not the time to get your tongue in a knot, you are in the thea-ter!'
For GM** spoiler omitted ** Serjia:
You only reroll one on your health! Your doing fine.
Everyone has noticed over the week Serjia rather obviously leaving for a few hours, it wouldn't be as noticeable but for her laughably poor attempts at stealth, which draw further attention to the fact that she leaves and doesn't want to be noticed.
Is everyone levelled up? Oh, just a reminder I'm going to be changing how battle work and enforcing a 24 hour time limit. Which is to say the game moves on every 24 hours, as long as I can reach a PC, this is mostly for combat, so that you have at most a day to post for every round. For an idea of how combat will look, read DM Barcas's Kingmaker, but not too much, as your all destined to play in that campaign eventually! Just look at battles! Either way I'll explain everything at our next battle.
Holiday Wat: One hundred gp is fine! You are set on thr track of contacts who may know something, giving you a +2 bonus to diplomacy checks to find someone. You can search once a week. It will be rare and expensive as they are strictly regualted within Cheliax. The teiflings grow to trust you, and one confides in you that they were following Palaveen because of rumors among the city's teiflings of a messiah, the very son of Mammon who would take the city and make it a paradise for the fiendblooded.
Krazga: The six trials of Lazarod of is a famed devil propoganda play from before the death of Aroden. It tells of a teifling accused of a crime, and how by his determination and survival of many trials due to his fate in Asmodeus and the help of his alllies, he triumphs and shows the magistrate to the be the villain, defeating him and winning the day.
It is rarely survived because murderplays use actual tortures and combats on the stage, and talented actors rarely sign on for them, leaving only hopeful nobodies ill equipped to deal with the very real dangers involved.
The cost to increase a stat is the difference in cost between the old stat and the new one. Should have made that more clear! Also, you can take your offensive training in rays. Training bonuses don't stack with enchancement bonuses. FINALLY, mark unspeant attribute points on your character sheets. Under the cahracters name e.g. NAME BLAP
etc.
Over the next week you enjoy relative peace. The teiflings swear service to the Children of Westcrown and Iomedae, which greatly pleases Arael. You grow closer to Serjia and Krazga too, and they is included in group discussions with the original three, Janiven and Arael himself. The membership of lower ranking Children begins to grow too, and the organisation is known in whispered ways to have stopped the most brutal bandits in the city. The authorities make some token effort to find the Children, but the effort is half-hearted as they have done nothing but make the city a safer place. After returning the stolen good, the party receive many gifts and payments, which Arael insists they keep. However, just as the party and the Children begin to grow restless once more, Arael gathers the party into the kitchen of the old temple and introduces them to a handsome Taldan woman who goes by the name Ailyn Ghontasavos. It is clear from her garb that she is a member of the Pathfinder Society. Ailyn explains to the party that she has come to Westcrown secretly and under cover of a common mercenary, and hopes to recover several treasures lost when the city’s Pathfinder lodge was forcibly closed decades ago by agents of the House of Thrune. Called Delvehaven, the lodge has been locked down tight for over 30 years, and even before then no Pathfinder has set foot inside since Aroden’s death. The fact that the shadow beasts came to plague Westcrown’s streets so soon after the lodge was sealed by the House of Thrune seems to indicate a connection between the two events, and Ailyn believes she has discovered proof while researching Delvehaven in the libraries of Skyreach at the Great Lodge in Absalom. She goes on to explain that, as much as she would want to explore Delvehaven, she cannot—she’s not officially here on Pathfinder business, and if the society were to find out that she had taken the exploration of Delvehaven into her own hands, she would be in a lot of trouble. Yet if, perchance, another group not directly affiliated with the Pathfinders were to enter the old
Unfortunately, one cannot just simply walk into Delvehaven. While the House of Thrune no longer actively guards the site, they transferred that responsibility to Westcrown’s mayoral office. Worse, the fact that the House of Thrune has been engaged in an act of rewriting history (either by destroying existing documents or changing them to suit Thrune’s preferences) means that reliable information about Delvehaven has become incredibly scarce. Ailyn knows that there are several powerful magical locks and wards on the lodge placed there by the House of Thrune to prevent entry, and her research has shown her that keys to the locks and documentation relating to those wards exists in only one
At this point in the conversation, both Arael and Janiven observe that the banishing of the shadow beasts from the city’s nights would be one of the greatest accomplishments the Children of Westcrown could do to earn the love and support of the city. Luckily, Ailyn has a plan which she proposes to the party as they sit int he dusty room on worn old benches. 'We need to get inside the Mayors manor, undetected and without causing a scandal. We need you five to be invited. Luckily the Mayor holds grand dinners at regualr intervals, however only members of the high nobility and the mayors favorites are invited. It is no secret that the mayor is a great fan of the stage, he loves plays and actors, and actresses most of all. But to grab his attention as nobodies we would have to do something stupendous. I propose that you take part in and be the first to ever survive the Chelaxian murder-play, the Six Trials of Lazarod. Only one man in the entire nation is even considering the allegedly cursed play this year. Robahl Nonon. If he can get a cast together and sate the critics in a simple preformance, he will get a place in the newly opened nightshade theater, frequented by the Mayor. Should anyone complete the play, they are sure to win an invitation to the Mayors. What so you say my new comrades? Are you interested in becoming heroes of the people in not one way, but two!?'
READ CAREFULLY I've decided I'm going to be granting everyone heroic distinctions in this game, to try and work it up fromt he lower levels. You gain your first distinction at 3rd level, and one more at every following level. I'll probably add a few more distinctions in a bit.
Imbued: A masterwork weapon or armor can be imbued for 500 gp. An imbued weapon beats DR/magic and the imbued items hardness and hit points are doubled.
List of Distinctions:
This is the list of available Heroic Distinctions gained by heroes as they level up. Defensive Training: The character receives a +1 training bonus to the effective armor bonus of any armor, bracer or shield worn.
There are 18 available above. In addition, rather than gaining ability scores at every 4th level, I am going to be using an expanded point buy alternate system. Basically when ever you level up you gain points to spend on attiribute scores just like you do at first level. You can spend them when levelling, or save them up, but you can only spend them while levelling not during the middle of adventuring. You gain one point at 2nd, and one at third. So you all have two additional points to spend on your attributes. You will gain 2 additional points upon reaching 4th level and so on. Points Gained at Levels:
1st - 2nd 1 3rd 1 4th 2 5th 2 6th 2 7th 2 8th 2 9th 3 10th 3 11th 3 12th 3 13th 3 14th 4 15th 4 16th 4 17th 4 18th 4 19th 6 20th 8 This will change your wealth as you level, but that will be accounted for off screen. @Wat: Cloaks of resistance no longer exist in the game. Instead you have a mwk breastplate and a mwk heavy steel shield.
Sure, sure, and sure. Coming at Euphemi with nearly a year's experience with the setting and game and want to do her up?
Chompsky bounds off, leading Wat away from the cleared area near the temple and into the ruins, the cavalier falling behind when the dog enters an aley hot on the heels of the man, Janiven comes after, watchign for tracks. 'Grounds too hard here, it might be best not to let him draw you off. He doesn't yet know where our lair is, and when word of his abandoning his men gets out he'll not gather any more bandits.' Regardless of her words, she keeps with Wat, bow out and ready to nock an arrow.
The confused, terrified teiflings, suddenly drop their weapons and go down on their knees. A screeech of fury emanates from invisible Palaveen, and Wat swings at it, spraying blood, before the sound of invisible footsteps race out the doorway, unstopped by Janiven as she tries to interpose herself. The remaining teiflings place their hands in the air. 'Please,' begs a female with strange growths on her head. 'We yield.'
Spoiler:
P O T J vs. 15 vs. 15 Round 1
The tieflings are dazed and confused by Ignatio's taunts and words, and do not move at first, illiciting abuse from Palaveen in Infernal. Janiven moves in and to the left drawing her bow and firing at palaveen but missing. Euphemi hurls a flask of acid, but it lands beside Ostengo on the floor, splashing and doing some harm to the mummy-attired tiefling, but light more than drawing a hissing curse from him. The dark-haired sorceress then steps into the the temple as well, taking the opposite side to Janiven, she unleashes a wave of magical light, in a multi-hued cascade. Palaveen resists the wave with seeming ease however disgraced, and acid scarred Ostengo is not so lucky and the barrage undoes him, as he falls to the ground blind and unconcious. Krazga charges forward and with a mighty swing topples one of the stunned tieflings, dropping the man bleeding to the floor. Enraged at how quickly events are turning against him, Palaveen snarls and becomes invisible as he casts a spell, red runes glowing areound his wrsits and fading when he does. Ignatio successfully hypnotises the remaining teiflings, but the spell is broken by Krazga's immediate presence, however the tielflings seem almost friendly towards the bard and turn all of heir aggresion towards the half-orc. Seeing the thugs confused and milling, Wat charges around them, with Chompsky at his heel, the hound smelling out the invisible leader.
The teiflings are visibly shaken by this and Palaveen seeing his troops lose focus steps forward and roars 'Enough of this stupidity! They die now! Everyone of them!' Just as he announces that and weapons are drawn however, the main door of the church is kicked open, revealing Janiven and another woman standing ready to fight, Janiven calls out as she readies her longbow 'Cavalry got here late, but we got here nonetheless!'
Krazga leads the way, and bounds up stairs to find himself in the abandoned chapel on Erastil. Piles of chairs, and upturned furniture, broken pews and a shattered wooden altar have been pushed into one corner, while the rest of the wooden floor is open. Standing in the room are six teiflings. Ostengo you recognise, and four ar dressed in the hoods and leather armor typical of the bastards, each one with a strange and fiendish mutation. Their leader however, is a rather handsome man, with mid length black, hair, small horns jutting fromhis forehead, and robes over armor, bearing a strange holy insgina. 'What folly has brought you here? Why did you think to attack us in our nest? If you lay down your weapons now we will be merciful, and the woman spared,' Palaveen says in a loud clear voice.
The large chest is locked. From beyond the open doors you hear sounds, shouting and calling. A few catcalls can be heard over the growing din. Then a voice booms out. 'Come out and face us manlings!' The remaining doors lead through the hallway and up wide stairs.
One letter is a crumbled request for more skeletal wolves and an expression of annpyance over not being acceppted to 'the Council'. The other reads: 'Palaveen, While we appreciate the work of your Bastards, the Council never intended this association to be anything more than that. We shouldn't need to remind you that if your tiring applications continue, we'll need to solve this problem in a manner less concerned with your continued good health.'
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