Kalvant shakes his head. "Not everyone does. You were a special case, that whole clan head family baggage. This lot went far beyond anything you ever did. Honestly, I sort of poached you even though you didn't really earn the rap in the teeth. I needed someone who wouldn't cause a fuss disappearing, but had enough integrity to see something through." He waves a hand, indicating the loss of people from the first group as proof he was right. "As to your cousins, if you mean Rory McIntyre, he ran off with that little Reville dancer girl you two met in the tavern. He has a rather nice little fishing business on the surface with her. I did recruit him to funnel me some information, but only after he settled down. If you mean Amelia McCavish McIntyre, I have no idea what happened to her. I know it's an open case, and there's some suspects, but I won't say who they are, given it's an internal clan matter at this point. I would suggest not trusting your cousin Donal though..." The man says, bleak faced for a moment. "I'm sure there's others though I don't know about. I usually don't bother with any vanishments unless they're from the head family."
"Yes, do try to keep the wanton destruction to a minimum." He says dryly. Then he hands a packet of papers to Connor and Alys.
Papers:
Roderick of MacDuncan of McIntyre - Alchemist and Mercenary. Convicted of magic item smuggling. Sentenced to hard labor, 10 years, crystal mines, followed by Exile. Died 11th Miniri. Research indicates he likely didn't actually know he was smuggling magic items. Ignorance not being a defense, was sentenced to maximum penalty due to aggravating circumstances (Deaths of Peacekeeper's during arrest raid).
Adraniel von Celestrada - Aegis Scout. Convicted of Murder in the death of Ministrina Von Celestrada, a fellow clans-woman. Convinced his mentor was not a traitor, as convicted, and made waves. Waters are murky, witnesses claim he attacked Ministrina, he claims her and her clan mates attacked him first. Died 14th Miniri.
Kyzin of Lialis of McIntyre - Kinetic Psion. Embarrassment to Clan McIntyre, apparently McIntyre embarrasses easy, or else they have a lot of screw ups, given present company. This one has managed to work his way down from Battleship duty to garbage scow duty through playing practical jokes on superior officers. Currently AWOL and not missed.
Rory of Reville - Former ship's captain and all around jackass. Managed to get his entire crew kill, his ship blown up, and something unknown inhabiting his soul. Not sure what it is, but we need him watched by people we trust. Skill set very useful, but unknown thing inside him makes him a questionable asset. Kill if you think you need to, but do it from a distance, entity may jump bodies. Suggest dropping him on Ash if you need to dispose of him. Died 13th Miniri.
Elara of 'Kore' - Sergeant, currently AWOL, but doesn't know it. Insists she's starting her own clan, called Kore, after her mentor. Said mentor was selling firearms to gangs, including one you met last year. In fact, Connor's arm had one of the bullets he sold in it. She's been making waves to get his honors re-instated despite his treason. Managed to throw away a perfectly good career over it.
Once the duo read the papers, he continues. "You're the old hands now, so I'll let you educate your new crew on their new lives. I suggest the dead ones get some permanent changes, and the non-dead ones some cosmetic stuff, hair dye, tats in prominent places, that sort of thing. Remember, they may not be worth the time and effort. If they turn surly, dispose of them. Every single person in there is living on borrowed time for one reason or another, except maybe the Sergeant. You're giving them a chance to do something better than they did before. Can either of you honestly say you'd have made more of a difference making jewelry or living on the run than you did bringing that information about the dragons experimenting with psionics, or the 'drow' people having it?"
"Yes, I'm afraid Alys's services have cost me a favor with the guild, but it's worth it having an Assassin around, as long as she's not been driven insane by her weapons." Kalvant replies, and takes the papers. He reads Selvan's missive, laughs, and hands it to Mirandi, who reads it, giggling to herself.
He skims Connor's parchments, then re-reads it while settling on the railing. When he's done, he folds it up and hands it to Alsatia as well. "Good work. Can't really blame Sammark too much for staying, what with the wife thing. He was facing exile anyway, so if he's happy with that, I have no issues. Flick's loss is troubling, but none of your doing. Those who let their fear rule them usually have a bad end. Selvan's managed to find his backbone again, and he had good reviews from the captain he was serving under, so no problems there. All in all, a much better outing than your first one."
"Hah! Well, look what the storm blew in! You two look a sorry state. Not sure I should keep you on the payroll, send you off with a group of 7, and back you come with only the two of you." He laughs. "So, what do you think of the ship? Isn't she a beauty? You know she once belonged to Alistairia 'tel Mintakia herself?" He pats the battered railing affectionately.
"Yes, of her at least. Naming it's mistress is not something I would willingly do, as that might draw her attention, and we have enough weirdness going on without adding to it. I will say her mistress is neither good nor evil, and is not particularly fond of either. The bird is... drawn to places and times where things of import happen. When those times are over, it flies off to it's mistress, reports, and then finds a place to wait for the next matter of import. The fact she's here is an indication of just how dangerous things may be. Her appearance is not a good sign, but her appearance is not the cause. And as far as I know, the only way to shut her up is to get rid of her or blow her up."
She's cut off by a roar of laughter from Kalvant, who wags a finger at Maggie. "Oh ho ho! So you finally came out, did you? I'll have to tell people you're out and about again, 'Maggie'." The quotes around her name are almost physically present as he says her name. "No worries, Jalice. It's not an undead, despite appearances." He nods at Maggie. "Give your mistress my regards, when she calls you back."
Kalvant listens to everything and nods as Jalice begins her preliminary investigation. "Yes, I see. Very good, Ms. Cathran. My thanks to you for seeing one of our order on her way back safely." Kalvant crosses his arms and looks thoughtful. "I believe the town is safe for now, we've reconsecrated the graveyard, which seems to have stopped the dead rising. From your descriptions, the old necromancer's tower seemed to have been spying on Chateau Doleures, Perdition's Point, Carrion Crown, Demon's Reach Fortress and Caliphas."
Kalvant goes over to a board that has been set up with a map of the local area, and touches each of the locations. "Lady Jalice, you will return to Caliphas with the information we have, and further your research using the libraries in the Capital, I'll give you a missive to get you access to the Royal Archives as well." He looks at Lineera. "Ms. Lineera, given the issues inherent due to your racial background, and given the nature of the threat, I think it might be safer for both you and your companions if you travel with me instead. You and I, and a few of my people will head for the Demon's Reach fortress."
He looks at Carrion Crown and Chateau Doleures. "I don't have enough men to send someone to one of these two locations, and to guard Perdition's Point. I suspect they may try to retrieve the coffins. Your group is headed to the Chateau already. I will try to send word to have someone sent to Carrion Crown, but I suspect it will be too late..." He says bleakly, as too late means more children dying.
"We need to capture one of their statues, this is made difficult as they can apparently use them to teleport away if given the opportunity. You must not give them that opportunity. Without the statue, we cannot break the spells on the coffins."
Kalvant gives laugh at Kjel's sudden outburst. "I believe the general store has liquor, and the inn has a few tables to sit around and drink it, Mr. Kjel." He then turns back to Alexis. [b]"I never believe in coincidence when enemy action is more likely. That means someone wanted a portal, and a mirror portal at that, and they didn't want it to modify the personality of whoever was mirrored."
Kalvant grunts in response. "I don't like coincidences, and I don't believe in them. A coin landing on it's edge is suspicious in the extreme, but possible. To do so during the extra events you describe... I would put that down to divine or infernal intervent..." He trails off, his eyes narrowing. "Of course..."
Kalvant makes a dismissive wave. "It is only a small trick of the mind I learned from an old woman in Magnemar when I was young, and more enamored of wealth than spirit." He turns back to the group. "And now, introductions and stories please?"
Ok, it appears we've lost Lineera and Riley. *sigh* Ok, we'll go forward with them NPC'd for now.
Kalvant chuckles. "Stop glaring at me old woman, I'm not the one who overreacted. You shouldn't blame people though, things have been bad here lately." He sighs, and waves a gauntlet toward the old grave yard. "The day we arrived, more corpses had risen. We had to put them down. One of the first things we had to do was reconsecrate the graveyard."
He turns toward the populace at large. "Now now, you all have managed to get scolded by Mahb, now go on home. This obviously is not Alexis Carevin. I suspect it is her long lost sister, we'll straighten it out."
The townsfolk look rather sheepish, and there are mutterings of sorry toward Lineera, and red faces. Turning to the group again, he waves them toward the tent city. "If you'd be so kind as to come with me then."
He leads them to the large pavillion tent that has been set up as a central meeting area, and then takes a seat at a large oval table. "Now then, I suspect you've had interesting times. Please tell me what has transpired, and how you acquired Alexis's 'sister'? Alexis was not from Perdition's Point originally, if I understand correctly? I believe that a more acceptable tale for the general population would be an estranged twin sister. I'll need you to submit to a full examination by my expert on planar creatures before I can allow you full access to the town, Ms. Carevin, I'm afraid. I'm not going to take a chance with the town's safety at this point."
Having gotten the important things out of the way, he waves at a junior cleric. "Brother Barton, please get us some lemonade, and some of those little sandwhiches that you make that taste so good. Thank you." The junior cleric bows and leaves the tent. "Now then, for those who I haven't met before, official introductions. I am...."
The man in full plate walks over, pulling his gauntlet back on. As he does, he waves a hand at Alexis.
It's quite obvious he is detecting Evil
The elf is tall, over 6 and a half feet tall. Unlike most elves, he's not slim either, he looks more like Kjel does, his torso encased in heavy steel that is just as large as the northlander's. "Indeed, as is the woman whose countenance you wear. I know, I had her remains dug up so I could consecrate them to ensure she didn't raise up again. All twenty seven pieces of her. The husband was slightly luckier, the creatures only tore him into three pieces. The girl witnessed everything, as the creatures seemed to delight in making her watch. They were hacking at the walls of the house to force it to collapse so they could get her out of the rafters when the villagers finally killed them." He places a gauntleted hand on his bastard sword's hilt. "I recognize your face as Alexis Carevin. I now require an explanation, and further examination, before I allow you free access to this village."
He nods at Eva, Riley, Lineera, and Mahb. "Ladies, Sir. Well met again, I hope. I see you've brought a walking ghost to us." He eyes Kjel for a second, taking his measure coolly. "And it appears you've found a new ally. Your former allies sent word to tell you they are safe and sound, in Magnamar, trying to track down whatever is left of the Raven Company, to see who originally hired them to go after the people you are going after. They appear to have been exterminated to a man."
Kalvant frowns. "I do, but the symbol isn't quite that symbol. It is similar. Similar enough that it might be a derivation, or perhaps a sub-cult. All records of that creature were expunged, to prevent a return of it's cult." He strokes his chin. "Tell this to the Bishop, but I am unable to confirm or deny the supposition. I can tell you this though, the cult you speak of predates even Iomedae and Pharasma. If it's returned, it means something very old and evil is moving again."
"Proceed on to Rozenport, you can get a ship from there to Caliphas, which shall be faster than over land. Aurora can arrange passage on the church's copper. If they don't like it, they shouldn't have given me a mission to spend money on." Kalvant snorts. "As to taint, I am certain there is more in Perdition's Point. I don't think there will be any in Rozenport, I'd have noticed it. But keep your eyes open. Lineera will be able to tell you if it's around." He nods at Lineera. "Only one who has been tainted deeply by great evil can become one who fights great evil." He tells the drow cryptically. "I have heard of no issues in Illmarsh, which argues, unfortunately, for a successful ritual there. Which means the taint is likely not wide spread there. Only in a place where they are stopped will people find the amulets and handle them carelessly. I will send word for this Tommas's parents to be checked, but I doubt they are tainted. While the cultists were sneaking around, they would have taken precautions. The taint is more of a booby trap for those who defeat them. We will cleanse your town, and see to it's reconstruction. Once done, I'll cleanse your kobold caves, and then collapse them. Aurora, I leave them to you. We must not tarry overlong, but I will answer any questions I can before leaving." The paladin returns to all business as the caravan rushes about to pack in record time.
You can continue to post 'in the past' conversations if you like, but I do want to get us to the point where everyone can contribute again, including Elena/Aurora
The next morning, which comes with restful sleep for some (Mahb and Lineeera) and not so restful sleep for others (the rest of the group), arrives inevitably, as it always does.
The ritual is restarted in the morning, and Cathran and Riley and Eva and Pyewacket and Bertha and Lineera's Mule are in turn purified of taint.
Cathran:
The holy water feels like boiling water as it pours over you, and you can feel the taint clawing at you, but it seems to have a week hold to start with, and all that happens is some smoke and pins and needles feelings in your body occurs. It's painful, but no more so than a good fist fight or heavy training session, and when it's done, you're panting, sweaty, and feeling like you're 50 pounds lighter. The day is brighter, the air sweeter... it's as if you'd been walking in a cloudy haze and not realized it until the haze is gone.
Riley:
The holy water feels like boiling water as it pours over you, and you can feel the taint clawing at you, but it seems to have a week hold to start with, and all that happens is some smoke and pins and needles feelings in your body occurs. It's painful, but no more so than a good beating from a jealous husband or from a wrathful property owner, and when it's done, you're panting, sweaty, and feeling like you're 50 pounds lighter. The day is brighter, the air sweeter... it's as if you'd been walking in a cloudy haze and not realized it until the haze is gone.
Eva:
The holy water feels like a mild acid as it pours over you, and you can feel the taint clawing at you. Tendrils of smoke cling to you, pulling at your hair and your soul. It's painful, almost as painful as losing all those people in Perdition's Point was. You scream in pain and writh, and when it's done, you're a pale, panting, sweaty, trembling heap. But the world is so much brighter and magical than it was when you woke up. Light bounces off the flowers, it glistens in the morning dew, little rainbows pop up here and there from the mist. It was as if you'd sunk into a fading without realizing it, and suddenly that fading is gone.
Pyewacket:
You're not sure why all the humans were making such a fuss. The smoke pours out of you as if it wasn't really comfortable under your feathers anyway. It takes less than a second for the world to brighten up, and you feel like you could fly for hours.
Cathran and Riley both end up pale and sweaty, but looking better afterward. Eva screams in pain, but not nearly as bad as Mahb or Lineera did. Pyewacket and the mules seem to be mocking the humans as they simply stand passively as smoke pours off them. The mules just chewing grass even.
After the humans are cleansed, all their equipment is put in the circle, and Kalvant again uses his sword to dispel magic on it. A cloud of darkness wafts up off the equipment from the pulse of anti-magic, and then the equipment is cleansed.
When they are done, the caravan begins to pack up again. Kalvant addresses the Perdition's Point group. He holds out a handy haversack with holy symbols and runes on it. "I need your group to take these tainted items to Caliphas, to the Temple of Iomedae, for disposal." He holds the bag out to Lineera. "It is vital that they be taken there before their taint can be spread." Looking over at his coterie, he points with his other hand. "You, Aurora, you will accompany them to Caliphas. Ensure they are able to get in to see the Bishop." Kalvant then turns back to them. "If you are not willing to do this, then I will have to do it myself. Which means I have to send the Caravan back to Rozenport. I cannot send them on to Perdition's Point with the almost certain taint without the means to break it. Nor can I entrust these cursed items to anyone other than myself or Lineera." He nods at Lineera, as if they share some common bit of knowledge about why he suddenly trusts her with the cursed items. "And no, you can't go alone."
The Paladin snorts at the very idea. "Convert you? By the holy, if I were to inflict you upon Iomedae, I'd not only lose my Paladinic powers, I have no doubt I'd be struck by lightning until I glowed in the dark." He laughs, wincing at the pain of the wound from the laughter.
The young female Paladin on guard duty opens her mouth to tell Mahb that Kalvant is not available, when a voice comes from inside the tent. "Tell the witch she can come in, I'm sure it's nothing she hasn't seen before." The girl snaps her mouth shut and ushers the witch in.
Inside the four man tent is only Kalvant. His armor sits on a rack, freshly polished. He himself is sitting on a folding cot, his shirt off, showing off his torso. His torso is criss crossed with scars, some of them looking fatal, despite him sitting there alive. He's changing the dressings on a wound, a nasty puncture wound on his abdomen. Looking up, he winces as he tugs the last of the bandage free, letting dark red blood ooze from the wound. "Dragon Scorpion sting. Highly resistant to magical healing." He explains. He begins washing the wound gingerly with a clean sponge dipped in astringent and herbs. "What do you need?"
Kalvant's voice is weak, but he still barks out orders like a drill sargeant. "STOP! You are still unclean, gnome! Would you re-infect her with the taint?" The Paladin winces at the pain in his hand. The two high priests stop their prayers and run over, each casting a healing spell on the two downed people.
The magic snaps Lineera's limbs back into place forcibly, causing some more pain, but finally the pain blessedly stops as her body is fully healed.
Kalvant's body relaxes as the wound heals over rapidly, leaving only a small mark on his palm. "I am afraid the rituals will have to continue in the morning, my aspergellum is in no shape to provide holy water tonight. It may not be able to tomorrow either." He says ruefully. "I think they'll be rather wroth with me if I broke it." Then he snorts and laughs.
As the ritual continues, Lineera's eyes begin to emit a black light as well, and her screams of agony grow louder. Kalvant is sweating by this point, and he's bowed back as if a heavy weight were on his shoulders. The aspergellum begins to glow cherry red as it continues to pour out holy water over a now drenched Lineera.
Finally the Paladin cries out in pain, a cry echo'd by Lineera, whose body convulses so hard there are audible snaps as several bones snap like kindling.
And then the oily black smoke finally pulls free of Lineera, although it almost looks as though tendrils of it pull something of her free as well, part of her spirit before the hissing black smoke finally explodes in a black and red flash that leaves the area smelling like rotting meat.
Lineera's body jackknifes again and collapses to the ground, leaving her coated in sweat and trembling in pain.
Kalvant groans and goes down on one knee, dropping his aspergellum to the grass, where it burns the grass. His hand smokes from burnt flesh.
Kalvant snorts. "She'll outlive you, Ingwood." The Paladin says with some verve, and a trace of annoyance. "She's recovering from the removal of the taint. It didn't want to go, as you saw."
Calleus and Sivalla continue their prayers to their respective deities, not adding magic so much as focus to the ritual now. Again holding forth his holy symbol, and the aspergellum, Kalvant begins to cast his spell. "Iomedae! This wayward and stubborn child of Pharasma seeks to prove that she has fought her nature! She is steeped in sinful magic, Iomedae. She willfully disobeys her mother and traffics with undead, and has become tainted thereby! If she is truly repentant, then help her cleanse her soul of the taint it was born with, and the taint she courts, along with the taint forced upon her!" The aspergellum again begins to weep holy water over Lineera's head this time.
Lineera's body suddenly jackknives, ever muscle in her body spasming at once! Every vein in her body throbs visibly, every tendon stretched to visibility as her body arches. Her eyes fly open, and she screams in utter agony as black smoke coils around her, an oily thing that clings to her even as the holy water courses over her.
Lineera:
Lineera is in the most extreme agony she has ever felt. The oily black taint has set it's roots deep, having found fertile soil. It clings to her, holding fast. It feels like an oily rotten plant is clinging to her skin, sinking it's roots beneath it, tugging at her very soul to stay inside her.
The scream continues, long past the time when Mahb collapsed, and the cloud billows stronger around Lineera. The drow's eyes go solid black, and a darkness vomits forth from her mouth, spreading in the air like oil on water.
Kalvant grunts, sweat beading his brow as he continues the prayer, and the casting, long past when it should have completed. The aspergellum begins to glow a dull red, as if overheating where it touches Lineera.
Kalvant pulls an aspergellum from his hip, and walks forward to Mahb. He places the weapon's tip on her head as she kneels on the ground. He holds forth his holy symbol which is on a string of beads made of pearls. "Iomedae! This wayward... and crotchety... child claims innocence and seeks the clearance of her soul from any pact with evil. Should her words be true, I call upon you to strip away any evil clinging to her soul unjustly!" As he speaks, the aspergellum begins to weep, water flowing down Mahb's hair and face. The water bubbles like acid as it rolls down her body, and the hissing turns to cries of agony around her as oily black smoke rises off her body. As the Paladin speaks the words of benediction, the howls of agony rise in level and turn to curses of eldritch nature. Then as he completes his incantation, there is a burst of black smoke that sends Mahb into a coughing fit, and leaves her pale and shaking on the ground.
Spellcraft DC 19:
An atonement spell was cast by the Paladin.
Knowledge (Religion) DC 19:
Paladin's cant cast Atonement Spells.
Mahb:
Mahb's guts wrench as the holy water pours down her body, it feels like acid burning at her skin, but she can't speak or pull away. Finally she feels something leave her, torn out by creepy little oily roots. Her body collapses, leaving her feeling too weak to move. She's not sure she could survive that again... but... for some reason, she feels a decade younger, even as she lies gasping and trembling. She hadn't realized just how tired and old she'd felt the last few weeks until the feeling is suddenly gone.
The Paladin steps back and makes a motion toward Mahb, his eyes steely and resolved. Then, over the course of several seconds, a small smile flits over his lips. "Well, this is unfortunate. It appears the taint is gone. This means I have to put up with your foul presence for a few more years it seems, old woman." The Paladin says, sounding mildly disgusted at having to deal with Mahb further. But there is a smirk playing at his stony lips.
The rest of the afternoon is taken up with the preparations for the spell casting. The two portable shrines are set up, Calleus and Savilla begin praying over them, and finally Kalvant walks into the center and pulls the great sword off his back. As it leaves the sheath, the weapon begins to glow with a pure white light, bathing all 5 of the Perdition Point folks (Plus Pyewacket!) in a cool white light.
"Magics Malicious, Spells Sinister, Appalling Arcana, be gone from my holy sight, and never more show thy eldritch power!" And the glowing white sword pulses like an angry heartbeat. White lightning erupts out from his blade and washes over the Perdition Point group, snapping and buzzing angrily as the lightning licks over their bodies, sends their hairs standing up on end. But no apparent harm comes from the lightning.
Spellcraft DC 18:
The Paladin used his sword to cast Dispel Magic on the group.
Kalvant does indeed get the last word. "My mother was a Magnimaran whore, I doubt you could come up with any insult she didn't actually perform for money, old woman. So feel free to make as many comments as you like, I have heard them all." He then rides off to supervise the searching of the equipment.
"There is a chance you are telling the truth. I pray to Iomedae you are, as I do not wish to do what I will have to do if these are truly yours." Kalvant says, his voice hard. He tosses a burlap bundle on the ground. The burlap splits open, and there are black amulets, from the cloak-hats, on the burlap. As well as a silver holy symbol. "The magic on these things has been masked, as has their evil. But the evil is so strong it pervades anything they touch, corrupting it."
Kalvant eyes the old woman. "Which is one of the few reasons I am talking now, rather than smiting, old woman. Something foul is going on, and I will know the whole of it."
"Place it on the ground with a stone on it. Everyone that has dropped their weapons, step off the track and sit there..." He points to a section of the field off to the north of the road. "When the rest of the caravan is here, we'll sort this out and determine if there needs to be low justice given here, or a full inquisition in Caliphas. I would prefer not to kill you, on the very slim chance you are telling some form of the truth, but I cannot in good conscience chance you escaping. There will be no releasing some of you on the hostage of the other. No Evil shall be permitted to roam free after what has happened."
Kalvant's eyes harden. "A very pretty plea, Drow. But the taint is strongest on you, weakest on your gnome ally. No doubt she's a recent convert to your evil. The hag is as steeped in it as you are."
Kalvant shakes his head firmly. "No, they all reek of evil too much for this to have been exposure to a ritual, no matter how heinous and vile. If it were merely taint, to be at this level, they'd have had to be near something evil for weeks, not mere moments or hours for a ritual. Do not let them deceive you Sivalla. This drow is not the misguided but evil rejecting girl you remember. She's fallen to the depths that all drow fall too unsupervised."
Kalvant makes a face. "Because she's the cause, Sivalla. Her and this lot. They reek of evil. Check for yourself. It's as if they had been soaked in it." His voice is cold as ice. "I haven't felt anything so foul since..." He trails off, and his voice turns bleak. "...since ever."
If you have at least one rank in Spellcraft, you may make the perception check below
Perception DC 15:
It had not been obvious because of the rigid way he sat, but now you realize the Paladin has been concentrating on maintaining a spell of some sort.
The man's eyes narrow. "I believe I said to drop all your weapons. I won't repeat myself. Drop them all right now." The lance moves off Lineera, and toward Cathran, the tip pointing directly toward her chest, not wavering an inch. "Now then, if you wish to call it racism, you feel free, hag. I have reports of kidnappings, undead, accursed rituals, murder and death from a small town within the are of my judgement. And the first creatures I encounter on the way to that town are a Drow with what looks like obvious necromantic equipment who claims to be a follower of Pharasmae. Along with her an old hag who could be a real hag, or just an evil old witch." He nods toward Pyewacket, making it obvious he has divined she's a witch. "Add in a shifty looking man, an armed woman who seems entirely to calm at being on the receiving end of a knight's lance, and I have no qualms about running you all through if you don't submit to authority." The man's voice never rises above a frosty chill.
Sense Motive DC 10:
The man has no intention of backing down, and every intention of turning violent if his orders are not obeyed.
Sense Motive DC 18:
The man has no intention of backing down, and every intention of turning violent if his orders are not obeyed. But he is reluctant to kill.
The man on the horse is wearing plate mail, and he is an elf. He trots up on a giant beast of a horse that clinks and clanks as it trots, the full plate barding glistening in the sun. "Ho and well met, I am...." He trails off, seeing Lineera, and then he drops his lance down. "Halt by the order of the Church of Iomedae! Drop your weapons! Any attempt to cast foul spells shall be met with reprisal!" The elf's former smile is gone, his face now hard-edged as his horse nervously paws the ground.
Kn(Religion) DC 10:
His tabbard has the symbol of Iomedae on it.
Kn(Religion) DC 20:
The specific coat of arms surrounding the Symbol of Iomedae indicates this man is a Paladin of some rank
Kn(Religion) DC 25:
The specific coat of arms surrounding the Symbol of Iomedae indicates this man is a Senior Paladin, meaning he's at least equivalent to a bishop in rank.
Kalvant snorts. "Well, you lot are Mirandi's folks, so I'll have to ask her, but she needs you with intact covers, at least until she finds out who is routing magic items out of the disposal bureau." He waves a hand negligantly, and takes another swig off his mug. "I do have a mission I could use some people on, you'll need a crash course in being a sailor. A friend of a friend does odd jobs for the Council. Reville ship, so you four should fit right in at least." He looks at the entire assembled crew, and his eyes narrow. "You never heard this. Anyway, the Council wants to expand trade with the surface. But it's a political hot potato, so nobody wants to actually go on record voting for it." He shrugs. "So, this friend of a friend is going to be doing some surveying and trying to find more people to trade with on the surface. He needs some crew though that won't mind being off Atalantia for a long period of time, and that's you lot. Right now, we have open trade with four countries, one major port each."
Kalvant nods. "I remember half-elf, last time I checked, I hadn't backed out on my promise. In fact, last time I checked, I'd not backed out on any promise I've made since I became an adult." He says in a low voice. "You being on or off the islands won't make a difference in that. All that will matter is the additional effort that will be needed."
Well, that was certainly helpful, isn't Selvan such a helpful soul?
Kalvant frowns at Selvan. "You know, as bad as things have been, they could certainly have been worse. I would like to thank you, Selvan, for showing us things can always be worse." He comments dryly, before turning to Sammark. "Is this about your will?"
Kalvant waves a hand. "It's been impounded. If there's something you especially need, I'll get someone to sneak it out. Otherwise, it can wait until you're rehabilitated. I'll dip into the privy purse to re-outfit you all prior to that. That's actually help, now that I think about it. All new equipment, some new haircuts, hair dye, keep you from looking like yourselves until you get out of town."
Sense Motive:1d20 + 18 ⇒ (7) + 18 = 25
"And yes, you always have a choice. You should work on your poker face, Connor. It reads you like a book. If you all prefer not to leave the islands, I have some other things I could use done, but they're fairly nasty things. I was going to try to give you an easy duty if I could. But if you prefer being up to your knees in blood and vermin, I can do that as well." The big man shrugs, seeming happy either way.
"Sorry about that, Mirandi's Chief of Force came by to give her a rundown on your little explosive encounter in South Quarter." The man drops on a couch and lounges while looking off into the distance. "He's got a fairly good description of Selven, Connor, Reaghar, Alys, and Alister. Sammark and Elrohir managed to stay incognito, but that's not really worth anything. He's already identified Connor by name, and Reaghar. Selven as well. Won't take him long to ID the rest. That makes keeping you around a major pain, I either have to go squash Mirandi's chief, which she won't like, or I have to go to the Council and explain who you are. The problem with that of course is I don't know how high up the rot goes. And even if the council is clean, it'll leak, it always does."
The big man rubs his chin. "You lot ever want to see the world? You know, travel, see the surface? Find interesting and exotic place, meet new people and shoot them?" He laughs, and the group is pretty sure that last bit is mostly a joke. "Seriously though, it would be easier to keep your cover if you all vanished for a month or three. Your contacts would totally understand you vanishing, what with Security looking for you by name and face." The man continues to rub his stubbly chin thoughtfully. "I know a guy who knows a guy with a ship..."
Kalvant looks at Connor as he comes out of it, and a snort of amusement is heard. "Hah, so next time I'll just have you beaten unconscious then, seemed to work the last time we met, not that you remember it. You got a halfway decent punch in before I drove your head through that bar." Kalvant laughs, and a vague memory of a large elvavian in a cloak in the bar where Reaghar, Alister, and Conner first met swims into Connor's memory, along with the fact that the man punched like a mule. "Easier said than done, the last one I managed to talk into doing that she got drummed out of the service on trumped up charges." He winces. "And I got stuck with the annoying little purple shtockty. So not gonna go there again. As to the magic user, you just forget about her. She wasn't involved with the magic item smuggling. Everything else is likely spot on though."
Kalvant was mostly enjoying the exchange back and forth, until the end of Selvan's report. And then something Selvan said set him off, his muscles tightened, veins throbbed, and for a second you thought the large man was about to pound Selvan into paste. But Mirandi negligently place a hand on his arm, and it seemed to bring him out of it. This is all in the space of a second, easy to miss in the confusion. Kalvant's subsequent smile is forced, and pasted on through anger.
Kalvant smiles wryly. "Nice try, Kilvani. You can quote the law with the best of them. I can quote 2 or 3 laws on the books that aren't exactly published widely if you like. As to hiring him on, I'm not opposed to it, if he can keep his shtocking mouth shut. He apparently was pretty good in a dangerous situation, which is a positive thing. But if he can't keep his mouth from running his arse into a meat grinder, he's too shtocking stupid to be chanced running around free." The big man hesitates, and then turns back to Selvan. "You should also be a bit more careful in your assumptions. You have a decent brain in your head, but you don't always use it, Kilvani. You make assumptions, and you then act on those assumptions without attempting to find out if they were accurate. That's dangerous, and it's unforgivable in someone who wants to lead men or be a soldier. Until you learn to keep that under control, you're going to be useless as a leader."
Kalvant has been brooding, looking thoughtful as Elrohir defends himself. Then he jerks upright. "Sextus! They proved Clan Reville is not behind the smuggling! That's the one I couldn't remember. That'll stick in old Jalice's craw alright. Shtock, I'd give my left pinfeathers to put something in her craw, and I got it for free." He grins, completely ignoring Elrohir's defense it seems.
Sense Motive 20:
Kalvant was not ignoring the elvavian in the slightest.
"Now now, Mirandi, go easy on them. They did a darn good job considering how untrained they were." A voice cuts through the rant, a deep male voice from above. As the PCs look up, they see Kalvant (who most of them met at one point or another) is sitting on a balcony on the second floor of the room. As their eyes clear, they realize they are sitting in a library of some sort, four floors, covered in books, with smaller and smaller concentric balconies on each floor, until the skylight above (which has a landing built into it). The man drops from the third floor balcony and lands hard on the floor, his wings not even bothering to open (much). "Let's see what they did, shall we?" He holds up his left hand, and begins ticking things off. "Primus, they located the major supplier in South Quarter, and they took him out and captured his stash. Secundus, they found out why your people were being killed, you've got a traitor in the MDB, and they obviously have the pull to find out who you have working under cover. Tertius, they found out that old Korvagga is still alive, and she's found some way to actually use magic again. Quartus, they managed to team up without loss of life, even the South Quarter folks got out without loss of life. Well, other than this Kol person's grunts." The big muscled man obviously doesn't consider that a loss at all. "Quintus, they managed to do this with just six operatives." He suddenly breaks off, and visibly counts. "What the shtock?! Why do we have seven people?" He walks down the line and leans over, his crooked nose directly in Elrohir's face. "Who the shtock are you?!" Before he can answer, the man turns around to the woman. "Why'd you bring a civvy in on this?"
Kalvant waits for any other questions for a few moments, then looks disapopinted at Selvan, as if he had failed a test of some kind. "Ok, I'm done here. Halfer, you have until dawn. At dawn, someone will come in and put inhibitors on you. Then the guards for the transfer will come in, change them for new ones, and take you to the ship. Make sure you escape before you reach the prison ship. If either of you aren't here in the morning, have a good life on the surface." He then turns and stalks out of the cell, opening and closing the door behind him.
You may RP amongst yourselves for the next 24 hours real time, I'll advance your plot after giving you that time to RP
Kalvant nods. "I'll do my best, provided there's nothing illegal in the last requests." He responds, holding out a hand. "I haven't read the will, so I'll trust your word on it. I don't break such seals without the person being dead. Alcinea may not watch over us, but we all eventually meet her. I'd rather not meet her and get asked why I violated sanctified wills." He chuckles lightly.
Kalvant watches the half-drunk, but sobering Selven begin to work the booze out of his system, then turns his gaze back to Sammark. "Yes, I have your files. We've been having trouble with idiots smuggling magic items into the port recently. A lot of people have died. More will, unless we get a handle on who and why. I looked over your records, and I thought you'd be a good choice. You already have a criminal record, and all you needed was a public display to make you look even more desperate." He nods at Selvan. "This one killed his own men out of stupidity and pride. He used to have potential. The clan's giving him a chance to prove he's learned his lesson. Otherwise, it's exile for him. You too, if you don't want to do it." He pulls a packet of papers from his wasteband, checks the name on them, and hands them over to Sammark. "Sign those, and you're working for Mintakan Security. There's dead drop information, and coin caches listed as well. If you decline, yell for a guard and you'll be taken to a merchant ship to get you off the island. If you don't call for a guard by morning, you'll be transferred to a prison ship. Your guards will make a mistake along the way, knock them out. Don't worry about hurting them, they think they're being paid by the Stalmortta clan to release you so they can capture and kill you. If this one sobers up, explain the deal to him as well, I'm not waiting around for him to sober up enough to be coherent." He tosses a second packet of papers on the ground near Selven's feet.
Looking back to Sammark, he crosses his arms on his chest. "Any questions, halfer?"
The brown winged man looks from the angry half-elf to the pathetic Elfavian, and spits at Selvan's feet. "Pathetic! You disgrace our clan even further, boy! At least the halfer here is ready to rip my head off. I get a surface grub to beat the crap out of you and all you can do is wallow in your own sorrow and filth." He looks to Sammark. "I owe you an apology, half-elf. Not for your beating or your current situation, you set yourself up for both. But for the company you keep."
The man continues, mostly ignoring Selvan for now. "As for your reputation, it was chiste anyway. And of more pressing concern as far as collateral damage is concerned is the people around you that would have gotten hurt. You were wronged, but you were also stupid. You killed the heir to Clan Stasvanna. In case you don't know the intricacies of Clan Stalmortta politics, their biggest supporter is Clan Stasvanna." He takes a deep swig off the rice wine, ignoring the steam coming off Sammark. "I have it on good authority that the Assassin's Guild refused the 1000 gold on your head because required that anyone you showed any affection for in the last year be killed and tortured before you died. They don't do torture, and the kill list wasn't specified up front. But that won't keep others from going after the bounty. So having you taken down publicly and for a verified crime is a good way to shut that down for now."
He takes another swig of his rice wine, then looks disappointedly at the bottle, as it appears to be empty. He throws the bottle at Selvan, shattering it on the stones above his head. "YOU! Get the shtock up and give me 10 minutes of calasthenics or I'm going rip your shtocking wings off and give them to the halfer!" He roars at Selvan before looking back to Sammark. "Now, you can walk out that door any time you want, halfer. A very annoyingly cheerful purple eyed woman will lead you down to a dock, put you on a merchant ship, and dump you off with a few hundred gold on the surface, where you can start all over. Or you can stay here, do the job I want done, and be publicly rehabilitated and make yourself more dangerous to Stalmortta and it's allies. You make yourself dangerous enough, you might just avoid being killed by them. Your choice. Either way, you call me birdy again and I'll kick your ass so hard you'll be tasting your own shtokas for as long as it takes you hit the ocean."
Selvan is deep in his usual pit of self loathing, nursing a mead in a dive bar that probably put more water than honey in the barrel to make the slop. But it's cheap, and to a man with no job, and no prospects, and no family, that's enough.
"Hey! Watch where you're putting your hands you thief!" A voice calls out in rage next to Selvan's ear. As the tactician looks up with bleary eyes, the largest surface dweller he's ever seen bellows down at him. The creature is all muscles and brown hair, with a pair of onyx horns curving up out of it's head and a giant gold ring in it's bovine nose. Before Selvan has more than a second to try to place the species, it suddenly drags him up off his stool. A heavy clunk occurs as a purse full of coins falls out of Selvan's coat and on to the table. "YOU ROTTEN THIEF! HOW DARE YOU STEAL MY PURSE!" The creature bellows and drives a fist the size of Selvan's head into his face.
After that, things get blurry. Selvan is sure he got a couple of hits in, but he's not sure it did any good against the giant slab of muscle that tossed him around like a ragdoll.
Meanwhile, elsewhere...
Sammark is returning home from a long day of working the junkyard, trying to organize all the scrap hauled up in the last six months. It's hard, smelly, unappreciated work, but it's necessary. And a parolee can't exactly dictate terms on jobs. As he approaches the third rate boarding house that has become his home since his arrest, he notices that there is a lot of activity. Before he can think about what might have caused it, however, someone shouts. "THERE HE IS! GET THE MURDERER!"
Out of nowhere, a pair of heavily muscled Strix swoop over Sammark and use their feet to drive him to the ground. "MURDERER!" They scream at him as they bear him to the ground, dozens of witnesses look on in shock as the Strix peacekeepers converge on Sammark, pummeling and beating him into near unconsciousness. He get's a glimpse of a strix body, covered in blood, being hauled out of the boarding house before he loses consciousness.
Sometime later...
Water explodes over the unconscious bodies of Sammark and Selvan, bringing their battered bodies back to a state of consciousness, if not bliss.
"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey." A male voice says sardonically. As they open their eyes against the dim light, they see a tall powerfully built Humavian with brown wings, a loose but well made adventurer's outfit, and a wrappings around both hands. "Welcome to the first day of the rest of your lives. Now, drink these, and the headaches should go away. I'd apologize for beating you up, but I just arranged it, didn't actually do it myself. And besides, both of you for different reasons earned everything that happens to you." The man tosses a couple of potions between the two before pulling out a small jug of rice wine and takes a tug off it as he sits on the dirty stone bench across from the duo. A quick look around shows they are in a jail cell, one buried deep in dark black stone with steel bars. The dim light is mostly from moss on the ceiling that glows.
The crash as the Strix in leather armor goes flying through the window is impressive, as is the whistling cry of pain and fear as it falls from the 5th story window into the alley below, it's wings tangled with the curtains. The cry cuts off with a dull whump, followed by some barely heard whimpers.
The tall heavily muscled dark haired man turns to the remaining guard, a green recruit who's holding a polearm at 45 degrees and standing in front of the double doors. He steps over the two halvavians who've had their heads slammed together and throws a flurry of blows at the rookie. His leather wrapped fists slam into the doors on either side of the rookie's head, sending splinters of wood exploding out to prick at the girl's skin. When done, the doors look ready to fall off their hinges.
He takes a half step back, and pulls the cigar from his teeth, having been kept clenched while he dealt with the riff-raff. Taking a long drag off it, he blows the smoke back out and into the rookie's already green face. "Are we done with the preliminaries now? Is Ravik in now? Or is he still out?" The man growls with tired menace.
The girl swallows. "He.. He.. He's still out ser!"
The door opens behind her, and a scar faced elvavian with scaly black wings looks out, annoyed. "Alright you shtocking idiot, you can come in. You can also pay the healer's bills for my people." The green-haired, red-winged humavian girl nearly passes out in relief as she steps aside to allow the man to enter her bosses office.
Once the doors are closed, the elf drops his look of annoyance and chuckles. "I think she pissed her pants." He says, sounding gleeful. "And I think you broke Choka's wings and arm when you threw him out the window. Thanks for that, it'll give me an excuse to send him back to Anrive, and Stalmortta will have to wriggle another spy in all over again." The elf rubs his hands together gleefully. "If I spin it right, I might get them to kill him for being stupid."
The dark haired humavian rubs his forehead. "I assume you have your silence fields up or else that girl is going to be telling them every word." He collapses into the big black chair in front of the elvavians desk. "Got any alcohol? I could use a drink after that. By the way, your standards are slipping. Those idiots couldn't have held off my baby sister."
The elf laughs a nasty laugh as he pours a drink for both of them. "Your baby sister can kick your butt all the way to Ash if she wanted." The drinks are put on the table, and the visitor is allowed to pick the one he wants, to avoid poisons. "Those shtock-ups are not my main line of defense. They're my cannon fodder. Spys from other clans, keep your enemies close and all that." He nods at the corner of the room, where part of the wall peels itself free, and a lithe elvavian with a pair of revolvers in her hands becomes visible as her psychoactive skin deactivates. She slides the pistols back into their holsters with a feral grin. "So anyway, Kalvant, what do you want before I have my best assassin kill you?"
Kalvant rolls one eye back toward the elvavian girl, and grins. "Now Now Ravik, your girl's too pretty to make me kill her by having her attack me. I didn't realize she'd grown up that much, I remember her when she was practicing garroting corpses back when we were working together on that little uprising thing." He grins at the elvavian girl, then pointedly turns his eyes back to Ravik, leaving the girl at his back nonchalantly. "Besides, I got some money to send your way. I need some people, but not your average garbage. I need people who aren't going to sell me out to the first bidder that comes along, but who are also, hmmm, how do I say it, desperate enough not to ask too many questions as long as things aren't obviously hinky. And I don't want established people, I need rookies, like that girl out there is supposed to be."
Ravik leans back in his chair, his scaley wings draping over his shoulders and the back of the chair. "Hmm, well, if you're sending money my way, I think I can talk Larissa into not killing you. Mind, she's had a crush on you for about 15 years now, so that's no small task. But I'll see what I can do." He laughs nastily, and then nods. "Yeah, I'll put out some feelers. Works well for me, the kind of folks you're looking for aren't all that useful to me as anything other than catspaws anyway." The elvavian grins. "Might as well make some money off them anyway. Now, tell me, how's that wife of yours? She still dress in those little skimpy outfits and do the whirling 7 veil flight where she..." And the elvavian is off relieving events from over a decade ago, but Kalvant has gotten the first of his contacts working for him, so he takes the next hour or so to catch up with an old... well, frenemy would be the best description.
"Ser Kalvant, Ser Vallin sent this down, he asked that you take care of it personally." Alsatia says, an impish grin on her impish face. The her lavender butterfly wings flutter rapidly as she hovers in mid air so that she can look her boss in the eye with a saucy grin. "He said you would have the best chance of picking out people that met the.. unique... requirements... assuming you hadn't gotten yourself put in jail for something." Violet eyes twinkle as she hands over the scroll, all signed and sealed with Ser Vallin's signature and psychic imprint.
Kalvant groans, rubbing his forehead. The dark haired elf reaches out blindly to grab the curtain and jerk it closed, cutting off the bright morning sunlight. One eye glares half-heartedly at the halvavian woman. "You are way too chipper at this time of the morning."
The smile grows broader. "It's 7th daybell." She comments with a smirk.
He rubs his stubbly jaw with one hand, and grunts. "In which case, you're too chipper at this time of the afternoon." He responds, but finally takes the scroll and proceeds deeper into his office. Instead of sitting on the wooden chair, he drops onto the lounging sofa, his wings sweeping up and away as he does so to drape over the back. "Fine fine fine, Rolk then, the stein, not the mug. And put some honey in it." He cracks the seal on the scroll as the mirthful halvavian flies off for the bark drink.
Let's see now, half-dozen people... trustworthy... believable as criminals... what the shtock... So people that could be crooks, but aren't and won't turn crooks... Lovely.. and I'm an expert huh... Kalvant reads over the scroll and groans, only part of it the splitting headache. He covers his eyes with his forearm and contemplates the inside of his eyelids...
"Hey, you didn't die on me did you? I don't want you smelling up the office if you did, and I don't want the paperwork either. If you're gonna die, go jump out the window first, ok?" The chiper voice pipes, a whirring sound breaking his reflections as Alsatia holds the stein of Rolk out, the pungent smell making him stir.
"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind..." He replies with a sight, taking the stein and emptying half of the scalding hot liquid down his throat in the first gulp. "Gah, less sugar next time." Sitting up, he tosses the scroll to Alsatia. "Ok, I'll get working on it. And no, don't bother posting it. Yes, it says post the job, don't do it. Amateurs, I'll put out some feelers. Advertising for undercover agents, what a concept. You ever get the feeling these people never set foot outside the Council Enclave before?"
