"This is bizarre," Karola says, casting 'Detect Magic' over each of the items in turn... "Any ideas?"
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Karola breaks off, investigating whichever clue she notices...
Karola just sighs, slips the blade into its scabbard, and belts it to her hip. It's not like she really knows what to do with it, but, perhaps it'll come in useful - as camouflage, if nothing else...
"So where do we find him - and can we trust him?" Karola asks. "You said he said he witnessed a theft. You have reason to doubt him?"
It'd be suspicious not to take the sword, that's for sure. And in truth, the most dangerous opponent any dhampir can face, save a full vampire... is another dhampir. Besides, it'll deflect suspicious quite nicely. "I'll strive to wield in with the honour in which it's given," I say.
"And if we succeed, do we capture them or congratulate them?" I ask. "Assuming it's not some band of common cutpurses-turned-graverobbers using an old crime of conscience to cloak themselves."
"Let's take it," Karola agrees.
To you all too
Works for me. Little holiday break!
"Whatever made you think that, Garra," Karola smiles. "It's not like I'm a vampire or anything." Karola smiles at Garra... and are her canine's just the tiniest bit longer than normal? Even with the bright midafternoon sunlight reflecting from them, it's hard to tell...
With a sigh that's half admiration, half frustration, Karola pays Garra's bill right along with her own, then hurried to catch up. "You know you owe me a meal," she whispers, directly into Garra's ear, her breath entirely devoid of body heat...
"Emergency, sir?" I ask, abandoning my meal. There's a lot less... liquid... in the bowl now.
Karola picks at her soup, once it arrives, and resists the server's attempts to clear it for the main course - and once her raw meat arrives, still dripping blood, she happily dumps it into her soup and eagerly begins to slurp the thick, body-warm tomato-and-blood mixture down. Glancing up, she pushes away the rest of her plate, loaded with grits and roasted mushrooms. "Feel free," she offers it to the group. "It'll only go to waste."
Karola barely glances at the menu. "I'll have the steak," she says, "ultra-rare, and the gazpacho to start. Pureed and warmed to body temperature." With a smile, she turns to Garra. "Sauté is quickly fried in a little hot fat - cooked, basically."
"Karnath is a proud and ancient nobility. Our nation runs on patronage - it's no sin for us."
"Sure, kid," Karola agrees. "Food sounds good."
I take a careful glance around, seeing if I can see the watchman I know was bribed - and if I can, if any of his friends seem to be about.
You'll be missed! Good luck for running the other game!
"You'll be okay, going to the watch Garra?" I ask. "Remember, you're with us now."
"Warforged, the optimism of youth. Your bright days at yet ahead of you, whatever is made of the future will belong to you. I'm just a lingering shadow of the past..."
"I grew up on a beautiful estate on the Cyran border. Then my father died in the War, and Cyran troops put everything I knew to the torch and everyone I cared about to the sword," I blink, "I suppose I own it now, a blighted patch of corpse-filled mud bordering the Mournland."
"Thanks, we'll do that." I tuck Garda beneath my arm as we pull out of there. "Bad memories? You don't have to talk about it, but we're here for you. That's what comrades are for. That and dying."
I describe the watchman.
"Its appreciated."
"Well, I'll accept the judgement of my comrades that we'll be able to put it to some good use. Our barracks-number is-"
"Whilst we appreciate your generosity, we can't accept it. We'll gratefully receive your thanks, but if you must gift us a reward, please direct it to the Karnathi-war-orphans' charitable fund instead, " I nod, "with our compliments."
Not that I'm giving back my XP or anything, but it's not like she'd given us any gold ;-)
"Reward is unnecessary, it's every citizen's duty to protect the honour of Karnath, and the military even moreso. It's important we show the Dragonmarked Houses the Karnathi are a moral, law-abiding people. You amongst all others can spread the truth of that across Khorvaire." I nod. "Thank you."
"That's... interesting," I reply.
"Damn, I don't know, must be getting paranoid in my dotage. Cannith sounds fine." Without delay, I begin to head for the Cannith enclave.
"Can any of you identify this thing?" I ask.
I duck into a nearby alleyway. We don't want to attract more attention than necessary.
"Woman," I reply, "this was stolen from a woman, and if it were, for example, the poisoned seasoning for the next royal banquet, we certainly shouldn't be returning it. The thieves fought far to well and hard for it to be a simple passing robbery. We should, perhaps, get off the street. I'll admit we're in a fine position to be accused by, say, a corrupt guard..."
"If this is just a love-letter with someone's magically-preserved kisses..." I mutter, and carefully flip the package open. .
"This feels wrong," I mutter. "Simple thieves shouldn't have fought for this." I pause. I know them, my bunkmates, my squadmates, now, well enough to trust them. In some sense, that's what military training is for. Gently, I draw the power of my blood from my palm, and pass it across the purse, waiting to feel the tingle that will tell me it, or its contents, are magical...
Selecting an uninjured thief, I tap just the smallest part of the dark power flowing through my veins. "Run. Away." I say, as I let the spell pour from my lips and fingertips.
Hi - if you put your details into the classes/levels box, they show up at the top of your posts which is quite useful for AC etc, cause then EJ will be able to roll damage straightaway which is convenient.
Initiative ps in future I'm totally happy for you to roll init for me ELton since it might help save some time.
"So we're doing this then," I mutter, shifting my hands and lips through the motions of the 'light' spell, making Kutishek's claws gleam and shine as if razor-edged...
"Crap," I mutter as the thief takes off running. Catching him looks to be an impossibility, if he knows the streets the way I'd expect a cutpurse to. "Stop, thief! Your life isn't worth whatever is in that purse!" "No it isn't," I reply, as I follow her. "So we can't kill him for it." Which, realistically, means we're probably going to lose him. On the other hand, I think, as Garra leaps up onto the gabling, nimble as any cat, maybe there's a chance of catching him after all. Then Ilbryn cuts loose with his weakening ray, the thief staggers to a halt... and two more of them materialize, seemingly from nowhere. "War's over," I tell them, as I slow to a halt. "Lots of ex-soldiers around now. Lots of government interest. Lots of new opportunities. Toss back the purse, quit the life of crime, and we'll call it even. No-one cares about the past anymore."
Yet in the back of my mind, I can't help but wonder if we've stumbled across not a robbery-gone-bad, but someone's operation. What a beautiful dead-drop between spy and handler, the anonymity of theft...
"That boy just pickpocketed that girl, and paid off that guard to let him do it. This is the kind of crap that gives Karnath a bad name," I murmur. Taking a moment to memorize the guard's face, I continue. "Let's stop the thief - we can deal with the guard through our chain-of-command, but once this guy's gone, he's gone." So saying - though more than willing to be pulled back by a counterargument - I turn towards the thief and, trying not to arouse suspicion, begin to pursue him at a fast walk.
Sense Motive
Perception check to notice something about the girl, thief or guard: . E.g. is the thief a starving war-orphan? Is the girl a wealthy noble?
"I don't hate the undead," I reply. "The willful among them are just... people, no different you or I. The will-less are just automatons, and there's no more sense in hating them than a sword or a shovel. The things that that shovel's existence has made possible, the use people have made of that shovel... the things I've done with it..." I sigh. "I'm emptied out of hate, even for myself. The future will be built by the survivors, and the Last War is one only the awful survived." I blink. "No offence intended. I neither judge nor ask your history."
"War doesn't distinguish," Karola says. "It grinds us all down until we're ground up, then we raise the bodies from the dead and march them back into battle. Commoner or noble, grey zombie flesh or bared skeletal bones all look alike. Whatever peace we can build for Karnath now, warforged and shifter, noble and or commoner, will be built together, or nothing will be built at all. Besides," Karola barks a short, horrible laugh, "in war, it's only the monsters who stand out."
"Karola Kraal," I introduce myself. "My father died invading Cyre, my mother and just about everyone I knew died when the Cyran's invaded us and raised their estate to the ground. I was thirteen, and I've been fighting that damned war ever since. I wanted the Cyrans to pay, you understand, for the longest time," I slump. "Now they're all dead, and not a jot of joy does it bring me," boneless, I slide backwards onto my bunk. "I'm just... tired," I say.
"I've seen many a mage run clean through," I shudder. "Some of them were my friends. There was power in a sword, in this Last War, but in the next, no swords' strength will be enough. Honour and showmanship, even with a blade, must keep this peace." I pause. "Barrack cee-three. It seems we will have the chance for many more such discussions. Maybe we'll become the warrior-philosopher's Karnath needs after all."
"No," Karola says. 'I know daggers, not swords," she takes the wooden blade, and, experimentally, tries the kind of slash that might work with a smaller, lighter blade, "but this is too long, and it metal, too heavy," she says with a rueful smile. "I'll be needing the basic training I think."
"people have always been artisans in the craft of tragedy, but only war can mass produce it. Living flesh made undead warrior- automatons, base metal made living warrior-slaves. The atrocities we make, and those they make in turn... The next war will last only for a Mourning," I say, "then the world will belong only to the shambling dead. Whatever evils lie in our pasts, we must work together to prevent such a catastrophe. The five - four - nations must stand together, and to that end we must rebuild their trust in the honour of the Karnath's military."
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