Kata Coszma's page

Kata frowns and visibly shakes, as if trying to rid herself of Ilthane the now gone from the room's lingering presence, and gives Alaïs an apologetic shrug.

"I thought for sure that Smenk and the Pit were where the Triad was setting up, but now I'm not so sure. Maybe Ilthane was just toying with us... but she doesn't seem too concerned about us. And she made clear that she knows pretty much everything we've been up to -- the observatory, about Kullen..."

Kata waves her hands in front of her, flustered. "And she knows about the, the... parasite. Or parasites. If she was behind things, I'd think she'd either obfuscate, or just try to eliminate. Eliminate us."

Another frown, and a shiver crawls across Kata's skin. The elegist glances down at her untouched drink, and sighing, pulls the drink from the table and tips it back. "That wasn't all though. She says many people underground means many mouths to feed. And we should look for where the food is going."

Kata sets the drink back down and absently taps one long finger against the glass. "Which makes sense. If a bunch of cultists are hiding underground, they're probably not growing their own food."

Kata ignores the drink placed before her, her back rigid, her eyes focused, captivated by the sorceress, even as she shivers within the Ilthane's presence. Kata was always better with reading emotions, the spaces between people, than with staying on top of complex webs of intrigue, and the reveal of Kata and her companions' activities, the emotional assault Ilthane is throwing at her makes Kata's worldview tunnel. She barely notices Broccan and Edrukk enter, only taking note when Ilthane seems put off, but even then Kata can barely register it, so her mind swims against the malice the woman throws at her, the veiled threats, the rumors.

"Bright, green things, crawling in the earth. That is interesting. What did you hear?"

Kata focuses on her drink and listens closely to any retort, trying to drown out the emotion coursing between them, and get to what lies beneath. It was like trying to eavesdrop on a conversation carried over the wind.

sense motive: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (20) - 1 = 19 Kata seems to roll consistently high with her sense motive checks and -1 modifier, and I'm afraid to put ranks into the skill and ruin the streak haha.

But, even conversations floating on the wind could be heard, and the tenor of a room could be measured. Kata loses her focus to find Alaïs standing next to her.

bluff: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7

Looping her arm around Alaïs's, Kata forces a laugh, shrill and forced, her words clipped and rushed.

"Oh, she's not in our trade, Alaïs. This is Ilthane the Black. She serves the minemaster Smenk."

The last bit was something at least; a little jab about Ilthane's station in regards to Smenk, if she was in fact no fan of the mine boss.

"Coszma. Kata Coszma." Venelle's words rebound around Kata's mind, even as she studies Ilthane. No respect for Smenk? Perhaps Smenk was just a useful idiot then, a sucker, complicity in something very bad simply because his insatiable need for money and power could be exploited? And the real boss was standing in front of Kata? Perhaps...

Kata swallowed, and forced a smile to her face. "Poison? Hardly. I am afraid I live a rather staid existence. I love music of course, creating it and performing it. I'm truly sorry for any confusion on your part. I have heard rumors that the Pit is set to reopen and it is an evocative place for a song." Kata pauses, unsure of just how much to press, and then let's herself cross a line that perhaps shouldn't. "The Pit has always been a dark place - figuratively and literally. I heard, again just rumors, of something brilliant and green there. Emeralds? Or even something more valuable?"

bluff if needed: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12 Of course, my very earnest bard has no ranks in bluff haha.

Kata pauses again, searching Ilthane's face for any clues as to whether anything Kata is saying is landing a bit to close to comfort, giving the woman a fleeting glance up and down her dashing figure. Catamount indeed.

Kata cocks her head, a small shrug uplifting her shoulders. "I'm sorry, m'lady? How have you graced my song? It is about the Pit, and I'd not compare such beauty as yours to that place. Am I missing something?"

In truth, Kata was a bit thrown by Ilthane's approach - both its directness and indirectness, all rolled into one worrisome package. When in doubt, play dumb.

Kata, like the room, falls silent when Ilthane the Black enters, and realizes she's even stopped breathing. She only takes her next ragged breath when the conversation picks back up again. Leaning back, Kata whispers over her back to Venelle, still sitting nearby.

"Ilthane the Black. You ever see her about? I heard she's been clinging to Smenk like a barnacle-- no, like a lamprey. Strange, huh, that she's involved with him, and that he's rumored to reopen the pit, and that he and Parrin are gearing up for a fight. Maybe we should visit her next? But first... let's see what shakes loose with a few pointed lyrics."

Kata sets her drums in front of her, a small frown gracing her face as she wishes she'd taken the time to learn the basics of the fiddle. The lyrics she was running through her head would be perfectly accompanied with a lingering twang of a bowstring across a fiddle's bridge. Oh well, if she lived through the night, Kata vowed, she would start learning the instrument at first opportunity. For now, the drums would have to do. Kata laid out a low, rumbling beat, letting it repeat a few times to set the song's mood and draw attention to her.

"Come and listen you fellows, so young and so fit,
And seek your fortune in the dark, dreary Pit.
It'll haunt your dreams and seep in your soul,
Till your blood is as black as Nerull's toll."

"It’s dark as a dungeon and damp as the dew,
Where danger is double and pleasures are few,
Where the rain never falls and only torchlight flits
It’s dark as a dungeon way down in the Pit."

The third verse needed work, but it would have to do for now. Kata's voice trails off, the last beat of her drums sliding into silence. Kata let her eyes wander the room, looking at the faces of the spectators, letting them land on Ilthane the Black for few lingering seconds before moving on.

Sounds like a plan to me, GM DM!

Kata nods, a small sign of approval. "Asking around the miners is a good idea. I can grab a spot at The Emporium tonight, sing a ballad about the uknown and mysterious, and times being out of sorts. Then ask around discreetly after the mood is set, as if looking for material. May be another avenue for uncovering rumors?"

"Well, nonsense or not, this cult is here, and they believe they can end the world as we know it. Apocalypse cults, true belief... it is a dangerous combination."

Kata's voice once more grows hard-edged, like a blade drawing across a honing steel. "We need to end it."

religion, Groetus: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (1) + 12 = 13

Kata had known of Allustan pretty much as long as she could remember - town wizards have outsized reputations, after all - but she had never, in all her years, actually spoken with the man before their first meeting which was what, two days back? She found her mind wandered from Alaïs' recap of their fight to musings on Allustan's demeanor, clothes, and her surroundings. Shaking herself back into the present, Kata gently speaks, her voice hushed, a tinge of nervousness elevating her pitch.

"And that's not all, Master Allustan. There's a lot afoot in and around town. If you recall the sad tale of Caith Land, when we found her, and her ghost, she asked us to return her remains to her family. So we went to her old homestead, and discovered--" Kata's voice lowers, nervousness gone, replaced with a hard edge, "their graves defiled. Following up on this, there seems to be a death cult operating in town. Are you familiar with the Ebon Triad?"

Kata frowns, giving the abberation a sideways glance before pulling her cloakhood up. We really need to come to a decision about that bird.

"Well then, off to Allustan's then?"

Up top, the elegist peers into the sarcophagus, her brow furrowing. "A puzzle box? Wait a second, let me check for tricks." Kneeling, she runs a hand along and inside the sarcophagus, her light touch looking for hidden levers and similar dangers.

perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10 11 vs. traps.

Oh, I'm sorry, I misread your post and thought you were telling Broccan that you have his and Alais' backs, though I filled in the blanks about you going up the pillar haha. Yes, Ed should be in the spoiler!

I was posting from the perspective that Kata is still downstairs. So Edrukk is upstairs with Alias and Broccan.

clw scroll on Ed: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
clw scroll on Alais: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9

Gah, I also just realized that I have a scroll of share language, so if we run into more elementals, someone should be able to converse with them for 10 minutes.

Kata unfortunately does not know any heals but I did just check her inventory and she has two scrolls of CLW! So we can totally make use of those.

Kata moves slowly in the morning, her body bruised and broken from the previous day. She steeps a simple herbal tea, made from lavender and of course mint, and chews on a dry biscuit slathered with a raspberry jam.

"We're all a bit cutup, I'm afraid," Kata says, wincing as she drops to sit next to Venelle. The nut gruel, Kata remembers it from childhood visits: sweet and filling, and Kata's mouth waters.

Kata is also at 3 hp, and healing would be welcome!

Kata listens to Alaïs' poem, her eyes closed, her head gently nodding here and there at various points in the skald's inflection.

"That was lovely, Alaïs, thank you."

Kata pauses, the room spins, and the elegist remembers she's still at death's door. "I would appreciate a rest myself. Honestly, I'm barely standing."

Resting sounds great to meeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Kata thinks of stabbing again, but then she was no warrior, and Eddruk was. Instead, Kata picks her poem back up, hoping it will inspire the others to finish their foes.

"To humbler functions, awful Power!
I call thee: I myself commend
Unto thy guidance from this hour;
Oh, let my weakness have an end!
And in the light of truth thy
Tenacity, let me live!"

Action: Inspire courage

Bad. Things were bad. Very bad. Even as she projects her poem about duty, Kata's mind is running on a different track - mostly one note, part grim observation, part almost suppressed panic. Well, Kata muses, she couldn't be in two places at once; Broccan would have to hold down the horror to their north. Hells, Kata was barely in one place at the moment. The elegist goes to cast a spell, and then quickly redirects herself as Alaïs falls/yells into Briar. Elementals! Can my magic even hurt them?

Best not risk it. Instead, Kata stabs over Eddruk's shoulder, intent to do her part in keeping the warpriest alive long enough to keep the nearest elemental away from her.

Action: stab. Going to go ahead and spend an action point. Inspire courage is lingering for one more round.

attack, inspire courage, cover, action point: 1d20 + 4 + 1 - 4 + 1d6 ⇒ (18) + 4 + 1 - 4 + (2) = 21
damage, IC: 1d8 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 3 + 1 = 12

Edrukk, I'm pretty sure you can move and ready an action, because you can ready any type of action. AoN doesn't say with 100% clarity but that is my interpretation. I don't think Kata needs healing. She's in spell casting range and will be using inspire courage or spells for here on out.

"Plan?" Kata mumbles, her pain-fogged voice lilting upward. Does reciting an encouraging poem count as a plan? Kata straightens her back, her voice gains some of its authority, and the elegist continues her poem.

"Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear
The Godhead's most benignant grace;
Nor know we anything so fair
As is the smile upon thy face:"

Action: inspire courage.

Kata's head swivels, a shiver of pain runs through her. To their north, Broccan and Alais, battled one of the room's horrors, and to the south, Venelle and Briar the other. A second passed, and it was an easy enough choice. Broccan and Alais were both skilled in the arts of violence. Venelle and Briar -- they were softer targets, more easily hurt in a melee.

"Venelle, Briar," Kata croaked a response to Eddruk, her mouth dry, throat ragged. The elegist stumbled south, the world hazy, her concentration on putting one foot in front of the other.

Lingering song round 2/2. Action: move 30' south towards Venelle and Briar.

Kata stumbles backwards, blood slicking the ground, panic pushing any thought from her mind. Her gore-soaked fingers fumble with her backpack, pulling forth a blood-soaked scroll.

Thanks for moving the token, GM. Life got away from me a bit this weekend. Kata is at 0 hp, so disabled. Seems she can take a 5' step still, so action is 5' step and pull scroll (move action).

Inspire courage lingering in the air, 1 of 2 rounds. +1 attack and damage, save vs. fear for all!

"Thou who art victory and law--"

Kata's ode is cut short but the clanging of the creature's longswords, the shattering of the tiles behind her and Broccan. Kata's cloakhood blows back, the wiry elegist wobbles in place as if rocked by a boxer's punch. Blinking, Kata raises her spear, finds her voice again, and stabs at the longsword-wielding figure.

"When empty terrors overawe;
From vain temptations dost set free;
And calm’st the weary strife of frail humanity!"

reflex: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15

Continue inspire courage, attack.

attack, inspire courage: 1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (12) + 4 + 1 = 17
damage, inspire courage: 1d8 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 3 + 1 = 10

Kata pulls her booted foot back, a quick retreat from the bridge, fear crawling over her skin alongside the blast of wind. "What? Ed? Ears ringing. You hear it?"

Hefting her spear, a poem of encouragement springs to mind.

"Stern Daughter of the Lady of Graves!
O Duty! if that name thou love
Who art a light to guide, a rod
To check the erring, and reprove--"

Kata will step back and start inspiring courage. H/T to Wordsworth.

"Thank you," Kata whispers tying the rope around her waist. The elegist takes a deep breath and holds it, counting to three, before pushing it out, along with the worry about what she's preparing to do. Only thing to do now is walk. Stepping onto the bridge, Kata takes another calming breath, and then another with each step, and slowly moves towards the center.

"Wait," Kata whispers, scooting past the moving images towards Broccan and Eddruk. "Let me go first, and examine the bridge as we go. Lots of potential for traps here. Unsprung. Deadly. Cruel."

perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12 13 for traps.

"Thank you, Caith," Kata murmurs, flexing her denuded hand. "We will fix this." Hefting her spear, Kata follows Eddruk and Broccan through the door.

The desire is too great, the moment too quick, for Kata to think of the consequences. To feel her friend again - that possibility, no matter how much of a fragment Caith now is, or how stuck she is, or how little the dead girl can actually feel herself - it is a matter of grief, essentially, and Kata is well versed in grief, and what can be done to console it, and how touch really is a healing, wondrous thing.

As so, Kata reaches out and grabs Caith's hand, and the senstation, it is not unlike grabbing the cold spot in the room, the shadow under the stairs, the worst thoughts that one can think, and then grasping them tight and refusing to let go. Kata feels as if part of herself is cleaved off, a bit of her own soul gone into the darkness that is now Caith. Her hand blackens, and still Kata holds on, hoping it does her friend some good, that some bit of that restless, stuck fragment of Caith feels peace. And Kata holds on until she can't anymore.

"You're right," Kata murmurs, "I do owe you. I... I tried to find you, Caith, but I just couldn't. But I'm here now. What is this chattering? Where is it? We can help you."

Another tentative step forward, and even as Kata grows closer to Caith, she pulls herself inward, wrapping her purple cloak around her wiry frame, in part to shield her shame, and in part to make the elegist look more like her childhood self. A satellite moon orbiting Caith's planetary-sized gravity once more.

Letting go of Venelle, Kata moves slowly forward towards the ghostly Caith, her face pinched, her hands spread out, an unconscious pose of supplication. "Caith," the elegist murmurs, her voice a whisper, as quiet as wind rustling through leaves, "I'm sorry I left you for so long alone here. We're here now to help you move on. Alaïs speaks the truth; you're with your family now. Why are you stuck still? Is there something we missed?"

Pulling herself into the mouth, a shiver runs over Kata and dangling half in and out, the elegist sends one fumbling hand into her beltpouch, withdrawing a slingstone. Drawing on a simple incantation, the stone flares to light, and Kata waves it around her, trying to gather as much information about the space beyond the mouth as is possible, while she listens for Caith. Given any sounds or visual clues, Kata will toss the lighted bullet in a direction that makes most sense before continuing on into the mouth.

Kata squeezes Venelle's arm again, a resolute murmur escaping her. "No. Not again." Sprinting after the flesh-and-blood Caith, Kata hoists herself through the screaming mouth and into what lies beyond.

Kata makes a living of consoling others, but when it comes to her own loss, grief stops her cold. The elegist raises a hand and grips Venelle's arm, a silent, tight squeeze offering comfort. As for addressing, Caith, Kata is thankful for her friends; they've said what she could not.

The hair rises on the nape of Kata's neck, a tingle runs across her head. The elegist ignores Seeker for now, but makes a note that it will have to be dealt with soon. "Well, the door remains shut. What now?"

Oooh level 3, nice! Eddruk, what types of things are you thinking about crafting?

I'm walloped with end of semester fast approaching - hope to get a post up tomorrow and leveled up maybe Wednesday afternoon.

EDIT: Leveled up:

+1 BAB
+1 fort
+6 hp
+12 skills: diplomacy, disable device, intimidate, Kno: geography and religion, Lore: undead, perception, perform (percussion and oratory), spellcraft x2, UMD

Feat: spell focus (evocation)

1 SPD and 2 spells known (prestidigitation and saving finale)

Inspire competence +2

Re: heist music, I'm very fond of Green Onions by Booker T and the M.G.s. It is a bop!

spellcraft red necroturgon: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10
spellcraft black necroturgon: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20

Kata winds her way back to town, finding herself lingering at her sometimes night haunt, The Emporium. Now, however, it is the middle of the day; the crowd is different, less celebratory, sparser, more destitute. But there was no music, so Kata sets up at a table and using her hand drums, spends some time singing miner's shanties, the repetitive, mournful, and sometimes profane songs that the mining folk use to celebrate their success and express their anger, and of course, to pass the time in the dark, doing their backbreaking, monotonous work.

Afterwards, she lingers and speaks to the patrons wiling away their day, trying to suss out of any of the suspect mine managers' operations have recently been closed off, or if other circumspect activities have made the gossip rounds.

Diplomacy to gather information: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (10) + 9 = 19

"You're right, Broccan," Kata muses, as she leans back in her chair and folds her hands in her lap. "So, who should we investigate first? Tilgast, Chaum, or Moonmeadow? And how should we investigate them? Ask some questions, or something more... discreet, like letting ourselves into their mines without their knowledge? This cult, they would be meeting in an abandoned or spent mine, no doubt?"

"It seems we may need to pay a visit to the mines then," Kata muses, a hard lilt creeping into her voice, "And to the cultists. What they are doing can't be good..."

"Yes," Kata murmurs, her countenance darkening. "Ebon Triad Cultists. We believe they are the creators. Can you tell us anything else about this worm? Why would someone created something like this?"

Kata trusts Amariss.

Kata's eyes widen just so slightly, an acknowledgment of a Briar's message received. "Yes, we were fortunate in many ways to come together by chance. And a fair amount of luck has been involved. To answer your question, High Priestess, we found Caith... and her spirit was restless. It wished her remains to be reunited with her family. It was merely fortituous, or errantry, as Ms. Thalanasa says, that thus led us to the Land farmstead, where we hoped to inter Caith's remains with her family, per her spirit's wishes. And thus, we stumbled into a sinister plot..."

Kata pauses now, looking down at her fidgeting hands, a small sign of restlessness in her otherwise composed demeanor. "The necromancer, Filge... it was horrible High Priestess. He's a small man driven by hate and perceived slights. He had animated those that had slighted him in life, including a once lusted after partner, unreconciled or not I'm unsure. They were mere marionettes to satiate his bottomless insecurities. I trust you'll examine the scene at the old observatory and pass a fair and needed judgement. But before you do so, you should speak to him at length, for he knows much about what we're about to share. We found a worm, an oddity of necromantic energy, whose purpose is no doubt as sinister as the worm is to our knowledge unheard of previously. We have the specimen, but do not know what its purpose is. Of course, we are not Priestesses of the Lady of Mint. It is our hope that you can shed some light on this creature?"

Kata watches Diamond Lake shrink from view, the town eventually nothing more than a gray stain amidst the blues, purples, browns, and greens of the surrounding land. The ferry ride is often chilly, and this late morning is no different; Kata turns her attention to the many carvings she's made over the years aboard this boat, each one the same: a small, jagged, tight spiral.

At the tomb, Kata's earlier rage has vanished; she is quiet, differential.

religion: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (8) + 11 = 19

"High Priestess, your kindness is welcome. It has been a morning, and I'm sure we would all find a bath rejuvinating." The emphasis on the word all saying what she couldn't aloud: the offer was kind, but of course the Jasidians would judge them on their appearance.

After the bath, Kata flits to her room, little larger than a closet. A cot stacked with blankets stretches along the long wall and a thin shelf and small rack abut it, along the shorter walls. The shelf stores nearly all of Kata's worldly possessions, save her clothes and weapon; a few books, mostly poetry, religious texts, and songs; a small lockbox, its lock clasp never closed; and a handful of dried flowers. Kata flicks her wrist and utters a short arcane syllable; the room's lone sconce beams with a soft, blue light.

There is an urn next to thin shelf; Kata slides her longspear into it, and places her hand drums onto her shelf. Kata leaves her clothes on the floor - she'll ask an acolyte later to use their magics to remove the blood and dirt. Kata's clean clothes hang from the rack and are almost universally black and modest, with a splash of color here and there, as befits one who works with the grieving; she chooses a black dress with a white collar, embroidered with green silk mint leaves, and makes her way to tea.

Kata folds Venelle into her arms, wrapping herself around her friend as one uses a blanket to ward off a winter chill. [smaller]"It's okay, Venelle. You loved her and she knew that. That is what matters. You're here, hold her memory with you, and let it be a blessing."[\smaller]

Blinking as if coming from a trance, Kata nods. "We should." The elegist lets her irritation with Agate wash off her with a mostly involuntary shake, one unspoken thought lingering in her mind. There's a reason Agate is on grave duty.

Kata was often dispassionate at funerals, her face soft and empathetic, but otherwise the elegist would stay to the side until it was her moment; she was quite comfortable being towards the outsides of these gatherings, and allowing those most haunted by their grief to center their voices, recollections, and feelings. It was quite different, being one of the people who were expected to be at the center. She cast a quick glance to Venelle, and a single, wracking sob let loose from somewhere deep within Kata, a shudder accompanying, as if her body was trying to purge herself of the trauma she'd carried for years now.

Then, rather than offer words, Kata did what she did best. She sang.

"When mint last in the boneyard bloom'd,
And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night,
I mourn'd, and I shall mourn with ever-returning spring

That is, of course, enough."

With apologies to Walt Whitman.

Perhaps it is the length of the day and the stress of it that has the elegist on edge; certainly, Agate's presence does not help. Kata's brow creases. "Yes, you walk this graveyard a lot, Agate. You would certainly have seen grave robbers here... had they been here. They robbed a farmstead. Pulled the Land family from their rest, reanimated them to guard them while they worked up at the observatory. We've brought the Land family's remains for internment."

Kata's eyes flash, her pale cheeks redden. "While you've been guarding the Boneyard, we've fought zombies and skeletons, and captured the main researcher and experimenter," Kata waves her hand vaguely in the necromancer's direction. "Filge here. We also found the remains of the missing Land daughter. You remember the sad tale of the disappearance of Caith Land? Or perhaps you missed that event, with the important duties you've been up to here, three nights a week?"

Kata stops short of speaking of the worm, gripped with anger and unsure of whether the haughty Agate should have that information shared with her.

Not sure I want to share the worm with Agate, but perhaps others do?

Kata breaths deep, closing her eyes and for a moment, letting the stress of the last few days go. The boneyard, despite being a place that few visited, was one of Kata's favorite places in town. It smelled lovely, and the mint carpet was also wonderful. As was the silence, save the occasional funeral or Jasidian chantings.

The elegist's calm mood is shattered however, when she sees Agate leading the daily graves walk. It just had to be Agate.

"Agate," Kata sighs, her posture slumping a bit. "I should let you all know, she doesn't think much of me. And she's the kind of person that lets you know it. Let's get this over with."

Trudging forward, Kata straightens and stiffens, her body exuding the expectation of conflict. Her greeting is short, terse. "Oi. Agate. We have news."

"Even if it gets Smenk's ire up, is he going to go to war with the church? The Jasidians will find the worm fascinating, and won't need much convincing to do dissection of it."

Support burying Caith's family and going to the Jadisians for help.

"May I?" Kata says holding her hand out for the vial containing the worm. She holds it close, shaking it slightly, assuming that the worm is dead (and preserved), but not willing to make that assumption without a little test to make sure.

knowledge to glean more about the worm: 1d20 ⇒ 1 that's a 12 religion, 9 lore(undead), 10 if she's identifying an undead.

Sighing, she hands the bottle back, and focuses her attention on Filge. "So you were hired to study these worms then? What did you find out?"

Surprise plays across Kata's face; she had not expected another, external adversary to be here.

"Business partners could mean a few folks in town. Dourstone isn't exactly a 'business partner' of Smenk's--at least not publicly. Thanks to truly brutish labor practices that might put even Smenk's to shame, Dourstone is one of Smenk's tougher competitors, though he doesn't care to get involved in the town politics more than he has to. Smenk only really 'partners' with Ellival Moonmeadow, whose silver mine monopoly poses little threat to his dominance of iron and coal, and sort of Governor-Mayor Lanod Neff, who technically owns the town's only smelting house and must thus be negotiated with for now."

"He could always be talking about someone we don't know, of course."

Will spend the retroactive action point to add 1d6 to the local roll.

local, action point: 1d20 + 8 + 1d6 ⇒ (10) + 8 + (3) = 21
relgion on Ebon Triad: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (7) + 11 = 18