I can say with a reasonable amount of confidence that if Doug's not here, he's probably been held up by something. Like, a snowstorm or something. It's happened before. :P
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Lector grits his teeth as more of them are caught in the swarm of masks. He holds the bed sheet readied in one hand as he stows his whip, looking about for an opportunity to throw it. He follows after Kerret, moving into the next room ().
Nodding at Kerret's suggestion, Lector approaches the bed and pulls off the bed sheet.
I might be overthinking things, but sorry for not being particularly helpful during this encounter. I think it somewhat goes without saying that my direction with Lector's build was somewhat misguided. If we live to see level 5, I hope I can do something to make him more practical in combat.
"It will be difficult to damage the golem while it is in that state," Lector remarks grimly, brandishing his newfound whip. "Should we make a run for it?"
Lector raises a thankfully concealed brow when he sees the whip in the drawer. With the door destroyed, he hastily shoves the contents of the drawer into his pockets, except for the whip, which he brandishes threateningly.
Trying not to mind their guest, Lector unrolls his toolkit and gets to work on the lock.
"There might be something of import in here," Lector remarks calmly, glancing only briefly at gods-know-what was smashing through the door. "We might not get another chance if more come. So ah, please keep it busy, Mr. Pelus."
Nodding at Lorant's statement, Lector hurries to Kerret's side, checking whether the drawer is locked, and whether it is trapped.
After glancing about the courtyard one last time, Lector proceeds to follow after the others.
Lector opens his mouth as though to argue, the mask thankfully hiding to feeble gesture. Instead he thinks it over once more before nodding firmly. "Very well then. Your plan it is. Make it fast, though."
With a small smirk, Lector inspects the thieves' tools before pocketing them. He takes one of the gray robes, hesitant about putting it on, but seeing little alternative. "Theoretically speaking, there should not be anything suspicious about blue-robed acolytes following their gray-robed superiors," Lector answers thoughtfully, desperately trying to salvage some kind of covert aspect. "Assuming that they do not make the connection, at any rate. On the other hand..." "Does the bird have to come with us?" he asks with an even tone, eyeing Swoop. In the heat of the battle, he had not realized that it was subservient to Vastar.
"Keep both eyes open," Lector enunciates, adjusting his mask and hood. "We'll have to act quickly..." The words behind the seemingly simple (and painstakingly obvious) advice carry a subtle, odd bit of power.
Careful Teamwork (Su): Grants all allies within 30 feet a +1 bonus on Initiative, Perception and Disable Device checks, as well as a +1 insight bonus to Reflex saves and to AC against traps and when they are flat-footed, for one hour.
"Indeed," Lector says, passing the mace along to Vastar, and taking the rapier. "These robes and masks should work to our advantage, if we can hide our weapons beneath them. Be careful about taking their robes though; it would be more difficult to impersonate someone that has authority around here."
"You could have let him tell us where our gear is, first," Lector says firmly, though he complies with Kerret's request. The detective kneels down by Lorant, laying a hand down over his wound. "At any rate, things are about to get really busy."
Gritting his teeth at his failure to hit Krant and Lorant's subsequent fall, Lector takes a step off to the side, mumbling something under his breath. He then flicks his hand towards Krant with a sharp gesture.
"Tch." Deeming the operation unsalvageable, Lector decides to fall in line with the others. Spinning around, he swings his club at Krant, only to fumble the sap terribly.
Yeah, I'm all for going on from here. Lector will probably be a little peeved, but out of character I don't mind at all. This scenario (and this module as a whole) seemed suited for pushing the buttons of good-aligned characters.
The shock of seeing Krant attacked wears off rather quickly once Elvar attacks Kaylee. Moving in for a flank if possible, Lector swings his sap at the man.
Lector grunts in reply to Kaylee's suggestion, seemingly intent on going through with her plan. However, the detective freezes at the sight of the others assailing Krant, balking at their action.
Lector pauses for a moment and blinks, but quickly shakes off the effects of Kaylee's spell.
Any disdain on Lector's face regarding their assigned task is hidden by his metal mask. Staying put only briefly to watch the situation unfold, he whirls the sap around his hand once before approaching Kaylee with grim determination. Once he closes in he swings the weapon at her with a grunt of effort, seemingly intent on striking her head, only for the sap to whiff by her ear without making contact.
Lector makes haste, tying on his mask and following after the others.
"Don't let it get to you. Not yet. Our best chance will be when they give us the freedom to move on our own accord."
"It might make them more willing to share information," Lector says, nodding in agreement, "But we must take care not to cross him. At any rate, Lorant is right. We know the routine, but we should spend some time taking note of our surroundings."
Lector dedicates the rules of the faith to memory, murmuring them under his breath as though they were a mantra. They were not terribly complicated, but they spoke volumes about the cult's modus operandi. He suppresses a shudder at the thought of the promise of 'glory and wealth,' remembering a time long past. But that was then. He manages to conceal his displeasure with performing manual labor, having to suppress more than one grimace. By the time they finally get to the sleeping quarters, his fingers are tingling. "Not yet. We should get a handle on this place's routine, at least for now. I am also interested in how we will have to handle... public relations."
Lector is attentive and reverent all throughout the ceremony, nodding and exhibiting graciousness when appropriate. Once Krant is introduced as their tutor, the detective places all of his focus on him, clearly eager to learn.
The 24 hours of considerable discomfort do not sit well by Lector, but he manages to pass the time in his mind without complaint. He takes the blindfold offered without question and puts it on.
"Ah, a handy spell. I imagine could be quite useful," Lector whispers with a thin smile. The detective raises the mask, placing it on his face. "So 'on the morrow,' we shall be among their numbers. Things are going smoothly enough."
"After this, only twenty-nine more steps to go," Lector remarks dryly, turning the metal mask around in his hands.
Lector remains silent, sipping his water with a calculating expression as he watches the acolytes.
"It might be wise to just wait. Seeing as we all woke up at once, they must have something planned for us."
"Well, there are 31 steps," Lector replies, stroking his chin in thought. "If I had my tools I could try to pick this lock, but it would seem that our captors were rather thorough in taking our possessions."
Lector blinks as he is waking, before calmly sitting up on the spot and dusting off his overcoat. He pats down his pockets, checking for any belongings he might still have. He scowls when he finds that the pocket that he keeps his watch in is empty. "Not terribly long," he replies, adjusting his glasses. With a disappointed tone, he adds, "I should have expected something like this would happen... but I do not imagine refusing the drinks would hae been very wise."
Lector glances at the Kaylee and the man in black, smiles slightly, and proceeds to take a deep drink.
"Fortune and glory? What god can promise more?"
"Is something the matter, sir?" Lector asks, his usual suave tone perhaps a little too intrusive.
"Hm. If we attain masks of our own, things would certainly be easier..." Lector remarks quietly, stroking his chin. As the Razmirians pack up their show, the detective turns to his comrades. "Well, we still have a few hours before we must go to The Ranger's Lament... this might be our last chance to get anything on the outside done. I'm going to take a quick look around the perimeter of the temple."
"Of course," Lector says with a smile as he reaches into his belt pouch, retrieving a handful of gold pieces. He nonchalantly drops the tithe into the dish, coin by coin. "I am very much interested in learning of Razmir's teachings."
"Possibly," Lector replies as he glances about the scene, so as to make the object of his interest less apparent. "Their priestess is said to wear blue robes, no? Perhaps some kind of color-coded ranking system is in place... Just speculation, of course."
"So it's settled then!" Lector says, likely with more enthusiasm than necessary for a precursor to a dangerous mission.
"At worst, you can claim that you are looking to convert," Lector suggests.
"Hm. A preliminary look at the temple, perhaps?" Lector replies as he slips his arms through his jacket. "Going near should not look too suspicious, given the number of businesses in that area." "And any last minute planning, concerning what we learned from Reginar. I fear there won't be any turning back once we go to that meeting."
"The conditions were... adequate," Lector replies, dodging the question. "So, shall we be off?" Sense Motive DC 15: From the looks of it, Lector did his note-reading before going to bed. And perhaps even the most expensive room in the inn was not to his liking.
A few more minutes pass before Lector arrives downstairs, carrying his coat under his arm. He chances a hasty glance at his pocket watch on his way down the stairs and frowns at the time disapprovingly. A glance towards his companions confirms his suspicions. Straightening out his collar, Lector orders a modest breakfast before joining them at their table. "Ah, good morning. Apologies for my lateness. I got caught up in reviewing my notes..."
"She is probably Varisian," Lector remarks to Lorant idly, taking a sip of wine. "Fascinating culture, really..."
Lector shells out the gold pieces needed for his own room. Nothing but the finest. Finest of what it is available, anyway.
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