"Well then, seems like someone has intended to end us. Question is are they following thier own goals or are they going to inform the baron now?"
"And they seem to have been on to us almost from the start," she says, thinking of Ilorian's wolf. "Did we somehow give ourselves away? Or were we betrayed before we even arrived?" The thought, of course, disconcerted her, but she found it hard to believe that they were betrayed. She concentrated for a moment, trying to remember anything they may have said or done that could have seemed suspicious. Something they did early on, before the wolf had been poisoned. Nothing came to her...
"We'd best go get Lore and get on with this. Time is not on our side, apparently."
Mags nods to Jervaise. "Aye," she says, seeming to warm slowly to the plan. Her feelings about confronting the cleric yet again are mixed, but she has all day to reconcile that. Or, more accurately, to get over her trepidation. "Aye, it's a good plan."
Turning to Ilorian, she motioned to her pack. "I've got 'im back aboard, though I can send him out to take a look if you'd like." She seemed to be debating the idea, and feeling a bit concerned about the prospect. Though Plague was certainly capable of taking care of himself, he was still her only connection to her arcane abilities. She seems almost to be waiting for someone to insist before committing to this idea.
I'm so glad this still has some life in it. Kikkoman, you are doing great. I've been enjoying the whole thing. I think, from what I've read on the boards, that these games have a tendency to die out prematurely. I really hope that doesn't happen, but don't take it personally if it does. I'd sit at your table any time. :)
The only day that really works for me would be thursday. I have friday off. Otherwise, that starting time is 10 pm here, and I'm usually in bed by then. I do have the week between christmas and new years off though, so anytime during that week would be fine.
[ooc] Looking back over the thread it looks like she only has a dagger that she hid in her boot.I guess she probably would have left it in her boot if possible. The rest of her stuff is still on the wagon
Personally, I'd like to see this through to the end. But does anyone have any ideas as to how this will work? Do we just continue on as if they have fallen unusually silent? Or...?
Mags fell silent, picturing the town in her mind. The southeast... that was about ten buildings - less now, after last nights fireworks. Including this very house. And the Pact Hall. She sighed, seeming to deflate slightly.
Well, it doesn't have to be the temple. It could just as easily open into the cellar of one of the private residences. But, she reluctantly admitted to herself, the Pact Hall made more sense. Of course, she was no tactician. She would have had the tunnel empty out somewhere down the valley. Preferably beyond the Andoran army. So it hardly made much of an escape tunnel, opening up somewhere here in town. Then again, she had seen teleportation magic. Perhaps their was some sort of escape portal at the temple. That would be a likely place for it... But then why not just put the portal in the keep? Bah! She had no head for this kind of thinking.
"There's no reason to think it might lead to the Pack Hall, is there?" she asked no one in particular, hoping that she was being ridiculous.
From her position in the back of the group, Mags watches the exchange with interest, a bemused smile growing upon her lips. Nicely done, Jervaise, she thinks as she hoists her pack back onto her shoulder.
"A tunnel, ya say?" She fidgeted a bit nervously as she spoke, feeling strangely as if she were interrupting. "A tunnel to where, do you think?"
Diplomacy:1d20 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8 lol. Man she sucks at that....
"A funny old elf, ay?" A thoughtful look passed over her face as she helped Plague back into her pack. She had no idea what this portended, or even wether it was good or bad... She was anxious to find out, however.
It seemed that this little side track was going nowhere. Not that Llyrann or one of the others might not still pull it off and gain an audience with this Almir fellow... They had a knack for that. All the same, she couldn't help put give several concerned glances down the street toward where she knew the stockades to be.
I was very tempted to start a fight in the Dead Well. In fact I typed it up, rolled for enemies and deleted it at the last moment...maybe I should've gone for it after all.
lol No worries. I'm having a fine time. I know the fighting will come eventually :)
So, its been about a month now, good stuff. I'd like to know what everyone's characters are thinking at the moment.
Not sure if this is what you're asking, but Mags is currently a little concerned that we aren't making as much progress as we should. At this point it almost seems we've done as much (or more) harm than good. She's also not very adept at all the diplomacy stuff so she's starting to itch for some action. She does have a score to settle, after all.
Other than that, she (and I) don't have a real clear idea of just what's going on around here. But I think it may still be early yet for that, so I'm not concerned there.
Those are at least some of her thoughts at the moment. For myself, I'm still enjoying it quite a bit. I feel a bit useless at the moment, but I don't really mind that.
Mags offers the old man a brief glance from the back of their small entourage. While she saw this as a necessary stop, she couldn't get her mind off those suffering in the stocks. And she had a growing fear that time may be running short for them.
Using the group to obscure the view of the old servant, Mags unshoulders her pack and kneels as if rummaging about for something. "Ease my mind 'n' go take a look for me, will ya?" she says beneath her breath to the rodent still tucked away in her pack. "And for the love of the gods, stay out of sight." Plague climbed nimbly from the pack, sniffing at the air for a moment. "Straight there and back, quick as you can."
The rat stares at the half-elf for a moment, his nose twitching. Then, with what may have been a nod, moves through the forest of legs and along the wall toward the stockades.
"Well, Mags, I think I see Jervaise out there. Might as well see if there's anything we need to do before our appointment."
"Gladly," she replies casting a final, concerned look about the place. In a hushed voice she adds, "Too bad this place didn't blow up."
Joining Jervaise and Ilorian, she listens to their tale, and fills them in on what they've seen in the temple. "They're making bargains for souls in there, and it has somethin' to do with that scroll. Not certain that it has aught to do with why we're here, but if we should come upon the opportunity, we should see about getting our hands on that piece o'parchment."
She is particularly excited by Jervaise plan to ease the suffering of those held in the Baron's stocks. "Why didn't I think of that," she mumbles to herself.
Jervaise wrote:
"We were just on our way to The Dead Well to have a look around there, before heading over to the Almir Estate. Would you care to join us?"
"Aye. But let's not leave them thats suffering in the stocks for too long. My hands're feelin' bloody enough." Mags didn't feel particularly comfortable leaving those poor people for later, but the temple had unsettled her and right now she at least felt safer in a group. "They'll be fine, I have no doubt," came the quiet response from the pack upon her back. Plague had an uncanny ability to sense her feelings, and his reassurance at least eased the young half-elf somewhat.
At the Dead Well... Sense Motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Half-elf wrote:
"I killed many people to get these nice things...they're mine now."
She didn't care for the sound of that, but as he went on to mention the power of names Mags mind flashed back to the scroll at the temple. Was that what he meant?
Sorry I've been a bit absent. Been switching back and forth between really busy and really exhausted. I'll try to post tonight, but in the meantime just assume I'm acompanying llyrann.
Off the top of my head, I propose that Mags could sneak over to them under cover of Invisibility (provided by Lore), and healing touch all of them. Thoughts?
That sounds like a good idea to me.
As the priestess turned her attention to Mags and Llyrann, the half-elfs hand went unthinkingly to one of the several pouches she carried about her. Several options flashed through her mind, none of them particularly appealing. Fortunately, Llyrann, never one to find herself lost for words, spoke up and Mags couldn't help feeling for a second time that she was glad the half-orc had joined her.
For the time being she would let her friend handle the conversation. She was so much more adept at it, anyway. Sparing a brief glance behind to make sure the exit was still accessible, she focuses her attention on the ravens and the priestess.
Mags is just going to let this play out for now. She is keeping her eye on the cleric woman and the ravens, watching mainly for some sign that they are going to cast.
"Wards on the door," Mags whispered to her friend, keeping her eye on the black birds. "Designed to keep out goodly folk, if I were to guess. Seems we're okay on that account. But its this design on the floor that has me worried. Keep your guard up, hon."
As the priestess enters through the iron door Mags suppresses a shudder of distaste.
They're going to do another one? Mags thought, feeling a little unsettled at the child's delivery. That's probably not a good thing. She was suddenly glad Llyrann had decided to join her.
She will cast detect magic on the door runes before entering if it can be done inconspicuously enough.
Spellcraft: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (14) + 12 = 26
Stepping inside, Mags quickly looks over the place, wondering if this was really such a good idea. "Well, I don't much like the looks of the place," she whispers to Llyrann. "P'raps we should stay near the door." Spying the raven, she returns the creature's stare, scowling slightly. Even as the elven woman enters her gaze remains on the bird.
"I'll be careful, Jerv. I just want to take a look about the place. Call it reconnaissance." Mags finishes her meal, such as it is, and heads outside. The crowd of people harassing the wounded draws a veil of guilt over her thoughts, but, with some effort, she pushes that away. Not my problem, she tells herself, unconvincingly.
Seeing the young girl from the gates, Mags steps in front of her, blocking the child's next throw with her body. "Meridith, is it?" she says, looking down on the girl with a weak smile. "Why're ye throwin' stones at yer neighbors, girl? Ye'd be better off leavin' the foolishness to thems that are grown-up." She regards the girl for a moment, then looks toward the temple. "Are ye going to the temple? Maybe you can walk along with me, show me what's what, as they say."
In that case mags will definitely be heading to the temple. I'll wait to see if any of the others want to join her, or have better ideas of what to do. In the meantime...
Taking a seat near the door, Mags catches the attention of the first staff person she sees. "If your fine establishment be serving breakfast, something hot would be appreciated."
If there are soldiers about, she will of course keep her ears open.
Magdelia woke a good half hour before she roused herself from bed. She wanted to spend a little time enjoying the warmth of the blankets. Finally she threw back the covers, Plague, who was nestled beneath, letting out a squeal of protest.
She dressed quickly, her mind already replaying the events of last night and contemplating the day ahead. When she was ready she returned to the bed, sitting cross-legged on the edge. Plague joined her, and they spent the next hour in secret conversation.
"Let's see if we can avoid blowing anything up today," she said, rising and stretching. She held her pack open and the rat obediently crawled inside. Slinging it over her shoulder, she headed out to the common room to wait for the others.
Mags would also like to pay the new temple a visit if there's time.
I agree with your assessment, Jervaise. Point number 3 sounds especially important. And, of course Mags will have a personal interest in pursuing the cleric further. Mags would also point out, if Ilorian doesn't, that someone searched the wagon, so finding out who might be worth looking in to.
Kikko, there's no rp reason she wouldn't have a healer's kit. I just didn't think of it. I suppose that by level 5 she would have realized they were handy to have...
"It seems someone suspects and came looking for evidence."
"It just gets better and better."
Mags retrieves her mithral dagger, secreting it in her boot, and then returns to the common room. Ordering ale and some bread with cheese she takes a seat with her companions, listening in on the conversation.
"How's the hearing, Lore?" she asks during a lull in the conversation. "I have nothing to help with that, sadly. Perhaps the chemist has... Ah, right." Smirking, she sips at her ale and slips a crust of bread beneath the flap of her pack for Plague to nibble on.
As she returns to the tavern, it occurs to Mags that perhaps, with things on the verge of getting totally out of hand, she should arm herself. Just a dagger in her boot would do. She wasn't particularly skilled with it, but it would ease her mind somewhat. And if I come across that damned priestess again...
As she approached the wagon where her gear was stashed she noticed Ilorian. "My vote is for fewer explosions," she begins to say, but as she neared the wagon and spied Spurger her words faltered. "What is it? What's happened?" She approaches the beast to see if there is anything she can do for it.
Heal: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14
Not sure if a cure spell would do any good? If she thinks it might:
Healing Hex: 2d8 + 5 ⇒ (5, 4) + 5 = 14
Having waited impatiently for the wounded to be carried from the rubble, Mags was visibly incensed at Blacklocks's proclamation. She summoned the self-control to not protest the decision, however. Gettin' m'self locked up won't do no good. And here comes that damned witch again!" (Magdelia rarely though of herself as a witch. That was a derogatory term, as far as she was concerned.)
She stared hard at the strange woman, making no effort to hide her contempt. "What are you mumbling?" she said harshly as she stepped past the woman. She didn't seem to be expecting an answer, as her pace barely slowed. Her companions were heading off and she thought that might be a good idea.
Feeling hands upon, her taught nerves cause her to jump and she spins about to see Lore materialize. "Do that again and I'll turn you into something unpleasant," she says, smiling by the end.
Relieved to see that Jervaise and, apparently, Lore are both okay, Mags gives the rogue a curt nod. All accounted for, then."Somehow, I expected things to be a bit more... precise," Mags whispers to Llyrann, a look of concern on her face. Following the half-orc's lead, she heads to what remains of the lab. She may not be of much use clearing the rubble, but she has her healing abilities at the ready. Hopefully it aint too late for that."
For future reference, do any of the casters have Message memorized, or are capable of memorizing it? It would be invaluable for party coordination in circumstances such as this :-)
I don't have it memorized, but I can. And, yeah you're right, it would have been handy.
Though she had heard Llyrann's scream a time or two before, it still managed to startle Mags. But it only took a moment for her to realize what her friend was up to. Three out of four... Not bad.
Attempting to assist Llyrann in her subterfuge and, at the same time, move closer to the remaining mounted guard, Mags steps out into the street also pointing toward the keep. "That way! There's still time if you hurry. He can't-" She is cut off by yet another explosion, this one originating inside the alchemist's shop.
"Bloody 'ell," she says to no one in particular, and scans the crowd again. Surely one or more of her companions are at the heart of this...
Its probably just because that I know there's more awesome things to do.
Sweet :)
While we're on the subject of feedback, I'm wondering how everybody feels about the decision not to use any sort of grid for combat. I have to admit (and this may just be me) that I was confused for quite a bit as to what was actually going on. I'm not complaining, and I don't want to make a bunch more work for you kikkoman. Just putting it out there. I'm cool with whatever.
Though she had heard Llyrann's scream a time or two before, it still managed to startle Mags. But it only took a moment for her to realize what her friend was up to. Three out of four... Not bad.
As Llyrann points toward the keep, Mags steps out into the street pointing in the same direction. "That way! There's still time if you hurry. He can't have gotten far." She continues to walk as she speaks, closing the distance between herself and the remaining mounted guard.
Once I get within 30' of the mounty, if I can, I'll ready a slumber hex in case he tries to stop the others from exiting the lab.
Mags let's assume you readied your action. I really should've let you see them earlier, I failed to note your low-light vision...lots of mistakes today.
No problem. She's probably feeling a bit overwhelmed anyway. I'll just hold until my spot in the order comes back up.
"Fine enough," Mags answers distractedly. At first she seems almost annoyed by this man who has bumbled into her way, temporarily blocking her view. But then his odd attire catches her attention and she studies the man more closely.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11 Hmm, not my strong suit.
"Nice cape," she continues, amicably enough. "A riot, you say?"
Mags hurries down the westward street, moving quickly at first but slowing as she nears the scene of the commotion. This wasn't part of the plan they had discussed and she has no idea what is taking place. As she slows she begins to study the crowd, looking for familiar faces, and trying to determine what is happening.
Let's say she more or less stops near the west corner of the house to the left of #5 on the map, assuming she can make it that far. Since they are in combat rounds there, maybe she can't? I'm not really clear on what she would be able to tell from that position though.
Mags is relieved to at least have a few of her companions around her. "What a bloody mess," she says to the pair, forcing a resigned smile. "Where in the hells has everyone else gotten off to?" At the sound of the explosion to the west, she adds, "Ah."
She absently reaches for the sickle at her side, realizing then that it is still on the wagon. Guess I won't be needing that, she tells herself.
Mags stands there a moment longer, growing more frustrated at the calm-spoken priestess. Finally, she throws up her hands. "This is madness." She gives the wounded a last long look, hoping that at least some of them will change their minds.
"I believe I will pay your 'temple' a visit," she says, trying to sound more calm than she feels. And with that she turns her back on the odd priestess, looking for her companions among the crowd.
If I understand it correctly, most everyone is inside the chemists shop? Not sure about Pael or Llyrann. But if there is a familiar face within view, I'll begin making my way to them.
"You cold-hearted..." Mags finds herself dumbfounded by the woman's reply. She makes an effort to unclench her small fists and turns her attention to the wounded."Your god has abandoned you. Pay him back in kind. If any of you wish my aid, you've only to say so."
Mags tries to resist the force that seeks to control her movements, finally giving up with a disgusted grunt. Rising angrily to face the woman Mags points at the stricken woman at their feet. "Mayhap I'm not so wise, then. These people need help. Or is this how your god prefers its supplicants? Beaten and broken?"
Mags spits on the ground, her otherwise pale complexion reddening. Despite her obvious anger, she studies the priestess carefully, trying to reconcile what little she knows of the Tieflings with the woman before her now.
Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16 (Btw, I short-changed myself last time I rolled Perc, in case you're wondering. It's +4 when Plague is within arms reach)
Mags did what she could for the wounded. The few that were beyond her skill nagged at her mind and that ever present voice reminded her that none of this would have happened if she and her companions hadn't done what they had done. She pushed those thoughts away, trying to allow herself to feel good for what help she had brought.
Standing there she looked around for others that might need her help. Then her eyes fall upon the priestess. Her first thought is of the raven she had seen earlier. No sign of it... That might have been some relief, but the woman's blank stare unsettles Mags none-the-less. Until she becomes aware of the wounded (or are they dead?) around her. "What the hells," she mutters under her breath and marches over to the woman, her ire apparent.
"Do you need help?" The question, directed at the strange woman, comes out more like an accusation. Kneeling beside one of the wounded lying at the priestess' feet, Magdelia begins to check their wounds.
Mags seems on the verge of saying something nasty to the captain, but Ilorians calm response dims the fire in her eyes somewhat. They could at least give the man a moment to catch his breath. The smithy just fell in on his head, after-all."If you'll excuse me," she says coolly to the uniformed man, "there are more wounded that need tending."
She gives Janderfut an apologetic look and Ilorian a whispered "Thank you", before making her way back out to the street. She spots Lore amongst the wounded and tries to make her way through the debris to join him. But by the time she reaches the area he has already moved on, a group of civilians in tow. Wasting no more time she offers the attractive half-elven woman a nod and goes to kneel before the nearest casualty. Laying a hand gently upon the civilians brow, she whispers a few seemingly calming words in a strange tongue.
Healing Hex: 2d8 + 5 ⇒ (8, 6) + 5 = 19
I'll continue to use the healing hex on those that need it (once per person only). Not sure how many rolls you need, kikkoman. I'll just do a handful, I guess. Take what you need.
Mags acknowledges Ilorians words gratefully, though it is obvious that not all of her self-doubt has been relieved. "Just don't want 'em t'die 'cause I'm bein' a blockhead."
After opening the cellar door, she offers a relieved smile to the smith. She ignores the smiths questions for the moment. "Is everyone alright down there?" she asks as loudly as she can to be heard over the cacophony in the streets. OOC: I'm assuming that they are. At least physically. If not, I may want to change the rest of this a bit."Ye need to get outta that hole 'fore the furnace lights the place up. Oh, 'n sorry about the mess and... well... sorry..."
Smirking almost playfully at Ilorian, obviously much relieved that the family survived her mistake, she says, "Are we Andorans, he asks. What's 'e think we are, disgruntled Chelish?" Then, after a moments thought, she continues more seriously, "Can you see 'em safely out? I c'n be more help with the wounded, I reckon."
