The warden's mask has finally fallen. In the moment of strange insight before the end, the Warden managed to land his vision upon the invisible masked man. The meeting of prisoner and jailer was not hidden by magic.
DMVision wrote:
The warden turns back to you, his eyes focusing on the previously indiscernible, and reaches upwards with a claw-like gesture of his gnarled hands.
But did masks bear any meaning when the identity of the masked was known?
The brief reflection ended as Rastagar's desperate rasp pierced the veil of thoughts:
Rastigar wrote:
"No!" he rasps, his voice a mix of anger, desperation, and fear. "Stop this madness at once—whatever the Prophet has promised you, it is a hollow lie! What power I find, I will share with you... I am so close—please!"
The pale blue and dim gray eyes met for a silent moment as Rastigar begged. The moment seemed to hang for an eternity.
"There will be no deal," The masked man echoed the Warden's rebuke, holding the crosier in his left hand, and his dagger in his right. "Deals are for equals, and now, you are nothing."
The masked man steps forward, wreathed in illusion and magic, and twirled the dagger into a murderous ice pick grip, before bringing it down with grim finality into the old man's diminished form.
Just in case I'll drop my rolls here. No more Grit this time.
Perception to Mark; DC 10 + level:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (15) + 9 = 24 Sleight of Hand to steal the Control Rod:1d20 + 11 ⇒ (16) + 11 = 27+2 for invisibility makes sense?
The power was...exhilarating. The control over the bell shook the man to his very core--something truly beyond his own power to create, yet so malleable in his grasp.
The man always put discipline and self-control first. Strict strategy and ruthlessly clear vision--yet he lost, and was under control of someone else himself.
He wanted chaos. He wanted confusion. He wanted emotions to spiral out of control--a rising tide of fiery hatred that would consume his captor and reduce the hated Warden to ashes.
Yet--he was back in control in a way that he never was. As he bore witness to the chaos, his spirit stirred in a way he never felt before.
The internal struggle for his spirit settled. Controlled chaos, he said in Westcrown. An oxymoron that convinced nobody, but he realized that it was true to a degree: he did need more power. His fault was that he left.
The masked man looked up as Rastagar entered, and did not move as his inmates and minions ganged up on him. His eyes were cold and distant, studying the man's movements calmly, awaiting the opportunity to strike.
As Pike and Andrzej joined the fray, and "Travers" drew her knife and was struck down, the masked man wove magic and studied his only target with piercing eyes through his ice-cold mask, the only immovable actor in the chaotic fray.
As Rastigar moved up to weave another spell, he moved for the first time. Leaning forward, he dashed forward as an arrow.
Weaving subtly between the raging mutinous inmates and the possessed jailers, the masked man is hidden from all focused sight. Drifting as a leaf in a storm, he stalked up to the Warden, hand drawing out a bit of fleece.
I am in control.
I know my foe.
I first Mark Rastigar to get the sweet, sweet bonuses of +2 to Bluff/Sleight of Hand/Stealth/Atk/Dmg
Raveen takes "Travers's" ring and approaches the giant artifact. He felt the deep resonance of its magic irritating his senses. Perhaps he smelled magic in the air? Was it he heard the deep magical vibrations? It was possible he saw the magic--power normally unseen and beyond sight, but now almost visible in its intensity?
"I have failed," he said under his breath, before his voice faded into the personality-erasing illusion of his mask. "But your failure will be the one punished today."
Raveen's prisoner outfit slid away into the muted gray of a cloaked figure a few inches taller than he appears, and from below the illusory hood, was a terrifying mask; the black visage of a shadow demon with his fanged maw open. One hand carried the ring and the shard of the Nightglass, as his other hand reached out and touched the bell.
"I hereby enable your revenge, he said to Gweledydd. "Advise me as I work."
He then turned his attention to the bell.
"Let the binds be reversed," he whispered to himself, tracing the magical runes in the pattern he saw. "Let the masters be slaves, and the slaves be masters. Let the former slaves' binds be broken...and Let There Be Chaos."
I can also spend up to 3 Grit for maximum effect, each gives +2 bonus, if necessary.
Plan:
1. Raveen goes to reverse polarities and undo prisoners' manacles to go along with Travers' riot.
2. He then rings the bell to Charm the Acolytes and Priests, sending them as a human wave vs. Rastigar to soften him up.
3. If Raveen feels some resist the charm, he paralyzes them instead to enable the riot, and will call down on inmates to kill the Warden.
4. Once Raveen sees the Warden expending his resources on self-defense versus his minions and the rioteers, he will beeline for the Control Rod with a Sleight of Hand check, and ensure Rastigar's fate is sealed.
The masked man takes the healer's bag and the poisoned knife. He grabs the herbs he last brought, and as many poisons as he can identify before leading Myrna away to the rendezvous.
The poisoned knife he sheathes into his side sheath, intending to use it on the Warden or his guardians, should they interrupt the Plan.
Rastagar's assassin mutters through gritted teeth, "I must... bring you... to the warden..."
"No!" hisses the healer, almost without pause. "Not again... This is... This is all wrong! Help... me...."
Two lights flare in the slender shadow of the man in the radiance. As his power reached out, touching the icy current of darkness. The evil Will in it would conquer and break and cripple all, forcing them onto their knees literally and figuratively. The sense of it would vanquish his own, he realized as soon as it touched him, and he reacted with all his strength--reduced to a mere lazy wave of his hand.
No matter his own willpower, the masked man realized as the current scattered and drifted away, such power would have beaten him.
In several ways, it already has won a terrible battle against him that robbed him of his memories. It has not won the war against him, nor fully conquered even victims it had for what seemed like decades. Myrna was proof of that he was not invincible.
As the half-elf moves to collapse, muscles reflecting the exhaustion in her mind, the masked man glides forward as if carried by a silent breeze, holding her.
"We're getting out of here," he says with gentle firmness at her glazed eyes. "We will open the door, but you must go through it with your own power. Awaken, and come with me."
"Tell me, wise one--what do I call you?" asked the masked man.
There is a moment of silence—of hesitation. "I would love to offer you a sssatissfying resssponsse, but I am afraid I am... incomplete. Much like thisss mirror, in fact. There are rather large holesss in my memoriesss—sssomething which you might be able to relate to."
"Call me by whatever moniker you deem fitting," it concludes, with forced nonchalance belying a deep frustration.
"You witnessed much, and see through this mirror into our world," the masked man says. "Gweledydd would do for now."
Names have power, the man knew. Perhaps the Seer can aid by granting him more sight.
Gweledydd wrote:
Masked Conspirator wrote:
"What kind of power does he need?" he asks the entity. "There is deep power here."
"Yesss," the voice exclaims, "Deep, indeed. A fragment of lossst divinity, guarding a timelessss horror from beyond. There isss power in both, and humanity isss drawn to sssuch thingsss dessspite themssselvesss. The warden caresss little for the nature of the sssource, sssave for itsss magnitude."
"I have met its guardian, and I do not want to enable the Warden access to it. Alas, I need more time."
It seems I always need more time...
Gweledydd wrote:
Masked Conspirator wrote:
"The bell--know you how it works?" he asks. "I had hoped my colleague was here to aid me in my mechanisms, but if you can instead..."
He pauses, giving the entity a chance to think. "Turning his defenses against him would be a unique form of punishment, wouldn't you agree?"
"I aided him in fine-tuning hisss invention," says the voice, tinged with regret. "Much of itsss conssstruction isss borrowed from the kytonsss, essspecially the hellborn teachingsss of Aroggusss the Abbey Maker. My role wasss to adjussst it ssso that the contraption'sss output did not overwhelm mortal prisssonersss—thusss the control rod, the manaclesss, and the ringsss. Methodsss of dissstributing power, while maintaining total control."
A note of amusement once again enters the disembodied musings. "You have intrigued me, little human. What exactly do you propossse?"
The masked man touches his manacles, tracing the hidden runes, subtly indicating his ability to break it. "My Will has beaten the shackles, and I can abjure myself from his power. I intend to conquer the Bell, and turn it against him."
He pauses.
"If you wish to avenge yourself, I shall be your ally and your equal. You say you taught him. Teach me more. Show me everything."
Hatred roiled in the masked man's heart, directed at the warden--hatred, frustration, and grief over the violations performed against mind, body, and spirit. Magnified by the kidnapping of his master, and the evils he executed, the hatred became as a storm that brook no safe passage.
All such emotions were sharpened and directed by pure willpower.
"Tell me, wise one--what do I call you?" asked the masked man.
Next question
Quote:
"Ssso, he ssseeksss to compensssate for the latter with the former. Hisss guardsss are, in effect, prototypesss: he ssseeksss to become an apossstle—gain the powersss of a kyton without losssing hisss mind and sssoul. He ssstudied the techniquesss of hiss forbearsss, practisssing on the prisssonersss here. He hasss perfected the methodsss and the theory, but what he now ssseeksss isss power to enact them on hisss own flesssh."
"What kind of power does he need?" he asks the entity. "There is deep power here."
The nightmarish power of the Other--whatever he guarded must be the Warden's target. He almost held his breath in anticipation.
Quote:
"Assside from hisss bodyguardsss? Dweomersss to alarm him to intrudersss in the ssshrine—sssuch that sssurvive the more potent enchantmentsss on the door. A formidable defence, indeed, but he isss far too arrogant. He placesss too much trussst on the bell."
"The bell--know you how it works?" he asks. "I had hoped my colleague was here to aid me in my mechanisms, but if you can instead..."
He pauses, giving the entity a chance to think. "Turning his defenses against him would be a unique form of punishment, wouldn't you agree?"
Before his surprise -and fear for his master- could show, Raveen put back his mask on--if only to silence the instinct to stay hidden.
His relationship with Nalutari might not have been classical master-apprentice; the master necromancer had a grim and black sense of humor, and a needlessly sadistic teaching method. She, however, saw his potential and gave him an exit from a life he abhorred--she saw promise, and gave him mastery over his fears, dreams, and brought knowledge to an ignorant mind. She deserved his respect, and his full efforts to rescue her. Especially after he failed her--however it was done.
Ok, I'm motivated to bring this bastard down. I got several points I want to explore to bring this bastard down; regaining memories (and understanding my timeline), powers (and weaknesses) of the warden, infiltrating his place, viability of the bell plan, and how he plans to deal with the Other. I'll start with the most relevant now.
"My memories have not been abolished without cause--perhaps I saw something the Warden needed forgotten," he says. "Can I regain what I have lost?"
Powers and Weaknesses
"You mentioned he has a broken body," he says. "Can I overcome his sorcery with my own, overwhelm his strange guards, or defeat him myself?"
Infiltration
"I have seen his sanctum. What defenses does it have?"
"That dependsss entirely on your definition of propriety," the voice muses. "He promisssed to free me, and ssso I aided him in hisss sssearch. But he broke our compact, and then dissscarded me. Admirable isss he, in hisss ruthlesssnesss—but I am not ssso easssily betrayed."
Though its tone never drops beyond mild annoyance, you sense in the voice an underlying note of danger. "You wisssh to go againssst him, yesss? I know all hisss sssecretsss. Ssshow me your face, ssso we may... 'treat properly' with each other. You have nothing to fear from me."
Cautious to not reveal too much, the masked man answers the request for his face with a counter. "Not yet. What do you mean by the leash is too slack?"
Should I make a list of questions or is there another obstacle in negotiation?
”Now, now. What isss thisss? A human, though hidden from my sssight. How interesssting. Not one of hisss, no... your leasssh isss too ssslack, to be ssso obssscured in hisss sssanctum.”
Raveen says nothing, narrowing his eyes, and awaiting the creature to fully uncoil its conversation.
Vision of the Fifteenth Step wrote:
”Oh, but her I know,. Ssshe worksss againssst you, even without knowing it. Thisss hass all happened before. Sssubtle isss the sssculptor’sss art, whether they work on ssstone, flesssh, or the mind.”
"Nothing, just watch out for me, please," the masked man answers Myrna, before turning its attention to the shape in the mirror. Is that a giant scaly figure in shadow that moves just beyond sight?
This wasn't the first time he had this suspicion.
"You are correct; I do not follow the Warden. Correct me if I'm mistaken--it seems he was not able to properly treat with you. A Nightglass is too precious to be left gathering dust."
His tone is respectful and distant--and maybe a little hollow. Just as he approached the Other.
He digs in the storage for stationery, and jots down six names and some other identifiers. The majority of them say nothing to you—save for one: Sherrill Rosefinch, a halfling working under an overseer named Pascal Caulfield. The other names are a mix of people from the lift crews, ore sorters, and other upper-story inmates.
"Mostly workers in higher floors, I see," the masked man says, apparently glad none of his superior's inmates were involved in the messaging.
"The halfling. Give me one of her letters."
Aware he was pushing his luck, he requests one of Finch's letters for a skim.
Snell wrote:
"Yes," he finally says, "We had just gotten a new batch of inmates from Xer through Pilgrimage, and I had to process their documentation—most of them were assigned to excavate the newest tunnel. Maybe a week later, Travers came to me with the offer. I still do not understand the connection..."
The masked man nods, a cold feeling creeping over his chest.
"Very good. You have done well," the masked man says, in something what seems to be like a croon.
With all this done, the masked man says, "We might visit you later in the week to check on your progress. Until then, keep it quiet. My master will know how to handle this in a way that is safe...and rewarding to you."
Snell grimaces and wrings his hands. "A week, maybe? I could get it done in a day—the problem is that I do not have time for... recreational activities. If Travers catches me playing truant... well, the esteemed Priest Curnow is not in a position to protect me without solid evidence."
"Prepare your list as soon as you can do it discreetly," the masked man says. He then adds, "And put a hold on any letters sent by our repeat offenders. Send nothing outside the prison until you have that list prepared for me. Find any excuse, but let nothing out."
The masked man is quiet for a moment, and then he adds, "For now, give me a name of the more frequent senders."
Raveen Liquean wrote:
"'Things?' What, like monsters? Travers does not have anything to do with the mining, except packing up and shipping out the processed ores."
"My question is clear," he replies with an edge to his voice. "The excavations in the new tunnel--did Travers change after work was started on it?"
Raveen is worried if the Other reached out somehow to Travers and bent her will. If so, it would make sense it would happen after the newer tunnel breached to his domain.
If not, it's just a question of investigating Travers instead at some point in the future.
He shakes his head sharply. "Nevermind. I want no part in any sectarian infighting. Get me a writ, and I will give you a name."
"Enlightenment may yet be yours," the masked man says, turning to leave the small side room.
The masked man makes his way out of the scriptorium, smoothly pocketing the required items as he goes with deft hands.
Raveen has a bunch of questions for Snell once he insures his cooperation.
1. He wants to know the individuals who send letters, and the nature of their communications. Snell is obviously a smart man, and would require guarantees (such as keeping a copy, taking money for the service, or maybe even retaining some letters to prove he is just a middleman who wants securities)
2. Raveen wants to know more of the Priest who is enabling Snell (and why he does that)
3. Raveen wants to know about the inner workings of the Scriptorium; is the other Acolye here in on it (and thus his obstruction of Raveen's initial visit is a service to his Priest) or is he only bribed?
4. Raveen wants to know the mechanism of leaking (and receiving) letters, so he can make his own communications later
The masked man gives a nod of understanding.
“Typical of an unenlightened one...you want a...guarantee,” he says, with a hint of disgust.
”If I were to furnish to you a written pledge of protection from a Priest, would you be more partial to aid?”
if Snell asks about which priest would do so:
”Priest Curnow is interested in sniffing out all kinds of dissent. If he is interested in what you have to say, you will be protected, and rewarded. Remember, the prize of obedience...”
"Forgive me," he says less than obsequiously. "I am... not from around here. I do not entirely understand the inner workings of the faith just yet, but as far as I am aware, the white robes answer to the grey robes. As your robes are white, any order from someone in grey robes supersedes your own. Correct?"
The masked man is silent for a while. Tension grips him, as he feels himself reaching his goal. A dissident Priest!
The possibilities are endless--whether they can be a target for blackmail, scapegoat, or even a possible ally.
A beat passed in the silence of his thoughts.
What place is this, where searching for an ally is the last avenue I explore?
He then speaks dryly, adopting the persona of a one caught off guard (which, considering the circumstances, was not hard to adopt).
"Your Priest asked you to do this? Speak, and you may return to your tasks."
He couldn't help reflecting on the words spoken to him by Shadow Naberius.
Quote:
What is so useful about hierarchies is that they are predictable. Once you have sufficiently internalised the patterns on which a system operates, you can manipulate it as you please.
Sense Motive:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17 To determine if a brute force approach is better
If Brute Force:
"I'm not here to play games; I'm here to enforce divine Will and the order of this place!" the masked man spits. "You will answer now, or you will wish you have!"
Bluff:1d20 + 10 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 10 + 2 = 28
If required, I'll toss Guile for +2, or a 30/32.
if convincing works better:
"I know you let messages leak to the outside. You can save yourself a lot of trouble if you speak up. As is, you are alone in the spotlight...and I'm sure you don't want the attention." Based on his response, I can expand, if intimidation doesn't work
diplomacy to give aid that would save from punishment:1d20 + 10 ⇒ (3) + 10 = 13 If required, I'll toss Guile for +2, or a 15/17.
Noticing quietly that he is looking off the side, Raveen strains his senses to feel if something is nearby or hidden.
Perception; +1 if danger sense:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (14) + 9 = 23
The masked man is silent as he faces Snell. A moment passes, during which the disguised Raveen studies Snell.
Perception to Mark:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22 DC is 10 + character level
"I'm going to cut right to the chase," he says in a low voice. "You leak messages in and out of the Prison and circumvent our measures to keep order and discipline. Do you deny this?"
The masked man turns once the dwarf ends. He ignores the dwarf's excuses, dismissing them as an appalling lack of faith.
"I will speak with him there."
The masked man is quiet for a time. He then gives a small chuckle.
"Ah, I see," the man says quietly. "I come here expecting greased palms, and find them."
He then narrows his eyes at the dwarf, giving him a piercing glare. "How many coins does it take to look away from dissent?"
The aura the masked man gives is not of compliance to rules--but a darker brand of destructive zeal--a ripple of emotions the masked man taps into from older experience in Nidal.
The Living God--the Steps--the fear, he summons the righteous indignation to himself.
"Yes, Brother, I am diligent. You would find that diligence is prized...for the prize for obedience is opulence."
Pointedly, he leaves out the second half, "—the price for disobedience, death."
After his declaration, he then nods to the dwarf, and says, "I bid you a good day."
"A subtle man," the masked man replies, focusing at the shorter acolyte. "I've noticed that some of my charges have been trying to contact a Snell here. Can you help with my investigation?"
Insight to determine best approach to the guard:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15
"I'm not here to change shifts," the masked man replies, looking past the shorter acolyte, narrowing his eyes at desk 9. He turns back and says, "I believe that inmates under my watch have tried to contact someone here, and I want to know why."
The masked man was unsure whether or not the acolyte before him took bribes from Snell, or to what end he might defend the man, but preferred to take the slow approach.
"I'm good at subverting expectations. I hope you'd give me a chance to try to stop the Warden with my own tools," says the masked conspirator. "There is nowhere to run to. This time, I win or die."
Yes. As you have deduced there are things going on that you and Palaveen are not privy too-yet. I have always stressed that Palaveen answered the questions as he believed the situation to be. It is up to you to determine if he was a pawn in a larger game and who benefited indirectly from his reign of terror.
That's not the problem, and has been clear up to now.
DM RichD wrote:
All will be revealed by the end of book six.
That's a little too long to wait for, boss. I thought Beck was a hook, but it wasn't.
The severe lack of information here is making me hallucinate...I'm think I'm just beginning to see railroad tracks.
Cheekiness Check:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19
Naberius wrote:
Looking at the evidence that we have been given, from a purely in-character perspective, I don't think we have much reason to think we are dealing with the actual Council of Thieves.
We won't. You're perfectly correct.
To be more precise, there is nothing to prove nothing.
How the heck did Palaveen even send them messages in the first place and miss their messenger-boys? Did he write the letters and burn them, or did he leave the letters under his pillow for the tooth-fairy to spirit them away?
I don't even want to ask the question at this rate. The idiot tiefling has been (so far) as useful as a vertical ejection seat on a helicopter.
"Very well. My family is a long-established Westcrown family. I grew up hearing the stories of the way things used to be. When people were free to live their lives and not be afraid to walk down the street at night. When thugs like Palaveen there would not be allowed to prey on the innocent. Too many people accept things the way they are and only talk about the good old days. Gentlemen, I don't believe in talk, I believe in action. That is why I formed this group. To let others know we are out there and to give them hope."
"The way things used to be--as in before Thrune took over, I presume," the man stated, retaining his mask. "In this case, what are you really after? Stopping small-timers and petty thievery? What do you believe the Inheritor will back you up on?
"I guess what I am asking is this: how far are you willing to go before you are satisfied? This--" he said, shaking the unconscious tieflings. "Cannot be the extent of your vision. It surely isn't all our potential."
Perception to notice any tails:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13
Navigation Talk:
Naberius wrote:
"Yes, I think that would only be fair, seeing as you and Janiven already know so much about us. I have been wondering how an Iomedaean ended up leading a group of revolutionaries... Do you think you have Her blessing in this endeavor?"
Sense Motive for any secret feelings from Arael:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8Such as doubt whether Iomedae would aid us--or whether he is independent from the church in this matter.
Naberius wrote:
On the inefficiency of torture
The man first said nothing, thinking about how to answer Naberius.
"Quite true," he said. "But one is more tractable if they believe the information they give is not of a threatening nature."
He sighed and remained silent for a moment.
Bluff to hide true feelings:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14 [If successful on Sense Motive, the user realizes that he may be speaking from extensive experience.
"Stress indeed does not help one remember things well--and where one forgets, one may instead make things up instead.
You may find this...unorthodox or unconventional, but I have found that gaining the subject's trust is a better way to elicit information from them. We must be their 'friends', or at least look nonthreatening, stupid, or ignorant," He then paused.
"Palaveen and Vethamer may consider themselves dead already, in which case they would reasonably not speak at all, or begin to act in a self-destructing manner. If we are to get through, we must consider the greater good--and essentially give them a better option than dying. Would we be ready to release them if they gave us useful enough information?"
The last part he directed pointedly at Arael. "And considering my method of interrogation, we are looking at possible days of interaction. We will be foolish to think that we can get everything we need so soon--but I need only enough information."
Edit: Forgot to add my Diplomacy (to befriend the two tieflings)
Diplomacy=Palaveen:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29 Diplomacy=Vethamer:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (19) + 9 = 28 Sweet
"You are joining us, I presume," the masked man asked Arael. "Follow me, captain."
A cruel smile appears on the normally friendly face. I wouldn't miss it!
The masked man noted the smile impassively, and led the way, noting Naberius.
"Thank you for coming along," he said quietly to the wizard, navigating the streets.
Along the way:
The man was mostly quiet as he navigated the dark, sleeping streets of Westcrown.
At an intersection he knew well, he asked Arael without turning, "Tell us more about yourself, Arael. I am afraid I know little about you."
Are the interrogation questions only for Palaveen and Vethamer or did you want Janiven to ask the same questions of the recruits as well?
I assumed that I could ask the two other tieflings as well. I want Raveen to attend any recruitment--after all, he is putting the effort to start his own.
That said, I will roleplay this out, and not just state them here. The above is for self-reference.
Edit: I meant interrogation of the two other tieflings.
DM RichD wrote:
Needless to say, Palaveen and Vethamer will not answer any questions. Are you going to get them to answer questions through diplomacy/Intimidation, spells, or torture?
We'll see what sticks.
DM RichD wrote:
The items you are asking about that are not on Tal's spreadsheet, are you referring to the items in Palaveen's trunk?
We got letters from Palaveen's desk--I meant that, their list of inventory, etc.
"You are joining us, I presume," the masked man asked Arael. "Follow me, captain."
He turned to Janiven, and then to Arael, and then said, "Please withhold any declaration of responsibility before we learn all we can. I will conduct an extensive operation as soon as I can to spread the word throughout the city."
The masked man will lead the two unconscious tieflings (Palaveen and Vethamer), Naberius, and whoever else joins him to the specified place.
"Lower your voice," he replied quietly, eyes shifting to the motionless Palaveen, hoping he didn't wake up. "We're in the middle of the night--someone could hear.
"That said, Captain," he continued. "Since we are not all omniscient as Squirrel is (and she is unable to back her claim), it is the best course of action to take this as cautiously as possible. Give me the word, and I will escort them promptly."
He then added with a note of finality. "This is my opinion of the matter."
"I thought it was clear. No Prisoners!" He says as he pulls his longsword from its scabbard.
"I admire your enthusiasm, captain," the masked man interjected calmly, turning to the tieflings, and back. "But I believe they have information we might find valuable. If you would hold your verdict until tomorrow, and hear the two's side in the matter, we should all be better off."
Arael wrote:
" I do not see good things coming from putting trust in ones such as these, but it seems I am out-voted. "
"Hardly. This course is not unanimous between us," he assured Arael, before pointing at Monday and Tal. "Let them make their case to you back at our base, and I will put my voice when we are finished with Palaveen, so you might see the full picture."
Arael wrote:
"Palaveen you say? Now he is one that could serve a purpose before we give him the fate he deserves! What have you learned so far?"
"In due time, sir I assure you, you will hear a full report," he reported, heaving Pavaleen over his shoulder. "Not a secret will remain here, not a fact he will contort.
"Raven and I will press this man for information--if you wish, we will also take the tieflings with us--away from the base, and in a place of safety."
Hidden in the clothing of some unknown humanoid the tieflings had feed to the grub is small, chipped emerald worth 250gp
"Devilspawn savages," he muttered, exmamining the body, searching at the joints, trying to divine whether the person was fed alive or disposed of this way.
Heal:1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 21 Are there signs of struggle, or was this person fed to the grub dead?
That's counting 3.5's Search is 1 full-round action, so two minutes per 5-ft. square. It is instead a move in Pathfinder; so time is halved (total 9 minutes). Three characters are searching for three minutes (or if Mera/Vasco aiding), becomes 2 minutes to search both rooms.
Not arguing she doesn't have enough time. Maybe that's all the time needed.
Come on: that was a compliment. You know you're doing adventuring right when you can take a combat encounter (or a minute) off and come back all refreshed.
It's about the same time it takes for Naberius to summon and dismiss a fiendish creature.
Had Tal spent less time thinking to himself and more thinking about his point, it may be a bit clearer. XD
This is not what I see when I think of a revolution that would upset Thrune and liberate the city, The man was fell quiet, hearing the tieflings' apparent jibes and jokes ringing in his ears.
Naberius wrote:
"Does anyone here know anything about over-sized insect larvae? Entomology has not been the focus of my studies, unfortunately..."
"Stab it until it dies would be my prescription," he muttered. "Then again, that is a very common prescription these dark days."
Knowledge (Dungeoneering):1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17 @GM: Still holding my action from before.
Tal wrote:
"Why don't you 2 go back to that house where the tieflings were and get this tension out between the two of you. Heck, take Quayzark and Prashana with you if you need to. Just get it over with so I don't have to hear you two going at it. It would be better for everyone I think."
"You've raised this point several times now. You're sure you don't want in instead?" the man smirked. "We can wait for another minute* like last time."
*By my calculations, Monday's tryst with the tieflings and tem rejoining us took less than a minute (about four combat rounds plus out-of-combat moving). It's nice to see such efficiency, really.
"The place where we're interrogating Palaveen will fit nicely," the man said, grinning at Monday's irritation.
'Nowhere else to go'...it's like we're running an animal shelter now, he mused, drawing his crossbow and knocking in a bolt, before moving to the next door.
@GM: Ready to move on.
Readied attack roll on enemies in next room:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25 Damage:1d8 + 1 + 1d6 ⇒ (6) + 1 + (6) = 13
"I would not call them being there in that position being on watch."
The man rolled his eyes. The fact that they were in the position by itself weakened Tal's claim.
Tal wrote:
"I may be employed by her but she is not my superior."
It means exactly that, the man thought, shaking his head.
Monday wrote:
"--And has the stupidity and arrogance of your ego fully cut off the air to your brain? We're only a handful and yet you want to pose a threat to Westcrown's rulers but you turn away potential allies because they don't meet your pedigree? Worthless egotists like yourself are no better than the petty tyrants we're trying to stop... you're pride will be the death of you."
"Hamming it up, aren't we? Maybe someone needs to relax," he replied with an amused voice, unfazed. "I think I might just begin to hate myself."
Naberius wrote:
"Enough of this. We can discuss the matter further once we are done here. I would rather make this decision when we are better informed, and in a state of mind untainted by fatigue or unnecessary emotion..."
"I couldn't agree more: let reason be our lord. They will not be allowed into our organization until we convene properly--thus we have to keep them contained somewhere safe," the man agreed, speaking as if the tieflings were not present and listening. "And as with all persons captured in a raid, they are our prisoners until we decide what to do with them. I know a place to hold them.
"Not like the three whose blood I assume that is. We joined Palaveen because, well let's face it, there is not much for tieflings to aspire to in Westcrown."
This is hilarious.
"We have found you in a compromising position. You are associated with the Bastards of Erebus, and hold the position of an outlying surveyor and counter-scout," the man said, amused. "Had you wished to better your lot in life in Westcrown, joining murderers and cutthroats would get you naught but street justice--which is personified in our little group here."
Tiefling wrote:
"As long as you don't have a problem being together, we'll join your band. We are not sure exactly what you all are actually doing but you seem like a fun bunch. So here we are!"
The man paused, shook his head, and then laughed. He paused, and continued laughing as Naberius interjected.
Naberius wrote:
At least the others were loyal, as misguided as they were."
"Oh, Raven, that's not even the worst of it! These bastards don't even know who we are before throwing their lot with us!" he laughed, slapping his knee. "'Wow. You guys broke into our hold and are splattered with our kinsmen's blood. You guys are cool! Let's join you!'
"Oh, by the gods this is rich. Did you even tell them anything about us--or yourself, squirrel? Anything that was not dirty talk?"
Tal wrote:
"You may be right but at the same time when I encountered these 2 they were disobeying the orders of Palaveen.
Is this a fair balance? They are neither prisoners nor members and we let our superiors determine their acceptance. Their words can be weighed through a sieve of Magic to determine their honesty and sincerity.
"You're wrong: they were obeying orders. They were holding that position and keeping point, despite their lax watch. I recognize their voices, and came across them the same position yesterday," he said, amusement fading slowly.
"Wolf," the masked man said, sighing. "There is something you're not considering: your superior is right here. You don't need to wait or consult," he said, tilting his head at Mera.
"At any rate, I am quite fascinated at how your iron fist was tamed with so little effort. Squirrel basically got a pet and is asking us to keep it."
Raven = Naberius; Wolf = Tal; Squirrel = Monday; Mr Fox = Raveen; Ms. Fox = Mera.
The man rested his palm against his mask, and muttered something under his breath.
In low whisper:
"Perhaps they did f&@# her brains out."
"Very well," he said, regaining his composure.
"You do know they were (until very recently) members of a murderous, thieving, lowlife band of rapist cutthroats, right? The same group you decried just moments ago when we captured Palaveen? The same group that slew the Hammersmiths?"
Tao wrote:
I have no problem with that as long as our superiors don't..
'You had plenty problems with all their necks a moment ago, he internally sighed.
