| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
I suppose that settles the matter.
Thank you for playing, guys. Even if it had to be cut short, I had fun.
Search Posts
I would be willing to wait and see if the GM is able to pick the game back up.
Pip offers what creative insight he can, helping his comrades to craft convincing disguises as they once again impersonate Thrune stooges. Then, once the party is ready to move out, he sneaks through the benighted city to avoid being caught out after curfew.
"That could work. Guard disguises are good." Pip pauses a moment to reconsider his words, his eyes roving across his companions. "Allow me to amend that: Guard disguises are good on you all."
Pip returns to the nest and reports what he has seen. His words betray how haunted he is by the torture dreamed up by the Thrune loyalists, his normally affable nature clearly worn threadbare. "Perhaps I'm still stricken by what I've seen, but I don't much feel like creating a spectacle in the park," the slip says. "Stealth and caution will work best, not just for us but for Zea." Pip drums his fingers upon the tabletop twice, merely finalizing an idea that had already coalesced during the solemn walk home. "My best suggestion would be to ply them with a bit of magic suggestion. I could try to convince them to take their hounds and walk away. Granted it's a bit of a gamble, but so's taking a stroll through the Redroof these days."
"I remain undeterred. I'm still heading right to the park," Pip declares, collecting his comedy gear. "Worry not, I have not become self-destructive. I intend to put on one of my performances as a ruse while I observe the area: the guards, the dogs, the 'doghouse' itself. I believe some folks call it 'casing the place.' I figure that's my best contribution to gathering intelligence." Pip pauses, sucking his teeth and cocking his head as he considers something. "I think I will stick to my more benign, less politically charged material to avoid causing a ruckus just yet. It certainly won't be an inspired performance, but then, that's not the point, is it?"
Pip hurries about, snuffing out the candles and closing his journal. A bolt of inspiration had struck while watching the ritual, and he felt compelled to note some descriptions and ideas that came to him, but that all gets pushed to the back of the shelf in light of new developments. "Well, I don't know what doghousing is, and I can't remember if I ever met a Zea, but the looks on Indra and Laria's faces are all I need to know," Pip declares, fastening his magic cloak around his shoulders and tucking his silver raven into his belt pouch. "Sounds like we've got a rescue on our hands, gang. I'm about ready for a glorious, ill-advised encore performance in the park." Pip allows the excitement and bravado of the moment overtake him in order to muffle the voices at the back of his mind screaming at him why this is a bad idea.
While he waits for the rest of his companions to return with the other reagents, Pip dedicates his time to preparing a clear spot in the Wasps Nest for the ritual. After all, he is far too nervous and antsy to sit and read, and he needs something to busy himself and invest this energy. He sweeps the floor clean, identifies the symbols that will have to be drawn, and prepares the fuel for the fire.
Pip struggles to keep Nerris' praise from puffing him up, a posture that handily betrays his attempt to pose as a slip servant. "Um, master," he chirps to Alexite, "Should I accompany you home, or would you prefer I deliver the 'carving wood' to your 'workshop?'"
"I was thinking of getting the powder from Songbird Hall," Pip whispers as quietly as he can to Nerris, "But if you can get it, that saves me from having to lie to my family...again. My only other idea was shaving a coin, but that would only add another to our list of crimes."
"I don't like getting Nandy angry," Pip says softly, shaking his head as he walks towards the exit. After a pause, he looks between his friends and adds, indignantly, "Don't look at me that way. I really don't!" Stepping back out into the sunlight, Pip straightens his posture and braces himself for what he must do next. "Well then, master," Pip says, looking up at Alexite, "Shall we fetch some oak for your next woodcarving project? The slip wears a broad, obedient smile as he falls into his role. "Oh! But first we need to stop by the church to see about the donation. And worry not! I promise to polish the silver once we get home."
Nerris looks at Pip a bit confused and says,"I'm not going to even try correcting her notion of what going on but we were talking about Laria right and not ourselves?" "To be honest, I'm not even sure myself," he responds faintly. "I don't want this creature to hurt Laria or her business, but I also don't want it to stab us in the backs, either."
Pip turns to Nerris and quips, "She's taking this better than I expected," but the blanching of his face and the faint quaver in his voice betrays how frightened he truly is by his boss' fury. To see the quiet, erudite bookseller so incensed is perhaps the most humbling thing that the slip has yet encountered since that fateful day in the park. He takes a deep breath, centers himself, and pushes aside all his irreverence before continuing. "I'm sorry, Nandy," he says with a contrite nod. "I only brought this to you because I trusted your knowledge and because I was desperate. The friend involved was in great danger, and I had to do something to get rid of this...problem. Thank you for helping me, again, even if it meant sticking your neck out. From now on, I will bring only normal work-related business through your door." The shop owner's line about having to defend herself sends an involuntary shudder through her small employee's shoulders. "I won't let any trouble come your way. I would sooner throw myself on the blade than see harm come to you, Nandy," Pip says, as much trying to reassure himself as her.
Having the most familiarity with Crissali's Fine Tomes, Pip leads the way into the bookshop. Once he espies where his employer has currently ensconced herself, he leaves his friends to disperse among the shelves. He does away with his usual nonsense and approaches Nandy politely and directly. "No jokes this time, Nandy. I need your help," he says softly to her, trying on seriousness like an ill-fitting new jacket. "I found a document protected by magic, and I need to decipher it. It's better if I don't offer too many details, but suffice to say it relates to getting rid of an imp that is plaguing a friend's business."
"Hey now, I said we could take it to Nandy's, I never said I would go. I'm not afraid of lowering her opinion of me, but I am worried about what she might do to me. She could ban me from reading. She could dock my pay. She could fire me. She could keep things exactly the same." Pip sighs and reins in his schtick. "Then again, I know how to navigate her moods," he says, rubbing his chin. "If anyone can convince her to risk her soul and sanity, it'd be me. I've done it before," he adds with a shrug. "Besides, between the imp and my boss, I'd rather spend time with my boss - most of the time."
"This page holds more magic than it has any right to," Pip says, offering the sheer to Orrias, "so it's probably the one we're looking for. I dare not take it back to Songbird Hall. I'd rather the Dottari find out that I've been working against them than have my Shelynite family think I've been mucking about with devils." After a brief spat of hmmming, the slip also adds, "We could take it to Nandy at her book shop. I'd wager she'd have insight on such things, and it'd be patently impossible to lower her esteem for me."
Since an uppity slip and the Dottari go together as well as a Thrune and decency, Pip has done well to keep out of sight, lest he spoil the charade. Thus, he had followed Nerris when she returned to the coffeehouse to check in with Laria. Pip needs little excuse to place himself in the company of Miss Longroad. Of course, he thinks (with a smile) how Soria would tease him in her sing-song way if she thought her little step-brother had a crush. When Orrias arrives with the stack of papers, Pip quickly pushes him back into the rear of the coffeehouse. He doesn't want the elf's disguise to frighten the customers. "Okay, let me see what we have here," Pip says, spreading the array of papers across the flat top of a broad barrel. He pauses for a time, sweeping his eyes across their inked surfaces, before declaring, "These are documents, all right. That'll be three sails." Pip briefly extends his open, awaiting palm before waving off his friend jokingly. He then furrows his brow as he actually gets to work. He starts to rifle through the documents looking for clues, but when Orrias mentions the imp's suggestion of looking for magical auras, he gets a better idea. "Make sure the door's closed," he says to Orrias with a nod of his head. Once their privacy is assured, Pip conjures a bit of magic to glean which of these sheets may be enchanted.
Pip does his best to assist with the scheme. Although he is glad that the impish creature has been subdued, he is now intimidated by the prospect of turning his creativity to disguise.
Pip draws a blank. The agitated creature is unlikely to be susceptible to most of his magic trickery, and he dare not hurl any fire or acid while Orrias has the wretched creature in his grasp. Flopping into the water to try and help wrestle the creature back to solid ground is even less appealing. "Don't struggle! My friend there is the greatest hugger in all of Kintargo!" Pip cups his hands over his mouth and calls to the impish creature. "Just relax and succumb to the hug!"
Perhaps in a testament to how the halfling's mind works, the stinging wound and the ensuing loss of coordination prompts him to think of the wounded Alexite. From his jacket pocket he fishes the tin flask containing the potent healing potion and does his best to scamper it over to the wounded pugilist who is no longer at risk of being gatorbait.
"Ow, dagnabbit!" Pip exclaims, craning his neck to look at the tiny dart. A wave of dizziness passes across his face. "Whoa, that's not good."
"I'm through with slinging rocks, and dealing with that croc. Without your spell, I'd give you hell, and kick you in the...shin!"
Despite the growing chaos raging around him, Pip strains his senses to try and locate the flitting menace. Both to minimize the threats his friends face, and as an exercise to focus while trying to locate the invisible foe, Pip launches into another verse of lyrical nonsense to distract some combination of the enemies around the party of rebels.
Pip shakes his head with a frustrated growl. He turns his attention from the invisible foe to the last of the rats vexing his allies who might be better suited to dealing with the real problem. Rather than a venomous tongue, he decides to deploy something just as caustic. He summons a glob of acid and flicks it towards the last rat swarm like a laborer might flick a booger.
Pip remains surprised that his spell worked - at least, he thinks it worked. Now he is unsure what else to do. He dare not set off any more firecrackers, and he doubts the rats would be as interested in lyrical humor. Instead, he fishes one of the cold iron sling bullets from the small bag at his belt. Pip whirls his sling around, aims for the enemy perched atop Calistria, and hopes for the best.
However, the shot goes clear over the goddess' head, ricochets off the cavern ceiling, and plunks into the water.
Laria's rebuke convinces Pip to stifle the second snapdragon he has floating around as a fiery orange orb. He lets the spell's duration expire and snuff out into nothing, and he instead launches into a new spell. "A wonderful bird is the pelican,
Once again heeding not whether his audience, rats and sprites, can understand a lick of what he says, Pip relies on the rhyming, rhythmic nonsense to captivate and Hypnotize the unwelcome guests.
Poem Credit:
Pip hopes that the earth and stone between the Wasp's Nest and the coffeehouse are thick enough because things are about to get a little loud. He begins summoning his Snapdragons and launches the first one over the water, aiming for the general direction of the creature, evidenced by motes of flour floating in the air. The firecracker streaks across the water in a fiery zig-zag before exploding at the foot of Calistria.
Pip's eyes widen in surprise, utterly incredulous that their scheme not only worked but did so immediately. He tries to suppress any sign of this shock, though, in order to lull the revealed creature. "Of course, being doused with flour," the slip thinks to himself, "I'm pretty sure this wee beastie will be suspicious, to say the least."
While Pip plays dumb, he lets Indra and the others take the lead on this matter. Although he is quick to devise schemes to torment the Dottari, he is less prepared to deal with an apparently invisible, spritely saboteur.
Down in the Wasp's Nest, Pip plops as heavily onto a chair as a halfling can. He remains uncharacteristically quiet for a spell, trying to rein his heart and lungs back into pace with the rest of him. Although he and fear are relative strangers, the same cannot be said for anxiety. By the time Nerris hatches her plan by dusting the room with flour, Pip has composed himself enough to return to his irreverent self. "Well then, is it time to break ol' Barley Thrune's Fifth Proclamation now? Are we trying to break all seven in one day? Hey, we should save one of those flour sacks. The next time some Dottari come by, Nerris can hand one of them the sack, saying 'Here, hold this,' then Indra can trip him, and boom! They'll be too busy picking up each speck of flour to be arresting or investigating anyone." When Nerris explains her scheme, Pip straightens up as the stakes at play weigh upon his small shoulders. Perhaps worse than having a traitor in their midst, he is more worried of the idea that someone else is trying to turn them upon their own allies. He refuses to see the Fushi sisters or anyone else wrongly punished for this development. He stands up and mutters some rhyming nonsense to magically attune his senses. It takes him a moment to remember that the culprit will not simply be suddenly revealed, but he still hopes it will help.
Pip cannot hear the hushed conversation over the sound of his pulse rushing at his temples and the rapidly accelerating thoughts racing through his mind. He crafts courses of action like sentences, weighs their merit, then discards them like crumpled paper. "If only my magic were strong enough to make them disappear. However, I can at least try to discredit them, or sow dissent between them," Pip thinks to himself, pursing his lips and screwing his courage. The slip first slinks out of sight. He grabs a broom and pretends to clean, sliding into a blind spot just behind the Dottari, and finding a place in the corner to lurk.
Thus ensconced, he begins enacting his insidiously simple magical ploy. Though only a very simple spell, he works a spot of Prestidigitation upon the lead Dottari, causing his breath to smell overwhelmingly of mint candies. He pauses for two moments, letting the spell settle, before working his next trick, a bit of verbal skulduggery.
He resumes his pantomime with the broom, allowing the motion to carry him closer to the Dottari, and then exclaims, "Whooey, good sir your breath smells like.... Pip cuts himself off with a feigned gasp. "By the House of Thrune, have you been eating mint candies? Oh, woo betide such men who are supposedly sworn to uphold our noble lord-mayor's law and order but violate his sacred proclamations when out of his sight." Pip shakes his head and offers the most biting volley of "tsk tsk" that these guards have ever encountered, and he continues he charade to engender shock not just among the coffeehouse patrons but even among the officer's subordinates. He leans in closer, eyes cast upward with a forced look of haunted concern, and speaks to the Dottari in a tone not quite hushed enough to avoid being heard by Pip's fellows. "My good sir, as a slip I know my place, and I would never dream of questioning your authority, but still you must consider your actions. If this were discovered, what would become of your commission? Your family's honor? O, such scandal! I beg of you, for the good of the Dottari and the honor of House Thrune, please cleanse yourself of this minty fresh sin." Secretly, Pip's heart races like a colt as he waits to see whether his scheme succeeds in driving the men away - at least for now.
I've got a couple ideas that involve using Prestidigitation and Bluff to try and get rid of these guards. My first idea is to make one of the Dottari's breath smell overwhelmingly like mint candies, then accuse him of violating "noble Lord Thrune's" Seventh Proclamation and try to provoke the other guards into hauling their comrade off for such treasonous behavior. Secondly, and similar to the previous idea, I could use Prestidigitation to make it seem like one of the guards has a very bad nosebleed, then accuse him of being high on Pesh while on duty. This commotion could cause the group to withdraw. Lastly, I could simply use the spell to make it smell like the lead Dottari has soiled himself, and we could try to shame him into retreating. What are your thoughts, team?
With a less dream-haunting rendition of the message to work from, Pip spreads his scrivener's kit upon a table in the Nest and uses a page from his journal to decipher the message.
Finding himself on a roll, Pip also works on deciphering some of the documents the group had previously found. Fishing around in his bag for a penknife to sharpen his quill pen, his hand bumps against the potion that Soria had given him, seemingly so long ago. No longer tempted to sell the potion for some coins to give his family, Pip decides to keep his momentum going by using the potion as his step-sister intended. He drinks it and continues his literary work on the documents from the hideout beneath the livery.
After his offer, a single mantra runs through Pip's mind: "Please don't make me do this, please don't make me do this." Orrias' response leaves him swallowing the lump in his throat and searching for the nerve to face the body. However, Nerris' suggestion lifts a weight from his shoulders like a reprieve from the gods themselves. "Oh thank heavens," he breathes heavily, standing in the narrow passage. "Yes, please. It would be much easier for my work - not to mention my sleep - to decipher a plain written copy. Once we get back to the Nest, I will break out my pen and do my best to uncover the secrets behind this atrocity."
At first, Pip strolls casually down the narrow passage, whistling a jaunty tune to emphasize the ease with which he can travel as one of the small folk. However, upon entering the hidden chamber, his whistling is cut very short. "I will leave this to you folks," he whispers when his voice returns. "I will keep a lookout." He begins to recede back down the passage, eager to leave this horrid scene behind him. The macabre message, though, keeps him from fleeing. "Um, do you think..." he begins to ask, "Do you think that message could, if we could read it, could offer some clue to prevent something so horrible from happening again? I really, really don't want to look at that. I really don't. But if you think it could help, I might be willing to try to decipher it." The slip is very disturbed by the scene, and he needs a vote of confidence from his compatriots to dare laying eyes upon it again.
Pip launches into a tirade of nonsense rhyming to entrance and confuse the fey. Please fly into this cloak," he then says to those fey affected, removing and holding up his cloak. "I promise that it's quite comfy." He does not mention the matter of the pending pummeling, which he will leave to his tall folk friends.
Pip wraps up the leftover half of his sandwich and tucks it back into his jacket. He's tempted to scramble to find the cold iron bullet he launched, but he knows that there is a more pressing tooth to be addressed. He follows at Indra's heels as they pursue the escaped fey.
"Spill it you little twerp!" "Okay! You can have half if you really want," Pip exclaims before looking back at the captive tooth fairy. "Oh! You're talking to him." The slip resumes tucking into his sandwich.
Pip pulls out a sandwich, wrapped in cheesecloth, from his coat.
Pip launches off the last of his snapdragon firecrackers to ensure that the tooth fairies do not return to ambush the party. He turns to watch Indra - a crooked streak of blood running down her chin from the hole left by her purloined tooth - clasp the fey miscreant in her hands like a vise. He briefly entertains the notion of joining in the questioning, turning this into a round of bad cop, worse cop. However, another idea pops into Pips head. "Um, are we sure these things can even understand us?" he asks with a cocked eyebrow.
Despite the foul fey flitting in his face, Pip takes notice of Nerris' explosive display. With a determined grin, he resolves not to be outdone when it comes to fireworks. He shuffles back, away from the tooth fairy attacking him, and starts conjuring some of his snapdragons.
Pip has never been on intimate terms with fear, so he reasons that the emotion kindled by the attack on Indra is anger. He would be most adept at slinging another cold iron bullet. However, Pip remembers how his sling skills previously chipped the nose of Calistria - and he realizes that he fears Indra's wrath yet more! Instead, he decides to turn his caustic wit into something less metaphorical. He conjures and hurls a glob of acid, aiming for the one perched on Indra. In the heat of battle, he neglects to consider how much more painful acid can be compared to a stone, so let's hope his aim is not off!
Pip is relieved, almost shocked, to have struck a chord with his most bizarre audience ever. "Hopefully the ol' galoot can make good use of this reprieve and put out some of their lights," Pip thinks to himself His sling hangs idle from his hand. He dares not load another lump of cold iron lest his shot strike Indra in the nose - for he fears her wrath perhaps more than even Calistria's. Thus, Pip continues his rhyming babble in hopes of entrancing more of the tooth fairies.
As he speaks, he drops his sling and draws his new mace in case, heavens forbid, he should need to rush in and swat some flies.
If not for the fact that they were bloodthirsty little tooth-mongering monsters, Pip may have actually been amused as the tiny creatures seemingly winked into existence. He likewise puts aside his fleeting amazement at being a "big'un" for a change, compared to these wee fey beasties, as his mind worries over a pressing concern. Would these fey even understand his words to be affected by his magic? Despite the language barrier that likely stands between them, Pip reasons that they are not above falling prey to a hypnotic rhyme, even if they cannot understand the meaning. Thus, on the benighted and fey-haunted streets of the Devil's Nursery, Pip launches into a verse of rhyming nonsense poetry to distract the fairies. "One tall midget reached up high,
Get in Slip, we're going shopping:
Pip accompanies Indra, since he has little experience when it comes to finding reliable weaponry - especially when made of unusual materials. He finds a light mace that fits his hands, topped with a round head of cold iron. He also requests some small lumps of spare cold iron to use as sling bullets, but he wonders if he's getting fleeced on the price.
It's difficult for him to forfeit nearly a dozen gold coins for weapons when such an amount would be a small fortune to almost any other slip in Kintargo. However, looking to Indra, he remembers that this is to stop the murder of people just as vulnerable as the halflings. That makes it easier to pay the coins, and it gives him the strength to swing a much heavier weapon than he's used to. ... Pip can scarcely see the tiny little buggers from his corner. He also doubts whether they would understand any satirical invectives he might hurl at them. As he steps forward and whirls his sling, he hopes for everyone's sake - especially Nerris - that his aim is true for once.
"Wow. Who would have thought that we'd find something less appealing than a noggin floggin' from a Thrunie?" Pip says with a shudder. A slip's courage should not be underestimated, but that does not mean they are immune to being creeped out. "Not sure what role I could play. If these fey prey upon the 'big folk,' then I'm rightly ruled out. Then again, I would probably blend into the night crowds pretty well and could serve as a good lookout for whomever does volunteer as bait."
Pip keeps to the rest of the Redroof district that hems in the Devil's Nursery and asks among the neighbors. In particular, he seeks out any halflings who live among the red brick slums, as Pip well knows that his kin is often overlooked and thus privy to crucial details and observations.
"I don't know much about the neighborhood," Pip says, shaking his head. "I never found myself performing over that way; not too much to laugh about there." The slip certainly hadn't expected to find himself investigating any murders. Then again, very little of the past couple of weeks was expected, either.
Hopefully he can be a better detective in reality than in fiction.
|