Still frozen in mid leap from the window, looking totally awesome!
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Best of wishes for their speedy recovery!
"MYRE!!" Bacarov roars in rage and plunges into the room and leaps thru the window...
...and he calls upon the gifts of his god to slow his fall, spear raised for the attack. From below its as though a living shadow with trails of cloaked darkness bursts from the window.
Bacarov shrugs his shoulders and his cloak of Darkness manifests as he slips his lock picking tools, working the door lock.
"I would prefer to put him to the question. However his escape should not be tolerated. Kill him if he proves unwieldy." Bacarov readies his spear, removing the leather sheath. "His death comes either way..." Even gestures to the monk, "Head outside as you said. Get to the window and prepare to make entry." "Weapon must blind and deafening him as quickly as possible. With no Mage's hood available it will be up to you Marsh to close with him quickly. Subdue, if you can...kill if he proves difficult." "Dramin, use your scroll, strike with blunt arrows perhaps?" "Warshawski, coordinate with Marsh. It will make his attacks more effective...focus on blinding him if you can."
Busy day today but I should be able to post later tonight.
He listens closely within the Hall, keenly aware that the beast's attack is eminent.
"A group of heretics have called forth a demon. Our sources and recent events confirm that the demon is seeking these very same summoners to consume. Perhaps retribution for disturbing its slumber." Bacarov doffs his coat and hat and steps closely to the mayor and whispers. "Marshan was the first, his home destroyed and his body broken. Next were Rupman Myre's vats. He wasn't there because we dragged the paranoid heretic here. You need only guess as to the beast's next target. Where is the summoner of the dead? Where is Rupman Myre? Turn him over to me now. Let the Scales of Justice put him to proper questioning." He steps back and resumes a normal tone of voice, his eyes glowing with dark blue energies.
"Or do you wish to continue squeezing benefits from your association to one such as him?" He grinds his teeth at the thought this supposed leader of the people would allow Myre's existence to continue. "Where is he?"
"This all but confirms Rupman's involvement." He pulls his broad-brimmed hat low and warns the Captain. "Our priority must be the book and ferreting out the conspirators. And if the vats were destroyed, the beast may be headed for Crown Manor..." He leaves the rest unsaid. For the mayor's home is where they'd taken the heretic Rupman Myre. "As for the Vats themselves, if they're destroyed, then the undead servitors are in the loose. Be careful, Captain." He turns to the others. "Quickly. To the mayor's home!"
Bacarov remains silent and listens as the Captain stands atop her soap box. You seek the good in your city, and you seek it within the auspices of the Law. Am I of so higher a calling to disagree? Abadar abhors the lack of balance here, I know it. Perhaps she will be part of the solution... The interruption of his thought by the soldier chills his mind, the cold core of his faith settling over him as he gestures to his comrades. "Studies and trials will have to wait, it seems." His eyes glow dark blue as he summons up the power of his god to grant blessings for the next few moments. As is his nature, Bacarov studies the mannerisms of the soldier, then begins searching the area add they emerge upon the surface.
"Something the little animals said rings on my ears. If this monster hungers for the very idiots that summoned it, perhaps we must deny the monster the meal." He continues walking, not showing signs of slowing. "One less necromancer in a land full of heresies...Abadar will be pleased to see the Scales closer to balance." "Vincent, Captain Roslyn, do wither of you happen to have access to a mage's hood? I'd like a few moments to put Rupman to the question before we dispatch him." He grinds his teeth at the thought of conversing with the heretic. "That harlot Ghlaunder has been a step ahead of us for far too long. Perhaps we now have the advantage, or at the very least can take it." He glances over his shoulder to Dalton. "With Rupman dead and burned, some time studying this book of theirs, we can pour our focus into ending Hyve. We can start with these girls of his...maybe bring them down to the tunnels to show them just what they're master has been up to..."
"Weapon know precisely where Rupman is located. For we escorted him to the mayor's home not more than a few hours ago." Bacarov gathers his gear and turns for the exit. "He seems to be the most dangerous. We end him first, let city politics sort things out afterwards. I have all the evidence I need."
"Other Keepers..." Bacarov thinks back on their conversation with the mayor and with Rupman. "The heretic Rupman, he seemed overly scared when we intruded upon his premises. And he all but confirmed it wasn't for his undead servitors..." He manages to avoid scowling at Roslyn. How can they allow such heresy in their city? Ustalav already has so many evils, why allow more? "And there is Arlende Myre...a historian and peddler of narcotics...gone missing as it were...or perhaps his little waifs unwittingly revealed to us he's in hiding." He grinds his teeth with fresh anger. "Scum...undisciplined fools..." He clears his throat and continues. "This deadman Marshan was specifically targeted by the animal. If what these little beasts say is true, we have targets to eliminate...or at least put to the question." He pats his satchel. "And I...we have a book to research. Let's be quick about it and move on."
Bacarov waits, only offering a bit of advice along the way. "These little miscreants may be able to offer us navigational information on these tunnels. Perhaps a secret passageway or two can grant us the advantage we need against this monster." He looks to his pack and the case holding his vihuela and contemplates the notion to add music to Warshawski's efforts. "We should also see if they can truly identify the "old men" involved. Perhaps secret one of them topside to facilitate the endeavour?"
Sorry gang. Last minute work and side project woes consumed way too much time. I'll get caught up and back into the mix!
Bacarov grinds his teeth. "Perhaps if we simply leave them...or threaten to do so." He studies the door for a time.
"Perhaps if we locked them in, the threat of isolation and starvation will pry them loose for questioning?"
Bacarov doesn't quiet understand their words but picks one or two out that sounds like the tongue used in the cold lands of Ustalav. "Deschide ușa sau ne blocați în interior pentru a muri..."
Aklo:
"Open the door or we lock you inside to die. Come out now and you live." He glances over his shoulder and says, "I told them if they don't come out, we will lock them in permanently."
Bacarov moves to the side of the door and considers for a moment. Nodding agreement with Marsh's option, he looks to Warshawski. "Yours is the softest touch among us. If they are frightened, which seems to be the case, your voice is far easier to hear than mine in this case. And I will translate your words to the Darkling (Aklo) tongue the dwellers down here seem to prefer." As she approaches, he rests a hand on her shoulder -- "Be mindful of revealing our true purpose. Whatever is inside could be a fountain of knowledge." His touch sends a sliver of cold from his fingertips.
I...still...live...
No worries, Budd. Best of luck in your search!
Huzzah! Rest is its own reward!
Bacarov points back the way they'd arrived and begins walking. "To the surface then. We regroup and resupply and come back down here wiser for the effort." He touches the satchel at his hip where the book resides. And I have questions that need answers.
"Weapon really marked by the encounter in Ravenmoor it would seem." He watches Dramin amd considers his reaction to Ghlaunder's offer. In a way, Bacarov quells some of the doubts he has about the boy. But not all of them. ”Well done.” He offers coldly. ”Ghlaunder’s inane prattling seems to have stopped. Although it’s the first time I’ve heard her since our departure from Ravenmoor.” He looks pointedly at Dramin. ”I wonder if all of us can say the same.” He steps within the hovel to ascertain what of the books can be salvaged. If he finds anything, he gathers them up for cataloguing and transport. ”We’ve been down here too long. Unless there’s an argument, we should return to the surface and review what we’ve learned so far. Perhaps return with a larger force considering what Yarresh disclosed. Maybe hire the services of a Pharasman, if possible, to combat the necromatic energies suffusing this location.” As they’re preparing to depart, Bacarov says, ”We must be on our guard. And we must be honest with one another. Should this defiling presence attempt to make contact with one of us, we must communicate the attempt immediately.” Bacarov eyes everyone in the group. ”This is non-negotiable. And if any single one of us fails in this disclosure, their lives are forfeit in the interest of preserving the others.”
"Prideful fool, Dramin. I sought its destruction but you insist on your excuses...your studies..." As the insects bloom from the painting Bacarov focuses his mind on the area and lashes out, vaporous tendrils of smoke pouring from his hands.
"Everybody out now!" Bacarov shouts and backs his way out of the area.
"No...my anger is righteous. I'll not go bleating like a lamb into the Void...not like Phedron...nor Beckett...You are nothing, slippery charmer...you are the lesser progeny of a greater sire...but an utterance of the Void...you'll be consumed in the Silence...crushed by the weight of your impotence...paintings are all you've got...whispers and false promises..." Bacarov slams a fist against the wall next to him. "ABADAR'S JUSTICE CLAIM YOU!!" Bacarov grinds his teeth in frustration as he pulls an acid flask from his satchel. His eyes burn with hatred but he also knows the limitations of of Abadar's protections. His hand goes from directing the flask at Dramin to throwing it at the painting...
"Warshawski, the Captain cannot see what we see! Beware..." Then to Marsh as he points to the painting, "Smash this infernal thing!" Bacarov's fists glow with blue flames. "...Dramin. Time to make a choice boy. You can remain with us or be put down. it won't be the first time I've had to kill a friend." I drew the dagger...I took his life...I saved his soul from the Black Eternity...oh, Phedron...my dear boy Beckett...
Just in time to see me flip out! #constandredd
Dramin It's enough I must deal with Vincent's brash view of things...now I have to deal with the weak-willed in the face of a lesser threat."
A hazy, dark-blue aura manifests around Bacarov as he gestures once to Marsh to be on his guard. "Tell me your great and studied mind has not fallen prey to her."
Bacarov entered the room and notes the books and gear. "Other would seem our dead and bloated friends outside held this room in high regard. Dramin, you and Warshawski see what you can ascertain of the materials. We can catalogue and remove them back to the surface. I think we may..." He pauses mid sentence and hurls his spear across the room in a fit of spontaneous rage!
"UPSTART WHORE!!" His weapon sinks into the canvas and penetrates the earthy stone wall behind it. Blue flames spark along the edges and catch the canvas and wood frame. Yet they are a freezing flame, so cold it crystallizes then freeze-burns. "Cum se poate cineva atât de tânăr și fără minte cunosc cu adevarat rece ?? Cum pot ei să înțeleagă vidul?!?!?" Bacarov rails in a fit of bloodthirsty anger, whisps of dark blue smoke rising from his eyes. "El a venit WLL ! El vă va arăta adevărata natură a fricii și a dreptății!!"
Bacarov dips his chin in acknowledgement to Dalton's report. I suppose whatever was on the other side can wait. If it is a whom, between the blathering and kicked in doors I'm sure they've moved on." "We'll done." He responds evenly. Captain His cheek twitches ever so slightly. Eyes narrow. Marsh's foolishness. Now you, Captain? Are you like Nosatrub? Warning me off to save my soul? Or do you see me as a consort of the damned? "I am versed in dealing with the type, Captain. Just because he is undead and an abomination doesn't mean we can't use the skills and knowledge given him." He crouched over the bodies, unmoved by the gore and smell having dealt with so much death in his profession. "Abadar balances his scales as he sees fit, always with a divine eye on justice. A pack of ghouls terrorizes a town, only to drive one of their own out. That exile turns to a life of guile and scavenging, becoming a tool of information to be used in bringing balance to the larger problem. I am an Inspector, an instrument of Abadar's justice, and I will use the tools provided to me towards that end." The last words roll over the group, an echo of a deeper voice in his tone. I won't be accused of kinship with filth like Rupman! His ire begins to subside and he reflects upon Roslyn's summation of the dead. "If this one is the druid and he had associations with Hyve...then perhaps we pay the drug peddler another visit. This time lying little girls will not bar our progress..." Bacarov grips his spear and stands to gesture towards the south passage in question. "Lead The way, Captain. You also, Dalton..." You seem eager enough. As they begin moving, Bacarov mentions to Warshawski, "I recall your talents with deciphering Multara's ledger a year ago. The old murderer had kept a journal in a broken form of Skald." He pats his satchel, now weighted down by the book. "...I think you shall be needed to aid me in deciphering this tome as well. Care for a challenge?" next room
Bacarov runs a hand over the cover of the book as the chill of memory crawls like a nest of writhing worms across his mind. Images of blood and bile and a ruined room...left hand crushed...a fire and the downpour of rain…He blinks once and is looking down at his hand, three scars clear across the palm where 5 years ago his bones had punctured the skin. The he looks upon the book cover once more. I know this...don’t I? Had not Nosatrub warned me? Had he not? Marsh’s abrasive tones crash through his mindscape just when he felt memory was reaching forward to the present. Bacarov grinds his teeth. ”If you spent as much time thinking as you do waggling that filthy tumor you call a tongue, Vinnie, you’d recognize an informant when you see one. He was betrayed by his ilk, cast out from the hunting parties in which he would normally traffic, Yarresh is left to scavenge, something he himself admitted without prompting. Treat him well, and we may just find he can provide us with ways to elude or defeat the ghouls under this city after we’ve dealt with the current threat.” The nimbus of blues and blacks swirls along his body as the Sanctuary spell begins to dissipate and he descends the mound to rejoin the group. ”’A betrayed criminal makes the most useful of associations’. I’d say you may have read that during your first year in the Watch, but then that would include the need for reading…” Bacarov shrugs and looks Marsh for intents and purposes like a sword that has lost it’s edge. Or venerable tool that is fast approaching the end of its usefulness. He bites back the urge to reprimand the former guardsman for charging blindly into a situation when just prior Bacarov had chastened all to a quiet approach. Let the broken hammer continue to strike the anvil. At some point the blacksmith will set it aside and raise a new one. Bacarov slips his eyes over the group. Abadar will see to it that his path to justice and balance will not be hindered…even if I am surrounded by those unwilling to do what is necessary to see it done. ”So let us see what we’ve gathered...aside from a book.” The former Inspector looks upon the savaged and pulped bodies, noting their clothing and the items in their possession and the scene itself. ”An altar upon a mound in a space suffused with necromantic energies. Both bodies, garbed in robes and geared quite well for…” He pats the book once. ”...contacting someone or some thing...only to be crushed by the very entity which now torments this burrough. Whatever is here, this twisted elephantine monster, has scattered the denizens of this place so as to claim its new hunting ground…Then there are the Dark Folk, assassins and scavengers serving - what was it? - floaty, ghosty masters?” He toes one of the bodies. ”Are these the floaty ghosty masters?” He adjusts his pack and withdraws a spare shirt, wrapping the book tightly and putting it into his pack. ”I advise we investigate down the northwest passage. Or we can return to the surface so I have time to review this book?” ”Captain Roslyn, do you recognize the dead men here?” As she investigates, Bacarov turns to Dalton and Dramin. ”What news from the sealed off door? Were you able to break it down and see what was within?”
Bacarov nods gratitude to the abomination even as his guts turned over and over. But his priority was whatever evidence he could gather in these darkened halls. As he drifts to the ground Bacarov mutters a prayer to himself, summoning Abadar's wisdom to hold him fast as he reviews the materials. A nimbus of dark blue swirls to coalesce over him, mixing with the shadows of his cloak. He makes the exchange and steps away from the mound. "My gratitude, Yarresh. You are indeed as wise as you are handsome." He slowly reaches into his satchel to make space for the tome. But before he inserts it, Bacarov begins to gingerly view the cover and a few pages. "This one knows the value of this book, well. It's secrets will soon belong to Yarresh so he may defeat his enemies. And this same secrets will aid me in defeating this...elephant that seeks to ruin your home." His darkvision scans the area around him, greedily seeking other clues. As he does so, he asks, "For those not having received your attentions, may we look upon the fallen? It is to seek an answer as to why they were killed and to learn more about our shared enemy." If Yarresh is OK with it, he gestures to the others to search the area.
》Rolls Searching Area
Bacarov grinds his teeth at Marsh's line of questioning but sees that it bears done fruit. Adding what Warshawski gleaned he comes to a conclusion.
He steps forward, cloak of darkness swirling about him and opens his hands at his sides. "It is not easy being alone against so many betrayers, Yarresh. This one understands your desire to find weapons and protections. Yes, Yarresh, this one understands all...to...well." Bacarov's eyes glow more intensely as he rises bodily from the rubble-strewn floor 20 feet into the air. His cloak swirls and lengthens like tendrils undulating about his personal. "I wish to help you, Yarresh. And the book you possess is the key to that aid. Grant me time to review and study it's contents. I will provide you with a weapon to use in that time." Bacarov unbuckles his short sword and displays it for the ghoul to see. "Hold this for the time being." "Let me help you defeat your enemies, Yarresh. In turn you shall be helping us rid your home of a larger danger."
Getting caught up today. I'm trying and post up a response.
So this is the Grove as described earlier...Fleshlings...what manner of creature are you? What need have you of books? Are you alone? The questions roll across his mind, the words drifting from common to Aklo and back again. ...two bodies...Roslyn! His hand rises slowly as he spares a glance towards the direction of Roslyn and he shakes his head. Don’t even think about moving against this thing. His glare conveys the warning even as he turns back to speak to the creature, eyes glowing once more as he summons down Abadar’s wisdom. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s had to negotiate with the fetid retches of the underworld to get information on a case. This Yarresh was a darkling creature - one Bacarov had inclinations towards knowing its true nature - and if it had information, he’d acquire it. (keep her from attacking)
”You are indeed cunning and handsome and wise, friend Yarresh.” Bacarov responds. ”We are just come from midday’s sup, but thank you for your generosity. As for books, many have passed through this fleshling’s hands. Indeed even some I had thought lost during my visit to these lands many years ago. But I would not presume to deprive you of the entertaining words of this particular book.” He pauses and dips his chin in respect. ”However, as you said, I have many words that are written down on those pages. This one would be happy to provide you with some of their meaning. This one could, perhaps, look upon its pages to be reminded of their content and then share with friend Yarresh for his benefit?” Yarresh Yarresh / altar / mound
Bacarov moves up behind Marsh and rests a hand on his shoulder and caution him to wait. Over his shoulder he notes Warshawski getting that far away look in her eyes. Not a being of the living races...otherwise my command should have taken hold... His eyes continue to glow dark blue as he searches the shadowy form. But you're willing to speak...to plead a case against further attack? Are you outmatched? Or do you hide something up there we shouldn't see? The morsel upon which you dine no doubt.
I wonder...do you speak the Old Language? This new enemy...I feel its pull...the dreamsong echoing from the blackness...the order from the chaos... Bacarov blinks his eyes as visions of Phedron and Foxglove and Linkah flash across his mind. He needs to focus. "Iartă-ne , Yarresh , vom urmări un inamic în aceste adâncimi care a provocat mult rău celor de mai sus la sol." Bacarov says. The words flow just as easily as they did a decade ago on the shores of the Lake. "Noi nu dorim să disrturb , dar are Yarresh întâmpinat o...entitate în aceste coridoare care îi dă îngrijorare ? Sunteți singur, dar hrănite , și suficient de inteligent pentru a parlay , nu pot decât să presupun Yarresh este viclean și periculos."
Bacarov begins making motions for Roslyn and Dalton to circle around back of the hill. But Marsh's guttural challenge fills the room with missed opportunities. "Captain, Dalton, sweep in right. Help the ox surround them..." Bacarov moves directly northward to maintain distance from the mound as his left hand balls into a fist and ices over. "Warshawski, keep your distance, watch the northeast passage for more opponents..." His hand is glowing with dark blue energies. "Dramin, assess the background and fill them full of arrows...do attempt to miss Vincent, won't you..." His hand comes up and as he opens his fingers chips of ice crack and fly. Bacarov's eyes glow dark blue to match and he balls his fist shut once more and shouts a single word... Stăpâni!: Translated from Aklo: "Hold!" Casting Hold Person Will Save DC 15 School: enchantment (compulsion) [mind-affecting]
"Silence you fools," Bacarov hisses as quietly as his sparked anger will allow. He balls his hands into fists around the haft of the spear, vapors whisper upwards from his hands. Abadar give me strength to suffer these fools. Like cadets on their first murder... He gestures for them to continue forward and slips in closer to Marsh and Warshawski. "Tracks on the ground...like stumps rather than feet...oddly spaced." He turns and continues forward to the opening.
"Either our new friend Rupman was down here," Bacarov feels the after effects of the magic crawling over his skin. "...or there are other heretics down here dabbling with necromancy." He gestures to the trail leading north. "Vincent, what do you make of those tracks?" Then he waves a hand to Rosalyn and then to the east wall of the chamber then northward, making it obvious he wants her to take the right side. Next he points to Warshawski and to himself then to the western side of the chamber. We travel left. To all he makes the quiet signal a day then proceeds.
Bacarov watches Dramin and Dalton ascend the stairs to return to the door that had been blocked. His sky-blue eyes linger on their forms long after normal vision would have rendered them amorphous shadows, but his darkened vision assures him they are out of earshot before he responds to Marsh's question. "Let them face whatever may be behind that door above. I believe our quarry is in the chamber beyond." He eyes the captain and Warshawski for a moment. "We continue forward in the chance we need to find better fighting conditions should they find something...difficult."
His eyes glow briefly as he opens his senses to what lingering magics in the area. He moves forward, whisps of shadow clinging to his shoulders.
"Sick men..." Indeed the phrase conjures up the image of the horror-twisted pig back in Ravenmoor. "...it could be the cultists Markham had been intent on joining before we put an end to his plans. He'd said the fools worshipping the elf-whore were like children compared to what the larger group is plotting." He eyes the new door and runs a hand along it, tracing a crude mockery of the spiral they'd seen earlier. "Perhaps Ghlaunder seeks to be one more sycophantic suckup to whatever these cultists are summoning forth. She's a cowardly, opportunist. Her behavior thus far in Carrion Hill matches her pattern." Bacarov uses the butt of his spear to discern anything specific like footprints or other elements to tell if those camping here had been part of the guard or someone else.
...but his mind wanders as he searches. "Sick men...sick men...Phedron...Beckett..." He blinks away the words and the names and sets his jaw. How do you intend to dispense justice for your mind drifts in memory? "The flesh eating abominations code be reference to our heretic magician. Perhaps he's raised more than just workers..." The Inspector stands aside and looks to Marsh and Dalton then the next door.
"Vinnie, Dalton, a bit of strength if you please..." He steps back from the door. "Dramin, you and should be prepared for what might be on the other side..." Bacarov sets his spear then looks to the others. "Captain, if you'd watch our retreat in case of trouble. Warshawski, perhaps bending a ear to any residents we might have missed might grant us some insight?"
Bacarov smirks at Marsh's jest and moves into the chamber alongside him. As he goes he removes the leather scabbard from his spear and looks towards the other side of the room. "When I pass, I'd prefer a mausoleum above ground..." His steps bring him closer to the available doorway. "...that way I can watch passerby." He inspects the far end of the room and then door to see if it's unlock.
As Bacarov looks towards the ruined building and the entrance beyond shadows spill down his shoulders like raven's wings, cloaking him in darkness. "Marsh, if you'd prefer, we can scout ahead? My sight is...clear in the dark."
Bacarov drives down the desire to kill Myre, using a few belts from his flask of vodka. He chuckles dryly and agrees with Marsh. "Indeed, Mister Marsh." He bows to the mayor, a shallow dip of repect. "I and my compatriots were unaware of the leniencies afforded in Carrion Hill. Notably the use of undead as a labor force. Had we known we would most definitely not pressed Master Rupman so thoroughly with questions." Looking passed the mayor to the heretic, Bacarov smiles. "Never fear, Master Rupman, on our way to defeating this enemy under the city, I shall notify the Pharasmans of your plight. With you safely ensconced here, someone should be dispatched to supervise your...workers." He turns away to join the group as they depart to meet Warshawski. "We will see each other again, Master Rupman." Rupman
On the way to meet Warshawski he considers the situation with the others. "He didn't rise to the bait when I whispered the cult's notable phrase about 'knowing the way'. But he knows something . I hope we've not left an enemy at our backs." Bacarov's eyes glow subtly with that dark blue hue. "We should have put him down like a dog."
Bacarov watches the heretic for long moments. The images of various methods of execution are little comfort to the Inspector, but he knows Rupman's death must occur. Summoning the dead, consort of the dark arts that threatens others... His sky-blue eyes bore into the back of the necromancer's head as he matches wits with Marsh. ...you'll die soon enough, heretic. "You may have forgotten the beginning of our conversation, Master Rupman. Our mayoral writs provide us certain leniencies in order to address the threat beneath the city." Gone is the pleasant tone with which he'd opened the conversation. Bacarov points towards Dalton and the door. "The mayor now deals with a threat to the entire city. Don't overestimate your importance by comparison, death-speaker. Or your usefulness. We've heard the whispers from the mysterious woman. Whether we have your information or not, we know the way." "Please follow my associates as Mr Marsh and I cover the rear." Bacarov pauses. "Move now, Master Rupman. Or you can remain here with your mindless friends in the hopes they'll keep you safe from Carrion Hill's destruction."
Be there soon. Been a busy week and it doesn't show signs of slowing.
Bacarov's eyes alter in hue, a dark-blue glow around the irises.
Bacarov grinds his teeth as he nods along with Rupman's story. The glow of his eyes fades while the anger in his chest grows. I'll bet you've been dancing naked with your filthy abominations down there, heretic. Yes, yes I'll help you get out of here...out of your den. Perhaps along the way justice may cross our path and set the Scales aright... "Most assuredly, Master Rupman. Your information of the depths beneath the city will prove even more uselful than the...fine stones you place at the foundations of this city." Bacarov gestures back towards Dramin and Dalton to get the door. "If you'll follow my associates here, they can take the lead while Mr Marsh and I can guard from behind."
A nervous fool able to create the undead? And he calls down the mayor's name like some talisman... What forms of devilry are allowed in this city? Have I been away so long from this land that these practices go unpunished? Bacarov stands slowly, left hand coming up just as slow, his right keeping his spear pointed away. "You summon up the mayor's name as a bulwark against harm...sir." Bacarov chokes down the bile creeping up his throat. Death is the only thing that would balance the scales against the abominations seemingly under his control. Abadar would not suffer this fool for long. But he was not sure of the others. Vincent would back his move here...Dalton is just as disgusted...but what would Dramin do? He decides on a different tactic and slowly uses his left hand to withdraw the writ from his satchel. "We are new to the city, but not new to the mayor's acquaintance. He suggested your name as a source of information." He holds up the writ. "We seek to thwart what is terrorizing the people near Slipper Market. The Mayor says you are the most knowledgeable of the tunnels and darkened highways that run under the city. It is from there this adversary emerges. When we arrived, one of my comrades arose distress from within, hence our unannounced entrance." He pauses a moment and looks intently at the nervous heretic. "The mayor and the captain Roslyn know we've come here seeking aid. Will you not help us?"
Over his shoulder he makes a soothing gesture to his comrades. He makes a crossed finger gesture to Marsh. Their signal for be ready .
Bacarov nods to continue forward and leads the way. Current Stealth 27
Bacarov leans over to Marsh's ear and whispers, "No magic here that I can tell, but the workers have a dodgy quality I don't like." He studies them for a moment. "Do you recall the Mesmerist? The one they called Baron Flagstaff who had used Dream Dust and his voice. He had a show in Lowcleft at the Courtesan & Unicorn. These workers move around like they've been hypnotized...or given a powerful narcotic. In either case, automatons make for durable fodder. Should we be discovered, they and their master could prove to be troublesome adversaries." He waits to hear Vinnie's observations before gesturing back the way they'd arrived. Then he looks back to the walkway over the vats. "Or we continue." If these are automatons, the method of their memorization could prove useful in dealing with the zealous Crow captain and her troops...calm investigators are better.
Hope things start looking up for you, Budd.
Awesome! Is it strictly Pathfinder or also 5e? |