Shefton Rosk's page

A bedraggled man carrying a blazing torch dripping embers steps into view from the direction the party arrived (the right fork). Face contorted with wrath, mouth repetitively opening and closing wordlessly, he glares at Terin (as Terin shifts) with hateful eyes.

“NO ONE CUTS SHEFTON ROSK OUT!,” he screeches, heaping his rage upon you.

With a swiftness born of true madness, Rosk presses the torch to his clothes. Flesh melting, hair sizzling, the human candle charges the open container! Rosk impacts the clay jugs at full speed, and the two meet explosively. Lifted from their feet and thrown in every direction, the party scrambles to avoid burning oil, fleshy gibbets, and splintering wood fragments.

DC 15 Reflex and Will saves all around. Will failure = stunned, Reflex failure = 1d6 damage and prone.

The blaze quickly spreads to nearby crates, blocking your egress with flame. Though no additional containers have discharged as of yet, time would appear to be of the essence.

The strange man beckons again. He seems legitimate, but downright strange. (Bluff = 25)

"Good! Good, good, good, good, good!"

"We're friends, you and I. Come, come."

The man definitely has elven features about him, but it's difficult to determine much else under the layer of filth coating him, not to mention you are reluctant to get much closer, as he bears an odor like a rotting pile of fish. Oblivious to his own stench, the leans in close and whispers to Terin with a velvety voice that carries an odor of wet dog hair, "I really like your shoes."

The unusual man gesticulates wildly with one hand, enthusiastically squeezing the crotch of his pants with the other.

“No. No wait. Wait, wait, wait. There was something else. Yes. Vanthus! You seek Vanthus. “

“Don’t deny it. I know. I know, I know."

"He’s a jackass. Kicked me out! Like he’s some secret super criminal in his hideout. Pfft!”

You narrowly avoid the spittle flying from the mans lips at this last outburst.

“He stepped in poop once. Just wiped it off. Gross.”

"You'll never find him in the city. Never, never, never, never. Vanthus has gone underground. Gone underground. That means hiding out."

“I can take you there. I can. Can, can, can. Ha ha, moooo!”

“What do I want? Why don’t you ask? Ask me. Ask me, ask me, ask me. No? Ok, fine”

The man pouts briefly, then continues without waiting for you to answer.

“Can you believe he kicked me out? One little request! I did EVERYTHING for the Lotus, but when I want something, it’s…….Noooooooo! I get the boot! Ha ha, the boot. Or not.”

The man wipes away grubby tear streaks with his even filthier hands.

“You work for his sister. Bring me her shoes. Ohhh yeah. Nothing new.”

The man takes a long, deep sniff of the air around him, cuddling an imaginary shoe with the free hand.

“Just one pair. Vanthus wouldn’t. Jackass. Bring me the shoes. Here, tomorrow. I’ll take you right to him.”

The man laughs maniacally, then runs off into the darkened alley, leaving only the stench of his passing to convince you then peculiar event occurred at all.

Beckoning to Terin.

“Psst. Over here.”

“Cmon, cmon, hurry it up!