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Unfortunately, I think that would be for the best. I'm really sorry I haven't posted at a good pace, and it doesn't look like I'll be able to do so for this game. I would recommend you ask for another GM. Thank you all for sticking around as long as you have.
Glad to hear it. I’ve been dealing with a case of something like burnout in between working shifts. Will try to post this evening.
Nita's Knowledge Roll:
If memory serves (and in your case, it very much does) there should be an old two-story home along the canal that the government was legally prevented from demolishing--something about it being a 'place of historical significance'. It's recognizeable by the Shelyn-esque stone angel heads decorating its eaves. Everett's Perception Roll: You hear the sound of several somethings skittering about in the darkness next to 'Vizio's Tavern'.
Nita's Knowledge Roll:
As you take in what you can make out of your surroundings, it looks like you're in a canal-side alleyway behind Vizio's Tavern...
...if Vizio's Tavern was built about eight centuries ago. Yet the streets feel strangely familiar, nonetheless. You may be able to get around this 'shadow Westcrown' if its street layout is anything like its sunlit counterpart. Whisper's Perception Roll: As you look around for a place to hide, you notice several especially shadowy corners that one may hide in.
Unfortunately, they all appear to have been claimed. You notice something briefly glinting in the shadows. Something like a pair of hollow eyes. It blinks.
Hey, at least it isn't a sewer level, right? ;)
Calseinica stumbles forward into the darkness along with the rest of the party. Janiven is the last to take the plunge--just as the thundering of metal-shod boots comes down the passageway.
A split second later, the party's feet find purchase on cold stone--and the tunnel opens up into... what looks like a city street ahead. The world that greets the emerging party stands in stark contrast to the noisy, colourful city of Westcrown they were in just mere moments ago. Shadow presses down all around, chased away only by pale white lights blazing upon lampposts. Overhead, the sky is a cloudy grey, deepening to the darkest black just beyond sight. The waters of a nearby canal are eerily calm, and inky black. The many colours the party bore moments before have faded--there is only grey, white and black. Nothing else. You've emerged into Westcrown... yet it's a Westcrown bled of all colour. Or life. DC 10 Knowledge (Planes):
You've heard its name in passing, but its relevance has only occurred to you now.
This is the Plane of Shadow. Calseinica whimpers in fear, clutching onto Sanchia. Quirri is looking all around her in wonder. Aidonis stares grimly ahead.
As the group starts to make their way down the secret passage, the sounds of heavy boots kicking at the VIP Lounge's door suddenly burst through the air--followed by the splintering of wood. "Dammit!" Janiven curses and runs ahead of the group. There's not a lot of time to really examine the passageway--it's mainly composed of stone that gradually descends into the darkness. The heat of the day yields to a deep chill--one not quite of the earth. Janiven barks out a strange word in an unfamiliar tongue. In response, a sudden rush of wind fills the corridor and a deep, inky and filmy blackness fills the rest of the way. DC 13 Knowledge (Planes):
It feels like Janiven just opened some sort of portal! "Come on--let's go!" Janiven starts ushering the others into the dark. Aidonis goes first--with some hesitation. Quirri swallows, looks at Cassynder and follows. Calseinica stops cold. "Wait a minute--what just happened?!"
Once again, sorry for backsliding. Will try to update tomorrow evening.
A harsh voice sounds from beyond the closed door. "ATTENTION, PATRONS OF THIS ESTABLISHMENT MASQUERADING AS A TAVERN! EVERYONE UP AGAINST THE WALL. WE HAVE ALREADY CAPTURED THE SEDITIONIST OWNER OF THIS ESTABLISHMENT--IF YOU RESIST, IT SHALL BE A WASTE OF YOUR FREEDOM!" There's several stomping noises. "Armigers! Get that door open!" "S$!#." Janiven curses before running to a wine rack on the far wall and roughly shoving it aside, revealing a passage in the encroaching dark. "Everyone, this way!" Aidonis is already out of his seat and hustling through, as is Quirri. Calseinica grabs Sanchia's hand. "Come on--we gotta go!"
Sorry I haven’t updated yet. Will try to post in the morning.
...I don't think you did... O_O
Sanchia: As you hold your mirror, you feel a warm, familiar presence in your mind.
Listen. It seems to say.
Had a very tiring day today. Gonna have to push the post back to tomorrow evening. Sorry.
Busy day coming up. Will post tomorrow evening.
Waldorph lets out a little whimper of agreement.
"Oh--" Calseinica turns her eyes to you, finally somewhat distracted from the banter going around. "--yes." She points to a passage on the first page. "See, we're currently looking for someone to play the part of Istania--the Winter Queen's handmaiden. Here..."
Yeah, sorry. Had a busy work week. Let me get caught up.
Aidonis scratches the enthusiastic Waldorph behind the ears. "Yes, the map was quite what I needed." Sanchia:
You notice that there's only the people Janiven invited in the VIP Lounge. And the older gentleman sitting at the round table.
And a very adorable fluffy dog making a fuss over the aforementioned gentleman.
Calseinica taps Sanchia on the shoulder. "Come on--it's bound to be much quieter in the VIP lounge."
Seated at the round table is a well-dressed pale human gentleman, clad in a fine, soft brocade doublet with images of golden flowers woven into the sleeves, brown pantaloons and brown boots. His greying, well-groomed beard and hair suggest he's somewhere in his early-to-mid sixties. His pale grey eyes crease with a smile when he sees Nita and her adorable Waldorph. "Hello again."
Really busy day ahead of me today. Will try to post this evening.
"...eh..." Quirri lets out a sheepish giggle. "...I... was kinda in a hurry, and by the time I remembered, it was too late to tell you..."
Posting in the morning!
"Hopefully." Calseinica leads the way into Vizio's--and winces at the sound of all the chatter. She weaves through the crowd with a bit of effort, zeroing in on a table near a group of decidedly strange-looking people--two tieflings (one in Iomedaean garb), a dashing-looking young man with a rapier, and a small, white-haired gnome lady with a large fluffy dog at her side. The canine is currently being petted and fussed over by the rapier-toting man. The understudy takes a seat and slides The Winter of White Roses out of her pocket, laying it on the table.
You arrive at Vizio's at the appointed time. The tavern itself looks decidedly clean enough, especially in contrast to the weathered stonework buildings surrounding it. Calseinica arrives shortly after you do. "Glad to see you could make it, Madame Corvus. Shall we enter?" The young understudy smiles and offers her hand.
Quirri jolts as you approach, but her posture eases somewhat when she sees you for herself. "No, it's..." She shakes her head. "...it's just the dog. I like the dog. I don't know who any of those people are."
Waldorph lets out a happy little bark as Everett starts lavishing attention on him. Cassynder: As you enter the tavern, you notice that Quirri is sitting at the bar, nervously fidgeting in her seat. Her eyes are repeatedly glancing at three people close by--a dashing-looking young man, a woman with a tail and a white-haired gnome lady with a wolfdog next to her.
Whisper's Perception: It's difficult to tell if anyone's paying attention to the conversation--a blend of general chatter and the bard's song sees to that. You don't think anyone's paying attention...
Everett's Gather Information Roll:
Curiously, there's not much to be gleaned from conversation about Palaveen. Given how difficult it is to find out more, he must be a very discreet man.
That being said, you do learn that his gang operates out of the Rego Cader. Nita's Knowledge Roll: The name 'Palaveen' rings a bell--it belongs to a tiefling ruffian who always carried a symbol of Asmodeus with him everywhere he went. You're not sure if he was an initiate of the faith or if he was just especially superstitious, though...
Vizio's Tavern The public house known as Vizio's Tavern is a one-story affair, nestled along the waterfront of the Rego Scripa. Its walls contrast greatly with the eroding, detritus-coated stonework of the warehouses and shipyards flanking it--walls of quietly proud oak, coloured a healthy brown and polished to an almost-mirrored sheen in the noon sun. The tavern's interior is alive with the chattering of dockhands and other labourers stopping in for a pint in the shade. A gentle lute song with a rhythm evocative of rolling waves fills in the gaps in conversation, played by a young half-elven man with a shock of deep blue hair sitting in a corner of the common room. Five souls converge on the tavern--each of them for their own reasons, and each with or without companions of their own... Everett's Gather Information Roll: On the way to Vizio's, you make a few discreet inquiries about the Bastards of Erebus. At first, what you learn isn't too surprising--they're a gang of tiefling ruffians, toughs and thieves who've risen to recent prominence in Westcrown. Among their most recent crimes are shakedowns, muggings, intimidation and general larceny, among other things.
You do manage to learn the name of the one leading them--a particularly unpleasant fellow by the name of Palaveen. Further investigation is undoubtedly needed...
"Yes, Lady Aulamaxa will be busy. I was thinking of a place called Vizio's--it's newly-reopened and doing good business. We'll meet up and go over the play together, then."
"Meet me there for lunch. I'll have to lay low for a bit..." Quirri swallows and tries to smile. "...it was nice to see you again, Cass."
Will try to get post up tomorrow.
Nita's Knowledge Roll: 'Vizio's' refers to Vizio's Tavern--a former condemned wreck of a tavern that was slated for demolition, but was never torn down. It's been reopened as a popular watering hole...
...and, moreover, you know that its new owners are two notable quote-unquote 'malcontents' by the names of Janiven Keyes and Arael the Swordbearer. Arael the Swordbearer is a half-elven priest of Iomedae whom many say wishes to live long enough to see Thrune ousted from Cheliax, and Janiven Keyes is a... bounty huntress? Tracker? Local tough? No one really seems to know, but she knows Westcrown's alleys and dark corners oddly well.
"This?" Calseinica looks between the book and you. "It's the script for a play that the Lady Aulamaxa is starring in--it's about a witch, long past her prime, enacting one last scheme to carve her name into the history books, but failing." "Oh, and that's what the play is about, too." She adds with a genuine, sardonic smile. "Most of the casting has already been completed, but there's still a few parts that have yet to be filled--perhaps we can give it a look over lunch at Vizio's?"
"...yeah, that place. It's been reopened in the years since you've been away--under new management." Quirri nods, her eyes brightening a little. "Janiven's done a great job having it renovated--it's actually bringing money in now." "Meet me there--I'll introduce you to her." Her tone is anxious, almost disbelieving. Good fortune doesn't happen to her--it never has. But is it now?
If one were to look for rumours regarding who's really behind the Bastards of Erebus, it would behoove one to spend time in Westcrown's pubs and bars. One that readily comes to mind is a recently-opened place: Vizio's Tavern. It used to be an abandoned, rotting wreck, but it's since been renovated, reopened and receiving the custom of many a thirsty fellow.
Another cold breeze from the shadow-clad hole in the mirror. It seems to say something about a place called 'Vizio's', but not much more than that. Waldorph whimpers again, his ears folding back and his haunches beginning to rise.
Vizio's Tavern, you remember, used to be little more than a condemned building, slated for being demolished. Of course, Wiscrani bureaucracy being what it is, it was never torn down. Recently, it's been reopened--and it's doing steady business. As to the Bastards of Erebus, they're a gang made up entirely of tieflings--unfortunate souls who have none of the advantages you do. They used to be quite small-time, but they're getting bolder by the day--the most recent incident was at an art dealer's shop, where their efforts at enforcing a protection racket were stymied by a lone vigilante.
Yes—just feeling tired from work. Will try to get prologues completed tonight.
The mirror-shade is silent... for a moment. A cold breeze blows through the room--and you could swear you heard your name on it. Waldorph sits next to you.
"The Bastards? They're a bunch of tiefling thugs who go out of their way to prey on honest, hardworking folk. I have no idea where in Westcrown they operate from, but I know they must have connections!" Jacopo pounds his counter again. "Why else would the dottari not lift a finger to stop them?!" His hands start to shake. "...now... now I owe you a drink or two, I think." The art dealer forces a smile onto his face. "The Bastards come every week, at the same time--and they're creatures of habit, if nothing else. I think I can breathe a little easier today."
Quirri purses her lips and nods. "...yeah, Palaveen's not going to be happy to learn you're back. But he's not a happy person in general lately, so that means little." "Cass, I'm trying to get out of the gang. I don't know how you managed to get away from Palaveen--but the fact that you're here now means it's possible. We need to talk again." She whispers, her silver eyes starting to brim with tears. "Do you remember Vizio's?"
You pop the letter open after making sure it's free of wards (which it is). It reads as follows...
The mirror shows no reflection--not any longer. What little glass remains has been tarnished to the point of uselessness. But there is a hole in the middle of the mirror's body--and that is where the shadow sits, unmoving and filmy. It seems to be contained for now. The question still sits in your mind, sticking. Why Bobbles' mirror?
The two thugs glare at you, their lips starting to quiver before their eyes dart towards Jacopo. "...this isn't over. We'll let your debt slide--this time." The one in the back growls. "But next time, we'll come back with more." He shoots that last sentence at you before running out of the shop. The other follows suit not long after. Jacopo slams his hands on the counter. "AND GOOD RIDDANCE!" He yells after the retreating tieflings.
You pluck the envelope from where it fell with ease, stowing it away. The two armigers get to their feet and start verbally laying into Shanwen, Contractus Scriptor of the Church of Asmodeus. "More oversight?! The only thing demanded here was you doing your f$@&ing job!" One yells. "Believe me, your boss will be hearing about this!" The other growls. "You'd better hope the Iomedaean talks, or your pretentious, paper-pushing ass will be looking for a new job!" The other retorts before grabbing the first armiger and storming off. Shanwen seems to have been taken aback by that last threat, and can only watch the two leave. His hand grabs his beard as he turns to leave as well. "Mange-bearded--the sheer audacity--" Shanwen seethes as he stalks off.
Your wayfinder spins for a moment before light beams forth from the device. The shadows recoil from the pulse of light--retreating to a large mirror frame in the corner, its body covered in a black shroud where glass used to be. Engraved at the top of the mirror frame is the name Kortukin Bobbles. Waldorph lets out a high-pitched whimper of mourning and fear.
You deploy your marbles just as a small, fleet-footed young boy dressed in filthy black peasant's garb races past you. Barely a second behind him come two hard-faced men in chainmail armour--and Shanwen at their back! The man in the lead steps on the marbles-- "--S~!+!--" --and tumbles to the ground in a CRASH of metal and leather. The second man is following too closely to stop-- "--GAH! ASMODEUS--" --and tumbles right after him, an envelope spilling out of his pocket and right next to your hiding place. This one isn't the one you previously delivered. Shanwen skids to a halt and growls in frustration. "You are both incompetent fools, unworthy to serve Shanwen, Contractus Scriptor of the Church of Asmodeus." "F$*+ you, you f~#!ing mange-bearded t!@~!" The first armiger yells back, flailing about in an effort to get to his feet and failing. "Why didn't YOU do anything to catch the damned kid?! You're the one with Asmodeus' magic!" Shanwen flinches and his eyes blaze. "Shanwen, Contractus Scriptor of the Church of Asmodeus, believed that the Order of the Rack's newest armigers were chosen for their competence and composure! But clearly the choice demanded more oversight!" It looks like there's an argument fixing to kick off!
The two thugs abruptly freeze when you speak. Evidently, they're used to bullying traders, peasants, farmers and other folk of limited ability to fight back--the presence of an armed man who's trained in the use of his weapon has them on the back foot. "Eh--" The thug starts, but Jacopo's voice cuts through the muggy air. "A quarter of my profits, when I'm struggling enough to begin with!" The art dealer snarls, a mix of excited bravado and indignation fuelling his speech. He points an accusing finger at the two ruffians. "You have no right to accost good, hard-working men like me and steal their livelihood for yourselves! NO! RIGHT!"
You slink into a nearby alley and crouch behind a rain barrel--just in time to hear the tenement doors fly open with a *CRASH!* The sound of a pair of little feet running pell-mell against dirt catch your ear--followed by the more plodding footsteps of armored boots. They're approaching the alleyway you're hiding in!
Knowledge (Religion):
This... shadow... doesn't seem like it's some form of undead. It feels stranger than that--like it's both of this realm and not. As you return to the front of the store to retrieve your wayfinder, you notice that Aidonis is gone--and there's a pouch sitting on the counter along with a note. I know of the letters you have sent to the Society, and I've been sent to help. The shadows here creep too far into the day--and I do not know why. Meet me at Vizio's Tavern at noon--if all goes well, either I will meet you there, or a friend will in my stead. There's a more recently scrawled line at the bottom of the note: I hope the money I left will cover the cost of the well-detailed map. ----------------------- "Yes yes yes, as expected of a lady of your pedigree." Visbaronetess Aulamaxa dismissively waves a hand and looks away. Calseinica slides a book out of her pocket and hands it to you--it's titled The Winter Of White Roses. "Miss Nymmis, explain to the young Corvus just what that lovely book is about, will you? The Lady Petronia and I have more pressing matters to attend to." The haughty actress sashays out of the room, and Aunt Petronia follows suit, leaving the two of you alone together. Calseinica awkwardly clears her throat. "...so, um... you've now met the Lady Aulamaxa." She says with a very strained smile.
Nikrus' head abruptly snaps back as your fist connects cleanly, causing him to stumble backwards as dark red blood stains the brickwork. You feel something dislocate under the force of your strike--there's a harsh-sounding *CRACK* from his jaw. It's followed by a surprised and agonized snarl of pain. With a mix of hate and fear blazing in his eyes, Nikrus jumps back, cupping his jaw--and Quirri interposes herself between the two of you. "NIKRUS! Damn you, leave Cassynder alone! He's not part of this anymore--" Nikrus makes a furious noise that sounds like an approximation of language, mangled by a broken jaw as he runs away. You're not entirely sure just what he said, but you're fairly certain there was at least one attempt at saying "Palaveen!" in his retreating whining. Quirri winces. "Oh... oh by the Powers, this is going to be unpleasant..."
The two tieflings blink and take a step back in surprise--they certainly weren't expecting someone of your demeanour to stand up to them. "Oh..." One of them starts, his hand tightening on the grip of his club. "...there's just been a matter of debts owed and to be repaid, that kind of thing. Nothing a civvie like you needs to get stuck in."
Oof... I'm really sorry for the delay in posting. Probably shouldn't have tried to do something as elaborate as individualized prologues... Anyways, trying to post now!
Sorry for the delay in posting. Will try to post this evening.
The visbaronetess curtly nods while Calseinica gives you a smile and nod. "Yes, yes, yes. How do you do and all that." Visbaronetess Aulamaxa sniffs and rises to her feet. "Now, Madame Corvus told me you have an interest in the performing arts, yes?" Calseinica blinks and looks between the visbaronetess, Aunt Petronia and you.
"Er--" Aidonis starts to say something but you don't catch what it is as Waldorph drags you away. As you walk into the shop's backrooms, the shadows around you seem to get deeper and deeper. Waldorph whimpers and comes to a stop when you reach your destination--a corner just beyond the shop's backroom entrance. The corner is completely shrouded in darkness and the air around is cold and still. The nearby wall is covered in a thin layer of shadow--it feels filmy and fragile, like a bubble waiting to burst.
Will get a post up after work today.
"Oh, you've finally learned how to die, then?" The bald tiefling growls, bringing his knife to bear. "Nikrus--" Quirri chokes out. "Shut up." Nikrus growls in reply. "I'm sure Palaveen would just love to hear how you've been chatting up someone who's supposed to be a dead slave boy."
"...yes..." Aidonis mumbles, standing up. "It's... did it also get darker in here?" In fact, it really does seem to have gotten darker. The parts of the shop that you could see in colour have since faded to the grey shades of darkvision. Waldorph whimpers and starts padding towards the back of the shop. The increasing darkness seems to be coming from there... DC 15 Perception:
As Aidonis stands up, you notice a small brown box attached to his belt. It looks somewhat like the box your wayfinder came in. ---------------------- Shanwen sneers at you as you hold your hand out. "You expect a form of compensation from Shanwen, Contractus Scriptor of the Church of Asmodeus. You will understand that for one as misbegotten as you, continued existence is compensation enough." The sounds from within the tenement get louder. "NO! LEAVE ME ALONE! I'VE DONE NOTHING WRONG! SOMEONE HELP!" The child's voice yells, getting closer to the tenement doors. "Dammit, stop him! Don't let the brat escape!" Another voice yells, a man's voice with both authority and ruthlessness.
"Eh..." Jacopo's face falls. "...yes, the... the gang." His formerly-jovial demeanour reverts to its old anxiety. "They--they accosted me not long after I moved in here. They--they call themselves the Bastards of Erebus--they're mostly tieflings." He wrings his hands together. "I had hoped the dottari would do something, but they haven't even sent a single man--" The shop's bell jingles. Jacopo's face pales. "...oh no..." "Mr. di Carni." A smug drawl fills the air. "Sorry, were we interrupting something?" Standing in the shop are a pair of human-looking men, dressed in grey leathers and carrying lengths of wood in their hands. Their skin is deathly pale and their greasy black hair does little to hide the stubby horns on their temples.
Aunt Petronia's face is an annoyed frown when you finally emerge from your room. "Finally. Come now, you've kept Visbaronetess Aulamaxa waiting long enough." She ushers you down the hallway to the estate's sitting room. Seated on opposite ends of Aunt Petronia's favourite couch are two women, one curvaceous and plump and the other decidedly leaner. The larger of the two is dressed extravagantly and has a face immaculately clad in makeup, while the smaller is clad in simpler, but no less well-made noble garb. "Sanchia Corvus, meet Visbaronetess Delour Aulamaxa of the Chelaxian Opera." Aunt Petronia waves to the larger woman before glancing at the smaller one. "And her... assistant?" She tilts her head. "Lady-in-waiting? I'm afraid I didn't quite catch." "Er--it's--" The smaller woman starts before the larger woman dismissively waves a hand. "Her name is Calseinica. And if you must know, Madame Corvus, she is my understudy." The word leaps from her tongue with an undercurrent of contempt and a knife in its hand.
Post coming after work today.
An absolutely valid response to any worshipper of Asmodeus.
Did your players appreciate it? Anyways, I'm hoping Sanchia posts soon.
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