I'll see what I get with a Detect Magic as I approach the area where everyone is.
(announcing myself to anybody awake via Message). Cam is staying aloft and stealthy.
Durnast: good thinking. In addition to the auras that you would expect from people's gear, there's an area just above the encampment that radiates ... divination. As you approach, it fades out, as if it were at the end of its natural duration.
--+--+--
Artimus: near the end of your watch, you hear something, with a rythmic creaking, coming from the Desolation. . Artimus does as he's told, and wakes Gurg.
"What is it?" demands the giant.
"Something's coming out of the wastes, my enormous friend."
"I see nothing. What does it sound like?"
"A creaking."
Artimus hears the sound again, closer, perhaps only 30 yards away.
"I hear nothing."
"You don't hear that? It sounds like old wood against wood, shifting its weight."
"I tell you, I -"
At that moment, the wind picks up a little, and various buildings around town sway, the wood squeaking and groaning.
Gurg looks at the paladin. "You did as I ordered you, and woke me on suspicion. But if you do so again, I will kill you. Good night."
As the giant settles back to sleep, the source of the creaking comes round the corner of the tents into view. It's a humanoid figure, hooded, pushing a cart with two large wooden wheels. "Would you be in the market for a catfish?" it asks.
--+--+--
Chyressa:
You retire to your room after learning that perhaps thirty or forty attempts are made each year to explore into the wastelands. The rangers who make their base in the Camp seem to do a pretty lively job of escorting people through. But nobody can recall any caravan or traveler coming out of the Desolation.
You wake in the middle of the night with a terrible stomach cramp, feverish and nauseated. (You'll need to make a single DC 18 Fortitude check to avoid taking Dexterity damage, and a DC 10 Fortitude check every round to keep your dinner down.)
Jylan:
You wake in the middle of the night with acute stomach distress. It feels like it will pass of its own accord if you let things settle for fifteen, twenty minutes.
Artimus will nudge Alia with his foot to wake her when the cart approaches, wary of waking the others until he knows there is some sort of danger. The casters require rest to be able to recover their energy after all and he wouldn't wish to make the giant make good on his threat.
"Hold there and show yourself, friend. This camp is far too dangerous for open trust, particularly to one arrives in the dead of night. What are your intentions, beyond the sale of fish?"
Alia, it was almost time for your shift, anyways. And you know that there isn't a natural source of catfish anywhere within a day's journey.
Artimus, you can tell that the cart is full of all sorts of mundane items and junk, a barrel, some rope, an assortment of pans. If you were in any other place, at any other time, you would think this a rather ordinary traveling peddler.
He turns to the two of you and offers a bag. "Will you buy what I offer?"
Alia, it was almost time for your shift, anyways. And you know that there isn't a natural source of catfish anywhere within a day's journey.
Artimus, you can tell that the cart is full of all sorts of mundane items and junk, a barrel, some rope, an assortment of pans. If you were in any other place, at any other time, you would think this a rather ordinary travelling peddler.
He turns to the two of you and offers a bag. "Will you buy what I offer?"
Alia rolls from her bedroll and crouches looking around and ready to pounce. As she hears the cart, she gets up slowly and stretches like a cat before taking her bow and coming towards the cart.
"What's in there ?" she says looking at the merchant with suspiction. "And where do you come from in the middle of the night?"
Perception to smell any fish smell coming from the bag:
Sense motive
"What is it you offer? And hold back, do not approach until you have made clear just who you are. I welcome friends to my fire, but we do not yet know you are a friend."
Sense Motive
Chyr wakes from her troubled sleep her belly aching and doubled over in pain. "Murder!" she screams,"Murder, I've been poisened, Murder", then attempts to stumble into the hallway.
Puke saves (1d20+4=21, 1d20+4=6, 1d20+4=7, 1d20+4=23, 1d20+4=20, 1d20+4=16)
"What's in there ? And where do you come from in the middle of the night?"
"What is it you offer? And hold back, do not approach until you have made clear just who you are. I welcome friends to my fire, but we do not yet know you are a friend."
The hooded figure says only "Fish. 50 gold coins." There's emphasis on the word gold.
Alia would have to approach the peddler closer, and get farther away from the refuse of the giant's encampment, to get a good sense of the bag's scent.
By your reckoning, the peddler is indeed offering something for sale. You detect no secret messages, and the peddler does not seem to be dominated.
--+--+--
Chyressa,
DM
By the way, what's happening at the boarding house is several hours past dinner time, so Durnast's message spell is expired.
Chyressa:
There are no windows. Bathroom it is, with enough caution to go armed.
Please make a Perception check as you move down the hall.
The bathroom is a small garderobe. It is unoccupied.
The door to the privy is set at such an angle that you need to close it to access the toilet. You lean over, deliberately fail your fortitude save, and begin the process of clearing the bad food --you get the distinct impression it was the hare that had gone bad-- from your system. You also get the feeling that you may be revisiting this privy in the morning, as your bowels aren't going to have any better time of it.After twenty seconds or so, you feel much better.
Please make a second Perception check.
And make a Fortitude save.
Jylan:
It takes perhaps ten minutes for your stomach to settle. As you're about to drift off to sleep, you hear Chyressa's voice coming from the other wing, shouting something bout a murder.
...I'd like to deal with this fish dealer somehow, but Durnast is probably getting his necessary sleep. If there was a 'laundry line' or over-hanging canopy over some area, my plan was to pop a Rope Trick in that 'concealed' area and sleep inside there.
If there was a 'laundry line' or over-hanging canopy over some area, my plan was to pop a Rope Trick in that 'concealed' area and sleep inside there.
Not a problem.
Alia advances on the peddler and pays 50 gold piece.
Up close, Alia can tell that the hooded figure has an enormous lower jaw. Alia receives a small cloth bag, inside which is a long-dead catfish, so old it's no longer edible. And the peddler whispers:
"Not only are the Tsar's Black Gates patrolled by undead chill,
But guarded too by forces dire with powers fiercer still.
The desert holds not only heat and barren scrub and sand,
but now a beast comes from the east to lay claim to the land.
His jaw is mighty, claws are sharp, and certain is the death
Of them who mock the fearsome shock of standing in his breath."
And with that, the peddler and his cart are gone, as if he were never there. All the evidence that remains is Alia's bag of fish. (Careful with that, Alia. It cost 50 gold.)
And the rest of the evening passes uneventfully.
Artimus will watch the exchange between Alia and the trader warily, keeping a careful eye out for the remainder of his shift. When he wakes the next person he will inform them of what happened, letting the rest of the group know in the morning.
The exchange happened at precisely midnight, Artimus, so when the peddler vanishes, your shift is probably over, and Alia's has begun.
Durnast, your hidey-hole will vanish around four in the morning. What are your plans for when that happens?
Gurg wakes around 6:00, and dawn will blossom about 6:30. His mood is no better than it was yesterday. He starts looking around his camp. "This morning will see violence," he casually mentions, "and perhaps some answers, too, if we are lucky." His searching intensifies and his mood darkens. "Where is my magical water jug?" he demands.
Tin waits patiently, keeping watch, feeling the uncomfortable heat start to mount inside his armor. The feeling of discomfort is nothing compared to the alternative. He could feel everything around him. The grass growing, the dogs stinking, the people breathing. It made his skin crawl. He needed his layer, his buffer against the outside. The sun began to rise, the bruise of a sky here turning a rose that made Tin smile. He knelt and prayed for the day's blessings. He prayed for protections and cures, prayed for safety and clarity. He nodded a greeting to Gurg and didn't reply to the giant's comment or question. The morning would indeed see violence. He waited for Artimus and Alia to wake on their own. The sun would do that work for him, and do it much more gently than he could. Once the group got breakfast, Tin asked, "Arden will allow me to ask him a question today. This is a potent blessing, not to be squandered, so I ask for your advice. What question should we pose? I propose something on the safety of our journey, or what we can expect once we get to Tsar. I do not think we know enough of this place or the trials ahead. Please offer your input."
When Artimus stretches awake he will rise and stretch and take the time to polish his armor and weapons, doing his best to keep them in perfect condition. He will consider Tin's offer as he explains to him what occurred the night before, repeating the riddle the mysterious man left.
"Your god is a kind one to offer us such a blessing. Perhaps the wisest question we can ask is about this creature that has come from the east to lay claim to the land. The description could be the same one that laid waste to Grog's group and if so we should be wary of it while traveling the wastes on our way to the Tsar."
I wake and emerge from my hidey-hole as the fingers of the sun begin to creep over the horizon, and sit on a small rug meditating for another hour, before perusing my spellbook. As others awake, we can go over the night's events - I also clarify what I learned, that we were magically surveilled, and that the Usurer seems to be some sort of Caster or magical being of sorts, and though I'm unclear of his relation with Clantock's 14, the Orcs at least seemed over-joyed at the news of Grog's demise.
The news of the "fish merchant" while I was sleeping perplexes me, and I'm curious to hear any news of this being's nature (via the augury), but learning of this 'beast' it warned of would be useful as well.
I'm all for heading out of town ASAP, we might check in this "Celestial Store House" before going (what else might we need? more food?) and I relate my encounter with Isnakomos (of Skeribar's band) and that they wish to speak with us shortly (which may well influence where we go today) I also enquire as to the story with Grog, and if anybody has at least Detected Evil/Good on him.
When Grog awakens and asks about his water jug, I have it in my back-pack, but I mention it may be Jylan or Artimus' decision to give it up, given they were the ones who felt the brunt of the Giant's attack. But if they want to give it back to the Giant (what about his club?) I hand it over to whoever they decide.
And, just for reference, folks, the giant will likely grow mildly irritated with you and pull our arms out of their sockets if he hears you call him "Grog."
Tinthariel finds a spot nearby (within shouting distance of the party, if none are accompanying) and rigs a way to hang a prism so that it will catch the light of the rising sun and splay the beauty of the sun for any to see. He knows the shrine will not last long, not in such an environment of poverty. But even if its accouterments are sold to feed a hungry mouth it will be pleasing to Arden. Tin begins the Divination ritual, his helmet off so his head is bathed in the light of the sun. He looks up and asks, "Burning light that dispels the darkness, I ask that you bless me with the answer to the question that I ask: What is the nature of this beast that comes from the east to lay claim to the desert; whose jaw is mighty, whose claws are sharp, who makes certain death of they who mock the fearsome shock of standing in his breath?"
Tinthariel casts his spell, and you all see before you, some distance away, the stained and pitted walls of a city whose fluted towers are carved with obsidian spikes and ivory skulls. Even the ramparts bear the signs of wickedness and woe after decades of neglect. In the distance behind them rise the Stoneheart Mountains, the sun beyond them casting the mountains' shadow across the city, giving it the impression of being under a pall, although this takes nothing away from the towering menace of the walls.
Between you and the city sits a ring of tar pits, the smell of which burns your lungs. Paths wind between these mires, and there's some evidence here and there of someone loosing footing and sliding down into one tar pit or another. The air is still, and the sand and rocks are stripped of all life in this poisonous tarry landscape.
Just beyond the nearest tar pit, the sand shifts once, and then again a few seconds later. With no more warning than that, the ground erupts in a shower of small rocks and debris, and an enormous blue dragon launches itself into the skies, moving off towards the mountains, its silhouette cast against the setting sun.
The vision fades, and you are once again in Camp.
So, what are you telling Gurg about his magical water bottle?
And where are you four going: Gurg intends to head out into the desert, possibly with a side trip first. The rangers want to talk to Durnast a couple hours later. And you could spend another day wandering around the Camp, looking for information.
[ooc]I understand that the holiday is going to take several of us away from our computers, myself included. (I'll be visiting friends up in Minnesota tomorrow, and I'll spend the weekend in St. Louis Missouri, visiting family.) So I'll be happy to answer questions as I can, but Gurg won't actually be leaving town till Monday.
Tin remains on his hands and knees, out of breath and dripping sweat from his face to the dust beneath him. "I'm not sure what that was, but it looks terrible! What are we- what can we do against that!"
Durnast, do I take it, then, that you recast your rope trick some time during the night? Or that you waited until shortly before midnight to cast it?
...Yeah, I would have Pearl of Power'ed a refresh or whatnot if I didn't have enough time 'relexing' talking with Artimus before retiring. ...I got lost in the time-continuity churn somehow or another , so I'm sortof just glossing over things so we can just get back to "the moment" in-game... Chyra's and Jylan's adventure in the death motel still seems to be playing out in the past, but I assume we'll all sync up soon.
Speaking amongst ourselves before the Giant awakes,
"So we've obviously made ourselves aware to "powers that be" in the camp here.
This 'Usurer' is obviously centrally involved in things, given he's running the exchange for the local currency that would seem to keep new destitute arrivals tied into The Camp. And Clantock's Clan sounds to have been quite the King of the Hill in their field until recently. I can give us at least some awareness of any further magical attempts to surveil us, but we must be ware this entanglement - I can't see it furthering our mission here."
So, what are you telling Gurg about his magical water bottle?
"Ah, yes." (I draw the flask from my bag)
"After your psychotic assault on our party, we determined to remove certain items from your person, your club as well, in case you 'came to' still out for blood. Artimus and Jylan really took the brunt of your attack, so it's probably up to them to decide what to do with the flask and club."
Chyra's and Jylan's adventure in the death motel still seems to be playing out in the past, but I assume we'll all sync up soon.]
Oh, probably.
Just as a note, Durnast never saw them check in, or even enter the inn. You parted ways at the Commons, and saw them head off to the west.
"You may of course have your supplies back, Gurg. Mostly they were simply removed in case when you came to you still were holding the hostility towards us." Artimus reaches up and rubs his jaw a bit. "I know I certainly wouldn't wish to take another blow from your club, and we saw that your jug was magical but didn't know just what it did immediately so it seemed best to remove it in case it could have been dangerous."
"We must decide what to do next. We have two choices," adds Alia in a low voice while Gurg is rummaging around his tent. "We can follow Gurg to find what happened to his pack or go and get Chyressa and Jylan and then Durnast new friends in two hours. If needs be, I can track Gurg afterwards if we decide to catch him."
Gurg hefts his club onto his left shoulder and calls out to you, "It comes time to move. I want to start with the orcs. If they had anything to do with yesterday's attack, I'll come back and tear off every one of their heads, and that kind of thing ain't as much fun unless they know it's coming. After that, then we'll come into the desert and try to find the ambush site."
He takes a half dozen steps away from his tents and stops. "Well, look at that," he rumbles. Ahead of him, draped over the lip of the well, is one of Clantock's Furious Fourteen, dead or unconscious.
Tin opts to follow Gurg for answers. When they come across the body on the well, Tin will rush to the (possible) corpse and immediately hit it with a Stabilize spell. Afterwards, he looks it over, drawing on his knowledge of medicine to ascertain the body's current status and, if necessary, cause of death.
Tinthariel:
Hearing no answer to my query about Detecting Evil on Grog, I respond:
"I suppose if you'd rather not know the answer to a question, there's no need to ask..."
"I have to admit, I'd be curious what went down out in the desert in case it's a threat to our party, but if it's the most obvious explanation , I'd rather not get involved further with this conflict. Gurg's band is wiped out, and if we get in on the wrong side of things, we may have the powers-that-be in The Camp after us as well. ...Perhaps best to advise Gurg to find greener pastures, and make our way ourselves. These 'rangers' of Skeribar seem well competent in the ways of the desert, and we may do well to find an agreeable relationship with them... Getting involved in a gang war may be too much baggage for them to want to deal with us anymore."
Skeribar's band may well have some interesting knowledge about what went down with Gurg and the Clantocks, but I don't know if we can fit in joining up with Gurg's vengeance-fest in the amount of time before our designated meeting time...
"If needs be, I can track Gurg afterwards if we decide to catch him."
"Yes, thank you, lady of the wilderness.... Ahem. ...Do you think you could follow the tracks Gurg made last evening when returning to Camp to attack us? We don't necessarily need to adhere to Gurg's itinerary or schedule on this matter..."
Locating Chyra and Jylan would make sense before we do anything, as well as to discuss our plans as a group. Though if Jylan doesn't post soon, I suspect he may run into some trouble at that boarding house..."It comes time to move. I want to start with the orcs. If they had anything to do with yesterday's attack, I'll come back and tear off every one of their heads, and that kind of thing ain't as much fun unless they know it's coming. After that, then we'll come into the desert and try to find the ambush site. ...Well, look at that," he rumbles. Ahead of him, draped over the lip of the well, is one of Clantock's Furious Fourteen, dead or unconscious.
"Gurg, before charging into this,", I grimace, "Is there anybody here in town or nearby that you would have seen before heading out on this job yesterday, and might know some details about who hired you and what went on in Camp once you left with the caravan? The store-keep, or those who provide feed for caravan horses?"
I have to say the only answers Gurg is looking to find are those he can peel off the end of his greatclub. Just so we know what we're getting into - and I don't know why we should necessarily get drawn into this.
I'll mention to Gurg that he may want to check out the ambush location first, in case any of his companions are there, to bury them before they are looted or eaten. Plus find any clues, if he/we're interested in such things.
-+-------+-------+-
Just as a note, Durnast never saw them check in, or even enter the inn. You parted ways at the Commons, and saw them head off to the west.
Durnast is just assuming they made their way to their destination.
Know:Arcana Check to know about Dragons: (w/ Cam's Aid)
"Gurg, before charging into this,", I grimace, "Is there anybody here in town or nearby that you would have seen before heading out on this job yesterday, and might know some details about who hired you and what went on in Camp once you left with the caravan? The store-keep, or those who provide feed for caravan horses?"
Gurg pulls his attention away from Tinthariel's examination of the half-orc and stares at you. "Yes, of course there is. The caravan was headed straight north, through the wastelands, to propose an alliance with such armies as might be found there. They left one of their number back here.
"If he is dead, then the caravan was the target. If he lives, then the Pounders."
I'll mention to Gurg that he may want to check out the ambush location first, in case any of his companions are there, to bury them before they are looted or eaten. Plus find any clues, if he/we're interested in such things.
"Warning the Clantocks will take little time. The dead are dead, and the --
"Ah. You are sneaky. You, who are small and weak against my blows, would think me a fool for warning the orcs. But you would never dare call me that to my face. So you urge me out into the desert, to avoid hot words now. You use words like a elf wields swords.
"But you may be right, even as you are cunning. An ambush that worked once, might be readied again." He turns back to Tinthariel's examination, which has turned into an obvious autopsy, as the half-orc's wounds are gruesome. "The orcs will be occupied, it would seem, for several hours. If we leave now, we move ahead of their stupid little ambush."
Durnast, you don't need a spell to get a feel for Gurg's alignment; he's true to his giantish heritage. But he has found a niche for him and his Pounders in the Camp's society, which involves negotiating with clients and not eating them, so he's made some tenuous progress out of savagery.
Know:Arcana Check to know about Dragons: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (17) + 17 = 34 (w/ Cam's Aid)
You remember that Blue Dragons can "swim" in desert sands. The creature in the vision is an old and mighty drake. Cam remarks that a dragon of that vintage could simply choose to stand its ground and cast spells at you. Its magic would be as great as yours, more diverse --it knows certain clerical spells as well-- and it also sloughs off magic cast at it. There are very few dragons that poerful in the world. Some sages or bards might be able to discover its name.
"You make sense tall one. But we have friends that spent the night elsewhere and we need to get them first. Go ahead, we will collect our friends and follow your tracks later"
Gurg grins at Alia as if he has been clever and caught her in a lie. "You are friends with the orcs, then. You mean to come upon me in the desert!" He is too proud of his deduction to recognize the ramifications immediately, but in another second or two he'll likely put 1 and 1 together.
Gurg grins at Alia as if he has been clever and caught her in a lie. "You are friends with the orcs, then. You mean to come upon me in the desert!" He is too proud of his deduction to recognize the ramifications immediately, but in another second or two he'll likely put 1 and 1 together.
"This is not true. Our two friends are humans. They were with us when you attacked us yesterday. Why would we have healed you if we wanted to ambush you in the desert ?"
Alia will slowly move out of reach in case the worst should happen.
Diplomacy
Artimus nods his head, looking at the giant directly, guessing that the large figure appreciates strength and that there is an honor to that.
"Indeed, our friends are human. They fell back to gather more information for our trip today and to gather some knowledge of the local camp. We have no wish to fight further and I would not betray one I have shared camp with by guiding you to an ambush. It is my way to meet foes face to face, though I certainly hope there is no need to call you a foe again."
Diplomacy
Tinthariel pulls the body a little further from the lip of the well, then sets to examining it. "The body is a few hours dead. It's obvious he was taken by surprise, jumped from behind by something vicious that was capable of ripping out a kidney, slashing his throat, then biting his face off. The attacker was man-size and had strong claws, it would seem." Tin tosses the money pouch to the party. "We should take out of that to see to the man's burial. Gurg, if you wish to count us enemies once more, I would only point your attention to the fact that you stand and breathe. Large and mighty as you are, it was the larger and mightier powers of Good that first brought you low, then that of Arden brought you back to a conscious state. Please stop pushing violence into every answer or scenario. It isn't always necessary. Look where it got this man: dead and thrown into a well." There's no diplomacy there, just an empty look from behind a steel helmet as Tin tires of the barbarian's violent nature.
Gurg looks from one of you to the next and back. Oddly, it is Tinthariel whom he finally addresses, in a quiet tone. "You and I, we walk different paths, but I can tell you have heart, little priest. I thought you all dishonorable, but you stood against my words. But know you this, herald. My heart is a raging fire, wrath my kindling, day after day, my entire life. But today my hate has become a great blaze. Tell me to aim my rage, to keep my wits and focus my blows, and you counsel well. Tell me to douse my heart-fire, to turn entire from my path of hard vengeance, from panic and slaughter, and you are in truth my enemy.
"Go, then. Call your friends, speak to whomever you like. The man the caravan left behind, he and his servant have kept their own place in Camp. He might trade words with you, if he still lives. Speak to the orcs, if it is your way. Tell them I come for the ones who sent death to my Pounders. And ask them, in your clever words, how this one came to die so very close to my tents.
"I go where I must. Come walk by my side, or catch up as you can. It matters not to me, to my heart."
And with that, he moves to the north, favoring his right leg slightly. (He's still pretty badly beaten up from your fight yesterday.)
Where are you headed?
"Let's go find Jylan and Chyressa. We can then find the caravan guy and go to see Skeribar. Then I will lead you to the ambush site.", says Alia relaxing at the sight of the departing giant.
She then gathers her belongings and move out to scan the place surrounding the body of the fallen Half-Orc for tracks or identity of the attacker.
"Swiftpaws, what do you think ? Is it a ghoul or one of these flying beast we once saw when we were hunting for the mad bear last year ?"
Perception
Survival
For Swiftpaws
Survival with scent to aid Alia
Alia
Not a ghoul; there's no hint of the awful smell that accompanies their work, and the attacker wouldn't have had to silence a victim who'd been paralyzed. But some manner of the walking dead, definitely.
Tracks suggest that the victim was attacked and died here, on the spot; that the assailant wore soft-soled shoes; and that someone else, in hard boots, was close by but fled during the attack, running back to the south and west.
Let's go find Jylan and Chyressa. We can then find the caravan guy and go to see Skeribar.
The Bender Brothers' boarding house is on the west side of town. A gnome walks up to greet you; he looks tired, like he's been up for a while with the kind of morning chores that a figure of his size would find strenuous. When you ask after Jylan and Chyressa, he frowns.
"No, we have a couple of hobgoblins staying here, but nobody matching that description."
Alia gets up from her kneeling position. " Two persons were here. The killer is a walking dead and he wore soft soled shoes. Another one was there with hard boots but he ran off over there" she says pointing to the south and west. "I guess there were two Orcs spying on us. Durnast is have you seen the dead one previously ?"
"Go, then. Call your friends, speak to whomever you like. The man the caravan left behind, he and his servant have kept their own place in Camp. He might trade words with you, if he still lives. Speak to the orcs, if it is your way. Tell them I come for the ones who sent death to my Pounders. And ask them, in your clever words, how this one came to die so very close to my tents."Where did this man and servant stay, and what did they look like?"
"I go where I must. Come walk by my side, or catch up as you can. It matters not to me, to my heart."
"...Go then, but I must ask first, what are we to call you, if not...?"
-+-----+-----+-
Alia's plan sounds, good... I think that direction (SW) may be towards the boarding house...?
...I'm going to try to get my spell-list fixed up before we get into anything new...
Would southwest be the direction of Clantock Fourteen (well Thirteen now) encampment?
Yes. If someone were to run to the Clantock's place, they'd go south, through the Commons, and then west past the temple and the Bender Brothers' boarding house.
Where did this man and servant stay, and what did they look like?
Durnast's Intelligence check:
21; very good. You recall someone yesterday (that is, on page 1), speaking with Chyressa, who seemed out of place. That might be one of them.
If we find this man of the caravan, I will let you know if you wish. I have ways... to whisper far 'cross the winds, and it seems you would be interested in this knowledge.
Gurg fixes his gaze on you, a glare that would make a common man wither, and says with a snarl, "Do as you will, man. Your paths are clever," the word is not a compliment, "but I think you mean to help me, in your way. For that alone, you have the thanks you deserve. But do nothing to hinder me."
A second Intelligence check:
23; even better. But you'd better determine your spells before reading the spoiler.
OK, so does everybody NOT want to follow Gurg into the desert right now,
but stay in town to find Jylan & Chyra, meet Skeribar's rangers, see if we can find this Caravan guy (possibly that "Sammar" guy who was talking with Chyra), and otherwise get into trouble?
@Chris: I realized Message is definitely range-limited (~170' at my level) so I wouldn't have said that line to Gurg (or cast it on him, which was implied). My spell list is updated, not many changes really.
-+------+------+-
Walking towards town, I stop and stare at the gallows, where "Cheater" once again hangs.
"Didn't the undertaker haul him away yesterday...?", I ask to whomever.
Heading a bit closer to the figure, I ask it "So you probably saw what happened last night to that Clantock, and what he and the other man were doing...?"
I had already wanted to ask about this "Cheater", so now my curiosity is double. Actually, I'll go ahead and use Detect Undead on it if there's no response...
Artimus will pause and nod his head at Durnast's observation. "Indeed he did, I actually was chatting with him while he does it. Interesting."
Seeing Durnast begin to cast to investigate the body Artimus will activate Detect Evil and focus it on the hanging body, hoping to determine if it is something more then just a body.
Artimus will pause and nod his head at Durnast's observation. "Indeed he did, I actually was chatting with him while he does it. Interesting."
By the way, has this dead guy soft shoes ?
Durnast, yes, he's undead.
Artimus, yes, even against the background diffusion of malice here, the figure swinging on the gallows stands out starkly as a source of evil.
Alia, yes, the shoes match the prints for the half-orc's murderer.
The man's eyelids pop open, and his jaw opens in a feral grin as he sways in the morning breeze. His voice is high-pitched and dry, like a rusty iron beam scraped hard along stone. "Ah, well, you know what they say: the sin's not in the cheatin', but in the gettin' caught." With practiced ease, he dislocates his jaw and tumbles out of the noose. He lands in a muffled clatter of body and with a noise like twigs snapping, he draws himself up to stand a head taller than any of you, lank and loose in the joints. His head still rests at an angle, and the sign still hangs around his neck.
Artimus, when you were a boy, you witnessed a wagon rolling slowly down a road, accidentally running over a cat. The sound of that, of dozens of bones being snapped and popped, is the sound this creature makes every time it moves.
A voice comes out of his mouth, but there's no movement of his chest, no breath, no motion of tongue and lips. "It's not my habit t' be harvestin' folks during the sunny hours, don't you know. But habits are like legbones: you need to break 'em once in a while, t' get to the good stuff."
Initiative:
Chamomile: 13
Durnast: 12
Alia: 12
Swiftpaws: 8
Hanged Man: 8
Tinthariel: 5
Artimus: 5