After quick greetings and a rushed but concerned plan, General Dakovya rides out with you on his white palfrey amid his assembled men, ready to march. "Keep a steady pace, we'll be on your heels. Remember the yellow ribbon, the symbol of Andoran loyalty...keep them safe." As you see him now, he is without a doubt a professional officer. The overcast sky can't dull the visual force of his mythril trappings, his bright uniform the garb of a fresh power, Andoran.
Down what is perhaps a familiar road, you prepare yourself mentally for the operation. Each tap of leaf on leaf in the wind's rustle is another thought, another possibility you anticipate. Without any sort of reconnaisance, you will have to flow into the community like a tasteless poison, your interactions a catalyst felt far from your sword point.
At last you break out of the forest and spot your quarry. Sitting atop a flat shelf of rock overlooking a narrow canyon leading deeper into the mountains, a tall wooden palisade broken here and there by watchtowers surrounds the town of Piren's Bluff. A keep of obvious antiquity watches over the town from the highest elevation. Protected by stout stone walls and guard towers, this ancient bastion has long been the seat of power for the leaders of Piren's Bluff and protects Andoran's western border. Here, Baron Vendikon rules his people-for better or worse. From the reports trickling out of the isolated border town, "worse" seems to be the most accurate.
Closest to the keep you can see a freshly built temple.
(Any with basic religion knowledge) You recognize the symbol immediately as Asmodeus. It seems the Chelish wasted no time in spreading their dark influences here.
An anxious stream of men and women dressed in thick clothing of mountain folk hurriedly enter through the open gates, some of them pushing or pulling carts, others leading horses pulling wagons while guards watch them closely. The guards search wagons and carts, and scrutinize everyone entering. A queue has formed, but you are advancing fast through the gate.
As you wait to be checked, you might gather/recall some basic information on the town's structures. Piren's Bluff Map
Map Key...
1. The Dead Well (Tavern)
2. The First Light (old Temple)
3. Argith's Alchemy Shoppe
4. The Black Candle (Herbs)
5. The Lodge (hunter's guild)
6. Graden's (Supplies)
7. The Bucket and Bellows (Smithy)
8. Forest Bounty (Grocer)
9. The Conquerer's Blade (Tavern)
10. Pact Hall (Temple to Asmodeus)
11. Terron's Yard (Hostler)
12. Shenk's Dogyard
13. Almir Estate
(You can get more on any of that with the appropriate roll or conversation, at any time.)
Anxiously you look to one another, hoping for an easy entry...you wonder if you brought anything that might seem suspicious. The roar of the townsfolk has defeated the ocean, an evening star serenely pierces all.
Ilorian steadies his horse among the throng of people trying to enter the town. He looks at his companions trying to gauge how they will perform on this mission.
”I hope this works.” he mutters while gripping tighter on the reigns of his horse. He reaches forward and gives Spurger the wolf a quick scratch. ”Just relax boy, we should be fine.” The wolf sitting in the front of his saddle just gives a low growl.
Magdelia meets Ilorian's gaze for a moment before dropping her eyes to the ground before her. Her tension seems to be rising as the crowd thickens near the gate, but she is controlling her discomfort well enough for the moment. The silver-grey rat perched comfortably upon her shoulder nuzzles her ear briefly, then turns it's attention to the newly constructed temple. She follows it's gaze, scowling slightly at the structure.
"Best ye stay out of sight, friend. Townsfolk're not too fond of yer kind." she whispers to the creature in her strangely dwarven accent. The rat gives her a brief, indefinable glance before disappearing beneath the flap of her worn backpack.
Placing a steadying hand on the wagon beside her, she fixes her gaze upon the keep on the hill and draws a deep breath.
The family in front of your caravan is being searched by 4 guards, and you can easily make out at least 8 others between the 2 closest watchtowers. They seem to be more precautionary than aggressive. Clad in simple hauberks and weilding spears and crossbows, they could be a city militia. A minority however sport full breastplates, swords and shields. They display a banner bearing three crows on a field of red and white.
Ilorian- A militiaman with thick brown eyebrows scowls heavily at Spurger. You can almost hear him say "Oh...whats next...".
Mags- Sitting at the top of a craggy bluff, Vendikon Keep rises imperiously above its surroundings. The thick, two-story man building gives way to an octagonal tower with a slate-shingled roof that rises to a sharp point, from which flutters the baron's standard. A weaker part of yourself may begin to resign...
Sits in the back reading some scrolls pulling out some coin for any entry fees.
Ilorian studies the militia and the better equipped guards to try to determine their amount of training and if he can recognize the banner.
Knowledge Local:
Profession Soldier:
As the queue shortens, Jervaise quietly edges the wagon forward, keeping a careful eye on the gate guards. Remembering the General's words, he also tries to keep an eye out for anyone wearing yellow ribbons...
As he does so, he muses silently to himself:
I hope we can have this over and done with quickly and efficiently. There has been too much loss of noble Andoran life; too much of our valiant blood has been spilled fighting against the tyranny of our neighbors, who in their petty blindness want to stifle the Andoran spirit of freedom!
Ilorian: You aren't surprised that Baron Vendikon has chosen his family emblem over what should be Andoran standards. To a once disciplined man such as yourself, it might be a disgusting insult. Gauging their ability, the spearmen seem pretty green. You can spot rust on their spearheads and ridiculous mistakes in the way their armor is worn. Still, they seem to be diligent in their duty, not cutting any corners with the task at hand. Judging from the swordsmen keeping a casual, barely noticeable formation around the group ahead, they might have some idea what they are doing.
The family looks to be cleared, and they hurry into the crowd. After signalling for you to pull up, the low brow guard says stupidly "Whats that? Whatcha need that dog for? You got a licence for it?" He takes in the caravan at a glance. "Who are you all? Whats your business here?" He seems to be struck by a sudden olfactory mystery. "Aap...whats that smell? Is it...tobakee? A few other guards hear him and turn their attention more to you all. From one perspective you might say you are surrounded.
Ilorian grins at the low brow guard as he approaches. ” No Captain, I don’t have a license for my dawg, but I would like to buy one if in you could help me with that."
Jervaise- Scanning the crowd, your attention falls on a half-elven beauty with dark hair and pale skin, a real one in a thousand type. Further inspection does in fact reveal a yellow ribbon tied to a small pendant around her neck. She is talking with what looks to be a village fool, a human wearing mismatched clothes tripping over a bright yellow cape that is much too big for him. The woman seems frustrated with it. They turn a corner to the west.
A woman of lithe of form and clothed in clinging silk yellow dress, divided for riding emerges from the wagon, a three-pointed emblem dangling from a silver chain around her neck. The woman yawns, and stretches... up to her full height of 6'5" before languorously looking around and asking, "Are we there yet?
Upon seeing the guards converge on the wagon, she jumps off the wagon with a flash of bare ankle, and lands, resting her both hands on her hips, and fingering a well-oiled whip which hangs from a wide leather belt studded with onyx.
"What is the meaning of this?" she asks Jervaise, "Why is my caravan stopped!" Llyrann glares at the guards, "If you trifle with the only caravan within a months' journey to bring silk and spices and other such luxuries to Lord Vendikon's abode, you may well regret it."
Ilorian- Before he presses further at your companion...
The guards all take a step back, clearly startled by Llyrann's actions. You might spot (DC 20) guards at the watchtower taking aim with crossbows. One of the guard near you simply stares, completely dumbstruck. Another attempts speech "You...you..." gesturing oddly. Seeming genuinely concerned that he can't remember, the Captain mumbles to himself"But that's...we weren't told of a caravan..." Regardless, all attention is still on Llyrann. A black bird even arcs in flight over the scene, enhancing the splendor.
Throwing her hands up in the air, (revealing green-lacquered toes and black leather sandals adorned with amber) Llyrann raises her voice still further. "Imbeciles! I'm surrounded by Imbeciles! We've told you our purpose. If you've reason to doubt our story, then search us! Search the caravan!
Spreading her arms wide apart, she breathes deeply and continues her tirade, "I will submit my own person to the indignity of search, if I must, for Llyrann Stormbrow is a woman of her word! I have vowed to meet Lord Vendikon, and meet him I shall!" Then lowering her voice, she lets her arms fall at her side and fixes the Captain with a fiery gaze before continuing in a low voice,
"But I shall remember every indignity, every insult, every wandering eye or hand, and if anything intended for Lord Vendikon is missing, broken, or even so much as tarnished, I. Will. Remember. You!"
Mags chuckles softly at Llyrann's performance, hiding it behind a forced cough. That the half-orc seemed to have drawn the full attention of the soldiers seemed to ease Mags discomfort. She put her back to the stopped wagon, hooking a thumb on her belt near one of the many pouches that dangled there, the picture of nonchalance. Eyeing the nearest guard, she offered him a faint smile and tilted her head toward Llyrann. "She's quite serious, y'know," she said softly.
With that, she let her gaze drift over the group surrounding them, looking for the easiest route through them. If things got out of hand she would need to get out of the thick of it as soon as possible. Hopefully it won't come to that, she thought.
As the Captain deliberates, the queue again piling up behind you, another guard timidly lifts the flap on your cargo, palming your wares. He holds up the tobacco for the others to see. "Stormbrow." He nods. "Alright...you may wait at the Conquerer's Blade for correspondence from the keep." They wave you through, trying to avoid eye contact with Llyrann.
Having gotten her way, Llyrann breathes deeply twice and calms herself down. First the stick, and now the carrot.
"Captain, please forgive me," she says contritely, "I am a woman of passion and little used to restraining it. Doubtless I am overtired from the journey, and my temper is perhaps shorter than it should be. I will do just as you say and wait at the Conquerer's blade, and should any of your superiors happen by, I will mention how diligent and courteous you were."
Smiling sweetly at him, she asks, "Before I depart, may I at least have your name, and perhaps a place to send messengers? I feel as though I should make ammends somehow."
He gestures to the next group to advance. "Yeah, I understand...at least you aren't some Chelish diplomat. Russell. Captain of the city militia...look, you can be sure I'll report your arrival. What the keep does is out of my busy hands, ok?"
Forcing its way through the mass is a dark-haired rider on a light horse. "Blacklock..." some of the crowd murmur as they part way respectfully. At a gallop, he proceeds towards the keep, a gold trimmed red cape like a fireball.
Suddenly a confused silence takes over the hamlet, and you hear it, too: the march of Dakovya's advancing forces. "All arms!" A scrambled mass of movement explodes around you. "Close the gate! Those outside the walls press forward madly. Trumpets blow a long, familiar note.
Those without battle trained mounts will need a DC20 ride check to keep moving. I suspect this wont be a problem for anyone except Jervaise, with the wagon. The streets are packed for a good 50 feet ahead. (which reminds me, 1 square is 20 feet on that map) You likely don't want to abandon the wagon at this position, and the goods seem critical to your further operations: a problem.
The gates are halfway closed, people are climbing over each other to enter. The guard form a hasty and forceful line to ensure its secured. "I can see them!" someone shouts.
Well done, Llyrann, Mags thought, dropping her hand from the pouch of spell components at her side. Striding toward the front of the wagon her attention was drawn to the passing horseman. The reaction of the crowd told her one thing: they would be meeting this man again. She watched him intently until he had moved through the gates, gathering whatever details she could from the brief encounter.
And then the mood of the crowd changed, the call to close the gate ringing out. "That was fast," she muttered. And then, slapping the side of the wagon, she said in a louder voice, "Better get this thing moving. Llyrann has a date tonight and they're about to lock us out."
|
Pae sits atop his jackal, Ka, smoking his pipe, the sweet smell of tobacco fills the air. He has a look of quiet confidence about him, one who's survived Ancient Osirion tombs, entry into a mere human keep was no real challenge.
when he arrives at the gate:
"Greetings good sir, I am Pallaet Silvertongue, I'm here investigating the local Azlanti ruins for Eando Kline, to see if any warrant a full expedition. Now let me in good sir, I'm tired from my journey and need to get my rest."
Ilorian shakes his head and smiles at the way Llyrann bullied the gate guards.”Militia men.” He mutters and spurs his horse forward to move through the crowd. “Make way for the Lady Llyrann! You there make a hole or feel my lady's wrath!”
Intimidate:
Ride Check:
Ilorian- After an impressive flourish you get a great start on a clear path for the wagon to follow. Your horse trots forward regally, the dirty mountain folk give their practiced, humble apologies.
(This paragraph is back in time a bit)
Paellat- The guard turn their attention to you after waving the others forward. One of the older ones ventures, "...Eando Kline? I remember that story. He drowned in the Sellen River." If your wand-rifle is visible he would inquire about it. "Is that a weapon?"
Mags moves into the wake created by Ilorian, attempting to keep the path he is making clear. Her gaunt frame is poorly suited for the task however, and she resorts to simply offering snarling scowls at anyone who moves into the path of the wagon.
Intimidate:
Behind you, through the closing gate, you might make out a breakaway skirmisher squad of about 20 of Dakovya's men charging to the northwest watchtowers. Remembering his plan to concentrate on destroying logistics channels, you suspect these lightly armored, mounted bowmen are meant to annoy, rather than assault. The Andoran arrows splatter the wooden tower with cheeky knocks, keeping just out of effective range of the militias' crossbows.
Mags- An unexpected sound escapes you. You confuse some of the children before they snicker, prancing around you and the path like a game. When they notice the scar on your throat, however, they stop cold. "Wot happened to your neck?" a girl maybe 7 years old asks innocently. "My dada has one here..." she points to her left arm "...he says he bought it at the pub for 2 silvers." "Meredith!" A frazzled middle-aged woman approaches. "we have to go home, right now!"
Those near Mags can make a spot check DC 15 to notice the woman's cloak clasp, the symbol of Asmodeus, buried halfway beneath a scarf.
edit: I mean a perception check of course. ;)
Shaking her head in exasperation, Mags continued to scowl for a moment longer at the scampering children, thinking of a spell or two that might put them in their places. Dismissing the thought, she turned her attention to the young girl. "Well, yer da must be a fine negotiator. I paid a fair bit more fer mine." Awkwardly tousling the girls hair, she offered the approaching woman an appraising glance.
Perception:
"Maam," she said with a slight nod of acknowledgment.
Perception:
Ilorian- You check your rear to see Jervaise is with you and notice Mags associating with civilians. An Asmodeus follower, no doubt. A further look around and you count at least 10 more with similar cloaks, a startling conversion from what you once knew as a religiously neutral hamlet. Things must've changed since last you were here...
edit: Meant to let that read "if" Jervaise is with you.
Finally noticing the alarm at the gates, Llyrann quickly mounts her steed and checks to make sure that her friend is safe. While she knew from past experience that Mags was more than capable at many things, she still worried about her.
"Magdelia!" she hissed, still smarting from the remark about getting a date, "now is not the time to be playing nursemaid."
Rearing on her horse to gather the crowd's attention, she cried out in a ringing voice,
"Soldiers to arms! Citizens to home! Clear the streets for our brave soldiers! Lively, now! Leave no fellow behind; ward your neighbor! Soldiers to arms and citizens home!"
(back a bit to Paellat)
"I see. Well, I think Baron Vendikon would be most interested in a weapon like this. You would be wise to register this...wandbow...at the Conquerer's Blade. I can guarantee that if you don't..you..." The life drains from his eyes as he peers behind you, the crowd is silent. The call to arms is heard. "Damnit...of course, right on my shift change..." Your partner in conversation is rushing off to duty. Ahead of you, the others seem to be trying to manuveur through the crowd.
Llyrann- Your actions seem to add to Ilorian's success nicely. The crowd is moving, just waiting on the wagon.
|
|
(back a bit to Paellat)
"I see. Well, I think Baron Vendikon would be most interested in a weapon like this. You would be wise to register this...wandbow...at the Conquerer's Blade. I can guarantee that if you don't..you..." The life drains from his eyes as he peers behind you, the crowd is silent. The call to arms is heard. "Damnit...of course, right on my shift change..." Your partner in conversation is rushing off to duty. Ahead of you, the others seem to be trying to manuveur through the crowd.
Llyrann- Your actions seem to add to Ilorian's success nicely. The crowd is moving, just waiting on the wagon.
maintains his distance from the guard while they change shift...not wanting to have to register his wand rifle...
and back to present:
Paellat now inside the gates, is impressed by the lungs on Llyrann; she can be a real rabble rouser he notes.
Jervaise takes careful note of the Half-Elven women with the yellow ribbon, making sure he remembers her features for later investigation.
It will definitely be worth sounding her out to identify her loyalties..., he muses to himself.
He watches with amusement at Llyran's outstanding display of intimidating the local yokel guards.
Heh. By the Dawnflower, that one has a bit of fire to her! We need more like that devoted to the Andoran cause.
When the soldier rushes up, inciting a panic, Jervaise sighs.
Right. So the game is definitely afoot!
Snapping the reins, Jervaise attempts to get the horses to hustle forward, through the gates before they close, cursing them for their slowness the entire time...
...and roaring for the general populace to move aside!
"Out of the way! Heavily laden wagon coming through!"
As he passes, he nods with approval at the way Llyran continues to motivate the local populace.
Hmmm... If she keeps this up, we might even be able to stage a popular uprising, for the greater glory of Andoran!
The parties' equestrian mastery together with their strong voices and presences quickly get you going out of the crowd. The children pestering Mags scatter after Jervaises voice assaults them like a steel bar to the face. With an authoritive bang the doors close solid and the guards instantly set about a triple reinforcement of cold iron crossbeams. The frustrated curses and cries of those left outside fall on deaf ears and soon turn to silence...No, surely the Andorans will be merciful. Dakovya was as civil an officer as you ever knew.
(Assuming you begin heading south towards the Conquerer's Blade...)
This road leads directly to the keep. Piren's Bluff looks to be in economical stability, despite its awkward political position and age. Even the side roads and allys are paved level and square with a reddish brick. Its now early evening and clay street braziers are being lit.
Behind you a battle rages with a false tension.
Soon, you can spot a strange contraption ahead coming straight towards you. Some would know it as a counterweight trebuchet, a weapon of war. Pulled by powerful oxen and escorted by a small squad of men, the device impresses you with a sense of power. You should probably get out of the way, but perhaps this is an opportunity to begin your mission in earnest...
Ilorian advances onward and watches the trebuchet studying the device and attempting to use what knowledge he has to identify a weakness in its construction.
Perception:
Profession Soldier:
Some great machine pulled by oxen was coming down the road. The men in the group seemed content to stare at it, but there were more practical matters to attend to. Like getting out of its way, for example.
Llyrann studied the road, looking for a spot to pull the caravan out of the way. She also studied the braziers, attempting to gauge how heavy they were, and how close the machine might pass by one of them.
"Yeah, you better run!" Mags calls after the fleeing children, though her voice doesn't carry enough volume for them to hear. Looking behind, she sees that they all appear to have made it in before the barring of the gates. She offers Llyrann a quick shrug of her shoulders as if to say Eh, what do you expect? I'm 110 lbs soaking wet...
Returning her gaze ahead, she studies the approaching machine for a moment. "And just what in the hells is that thing, Ilorian?"
Jervaise eyes the oncoming 'siege engine' with trepidation.
That could prove damaging to the loyal Andoran sons and daughters outside. Something needs to be done!
With a frown, he leans over to Llyran.
"Do you have any way of remotely disabling it, without the source being traced to you? I would dearly love to smash it to kindling, but that would tip our hand, somewhat."
He then shrugs.
"Alternately, if we can park the wagon in a side-street briefly, I can sneak over to it under Invisibility and attempt to disable it."
Darlock- Your history as a soldier easily identifies the device. The counterweight trebuchet has the longest range of any seige weapon in warfare and is so powerful that it must be anchored to the ground before firing. The trebuchet must be moved in a vulnerable and mobile packed form, then unpacked to attack. The high arc of the trebuchet makes its shots inaccurate and slow, and therefore best suited to destroying buildings rather than mobile units, which oddly enough seems to be the Baron's intentions. When unpacked, the trebuchet cannot move, and it must be packed to move again. Trebuchets are very expensive and require escort to justify their cost. They can also knock down trees, although only one at a time. In addition to that, you remember the axles (the rod the firing arm rotates on) often breaking after only a few fires.
Llyrann- The clay braziers with short chains are suspended from thin metal poles. Just looking, you'd say one detatched weighs a bit less than 20 pounds including coals and chain. You could take a side road (lets say you're in the direct center of town-6,7,8 area on the map) to get out the trebuchet's wide path. Its a tight squeeze for the men, leaving only 5 feet on either side.
As the machine nears, excited civilians hollar and cheer, following the weapon with glee and brandishing brooms, roasted maize, and anything else at hand, slightly annoying the escort squad. The accompanying wagon in place of a normal payload of stones consists of strangly suspended barrels marked with an unidentified script. (alchemy, linguistics, local, or arcana checks for that)
Ilorian turns and looks at Mags,”Big Bastard of a siege engine, not an anti-siege engine, problem with using it here is area of fire. It is designed to vary distance and arc of it shots, good for lobbing big boulders over walls and such, not so much hitting the moving soldiers out side. Advancing troops may get unlucky with the first impact, but then will move and stay on a type of zig zag pattern to make it almost ineffective. Still its intimidation factor alone can lower moral of an opposing force drastically. Yup,It definitely needs to be removed from play.”
Mags listens to the rangers explanation as she continues to study the machine. In it's current state she isn't entirely sure that she understands how it works, but she does notice that the other wagon doesn't seem to be carrying boulders...
Ilorian studies the barrels being suspended, he figures if it has to be suspended then it must be volatile. He looks to determine if they suspended by wire or rope, and if it looks like the suspension mechanism could be cut with a well placed arrow from a distance.
Perception:
Mags- You identify the script as a commonly used alchemical syllabary. Each barrel contains the following visible information: first, the maker: "Argith". Second, the batch number. If you take a moment, the serial numbers seem taken out of sequence. 3, 4, 7, and 9 are these 4 barrels, perhaps there are more elsewhere. Third, contents...sonic vitreous, also known as concussive bombs. You estimate one barrel alone would likely create a 30 foot crater more than capable of killing ~20 humanoid targets instantly and damaging those nearby. If all 4 were to explode here in the city center, the blast radius would not be too much bigger, but the reaction would increase exponentially in force within the radius.
Illorian- You can conclude that the barrels are indeed suspended, not by rope, but a kind of mechanical cushion consisting of sliding concentric cones (ooc: like a camping cup). When a fast stop occurs, the cones contract gradually, reducing the impact. Even now they slide back and forth with the minor movement of the wagon, keeping the barrels steady. The barrels themselves and the wagon overall appear ordinary, but the containment area obviously had some thought put into it. A well placed arrow might jam the cushioning mechanism if it could penetrate more than 2 or 3 cones...an unlikely feat for a normal archer.
As you study and consider, the trebuchet quickly comes to a stop. (almost exactly on the upper right corner of the "7" on the map) The men begin to unpack the more complex peices and set its anchor, which seems to be a somewhat long process.
Also, a bit more of the "obvious" details concerning the trebuchet...its mostly made of wood and has a net to deliver payload. See this picture of one.
...and more details coming out in the Discussion Thread
"Sonic vitreous..." Mags remarks, as much to herself as anyone else. Without diverting her gaze from the barrels she continues loud enough for Ilorian to hear, "Those barrels," she says, pointing vaguely in their direction, "If y'be thinkin' that you want to blow'em, you just give me a bit of notice so I can get me arse down the way a spell. And be prepared to take down a building 'r two." She casts a glance at the half-elf to see if her precaution is understood. "Course, I'll leave the strategy to those with an inclination for it, but I'd like t'know the plan. Ya know, so as I can duck at the proper moment."
” Nah, that would be the easiest way, for sure, but would do way to much damage and possibly kill to many of tha locals. Nope, way I see it is we either wait until they lessen their ammo inventory, which could cost a lota good men their lives, or we do somethin to the bucket itself.” Illorian spits a stream of tobacco into the dirt. ”If we go against the bucket we stand a good chance of blowin our cover though. Either way we need to wait until night, or just go ahead and build the gallows ourselves.”
As you mull over the situation, you no doubt note the nearby Temple of Asmodeus with its red spire and modern architecture. The tall iron doors open and a red-haired elf with featureless golden eyes strides towards the machine with a smile. On her shoulders are 2 small black birds, crows. She greets the workers and the crowd cordially, and they respond in kind, quieting to hear her speech:
"Bound in life, bound in war. Bless this machine, might it deliver us from our enemies...give them exquisite humiliation. Members! Remember your bindings and submit! Know our Prince of Darkness will protect us in this trial." She procures a scroll, and begins casting, a bright yellow light with a wooden chattering sound develops in her outstretched palm, pointed towards the machine. (spellcraft DC 21)
The crowd gives a triple "Ho!" and the woman makes her way back to the temple, her smile enduring.
(feel free to insert and edit this with any actions as always, this is what happens without anything)