Well, three out of four isn't bad, right? But now I need to protect Bumbo? This might be a low point in my career. And it wouldn't hurt to get that last guard's attention on me, either.
"No, not the little man with the yellow cape, it's that tall elf in leather armor who told me to be quiet or he'd slit my pretty little throat! I screamed and he missed with his arrow and ran that way!"
Still shivering, Llyrann points up to the keep, away from the tavern and Argith's shop.
Keep it I can cast it.
Though she had heard Llyrann's scream a time or two before, it still managed to startle Mags. But it only took a moment for her to realize what her friend was up to. Three out of four... Not bad.
As Llyrann points toward the keep, Mags steps out into the street pointing in the same direction. "That way! There's still time if you hurry. He can't have gotten far." She continues to walk as she speaks, closing the distance between herself and the remaining mounted guard.
Lore
You quickly escape the lab, hearing Jervaise's astute prediction...
Jervaise
You flick the stone behind you, triggering your mad contraption. Again a moment of oceanic reminiscenes confuses you before a loud crack, almost causing you physical pain, and a shower of glass...
The masonry walls stand tall against the explosion, perhaps reinforced of some alchemical substance. The wooden floor, however, buckles in an instant sending all upstairs crashing down in infinite splinter. The fate of those inside is guessable. The lone mounted guard outside's horse routes instantly to the east, dropping the guard to the pavement who clutches his ears in horror.
Mags/Llyrann
Lore
You quickly escape the lab, hearing Jervaise's astute prediction...Jervaise
You flick the stone behind you, triggering your mad contraption. Again a moment of oceanic reminiscenes confuses you before a loud crack, almost causing you physical pain, and a shower of glass...
The masonry walls stand tall against the explosion, perhaps reinforced of some alchemical substance. The wooden floor, however, buckles in an instant sending all upstairs crashing down in infinite splinter. The fate of those inside is guessable. The lone mounted guard outside's horse routes instantly to the east, dropping the guard to the pavement who clutches his ears in horror.Mags/Llyrann
Back towards the Inn looking for the rest of the guys.
FORT SAVE
Lore
Jervaise hits the ground hard, his ears ringing from the blast.
He staggers to his feet, a look of absolute horror on his face at the carnage behind him.
Illorian watches his friends bellow after the explosion. Damn, I hope Lore made it out with out me seeing him.
Though she had heard Llyrann's scream a time or two before, it still managed to startle Mags. But it only took a moment for her to realize what her friend was up to. Three out of four... Not bad.
Attempting to assist Llyrann in her subterfuge and, at the same time, move closer to the remaining mounted guard, Mags steps out into the street also pointing toward the keep. "That way! There's still time if you hurry. He can't-" She is cut off by yet another explosion, this one originating inside the alchemist's shop.
"Bloody 'ell," she says to no one in particular, and scans the crowd again. Surely one or more of her companions are at the heart of this...
The remaining knocked down guard stands and looks overwhelmed. "David...Jon!" He drops his weapon and shield and immediately starts sorting through the oddly quivering rubble inside the shell of walls.
"What happened here? I heard another explosion, and feared the worst..."
Looking at the rubble, his face pales.
"Was that the Alchemist's Shop...? By the Gods! was anyone trapped inside?"
His eyes fall on the guard frantically sorting through the debris...
"Should we go and help? There might be survivors..."
Once he is closer, he whispers...
"Lore is fine"
As yet another explosion rocked the night, Llyrann's face turned pale. Are we sure that we know what we've gotten ourselves into? Still, nothing for it now but to stay in character.
"Another one?" she gasped, tugging frantically on Mag's sleeve, "Was anyone inside? Quick, we must help![/b]"
Heedless of her expensive yellow silk dress, Llyrann joins the guard in working to free his fellow, pausing only to strip off her arm-length gloves and tuck them securely into the belt.
I hope that Bumbles got away, at least.
Relieved to see that Jervaise and, apparently, Lore are both okay, Mags gives the rogue a curt nod. All accounted for, then. "Somehow, I expected things to be a bit more... precise," Mags whispers to Llyrann, a look of concern on her face. Following the half-orc's lead, she heads to what remains of the lab. She may not be of much use clearing the rubble, but she has her healing abilities at the ready. Hopefully it aint too late for that."
A crowd doesn't form this time, perhaps people have been scared into getting off the streets. Instead, another frustrated and overworked squad of 4 militia arrive shortly and begin clearing what they can. Presently, the moans of the wounded inside echo louder and louder from the darkness, at least giving hope that some still live.
The priestess of Asmodeus again gingerly advances on the scene awaiting the bodies to arrive, her glowing eyes immediately noticeable in the dim light of the night sky. She is speaking apparently to herself in a language no one knows.
Viaren the apothecary also emerges from her shop next door carrying a small bag and a mystical flame. "Are we in danger?" her gentle voice inquires.
"Looks safe enough." Illorian turns and creeps to the far side of the building, checks for anyone in the area then drops to the alley bellow.
Perception:
Stealth:
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A crowd doesn't form this time, perhaps people have been scared into getting off the streets. Instead, another frustrated and overworked squad of 4 militia arrive shortly and begin clearing what they can. Presently, the moans of the wounded inside echo louder and louder from the darkness, at least giving hope that some still live.
The priestess of Asmodeus again gingerly advances on the scene awaiting the bodies to arrive, her glowing eyes immediately noticeable in the dim light of the night sky. She is speaking apparently to herself in a language no one knows.
Viaren the apothecary also emerges from her shop next door carrying a small bag and a mystical flame. "Are we in danger?" her gentle voice inquires.
The Chelish cleric that was witchy...witch-like with her raven. bad place for a typo
Are her glowing eyes detect magic? spellcraft
Slowly the wounded and dead are put into lines on the pavement.
Blacklock arrives mounted on a terrifying warhorse along with 2 Chelish soliders. "These foolish people are enemies of Piren's Bluff. Gather the wounded at the public stocks, any caught tending their needs will be arrested. Bury the dead without honor." The guards sifting through the rubble acknowledge his request and the mounted soldiers storm off to the north.
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Slowly the wounded and dead are put into lines on the pavement.
Blacklock arrives mounted on a terrifying warhorse along with 2 Chelish soliders. "These foolish people are enemies of Piren's Bluff. Gather the wounded at the public stocks, any caught tending their needs will be arrested. Bury the dead without honor." The guards sifting through the rubble acknowledge his request and the mounted soldiers storm off to the north.
Illorian takes the back allys towrds the inn, once in sight of the wagon he drops his disquise and makes his bow and arrows resimble a backpack and a staff. Then he walks to the wagon and stashes them under the goods.
Stealth:
Perception:
Ilorian
Upon arriving at the wagon, you immediately notice Spurger is unconscious and whimpering sleepily. Searching his body reveals a small puncture wound, but nothing more. Could it be poison? The wagon appears slightly ruffled but nothing is missing. Apparently whoever did this failed to find the wagon's secret compartment where your equipment was being stashed.
Illorian checks the puncture wound, trying to determine if a weapon or a stinger left the mark.
Perception:
The puncture wound is too small for a crossbow bolt...maybe a blowgun dart or small talon.
Following along behind in the darkness trying not to make any noise. Before my spell is about to end I put my hands over Mags's eyes and say "Boo!"
Stealth:
Having waited impatiently for the wounded to be carried from the rubble, Mags was visibly incensed at Blacklocks's proclamation. She summoned the self-control to not protest the decision, however. Gettin' m'self locked up won't do no good. And here comes that damned witch again!" (Magdelia rarely though of herself as a witch. That was a derogatory term, as far as she was concerned.)
She stared hard at the strange woman, making no effort to hide her contempt. "What are you mumbling?" she said harshly as she stepped past the woman. She didn't seem to be expecting an answer, as her pace barely slowed. Her companions were heading off and she thought that might be a good idea.
Perception (to notice Lore):
Feeling hands upon, her taught nerves cause her to jump and she spins about to see Lore materialize. "Do that again and I'll turn you into something unpleasant," she says, smiling by the end.
Slowly the wounded and dead are put into lines on the pavement.Blacklock arrives mounted on a terrifying warhorse along with 2 Chelish soliders. "These foolish people are enemies of Piren's Bluff. Gather the wounded at the public stocks, any caught tending their needs will be arrested. Bury the dead without honor." The guards sifting through the rubble acknowledge his request and the mounted soldiers storm off to the north.
Well, we've done what little we can for those folk. Might as well move on. I knew I had good reason not to like that Blacklock.
For a moment, Llyrann toyed with the notion of summoning a small viper near Blacklock's mount to see him unseated. But it would be so much more fitting and satisfying to see him proclaimed a traitor before his demise. Thinking of how she might see this accomplished, Llyrann absentmindedly smoothed out her stained yellow-silk dress and fell into step with her other companions as they returned to their rooms.
Reaching the Conquerer's Blade you find the place almost empty, with only Benna and Rhasper chatting solemnly at the bar with an older militia member. "...damn it all. Its not like we're volunteering for this militia scrap. He forces us to be his fighters and then picks a fight with the Andorans...well...what the hell do you call that...tch. They should just wall the pass and war it out down there."
Rhaspar responds "Well, you forget the spoils of the Almir estate and what control of it or Master Almir could do for an army. Piren's Bluff is great for guarding the pass but the mining business this town was founded on so very long ago is still the biggest reason we're here. If Almir gave a fig about politics and saw the wisdom of siding with Vendikon we'd have more money to raise and equip real troops and not have to rely on you militiamen. Cheers."
They both drink. Benna considers something awkwardly and adds "I bet the giants will get the Andorans. Thats a lot of food!"
Jervaise's eyes narrow slightly when Blacklock makes his pronouncements.
Well, you have officially made it onto my list...
Heading back to the Inn with the others, rather than going in via the back entrance, Jervaise will sweep in through the front door, and order a beer at the bar, his face ashen.
"By the Gods, that... was terrible. I hope I never have to see such destruction again."
Over the course of several pints, Jervaise will listen-in to the conversation at the bar, before interrupting, confusion clearly etched across his features.
"The Almir Estate? I thought the Baron ran everything around here..."
Paellat
You think for a moment and remember glowing eyes and shapely ears like that being described in a planar ballad featuring tieflings. However, the priestess lacks the hallmark features of that outsider race, horns and a tail.
Rhaspar answers "Well, thats true, but the House of the Crescent Star inheritance law has a certain...elder authority with the Cheliax. Almir pays his tax, indeed and what a tax it must be, but is really just a reclusive business man, not a public figure. I can't speculate on the Baron's overall wealth but I'd assume it pales in comparison to the ancient House. Oh, that's right, you're a merchant, you probably know all about it. What kind of commercial influence have you observed the House of the Crescent Star to have in the area, if you don't mind me asking?"
Paellat
Tieflings are humans with demonic, devilish, or other evil outsider blood in their ancestry. Often persecuted for their strange appearance and unnatural mannerisms, most tieflings disguise their nature or are forced to live on the fringes or underbelly of civilized society. Though they are not born evil, it is an easy path for them to find, especially as most suffer at the hands of “normal” folks while growing up. Tieflings look mostly human except for some physical traits that reveal their strange heritage. They have the power to see in and create darkness. They resist the elements of fire, cold, and electricity. You also know that many Cheliax estates house them from years of...diabolic interaction. Finally, you recall hearing about this particular tiefling priestess of Asmodeus somewhere in your Pathfinder circles. "Shiyara the High Mediator" she is called. A gifted diplomat and possessing only the gentle features of her lineage, she has advanced far in the church hierarchy. When Piren's Bluff decided to build the temple, she was selected to spearhead a broad pact-based campaign to control the population in the area.
Jervaise nods.
"Ah, so Almir is involved in the House of the Crescent Star. That makes more sense."
He then gives a smile, and shrugs.
"I am afraid that we have never really overlapped that much - Our group tends to specialise in silks and spices to make ends meet. Still, even if we have never competed directly with the House, we certainly have been aware of it; when you are an independent businessman, you learn very quickly to specialise in a niche market that the more powerful players do not have an interest in."
Jervaise looks thoughtful for a moment.
"Having said that, it might be worth discussing our inventory with him - the Baron only wanted a fraction of what we had on offer, and current circumstances being what they are, liquidating our stock seems like a sensible precaution..."
Llyrann returns to the common room after freshening up and changing her attire. She now wears an elegant black evening gown, really too formal to wear here, but one that accentuates her features nicely.
Upon hearing Jervaise's conversation, she brightens up visibly.
"Are we talking money now? It would be such a welcome change from the dreadful happenings of the day. Jervaise, you are a beast and a churl for leaving me out of the loop. Why it make take me entire minutes to forgive you!" she says teasingly.
Addressing Rhaspar and the lone militaman, "If either of you is gallant enough to put up with the foibles of a strange woman in your drinking house, I'm sure that I would be most attentive to hear absolutely everything you had to say about Master Almir, Blacklock, the Baron, and," her voice takes on a speculative tone, "Captain Russell."
As they are walking back Lore explains that he was deafened by the explosion and hoped that it was only temporery. He adds, any help would be great!
As she returns to the tavern, it occurs to Mags that perhaps, with things on the verge of getting totally out of hand, she should arm herself. Just a dagger in her boot would do. She wasn't particularly skilled with it, but it would ease her mind somewhat. And if I come across that damned priestess again...
As she approached the wagon where her gear was stashed she noticed Ilorian. "My vote is for fewer explosions," she begins to say, but as she neared the wagon and spied Spurger her words faltered. "What is it? What's happened?" She approaches the beast to see if there is anything she can do for it.
"Looks like someone, or something poisoned him."Illorian shows Mags the wound,"Then went through the wagon, they didn't seem to find our special goods and took nothing. It seems someone suspects and came looking for evidence."
Illorian brings Spurger into his room and makes the old wolf as comfortable as he can."Easy old fella. We'll find what ever did this to you and give 'em a wagon load of payback."
Illorian goes into the common room and sits down at the table with the others. "I need a drink!"
"It seems someone suspects and came looking for evidence."
"It just gets better and better."
Mags retrieves her mithral dagger, secreting it in her boot, and then returns to the common room. Ordering ale and some bread with cheese she takes a seat with her companions, listening in on the conversation.
"How's the hearing, Lore?" she asks during a lull in the conversation. "I have nothing to help with that, sadly. Perhaps the chemist has... Ah, right." Smirking, she sips at her ale and slips a crust of bread beneath the flap of her pack for Plague to nibble on.
Jervaise/Llyrann
"Well, good luck getting an audience with him...although with this siege he might be looking at new business options." Lylrann approaches, Rhaspar appraises her outfit and her interest in powerful men carefully. As you converse casually he drops a few bits of info-
"...Blacklock doesn't talk about himself much. This was his first post by the Andoran army, some say he chose it...back before the Baron's political movement, obviously. Seems like a good commander, but I'm not a soldier..."
"...Russell made captain just a few months ago after the last one was killed by a troll raid during wilderness training. I've heard the boys praise him for revising the cast iron shift schedule the Baron used to have in place..."
"...the Baron still holds public audience between 10 and 1 at the keep, though they've tightened security for the siege, obviously. Used to walk the town now and then but these days stays in his keep. Lot's of visitors from Cheliax..."
Paellat
Later, as more guards are relieved of thier shifts, your stories amass a large crowd of militia. Some pass a few coins, others ask to fire your weird crossbow. All drink heavily and Rhaspar looks on in admiration with a look of reminiscences.
Lore
Mags seems to be talking about something funny but you're lost in your own world. Luckily, your hearing slowly comes back to you over the course of the night. Breaking the silence at last is Llyrann's pompus laugh and highly dominating voice, and you might wonder if you were better off before.
Mags
You quickly classify symptoms (rolled back oddly tinted eyes, breathing rythym, discoloration about the wound) and narrow it down to either Blue Whinnis or Oil of Tagget, knockout poisons that do little long term damage. You believe you've helped to bring the animal back to consciousness, and that he should be ok in a few hours or by morning at least.