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Post by DM-Delfon on Oct 25, 2017 20:50:41 GMT -5
Note: This thread is being used to pull together all the posts related to Prince Charles Somerset. Some miner edits have been made to the text, errors removed and such, but the overall story remains intact. Each reply to this thread will be a page of content from other threads. As I was both DMing other characters while playing my own, sometimes the story will jump from paragraph to paragraph. DM-Delfon:A wave of laughter, and the mixed smell of pipe smoke and ale washes over you as you open one of the double doors that lead into The Wayfarer's Rest. Guardsman Jackson at the gate into Clifton suggested this inn, saying, "If you need a place to stay, the Wayfarer's Rest is a great place to find a bed. Tell old Borris that Guardsman Jackson sent you, and he will give you an ale." A few steps into the common room and the cooking smells coming from the kitchen make your mouth water. The inn itself is a fairly large three story rectangle, the exterior recently white washed, and the windows and doors are bordered in chestnut stained wood. The common room is quite large, with twin fire places set in opposite walls. A dozen round tables cover the center of the room, with several long tables with benches along the outside. A few more private booths line the back wall. Groups of men sit at all the round tables, laughing, dicing, and listening to a fellow play the dulcimer. A group of armsmen sit in one of the booths, pouring over a map. When you enter, several people look up for a moment before going back to what they were doing before. One fellow even nods a greeting. The closest server brushes past you with a laden tray, "Find a spot where you can M'deary, we will be with you shortly." Another server finds you almost immediately after you find a spot, "What can I get you hun?" After placing your order, you spot another fellow entering the common room from the back where the servers have been coming and going. The front half of the man's head is bald, and the rest is graying. He's wearing simple white cotton, and a leather belt strains to contain his considerable girth. Over the rest he wears a pristine white apron. One of the adventurers shouts, "Innkeep!" and the man heads to their table. He must be the Old Borris that Guardsman Jackson was speaking about. Images:The Wayfarer's RestGuardsman Jackson (Human, Male)Old Boris (Human, Male)Both doors to the inn are pulled open at once, and a man in fine colourful clothing leaps into the opening, his arms upheld, and a beaming smile on his lips. A few people call out, "Bogomil!", while others wave, or offer other greetings. It seems that most of the regulars here know this man. He walks with grace, kicking up his heels as if dancing, and circles the room slowly stopping at each table to offer pleasantries. As he circles the room you get a chance to take a closer look at him. His clothing is finely made, and of the latest style, but the cut of the fabric is different than that of the other locals. Once, when he made a grand gesture you caught a glimpse of studded leather beneath his shirt. He openly wears a rapier on his left hip, and he carries a backpack that bulges with whatever is inside. Lastly, an amulet hangs around his neck bearing a triangle with three six-pointed stars over the corners, one orange, one yellow, and one red. As Bogomil passes by where you sit, he places a hand upon your shoulder and says in a musical voice, "Well met friend, benediction is about to begin." Moving off again before you can respond, he takes a place cleared for him at the table in the center of the room. The room becomes very quiet, even the man with the dulcimer puts up his hammers. Bogomil removes a goblet from his backpack, and places it upon the table with reverence. Standing, he raises his hands out to the sides, and announces, "Who will be the first to fill my friend The Grail tonight?" Images:Symbol on Bogomil's Amulet Bogomil's Goblet, "The Grail"DM-Boneyard Ben:The doors of the Wayfarer's Rest swing open to the sight of grinning man. He stands tall and proud with his chest puffed out and greets everyone with a smile and wave of his hand. His hair is black and slicked back, save for a small curl on his forehead. Upon his studded leather armour is a fist clutching a silver lightning bolt. His right arm favors resting on the hilt of his long sword which is strapped to his hip. He carries a round metal shield on his back, its neighbor is a backpack which is slung over his right shoulder. Finally, a bedroll is strapped to his backside. He takes his seat laying his backpack on the ground. He compliments the barmaid as she takes his order and upon finding Boris signals him over. "Greetings and salutations, my good man!" He greets Boris as he approaches the table "A kind sir by the named of Jackson informed me of your establishment and I must say I'm certainly impressed" He looks around the inn with a smile. "Ah! But, where are my manners?" he offers the Innkeeper his hand. "I'm Orellow Avnac, seeker of truth, justice and a bed. Hahaha!". "What a Jovious fellow" Orellow remarks to himself about the colorfully dressed man with a grin. As silence falls and Bogomil makes his inquiry Orellow pushes himself up to his feet and thumps his chest. "I shall fill your friend" he says and turns to the bar. "Your finest ale for the joyous one and his friend". DM-Delfon:Old Borris, "Ah, yes. The guardsman is better than the sign out front for sending me custom." You see Borris slip a silver protector, the armoured knight etched on the face glinting in the light before it slips it from his pouch to a pocket, that coin clinks against others already there. You suspect that Guardsman Jackson is paid to suggest the Wayfarers Rest over other inns in the city. He continues, "You are too kind, but your complements are appreciated." The innkeeper takes your offered hand, and replies in kind, "Everybody just calls me Old Borris, purveyor of tasty food, good ale, and warm beds." His laugh is heartfelt, and makes his bulk shake. When you offer to fill The Grail the innkeeper brings a small keg to the table, and solemnly fills the fancy silver goblet to the brim. The room remains silent for the initial prayer, and then resumes whatever was happening before Bogomil entered. It was as if a switch had been thrown from solemn silence to cheerful revelry in an instant. After the initial prayer is concluded, Old Borris places the small keg in a stand one of the serving women brought over, then comes over to collect a silver protector from you for the ale. "What do you think of our colourful priest Bogomil?" You see the server that brought the stand stays at the table beside Bogomil, refilling The Grail as needed and collecting the coins required from the patrons. Bogomil locks eyes with you as you stand, and smiles warmly when you offer to fill The Grail. Once The Grail is filled, the man becomes solemn for the first time since he arrived. Looking to the heavens he begins to recite, "Loving Lliira, we give thanks and rejoice in the fun, and fellowship that surrounds us upon this fine evening. May we find gladness and satisfaction in all of our successes. Grant us all rest and renewal in the coming days so that we may continue to serve you in ceaseless faithfulness." Bogomil lowers his hands, and makes eye contact with those around him, "May we now pay homage to Lliira by drinking our fill, and dancing to celebrate our freedom and liberty." A cheer goes up from most of the people in the room, and they raise their tankards and drink them down. The dulcimer starts up, and several people start dancing. Throughout the room people resume their merriment, laughing and enjoying themselves even more than before. DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow sits back down and lowers his head during the prayer. No doubt whispering prayers of his own. He rises his head and turns to the old Innkeeper. "Colorful, you say?" He turns to look at Bogomil "Yes. That is good word for him." Orellow says looking distantly at the clergy. "But! I must admit I am quite tired" he chuckles. "I'll require one of those warm beds you spoke of." Orellow declares as his eyes wander about the room. Then, his gaze finds its way to the armsmen and his smile widens. "And anything you can tell me about those men and what they find so interesting about that map." DM-Delfon:Old Borris looks abashed, "Look at me, chatting like an old gossip instead of seeing that you're tired." He cranes his neck to make eye contact with one of the servers, and than he holds up three fingers. She nods, and drops off the contents of her tray before heading upstairs. At your question about the armsmen, Old Borris forgets all about not being an old gossip. He pulls up a chair beside you and says, "That lot came in a week back, battered and bloody. They were carrying the one with the beard." He leans in conspiratorially, "Apparently they found themselves a Goblin lair nearby. They were clearing it out without too much trouble when disaster struck. The Goblins have a bear! Can you believe it? A big old bear." He holds up both hands, fingers splayed like claws to accentuate his point, before continuing, "The bear charged out of a side tunnel while they were fighting a group of Goblins, slamming into their flank." Old Borris looks down sadly, shaking his head, "They lost their trap-smith to the bear." He waits a moment, then takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, "The blonde haired fellow made a map of what they explored, and now they're planning a return trip. Of course this time it will be more dangerous, as the Goblins will know they are coming." DM-Boneyard Ben:The night goes as many have, people enjoying themselves, laughing, drinking, and merriment abound. However as the night rolls on a young man approaches you, handing the barmaid next to you a coin to fill The Grail. He takes a seat across from you, his head down and fingers laced while he twiddles his thumbs. You recognize the blonde haired, blue eyed boy as Arthur Bridges, the son of the baker. His usual happy-go-lucky demeanor is gone, replaced by this shy shell. "Goblins? A bear? A murdered friend? This looks like a job for Orellow!" He booms and stands up out of chair, striding across the room to the adventurers. His steps swift and direct. A loud thump soon follows as he slams his hands on the table. "Greetings and salutations, armsmen! I've heard of your plight and I wish to offer assistance. I am Orellow Avnec!" DM-Delfon:Bogomil soaks up the revelry around him like a flower soaks up sunshine, occasionally laying his hand over his amulet and offering his heartfelt thanks to Lliira. His benedictions are always short and sweet, so as not to distract the flock from the festival atmosphere surrounding them, "Lliira keep misery from this man's path, and preserve this fellow's joy.", or "May the Goddess Lliira fill you all with joy and peace, and in believing you may abound in hope.", or "Lliira gives strength onto her followers, and blesses her people with peace.", and "The peace of the Goddess, which passes all understanding, shall keep your hearts filled to overflowing with joy." When Bogomil sees shyness upon the face of Arthur, he knows something is wrong. Laying one hand over Arthur's hands to still his twiddling, Bogomil uses his other hand to lift the boys chin so he can see into his eyes, "My boy, what troubles you? Come, let us drink of The Grail." Offering The Grail, he recites as Arthur drinks, "By the froth of The Grail, and the warmth of Lliira's love, let this boy's troubles melt like desert snow." Benediction complete, and The Grail empty, Bogomil stands, gesturing to one of the booths at the back, "Come, let us leave the center of attention and see if we can not alleviate what bothers you." Once Arthur is sitting comfortably at the booth, Bogomil sits across from him, "Whenever you are ready to begin my boy." Bogomil then waits, a warm and welcoming smile upon his lips. Your outburst startles Old Borris, and as you stand he stands quickly, his chair falling over in his haste. The musician hits a few wrong notes when he is distracted, and several people throughout the room look at you, including the band of armsmen in the booth. As you approach you get a better look at the armsmen, three men and a woman. The first man on the right wears chainmail, and a helmet rests beneath his chair. A greatsword stands, leaning on the table close to his hand. He has short cropped brown hair, and a neatly trimmed beard. The second man on the right, also wears chainmail, but his chain is covered by a tabard embroidered with the holy symbol to Pelor. Deep blue eyes that seem wise beyond his youthful face peek out from below his blonde hair. The third man sits against the wall on the right, he wears fitted studded leather armour, his shaggy brown hair frames a face covered in stubble. The last person at the table is a beautiful young woman in form fitting supple leather armour, her red hair is worn long, in a cascade of tight ringlets. She wears a sash adorned with six daggers, and another two daggers are sheathed at her hips. Even aware of your approach, the blonde haired fellow jumps a little when you slam your hands on the table. The fellow with the beard is the first to respond, "Well met master Avnec. May I introduce Silvia DeRosa." He says gesturing to the woman with all the daggers, "Shale Foreststrider." his gesture moves to the fellow with the stubble, "Lightbringer Jonathan Maloy." His hand drops to the table, but he tilts his head toward the man wearing the Pelor tabard, finishing with, "And myself Rupert Rageblade. What assistance do you have to offer?" You notice that while Rupert was speaking, Silvia's hand dropped to one of the daggers at her hip. You don't think it was a threatening motion, in fact you suspect that she doesn't even realize that she's holding a weapon. DM-Boneyard Ben:When you are seated, Arthur seems to have trouble finding the words until after a bit, he finally looks up and says, "I'm in love Mister Bogomil". His eyes are a little wet as he continues, "With one of Duchess' personal guard. She came into the shop a few days ago, and you should've seen her, eyes that could light up a room." He seems to slip off into a short daze as he talks about her. "When I told my friends, they laughed saying a bread maker could never win the heart of a woman like her." He slumps in his chair, and looks to the floor. "I dont know what I should do. I'm caught between becoming an adventurer and giving up..." Orellow grins. "Well Mister Rageblade, I bring a sword that strikes true" he says tapping the hilt of the blade on his waist. "A shield to protect my fellows and a heart that hungers for truth and justice" he taps the shield on his back and thumps his chest. "I'm even handy with a bow should you need it" Orellow laughs. "I will not weigh you, nor your comrades down" he stares into Rupert's eyes with conviction. DM-Delfon:When the kid tells Bogomil that he is in love, Bogomil's smile nearly splits his face in two, but he holds his council until the boy has finished, and then he says, "That is wonderful news my young friend! Being in love is nothing to be upset about, it is one of Lliira's greatest gifts." Bogomil leans back in his chair so he rests on his elbows, basically reclining across the whole bench. He looks up while his lips move, silently working out his thoughts, before continuing, "Ignore your friends, and listen to Bogomil. Let us just see if we can't get this woman to fall in love with you." Bogomil gets the boy to describe the woman, every last detail. Enough that Bogomil will recognize her on sight. "Here is what we will do my boy. First, you will bake a small, but fantastic dessert. Second, you will write her a letter, but only sign it -A. I have a friend that works within the palace, and he should be able to pass off your gift. Then if she gives a response to my friend, we will know how she feels. How does that sound? Better than joining that lot fighting Goblins and bears, eh?" Rupert shrugs, "Another blade would not go amiss, there are plenty of Goblins still left in that cave complex. Thoughts?" His question is directed at his companions. Shale grunts, but you're not sure if it was a positive or negative response. The Lightbringer nods, "Another able body would be helpful." All three men look to Silvia, and you get the feeling that if she doesn't want you as part of the team, than you would not be part of the team. She looks you in the eyes, the deep blue of her eyes barely conceals anger bordering on rage. You don't feel like she is angry with you, but at something else. "As long as you can kill that light blinded bear, I don't care if you accompany us." As she growls out those words, she repeatedly draws her dagger a few inches before slamming it back into it's sheath. Rupert nods, "Then it is decided, you're welcome to accompany us to slay some Goblins." At a sharp look from Silvia, he quickly adds, "and a bear. Pull up a chair, and we will go over what we know so far..." Once you're seated, the Lightbringer takes over, "Here is the Goblin lair." He says gesturing to the map on the table, "As you can see, here is the entrance." He points to a specific spot on the map, "A natural cavern extends from this side of the first room, but the Goblins have carved out several rooms this way." He drags his finger across four squares, "The first is used for storage, but we didn't have time to check through the crates. The second is a barracks, a bunch of rough made beds and a few footlockers. The third room had a better quality bed, and a writing desk. The last is where we ran into problems last time. This room had a barricade set up, and the Goblins were firing crossbows at us from this side of the room. Once we engaged them, this wall fell away revealing a bear. There was a reinforced door behind the Goblin barricade here, and a tunnel leading off from the bear's chamber. Thoughts?" This time the question is directed at you. DM-Boneyard Ben:Arthur is stunned. Wide eyed and mouth a gap, he fails to clasp your words at first. "You... You think there is a chance? I wanted to make sweets for her the moment I met her, but I never thought it would be such a simple thing." he seems thoughtful about your words, looking down once more as he takes them in. "I'll do it" he says and his head raises to see you new conviction in his eyes. "I will make her a dessert befitting a queen" he springs up from his chair and takes your hand. "Oh, thank you, Mister Bogomil" he says gratefully and shakes your hand happily before he dashes out. Orellow strokes his chin. "Hard to say without knowing what changes they have made since your last encounter. I imagine they'll be more fortified." He hums to himself for a bit before speaking up again. "I look forward to facing the general of these troops. They are quite militaristic in their ways. Different sleeping quarters. A writing desk. A room behind a barricade, and that bear? Seems all too clever a set up for mere goblins." He says softly. "No.. There is another behind the scenes, pulling the strings." he moves his hand from his chin and waves it as if plucking invisible strings. "Yes... But, perhaps this is no general, seems more of a puppeteer. A general would be among his troops." He returns his hand to his chin a smile creeping across his face. "Nevertheless, it will be interesting. Very interesting" Suddenly Orellow points to the door behind the barricade. "This is likely what they are protecting. Treasure, perhaps? An escape route is also likely." He moves his finger to the entrance of the cave. "We cannot sneak up on them, they know we are coming. They will likely anticipate others as well. So surprising them with extra bodies won't help us. The best option is the simplest, we charge. Hold tightly together. Play to our strengthens and cover each others weakness." He looks up at the rest of his new party. "So, what strengths have we?" DM-Delfon:Bogomil laughs heartily, "Of course there is a chance. There is always a chance. Sometimes it's the simple things that have the best effect." Shaking the boy's hand Bogomil stands, "Don't thank me, joy comes from Lliira." Bogomil watches the boy go, thinking, 'Yes, yes, he will do quite nicely. Who wouldn't do a favour for the man that helped him find love?' Smiling once more, Bogomil heads back to The Grail, "Who will be the next to fill my friend The Grail tonight? Rupert nods along as you work through your thoughts. Nothing you say seems to surprise him, and you suspect that the group has come to a lot of the same conclusions that you have. The Lightbringer comments, "They do seem a bit more organized than the standard Goblinoid rabble." when you bring up their militaristic ways. When you mention the bear, Silvia's lips curl up and you think she might even be growling deep in her throat. "I'm not sure there is a puppet master." Rupert says, then adds, "They seem more organized, but they're still just Goblins. We won't give them a chance to find a decent leader. Tomorrow we finish them, and their bloody bear off." He looks to Silvia as he mentions the bear. Trying and failing to soothe her. "We were thinking that that room would contain their gathered wealth as well." The Lightbringer replies, adding, "It's reinforced to keep intruders out." When you suggest charging, you get a mix of responses, Silvia snaps, "Fine by me." Shale shrugs, grunting something that could mean anything. The Lightbringer suggests caution, and Rupert smiles, "I do love me a good charge." When you ask about strengths, Rupert goes around the table, "Silvia is good with those blades of hers, either duel wielding up close or chucking them from afar. Shale has a bow, and can hold his own in melee. I tend to hold the front line, keeping the enemies focused on me, while Jonny here keeps me alive." Jonathan scoffs, rolling his eyes as Rupert calls him Jonny. "As for weaknesses, I tend to ignore defense in order to deal out as much punishment as I can. Dead things can't hurt me, I figure. The Lightbringer knows which part of his weapons to hold, but we try to keep him out of melee. Silvia gets angry, and allows her passion to pull her into dangerous situations. Shale doesn't communicate well, as you may have noticed." DM-Boneyard BenSoon after the boy leaves you get the usual kind folks who fill your friend only wishing for you to say a prayer for their happiness. Between prayers and drinks you hear the guardsman and Orellow discussing plans to raid a goblins cave. The usual discussions about the Duchess' latest fashion or the horrible smell of the docks. As well a dark haired fellow crying into his bottle. Finally, at the booth nearby you hear a lone guard ordering the strongest drink at the bar to help him forget something. The man at the bar was here before you came and other patrons seem bothered by him. The guard has been prodded by the barmaids about his problem but claims he can't discuss it with civilians. "Then our plan is obvious; we will form..." Orellow grins as he pauses for dramatic effect. "A line!" he allows this to sink in a moment before explaining. "Mister Rageblade and I shall share the front lines, he the sword and I the shield" He turns to Rupert. "You will not need defense if I'm there to defend you." He turns to Johnathan. "I would like for you to be behind Mister Rageblade to heal as you have, and If you would be so kind to heal me as well that'd be most welcomed." He motions to Silvia "I would like Miss DeRosa behind me till we close in on enemies, then I'd like her to make use of that anger, running interference for us on enemies and returning behind me should she find trouble." Finally, he turns to Shale "And Mister Foreststider will not need communication to pick off enemies from the back of the line at his leisure." Orellow then awaits a response. DM-Delfon:Bogomil takes the regular conversations about the Duchess' fashion, and the scents of the docks in stride. Trading jokes, and pleasantries to brighten the lives of those around him. After assisting those that want their benedictions, Bogomil makes his way around the room. When he passes by the Guardsman, he leans past him to the bar and gestures the bartender for another drink. While leaning past the guardsman, and whispers in his ear, "I can help, and I'm not a civilian. Come drink from The Grail, and Bogomil will make everything better. I'll see you soon." Leaning back from the bar, Bogomil continues his trip around the room. Stopping beside the crying man, he pulls up a seat, and says, "What's the trouble friend, perhaps Lliira can help?" Rupert leans back, "Then I suppose we do." He looks about the table, and gets nods and agreements from the rest of the group. "In that case it is settled, we will meet here tomorrow morning..." He trails off looking at the Lightbringer, then adds, "...an hour past dawn." The Lightbringer smiles, and Silvia rolls her eyes. You can tell that something just passed through the group, but it's hard to see what that could have been. Rupert stands, covering a yawn with his fist, "Until the morning then, I for one would like to be well rested for the events of tomorrow." The Lightbringer slides out of the booth after Rupert, "I will be retiring as well I'm afraid." Shale raises a hand to a passing server, indicating that two more drinks be brought to the table. Silvia seems lost, looking intently at the map, but you're not sure she's really seeing anything. DM-Boneyard Ben:When you sit beside the dark haired man, he is just continuously repeating apologies, blubbering them out. Any attempts to conversate with this man are just bits and pieces of I'm sorrys and self pity. Soon after another man with lighter hair shows up to take him home and after a short conversation (your persuasion of 18 at work) you find out his name his Herald and he's the husband of the blacksmith near the docks. Once they're gone you take your seat. After a while you are joined by the guard. As he takes his seat he seems guarded at first but after some light conversation (and a couple drinks) he curses in Orcish about his commander. "Why should I hav'ta keep quiet, eeh? I mean, I was just investigating some disturbance near the marshland and boom! In she comes laughing like a madwoman, cursing this and that about the Somerset's. Blasting spells left and right. I barely get outta there with all me skin, and when I tell the Commander he's all hush hush, and tellin me to forget it happened! How do you forget somethin' like that? Is he off his rocker!? Whatever, probably have some Somerset cronies or somethin' in tomorrow mornin' to wipe her out anyway." As he talks he thrashes this way and that, getting more and more upset till he finally just slumps down into his chair. After a short moment he speaks up. "Y'know Bogy. Your a real pal lettin' me get all this off my chest, I shoulda come to you first, all the other guards talk so highly of ya." He slides over to you, and gives you a hug, passing out in the process. You also note for as drunk as he apparently was, he could talk pretty clearly. Orellow bids them both a goodnight. He assumes the strange meeting time is for morning salutations or prayers to the sun god. Then, when they're gone he turns his attention to the remaining two. "Miss DeRosa, might I have your company for a bit? No offence to you Mister Foreststrider but I wish to discuss a certain matter with Miss DeRosa in private if at all possible." He smiles and nods his head toward the stairs. "I'm off to get acquainted with my room for tonight." He walks off. Heading to Old Borris to pay for the room, and drink and then up the stairs to his room, grabbing his backpack along the way. DM-Delfon:Bogomil questions the fellow with the light hair, gently prodding to find out the following information: What Herald has to apologize about? The name of the blacksmith shop? The lighter haired man's name? Where he can be found tomorrow? With those questions asked, he offers, "Take good care of your friend, I will be by tomorrow evening to check on him, and see if I can't offer him any assistance." He holds the mans eyes, ensuring that he knows the truth of his words. Smiling warmly, he nods, and turns back to his table. 'Who is this she?' Bogomil wonders, but wants to wait until he's finished speaking before asking about her. 'A laughing mad woman caster eh? One cursing my family at that. Interesting. Embros might just have to introduce himself to this woman in the marshland.' As the guard falls asleep, Bogomil sighs, speaking up so those closest can hear, "Another man finds rest in unburdening his troubles upon the Goddess." Staggering to his feet, Bogomil throws the guard's arm over his shoulder. Looking to Old Borris, he asks, "His place is the third one in on the right, just up the hill is it not?" Whether he is right or not, Bogomil carries the man home. "Make sure my friend there is safe until I get back would you?" He asks of the first serving maid he sees. DM-Boneyard Ben:When you inquire the young man, Steven is his name, he works for Hareld's wife as her assistant and brother while he (Herald) handles book keeping at the Fisherman's Forge where they work. As for why Herald's in such a state he can only shrug his shoulders. "Have not a clue, Bogo. But dis is been 'is routine for da last couple o' months. Payment rolls in, and hes off ta da Tavy. I tried asking 'im bout it and hes got neither memory. Sis says leave 'im be so I does." after stating that Herald and him will probably be at the forage he leaves with his brother-in-law in tow. You bring the man home with little trouble. Easily finding neighbors or kind folks to guide you if you get turned around. After dropping him off at his humble abode you return to the tavern without incident. DM-Delfon:Once Bogomil has the guardsman home, he strips him of his equipment, belt, and boots. Laying the man's belongings in a neat pile within sight of the bed. Before heading back to the tavern, Bogomil searches the guardsman's home. Bogomil is very careful to make sure everything he touches ends up back where it belongs. 'Guardsmen tend to have keys, hopefully I can find them.' Bogomil thinks as he searches. If he finds any keys, he presses them into wax so he can copy them later. If Bogomil finds any papers, he reads through them quickly, looking for anything that he can use against the guardsman, or someone else corresponding with him. Even if he finds anything of value, Bogomil just makes a mental note and leaves it behind.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jan 30, 2018 7:27:45 GMT -5
DM-Boneyard Ben: As a good friend of many guards, you'd know that the keys are handed into the towers before they are relieved from duty. You do however, find a copy of the guards key to his house, you look about his home and it seems clean. Barely used even. A small simple home that would be better suited for a small family than a single man. The only documents you find are of this guard's shifts and various letters. From which you discover two things; One the guards name is Simon Bellow and two, his mother really wants grandchildren.
DM-Delfon 'Damn, too bad. I was really hoping that with all the excitement he might have brought them home.' Bogomil thinks, smirking. 'Oh well, I will get a set of those keys eventually.' Pawing through the letters, Bogomil glances over at the sleeping man, 'Nice to meet you master Simon Bellow, you should work less, and work on finding a woman who will put up with you. It would make your mother so happy.'
With his snooping done, Bogomil secures the house, and heads back to the bar. Pushing open both the double doors with a beaming smile upon his lips. Dancing into the room sideways, Bogomil announces to the room, "I have returned!"
DM-Boneyard Ben: As you return enter the Inn your greeted by the usual cheers and laughs, the rest of the night goes quietly. Nothing of any significance happens.
DM-Delfon: Pushing open both of the double doors at once, and dancing into the room sideways with his hands outstretched in the air, Bogomil announces to the room, "I have returned!" Making a circuit of the room, he again makes small talk and pleasantries with those he knows. He makes a special point to greet anyone that wasn't here before, particularly if he doesn't know them at all. With circuit made, Bogomil announces to the room once again, this time raising The Grail, "My friend here must rest, so he can bring you joy in the future."
Placing The Grail on the table once again, Bogomil steps back while the server fills the silver cup. Once more raising his hands, he begins to recite, "May all who are present go with the blessings of Lliira. Share those blessings, and bring joy to those you meet. Strengthen the weary. Lift up the fallen. Be to the lonely, a friend. Until we meet again. Until we meet again." His voice raises in fervor until he reaches the repeated line at the end, there his voice drops to a solemn whisper. Stepping forward, Bogomil scoops up The Grail and finishes the beverage in a single long drought. Wiping out The Grail with a cloth from the server, Bogomil stows it within his backpack. Making the rounds about the room once again, he exchanges a few parting words with each group of people before heading out of the Wayfarer's Rest.
As he makes his way down the now darkened streets, Bogomil brings his thoughts into order. 'I don't have to help Arthur until he brings Bogomil his dessert tomorrow night at the Wayfarer's Rest.' Making a mental note, he immediately puts Arthur out of his mind, 'Now, Steven and Hareld will be at the Fisherman's Forge tomorrow.' Once more he makes a mental note, and immediately sets aside another problem. 'Alright, now some crazed woman cursing about my family. That sounds like something worth Embros' time. If there are Somerset cronies on the Duchess' payroll, I want to know about them.' With his thoughts lined up, Bogomil heads home to change.
Off comes the fine clothes, and the amulet to Lliira. His disheveled hair is brushed out, pulled tight and braided. The hidden dagger sheath is moved from between his shoulder blades to hiding in his right boot. Some of the gear is switched out in his backpack, and hidden throughout his home. With that done, a more subtle change happens. Gone is the singsong voice, and dancing grace. It is as if all the joy in the world has been sucked out of this man, leaving behind a stern, rigid backed fellow with a menacing stare and weighing eyes. Embros leaves the house through the back door, moving down a shadowed alley and coming out to the street a block away.
DM-Boneyard Ben Your trip through town goes fairly well. As to be expected Embros' disposition is enough to keep most people out of your way as you make your way to the gates. Where you're stopped by the guards. "Halt!" One shouts, and approaches. He smiles as he approaches, "Evening, sir." he nods to you. "Might I ask what your doing out so late?" This ones normal looking, with no real distinguishing features you can see aside from his polite demeanor and smile.
DM-Delfon As the guard shouts "halt", Embros takes one last step before snapping to a posture that the guards would recognize from their training as attention. Heels together, with feet pointed out at a fourty-five degree angle. His entire body is rigid, shoulders back, and stomach flexed to flatness. His fists are balled, but not tightly. His arms are held at his sides, with his elbows slightly bent. His thumbs are curled around his fingers, and both pointed down along his legs at the exact same angle. "Work, Guardsman." Is his simple response. When pressed, he adds, "Private investigator, Guardsman. Target is in the Marshlands, Guardsman."
DM-Boneyard Ben: The guard's smile brightens when he sees your posture "Fellow of the Military, eh? Well, I don't know what you might be investigating in the marshlands, but you seem alright enough to me." He leans in and whispers "Better warn ya though, Captain says Marshs ain't safe." He speaks out loud again, "Righty ho! Just exit out the sally port, and when ya comes back just tell 'em your Mcguire's friend." He leans close, whispering again, this time winking, and pointing his thumb at himself "Thats me, by the way" He steps back and laughs, "Carry on, Mister Investigator" After that exchange you are lead through the sally port outside the walls.
DM-Delfon: Embros nods to McGuire, "Thanks McGuire. Dangerous, eh? How so?" After he answers, Embros nods, and thanks him again before following the guards to the sally port. Once the door is open, Embros wastes no time going through it. Once outside the city, Embros marches off toward the Marshlands. As soon as Embros can no longer see the lights on the walls of Clifton, his raises his guard. Attentive eyes trying to pierce every shadow, and ears straining to hear the slightest sound. Embros isn't much of a woodsman, and being out here isn't exactly within his comfort zone. Once Embros can see the Marshlands, he begins to move stealthily, attempting to take his target unaware.
DM-Boneyard Ben: "No clue" Mcguire shrugs "Cap' would not give details. Just said if anyone goes out that way to tell 'em against it". After that Mcguire wishes you well and your escorted out.
As you trudge through the swamp, often misstepping in your attempt to stay quiet and sinking in (In my experience if you try and be stealthy your gonna get wet). You find yourself in wide open areas, draped with darkness, if not for your elvish heritage you wouldn't be able to see a thing but thanks to the moon and starlight you can see fairly clearly in all directions. As you slink about you find a thick wooded area where the trees are draped with some strange light colored thread-like substance. Everywhere else you look is open as far as you can see.
DM-Delfon: Embros is careful not to touch the threads, his knowledge of basic trap making setting off warning bells in his head. He would get a bit closer, circling the threaded area. He would be looking for signs of the woman Simon mentioned, or any signs of Humanoid habitation for that matter. If nothing alive is found, Embros carefully approaches the area. 'If there is a caster here somewhere, I have to make sure I see them before they see me. Nobody needs an angry caster pissed at them in this difficult terrain.' Embros thinks to himself before continuing.
DM-Boneyard Ben: As you enter the wooded area you notice the deeper you go the more threads there are, spun this way and that, attached from one tree to another, carpeting the ground further in. Everything becomes much darker as well as you look up you see threads blocking the light from the moon and stars, everything is dim in here. Save for a few places where the light slices through the canopy like a blade. You can only see shades of grey. You then notice a sack of some kind hanging from one of the trees. You approach to examine it and you come to the sudden realization that you cant move anymore. You look down at your feet and you notice slimy webbing covering them. You turn yourself around trying to break free, and then you hear a soft chittering in the trees behind you. You follow the noise and slowly turn towards it and meet 6 red dots in the blackness, they sway softly as the chittering gets louder and louder. Then from out the pitch black comes a long slender leg covered in black armour with some hair coming out of it. The leg shifts as it pulls the rest of the figure into the light. Those red dots were eyes. Eyes attached to a creature very much like the one up in the corner of the Wayfarer's Inn but one was much, much bigger and instead of snacking on the pesky flies that flew around the leftovers this one was looking at you. A giant spider approaches.
DM-Delfon: 'So much for being careful not to touch the threads' Embros thinks to himself looking down at his foot, thoroughly tangled in the threads. He calmly draws his weapons, and begins a simple incantation. Abruptly a fat bird flutters through the area between the giant spider, and Embros, flying in lazy circles just out of reach of the spider. The bird tries to lead the spider away from Embros, while Embros carefully cuts away the webbing anchoring him to the ground.
Game Mechanics: Initiative: 20 (17+3 dex)
Round 1: Cast Minor Illusion of bird (easier prey), Investigation DC 14 if interacted with (spider rolls 1d20-4, or 18+)
Round 2: Attack webbing: 12 (7 +2 prof + 3 dex) Damage: 7 (+3 dex)
DM-Boneyard Ben: The spider closes in quickly on the bird and strikes. Its phases out of existance and the creature is confused at first but then it turns to you, closing the distance quickly. As you bring your blade down into the webbing you manage to cut your legs free only to be met with spider fangs sinking into your shoulder.
Initiative is 20+3
Round 1: Spider straight up attacks the bird revealing it to be an illusion, then it turns its attention to you and closes the distance.
Round 2: Spider attacks (18+5 for bite. 2+3 for damage and make a Con save for poison DC 11 on a fail take 2 extra on success 1, i rolled two 1's XD). bright side? you cut the threads around your legs.
DM-Delfon: As the spider's mandibles sink into Embros' shoulder, he mentally exclaims 'Well that didn't go as planned.' Swinging his rapier around to keep the spider back. As soon as he has a bit of a gap, Embros disengages. Retreating sixty feet away, while avoiding the annoyingly sticky webbing. If he sees a likely place to gain some cover along the way, he will dart into it to hide from the spider.
Game Mechanics: Perception: 5 (3+2) Stealth: 16 (11+5)
Status: HP 2/9
DM-Boneyard Ben: As you flee you notice this forest has a startling amount of webs in it. You take cover behind a tree that you nearly tripped over, and you hear a booming voice resonate through the forest, and a loud crack. When you look up from your log, you see a figure shrouded in shadow wielding a large axe attacking the spider. The spider strikes, but the figure dodges. A spiral of flame extends from the shadow that would be his head. The spider gives a piercing shriek that can be heard through the forest, and retreats. Clouds wash over the moon, and it takes a little for your eyes to adjust. When they do, the figure is gone...
DM-Delfon: Diving nimbly over a fallen log, Embros tucks into a shoulder roll and then he scurries back to press up against the log. Peeking with one eye extended above the log, Embros checks to see if the spider is following him. When he sees the figure attacking the spider he shrugs, "I guess I owe that one an ale." he says to himself in a voice that won't carry beyond a few feet. With all the creatures gone, Embros skulks back to investigate the sac hanging within the webbing, 'I hope that contains the remains of an unlucky wealthy adventurer...' He thinks to himself. Not wanting to be bitten again, Embros cloaks himself in illusionary flames. The flames don't give off much light, but they sure would make it so I don't look fun to bite. Once Embros arrives at the sac, he looks to see how the thing is anchored. With the fewest slices possible, he slashes the thing down and drags it away from the area before investigating further.
DM-Boneyard Ben: You investigate the sac, and it contains the withered husk of a dead adventurer. All the usual stuff like weapons, armour, gold (roll a d20?) are present. As you rummage about the poor sods things you find an interesting note from someone who signs the note with a fancy "S". It a note detailing a hefty reward to whoever finds and kills "the witch of swamp", it also details absolute secrecy in the matter.
DM-Delfon: Embros removes anything of value from the dead adventurer, taking the time to clean everything up before stowing it within his own belongings. A flail, a shield, a magical folding boat, a potion of Stone Giant strength, a potion of diminution, two potions of healing. One of which Embros immediately drinks. Particular care is given to a receipt for stabling a horse, and storing a full set of leather barding. The note from my uncle, Solstice Somerset, signed with a fancy "S" needs to be put out of Embros' mind until there is enough time to devote real thought to it. Once looted, Embros stashes the body near the outskirts of the forest, covering it with branches to obscure it from sight until he can return it to town. With all that settled, he gets back to work finding this witch, 'Only this time let's try and avoid the spiders...' He thinks wryly.
DM-Boneyard Ben: After so long wandering through the Marshland you come across some solid ground it makes a path through some of the marshland. After so long you come across a particularly deep part. You know this cause when you attempted to hop to a plant (usually a sign of solid footing) you sunk up to your arm pits before you reached the bottom, and pulled yourself out. You look out into the darkness, and see a lone tree on an "island" in the center of the deeper marshland. If you travel either way you see no other way to the island besides wading through the deeper marsh. You consider using the boat you acquired but the peat moss would keep you from getting very far in it. If you had to judge its about 30 feet away all around.
DM-Delfon: "Son of a..." Embros curses as he sinks into the murky water, his thought unfinished because he took a quick inhalation of breath in case he went under. Crawling back out of the deep mucky water, Embros does his best to dry and clean off his equipment. 'Well this will be another visit to Tad to get my equipment cleaned. One of these days I'm going to have to get him to teach me how to cast prestidigitation.' Circling around the deeper marshland, Embros keeps a wary eye out for any future soggy swimming holes. Once around the tree island, Embros continues to search for signs of humanoid life.
DM-Boneyard Ben: As you wander around you find yourself about half way when you notice. Nothing. Nothing at all, just a big ass tree surrounded by a deep dark marsh. So, as you press onward your armour's soaked, and covered in mud so you're a little slower than normal but the colors help you blend. Proof by the moose who just wandered by and didn't seem to notice you. As you press on you find no humanoid figures. Nor any signs of one. Either your being avoided or your just unlucky.
DM-Delfon: Tired of slogging around in this boggy swamp, Embros heads back to the clearing around that big tree. Once there, he rattles off the arcane words, and gestures above his head. Blazing in the sky, some thirty feet up are the words, "Witch of the Marshlands, we need to talk." The words are written in fire, and dance slightly in the breeze, slowly turning so anyone from any direction can read them within a minute. Holding that illusion, Embros takes cover to avoid being ambushed, while keeping a strong watch on his surroundings.
DM-Boneyard Ben: You hide in some shrubs that seem like they'd hide you well and wait... And wait.... And wait... Man, this witch is taking her sweet- "Oy." You turn your head, and see a cloaked figure standing behind you, tapping their foot impatiently. You realize the whole back of the bush was exposed ( 3:) ). Judging by the voice, this person is indeed female and judging by the piercing stare from under that hood, she ain't happy.
DM-Delfon: Embros lets the illusion fade, and pivots as he stands up. "I found this on a corpse. I figure it might interest you." He says handing her the note with the fancy 'S'. Although he stands to his full height, and looks her dead in the eyes, Embros always moves slowly, keeping his hands away from his weapon hilts. When he gets the paper from his scroll case, he brings it out by one corner, holding it gingerly between his finger and thumb. "I believe you and I have a common enemy, but I have to ask. Why does a member of the Somerset family want you dead?"
DM-Boneyard Ben: The hooded figure matches your gaze, and when you produce the note she takes it, looking at it with disinterest before looking back up at you. Her eyes are bored but they seem to weigh your worth. She turns her head back and whistles "Kiha, dear!" she calls in a playful manner "I believe this is for you." From out behind some shrubs another cloaked figure comes out, this one much bigger than the one in front of you. But, this one isn't covered, she wears his cloak like a cape with it thrown over her shoulders and the hood down showing the red scales of a Dragonborn woman. She throws an axe over her shoulder as she walks over and plucks the note from the smaller woman. "Who're you callin' dear?" She growls, and looks over the note before she clicks her tongue in annoyance and raises her axe toward you. "Who are you? and where'd you get dis note?" she demands. The smaller girl brings her lithe hand from her cloak and touches the axe, turning to Kiha. "Now, that's no way to treat our guest. He's doing us a favour and you're getting all barbaric on him." Her voice is soft, even when she's telling the bigger woman what's what her voice has a bit of whimsical tune to it. "I am a barbarian!" Kiha booms and continues on. The two bicker back and forth like this, one getting louder and more annoyed, while the other continues acting like a parent.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Sept 7, 2018 7:16:28 GMT -5
DM-Delfon: Embros' stance doesn't change while the cloaked woman's eyes weigh him. He stands to his full height, with his shoulders back, feet apart and knees slightly bent, ready to dodge out of the way of any incoming attack. His arms are held a bit away from his body, close enough to grab weapons if the Dragonborn attacks, but far enough away to not be considered hostile. His hands are open, with fingers splayed to show that they remain empty. Embros doesn't move when the Dragonborn points her axe at him, he expected that reaction from her. 'Can't say I wouldn't do the same given the situation.' He thinks to himself, while saying "Embros. Off the dead guy in the spider cocoon. Thanks for that by the way." Embros moves back slowly while they bicker, not a sign of stealth in the movement, just trying to separate himself from their discussion. When he's about ten feet back, he crosses his arms across his chest and waits at his ease.
DM-Boneyard Ben: "See?" Says the smaller girl. "He's telling us everything we want to know and hes even thanking you." “He could still be a- Hey!" she stops mid sentence when she sees you trying to back up. She opens her mouth to say something but is cut off by the smaller girl. "That's quite enough Kiha, he's just being polite trying to give us room for our pillow talk" "Pillow talk!?" Kiha exclaims and like that another "argument" ensues. After about five minutes the two girls stop and both turn to you. The smaller one pulls down her hood to reveal a beautiful elvish face framed by long black hair with dragon scales up around her jaw line but not much further. "Forgive us for the wait. My name is Lilith. I am the "Witch" of the swamp. This is Kiha my partner and protector" Lilith regards her title with a a little giggle. As if being called a witch was some kind of inside joke. When she refers to Kiha, the Dragonborn only lets out a huff of smoke. "Before we part our story to you I wish to know yours. What has a gruff looking man like yourself have against the Somersets?" the elf girl inquires.
DM-Delfon: Embros nods, and says, "The details are my own." Before Kiha can offer an objection, he adds, "I will say that they took some important things from me, and I intend to get everything taken back in time. I will also make Solstice Somerset pay for his part in this." Embros hasn't moved an inch from his at ease pose. Only his eyes have shifted, from one face to another, always looking them straight in the eyes. The conviction in his voice is plain, as if speaking of things that will happen, and not of things that may happen. "I came to warn you. After your battle with the guard, I heard one of them say: Probably have some Somerset cronies or something in tomorrow morning to wipe her out anyway." With that said, Embros falls quiet to wait for them to share their story.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Kiha seems ready to explode at you. Shes shaking violently, clenching her jaw as flames are forced out from between her teeth. But, a soft touch from Lilith seems to bring her down and Kiha walks off in a huff. "I thank you for your warning, and respect your decision to keep your story to yourself." Lilith says softly, "Forgive Kiha, she has a particular hatred for those who keep secrets, but if you are an enemy of Somerset than you are welcome here." Lilith puts her hand on Embros' shoulder, "Be safe." She says and turns, following after Kiha. The two disappear into the darkness.
DM-Delfon: Embros doesn't move when the ladies begin walking away, but he does offer a few words to their backs before they disappear, "I can help with more than warnings." Embros waits a moment before continuing, "The way I see it, Soltice wants her dead." Embros gestures with his chin at Kiha, "Does she have something I could show as proof of death? Something that the Somerset envoy will not question." He hastily adds, "Aside from a body of course." to avoid giving Kiha the wrong idea. Other conversation that would come up if Lilith stays to chat some more are: "Is there a better place to meet, or get your attention? Aside from trudging though the swamps and sky writing?" "There is a stump near where I came into the Marshlands, you can leave me messages there so we can keep in touch. I will check the stump every few days." (describe location)
DM-Boneyard Ben: Lilth stops. "Only way that man will stop hunting her, is if they come back with her head." She says without turning to look at you. Kiha stops as well, but she turns to face you and growls, "And that ain't happenin'!" Lilith motions her hand gently forward, and Kiha turns back around in a huff to disappear into the dark. Lilith follows, but before she goes he says one more thing, "The stump won't be of much use, I've a feeling we will see each other very soon." With that bit of ominousness they're gone.
DM-Delfon: 'Well that foundation was laid about as well as any foundation can be laid in this bloody swamp. At least it is a foundation.' Embros thinks as he heads back to the spider's victim. He allows himself a small out of character smile while he's still alone in the darkness, before wiping his features clean, and resuming the mask of Embros. Arriving at the corpse he adjusts his gear so he can carry the body carefully. Once set he heads back to the gates of Clifton, returning to the gate that he left through hours before. When he arrives, he shifts his burden so he can bang on the door with a fist. Once challenged by the Guardsman, he offers, "I'm McGuire's friend." as instructed by the guardsman himself earlier.
DM-Boneyard Ben: You manage things as well as you can carrying the corpse with little issue. Upon arriving at the gate you are challenged, but when you inform them your friends with Mcguire you hear; "Ah! So your Micky's strapper? Alright then" and your let back in the door you came. Greeted by another guard. His face sinks into a frown upon seeing you. "Oy, whats with the body?"
DM-Delfon: Embros shifts the corpse in his grip, "I found it in a spider cocoon. A remarkably large spider attacked me during the recovery process." Embros holds his hands out as best he can while carrying a body to show the size of the spider. "I plan on depositing the corpse at the Pelor temple for last rights, while I look into finding out who the fellow was." Shifting the body to make it easier to walk, he starts off toward the temple.
DM-Boneyard Ben: The guard shrugs, "Right then." He says, and leads you through. As you travel through town you gain some some sideways glaces from some late night/early risers you make it to the Temple without incident.
DM-Delfon: Shifting the body once again, Embros bangs on the door with his fist. Banging again every minute or so until somebody answers. Once answered, Embros says, "I found this fellow's corpse in the Marshlands, victim of a monstrous spider. If you could give him last rights, I will attempt to inform his family." With that Embros either passes off the corpse, or places the body where the staff indicate. From there Embros visits Tad's house, banging with his fist until the apprentice mage answers. "I need to get cleaned up Tad." Handing the young man a silver piece, Embros waits for the spell to clean all the marsh muck out of his clothing. Now smelling considerably better, and no longer looking like a swamp monster, Embros heads off to the stable where the dead guy stashed his horse.
DM-Boneyard Ben: You're greeted by a priest after couple of knocks, and he instructs you to lay the body on the altar. The priest then gives the poor soul his last rites. The priest goes on to say that you've done a kindness. Even if you don't find out who the man was, he is sure Pelor's radiance will shine upon you. After that you spend one silver to get cleaned up, and head back out the gates toward the stables. It takes you a bit, but you find it only a few minutes out from the city. Its not much, the first thing you notice is a small wooden house. It looks like it is a house for one, or two people but not much more. The next thing you see right beside the house is the stables, fairly standard wooden stalls with two gates one on either side of each stall. One leads out to a small, enclosed area with a wooden fence presumably so the horses can graze. The other much bulkier gate leads out to the road. You also note the one leading to the road is locked. Then, your eyes are drawn between the stables and house. a small shack connects the two structures. This shack, no bigger than an outhouse has a half door. The bottom half leads up to a table top, and the top half has letters engraved onto the planks. It reads; 'Knock for service'.
DM-Delfon: Embros places the body where instructed, and begins to leave immediately, having no interest in divine matters. When the priest offers Pelor's radiance, Embros scoffs, "Give my radiance to someone else Priest. The gods have no sway over me." Although his tone is still no-nonsense, it would also hold no sign of disrespect. He doesn't hate the priest for believing, he just doesn't believe himself.
Embros feels much better about himself, now that he doesn't feel quite so disgusting. It is a lot easier to look someone in the eye and threaten, or demand things from them when you don't look like you were recently mud wrestling at one of those raunchy sailor bars down by the docks. Although it's usually scantily clad women doing the wrestling in those places.
Arriving at the stables, Embros takes in the stables details and nods, "Not a bad set-up they have here." He says to himself, before marching up to the half door. Following the instructions, Embros pounds the planks with his fist a few times. Pulling out the receipt while he waits for the stableman.
DM-Boneyard Ben: (Definitely wanna go to one of those bars XD)
You here a muffled, "I'm coming, I'm coming" from inside. Judging by the voice it's female, and it sounds familiar. When the top half of the door swings open, you figure out why. It's Kiha, "What can I-" she starts with an air of minor annoyance before she sees your face, and her features twist in anger. "You!" She growls, as the spaces between her teeth start to look more like a furnace. "Well..." You hear another softer voice coming from the side, and you look to see Lilith by the door with a smile on her face. "... if it isn't our little soldier friend."
DM-Delfon: Embros drops into an at ease stance while he waits for the stable hand, the receipt held in his fingers behind his back. Despite his surprise at seeing Kiha behind the door, Embros' expression and stance don't change at all. "Hello Kiha, hello Lilith. I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon." Pulling the receipt from behind his back, he offers it to them, "I believe this came from your establishment."
DM-Boneyard Ben: Kiha huffs folding her arms and Lilith sashays over to you. Plucking the paper from your hand, and looking it over, "Oh, Yes. That beautifully white Andalusian." She says. Kiha unfolds her arm, and looks like she's about to roast you, but when Lilith looks her way she stops, "Tell me, where ever did you come across such a magnificent beast? We're only looking after this farm for a friend, so I haven't a clue where most these darlings came from." Lilith asks sweetly, batting her eyes.
DM-Delfon: Embros smirks, showing more emotion than he has so far, while he watches the pair of them intently for signs of deceit, "Actually, the horse belongs to the fellow sent to assassinate you, Kiha." Embros nods in Kiha's direction before turning back to Lilith, "I was hoping to backtrack the fellow's life. If I can find out who he is, then I should be able to figure out who his contacts are. If I can use Soltice's network against him, I think that would be a fitting punishment for the wrongs he has committed against the three of us."
DM-Boneyard Ben: Kiha scowls at you. Lilith seems impressed. "His name was Peter Mossburn, Petey to his friendlies. He's a sword for hire. One of many his highness has sent after us, and like the rest they all fell victim to that spider." Lilith informs you. "They're all the same. Adventurers who blindly follow any rumor I set out." her smile broad and mischievous. "The horse is yours to do with as you please." She shrugs and heads back into the house. You turn to Kiha who is still scowling.
DM-Delfon: Embros nods, "Thank-you for the horse, do you happen to know it's name?" Before Embros makes a move to collect the horse, and the gear that goes with it, he asks, "Will I be able to contact the two of you here for the foreseeable future?" Regardless of the answer, Embros then heads off to collect his new mount. When Kiha follows him, ever un-trusting, Embros mentions, "Whether or not you believe me, I am your ally. Feel free to think of it this way, the enemy of my enemy is my friend." Embros moves mechanically while saddling the horse, focused more on Kiha looming nearby, "Whatever the reason behind it, you have made an enemy out of a man that has taken control of an entire kingdom by force. You need all the allies you can get." Finishing up with his mount, Embros climbs into the saddle, "Good day to you Kiha." Embros rides away slowly, headed home for a much needed rest.
DM-Boneyard Ben: "Marshmellow" Kiha says referring to the horse. "But, he doesn't like that name so I've taken to calling him Regal." She stays silent when asking if you can meet them there. But, it's a safe bet that they live here. As predicted, Kiha is staring daggers into your back as you both walk toward the stable where the horse is being kept. As she straps the armour to the horse. She responds. "An enemy is an enemy as far as I'm concerned. And as for that man, the only reason he chases me is because he is a hypocrite. Him and his elf superiority complex." She looks up to see you looking at her and immediately looks away. Finishing applying the armour she leads the horse out, and slaps the reins in your hand. "I have allies." She spits. "I've little need for you, Mr. Secrets". When you bid your farewell she simply huffs and heads back to her station.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Sept 7, 2018 8:19:07 GMT -5
DM-Delfon: Embros arrives home, and dismounts Regal. Bringing Regal into the fenced in yard, Embros releases the tension from the saddle girth. Having walked slowly home from the stables, Embros doesn't bother with a cool down walk. Instead immediately begins drawing the stirrup up the back strap of the loop, then he takes the bottom of the loop and pulls it through the stirrup. Next Embros unbridles the horse, and puts on its halter. Next Embros takes the girth off completely, checking to see if it's wet or dirty. Next the saddle is removed, Embros is careful not to hit Regal's back with the saddle on the way over. Next Embros removes the saddle pad, checking to see that it's also clean. 'Apparently Lilith and Kiha know their business.' Embros thinks to himself. Since it's been rather warm, Embros makes sure to clean the sweaty dirty marks with a damp cloth. Embros moves to Regal's nose, wiping off his nose and around his mouth, Finishing settling Regal by brushing down his whole coat, flattening all his hair down. Embros starts to walk inside, leaving Regal to graze in the yard. Pausing with the key in the lock, Embros sighs, "I haven't had to tend to a mount myself in a long time Regal. I seem to have forgotten to check your hooves." Embros returns to Regal's side, "Alright, give me your forehoof." Grabbing onto the horses leg, he pulls it up and inspects the shoe for debris. He does the same for each of his other hooves, before heading inside. Calling "You're all clear Regal, have a good rest. I hope the yard is to your liking."
Once inside Embros unbraids his hair, brushing it out until it's straight, adding a part to his freshly straightened hair. Embros then removes his gear. First off comes the backpack full of gear, then the studded leather armour, the rapier from his hip, and the dagger from his right boot. Removing his ink stained robe from the closet, Embros' posture changes to that of Ezra the Scribe. Ezra puts the armour away absentmindedly, as if he didn't know why the armour was even there in the first place. The belt is hung up as well, with the sheathed dagger attached at the left hip. The rapier is stashed within the scroll case, which is then hung upon the belts right hip. With tomorrow's preparations ready, Ezar absentmindedly goes about preparing for bed. Having only a few hours to rest, Ezra sets a fizzlewick under a candle marked to burn for three hours, and passes swiftly to sleep.
DM-Boneyard Ben: (O.o dude, whoa! Slow the fuck down with the horse stuff. I worked on a riding ranch for weeks when I was kid and i learned more in that one sentence than i had the whole time i was there. Ridiculous.)
Ahem... You sleep without incident and your candle fizzles out after three hours which i assume was suppose to wake you, so lets say it does. Whats our scribe doing now that hes rested?
DM-Delfon: (Google is a thing, I just reworded an article on post ride care for horses.)
The flame reaches the fizzlewick, and unlike the candle that burns quietly, it begins to sputter and hiss audibly. Ezra wakes with a start, and uses the stub from the candle to snuff the fizzlewick. Blinking repeatedly, and yawning Ezra stretches holding one clenched fist above his head for half a minute. Yawning one more time, Ezra begins his morning routine. Now clean, and smelling fresh Ezra leaves for work.
His long brown hair is parted down the middle. He's wearing a plain white linen robe with ink stains around the right wrist. He wears a plain gold ring on the middle finger of his right hand. A dagger is sheathed on his left hip, and a scroll case hangs from his right hip. Hidden within the scroll case is a rapier. Strapped to his back is a forgery kit, which Ezra passes off as the artisans tools of his trade. Tucked under one arm is his sack lunch. Ezra walks with his head down, apparently reading the book clasped in both hands. Ezra seems completely lost in his book, but somehow he manages to avoid bumping into anyone or anything.
Arriving at work, Ezra continues to transcribe Sir Lauren McFadden's manuscript.
DM-Boneyard Ben: After transcribing Sir Lauren's manuscript about the majesty and wonder of horses, and their many incarnations. You take a moment to observe your work space. Although you call it that, it's little more than a closet with desk in it. As a matter of fact your pretty sure this used to be the janitors closet until he was moved to a bigger space. Seems like even the man who mops up after a particularly adventurous couple gets more respect than a lowly scribe. But, that's exactly why this disguise works so well. The last place anyone would look for a fugitive prince is in a library working as a scribe. But, back to your office. On either side of your desk are tall book shelves. Filled with reference books you use for quick reminders on what signatures to put where, what clauses best put people to your advantage and even some thick story books that Ezra likes to read in his down time. In front of you is a hexagonal shelf that's stuffed with scrolls pertaining to everything from rites to passage to dance steps. Your desk is a big thick oaken desk that takes up about half the room. It's a mess, covered in loose leaf paper and ink stains all around but where the manuscript sits seems to be the only safe place in the chaos.
Koock-knock-knock. The sound of rapping in the yew door behind you stirs you from your observations. The door swings open and your met with... A child? Or at least a child sized creature but judging from the hooded studded leather and the dagger on his belt this is no child.
DM-Delfon: Ezra doesn't flinch when the knocking happens, he doesn't seem to realize that the noise might pertain to him at all. After a few attempts the newcomer manages to get Ezra's attention. With a start Ezra looks up, and sees the newcomer. Ezra silently stares at the newcomer, and scratches his nose, leaving a small ink stain. Ezra wears a look of curiosity, wondering why this person is standing in the doorway.
Just as the newcomer is inhaling to speak Ezra stands abruptly, "I'm supposed to do something." Looking up for a moment, then realization, "Oh yes, offer a friendly greeting. A place to sit, and perhaps a refreshment." Circling the table Ezra stands before the newcomer, "Greetings, and well met. Uh, um." Looking bewildered for a moment, Ezra then gestures to a chair stacked with books, he seems confused again, then sets to work clearing the chair. Once the spot is clear, Ezra gestures again, this time to the now empty chair. Finally Ezra circles back to his side of the desk, pulls out his bag, and offers the fellow a few grapes and a half eaten sandwich, leftovers from his own lunch. "Uh, then pleasantries before inquiry." The fellow would get the feeling that Ezra doesn't realize he is speaking out loud, "My name is Ezra, lovely weather we're having. Did you catch the recent local event? I offer scribing services, what can I do for you?"
DM-Boneyard Ben: "Still as strange as ever, eh Erzie?" The man pulls down his hood and you recognize him as Gimble Garrick. Brown hair stuck out in every direction, except how it should be, and a well maintained goat-like beard is this man's signature style. The gnomish pickpocket is one of the first people you ran into when you came to Clifton. He has been valuable in acquiring information, and various other resources. Even if he's unaware that he has done so, "I got something good for ya today" He beams. "The guild acquired an invite to the Duchess' grand reveal of her next trend" He says as he reaches into his backpack and fishes out the invite in question. "and I'm thinking you can forge me a copy, and you and I can go meet some noble girls!"
DM-Delfon: Ezra seems confused at the familiar tone of the Gnomeish man, but then recognition dawns on his face. Seeming surprised he offers, "Oh, it's you Master Garrick." Ezra takes the invitation, and looks it over carefully. He turns the paper over and over, examining each fold, crease and marking. When his study is complete, he says, "I can duplicate this without difficulty. May I ask to what purpose would we need to meet only the female nobility? I don't think any girls will be present anyway, most of the duchess' parties happen in the evening after the children are asleep." Ezra begins moving with confidence and direction, instead of the slow plodding he has been doing up until this point. He pulls paper samples from here, and bottles of ink from there, sticks of wax from this drawer, and official looking seals from a locked box inside a locked drawer. Ezra constantly compares the invitation to his work in progress, and before long his invitation looks complete except for the signature. Turning the page around so it faces him upside down, he signs it with a flourish. Holding it up, he compares every minute detail before handing the completed project to the Gnome. "Is this acceptable?" Once the Gnome has inspected his work, "As is standard to our arrangement, I get to keep the original." He says while slipping the invitation into a stack of looseleaf papers, "A pleasure to serve Master Garrick, now there is only the matter of my fee."
DM-Boneyard Ben: Gimble rolls his eyes "I've told ya before Ezrie ta drop the Master bit. We're buddies, ain't we?" Upon hearing the girls bit he facepalms and groans. "Nahhh, Erzie, I'm talking about women! Y'know! Curvy noble women who wanna piss off their daddies by getting together with whoever! You and me head there, pick us up some lovely ladies and go for a night on the town! What do ya say?" Gimble says this in his usual manner, throwing his whole body into his explanations, referring to invisible props and his voice often rises and lowers excessively.
DM-Delfon: "Buddies." Ezra says the word a few times with different tones each time. "I've never had a buddy before Master Garrick." Ezra listens to the Gnome's explanation with a a look of bewilderment, "I'm not sure I could carry a woman for an entire evening. Also, would the ladies fathers not also be angry with us for keeping their daughters out too late?" Ezra pops a grape into his mouth, chews and swallows, "Regardless, I cannot attend this evening. I've been reading an old treatise the life and society of Lizard folk, and if I stay up a little later than I normally do, I should be able to finish it this evening."
DM-Boneyard Ben: Gimble buries his face in his hands and gives a long exasperated sigh. "Good greif, Erzie!" He says prying his face from his hands, his body back in the conversation. "Ya gotta get your head outta those papers, and into some ladies chest" He raises his hand when Erza goes to respond. "And by that I mean you gotta spend less time reading, and more time being out there and getting yourself a lady friend to make love with and share interests. I bet there's probably a pretty lil bookworm looking to match notes with you, if you take a chance ta find her"
DM-Delfon: Ezra's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, if Charles could fake a blush he would, but he's too tired to think of something that would actually embarrass him. "But, uh, hmmm." Ezra takes a deep calming breath, "Master Garrick, that simply would not be proper." Ezra nods, the most decisive thing he has done outside of scribing, then he adds, "Besides, I have several women to swap notes with in my book club." Ezra smiles at that, and Gimble wouldn't be sure if it's for the book club itself, or the ladies that attend it. "Perhaps I will join one of your evening endeavors, but tonight I really must finish with the treatise." Ezra opens back up the manuscript he was working on before, "I'm sorry Master Garrick, but I really must return to work. Do you need anything else?"
(Skilled NPC's would be paid 2gp/day. For forgery services I think I would charge 2gp per simple document or more for riskier work.)
DM-Boneyard Ben: Gimble sighs heavily. His body visibly deflating from his earlier excitement. "Well... Alrighty then" He says and walks over, placing two gold coins on the desk. "Here I was worried you never got out, and you got a whole club of girls." He chuckles at this, and on his way back out he stops. "Oh. I almost forgot" he turns on his heel, some life returning to his form. He places two more gold coins on the desk. "Make another copy for Bogomil, I'm sure that lively holy man would relish in this opportunity." He chuckles, gives you a short wave and closes the door.
DM-Delfon: Ezra nods, and pulls the original invitation back out. Once again gathering the supplies, Ezra begins the process over once again. When he has finished, he signs the invitation to: 'His Serene Highness, Prince Charles Somerset, Watcher of the Waves, Defender of the Somerset Isles.' Ezra looks up at the now closed door, and whispers, "Sorry Master Garrick, but I'm afraid Bogomil won't be able to attend." Setting aside the invitations, Ezra goes back to work on the manuscript, finishing the last line just before it's time to head home for the day. Setting aside the manuscript, and tucking away the original invitation, Ezra slips Charles invitation into this pack before heading home to prepare for tonight.
For the first time since being driven from his homeland, Charles prepares to be himself in public. He wears his long brown hair pulled back in a tight pony tail. Draping himself in high fashion, the most stylish fine clothes, mostly black trimmed in purple. A frill of lace spills out at neck and cuffs. His family signet ring is worn proudly on the little finger of his left hand. Hanging from his left hip is his rapier, while his dagger is sheathed on his right hip. Looking into his standing mirror, Charles says to himself, "Hello old friend. Tonight we light a signal fire for our enemies."
Charles throws on his cloak and makes his way to the party, aiming to show up fashionably late. While he traverses the city, he keeps his back straight, and shoulders back like his Embros personality. Unlike his Embros personality who keeps his head down, glaring through his eyebrows at everyone, Charles holds his head high seeming to look down his nose. His bearing screams nobility, but any ruffians that think a lone noble might be easy pickings are weary of his rapier and dagger.
Charles follows the directions of the duchess' staff until he reaches the steward checking the invitations, or the pursuivant who announces the guests to the room. Charles knows that the names on the invitations will be compared to a guest list. He also knows that the names on the fake invitations won't match the guest list. Charles keeps an eye out for the Gnome, hoping he hasn't already been apprehended. Since the Gnome seems to have found his own way inside, Charles hands over the fake invite and walks past the man into the room.
DM-Boneyard Ben: You arrive to the party as intended. Fashionably late. Most of the guests have already gone in, save for an adventurous couple in the bushes who thought no one else would be arriving this late. You walk to the door, show your invitation and are led in. A senior servant is by the entrance of the ball room and he announces you. His old and almost sarcastic voice carrying across the room. "Now arriving His Serene Highness, Prince Charles Somerset, Watcher of the Waves, Defender of the Somerset Isles" he takes a breath and rolls his eyes "Etcetera." Scratch that. His very sarcastic voice. The long nosed senior bows his head and takes his place back by the door. As you enter the ballroom you nearly mistake the room for a sunset. The room is decorated in yellows and oranges making the whole room seem like it was set ablaze. A chandelier hangs above with the same beautiful shade orange. You look to the party below the steps and see many familiar faces. Some nobles who hired your PI persona, more than a few guards who shared a drink with Bogomil and numerous others you recall from Ezra's work. All of these faces are glued to you. Many whispering of your noble appearance, others speaking of your uncle and questioning why you're here. Most of everything you expected. Some nobles even call servants to fetch the duchess. However, one group seems either unaware or uninterested, they're laughing along with a familiar looking gnome who's doing sleight of hand tricks as entertainment.
DM-Delfon: Charles tries to take in all their faces at once, that first moment of surprised recognition is crucial to knowing what side someone is truly on. After this everyone will be on their best behaviour, their masks in place, and it will be difficult to spot the signs of deceit in a crowd of courtiers that lie as easily as they breath. 'Over the next half hour some of the faces that showed negative expressions will make an excuse to leave the room, even if only for a short time. Just enough time to send a message to my uncle, to let him know that they've found me. I must know who my uncles minions are so I can use them against him.'
Charles grabs a drink from a passing servant, and takes a place near enough to a wall so he can see more of the room and exits, but close to the Gnome. 'You don't know it yet my little friend, but you will be working for me tonight.' Any courtier that speaks with Charles will find him as charming, and sophisticated and Prince Charming himself. Charles will intentionally turn the conversation away from himself or what's happening on the Somerset Isles. 'Parties with nobles and alcohol are the best places to gather information.' Charles takes note of any jewelry, or valuables the nobles have. The kind that only come out for special occasions. 'Never know when I might need a favour from the Shadow Hand.'
DM-Boneyard Ben: You're approached by numerous younger nobles all wanting to get to know you. Many have no idea who you even are, and are simply fascinated by you. You're met with some rather icy stares from across the room, but this is the Duchess' house so none would dare create a stir. You lock eyes with Gimble after a bit, and he cocks his head to the side with a curious expression. Like he recognized you but couldn't remember from where.
DM-Delfon: Charles assess those that give him the icy stares, and through subtle conversation with the other nobles figures out who they are, and what their standing within the city is. Charles would explain himself to each curious guest as the Prince of the Somerset Isles. To those with enough standing, or enough persistence, he adds that he's hoping to get first hand knowledge of Clifton. That way, when he becomes King of the Somerset Isles he can bring the two nations closer together to the benefit of all.
After a time Charles gets Gimble alone for a brief chat, "You and I share some acquaintances, and they say that you're resourceful fellow. I might require your services in the next few days." As another noble arrives, arm extended to shake hands, Charles mummers, "We will talk more later." Charles continues to glad hand his way around the room, learning as much as he can about the who's who of Clifton, while he waits for the Duchess to introduce herself. 'Maybe the object of the bakers affection will be guarding the Duchess tonight.' Charles muses to himself.
DM-Boneyard Ben: You're met with a many smiles at your plans to bring the two kingdoms together. A lot of the icy stares are just small time lords who only wanna increase they're standing, and have worked with your uncle to do so.
"Huh?" Gimble says leaning in. "What acquaintances? Whats a pretty pampered pup like you know about my friendlies, eh?" Gimbles arms are crossed and his brow furrowed, its clear he doesn't like you. As you shake hands with the noble, and say you'll talk more later the gnome rolls his eyes and wanders to the other side of the party, away from you.
"If I may have your attention" the long nosed servant calls out to everyone from the top of the steps. "The Duchess would like all guests to vacate the ball room, and join her in the garden for the unveiling." The servant informs.
DM-Delfon: Charles quickly scribbles a note to the Gnome, "Speak with me later to find out. -Pampered Pup" Then he works his way through the crowd to the front, passing by the Gnome on the way. Charles intentionally keeps nobles between himself and the Gnome to remain hidden. As he passes by, he slips the note into the Gnomes pocket. Knowing that his title will clear a path for him as soon as the lesser nobles realize who is walking, he moves to stand with the upper crust of Clifton.
Rolls/OOC Stealth: 17 + 5 = 22 Slight of Hand: 20 (nat) + 5 = 25
(He might be distracted, as he wouldn't be looking for me, and bloody nobody would be expecting a pick pocket here.)
DM-Boneyard Ben: You use your suave charm, and noble know how to talk many of the noble girls into falling for you, and even a few of the boys. But, the juicy stuff is that every single noble is under your Uncle's thumb, and has used either one of the Thieves Guilds to get to where they are today. Many were much simpler lords, and though some used these underhanded means for the benefit of their family, many others did it for themselves. It turns out that it's common practice, and one that's highly favored so as not to arouse the suspicion of the Duchess. In fact, many regard her as a fool, and laugh at her in inability to see their deception. The fact is that the only reason she's failed to run these guilds outta town is because of the nobles here at the party. The whole reason the guilds exist is because they feed off of the nobles wanting to ascend the ranks.
As you chat and learn of the horrid underbelly of this fine city, you're lead out into the garden. You see a small stage that stretches out like a dock. You're told its called 'the catwalk' and it's where the Duchess' new fashion line will be shown. You take your seat, and the show starts. The Duchess herself is the announcer. The Duchess herself makes you think of a regal dragon. She has bright blue eyes that are like two sparkling sapphires. Her fine, wavy, medium-length hair is the color of black coffee, and is worn in a carefully-crafted, exotic style. She is very short, and has a leggy build. Her skin is deeply-tanned. She has thin lips. And her taste of fashion is certainly unique, she wears a shapely long dress with a slit down one side showing half of her thigh. It all seems to be in one piece that reaches up to her neck. The designs on the dress are a mixture of orange dragon scale patterns and sun like shapes. She has a Pelorian holy symbol in the neck of her dress. She greets everyone, and thanks them for attending the unveiling her latest line. She is to the right of the stage, talking about each piece as it comes out. What inspired it. What occasions it's for. What it's made of, ect.
DM-Delfon: Charles makes no promises, and in fact doesn't say anything directly related to his feelings. He doesn't do anything at all to dissuade the noble women from drawing their own conclusions about his level of interested. Charles would use a lot of caution while discussing the Shadow Hand, drawing out names and descriptions of the noble's contacts as if he intended to make use of them himself. Not saying outright that they would be rewarded for their assistance, but again not dissuading them from drawing their own conclusions. As the group is lead out to the gardens, Charles makes sure to make excuses to sit alone for the presentation. He doesn't want to give the Duchess any false ideas about his allegiance. He's already going to have to convince her that he didn't murder his own mother. Even without speaking or really moving at all Charles tries to make the Duchess feel like she's the only woman present. As each of her fashions comes out, he studies them for a moment memorizing the lines and words the Duchess says. Then he returns to looking right at the Duchess once more, to him she is the only one in the garden.
DM-Boneyard Ben: The Duchess meets eyes with you, and you two share moment. She's slightly deterred from the show, but regains herself quickly and the show goes on with you and her playing eye tag. Soon after the show ends the Duchess takes her leave, and you're informed to enjoy the rest of your night. If you go back to the ball room you notice three long tables have appeared with various finger foods and such. At the table you see Gimble who locks eyes with you. You also notice as you walk various Nobles are... Snickering? What's so funny? You look around, and they're laughing at you. As you turn you hear the sound of paper. You put two and two together, and reach behind you to find a note stuck to your back. It reads; "Pampered Pup" and it features a scrawling of a pointy eared puppy wetting itself, and a speech balloon that reads; "Aww, someone made a mess". You look to Gimble who's waving at you with a smirk on his face.
DM-Delfon: Charles reads the paper, and sees the doodle. He glances up and Gimble, and smiles. 'Oh yes, you will do nicely. Of course, when I'm done with you, you will pay for this.' None of that shows on Charles' features however. Laughing at being the butt of a joke, Charles holds up the paper to Gimble like he was doing a cheers, then claps and nods slightly. The gathered nobles would only see a charming man accepting a prank with grace and humility.
Charles continues to work the crowd, gathering information on which Shadow Hand contact would be used for this, and whom I should speak to in the Night Blades if I wanted to permanently end an ongoing issue. Once again hinting that those that help me could ride my coat tails to the top in the Duchess' court. Secondarily, since I know that Gimble is looking for a dirty noble woman with daddy issues. I want to find the hottest woman there that is looking to piss off daddy. I want to charm her into thinking that I mean me at first, then subtly put the idea in her head that a Gnome would be much better for such an effect. "I happen to know the perfect fellow for you, little hands, nimble fingers..." Charles winks at her, then bring her over to introduce them. "Master Gimble Garrick, I would like to introduce you to a new friend of mine, the Lady Cassidy McDowell. She isn't much for treatises, but I think you two will get along famously. If you will both excuse me..." Charles steps back as if to excuse himself, then adds, "Sorry, I almost forgot. Ezra asked me to inform you that he couldn't find the recipient you requested. You can get a refund at your leisure."
DM-Boneyard Ben: Gimble opens his mouth to tell you how he doesn't need some second hand broad, but his mouth hangs open when you drop Ezra's name. He stands there for a bit, and laughs a little rubbing the back of his neck. As you leave, he turns to his lady friend. No doubt he'll find you later for proper thank-you, but for now he has to seal the deal. When you turn around to walk back to the party you immediately spot the Duchess who's at the other end of the room sitting on a fine orange chair with a cup of tea. A female guard stands beside her, she wears full plate mail save for her head. She's human with an unreadable expression, long flowing blonde hair, and bright pale blue eyes that rival even the Duchess'. The Duchess herself has changed outfits. This one more simple in design, a small dress with an apron-like design (Think of Alice's dress from Alice in Wonderland). This dress is also a vibrant orange, and the "apron" is embroidered with sun-like waves that extend throughout the dress. The apron remains white and pure save for the necklace of Pelor.
DM-Delfon: Charles continues to work the room, gathering names and information on as many people as he can. He files every scrap and detail away, even the implied information, and what is implied by what is not said. He will have time enough to sort through it all the next time he is scribbling away as Ezra, but for now he must soak up everything. As he works the room he keeps looking up to the Duchess, and whenever their eyes meet he smiles. He is never rude, or overly distracted from those he speaks with. He just makes a point to look up to her whenever he can, let her feel his eyes upon her. 'Eventually she will come speak to me, or send for me. Which she chooses will say a lot about her.' Charles thinks, 'I have so much to offer her about the nobility of her fine city. Among other things...' He lets that train of thought trail off, down that road is only distraction. 'She is beautiful though.' Charles focuses on the food table for a minute to clear his head. It only takes a moment, as you can't maintain several identities without the ability to compartmentalize your thoughts. Then he goes back to work, weeding through the lies and rumor to find those wonderful nuggets of truth hidden below.
DM-Boneyard Ben: You manage to find several nobles have secret stocks of food, weapons, armour and the like for some reason, details are sketchy. You find several nobles in debt to your Uncle or the respective guilds and are under their thumbs. You also note that Gimble has disappeared with his lady friend out the garden. Soon, you feel a tap at your shoulder and you turn to see the guard woman. She's a head taller than you and looks down at you with indifference. "The Duchess wants to talk to you" She says plainly.
DM-Delfon: Charles files away all the new information with the old. Smiling when he notices Gimble escort Cassidy outside. When Charles feels the tap on his shoulder, he turns and takes note of the guards woman, "Why that is fantastic news, I was hoping she would have the time to speak with me. Would you mind if I asked you a question while we walk? I mean aside from that one of course." Assuming she shows indifference, or agrees, "It might be strange to ask, but would you happen to know a good baker?"
When Charles is presented to the Duchess, he greets her with all the formality that her station deserves, and then says, "Now that all that formality, and titles business is out of the way." He extends his hand, "Please, call me Charles. We have much to discuss, you and I, but that can wait for the evening." If not already offered a seat, Charles gestures to one, asking if he might join her, "I enjoyed your fashion show, I particularly liked your fourth piece. The wrap-around décolleté dress with the thin orange pin stripes. I found that it showed enough of the shoulders and chest to accentuate femininity, while it's full length covered enough that one could wear it to Temple." Charles looks down and shakes his head, "My apologies Duchess, you asked to speak to me. Here I am steering the conversation. What did you wish to speak with me about?"
DM-Boneyard Ben: The guard woman stops. She seems to whisper something before saying. "There's a bakery outside of town that I hear is good" in her same uninterested tone. and she takes you to the Duchess without another word.
The Duchess greets you, and seems quite impressed with your forwardness. She gestures you to take a seat and listens to you. "I'm quite impressed, are you perhaps a fashion lover?" She asks her hands folded in her lap, her back straight. Sitting as you would expect a lady would. "Oh no, please, I have so few to speak with fashion about." She smiles.
DM-Delfon: Charles smiles at the guardswoman, a knowing smile, "Outside the walls you say? Odd, I hear there are Lizard Folk out there. Or perhaps you meant the farmland to the north or south?" He chuckles to show that there are no hard feelings.
"I dabble." He gives a slight shrug, "One can't be at court without dressing the part." He smiles again, leaning forward elbows on knees, "Tell me, where did you get the inspiration for the seventh dress? It is unique, unless I've gotten out of touch all together?" Charles lets the conversation related to fashion continues until the Duchess changes topics. 'If she wants to make this interesting, then she will have to start the conversation.'
DM-Boneyard Ben: "Ahhh, you mean the Withered Rose? Yes, its quite unique, I designed it after a very dear friend of mine passed away. Took me years to get it just right. But, grief does that." She says and sighs. "Speaking of, I hear there was quite the grievance in Somerset a while ago" She looks at you "The death of the queen by her own son's hands. Can you imagine what twisted creature would do such a thing? And to such a beloved member of the Somersets" She talks about this as if its part of the conversation, like shes talking to someone who was never involved. But, despite her winning smile and calm tone you suddenly feel like your a hair's breath from death. If you look around you'll notice every guard, servant and even some guests have murderous intent in their eyes. You realize your in a room full of vipers ready to strike. You also notice the rest of the party is oblivious of this. But the worst is right in from of you. The guard woman. She stares down at you with those bright eyes. Gone is the light from their brightness. Now as she looks at you, they're cold and emotionless eyes that seem to weigh you for all your worth. As a side note, your current worth is a slab of meat in a butcher's shop. She already knows she's gonna be able cut through you, it's just a matter of when she gets the right order.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Sept 8, 2018 17:58:36 GMT -5
DM-Delfon: "My condolences on the loss of your friend." Charles says solemnly. "I'm still grieving a recent loss myself." When she brings up Charles' mother he answers without hesitation, his voice level, but with a tremor of sadness and a hint of anger, "My mother was killed, but you have identity of the murderer wrong." Charles full attention is on the Duchess now, the servants and guards opinions are unimportant compared to hers. This was the most dangerous part of his plan, 'If she doesn't believe me I die.' Charles thinks to himself.
Allowing the full measure of his true sadness to fill his voice Charles continues, "My mother was a wonderful woman. She was kind, and gentle. She loved her people with a selflessness that I hope to emulate once I retake my homeland from the true culprit." Charles takes a deep calming breath, a single tear rolls down his cheek that he ignores, "Duchess I loved my mother fiercely, and would never have done anything to harm her." Wiping away the tear, Charles looks to the guards-woman, and to a few of the others that wish him ill. "If you're going to arrest me or kill me for a crime I didn't commit, then take me away from the party so we don't disturb your guests." He leans back in his chair, "Some food for thought. Did your reports about me ever say that I was dimwitted? No, I thought not. If I had slain my mother, and your friend, why would I come to your party?" Charles tents his fingers in front of himself, "We have more to discuss, privately, but I think we need to put this topic to bed first." Charles waits for the Duchess.
DM-Boneyard Ben: The guard reaches for her blade but the Duchess, raises her hand. "Take a walk with me" She says and gets up from her chair. She leads you outside to her flower garden. The guard woman stays behind you at a respectable but intimidating distance. "I never believed that story from the start" She admits. "However my station has taught me to be safe rather than an alternative, these are dangerous times after all" She walks through the garden, her hands folded over, and her back straight. She walks with a poise and dignity of a queen. She stops at the center of the garden before a pond with water lilies and orchids in bloom. "Now, what is it you wish to discuss?" She asks, staring out over the moonlit pond.
DM-Delfon: Charles nods, rising smoothly, "I'd be happy to follow." he says, a little of his earlier charisma beginning to return. 'How does she seem to float across the floor, instead of walking?' Charles observes before he catches himself. 'Focus man!' "I'm glad you don't believe that I could do such a thing. My uncle stirred up quite the frenzy before I was driven from the Somerset Isles. My own people wanted to tear me apart." Charles says, seemingly lost in thought. Standing on the edge of the pond, admiring both the foliage and the Duchess, 'Focus damn you.' Charles turns to the Duchess, and glances to the guardswoman, before pitching his voice low enough as not to be overheard, "You are being silently overthrown." He says it simply, in a conversational tone much as the Duchess had mentioned his mother's death earlier. "I have spoken with everybody at your party this evening, and I counted twelve nobles that are actually loyal to you. Maybe a quarter of those gathered would be loyal, but are being controlled by someone who isn't. Do you know who that someone is? Because I do." He looks at her carefully during this conversation, watching where she reacts, and where she doesn't. "I have a proposition for you. I help you reclaim Clifton, and then later you help me reclaim the Somerset Isles."
DM-Boneyard Ben: "Do you think me a fool?" She asks, tilting her head slightly. "I am well aware of who my allies and enemies are, Charles." She says with a drip of venom. She then pauses and takes a breath to calm herself. " Forgive me, it is... Difficult in my station, it is as though I'm being attacked by the shadows themselves. The moment I have something against them something goes wrong" She walks up beside you and stares out into the clear pool, her deep blue eyes thoughtful. The wind then suddenly whips up around you two. Flower petals surrounding you both in a small whirlwind before flying off into night sky. When you manage to stop staring at the petals disappearing into the night sky, you turn your head and see the Duchess. She's smiling and not the smile she had on stage. This was one that stemmed from whimsical joy. A true smile. One she probably hasn't had in a while. "I accept your proposition" She says with her smile still on her face. She turns to you. "If you can help me reclaim Clifton. I swear by Pelor, I shall use everything at my disposal to help you back on the throne of Somerset" She places special emphasis on the 'If' but otherwise she states this with unwavering conviction.
(I hope you have a plan, dude)
DM-Delfon: "Of course not, but how does one bring up such a thing?" He says it lightly, without a hint of defensiveness. "There is no forgiveness needed Eliezra. I believe that my uncle is your shadow, and he is using Somerset funds to destabilize Clifton. He has the nobles using the thieves guilds against one another, and the only ones winning in this are the guilds." Eliezra would see the same look of wonderment on Charles' face at the flower petals. Charles stares at her now with the same look of wonderment as he had with the flowers, this time lost in the sapphire blue of her eyes, 'How can it be possible to be this beautiful?' Charles thinks, catching himself short of reaching up and stroking her cheek, 'Almighty Shar, what the nine hells am I doing?' When the Duchess agrees, tension visibly leaves the set of Charles shoulders, "We have a lot of planning to do, but we have already been alone together too long." He says looking back to your party, "I will have to disappear again after tonight, but we will need to stay in contact. You have a scribe that works out of the library, his name is Ezra Quiller. He has been associated with me for as long as I can remember, and I trust him with my life. If you need to send word to me, do it through him."
DM-Boneyard Ben: "Very well then" She says and offers her hand. "Shall we?" You safely assume she wants you to escort her back to the party. The guard woman is indifferent.
DM-Delfon: Charles steps in close, holding her eyes with his own, and breathing the scent of her in, "Thank you." Taking her left with his own, he places his right on her lower back and they begin walking with their indifferent bladed shadow. Charles doesn't lead them straight back to the party, wanting to keep the beautiful woman all to himself for a few minutes more. Instead he follows a more meandering path through the gardens. Charles keeps an eye out for Gimble as they walk, if spotted Charles discreetly winks at the little Gnome. Just before they reach the doors leading inside, Charles murmurs, "Here we go again..." Then he smiles his best smile, and intentionally makes eye contact with all of those that had murder in their eyes before.
DM-Boneyard Ben: The Duchess follows your movements and leans against you slightly as you wander through the garden admiring the many flowers under the moonlight as well as the flower in your arms. You delight in her warmth but something breaks you out of your enjoyment. A light moan on the wind, it comes from a bush ahead and you put the pieces together. It's Gimble and his lady friend. You look at the Duchess but doesn't seem to notice. Assuming you don't wanna see how a Gnome and Human get it on, you deviate your path back to the party a lil earlier than you desired. The Duchess parts from you with a hint of regret in her eyes, and the two of you enter. You meet many faces but the threatening ones have disappeared either, left or hiding you cannot be sure. You take the Duchess to her seat and she takes a seat. "I look forward to results on your promise, Your Highness" She seems to have a hint of playfulness in calling you highness. Her guard takes her place next to her and you see a rather large line of people forming, probably wanting to speak to the Duchess.
DM-Delfon: Now all regal formality in front of so many, Charles nods his head a fraction, showing the required amount of respect from Prince to Duchess, "Duchess." He pivots smoothly, and makes his way through the crowd. Charles finds that wherever he ends up in the room, he always ends up making eye contact across the room with the Duchess, all warm smiles and suggestive looks. 'I don't think I am the only one that felt that connection. This is going to get interesting.' Charles only stays for a little while longer, he needs to process all that he has learned, and decide which of his many targets he is going to deal with first.
He takes the long way home, circling south from the Noble District Charles makes his way around to the river. Crossing along the water, he is reminded of the flower pedals by the pond, and the feel of the Duchess' hand held in his own. He stops by the water's edge, and watches the boats on the river, lost in thought and planning his next move.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Sept 8, 2018 18:12:32 GMT -5
DM-Boneyard Ben: Prince Charles stares into the deep dark water as it ripples, listening to the sounds of the city. When he suddenly hears foot steps approaching, he turn and meet eyes with a dark haired man with a single curl over his forehead, the rest of his hair is slicked back. He recognize him as the man from last night, the one who filled Bogomil's cup first. The adventurer with the symbol of a fist and clutching lighting upon his studded leather armor. His eyes dark with annoyance. He stops and meets eyes with you. The annoyance fading from his eyes being replaced with curiosity. It is silent between the two of you for a while, when suddenly his lips part. "This may come as a strange question but, have we met?" Orellow asks.
DM-Delfon: "Does that line ever work?" Charles asks jokingly, immediately holding up his hands to show he meant no disrespect. "Sorry, it has been a trying evening, and I shouldn't take it out on you friend." He studies the fellow before him, "I don't believe we have, but you do have the look of an adventurer..." He trails off for a moment, thinking things through, finding a place for this man in his plans. "I will be in need of adventurous sorts in the coming weeks, would you be interested in some dirty work?"
DM-Boneyard Ben: A small smile grows on Orellow's face. "Haha! Line? Good one. Not a worry, my friend, it's probably just my imagination". He laughs and lets you go on. "And you seem to have the look of someone important" He says gesturing to his attire. "Dirty work? I'm a man who seeks truth and justice in my work, it's cleanliness is of little importance" he waves his hand dismissively.
DM-Delfon: Charles looks down at himself, "One has to dress the part when you attend one of the Duchess' parties." There is no bragging in his voice, just a statement of facts. "I wasn't speaking to the cleanliness of the work, but to the character of the work." He looks the man in the eye, "If you seek truth and justice, you must stand opposed to the thieves guilds that are ruining this city, yes?"
DM-Boneyard Ben: "Mmm? Theieve's guild's run this city, eh?" Orellow asks and looks around. "Place has seemed peaceful enough to me, but then again, I'm new here" He grins "But, I hunted Bandits for my daily bread. So, thumping city thugs is right up my alley" He grins, pounding his fist in his hand. "If a thief killer is your desire, I'm well equipped to do so, but" he says lowering his hands. "I ain't about to put in work for a stranger who asks strangers about dirty work without knowing why he's in need of such work"
(Insight: Nat 20+6. To read Charles. His body language, and such, is this a good guy? Read any lies you tell and etc.. I'm doing a full Insight check)
DM-Delfon: Charles smiles, "My name is Prince Charles Somerset, Watcher of the Waves, Defender of the Somerset Isles." He says it simply, but with conviction, "I've recently brokered a deal with your Duchess, and part of that deal was to help her reclaim Clifton from those that wish to subvert her." You wouldn't be sure if he was speaking about Clifton as her, the Duchess as her or both. "So how about it Master... I just realizes that I don't even know your name." After you give a name, "Well Master Avnec, or may I call you Orellow? How about helping straighten out a city that has lost it's way?"
DM-Boneyard Ben: "That is quite a mouthful" Orellow says about Charles' name and titles. "Just call me Orellow, I am a master of no one" he chuckles. "Well, I've never been the type to involve myself with the City but it seems you've quite the under taking. So, I'm in" He smiles broadly and then it seems a thought hits him "Although, I'd think a Prince would be able to handle a guild or two? What could you need me for?"
DM-Delfon: Charles shrugs, "In this land I'm just a man in a fancy coat. So I took on this challenge alone, and set to work gathering allies." Charles finally turns away from the water, gesturing up the road, and then he begins to walk, "Tonight I lit a signal fire for my enemies back home, so I will be dropping out of sight for a while. There is an inn called the Wayfarer's Rest, a guardsman told me about it when I first came to town." He glances at your reaction, "Ah, you know it. Do you also happen to know a man by the name of Bogomil?" He nods again, smiling once more, "Excellent. I filled his Grail when I first came to town, and he has become a staunch ally of mine ever since. He will be our point of contact. If you need to get a hold of me, do so through him." You realize that the prince has been walking you toward the Wayfarer's Rest, "I believe this is where we part ways Orellow, Master of No One." He imparts your title sarcastically, but with a smile. "Anything else before I go?"
DM-Boneyard Ben: "No, Prince Charles, Watcher of the Waves and Defender of the Somerset Isles" Orellow jabs back with a grin. "Let the Jovious one know if any unwanted moths flock to your signal fire and I shall do my part, but for now, I retire, it has been a tiring day" He waves at Charles as he heads in. Assuming no further problems arise he give Ol' Boris a quick two finger salute before heading up to his room to rest. Going through his usual routine of locking the door and giving thanks to Vecna (In a whisper, of course) for another day where no one discovered his darkness before he sleeps.
DM-Delfon: Charles nods, the barest incline of his head before he heads off toward his own home. Once inside Charles removes the tie from his hair, and lets it fall loose. He carefully adds a part down the middle of his hair. Charles then strips off his fine clothes, and pulls his ink stained robe from the closet. As Charles' takes hold of the garment, his posture changes to that of Ezra the Scribe. Ezra puts away the fine clothes absentmindedly, as if he didn't know why such fancy clothing was here at all, let alone laying on the bed. With tomorrow's preparations ready, Ezra absentmindedly goes about preparing for bed.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Sept 8, 2018 19:01:18 GMT -5
DM-Delfon: Ezra gathers his belongings and heads into work. He polishes off translating an intercepted message that was written in Elven into the common tongue, and making a second copy for himself of course. Apparently one of the Nobles is planning to hire pirates to attack a rival merchant houses vessel. 'This information could come in handy.' Charles thinks, while Ezra goes about the library grabbing books at random to study.
DM-Boneyard Ben: After working for a while, you hear a knock at the door and then it swings open. At the door you see a man of short stature leaning in the door way. He wears a disheveled tuxedo, with his bow tie is undone and barely hanging on. His shirt is partially tucked in, and his pants are hastily done up. You recognize a mess of hair on his head, and a well maintained goat-like beard. Its Gimble, covered in lipstick with a dopey grin.
"Heeeeeeeeey Erzie" He says drunkenly as he stumbles in. "Maaaaaan you shoulda been at the party last night, it was sooooooo much fun" he chuckles, his body trying to go into his speech but it comes out as swaying and stumbling. "And I metta guy who claims to be your buddy, does the name Charles, ring a bell?" He asks leaning in close. His breath smells strange, there is alcohol on it but there's something else mixed in.
DM-Delfon: Ezra doesn't look up from reading his chosen book at the sound of the knock, or even when the door opens. It isn't until the drunken Gnome speaks that Ezra looks up and blinks, seeming confused as to why anyone would be talking to him. Than he says absentmindedly as if the response was of no consequence, "Oh yes Master Garrick, His Grace and I have known each other as long as I have existed." His finger still holding his place in his book. Ezra abruptly stands, and gestures to the chair that is still empty after the Gnomes last visit, "Won't you take a seat?" At which point Ezra helps the Gnome get to the chair without toppling any of the stacks of books and papers that make up the office. Circling around the desk Ezra pulls out a small tray with a place setting worthy of a fancy banquet, then a bottle of wine comes from a drawer, followed by a full sandwich and a bunch of grapes. The place setting is entirely overkill for the finger food offered, but Ezra doesn't seem to realize that. Sitting behind the desk at his own place once again, Ezra's finger automatically goes to the exact spot he was at in the book before, "I believe I owe you a refund."
DM-Boneyard Ben: "That's some fancy tray" Gimble muses at the dinner wear. He shakes his head "Naaah, bud, keep it, I can spare to lose a couple of coins" He adjusts his clothes to look somewhat more suitable and pulls out a small comb. "I'm actually here on business, bud" He says getting a little more serious as he brushes his beard. "I need information on a Mr. Ralph Masters. I wanna know what properties he owns in the area" He puts the comb away once he finishes speaking and looks you in the eye. "And get in touch with his royal highness. If he is doing what I think he's doing he is gonna wanna know that a Noble's daughter's is being held captive."
DM-Delfon: Ezra rummages around the stacks of papers, moving books and piles of papers onto other books and other stacks of papers until he pulls out a massive tomb with dozens of pages sticking out of it. Ezra turns open the book about halfway, then turns a few pages running his finger down the pages quickly. "Ah, here we are..." Ezra says, trailing off as he reads. "Master Masters." He turns his head to the side, "I think that might be funny." He goes back to reading silently, apparently forgetting that the Gnome is even present. After a while Ezra closes the book and looks up, seeming surprised when he notices the Gnome, "When did you get back Master Garrick?" He glances at the tray, and back at the Gnome, "Refreshment?" He gestures at the tray, before saying, "While you were away I finished researching your Master Masters." He pauses to smile, "I still think that could be funny. He has been buying up a lot of property in the city, mostly in the Lower District, but also a few spots clustered near the South Gate." Ezra then pulls out a piece of parchment, and a quill, "As to the matter of the kidnapping, why don't you write whatever you need to tell the prince here. I will seal it and make sure he gets the information contained in it by this evening. I will need to know how I can get a hold of you so I can report back to you with His Grace's message."
DM-Boneyard Ben: Gimble buries his face in his hands and seems to be containing a scream. He stays like this for a while before he looks up from his hands. "Just gimme a list of the places in the Lower District, I'll do a little checking around tonight and.." Takes the quill and parchment and writes a note: "Dear Pup, A noble has been kidnapped. Meet me at the docks in the morning to find out where. Yours mischievously, Goat" Where the words Pup and Goat would be written there are two scrawling's of a puppy's head, and a goat's head. He hands the note to Ezra, and once he gets the list he drops a gold nix and takes off. "I''ll see ya later, Ezrie" he calls out as he goes.
DM-Delfon: Ezra quickly writes out all the addresses he located, including the ones by the south gate. Handing the paper over he says, "Be aware that my files are not the official documents used by the magistrate of land titles. My file does not include any transactions within the last two days." You find it odd that the man seems to think his files are not up to grade because they're out of date by two days. You're not even sure the magistrate of land titles' own files are up to date within the last two days. When the coin hits the desk it spins on its edge, rotating faster and faster as it gets closer and closer to laying flat. Ezra watches the spinning with fascination, his finger making quick circles on the desktop in time with the spinning of the coin. It's not until the Gnome hands Ezra the note that Ezra seems to become aware of another person in the room again. Ezra takes the Gnomes note, and folds it without looking at the contents. He then seals it, and slips it into the ink stained sleeve of his robe. "A pleasure to serve you Master Garrick." Ezra calls at the retreating back of the Gnome.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Work goes along nicely. You manage to copy another detailed file from a familiar looking name about how wonderful horses are, but otherwise it's quiet and not much of interest turns up. Your work day concludes.
DM-Delfon: Ezra returns home, quickly stripping off his Ezra persona. Pulling out the Gnomes note, Charles breaks the seal with his thumb, and reads the contents. 'Well now, if the victim can be rescued that will bring one more noble back to our side.' Since he won't have to do that until tomorrow morning, there might be time to help out the Fisherman's Forge. Changing his clothing and mannerisms, Bogomil makes his way down to the Fisherman's Forge.
DM-Boneyard Ben: You arrive at the forge. It's a small wooden and metal house-like structure that seems to be missing a wall. In the open space you can see the inside of the forge. There's all the things you'd expect. A counter for selling weapons. Weapons, armour, nails and various other metal objects are hung up on display. There's a large furnace, and near it is a water source and an anvil. There's a tall muscular figure standing at the anvil, banging out what seems to be a large nail. Maybe for a boat? Upon further inspection you notice that the figure is a woman, and that she could probably kill you. Standing a head taller than you. Her hair is done up but messy, and she wears a heavy leather apron over her clothes.
DM-Delfon: "Good evening." Bogomil says in his singsong voice as he almost dances his way up to the forge. "You must be Hareld's wife, I was speaking with Steven and Hareld the other day at the Wayfarer's Rest." Bogomil keeps his distance from the forge, standing off to the side by the oil and vinegar barrels. "My name is Bogomil Ananzo, priest of Lliira. I have come to offer you whatever assistance I can. That and the blessings of Lliira of course."
DM-Boneyard Ben: At first the woman doesn't even acknowledge you exist. She continues hammering away, but when you open your mouth to speak she glares at you. Her hammer still held over her head. Finally, she lowers the hammer, and looks down at you, her features softening from her earlier glare. "Look, 'm sure ya mean well Bogmill, but dere's notta thing ye can do for my hubby." She resumes her work. "Iffen ya need metal work done, put in ya request at da counter. Otherwise, kindly go on yur way."
DM-Delfon: Bogomil smiles, "You would be surprised what a man of Lliira can do. Something is wrong here, and it's blocking the joy from flowing into your family. I can't have that now, can I?" Bogomil approaches, standing opposite the anvil, "Come now, let me help your family find joy again. I only want to help." Bogomil sounds sincere, he genuinely wants to help this family.
Persuasion 13+8=21
DM-Boneyard Ben: The big woman heaves a sigh. "You might'n guess it from 'ow he acts at the tavvy, but we're a happy family." she looks off to the nearby river for a while, it seems shes lost in thought... She then turns to you. "'es around the back up the stairs"
If you so chose to head the direction you wander around the forge, and find the stairs she mentioned. When you head up them you find a door. Knocking on it, you hear a familiar voice on the other side inviting you in. You open the door, and see a small room much like Ezra's. It smells of old pages, ink, and pine? but unlike Ezra's study this room is clean, papers are neatly stacked in their proper places all the books are on the shelves, and you don't see a single speck of dust anywhere, not even on the small pine tree in the corner of the room. The thin man seems to be absorbed in his books, and he waves for you to come in. "Come come have a seat. Have a seat. I've almost finished this bit of work" he informs. You wait a bit, and he seems to prattle on while he works. He speaks about the latest order of metal work for a new boat for the Duchess. "Now, m'dear if you'll remove your clothes, minus your apron we can get to your..." He says closing his book and turning to you, his face seems to turn from happy to curious. "Your not my wife" He says plainly.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil smiles, "No sir, I am not. Although I must admit, part of me is curious what you were going to say..." Bogomil trails off, then continues, "I don't know if you remember me, but we met the other night at the Wayfarer's Rest. You seemed a bit downtrodden at the time, and I offered to come by and give you a hand." Bogomil sits back, smiling, "So how can I be of service."
DM-Boneyard Ben: "Well, sir, no offense, but I would rather keep that between me and the Missus" He chuckles bashfully and continues. "As to last night I am sorry to say but I do not remember" He smiles.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil shrugs, "Not to worry, you had been drinking quite a bit. You kept apologizing, and seemed rather upset. What had you in such a state?" Bogomil inquires, his voice softer than it was.
DM-Boneyard Ben: "Well, who can say? Work? Maybe the loss of my Aunt? It could be any number of things, I can not really recall" He laughs weakly. You notice beads of sweat on his brow. His hands are clasped together, and he seems to be twiddling his thumbs.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil raises an eyebrow, nothing more. Then he waits, letting the silence grow long and awkward. Just when the man is about to speak Bogomil leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, "Yes, go ahead. Lliira hears all confessions, and will help bring the joy back into your life." Bogomil doesn't break eye contact, and his knowing smile never slips.
Insight: 10+5=15
DM-Boneyard Ben: "I have nothing to confess to you or Lliira. I'm perfectly happy as I am" The thin man says folding his arms.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil lets out an exasperated sigh, "Come now, unless you just took ill with a fever, the sweat on your brow says otherwise." Bogomil leans back in the chair, "I am no guard. I make no judgments, and want no trouble. I just want to help you. Any man that drinks himself to incoherent, and blubbers apologies while crying as soon as he makes pay has a problem that needs solving. Let me solve your problem." Bogomil's eyes plead with the man.
Persuasion: 19+8=27
DM-Boneyard Ben: The thin man sighs his arms dropping from their fold. "My problems are long gone. They died away in that fire" He says. "Beth; my wife out front, her brother and I were all raised in the same orphanage, we considered each other like family under a tyrannical rule of that miserable man." His hands come together and grip each other. It's clear he doesn't like thinking about this man, "His name was George Straight, and he was a despicable man who ran the orphanage" He spits out his name like the very taste of it coming out of his mouth offends him. "I have always had this talent for numbers, even at a young age. They were simple, lovely things" A smile finds its way on his lips as he looks back at his books, but his smile soon fades. "and he saw my talents as a way to make more money off of us. As if sending us out into the streets everyday wasn't enough" He growls. "He had me rig the books so he could siphon money from the nobles who were supporting us and he." He grits his teeth and swallows hard. "did things to me, called it a reward. The sick..." He sighs, takes a breath and continues. "Beth saw it one night, and she stormed in. In my panic I knocked over a lantern and the old place set ablaze, we managed to get everyone out" He pauses. "Everyone but him. I still here his screams to this day" He looks off into the distance. You could swear you see a smile on his face, but it's hard to tell from this angle. He turns back, and has the look of forced regret. "A while ago I thought I saw him on the streets, and I guess something in me just snapped. I turned to drinking. What you heard was most likely me apologizing to him" He looks at you, and raises his hands before you can assume. "Not for killing him, no. I would apologize when I didn't get numbers right, and he'd beat me" He sits back in his chair. "So, now you know. Still think you can help Mister... Y'know, I don't think I got your name..." He says in realization and he chuckles. "Strange, telling all this to someone I don't even know the name of."
DM-Delfon: Bogomil laughs, the sound musical, "Oh yes, I had forgotten that you don't remember me. I'm called Bogomil, Joydancer of Lliira my friend." The mirth is replaced with seriousness, which seems out of place somehow on this man, "It seems to me that you're feeling not only not guilty regarding his death, but happy about it. Why shouldn't you be? He was a pedophile if I understood you correctly, and a crook that not only took advantage of the innocence of children, but destroyed that innocence in the process. He was abhorrent in the eyes of the gods, and his actions are anathema to the teaching of Lliira." A note of anger had crept into Bogomils voice, so he takes a deep calming breath. "By your description the fire was an accident, and no innocents were harmed by it. I would call it divine justice. The balance of karma upon his soul came due, and he was found wanting."
"I offer you absolution in the eyes of Lliira." Bogomil stands, raising his hands to the sky. He begins to pray, arcane syllables flow from his lips and flames abruptly dance between his fingers. Bogomil suddenly leans across the desk and touches the man with the tip of one of his flaming fingers. The flames leap across from his hands to the man, engulfing him completely. The flames do not harm him, in fact he would feel nothing at all. In a solemn and commanding voice, Bogomil recites, "You have faced the flames of judgement." as the flames recede. "You are purged clean of your fear and doubt, leaving room only for happiness and joy."
(Cast Minor Image to create the flames.)
DM-Boneyard Ben: At first Herald is alarmed and manic. He's ready to jump from his seat and roll around on ground to put the fire engulfing him out, but as it crawls across his skin he looks at it and then to you in fascination. His eyes well up in tears, his shoulders seem to lower and he breathes, looking around his body after the flames dissipate."Strange, I feel... Good. Fantastic even." He stands and checks himself again, and a smile crosses his lips. "I..." His smile turns to a grin and he throws his arms around you and the thin man lifts you up off the ground to spin you around in a hug and laughs joyfully, for the first time in a long time, you imagine. "Thank you so very much, Bogomil" He says after he sets you back down. He then takes off without a word. Shortly after you hear a high pitched squeal and then you hear him and his wife talking for a bit before things go quiet. When you exit you find the forge abandoned, save for the brother who is sitting at the counter. You assume he came shortly after you headed up stairs. He waves you over. "I ain't knowin' wha'cha did but I ain't seen 'im dat happy in a loooooong time" He smiles. "I wager he'll be in touch later da week ta give ya proper compan.. compan.. payment for whatever ya did" He informs.
(OOC: Task Complete! Reward: To be determined)
DM-Delfon: "Compensation?" Bogomil offers with a smile, then he shakes his head, "I have no need of compensation. True elation is hard to come by, and the fact that I played a small role in such is more than enough. Lliira opened him up to joy once more, banishing the dark memories that clouded his continence." Bogomil begins to actually dance away, calling back as he spins, "Besides, you never know when I might have need of a smith." Then he laughs, high and musically. He keeps dance walking his way to the Wayfarer's Rest, he has a baker to assist tonight, benedictions, and some confessions to hear. "Lliira be praised." He says, then he opens the door.
DM-Boneyard Ben: "Bogomil!" The various patrons shout with glee as you enter. After saying hello to various faces you recognize you settle into your usual spot and say your prayer. Business begins. You get the usual rabble around your table. Patrons seeking advice or just talking about whatever is bothering them. As the night goes on you notice a light pitter-patter on the roof of the Inn that seems to get louder as the night goes on 'till its a full on squall. Then you hear the door swing open and see Arthur. Soaked from head to toe and clutching a small white box with a pink ribbon tying it up. He trudges in, clearly not enjoying being soaked and he places the only partially damp box before you. "I've done it... Mr. Bogomil... My magnum... opus" He says, breathing heavily and takes a seat to catch his breath. A smile seems to cross his lips as he looks down and breathes out the words "For her".
DM-Delfon: Bogomil works the crowd as he normally does, offering blessings and confession to those that wish it. Gathering the gossip of all the noble houses, guilds and common folk alike. If you gather enough of of the lies, a truth of sorts floats to the surface. Enough that one can investigate and find the truth of it if they wished. Nothing overly interesting today however. Some pirate ship was taken by the Somerset navy, Lizardfolk attacked another miner caravan, a wizard blew apart his lab in the Mages Guild, and a worker fell from a six story tower and lived. When Arthur enters Bogomil smiles, gesturing him over emphatically, "Well done Arthur, I'm sure she will be pleased." Using his cloak to dry the box the best he can, Bogomil places it gingerly into his pack, "I will make sure this is delivered tomorrow." Bogomil leans in conspiratorially, "I actually had a chance to meet your lady, she is quite impressive isn't she?"
DM-Boneyard Ben: "You have!?" Arthur springs from his seat, slamming his hands on the table. Everything in the Inn goes quiet and Arthur sheepishly sinks back into his seat, blushing. "Yeah.. She's quite something" He says softly. Arthur stays and talks to you for a while about how he slaved since the night before making the treat before he heads off, probably to get some sleep, but given the smile and his constant talk of how excited he is to hear the results, maybe not.
Time goes on and the nights quiet, at least as quiet as it gets at this inn. When suddenly you hear a ruckus outside. A slew of 'Oohs' and "Ahhs" before the doors swing open and you see a woman standing there with long golden hair and eyes that shine like sapphires. Her form fitting leather armor seems to happily accentuate her hour glass figure and numerous freckles dot across her shoulders and upper chest. She takes a seat near your regular table and you hear her order. "Porridge, not too hot and not too cold" he voice is slow and sweet like honey. With her order placed she looks around the room and then she turns to you. "Hello, holy man, care to bless a wayward soul?" She smiles.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil makes hard eyes at the men that have started to gather, "There will be plenty of time to get to know the lady later. Now which one of you gentlemen is going to throw me a coin to fill the Grail for her." Bogomil laughs as a rain of silver and copper clink off his table, then he makes a shooing motion. "Perhaps later there will be dancing? Maybe all you lot will join in this time?" Bogomil makes eye contact with the men that normally stay seated when there is dancing. Finally Bogomil smiles at the sodden woman, "All are welcome to partake in the joys of Lliira. Come sit" He gestures to the seat across from him, "Drink from my friend the Grail and tell me why you think you are a wayward soul, and how you came to be wandering the night in this weather." Bogomil sits back and waits for her to tell her tale.
DM-Boneyard Ben: The girl brushes her hair back in a cascading wave that somehow seems to sparkle and she stands up to sit across from you, crossing her legs and leaning one arm against the table. "Well, Mr. Priest, you see, I'm a very bad girl" She says seductively, placing special emphasis on "very". You hear a wave of whistles and cat calls follow this. "I've done so many bad things, I don't even know if I'm worth forgiving" She says almost sadly, but you can still hear that seductive tone. She pouts, and daintily dances her fingers over her collarbone and chest. The crowd of men are still into it, with shouts of "I'll forgive ya, darling!" and whistles. She looks around, and waves to the numerous boys before leaning in over the table. This makes her considerable cleavage almost pop out of her top. "Perhaps, we should take this confession elsewhere?" She offers.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Sept 19, 2018 10:15:50 GMT -5
DM-Delfon: Bogomil stands, offering the lady his hand. He helps her to her feet, holding her hand and wrapping his other arm around her waist. Bogomil addresses the crowd of men, "Back off now, the lady is under my protection." Scanning the crowd for Old Borris, Bogomil leads the lady over to him, "The lady wishes to make a confession, but this crowd of louts won't stop eves dropping. Can I borrow one of your rooms? Specifically, that little library you keep in the back." Bogomil doesn't let on, but that's the only room he can think of that would be empty, and doesn't have a bed.
DM-Boneyard Ben: A wave of "awwws" and frowns follow your proclamation about the girl who seems to be quite happily clinging to you. When you approach Boris your met with a knowing nod, and he produces the key. You both head to the back room, lock the door and take your respective seats. You know this room all too well, it's used as a lounge for the staff. It's a simple, quiet room with decorative paintings, a small furnace and numerous shelves across all walls, each with books, not quite as stuffed as Ezra's work space. In fact, some shelves only have a couple of books. In the center of the room are a couple of chairs that sit near the furnace. The two of you take your respective seats. "Quite a nice little room" She comments looking around.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil nods, "I like it well enough. I mostly use it for those that want my help, but do not wish to ask for it in a public setting." He leans forward, elbows on knees, "I believe you were going to tell me a story or two."
DM-Delfon: "You are correct" She smiles. She taps a finger against her chin and looks off into the distance. "Well, I guess all this started many years ago. When my village was razed to the ground, and I was forced to flee into the woods. That's where I came across a house, and..." She stops and giggles. "That's too far. No, I suppose the real thing that I'm after is information, and I hear you're the guy to talk to. You see, I'm an..." She bites her lip, and rolls her eyes as if looking for the best word. "Escort, of sorts. See, I'm arm candy for nobles, or at least I appear so. I'm actually a bodyguard and I was hired by a very..." She chews her lip, and looks about the room again. "Lets say simple person, to find one Prince Charles of the Somerset Isles" She smiles at you. "Everyone I talk to says this inn knows the most about anything in all of Clifton, and you seem to have this place on lock, so I figured you'd be the best person to ask" She leans in closer. "So, holy man, know where I can find a fugitive prince in these parts?" She bats her eyes.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil laughs musically, "That wasn't a story, nor a confession. Besides, most people looking for princes check palaces. Why look here? I heard this prince of yours showed up at the Duchess' fashion show just the other day." Bogomil stands, heading for the door, "Unless you actually wish for Lliira to bring joy to your life, I'm going to go back to the common room. He pauses, "I am curious though, which noble wants the prince? I'd be sure to tell said noble that it was you that sent me."
DM-Boneyard Ben: She smiles. "I heard about his trip to the fashion show as well, 'tis why I'm here" She waves her hands dismissively. "It was not a Noble who sent me but a maid, a dear old friend of mine who has a deep kinship with the Prince, one Miss Maribel" She stands and cross the room to stand beside him. "If you find him, pass that name along it should go well" She taps his nose and tries to sashay out of the room, but the door is still locked.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil shakes his head sadly, "How am I supposed to know whether what you say is true or not? You have switched tactics with me more than once. First playing the damsel in distress, then sexual seductress. When you realized that that was not going to work with me you switched tactics again." Bogomil returns to his seat, the door still locked. He places the key on the arm of the chair beside him in plain view, "I don't know whether you are in service for yourself as a bounty hunter, after a reward. In service to a noble, perhaps the current ruler of Somerset? Or if you really have traveled because of some maid with a bond to the man." He takes a deep breath, letting it go slowly, "Please, come sit." He gestures to the chair opposite himself again. The entire time he spoke he watched closely for subtle reactions, the hints to know which version is actually true.
"Let us start over, my name is Bogomil, a wandering priest of Lliira." He pauses for her to introduce herself, commenting that it's good to meet her while using her name. "Tell me the story, this time cut the theatrics and tell it true. If I believe you mean to bring joy to this princes life, then I will find him for you. If not than you are on your own. If anyone can find your prince in this city, I would bet my last Cog that it's me."
Insight: 18+2=20
DM-Boneyard Ben: "Quite a bold statement" She smiles. But, the smile fades from her lips as she approaches you "These are no tactics, Bogomil. I simply am who I am, and who I am is someone who received a letter from a dear old friend of mine begging for help to find a Prince she holds dear to her heart" by this point she's standing up beside your chair looking down at you. "And last cog or not, I will find him and I will protect him, because that sweet little maid deserves whatever her selfless little heart desires" She places her hands on her hips and shifts her weight to one foot. "Now, are you gonna help me or not?" she asks half way in a huff.
(DM: She seems to be telling the truth)
DM-Delfon: Bogomil smiles, "I happen to know how to get into contact with your prince. We share certain, no never mind. Unimportant." Bogomil gestures to the seat beside him, "I'm still waiting for your story. Having to ask three times has only increased my curiosity. While you tell the tale may I see the letter?" Bogomil asks casually.
DM-Boneyard Ben: She steps back, and bends over. Leaning one hand on the arm of your chair, and giving you a clear view right down her top as she reaches her free hand down into the mountain of cleavage to produce the letter. It's in Maribel's hand writing, and seems to have be written on a bit of scrap paper that reeks like your dungeons back home. It details the accounts after her capture, how she's been in the dungeon and tortured for information. This note will likely be the only one she can get out, perhaps her last. It seems she used one of the guards who's still loyal to you to get the note out, and hes currently keeping her safe. When you look up from the note you see the girl has taken a seat across from you, her legs crossed and her fingers laced together over her knee. As she rocks back and forth absently looking around the room.
You clear your throat, and she stops and looks at you. "My town was burnt down, and I survived by running into the woods. Came across a house, and survived by eating the food and sleeping in the beds of whoever lived there. It was the summer home of the Somersets, and the maid who was sent ahead to make the place ready for the royals found me. Rather than toss me out, or have me killed. She took me in, taught me how to survive while I served at the Somerset house as an apprentice maid. When I was old enough she gave me all the money she had, and told me to do whatever made me happiest. So here I am looking pretty, and breaking the noses of anyone who hurts my mark." She smiles after explaining her backstory at a breakneck pace.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil keeps his eye on the ladies hand, which happens to delve into her cleavage, 'Lliira does brings joy', Bogomil thinks as he reads over the letter. Bogomil looks the woman straight in the eye, recognition dawning in his mind, but hidden behind his Bogomil mask, "You're from Three Bears Cove, and your name is Mistress Goldie Locksen." Bogomil says without realizing that he spoke aloud. He smiles then, this time warmly, "Charles has stories about you and Mistress Maribel. Yes, yes, I know the prince well enough. You always got the male staff, and if truth be told some of the female staff as well. Not on purpose mind, but if you were half as distracting in livery as you are in that getup. I could see a dropped platter, or walking into a wall happening a time or two." He tells the story as if talking to a long time friend, because though she doesn't know it they have been friendly in the past. 'Holy hell she has really filled out.' He continues speaking quickly, so as not to give away too much of his thoughts on that subject, "Mistress Maribel was always spoken of kindly, basically a mother figure to Charles." He pauses, then adds, "Even though Charles never spoke ill of his own mother. A queen has her duty, and sometimes she had to be away for long periods." Bogomil stands, "Go get a room, I will make arrangements for you to meet Charles. It may be a few days, he stirred up some trouble by going to that fashion show. Please tell me you will wait?"
DM-Boneyard Ben: She smiles. "I always wait for my mark" She says watching as you go for the key, and her smiles widen. She took it while you were. Ahem, distracted. She stands, and struts over to the door, unlocking it and waltzing out. You hear a Large number of hoots and hollers, and when you exit Ol' Boris is staring at you with a tear in his eye, and a bit of lipstick on his cheek. He walks up to you and places a heartfelt hand on your shoulder. "Lliira be praised, you're the best customer I've ever had" He says, and wanders off before you can ask what that was about. "She says shes gonna stay here" Ruby answers your question for you. "And she wants to work here while she stays" She rolls her eyes and then shrugs. "Well, at least the boys'll stay offa me for a while, then again with how she operates, they might get more rambunctious then ever" She groans at this thought and heads back to work.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil touches the arm of the chair, instead of the key and smiles, "If figured that's why you were giving me the free show." He laughs as he stands to follow her out of the room. Bogomil responds to Old Borris without missing a beat, "Glad to be of service my friend." When Ruby approaches, "Ah, that explains his response. May I suggest bringing Bragha back for the duration of her stay?" Bogomil offers helpfully. "He always gave short shrift to anybody getting handsy with you, or stirring up any trouble." Wrapping the present in his cloak, Bogomil heads home for the night. The following morning Embros heads out to meet up with the Gnome.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Ruby smiles. "Thats a fine idea, Bogomil, I'll see if I can't track the old dwarf down" she says.
After a good nights rest, change of clothes (and personality) your out the door at the crack of dawn to the docks. When you arrive its not to long till you find a feel a tug on your boot and when you look down you see a small hand and you follow it to see Gimble's soaked form half clinging to the dock. He's shaking and he looks up at you. "Embros? What're you doin' here? I asked for that-" He stops to roll on his side and cough up some water. "Ah, never mind" he groans flopping on his back. "There's a noble's kid who's been kidnapped, they're holdin' her at a warehouse, its near the water and has a broken window" He informs and pulls a shard of glass from his bracers.
DM-Delfon: Embros tilts his head back rolling his eyes, 'I hate water entry.' but he only says, "Would you really want to pampered pup here?" Embros looks down at the soaked Gnome, "Where we headed?" He asks simply.
DM-Boneyard Ben: "And see him get his hands dirty?" The Gnome smiles. "I would" He chuckles and rolls himself over to pull himself to his feet. "Guess it was too much to hope" He says and coughs up some more water. Gimble stands up and points up the river. "We're headed that way" He says and begins to trudge forward. "C'mon" He says waving his hand. Assuming you follow him you two travel a lil ways till you reach a small boat house. Gimble hides behind some rain barrels near the start of the docks so you both have a good view. Its an old building, seems slightly slanted. Its out on the dock so only one (dry) way in is through the side door, which seems unguarded. "The noble's kid should still be inside, but I imagine the hive's a buzzin' after my little entry stunt. I went in through the boats entrance to scope things out" he informs pointing to the front of the boat house leading into the water. "and one of the floor boards cracked" He mutters and blushes. "Shoulda been more careful" he sighs and continues. "I woulda been caught but i was near a window and managed to dive out of it and I let the river take me to the docks"
DM-Delfon: "Do you know who's in charge of the folks inside? I might be able to buy you a nice bit of time with a distraction." States calmly, then clarifys "Not the guy in charge inside, but his boss." Embros looks at the building briefly, "How many inside?"
DM-Boneyard Ben: "There's two inside and if you've ever been to the Wayfarer's Rest you know their boss, he's the guy who sits up front and always waves at customers" The gnome says flatly, looking around. "He tried to recruit me to the Blade's but I'm no killer" He seems to spit at the word killer. "I'm a thief through and through, he says with an air of pride. "So, whats the plan?"
DM-Delfon: Embros shrugs, "Pretty simple. I'm going to go knock on the door, while you break in the back again. Keep hidden unless there's a scuffle." Embros casually checks that all of his equipment is in working order, and where it's supposed to be. "I will give you three counts of sixty, then I will go knock." Without waiting for a response, Embros begins, "One, two, three..."
DM-Boneyard Ben: Gimble rolls his eyes. "Still as bossy as ever" he sighs and disappears into the darkness. After 3 minutes, assuming you weren't just being a dick you walk up the docks. "Halt!" You hear a voice call but fail to see anyone present. "This is private property, Half elf, what business have you here?" You keep looking around but cant seem to figure out where the voice is coming from. But, the voice means business.
DM-Delfon: Embros walks straight toward the door, not trying to hide his presence at all. When the voice calls out to halt, Embros continues walking like he belongs, not even trying to find the source of the voice. Using his most confident commanding voice, Embros retorts, "The boss knows about the security breach earlier. He sent me to check things out." When he reaches the door, he says, "Fixers don't like to be kept waiting, so I suggest you open the door quickly." Embros makes no hostile movements, relying on the fact that nobody would have the balls to walk up to a Night Blade safe house and demand to be let in. If I wasn't a fixer why the hell would I be here?
Intimidation: 20 (nat) + 6 = 26 (I was totally meant to do this. The dice know!)
DM-Boneyard Ben: When you approach the door closer you notice a shift in the shadows by the door and finally notice an Elf standing there between you and the door. "I'm terribly sorry, sir" He bows his head and moves out of the way of the door. When you open the door your met with two other cloaked figures, a tall broad one and a regular sized one. There is also a girl in fancy clothing sitting between them. "Boss, seems on top of things as usual" the regular sized cloaked figure says, who is apparently a girl. "But, we ain't needin' no fixer" Says the big one stepping forward. "Easy big guy" Says the cloaked girl. "We dealt with the interloper, he jumped out that window" She says and points a thumb to the broken window. "We locked the boat house doors, he's not getting back in"
Despite your apparent squinting (to explain your 5 perception) you notice the kidnapped girl sitting between them isn't tied up or restrained in any way. Her clothes seem fresh and she even has a cup of tea in her hand. Shes looking up at you curiously.
DM-Delfon: Embros makes a circuit of the area, stopping to check out the broken window. He looks for any security related issues, and asks "Why isn't she bound?" He's prepared for responses that mean she's in on the plot against her family, but he needs to know if she's a prisoner or a co-conspirator. When he gets to the back door, he bangs the padlock and says, "A padlock on the inside. Can't pick that." He nods approvingly. He moves to a position opposite the broken window, so they have to look away from the window to watch him, "How often do you change positions for resting?"
DM-Boneyard Ben: "Bound?" The noble girl asks curiously. The cloaked woman speaks up. "She's here willingly" She says at you through her teeth. "Like her father requested. She's under our protection and nothing more" You can feel her glaring daggers at you from under her cloak. "We change housing every day" The tall ones speak up. "Aye" The cloaked woman confirms and adds "We switch up the watch every couple of hours"
DM-Delfon: Embros smiles, "Is that what they told you? Hmm." Embros does another trip around this side of the room. Moving more to keep their attention until he sees Gimble enter. Embros intentionally doesn't provide the three of them with any additional information, letting them fill in the blanks for themselves. Maybe one of them will slip and provide something useful.
DM-Boneyard Ben: As you look up in the rafters during your check around you see Gimble balancing on a beam over the head of the biggest cloaked man. The girl swoops in close, throwing her arm around you and pulls you to her face as she whispers. "Look, this chicky ain't working with a full deck, see? She thinks we're guarding her so keep your mouth shut. This has been the easiest kidnapping job we've had and I don't need your big fixer lips ruining it" She hisses venomously. "The gnome was an isolated incident, get it? Its Gimble! The Shadow Hand's little dog, he was probably just here scooping out some place to stash his loot when he ran into us, its no biggie"
If you somehow manage to steal a glance in the rafters you'll see Gimble with a crooked expression, mouthing the words his body pantomiming as usual. "Dog? I'm no dog to no one!" He thrusts his fist up in a vulgar display at the woman.
DM-Delfon: When the girl releases me, I backhand her across the mouth, "If you touch me again, I will kill you." He says to the woman with quiet simplicity. Embros then looks a challenge at the larger man, "Is this going to be a problem big man?" Embros drops his hands to the hilts of his weapons, raising a questioning eyebrow.
Rolls: Attack (Fist): 1d20+1= 14+1=15 Damage (Fist): 1 Intimidation: 1d20+6= 14+6=20
DM-Boneyard Ben: The woman is sent back a little ways not expecting the sudden attack. Her hood is knocked off to see the woman very much similar to the noble girl. Brunette hair with emerald eyes and tanned almost coconut-colored skin. The noble girl cries "Sister!" and stands from her seat. The big man growls and closes in on you a big greenish fist raised. "Why you little..." He begins but the woman gets between you two. "Easy, Adam" She soothes. "It's lil' more than a bruise" She holds her arms up to the big guy putting her hands on his cheeks and making him look at her. "It's alright" She says and the big guy settles. She turns back to you. "I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again" She says sincerely and bows her head. At this time you also feel someone else's presence in the room and notice the elf is inside. He came in with such fast stealth you didn't even notice. He seems to be glaring daggers at you as he exits back out of the room, probably to go back to standing guard. The room falls silent.
(OOC: Ballsy, bud. But, good job playing the part)
DM-Delfon: Embros picks up a barrel or crate, something heavy enough to keep a door closed, at least for a few moments. Moves it opposite the captive, ignoring the other two as if they were not present. He sits, elbows on knees and looks at the captive. He only looks at her, then he smiles and stands back up. "Everything seems in order here. My only concern is that Gimble will have collected reinforcements, and come back to rescue the girl." He moves the barrel to the door as he talks, setting it down to prevent the door from swinging inward. In a fluid motion Embros spins, stealthily drawing his rapier and slamming the hilt into Adam's nose as hard as he can. As the big man crumples Embros shifts his blade toward the sisters, "Surrender, now." he says with dead pan calm. With his off hand he gestures toward the door so only Gimble can see it.
Rolls: Slight of hand 16+5=21 Attack Rapier 20(nat)+5=25 Damage Rapier 2d8+1d6+3=25 (choosing to knock out instead of kill)
DM-Boneyard Ben: A loud wet crack resounds through the room as the hilt of your blade is thrust into Adams nose. Blood spurts out as the giant of a man falls like a freshly cut tree, hitting the ground with a loud thud that shakes the boathouse. The woman stands staring wide eyed at the display, her brain still taking the time to process what just happened. The door slams against the barrel, once, twice and then stops. Silence... A long drawn out silence falls as the girl stares daggers, keeping her hands steadily at her side. After a while a soft knocking at the door. The door opens a bit and gnome shimmies through the door. "Elf's down" he says nonchalantly as he wanders in but you'll notice his chest heaving slightly a bit of sweat on his brow.
(OOC: Sneak attack round: Embros crits hard and drops the half-orc. Gimble takes off out the window he came in, across the roof and lands on the elf for a sneak attack. Round 1: Intimidation still in effect. Both girls are terrified. Both hostiles dropped. Over before it began.)
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Post by DM-Delfon on Sept 19, 2018 11:04:05 GMT -5
DM-Delfon: Embros looks at the women for a solid minute, not lowering his blade an inch. "Both of you loose any weapons you might have. You will be searched in a little bit, and if I find even a pointy stick I will do what I did to him, to you. Do so slowly, and do so now." He watches carefully until they have complied. "Now you" He gestures to the captive, "Move that out of the way of the door." Embros gestures toward the barrel or crate he used to block the door, then shifts his position so that he can keep an eye on both of them at once. Once the door is open, he says, "Now help the Gnome drag in the other one." Once everyone is back inside, and the door is closed once more, Embros speaks to the Night Blade girl again, "Tell me a story about a girl who joins the Night Blades, and kidnaps her own sister. Be sure to include lots of details."
DM-Boneyard Ben: The woman pulls on a buckle across her chest slowly and a scimitar drops to the floor, she then reaches for her belt and drops her blowgun to the ground, followed by her darts and a dagger from her boot. The girl shrugs. Gimble whistles at you as he 'dutifully' checks the women for weapons. "Damn, Embro, I knew you were a hard ass but i didn't expect this" He chuckles and hops down from his pat down. "They're clean" he says and waves the woman away as he drags the elf in alone. "I'm small, not weak" he states and closes the door. he wanders over to the half orc and drags him across the floor to the elf and as he prepares his rope to tie them up the half orc opens his eyes and shoots his head "Arr-" he begins to roar before smacking face first onto the table and immediately dropping back down. Gimble looks at him and you. "Well, then..." He says and mounts the half-orc to smack him a couple of times. "He's out" He says looking back at you and then proceeds to tie him and the elf together.
The girl who's been more or less silent, speaks up. She tells you a tale of a small time farmer under the rule of a tyrannical Noble who took a fancy for his wife and child and drove the farmer so far in debt he had no choice but to sell them both to the noble. The farmer died of a broken heart soon after. The farmer's wife and daughter grew up under the noble till another daughter was born. The noble furious he was yet to have a son spilled the beans to the oldest daughters true heritage and she ran away from home, finding a place among the Night Blades. She then came for her sister in the dead of night and explained everything so under the ruse of a kidnapping for some other noble they're making him pay for his crimes. The younger girl speaks with an absolute chill in her voice. "We will reduce that man to nothing" Something tells you between the assassin and the doll-like noble girl, the little sister is the most most scary.
DM-Delfon: Embros listens impassively, "I will say nothing of your little plan here, enjoy the fruits of your labour." He sheathes his blade hard, so the scabbard rattles, "I think I've made my point." Embros says, glancing at the fallen Orc, "The lot of you work for me now. When I call I expect you to answer. Otherwise it will be business as usual for you." Embros turns his back and heads for the door, "I look forward to working with you." He says, not turning back.
After a few blocks of walking with the Gnome, Embros breaks the silence, "Apparently the girl didn't need saving." He says casually, as if taking control of a Night Blade safe house were a common occurrence.
DM-Boneyard Ben: The gnome walks along side you casually with his fingers laced and behind his head, walking with exaggerated strides. "Apparently not" He says just as causally. "Remind me not to get on your bad side" He says with continued casualness. He then, stops. "Welp, mission is more or less accomplished so, iffen ya don't need anything else" He says, putting his body into motion with his words.
DM-Delfon: "No, I believe we're finished for today. I'm sure the pampered pup will be pleased." Embros says, adding, "Good work on the doorman." With that Embros heads home to clean up, and to change into Ezra. He has some baked goods to deliver after all, and an endless supply of paperwork to work on. About an hour later Ezra steps into his office, and sets about his tasks.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Gimble gives you a two finger salute before hopping up on some barrels, slings himself up onto the roof and disappears into the black of night.
As Ezra settles into his work station a small, barely noticeable knock is heard at his door, right before it swings open. In the doorway is the Duchess' bodyguard from the party. Shes in full plate mail, her long sword at her side and a sun emblem in her chest piece. She looks down at you with an indifferent look, but somehow her presence is terrifying. You get the feeling that picking you up is pulling her away from something she really wanted to do. Uh oh... She grabs you by the collar, and lifts you off the ground. "You work for the Duchess now" She states in a way that tells you there's no room for negotiation. She throws you over her shoulder like a an old bag before turning and starting to walk out the door. "Lets go..."
DM-Delfon: Tossed over the back of the guardswoman Ezra seems no more bewildered than he normally is, "Good day to you Guardswoman. My name is Ezra. I'm supposed to offer you a seat and some refreshments I believe, but I'm really not sure on the social protocol of being carried out of ones own office." When she offers no comment as she travels through the library, Ezra continues. At first speaking quietly to himself, "Pleasantries first... " and then in a normal speaking voice, "Quite the storm we had recently, eh? Did you catch the recent local sporting event? It seems I now offer scribing services for the Duchess herself, what an honour. What can I do for you?" Now outside in the street, Ezra adds, "Oh yes, I almost forgot. The Prince wanted me to give you a gift from a Master Bridges, Arthur Bridges. Unfortunately the gift is back in my old office. Perhaps we could return to get it? No, that would be too much trouble, maybe I'll just come back and get it later."
DM-Boneyard Ben: The woman suddenly stops in the middle of the street, causing several carts to come to a grinding halt. Several caravan and cart owners are yelling at one another in rude manners, all of them seeming to have adopted an accent you can't seem to place. One of the cart owners stands up to complain to the guard, probably very loudly. But an Icy stare from the tall woman quickly silences him and he sits back down on his cart. Your then dropped from the tall woman's grasp and she turns on her heel to stare down at you, her hair shading her pale blue, piercing eyes. "Show me" She orders in a way that seems to say if not quickly bad things will happen.
DM-Delfon: Ezra picks himself up slowly, and limps back toward his office, "Come. Come. Right this way." Ezra gestures back toward his office, "The prince wanted to make sure that I got the box to you today, so it's rather convenient that you came to pick me up." There isn't a hint of emphasis on the words 'pick up' Such punny humour is well beyond Ezra's preview. "It's the only box on my desk if you want to go on ahead and collect it." Ezra limps after the woman as she leaves him behind. When he arrives, "If you need to go thank that Arthur fellow, I understand. I happen to know the way to the palace."
DM-Boneyard Ben: As she hurries to your desk, her gauntlet covered hand brushes the bow softly like a pet. Shes does this for a bit, before regretfully pulling the bow apart. She lifts the box's lid up, and her breath catches as she stares into the box. Tears well up in her eyes, and she places the lid back down on it before you can get a good look. Shes scoops up the box, and brushes past you. Soon after you hear carts grinding to a halt, people going to shout and getting cut off, and what sounds like three voices flying off into the distance followed by a twinkle.
(Objective complete! Give yourself a lvl up and also note that a baker and guard woman are indebted to you for helping them find love, expect a wedding invitation soon)
DM-Delfon: Ezra pens a note in the Prince's hand, "Orellow, I have an asignment for you. Meet a fellow by the name of Embros at the Wayfarer's Rest for details. -Stranger by the riverside."
Ezra then packs up any sensitive documents himself, and gathers some labourers to transport the rest. Along the way he sends out the Prince's missive by messenger. When he reaches the palace he explains who he is, and goes about the tasks required to move into his new office.
DM-Boneyard Ben: A man in bright clean white clothes with a square backpack approaches you. "Mmm? To da mines? Aye, sir! Right away, sir!" The man is the local messenger, fastest in Clifton. He wears shorts that are far too short, a vest and he also has a large flag that sticks out from his backpack that reads; Clifton Mail Service. This man's name is Greg. His face is long and angular and his eyes make him look like he's always surprised. Once he gets your letter hes off like an arrow. Knees to chest and swinging his arms like a machine.
Your stuff is all packed up, and the men in charge of moving it are gathered on the cart. A small group of strong looking men all wearing blue jumpsuits and baseball caps that cover their eyes. The one in charge is a man in a hood who laughs and talks as you'd expect a snake to. "Nice doing bussinesss, Misster Ezraa" He hisses and laughs. "Moving out!" The militant like men all shout. Two pick up the front of the cart and the other two stand behind and all four start pushing in sync as the hissing man sits in the driver seat, laughing.
You note that despite how weird you made Ezra apparently there are weirder people in real life XD
DM-Delfon: Ezra is completely oblivious to the strangeness of the hissing fellow, he is too busy moving from labourer to labourer asking for caution. "Please be careful, that manuscript is over three hundred years old." "That book contains the full lineage of the Ro'Tuk clan dating back two thousand years." "That is a full box of pristine blank paper from the local paper mill." The same excitement is given for each box, regardless of contents.
Ezra doesn't take long settling into his new space, in fact within an hour every last paper would be as closely arranged in the new place as it was in the old. Each stack of books, pile of notes, and box of quills would be exactly as it was before. Once settled, he immediately starts into the work he brought with him. He works quickly, but with the same dedication and care he gives the forgery work he does on the side.
DM-Boneyard Ben: When you step through the doors of your new office for the first time you note the stark contrast between the run down closet you used to work in and the 20 foot tall ceiling and overwhelmingly large selection of reference materials some of which are written in languages you can barely comprehend. Your given a nice big desk and several cabinets which are lined with the finest quills and inks.
As you settle in and get everything straightened away you hear a knock at your door. When you respond the Duchess herself walks in looking as dazzling as ever. Her hair is done up in a heap of braids and jewelry, her dress is, much to your surprise, blue. A deep beautiful blue much like the seas of Somerset on a nice summer day. Its made up of a corset that attaches to a skirt that extends out much like an upside down flower, a bit of silken cloth is over her shoulders and extends down, between her arms which cradle a small stack of black books. "You must be Ezra, greetings" She bows her head slightly and walks up to you looking around. "I see you've made yourself at home" She notes.
DM-Delfon: Ezra only used a quarter of the space, leaving the rest of the space starkly empty by contrast to the seemingly cluttered area containing his belongings. Like a village in the middle of an open plain, all huddled together in a large empty space.
Ezra doesn't seem to notice the knock at the door, not even glancing up from his work until the second knock. Charles smells her perfume, and almost breaks character to look up at the beautiful woman he knows will be there. 'She is the most dangerous by far, you moon brained idiot!' he mentally chastises himself.
When Ezra looks up Charles' surprise at the Duchess' colour shift is easily masked by Ezra's surprise that the Duchess herself is even here in his office. Ezra shoots up to his feet, bending at the waist until his head almost bangs off the desk. His hands on his knees, he doesn't move an inch until the Duchess allows him to move.
Once she does, Ezra moves with greater purpose than anyone that knows him would believe the man capable. He brings the best chair in the room, his own, around the desk, "Please, won't you take a seat?" Then he brings over a covered tray that a servant had brought in a few minutes before. Setting the tray before the Duchess, Ezra says, "Refreshment then greeting, no, no, greeting than refreshment." He pauses a moment, "Salutations Duchess." Another bow, "Would you care for a refreshment?" Moving around the desk he looks confused that his chair is missing, grabs a stack of books and sits, "What can your humble servant do for you Duchess?"
DM-Boneyard Ben: As stated before the Duchess finds you display endearing, she giggles and once your seated, she places the little black books on your desk. "My you're quite a character Ezra, I'm so glad Charles-" She stops and blushes a bit. "Or shall I say the Prince, didn't inform me of such a delightful character" She chuckles, bringing her hand up to her mouth. "I came personally to meet you, as I make it a point to get acquainted with all my staff" She smiles at you placing both her hands on her lap. "I also took the liberty of bringing your first work load to you" She informs and gestures to the books. "I'm terribly sorry its such a heavy work load" When you look at the books you'll notice there are three in all. All of them black with different gold insignia's (2 of which you recognize as symbols for local Nobles) and your in depth knowledge of books tells you they cant be more than a hundred pages thick.
DM-Delfon: Ezra cocks his head to one side, "People keep saying that. I don't understand. I'm clearly a real person, not some fictional character?” He twists the word character into a question, then shrugs glancing through the books briefly. He pauses twice on specific pages to have a closer look. "Page seventeen of book two has an omission, Lord Balinteen also bought four properties near the river, in addition to the two listed here. In book three the plot concerning Master McDrone is actually a feint by Lord Nickles. Master McDrone is completely innocent."
Ezra had seemingly been talking to himself, half mumbling as if vocalizing the thoughts helps him process the information. When he looks up he blinks twice and immediately stands bowing so his head almost hits the desk again. "Apologies Duchess, I didn't see you return."
DM-Boneyard Ben: The Duchess' face is one of astonishment at your ability to process the information so quickly. Her astonishment is replaced by a smile as she giggles. "I see you quite enjoy your work, I shall leave you to it" She says and lifts herself up. "We'll become better acquainted soon I am sure" She says and smiles. She then walks over to the far shelf and pulls out a book. The Chronicles of My Horse Biscuit Vol. 17. She opens it and pulls out another smaller orange book. leather bound like the black ones. She brings it to your desk "This is a translation guide for my personal cipher you will use it when making notes to me about Nobles that might not be what they seem. You are free to use whatever means you deem necessary even outside help to get to the bottom of any unsavory characters you find that have been meddling with these documents" She reaches on her hip where a small brooch has been sitting and pulls it off. She then takes your hand in hers before laying it in your hands and smiles once more at you. "This is your badge, anyone who sees this will know you work for me, but be weary about wearing it in public, it may cause you more grief than help" Her smile seems somewhat sorrowful as she mentions it might cause you grief but she seems to perk back up. "I'd offer you the help of my guards but I fear they have their hands full with the investigations of the thieves guilds" She sighs and looks at you apologetically. "I'm terribly sorry that I cannot offer you more" She says sincerely. There is a long pause before she straightens herself up, and returns to her usual regalness. "Now then, I shall be on my way if you require nothing else"
DM-Delfon: Ezra takes the translation cipher, and begins studying it immediately. Seemingly unaware of anything else that is going on in the room. He only pauses in his reading to find out what is happening to his hand. "What? Oh." Ezra blushes, looking uncomfortable that anyone is touching him, let alone a beautiful woman that happens to be the most powerful woman in the duchy. He slips the badge into a desk drawer, and nods, "Uh, thanks. I require no help beyond these." He says, indicating the books before him. "I will need the standard work for a scribe, in addition to the extra curricular activities you have assigned." Ezra waves noncommittally as the Duchess takes her leave, and Charles takes a mental deep breath, 'I will have to be more careful in our future dealings'
DM-Boneyard Ben: The Duchess smiles at you one last time before taking her leave, closing the door behind her. When you set to work opening the first book you are utterly blown away by the amount of knowledge that is stuffed into this tiny book. As you sift through the books multiple plots seem to come to light, but the most interesting is a note of transfer from the Nightingale Blade Works Company to a cousin of the noble girl you met last night. That money is then funneled out into the Poppy Wilton Paize (PopWilPai) Flower Company. You note the transfer is little by little and after some digging you find the money is being transferred right back into a Noble's holdings except with a different name. The new name is Dahlia Eveningtide, and after some digging you find that the Daughter of the Eveningtide family hasn't been attending local events. She is also a big supporter of the duchess. Ahem... What this boils down to is that the little girl from the kidnapping plot is Dahlia Eveningtide. You also find her Sister's name is Helen, and she is currently one of the workers for the Nightingale Blade Company.
Sooooo.. To summarize: You found how the little girl is transferring money from her father to herself and you found a body to the shadow that is the Night Blade's Guild and even the Company holder's name; Larry.
DM-Delfon: 'So, Larry from the Wayfarer's Inn is the Guildmaster of the Night Blades.' Ezra lets out a low whistle, and sits back in his seat. 'That's actually a perfect place for a guildmaster to hide in plain sight. People coming and going all the time, so nobody would suspect that you're calling the shots. I'll just file that away for later use. For now...' Ezra sets to work changing the way the money flows through the companies. First Ezra sets up a private investigation company under Embros' name, backdating all the required paperwork so that the company has existed since before Charles came to Clifton. Next, Ezra puts together the required paperwork so Dahlia has sold her holdings to Embros. Next he creates the confirmation of sale receipt, and a personal note for Dahlia. After all is said and done, nothing changes except that all funds that go to Dahlia now stop in Embros' accounts first. As long as she plays nice, the money will continue to flow unhindered into her accounts. If she doesn't than the money will vanish like smoke.
"Salutations Mistress Eveningtide,
Thank-you for your confidence in Maewyn Investigation & Security. I would very much like you to maintain business as usual, and continue to run things during this transitional time. Please consider me a silent partner. If you do your part, then I will stay out of your business.
I look forward to working with you, Embros Maewyn."
Ezra finishes his normal daily work in a couple hours, and prepares a ciphered note for the Duchess with any information she needs to act on immediately. Additionally, he adds that he will be wrapping up his work at his previous position which will require some time away from the palace. With his time off secured so Embros can go on a rescue mission, Ezra sends off another messenger with the confirmation and note for Dahlia. Heading home to become Embros once again.
DM-Boneyard Ben: You manage to get home with no troubles. However, while you're home, part way between costumes, you get a peculiar feeling of being watched. When you look around your room, you see all the furniture and your bed are undisturbed. You wander around the house, looking to the thin layer of dust that covers everything for some sort of hint that an enemy is about, but you fail to find anything. This is your final line of defense, this dust that has accumulated works to warn you of anything out of your pattern. Only three lines run through your house that are free from the dust, starting from each of the doors downstairs and converging on the stairs and heading straight up to your bedroom, a small circle is out front of the locked trunk where you keep your personalities clothes and a small section by the bed where you fall to sleep. It suddenly hits you how busy you've been. You've always had Ezra as a back up but establishing yourself in Clifton as the mercenary Embros, the priest Bogomil and your daily work as Ezra has really given you very little time to yourself. Are you even Prince Charles anymore? You wander over to the window as you contemplate these questions and you see your gardener busily working in your yard in her yellow dress. . .. ... Wait a minute, you don't have a gardener.
(OOC: Happy?)
DM-Delfon: Eyes opening in surprise, Embros quickly takes over. Changing his attire quickly, with well rehearsed motions and heading outside silently to see who this intruder is. Sneaking up behind her, Embros stands at ease with his sword in hand, but resting against his shoulder, "Can I assist you with something?"
Rolls: Stealth 17+5=22. To sneak up on her. Perception 15+2=17. To see who she is and what she's doing. Investigation 14+2=16. To see what her intentions are.
(OOC: Yep.)
DM-Boneyard Ben: You successfully sneak up on the girl and while she is unaware you see she's doing the most dastardly of deeds! Pulling the weeds from your mess of a garden... You also note shes talking to the plants in soft whispers of a language you can't place. She seems entranced in her work. You note she has pointed ears like yours so she's likely a half elf like you. She has green hair ( not that unusual for an elf) with many sticks and leaves intertwined with her hair that don't seem out of place. Her skin is creamy, light in color with a soft tint toward tan. As you get her attention your immediately floored as she turns to look at you. Her eyes are deep and gold, she has plump lips and though there is a smudge of dirt on her face she has a beauty that maybe on par with the Duchess! But unlike the Duchess who's beauty is regal like a dragon. This girl's beauty is more natural, even covered in dirt and dead plants doesn't pull away from her almost supernatural beauty. Her face lights up as she looks at you and springs springs up from her place to throw her arms around your shoulders "Embros!" She exclaims happily.
DM-Delfon: Embros stiffens, unsure of what to do while being hugged. He lets her grab him for a few more seconds before picking her up by the waist and placing her on the ground at arms length. "Uh, hello." Embros steps back, and scratches the side of his head. Charles marvels at her beauty, 'I could do with more of this one in my life.' Embros glances around for a moment before adding, "Uh, do I know you?" He hesitates for a second before adding, "and why were you weeding my garden?"
DM-Boneyard Ben: The girl tilts her head and smiles. "Silly" She giggles. "Don't you recognize me?" She asks as her deep golden eyes shimmer. The garden seems to transform around becoming colorful in lush with deep beautiful greens, and an assortment of wild flowers you can't even place. The plants all seems to reach towards her. You get the feeling you know her or that you should. Then you suddenly force your eyes shut, and shake your head. When you open them again everything is as it was, and you have no idea who this chick is. If you tell her as such she'll puff out her cheeks in an adorable display of anger and say; "Its only been a few hundred years, Emby. You shouldn't forget your wife that easily"
At this point it clicks in that your Embros persona was based on stories your maid used to tell you and those stories could be real. Which makes this girl Midori, Embros' gardener who he eventually married
DM-Delfon: Embros blinks dumbly. Once, twice, three times before he realizes what the woman just said. While Embros is dumbfounded, a stray Bogomil thought drifts to the surface, 'I bet she would bring all kinds of joy into our life.' Charles clamps down on that stray thought ruthlessly, 'What is it about gorgeous women that breaks my concentration so easily?' he mentally chastises himself before refocusing on the situation at hand.
As Embros feels the magic wash over him, he glares down at the woman, "Have you forgotten that I don't like it when you try to use your enchantments upon me?" He sighs heavily, an abrupt exhale of hot breath, before continuing "and you know I hate being called Emby." Softening as much as Embros ever does, which is to say a stone instead of granite, Embros adds, "Where have you been these last few centuries?"
DM-Boneyard Ben: She stares at you happily studying your features like a school girl does her first crush as you refocus yourself.
The green girl giggles "Caught me again" and sticks out her tongue playfully. Showing no shame in what she'd done as if it were simply part of your usual play. She smiles and leans in close "But Emby sounds so much cuter" She says her voice getting a little higher as she says the dreaded name. "I mean, how can a wife lovingly say something as serious as Emboros?" She asks lowering her voice at your name and making a mock serious face as she does. However when you ask where she's been, she lowers her head, making her hair obscure her face. You feel the happy-go-lucky atmosphere she was giving off evaporate and is being replaced by something... Darker. "Where have I been?" She asks in a whisper that would give a White Dragon chills. You get the distinct impression you asked something you shouldn't have.
(DM: Int check to recall the fate of Emboros. A story you only ever heard once in your childhood, DC 20. Reason: You loved the stories of the badass Emboros so much but when the maid told you what had become of the warrior, you refused it as the truth and instead made up your own ending. The ending that would lead the maid to telling you even more outlandish stories starring the stoic soldier.)
(Also, possible STR save DC may be needed, depending on what you say in response)
DM-Delfon: Charles never cared for the actual story, much preferring the made up versions to the truth. Embros as he stands today is representative of those extended stories. Catching her quickly changing mood, Embros gently tilts the girls face up to look into his eyes, "It's just that your Emby missed you. I want to know everything..." He trails off for a moment for effect, "Please do not be angry with me. It has been so long." Embros doesn't normally string so many words together, but sometimes a little charismatic Charles needs to save a situation, if that's even possible with such a mercurial creature.
Rolls: History: 1d20+0=6 Persuasion: 18+8=26 Strength (if needed): 16-1=15
DM-Boneyard Ben: Once your princely charm is in effect the dark atmosphere radiating from the girl evaporates and she's smiling once more. "Oh, Emby" She says shyly turning away from you, and burying her face in her hands as her body presses against you. Its clear she's playing shy and still wants some attention, however before you can act on that, she snaps back up. "Oh, dear!" She exclaims and turns to you. "I've kept you too long, you must have clients and jobs waiting while I'm here soaking up your precious time again" She says chastising herself as she turns you back toward the house and pushes you gently from behind. "Go on now, dear, back to work I'll just fix up the garden and be on my way, I know how much you like your private time" She says with an almost motherly tone. Once she's guided you to the door she forcefully turns you around and hops up to kiss your cheek. "Have a great day and stay safe, love" She says with a loving smile and then turns back to the garden, setting to work.
DM-Delfon: Embros nods, allowing himself to be pushed while replying, "I do have somewhere to be. I will be away for some time. Rescuing a captive woman." Embros catches the gate post, stopping flat, and turns, "Will you be here when I return? I would speak with you again." Embros nods once in answer, firmly, before turning to go inside.
Once inside the house, Embros moves through a well rehearsed series of motions. Firstly, making sure that all of his secrets are fully scattered, and their pieces obfuscated, unlinkable without years of study. Secondly, the false life of this household is refreshed. An entire false lifetime left out to be seen. Now with his real life, and false lives truly hidden, Embros moves upstairs to finish packing for his endeavors to come.
Making his way through the streets to the Wayfarer's Rest, a path well traveled by Bogomil. Embros makes his way inside...
DM-Boneyard Ben: The green girl smiles "Well, I won't be here" She says gesturing to your mess of front lawn. "But, I won't ever be far, now go!" She says hurrying you off. "Damsels in distress, and the sun help us all if your not the one to do it" She giggles a little and sets back to her work in the garden. "A good wife is more faithful than the most loyal hound, don't you know?" She asks smiling.
When you head inside you manage to get all your affairs in order without much problem and occasionally you pass a glance out the windows to see your "wife" dutifully pulling out weeds and tending to the plants as a good gardener does. You pack up your gear and your ready to go without incident.
Making your way down the road to the Wayfarer's Rest is relatively easy given its noon-ish and you have to push your way passed some people going about their day, although most tend to stay out of your path if they see you coming. You arrive without incident and are greeted to a particularly appetizing smell wafting in from the inn's kitchen. It's bacon, and it smells good enough that your mouth waters as the scent rolls across your tongue. As you enter you're greeted with a nod by the usual fellow, and see all the familiar faces Bogomil is accustomed to seeing.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Sept 19, 2018 17:40:49 GMT -5
*** Note: Orellow's interactions with the NPC's before Embros arrived have been cut from this thread. *** DM-Delfon:A man enters, halfway between five feet and six. He looks the part of an adventurer in his studded leather, with his hair worn in a single braid down his back. He carries a rapier on his left hip, and a backpack is strapped high on his back. Attached to the side of the pack is a map or scroll case. He stands at attention just inside the door, his back straight, and shoulders back. His face is tilted slightly down, unintentionally making his features seem more imposing as he scans the room. As his eyes pass over you Orellow, they seem to take in the slightest detail. He stares unblinking at you, and you feel weighed and measured. The man crosses the room to stand before your table. "Ladies." He nods to each in turn, barely inclining his head. "Master Avnec?" DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow stands to his full height and meets the man at a eye level, though Orellow stands nearly a foot taller, he looks at the mysterious man evenly and with respect. "An Avnec I am, a master I am not." He says and smiles. "Were you perhaps sent here by a Watcher Of Waves?" Orellow asks resting his arm on the hilt of his short sword. DM-Delfon:Ingrid shows the beginning of a smile when you inquire about Helga Skogpil, the barest tightening of the mouth in the places required for a smile. "Helga is folk hero of our homeland. Powerful warrior, and shield maiden." The term shield maiden doesn't seem familiar to you, but seems to be a title of some esteam. "Always so short Griddy." Gyllen pipes in, earning an angry scowl from Ingrid. "Leave off woman" Hassel chastises, making soothing gestures at the larger woman. The motions seem stale, as if said and done a million times before. "The man did ask for a tale." Between the three of them you manage hear a few tales of Helga Skogpil. (think female viking folk hero) The three women deflate when you ask about the J, but you don't get a chance to say anything else on the matter before Embros arrives. "Master is customary around here." Embros says simply. "I believe you do protest too much, Master Avnec." Gyllen says with a wry grin, "Besides, we are hardly familiar enough to go purely on a first name basis." she trails off for a moment, adding, "Yet." with a considerably more familiar wink. "It just wouldn't be proper." Both Gyllen and Hassel break into a fit of giggles at this, while Ingrid scowls at both of them. Embros clears his throat, "Embros Maewyn." He says simply while indicating himself. "When you're ready, I'll be at the bar." He turns to each of the ladies in turn and nods, one quick movement of his head, before heading over to the bar to speak with Old Borris. DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow whistles at the end of their tales. "Quite an impressive woman, I can see why you all look up to her" He says and smiles "Customary? Well, I suppose it can't really be helped then" Orellow sighs, rubbing the back of his head. "When in Clifton and all that" He says and stands, chuckling a bit. "Well, ladies it has been quite the enjoyment spending time together like this" Orellow says genuinely. "But, as my father always said; business is best done before pleasure" He chuckles. "Though, I hate to leave you after I've clearly struck a cord of sorrow, I will do my best in the future to make it up to you ladies" He informs them and smiles "But should you ladies ever need to seek me out I have a room here at this Inn, I am more than happy to oblige such lovely women whenever I have time" He says and smiles. "And I should like to adventure along side you, should opportunity arise but for now..." He straightens out to his height and bows his head to each lady as he bids them farewell. "Good day, Miss Rackfalk" He says to the redhead. "Be well, Miss Blom" He says to the blonde. "Stay safe, Miss Torgrimson" He says to the brunette and winks at her in a way the others wouldn't see. Before heading to the bar. Once Orellow reaches the bar he leans on it with his arms standing next to Emboros so they're shoulder to shoulder. "So, Mister Maewyn, what has our mutual friend have in store for us?" He asks quietly as he looks straight ahead, not yet meeting the stoic man. DM-Delfon:Embros looks annoyed when you first arrive at the bar, "Some discretion would be nice." The man stands, turning around to face the room with his elbows behind him on the edge of the bar. He glances about to make sure that nobody is within earshot. Then he takes the percaution of pretending to take a sip of his drink to hide his lips, "Our mutual friend is being hunted by some powerful people. Powerful people that are making use of vast networks of spies." He turns his head to look at you without otherwise changing his stance, "Understood?" His eyes are locked to yours, burrowing into you, weighing. Additionally, even though his attention appears to be focused on directly upon you, you have a feeling that he could tell you what anyone in the room is doing right now. DM-Boneyard Ben:"Well, Mister Maewyn, I haven't a clue what your on about" Orellow says staring at the shorter man a bit coldly but still smiling as he normally does. "I see no reason why anyone, much less people as powerful as you say, would be interested in a wandering priest who spends his nights drinking ale and bringing joy" The corner of his mouth crooks into a proud smile. Orellow speaks as he normally does, as he knows anyone would be suspicious if the loud and bombastic warrior was suddenly hush-hush at the bar with a stranger. "Now, what is it? Some kid being bullied? A sad widow needing a broad shoulder?" He slaps the back of Emboros heartily and pulls him in closer with one arm. (perception 18+6=24 to find anyone who might be listening in on our conversation or otherwise being nosey into my affairs. Nat 20 Int check to communicate to Emboros to take the fucking hint and not bring up Charles again. If his mouth messes with Avarice's income Gods help him. This ain't Orellow's first time dealing with spies and networks, he's a Vecna worshiper after all) DM-Delfon:While you examine the crowd, you don't see anyone attempting to listen in on your conversation. You do catch a strange exchange though. The fellow that nodded at you when you walked in, Larry was it? He appeared to be talking to someone, but nobody is at his table. Another fellow across the room nods, and leaves the inn a moment later. There is no way that they were speaking out loud, or you would have heard given the distance. With your interested perked, you notice that Larry seems to be paying particularly close attention to you and Master Maewyn, although he is much to far away to hear anything. Charles is glad he wasn't drinking something when Orellow described Bogomil. Broadsided as he was by that accidental truth, Charles just barely managed to maintain his Embros facade. The stern warrior's mask never even twitched, but it was a near thing not to stare open mouthed like a buffoon. A moment to regroup is offered as two men enter the inn. One man appears to be made of muscle stacked upon muscle. He carries a hammer that looks to be a barrel mounted on a stick. The other seems more nimble than strong, but yet still well muscled. They both have the look of sailors or pirates, perhaps both. The larger man gets the smaller man's attention and points to Embros across the bar. Both men walk over, and the larger man begins to speak in a deep bass rumble, "Embros, it's nice to see you again, it has been too long. This is Mac Mon-" He clears his throat, glancing down at the smaller man, "That is to say, this is Mac Cutter, Quartermaster of the Sapphire Rover." The smaller man looks annoyed at the larger man, but smiles a wolfish white toothed smile, one that you suspect would go over well with the ladies, "an dis 'ere big oaf do be Gregor Mountainhammer." He adds for your benefit Orellow, since the other two seem to know one another, "He do be tellin' tales of work that do be needing done." Embros nods once, before moving over to a private booth without saying anything. Once everyone is settled Embros sets his elbows upon the table. With his fists together, he rests his chin on his thumbs blocking his mouth from view, "The job is considerably less than legal. If anyone wants out, now is going to be the only opportunity." He looks at each of you in turn. Gregor watches Mac until Mac nods, then he does the same. The three of them look to you Orellow, and Mac adds, "What say you friend? Interested in a little fun?" Rolls:Deception: 20 (nat) + 8 = 28. (to avoid reacting to the mention of his alter ego) Insight: 14 + 2 = 16. (To catch your meaning) DM-Boneyard Ben:As Orellow notices Larry's odd behavior he brings his fingers up to to his mouth, motioning like he's wiping his mouth but he quickly and stealthily licks his fingers and then stretches a bit and reaches for the back of his neck, cracking it as his two wet fingers reach into the deepest parts of his dark slicked back to find a small hair and drags his fingers down it. As he does, the barmaids who were busily running around come to a grinding a halt, the patrons seem frozen in place unless you watched them carefully, even the happy music seems to become slow and distorted and Orellow looks at a girl with long yellow-orange hair in a white one piece dress sitting on the back of Larry's chair, kicking her feet happily. "Oh Larry! Larry, Larry, Larry!" She says in a happy sing-song tone. "What naughty things are you doing?" She asks seemingly to no one and then turns to Orellow. "Do you think he's one of those theive's guild members?" She asks excitedly. "If he's giving orders in such a secret way he must be high up, even the Fingers aren't this.." She stops and gasps, a smile practically splitting her face. "Do you think he's on their list? How much of a bounty do you think the Duchess would pay?" She asks, hopping off the chair and running over to Orellow's side before squealing in delight. "Ahhhh! The possibilities!" She nearly sings and mock faints from happiness. Orellow takes a swig of his drink. Looking right about done with her shenanigans. "We'd have to prove he's involved" Orellow says flatly into his drink and adds "and he might be one of the Fingers" Avarice visibly deflates, looking like she'd seen a hoard of treasure slip through her fingers and huffs angrily at him. "Jerk." She spits and sticks out her tongue. Orellow sighs and the world slowly winds back up to normal speed as he takes another drink. Orellow nods to each man and gives them a respectful greeting and introduces himself in the usual way before joining all three of them at their booth. Putting Larry out of his mind... For now. Father always said to tackle one task at a time lest those tasks trample you. Once seated Orellow starts in on a story about an Inn he and his father spent the night at that turned out to be an illusion by some prank-loving fey. Being his usual bombastic and joyful self to cover up their secret discussion and to avoid suspicion. At one point he stops and takes a swig of his ale, making it look like he's drinking it but speaking into it quietly. "Fun is what I do best" He puts his drink down and chuckles, continuing his story in his usual way. (OOC: 16+6=22 Stealth to get that one hair without being seen and make sure it isn't visible. 14+3=17 deception to make it look like i'm drinking while passing my message along) DM-Delfon:The four of you set to work hashing out the details of a plan. The basics are as follows: A woman important to our mutual friend has been taken captive, and is being held at Bal'Rackaer Island. Bal'Rackaer is a Sommerset controlled prison island. Additionally Mac's wife's, and Gregor's captain Tsunami Cutter's previous crew were being held at the prison. They were being held, as they have escaped the prison but not the island. The basic plan is to take Tsunami Cutter's ship, The Sapphire Rover, to the island. Once nearby, take smaller craft loaded with a select handful of crew to seek out and rescue the woman, and the crew. DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow does his best to cover up the conversation they're having from prying ears by being his usual bombastic self, telling stories, of him and his Dad raiding bandit camps, seeing a unicorn and dealing with unpleasant men trying to log in their protected forest. The stories tell you Orellow's preferred tactic is guerrilla warfare and that he likes fighting one on one against especially tough enemies. You also find it interesting that he's as happy as he is given that he's slaughtered men since he was a child. I mean bandits, sure but even your first time killing someone still bothers you, but Orellow treats it like a fond memory. Maybe its just a difference in upbringing? Your no doctor. But with everything said, Orellow settles into his seat to take a long swig of his drink but before the liquid reaches his lips he confirms quietly that he's on board and ready to go when you guys are. DM-Delfon:Gregor remains quiet during the proceedings, actively watching the crowd. When he does speak, it is in a deep bass rumble. He comes across as kind and considerate with the few questions he does ask, which strikes you a little odd given that he works for a ship that is about to break someone out of prison. Mac works out the details of the arrangement, and comes across as the buccaneer up to and including the oily smile he gives Ruby when she drops off the second round of drinks. The finer points of the deal are that the pair of you will get free passage to the Bal'Rackaer Island, but you are expected to help defend the ship and crew if the need arrises. Additionally, the pair of you will attempt to free the Sea Song, and their crew. Any loot gathered while on the mission will be split evenly between the crew that form the landing party. Once the details are arranged, Mac drops the secrecy and calls for two rounds of drinks, "A round of Liquid Fire for my companions here!" Mac calls out to Ruby as she passes, "And let it be chased with some Slow Burn Ale." Ruby nods, only offering a smile once Mac tosses a gold coin through the air. Ruby for her part has her hands full, and catches the coin in her cleavage with a wink. Another man at another table looks like he is going to toss a coin as well, but stops short at a withering look from Ruby. Old Borris glares at Mac for a moment before chuckling, rubbing his ear and looking at Mac he mouths the words, 'Nice piece of jewlery Mac, is that new?' with a knowing smile. Mac just laughs, but you see him rub the one out of place ear ring more than once throughout the rest of the night. DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow would treat Gregor's kindness in kind. Striking up a little chit-chat to get a better feel for why he's doing this. Orellow would be more than happy to split whatever treasure they find. Avarice would know that the price of proving their mettle and trust worthiness to a Prince would bring in much more then any petty amount of treasure they come across in this job. Mac would earn a disapproving look from Orellow after the coin toss. As he believes a lady deserves more respect than that. But, Ruby seems okay with it, so what can you do? Orellow notices the exchange and decides to have a little fun. Once their drinks arrive. Orellow downs his quickly (17+0=17 Con check) and brings the mug back down to the table with a loud 'Tonk' to get the intention of his table mates. "Well, I think I've talked about myself more than enough, how about you boys? Any tales to tell?" He'll ask to the three and immediately turn to Mac. "How about your Mr. Cutter? I've noticed you've been favoring that earring of yours, is there an interesting story to go along with it?" He asks and grins (13+1=14 Persuasion Check). He'll likely pressure the other two to tell tales about themselves as well, to get a good idea of who they are or at least who they claim to be. (OOC; Plus I really like me a good story . Also, Orellow and I are raring to go on this rescue mission!) Actions are deafening when compared to the whispers of someone's words. His Father warned him when accepting a merchant's price for his hard earned pelts. A choice he would come to regret as he was swindled that day. Never again. Orellow will take a man at his word but won't trust him completely. The three men at his table were no different. He would watch them during their mission and judge weather or not they were worth their salt or if they were just destined to be another stain on his blade. After all the Prince needed men he could trust in order to reach his goals. If these men proved to be a hindrance to the Prince or got in Orellow's way, he would not hesitate to cut the three of them down. But that will be determined in time. DM-Delfon:Gregor seems to be a genuinely nice person. It seems that being as massive as he is, he has had remarkably few problems with bullies or generically bad people. Some friends of his when he was a much younger man ran into some trouble with some scallywags, and so he left his apprenticeship as a shipwright to help his friends out of their situation. Turns out that even without finishing his apprenticeship, a shipwright is in high demand on board a vessel. His size didn't hurt either when things went south. He did eventually go back and finish his apprenticeship, and a second one as an engineer as well. Master Mountainhammer is now considered master class in both disciplines. His love of the sea drove him back on board ship, despite the dangers, or perhaps because of them. Embros provides quite a lot of information about the prison island. So much so that you would swear that he must have been there before. Not as a prisoner though, the information isn't all from the perspective of someone on the inside. He speaks of security information, the kind of thing that a prison would go out of it's way to avoid being public knowledge. Much of the information related to the prison side of this mission was provided by Embros. As to the man himself, he doesn't appear to hold any deity in high regard. He seems to believe that men follow their own path through this world. Embros seems stern, even sitting with his back rigid. His words are gruffly spoken, usually in short rapid bursts that carry the weight of a command rather than a suggestion. Still, he comes across as both charismatic and persuasive regardless of how gruff his words actually are. His past is well behind him, and he doesn't speak of it or share stories even when prodded to do so. However from his speech, mannerisms, and body language you believe he has served in an army or militia. He claims ownership of a security company, which may be where he got all the prison information from. Mac is an open book, he is more than happy to share stories. Some of which are probably taller in the telling, but entertaining none the less. He tells a story of a merchant vessel that would not surrender, was down right adamant that they would fight to the last man. When it finally came time to board the ship and Gregor was the first over the side, the merchant surrendered before any of his crew even engaged the man. Gregor insists that it was a coincidence, that the merchant was already rethinking a pitched battle when Gregor boarded the ship. As for the ring, Master Cutter was quite recently married to the captain of the Sapphire Rover. The ring is hers, and she bears one of Mac's in her own ear. The evening goes quite long, with many, many rounds of drinks to be had. You notice that both Gregor and Embros switch to non-alcoholic beverages after the first round. Gregor explains that Captain Cutter would have his head if Mac didn't make it safely back to the Sapphire Rover tonight. Embros explains that he has seen a great many terrible things in this world happen because of people too far gone in the drink, and he won't be part of that. Mac is willing to drink himself into a stupor if you will join him in the endeavor. It is agreed to meet at the Sapphire Rover either tonight or very early tomorrow morning to get this show on the road. If much drinking happens then Gregor carries Mac back to the ship, otherwise Gregor, Mac and Embros will all take their leave together. All three men are already packed, or living on the ship. You're welcome to join them if you're prepared to leave too Orellow. DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow will also be switching to non-alcoholic as his Father told him A man lost drink is one lost in life. But, he'll be happy to keep that fact from Mac and play a drinking game or two for fun. (10+3=13 deception) Once the night winds to a close and the others are ready to leave, Orellow heads to the Bar and talks with Ol' Borris about keeping his room. But, not before a comment from Avarice saying he's a sentimental fool for wasting the money. Orellow pays off the room (To be docked) and slings his back pack over his shoulder as he follows the three men out. Excitement fills his chest as he sets out on another adventure, this time on the high seas. What will be waiting for him? Will he survive? What truths and treasures await him? Only time will tell. But, he knew in his heart this would be his greatest adventure yet. DM-Delfon:Mac catches onto your bait and switch quickly enough, but doesn't seem to care one way or the other. He has a few drinks and keeps the conversation going between the lot of you. If it wasn't for the fact that you might have to kill any one of these men, especially with the challenge that Gregor poses, you think they would all make good friends. The lot of you make it through the mean streets to the Sapphire Rover without incident. One fellow with a cudgel leapt out, but immediately made a joke about how he surprised the group of you before vanishing back into the alley he came from. It is pretty late when Mac and Gregor return to the ship, and they return with company. Gregor excuses himself once back on board the Sapphire Rover, and heads below decks after a friendly nod to the Captain. Mac brings the two strangers to stand before the Captain, "Captain, this do be Embros, Embros Maewyn." He says gesturing a thumb over his shoulder toward Embros, who nods simply in greeting but otherwise stays silent. "and this do be Orellow Avnec." He says, gesturing over his other shoulder with his other thumb. "They do be a brace of men hired by our new employer." Mac walks past the captain to lean on the wall picking his nails with a knife that neither of you saw him carrying the entire evening. Embros wears studded leather, and is armed with a rapier. His hair is worn in a single braid down his back. He carries a backpack, with a scroll case strapped to the side. Once you get him talking he speaks gruffly, but with respect, in short bursts. His tone is often commanding, rather than suggesting, although he never directly commands. He stands with his back straight, shoulders back, his head tilted slightly down which makes him seem more menacing. His eyes seem to take in the slightest detail, and when he stares at you, you feel weighed and measured. DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow Avnec is a tall built man, he wears a smile on his face almost constantly and speaks in joyous booming tone. His hair is black and slicked back, save for a single curl on his forehead. He wears leather studded armour with a symbol of a fist clutching lighting upon the chest piece. He has a back pack slung haphazardly over his shoulder with a short sword and shield strapped onto each side of it. You'll also note his bedroll is neatly rolled up and strapped to his waist, separate from the rest of his gear. "Greetings, Captain!" He booms and bows in an overly exaggerated display of respect. "Quite the amazing vessel you have, if it is not too much trouble, I would like to know where I will be bunking so I might get comfortable." He asks. One directed, he'll head off so he knows where he'll be staying and then he'll take some time to explore the ship proper to get a feel for his new environment. (Nat 20+6=26 perception of the ship and 17+6=23 Insight for the crew. The dice know, man. This is what Orellow does best) Sugarphix:Tsunami spends a great deal of time lounging in the crows nest, sitting back and enjoying the freeing sway of the ship below her as she stares up at the patterns that the odd scarce cloud make in the otherwise perfect sunny blue sky. Her attention snaps to and her eyelids fly open wide as she realizes that her lids have begun to become heavy with the rocking of the boat and the comforting sounds coming from the docks. She banishes the sleep from her mind with a brisk head shake, and stands, once more glancing up the road by which Mac had left the ship. Silly really to continue looking after him, the man knows so many ways around this town, that he's just as likely to come up for air beside the ship out of nowhere as to return by the way he left. Her tummy growls, and she decides by the angle of the sun that it's time to leave the crow's nest. She climbs down the rigging and down into the hold of the ship where the captain has already begun chopping food for a meal. All is well then. The homey smells coming from his pot trigger another unladylike squelching from her mid-section, but the cook only nods and drops a wink at her as if he's used to that being the result of his hard work. She excuses herself after a short bit of polite conversation, and as she is taking the stairs deckside, she hears one of the men sing out a greeting to Mac. She doesn't rush to meet him, there is no need, but something coiled tensely inside her loosens and sets her free with the realization that he has returned safely and of his own free will. She gains the deck and spies Mac returning with two men in tow. She moves to meet them near the gangplank. "Captain, this do be Embros, Embros Maewyn, and this do be Orellow Avnec. They do be a brace of men hired by our new employer." Mac then goes to nonchalantly lean on the ship and begins cleaning at his nails. It isn't lost on her that he has introduced the men, but has neglected to introduce her to the new clientelle. She wonders if he has been talking about her on the way, so as to feel no need to do so, or if he's just ill-mannered. She looks at the two men in studded leather, one hulking, the other jovial, and takes it upon herself to introduce herself. "Welcome to me vessel, the grand Saphire Rover. I do be Captain Tsunami-" her voice cuts off for a split second as she hears Mac cough under his voice "Cutter", which brings a one-sided smirk to her lips before she finishes, "-Monsoon. Ye be very welcome aboard, but mind that while here, ye'll be treated as a member of the crew, expected to follow the rules of the ship, and to lend a hand where needed, should the need arise." The tall happy one responds and surprises her by bowing in an exaggerated manner. She wonders if he's making fun of her, or if he's just the flamboyant sort. She hopes it's the last. She knows it will hurt their purse if she has to kill him for his insolence before they reach their destination. He seems friendly enough though. "Ye both will be granted a hanging berth below deck. If ye wish to drop off yer things, I guarantee no crew member will touch them under pain of death." When Orellow goes below deck one level, he will find neat rows of hammocks, some of which containing men, others swaying emptily with the lazy movement of the ship. The space is being filled by a wonderful smell as the cook prepares the evening's meal. DM-Delfon:Embros doesn't move when the other man goes below deck. He just stands in what the soldier types call attention. When you look his way, he adopts a less formal posture with feet apart exactly a shoulder width and hands held together behind his back. "Captain, may I have a moment?" Assuming you let him, he continues, "I have considerable knowledge of both the island, and the routes to and from it. Were you planning on taking the Wayvern Ridge Straight, cutting through the Misty Sea, or going directly across open water?" You recognize the names mentioned from your earlier map study. The open sea is the fastest and most direct route, but is heavily traveled by both merchant vessels and Somerset Navy vessels. The Misty Sea is the shortest route, but has rough shoals. The advantage here is that there is almost no Navy presence. The Wyvern Ridge Straight is the longest route, but avoids any tricky sailing and common Navy routes. Orellow, the vessel is as others you have been on, and the crew seems capable enough in your limited experience. The one thing that surprises you, aside from a female Captain, is the number of female crew. You find yourself an empty hammock and make yourself comfortable. Along one wall is a set of shelves with a fine mesh strung across the front to hold in crew member belongings. You're surprised again to see that some of the crew has left gold coins sitting open in their cubicles. Either the crew is remarkably trusting or the Captain wasn't kidding about pain of death for thieves. Maybe the talk you've heard about a pirate code is real, or maybe it's more a set of guidelines. DM-Boneyard Ben:"Chump change" A girl with long god awful yellow-orange hair and a one piece white dress laughs as she swings back and forth lazily on Orellow's designated hammock. Orellow's eye twitches a bit as he stares at the gold coins laying in the open. "I am not used to this, just letting gold slip me by" he is then suddenly grabbed by his collar, slammed against the wall and lifted off his feet by the smaller girl. "You will NOT mess this up for us" She barks as rage swims in her eyes. Orellow looks to see how the girl is holding him and she appears to be floating, seemingly weightless except for the pressure on his chest that is holding him up. She turns his head to look into her eyes. "If that investigator gets back to his Highness and tell him anything other then we did our job perfectly then we can kiss that royal loyalty goodbye" She informs him. "Its short term loss, long term gain" She says finally setting him down. She smiles and floats back as Orellow dusts himself trying to retain what little masculinity he has left after being man handled. But, when he looks up he realizes he's already tossed his backpack onto the floor next to him and has laid in his hammock. Orellow's been up all night he could use a little shut eye. He laces his fingers together, puts his hands behind his head and whispers a prayer before closing his eyes and dozing off. HP: 40/27 AC: 12+5=17 (+3 w/ Shield) OR (+1 while dual wielding)
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Post by DM-Delfon on Sept 20, 2018 5:33:32 GMT -5
DM-Delfon:Orellow wakes to a strange swaying sensation, maybe there is an earthquake at the Wayfarer's Rest? Blinking to clear the sleep from his eyes, Orellow shakes his head. 'Brig? No, quarters... Oh, yeah.' Memory comes flooding back, and the confusion passes. The ship sways steadily, first one way and then the other. Members of the crew walk straight, automatically correcting for the tilt of the floor. You follow your nose to the galley and collect your morning meal and grog ration. Over the next hour you manage to see each member of the crew, either working at some ship related task or relaxing with a hobby of some sort. (pictures sent over messenger) What do you want to do Sir? DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow after eating and drinking his fill will head topside to smell the ocean breeze. He'll climb the tallest mast (Acrobatics: 20+6=26) like freaking spider monkey and stand on it, throw his head back and laugh. It feels good for him being out on the ocean again, he rather enjoyed his boat ride to Clifton from his homeland and hes gonna enjoy this salty trip as much as he can despite his Dragon hunger. After that bit of craziness he'll find some crazy and dangerous way to climb back down and make nice with the crew. His mother always said it was important to know the crowd your sleeping with. DM-Delfon:The ship sways as it crashes through the water, waves breaking against the hull. With each depression between the waves the ship rocks this way, only to rebound as the ship climbs the next wave. Once you've finished on top of the mast, you let yourself fall forward, swan diving toward the deck below. You manage to grab a line on the way down, and swing to land neatly beside Embros as he comes on deck. Embros raises a questioning eyebrow, but doesn't seem all that surprised. He moves to the rail, leaning on it with his elbows, "Keep your weapons with you, I believe the captain means to take the Wyvern Ridge Straight." A DC 15 Knowledge check will be sufficient to know that the cliffs along that route are home to a collection of Wyverns. DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow upon landing next to Emboros and meeting his questioning gaze will will give him a hardy slap on the back and walk with him to rail. "Always so serious Mr. Maewyn" He laughs. After hearing about Wyvern Ridge Straight Orellow will muse aloud about all he knows during his survival amongst the beasts while hunting an orc party with his father. (Survival: 14+4, untrained). He takes off toward the Crows Nest and will keep watch, keeping his Light crossbow drawn and ready to fire at the first sign of a hostile encounter. (Perception: 7+6=13 & Acrobatics 10+6=16 to climb up in some ridicules and quick way) DM-Delfon:You recall working a trail near some cliffs that reminded your father of a time he hunted a fugitive near Wyvern Ridge Strait. He told you a story about a winged beast the size of a covered wagon, with a maw of dagger-like teeth and a poisonous barbed stinger. The stinger took three of your father's companions, but the worst part is they survived being punctured to die from the poison. The trip goes uneventfully for the first four days. During these days from your regular vantage in the crows nest, you watch the crew scurry about doing whatever it is that sailors do to keep the craft moving. Every day Embros practices sword forms, but his movements are slow, like the air itself is thick. With your knowledge of the sword, you can tell that he has some training, but not a soldiers training. His style seems to better suit someone of noble birth, where fighting is done by others unless someone's honour has been tarnished. Odd that. The fifth day begins much like the previous four, with the crew doing sailor things, and Embros practicing his forms. That's when you notice a silhouette in the distance, at first you think it's a bird, but no bird is that big... DM-Boneyard Ben:After an while of clear skies, Orellow will relent from the crows nest. Working in shifts with however is normally up there and start making general niceties with the crew. Using his survival training he will obtain food for himself and 5 other crew members (trying to be nice to different crew every time but if one takes a good shine to him he'll probably supply that one with food every time if able). He'll do this through fishing, harpooning, gathering edible sea plants or shooting birds, however hes able to. He'll offer the food and just strike up general conversations, get a feel for the crew for the 4 days while keeping his wits sharp. (Using the Wanderer Feature. And a general 10+1=11 CHA check to make nice). On the 5th day after spotting the shadow he'll sing out its out its location and ready his crossbow taking aim. Orellow is no stranger to mistaken identity. It would happen a lot in the misty wood he grew up in. He'll hold fire till he's sure its a Wyvern or some other hostile and one that means to fight. DM-Delfon:It doesn't take long for the silhouette to resolve itself into the form of a Wyvern. It's powerful leathery wings draw it ever closer, until you can see it's tail lashing back and forth, and the sun glinting off of dozens of razor sharp teeth. It's hind legs end in massive claws that look like they could rip a horse in half. The thing circles the ship about 100ft above, and 50ft away. DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow will sink himself down into the Crow's nest trying to keep himself from the Wyvern's sight. (Hide action: 8+4=12) If no one attacks it it might go away. If someone does, It'll attack that person and Orellow can use the confusion to get in a decisive strike. He looks at the tail, it must be a source of pride for a Wyvern and its most deadly weapon. If he can take that out.... It probably won't stay long. Orellow whispers words of power to himself. Calling upon the forces of nature to imbue his weapons with power to ensnare his enemies. Thorns grow from his weapons, twisting around his blades and bolts. (I'm hoping someone on the crew attacks the Wyvern first. If they do I'll attack them. Then, I can spring from the Crow's Nest and use the fall damage and my dual wielding to lop off the Wyverns tail in one go. I'll possibly sustain damage as well, but it'll disable the creatures biggest damage dealer and give us a fair shot at killing it or at least scaring it off) DM-Delfon:The crew crouches, bracing their crossbows along the rail of the ship or taking cover behind one of the masts. Those less able fill the hatches and doorways to the lower decks where they stand a better chance of staying out of the combat. Gregor takes a wide stance near the taffrail, a javelin sized arrow set in his folding ballista pointed skyward. Embros quaffs a potion, and takes up a position in the largest open part of the deck. He pulls out a flail, and turns his head to the side cracking his neck in the process. You never noticed it before, but Embros looks much more muscular than Mac (Str 16). He then looks up at you, "You ready Orellow? Tag team the beast when it lands to keep it from attacking the others?" He calls out, but the response is cut short as the winged creature folds in it's wings and dives toward the ship. The combined snap of a dozen crossbows is quite loud, but is instantly drowned out by the terrible roar the beast lets out as a couple bolts find their mark. The creature lands near Embros, filling as much space on deck as a covered wagon would. The poisonous stinger on the end of it's tail darts out like lightning, but Embros leans to the side barely dodging. Embros' counter strike is savage, his flail slamming into the meat of the Wayvern's tail, splintering scales. The crew scramble to reload their crossbows. Embros circles to the left, bringing the Wyvern into position 50ft directly below you. Roll Init: Embros 19, Crew 12, Wayvern 10, Orellow ? DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow sets his crossbow down and springs up on the rails of the crow's nest and then backflips back onto the center mast, aiming as high to the top as possible (12+6=18 acrobatics to gain an extra 10 feet?). He then springs off the mast and free falls down to the beast. His normally wide and mirthful eyes becoming sharp and predatory as he reaches into the sides of his sleeping bag and draws out his rapiers. He brings them forward and crosses his arms as he falls. He adjusts his body aiming at the tail. In one swift motion he swipes both blades across the fractured scales. (19+6=25 & 20+6=26 to hit. 4+4=8 & 4+6+4=14. Fall damage: 1+6+6+5+6+1=25. 12.5 damage each. Total is 34.5 (I think.) After the blades cut the skin, throned vines spring from the wounds and entangle the massive creature. (DC 14 STR save against Ensaring strike) (13+0=13 concentration to hold my spell. Pass. Inititive: 14+4=18) DM-Delfon:Your blades cross tugging slightly as they hack the stinger from the end of the beasts tail. The creature screams in agony as it's primary weapon is rent from it's body. It leans to one side your vines snap before it's weight, and smashes you in the chest with talons as thick as your arm. Deep gashes mar your flesh from navel to nipple, and you're tossed backward into the railing of the ship with a thud. (8+8+4=20 damage [OOC Not a crit, but OUCH!]) Embros smashes the creature in the hip with his flail, but in it's rage the creature doesn't even notice. It's stinger-less tail stabs just in front of Embros' face, if there was a stinger there, Embros would be dead now. The Captain shoots a bolt into the beasts maw, hitting it in the roof of it's mouth while it roars in pain. It snaps it's teeth shut, snapping the bolt in half. DM-Boneyard Ben:As the creature rears back and drives its claws toward Orellow he brings his blades up to stop the beasts talons, but fall was too much, his limbs give way under the beasts might and he feels the familiar pain of his flesh being pierced and the even more familiar pain of his back being slammed against something. He hits the mast and uses his blades like a cane to bring himself up. Seeing the captain about to rush to his side he flashes his best smiles before charging back into the fray. Pushing against the pain until it takes him, making everything go black. (Unconscious and bleeding at -2.5 hit points. Death Saves: Fail, Pass, Fail, Fail. 4 rounds till Orellow Bleeds out) DM-Delfon:Your world fades to black, but slowly colour returns. You float, weightless, looking down at a familiar scene. You see yourself splayed out against the rail of a sailing ship, an angry Wyvern with one set of talons coated in your blood. You see Embros do a shoulder roll toward your body popping a cap off a vial with his teeth and spitting the cap to the side. That's when everything freezes, and a familiar little girl floats over you looking down with such hatred and disgust that your taken back for a moment. No girl that young should possess such vehement hatred. "You stupid little man!" She shouts down at your physical form. "Your careless, recklessness could cost us the whole world!" She stomps her tiny foot to accentuate her words, "You will pay for this with nightmares that will chill you to your marrow." Hey sadistic smile crosses her face, "When i'm done you will wish you had died here." Time resumes as Embros' concoction pours down your throat, and you feel your ethereal self pulled back into your physical self. When you open your eyes, pain returns, and Embros' face swims back into your vision, "Get up you lazy sod, work isn't done yet." DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow checks over his gaping wound as the magic of the potion knits his wounds shut and then rolls back on his shoulders and handsprings up to his feet. Shaking whatever dizziness still clouds him he rolls and dodges the swaying beast (19+6=25 Acrobatics for awesomeness) positioning the beast between himself and Embros. "Have at thee, Draconic beast!" Orellow exclaims as he drives his blades forward. (Move to gain advantage on foe aaaaaand... Nat 20+6=26 & 12+6=18 to hit. 8+7+4=19 Suck it, you Wyvern bastard! Imma make you into boots!) & 4+4=8. 27 points of dmg in total.) DM-Delfon:The massive creature has bolts protruding from a dozen places, smashed scales from Embros' flail, a pair of deep punctures from your latest attack. Not to mention that it's stinger has been hacked off it's body. It seems to have had enough, it takes one half hearted swipe at you as it unfurls it's wings to leap from the ship. Opportunity Attack! DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow handily dodges the creatures claws. "Oh, no you don't! You owe me boots from your hide beast!" He laughs and lunges his blade at the creatures wing. (4+6=10. 6+4=10. Well then XD) DM-Delfon:The creature braces against the rails and leaps up taking to the air, utterly smashing that section of railing as it takes off. It's wings beat fiercely, enough that you have to brace yourself against the force of the downdraft. A few more bolts bounce harmlessly off the creature as it flees to the nearby cliffs, with only a couple successfully sticking out from the scales. With the creature gone, the crew sets about making rough repairs the ship. Other's tend to the wounded, with the captain herself coming over to deal with your wounds Orellow. Her hands are quick, but tender, and her stitches are sure. Before long you have a trio of gashes, neatly stitched, and no longer bleeding. They will be sore for a few days, and as long as you don't do anything overly strenuous (Acrobatic stuff) you won't tear out your stitches. Experience: 460 + 40 coolness points & 1 point of inspiration for Orellow. DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow braces against the creatures wing beats and watches it fly over the cliff. Breathing a heavy sigh of disappointment and shouting after the creature that he'll make boots of its hide yet and laughs. His usually boisterous laugh it cut short by the sharp pain coming from his body and he slides his rapiers back to their hiding place before falling back on his rear.He holds himself up on his hands as he leans back on them and stretches out his legs to look at the cliff the Wyvern flew over while trying to be as comfortable with his wound as possible. Orellow smiles appreciatively at the captain and insists he can tend to his own wounds if shes stubborn about it, he'll relent but make a job of it for her. Exaggerating how much her healing is hurting him before laughing softly and telling her shes doing a fine job. Stopping her to ask her if the stitch is backwards and otherwise just being a playful pest. This should come off as a way to lighten the mood and show his more playful side versus being annoying or ungrateful (Otherwise pop a cure wounds). After his wounds are stitched Orellow will lay back on the lopped off tail of the Wyvern (being careful to avoid the stinger) and close his eyes. Letting his body rest but keeping his mind aware of his surroundings. (short rest: 5+5+10. plus the 5 I got from the healing potion means I'm at full!) After his rest he'll attempt to extract the poison from the tail. (3+2=Nope. Nat 20+2=22 Nature I'm not dying for this poison. However I will blow a Nat 20 for a free fireball/an item worth 1200gp). Orellow will also keep the Stinger and see if he can turn it into a sword or something. (talk to the ship inventor) (Insight 10+6=16 to read expressions and body language to make sure he's not being too annoying. 9+3=12 Deceptions for looking like I'm asleep if necessary. and passive perception of 16 for hearing all the hubbub among the crew. Orellow is mainly looking to hear what they think of him but any lil tidbit he can use would also be appreciated.) DM-Delfon:The Captain doesn't fall for any of your tricks, and brokers no nonsense from you while she works. Ann Reed however proves a much easier mark. Every time you flinch she jumps back apologizing, and when you claim that she put a stitch in backward she actually removes the stitch, which hurts by the way, only to redo it exactly the same way. Embros takes a seat beside you while you rest, his bulging muscles almost brushing against your leg. He wasn't that strong before, you're sure of it. His muscles look like they belong on a giant or something. "It's a good crew." He says simply, before leaning back to rest himself. Once you start working the crowd, Embros goes to the rail and looks out to sea, lost in thought. When you start to work on the stinger, Merc Lanton-Gunner steps out with an odd large clamp. He also has a collection of vials and flasks. When he sees that you know what you're doing with the stinger his shoulders sag for a moment in disappointment, but he shrugs and trundles off quickly enough. You manage to extract enough usable liquid from the stinger to make a single dose of Wyvern Poison (covers material component, just need to spend the time.) if used within the next 10 days it doesn't need to be refined, otherwise it will begin to spoil. (-1d6, & -1DC per day) Gregor isn't a weapon smith, but does say that with a few modifications you could fit it over your fist like a prosthetic, and punch for piercing damage. (1d6) The tail could be fitted with a contraption that injects poison on hit as well. While you evesdrop on the crew, you do hear them talking about the Wyvern fight. Some of them think you're reckless, others brave, still others think you're nuts. All of them respect your prowess with a blade however. Additionally you overhear Ann Reed talking to Catherine La'Grande about Embros' posterior. Peeking through your eyelashes, you catch her fully staring at Embros' butt as he leans on his elbows at the railing. DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow will tease the girl and engage in some flirting. Maybe feign being too hurt to go on and say he can already see an angel looking to guide him home (referring to her) or something equally as corny. Orellow will smile his best given his wounds and nods in agreement. "A good lot indeed, Mr. Meawyn" He'll say honestly. Unconsciously touching his sleeping bag and remembering the names written on his rapiers. After Embros takes his leave and Orellow sees the girls openly staring he'll whistle a catcall at Embros. "I agree, girls." He'll say loudly as if he'd been part of the conversation the whole time. "Mr. Maewyn! Do tell when did you acquire such a strong stature? Your muscles weren't that rippled and robust earlier" Orellow whilst getting his wounds tended makes sure no one is able to see his back and as soon as hes straightened away he sets below deck. Limping as swiftly as he's able get to his bag and change his shirt. (17+4=21 Stealth). He never understood why a cult obsessed with secrecy insisted that he get a giant tattoo covering his back but those Fingers were strange sorts. Orellow will see to having the tail made into a weapon with the contraption. It could come in handy. (Side Note: DAVE, Who the F*** is Ann? Where did she come from? Whats she look like? I had to go to the 3.5 and sift through things there to get those answers XD Normally not that big a deal but I was on my phone so it made things more annoying, just a heads up. Also, I didn't see any rules about extracted poison deteriorating in 5e??? 3.5 adlib?) DM-Delfon:(You extracted the raw materials to craft the Wyvern Poison. Much like if you take meat from a boar, it isn't instantly a ration. You still have to go through the process of making it a poison if you want to keep it for a long time. Otherwise, use it within a 10 day. If you don't want to handle such things yourself Merc Lanton-Gunner is able.) Ann is either naturally flirty, or actually receptive to your advances, even the corny ones. She also seems a little bit naive in the way she reacts to some things. She is beautiful, with a musical voice. She is full of smiles, and blushes when embarrassed. She can often be seen playing her lute, and she takes care of that instrument like other women might take care of their own children. At no point does anyone attempt to remove your tattered shirt while your wounds are being tended, your armour holds the ruined shirt closed for the most part anyway. Gregor can work up a proper hilt for the thing, but suggests getting a weapon smith the reinforce the stinger before you take it into actual combat. Merc is able to devise a device that would apply poison to the stinger from inside. Both Gregor and Merc will need a few days with the stinger to work out the particulars. (Since I apparently forgot to properly introduce the crew in this thread (I did in the 3.5e thread), here are the Pirate Crew Pictures. Only a few have had any time in the spot light, Ann, Catherine, Mac and Gregor If I'm not mistaken, you can read about them in the 3.5e thread. Feel free to make use of these NPC's in your posts, if you use them in a way counter to any plans I have I will ask for an edit.) Last Edit: Oct 9, 2017 at 9:14pm by DM-Delfon DM-Boneyard Ben:All things were coming together nicely. The crew had seen first hand that Orellow was a formidable warrior. He was loud and bombastic but capable, either brave or crazy. Both titles suited the job nicely. Ever since he was a child, Orellow had trouble sleeping near others. When his Father would go on joint missions with other Rangers he wouldn't be able to sleep soundly because he was always afraid they'd try and take his treasure. His Father offered to have more faith in people. It never really worked. His mother however taught him to use his traits to his advantage. Being loud and boisterous and having the skills to back it up. Everyone likes to steal from the loud mouth to get a rise out of them. no one wants to mess with a loud mouth that is proficient at killing. The crew had seen that Orellow was very proficient. Their bolts had plinked off the Wyvern's hide while his swords struck true every time. The Wyvern's tail was a true reminder of why "that strange Orellow guy" is someone you'd rather have as a friend than an enemy. This would mean Orellow could sleep tonight. And if possible, not alone... He looks to Ann Reed. She would make those nightmares Avarice had promised easier to bare. (She's flirty, is willing to openly stare at a man while his back is turned and seems to like helping. This plays to Orellow's nature perfectly! Orellow will move about the ship in his usual way, being Dex as hell. (Acrobatics with disadvanatge; 4+6=10) She'll want to follow around Orellow and keep an eye on him. Patch him up when he opens his wounds and hold him when he stumbles. This offers lots of time to talk and get friendly. The objective here is to close any gaps, make touching and being close as necessary as possible. Although if she prefers Embros I'd say Orellow will help her getting closer to him. If Orellow can't be her lover he will most certainly be a close and dear friend.) As Orellow moves about the ship in his usual exaggerated manner. With Ann in close proximity insisting that he should rest. When suddenly he'll suddenly turn about and close the distance. "How can I rest, when there are hags that need slaying?" He'll ask. She will ask; "What hags?". Orellow will take her hands in his and hold them up between them as he looks into her eyes. "You do not need to hide it. I understand. having your child turned into a Lute must have been so hard" He says with a serious face and them lets her hands go and moves in beside her, grabbing her waist and pulling her in closer beside him, pointing over the horizon. "I swear to you; I shall slay the foul beast! Your child will be a Lute no longer!" he booms to the heavens. Smiling with all the confidence in the world and shaking his fist at a world so cruel. DM-Delfon:As you think about Ann, you see Avarice standing on the opposite railing of the ship, smirking as if to say "No she won't" A crewman walks between you, and as he passes she vanishes. You plan for Ann has a pair of major flaws. First, your wounds don't really allow for being dexterous as hell. You know better than to pull stitches just to impress a woman. Each time stitches are redone, they weaken the flesh around the wound. Second, Ann has duties of her own to attend to on board, which prevent her from following you as you would hope. You do manage to find an opportunity or two to talk, and the pair of you do seem to have some chemistry. Even though she is flirty, she isn't overly touchy, but the two of you end up speaking in pretty much nothing but innuendos. You suspect that you could build something here, but you will also have to earn it. During your conversations you try to feel out if she has interest in Embros, which she doesn't. In the conversation you overheard before it was Catherine that made a comment, and Ann was just responding when you started evesdropping. When you joke about her lute being a child turned instrument by Hags, she straightens up and goes deadly serious, tears welling up in her eyes, "How? How did you know?" When you pull her close she presses herself against you, and looks up into your eyes, "You will do that for me? You will slay the Hag that turned little jamie into a lute?" Looking down at her, her eyes seem so large, and you can feel the warmth of her pressed against you. It feels good. (OOC Nat 20 Deception check to mess with you, and a 24 (Not Nat) Persuasion check to flirt.) DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow notes the corners of her mouth twitching, so small and subtle you'd miss it at first glance and with her... Ahem. Warmth pushing up on him, he certainly might not have thought to look twice, but Orellow is sharp and he smiles on the inside. She's messing with him and he knows it... Time to take things up a notch. Orellow pulls her away and kneels before her, like a knight before his Queen. He takes her hand in his and places his forehead on her hand. A position often only reserved for making promises to nobles and the like. "On my honor, I swear this to you; come the Nine Hells or mountainous waters I will defeat this foe and make your family whole again." Orellow will say with a tone as serious as death. He'll let things hang in the air for a moment before lifting his head to look into her eyes with a playful smile and a wink to show he'd caught onto her game. (Insight 20+6=26. Orellow's Mom would be proud after all, what deceiver would be deceived?. 15+1=16 persuasion for flirty things. Orellow isn't much of a flirt XD) DM-Delfon:(Point of note: Heather has renamed Merc Lanton-Gunner in her book, so I'll be calling that NPC Felix Lanton from now on.) Ann laughs, a joyful sound, musical like a hint of chimes on the breeze. She pushes you back, "I can see you will keep me on my toes Orellow." The way she adds inflection to your name sends a tingle running up your spine, just a slight twist to the sound somehow adding a breath of deeper meaning. "Now get back to work, I don't want to be a Wyvern's snack." Sarah Moxey took your spot on top of the mast when you were injured, and now she calls out from the crow's nest, "There are two more beasties circling about a quarter mile (1300ft) to starboard Captain." The pair of Wyvern circle lazily, but either are not aware of your ship or are not interested in you. Either way they leave you alone until they pass out of sight. This happens a few times as you travel, each time Wayvern take to the sky and circle lazily. The most nerve racking time being when a Wyvern started toward your ship, only to be attacked by another Wyvern and driven away. From what you've seen it seems that Wyvern are very territorial, and the ones circling lazily ignore you because you're not in their territory. Whenever you see a pair of Wyvern together, they must be a mating pair. The Captain issues orders while watching the Wyvern intently, it seems she has learned to navigate according to how the Wyvern are acting. Whatever she is doing, she is avoiding the vast majority of angry Wyvern. Some however are unavoidable, one massive Wyvern covered in scars flies directly over the ship for a long time, keeping everyone on their toes. It breaks off eventually without attacking, apparently that one is old enough to know better than to attack a ship load of people. Another much smaller, young Wyvern actually attacks, but breaks off very quickly once it's wounded. Two days go by like this, and just when you think the Captain will navigate you through this area without another attack, another unavoidable Wyvern stands on a pillar of stone jetting up out of the ocean. It screams out a roar, and takes to the sky, flying straight for your ship. DM-Boneyard Ben:(Noted) Orellow shakes off the tingles her words cause his spine and grins. "Aye, Miss Reed" He whispers and watches her go before heading out on patrol. When he can't be in Crow's Nest Orellow spends the first day on the deck, watching the beasts. He'll also jump on any chance he can to spend time with Ann or steal glances in her direction during trip. Maybe find out what she does and help out. When he's not fulfilling his own duties of course. Or maybe get her to help him fish or hunt, teach her how he does it. Perhaps teach her some songs from his neck of the woods and make puns. For example; When Ann shows concern for the voyage and thinks that something will happen to her because of the creatures, Orellow will respond; "Worry not, Miss Reed. I won't Wyvern (Waver) in the face of any adversity that comes to you or little Jamie" He says looking into her eyes with a straight face before inevitably cracking a smile. After a night of rest Orellow spends his time as high up as possible. If not up in the Crow's nest hes on the Jacob's ladder or sat on the sails with his back on the mast, probably sewing his shirt or maintaining his armor or weapons. When not engrossed in his work, he's busily hunting near by game or fishing to help feed the crew. Orellow doesn't move from his spot during each of the "almost" attacks. As the giant scarred Wyvern flies overhead he takes one look at a the creature and returns to whatever he was doing. He can recognize a creature that wants to fight. When the younger one flies in he sits up but notices the other one coming from the corner of his eye and leans back, smiling to himself. He sees the smaller one come in for an attack but notices its clean scales and lack of scars. Orellow knows it'll get spooked once it recognizes it can be hurt. Hurt it is and away it flies. Embros might notice as he's got a bunk near by Orellow that he maintains his rapiers exclusively at night. When everyone else is asleep by the light of a single low burning candle he takes care of his blades with an almost religious feel. Muttering to himself (Not an actual language just jibbish with the inner intent of praying to Vecna) as he runs the whetstone gently along the blade and then covers the blades with a strange white powder before gently wiping them clean in one smooth stroke. He concludes each cleaning by taking a loose hair from his head and dropping it on his blade, watching it slice the hair. Satisfied, he slides the blades into their scabbards, (Both are black but each has gold trimming one depicting a city of shadow-like people and smoke-like building. The other showing an elegant forest of winding trees and strange animals) rolls them back up into his sleeping bag and then crawls into bed. In contrast when he sharpens his short sword or maintains his shield he does the basics and then just straps them back to his bag. Although he keeps the blade and shield with him when he's on patrol, having the shield on his back and the sword strapped to his leg. He does have quite a bit of love for his armor though, always buffing it and making the leather and the studs shine as much as possible. The First Nightmare DC 12 Wisdom Save. Rolled; 13+4=17. Pass: Orellow opens his eyes and sees the smoldering campfire his father had made. He looks around at the unfamiliar green surrounding them. Where were they? Oh yeah! They had received a request from some local druids to hunt down some Gnolls that were slashing and burning their way through the woods. He looked around and saw that his father was absent. He sniffed at the air, smelling the smoke on it and knew why; It was time to hunt. He grinned and got to his feet, grabbing his short swords and short bow and followed the smoke to its source. He sprung from tree to tree like a monkey and laughed aloud. Gnolls were always so sloppy. He rolled his eyes as he broke through the brush and a clearing came into view. There was his father. A whirlwind of arrows. He stood in the center of the horde, string drawn back and he let loose to shoot one gnoll through the head. He pulled his next arrow from his quiver and another charged at him. He easily dodged and ran up the creatures back to shoot another one in the foot. It howled in pain and his father just laughed as it dropped its weapons and tried to pull the arrow out. He landed and turned to wave to Orellow. A gnoll behind him seized the opportunity to strike and ran up up behind him with a club in hand. Orellow quickly got his short bow out and knocked in an arrow, he drew back but the string snapped!The gnoll bashed his Father's head, blood and skull fragments flying from his skull. The rest piled on the corpse and it soon became a shower of blood and limbs. He sank to his knees. No. No! No no no!! How could be be so foolish? how could he have forgotten to maintain his bow!? He never fogets to- Wait... Bow? Orellow opens his eyes to the familiar swaying of the ships quarters. Orellow never picked up the bow, he remembered. His father often insisted he did, as it was faster than a crossbow but Orellow always preferred the crossbow he picked up from an Orc Commander. It had gold plating on it and looked so nice and expensive. He was disappointed to find it was fools gold but he still liked it. It was his first bit of treasure from his first hunt with his Dad and has remained with him since... "Nice try, Avarice" He mouths to himself before getting up and starting his day. The Second Nightmare DC 12 Wisdom Save. Rolled;14+4=18. Pass.: Orellow feels the sea breeze on his face as he sharpens his short sword. He looks out over the water and smiles to himself. It feels so nice and relaxing. The whole day had been relaxing. No wyverns about, they all must've gotten their mates and were off in some cave making little monsters that would one day call this stretch of ocean home. Orellow's ears perk as he hears a curse. His yes dart to where the sound came from and he sees Ann Reed bending over to pick up something she'd dropped. Orellow leaned over his perch to get a better view of.... Whatever she dropped. Yeah... Thats right, he's just concerned that it might be- Wow she's gotta great- "Ahh!" Orellow hollers as he leans a little too far and nearly falls from his perch, catching onto a rope with his hand and the ledge with his boot at the last second. Holding himself up in an awkward position. Ann snaps up and looks his way with a expression. Then he watches her face change as she puts the pieces together and folds her arms at him, making her chest puff out. Orellow smiles sheepishly and waves. The crew all crack jokes and holler at him when suddenly one screams out "Wyvern!" Orellow releases his foot from the ledge and hangs off the rope to get a better veiw, when he feels a sudden pain in his chest. he looks down and sees a stinger stuck into it. he feels the burning in his blood as the poison spreads through his body, his grip on the rope loosens and the creature jerks him off its stinger and Orellow is sent falling to the deck. The world around him begins to fade from veiw. How could he have been so stupid as to let his guard down? He could he not have noticed? And just as he's about to hit the deck Orellow has one more thought. He couldn't have. Orellow sits up in his bunk and grabs his chest. breathing out when he only feels the familiar scar of the first Wyverns claws. You not that ignorant. he thinks to himself. He recalls the countless times he noticed things sneaking up. Weather it was an a thief with a knife on the streets or a beast in the green forests of home Orellow was almost never surprised. A creature like a Wyvern? A fool could see a beast like that miles off, There's no way one could sneak up on him. He breathed out and sprang from his bunk. She's getting better but she won't break him that easily. Orellow upon noticing the Wyvern sitting on the stone pillar calls it out and gets himself up as high as possible. He sees the beast take to the sky and dive bomb toward the ship. This reminded Orellow of the time he was out on a walk with his Father. They were checking on a chick who's parents had been killed off by poachers. They were in the tree above it when a Blood Hawk spotted the defenseless bird and dived toward it. Orellow readied his crossbow to kill it but his father stopped him and flung a rock. He hit the blood hawk on the head but it didn't kill it. Instead it had pushed the creature off its course and instead of snatching the chick up in its claws the blood hawk hit the thick branch the nest was on. The hawk's beak was stuck into the branch. It clawed and flapped its wings in an almost comical fashion before his Father hopped down and grabbed the hawk, pulling it out and giving it a stern warning before letting it go. Orellow would be the rock in this case. He would hit the creatures head before it slowed itself down to hit the deck and cause the creature to crash. Hopefully either incapacitate it or hurt it enough to scare it off. He readied his body and as soon as it came within range he sprang into action. (14+6=20 to hit. 13+2=15 Athletics to knock it off course, forgoing damage to do awesome, but if need be then 1 dmg from unarmed strike (I'm essentially drop kicking this thing) aaaaaand a Nat 1!+6=doesn't matter Acrobatics check to recover from the maneuver! This is gonna suck...) (19+4=23, untrained Animal handling for spotting the intentions of the Wyverns, I also have a passive Perception of 16 to notice the wyverns coming into fight other wyverns coming for us. Long story short Orellow looks like a badass just maintaining his stuff while shit happens. Also, Orellow lives a Comfortable lifestyle (PHB pg. 158) as dictated by his proficient in the Survival skill (Self sufficiency pg. 159 PHB) Essentially instead of spending gold to maintain his gear and make sure he's fed. He's able to take care of that stuff himself) DM-Delfon:Ann's duties include a lot of generic sailor stuff, such as cleaning things, and loosening or tightening ropes. That's about as much as you can figure out based on watching her do her duties. It is fun to watch her do her duties however, she is quite beautiful. Her main task above and beyond that of the rest of the sailors is to keep moral up with her music, she often plays sea shanties and jaunty jigs. Her music makes the drudgery of swabbing the deck seem much more palatable. She listens to your songs, and sings along almost right away. Some of the words are different, or the melody isn't quite right. Often times the song is simply called something else. Regardless, she picks up your songs on the first or second pass and does a better job performing them than you from then on. She groans at your terrible puns, but you notice that she does so while hiding a smile. Once you breakdown and let your smile show through, she joins you with her own musical laugh. Mirth does come easily to her. When you try to teach her how to fish, she manages to catch a small one almost loosing some of your gear in the process. She doesn't seem all that interested in hunting however, content to let you do the dirty work of killing another creature. Each time a Wyvern draws near Embros seems to end up on deck near where the creature would land, often standing between the beast and one of the less combat skilled crew. What the man now lacks in raw strength, he seems to make up for with pure nerve. You also notice that now that he is no longer under the effect of the potion that gave him incredible strength he fights with a rapier in one hand, and a dagger in the other instead of the flail. You would be aware that Embros has seen you tending to your rapiers, but would only have gotten a simple nod if you made eye contact while doing so. Whatever he thinks about your reverence to your blades, he hides it behind an unreadable straight face. You suspect that Embros would be good at Dragon Poker, his face gives away almost nothing. The moment you see the pillar mounted Wyvern, you know this one will be trouble. His black eyes are focused on the ship, the angle of his wings, the tension of thickly corded muscles all point toward a creature ready to pounce on prey. When it does, you are ready for it. You leap from the mast, dive bombing the creature in flight. Your aim is true, and your feet hit squarely. That's when things start to go horribly wrong. The creature saw you coming, and tensed all of it's muscles. It was like you landed on the deck instead of a creature in flight. Not only did you fail to knock it off course, it braced you for a moment keeping you still enough that it could bring that lethal stinger into play. First you felt a sharp intense pain in your lower stomach as the stinger buries itself in you, just above your pubic bone. Next comes heat like someone poured boiling oil that was on fire directly into your guts, the heat of it is so intense that you instantly begin to sweat from every pore. Lastly comes the pain, unbelievable, excruciating, mind numbing pain. The kind of pain that doesn't just cloud the mind, it numbs it to the point of paralysis. The force of the blow itself is enough to cast you off the ship entirely. As you spin over the side everything slows down into crystal clear focus. Seconds seem like minutes, minutes seem like hours with you helplessly drifting away from the combat on deck. You watch as Embros squares up to meet with the creature, rapier and dagger in hand, standing directly in it's path. Gregor pounds a javelin sized bolt into the creatures side, and it's jaws open as it silently screams. That's when you notice the complete lack of sound, nothing. No pitched combat, no orders being shouted. No waves crashing against the hull. You creep ever closer to the water, one silent eternal heart beat at a time until one voice pierces through it all, "ORELLOW!" Ann's terrified wail brings all others sounds back with it. Abruptly the world is a cacophony of all the previously absent noises. The last thing you notice as the world accelerates back to it's normal speed, and you plunge head first into the water is the Wyvern carrying Ann off the opposite side of the ship in it's razor sharp talons. Rolls: Deception: 16+8=24 For Embros to be unreadable. You take 2d6+4 damage from the stinger + another 7d6 poison, which you can resist with a DC 15 Con save for half damage. I'm going to let you roll these, and describe that anguish yourself. (It didn't actually push you off the ship, I was just describing your Nat 1 acrobatics.) DM-Boneyard Ben:(Failed save. 29 points of piercing/poison damage total. 1 hp remains...) Orellow opens his mouth to call after Ann but his words only found water He sucked in a breath out of instinct and water filled his lungs. Sending his body into an whirlwind of panic just to survive, making it randomly thrash and move till he broke the water's surface. It burned. The poison siphoned his strength and tore through every fiber of him like a raging inferno. He slams his fist into the water. No. He slams his other fist. No.. He kicked his feet furiously though they ached and pleaded him to stop. Damn it, no. He finally reaches the hull of the ship and slammed his fist into it. Willing it to shatter under his fist and open a line of sight on the beast. No luck. Not again. Never again. He reached into his crossbow's case and pulled out two bolts, sticking them into the side of the ship he hauled himself up. His arms burned like the Nine hells. His body screaming for rest and even then, it wouldn't stop. It would only be more pain. Less pain than moving but still pain. But that didn't matter. His blood boiling into nothing. His head spinning till it popped. His vision fading in and out from the pain alone could fade to nothing for all he cared. None of it mattered cause a lowly, miserable scaled abomination had just touched his treasure. He pulled a bolt out of the ship and hauled himself higher. His limbs gave way under his weight and he dropped a bit, nearly pulling the bolts with him. No. Climb. He tried again but once more he dropped and the bolts came out of the ship, dropping him back into the relentless sea that shoved him back against the ship egging him on. Climb!! You worthless Bastard Child! He stuck the bolt in and finally pulled himself back up from the water. He drove the next one above his head and pulled himself up again. His body was in agony, his mind was a haze of pain and numbness. Fuck it. You don't need this body. Let it shatter under your will. Let it fall for daring to even consider to rest now. You need your treasures; Your Gold. Your Drink. Your Woman. This worthless world will give it all to you if you just take it. And take it I will. Orellow hauled himself up on deck and rolled onto it, then dragged his worthless caress to his feet. The crew gasped and stared at the man. A man they seen impaled by a wyvern and tossed into the ocean like a rag doll. This was not the same man. The Orellow with black slicked hair and a smile was nowhere in this... Thing. God awful orange yellow hair that was stuck to him and covering up part of his face, not enough though as you could clearly see his eyes. Blue but not like an ocean in a clear day. No, this was a blue like the unforgiving depths. That was the blue where Davey Jones kept his locker. This man had no grin. He had a scowl that would make a hellhound stop dead. And this man seen nothing around him. Not the concerned crew looking at his wound or the curious onlookers who wondered about his hair. This man seen only a winged beast that needed to meet his blade. His eyes suddenly turned to where Gregor was standing. He looked at the giant crossbow. No. That wouldn't work. His eyes darted around the ship. stopping and taking in every part of it, but he didn't move his head. He looked for something. Anything. That could close the gap between him and that filthy thieving beast. DM-Delfon:(Hot damn, I'm actually surprised you stayed conscious, these things hit hard!) Something snake-like hits your arm as you thrash about in the water, you grab it with both hands and try to throttle the life right out of it in your anger. It must sense the danger, because it tries to pull free. Your fury won't let it escape however, and you hold fast. It isn't until you're being pulled from the water that you realize that you have been throttling a rescue rope. You're thankful that you won't have to climb the side of a ship using bolts, in your current state you're not sure you could make that climb. No! Those thoughts lead to ruin, it would hurt, but you would triumph. You always do. You do catch the attention of everyone as you slowly pull yourself to your feet. Some stare awestruck, others wear concern upon their features, some confusion and some fear. Felix jogs up and hands you two potions, "Stop the bleeding with this one." he says as he passes you the first vial. (Greater Healing) The second one is labelled 'Anti-toxin' in bold print. While scanning the ship, you can't seem to find anything to bring you to Ann quickly. Getting dumped in the water has simply given the beast too much of a head start. Even as you pulled yourself over the rail, you saw the creature wing around a cliff face out of sight. You do catch sight of Embros standing atop the mast, whirling a grappling hook around and around before launching it into the rocks above. He swings across and climbs over the top of the rock face. You hear Ann shout, "Embros watch out!" with panic in her voice. DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow sees Embros and takes both bottles in hand, climbing his way up to the crows nest where Embros was and downing both drinks in one go (11+6=17 Acrobatics and a 20+0 Con to down the liquids) Lights surges through his body and he feels the relielf of his wounds being closed as well as a sudden violent lump in his throat. Part way up he has to stop and cover his mouth as the poisonous liquid is forced out through his mouth as a single thick slimy mass. He groans and coughs, spitting out the foul taste in his mouth and flicking away the snot-like mass before continuing his climb up. He reaches the top and takes his position to follow Embros' lead when he notices he can see over to where he and the beast are. Orellow knows jumping in half cocked would be dangerous and given Embros' personality he wouldn't be up here without a plan. Orellow waits to make his next move DM-Delfon:Embros pulls himself up over the side and sees the craggy top of the plateau. It's bare save for a ring of bones and wrecked lumber that you assume is a nest, and a tooth-like boulder that juts out from the rock. The side of the boulder that faces you is smeared with blood and covered in claw marks and even from where you are you can smell the stench of death. You see the great scaled creature toss Ann against that boulder, dazing her. It begins to circle around, probably to make its landing and enjoy its meal. You hear retching behind you and look back to see Orellow on the Crows nest with the hole in his stomach sealed shut, and a bit of green on his chin. Its time to figure out your next move.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Sept 22, 2018 5:32:21 GMT -5
DM-Delfon: (I was totally going to mess with you for mixing potions, but ejecting the poison through your mouth is pretty good. Well played Sir.)
Embros grabs Ann's attention, and tosses her a potion, "Drink it now, run to me on my signal!" He shouts. Then he pulls out a foot long wooden box that is half a foot wide, and half a food deep. "Hold Ann, hold tight." The soldier says, making staying motions with both hands, while he waits for the creature to make his final approach.
Embros waits until the last possible moment before shouting, "Vass-Real" The box explodes out, it's sides ballooning out into a full fledged ship 24 feet long, 8 feet wide; and 6 feet deep. The ship has a deck, rowing seats, five sets of oars, a steering oar, an anchor, a deck cabin, and a mast with a square sail. The ship looks like it can hold fifteen Medium creatures comfortably. Embros aimed the ship with the hill facing the Wyvern, hoping to have the thing crash and fall off the side of the plateau.
Without waiting to see the result, Embros shouts, "Now!" And sprints toward her (bonus action dash) throwing the now toddler sized Ann over his shoulder, and runs back toward the rock outcropping where the Wyvern was first spotted. Leaping the gap easily, Embros shouts, "Orellow, catch!" Before launching Ann into the crows nest.
Leaping back Embros touches the ship and says, "Inn-a-Vars" and the ship reverts back into a box. Stowing it quickly, Embros watches as the Wyvern lands back on the plateau, he curses, and makes a run for the ship. The crows nest is now too far away to leap to, and with a Wyvern on his heels Embros dives off the cliff into the salty water below.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Orellow sees the Captain pull herself up to the crows nest just as Embros is setting his trap. He watches the boat balloon into existence and pushes the Wyvern off the side and readies himself as he sees Embros dashing toward him with a Mini Ann. Orellow can't help but think of how cute she looks as a halfing. His cold demeanor fades and a smile crosses his lips as Ann is tossed toward him, He bounds over the side of the crows nest. Catching the rail with one hand and Ann's wrist with the other as a rope from the captain is thrown over her head. Orellow pulls her up, letting her loop her arm around the rope and smiles at her. "Miss Reed, it seems your experience with that wyvern has left you half the fine woman I remember" Orellow says with a grin "But I'm sure we can make it work" he says with a wink before he lets her go, letting the captain lower her safely to the deck. No time for too many pleasantries though. Orellow pulls himself back up and draws his blades, ready to fight the beast head on. He smiles as crossbow bolts fly from the ship below and one Javelin sized bolt finds its mark and sends the beast screeching away from its nest. He looks down to where Embros has dove and sees other crew members fishing him up from the drink. Shouts of victory ring through the ship with everyone back on it and the beastie scared off. All's well that ends well, right? Orellow sheathes his blades climbs down to join everyone else on deck. (13+4=17 Stealth) Whilst the crew and everyone else is checking on Ann and Embros, Orellow uses the confusion to dip below deck and to retrieve his disguise kit to fix his hair.
DM-Delfon: In her Halfling stature she taps into the best parts of both the curvy charasmatic performer, and the outright adorableness of a small child. She is sexy and sweet wrapped into one tiny little package. Ann smiles up at Orellow, now way up, and says, "and yet I'm still more than twice as much woman as you can handle." With a wink of her own. She adds, "What's with the hair?" But your response is cut short while you watch her as she is incrementally lowered to the deck
No dice on slipping below deck right away. When you reach the deck you're met by Catherine with a healers kit. She sets to work immediately checking your stomach where the hole used to be. She looks up at you through the massive hole in your shirt. "Where's the wound?" Once you explain about the potion, with your usual quirky repartee she rolls her eyes, and says, "I can do nothing for the poison, it will run it's course eventually. Until then, take it easy, okay? Some of us will miss you if you get yourself killed." Her eyes drift to Ann standing across the deck with the Captain.
Experience: 460
DM-Boneyard Ben: Orellow looks to Ann and smiles warmly. "Aye, I shall do my best" Orellow says and weaves passed Catherine to the lower deck. Going into his bag and retrieving a case full of dyes, make up and cloths of various size, shape and color. He dips his hands into some black gunk and brushes it through his hair till its black. Then he grabs a clear gel and slicks his hair back pulling forth a single curl over his forehead. Checking the mirrors in the case and seeing everything is in order he breathes out in relief. Back to looking like dear old Dad... Orellow always hated his natural hair. It made him stand out too much. In the forests back home or the cities his Mom liked it was always distinctive and caused him nothing but grief. He only ever showed his hair to those who wouldn't see anything anymore. It was better that those who saw the real Orellow saw him for everything he was. His Avarice and his ugly hair.
DM-Delfon: It doesn't take you long to be back to your 'normal' self, dexterous hands and plenty of practice make the work breeze past. Before long you're back up on the deck, laughing and chatting with the crew. You do notice that a few of the crew are more distance than before, especially the Captain. They still hold a conversation, and do all the things society deems necessary. The Captain's hand unconsciously drops to rest on the hilt of her cutlass whenever you approach, and with others you catch little things here and there. A little girls voice whispers in your mind, 'You need to face this head on. No! Not with your blades fool. Give them a reasonable explanation for the disguise, their feeble minds will latch on to that. Any who don't can 'accidentally' fall overboard in the night.' Avarice's mocking giggle fades out as Ann's musical giggle reaches your ear. One of the crew must have said something funny while you were distracted by Avarice.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Orellow sighs. He knew this might be a problem. He sets about getting the attention of the crew. He sets himself up on the rails and booms. "So! I see your all very interested in why I dye my hair!" With most of the Crew either stopped and listening or gathered around He sits down on the rail and explains. "I was a ranger in the Floral Forest and an Enforcer in the nearby city before coming to Clifton, both jobs required some semblance of stealth and my natural hair color prevented that. There were many times I had endangered my party cause of it. That aside, all who have seen my natural hair color have died. My mother and father, many rangers and fellows I worked with, all of them for one reason or another are no more" He lowers his head, taking a deep breath before continuing. "It has made me think this hair of mine is cursed. So, I dyed it, kept it hidden." He smiles at the crew. "It makes me sad to think that the lovely crew aboard this boat might die too simply because I got sloppy and was knocked into the drink. I fixed it as soon as I could to prevent that." He stands up once more. "Many strange and wonderful things happen in this world and not all can be explained. Believe me when I say I only want to this voyage to end on the best of terms" He thumps his chest with his fist as he proclaims; "I am Orellow Avnec! I seek Truths and protect the Green and..." He breathes and blushes, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have a bad temper when things I care about are taken" He looks at Ann briefly and then returns to the crew. "I am a man of my word with strange beliefs and a stranger hair color. If you will not believe my words then look to my actions" He pauses for a bit. "Ahhhh...." He hears the familiar little girls voice behind him as she comes to a realization. "So, that's why" He can feel her smile on his back. The crew look at each other for answers and they suddenly stop moving. "Yes" Orellow says. "We are surrounded by water and my dye is not proofed for that. I knew my hair color would come out and with it so would you" He looks at the girl, standing on the rail behind him. "I needed to instill faith through my actions. They should be weary but with a short reminder of the insanity I've done to protect them. They will lay this to rest" Orellow says confidently. He looks to the Captain. "She will be the biggest challenge" Orellow says and narrows his eyes. "She's firm in her beliefs, which means if she doesn't believe this, it could spell trouble" Avarice giggles behind him. "But, you have something for that too, don't you?" Orellow looks to the deck. "The final nail, this will either make or or break us" He looks back up as the world begins to move once more.
Before any conclusion can be made Orellow tosses his gear down at his feet, save for his sleeping bag which he lays down gently. "If my reasoning doesn't fit your tastes, if you truly believe I'm some Charlatan or even if your just curious what I look like in chains then please by all means. Lock me up in the Brig! Strap weights to my boots and toss me in the drink! Or why not just feed me to the next clever beastie that soars through!" He laughs throwing his hands up and spinning about. "I've dealt with my fair share of deceivers! What fairness would it be if I wasn't willing to offer myself up in a similar manner?" he stands up on the rail and crosses his arms. "So! What say you?" He looks at the crew and then to Tsunami. "Captain?" Orellow smiles softly.A simple look that says he won't blame anyone for whatever decision they make.
DM-Delfon: “I’d have a word with ye, me hearty,” Tsunami says calmly to Orellow, and with Embros, too”. Then to the rest of the crew, she bellows, “Back to work, the lot of ye! Gregor, keep yer eyes skyward in case of another attack!” With orders given she approaches the now smaller, more private group containing: you, Mac, and Embros. You know she doesn't trust you, because she's not inviting you into her private quarters like she just did with the two women.
“Very pretty words, Orellow, pretty enough to perhaps cause a mutiny if the mood should so strike you,” She said cautiously. The Quartermaster Mac raises an eyebrow at that one, whether he thinks that isn't what you were going for, or whether that means he wouldn't let that happen you can't guess. You put it out of your mind as the Captain continues, “What ye say seems to make just enough sense to convince the others, and it may very well be true, but I can assure ye that I’ll not be spooked by ghost stories o’ the colour o’ yer locks. This crew do operate as a family for the most part, and no one would be more upset than I should any one of them be taken,” she says looking over her shoulder at Ann, who sat with her back against the railing some yards away, softly plucking at her lute. “But the look I saw upon yer visage was simply that of death and destruction. Black murder, in fact. No matter what happens here, I need to know that if that look should come about ye again, that ye’ll still be able to take orders, and not start given ‘em, or go rogue.” She looks at him levelly. “I’ll not have ye hijack me ship, nor me crew, and I’ll not have ye givin’ us more work of goin’ after ye should ye decide to take some matter or another into yer own hands. Ye have fought like a mighty killer whale for the last two days, and for that, I thank ye. Ye have been good to yer word so far.”
She looked briefly toward the closed door to the cabin. “However, I’d like to know how ye were privy to a private conversation that happened within me quarters, as well as what be yer intentions aboard me ship, and where does yer path lead ye?
DM-Boneyard Ben: "Mutiny?" Orellow asks with a chuckle. Seeming finding the very idea of it amusing. "Captain, I was raised in the forests and cities, I have not the first inkling about running a ship and though I'm fine with a blade, I can't lead a horse to water much less lead your crew across waters" He smiles at his own joke. But, it fades fast as he continues. "I am not a very tactful man, I prefer to face problems head on and though I have fore thought and am aware of the consequences. I have always chosen what I believed to be the best option" he states honestly as his hand unconsciously scratches his stomach through the 2 inch hole in his armor. "Explaining my circumstances to the crew is an extension of that." He says and gestures to the crew. "I seen they were weary of me and though they tried to remain friendly there was no hiding the questions in their eyes" he says simply. "I gathered their attention and put their woes at ease" He shrugs. Orellow cocks his eyebrow at calling his curse a ghost story but doesn't press the issue. He's not about to start an argument with a sailor about superstitions. He clears his throat. "Regarding the... What did you call it? Black murder?" He asks and once she nods he continues. "Well, That is a simple matter. I've been raised to kill my fellow man since before I could walk" He looks at the captain dead in the eyes. "I have slaughtered countless men bigger than myself in the name of forest protection. Rapist, murderers, bandits and even the occasional charlatan" His features grow dark. "At 10 years old I cut the head off a little boy who wasn't much older than me because he was under the influence of a Mind Flayer" He leans closer to the captain. His eyes a dark blue abyss that shows endless turmoil. "Do you know what that does to a child?" He asks coldly and holds her gaze for a while before leaning back. His features resuming there usual bright luster. "I've learned to live with it, its part of me. A cold, dark extension of my inner most self and it only effects me" he says confidently. "In that state I become more thoughtful, I will not involve you, your crew or your boat because I work best alone" He says and then laughs. "Besides my contract with Mr. Maewyn won't allow me to wander too far from him till our job is done." He laughs and slaps the back of the stoic man. He pauses and looks out to the endless sea. "My mother always said one cannot exist as a light without casting a shadow" A soft smile crosses his lips. "She explained that this "black murder" as you call it, is my shadow while who you have seen through the voyage is my light. Living everyday as joyously as I can to make up for the lights I have snuffed out." He turns to the captain. "One day my light will be no more so I hope to brighten as many others and shine as brightly as I can before that time" He shrugs. "Take me at my word or lock me in the Brig, if you fear a mutiny I give you my word that I will make sure the crew finds peace in your choice as they always have and as I'm sure they always will".
DM-Delfon: You watch closely for the deciding moment, and so you manage to catch it when it arrives. Just a slight softening in the angle at the corner of her eyes. You've done it, you've managed to convince the Captain. “Aye, I ken the feelin’ of runnin’ a man through. I’ll not get into a quarrel with ye on numbers, but I’ve done in me share in order to keep me kin and crew safe. They be my first priority. Need I remind ye of what would happen if ye took it into yer mind to settle a dispute ye might have with one of ‘em with yer blade? Ye cannot stand as judge and executioner when it comes to me crew. That do be Mac’s job as quartermaster,” she tells him with a nod in her new husband’s direction. Drawing your attention to the man you see a slight glint of light off steel, but then it's gone and his hands don't seem to have moved, maybe it was a trick of the light.
“As long as ye can stay yer blade in that respect, ye both do be more than welcome to stay. Havin’ ye both aboard has been… eventful to say the least.” She turns her gaze on Embros and lowers her voice to a hushed conspiratorial tone, “and I dare say that Miss LeGrand would be disappointed to see the tail end of ye so soon.” Embros laughs at this, a deep rich sound quickly suppressed. She hasn’t let the amazement of the collapsing ship strike awe through her since she first saw it, but she was itching to inspect it first hand. “Embros, with yer permission, I would love for ye to show me yer vessel again. Me mind can’t wrap around how such a thing as that exists.” She looked back and forth between the men. “I know that Mac brought ye on board as a ferry to yer destination, and I know now that yer destination be the prison isle of Somerset. I think it’s time for at least one of ye to tell me exactly what or who ye be questing for. It may be that we can help each other out when we pull into port.”
Embros nods, "Whenever you like Captain." He says simply in regards to the ship. "A woman-" Orellow pipes in, "Is it not always about a woman?" Embros looks to the man, then back to the Captain, "The matron that raised the exiled Prince of Somerset is being held as leverage against the Prince. Our job is to remove that leverage against him."
DM-Boneyard Ben: Orellow nods to Mac. "Well, Mr. Monsoon, I shall leave any quarries with the crew to you" He bows to him in an exaggerated manner and after his little jab Orellow will pivot on his heel and wander off.
After finding his spot in the crow's nest is occupied Orellow without much else to do will sit on the rail Ann is leaned against while she absently plucks at the strings of her lute. "I was born with it" he says answering the girl's question from earlier. "Hmm?" She asks coming out of her daze. "My hair" Orellow says, playing with the curl on his forehead. " It is my natural color. Strange as it is" He chuckles. "Neither of my parents have this hair." Ann looks at him curiously and Orellow smiles at the girl's reaction. "My father's hair was like a deep shadow and my mother's like an old oak" He explains "It made me question things growing up, but my mother had a reason, as she always did" Orellow chuckles as he looks out at seemingly nothing. "She told me, she saved a Gold Dragon while she was pregnant with me and as a reward the dragon poured his magic into me in order to ensure I was born without any problems" He pulls one of his loose hairs and licks his fingers. He then rubs his saliva damp digits across the strand and almost like magic the hair changes color, leaving black marks on Orellow's fingers. "Thus, my odd hair" He says and holds the strand in front of her.
DM-Delfon: Ann's idle fingers pluck notes, accidentally matching the mood of your story as you talk. She doesn't seem to notice how it enhances your story, it's just second nature to her. She stands as your story comes to a close, leaning back on the rail beside where you stand, "You have an answer for everything Mr. Avnec." She says with mock formality, "I'm glad the Captain didn't lock you up." She looks at you then, and smiles. Her smile is warm, like when the sun shines through storm clouds. You're struck again by just how beautiful she is, and a new voice in your mind asks how far you will go to have this treasure? Wait. Not a new voice, your own voice. The one that creeps about when Avarice isn't around, but she is always near so you haven't heard this voice in a long time. Why now?
Wait, Ann has stopped playing her lute, what did you miss? You start paying closer attention, shutting out the voices and see that Ann is wrinkling up her nose at your moist orange-yellow strand, "I think I prefer the black." She says as she reaches up and gives your little curl a quick tug. Behind her you see the Mac, the Captain, Catherine, and a few other crew members watching Embros demonstrate how the Folding Boat works.
DM-Boneyard Ben: "Not everything, Miss Reed" Orellow says with a soft smile. I do not know what drew me to you. Nor why I want so badly to add you to my hoard. "I'm very glad I wasn't locked up as well, I'd miss watching you walk about with the breeze in your hair" He says flashing his most charming smile.
Orellow winces a bit in mock pain as she pulls on his curl. "As do I" He laughs and lets the strand the go to the wind. But the strand stops in mid flight and Orellow sighs. Looking about the world and seeing its once again stopped. "Hello, my old friend" Orellow greets the yet unseen entity. "Hello" His voices comes back at him and he leans back seeming like he's going off the rail only to be stopped by a scaled wall. Orellow looks at the scales and follows them, they bend and curve until the form of a great orange-yellow dragon is before him, seeming to take up most of the ship. The beast smirks "You never answered my question" Orellow rolls his eyes. "As I said to Ann, I do not have an answer for everything" he says. The dragon cocks his head. "Ann, is it?" he aks. "Miss Reed" Orellow corrects. "Now begone" he says as a mock command giving the great beast a shove. "I am enjoying myself for once and do not need you sinking the ship" The dragon hums in consideration and looks at Orellow in the eyes. "Not all treasure is jewels and gold" He says and blinks. Orellow watches the strand drift off into the great sea and turns back to Ann. Noticing the others behind her, he stands and nods toward them. "Did you want to see how the boat that saved your life worked?" He asks motioning to them "Or..." He steps closer and smiles "Would you like to find somewhere more private to discuss Hag slaying strategies?" He asks playfully as less of an invite to mess around and more of the two of them going off to spend time together.
Not Everything That Glitters Is Gold.
DM-Delfon: She laughs, another musical chiming, and steps up to the rail between your feet where you stand. She puts both hands firmly on your knees and whispers, "I'm tempted to push you in right now." She applies just enough pressure to show that she could have outright shoved you off the rail. Then she pivots, and giggles as she joins the others to see the ship Embros keeps in his pack. After the demonstration she seeks you out, chatting casually about this or that. Nothing overly serious, but all of it is pleasant. She steers the conversation away from violence or your past, seeming to prefer to keep things light. After some amount of time, you try to speak, but your jaws crack with a massive yawn. You realize that the pair of you have been talking for hours. It's fully dark now, and the night crew are at their posts. She seems to notice at the same time, and bids you a good night. She gives you a peck on the cheek, and a warm smile before heading below deck to her bunk.
You stand stretching, and see an angry little girl tapping her toe with impatience...
DM-Boneyard Ben: Orellwo resists the urge to "fall" over the side after she applies force and instead just smiles back at her. He watches her go to watch the demonstration. As much as he hates to see her leave, he loves to watch her go. Having no interest in magic boats Orellow unfastens his armor, removing the chest piece (but keeping on his shirt and sets about fixing the hole. He also thinks about looking into reinforcing his armor considering it hasn't done much against the wyverns. When Ann rejoins Orellow, he happily talks with her about the Floral Forest and the Fey enchanted flowers that grow there. All the strange and wonderful creatures he's seen and lots of fluffy happy things that don't involve death. Afterwards he bids her a sweet rest. Teasing her not to stay up too late missing him and does one last check around the ship.
Orellow walks passed the girl as she glares angrily. "Whats the matter? Jealous?" He teases. He doesn't let her answer. "Let me guess; your letting her distract you. You need to focus on the job. We can't screw up with the Prince" he asks mocking her tone as he looks back at her "Well, I'm not. I am and I won't" he answers himself flatly. "The job is on a separate island as long as my gear is in shape, I'll be no more focused on the job with her than without her" He states simply. "This vessel will go their way and we will go ours. Embros has already said he and I will infiltrate the compound while the Captain and her crew do what they wanted." he continues. "And given the captain's personality I would say its safe to assume she will not rush in and endanger everyone here. Plus the rest have proven themselves capable. Miss Reed will be safe and I can focus on task" He looks down at the girl. "Simple as that" he smiles and continues on his patrol. He sighs and rolls his eyes. "Honestly, you never used to..." Orellow pauses. Used to? Wait... How long had Avarice been with him?
A sharp pain suddenly grips Orellow's mind. Almost as if someone had taken a rapier to his mind and was twisting it back and forth. Orellow is forced to his knees from the pain and strains to keep conscious. The world around him becomes distorted and blurred and then suddenly it ends. Leaving nothing but a phantom of the pain that once was. He looks turns around to where Avarice stood. She's gone. He doesn't feel her presence... Did the pain do it? Was it the Dragon? If it was her she'd be gloating or at least making herself known... Orellow sighs and gets to his feet. He swiftly does his last patrol and heads below deck, finding his hammock and laying himself up in it. He stares out, deep in thought. He doesn't like it. That pain wasn't natural. Was it a Mind Flayer? Was there something else in his head? Maybe its from the Wyvern venom? He'll get checked out tomorrow. Right now he needs rest. He'd much rather a nightmare than whatever that was...
3rd Nightmare. DC 12 WIS Save. Roll: 2+4=6. Fail. Level 1 Exhaustion attained. Orellow found his breath short and his steps heavy as he ran through the forest. Grabbing branches and pushing them out of the way, tearing through shrubs. He felt a sudden jerk at his shoulder and tore away from the thorns that held him. Tossing himself through the brush, sending his small body down the hill he didn't know about, the light from the sun piercing through the branches above and blinded him and the world around him turned and twisted as we tumbled down the hill, he felt a rock hit his back and he was sent up a little ways before coming crashing back down onto the forest floor. His breath knocked out of him, the world still spinning he struggled to get air into his lungs when he noticed a figure looming over him, blocking the light above. He scrambled to his feet only to stumble back and fall over once more. "Who are you? Identify yourself!" He ordered. The world settled back to normal and before him stood a boy in leather armor with two daggers on his waist and hair that was like rotten honey that stuck out in every direction at once. "I'm Orellow Greenwalk! Justice of the Floral Forest!" The boy before him proclaimed loudly, putting his hands on his hips, throwing his head back and laughing. He suddenly stopped and looked at the other boy curiously "Who're you?" He asked. The boy got to his feet and brushed off the leaves and branches that were stuck to him. "I am Upbraid. Brian Upbraid" He answered cautiously. The strange boy suddenly has a grin that looks like it should've split his face as he grabs Brian's arms and pulls him along. "Perfect! Now we ain't stranger's no more" Orellow booms and drags the boy along. Brian wondered who this strange boy was. Why he seemed so content to just to spend time with him and wondered what was wrong with his hair. But those thoughts soon faded as Orellow had one selfish request after another. Mock sword battles with sticks, catching fish with their bare hands in the river, playing hide and seek. Before Brian could figure anything, Orellow was pushing him to the next "super secret spot" or "Ting you jus gotta see". For hours and hours Brian reluctantly went along with him until he suddenly realized; he was not reluctant. He was having fun! Playing in the sunlight, listening to this boy drone on and on about what it means to be a Ranger and bragging that he will one day have all the gold in the world and have the best healers to pay off some debt and make sure he never gets sick again. Having the biggest house where his mom will make him pancakes everyday. It was all so absurd to Brian but to Orellow it seemed like just a stone's throw away. It was dusk before Brian could even comprehend that time was a thing and Orellow was sat up on a boar that had charged on them. Orellow quickly knocked the beast out and was standing atop its body, laughing and boasting that he had defeated this mighty beast and its hoard was now his. Brian felt the need to point out that Boar's wouldn't have a hoard but it seemed like the weird kid was having fun. Why not let him have his way?Brian looked to Orellow's face and it was suddenly dead serious. The most serious his face had been the whole time. "Sumtin' ain't right" Orellow says and hops down from the boar, grabbing Brian and jumping through the wood with the exhausted boy in tow. They came to some big bushes when Orellow suddenly stopped. "What is-" Brian began but Orellow shushed him and dove in under the bush. Brian joined him and saw on the other side was a clearing where a Tall man stood, dressed much like Orellow but he carried a sword and shield and had hair that was like a polished jet, slicked back, save for a curl on his forehead. "Who is-" Brian began again but was shushed again as Orellow pointed to the other side where another humanoid figure stood, this one wore purple robe and had a large bulbous head with 4 tentacles sticking out of its grey face. Brian froze. "Dis ain't part of our deal ya tentacle-faced freak" The man boomed with a smile, pointing his sword at the creature. "You stay outta da forest and I don't cut yer head off." He stated and readied himself for battle. "For a fat headed critter who claims to be smarter than humans, yer pretty dumb" The man says aloud. The creature raises its hands in defense. "Now now, I'm not touching your precious flowers, I'm just here to collect whats mine" The creature says and points to the bush where the boys are hiding. Brian jumps slightly and goes to wiggle back but sees Orellow bounce out of the bushes and hollers; "I ain't belonging to you, ya freak!". The creature crooks its fingers and Orellow cocks his head. Suddenly he feels something cold on his neck and looks down to see his own dagger being held to his throat by Brian. He looks to his friend but finds only a vacant expression, As he pushes Orellow toward his Mind Flayer master. "No!" Brian screams internally as he watches everything unfold. he can't control his body. He can only watch helplessly as the Mind Flayer beckons them closer. "Why you sneaky-" Orellow's father starts. "I did nothing" The mind flayer says defensively. "Honestly the boy escaped by accident but him befriending your boy is just too perfect a chance to pass up" The creature laughs. "Now them toss aside your weapons! The Forest is mine and you will become my next meal or your boy get it" The creature taunts. "Kill me, Orellow!" The boy pleads and screams. "It'll eat you both! Please!" The boy's eyes begin to tear up but his face remains vacant. Brian strains against his mental bonds and screams at the top of his lungs. The words come out as something less than a Whisper; "Kill me". Orellow looks at his friend. His face vacant but tears streaming down his face. Orellow cringes and grabs Brains hand, ripping the dagger free and pulling out his second one to turn on his heel and run them both across Brian's neck. Brian's watches the world turn to slow motion as his head falls from his shoulders. A teary eyed Orellow with a giant frown. His Father roaring in anger and closing the gap to stab the tentacled beast as it watches its victory over the pitiful humans be ripped from his grasp. The world fades to black for Brian but for Orellow; he had just cut the head off the only friend he would ever have...
DM-Delfon: Soaked in sweat, and panting in your bunk. Your body thrashing against sleep, trying desperately to wake before you have to relive that horrible moment so long ago. You struggle and fight, but sleep clings like a wet cloak in a river until your senses pickup a foot fall near your body. You subconscious mind snaps awake while your body slumbers. 'Wake damn you, wake! Avarice, you've proven your point! Let me wake! you scream inside your own head, but to no avail, consciousness evades you like smoke on the wind. You feel a small female hand on your chest, and the scent of freshly washed hair fills your nose. They're close now, "I've got you now, Orellow." You hear, whispered very close to your ear. Alarms clatter in your mind, why won't you wake up? Nobody can get this close while you're helplessly asleep. The hand on your chest slides upward, toward your throat, and finally you manage push through the mists of sleep to snap awake. Now to stop that hand from reaching your throat...
DM-Boneyard Ben: Orellow grabs the hand and pulls it upward,knocking his attacker off balance and then slams his other arm on the side of his hammock, knocking them both off. Orellow tries to land on his feet but the entanglment of limbs keeps him from getting free. He lands ontop of his attacker and reaches over them to his backpack where his shortsword rests. He hauls it from the scabbard and winds back to stike at the attacker. (Attack roll: 4+6=10. 3+4=7 damage).
DM-Delfon: Your blade slams home, and you feel the brief resistance of flesh, and the solid thunk of bone. Your aim was spot on, and as Embros lights his lantern and casts it's light across the scene. You see your blade sticking straight up, right through Ann's delicate neck. A look of complete shock and utter horror crosses her face. Her mouth moves, but she is unable to speak with her windpipe severed by your blade. Her lips are all to easy to read however, a single word, "Why." The light fades from her eyes, giving her the look of a beautiful doll surrounded by a growing halo of bright red blood.
Abruptly you're hauled backward off of Ann, sent sprawling on your back. Embros stands over you, and for once he isn't stone faced. He looks downright angry. He points his rapier at your chest, "What have you done?" He steps in to drive the blade through your heart. You hear the click of metal touching the one of the studs of your armour as you come awake. Not the click a rapier would make as it pierces your chest, but the click a ring would make as it brushed against one of the studs of your armour. You sense a presence, and someone has their hand on your chest above your heart, moving toward your throat. Has someone snuck up on you while you slept for real this time? The smell of freshly washed hair fills your nostrils, and you hear a whisper too close to your ear, "I've got you now, Orellow." This time instead of filling you with dread, you find a infinitesimally small shred of comfort in it. The voice continues, "You're safe, Orellow. I've got you now, Orellow." You finally recognize the voice as Ann's voice.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Orellow breathing steadies and he groans off the stiffness caused by his sleep. He takes in a deep breath, letting the smell of her hair fill him as he holds it until he breathes out. He adjusts himself on his hammock and pinches his cheek to confirm whether or not he's still in a dream. Once hes sure of his situation he breathes once more. "And now that you have got me, what do you plan to do with me?" Orellow asks and opens one of his eyes to see his "attacker".
DM-Delfon: When you finally manage to peel open your eyes, your vision feels thick. It takes a couple blinks to bring Ann's concerned face into focus. She stands beside your bunk, with one hand on your chest and the other stroking the hair above your ear, "You were thrashing like you were on fire." She whispers, glancing at Embros' sleeping form. Looking back at you, she whispers, "You kept whispering 'what have I done' over and over again." She puts her hand on your cheek, and locks eyes with you, her face close to yours. Her hand feels cool compared to the heat of your sweat soaked skin, but the contact fills you with warmth regardless, "Do you want to talk about the demons haunting your dreams?" From this close you can smell mint leaves on her breath.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Orellow pulls himself up on his hammock to sit up and look at Ann. "When I was a boy..." Orellow began, his voice a soft whisper so as not to disturb anyone else. "I killed my only friend" He swallows hard before continuing. "His name was Brian, he was an escapee from a Mind Flayer farm." He pauses to let that sink in. "See Mind Flyer's, as their name suggests, eat brains. But brains don't exactly grow on tress so they cultivate races with brains and eat them when they're ripe. Like a demented orchard farmer" He shudders. "For me, I was alone. Dad was always out on patrol and Mom had gone to repay a debt so when I found a boy my age in the woods, I was so happy" tears well up in Orellow's eyes. "I introduced myself and just grabbed him, dragged him around and did everything I wanted to do" He sniffles, repressing his crying. "I never once asked him what he wanted" His voice cracks and Orellow stops for a while to calm himself before continuing. "The Mind Flayer came looking for him and then used him to to threaten my father with me" He looks off distantly, recalling the memory without even trying. "My Pops always said once they're in there" He says, his voice cracking and as he taps his head. "There's no out" His voice breaks. "I know..." Orellow sobs. "I did what was right but he was..." Orellow breaks off, burying his head in his hands. Holding back his sobs with everything he has. He remember's Brian's face as his head flew off his shoulders. It was smiling. Though his Father told him he imagined it. He always remembered that so clearly and it made him hate what he did all the more.
DM-Delfon: Ann continues stroking the hair above your ear while she listens to your narrative. The story is so sad, that even if you were only watching Ann's face and not able to hear the story you might gather the feel of it. Tears openly run down her cheeks, which she makes no attempt to wipe away, "You did what you had to do, but still..." She chokes off, not really knowing how to finish, "That is the saddest story I have ever heard, I'm so sorry that you had to experience that at such a young age." You're distracted by Embros for a moment, he hasn't moved, or changed his breathing or anything. In fact he has shown no indication that he is awake at all, but somehow you know that he heard your tale as well. Or maybe you're just being paranoid. You're attention is drawn back to Ann, as she presses you backward into your hammock. You start to protest, not only because you don't want to go back to the nightmares that will be waiting for you, but because you've had enough sleep and you know laying down won't bring you any more rest today. You start to protest, but stop when you realize that Ann is climbing in with you. The warmth of her body, and the press of her curves covers the length of you - at least to your chest. She puts her head above your heart, and snuggles somehow closer to you. As far as comforting goes, Ann really knows what she's doing.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Orellow pulls away from Ann briefly and unbuckles the chest piece of his armor, he doesn't imagine the studs feel all that nice, he then settles back down into his hammock, curling his arm around Ann and brushing his fingers through her hair. Its almost therapeutic, like the night he spent with his Father after what happened. It was the first night he'd spent home in a long time. It was nice... Not as nice as being curled up with Ann, but it certainly made that night bearable. Just as this night became bearable after reliving it. Orellow was confident in the fact that he wouldn't sleep anymore tonight so he remembered this moment with Ann. Etched into the walls of his mind. The smell of her hair and breath. The warmth and softness of her body against his. The sight of her so close to his heart. Every sound she made and even the taste of the air in her presence. He carved it all till it was a beautiful memory he could look back to forever for some sliver of comfort in this messed up world. Avarice would probably twist it into his latest nightmare, but that did't matter. None of it did. Not the gold in the goblin's cave. The debt to Vecna. His job for the Prince. Not the deaths he's caused or the troubles he's endured. Not a single thing for him existed outside of this hammock... It was okay, right? He could have this? This one moment. He was allowed, wasn't he? ...Brian?
DM-Delfon: You etch this memory into your very being, forever making this moment a part of you. Every detail from the big ones like the slight predawn light creeping in the porthole, the sound of the waves crashing against the hull, and the swaying feel of the movement of the ship itself. To the small, like the sight of a beautiful woman pressing herself against your body, the tip of her nose peeking out behind her hair, her contented smile, her breathing expanding her chest, and her corset pushing up her breast, the way her skirt has ridden to mid thigh on the leg she crossed over you protectively. You draw every colour on the walls of your mind, every scent remembered, every motion and feeling all locked away forever.
You realize when you hear Embros getting ready for his morning routine that you actually dozed off. It couldn't have been long based on the light coming in the port hole, but you slept. Ann stirs as well, looking at Embros Embarrassed. For his part Embros just nods, his expression as unreadable as ever before heading up to the deck. Once he leaves, Ann slips out of your bunk and leans in to kiss you on the cheek, "Take care of yourself Orellow, I could get used to sleeping like that." She stands there smiling at you for a few seconds before heading back to her own quarters, and leaving you with you thoughts.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Orellow smiles back at her. "Well, you are certainly more than welcome" He pauses. "For my part..." Orellow says, his cheeks a little red as he scratches his temple. "I fear I may have become addicted" He smiles a little sheepishly before seeing her off. Once she's out of his sight Orellow stands up and stretches, feeling the various pops and cracks of his body before retrieving his chest piece, grabbing his weapons and starting his patrol. Orellow's mind felt refreshed. His body still insisting on its exhaustion, it made his usual climbing movements a little stiff, sometimes a yawn would occur when he tried to grab a rope making him miss it. It made his normal movements somewhat more dangerous. So, he decided it would be best to avoid his usual acrobatics for today.... He quickly grew bored. Without the rush of his blood pumping as he back flipped off of the crows nest onto the mast what would he do? He needed someway to get the blood flowing and pump himself up for his work. But how? Then, he saw Embros doing his usual morning training and this made Orellow smirk. "Mr. Maewyn" He sings out as he closes the distance between them, drawing his sword and doning his shield as he approaches the man. "What say you to a sparring match?"
DM-Delfon: Embros pivots on his heels smoothly bringing his sword up when he hears his name get called, "Mr. Mountainhammer, can you count the hits taken in the next minute?" Gregor laughs, "Sure Embros." Then he moves to the side of where the two of you will clash so he has a good view of the action. The fight starts as most duels do, with the pair of you taking quick probing shots at one another. Trying a few strategies, thrust, parry, reposte. Basic stuff to feel out your opponent. Before long however, you're both hacking and slashing across the entire deck. Dodging and weaving between each other's blows. One thing becomes clear to you while fighting Embros, he moves as gracefully as a snake, almost like he's dancing, deflecting blows and spinning into attacks fluidly with little wasted effort. He certainly isn't trying to overpower you, in fact you both fight with remarkably similar styles. Gregor whistles, and you both stagger back panting for breath. Embros stands stock still with his hands on his knees, his chest heaving with the exertion of the duel. Gregor steps forward, "Four hits each. No victor, tie match!" A cheer goes up from the gathered crew. Even the Captain is nodding with approval. She steps forward, and points at where Embros got his blade stuck in the ships rail, "You're going to have to pay for that you know." She says it with a smirk as if she's joking, but for some reason you don't think that she is. "I will cover it Captain." Embros replies, resigned.
With the duel completed, the crew breaks into small groups and you see coins exchanged. Must be to return wagers because there was no winner. The exception is Mac, he is handed a fair number of coins from several of the crew. He looks at the Captain and smiles, “I knew they were evenly matched. At least as long as Orellow is fighting with sword and board.” With a flick of his wrist too quick to see, the coins vanish into hidden pockets.
The rest of the trip goes uneventfully, good weather and excellent seas make for an easy voyage once you get clear of the Wyvern Straight. Now that the crew has learned the tricks to sailing through the Wyvern territories, you think this area could be used to evade pursuit. One morning Embros gathers all his belongings instead of just his training gear, when you question it, he says, "We should arrive at the prison island tonight. I want to be ready." When you get topside you see Embros has piled all his stuff neatly by the mast. In a few short hours you and Embros will break off from the rest, and scale the cliffs on one side of the island. While you climb, the rest of the crew will circle around to either the beach, or the prison docks depending on what the Captain thinks is best. Later that afternoon Mac gathers the crew, and everybody looks to the Captain for final orders before you enter the hostile waters surrounding the prison.
Rolls for entire duel: Init: Embros 12, Orellow 17
Orellow: 13 Miss, Embros: 20, 10 damage Orellow: 9 Miss, Embros: 7 Miss Orellow: 11 Miss, Embros: 6 Nat 1 Miss Orellow: 26 Nat 20, 10 damage, Embros: 22, 10 damage Orellow: 9 Miss, Embros: 19, 11 damage (Orellow would have dropped from damage here) Orellow: 14 Miss, Embros: 16 Miss Orellow: 25, 10 damage, Embros: 16 Miss (Embros would have dropped from damage here) Orellow: 12 Miss, Embros: 15 Miss Orellow: 20, 5 damage, Embros: 23, 11 damage Orellow: 16, 6 damage, Embros: 12 Miss
4 hits each, the duel is a tie.
Note: We were playing for number of hits in 11 rounds, damage was rolled just for fun.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Orellow heaves a breath as he tumbles onto his back, laying flat against the deck as he tries to even his breathing. He hasn't had a duel like that in so long. He smiles and raises his arm with a thumbs up. "Well done, Mr. Maewyn" Orellow says and sucks in a breath. "Well done..." He laughs as much as his shortened breath will allow him before letting himself rest. Soon after he gets to his feet, brushes himself off once more and goes about his day.
4th Nightmare DC 12. Rolled; 11+4=15. Pass. Orellow grinned like a demon atop his throne. He looked forward at the gargantuan space that contained his massive hoard. Gold, gems, and magic items as far as the eye could see and even beyond that. He looked to his right and saw a table of solid platinum with endless gourmet meals and the finest liquors upon it. To his left, a bed with the finest silk sheets. Big enough that it would make a King green with envy. Upon those sheets; the most beautiful women from different races and countries only wearing the finest and most suggestive garments. This was it. The perfect kingdom where he could indulge in his greedy desires to his hearts content. He turned his head right and left again. A new feast on his table, more women in his bed. His treasure grew more and more all the time. He hopped off his throne and picked up a potion, downing it in an instant. The magical liquid coursed through him and made him grow to giant size as he lumbered to his table of food. He beckoned a giant red skinned girl with hair like flames to join him at the table. Once there, he grabbed a haunch of beef and and tasted freely of its succulent meat. As soon as his girl of choice came over he grabbed her and threw her on the table, she squeaked in pleasure and presented herself to him. Orellow readied to take his prize when he noticed movement from behind his throne out of the corner of his eye. Must be more treasure, he thought. Then it happened again and again. He saw it more clearly every time it happened. A little hand? He wandered over and peeked behind his throne. It was a child. A little baby with blue eyes like his and a musical giggle like Ann's. He looked to his bed and seen Ann was absent from it. Had she died in child birth? Orellow looked back down and seen the child was gone. He looked about and saw the infant his hoard, it grabbed a gem and ate it? What? And then again. And again. It took up gems and gold and swallowed them. Orellow laughed as he approached the child. "Okay thats-" He began but quickly grew concerned as the baby got bigger and bigger the more it ate. In a matter of seconds it was shoveling the treasures into its mouth and was bigger than him. This wasn't his child. It was a monster, he reaches for his blades but found them gone. He looked about and seen Ann holding his sleeping bag and waving her finger at him. "Now, now, Orellow" She said simply and then told all of Orellow's women to get lost. Orellow goes to stop them but before he can he hears another musical giggle and sees another child scarfing down all his food! Orellow tries to stop the child but he's grabbed by the gargantuan baby and pulled to its face. The second child and Ann giggle as Orellow is thrown, screaming into the giant baby's maw.
Orellow opens his eyes and stares up at the deck above. He sighs heavily. Really? After making him relive his worst childhood memory Avarice follows it up with that? Orellow wonders if Avarice is aware that if he has a harem of women he's bound to have far more than just 2 children to feed and take care of. He pauses for a moment. Wait... Children with Ann. That would mean she was his wife. He thinks about that for a nice long while. Imagining that bright beautiful face as the first thing he sees every morning and listening to her musical voice as she sang their children to sleep. He smiled at that thought. It seemed nice. Almost as nice as his infinite hoard... That day each and every time he saw Ann he'd think back to having a family with her and smile. It was a good thought.
5th Nightmare. DC 12. Roll:19+4=23. Pass Orellow shot up from his hammock and looked around hastily. He saw the deck above, Embros beside him and felt the sway of the waves against the ship. He laid back down and looked up at the deck, deep in thought. Avarice definitely stepped it up this time, it was so scary how... He paused. Wait. What had frightened him? He was with an adventuring party, they beat a dragon and Orellow snapped after they found the hoard. He killed them and.... What was it? He felt like there was something scary there but he couldn't place it. Some big reveal that made him feel bad and regret being such a greedy person... Hmm... Orellow hopped from his hammock. No sense in trying to figure it out, probably wasn't that big a deal if he can't remember. He goes about his day as he normally does.
Orellow spends the rest of the voyage as he had been since its start. Going on patrol, watching from the Crow's nest, keeping his gear in check and closing the distance between him and Ann. He'll spend the days talking with her about everything under the sun and every night offering for her to join him in his bunk so that she can "get used to sleeping with him". Also horrible puns and innuendos galore!
Orellow has all his stuff packed and ready to go at a moments notice. Matter of fact, he never unpacked his stuff. He always had the one backpack and always kept it close or at least in his designated area. When everyone gathers on the deck to hear the captain's decision, Orellow has his backpack in tow and is ready to go in a moments notice (assuming that moment is shortly after he bids a fond farewell to Ann).
DM-Delfon: You spent quite a bit of time with Ann, chatting and getting to know one another. The Captain even helps by changing some duties and watches around so you're both on the same shift or working the same part of the ship at the same time. You guys talk about everything (mostly), your hopes and dreams, and even your nightmares. You leave out some of the details when Avarice takes over, and you don't mention that you sometimes see and hear things that other people can't. That never went well before. Ann laughs at your horrible puns most of the time, groaning at the rest. Turns out that Ann is even better at innuendos than you are. She is well read and intelligent, and she seems to have a way with words that goes far beyond what the Floral Forest could instill into you. Regardless of what is implied by the innuendo, Ann doesn't join you in your hammock again. You do watch the sunset each night, with Ann standing in front of you wrapped in your arms. Now and again you manage to sneak a kiss or two, or sometimes Ann manages to steal one from you. All in all things are moving along nicely with Ann.
While Ann is below deck, you catch sight of a little girl you haven't heard from in a while. Avarice is peeking through the door to the Captains quarters, where Mac and the Captain are currently discussing strategy. She turns to you, and says, "They're almost done." She looks down at the deck, "I hope that little whore doesn't distract you from your mission." Somehow you know that if the deck wasn't there, Avarice would be looking right at Ann.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Orellow shrugs as the world comes to a standstill and he moves toward the little girl. "She has not so far" He says confidently. He then grabs the little girl by the collar and throws her over his shoulder. "Now come away. Time does not move right when you are about and I do not want to be sitting here for eternity listening to your jealous prattle when there is work to be done" Orellow says as he walks back to his stop. "But, I wanna see~" Avarice whines. Orellow sighs and walks back to the door throwing it open. On the inside is an empty room with windows on the far end looking out the back of the ship. "Now you see" He says as he pulls the girls off his shoulder and sets her down in the doorway. "You see what I have seen" Orellow says simply and continues. "I have not seen inside this room but I know the windows are there and have been on this ship long enough to know its basic size and what it would be made of". Orellow waves his hand and the room fills up with a map table, comfy bed, desk and shelves with books. What you might expect the room of a captain to look like. "This is how it probably looks" Orellow says and he waves his hand again and the room looks like the inside of a creature's gaping maw. He waves it again and it becomes a primitive cave. "This room is unknown so my imagination can fill it in" Orellow explains. "For example..." He says with a smirk and wave his hand. The room becoming like what you'd expect the captain's quarter's to look like again except the comfy bed in it has a large lump that moves up and down at a quickened pace. "Ahh! No!!" Avarice exclaims in disgust, shielding her eyes. "I get it! I get it!" She growls and storms away. Orellow just smiles and laughs as he closes the door.
Orellow raises his head and looks out over the deck. He's right back where he was before Avarice had showed up. He looks to the captain's quarters, expectantly. No matter what she decides in that little room it doesn't change Orellow's job; winning the prince's favor. If Embros or that self righteous captain get in the way of that then Orellow will simply save the woman on his own. Once presented to Bogomil or if Vecna willing, the prince himself this will surely cement his faith in Orellow. Dealing with the other two theive's guilds will be child's play. Once they're gone the Fingers will take over. Orellow will single handed secure the Duchess for the Prince and serve Clifton to the Fingers. Securing his hoard and wiping out his debt in one fell swoop. Prison security and a few dead thieves are all that stands in the way between Orellow and a nice mansion in Somerset to kick up his boots and maybe settle down with Ann... And a few other choice wives. Maybe... Orellow snaps from his thoughts as the Captain comes out of her room.
DM-Delfon: Mac exits the cabin first, stepping to the side to allow the Captain to pass. Falling in behind her as she gathers up the crew. Once gathered she addresses the crew, “We ‘ave worked out a plan.” She gestures to Mac, “Mac will explain, and figure out the assignments. Mac nods, stepping forward, "The prison is a fortress, but it's designed to keep people in rather than keep them out.” Mac starts to walk as he talks, “The docks are where the Navy keeps their ships, where the prisoners are transferred to and from, and where the island gets resupplied. We’re going to avoid that area." He gestures stabbing a crewman in the stomach, and the crewman collapses over dramatically, “Too many Navy men.” He smiles his wolffish grin, "instead we will send in a small party to take out their guards at the beach.” He points in the general direction of the beach, “While a couple men slip into the prison to free the prisoners.” He stops walking, conveniently standing between Orellow and Embros. “With the beach secured, we have a foothold on the island to strike from if things go south. If all goes according to plan, the Navy won’t even know we’ve attacked until we’re gone.”
Catherine immediately volunteers, almost too eagerly. On the tails of that, Gregor’s deep voice intones that he will go too. Mac nods to Catherine, “Take only what you need. We travel light.” He gestures to one side by the Captain, stepping up to Gregor he places his hand on the man’s chest. “You are brave without doubt, but stealth is beyond you my friend. Besides, I want you here to deter the Navy from boarding my ship.” Mac gestures to Toby Hawkins, “Get in line me boy, this mission is right up your alley.”
Before long everything is set, and the landing party climbs aboard a ships boat. They heas toward the steep cliffs. Using long poles to keep the ship from being dashed apart on the sharp rocks, Toby scurries of the rock face as if it were flat ground, a rope trailing behind him for the rest. He crests the top of the cliff, and after a few seconds waves down to the rest of you.
Mac and the rest scale the rocks easily enough with a rope to brace against. Once the lot of you reach the top, you see that the majority of the island is scrub land, with plenty of bushes and small trees. The prison is silhouetted against the skyline. Embros nods to the Captain and shoulders his pack, he glances at you and moves off toward the prison.
DM-Boneyard Ben: After a fond farewell to Ann (And a few stolen kisses) Orellow is swiftly up the rope and on Embros' heels.
After Orellow enters the trees, something about him changes; a green energy seems to imitate from him for a moment and he disappears into the green, moving remarkably stealthily for his speed. After a moment he has returned and can tell how many guards have passed through these woods, how long ago they passed and even their size as well as any dangerous creatures that call this forest home (18+8=26 Survival. Proficiency is doubled in my favored terrain). You also note that shrubs and thorns that would've impeded your travel almost seem to bend out of the way as you move with Orellow through the woods and though you travel at the same pace, Orellow's steps seem to make no noise and his green and brown clothes that stuck out on the ship make him difficult to track when he leaves your sight line. His smile is brighter and he seems almost at peace here and though you sensed no tension on him during the voyage he seems truly in his element here.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Sept 22, 2018 6:36:25 GMT -5
DM-Delfon:Embros makes a straight path toward the prison, trusting you to scout ahead for enemies. Your scouting finds sets of tracks travelling together, usually pairs, but sometimes a trio of medium-sized boot prints at a time. They travel a similar path and regularly, about once an hour. You only find one non-human set of tracks in your travels, a taloned, three-toed foot, probably from a large creature, and another smaller set from a medium sized version of the same creature. You come across a crossing path, and hear voices approaching. Based on pacing, you suspect that Embros and those voices will come upon each other at the intersection. With the high brush here, they might not see one another until they are on top of each other. DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow swiftly moves back and warns Embros of the oncoming threat. Silently grabbing the quiet man and pulling back behind the brush to let them pass through their usual path. (Stealth: 16+4=20). Once they pass Orellow has an idea and he smiles. Looking to Embros he nods his head towards where the guards are headed and motions for him to follow. Assuming he does, they move through the brush and silently sneak to the path ahead. Orellow then throws a rock to get one of the guards to walk off the path and out of sight of the other. If they both go or not isn't that big a deal but that will be when Embros and him will strike. Orellow draws his Rapiers and comes up behind the guard(s). Attack:10+6=16 Dmg: 8+4=12 (Subdue) BA if need be: 11+6=17 Dmg:8+4=12 (Subdue) DM-Delfon:You move toward where you think Embros should be, but can't seem to find him. You move along the path back and forth, but with no luck. Since you can't find Embros to warn him, you move back toward where you know he will meet the guards. Once there, you find a good hiding spot and make ready to attack. You see the guards approaching, and watch as Embros darts between two bushes and slams into one of the guards. There is a frozen moment of confusion as everybody looks surprised. You dart from hiding and smash one of the guards with the hilt of your blade. He crumples into a heap before he can even draw his blade. (Surprise Round) The other guard manages to draw his blade and slash it across Embros' shoulder in one motion. You step forward and smash the second guard in the head. Much like the first he collapses. Embros scowls at his wound, then looks down at the twin bodies on the ground. Then he looks up at you, and nods, "Thanks Orellow." Rolls: Embros Perception: 1d20+2=3 (nat 1) Stealth: 1d20+5=23 Guards Perception: 1d20+2=14 Init: Guards 16, Orellow 15, Embros 13 Guard Attack: 1d20+3=15 Guard Damage: 1d8+1=4 Embros Health: 14/18 Experience: Orellow 25, Embros 25 DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow smiles and slaps Embros on the back. After the pain of having his body suddenly jolted Embros will note that his wound has completely disappeared as has the pain it caused. "Not a problem, Mr. Maewyn" Orellow says with a smile and then squats down to grab one of the guard's ankles "Now help me out". Assuming all goes well Orellow and Embros will drag the bodies away from the beaten path, remove their uniforms, put them on (with some touches from Orellow's disguise kit) and then tie up the guards. Or given that shrub lands tend to have loose dirt maybe just bury them up to their necks with a gag ( 3:) Heheh ). Cure Wounds: 4+4=8. Healed to full DM-Delfon:Embros rolls his shoulder, and nods appreciatively at the pain free movement. "Thanks again." The pair of you spin as one as the bushes erupt into the form of a large flightless bird with strong legs. It's legs end in a three toed foot with talons like daggers. It's wedge hooked beak glinting in the light like an axe blade. The creature screeches, and charges in to attack. Init: Embros 6, Axe Beak 10 DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow looks at the bodies and then to Embros. They can't run or else it'll likely take up the free meal (Being the unconscious guards) and there goes their disguises. Fighting it might get one or both of them killed, or at the very least maimed and they're gonna need to be at 100% to make this work... Orellow weighs his options and makes up his mind. He quickly moves between the beast and Embros to raise his hands to show it that he means no harm, making a bird-like sound as he does. If the beast stops he'll close the distance and try to soothe it through touch. Init: 16 Animal handling: 20 DM-Delfon:You leap between Embros and the Axe Beak, but the creature was already in the air mid-attack. It's axe-like beak slams down into your shoulder, biting deep. Your arm tingles with the impact, and seems sluggish to respond*. The creature moves back, your blood dripping from it's beak. It seems to be responding to you, you almost feel like it's apologetic about hacking into your shoulder. Then you see it, a smaller version of itself following it into the intersection. Memory floods your mind, mother bears protecting their cubs, or a stag facing a dozen hunters to buy enough time for it's fawn to escape. You know this beast is about to become very protective of it's young. Axe Beak: 1d20+4=24 (nat 20) Damage: 2d8+2=3,7=12 *Sluggishness is flavour for the critical, no actual in game effect - just Role Play. (You totally passed the DC to dissuade it from murdering you, but the DC for defending it's young is higher. Your handle animal roll is enough to give you an extra round of attacks, while it is confused.) DM-Boneyard Ben:"I'll not hold this wound against you, parent" Orellow says as he resists the urge to put pressure on his bleeding wound. "But, in return" He continues, reaching into his sleeping bag once more. "Do not hold your death against me" He whispers and in a blink, he's behind the creature with his blades drawn. The world becomes dead quiet for what seems like an eternity the creature is stood still with a confused look. Orellow slowly slides his blades back to their sheathes stopping just short. The larger bird turns to look at him and Orellow clicks the blades in. The bird suddenly shrieks out in pain as four cuts suddenly appear across its body. Blood spurts out left and right as the creature drops to the ground with a thud. Init: 18 Round one: Action: Attack 12 to hit 10 Dmg BA: Attack 14 to hit 6 dmg Round two: Action: 19 to hit 6 dmg BA: 11 to hit 7 dmg (I hope you don't mind but I checked its stats to see if all of them would hit and they do so I flavored it in a cool way. Damage total is: 29 ) DM-Delfon:You draw your twin blades, slashing across the creatures chest in one fluid motion. As you try to move along the beast's side, it raises one of those thick three toed feet and kicks you in the chest, pinning you under it's weight. It raises it's axe-like beak high, making ready to split your head in two. Embros throws his shoulder into the creature, knocking it slightly off balance so you can push it's foot off of yourself and reclaim your feet. The smaller Axe Beak hacks at your thigh, but you sidestep just in time. Embros circles the beast, drawing some of it's attention. You both move in tandem, and three rapier points meet deep within the creature's chest with a metallic click. The creature's knees buckle, and it collapses to the ground. It's neck lulling to one side, and it's eyes lifeless. The smaller Axe Beak smashes it's axe-like face into the fresh kill of it's own mother, burying it's gnashing maw in her flesh. Embros circles around to stab the smaller one... (I rolled for you to escape the grapple, used your attack and damage rolls to finish the fight.) DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow raises his hand to Embros to signal him to stop and he reaches toward the creature, brushing his fingers through its feathers. He soothes the orphaned beast, making similar bird-like noises while it devours its mother's carcass. "This one will not bother us" Orellow informs him. "It is smaller, it will take a while before it is satiated and I would say once it is, it won't be chasing much". Once Orellow is sure that the creatue doesn't see him or Embros as a threat to its meal. He'll back away, signalling Embros to do the same and they'll grab the unconscious guards and go on their way. Taking the guards clothes and dying their hair the appropriate colors, covering Embros' half-elf ears to look more human like the guard he's suppose to be impersonating. With that set and done, Orellow heals himself as much as he can. Animal handling 17+4=21 Disguise Check: 19+2=21 (Just used my proficiency bonus) Healing: 3+4=7. Health: 25/30 DM-Delfon:The Axe Beak continues to chew it's mother's corpse, either unaware of your touch or not caring that you exist at all. Embros makes a face briefly, but returns to his standard unreadable expression quickly, "Odd creature that." is the most you get out of him regarding the Axe Beak. Once you get a safe distance away you strip down the guards. Embros puts on the tabard, and straps the long sword to his belt. He shoulders the shield, but it hangs weird on him like he's never worn one before. The chain shirt he doesn't even bother to pick up. The disguises go alright, even you have trouble placing him as a Half-Elf once you hide the ears, and change the contour of his face. Once you're this close you realize that Embros has worn makeup before, there is a powder mark inside his collar. There seems to be more to this man than you thought. Experience: 25 Orellow, 25 Embros Treasure: 9 Silver Schooners each DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow nods. "They're gluttonous carnivores" He says in agreement. While Embros gets dressed Orellow ties up the guards and gags them (7+4=11 rope (dex) check, no proficiency) and then sets about getting himself looking the part. When he notices the make up inside the collar, Orellow looks to the left to see the bushes, rustling from the wind suddenly slow to a crawl and he sighs. "Ooh!" Comes a girly and all too familiar voice. "Ooh! Ooooooh!!!" He repeats getting louder and more exaggerated every time. "What're you hiding Embros?" Avarice asks with a giggle as she floats about the stoic man. "Moonlighting as a woman? Card carrying member of the Famous Actor's Guild? What could it be~" She wonders aloud, her voice getting higher in pitch after almost every word. Orellow sighs again. "And more importantly" Avarice begins getting quiet and grinning like a Cheshire cat. "How can we use it against you". He sighs a third time and speaks up "It doesn't matter" He says plainly. "Huh?" Avarice asks, dumbfounded. "We have a job to do, for a Prince, figure out your would-be black mail when its done" Orellow and waves the girl off. After returning back to normal time Orellow fixes Embros' collar and his own. He turns back to Embros and gives the disguises one last look before continuing. Orellow wears the tabard as well, using it mostly to hide the sleeping bag strapped on his back. He take up the shield and long sword (putting his goblin made short sword and rounded shield in his bag along with the chain shirts). He figures it will probably be worth something back at Clifton. "I am ready when you are" Orellow says and if nothing else needs doing they'll continue on the guards original patrol and make their way into the Prison. DM-Delfon:Embros simply nods, and takes the lead toward the prison. You see another pair of guards walking out as you approach, and they raise a spear by way of waving, but keep on walking their patrol. Ahead you see the ground slope toward the docks, and can see the masts and top sails of the ships docked there. By your mast count you see at least three vessels docked down there. The main gate itself has two guards stationed at ground level, and another two visible on the wall above. There are arrow slits cut in the walls which could hide further adversaries. Embros turns aside from the main path and heads straight to the wall itself. You watch a guard pass on the ramparts above. You know he sees you, but doesn't seem to care that you're walking down there. Embros takes you to where one of the towers meets the wall itself, and pushes against one of the bricks, then another, and another. You hear a distinct clicking noise, and a portion of the tower wall rotates open smoothly. Looking inside, you're under the lowest part of the spiral stairs that connect the three above ground floors of the prison. Embros smirks, "After you." He gestures into the space beneath the stairs. DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow takes in the sights and does his best to memorize where things are in relation to him. He may need to make a quick escape with the prince's confidant so its important to know whats where. When Embros opens the door Orellow raises his eyebrows. "Impressive, Mr. Meawyn" He says genuinely and walks inside. Checking around for signs of trouble and listening to anything he can. Once he's sure the area is clear he turns to the stoic solider. "Where to from here?" He asks. (9+6=15 perception or 16 Passive) DM-Delfon:Embros explains, "We need to gain access to the control room, which is beside the property room on the second floor. The problem with that is it can only be accessed from inside the room itself." Embros gestures downward, "The commoner prisoners are held in the floor below ground. That's where we will find Blue Eyed Pete." He then gestures upward, "The political prisoners and noble born prisoners are held on the third floor. That's where we find Mistress Maribel." He shifts his weight in preparation for heading upstairs, "One more thing, you will find ropes hanging around the prison. They connect to alarm bells on the roof. If one of those gets pulled, that's the end of the mission." Heading upstairs you lead Embros around guard patrols and find yourself outside the control room. The room itself is ten by ten, the North wall is half barred facing the hallway, the East wall is half barred, and faces the courtyard that makes up the center of the building. The remaining walls are solid with the exception of a door in the South wall. Embros skulks ahead into the Northern hallway, crouched low below the barred portion of the wall. That leaves you to go to the South hallway. Once there you see another short hallway leading away from the control room door to a room with a placard that reads "Prisoner Property Room." The door is slightly ajar, and you hear muffled noises inside. DM-Boneyard Ben:"The Captain's quarry is below and the Prince's is above, ropes are bad, got it" Orellow says simplifying it. Then he pauses for a moment. "Those ropes need to be pulled to sound the alarm so will cutting the rope disable them?" Orellow asks. With that knowledge under his hat he moves to where he should be. Orellow looks at the control room door. Cannot get in unless someone in there lets me in. He then to the ajar door. What're the odds that one of the persons that should be in that control room is rifling through that room. Orellow wonders. Either way he can't risk whoever is in there coming out and seeing what he's up to. He moves beside the doorway and leans in slowly to peek inside. Gently opening the door as needed (18+4=22 Stealth. 17+6=23 Perception) DM-Delfon:Embros responds, "I'm not an engineer Orellow, I have no idea." You move as silently as a spirit, and slip into the property room. Shelves line the exterior walls and more form long aisles throughout the entire room. Each shelf unit is lined with boxes marked with a series of numbers. That's when it hits you, each box here contains the personal possessions of a prisoner within the prison. There could be hundreds of gold scattered throughout this room. As your eyes glaze over with the implications before you, you take note of a guard near the end of the next shelf. He is rummaging through one of the boxes, and seems unaware of you. Above the shelf you can see one of the alarm bell ropes on the far wall, just beyond the shelf where the guard is standing. DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow closes the door quietly behind him and notices a little girl sitting on one of the shelves. The two lock eyes, look at the guard and then to each other again. "Guard first" They both say in unison as he moves to the next aisle over from where the guard is searching, keeping on the opposite side he's rummaging in. Orellow then exits the aisle he's in and moves between the guard and the alarm. He then approaches the guard, drawing his Rapiers. Surprise Round! Roll with advantage... 4+6=10, Miss 8+6-14, Hit, assuming the guard isn't wearing a shield. (Guard AC is 16 with a shield) Dmg (If it does hit): 8+6=14 (Subdue) DM-Delfon:You sneak up on the man like a cat, but as you thrust your blade forward he drops the bauble he was holding and stoops to pick it up. Your rapier sticks into the shelf with a thunk. You see his surprised expression looking up at you between his knees, before he pivots drawing his sword. The tip of the blade almost makes it out of the scabbard before you smash him in the forehead with the hilt of your second weapon and he drops to the floor in a heap. Rolls: Guard Init: 6+1=7 Your Init: 4+4=8 Exp +25 DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow breathes a sigh of relief as the guard falls over. "That was lucky" He says aloud. He then disarms the guard and shifts his body to be out of sight line of the doorway. Then he looks at what the guard was sifting through in the box and then turns his eyes to the rest of the boxes. There could be hundreds here... The world grinds to a halt. "What could it be worth?" Avarice asks looking out at the boxes. Orellow picks up something from a random box and then drops it back in "More than a kingdom? Less than a cog?" Orellow replies looking at the vastness of possibilities before him. "There could be a full on hoard here or..." He says as he turns to the knocked out guard. "There could be nothing worth having anymore" He finishes and Avarice looks at him "It'd take hours to comb through all this" Avarice says. Orellow nods. "Working for the Prince might turn up nothing. He could be a fake or this operation could get us killed and even if it does not, who is to say the next job will not" Orellow retorts. They look at each other and then the boxes. There is a long moment of silence between them, "We are taking a risk either way" Orellow says. "The Prince could be a sham, or worse, he could be a test from the Fingers and this hoard might not be worth betrayal" Avarice agrees. "Betrayal, huh?" Orellow says rolling the word around as he looks at his feet. Shifting from one to the other like a child in trouble. He did not like how that word sat on his tongue. Perhaps it was all those tales his Father had told him of honest and noble Rangers saving the day. Then it hits him. Orellow thinks back to when he had taken his Father's share of the loot they had picked up off some dead bandits who tried to make their forest into a hideout. His Father had made Orellow promise him that day. Made him swear he was telling the truth and Orellow lied. It ate at him after that. Not at first. At first it was fine, just mere words, but after a while... He had trouble sleeping and it tore him up from the inside out. He refused to eat, couldn't bear to meet his father's eye. And after 3 days Orellow confessed. It didn't matter... His father knew all along. He remembered getting his ass whooped that day and what his father had said to him; "The word of a true man should be better than law" Orellow says aloud. "What?" Avarice asks. "We aren't raiding this place" He responds. "But, this could be our break" She argues. "Or it could be nothing!" He snaps at the small girl. He turns to look at the unconscious guard. "Back at the Goblin caves I had promised Miss Derosa a dead bear and I delivered. I promised the Farmer that I meant no harm and I did not" He looks out over the boxes. "I may have a dragon's hunger, but I am a man" He looks at Avarice who just lowers her head. "This is not who we are" The world floods back into life and Orellow takes a breath to steady himself. Once he's centered he pulls out his disguise kit and moves over to the guard, looking at his face, his hair, his eyes and all of his other features and then applies make up and all needed to look like a dead ringer for him. After checking the mirror one last time Orellow exits the storage room. Stopping once as he grabs the door knob. My word is better than law. He reaffirms to himself before turning the knob and walking up to the glass so the other guard inside can see him. He then knocks on the glass to get the guards attention and points to the door, motioning for him to open it. DM-Delfon:The door to the control room has no glass, but does contain one of those thin sliding windows at about eye level. When you bang on the door you hear the man inside, say, "Just a second Tom." followed by the sound of a chair sliding back and footsteps approaching. The metal shink of the little window as it slides aside. You smile like Tom was doing while looking through the prisoner's belongings. The guard inside cocks his head to the side and laughs, "I see you finally got that seed out of your teeth. Man, that has been bugging me all night. I've just been sitting in here staring at the seed poking out between your..." He hesitates, before finishing, "... yellow teeth." He squints, then his eyes widen, the tiny slider slams shut as he says, "You're not Tom!" There's a sound like something hitting something else, then the door rattles in it's frame. No alarm sounds, so you press your fingers against the slider and open it. Inside you see the control room, not really more than a couple chairs at a desk, a cabinet and a few wall mounted cabinets. The guard is nowhere to be seen, but Embros is standing outside the bars pointing at you. He pulls his arm back through the bars, and makes a now what? expression. Rolls: Orellow Disguise: 18 Guard Perception: 19 Embros Stealth: 20 Embros Attack: 16 Embros Damage: 1d4+1d6+3=3,5=11 Embros +25 Exp DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow breathes out in relief and looks at the slide and then the bars. They can't fit through either, Embros' arms barely got through the bars... Orellow thinks on it a moment, then an idea strikes him. He mouths the words, "We need to go back out" and signals toward the way they came. If he can get back out he can find a mouse, a vole, or something like that and convince it to help them... Then he looks at the storage room... Then again there might be something in there... Orellow's eyes glaze over for a moment before he snaps himself back. No. That is a maybe, there is an ecosystem out there, he can definitely find a mouse, there are not many odds that that room would just so happen to have what they need... But, just in case... Orellow signals Emboros over and tells him the plan. "There's a room full of things that belong to the prisoners here. You know the most about this place, you can probably find something useful, but just in case I'm headed back out into the brush and I'll see if I can find an animal that can fit through the bars or something that'll be willing to help us" He explains swiftly... "What do you think?" He asks. DM-Delfon:Embros shrugs, "I have no way with animals, if you think you can get something that will be able to pull up on that bar." He gestures through the bars at the other side of the door. Aside from the slider there is a board set in iron L shaped brackets, there isn't even a door knob. "I have an idea as well, might be less complicated." He goes on to explain that he wants you to stick your hand through the slider, and catch a rope. The other end of the rope has a grapnel, pull the rope out of the slider and the board gets hooked. You've never heard so many words come out of Embros' mouth before. "As to the prisoner property room, we can look up the files in that cabinet, see if there is anything we can use. We will only have time to find a couple boxes each, but it could help." (If you're doing Embros' plan, I will need an attack roll DC 12 and a Dex Save. For your animal plan, I will need a survival check.) DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow decides to go with Emboros' plan, as it will take less time then going all the way back outside and trying to track down a small enough critter and then convincing it to help. "Plus, the more time we have the more boxes we'll be able to search" A little girls's voice giggles. Orellow rolls his eyes at that and gets into position and readying himself to catch the rope. Attack: 7+6=13 (Woo... Barely) Dex Save: 19+6=25 DM-Delfon:You get your hand through the slider, but that's about it. You can move up and down pretty freely, but left and right only about an inch or so. Embros manages to work the grapnel through the bars, pulling the rope through after. With everything set he flicks his wrist and the rope sails through the air. You barely manage to catch the rope with the tips of your fingers, and have to press the rope into the door to adjust your grip. Once you have a hold of it though, things flow smoothly. You pull the rope until it goes taut between you and Embros, then Embros nods, and drops the hook. You manage to pull up enough slack to avoid hooking the grapnel on the fallen guard, and easily detach the bar that holds the door shut. With that obstacle out of the way, you push the door and the fallen guard out of the way. A dagger sticks cleanly out of the man's back, just below his shoulder blade. He may live yet if that wound gets tended properly. Embros comes around, and gets right to work as if he has been here before. He collects some keys from the desk, and pushes a stack of gambling coins your way, ten gold galleons total. Apparently they were playing some high steaks Dragon Poker to pass the time. While you collect the coinage, he uses the keys to unlock the cabinets on the walls and beside the desk. "To get you below we will have to pull the one on the right." He says while thumbing through files, "The only problem is, that there is a guard stationed right on the other side of the door. If it opens at an odd time, he might raise an alarm." Gesturing to the other switch, "That one opens the gate to upstairs, but that guard is usually down the hall." Embros pulls six files from the cabinets, and hands you three of them. "Try these." The pair of you go find the boxes in question, Orellow finds the following: Ring of Free Action, Javelin of Lightning, and a Bag of Tricks (Tan). Embros finds, a Hat of Disguise, Glamoured Studded Leather Armour, and a Amulet of Proof Against Detection and Location. With the spoils tucked away, Embros nods and takes his place by the switches, "A slow count of thirty on your mark." is all the man says. Once your mark is given, you make your way to the stairs, and spiral your way down to the door. A few seconds later the door opens. You see a guard turning to see why the door is opening randomly. Roll Init! Meanwhile, Embros pulls the switch for upstairs after he pulls the switch for downstairs. Then he makes his way down the hallway and up the stairs, straining his ears to find the guard he knows will be in the hallway above. Rolls: Guard Init: 12 Embros Perception: 16+2=18 +25 exp each for gaining access to the Control Room. DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow tends to the downed guard while Emboros sifts through the files. After pulling out the dagger and crafting a makeshift bandage from the man's uniform Orellow heads off and collects his treasures. With that happily down and his new loot stored away Orellow heads on his way. 1... 2.. 3... Orellow counts as he moves swiftly from the guard station to the stairs, 10... 11... 12... He takes to the steps, quickly moving two at a time, sometimes, grabbing the rail and partially sliding before catching himself on the opposite wall and moving along it. 21... 22... 23.... He takes his place near the door and draws his rapiers, standing ready. 30! The moment the door is open enough for him to dart through, he's off like a shot. Swiftly closing the gap between him and the surprised guard. The guard tries to draw his blade but Orellow is already on him. Uppercutting him with the hilt of his rapier. Orellow is shocked as the man still stands after that and whirls around to slice his head off but he dodges the blade. Orellow smiles "And here I thought this would be easy". Medicine: 13+4=17 Init: 17+4=21 Attack: 10+6=16 BA: 3+6=9 Dmg: 3+4=7 DM-Delfon:You got a little cocky, and didn't dodge fast enough. The man's blade hacks into your head. Your vision fills with black specks as the blade glances off your skull. A chunk of hairy meat hits the ground nearby. The guard looks like he wants to be sick, pivots and starts to run toward the alarm bell... Opportunity Attack. Rolls: Guard Attack: 20 (Nat) Guard Damage: 15 DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow swings his blade at the man, slicing across his back but as he does the man disappears into nothing and Orellow realizes he had slashed at a double. The blade hit him so hard he was seeing multiple ghostly figures running toward the alarm. He grabs the side of his head with his hand feeling the warmth of his blood and then he looks down to see the bit of his flesh on the floor... "It seems I have mistook him for a man who valued his life before his job" A darkness over takes Orellow's eyes as his vision steadies and he zeros in on the running man. Orellow closes the gap, He brings his first rapier up to slash the guard and barely grazes the man's chain mail, Orellow slightly thrown off by the pain pumping through his head. The guard reaches the rope, wraps his fingers around it and goes to pull but its stopped as a rapier pierces through his chest. The guard turns to Orellow with a defiant smile and yanks his arm down... Nothing. He pulls again and again, but no loud bell, so signal to the other guard of this grinning lunatic. Why? His smiles fades as he turns back and sees the blade piercing his chest also stuck through the rope and lodged into the stone wall. He sees his hand on the rope just below it and his expression of defiance changes to horror. Orellow leans into his ear as he gently takes his hand away from the rope. "Grovel before the Undying King" He whispers and suddenly twists the blade inside the man's chest before, unceremoniously ripping it out and letting his body hit the floor. Thud. A hush falls over the hall as Orellow sucks in a breath with his teeth and breathes out with a shudder. It feels like its been ages since he's killed a man like that. He looks to the names written on his rapier's hilts, most fondly to the S. F. scrawled upon the metal. He then touches the side of his head once more and magically seals his wound. He stows his weapons and makes his way deeper into the compound. Now, where are those prisoners being held? Opportunity attack: 7+6=13, Miss Attack: 3+6=9, Miss Bonus attack: 17+6=23, Hit! Dmg: 8+4=12 Next Cure Wounds: 8+4=12. Health total 22/30 0\3 spell slots remain DM-Delfon:The meat and flesh of your skull knit themselves back together instantly, leaving behind a circle of hairless flesh about the size of one of the Gold Galleons in your pouch. It's easy enough to hide with the rest of your hair, so disguises shouldn't be a problem. Hopefully it will grow back in time, you will only know that in a couple days when stubble should appear. The hallway extends before you for another 20ft, before turning to the right. A few cells line the walls here, and you can see a couple hands poking small steel mirrors out into the hallway to see what's going on. +25 exp for the guard DM-Boneyard Ben:Orellow sees the mirrors and immediately begins the plan the untimely death of every occupant before something catches his eye. His rapier blade and the reflection in it. He still looks like that guard. His reflection shifts to show the lips of a little girl curling up into a mischievous smile. We can use this... "Greetings, inmates!" Orellow says with a smile as he bows. He then stands straight and makes his way down the hall, casually slitting the throat of the guard on the floor and then wiping his blade off. "I lack a guide and companions for my trip through these halls. Who here would like to volenteer to help me find a Mr. Blue-eyed Pete and have a shot at leaving this forsaken place?" He asks with a grin on his blood splattered face. As he turns to look into the cells.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Sept 22, 2018 7:49:09 GMT -5
DM-Delfon: A collection of voices talk all at once, each proclaiming how they would be the best to help you, a couple claiming that they know Blue Eyed Pete, and so many more words. All of it jumbles together so it’s hard to pick out the sound of any one man. Two men draw attention, both are not speaking. One leans on the bars with his hands laced together in the hallway, the other gestures you to his cell silently.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Orellow laughs. "Gentlemen, gentlemen, please" He says waving his hands down pantomiming them to settle. Once they have, Orellow speaks. "You'll all have your chance to speak your case and before the day's dawn anyone here who does not pose a threat to my employer or my target will be released so let us do this in an orderly fashion" He then walks to the man leaning against the bars. Orellow makes sure to keep himself at rapier's length of the man. He'd rather not have a bar fight with a prisoner. "Let us start with you" Orellow says and turns to the other silent one who caught is attention. "And you". He smiles. "What have you to say, gentlemen?"
DM-Delfon: The leaning man, points a thumb at the other silent man that waved, "He won't be saying much." The man resumes his previous pose, "He's a mute, somebody cut out his tongue." The man looks at the arms poked through bars in both directions, all still trying to get your attention to pick them next, "Why come talk to me, I have no information for you." He shrugs, "Well, I suppose that's not specifically true. I'm willing to tell you that there are three more guards on this floor, and the other is usually pacing back and forth in the next hall. The last two are normally playing at dice in the opposite hallway to this one." The man moves back from the bars, laying himself out on his bunk. "I tell you that so that Blue Eyed Pete, that was it wasn't it? So the Blue Eyed Pete gets his rescue. My sentence ends in three days, I'm willing to wait this out." Between the lot of the rest in this hall you find out that Blue Eyed Pete is in a cell in the next hallway, about half way down on the right.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Orellow smiles as the prisoner asks why he chose him to talk to. "My mother would say the quiet one is often the most dangerous" he answers. "Of course, I am standing in a prison so danger and I have a unique relationship" he laughs. Orellow shrugs. "Suit yourself" he says and turns back to the rest. "Right, I will be freeing the rest of you and we shall dispatch the three guards in a quiet and swift manner. Your top priority will be keeping the guards from raising the alarm, your next will be freeing the rest of the prisoners, weather you enjoy their company or not they will be essential if you want to escape, anyone seen defying these rules, or acting in a way that displeases my conditions will look like that" He says, pointing his blade to the guard's bleeding corpse. "And I promise you, it is every bit as painful as it looks" He informs them with a smile and removes the guards keys from his waist and tosses them in the cell with the mute. "Free the rest of these fine gentleman and gather yourselves. If you require me I will be removing the guard in the next hall" He says and heads down the hall like he hasn't a care in the world. Once at the end of the hall he stealthily peeks out to see where the guard is, once located he quickly makes his way to the guard and runs him through.
Stealth: 13+4=17
Surprise Round? Attack: 13+6=19 Dmg: 1+4=5
Init: 19+4=23 Attack: 2+6=8 BA:7+6=13
(Uh oh...)
DM-Delfon: The mute smiles a lopsided grin, and immediately starts trying the different keys in his own cell door. You move to the end of the hallway, and peek into the long hallway that makes up the majority of the prison. Both sides are lined with cells, with two exceptions where the cells have been replaced by alcoves. Each alcove contains an alarm bell cord. You spot the guard walking away at the end of the hall, and wait for him to make it all the way back to your side before you make your move. Dodging out from around the corner you close the two steps needed to catch up with him and drive your blade into his back, the man grunts with the pain of the strike staggering forward. He pivots drawing his blade smoothly, and parries both of your attacks. Apparently the guards down here are better trained than the ones outside. The man makes a couple of strikes to keep you back, and smoothly disengages from you. He moves to one of the alcoves, and pivots again to face your oncoming charge.
DM-Boneyard Ben: The guard moves to parry Orellow's thrust which works well for Orellow as he uses the guard's force from the strike as well as his own momentum to whirl around and bash the guard in the head with the hilt of his rapier, making the man collapse in a heap. Orellow brushes himself off and removes the guard's keys, traveling down the hall. "Captain Monsoon seeks an audience with a man held here. May he make himself known so that I might free him and everyone else who wishes to depart this place" Orellow says traveling down the hall. With Pete secured Orellow lets the rest out, directs them to the other two guards with instructions to take them out without hitting the alarm and getting as many other prisoner's out as possible before charging their way to the surface. As their numbers will be their only advantage. He will also stop the most capable looking fighters and point them to the guards weapons and armor, If all goes well, it will be a silent wave of death before they get unlucky. But, just in case Orellow intends on getting his target out as soon as possible so Pete and him make their way topside and toward wherever he was suppose to meet with Emboros.
Attack: 11+6=17 Dmg: 7+4=11, subdue. Unconscious guard.
(Never actually talked about a meeting place but it seems obvious they would have one in hindsight)
DM-Delfon: (Just outside the secret entrance would make a lot of sense to me. I just hope you keep your wave of criminals in line until after I deal with my end of the story.)
Many voices speak up in this hall, even louder than before. The noise rises swiftly until a swift, Bang! Bang! Bang! on the far door silences them. A quickly whispered, "I am Blue Eyed Pete." breaks the silence. The voice came from two cells further along. When you arrive you see a man with striking blue eyes, he smiles, "You must be mistaken Sir, my captain do be Abraham Claybrook."
+25 exp for the guard
DM-Boneyard Ben: After the 30 count you pull the switch and and take your leave, can't wait around to find out if Orellow succeeded and if he didn't that is all the more reason you should hurry. You head down the hall determined to rescue the Matron. You pass by a guard out on patrol who looks like he's gonna stop you, but seems to falls short as he looks you over. Wearing a guard uniform with that militant posture, your the picture of someone who should be here. However, you come to a stop yourself as you realize that guard is headed for the booth, if he sees the body's he'll raise the alarm. Time to make a choice. Do you attack him and take the time to hide another body or continue on your way. Orellow could've failed and the alarm could go off at any second, the distance between you and the Matron could be key in weather or not you get her out.
DM-Boneyard Ben: "Well Mr. Claybrook is of little concern, it is Captain Monsoon who wants you out of here alive and in her graces so that is what I'm determined to do, Mr. Pete" Orellow informs him as he unlocks the cell. "Now I have two more guards to deal with, if you would be so kind as to collect those other gentlemen" Orellow says handing him off the keys and steps back, So the others in the cells can see him. "Praise your gods, Gentlemen. For I am here to free you, but before you will be freed, I ask that you keep in line and not go full riot till I say so" He points to the fallen guard with his blade. "That is what I can do to a man with armor, a shield and a weapon" He points his blade at the rest of them. "Help me and I will give you a shot at freedom, get in my way and I will cut you down. Simple as that" Orellow states before moving to the next hall to find the guards playing poker. If the guards are too far away to charge or if they are closer to an alarm then Orellow would like, He'll will pull a beast from his bag of tricks and get it to poke its head around the corner where one of the guards can see and then retreat its head when the guard does a double take. Hopefully this will get the guard to get up and check things out where Orellow can run him through. If he does it well, the other guard will get bored of waiting and go looking only to round the corner to find a waiting Orellow with a beast companion and maybe a few dozen inmates for good measure.
DM-Delfon: Embros looks to the man, "Excuse me." When his attention is gained, he continues while closing the gap between them, "I've only been here a short time, and I have to bring a prisoner downstairs. Could you point me to where I would find Mistress Marigold, no wait. Maryjane, no." Embros sighs in frustration, hoping that the man will fill in the correct name of Maribel. If he doesn't, he will say it correctly on the third try. If he seems suspicious at all, drop him fast and clean.
Rolls: Insight: 12+2=14 (Judge intentions) Persuasion: 10+8=18 (Convince him to tell me where to go) Deception: 14+8=22 (Hide his intentions, faking the name) Attack: 10+5=15 Damage: 1d8+3+2d6=5,4,3=15 (Non-Lethal)
Orellow, you're about five feet from the door at the end of the hallway when it opens, and a guard enters calling back over his shoulder, "I wonder what's gotten into the prisoners-" He cuts off when he sees the state of the hallway, "To arms! They're out of their cells!" He shouts while drawing his sword to defend the doorway.
Roll Init. Guards Init: 8
DM-Boneyard Ben: "Maribel? Yeah, she's with the Warden right now" The guard says with a smile, seeming to relax as he pivots toward you. "I'll take you there" He offers and guides you in the right direction walking beside you. "Man, its such a relief to see someone other than myself who's lost around here" He chuckles nervously. "Still, with your serious face and ridged posture I completely thought you knew this whole place front to back" He quickly throws up his hands. "Not that not knowing is an issue or anything I just..." He blushes. "Sorry, not a lot of people talk around here, except to tell the prisoners to shut up" He seems to relax some before suddenly getting getting into another panic. "Not that there's anything wrong with that, I mean we are here to do a job and I..." He sighs heavily. "I'm sorry" He rubs the back of his head abashed. "Shouldn't even be here" He mutters and sighs again.
Orellow furrows his brow at the guard and sighs. "The fates must have something against me" He says exasperated before swiftly closing the gap and running the guard through. He watches the light fade from his eyes before ripping his blade out and letting the body drop. He then meets eyes with the other guard and raises his rapier to the guard. "No arms!" Orellow booms. "Let these men do as they please or I shall kill you" He says with a smile, pointing to the dead guard with his other rapier for emphasis. Init 6+4=10 Attack: 15+6=21 Dmg: 7+4=11 (Just enough) Intimidation: 17+1=18 BA:(If need be) 10+6=16 Dmg:7+4=11
DM-Delfon: Embros stops, touching the Guards arm to turn him to face him, "What was your name Son?" When the man gives it, Embros puts his hand on the man's shoulder, locking eyes with the man, "Let me tell you a little secret." He silently holds his gaze until the silence becomes uncomfortable, "Especially when you are unsure, act as if. Act as if you belong and others will assume you do." Embros smiles, one of Charles smiles, "You seem like a good kid, I'm really sorry about this." Embros smashes the kid in the temple with the hilt of his rapier, and gently lowers him to the ground. Sheathing his blade, Embros picks the boy up under his arms, and drags him under a desk or otherwise tucks him out of the way. Looking at the wound, Embros isn't sure he didn't hit him too hard, but he doesn't have time to do anything about it now.
Rolls: Knowledge History 7+0=7 (To try and remember the guard's name.) Slight of Hand: 14+5=19 (draw weapon) Use attack rolls from prior post. Medicine Check: 6+0=6 (fail)
Orellow, your threats have the desired effect of terrifying the other guard, while simultaneously having the undesirable effect of making the man flee to the nearest alarm rope about ten feet away. He leaps to grab the rope, but are you faster? You have done enough damage to drop the fellow, but must pass a DC 12 Dexterity Save to drop him before he reaches the rope...
+25 exp Orellow
DM-Boneyard Ben: "Sorry for wha-" He begins but swiftly drops like a sack of potatoes after your sword hilt connects. Andres was his name. Good kid. You figure the wound won't kill him and he should wake up with no pain at all. You tuck away his body easily enough and get back on your way, moving swiftly down the hall when something catches your eye. You see out your eye. The tower in the center of the Prison at the top of it you see Maribel, looking out the window with a thousand yard stare as she looks out toward the sea. The guard wasn't lying. This is quite a pickle. What now?
+25 Exp Embros
After piercing through the guard Orellow uses his second blade and stabs his forearm right in the tendons that control the hand. He twists the blade and as the light fades from the guards eyes, his hand loosens on the rope and Orellow slowly lowers his body to the ground, letting him slide off his blades. "Should have listened" Orellow sighs and looks around making sure its clear before relaxing.
Save: 17+6=23 Perception: 12+6=18
+25 Exp Orellow
DM-Delfon: Embros smiles, and not one of Charles, one of his very own. He wipes it away quickly enough, and is back to all business. Looking over the area, and his own costume Embros makes sure everything is in order before continuing toward his goal. 'You yet live M'lady, don't you give up on me now. You knew I would send for you.' Charles thinks to himself, constantly urging Embros to move faster. Embros ignores the emotional thoughts leaking through his personas, he doesn't have time for emotion until the job is done. Ezra mentally observes the exchange, 'Is it just me, or do we seem a might crazy?' and Bogomil laughs.
Orellow, the area is free of guards for the moment. You quickly collect the gambling money from the table (10 Gold Galleons, and 6 Silver Schooners) before dragging the dying guards back into the hallway. Blue Eyed Pete is there, flanked by two larger fellows wearing the ill fitting guard uniforms. A collection of men are gathered behind him, some with makeshift weapons, but most are unarmed. It is eerily quiet now, and everybody is watching the exchange that is about to take place, "I'm afraid Captain Claybrook is of much concern. He is still on the island somewhere, he and Ara, Jimmy and Skip. They were forced to flee before they could get aboard the Navy ship that the crew escaped on. I intend to rescue them before we leave." He pauses here, to get your thoughts on that. "Last I saw Tsunami she was tossed overboard inside a barrel of dried fish. None of the crew wanted to see her despoiled in a..." He hesitates, and you suspect by his moderated tone that he changed what he was going to say, "...place like this." You would be aware that a beautiful woman like Captain Monsoon would likely face rape in here. "I'm willing to escape with you, but if you threaten my men again I'll let them have you." You realize now that this boy has some charisma about him, a natural bit of leadership, and he has neatly collected the escaped prisoners under his banner while you dispatched the guardsmen. You're good with a blade to be sure, but you're not sure you could take this mob of rabble in front of you. Tread carefully a tiny voice says inside your mind.
DM-Boneyard Ben: You move at a swift pace, battling the ongoing insanity currently transpiring in your head but you hold yourself, moving at a walking pace that could probably catch a jogger. You round this corner and that, slowly closing in on your target. The main tower. You almost don't notice the guard that popped out of the door you passed and hollers at you. "Oy! Fresh meat!" He bellows. You stop and turn. He points his thumb into the room he's standing in the doorway of. "'ere" He says. But he says it in a way that tells you there will be consequences for not listening. Could he be one of the higher ups? Are there other guards standing within line of sight of that doorway? Lots to consider. You look ahead of you. The next corner leads down the hall to the tower. So close.
Orellow smiles. "My apologies" He says as he bows in his usually exaggerated manner. "I was made to believe it was Dog Eat Dog in a place such as this. I had not thought wolves would be among the caged" Orellow laughs at his own joke not in a mocking way but just in a happy fun loving way. He seems is unfazed by the mob. "Well, Captain Claybrook" he says, adding the same emphasis that Pete did. "Is probably being sprung by Captain Monsoon and her party as we speak, so if it is all the same to you" He gestures down the hall as he walks by the man, but stops just passed him. "Do not misunderstand me, Mr. Pete" Orellow says with a smile. This one a little colder. "I did not threaten your men. I warned all of the would-be renegades that selfish acts would result in their immediate dispatch" Orellow turns his head to look at Pete, still smiling. "I have no desire to fight an army of guards" He says simply and makes his way down the hall. Assuming none of the inmates want to try and stop the guy with two bloodied rapiers.
DM-Delfon: Embros doesn't even slow his pace, "Orders for the warden." He says patting his scroll case. "I was pressed to urgency, but if you insist I will be sure to explain my delay." He pauses his stride at the word delay, "The choice is yours." He makes his eyes pleading, and glances back toward the way he needs to go. Charles has been here before, the Warden is a stern man, hopefully this fellow isn't an idiot.
Persuasion: 10+8=18 (Pleading to be let go without causing a fuss.) Intimidate: 15+6=21 (The threat of interfering with whomever can issue orders to the Warden.)
Blue Eyed Pete laughs, "Man that woman is formidable. Not even a month has gone by since she was cast adrift with naught but her clothes, and she already has her own ship. He looks you up and down, and her own capable crew." He gestures and the men let you past, it's clear that he still commands these men. "We will follow your lead for now. The Sea's Song should still be docked outside." He makes an elaborate gesture, "Lead on."
DM-Boneyard Ben: "Oh, uh... Sorry" He says and ducks away into the room he came out of. You take off like a shot as soon as he's out of sight, rounding the corner, down the hall and up the stairs. You stop on the spiral stairs and peek out to see a single beefy man standing in front of the door to the Warden's office. His personal guard. Mary, you think his name is. A former inmate who the warden convinced to work for him. A fearsome foe. On the other side of the door is the Warden's secretary. He changes them every few weeks, as they're mostly pretty girls with little experience and can't handle the job the Warden demands of them. You could probably turn on the Prince's charm and deal with her easily enough, but it'd be hard to explain a commotion outside of the door. Beyond her, is the Warden himself and your beloved matron. Better be certain on your tactics.
+25 Exp Embros
Orellow brushes by the men. His blood boiling. All these men against him? The thought excited him. He hasn't had a good slaughter since he left the Floral Forest. These men were right up his alley; thieves, murderers, bandits and the like. Orellow hunted the their type all the time. He was tempted to push Pete's buttons, give him an excuse to cut his mutts loose so Orellow could gut the lot of them. But, he needed them. Their numbers and strength would be the key to getting out of here. Orellow weighed his options... Now what was he suppose to do after freeing Pete? Orellow was sure he had discussed it with Emboros, they had a full plan on where they would meet, what to do if things went wrong. He thought on this for a moment.
(We never discussed any strategies but it don't seem like Charles would just let a loose cannon like Orellow in a prison and be like fetch this guy and have nothing else planned afterward)
DM-Delfon: Embros lays out his forgery supplies on the nearest desk, and studiously prepares transfer paperwork for Maribel and Thom Marriland in Ezra's hand. He signs the work in his uncles name, with all the false titles he is claiming that rightfully belong to Charles. He even goes so far as to seal the work with his own sigil, altering it afterword to the exact sigil that his uncle uses. While that is drying, he pens a quick note that speaks of weeding gardens that fail to give fruit. Growing tired of the delays. Ending on something related to if you want something done, do it yourself. The whole note written as if his uncle had written it himself, the pompous blowhard. Embros adds an additional note, explaining that to avoid using anyone that might still be loyal to the Prince he has hired Maewyn Securities to complete the transfer. With that complete, Embros sands the second note, and seals them both before walking casually upstairs like he owns the place, which he actually does.
Embros had layers of plans, detailing situations from everything going perfectly, right down to a full blown riot. You vaguely remember the final plan being named AG, having used all the letters from A to Z already, he started over with AA AB AC etc. The alarm has not gone off so you're still in the A-J section of the planning. You have freed Blue Eyed Pete, and acquired enough men for a serious distraction. Embros did not really want to free everyone if he could help it, so the plans say to get Blue Eyed Pete and if needed a select few prisoners out through the secret door and make way for the ships. Since the alarm hasn't gone off the Captains squad must have taken the beach and be working toward, or have already taken the ships. The rest can be let loose inside the prison, the guards are well trained, and once the alarm is sounded they will quickly lock the place down and regain control of the place, thus keeping a lot of the actual criminals locked up.
DM-Boneyard Ben: You walk up the stairs to the door, standing before the behemoth of a man and presenting the letter with your uncle's wax seal. He takes a look at it, squinting at it, but not taking it from your hand before he grunts and steps aside letting you into the door. You walk through and find yourself in a nice little waiting room, with a couch and various news scrolls beside it to the left and to the right sits a cute young human girl with pursed painted lips, seemingly to try and figure out whatever piece of paper is in front of her. The door to the warden's office is ahead, you see a magic sigil on the knob and figure that the secretary has the way to open it.
Orellow heads out the gate and up the stairs, doing a quick check up and down the halls before exiting out and moving in front of the secret entrance. "Right. My employer's plan here is that Mr. Pete, myself and a small team of inmates will make our way out here and head for the beaches" Orellow informs them "The rest of you may head that way" He thumbs toward the prisoner's belongings. "Gather weapons and armor, probably your own and make way to the docks through the compound. With the lot of us pulling off in two directions it'll make the guards less organized and maximize the chances of escape for everyone involved. Questions?"
DM-Delfon: Embros approaches the desk, and tries to sneak a peek at the paper the woman is trying to figure out, but it's tilted too far to see. Switching tactics, Embros offers, "Give it here M'lady, I've a knack with paperwork like you wouldn't believe." Taking the page from her he quickly looks it over, and smiles, borrowing one of Charles smiles for her benefit. The woman has double booked the Warden. He's not to be disturbed until he has finished his interrogation, but the kings messenger is due shortly. 'Well I happen to have a message from the rightful King.' Charles thinks. Embros looks deep into the woman's eyes, leaning forward until they're quite close together, "I happen to have a solution for you, but I will need your assistance. I'm sure my arrival will put an end to the interrogation, and thus leave the Warden available to meet the king's messenger." Embros holds up the paper marked with the kings seal.
Perception: 5+2=7 (To see the page) Persuasion: 19+8=27 (To be my regular charming self)
Pete calls out the names of a few men, not surprisingly the men called are the ones that have already armed themselves with the fallen guard's equipment. One of which you know was held by another man in the first hallway not too long ago. The mob of rabble head upstairs, moving as quietly as can be expected for a herd of men that size. You, Pete and his four companions make their way out to toward the beach. You manage to catch a glint of metal on the cliffs overlooking the ships, and move your troupe away from the prison, avoiding the rooftop guards view. Circling around you approach the group of people, and recognize most of them as crew from your ship. Two people, a man and a woman, you do not recognize. Pete does, slapping your back he whispers, "Good man, that do be my Captain!"
DM-Boneyard Ben: The woman reaches for the paper as you take it and opens her mouth to protest but immediately finds it hanging open as she gazes upon the solider with a princely smile. She trips over her words for a bit as she tries to striaghten out her curly brown hair that is up in a bun. Trying to look a little more presentable. When she collects herself she leans on the desk giving you a veiw down her blouse at her... Modest cleavage. Certainly not the mountainous peaks that Goldie has but she has her own charms. Namely those lips. She licks them slowly as she asks what you had in mind to fix her... problem. Giving those puckers a nice glossy shine that draws you in and makes you think about the wonderful things she can do with them... Probably more than you should.
"Then, let us not delay any longer" Orellow whispers with a smile. As he leads the troupe in closer, waving to get the attention of the friendlies on the beach while also keeping an eye out for any more guards that may be lurking around. It occurs to him that he's still disguised so he removes everything necessary to look like his usual self. He offers greetings and gets an idea of the situation before making the next move.
DM-Delfon: Embros raises both eyebrow, and smirks, "Oh the fun we would have if we both didn't have urgent things to attend to right now." He sighs, long and slow, mournfully really, "Now my darling" He begins, touching the tip of her nose, "Please let me attend to my mission." He leans in like he's going to kiss her, but pauses close enough to feel the heat of his breath, "If ever you find yourself unemployed Maewyn Securities is always in need of a good receptionist." He winks as he pulls away reluctantly. "Ask Old Borris at the Wayfarer's Rest." Charles feels bad, his actions today will most likely get this woman fired. At least in Clifton he can find her a new job. "Until then my sweet, the door please."
Persuasion: 13+8=21
The two groups meet, with a collection of quieting gestures. Captain Claybrook points to Tsunami and Catherine on the deck of the Sea's Song, Catherine is laying in wait behind a barrel, while Tsunami limps near the stairs below deck. A guard is charging across the deck toward Tsunami with sword raised. None of the rest of your crew can be seen below, but there is an unconscious guard on the deck of each of the other two navy ships. The crew above had ranged weapons at the ready, but nobody makes a move to help those below.
DM-Boneyard Ben: The small girl bites her lips and groans, deep and long. In a way that strikes you as both displeased and probably as a nudge to get you to put off your mission for just a little bit longer. If you don't react then she reaches under her desk and you hear a click. Signalling the door being unlocked. You open the door to to meet the eyes of your matron, seemingly on her way out. Her eyes are wide with surprise and she almost goes to speak but can't seem to find her breath instead mouthing Emboros' name. "Whats all this then?" The large man behind the desk says. Getting both of your attention. "You have a guest" The matron says in her calm motherly voice. So much nostalgia hits you at once. "Well, I can see that" He responds furrowing his brow. "I want to know why he's here"
Orellow observes the scene, looks at the group waiting and swiftly gets bored of this shenanigans. With as much stealth and swiftness as he can makes his way to the guard attacking Tsunami. If he can close the gap and attack, he will, otherwise he'll just get in the way of the man striking at the Captain. "Greetings, Sir. Might I be so bold as to tell you to lay down your weapon and play dead? You'll be the 5th guard I have defeated today and I grow tired of hunting you lot" He asks smiling at the man. If he doesn't listen Orellow will stab the man in the foot to stop his movements and then through the chest to drop him
Stealth. 19+4=23 Attack:10+16=16 Dmg: 1+4=5 BA: 12+6=18 Dmg:3+4=7
DM-Delfon: "Embros Maewyn at your service M'lady." Embros says, taking the lady's hand and kissing it, his eyes never leaving hers. "I've a missive for you Warden." He adds straightening, and presenting the man with the forged papers. While the warden reads, Embros turns in a slow circle, winking at the woman with the lips when nobody can see as he turns. When his circle completes, once more facing the Warden, he adds, "I'm told I am supposed to be bringing a reply?"
Deception 15+8=23 (To act the part of messenger) Persuasion: 10+8=18 (To dampen Lips' jealousy at my introduction to the Matron)
Orellow, the pier forms a "C" shape from your perspective, and there are four berths where ships can be tied up 100ft below. Two on the top, and two on the bottom with spaces for smaller ships along the left. The large berth directly in front of you has a navy vessel moored, and the rigging is only 30ft away from where you now stand. The spot to the right of this ship is empty. Opposite the first ship described is another Navy vessel, and to it's right is the Sea's Song. 50ft of water separate the near ship's rail from the far ship's rail. Your best bet would be to get a rope into the rigging, and get aboard the first ship. Then you can take the pier around to the Seas Song, or help out whomever knocked out the guard on the first ship's deck with any other guards on board. If the lot of you are to escape, these two Navy ships need to be looted and scuttled so the Sea's Song can get away clean.
DM-Boneyard Ben: He looks over the letter and pauses for a moment. He then looks at you then back at the letter. He pulls another letter from his drawer and seems to compare the two. "Reply, eh?" he asks. "Well, I don't see much of a point considering my methods aren't 'bearing fruit' as it were" He says and clicks his tongue, drawing in a long breath. "But! If we wants a reply I suppose I'll have to oblige" He sighs and writes one on a letter, sealing it and gets out of his chair to walk around his desk. He looks at you for a long minute before handing you the letter. "There ya are, take the lady and get outta my sight" He groans taking his seat. "Priscilla!" The man booms and Lips jumps from her chair where she was making eyes at you. "Yes, Sir!?" She squeaks. "Tell Marilan to see this boy off to retrieve Thom and then to his boat. I don't want anything else to go wrong" The old warden says. By the look of how he stared at those letters, your escort is non negotiable. Lips moves out from behind her desk and whispers something in the big guys ear. Once you exit the office Proper you have a large man following 5 steps behind you on your way down the stairs.
Orellow slings his rope up and hauls himself up on the ship, he then makes it a point to find whatever they'd use to signal trouble and disable it (Likely a ship's bell). As well as any guards a board this ship, treasure and a fun way Orellow can find to disable it. If need be he has a bag of tricks to summon beasts to help wreck havoc. Summoning an Ape, Axe Beak (Hahah), and A giant Hyena
13+4=17 rope check 18+6=24 perception. 8+4=12 Dex check to disable/dispose the alarm system (Use earlier stealth and attacks for any guards)
DM-Delfon: Embros nods as he takes the reply, slipping it into his inner pocket to keep it safe. With a half bow to the warden, he looks to Maribel. "This is the prisoner I am to be escorting?" Since noble prisoners are not forced to wear prison clothes, she would just look like a well dressed servant. His expression hardens as he turns to her this time, "Get walking woman." He says sternly, pushing her ahead of himself with one hand on her lower back to hustle her along. With the big man following, Embros doesn't break character even for a second. Even though every fiber of his being wants to hug this woman, and tell her that everything will be okay.
Following the directions of Marilan, Embros collects Thom from a cell a couple hallways over from the Warden's tower. After that, Embros is lead through the prison and right out the front door. About twenty feet from the front gate Embros thinks to himself, 'Well this is going swimmingly', just as the prison alarms go off. Embros grabs both of his 'prisoners' by the scruff of the neck, "What's with all the racket?" he asks his mountain of a shadow. "If there are prisoners loose inside, who is protecting the Warden?" Seeing him torn by conflicting duties, Embros gives him a little nudge in the right direction, "The Warden himself cleared me, I can make it to my ship with these two. Go man! Protect the Warden."
Rolls: Deception: 10+8=18 (feinting realization as to who his prisoner actually is) Persuasion: 10+8=18 (Convince my shadow to go away)
+580 Exp for the Warden, his bodyguard and his assistant
Orellow, your hook lands in the Jacobs ladder that climb up into the rigging with ease. After a few good tugs to make sure it is secure you swing down, and pass under the furled sail. The inertia of your swings stalls out, and swing back toward the cliff face grabbing onto the rigging as you pass to avoid smashing into the rock wall. You climb down and collect your rope without incident. With the topside guards all taken out, there is nobody to ring the ships bell you think to yourself. That's when you hear a soft twack. Skulking over to the cargo hatch, you peek inside. Below you barely see the faintest outline of Toby dragging someone behind some crates. Another Navy man stands squinting into the darkness some twenty feet down the hold, sword glinting in the light of the lantern he is holding. If this ship is anything like the ship you came here on, going down those stairs will get you behind him. You move, quickly but quietly to get into position. You bring the hilts of your blades into both sides of the man's head, just as Toby springs from the shadows and smashes him in the face. The man drops instantly, his eyes stare blankly up at the ceiling above. Based on the trio of massive bumps forming on the man's head, you would guess that he will be hurting for days to come.
+25 Exp for the guard, should have been split, but really either of you could have taken him by yourself.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Maribel just smiles at you and bows her head as she moves as directed. "As you wish" She says simply. It should be simple. It should just be a phrase a servant has said a million times, but for you its a million memories flooding into your mind of this wonderful woman dealing with your spoiled bratty younger self. You'd never admit it, but you were impossible to all others, you were above the normal rabble and you liked to flaunt it. But, this woman, she followed every order to the letter no matter how impossible, she bent over backwards to see you happy and one day it all came crashing down. That day when things went too far. You were about to try a cup of wine for the first time, being accepted among the older nobles, your one big shot and here she came in taking your goblet. You lashed out, struck her and then ordered her to clean up the spilled wine you'd knocked from her hands. You thought nothing of it. Just your Nanny getting too big for her britches. You were wrong. That goblet had been cursed and she recognized it, she saved you from humiliation maybe even death. And the words she said after you ordered her to clean up still haunt you to this day; "As you wish". Here she was saying those words like it was nothing. Smiling that sweet motherly smile as she walks in front of you. You know for certain if you were anyone but Emboros right now, you'd be bawling. But, you are Emboros. You don't even weep for the dead. You're a pillar of unbreakable will. You don't flinch. You never fail. You remind yourself of these things as you guide her out and fight the welling storm inside you.
Before you know it you've collected Thom. A boring man in a boring suit with a big bushy (But somehow very well maintained) mustache that looked almost like it had consumed everything between his nose and chin. "Oh ho, whats all this then?" He asks and you have about a hundred questions of your own like; Why is he not choking on hair by sucking in breath? How is he talking without it sounding muffled? Why does his mustache seem to move independent of his words? No time for pleasantness though. You put on your best tough guy act and order the man to get moving and stop asking stupid questions. Soon after the alarm sounds and the giant of a man who'd been stoic and silent the entirety of the trip seems to be visibly shaken by your remark and at your nudge quickly takes off back to the Warden.
Orellow looks at the unconscious guard and cringes. "Goodness. we did quite the number on the poor man" Orellow laughs. "Now!" Orellow says putting his blades away. "If you'd be so kind as to disable this ship whilst I make myself a nuisance to the rest of the currently conscious guards, that would be most helpful" He says with a smile and bows before taking off, doing a corkscrew flip from the ship to the pier and landing most excellently. After realizing that probably wasn't very guard-like he then shrugs and makes his way to the next ship.
DM-Delfon: Orellow, the alarm bells at the prison begin to toll like mad, signalling an attack or an escape. You haven't seen Embros yet, and your missions success depends on getting that woman out of the prison. You land on the pier and straighten up to resume pretending to be a guard. Then you realize that you took off that getup before meeting everyone at the top of the cliffs, and resume your normal swagger. As you're trying to decide if you're going back into the now alert prison to finish the mission, or going to the other Navy ship to help Mac, you spot Embros escorting two people down the hill from the prison. He seems to be marching rather than walking, but that is not all that unusual for him. Always a soldier. Embros waves at you, and begins speaking to the two he travels with, far to quiet to hear from this distance, "We have to hurry. The prison is alerted to our presence now." When they reach your side, Embros gets the lay of the land from you and immediately sets to work in his normal commanding tone, "Thom, Maribel get to the Sea's Song. Help the Captain with whatever she needs. Orellow, let's get rid of the guards on this next ship." Without waiting to see if his commands are followed, or perhaps just assuming they will be. He sprints off toward the second Navy ship. (Yey! Dash as a bonus action!) Thom looks completely confused, but automatically follows the command. While Maribel smiles at Thom, and explains in her calm motherly tone to Thom as they walk how they've just been rescued.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Orellow smiles at Emboros. "Good to see you as well, Mr. Maewyn" He laughs and gives Emboros the gist of whats what. After he takes off Orellow bows to the two people. "Introductions for later but know I am here to help" he says with a smile and takes off close behind Emboros (At least as close as he can). Heading for the ship, finding some over the top way to get aboard and attacking the remaining guards at his first opportunity.
Acrobatics: 11+6=17 Attack: 15+6=21 BA: NAT 20+6=26 Dmg: 6+4=10 Dmg: 4+4+4=12
DM-Delfon: As you and Embros make your way stealthy into the ship. On the first floor you find a few drops of blood on the ground, and once you have investigated a little further you find an unconscious guard. Moving deeper into the ship you find another guard in a hammock with a welt rising on this forehead. Moving to next area you find yet another guard, but this one is sneaking up on a man that is half leaning into the bilge. Embros steps out of the shadows to the man's left, his hands upraised palms forward. "Excuse me Sir..." He begins, and the guard spins pointing his blade at Embros' face. At the same moment Mac pops up out of the bilge like he was on fire, his blade in hand, "Embros, you scared the hell out of me. I've been luring this bastard for what feels like forever." Turning to you, he nods and you slam both hilts into the man's temples. He drops in a heap, and the three of you smile at one another. "You get the girl Embros?" Mac asks, to which Embros nods, "You get Pete, Orellow?" Once you confirm that you have, Mac announces, "Then let's get on the Sea's Song and leave this place."
Anything else you want to wrap up before we leave the island?
+25 Exp Orellow for the guard
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 12, 2019 7:29:30 GMT -5
DM-Boneyard Ben: "Mr. Pete is safe and sound with Captain Claybrook" Orellow informs and helps with dismantling and looting the ships. Once that is wrapped up, Orellow hops aboard the Sea's Song, offers greetings and introductions to those he hasn't in his usual bombastic way. With all that wrapped up its time to take to the seas and return to Clifton. Maybe get a new pair of Wyvern boots on his way back.
DM-Delfon: Total loot gathered between the two Navy ships is:
80 Gold Galleons, 800 Silver Schooners, 2000 Copper Cogs, Gems: Banded agate (10 gp), 2 x Moss agate (10 gp), 2 x Obsidian (10 gp), 2 x Tiger eye (10 gp), Magic Items: Eyes of Minute Seeing (uncommon, dmg 168), Potion of Mind Reading (rare, dmg 188), Potion of Superior Healing (rare, dmg 187)
Embros, Mac and Toby would be aware of this treasure... Avarice?
DM-Boneyard Ben: A darkness overtakes Orellow's eyes and the world comes to a stand still as he walks toward the three men. Avarice appears and grabs the collar of his armor as he draws his rapiers. "No!" The small girl yells while being pulled along. "We need to stay in their good graces if we are getting off this rock. You can't sail a boat and you can barely swim" she says as she strains herself against the stronger man. "Would you please- Ahhh!" She starts but gets flicked off by a strong rugged hand that rest on Orellow's shoulder, making him stop in his tracks and memories to flood his mind.
Orellow is pulled to the grassy forest floor by the hand as a shield comes up beside his head. Several pings and clangs resonate from the shield as arrows and bolts bang uselessly against it. But amidst the combat all Orellow can see is the dead bandit only a few feet away with a fat purse strapped to his waist, silver coins spilled out of it. His world shakes as he feels a sharp swat across the back of his head, knocking him to his senses. He turns to see his father hovering over him with shield in hand and a concerned face. Orellow clicks into his foolish as he is hauled off his feet and over his Dad's broad shoulder. Using his shielded hand to cover Orellow's head and torso. Orellow watching as the fallen bandit fades into the green of his forest home.
An hour later. Orellow is tossed on his feet at their tree top home. He fails to catch his own weight and is sent stumbling back onto his backside. It hurts, but he dares not to complain to his father. A broad man to be sure, but he has several cuts from arrows and bolts, on different parts of him. They've stopped bleeding but have well made their mark. Painting his usual sage green shirt and pants with blood, even having soaked into his leathers. His father paces back and forth across their wooden floor. Eyes wild as if searching for something he can't seem to find. Orellow stays where he is on the floor. "Now, boy you-" He begins but stops himself as he sees his son jump at the sudden heel turn. His father returned to his pacing, still seeming to be unable to find whatever he was looking for. After a moment or two his fast pacing slows to a walk and he turns to his son. Lowering himself down and placing both of his hands firmly on Orellow's shoulders. "Be a Hungry Wolf, Son. Not a Starving Coyote" He says looking into his sons eyes. "Do you understand?" He asked. Orellow shook his head, he didn't have a clue. But, this was something both of them were accustomed too. His Father's metaphors were something he leaned on heavily to communicate to his son as they both had a love and understanding for animals. But his Father lacked social graces and often couldn't communicate his feelings properly. His Father sighed and stood up straight, going to rest his arm on the hilt of his sword like normal but finding it missing. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. "I'll be back, boy" He said with a sigh and made for the door, stopping just short to look at his son. "You think about what I said, yeah?" He added and Orellow nodded, probably more then he should have. His father gave him a single nod back and headed out the door.
Orellow thought on things for a while after that. His Father was likely gonna finish off the bandits while he left to retrieve his sword. Orellow recalled his Mother's favorite stories; The Wily Tales Of A Starving Coyote. A near infinite amount of yarns about a starved beast who chased around a desert bird in increasingly weird and fantastic ways. Orellow's mother saw the stories as just a fun tale to tell around the fire. His father found meaning in everything related to nature and this story was no exception. As his mother described the Coyote chasing the bird, his father would muse aloud how the coyote would've passed an old, sick boar or a tailless scorpion or some other easier prey. His father believed if it wasn't so focused on the bird it'd be in better shape then running itself to death or blowing itself up cause the wizard he made a deal with sold it a faulty magic item. This was what he'd meant. His father wanted Orellow to feed his hunger but not become starved to it. A beast that is hungry can hunt. A dead one had no such luxury. One day Orellow would be strong enough to take on all the bandits himself but he had to survive to that point. Leave some silver and treasures behind for greater things in the future and that is what he'll do today as well.
Orellow snapping from his daze shook his head and resumed his usual cheerful luster. Happily joking and laughing with his fellow crew mates as he helped them gather the treasure and bring it to the Sea's Song. Preparing to leave this place behind him and onto the horizon where even greater things await him.
DM-Delfon: After the treasure is gathered, and you make it back up on deck you see the Sea Song's Captain, the woman Ava? Ara? Aka? Pete and the other members of your crew moving alongside the Navy ship. Embros, Mac, and Toby come on deck behind you and quickly move to join the rest. The whole army of pirates begin to jog toward the Sea's Song as one. Once aboard, the crew set to work immediately, finishing the last few things needed to launch the ship. Captain Claybrook takes the helm, and begins barking orders, whether they're needed or not. A crewman pushes a capstan arm into Thom's hands and sets him to work raising the anchor. Meribel bows to Captain Monsoon, before taking her place near the Captain. When Blue Eyed Pete reaches the top of the gang plank, his smile splits his face in two. He moves to Captain Monsoon, and scoops her up in his arms, spinning in a circle before putting her back on her feet, "Thank's for coming back for me Princess." he says with a wink, before darting off under the lash of the Captain's harsh tone. You take your place in the crow's nest as usual, while Embros takes up a defensive position near Meribel. Mac smiles at his wife as he tops the gangplank, and takes a place on the capstan. His shirt is wet, showing off his muscles beneath. Which, your Captain is taking full advantage of. Everything seems to be going well until you notice two dozen Navy soldiers running down toward the pier in rows of two.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Orellow grabs a rope and readies himself to spring into action then he notices a familiar chanting and feels the pull of the Weave start to take shape as a roiling fog cloud that begins to cover the dock, blocking the view of the guards from the ship. Orellow looks to see the Captain and smiles to himself. I guess she is not the Captain for nothing. He chuckles to himself. The ship sets sail and Orellow watches with delight as ropes are pulled taught and snap on one ship, another ship attempts to follow but immediately stops as they realize there is no rudder and calls from the last ship inform the would-be captain of that ship that they're taking on water. Orellow waves to the angered and frustrated guards with a small smile as they pull away from dock.
Soon after the Sea's Song meets up with the Sapphire Rover and it comes time to divide the crews. Orellow notices a strange tension in the air but, he honestly could not care less. He springs from the Crow's Nest and grabs a rope on his way down, swinging himself to the other ship and landing beside a small sweet girl who carries a Lute as if it were a child. Orellow flashes a smile before he takes her up into his arms, swinging her around booming boisterously that he has returned to her as if it wasn't obvious.
15+6=21 Acrobatics
16+1=17 Cha check for general Romancing
DM-Delfon: She kisses you, soundly. When the spinning stops she melts down into your arms, and holds you fast. "I finally found a way to shut you up." She murmurs into your chest. She looks up at you then, "Glad you made it back safely, did everything go as planned?" The pair of you set about your tasks, working in tandem while you regale her with stories from the prison island. Your shift comes to a close, and you head below decks to sleep. Before long Ann joins you. She doesn't say anything, just slides into your hammock and nestles down with her head on your chest. The following day is uneventful until you spot a sail in the distance coming from where the prison island would be.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Upon seeing Ann's approaching figure Orellow removes his Father's studded leathers from his person to close the amount of fabric between himself and this lovely lady. As well as not to hurt her with the studs. He silently watches her approach with a smile and welcomes her lovingly to his hammock.
Orellow doesn't sleep immediately he lays with her on his chest, his eyes closed and his breath almost none existent in his mind. He focuses on Ann's breath, her warmth, the feel of her curves against his body. His mind wanders to the scar on his head and he thinks on how that guard nearly took him from this world. All his grandiose desires. His debt to the Fingers. Ann... All of that taken from him in an instant. He should be at the Rotted Tower with his Master but here he lies with this wonderful woman in his arms. Although he might desire she had less clothes upon joining him.... On second thought. He paused his mind drifting to the ever vigilant Emboros as well as the others near his bunk. He could already feel his darkness bubbling up from the depths at the mere thought that others would even see what is his. His immediate thought being that he'd take those eyes that stole a glance at his woman's figure... His woman. He chuckled inwardly. He liked that. He opened his one eye just a bit to see his prize. Laid against his chest, sound the world. He would protect this peace. This warmth. This feeling was his and his alone. The feeling of her bare flesh would also be his. Everything she was, is and ever will be. He wanted it all. To lay claim to it, to steal it away and lock it up where no one could get at it. Where no one would take it. His blue eye swam in darkness as his eyelid grew heavy and sleep began its taking.
Mine...
The next morning, Orellow stirs from wakefulness to meet Ann's eyes and smiles like a dope. After untangling themselves Orellow offers his best kiss free of morning breath as he sees her off and then he dons his Father's leathers once more and takes to the deck. He heads to the Crow's nest in his usually over the top fashion, laughing and booming all the while. After the first hour or so of clearness in all directions he lets his mind a wanderer from his post. He thinks to the young Axebeak he left behind and hopes the orphan can do well. He felt a certain kinship with the beast and soon realizes he could probably look into using his talents as beast master to obtain an ally for his coming battles.
After spotting the white sails peeking the far blue he sings out for all eyes to look at the distant ships and warns to be ready for trouble. The cruise was over, it'll soon be time to battle. He grinned.
DM-Delfon: The next several days are filled with long hours and sailors collapsing into exhausted sleep when their shifts end. You're even pulled from the crow's nest to lend your strength where needed. You might not be a sailor, but you're strong and you can follow instructions. You and Ann barely see each other during this time, stolen glances, snatches of conversation between bites of food, mumbled 'good nights' before sleep overtakes one of you. Each crew member looks ragged, but it works. Your ship manages to out sail the pursuing Navy ship. The victory is short lived as another sail is seen, this time ahead of the ship. The Captain keeps the crew calm, and sailing straight on. This new ship couldn't possibly be after you, and it passes by uneventfully. Pursuit begins again after the Navy ships use their lantern's to signal each other. This second Navy ship with a fresh crew gains steadily, and with the bone weariness your crew suffers from, they can't seem to gain. A meeting is called and the choice is made to head back to the Wyvern Straight where your ship will have the advantage of experience, and the Navy ships will have to enter Imperial waters to give chase.
DM-Boneyard Ben: "Delightful!" Orellow booms. His voice a little shaky given the almost nonstop running he's had to do. He breathes out, a grin overtaking his face as he pounds a fist into his opposite palm. "A second chance at getting a Wyvern hide" He looks to the skies, hoping to spy a stingerless Wyvern, or even the young one that dared lay its claws on his Ann, either of them would make him a dashing cloak and a tough pair of boots. That poison they produce could have its uses as well. Maybe something nice for Ann? A token to cement their relationship and ward off any would-be fools who would dare to take her. Certainly no ordinary man would even try for a woman who wore the hide of such a fearsome creature and their expressions once it came out that it was a gift from her beloved would be a nice touch, much to consider. He enjoys the thoughts of having a Wyvern head mounted on his wall and other such things when his mind wanders to a particularly lovely thought of Ann wearing a Wyvern skin corset. He pauses for a moment between his tasks to look at her and smiles. Snapping out of it as he's hollered at by one of the crew to hurry up.
Orellow at some point in the Straight would try and get the captain's attention in order to pick her brain about a thought he had. He noticed that him and the captain can manifest fog and with that ability perhaps they can lay a trap. "Odds are the Navy is going to follow our path, Captain. If they are worth their salt they will notice our experience in the Straight and just mimic us. So, I would say we find a spot in the straight where they have no choice but to follow our path and the two of us conjure a fog and set a trap. Some loose odds and ends would slow them but some live bait will attract the Wyverns to that spot, the fog will make the beasts harder to spot until they're right on top of our pursuers" He grins at the genius of his plan. Getting a look from the captain as she asks what would they use as bait. Orellow's smile nearly splits his face as he pulls a small ball of fluff 1 inch in diameter from the bag on his waist and tosses it on the deck. The ball lands on deck and sits there for a moment before. Suddenly, it begins to shake violently and with a series of wet snaps the ball of fluff grows, doubling, tripling its size and getting bigger by the second till its larger than a man. Clawed feet and paws suddenly jut out from the mass and land on the deck with thuds. The ball then starts shrinking in on itself and taking a beastly shape until it looks like every bit like a black bear. The creature seems to take a moment to adjust to its new skin. Shaking itself off and taking in its surroundings before Orellow whistles and the beast meanders beside him, nudging its face against his hand in a friendly gesture. The Captain will look from the beast to Orellow and just see a grin on his face.
DM-Delfon: The Captain only takes a moment to agree, and a proper place is decided upon. The Navy ships actually cut a straight path to close the distance, while your ship zigs and zags to avoid Wyvern territory. As a result the Navy ship is attacked by Wyvern after Wyvern. After the third such attack the ships turn around, and head back toward Somerset waters. All your clever planning wasn't even needed. The crew sets out a cheer at the fleeing Navy, but it's cut short as another Wyvern looms close. A couple more days of hard sailing, but this seems less frantic since it doesn't end at the end of a hangman's noose. Even the threat of Wyvern attacks doesn't seem as bad as that for most of these sailors. That's when you see a familiar silhouette, a Wyvern without it's tail. When it sees your ship it alters it's flight path for a collision course.
<A battle took place here, where the Wyvern hunted Orellow. It was quickly driven off after taking a Javelin of Lightning hit, and a couple stabs from Orellow. As well as dozens of bolts from the crew & Embros. I focused on Orellow's story during this time and am thus skipping it here in the Princes' story. The rest of the journey was uneventful, and we resume as the Embros and company are leaving the Sapphire Rover on the docks of Clifton.>
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 12, 2019 10:42:14 GMT -5
DM-Boneyard Ben: After Maribel has a heartfelt goodbye with the Captain of the Sapphire Rover and a few playful jabs at her husband you find yourself swiftly making your way through the streets of Clifton on one of your usual round about paths, checking if your being followed and doing your best not to throw your arms around the Matron and cry your eyes out like you did when you were a child. She follows you dutifully through the winding streets and through various back alleys, taking in the sights and offering quick nods and greetings to those who'll acknowledge her but making sure not to draw attention. Once your sure the coast is clear you turn sharply into the back alley and through the back door of your place of residents. You close the door behind her and quickly check your dust trails. You see Maribel is not overly pleased to see all the dust, she'd always kept everything clean and it becomes apparent to you she's making an active effort not to start tidying up. You find no traces of anyone ever having been in your house or around the property so with all that said and done. How will our many-minded prince handle having his beloved Matron back safe and sound?
DM-Delfon: With swift well practiced motions Embros melts away, both mentally and physically. Prince Charles Somerset stands before his Matron wearing another man's clothes, but there can be no doubt who he is now. In two quick steps, he scoops her up and buries his face in her shoulder. Tears flow freely, and he shakes with the release of tension. Too many feelings, too many thoughts forced down and stomped out while he was forced to maintain his Embros Persona. Not with this woman, with this woman he falls apart. He lets all his feelings bubble to the surface. His grief about his mother's death. His guilt that he couldn't save her. His guilt that his people suffer under his Uncle's rule. He looses himself in his grief, and then in his relief. After a full ten minutes, the Prince pulls himself together, "When I heard you were being... pressured. I came as soon as I could, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Emotions begin to bubble to the surface, but enough of the Prince has returned, that control is maintained. "We will find you a better place to stay, if I have my way you will become the new hand maiden to the Duchess herself." The Prince looks around. "This is our home." He repeats the phrase, once with the mannerisms and personality of each of his personas. "Do not worry, I have not gone crazy. I've had to reinvent myself a few times in order to stay ahead of my Uncle's assassins." The Prince goes on to tell her about his adventures since his exile, leaving out enough details that if she were captured, and forced to talk she still couldn't unravel his plans. "I have a question, in the Embros stories how did they actually end?"
DM-Boneyard Ben: As soon as you break down you feel the Matron's grip around you, tighter then you expected. You sense that something is off in the way she holds you, her motherly touch is certainly there, but you feel like there is some deeper problem here. Then it clicks. The matron has no scars. No marks on her skin, not even a bruise. She wasn't hurt physically, but mentally. Solitary confinement. The whole trip something seemed off. The matron liked her duties certainly, but she was never so clingy, whether with the Captain or you, she always needed to be near someone. To have another presence by her. Even during the walk here she walked tightly behind you. That's how your uncle was trying to break her. He knew that beating her would only make her more defiant. Subjugation was a Maid's bread and butter, but solitude? Taking away everything for weeks maybe months on end, and only giving her the Warden to talk with. It would drive a person mad. She wouldn't be in her right mind to keep secrets. So for an hour after you compose yourself the strong woman who'd tended to you her whole life breaks apart, confessing every horrid thought and crazy fiction her mind had conjured within those four blank walls. She eventually becomes too distraught to understand as she cries. It breaks your heart to see this marvel of a maid reduced to this. If feels almost like seeing your kingdom in flames or a great unyielding mountain reduced to rubble.
Once she has regained her composure she resumes her usual self. Though her puffed red eyes and tear stained cheeks give her away. She marvels at how well you've done, saying hello to each of your personalities in turn. You feel like even if you were crazy she'd see herself as having no right to judge, and that jerks at you. "Emboros? He married a Dryad." She said simply. "Left his adventuring days behind and settled down for the quiet life with his eternal bride" She giggles to herself her eyes flash with days long gone. "But, you hated that ending. You wanted him to go out and fight or outwit more villains. The stoic solider who never accepted thanks." Her eyes are distant in memories before she snaps backs and looks at you. "But, how would tha-" She stops her eyes becoming wide. "The dryad found you?" She whispers placing her hands over her mouth. "The girl you mentioned in your garden." She seems to trail off in thought. "Oh, dear..."
DM-Delfon: The Prince laughs, “It seems I may have accidentally gotten myself married to a Dryad.” The laughter is genuine, but goes on a little longer than it should. Savoring the joy for the fleeting moment it lasts. “I don’t want to leave you alone, but this place isn’t safe for you.” The prince seems lost, but only for a moment, “Goldie, from Three Bear Cove. Do you trust her? She’s the one that tipped me off about your incarceration.”
DM-Boneyard Ben: Maribel's face lights up as you mention Goldie "Golida? Why of course, she's a lovely girl tho-" She begins, but falls silent as do you when you hear a rapping at the front door, leading to your garden. Knock-knock-knock. "My love are you there?" comes the familiar voice of the green girl from behind the door. "I don't mean to pry but there's something I wish to discuss and I thought I heard a woman's voice in there." You can hear her tone is soft as always, but has a certain edge to it when she mentions another woman's voice. It seems she has the same gift that Emboros has for remaining calm yet expressing their point. The Matron looks to you for what she should do, you imagine she herself has about a half dozen plans for getting out of this, but as the Master of the house and the green girl's husband it is your duty to see to your wife and home. It almost feels like she's a loving mother waiting for her son to clean up his room before he can go out and play. It's just as much nostalgia as it is a "god-damn-it woman" moment. Just then, you hear the door knob jiggle and click open.
DM-Delfon: With well practiced motions, Embros reappears in seconds, “I have returned from my business away, and you are hearing the voice of the woman I rescued.” Embros states it plainly, almost monotone. Embros opens the door as the knob jiggles. Introductions are made. “What did you wish to discuss?”
DM-Bonyard Ben: The girls eyes fall on Maribel and you could swear you see them narrow and given your maid's jump, you weren't the only one, but another look reveals that you may have both imagined it. The green girl happily introduces herself as your wife. Putting a special amount of emphasis on that such fact. Maribel for her part is courteous as you'd expect. She introduces herself as the Somerset Prince's head maid with a good deal of pride as well as emphasizing that she has no such intentions of remaining by Emboros' side as she has a duty to her Prince. The two women talk among themselves for a time. Simple exchanges to be sure, but you feel a certain tension in the air. Like the calm before the kill. After a time you pull the Green girl aside and ask her what she wanted. "Ah! Of course" She giggles and taps the side of her head with her knuckle, sticking her tongue out in a foolish expression as she does. She explains that a Dwarf claiming to be from the Church of Bahamut, and a Halfing from the Yondalla faith are looking to build a strong hold in the swamp. You ask what that means to you, and she happily announces that its a very special place. That she went out of her way to procure for memories sake, because its the first place where you... Ahem... Had your way with her. The green girl starts to go into the details, taking every liberty to put the other woman in your presence off... Or make her jealous, its hard to tell which. Maybe both? You swiftly put an end to it though, and the resulting silence is cleared by a quick "Ahem." from Maribel. The Green Girl quickly takes that as her queue to get to the point and ask what you wanted to do about the interlopers.
DM-Delfon: Embros stays clear of the situation for the most part, only dropping the occasional comment to help diffuse the situation and keep tension down. When things wind down to why she's actually here, Embros looks down at the green woman, and says, "Wouldn't it be great to mark such a special place with a place of worship? I say we let them." Embros looks back to Maribel, "We need to get you out of here." Turning back to the Green Woman, "I want to meet this Dwarf at some point, but I need to finish up other business first. Did you need anything else?"
DM-Boneyard Ben: "My goodness" The green girl blushes as you refer to it as a special place and holds her cheek. She didn't seem that shy when she was going into detail earlier. Whatever. "Oh, of course, Emby, you take care of business, I'll see to the garden, and the Dwarf" She says with a smile, and kisses you on the cheek. She gives Maribel a slight bow before taking off back outside. Once gone Maribel gives you a mischievous smile. "Emby, eh?" She says playfully with a giggle. "Well she's certainly not the woman I'd have chosen for you. She certainly is something else Mas- Ahem. Mister Emboros." She says, resuming her usual motherly aura.
DM-Delfon: With his wife out of the house, Embros is quickly replaced by Bogomil. "Are you ready to go My Lady?" He says with an exaggerated gesture, and overly formal bow. Hooking his elbow through hers he leads her through the alleys and side streets to the Wayfarer's Rest. Opening the doors Bogomil steps into the room first with his arms extended to the sky. "Bogomil!" The room shouts at his entrance. Bogomil seeks out Goldie, locking eyes with her as he takes Maribel's hand and leads her into the room. With a beaming smile, Bogomil bows to Goldie, "I know it's been a bit longer than a few days, and this isn't who I said I would bring to meet you..." He trails off for a moment, "I hope I have still brought you joy?" He asks casually.
DM-Boneyard Ben: With a quick flex and the right words Emboros' pseudo uniform is replaced by Bogomil's robes. Your new armor and hat transform you almost entirely in an instant. Very handy. With the Matron in tow you make your way to the Rest, skipping and laughing, waving many greetings and salutations to passing people. Many of whom you see know you by name. Maribel seems interested in your complete switch, marveling at it even. People avoid your path as Bogomil as they do from when you're Emboros, but its more a matter of respect. Giving due room to the flamboyant priest, rather then out of fear of crossing the stone faced soldier.
You arrive at the Rest with no complications, upon offering your greetings and locking eyes with Goldie you hear a pronounced shout from the tall voluptuous woman. "MARI!" She shouts like a child seeing their mother after a long time. She quickly shoves the tray of drinks she was carrying into the arms of a man who was walking by. He doesn't seem to want to argue with the cleavage asking him for a favor. Then in seemingly no time at all, she has crossed the room, and has thrown herself at the Matron. The two women spinning around in a deep and loving embrace. Goldie nods shakily, fighting the tears forming in the corner of her eyes as she hugs Maribel. The Matron for her part is embracing the taller woman in much the same way as she did for you when you were a boy. Missing your parents, or having scraped your knee. That loving and comforting embrace that you're all too familiar with. Her face that of a serene, and endlessly patient mother. The whole room takes notice of the scene and there is an atmosphere of "Aww" many just staring at the display with a happy nod, some even fighting back tears themselves. Overall Lliira would be proud, if you actually worshiped her.
After a time the two women depart from their embrace, Goldie calls out she's taking her break and pulls up a seat with you two. She asks about everything you can tell her, and what the plan is now. For your part, you note many patrons taking their leave, some saying they need to go see their mothers. While others just seem happy to let the two women spend time together without prying eyes. Many of which you see are admirers of Goldie. In your heart you gain a new kind of respect for those perverts. Its midday yet, so not many patrons were here to start with and Ol' Borris doesn't seem to put off by the customers leaving so you figure its all well and good.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil makes sure to shake hands with the ruffians and vagabonds, slipping a coin into the palm of this beggar and that orphan. Collecting a wave of lies, rumors, and stories to sort through for the truth. It's easy to make your way in a city full of thieves when you've helped most of them out of a tight spot a time or two. He has been out of the city for too long, and it's going to take the rest of the night to get his finger back on the pulse of this place. He has so very much to do today, but first he must bring joy to a young lady from Three Bears Cove.
Bogomil raises his hands to the sky, his face beaming with joy. "I'm sorry I have been gone so long my friends, but you see the joy that follows in the footsteps of Lliira. Perhaps I will hold a service here this evening. What say you?" He says addressing the room, "What say you Borris?" He says addressing the proprietor. Assuming positive feedback, Bogomil does an overly exaggerated formal bow, capering back to his table with smiles and pats on the back for all.
Bogomil locks eyes with Maribel, and shakes his head almost imperceptibly, "We can catch up on all the boring details later, for now let us revel in the joy of this reunion." Leaning forward slightly and lowering his voice considerably, Bogomil continues, "The fellow we spoke of before thanks you for your information." He pauses briefly to make sure she knows whom he speaks about, "Furthermore he requests your services as a protector, but not for himself." His eyes dart briefly to Maribel. "Would you keep her safe while I attend to a few things? I have been gone from this place far too long." The entire time he speaks, he keeps a weary eye out for eavesdroppers.
(OOG: Although the Prince doesn't worship Lliira himself, the joy Bogomil brings to people in her name is real. The heartfelt prayers of those that attend his services, or have been helped by his deeds of kindness are all real. If Bogomil keeps this up long enough Lliira might actual build a following in this town. Man would Lliira be confused when a following builds around a man that isn't faithful to her. Even better, when the Prince dies and several Gods all try to claim his soul. Each with a real claim based on his deeds as various characters.)
DM-Boneyard Ben: There are many rumors and the like. About this cheating wife and that drunkard of a husband, mostly hearsay. This noble should be doing more, that person has disappeared, and so on. You can easily hand wave most of it. The wife is just a very friendly outlander. The drunkard husband has a weak constitution, and gets dragged out by his friends. That noble doesn't care about anything but his position, and that person joined the Duchess' ranks before you left. Nonsense mostly, but as you press a silver into a filth covered beggar's hand, your wrist is caught and your pulled in as the man whispers real news in your ear. You didn't recognize the ex-merchant in this suit of clothes. Crooche was a high merchant of the guild. After his stock was destroyed by infighting between the Thieves Guilds, he was left copper less and distraught. He found a useful way to make money using his former high contacts, and gaining new ones among the dirt covered masses in the low side. He has become an information broker. Although it was at Bogomil's nudge that set him down the path he now walks. As thanks, every now and again the old man grabs you aside, and whispers the latest goings on, "Be weary, Priest" His old hoarse voices cracks as he whispers to you. "There is a new group of troublemakers in Clifton, they are of the Sun but will burn those that won't comply" He then shoves you away and throws himself to the ground. He howls about the world coming to an end. A bookworm defeating a dragon. A wild child slaying the elements, and other such nonsense you'd expect an insane old beggar to shout. The Matron seems visibly worried, but you brush it off and make your way through town without further problem.
When you suggest holding service your met with a rousing "Yeah!" from the customers left. Save for the quiet fellow near the entrance who just nods. Ol' Borris gives you a thumbs up and smile. Your services always bring great custom to his Inn. So plans are set.
Eavesdroppers are almost non-existent as the priest. You're always due your privacy, and any who would deny you that are quickly dealt with long before you can raise a hand. Everyone loves Bogomil, and more indulge in your services with glee. There are few more beloved in the low end of Clifton than your happy priest persona. Upon asking Goldie to look after the Matron she smiles wide and nods once. "Happy to be of service." The bountiful woman says. She then grabs the Maribel's arm, and draws her close. You imagine the gesture like a child pulling in their mother. Given that Goldie is more than a head taller than the Matron, it comes off more suggestive of a lover's embrace earning some curiously red faced onlookers. The matron takes it in stride though, but she does shoot you a concerned look. Obviously she doesn't like you leaving her side so soon after coming back to it, but she obeys, and understands you have to keep up appearances. It would do you no good to have the same maid following around all your personas.
(OOC: I know right! XD It'll be an interesting encounter to say the least)
DM-Delfon: (Nice foreshadowing!)
Bogomil makes his way to the Palace, slipping into somewhere dark and quiet to change outfits and personalities. This is perhaps the most drastic change the Prince can make. Bogomil is outgoing and vibrant, while Ezra is introverted and withdrawn. When Ezra steps out of the alley, he looks around like he doesn't know how he got there. Squinting in the normal light like it's too bright, he finishes the trip to the Palace. Once inside his office, he sets to work on his actual duties as a scribe. Coping this document, filing these ones away, filling out this paperwork and that. The work doesn't take long, maybe an hour and a half. Then he sets to task on the real work, sorting through the tangle of reports, codes and ciphers since he's been gone. He looses himself in this work, letting the tangle of plots wash over him so he can see the entire picture. As always he keeps an eye on the door, but mostly observing through reflections and shadows. Ezra is not an observant man, and his office has been set up to observe without looking like you're watching.
DM-Boneyard Ben: (Thank you)
If things were so simple. An inward groan seems to find Charles as you're stuck outside your work place. Mallory Hightower, a slender woman with a bookish look, much like Ezra himself. This Elven woman sports a look of near constant doubt on her face. Her hair held up in bun (strange for an Elf), she sports a knee length skirt, and a blazer of orange much like many who serve the Duchess, both garments fit her perfectly, but leave everything to your imagination. Her white blouse underneath her blazer has ruffles that make it near impossible to gauge her bust. The Duchess is very passive about what her servants wear, so you've seen a wide assortment of maid get-ups. Some even show more flesh than cloth, but this woman breaks the mold entirely. Save for a certain icy-eyed knight, she is maybe the most conservative woman in the palace. She stares down her rectangular glasses at Ezra's form, seemingly unimpressed while she looks at her clipboard. "Your job, and your station were all perfectly set for you two weeks ago, Scribe" She seems to put special emphasis on how perfect it was. "You're extremely late" She stares down at you. "I took the liberty of contacting your book club, as well as the library head where you worked, and neither had seen you." Her voice seems to dismiss such things. "I tried to find your Gnome friend to no success, and even looked into people who have hired you in the past. Lords and ladies among them, fancy that." She smiles coldly at you, turning back to her clipboard. "I even went out of my way to your estate, rather nice for a mere scribe in a janitor's closet. Two stories with a fair sized garden in the Low Quarter. A former lord's house, not many would even think to purchase such a lovely place." She looks at you again, brown eyes seeming almost pitch black as they calculate your every fiber before she turns back to her notes. "But the gardener of all things turned me away." She twists the word gardener as if you shouldn't have one. "Claiming it belonged to her husband Embros Maewyn. A security detail of sorts, mostly dabbling in mercenary work. Apparently he was last seen at the docks. Lots of unsavory types there. Both of you Half-Elves disappearing at the same time for seemingly no reason at all." She looks at you with those eyes once again. Her hand seems to fan out all of the evidence she just stacked up around you as a smile crosses her lips while she patiently asks you. "So, what have you to say for yourself, Scribe?"
DM-Delfon: Ezra looks lost, he has no idea what the social protocol is for being chastised. His confusion fades, being replaced by shock at all the work this woman has put into finding him. "Mistress Hightower, I believe I'm supposed to apologize in this circumstance. So, ah, I'm sorry that you went through all that trouble to locate me." He pauses as if remembering something, "Next I believe I'm to offer the reason or excuse for the issue at hand." His hands move as if he is turning pages in a book, mentally he is reciting lines from a book on social etiquette. "I was out of the city on business. The Duchess herself told me to see to my affairs before I came to work for her." another pause, "Offer supporting detail." He whispers to himself, before continuing, "She didn't want a conflict of interest between my existing clients, and my work for her." Whispering to himself once more, "Assurance that similar behavior will not be repeated." Then more loudly, "With my business attended to now, my attendance should more than meet your expectations."
For his part Ezra looks properly abashed, pathetic even, unable to meet her gaze. Ezra smiles all of a sudden, meeting her eye for only a moment before quickly looking away once more, "Did you say I had a Gnome friend?" He asks rhetorically. Ezra now looks like a child with a secret, bouncing slightly as he stands, while somehow still looking like a child standing beside something they broke. Strange juxtaposition that. When the conversation turns to his living arrangements, "My estate? No Mistress Hightower. I merely rent a room from Master Maewyn, and handle all of his enterprise's book keeping." Ezra pauses for a moment, before adding quietly, "I didn't even know we had a gardener." Looking properly scared, he manages to look up at her face, if not actually looking her in the eyes, "Is it okay if I get to work now?" The question comes out with a squeak, barely audible as if he was afraid to even ask such a thing.
DM-Boneyard Ben: She hums flatly, seeming to take you at your word while at the same time questioning your every action. From the corner of your vision you see her looking up and down Ezra's pathetic form before her hand suddenly comes up and grabs your face. She tilts your head up so you have to look up at her, her hands are as soft as velvet but firm in their grasp. She hold you under your chin with your cheeks being pushed in by her fingers. She looks down at you through her glasses, their lens reflecting the light from the window making it hard to read her eyes. "You're cute for a half-man" She comments nonchalantly before releasing her grasp on your face with a flick of her wrist. She then turns on her heel and opens the door to your massive office. She stands aside from the door, motioning you in. "Off you go, waste not a single fraction of a moment of our Mistress's time. If you do, I'll have the guards move your quarters to the dungeon." She smiles, but nothing about anything she said seems like a joke to you. Best to hurry along.
Once your inside she closes the door behind you, saying that she will see to your lunch arrangements. Wait, did she just lick her lips? Maybe not... Oh well. With that distraction out of the way you set to work. The world of ink and paper unfolds in a glorious cascade, you can see the city itself line up like a chess board. The Duchess has been battling on many fronts, buildings once owned by nobles in her court now belong to this Jim or that Steve. Fake names no doubt. Some charity function that happened not too long ago (The fashion show) seems to have had a little less than 1% of its donations skimmed off. A little amount no one with a fat purse would look twice at but you certainly see it. Perhaps the handler needs talking too? A little research shows its not his first time, he takes such small percentages it's easy to mistake it for a minor inconvenience. But you feel there is something more at work here. Seems he almost took double what he normally does at the Fashion Show. Must've thought with all the Buzz about the Exiled Prince he could get away with a little more than normal. You're lost in your work as usual when a knock comes at the door, a maid looking to bring you your lunch. You look out the massive windows of your office and see its Noon.
DM-Delfon: Ezra looks confused while his face is being held, the confusion looks even stranger with his face all squished together. Once again unsure of the social protocol of the situation that Ezra finds himself in, he pulls together what he can, "Complement begets complement, similar cadence." He murmurs before saying, "And you are quite beautiful for an all-Elven-woman?" Part way through speaking Ezra doubted himself, and the last came out sounding like a question rather than a statement. Charles mentally cackles with laughter. 'I bet this woman is a tiger! When it comes time to cast off these persona's, if I have time Ezra will have to set her on her heels with Princely charm.'
Ezra jumps startled by the maids knock, but he quickly recovers, "Do come in, come in. Welcome." He motions the maid into the room and gestures to a seat, clearing a space for the tray she carries. He mumbles audibly, "Offer greeting, and comment on the weather." before speaking clearly, "My name is Ezra Quiller. Lovely day we're having isn't it?" Removing the covering from the tray she just brought him, "Would you like a refreshment?" He takes his own tankard out and splits the provided beverage, offering her the freshly brought half.
DM-Boneyard Ben: The maid enters at your behest and bows formally bringing you your tray. "Ello, Mr. Scribe, I be Brelove Battlebeard" She says with a bow. The woman who enters your work space is a Dwarven lady with a smile that seems to shape the rest of her face. "Miss Hightower told me you be needing a firm hand, and here I be" She seems amused by your greeting. "Yes, boya tis a lovely day. Now get to your table, it's time ta fill your belly." She responds halfheartedly, seeming to just want you to cease formalities, but never losing her smile. She takes the tray to the only other furnishing in the place. A simple table where your to take your meals. She cocks her eye when you offer her food from the tray she brought in. "I had me fill earlier, boya" She says simply, and stands beside your table with her hands behind her back. Seems she intends on staying till your meal is done. Well, this gives you a chance to observe her. She wears what you'd expect a barmaid to be in, but with a simple orange trim. Several dark freckles line her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. They never seem to move when she smiles, almost like they were made when she smiled. Her hair is a bright blonde, strange for a dwarf... Her head is capped with a red bandanna that keeps her hair from her face.
DM-Delfon: "Well met Mistress Battlebeard." Ezra says with a crooked smile. When she refuses to share a meal Ezra sputters, not sure what to do when someone refuses his hospitality, "If you've eaten your fill, at least partake in a beverage." He slides her half of the shared beverage to the edge of the table nearest the maid. "Please." He adds, almost pleading. Whether she does or doesn't, Ezra sets to work eating the food she provided. After the first bite has been chewed and swallowed, he adds, "I've heard that the servants in a palace always know what is going on." He looks up at her and smiles, one of his more princely smiles, "If you entertain me with the palace gossip while I eat, you can have one of these coins." Ezra pulls a Silver Schooner, a Silver Protector, and a Gold Phoenix and drops them on the table. The coins roll and spin, and Ezra doesn't even look at them as if he doesn't care what denomination they are.
DM-Boneyard Ben: She cocks her eyebrow at your pleading face and heaves a sigh. She takes a small sip of your drink before setting it back down. "There you go, boyo, no need to cry" She says soothingly as she pets your head. "Gossip? Boyo, you don't need to pay me ta hear about that." She laughs, and leans on your desk, scooping up the Gold Phoenix, and rolling it between her knuckles as she goes on. "Today, you are all the rage" She says pointing at you. "Everyone is in a tizzy!" She laughs. "Who's the new scribe appointed to the Duchess' books, her personal books no less? Everyone here is wondering if your some sort of god of the written word." She pauses, picking up your drink, and taking a swig. "Or" She says leaning in closer, and smirking. "A sex god." She whispers, and leans back up to roar with laughter. "I be hearing- I be hearing from Dove that on your first day here, the Duchess herself came to see you. That's no thing, boyo. She visits every one of her new staff but!" She says leaning in closer again. "She left your room with a smile, and boyo she don't smile often these days." She says, and waves her finger in front of you to emphasize her point. "And according to that Tiefling, she had a laugh too." The Dwarven woman chuckles, and sets your coin back down. "But after meeting ya, I can see why she'd have a laugh, odd sort ya are. Nothing wrong with it mind ya, but I be calling em as I be seeing em." She says, as she straightens the ruffles she caused on her dress from moving about. Making her cleavage nearly pop free of her dress in process. "Whats more, boy" She says pulling the cloth back over her chest. "Ya disappeared for a time, and the Duchess was scribe-less. She refused any other but you." She says motioning the giant pile of papers you're currently intimate with. She then looks at you, "Now I don't much care what ya do with your time, but Mistress Hightower suspects ya. So keep ya nose clean, and I'm sure ya won't have any problems here." She says with a nod to you as she leans back until her back is straight. She looks the picture of a good maid, with her hands folded. Waiting to hear her Master's order. Almost hard to believe she was so causal with you moments earlier.
DM-Delfon: Ezra brightens as soon as she sighs with resignation, matching his own sip to hers. While he eats, he listens closely to the maid, especially the names. "Everyone doesn't need to be in a tizzy, you tell them that I'm Ezra Quiller." He says it with perfect confidence, like knowing his name will put the tizzy to bed. When she leans in to suggest that he might be a sex god, his eyes open as wide as they will go, and a blush blooms from his neckline too his hairline. Ezra wears a sheepish grin when she calls him odd after telling him of the Duchess' smile, mumbling "I'm just trying to follow social protocols." quietly to himself. When she mentions keeping his nose clean, Ezra pulls out a kerchief and wipes his nose, smiling like he just completed a task, "If that's all it takes to keep Mistress Hightower happy, she'll get no trouble from me." Once again, he says it with such conviction that it's as if the metaphor was completely lost on him. Ezra finishes about the same time Brelove Battlebeard does. Once he neatly stacks his dishes for easier carrying he picks up the Gold Phoenix, holding it in both hands. He then bows over it, extending his hands to present her with the coin, "I thank you for your services as storyteller. Do tell your friends that I love a good non-fiction story. A little embellishment is fine, but I prefer a true telling."
Once the maid is gone, Ezra sets to work in earnest. He makes a full coded report on the skimmer, detailing every last Copper Penny he has ever been taken from the Duchess. Ezra is through, digging into the man's past activities as far as he is able. With the total listed, he offers a few suggestions as to how to use the fellow. Arrest is the easiest. Seize all his assets, strip him of his titles and throw him in jail. Control is more difficult, but could be more rewarding. Stack his debt in front of him, and ask to be repaid. When he can't, have him work it off as a minion reporting directly to Ezra.
Pen a quick coded report on Maribel. The report explains that the prince himself would appreciate having her kept safe, and put to work at the palace. Also add a brief resume of sorts detailing her skill set so the Duchess knows where she would be most useful. 'And so the Duchess can see where she could mine for information about my past.' the Prince adds wryly.
After digging further into the property transfers, Ezra looks for patterns. Trying to see who is gaining ground and where. He pens a third coded report offering suggestions to counter each move as he sees it. Going on to point out this nobles sudden shift of allegiance, and that noble's sudden rise in power based on potential moves by one of the Thieves Guilds. Lastly on the third report he mentions that Maewyn Securities managed to rescue Thom Marriland, which should give the Duchess leverage with that already loyal noble family, while simultaneously taking leverage from the nobles paying his captors, and dealing a blow to the false Somersets.
With all that done, Ezra hides the ciphered notes among his own belongings, and makes his way to find the Duchess.
DM-Boneyard Ben: The Dwarven woman just chuckles at your general 'Ezra-ness' she doesn't seem overly put off by it, taking it in stride much like a Mother. She taps the bottom of your out stretched hands, bouncing the coin up into the air, and then she catches it with the same hand. The coin disappears between her knuckles as she exits with your trays out the door, wishing the master a good day as she goes.
The information you find on this man is surprisingly limited. Almost like he just showed up one day. It seems he's the figure head of many functions, directing caters, florists, decorators and such for all the wealthiest of the wealthy. Your book knowledge is limited to just where he's had his fingers. You'll need someone on the ground in high society in order to find out more about who is is as a person and why someone with next to no background has this much sway in the parties of high society in Clifton .
Your note is successfully tucked away, and coded among the pages of the Duchess' black book.
It's difficult to gauge who is who, and what they're planning. You only have a small pool of information on the younger nobles during your spat at the party, and what you hear by way of complaints from the common folk as Bogomil. The Duchess claims to know her allies, but any number of them could be turncoats or double agents. Making moves without all the correct information could be fatal to the Duchess' position, and though she seems to trust you it's hard to say what using your powers as Ezra is going to result in. The information you have, seems incomplete without the knowing who's who. But a quick penned note about Thom definitely couldn't hurt. You also note that there are several new names among the paper work you don't recognize. Many having names like Sunburst and Sol. Seems a new group has wormed its way into Clifton and have established several places within its walls. Curious.
Upon exiting your work place you find yourself face to face with an Elvish woman. Who, despite being a few inches shorter than you certainly carries herself like she's head and shoulder taller. "Ah! Perfect timing, Scribe" Miss Hightower says with a smile that seems more for courtesy than any actual happiness she's feeling. "I've come to fetch you for your report to the Duchess." She informs you casually, and turns to head down the hall. You follow her in silence, unless of course you try to talk to her. She cuts up any attempts that pry into her business, and strikes back hard with prodding questions about your roommate, his gardener, who you had to see about no longer working during the two weeks, where you were, who you were with and why it was seemingly more important with than anything the Duchess wanted. You'll hear no rumors or hearsay from this woman. She simply brushes it aside as servant talk, and gets back to her questions. Some even going so far as to who your parents are and why you decided to become a scribe. Seems she's trying to figure out your entire life's story. Well, you suppose the Duchess wouldn't be where she is if she didn't have someone like this to guard her books and weed out the would-be back stabbers.
DM-Delfon: In that case, the note only details what the man owes in exacting detail. No suggestions. When Mistress Hightower collects him, Ezra simply nods, falling in behind her and following silently. The woman intimidates Ezra to no end. If she questions him, he answers with his usual Ezra-ness. Keeping the answers simple: Embros needed a book keeper and a room mate. Ezra is good with books, and wanted a better place to live. He didn't know they had a gardener, so he can offer no comment on that. He was out for two weeks to close down his business, and take care of a now ex-employee. The business was outside of Clifton, so most of the time spent was in transit. It was important that he took this time so that he could come back and focus his undivided attention on the Duchess' needs. When she asks about his parents, he provides their names. Well, he provides the names of the fake people he invented to be his parents. The ones that if she checks into them, she will find a paper trail including a lifetimes worth of records in all the right places, right up to and including their death records. The prince appreciates her diligence, but knows he will have to bring this woman under his control if he is to succeed here.
DM-Boneyard Ben: The elvish woman simply hums, and takes notes of every detail you give her, made easier by your ezra-ness that makes talking about things take longer.
You soon arrive before a set of white double doors with golden knobs, and are asked to stay put as Miss Hightower knocks. She awaits permission and enters. After a few moments you are called after by the Elf, and shuffle into the room proper. You enter into what appears to be war room. A large map table takes up most of the room. Spread across it's surface is a three dimensional model of Clifton, and the surrounding area. Several chairs are set around it. You see no one else in the room, save for an older gentleman with plate armor that shines like the sun. You notice a crest on the chest piece of his armor that looks much like the holy symbol of Pelor you've seen the Duchess wear, but it seems odd. It's blue instead of gold, and has more points to it than normal. He nods his head to Miss Hightower, and then you as he exits the room.
You're then led around the table to a small door in the back, where you're ushered in by Miss Hightower. You enter a considerably smaller room, lined with giant book shelves on three of the walls, and great towering windows on the last one. The windows seem to draw in the light from the sun outside. The room also has a desk on the end of it, with two soft looking chairs set in front of the desk. A bigger, somehow comfier looking chair with a high back is set behind the thick oaken desk. Nothing in this room seems near as interesting as the Duchess herself. She is currently leaning, back onto the desk using one hand to steady herself, and the other fanning her face. You see that droplets of sweat line her face, and one that yanks your eyes toward it as it catches the sunlight before falling from her chin and disappearing between her breasts. Your eyes shoot back up to her face. Her eyes are closed seeming to focus on the pitiful amount of air her dainty hand is fanning toward her face. You take that moment to observe the rest of her. She wears a classically styled dress for a lady of her position, but the dress itself is anything but ordinary. The dress is a deep blue, with shining orange accents everywhere seeming to radiate out from her corset which has a embroidered symbol of Pelor across it. You realize it's like the sun's rays painting swirling streaks across the sky. You can't help but imagine what a daze a dress like that would create if she were to spin. You dare not look at her dress too long as her corset seems to draw your eyes like a black hole daring you to steal another glance at her chest. You decide to focus on her face, which seems to have caught you staring, "Good day to you, Master Scribe" She smiles warmly at you. Her voice every bit as relaxing, and smooth as a lazy summer day. Something about a high lady calling you master anything seems to prick at your baser instincts. "I would very much like to hear your report on your work today." She says motioning to one of the chairs before the desk, as she seems to glide her way around her desk to take a seat at her blue high back chair. Which seems to have a similar color and design as her dress but greatly pales in comparison.
DM-Delfon: Ezra waits where indicated, opening the book in his hand he begins reading idly. It takes three tries for Mistress Hightower to pull his attention from his book. Once she finally does get his attention, he closes the book with a snap, and looks up at her apologetically. He doesn't say anything as he follows her into the war room. Once inside he gets distracted almost immediately by the model of the city and surrounding area. He doesn't seem to see the man in plate armour at all, pointing here and there on the map and murmuring to himself. Charles takes noted of the symbol as something to look into later.
Once Mistress Hightower pulls him away from the map table, he follows her into the smaller room. This time without getting distracted until he enters the room itself. Books. Books lining three walls. Books Ezra hasn't read. Ezra may have died and gone to heaven. Ezra looks at the shelves filled with books as most tactless men would be looking at the Duchess right now. Although he does observe the Duchess, and Mistress Hightower with his peripheral vision. Ezra's attention doesn't deviate from the wall of books until the Duchess speaks. Once she does he bows almost in half, hands on his knees and eyes cast down at the Duchess' shoes. "And a most excellent day to you as well Duchess." He rises back to a standing position only when suggested to do so by the Duchess.
Ezra clears his throat when asked about his report, and begins to recite the boring details of copying this notice, writing up an upcoming speech. How he found two errors in an article written over a hundred years ago. He pointedly doesn't go into any of the juicer details until the Duchess either removes Mistress Hightower, or explains that he can speak freely in front of her. Once she has done so, the boring stuff is put aside, and he begins talking about his actual work. "Our mutual friend used to have a matron, since our mutual friend's displacement his matron has become unemployed. Our mutual friend would appreciate you making use of her skills by way of employment. Relevant information is on this document." He says handing over the note about Maribel.
Ezra digs out the note on the skimmer, "A member of your staff has been stealing from you." He says handing over the note on the skimmer, "The amount, and from where is in that report. Oddly, the man seems to step out of the ethereal plane one day. I have yet to back track him beyond the date there." He points at the report. "I can look into him further if you think it necessary. Unless of course he's made up just to test my skills, in which case that would be a waste of both of our time." he says it abruptly, but without any accusation in it. He does watch for reaction from the Duchess however. (or both women, if present)
Ezra continues in the same lecture giving tone as a professor, regardless of the woman/women's reaction, "Maewyn Security has rescued Thom Marriland from a Somerset Prison. His family appears to be loyal from what I'm seeing. When I saw the name in Embros' report on the mission, I remembered seeing it in your records. Embros wasn't there to save the man, it was happenstance, but he suggested that you should claim responsibility for his release." Ezra pauses to hand over the third report, then continues, "Lastly, a new player has entered our great game. One I suspect you've met." Ezra looks pointedly at the door the armoured man left through, "Properties are being purchased by people bearing sun themed names, Sunburst, Sol and the like. I know nothing about their organization as of yet." With the last bit said, he bows again waiting bent in half with hands on knees for her response.
Rolls:
Knowledge Religion or History for the Symbol on the man's armour: 11+0=11
Insight 16+2=18, reaction to potential fake skimmer.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Miss Hightower waits outside of the room, currently it is just you and the Duchess. With your insight of 18 you manage to catch a flash of distaste from the Duchess' face from suggesting that she would make up something like that. "He's not under anyone's employ. He's a freelance party planner or so he claims. However, I know of many who would be displeased to find the man is making more from their purse than initially agreed. I for one find it to be incredibly distasteful, and I ask you look into the man further. Miss Hightower shall be your escort, since she knows more of my books and of this city than anyone else. She has served my family for generations, and she above anyone else can be trusted with even the most dire of secrets."
The regal woman looks over the papers you hand her pertaining to the Matron and nods in approval. "She'll have work within the manor soon, if his highness so desires." She says 'his highness' with a certain air of playfulness that makes your hair stand on end.
An unusually sullen expression crosses the gorgeous woman's features as you mention the Sun buyers. However even as bothered as she seems, you still think she looks akin to a sun-kissed Goddess "Yes, yes, they are of my order, Pelor. Though they less kindle light of those in need as they keep the skies clear for Pelor's grace to shine through or so they claim" She sighs. "They are brutes who hold firm that those who even think of darkening Pelor's sun must be removed. They call themselves the Guardians Of The Sky. Or Sky Guards, and wear blue as a mark for the 'perfect' sky. One without a cloud in it" She seems to roll around the word perfect with a look of almost bitter dislike, and then looks at the scribe seriously. "Do not get involved with them, Ezra. That is an order. They will only cause you grief, and your charming mannerisms will only seek to provoke them." Even the casual prospect that the Duchess just called your persona charming doesn't even begin to shake from how serious the woman is about that order to you. Better not disappoint.
She leans back in her chair, the dark cloud that held her mood seeming to dissipate as she finds herself once again. "I was aware of Thom's incarceration, and was going to make a deal with that... Less than savory Elf for his pardon, but it seems you and Mr. Maewyn have saved me the grief, I thank you both" She says with a curt nod of her head. "The warrant for his arrest won't stem any further than the Kingdom itself, he shall be safe here in the Duchy" She says with a smile that seems to glow like the sun.
A knock comes to the soon after all business is concluded and Miss Hightower enters with a tray containing tea and a few choice biscuits. "Now then" The beautiful woman says, standing from her chair and gliding over to the one beside you as Miss Hightower begins pouring tea for you both on the table between you. "Do tell me, how has settling in gone for you?" She asks, her demeanor seeming to switch entirely from a regal dragon looking over its hoard with a firm eye to a normal woman wanting to hear the latest goings on from an old friend. She leans over the arm of the chair, closer to you, seeming to slash the distance between the two of you, herself being only arms length away, but feeling like she's right on top of you. Miss Hightower, for her part, seems completely unfazed by any of this. Aside from a clearing of her throat reminding the Duchess of her top half and the generous view your being given. After a quick (yet painful for you not to watch) adjustment the Duchess leans back over the arm, resting her elbows on it as she awaits your answer with a disarming smile.
DC 20 Wisdom (Deception) opposed check to resist being completely and utterly disarmed by the Duchess' sudden shift in attitude.
DM-Delfon: When she shows distaste Ezra stands and bows himself in half, hands on knees again, "Apologies Duchess, I did not mean to imply any trickery on your part." Ezra seems almost on the point of tears, "It's just that that's what I would do to test a new employee in my role." Once again he stays bent in half until the Duchess bids him to sit back down, his eyes cast to the floor. Once she does so, he sits slowly, almost reluctantly, before hesitantly asking, "Does she know my true role?" At this he looks up into her eyes. Big mistake Charles, those are sapphire blue eyes that could drown a man. Ezra sits there staring like a pole axed oxen, lost in the vast ocean of those blue eyes. When she finishes speaking, Ezra shakes his head to clear his mind and reassert himself, "Ah, sorry Duchess. Could you repeat that, I was uh, distracted." She would be fully aware of what he was distracted by, although unlike many it wasn't her cleavage that he was lost within. After she repeats herself, and an awkward silence passes from Ezra where he seems really embarrassed. Some of the embarrassment was actually Charles' the conversation resumes with talk of Maribel.
Ezra nods emphatically, "Oh yes Duchess," He pitches his voice in the barest whisper "the Prince does quite desire." The Ezra mask doesn't slip a fraction, but mentally Charles floods that line with all the innuendo in the world. 'Oh to be myself with this woman' Charles laments. "I can have any papers you wish her to have delivered." Ezra says mater of factually, seeming back into himself now that he's talking about papers again. When talk turns to the Sky Guard, Ezra nods, "I will keep clear of them, except on paper. You will be fully informed about their dealings within the city." Speaking of Thom, Ezra beams, "I believe I can speak for Embros when I say this." He pauses for effect, which comes across as odd from this man, "We are in your service." He says solemnly with a seated bow.
Ezra seems out of sorts again when the conversation turns to himself, "Settling in? Oh, all my belongings were settled in the last time we spoke in my office." Once more seeming oblivious to the social context of the situation. Once the Duchess provides a generous view of her cleavage, Ezra looks up and away at the bookshelf. At once the gentleman, and embarrassed. After asking again, this time more specifically, Ezra continues, "Oh, me personally? Uh, well. Mistress Hightower has a firm grip on things." As he says grip he unconsciously glances up at her while he rubs his face where she grabbed him before. "She has provided me with just enough work to keep my busy." He smiles then, not the toothy smile of the prince, but a close lipped smile of the scribe. Although he is seemingly thinking about the work, in actuality he is thinking about how far he has come since he was forced to leave his home, and his rightful place on the throne. He mumbles something about social protocol, before asking the Duchess, "How about you Duchess, are you well?" Even though he is following something he read in a book, he genuinely seems to want to know the answer.
Rolls:
Opposed Wisdom Deception: 18+4=22.
DM-Boneyard Ben: "Very firm" Miss Hightower echoes, looking over you with the barest hint of a smile on her face before taking her place beside the tray between you two, being at the ready to refill either of your cups.
The Duchess smiles as you respond, you're not entirely sure why she's smiling. You shouldn't have said anything that gave something away, but it's a knowing smile regardless. When you ask about her she rolls over in her chair, leaning her back against the arm and throwing her legs up so they are hanging out over the other side as she huffs aloud. "You would not believe the nightmarish nonsense I have to endure." She complains, much like a school girl to her friend. It's hard to say if this is an act, or actually how the Duchess is behind closed doors. It's not overly unrealistic to think a woman would still have some remnants of her childhood, especially if she grew up in a high society position. Everyone has their outlets when they're in safe company, perhaps being herself around servants is hers?
That aside the Duchess goes on. "I have to get all dolled to in order to meet that idiotic 'Sky Lord'' She says, saying what you assume to be the mans title in a mocking tone. "Can you believe it? I get dressed up like a harlot, I am all sweet and bouncy, and he STILL has the gall to be pressing me for more of his Guardsmen entering the city! Argh! Impossible..." She says flailing her arms angrily before letting them go slack.
You can't believe what your seeing. The Regal, Majestic Duchess, flopped up in a chair like a rowdy teen, calling down a man with a title for ignoring her dressing up. No one would believe this. Your having trouble believing this and your watching it. The Duchess tilts her head back over the arm of the chair to look at Miss Hightower. "You wouldn't ask for more, would you?" The Duchess asks in an almost pleading tone. "Never, Ma'am. Your presence alone would be a warming flame in the freezing blizzard that is my daily life" Miss Hightower says, almost automatically. "Right!?" The Duchess agrees and then both women look to you.
DM-Delfon: Ezra realizes with a start that he hasn't taken a sip of the tea his hostess has so generously provided. Rushing to rectify this oversight, he of course burns his mouth on the hot liquid. Wincing in pain, and badly hiding the fact that that hurt he tries to pretend nothing is wrong, and listens intently to the Duchess' situation. Charles silently memorizing the Duchess' curves and angles while his Ezra mask shows a face of focused concentration. Ezra interjects, "I can't believe it. Other titles at least make sense, Lightbringers bring the Light of Pelor to their followers. Wyrmspeakers claim to speak for their Draconic deities. How can that old man claim to be the lord of the sky?" When asked rhetorically about his belief. His tone at first that of a professor lecturing, then adding a bit of consternation near the end. They can even hear the capitalization when he speaks about the Light of Pelor, and the distinct lack of such capitalization when speaking about the lord of the sky. Ezra looks shocked when the Duchess mentions getting dressed up like a harlot, immediately speaking up once she trails off, "Duchess, I do not think you are dressed like a harlot at all. That dress is spectacular, and you're a true beauty to behold." Ezra's eyes go wide, like he just realized that he spoke out loud. With wide eyed horror he tries to recover with what he knows best, books. He begins quoting poetry, painting a picture with his words. While he does so his voice doesn't quaver, and Charles' confident eyes lock with those of the Duchess,
*"You are the sun,
and with you comes day,
you bring new life,
and old lives find warmth in your rays,
weightless as your orbit sweeps them away.
You are the sun,
and your absence is night,
without you old lives lack life,
heavy and long,
living as shadows,
yearning for the dawn."
As soon as the final words tumble out into the room, Ezra is back to his normal self. His eyes darting frantically between the two women. Completely off balance, and utterly unsure of the social protocol for this situation.
(*Original Poem from reddit user verstehst. Was tweaked to fit this scene.)
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 12, 2019 12:15:57 GMT -5
DM-Boneyard Ben: Both women stare at you in stunned silence. For your part there is a howl of dignified laughter deep in the recesses of your mind before it is silenced with a sharp thwack, a priest nods his approval as a Prince cringes painfully and a solider without a readable expression rubs his hand before the three return to watch things unfold.
The women look at each other before Miss Hightower nods. "He certainly is interesting." She says with a small smile. "Right!?" The Duchess exclaims with a girlish giggle. She rolls back over in her chair, and leans back over the arm toward you, placing her hand on your cheek and looking into your eyes with those bright glowing gems of hers "You know just how to make a woman feel special." She says in a hushed tone that sends a shiver through you. There is a moment of silence between you two. Not awkward in any sense but comfortable. Getting lost in those eyes that look directly at you with such an affectionate face. You wonder briefly to yourself if this is how a dog feels when he's called a good boy. Your thoughts are interrupted by Miss Hightower clearing her throat, and bringing you back down to earth. The Duchess sighs and takes that silk soft hand from your face and sits down, her dress ruffling around her. "That time, huh?" She muses to herself quietly. She stands up from her chair, somewhat slumped as she fixes her hair. You watch in amazement as she makes her way back around the desk. You see her posture straighten, her girlish features melt away to once more to show that dragon-like majesty as she takes her seat. No trace of the giggling girl can be seen now, only the regal Duchess and in some sense it feels like a fever dream. Which is the real her? "Miss Hightower, accompany our Scribe to investigate and confront Mr. Chess Sanviche about his skimming. I have no intention of letting such an injustice reign free in my city." She says to the Elvish woman with an air of commanding. Miss Hightower places her hand on her symbol to Pelor and bows. "It shall be done, Ma'am" The Duchess nods her approval and turns to you. "I thank you for your report, and hard work in my service Ezra. I hope it will continue." She says to you with a queenly smile. "I can expect another expertly done report tomorrow?" She asks and when you give your answer she bids you a fond and formal farewell.
On your way out you catch a glimpse of a familiar looking old man in a butler's uniform, accompanied by a girl with black horns and milk white eyes and skin in a low cut maid's uniform. The butler seeming to be in a panic while the Tiefling is the picture of serenity. Not long after on your way toward the exit a figure dressed from head to toe in plate mail blasts past you both fast enough to cause a back draft that almost tips you over. Miss Hightower sighs as she adjusts her dress, that was almost kicked out from under her. "The Lady says jump and that woman finds herself on the moon, I swear" She sighs again and beckons you to follow her. Once outside Miss Hightower takes a place at your side and asks; "So, Scribe. What is our next step?"
DM-Delfon: Ezra looks more reluctant to speak than ever, but manages weakly, "You are special My Lady. A beacon of light in shadowed times." Sadness creeps into his voice near the end, but the beginning is heartfelt and sincere. Ezra perks up at her praise, "Oh yes My Lady, it shall continue." A pause, as if just realizing that the social stress of this day would be repeated again tomorrow, "Tomorrow, yes." He says weakly followed by another pause. Then a single nod, "Yes My Lady, another report tomorrow." This time said strongly, with a touch of excitement.
On the way out Ezra adjusts his pace to keep Mistress Hightower blocking line of sight between the butler and Ezra. As soon as the butler leaves earshot, and line of sight Ezra stops short. He reaches out as if he's going to grab Mistress Hightower's arm, but his open hand stops a few inches short of contact, and turns into a gesture to the side of the hall instead. "Why is Solstice Somerset's daughter's butler here? And was that Dove?" As the guardswoman blasts past, Ezra nods, saying "Guardswoman, so nice to see you again."
When Ezra realizes that Mistress Hightower is leading them outside, he suggests his office instead. "I'd like to discuss our options." She might also get the idea that being surrounded by books after all that socializing might make him more comfortable.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Miss Hightower answers your questions as she leads you back to your office. "I know not why the butler is here without his charge, nor why you can recognize such a man on sight, considering." She says as she opens the door to your office. "I assume you've heard about Dove from the servants, yes? I'll ask that you not make a scene of the Tiefling, their kind have it hard enough." Miss Hightower closes the doors behind her after you enter. "Now then, do you feel sufficiently sheltered to decide your next move, Scribe?" She asks patiently.
DM-Delfon: Ezra takes aim at the easier question first, "I wouldn't dream of making a scene, with Dove or otherwise." Ezra says in all seriousness, "I did hear tell of her from the staff. I only asked you for confirmation so that I could put a face to a name." Ezra makes a place for Mistress Hightower at his desk, and pulls out a small package of biscuits and offers her some, "As to the butler, my business in the Somerset Isles brought me in contact with him. Much like I'm now the Duchess' scribe, I was once scribe for His Serene Highness, Prince Charles Somerset, Watcher of the Waves, Defender of the Somerset Isles." Ezra's head bobs in respect as if the man himself might notice from wherever he is now.
Circling around his desk to take a seat himself, Ezra looks confused at Mistress Hightower, "Sheltered? Of course we're sheltered. We're in the palace after all." Shaking his head, he plucks a book from the shelf and begins asking questions about every noble he can come up with. Seemingly randomly, but there is a method hidden beneath. Charles provides each name in the order he met them at the party, and the questions asked all dig into their supposed character, actual character, supposed allegiance, and actual allegiance. He asks questions about who knows who, who appears to be friends with whom, or enemies for that matter. Overall, the questions give Ezra a proper picture of the noble cast of Clifton, rather than just the snapshot he has been working from. Once he exhausts the names he gathered at the party, he moves on to the names he has heard elsewhere, and seen in paperwork. If she really does know more about the Duchess' books, and the city than anyone else. He needs that knowledge. The fact that she's been around for generations will help even more.
After about an hour, Ezra switches gears. He begins asking questions about Chess Sanviche, bringing up each function he planned that he could gather from the paperwork. All to figure out who else he may have stolen from. Once the questions cease Ezra closes his eyes, and falls silent for a good long time. Any attempt to disturb him during this time is met with an extended hand, palm out in the standard 'stop' gesture. The pieces circle above Ezra's head, threads of spiders silk connecting them. He looks at the pieces and their connections and a slow smile creeps onto his face. His eyes open and he says, "I have a plan."
DM-Boneyard Ben: Miss Hightower hums to herself, adjusting her glasses as she turns to the window. "His Serene Grace Prince Charles?" She asks a knot of amusement in her voice. "Another half-man, and with Emboros that makes 3 of you, you certainly keep interesting company considering how rare the union between a human and elf is" She says with her back turned onto you but you would swear you hear a smile on her lips as she says so. She turns to look at you and her face is the picture Elvish grace and patients.
You receive a well recited and deep knowledge of all the children you spoke with. Most of which is rumor and hearsay, some of it is observations made by the Elvish woman herself and she says so. Many play their cards close to their hand and Clifton has long since fostered a sense of trust and kindness among the people and nobles alike however with the recent incursion of the Thieve's Guild you see a tip in the scales. Many who had belief and trust in the system established by the Duchess' family changed and warped. Houses got broken into, things stolen, neighbors looking at each other with suspicion. Friendly rivals turned to bitter enemies. Family fighting for control in the city. The fall of one house giving rise to another. Even some from poverty suddenly gaining influence and rising through the ranks at a worrisome pace. Most of everything from the books to the hearsay seems to place the guilds at the middle of things.
Chess seems to be an anomaly in this web. One of only a handful of outsiders who'd managed to establish themselves in Clifton. But unlike the others this guy had no prior background. No one in the neighboring Kingdoms even heard of him, however he came with a sack of gold and made fast friends with all of the best caterers, entertainers and decorators in the Duchy, even finding some unknown talent that became huge hits. He's described as a cheerful sort, a worshiper of Llira if sources are to be believed and liked to bring happiness to every event. He's cemented himself very heavily in Clifton to the point that Nobles and common folk alike often said that; "Its not a party without Chess Sanviche". Whether it's raves that destroy mansions or a simple gatherings like the Duchess' fashion shows, Chess is often at the center of it, and brings a brand of guaranteed fun to the event.
DM-Delfon: Ezra looks confused, "Rare? The Somerset Isles are only a week away. They are the main trading partner with Clifton. The Somerset Elves, and the Humans of Clifton are bound to intermix sometimes." He shrugs, seeming apologetic. He opens his mouth and closes it several times, maybe trying to find the words to finish his argument, or more likely trying to find a way to apologize for arguing in the first place.
Ezra listens with wrapped attention to the woman as she adds meat to the bones his books have built up for him, fleshing out the skeleton that is the city in his mind. What sort of creature is it turning into? Can he trim those claws, maybe file those teeth? The prince smiles in Ezra's mind. Curbing a guild or two is child's play compared to quelling an uprising, not that he had ever had to quell an uprising, but he was trained to do so.
When talk turns to Chess, his already wrapped focus comes to a razor's edge. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he listens intently, but finds it unfulfilling overall. Even his own fake pasts leave a better paper trail than that, he made sure of it. Paperwork in all the right places all the way back to his non-existent grandparent's birth records. Ezra nods so slowly it comes across as a bow when she finishes, "Thank-you. You really are well versed in matters related to Clifton." Sitting back, Ezra grows distant, seemingly lost in thought. Well, actually lost in thought. Planning and plotting, seeing the strings that make the players dance. After a time his focus returns, "So Mistress of Keys, shall we confront Chess straight away, or build a case against him with the other nobles first? I like the idea of being the only people that know his secret."
DM-Boneyard Ben: "Yes..." Miss Hightower nods with a smile that's somewhere between knowing something you don't, and most definitely buying anything your selling so no need to look any further into that.
When questioned about Chess the Elven woman looks at you curiously. "Well, under normal circumstance the proper thing to do is inform the guard and have the wonderful and just system the Duchess has set see to his treachery, however as this is a matter regarding the Duchess' black book to which no one should be privy too or even know of its existence. This and all matters regarding it's pages are to be handled by the Duchess herself or the scribe she has appointed to it" She says simply and briskly. Has she gotten taller? "Further more" The elf presses on, closing the distance between you two. "The matters of those pages are of the utmost most importance to Clifton and the Lady herself and even considering handing that duty or such information to another would be treated with the same regard as treason" The woman adjusts her glasses, the sunlight catching them and making them shine into your eyes causing her entire figure to appear as a massive overbearing shadow with glowing yellow eyes in comparison to your cartoonishly small stature. "As the fortunate truth is, Master Scribe. You are not a Scribe. You have been appointed Page Master and it is your solemn duty to ensure that all in that book is EXACTLY as the Mistress needs it for there are too many eyes and ears in this town and too few that the Duchess can trust entirely and..." She draws herself back, seeming to sink and her usual demeanor finding itself on her features as if nothing at all was out of the ordinary. "Who would suspect a lowly scribe?" She asks with a smile. Seems the Duchess had the same idea you did. If you manage to live through dealing with her Mistress of Keys that woman will make someone a hell of a wife, and impossible to get past.
DM-Delfon: Ezra seems to shrink in inverse proportion to Mistress Hightower's forceful presence, always seeming the submissive. "A- as I- I said, I like the the idea of being the only people that know his secret." His stuttered start only lends to his seeming submissiveness, "The Duchess' little black books, and the secrets they contain are safe with me I assure you." He pauses for a moment, then corrects himself, "No. I promise you." He makes uncharacteristic full eye contact then, before looking back down like a cowed dog. With all that settled, he stands, "I believe we are ready to go?" The comment comes out sounding like a question, like he's asking permission to leave. As they make their way to the door, Ezra whispers, "Page master does have a nice ring to it." It would seem like he meant to think it, but spoke aloud instead accidentally. His tone would scream pride. Walking to Master Chess Sanviche's estate, Ezra walks a half step behind the Mistress of Keys. Both to show that he's following her lead, and because he isn't supposed to know where the estate actually is located.
DM-Boneyard Ben: The Mistress Of Keys seems to take your submissiveness in stride, however she won't let you take a single step from her side, even grabbing your arm, and pulling it against her chest, using it in a series of clever jerks and nudges to direct you through the city. Your keen sight sees smoke in the distance and Miss Hightower seems to rush you forward toward Chess' estate. When you arrive. Oh, boy! Chaos is the word of the day. From what you can tell, the house WAS a mess of vibrant and mismatched colors, but as its current state is a sea of flames. It's hard to tell much else. The City Guard have the entire estate surrounded with crossbows at the ready. You see clerics, and big muscled men in yellow coats and pants with large buckets of water on stand by. You then see a pair exit from the flames. A man, and a woman. Both looking like nobles dressed to the nines. The man coming out with a dagger in each hand, and the woman behind him, pulling at the Weave. The officers give their warnings to drop their weapons, but the two just smile and continue to approach them. With a shout from who you assume is in charge the bolts fly out toward the couple. A blob of something shoots from the woman into the flaming house causing a sudden eruption of flames, propelling the two into the guards and blasting away the bolts. From there it's is a mess of blades, flames and blood. The man and woman laughing and covering each other in an almost beautiful dance of dodges and attacks both magic and mundane. The guards, after losing a few of their number quickly dog pile the two and restrain them and you watch on when they both shout. "You'll never take us alive!". A glow of flames from her, and the sudden appearance of a hand crossbow from him marks their end. His face becoming a mess of cinders, and her's bearing a twisted smile with an arrow protruding from her head. Silence save for the crackle of flames from the house but even that seems somewhat deafened by what you just witnessed.
After sometime you manage to find out the two were wanted outlaws who got a little too cocky, not realizing Chess had magical defenses in his shop/house or that he himself was a mage. After being pinned in place by the man and then surrounded by the Watch they opted to go out in a blaze rather than be caught. "Well, that was certainly a dozy" Chess laughs as you two approach. You can tell he's still in shock. He looks visibly deflated, but is trying to stay in good spirits. "You'll have to apologize to the Duchess for me." Chess laughs. rubbing his head and looking at the flaming pyre that was his house. "It'll take me sometime to rebuild." Chess himself is a lanky man with tanned skin, a head taller than you, with hair that seems to be all one massive puff of brown curls. A perm you think its called. Although a section of hair seems to favor bouncing over his forehead like a single downward hooked horn. He dresses very causally, wearing a bright yellow shirt and orange pants.
DM-Delfon: When the Mistress of Keys takes his arm, at first he tries to pull away, but he stops instantly as soon as she pulls his arm against her chest. For the next little while Ezra exudes embarrassment. With his arm pressed between her breasts, the frills of her clothing can no longer hide her bust. A bust that is surprisingly ample for such a slight woman. Inwardly Charles is impressed. Her clothing is tailored perfectly to conceal her form, and Charles will have to ask after her tailor when he next visits the Duchess. The embarrassment fades while Mallory uses his arm like a wagon driver uses the horse's reins. As soon as Ezra has an Understanding of the practical reason for this intimacy, he no longer has a reason to be embarrassed. As Mallory begins to move more quickly, "I assume that the estate we wish to visit is where that smoke is billowing up from?" Ezra does his best to move quickly, and once they get going it's clear that Ezra is actually fairly nimble. The Elven half of his heritage shining through.
Ezra beholds the chaos, but sees the order hidden beneath. The guards have their crossbows at the ready, so there must still be a threat within. The Pelorian Lightbringers are here to treat the wounded, and the Extinguishers Guild is obviously here for the fire. Since they haven't moved in to fight the flames, whatever threat is within must still be active. "In the stories, the male protagonists are always protecting the female characters." Ezra says by way of explanation or perhaps apology as he uses the arm pressed between her breasts to steer the Mistress of Keys out of danger and behind some cover. Ezra stands with his free fist on his hip, and his chest puffed out like the stories describe the hero. Of course Ezra is not standing behind the cover, so a stray arrow could hit him.
When the pair burst onto the scene, Embros perks up and keeps close tabs on the combat to make sure Ezra is safe. For his part Ezra looks half heroic and half like he is about to be sick as the combat unfolds. When they shout that they will not be taken alive Ezra bursts into action, pulling out his badge of office and shouting with an aura of command, "Extinguishing Hands the pile NOW!" Ezra lurches forward, trying to shake free of the Mistress of Key's grasp. If she tries to hold him, he will look back at her and simply say, "Please." Ezra moves forward to the dog pile of guards to see what is left. He couldn't stop the hand crossbow from ending the woman, but he had to know if the Extinguisher's Guild could suppress the woman's flames before they could could end the man. If the man lives, Ezra tells whoever is in charge to bring the man to the cells in the palace, rather than one of the smaller holding cells in the guard stations.
After the outlaws are dealt with, Ezra interviews the guards about what happened and asks to search through the outlaw's belongings. Before touching anything, he asks the Lightbringers if the pair had anything magical on their person. Ezra makes an overly detailed list of everything they had, right down to the number of coins and socks. The level of detail is a little much as well, noting details such as the colour, fabric material, and any stains. You would be able to pick these specific items out of a pile of similar items with ease.
With all that sorted, Ezra seeks out the Mistress of Keys. "By the Scribe of Oghma, I don't know what came over me. Apologies Mistress, but I had to act. Are you well?" He trails off then, seeming confused and maybe ashamed. To avoid having to dwell on what just happened, he quickly asks, "Can we find Chess now?" They move through the area, avoiding the Extinguisher's Guild and trying to stay out of the way. Once they reach Chess, Ezra nods to the man, "Doozy." Ezra repeats, "This situation would qualify as something outstanding or unique of its kind Master Sanviche." Gesturing to the Mistress of Keys, Ezra continues, "I believe you have met the Mistress of Keys, Mallory Hightower. My name is Ezra Quiller, Master Scribe at the palace. Is there at outbuilding, or somewhere else that we can go to talk for a while?"
Rolls:
Knowledge Arcana: 13. To know about Extinguishing Hands: like burning hands, but puts fire out in a 15ft cone.
Knowledge Religion: 12. For the Detect Magic.
DM-Boneyard Ben: The Mistress of keys, after being taken to safety gives Ezra a weighing look and his attempts to leave her grasp and enter into danger are met with a tightened grip on his arm. His pleas fall short as she smiles knowingly at him. "Many stories have a woman saving a man, you know" She smiles sweetly for a barest instant. "Leave this to the professionals" She adds, a sudden bit of dryness to her voice.
You get a fair bit of strange looks from the officials. The guards and guild members all wondering why a Scribe for the Duchess has any sort of authority here. This is quickly remedied as your arm attachment clears her throat and the faces of the perplexed men become faces of compliance. Seems the Mistress holds a fair bit of sway in the city. Your informed that if either can be saved you'll have access as needed when everything is straightened out.
"Not a problem" Chess smiles his best and leads you both to a smaller house behind the burnt building. It remains untouched by the flames and is much more homey. It would probably belong to a well off farmer rather than a man who frequents the nobles services. Save for the garish coloring. Having a myriad of different colors and shades in a variety of different shapes that seem to be randomly placed about. If this were a painting it would be masterful, however on a house it looks positively silly.
The inside isn't much better, with streamers, balloons and confetti all over the walls and floor among a sea of papers and filing cabinets that seemed to have almost no discernible order (Int Check). You welcomes in and offered a chair and a fizzy beverage. "Now, what can I do for you two today?" He asks with a smile. The Mistress Of Keys turns to you and motions you to proceed.
DM-Delfon: Ezra spends too much time looking at all the papers, not snooping exactly but his fondness for the written word, and reluctance to engage in the social situation that is about to unfold would be clear to the Mistress of Keys, if not to Chess himself. Once settled, Ezra sniffs at his drink, getting a droplet of liquid fizzed up his nose in the process. With his nose dancing like a rabbits, Ezra sets aside the drink untouched. "Master Sanviche I have been going over the Duchess' books, and noticed some irregularities." Withdrawing a summery page, with dates and figures and handing it to Chess, Ezra continues, "Would you care to explain the discrepancies listed there?"
Rolls:
Int 13+2=15
Persuasion 12+8=20
DM-Boneyard Ben: You manage to sort out that the filing system has something to do with the colors but the exact pattern is perplexing without being able to see the contents of the cabinets. You note the Burgundy and Cerulean cabinets are next to each other, and everything you know about color coordination is screaming that that shouldn't be so. And seeing how Chess directed the Duchess' fashion ball, you know he's no fool on colors. Quite a conundrum.
Chess looks over the sheet with a hand on his chin and nods thoughtfully many times, humming agreement to himself as himself. Then he sets the sheets down and quite unabashedly says "I have no idea!" with a big smile on his face, looking to you and then Miss Hightower and back again several times. Strange. You could've sworn you added a little of the Prince's charisma, normally that has before throwing themselves at your feet and. Wait your not the Prince, your the lowly Scribe Ezra. Still, he should do more than just sit there and smile while claiming to have no idea. Miss Hightower looks at you with clear doubt in her eyes at his words. Something here is amiss.
"Would you care to elaborate, Master Sanviche?" She asks. Chess looks at Miss Hightower with that big goofy grin. "I have no idea about these loss of funds from my origination, I am certainly no thief and will launch an investigation post-haste, but as many of resources are currently being turned into ashes, I cannot do much until my estate is restored and my old business is seen too" He says at a rapid pace that makes your head spin all whilst staying perfectly composed and never losing that damned grin.
DM-Delfon: Ezra smiles, nodding, "I'm afraid the investigation is already underway Master Sanviche, but don't worry. You have so much else to deal with considering the fire and all. I will be more than happy to offer you my assistance. It shouldn't take me more than a few hours to audit your books. Once I have sorted out the problem, I will present you with a summary. I'm sure it's all just a misunderstanding." Ezra nods as if there is nothing else to say on the matter. Turning to the Mistress of Keys, he adds, "This extra curricular assistance will in no way affect my duties as scribe to the Duchess." Ezra mentally prepares several legal precedents which would legally obligate Master Sanviche's cooperation in this matter. Throughout this entire conversation Ezra is watching for signs of deception, wanting nothing more than to have something to hold over this man in the future.
Persuasion: 12+8=20
Intimidation: 14+6=20
K. History: 15:0=15 (precedents)
Insight: 13+2=15
(I added the intimidation because if an auditor tells you that you're under investigation and they want to see your books, it can be a little nerve racking. Ezra at no point comes off as intimidating, but paper trails can be scary, especially if you're guilty.)
DM-Boneyard Ben: Sweat appears almost as if by magic across the yellow-skinned man and he rubs the back on his head, fitfully. "Well, you see, I don't exactly have books, there is no real protocol or any such wordy word for my line of work, see?" He laughs nervously, his mess of curls seeming to deflate. "I know of parties. Its like, uh... sixth sense, you see? I know when and where and why and I also know what makes them best, what the in-charge type people like to see and eat and such, you see?" He laughs nervously. "I realize this comes off as strange, but I swear I am no thief and the ones I work with are good, honest folk just trying to make a living, you see?" At this point the man is breathing erratically and his eyes are darting about, from one end of the room to another. Seeming to try and find a way out. "I plan parties!" He bursts out suddenly. He seems on the point of hysterics as he goes on, His voice rapidly changing pitch. "That's all! I make people happy! I just want people to smile, that's no crime!" You and the Mistress sharing a concerning look as the nervous wreck that your sure was once a man at some point bounces in his seat. After a moment of silence he suddenly shoots up from his seat and Miss Hightower throws her arm in front of your chest protectively. "I Need Air!" Chess announces suddenly and bolts out of the room without another word or glance at either of you. The viewing window on the wooden door makes his shaggy hair very visible. He didn't run. "Well..." Miss Hightower speaks up suddenly, pulling you from your thoughts. "You certainly did a fine job at terrifying him by mentioning an audit, did you get what you wanted or was this just your human side's version of fun?" She asks more dryly than any desert you can imagine.
DM-Delfon: Ezra looks down at the Mistress’ hand held protectively in front of his chest. Then down to his own hands neatly clasped in his lap, seemingly unaware of any potential danger. Ezra seems confused at her question, “Fun? This is serious business, I take no pleasure in this man’s fear.” That is spoken in all earnestness, not a hint of deception in it. ”You know I didn’t get what I wanted. I asked to see his books, but he hasn’t any.” Once again, completely oblivious to the social construct that is a rhetorical question. He would also be oozing sadness and a missed opportunity at reading any kind of book. “Now if you will excuse me a moment I have a situation to salvage.” Ezra stands, and looks pleadingly down at the mistress, “Please wait here. Even if you don’t make him nervous, your presence is distracting for me.” Ezra smiles then, a quirky little smile. One all his own. Did he just flirt? Or was that unintended?
Moving to the door, Ezra creeps out and shuts it slowly behind himself, his motions seem more like he’s hiding from the mistress, rather than trying to sneak up in Ches. “Pardon me for intruding, but I want to offer my assistance once again. My goal here isn’t to entrap you, or get you into trouble. I just want to balance the books.” Ezra holds up his notes, and looks at the man, carefully weighing him with his eyes while he pulls out his writing implements, “Here, let us get started at the beginning....”
Ezra asks questions about each job he did for the Duchess. Who was involved in each aspect of the job? The questions are almost all about people and money. He wants to know who paid what, and for what. The more names he can pull from this man the better. If needed he can even name drop the Prince as a personal friend that might be in need of a party planner in the future.
DM-Boneyard Ben: After earning a bemused smile from the Mistress she bows her head and allows you your time.
After successfully creeping out and suddenly speaking up you manage to make the rapidly muttering man suck in his breath and draw out a high pitched squeak of surprise. With that bit done, he settles down once he realizes your (or rather Ezra's) intentions for not causing him trouble are genuine. You quickly find that this was a mistake. As it turns out the seemingly scatter brained Party Planner has an eidetic memory and recounts EVERY SINGLE DETAIL to you in rapid order. Well as orderly as a ditz. It takes a fair bit of time because as he recounts whats important, like how much he paid of food, he also notes small things, like how nice the color was or how it smelled, or how one of the caterers tripped and hit him in the face with a pie and he laughed so hard the cherry in his nose shot out and plinked off of a guards shoulder. Its certainly a test in patients and takes MUCH time to get him back on track after he drones on about how it reminded him of the time that this or that happened but you manage to narrow down the true culprit. THE BUTLER! IN THE KITCHEN! WITH THE CANDLESTICK!... Chess must've got to you with all those weird references to Gods know what. But it was Miss Rari Tilly. A decorator who's price with Chess doesn't match your books quite well and is in the exact amount that you were looking for. Almost every time. Finally! A lead! You look out on the horizon of the city and see it is almost Dusk and you feel a sudden twinge inside you. A deep calling drawing you home. You should be home. But, your so close to a culprit. But Maribel is at the Wayfarer's Rest and has been all day. Who knows how deep your uncle fingers are in Clifton. She's with Goldie though and that woman is a professional bodyguard. Maybe she's a double agent. Where did that thought come from? Your head suddenly starts to ache as a race of things come in. How you should be to Maribel and how you need to get this done quickly and effectively for the Duchess to prove yourself and get in better with her. Back and forth and back and forth. You can feel something tugging you away from this place and onto another.
DM-Delfon: Ezra asks many, many questions. Picking out details about everything, fleshing out the scenes as if he had been there himself. Even remarking at one point, "With your memory, this is like reading a book. I feel like I've actually been to the parties you describe." Ezra lets the man sidetrack the conversation a little, and asks questions about his tangents too. Most of the questions lead the conversation back to the task at hand. Most. The Prince is filing away information for later examination. Once the conversation comes to it's natural end, the scribe thanks the man, adding, "I quite enjoyed our little chat. Your stories are windows into an unknown world for me. Could we please chat again sometime, in a less official manner?"
After he finishes outside, he returns to the Mistress of Keys, "I've got what we came for Mistress." He smiles then, full of pride in a job well done. "It grows late, when we pick this up tomorrow morning, can you take me to meet one Miss Rari Tilly?" With his tasks accomplished for today, Ezra offers his elbow, "Mistress." They walk together back to the palace, before Ezra takes his leave under the pretense of going home to sleep. On the walk he answers whatever questions she has, checking his many coded notes as needed to fill in the details.
Once the Mistress of Keys is safely back at the Palace, Ezra heads toward his house. Entering one of the cities many blind spots, in this case an alley, a cloaked Bogomil exits the far side walking quickly to his favourite spot to meet his Matron. Outside the doors to the inn, Bogomil throws back his cloak and prepares to tend to his flock.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Getting an account of a days going on from Chess is much in the same vein as reading a book. If the author of that book had the attention span of a bird and a memory like a steel trap. He even goes to the trouble to see if you understand, like when he describes a smell, he relates it to another smell and another and another until he finds one your familiar with and then relates it to that in a way you understand. He doesn't pry though, so you can just as easily nod your head and he moves on without a second thought. Listening to him talk is... Exhausting. He's very high energy and keeps that momentum to the point that it becomes almost like a pendulum. Sometimes you find yourself in an almost hypnotic trance and have to ask him to go back over somethings, which he's happy to do but there were several times when you felt all your personalities getting sucked into the world that Chess paints with his constant talk and divergence. Usually its a firm "Ahem" from Emboros or a commanding word from Charles that snaps you back. Ezra is entirely too pleased with getting drawn in and Bogomil is just happy that the young lad is. Chess is happy to have you swing by in your downtime and is also glad about it being a misunderstanding and that he can continue his business to bring happiness to others with his parties.
You walk back in to see Miss Hightower straight backed and looking at the door. Just as you left her. Is she a golem in disguise? As near as you can tell she has just sat there waiting for your return, and you've been out there for several hours. She has not moved a hair that you can tell, but she offers a gracious smile to Ezra and a job well done. Telling you to save the details for later.
Out on the streets the Mistress Of Keys is... Um... Well... She's hanging off of you like an infatuated young girl. Arm hooked about yours as she presses her modest chest against you, head leaned on your shoulder like you were her lover, even when you meet eyes with her she stares up at you like you contain the air she needs to breath. But the oddest thing is the way she talks. She is ALL business. Getting every last detail out of you in a hushed voice as you make your way through the crowds. She's to the point and fills you in on what you may have missed about Chess's speech. Including who Miss Tilly is. A fashionista and the unofficial rival of the Duchess in most terms. In the fashion circuit no one is closer to the Duchess than the self made tailor turned noble woman. Growing up from nothing, she gained her livelihood making unique dresses that caught the eye, and stopped the masses. Where the Duchess makes eye catching, practical dresses as a hobby, Rari makes threads into works of art. Including one dress that almost sparked a rebellion based on its color. It's colour of all things. People could not agree what color the dress was. Miss Hightower seems especially annoyed at that fact, but she gives you a lot to chew on as you drop her off at the Palace. She gives you a peck on the cheek, and a warning to be careful. Now that you work for the Duchess you will become a target. With that she gives you an uncharacteristically happy smile and bids you a good night. The Mistress herself is quite a bit to chew on as is, you think.
As you make your way to the less reputable part of town where Ezra lives, you take a dingy back alley that's packed to the brim with junk and cover and disappear from one end as Bogomil pops out the other. With a flourish of your colorful clothes you prance your way to the Wayfarer's Rest. The usual smells filling your nose and sounds fill your ear as you close in on the popular Inn. However you notice`a patch of greenery in among the rooftops from the corner of your eye. A deep Sage green Emboros is all too familiar with from his boat trip. Orellow Avnec sits among the tiled roofs, watching the Rest. For what you can't entirely be sure, but somehow seeing him there makes the voices in your head dissipate and your reminded that the man did well for the Prince, and should receive a word of thanks. So after throwing open the doors to your adoring public you set him a hot meal and a letter outside. Time to work.
You conclude this night with smiling face and many shared drinks. Much of what you hear isn't too helpful. A mud fighting ring has opened up on the docks and a couple of the men feel tempted to go see it despite the fact that their wives would certainly disagree. Certainly a conundrum as going would make the men happy but not going would make their wives happy. A few whispering talk of Fey men and women invading Clifton. Men and women clad in Green here one second and gone the next. You can trace those to Orellow and your "wife". However you hear one oddity that sparks a certain interest. One man came to you saying he heard a woman's voice in the night. Singing certainly nothing odd there, but the man claims the singing voice came from a sewer grate, maybe the ramblings of a drunk, maybe a damsel in distress?
DM-Delfon: (I totally love that each personality acts within my head as if it were it's own person. For a sane guy, he almost seems like he has multiple personality disorder.)
While walking with the Mistress hanging off of him like an infatuated girl, Ezra stammers his words, and trips over his own feet more than once. If it wasn't for her grip on his arm, he most certainly would have fallen on his face. Each time he meets those eyes, his own widen in surprise and he blushes, stammering more for a time. It would be easy for an onlooker to think him a love struck young man in over his head. Once she gets down to business, and he stops looking into her eyes it becomes easier to get the words out. Although the softness of her chest pressed into his arm is distracting, and attempting to move his arm only makes that feeling worse... or better depending on your perspective.
Bogomil holds The Grail with reverence during his closing prayer, adding "Thank you Lliira, for returning that which was lost. Your many gifts have brought this humble servant of yours great joy." to his usual closing remarks. As he says those words he looks straight at the Matron as she sits at the bar speaking quietly to Old Borris. A single tear rolling down his cheek, and a beaming smile upon his lips.
As to the rumors of the night, Bogomil sets aside thoughts of the mud wrestling ring. Such hedonistic joy can often come with a greater price in sorrow. Much better to go home and *wink* wrestle with the misses. For Orellow, he will have to get that boy a change of clothes, or at least a different cloak if he's going to be lurking around town. His wife's comings and goings he has no control over, so he leaves that line of thought unresolved for the time being too. Now a damsel in distress in the sewers is something he could look into. Depending on the damsel, that could make for another life long friend in Clifton. Maybe Bogomil will ask the hobos on the way home. Yes, that will help sort that out.
With his evening concluded, Bogomil joins Old Borris and the Matron at the bar, "I hope business is well Master Borris?" Bogomil asks, nodding at the response before adding, "The day grows long, and I begin to tire. Is your business concluded Mistress?"
DM-Boneyard Ben: (Me too. I love mentally disturbed Characters. *Looks at Orellow*)
Near as you can tell, you manage a great impression of a nervous school boy with his first crush.
Your bombastic closing prayer is met with a number of "awws" and a couple of the patrons stopping you to ask if your alright. The Joyous priest usually not having many tears to shed. But, a simple matter to deal with after explaining that your just so gosh darn full of joy it welled to your eyes or something of that effect.
The Homeless of Clifton are certainly few as the Duchess sees that all in her Duchy are well seen after but there are always the few stragglers, and a couple that prefer to live on the streets or among the underground. They would most certainly know about goings on under the streets of Clifton.
"Hmm?" The Barkeeps says swiveling his head to meet your gaze. Seems you caught them in a very riveting conversation. Or at least Borris. The Matron seems her usual collected self "Ahh! Of course! Hear I am taking all the Matron's time with idle chatter like an old hen, yes, of course" He says, taking a cloth out to wipe his head as he bows to her and makes his way to see to the tables. "So, where will you whisk me off to now, Mr. Priest?" Maribel asks with a giggle. "Oh no you don't!" You hear another female voice chime in followed soon by a firm grip on your shoulder. You turn to see Goldie looming over you with a smile that looks like it would be better suited on a cat. A cat looking at a mouse. "Maribel's staying with me tonight, you've had her all to yourself for who knows how long and I've not yet had my fill. She's my charge. Her protection will be at my hands" She states with seeming no room to argue.
DM-Delfon: (Unlike Orellow, my character is perfectly sane. Each of his personas are crafted to help him in some manner. He is more of an actor with a few solid characters than a crazy person.)
"Tears of joy my friend, tears of joy!" He says in response to his flocks concern. "I am simply overflowing with joy."
Bogomil turns his face up to Goldie, "Ah, but now we have a conundrum." The priest raises an eyebrow, and his smile brightens, "It is clear that we should do whatever brings the greatest joy, but what would that be?" He shrugs out of Goldie's grip, and moves around behind the Matron. "Just knowing that you're here, and safe brings me more joy than I thought possible." He begins kneading the tension out of her shoulders, "Mistress Goldie would garner much joy from your company, catching up and whatnot." Moving back around in front of Goldie, he gives one of his signature exaggerated bows, "Alas, both of us are being selfish. What does M'lady wish?" He pivots to look at the Matron. Using only his eyes so Goldie can't see, he indicates that the Matron should go with Goldie.
DM-Boneyard Ben: (True. But, how long can you play a character before the lines between you two start to blur? Muahaha!)
The Matron putting on a girlish attitude, giggles and turns away. "Goodness, what's a woman to do with so much attention focused on her, can hardly-" She begins before the bigger woman cuts in and grabs her, scooping her up. "Dibs!" Goldie shouts and takes off upstairs. You hear the Matron's laughing protests about how dibs is not a proper form of acquiring something you want, and how unladylike Goldie is acting before her voice is drowned out by the laughter that erupts from the room. Seems the locals are used to Goldie's forward attitude, it has been a few weeks after all.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil laughs heartily as Goldie makes her way upstairs. He takes a moment to appreciate her retreating figure before making one final circuit of the room. Now having passed on the blessings of Lliira, he heads off into the night. Along the way home he seeks out the riffraff that most people try to avoid in the night. He gives a coin here, and a sandwich there to those that need it. Exchanges some juicy gossip with a group of prostitutes that are between jobs. Entertains a lonely street urchin with a few Minor Illusions. Approaches a group of street toughs that are looking to rob someone foolish enough to be out at night alone, and warns them of an approaching trio of guards. He specifically seeks out one of his homeless contacts to ask about the singing from the sewers. Bogomil wants to find out if there is any truth to the rumors he heard earlier.
DM-Boneyard Ben: The grimy masses of Clifton are happy to see Bogomil. Their downward faces turning bright at the joyous priests bounding steps. With a flourish here, a coin there and a few choice words you leave the men and women of the distraught district with a smile and hope for better days. You manage to pick up that the local harlot's aren't working the streets much anymore. Seems a new face is controlling the Bordello and they're offering safety and shelter. Many of the leash holders for those girls have disappeared or been recruited by the mysterious new head. Although some think its too good to be true and claim some niece's nephew's second removed cousin disappeared because of a tough word against the Bordello.
The Urchin's of the city are part of a secretive network or so you've puzzled out. Few in the city will even acknowledge the children so they can move about like ghosts and often have too, unless they get scooped up by the Duchess' guard and brought to the new Orphanage for.. Shudder... A proper education. Nothing today like it once was, the Duchess seen to that, but these children want to be free to do what they like, not be dressed up and sat in front of books to become proper members of society with a Trade or Profession. Yuck.
In your heart you know the Duchess would have the Prince walking lines if she knew but these kids have the choice and besides you need them, they're some of the best eyes and ears in the city. From what you manage to gather it seems a Blue Sun symbol has been cropping up as well as whispers that a new hand is playing in the city among the Theive's guilds. Very troubling. Nothing about singing though. Although the kids tend to avoid alley's where drunkards like to play.
The streets toughs give you a thankful nod and make their way away from the guard's new patrol route. You are sure they'll be eyeing down a cut purse or two that gives you a wrong look, handy, if not exactly the way Bogomil would like things.
Finally you come to the Channel. The many interconnecting waterways among the city making up an underground world that is out of people's feet, perfect for the homeless and downtrodden who rather their life among the half barrel, broken crate, cardboard and old blanket houses. The Beggars, Scrap Collectors and Miserables make up this underground society. Out in force during the day, picking through trash, begging for food and coin or just wandering the streets screaming about the coming of DOOM. Your sure they would greet you with a gleeful "Bogomil!" But some of their kin are sensitive to sudden and loud noises. So for company you have a friendly smile here, a cough over there and a nod of the head.
"Mister Priest" Comes a hoarse voice from the shadows. A man shambles into your vision with patchwork clothing and a poorly grown beard. Its marred by scars including one over his milky white eye. His other eye is a sickly green that follows you sharply. "The Baron wishes to see you" He says and covers his mouth with his left hand as he starts a coughing fit. In his right he offers you a head-sized sack.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil is unsure if this is one of the poor souls that has lost their wits, or a representative of the leader of this band of rabble. Either way he doesn't wish to offend, but he also doesn't wish to be blind to whatever comes next. "The Baron himself wishes to see my humble person?" Bogomil offers the shambling man one of his exaggerated bows, "I will be happy to attend him at once, but I have a couple requests." He says such eyeing the sack, and suspecting that it is meant to go over his head. "The first request is of you good sir. Tomorrow, you meet me and we visit a friend of mine to see about your injuries. You've gone though the trouble of fetching me for the Baron, it is the least I can do in return. As to the second" He smiles, making somatic motions with his hands as a very opaque looking hood falls over his face, "As you can see, I've brought my own hood." (using my items to make a thick hood, that I can still see through... a little)
Deception: 13+8=21 (lie about being able to see)
Persuasion: 10+8=18
DM-Boneyard Ben: You see the man visibly recoil at the request to see your friend, and you see him slink back and stare at you horrified when you make the hood appear. "Tomorrow, then" He says and limps off, disappearing among the makeshift houses. "Hoo hoo, buddy" Laughs an elderly woman squatting near a small fire off to the side. "Youse made a mistake" She laughs again. When you inquire what mistake she looks at you with a cocked eye, and grin as if to ask if your being serious. When your expression doesn't change she smiles, and then sighs. "'ow many o' your noble types likes being told "No"? Hmm?" You put on your best face and explain you never said no, you just postponed the meeting. She laughs harder at that. "Boi, youse thick" She says between laughs. "Baron gots tings to do hisself, wha makes youse so great? Hmm? That youse gets ta say when youse sees him, hmm? Is youse the Prince?" She roars with laughter, falling on her side. Several of the other homeless join her, their laughs dark and ominous. For your part, you get a distinct feeling you done goofed.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil smiles at his agreement, and starts after the limping man until the woman speaks. He paused to listen, then says, “Mistakes have been made, yes. By all parties yourself included.” Gesturing toward the woman, “The first mistake that needs correction is my nobility. I have never been, nor lay any claim to such a title. I am but a humble priest that wishes to bring joy into the lives of all that I meet.” He bows then, taking the woman’s hand and pressing a single gold into it, “As to putting off the Baron? I wouldn’t dream of missing out on meeting such personage.” When he sees her confusion, he explains, “The mention of tomorrow was to have that limping fellow’s wounds tended. Perhaps you would help clear up this little misunderstanding?” He pauses, taking both her hands in his and earnestly looking into her eyes, “Please. It would bring me such joy.”
Standing, He cloaks himself in his hood once more, and asks her to lead him to the Baron or someone that can do the leading. Standing there surrounded by the homeless, Bogomil is still at his ease.
DM-Boneyard Ben: After a time you find yourself trying to stare outside your bag, with your Elven vision making pitch blackness seem like dim light, and the patchy obscuring bag its almost impossible to tell where your going, a turn here a turn there, a straight away and isn't this where you were before? You could've sworn you seen that crack in the stone before?
Your led about for an hour or so before your suddenly pulled to the side you hear the sound of stone grinding on stone and then you hear a voice. An older man's voice that sounds somewhere between a whisper and a groan. "Remove the bag, if you please". You remove the bag and find yourself in a cramped room. The whole thing maybe being 15x15 feet. You see wide steps before you leading up to a pile of rags and pillows and mats made to almost look like a throne. Inclining on it is a rat-faced man. No... A man-sized rat? Whatever it is, its fed very very well. It wears a coat, shirt and pants that could swallow you whole and each article struggles to contain the creature's girth. "I offer you greetings priest, on this, the day of my niece's best friend's mother's wedding, I am the Baron Under Town, you may call me... Fred"
DM-Delfon: Bogomil gives one of his fancy exaggerated bows, flourishing his cloak to exaggerate the movements. "Greetings, and well met Baron Undertown, excuse me, Fred. Though you seem to know me, I offer introductions anyway. My name is Bogomil, Joybringer of Lliira." Bogomil's bow ends in the correct courtly position befitting a priest meeting a true Baron. Where he stays until told to do otherwise. "Do you require my services to officiate at your niece's best friend's mother's wedding? Or perhaps my contacts within the city for a party planner? I happen to know just the fellow." Bogomil seems completely at his ease, even if Embros is trying to take the reins and get out of here. Prince Charles clamps down on his thoughts and let's Bogomil go with the flow, it's far to late to flee anyway. Ezra must be mentally reading a book, because nothing about this situation is within his area of expertise.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 15, 2019 8:29:52 GMT -5
DM-Boneyard Ben: "Baron Fred" The rat creature corrects when you simply call him Fred. He says no more and you continue. Once done he shakes his head. "No, priest, I have already seen that they have the best entertainment possible" He informs sounding somewhat ominous but you think its just cause of how he talks. "I require your divine expertise in... Another manner" He says taking a pause that seems to think he's trying to find the right words. "You see these tunnels carry many threats" He says gesturing around. "But, they are a safe haven for the down trodden and I would very much like it to stay that way" Again, that sounded like a threat, but he can't be talking about you. "A ghost haunts this place and I wish for you to exorcise it" He says simply. "You do this for me and I will owe a favor to you, any demand you wish without question" You feel the Prince's ears prick up.
DM-Delfon: "Baron Fred, quite right. My apologizes." Another formal bow, this one stiffer than the last. Perhaps nervous? Perhaps annoyed. Actually just playing the part of a chastised subject. "A ghost you say." Bogomil nods, "Ghosts are among the saddest souls in existence. I would love to help, but I believe you have mistaken a priest for a cleric." Bogomil seems genuinely disappointed about that difference. "You see, I do not wield the divine power of Lliira. I am unable to perform an exorcism." Bogomil holds up his hands to forestall any objections. "I will still offer my assistance, but I felt that you needed to know that it would only be the assistance of a man, not a conduit of divine power." Bogomil bows again, this time deeply.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Baron Fred nods his head approvingly when you correct yourself and bow. Despite his demeanor he seems a stickler for due respect weather its asked for or not. The many folds in his fat rat face crease disapprovingly when you say you have no power. "Perhaps you think me a fool, Priest, and perhaps I am, but I have it on good source that you exorcised a man's soul of his sin, whilst still in his body, holy flames if I recall." He lets that hang in the air for a time before continuing. "If that is not Llira's power than what did you call on?" The old woman looks at you with a cocked eye herself.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil smiles brightly at his recognition of the scene mentioned, "Ah such exuberance!" Bogomil nods enthusiastically, "It is a rare sight to see pure joy worn by an adult. Most are too weighed down by their responsibilities to feel such." Glancing up at Baron Fred, Bogomil realizes that he didn't actually explain the situation, "Apologies Baron Fred, I was carried away by the memory." Taking a moment to summon his arcane energy, Bogomil dances flames across his fingers once more. Letting it build slowly while he speaks until his hands are fully engulfed in flames, "The man you speak of did not need to be exorcised, his soul was already pure." Bogomil smiles, "His heart was heavy with sadness. All I did was burn out the sadness." The flames glow brighter when he says the word burn, then they fade out. "Lliira has never bestowed me with her divine energy." He says truthfully, "I was tutored in a few minor magics as a child, that's all there is to it."
DM-Boneyard Ben: "So, I see" The large rat man says, scratching one of his many chins in thought. "Then, what assistance can you offer to see to this ghost problem?" He asks, leaning from his chair and looking over you with his dark beady eyes. "The last man I sent came back thrice the age I sent him, you would be risking more than your life here, Mr. Priest" he warns.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil smiles, "I think I would look quite debonair with a bit of gray about the temples." he fans his temples where the hypothetical gray would be. "Jokes aside, all creatures want joy in their lives." A moment later he adds, "or unlives." He shrugs, "Lliira will see that I have all I need when the time comes." His tone speaks as if that's the end of that, a decided fact, "I am happy to help, but first I have some research to do. Tomorrow I'm tending to one of your men's wounds. The fellow you sent to fetch me. While there I will collect what I need to deal with your ghost problem. Then your man can take me where I need to go. That is, if that is acceptable to you Baron Fred." He bows again, showing his supplication to this rat-man.
DM-Boneyard Ben: There is a moment of contemplation on the fat rat man's face before he nods. "Yes, yes. Very acceptable, whether or not Maverick goes with you is a matter of his choosing but, I ask that you not involve the Church in UnderTown affairs, they have a history of pushing their beliefs despite protests to the contrary" Baron Fred says smoothly. If there is nothing more that needs to be said, the Baron offers you his hand (not doing so will result in a fight) and has you bagged and taken out of the room, gently. You remove the bag after you hear the sounds of the Shantytown, at the edge, near the docks you see the scarred man. "Baron says you wanted to see me" He says. You explain that you want to take him to be healed to which you see him cringe and say: "Don't like magic, no thanks" and he walks back to the Shantytown. Anything else?
DM-Delfon: Bogomil nods again, "I only seek information from the church, and perhaps a trinket or two to protect myself from your ghost." When his hand is offered, Bogomil does as needed to get out of there safely. Later outside in Shanty town, Bogomil greets Maverick, "Maverick my friend, apologies for the misunderstanding earlier. I should have spoken more clearly." Once together, Bogomil explains the situation regarding his being healed, and is surprised as the man walks away. "Maverick, wait please." Falling in beside the man, he continues, "If you have an issue with magic, I can request that none be used. Please Maverick, allow Lliira to bring joy into your life through this humble Joydancer." He pauses for a moment, "Besides I could use the company."
Persuasion: 1d20+8=13+8=21
DM-Boneyard Ben: The ragged man purses his lips together thoughtfully for a while. It gets to the point that you almost feel like your dragging him unwillingly versus convincing him to go, but eventually he nods.
The Pelorian temple can be spotted from almost anywhere in Clifton. A bright shining building of sun kissed yellow with stained glass windows almost as tall and wide as the buildings walls, it stands almost like a beacon in the city of drab colors and dark corners. Even among the bright houses and meticulously arranged gardens of the Nobles it stands tall and proud, almost apart, as if it belonged in a place other than here. The wide open doors and smiling men and women arranged in gold or yellow with depictions of the Sun stitched into their cloth warmly greet injured elders being led by youths, crying children and various others in through the doors. Your stopped by one such smiling woman. But you have a distinct feeling her smile is a bit forced as if something weighs on her heart. Her golden hair sways and you get flash backs to tall beauty with a great stack but this girl is a head shorter than you and her eyes are bright blue and inviting like the sky. Not smoldering and suggestive in anyway. She has a nurses eyes as you soon figure. Despite never leaving your eyes she immediately picks out the ragged fellow behind you and asks if your here to have him treated or in there is something else she can help with. She introduces herself as Gardenia Maloy and wish the blessing of Pelor upon you.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil does what Bogomil does best, bring joy. He greets everyone he passes with a wave and a smile, complements flow to both men and woman alike as he makes his way up to the High District. Along the way Bogomil gently tries to find out why the beggar is so against magic, admitting that he himself is a touch biased since he can cast a few trivial spells. At the gates he explains to the bored, but vigilant guard that they're making a pilgrimage to the Temple. Adding that he will see to it that the nobles within will give his companion no trouble at all, said with a joking smile. Even with all the glad handing, Bogomil still tries to make good time to the Temple.
Once there he greets Mistress Gardenia Maloy with a flourishing bow, much deeper than her station would warrant, "Good lady to answer your question I must say both, and perhaps a third option as well." Standing once more, Bogomil gestures to his companion, "I have indeed come to see to this man's wounds. Additionally, I seek knowledge regarding a spirit that has been bothering the locals lately. Specifically, how to deal with them or at the least defend myself against their abilities. This one has aged men just by looking at them. Lastly my dear, Lliira has brought me before you. Something is weighing upon you, and I would unburden you of that weight. First thing's first, can you assess this man's injuries?"
Persuasion: 9+8=17
DM-Boneyard Ben: On your trip your scarred companion is tight lipped, giving little more than a nod or grunt to your chatter in his direction. He visibly recoils at any talk about magic no matter what tactics you use.
Gardenia seems surprised at your flourish and barrage of requests but clears her throat and takes on a look of steely determination. "I am capable of assessing his wounds but thats a job for the Medical ward, mine is to see that you find what your looking for. Medical is in the west wing" She says and happily gestures to her left where you see many bandaged and injured folks headed. "What you describe sounds much like a Ghost. A particularly tricky undead. Easiest way to deal with is to let the local Clerics do the work, they will Turn it or see its soul is laid to rest" She informs (DC 15 Arcana to know about Turning) and motions behind her to where the main chapel is. "If you want to handle the creature yourself, I'd recommend counsel from the clerics and perhaps a Spell Scroll of Protection From Undead, now only 50 gp for the spell scroll or 20 gold to have it cast on you for a 10 minute time frame of having immunity to possession, frightening or charming from the horrid Undeath" She takes on a tone of a expert sales woman and even you yourself feel its a good deal and you'd be foolish not to her her up on the offer. She clears her throat and some sorrow fills her eyes. "My brother is..." Her eyes become downcast. "Well... Was an adventurer, he left with his party and a new fellow to defeat some goblins who'd killed their companion" She pauses. "Only the new fellow came back" and sighs. "Stories vary as they do" She gives a defeated shrug and half smile. "Some say he killed them all, some say it was a monstrous creature from the Abyss, others claim the goblins were casters and there were hundreds more than originally thought, the end of this though is a proclamation from the head guard that came out declaring the place too dangerous for people so I cannot even recover my dear Brother's body" Tears well up in the girls eyes but she fights them down. Swallows hard and looks back up with a determined smile. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" She asks, taking on more of her cherry self from earlier.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil glances at the west wing, and nods to show that he understands. Bogomil smiles at the priestess, "I'm not sure what turning a spirit about will do, but I'll keep that in mind." The smile could have been to show that he actually knew what it was, and was making a joke. Or it could have been to hide his ignorance, those smiles are similar enough that the difference is negligible. Regardless, he says, "I will see the clergy for advice once I've seen to my friend here. And the last?" The question at the end is added with a soft tone, gently persuading her to continue. As the tears fill her eyes, Bogomil begins to open his arms to hug the woman. He has seen the unburdening of emotion bring people to tears so many times before, and they often want to hug someone - even a stranger. When she tramps her emotions back down, Bogomil nods at her, and smiles one of his brightest smiles, "My dear, do not let sorrow fill your heart. This I can help with. You see I have a friend that is allowed outside the walls even when others are not. I can enlist his help in recovering your brother's body. I will need to know all I can about this new man as well. If he is responsible for their deaths, I should think he will face justice for that."
Rolls: Arcana 10+0=10
DM-Boneyard Ben: You'll know the term Turning refers to a Clerical practice that chases away Undead but little more than that. You also heard it said that when a powerful enough Cleric turns an undead they become subservient to the Cleric, thus the term Turncoat. Although, Pelor hates undead so that seems out of place The girl recovers before you can even get your arms up to offer an embrace, seems she strong willed. She brightens exponentially when you mention your "friend". "How fortuitous!" She exclaims happily as she claps her hands together. "Master Boris of the Wayfarer's Rest will know the most about the whereabouts as to the other fellow... Well" Her cheeks color slightly. "The rumors are all over the place and I cannot get away from my duties here to chase hearsay" She draws in a breath. "I can tell you what most of the sources agree on, his name is Orellow" She says with a satisfied smile.
(Deception to cover shock? Idk it might be appropriate, we both seen this coming a mile off but Charles might be surprised)
DM-Delfon: Bogomil doesn't bother to hide his shock at the mention of Orellow's name. "I have heard that name before, and I believe I have even met the man. He seems boisterous, and bears the mark of Heironeous if my memory serves." He goes on to give a brief description of Orellow, strokes just broad enough to paint a picture of the man. Assuming that she verifies my description Bogomil adds, "Then I will be sure to speak to Old Boris, excuse me, Master Boris at the Wayfarer's Rest. It will take me some time to make the arrangements, my friend is a very busy man."
After thanking Gardenia with another overly formal bow, Bogomil takes the hobo into the west wing for healing. He has the fellow wait somewhere, and finds a cleric to explain the issues the man has with magic. "See what you can do through mundane means, but unless you can hide the blessings of Pelor my companion will not be pleased."
DM-Boneyard Ben: Gardenia seems outwardly aghast. "Heironious?!" She breathes. "There must some mistake no man with a symbol for the Oeridian god of Chivalry would dare murder someone in cold blood, I couldn't begin to fathom it and I fear he may be insulted if I were to think so" She says in a low panic. Seeming frazzled by the prospect. "Goodness, please send him my apologies, I thought so many dark things like calling the guards, I would hate for him to take a disliking to me" She asks distraught. Calling the guards is dark? This girl would faint in your boots. After saying you'll pass along the message (cause of course you did its Bogomil why leave a lady distressed). She waves you off gratefully and moves herself on to help the next approaching person. Watching her for a time you see her quickly approach, nod a direction with some swift words and a joke. Those she approaches always leave her company with a smile and a sense of knowing. She also seems very quick to notice who requires attention and who does not. A very capable and sociable young lady. Perhaps a good source of Intel in the high district? Many come to Perlor to incur favor. What would be wrong about sending them your way? Or Emboros'? Or Ezra's?
You swiftly find yourself to the West Wing. A large rectangular room with windows one side almost the size of the walls leading out to a colorful garden. The mass majority of this room is filled with small beds that have in them a menagerie of sick or hurt people. Broken arm there, swollen head here, a heavy cough, the usual sort. Your found at the entry way by a lady wearing a white dress that goes up to her neck but ends just below her knees. Its all one piece and has buttons on one side. She also wears a hat that seems little more than a simple square on her head with a sun emblazoned on it. She directs you both to a bed and soon after another woman approaches, this one wearing a simple dress with a white coat that ends just below her knees. She refers to herself as Healer Havana. She sits your scarred companion down and assures him she is incapable of magic. She preforms a series of tests on him ranging from taping his knee with a small hammer to looking at his tongue, she talks quick and is a dazzlingly delightful blend of fun and business, having a quick joke or fun comment as she instructs on the next task. When all is said and done she gives her diagnosis. (DC 15 Medicine check) What it boils down to though is that your man's scar is festering and its effecting his vision. She recommends to keep him overnight to treat the wound with herbs and clean bandages he'll need to soak out the infection. He seems outwardly against the idea. Shifting his gaze around to the various clerics moving about their business. (DC 20 Persuasion)
DM-Delfon: Holding his hands up in a staying motion, Bogomil says, "Be at ease good lady, I am certain that a follower of a chivalrous deity would also forgive such dark thoughts given the circumstances." Smiling now, Bogomil continues, "I will pass along your words, and I will have your brother's body seen to." As Bogomil walks to the west wing he nods to himself, seeing threads connecting in his web of influence within Clifton growing once again.
This is Bogomil's time to shine, bringing joy into the world is what he does best. Bogomil lets his companion take the lead to follow the staff to the bed, purposely falling behind to spread a little joy to the sick and injured. Quietly, but with many flourishes Bogomil uses his magical gift with Minor Illusions to entertain those that he passes. That lady with the sling is given a glowing flower that bursts into glitter when she touches it. Whatever she touches with her glitter covered fingers becomes glitter covered as well. He juggles glowing balls for a child until a woman passes, when he stops to bow, with a cloak flourish of course, the balls keep juggling on their own. Pretending to notice them after he straightens, he looks surprised and leaps back to continue juggling long enough to put them away in non-existent pockets. After presenting his case to the nurse, he goes back to entertaining the crowd while the scarred man is looked over. A collection of other silent gags are presented to the crowd, each specifically adapted to the person he is trying to entertain at the time. He watches the rest of the crowd for clues as to what they would like to see, and keeps adapting his performance until he has a smile on as many faces as he can.
Once the scarred man is finished being tested, Bogomil excuses himself from the crowd and goes to hear the prognosis. Nodding sagely, Bogomil confirms, "That is what I suspected as well." Knowing the scarred man will not want to stay, Bogomil continues with his showman's voice, "My good man, you wear your apprehension like a Tinker's cloak. Think of it this way..." He trails off for a dramatic moment, then he leans in and lowers his voice for his companion's ear alone, "Tonight you will sleep in a proper bed. Eat simple, but nourishing food, all the while surrounded by beautiful women." He adds the last with a side eye at the most attractive member of staff in the room. If she notices, Bogomil winks at her. "Lastly, you will be far away from this magic wielding fool, as I take care of your ghost problem back home." Standing back up, he turns to address Healer Havana, "I believe my companion will be staying for treatment after all, yes?" The question is directed over his shoulder to the scarred man.
Rolls: (D20srd dice bag loves me tonight) Medicine: 19+0=19 Persuasion: 20 (nat) + 8 = 28 Perform: 20 (nat) +4 = 24
DM-Boneyard Ben: As is the norm for Bogomil, your cheery disposition and tricks make smiles blossom across the face of many a patient and healer. Every step you take is like walking through a dust riddled attic but in these case instead of dust flying about, its smiles. Ooh's & Ahh's as well as nods of approval. The entire atmosphere seems to light up and the world a better place for it. With your decent perception you manage to notice a dark haired woman moving about the background, seemingly approving of your making everyone happy.
Emboros is quite familiar with the man's wounds. Many of which, the adventurer had taken himself (The actual Emboros. Not you.). The Prince recognizes them from the Stories he was told of Emboros' military days and manages to spark a rather informed conversation with the Healer. The scarred man seems reserved about staying in a place with so many people who can cast magic but at your word he nods, quietly and seems to almost want to stay, but that can't be right...
On your way out of the West Wing (Assuming your done here and your headed to the chapel) you bump into the dark haired woman. She smiles at you and offers an apology and then heads on her way. You feel a smile coming on yourself and catch from the corner of your eye a small coin on the ground. The face, looking up at you is the symbol of Lliira. You pick it up and turn to give it to the woman (who you assume dropped it) only to see the woman has vanished. You turn the coin in your hand and become wide eyed. as on the other side, etched in a flowing script are the words;
To Charles. May This Bring You Joy -L
On the instant you alert. Emboros all but taking over as you whirl around and ready yourself for the coming ambush. You look left, look right, but there is no physically conceivable place she could have gone out of your sight in such a short time. You look about for armed guards or assassins but find none waiting. You are alone. You look at the coin again and your natural magic prowess tells you this coin is magical in nature but to find what its capable of you'll need some time. What you do with it is your choice.
With your heartbeat settled down and re assuming your Bogomil guise you make your way to the chapel and find a priest who can help you with whatever your seeking.
DM-Delfon: Once Bogomil has gotten himself back under control, he laughs. Looking to the heavens, he silently offers a brief prayer to Lliira, ‘You might not be my patron deity, but the joy I bring in your name is real. I hope this gift.’ He says holding the coin tightly in his fist, ‘shows that you are not opposed to my Bogomil persona.’ He nods then, and makes his way into the chapel proper.
Once there he seeks out the priest with the biggest hat, or fanciest clothing. Failing that, he just asks for the person that would be most informed about ghosts. Once the priest has been informed of the peticulars of the situation, Bogomil will seek out a potion to protect him from the aging and possession. He also seeks out information on the motivations that drive a ghosts actions. ’If I play this situation correctly I might be able to earn the assistance of a ghost and the hobo population of Clifton.’
DM-Boneyard Ben: You don't find men with hats among the the Clergy of Pelor. Some nonsense about them wanting to feel the blessings of their patron, but you worship Shar and hoods are like a requirement and Oh! Wait a minute. Okay, you got it now.
Anyway, you find the Cleric with the fanciest vestments you can and he informs you a great deal on ghosts including some stuff you may or may not understand (Insert Int check here). But lore is easily grasped. A ghost is the soul of a once-living creature, bound to haunt a specific location, creature, or object that held significance to it in its life. A ghost yearns to complete some unresolved task from its life. It might seek to avenge its own death, fulfill an oath, or relay a message to a loved one. A ghost might not realize that it has died and continue the everyday routine of its life. Others are driven by wickedness or spite, as with a ghost that refuses to rest until every member of a certain family or organization is dead. The surest way to rid an area of a ghost is to resolve its unfinished business. A ghost can be destroyed more easily by invoking a weakness tied to its former life. The ghost of a person tortured to death might be killed again by the implements of that torture. The ghost of a gardener might become more vulnerable when exposed to a potent floral fragrance. Sensations of profound sadness, loneliness, and unfulfilled yearning emanate from places where ghostly hauntings occur. Strange sounds or unnatural silences create an unsettling atmosphere. Cold spots settle in rooms that have roaring fires. A choking stench might seep into the area, inanimate objects might move of their own accord, and corpses might rise from the grave. The ghost has no control over these manifestations; they simply occur. Finally, a ghost doesn't require air, food, drink, or sleep. The Cleric finishes his lecture by offering to assit you in your ghostly expedition, to which you deny cause the Homeless wouldn't be pleased by such things. Though his next offer is for a Scroll of Protection from Undead which will grant you a number of benefits against the dreaded creature for 50gp. He also tells you there is a Ring Of Resistance (Necrotic) that was suppose to be given to their Sun Solider (A warrior under Pelor's order who's entire purpose is to slay Undead) but their hasn't been one in decades because there has been almost no undead in the area. So, the church opts to loan it to adventurers for 50gp a day.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil shrugs when he discovers that the clergy of Pelor denote rank with fancy dress instead of progressively larger hats, 'Maybe it was another Deity whose followers do the hat thing.' Bogomil thinks to himself as he approaches the fellow with the fancy vestments. Bogomil listens intently to the Cleric's lecture, mentally taking notes of everything, since he's not entirely sure which piece of information could save his life once he goes to confront the Ghost. "So they haunt a person, place, or thing? If it's a thing, does destroying the thing get rid of the ghost?" Bogomil accepts the protection scroll, pulling out a battered leather pouch containing five gems. If appraised they're worth about ten gold each. "That should cover the scroll. I'd also like to borrow that ring of yours, but alas my funding is insufficient. Perhaps a trade? I did just entertain a ward full of the sick and injured." Bogomil pauses for a moment, then adds with a smile, "Unless I'm mistaken, I believe that laughter is sometimes the best medicine." Just to drive home the value in trade Bogomil speaks up one more time, "Besides, I go to deal with an undead creature, just like one of your Sun Soldiers. Would Pelor not want me best prepared for such an encounter?" Bogomil ends with a questioning raised eyebrow. 'I hope that was enough, and not too much...' He thinks to himself while he waits for the man's response.
Rolls: Intelligence 17+0=17 I know things about ghosts now Deception: 12+8=20 I have enough coins on me to cover the rental of the ring. Persuasion 11+8=19 Give me that ring buddy.
DM-Boneyard Ben: The priest seems skeptical at first until one of the Healers comes running up and expresses a metric tonne of thanks for making everyone in the West wing brighten up. Then the Priest agrees with your every demand fervently. It makes all the sense in the world that you'd use the ring for slaying undead. He informs you the ring can be tracked so even if you fail its a simple task to retrieve it (Adds a certain level of "Don't mess this up or bad shit will occur").
You got a Scroll Of Protection From Undead! (See Spell: Protection From Good and Evil for the nitty gritty) You acquired a Ring Of Resistance (Necrotic)! You know things about Undead! (Including that breaking the object they reside in will send them from this mortal plane) You successfully deceived a Priest! You got that ring, buddy!
DM-Delfon: Stowing the arcane paper in his scroll case, Bogomil smiles as he slides the magical ring onto his finger. "Does it work automatically, or will I need grow accustomed to tapping it's powers?" With his tasks at the Temple complete, Bogomil heads back to the hobo king for directions. If he needs to attune to the ring, he will find a quiet place to do so along the way. Once he is safely back in Shanty Town, Bogomil seeks out an escort to Baron Fred. Standing before the lycanthrope, Bogomil once again gives a flourishing bow. Once allowed to speak, Bogomil taps his pack and smiles up at the fat rat person, "I have what I need, where was the creature last seen?" Last Edit: Jul 19, 2018 at 3:14pm by DM-Delfon
DM-Boneyard Ben: You are informed that the ring will need to "Attune" to your energies. The priest describes it like making a bond with the item. Sharing a special link. He warns though that Attuning can also be dangerous. Some items have a mind all their own or have souls trapped within them and can posses or otherwise control you. He then reassures you that no such thing exists in the ring you hold. He also tells that for a yet undiscovered reason one person can only attune with 3 items at a time. He shrugs at that one and muses that it may simply be a limit of the mind. With your items in hand you take to the streets.
One Jovial jaunt later...
"I express my thanks to you" Comes the soft tones of Baron Fred after you've informed him you're ready to fight the ghost. "Know that even if you fail your efforts will not be looked down on here in the Shanties" He says making a large gesture. Probably toward the town. He then... Shrinks? He seems to, his large form getting smaller and more rat-like until it all but disappears into the makeshift throne. Several hobos seem to appears from the shadows and move as one, dismantling the throne and revealing a metal barred door, that seems rusted and old. It creaks ominously as it is swung open and you're let out into the Depths of the water ways. The door slams behind you after you enter. "Just let us when you are done in there, Sonny and we'll let ya in" Comes an old crone's voice. There's a left path and a right. There is a 5 foot drop off of the walkway you occupy before there is water. The water itself is too dark to know how deep it is but the current seems to go left. You note that this place doesn't reek as much as you thought it would.
DM-Delfon: Before I head through the gate, I will get basic directions to where the hobos encountered the ghost before. I head in that direction, unless directions are not available, or simply not reliable enough. In that case I follow the flow of the perfectly clean water. Charles' thoughts bubble to the surface, 'I thought when I escaped through the sewers back home, that that would be the last time I would ever have to wander around in a place like this.' Bogomil retorts, 'Oh, it's not so bad. At least it isn't as gross down here as I was expecting.' Bogomil always finds the silver lining, even when discussing a stroll through the city sewer system.
DM-Boneyard Ben: You are informed that the ghost seems to move about. They have tried several times to pin the Ghost down. Keep it in a certain section so they can move about the waterways in peace but nope. it always seems to show up somewhere else. Thats why the door to the water ways is locked. You also find out this aren't sewers. There are ancient waterways that Clifton was built on. Many a scholar has theorized that these were used to travel from place to place. Much like the roads above. The waters were still until they opened up into the ocean, now there are currents, undertows and various other dangers lurking in what is now called "the Depths". You are also, for some strange reason given a wooden stick with a metal hook on one end. Like a Shepard's crook but you think you've seen sailors use something similar. You travel left for about 20 feet, marveling at the smooth patterned stone but staying alert to danger. You come to a plus shaped section. To your left and in front of you there is a rope danging from the middle of the waterways ceiling. You think you know why you got the hook now. To your right the path continues. What will you do?
DM-Delfon: Using the hook as needed to bring the rope within reach Bogomil smiles, as he ponders the simplistic nature of the mechanism. By his reasoning the safest way through any maze is to follow a wall, so that is what Bogomil sets out to do. Running the fingertips of his left hand along the smooth stone Bogomil begins his journey, turning left whenever the opportunity presents itself.
Unless he needs both of his hands for something, Bogomil has the defensive scroll in hand and ready to cast at a moments notice. At each intersection he will scratch a small mark into the wall at eye level. Just to make sure he doesn’t accidentally double back. This might not be the fastest way to explore, but at least this way he can be sure to find what he’s looking for.
DM-Boneyard Ben: You keep your hand to the left for an undetermined amount of time. It doesn't feel like too long has passed, honestly. Listening to the flow of water and the feeling of your hand brushing the smooth wall, you seem to get lost in the motions of just walking. It isn't like trudging through the swamp or dancing through the streets. There are no people, no pit falls and you can see fairly clearly in all directions thanks to your Elven heritage. Despite being on a ghost hunt you feel fairly relaxed. You also take notice of the walls themselves. The stones patterns seem to be symbols from a by gone era. An old form of Common perhaps? Or maybe a language you don't know. Hard to say. You also notice a pattern as you walk. Hall. Chamber. Hall. Chamber. Hall. Its almost like a spider's web with each chamber branching off in several directions. It would probably be really easy to get lost save for each hall and chamber having their own symbols. Curious. As you exit the hall continuing to follow the stone wall your left into. Surprise, surprise. Another chamber but in this one there are several pitons driven into the walls and connections old ropes and rusted chains to what appears to be a small housing complex floating on the water. It seems to be made up of broken boats, old wharves, pieces of houses and debris as well as various other things seeming recycled from the city. Its all held together with tape, nails, glue and seemingly whatever can hold it. You even see what appears to be tree sap on one corner. As you travel there is a ramp to a dock that leads right up to the open 10 foot wide doorway. Do you want to explore or continue on your way?
DM-Delfon: Bogomil takes note of the various symbols, trying to place the chambers and their codes into a map in his head. After a few chambers he mentally hands off the menial task to Ezra to work on as he focus’ on ghost hunting.
Bogomil raises and eyebrow at the curious structure, ’Is this a hobo shelter? Or something else? I guess I’ll have to explore it, if for no other reason than to clear it of ghosts.’
Taking a minute to figure out which rope would cause the bridge to lurch the most if cut, Bogomil moves to it and calls out loud enough to be heard inside, but not to carry too far, “Hello in there, anybody home?” If there is no response Bogomil will tap on one of the nearby chains to make a bit of noise, and maybe a vibration. If there is still no response Bogomil will venture inside slowly, and carefully.
DM-Boneyard Ben: With no response aside from the water and the creak of wood from the structure itself you find yourself at the door way in question. The inside looks exactly how you thought it might. There are various carpets, blankets and other soft materials of different cuts and size laid all bout the interior, making several beds or softly places to rest. There are various halls that meet in the center of the structure making a plus shape. All of which have ladders going up to different levels. You figure there are probably about 3 levels and 24 "rooms" to explore here. It will take sometime too look into them all. Its fairly open. No real doors or even door ways. There are some rooms with screens and the like maybe for changing. You also find various things like patchwork dolls and mismatched clothes littered in the halls and various furniture and other things overturned. The place is very creepy in all. It has the look and feel of a place of safety that many people should be like a home but with no one here it feels abandoned. The atmosphere almost oppressive with the silence where you feel there should be at least someone talking.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil will make his way through the structure, you never know where you might find some tidbit of information that will be useful later. Perhaps someone in need that lived in this structure will one day provide a key piece of information because I helped them with a problem I found details about here. Perhaps the ghost is currently stuck in this building somewhere. Even if none of that pans out, Bogomil still checks the structure over, before returning to his left handed travels. Again, not the most efficient, but it is through.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 15, 2019 8:45:44 GMT -5
DM-Boneyard Ben: You manage to look into a couple of the lower rooms when you become aware of a noise. Given where you stand it sounds like its coming from the hall you came into this chamber from and it sounds like... Squeaking? You manage to peek through the patchwork wall and see hundreds of small glowing red dots coming from the hall as they come from the darkness and into you field of vision you see what may very well be over a hundred rats scurrying toward you like a tidal wave of black fur and hunger. They crawl over one another as they run along the path following in the same way you did. The rats shoving and pushing each other aside as they make their way to you, some falling off into the water and being taken by the current. The hunger is evident in their eyes. If they make it to the floating house, they'll easily rip the place apart. You figure taking on that many would be a death sentence and disgusting otherwise. You could jump into the water? Maybe head off the flotilla and make a run for it? Of course heading head long into a ghost while being pursued wouldn't do you many favors. What to do...
Roll Init.
4, Swarms of rats: 9+0=9
DM-Delfon: Bogomil scans the nearby walls, looking for a place he can push through or smash through if needed. When he finds or makes an opening, he pokes himself through. Once outside he looks for a place to attach the hook. Somewhere that the rats won’t be able to climb to from the makeshift building. Once secured, Bogomil uses his magic to cloak himself in flames. (minor illusion) “I bet I don’t look tasty anymore!” Bogomil announces to the rats.
Rolls: Initiative 19+3=22
DM-Boneyard Ben: Your noble instincts kick in to over drive! And by that I mean; "Ew! Rats! Get away" as you travel down the hall and climb up the highest ladder, it takes you up to a room that has a small box tipped on its side with a sleeping bag in it. There also seems to be something that catches a glint in your eye but no time for that. You find a makeshift window and bash your way through the boards. Looking down you see a multitude of hand holds and the like. This thing seems like it was almost designed easy to climb by humans so those rats won't have much issue but you find the next best spot as you lay the hook top of the structure and swing yourself to your chosen place. In that time the rats have climbed across the bridge and have infested the house. They come wriggling out of holes and windows and all start in toward you with a deep set hunger in their eyes. Up until the point that you burst out into flames. Then 3/4ths of em are like "fuck that" and jump off the building and into the water and start swimming the hell away. The remaining 1/4th however seem set on eating your ass.
Round one: Bogomil: Climb ladder/ locate out. Rats: Imma get ya. Imma get ya! (Out of the hall and in front of the bridge)
Round two: Bogomil: Bash window and curse, but lay the hook in place. Rats: Imma get ya! Almost there! (Cross the bridge and into the house)
Round 3: Bogomil: Get into place and BURN MOTHERFUCKER! Swarms # 1, 2, & 4: FUCK THAT!!! DIVE, BITCHES! Every rat for themselves!!! Swarm #3: That shit's fake. Swarm the motherfucker! (They're in your space)
DM-Delfon: Bogomil curses as the swarm of rats begin to skitter and climb onto him, “As much as I wish to bring you joy by feeding you all...” Bogomil extends his hand toward the writhing mass of rats, and projects a puff of noxious gas from his palm. “I’ll not have your joy come from my flesh.”
Game mechanics: The creature must succeed on a Constitution saving throw or take 12 poison damage.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Part of the writhing mass of Rats currently infesting your person drops of your body and into the water, making small plop sounds as each one impacts the surface. But you still feel some of them fight through the poisonous fumes to attack though they seem to have difficulties piercing your skin between coughs.
Round 4: Bogomil: Get em off, get em off, get em off! Rat swarm 4: Bleh! (half of em dead). Eat the priest! 3+2=5: Fail.
DM-Delfon: “I tire of your shenanigans!” Bogomil announces as he swings back into the structure. Once inside be pivots around and gestures another puff of poisonous air at the rats that follow him. (9 damage)
DM-Boneyard Ben: Another puff of noxious gas and more rats fall off of your body, The rest escape your person and scatter out but not before leaving you with a few scratches.
Round 5: Bogomil: (Princely) Enough! Rats: Okay! Okay! But, F*** you! Attack: 18+2=20. Hit! Damage: 6. And RUN!!!!
Attack Of Opportunity if you want.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil shakes his leg to knock the last rat off of him. “Good riddance.” He huffs our a short breath in frustration, “That was highly unpleasant.” Bogomil sprinkles some water on his wounds, gently cleaning them. “Now where was I?” Bogomil asks the room, before resuming his search of the makeshift house.
DM-Boneyard Ben: You rifle through the various denizens stuff and find a few things of value. (about 5 gp worth in copper, a few silver and various other things like art or chucks of precious metal. All of it weighing about 10 pounds in all) as well as some trinkets here and there. (Roll on the trinkets chart 3 times). All in all not much for value. It also seems paper is scarce around here cause you find only a few loose papers, lists on the back of wanted signs, a diary on the back of various pamphlets all strung together with a loose cord and small piece of mangled paper with a meeting place in Clifton's dock area. "At the 4th toll of the bell after dark". Seems the meet is meant to happen tomorrow night. Aside from that not much aside from patchwork rugs and broken furniture.
DM-Delfon: Ezra perks up inside the prince’s mind as Bogomil smooths out the paper, “Hrm, a meeting tomorrow. Depending on how things shake out here, I might have to find out who is meeting whom.” Bogomil smiles to himself as he slips the various valuables into pockets and packs, “I thank you for your contributions to the Prince’s cause.” He says as he crosses the bridge out of the ramshackle structure. Moving back to his last mark, Bogomil rests his left hand upon the wall and resumes his journey.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Pop! Pop! Pop! You hear from the same direction of the rats and as it gets closer and louder and more poppy? It starts as a few and then gets louder and seems to multiply. A few, a couple, a dozen, a few dozen, a hundred? And along with it you hear giggles? Laughs? You find the same hole and look out it and see a dozens of pink blobs with faces? All happily hopping along the path the Rats traveled.
DM-Delfon: Pop ‘What now?’ Pop pop poppity pop ‘What have we here?’ Bogomil gets back across the water using the hook. Looking around quickly, Bogomil gathers up a few of the dead rats and tosses one over to land where the happy looking slimes will soon be walking. ’I hope they’re hunting, and not ranching’
DM-Boneyard Ben: You see the jump several feet and bump into each other, some going off into the water. Those don't resurface that you can see. The creatures coming like a mob of happy consumption and they make a hard turn into the structure. Every rat corpse you left instantly disappearing into their bodies with a small "munch". You see no remnants of the corpses in fact it seems that the moment the munch happens the body just isn't there anymore and the slime has its "cheeks" full, like a baby happily eating. They over run the structure in a matter of seconds and they're bouncing about, you hear many munching sounds and even some throw themselves into the water to grab the floating rat corpses. Its a pretty surreal sight. You feel like you should've been in the setting for a horror story or perhaps a thriller but then the Narrator's kid was like; "And then a million of pink blobs came in and everything was okay again". You become aware of one slime that didn't cross the bridge and is in fact hopping along nearby, looking at you. Coming closer.
DM-Delfon: Not wanting to become a happy slime ball’s meal, Bogomil summons up the image of a fat rat leaping to safety from the structure. The fat rat lands acquardly near the slime that is approaching Bogomil, and begins limping away toward the water. If the slime goes after it, the limping rat always manages to skitter away at the last moment. Bogomil tried to lure any slimes that cone for him into the water.
DM-Boneyard Ben: The single slime looks at the rat as its mid air, but seems to have trouble changing its current course as it bounces ever closer to you, confident in your spell weaving you hadn't moved from your place so the slime bounces closer and closer, you stagger back but your concentration lies in the spell still and you trip over your own feet as the slime takes a mighty bound toward you, it comes closer and closer and you feel your life flash before your eyes, memories and plans whirling by you as the happy face is mere inches from you. Your last thoughts are the regret that you'll never get to see your crooked uncle's face as you tear down everything around him. Boop!
You feel the slime bop your head, kinda feeling like a wet balloon briefly and harmlessly tapping your face before it bounces off and bounds toward the fat rat you conjured up.
DM-Delfon: With horror Bogomil realizes that he misjudged this situation, but as the slime bloops harmlessly off relief floods through him. ‘What an excellent way to keep the under city works clean.’ He marvels to himself, ’I will have to implement such things once I’ve retaken my throne.’ With that fright out of the way, Bogomil resumes his left sided walk.
DM-Boneyard Ben: You continue on your way, rounding around the wall and down to the next tunnel and you think you've figured out where the homeless got all the lumber for their structure... Before you is what you can only think to describe as a long abandoned shipyard. Rotted timbers resembling boats great and small have made their rest here. Old ropes and small shacks lay about, knocked over from age or perhaps the hobos picking the place clean. The air reeks of old metal and decayed wood. There appear to be multiple blacksmith shops as well as places to store and shape lumber, various rusted and worn tools lay about and frayed ropes dangle from pulleys that'd probably fall apart if you looked at them wrong.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil whistles softly, “Well now, what have we here?” Over the next ten minutes or so Bogomil pokes around the ruined shipyard. Mostly under the pretense of searching for the ghost. Partly to see if there are any items of value that haven’t been scavenged. Lastly to see if this place might not make a good base of operations in Clifton.
DM-Boneyard Ben: Seems most of anything useful or valuable has been pillaged by the Homeless, but you pillaged them so you guess you already got the valuables here. You're about to give up when you kick over some old lumber and find. A stick... No? A rod? Its a long hunk of wood that isn't rotted like the rest but you found it under the wood so it should be... You figure it has to be magic, right? You turn it over in your hands. Its a 2 foot long bit of wood that has etchings of crows this way and that. Maybe it summons a murder? You find two buttons. One of a crow with its mouth shut and the other of the crow with its mouth open. You push one button and it clicks! ... But nothing happens. "Huh" you say after a moment. You push the button again and turn it over. Maybe you missed something? Nothing here, nothing there. You push the other button and... Still nothing, well that's a- "Huh" the rod says in your voice. You jump a little thinking it may be talking to you and after a minute of embarrassing yourself trying to talk with it you figure out that this rod can record and repeat back what you say.
You found... The Rod Of Mimicry (Common)! Record and reproduce any sound the rod hears.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil stands back up from where he had crouched to poke around the wood pile he found the rod in, 'I'm sure this will come in handy at some point.' He thinks to himself. Slipping the rod into his backpack, he resumes his walk along the left wall. 'I wonder how long this thing can record for at once?' The spying applications, and blackmail applications for such an item are many. Ezra would of course use it as a dictation device, boring but productive just like the man himself.
DM-Boneyard Ben: "You'll never take us alive.... We swore that death will do us part They'll call our crimes a work of art You'll never take us alive We'll live like spoiled royalty Lovers and partners.. Partners In Crime" You hear the wispy words being sung in a haunting and sad tone coming from down the hall ahead. The words echo across the abandoned boatyard creating a sense of loss in this once thriving place of business and a sense of dread in yourself. You recall that the homeless people said there was singing before someone was aged. You think thats the ghost.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil casts his protective ward and gather’s his courage for the trial to come. Charles had never seen an undead before, and the ethereal nature of such a creature was unnerving. He swallowed hard and taking cover, and moving quietly to gather as much information as possible before confronting the Ghost. Ready to dodge any attacks the creature through at him. His first priority was to get the thing talking so he could figure out what is holding it here.
DM-Boneyard Ben: You head down the hall and approach the next chamber. Inside you find the usual 20 foot high ceiling, and large rounded room that heads off to the right in here. At the center of the water stands an anchor, or a statue of an anchor at least. Looks to be some sort of memorial. Its hard to make out the text on the pedestal its sat on. However the most interesting this is sat atop the statue. Perched on the ring of the Anchor is the Ghost. A noble in her finest riding dress, silk, obviously with gold trim and gems here and there. But her dress and skin and hair are all shades of blue and very much see through. A crossbow bolt is protruding from her head like a unicorn's horn and she sits atop the structure with her had rested on her hand, continuing her song;
Here we find our omnipotent outlaws fall behind the grind tonight Left unaware that the lone store owner won't go down without a fight "Where we gonna go" "He's got us pinned" "Baby I'm a little scared" "Now, don't you quit" "He's sounded the alarm, I hear the sirens closing in" Our paper faces flood the streets And if the heat comes close enough to burn then we're burning this place to the ground cause You'll never take us alive We swore that death will do us part They'll call our crimes a work of art You'll never take us alive We'll live like spoiled royalty, lovers and partners Partners in crime
She sighs aloud and you realized part of that song seems to be from her last moments alive. As a few of the lines are a conversation between her and someone else (See quotations).
The skies are black with bolt-filled rain A morbid painting on display This is the night the young love died Buried at each others side
You never took us alive We swore that death would do us part So now we haunt you in the dark You never took us alive We live as ghosts among these streets Lovers and partners in crime Partners in....
She sighs heavily again and continues to stare off into space. Watching the hall to the right, near as you can tell. Sees you have the element of surprise.
(If you hunting for a haunted item then I will require a Perception check)
DM-Delfon: Bogomil now understands that the ghost before him is one of the criminals killed while he was Ezra. Since she hasn't noticed him, he is going to take this opportunity to see if there is anything around that is out of place. The woman's corpse, or something she was wearing when she died. Bogomil moves slowly, taking care to not knock anything over. He makes it about two steps before the ground shifts under his foot. He steps on the end of a length of wood, that is laid across another board like a teeter totter. This end of that board snaps down, and the other end snaps up. Unfortunately there was a rusty metal pail sitting on that end filled with old rusty nails. The world seems to slow down, and Bogomil watches with horror as the the pail arks across the room to land in a cacophony of bangs and crashes. The nails that spilled from the bucket during it's flight come down like rain, really, really loud rain. Bogomil snaps his attention to the Ghost, putting on his best smile, hoping that she doesn't immediately try to kill him, "Hello my translucent friend, Bogomil has come to help you."
Rolls: Perception: 18+2=20 Stealth: 1 (Nat) + 5 = 6 Persuasion: 19+8=27
DM-Boneyard Ben: You manage to catch the slightest glimmer of some kind of bracelet or circlet in the water near where she sits. You remember the girl wearing a lot of jewelry so it could easily be something like that. Perhaps a gift from her lover? That train of thought completely derails as you make it rain bloody noise and resonance. The ghost for her part just turns her head and sees you being in mid sneak. You quickly correct yourself and offer your usual flourishes as you greet her. She seems disinterested in you and sighs out loud. Again. "I'm Bonita, Sorceress Extreme and Master Thief. I don't want your help. Go away." She offers her names and titles with the grace of a noble woman letting everyone in the room know how important she is and the rest she says in a dry unflinching voice that garters little room for argument.
Insight! Check!! Please!!!
DM-Delfon: Bogomil approaches cautiously, circling toward the bracelet. He hopes that if he can keep her talking, this might not end with combat, "Wait, Bonita? Like, the Bonita. You and your partner caused quite a stir up in the city. You're infamous!" Glancing into the water, Bogomil raises his eyebrows, "Begging your pardon, but does that bracelet not belong to you, Mistress?" Assuming she doesn't just attack me for hanging around, Bogomil adds, "Please, allow this humble servant to fetch it for you." Bogomil bows, not with his usual flourishes, but instead with the humility he has observed in his own servants.
Rolls: Insight: 9+2=11 Deception: 12+8=20
DM-Boneyard Ben: As mentioned before your darkvision is incapable of piercing through the water's surface its difficult to tell how deep it is from the ledge you stand on (black) and the water's surface is a good 5 feet down from the ledge. Your darkvision can pierce the surface near the statue and see that the slab it sits on seems to be on a pyramid of sorts under the water's surface. Which is where the bobble sits maybe a foot into the water before the 'stairs' continue down and disappear into the aquatic depths. Based on that slab, the water could be anywhere from 10 to 20 feet deep down.
Bonita seems to perk up when she realizes you've heard of her. "That is right, commoner! Bonita of the Dancing Flames, that is I" She says and flourishes her hand. You imagine there was suppose to be a show of sparks or something similar but it seems magic power doesn't follow the soul in its unrest. "Tell me what else you know of me" She says and turns toward you, leaning her head on her hands. When you ask about grabbing the bracelet: "Oh, don't worry about that, tell me more about what you heard" She says more like an order than anything else.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil laughs, "A trifle then, not to worry." Bogomil clears his throat, taking on more of his Wayfarers Rest style of speech, "Well my dear Bonita, perhaps you can confirm or deny the rumors I have heard?" He trails off for a short moment to build a bit of suspense, but only a short moment so as not to bore her, "I've heard that you've pilfered untold riches from the nobles of Waterdeep, perhaps the Jewel of Demica itself?" Bogomil leans toward the ghost, raising a questioning eyebrow. He continues if she doesn't respond quickly, "Additionally, while you would hold vast crowds enraptured by your magnificence, your loving husband Sly would fleece those unworthy to gaze upon you of their valuables." Raising the tone of his voice to fill the chamber, as if he was performing for a crowd himself, he continues, "Or perhaps my personal favorite accomplishment. Literally taking the pants off of that impostor Solstice Somerset for merely insulting you." Bogomil smiles his best smile, taking a bow with all of his normal flourishes. "Great Mistress, won't you allow me to assist you now? Please?" That final please he adds a bit of a begging tone.
Performance: 14+4=18 Persuasion: 15+8=23
DM-Boneyard Ben: "Oh yeah! Those nobles were soooo easy, they'd invite me thinking I was some easy little trifle or a fellow noble from a far off kingdom and as I talked or dazzled them, Boom! My bubbly swept in and robbed them all blind" she says and laughs. "Mmmm.. The Jewel... God that thing was huge, but our Fencer ripped us off inna big way, not pleased" She frowns at that. "Uuuggh! That stuck up Prince, well, I guess he's a king now, probably has a bounty on the two of us, he can suck an egg till it hatches for all I care. Bubs deserves credit for that..." She trails off with a far off smile as if remembering something very fond. "Hmm?" She asks, snapping from her daze. "Help? Uh, yeah sure. What do you wanna help with again?"
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 15, 2019 9:05:09 GMT -5
DM-Delfon: Bogomil frowns when she mentions getting ripped off by their fence, Bogomil holds up a hand like a student wanting to speak, and when permitted he offers, "Who was this fence of yours? Perhaps I can exact revenge for you." 'Perhaps I can gain another bit of information on the big fish in the Shadow Hand. There is no way a gem like that would be handled by a minor player.' Bogomil adds in his mind. Bogomil gives a genuine smile when she accepts his offer of assistance, "Well to reunite you with your husband of course." He bows as if presenting her with a gift. "Would that make you happy?" Assuming she seems pleased by that, I will add, "Now, it might take me some time, and there will have to be some concessions on your part if we're to make your reunion possible at all." Bogomil seems sad that he has to restrict her in any way at all.
DM-Boneyard Ben: She brushes off your help with the Fence. "That rotter is miles from Clifton, I doubt if that grubby softhead even knows where Clifton is" She sighs and shakes her head as if he should know all about Clifton cause its where she is. "Bubbly!? You know where he is???" She exclaims and springs from her seat, all but teleporting right in front of you, her ghostly and haunting visage a mere inch from your face as she smiles happily. She reels back from your face when you mention concessions. "Like what?" She asks bluntly, seeming skeptical.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil bows again before speaking, "You see, as I have said it could take some time to locate your husband's body. Your soul isn't tethered to a specific location, like where you died for example. That means you're soul has most likely inhabited an object that was special to you during your life, and that object is down here right now." He gestures to the water, about where he last saw that bauble. "That is good news, as that means you can be moved around the city." He raises a cautionary hand, "But that also exposes you to a great deal of risk. This town is full of Pelor's faithful, and the Pelorian clergy are exceptionally good at ridding themselves of Undead beings." He stands up now, taking on a less subservient posture, "I am willing to help you find your husband, and reunite you if possible." He pauses, letting the happiness of that moment build in her, "But in return, you would have to remain hidden unless I call for you. I believe you can hide in the Ethereal Plane if I'm not mistaken." He looks at her now, like she's the only woman in the world, "It's just that you're so amazing, that anybody that saw you would never forget that encounter. I know I won't" That statement is completely true, Charles is attempting to sweet talk a ghost into not only not murdering him, but also possibly working with him. 'Just imagine what advantages having a ghost on staff could bring' "I just don't want some zealot summoning the priests to destroy you while I seek your husband."
DM-Boneyard Ben: She looks at you thoughtfully, almost seeing like she is trying to see through you. For a long tense moment she's like this and you feel thoughts flashing through your head rapidly getting more so as every second passes.;
Did you compliment her enough? She seemed to like the attention.
Maybe too much? She's faithful to a man maybe she'll see it as on coming onto her?
Why's she starring so much? Can she see through your disguise? Is she some unique ghost that can read thoughts? No... You have Protection against Undead. But does it effect peering into ones mind or just possession? Maybe the priest was a swindler!? With so many inside it wouldn't be too difficult to get dressed up and trick people into buying fake scrolls. Good profit in that... Wait. No! If thats the case she can just take over whenever she likes. Why would she listen when she can just take over your body and look herself. Oh, gods! Is she getting closer? She's gonna-
"Okay" She says simply and disappears from your sight. You let out a breath you didn't realize you'd held, brush off your clothes to calm yourself and look across the water. Now, how to get that bracelet...
DM-Delfon: Bogomil lets out an audible sigh, he knows she's still listening but that was intense. He sets about looking for something in the shipyard to fish out the bracelet. There is bound to be enough rope and lengths of wood to come up with a makeshift fishing rod or a giant set of chopsticks. Hell depending on the orientation of the bracelet, he might just be able to poke it with a stick. Once it's close enough he can use his rope grabbing hook that the homeless folk gave him. With the bracelet collected, Bogomil makes his way back the way he came. He keeps a lookout for swarms of rats and the like, but otherwise just tries to get out of here as quickly as he can.
DM-Boneyard Ben: You manage to find some bits of rope and tie them together to make it long enough to reach as well as a rusted hook that couldn't be more perfect for your intention but you didn't test all the knots for their sturdiness and it comes apart, leaving you with 10 feet of usable rope and the rest sunk into the water. Well, blight... You scrounge about the fallen boatyard and manage to locate a few poles that seemed unrotten or at least decently so. So, using your remaining rope you tie them together into two 40 foot poles and manage to grab the bracelet between them, straining yourself as you lift it up and swing it over to the left rather than try and figure out how to pull it closer and drop it successfully on the walk way. However it was a bit higher than you thought and the bracelet drops to the ground and starts rolling toward the edge. You toss your makeshift pole arms (Get it!? XD) aside and make a mad dash coming within a hair's breath of the bracelet before it slips from your finger tips and drops into the water. Blight it all. Eventually, you can use your pole to drag it up the wall and grab it and then you head out from whence you came. In the intervening time the Pink slimes have infested the Boatyard and are happily bouncing about. You walk by getting booped by everyone that comes withing a 5 foot radius of you, going out the way you came you run into no opposition and manage to make it back to the gate from where you started. Likely several hours have passed.
DM-Delfon: Once Bogomil can see the exit gate, he will whisper, "Remember to stay hidden Mistress. In my experience Hobo eyes are the most observant of all." With the Ghost cautioned, Bogomil approaches the door and taps out a merry tune that the Hobos would recognize. Once the door opens, Bogomil gives one of his famous flourish filled bows, "Good day to you my friends, I seek an audience with Baron Fred." Once in front of the Hobo King, Bogomil will offer the same respects that he offered before. Bogomil then tells a story by way of his report. It would use the broad strokes of what actually happened as a baseline (leaving out what I don't want known), but each encounter would be described as a harrowing adventure. For the final encounter Bogomil will talk up the awesome power of the Ghost, and her exceptional beauty. He will build the encounter as a cat and mouse game, with the Ghost following him around while he banters with her. The entire story will climax with Bogomil saying something punny and fitting. As the Ghost of his story fades from view, Bogomil finishes with a flourishing bow, "The Ghost is no longer on this plane of existence, Baron Fred."
Mechanics: Perform: 9+4=13 (with advantage for being in character? 20+4=24) Deception: 10+8=18 (with advantage for being in character? 4+4=8)
DM-Boneyard Ben: The other hobos seem thoroughly impressed with your stories and adventurers and buy well enough into it, many, holding their breath or applauding at appropriate times. The Baron doesn't move, he doesn't flinch, your not even sure he breathes entirely as he listens to your report with it done he leans forward, pressing his finger tips together. "Am I to understand that the Ghost is no longer haunting our tunnels? That she will no longer cause harm to the fair people under my care?" You feel a threatening undertone to those questions. When you affirm that she won't. The baron leans back. "Job well done, Mr. Bogomil" He says with his whisper-like voice as a smile cross his fat rat face. "Now, as promised I am in your debt, what is it you desire? Power? Gold? Women? No... I believe I have something that will satiated your desires to their entirety, if you will permit me" He inclines his head
DM-Delfon: Bogomil smiles, "You understand correctly Baron Fred. Your fair people are safe, from this threat at least." While the Baron lists off things Bogomil shakes his head to power, Charles is already powerful in his own right. Gold gets a appreciative, thoughtful nod, but also a shake of the head. Women gets a shrug, and a head shake. Charles has his eye set on a spectacular woman, one that this creature could not produce for him. The last intrigues Bogomil, and he lets that intrigue show upon his features, "I need no material reward Baron Fred. Perhaps a favour? No, the looks of bliss upon your people's faces are enough for me. I must admit though, that I am curious as to what you believe will satiate my desires entirely." Bogomil nods his acceptance to the Baron.
DM-Boneyard Ben: The Baron nods his head and then says. "Go to the Old Church at the Docks, You will find your reward in the bell tower" He informs you as a humanoid shape covered from head to toe in rags appears from the dark and places an iron key with a Sun depiction on the end in your hand before fading back into the shadows.
One dissolving cut later you stand before the old Pelor Church. One of the first buildings to ever be put to the soil that would one day become Clifton. In fact much soil still surrounds the building as you see dirt and over growth surrounding the place in a 10 foot radius thats abruptly cut off by the more modern paving stones and streets. The old building is sure an odd sight among its more modern surroundings. Its old walls are painted with various tags and proclamations of this letter and that letter being in love "4 evar".
Before you is a foot path with some growth that leads to a pair of large-sized double doors, one of which is partially opened. The doors themselves were once white washed but their paint is extremely chipped to show the dark wood underneath. Carved on each of the doors is an old man's grumpy face in the center of a sunburst. The face feels like its judging you for the terrible state the church is in. As if he believes its somehow your fault.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil takes the key bearing the sun depiction, and gives Baron Fred another flourishing bow before taking his leave. On the way to the old church, Bogomil sells off the art and chunks of precious metals that he looted from the Hobo apartment building. Additionally, Bogomil takes the time to visit Tad to get cleaned up, and ask him about the trinkets he found in the sewers. The first item is an empty silver snuffbox with an inscription on it that reads 'Dreams'. The next is a small cloth doll skewered with needles, and the last is a multicolored stone disk. What Tad doesn't know about magic, because he's an apprentice, he more than makes up for with his research skills and broad knowledge base. Hopefully he can tell me a little something about those items.
Once Bogomil reaches the old church, he stops to marvel at the history of this place. This building is older than any Human he has met since coming to Clifton. Something with this much longevity, this much history should be preserved. 'Just imagine what the stones of his place have seen.' He has heard that some casters with an affinity for nature could use their magic to actually speak with stones. He tucks that thought away in his to do list for when less pressing things are upon him.
Bogomil follows the foot path to the large double doors, pushing the partially opened one the rest of the way open. He taps his ring on the door, loudly enough that anyone or anything inside might hear him. "Hopefully that will clear out any amorous couples or wild animals that might be inhabiting this place." Bogomil says to himself. Placing his hand upon Pelor's grumpy face, he murmurs, "Worry not, Bogomil will see what Lliira can do to bring you joy." He smiles, offering a little bow for this inanimate representation of a deity before heading inside to find his reward.
DM-Boneyard Ben: You gain moneys! You're all cleaned up!
Tad as usual is glad to see you and eager to practice his trade. He takes the items and says to come back tomorrow and he should have figured out what they do by then.
You enter the main hall of the church, pushing open the door to a loud and long creeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaak. Creepy... You enter the main hall and come with what you might expect. The pews left standing have old bed rolls or cloths on them. Some others have been converted into little makeshift shelters. Making a semi circle around a hole in the floor. The ones not left standing have been broken into splinted pieces, some in a semi-neat pile off to one side and others just haphazardly tossed around the room. The center of the room is host to a burnt hole in the floor roughly 10 feet in diameter that is host to scorch marks and a crumbled pile of burnt wood. The walls of the church are coated in a number of graffiti markings; Strange symbols you can't understand, various signs of other gods, proclamations of love, hateful messages against the Duchess, a beautiful mural of what might be Pelor re-imagined as a busty and beautiful woman, various signs of small gangs that were stomped out or absorbed by the Guilds, etc....
After a short time exploring about you manage to find a back room that leads to some wooden spiral stairs, however the first 20 feet of stairs are broken apart and your left on the ground floor looking up 20 feet above your head at the first stair loosely hanging onto the rest of the mostly intact stair case. Well, now what?
DM-Delfon: Bogomil sighs, he has never really been physically fit. That's why he chose to train with the rapier, a finesse weapon is lethal when you know just how to poke someone with it. This climb would be all but impossible for Bogomil. Looking around the room Bogomil gets an idea, and sets to work putting it into action. He gathers the strongest remaining pew, tipping it up against the wall and pushing the bottom in so that it's almost vertical. Grabbing another pew he stacks it against the first, but at a less steep angle, more of a ramp really. He will brace a few things against his tower to prevent it from collapsing on him, before he sets himself to the harder task. Scaling the angled bench is no trouble at all, and pulling himself up onto the up ended pew isn't even that tough. Standing on his leaning tower, he can almost reach the loose stair above. Removing his belt, he tosses it carefully through the next presumably sturdier step. After a few testing tugs on his contraption, he uses the belt to help him along. He scales the remaining couple feet onto the stairs, and looks around.
DM-Boneyard Ben: You manage your contraption with effort and a few test runs. Soon, you find yourself on the steps and climbing your way up to the tower. The spiral stairs end at a ladder that goes up to a hatch, which in turn leads you into a dusty 5 by 5 room room with nothing in it save for a new looking door and a lock on it resembling a rat. You use your key and enter into the belfry. Its standard, board flooring and another spiral stair case in the wall that leads to the broken bell above you, a good 15 feet over your head with a connecting cord for ringing the bell. What isn't standard is that in 3 of the 4 corners of the room are bedrolls with various things around them. Most of what you expect to see from a living space, a backpack, clothes and other standard fair, but each also seems to have some personality. One has lifting weights and weapons, the other has piles of books and with various notes stuffed in them and a pair of reading glasses on one stack. while the third has a half finished dragon chess game and an alter of some kind with a copper idol of a large Rat surrounded by with 4 Ravens on it.
Suddenly from above 3 figures drop down and surround you. You come face to face with 3... Humanoids? They appear evolved from avians, but have no wings. Instead, they have arms in place of wings and bird-like talons for hands and feet. They have bird-like features, black and beady eyes and a long dark-hued beak. Head and torso covered with soft feathers, a dark russet-brown color, while their scrawny limbs were bare and scaled like a bird's. They most resemble ravens. Each wearing an almost black robe. One red, one blue and one purple.
The red one steps forward, a sword breaker dagger in each hand. Its eye narrow and angry. It parts its beak to speak and the sound of a warning bell seems to emanate from it, followed by the sound of clashing weapons. The purple one raises its staff toward the red one, its staff seeming to have some kind of spring on each end. Its eyes show concern for the Red cloaked one and a curiosity for you. As its beak opens and the sound of a terrified woman's voice asks: "Who's there?". "Enough!" Booms an angered male voice, sounding much like the Baron's if he was younger. Catching the attention of you and the other two to the one in blue who cocks his head at you and makes the sound of a lock being opened. This one seeming expectant but also poised to strike. He carries a Rapier with a Rat on the handle. Surrounded by hostiles with no escape what will our Prince do?
DM-Delfon: (Surrounded by hostiles with no escape is kinda what the Prince does.)
Bogomil smiles broadly at their sudden appearance, stepping back and raising his hands to show that he means no harm, "Well, well, when Baron Fred said I would be rewarded, I had no idea that it would be with the pleasure of meeting your acquaintance." Bogomil bows to each creature in turn, his movements are slow so as to not to seem hostile. He remains ready, in case they try to attack him anyway. When the blue one interrupts by making the unlocking noise, Bogomil focuses on him first, "I'm going to reach into my pouch at my side with two fingers, I will withdraw the key I assume you're looking for." Bogomil lowers one hand toward his belt pouch while he turns his attention to the purple clad creature, "My name is Bogomil, wandering priest of Lliira, Goddess of Joy." Removing the key from his pouch, he offers it to the blue clad one. "This was given to me by Baron Fred, he claimed I would be rewarded for services rendered if I came here with that key."
DM-Boneyard Ben: When you pull out the key the three of them share a look and then sink to their knees, sitting back on their feet. The red one opens his beak, his voice sounding like a younger Baron. "You will wait here till someone is sent with my key". The purple one is next; "He will be one I have deemed fit to take care of you". The blue on is last; "To that man I say this; These are the Kenku Brothers. The Navy clad one is Whistler, he is the leader". The Red one speaks up again. "The Maroon is called Toll, he is the muscle". The purple parts its beak. "The eggplant garbed fellow is known as Bubbles, he is the brains of the outfit" All three of them open their beaks and you hear the voice threefold as it seems to echo and boom off the tower walls. "They will follow you to worlds end as long as you take care of them, Masters of Stealth and Mimicry they will see to your every need, treat them well or you will pay the Piper's final price" The three become silent and sit before you, awaiting your orders.
You gained; Retainers!!! (Pg. 136 of PHB). Stats: generic Kenku found in the MM (Pg. 194) save for 3 changes. Whistler has advantage on DEX Checks made to move stealthily and quickly through Clifton. Toll has advantage of STR checks against Clifton's people and structures. Bubbles has Advantage on INT checks for anything involving Clifton's history or its current goings on.
(The Kenku will not harm others and will leave you if they're abused or mistreated. In terms of combat; Whistler will move to give you advantage (Active action; Dodge), Bubbles will move a safe distance away and attempt to distract foes (Active actions: Disengage then Help) and Toll will try and grapple, trip or shove your foes (Active action: Attack. No HP damage). Outside of combat consider they're always within 60 feet of you at any given time unless out on errands. You will need to pay for their individual lifestyles as stated in page 157 of the PHB. Their Lifestyle that you pay as well as the actions you take with them and several events will effect a Loyalty Score that I keep. When the score lowers they become more difficult to command, if it falls too low they will leave and may even work against you. No matter what though this won't effect your standing with the Homeless)
DM-Delfon: Bogomil's face splits with a brilliant smile once he realizes the implications of what he has heard. Charles mind is already racing with ideas about how to make use of the Kenku brother's skills. He tempers his enthusiasm with caution. They could be more loyal to Baron Fred than to him, and report his activities back to him. Worst of all, they might uncover his true identity. That information would be quite valuable for any number of nobles in Clifton, which would be a complete disaster. 'Oh well, that's a problem for another day. Let's see who these fellows are.'
Bogomil takes a seat over by the bedrolls, gesturing for each to join him at their places. Bogomil turns his attention to Whistler, "The Baron says that you're the leader..." Bogomil goes on to ask about the specifics of their needs and desires. If they are to be happy, and thus loyal to him, he wants to make sure their needs are met. Once he hammers out the details of what they need, he switches to trying to figure out what skills they can provide. A craftsman needs to use the right tool for the right job, and Charles' tools have always been people. Armed with what they need and want, and what skills they bring to the table, Bogomil gets to know them personally. He offers to finish out the rest of that dragon chess game with Whistler. Asks Toll to show him his skills with the various weapons he has in his place. Finally he turns to Bubbles, "What knowledge have you amassed in those books of yours?"
DM-Boneyard Ben: The Kenku have a tough time communicating with you. They can only repeat what they heard and more often then not its sounds they use to express things not words, so interrupting things is difficult to say the least. As you understand it from Whistler, he seems to be fine with their accommodations as is, they're able to fend for themselves, but you can tell that they live in Squalid conditions, the old Church is run down, the large windows windows that let the church bell ring would let cold air in at night and you can see by looking around that they haven't any reserves for food, they probably live day to day, you also figure because of how the door locks, they probably risk themselves jumping from the tower to the rooftops near by to go out and find things they need. Hardly a sustainable environment for 3 blossoming minions. They can't go back home with you though, that is your safe house. What to do?
Whistler absolutely thrashes you in Dragonchess. I mean mercilessly so, he always seems 3 moves ahead, puts you into traps all too often and soon your left with nothing but your king and a few pawns. You luckily manage to get a pawn across the board and do some damage, winning that battle but the war was won by Whistler. However after being defeated you note he puts the pieces right back where they were and then turns to the shrine and prays before it.
Toll happily shows off his weapon collection and his proficiency with each weapon. Including some foreign ones you don't recognize. You see that many of his weapons are worn and chipped and have had repairs done, probably by the Kenku himself. Each time he picks up a new weapon his entire style seems to shift. Like he's mimicking the previous owners of these weapons and not a master himself.
Bubbles is well bubbling when you get to him. You recognize the sound of water bubbling in a test tube from your days exploring the castle and he seems to make the sound whenever he's thinking or trying to figure something out. He skips the noise making and writes on a notepad to talk and gives you a brief history of Clifton and the church of Pelor and little tidbits of what he knows, all in all nothing really stands out and he says he'll happily get you a cliff notes version of what he knows to you within the next day or so. A kind of, Priest's Guide to Clifton, as it were. (Mini quest list).
DM-Delfon: Bogomil shakes his head, "No, no. This simply won't do. Gather your belongings, you're moving to my favourite place in the city." Bogomil smiles with pride, "The Wayfarer's Rest. I hold service there most nights. I will make the arrangements with Old Borris once we're done here." Bogomil watches them as they pack up, "I'm going to need you all to be my eyes and ears. The Night Blades, and Shadow Hand are rotting the core out of this city, and I don't intend to let that happen. Any information you lads can dig up about the guilds would be most helpful."
Bogomil taps a finger against his chin, looking up into the steeple while he thinks, "Bubbles, how are you for copying official documents?" Bogomil smiles again, "I think you will become an apprentice to a palace scribe I know well, one Ezra Quiller. You can keep me appraised of what is happening with the nobles of this city, and the palace staff for that matter."
Looking over at Toll, "How would you feel about spending your days in the taverns down by the docs? I get the feeling that you would be safe enough down there with those." He gestures to the weapon collection, "You can keep me informed of the goings on of the lower city. Just be safe, you hear?" Bogomil pauses for a moment, looking serious for the first time tonight to drive home how much he wants the Kenku to be safe.
"And now you my friend." Bogomil says, extending an open hand to gesture to Whisper, "The Baron said you were the leader, and based on you performance with that thing." Bogomil thrusts a finger toward the dragon chess game that he was just defeated upon so soundly, "I think you would be best placed at the Wayfarer's Rest itself. In the event that I can't be there on a given day, you can collect the reports from the others and make the pieces fit into the larger picture. You and I have much to discuss in that regard, as I have a wealth of information on the pieces in play." He waggles his fingers toward the chess board again as he says that, but then makes a more encompassing motion to show that he means the town itself. "If you can do to this town what you did to me there." He whistles softly through his teeth. "By Lliira, that would bring me such joy."
Once the brothers are all gathered, the party will make its way out of the church. Walking steadily back toward the Wayfarer's Rest. "One more thing lads, I would like it if you would pretend to be fully mute. In my experience, people tend to ignore mutes. Either pretending that they do not exist at all, or assuming that because you can't talk that you're somehow lesser to those that can." He shares a conspiratorial smile then, "Let them discount you. Let them underestimate your value. Let them talk freely around you. That just lets you mimic what you've heard back to me. We stand to gain so much more that way."
DM-Boneyard Ben: The brother's seem a lil reserved at first, sounds of concern resonating from their beaks and you find out why on your way through Town. People seem almost outwardly hostile too the Kenkus, a few pulling you aside to ask if your sure you want such creature's following some are even concerned your being threatened. After that bit the brother's take to wearing their hoods over their faces and the hostility seems to die down. Nothing odd here, just a colorful priest bounding down the rode with three cloaked and hooded figures on his heels, no biggie.
Once you arrive at the Wayfarer's Rest two of your hooded followers disappear into the crowds, leaving you with the blue-clad Whistler who follows you into the Inn. You find all the familiar faces and smells. Bragah the Dwarf is at the door. Shirtless as always with his massive braided red beard, pot belly and balding head, a reinforced keg (His weapon of choice and drinking reserve) under his arm, he offers you a wave before taking a quick sip from his barrel. You always see him drinking but never drunk. How odd... Goldie greets you as you enter the Inn proper (As does everyone else with a booming "Bogomil!"), her tall statuesque figure a true sight to behold. A beauty on par with the Duchess the bodyguard/arm candy is usually the center of attention whenever she's in the common room. Its made your job of information gathering so much easier, no one pays mind to what the say or what others hear with a beauty like her about. Ruby the redheaded barmaid offers you a wave as she buses tables, seems her rivalry with the taller woman has died some as her green eyed glares fall on patrons instead of her. The silent man at his usual table offers you a wave as always and Ol' Boris is behind the bar with the Matron, having what seems to be a heated debate with a fellow at the bar. An armored man in Blue plate with a gold sun burst. The man seems to want to take his business elsewhere as he stands and leaves the Inn. All but shoving you out of the way as he storms out. Whistler all but turns to attack the man after that, but you manage to settle him and make your way through the bustling Inn to the Bar with your usual calls of greeting.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil catches on quickly, but isn't going to be having any of this racism against his retainers. Each person that approaches Bogomil with concern will be dealt with thusly, "I thank you for your concern." Bogomil says with a smile, and a sweeping bow, "Allow my to banish such concerns. These are my friends Bubbles, Whistler and Toll." He says gesturing to each in turn, "You have nothing to be wary of when it comes to these Kenku, and they are under the protection of Lliira." He will take the time to banish the fear of those that can be convinced with his powers of persuasion, and warn off those that can't be convinced with a warning about them being protected. If things start to get out of hand, he will have his companions cover up rather than have it come to violence.
As the man in blue plate pushes Bogomil out of the way, Bogomil takes a little something for his trouble. If he has an option, he will aim for reading materials or keys over anything else. As the man exits, Bogomil bows to his back, "May you find joy." Before turning back to the crowd with arms outstretched, basking in the love of the people. Glad-handing his way through the crowd toward Old Borris, Bogomil makes the arrangements for his retainers to live a comfortable lifestyle here at the Wayfarer's Rest.
Rolls: Persuasion 15+8=23 Intimidation: 9+6=15 Slight of Hand: 14+5=19
DM-Boneyard Ben: As is normal with Bogomil and talking with... Well, most of anyone in the lower section your bright smile and charm sets their worries at ease and they go about their day now slightly less racist toward your new retainers. Of course seeing the trouble they're causing the three brothers put up their deep hoods and follow you dutifully.
You manage to pocket yourself 6gp which is just enough for setting the three brothers up here at the Inn for the first night at least. Ol' Borris is happy to welcome any friends of Bogomil's to his Inn. However, he doesn't have many rooms to offer with the recent string of adventurers (As well as Goldie and the Matron) so, he offers for the brothers to share a room at a discount, 1gp a head, they will be provided for and seen to as comfortably as possible but will have one room.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil smiles, "Well that will be just fine. I believe the boys are used to sharing a room anyway." Bogomil drops the 6gp he just stole on the counter, "Here you go Master Boris, that should cover them for a couple days." He spends an hour or two working the crowd as he usually does, before breaking off to chat with Old Boris and the Matron for another hour or so. It has been a long day, and I don't believe it's over yet... "At the 4th toll of the bell after dark" isn't that far away, or is entirely too far away depending on your perspective.
DM-Boneyard Ben: You work the crowds and find some bits of interest;
Invasion the green folk, man! I'm telling you, man, they're real! And they wanna probe our chimneys and make the whole town into the Feywilds, man! They're already here! My cousin's brother has a friend who overheard a noble's kid talking about a creature in the mirrors, man! If that ain't feyfolk, Idk what is, man.
That whore! Who? The Duchess of course!! Some merchant and elf come up off the water inna a fancy boat, waltz on into the palace and ain't left! She's bedding them both, I swear it on me Mum! Just like that murder happy Prince, she's working on a harem I tells ya! It ain't natural for women to be doing that.
Taty's sister went missing last night. They found her and she's ok, but she's not talking about it.
You remind yourself that the meeting place is tomorrow so you still have the rest of this evening to play with as the sun is starting to set on fair Clifton.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil leans in conspiratorially with the man that called the Duchess a whore, "I would be careful who you call a whore friend, there are those that would suck the joy right out of your life for such a slight." While Bogomil has the man distracted, he takes the man's money pouch as a donation. Then he sits back in his chair, "Myself, I try to stay clear of politics. Too much drama." Throughout the evening Bogomil keeps a subtle eye on Larry, trying to see who he talks with or how he gives out his orders. Besides working the crowd, and keeping an eye on the guildmaster Bogomil enjoys his evening chatting with Old Borris, and his staff as well as the Matron.
Rolls: Slight of Hand: 20 (Nat) +5 = 25 Deception: 12+8=20 Perception: 16+2=18
DM-Boneyard Ben: You gain 15sp!
Your conversations are bare minimum, simple hi, how are yous, talks about the weather, brainless simple conversations with various members of staff
As the night goes on you observe Larry in all his middle of the road glory, using the reflection in your all too shiny grail and your keen elven senses you manage to see that he interacts with no one directly through the whole night. People come in, order their drinks and food, but most people stay away from Larry's table, he however remains there. Nursing his drink slowly and nodding to everyone who comes in. You do notice that he seems to have little twitches every now and again. His leg will suddenly tap a few times then stop. When he goes to put his mug down, he'll sometimes tap it twice before laying it down on the table and other such oddities, you start to think there might be something to this when you notice him staring right at you. (Beat you by 1, sir XD)
DM-Delfon: (Man trying to beat someone with the observant feat is a pain in the ass.)
Bogomil smiles broadly, unabashedly he nods to the man that caught him staring. Bogomil distractedly finishes up speaking with the drunk fellow he was currently engaging with. He was saying something about white cloaked men stirring up trouble in the farmland outside the walls, but Bogomil was too busy planning his next conversation in his mind to do more than file the information away in his mind for later study. With the the blessings of Lliira given, it was time to face the Guildmaster of one of the most dangerous organizations in the city.
Bogomil crosses the room to stand beside Larry's table, "You know in all the time we've both been coming here, I don't think we've ever actually spoken a word to one another." Bogomil gestures to the empty chair across from Larry, "Would you mind if I joined you? I think it's time we rectified that, don't you?" Assuming he gives agrees, Bogomil slides into the chair with a long sigh, "It's been a very long day, and sitting down right now feels fantastic." Leaning forward, his forearms pressed against the edge of the table, and his fingers nested together under his chin, "I believe you know quite a bit about me already from my sermons. Would you do me the honour of telling me a bit about yourself?"
Persuasion: 14+8=22
DM-Boneyard Ben: You find yourself in your bar stool seeming to have come back from some sort of odd daydream, although you cannot recall what it was about.
You shrug it off and make your way to Larry's table. You offer your greeting and offer to sit across from him and he looks at you and nods, you begin to talk to him when you notice his odd twitches don't stop after your arrival, you figure the big scary boss of the Shadow Hand would be a little concerned but nope, his odd ticks continue. But he doesn't seem to see you, he seems almost to look through you, as if not completely aware, another patron enters and he offers a usual nod and then takes a sip of his drink. Taps it three times on the table and folds and unfolds his arms.
You feel the need to pose a question about the oddities when you feel a hand on your shoulder. You turn your head to meet the modest freckled cleavage (and then immediate eyes) of Ruby. "You won't get much from him, Bogomil. He's a little touched" She informs you and then offers you an apologetic smile as she runs off to serve a customer singing out to her, a cloaked fellow.
Touched? If memory serves you, that is how the good people of Clifton refer to those who... Let us say wouldn't be able to set up a Dragonchess board, much less, play it.
You look into the eyes of your table mate and he still has that same look of looking but not quite seeing. Perhaps his odd behavior is caused by his simple mindedness? Was he actually looking at you through the reflection in your cup or was he just looking at the shiny thing. Is this the act of a devious man or oddities of a simpleton? Many questions, but it seems, Larry has few answers to offer... What now?
DM-Delfon: Bogomil decides to play along with Larry's deception. He nods to Ruby without taking his eyes off of Larry, and says, "Thank you Ruby. I had a friend as a child that was touched. He still liked to be a part of whatever was going on around him." Swirling the ale in the bottom of his tankard, Bogomil continues, "What say you Larry? Would you like to fill the Grail, and have Lliira fill your life with joy?" Bogomil makes a grand gesture across to the table with the Grail. This close, Bogomil can study Larry's every twitch and movement. The Ezra part of his brain is watching for patterns, while Embros watches to see who Larry is communicating with. All the while the Prince watches for where he can tie a tread to this man, 'Gain control of this one, and things will become a lot easier in this town.' He thinks to himself.
Insight: 20 (nat) + 2 = 22 Perception: 16 + 2 = 18 Persuasion: 10 + 8 = 18
DM-Boneyard Ben: You watch every inch of the so called touched all at once, you feel his eyes come to focus on you at the mention of his name and a twitch of the eye, thats anger, is he mad you caught on to him? Yes, thats right little man your facing a Prince! Not some lowly vagabond, your deceptions are useless here. He seems to stare at you, his eyebrows furrowing, his face becoming red. Oh no.. Did you just piss off a thieve's guild leader? Is he about to call on his cronies? Is a knife about to be stuck into your ribs? A bolt come flying in from outside? If he is the guild leader and has been communicating in utter silence so who knows what else he could've been doing. His face grows more red and his cheeks suddenly swell and then... "LARRY!" The man suddenly blurts out, and swings his free arm. Causing you to almost jump for your weapons in response. There is a moment of silence and shock among the tavern and everyone yells in unison; "LARRY!!!" A thunderous boom across the tavern. Some men slap their hands down and be moan angrily, others laugh and slap their mates on the back. You and the Matron seem to be the only ones poleaxed by whats happening around you. There's an exchange of coins about the room, coppers mostly and Ruby herself heads over to the board that shows the specials and wipes the number marked on it in the lower right hand corner and then chalks up a zero onto it. Ol' Boris laughs and claps you on the shoulder. "I have to thank you, Bogomil, you've made me quite the fortune today" He booms, his girth shaking violently. Seeing your confused face, Ol' Boris explains that Larry's family drops him off here every day and picks him up at night, the bustle of the Inn seems to set him at ease, however when someone approaches him directly and says his name he will blurt out his name in response and so, the tavern made a game of it, betting who would talk to him, how many days he'd go without saying a word and so on. Ol' Boris had bet that you would be the next one to make him burst and as such made a fine bit of coin. Ol' Boris and a few other patrons buy the bar a round and the things naturally settle to their normal paces.
Your left to your devices and less confused then before, but you have to wonder how many Larrys live in Clifton again?
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 15, 2019 9:17:29 GMT -5
DM-Delfon: That flash of anger confirms the Guild Master's identity for Bogomil, but that means the steaks have been raised. Bogomil is now on the radar of the Shadow Hand. With a moment of uncertainty the Prince thinks, 'Perhaps this was unwise, perhaps this was too early.' Then the Prince dashes that thought with the confidence that only comes to the rightful ruler of an entire people, he mentally adds, 'No, this was the right step. I need to start in on the guilds if I am to get the Duchess to help me take back the Somerset Isles. It was either the Duchess, or one of the guilds, and by the Mistress of the Night I'm not letting these guilds worm their way into my homeland.'
The Embros part of the Prince soaks in the crowd, looking for the ones that don't celebrate with the rest or their celebrations seem forced or delayed. These are the henchmen, the first bread crumbs that will lead him to the Guild Master. 'Time to play the part' Bogomil thinks to himself while he stands up, turning to Old Boris, "You know I always try to bring you joy old friend, you've been so good to me here." Bogomil turns back to Guild Master Larry, and ruffles his hair as one would do for a child, "May the blessings of Lliira be upon you Larry." He says with a smile. Turning his back on the Guild Master, his stance changes to address the room, his eyes first bouncing face to face of those that seemed upset by when they lost some coin, "Let this be a lesson to all of you" He says playfully, leaving a small pause for effect, "Always bet on Bogomil." He winks then, laughing heartily himself, "For the faithful among you, enjoy the gift that Lliira has bestowed upon you."
Bogomil spends the rest of the night working the crowd, and chatting idly with his companions. At some point later in the evening, Bogomil sets his plans in motion. Perhaps he is paranoid, but when dealing with one of the most powerful men in the underbelly of the city it pays to be careful. He takes a few extra precautions when talking about anything that he doesn't want the Guild Master to know about. If possible he always speaks in other rooms, or only when his back is turned, and there is nothing reflective to reveal his face. Step one is to secure the Matron's safety. Cornering Goldie in the kitchen, he whispers, "The Wayfarer's Rest is no longer safe for the Matron. It's time to get her someplace safe until she starts work within the Palace." Speaking more loudly for the benefit of the kitchen staff, he adds, "So yes, I would like that brought out to my table please." After another amount of time, he finds Whisper, "I have a job for you my friend, I need you to follow Larry. Remain unseen, he is a very dangerous man with very dangerous allies. I need to know where he goes, and what he is up to when not here."
With the first moves of his long game in place, he makes his way home. Only part way home, he gets another tingle of paranoia and circles a block, doubling back on his own trail to see if he can notice anyone following him. If all looks clear he continues home without delay.
Rolls: Deception: 18+8=26 Larry is totally a simpleton, and totally isn't the guild master. Perception: 13+2=15 Am I being tailed?
(Hopefully that dissuades Larry, after all who would have the balls to ruffle the hair of someone they thought was the guild master?)
DM-Boneyard Ben: Another angry? (You're not so sure given the second reaction being the same as the first) outburst of "Larry!!!" follows your saying his name and the bar booms an echo of the name with laughter. A shout of "Bogomil!" bursts from the Inn's occupants at your line of always betting on Bogomil. Soon the bar is all singing "Righteous Fella" a simple song of joy usually reserved for heroes and the like proclaiming their excellence but everyone kinda breaks off between saying Bogomil or Larry in the insert righteous fella's name here part and in their slurred speech and everyone shouting over everyone it comes out at Bogary more often than not and most of them are drunk or getting there so soon the bar is in a foot stopping, hand clapping good old fashioned song and dance.
Who's the man who's finer than fine? Bogary! Bogary! Who fills our cups with the finest of wine? Bogary! Bogary! Who chases our woes and keeps us free? Who brings us joy with laughs with glee? Well, don't you know? Who Else Could It Be?! Bogary! Bogary! Bogary The Friend Of Me!
The sing along and impromptu musical makes it very difficult to talk as you can't have a very good conversation with everyone yelling over you and everyone you try to talk to is suddenly pulled out onto the Inn's floor for a dance. All the tables save for Larry's has been moved aside and everyone is doing very simple swing dances, many hooting and hollering. You do manage to catch up to Goldie and by that I mean she grabbed you from your stool and dragged you onto the floor for a dance, when you pass along your message she doesn't seem very worried and who can blame her given the atmosphere at current but she does promise that she'll get the Matron out and to safety, citing a few safe houses she knows. Whistler is easier as he hasn't left your side, at your word he's gone into the dancing masses and then just gone. Hopefully nothing bad happens to him, I mean your just sending this NPC you barely know to follow one of Clifton's (Possibly) most powerful and influential figures. I'm sure he'll be fine (*wink*). With all your ducks in a row (as it were). You head yourself off into the night via the side exit. You are part way home when you notice that through the minimalist crowds that make up Clifton's citizens of the night, a shadow-clad humanoid follows in your wake. Always seeming to appear right around the corner of the building as your about to circle the corner of another. What now, Your Highness?
DM-Delfon: (That song was fantastic Sir)
Bogomil continues along as he always does, glad handing folks and otherwise being friendly to everyone. Along his route he will keep an eye out for beggars, and once he finds one he will say, "Hello hello, and a wonderful evening to you." Pressing a gold coin into the beggar's hand, Bogomil will add in a very quiet voice, "I was wondering if you would do me a kindness as a friend of Baron Fred? You see, I'm being followed by a cloaked fellow and I'm going to circle the block and confront him there." He describes the location. "I'm hoping that perhaps you, and a few of your fellows would be willing to make sure I don't end up dead in the gutter." If the beggar agrees, I follow through with what I said I would. Circling the block as normal until I come to the place I described, where I stop and turn around to face the cloaked man, "Good fellow? If you're going to follow me, why not join me? It will be a lot easier to keep track of me that way."
Rolls: Persuasion: 2+8=10, get beggar to help. (16+8=24 if advantage because of gold or Baron Fred) Persuasion: 14+8=22, to convince the cloaked fellow to come talk to me.
DM-Boneyard Ben: The man, who wears a tattered, multicolored scarf that looks to be about the height of a giant in length, suddenly stops his prattling about how time is not like a river and accepts your coin with a serious nod before he begins again with his nonsensical talk. You move around the corner and hear a strange sound your unfamiliar with, when you round the corner your "attacker" is on the ground before you and the scarf wearing man is nowhere to be seen. Your stalker turns out to be the drunkard you were talking to before, still loaded beyond reason as his first words to you from the dirt of the street are a happy; "Bogarymil! There you *Hic* are. I been..." He stops suddenly his face turning from his drunken red to a sickly green in an instant and turns his head to the side to upchuck his dinner. He staggers to his feet, waving away any help you might offer and then proceeds his talk as if nothing had happened. He talks for a while about how working at the docks suck and how awesome a guy you are for always listening to his troubles and helping everyone out and why did he want to talk to you? Oh yeah! There was a guy who walked into your shadow like a pool of water... Okay, that was all, goodnight! With that he staggers off slurring the words to "Bogary" in an obscenely loud and key way. You then hear a quiet but deadly feminine voice like a knife through silk. "Well, he was certainly observant" You become aware there is a presence behind you and turn to meet your attacker. You find yourself stopping short when a long arm lashes out near your head and breaks into the cobblestone of the building your standing beside. "Call me old fashioned but I prefer a man gets to know me before gawking at my body" The woman says, almost flirtatiously but there is that sharp edge of irritation as she grinds her fist into the cobblestone, probably meant as a reflection of what she'll do to your face if you start 'gawking". Through your peripherals you can see from her elbow up to her wrist (her hand is currently buried in the house wall) and it seems to be wrapped in a long strip of bandage that coils around her arm covering it entirely, a bandage that shifts and ripples like a shadow on gentle waters. Magic of some kind? Probably how she blended into the darkness so well. Whats your next move Prince? Turn about and have your face caved in or let a lady have her privacy? Seems she's willing to talk whilst your at her "mercy".
(Its in quotations cause you can definitely take that punch. THAT punch, the other punches that follow might be another story. Anyway if you wanna see her face roll Init and don't get less than me, cause otherwise your waking up in the Church with some busted ass appendages, and an empty wallet (She does work for the Shadow Hand after all, so no murder, yay!). She's is a monk and if I rolled all 1s for attack damage your still going to be very hurt Mr. lvl 4 Rogue. (Yes, I did roll the damage, no I didn't roll 1s and yes it is more than 36.) not trying to railroad you, buddy. Just want you to be aware of your options ^_^)
DM-Delfon: (Since when does Bogomil get into fights?)
Bogomil slowly lifts his hands out to the sides, fingers spread to show that they don't contain a weapon. Bogomil seems as completely at his ease being held here, as he would standing in the Wayfarer's Rest, "He was indeed, I sure did not see you. Good on him, and well done to you." He begins to turn around, until she ever so subtly suggests that he doesn't, "In this context my dear lady, I wouldn't dare to gawk at your body. I would however love to have the opportunity to get to know you. New friends bring such joy on ones life." He smiles one of his brightest smiles, not that she can see it to it's full effect. "Since you could have taken me out at your convenience, I assume you want to speak with me, yes? How can this joydancer bring you you joy today?"
DM-Boneyard Ben: You hear her chuckle behind you, a very deep and throaty laugh. It sends a chill down your spine out of both fear and desire, the two emotions seemingly at war with each other. It kind of reminds you of being in the Duchess' presence as Prince Charles, the want and desire brought up by the woman and the dread her bodyguard cast over you. Your heart sings and soars of pleasures yet to be but your instincts are screaming at you to run for it. "I am known as Venus Midnight" She says and you feel the warmth of her lips as she suddenly leans in close to you ear. "But, you may call me Mistress Midnight" She purrs. Her hot breath cascading across your ear, causing you to shudder. You feel her lean away once again. "I am the one who looks after Larry" She informs you matter-of-factly "So, be a good boy and do not bother my charge anymore and perhaps I will come visit you in your bed and read you a story" She finds some amusement in that as she laughs at it, once again deeply. But, you hear nothing funny in that laugh. Nothing remotely close to joy or mirth.
DM-Delfon: "Well met Mistress Midnight." Bogomil says, slowly bowing. Careful not to make any sudden movements that might spike Venus' ire. "You are Larry's keeper? That's fantastic!" Bogomil says with genuine excitement, "I'm glad that Larry has such a devoted defender. You see, as I told Ruby back at The Rest. I had a friend like Larry as a child. My friend still liked to be a part of whatever was going on around him." Bogomil pauses here, changing gears, "I'm going to put my arms down now, I hope you see that I am no threat to you, and that this is all just a misunderstanding." Lowering his arms to his sides carefully, but being sure to keep them from his belt or potential weapon locations, Bogomil continues as before, "I asked Larry if he wanted to fill the Grail, so that Lliira could fill his life with joy. I was even going to cover the cost of the beverage. Mistress, I swear to you that I only wanted to make him feel welcome, and loved. The same joy I have extended to countless patrons of the Wayfarer's Rest. I mean Larry no harm, but I will stay clear of his table in the future if that is what would bring you joy?" He carefully avoids talking about anything to do with her in his bed.
DM-Boneyard Ben: As you lower your hands, you hear the fist grind into the stone as once again hot breath washes over your ear, though you stoically manage your body this time around as you anticipated such things, what you didn't expect was the words that followed that breath. "Thats it, prick-ear. Niiiiiice and slow" She says with the edges of a lover watching her partner but still with that dangerous sharpness. "Breaking a couple dozen beds with you is what would bring me joy, little prick-ear" She says in answer. Although you have the distinct feeling that she means using your body to break the beds. As in, physically picking you up and slamming you into beds till they break. Though your immediate thought is; How bad could that be? Then, it clicks, she did say a few dozen and you imagine that the process would be very rigorous and painful. You think back to your hand to hand combat days and getting slammed into the mats in the palace, then you can see how that happening a few dozen times would be quite dreadful. "Barring that, yes, I would find joy in resuming my lazy duties watching the Larry" She says almost offhandedly, seeming almost out of character for the intense woman.
DM-Delfon: Bogomil again carefully avoids talking about this woman and beds, whether she means to bludgeon them with him, or to sleep with him in one it doesn't matter a bit. "Well then it's settled. I will continue to bring joy for another day, while you resume your lazy duties watching The Larry." Bogomil speaks clearly, making sure that the capital can be heard in his words. "In future I will avoid your charges table. Once again, my apologies Mistress." He finishes with another slow half bow. 'Time to roll the dice' Bogomil thinks, saying aloud, "If I may ask The Mistress a question?" Once more speaking clearly to add the importance of a capital to his voice, "If I overstep, please forgive me, but I have to ask who Larry is to require such staunch protection? I have not grown up here, and do not yet know all the major players of Clifton." Bogomil is basically screaming humility with his every tone, word and action. His words are a mixture of pleading earnestness, tempered with not wanting to get his head caved in in an alley.
Persuasion: 14+8=22
DM-Boneyard Ben: You hear a single sharp and mirthless laugh behind you and the fist that was embedded in the cobblestone, slips back away from your sight. "He is the son of a big shot noble that wants to make sure he remains... Unbothered" She says adding a clear connotation that your the bother in the form of flicking your ear. There is a pause from her at that and you can swear you hear her smile again before you find yourself alone in the alley once again.
A time later as your making sure your alone for sure this time. A group of rag covered figures appear from various corners and even one wearing a shaggy green hat and scarf appears from a garbage barrel. Seems they had you covered. Its good to have friends in low places. What now?
DM-Delfon: Bogomil places a coin into the hands of each of the beggars, "Thank-you my friends. Knowing that you were there for me brought me untold joy." He takes the time to shake each of their hands, and share a few words with each of them before they head back out into the streets of Clifton. Mostly thanking them personally, but Bogomil is always on the lookout for rumor and information. With that crisis averted, Bogomil makes his way home for some much needed sleep. In the morning Ezra will be heading back to the Palace to finish up his work for the day, and go out and finish his investigation of the missing funds.
DM-Boneyard Ben: The hobos offer a few your welcomes and don't have much in the way to say, they seem more surprised that someone is actually thanking them for helping out. You assume the beggars have a hard time at it considering all the propaganda sensationalizing the homeless, making them out to be deviants or leeches on society. You know from your time as a Prince that this is a means to distract from other problems or give the people something to unite against in their anger. Y'know something that ISN'T the noble filching their pockets covertly by selling them things they need at a mark up. The noble realizes your upset about him hiking the prices of bread for no reason but look at the gross man on the streets, don't you hate that? He could be a killer or wanna steal your kids and sell them to Underdark Slavers! And to help you, every additional purchase of my breads comes with a ward that gets rid of homeless men! Buy in bulk! You'd probably be disgusted but you've seen the tactics as useful tools for vetting spies and taking away from people's worries. You wonder how you can turn this to your advantage as you arrive home and set yourself to sleep.
Ezra is up early and coincidentally punctual as is proper for the odd little scribe, you go about your usual book keeping in your mega sized room. The maid set to attend you; Today it is the Tiefling girl; Dove, who's skin is as white as milk. You note her face takes on a crimson hue whenever you address that she exists. Aside from that she is quiet but distracting as the bouncy maid likes to rock on her heels, and sway herself to some unheard tune as the quiet drags out. Your first encounter with the girl resulted in hilarity that you honestly had to stop as Ezra's trademark awkward mannerisms set off a chain reaction of apologies and "Its my fault for.."s from the ultra shy and easily flustered maid. Seems rumors reached her ears and she blurted out her concern that you'd seduce her like you did to the Head Maid. Although her face turning a proper tiefling red and a spouting of a million apologies and assurances that she doesn't believe you'd do anything unwarranted and so on and so forth. You pulled your princely charms for a moment to set the girls worry at ease and set her about her task of assisting you before long. After a time though Dove is called away and your replacement should be here any moment now but... That was an hour ago and you need a certain book of royal lineages to confirm a suspicions of this so called "New money" in the city where your jealous seamstress spends all her time. Your sure someone will be along soon, or you could go to the library yourself?
EVENT IMMINENT!!!
Decide wisely...
DM-Delfon: (The scene with Dove would have been several posts of comedic gold! Next time...)
The conversation probably ended with something along the lines of, "I'll tell you what we will do. Next time we meet, we will pretend we have never met before. We will introduce ourselves and everything. Okay?" Ezra says wearing one of the princes best smiles. "If you want to make a really good first impression next time, come prepared with a story. As I told Mistress Battlebeard, I love a good non-fiction story. A little embellishment is fine, but I prefer a true telling." He hunches down like he's trying to make himself as small as possible and whispers, "Palace gossip is always the juiciest."
Ezra pokes his head out into the hallway outside his room, looking this way and that for a servant of the palace. If he finds one, he asks if he can be led to the library. If not, he takes his best guess and heads to the library himself.
DM-Boneyard Ben: (Agreed XD)
With shenanigans successfully accomplished and more in your ever brightening future, you are sure. You pop your head out your study and try your best to locate a servant. You manage to find one fellow who's outside... 50 feet up... Washing the windows... Don't suppose he'd be much help. Assuming you don't decide to bother the fellow you head to the library.
Luckily your study is only down the hall from the library, a sharp left and little walk and boom! There you stand. You open the door. Ezra excited to see the sight and take in the smells of an old and well stocked library. And you, sir are not disappointed. Books from wall to wall, large wooden shelves of 20 feet or more and spiraling stairs to the upper floors and endless volumes of knowledge in every nook and cranny. However as much as Ezra tugs and pulls to his task, the Prince notices something different. An elf and a man, sitting in the center of the library. The elf flipping through volumes at a rapid pace, seeming frustrated while the human seems to leisurely read his book at his own pace. The human, by all appearances is a ship Captain. The coat and hat are dead give away however the gold band on his captain's hat with multiple shining gems seems out of place and your natural attunement to the Weave tell you its magical and Powerful. He has kind of a plain look to him as far as humans, not overly handsome or ugly in either sense. However you have an overwhelming urge to be his friend. A small gargoyle-like creature hops around him and flies on its bat-like wings seeming to try and see everything at once. It also seems to favor being closer to the women in the library than anyone else. The human... The Captain? That seems right. The Captain looks up from his volume when you enter and smiles, offering you a short and friendly bow. This man's eyes are deep and heavily knowledgeable. He reminds you of your Father, a glint in his eyes that make him seem like he has all the answers and is always wanting to help or make a situation better, however something lies below those eyes... Something darker... You also notice that he has a strange tattoo of a hooded skull with a scythe on the back of his hand, odd. You wouldn't think a nice guy like that to be part of a shady gang? The elf notices the movement of the nearby human and traces his line of sight to you. The elf (A moon elf if your not mistaken) smiles and looks like he's going to get up from his reading to greet you but his eyes narrow and you feel very... naked. His sharp eyes seem to take you in, rip you into tiny pieces, breaking you down to your core elements, gathering everything he needs to know and leaves you like that. When his eyes let up , he seems heavily dissatisfied and turns back to his book, grumbling something. The Captain pats his shoulder and laughs a little, seeming to try and comfort the Elf. Your eyes quickly find the elf has a couple of small oddly shaped wands on his belt. One of a snake, another of metal, and one of gnarled wood, they look like mini staves. However your breath catches when the elf raises his right hand to turn the page of his book. His entire hand seems to be made from some sort of blue crystal with black smoke writhing inside of it. The strange appendage moves as a hand should, it radiates some kind of white smoke as well and given how the light catches it you think that hand is made of ice and it probably goes further up his arm. The black smoke that seems to be inside the limb writhes and move in a distracting way. Like its looking for a way out and looking at it yourself gives you chills. Like the specter of Death itself is staring at you.
Seems you've met the two most interesting people of your life, however you recall thats not what your hear for and the volume you need is off to the left there, you could avoid them entirely, get your work done for the day? What shall you do?
DM-Delfon: Ezra steps into the hallway, not really sure what the social protocol is for wandering around in someone else's house unattended. Cocking his head to one side, he thinks about it for a moment, 'Well the palace is a public building for the most part. It just has restricted areas, which I have been granted access to.' Nodding to himself with the decision made, he heads down the hallway. Seeing the window washer hanging off the outside of the palace through a window, he just gives a small unsure wave. No protocol book has ever given the proper procedure for communicating with a servant that is literally hanging from the outside of a building.
As Ezra enters the library, he uncharacteristically shoves the rest of the personalities down. 'This moment is for me.' He thinks simply. He gawks openly at the rows of books, trailing a finger along their spines as he moves into the room. Although he does see the Captain and his companion, he outwardly pays them no heed just yet. Ezra circles the room once, stopping only to pick up the book he came here to find. When he gets back to where he started, he turns back toward the pair, "Oh, erm." He takes a deep breath to steady himself, "According to prevailing social protocol, I believe I was rude." He bows, whispering, "Acknowledge mistake, and offer an apology. Follow up with an explanation, corrective behavior and assurances that it will not occur again." When he straightens, he continues in a more normal volume, "Please accept my most sincere apology for ignoring you when I came into the room. This is my first time in the palace library, and I was overwhelmed by the scale of the gathered materials. I assure you that it will not happen again. Please allow me to make up for the slight by introducing myself now." Ezra awkwardly steps forward, extending his hand like he has seen others do, "My name is Ezra Quillier, personal scribe to the Duchess herself." The last is added purely to be informative, with no hint of bragging. The handshake is weak, and not aligned correctly so it just comes across feeling a little weird.
DM-Boneyard Ben: The Captain lets out a short dismissive chuckle and you feel immediately that any slight you may have stumbled upon was forgiven and forgotten. "Be at ease, High Scribe of the Illustrious Duchess, no offense was taken, we're in a library after all" the human says with a smile and a wink as he takes your hand, setting you more at ease. The captain's handshake is firm and defined, a man used to making deals and easily guides Ezra's hand through proper procedure. The Elf continues to mutter to himself. In elvish it seems, your acute hearing picks up on the Elvish word for Charlatan. Though because of the elvish language being one more akin to poetry its more direct translation is; "one who wears a face, not his own." "Forgive my companion here, he's not a very sociable type" He offers and then immediately goes wide eyed as if he'd realized something. "Ah! Where are my manners, my name is Captain Jonathon Smithe, of the Dawn's Horizon. Merchant of the Lawless Sea" He introduces himself, you catch a light in his eyes as he mentions his ship's name and profession. A man who loves his work and is talking about it. "The well read fellow to my left is called Ja'lian Whitescroll of the Luminous Cloud Clergy, we are here to record some rare books for their library". The Captain offers. From your knowledge of Elvish you know Ja'lian means Master Of Staves and the Captain makes the name sound like a title. So, Staff Master Whitescroll, but whats his first name? The elf offers a wave, you think. His hand barely left the book.
DM-Delfon: Ezra would turn an uncharacteristic glare toward Ja'lain, murmuring quietly to himself, "Social protocol dictates that conversation should continue in the language in which it was started." but the Captains words immediately smooth that social breach over with his explanation that his companion is not very social. Since Ja'lian spoke Elven, Ezra responds to him in Elven, intentionally changing the words to force the more formal title instead of calling him Ja'lian, "Well met Master of Staves Whitescroll. I'm not sure whose face you believe me to be wearing, but I can assure you this is the face I was born with." Ezra turns his attention back to the man shaking his hand, returning once more to the common tongue. "Well met Captain Smithe of the Dawn's Horizon. It truly is a pleasure to met you. If I can assist you in your search in any way, just let me know." Ezra realizes that he is still holding the Captains hand, and sheepishly lets it go. "I have not visited this particular library, but I have read a great many other books in the city." Once again not a hint of boasting, just a simple statement of fact. The Prince watches Ja'lian like a hawk. Anybody that is that suspicious of strangers can accidentally be very dangerous. The Captain seems familiar for some reason, like a character from a book brought to life...
Rolls: History 17+0=17
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Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Jul 3, 2019 19:30:41 GMT -5
Whitescroll closes his book and looks up at you. A dark cast to his eyes. The captain seems to want to move in front of the elf. When Ja'lian speaks. "What scribe needs Illusionary cloth?" He asks bluntly. Uh-oh. "You noticed that too?" The Captain asks turning to look at the elf. "Along the Callouses on his hands, indicating a familiarity with weapons, most prominently; a Rapier. Such training indicates a falsehood to his hunched stance and profession of choice" "But, he'd have to be very smart to play a high noble's scribe, only a high noble would..." The Captain turns to you and smiles seeming to have stumbled upon something interesting. "List of local missing nobles with High society education and weapons training?" Whitescroll asks. "We won't need a list, the exiled Prince of Somerset recently reveled himself or so rumors say" The Captain answers. "A runaway Prince would certainly covet a position of power like the Duchess' Master Scribe" Whitescroll says plainly "Would need to hide his appearance as well, change how he is seen, its said he met with the Duchess and wasn't beheaded on the spot, as I understand it the Duchess and the Prince's Mother were on very good terms" "Where would a woman in the Duchess' position keep such a dangerous and possibly valuable asset?" Whistescroll is grinning at this point. "As close as possible" The Captain says, matching the Elf's grin. They share a look between them and both seem to wave their hands and speak Arcane phrases, setting up some kind of barrier around the three of you. "What does... One call a... Prince who is... Without his... Title?" Ja'lian says, speaking in Common for the first time. And its easy to tell while he prefers elvish, his grasp on the language seems odd. Although you can tell its because he's dumbing down his speech so you can understand him. Seeming to have to pause and think about simpler words to use. Though he seems to enjoy talking down to you after cracking your secret "Now, now" The Captain says waving down the elf and laughing it off like a joke. "You refer to him with respect as you would any individual who's shown respect to you" "The... Thought that you can.... Fool me with... Such magic and simple... Tricks, hardly seems... Like an.. Act of... Respect" Whitescroll counters. "He has his reasons" The Captain reminds the elf. Whitescroll hums a moment in thought and nods. "So, I imagine you have quite the tale; Prince Charles Of Somerset, Watcher Of The Waves" The human says with a flourishing bow, every bit the respectful gesture a royal deserves. "He watches... the waves?" Whitescroll asks and smiles in amusement. "Hardly... the stuff of... a ruler... Spend more time... Watching... Your people... And perhaps... You will be... A King... One day" "It would be more accurate to say he should have been watching his Uncle" "Pardon?" "Have you read the Werelion King?" "Of Course" "That" "Ahhh..." Whitescroll seems to look at you and a new respect takes his eyes.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jul 4, 2019 11:29:38 GMT -5
Ezra seems oblivious to the potential threat that is Ja'lian Whitescroll, but Embros locks onto the Captains reaction and it takes all of the Princes will to stay in character and not let his hand drop to the hilt of the dagger at his waist. Ezra manages to stand there with his mouth hanging slightly open, turning his head back and forth between the two men as they speak. Once they've finished, the Prince has a decision to make and it only takes him a second with his cover blown. He walks as Ezra to the door, either locking it or shifting a chair in front of the door to prevent anyone from just walking in on the three of them. Then the Prince says the command words for his hat of disguise, and glamoured armour.
Gone is the scribe, replaced by the Prince himself. The illusionary part fades, revealing his natural hair, pulled back into a tight pony tail. The plain robe with ink stains around the right wrist is replaced with fine black clothes trimmed in purple. The cut and style of the clothes are of course of the latest fashion, with a frill of lace spilling out at the neck and cuffs. Charles turns back to face these men while he removes the ring from the middle finger of his right hand, and places it on the little finger of his left. Carefully removing the cap to reveal his personal signet. He doesn't bother adjusting his weapons, if these men are powerful enough to see through his facades that easily weapons will be of no use here anyway.
As he returns to the table the transformation is complete. Gone are the hunched shoulders and the slouch, replaced with an erect posture with shoulders back. As he turns he makes steady eye contact with each man in turn, no longer avoiding their gaze. Even the quiet unsure voice of Ezra the scribe is replaced with the clear commanding voice of the Prince. The Prince comes to stand where Ezra stood before, addressing each man directly, "You seem more comfortable speaking in Elven, so if it's alright with you Captain I shall continue in that language." Assuming the Captain is agreeable, the Prince continues in Elven, "You are both remarkably observant and shrewd. In mere moments you have seen through a persona that has taken me years to develop." He leans across the table, offering his hand to each man in turn. This time there is no weakness to the handshake, this man is as used to shaking hands as any merchant. "You were mistaken about me not having a title. My formal title is His Serene Highness, Prince Charles Somerset, Watcher of the Waves, Defender of the Somerset Isles. I have never forsaken my claim to the throne of Somerset, so my title is still valid. I have not yet been coronated, so my title remains only Prince instead of King." The Prince nods as the Captain bows before him, but turns back to Master Whitescroll, "The title of Watcher of the Waves goes hand in hand with Defender of the Somerset Isles. You have to understand that the Somerset Isles are a collection of islands surrounded by water. Back before there was a royal family, each island was ruled by its own lord. Each island raiding and attacking the others. Attacks almost always came from the water." The Prince stops here, not bothering to explain what these men should be able to deduce from what he has already said.
"Allow me to respond a few of the other things you have said, and make a few observations of my own. As you have deduced, exiled Princes masquerading as scribe require illusionary clothing to avoid being assassinated by an uncle that has usurped his rightful throne." Charles opens his scroll case, revealing the hilt of his rapier hidden within, "You were correct about the rapier as well, though it is beyond me how you guessed the type of blade from the callouses on my hands." As he mentions his callouses, he holds his hands out before himself to look at the callouses himself. "My mother and the Duchess were close, and the fact that I still live should drive home that the Duchess doesn't believe my uncles lies. The Duchess has not seen through my persona as you have, or she is the best liar I have ever met. I arranged the position of Master Scribe for Ezra so that I could stay appraised as to the happenings of the court of Clifton."
The Prince smiles one of his most charming smiles, "I have addressed your assumptions, and corrected what little you had incorrect. Now it's my turn." He takes a full minute to look over each man in turn, addressing Ja'lian first. "You're Teu-tel-quessir* if I'm not mistaken, but by your clothing you're either from very far afield or not from this plane at all. Your robes are split for riding, but the wear patterns do not match those of a horse. Something larger, and with scales. Perhaps a Wyvern? or full Dragon? You make use of a high quality saddle though. You wear a component's pouch, and a holy symbol. The Captain introduced you as a member of the Luminous Cloud Clergy. I would say that you draw your power from both the arcane and the divine. You have seen a great deal of the world, including an undead black dragon that you either befriended or defeated." Charles points toward Ebondeath's scale sticking out the top of a pouch. "Your staff becomes a snake, but has been modified considerably, though without inspecting it I can't draw any further conclusions about it. Lastly, you carry or have access to all of your worldly possessions, and yet I do not see enough equipment on you. Your bag must be an extra dimensional space or you have a base that you work from."
Turning now toward the Captain, the Prince begins, "That creature hopping about is either your familiar or a Homunculus. You're bonded to it, likely able to communicate telepathically with it. I feel like everything you're carrying is magical, I can see an abundance of runes hidden throughout your equipment. I've never seen a circlet wrapped in vines and fur before. So they're either for decoration, which I doubt. I doubt that anything you're wearing is just for decoration. More likely, you've modified the enchantments to include animals and plants?" His inflection shifts to make it a question, but he continues without waiting for an answer, "I'm guessing based on your profession, and mannerisms that you enjoy being able to talk to people. So if I had to bet, I would say that circlet allows you to communicate with people even if you do not share a language, and that you've modified it to speak with animals and plants as well. Your cloak has veins and ridges like wings. The texture is that of rough stone, perhaps Gargoyle flesh. I would say that cloak allows you to fly. You strike me as a man that is always prepared, so your bag likely also connects to an extra dimensional space." Here the Prince pauses, he's about to enter into territory he is less sure about, "You carry a tattoo of a hooded skull with a scythe on the back of your hand. What is a merchant from the Lawless Sea doing with the mark of a Reaper?"
Once the men have reacted to his observations, Charles asks, "Now, shall we get down to the business of how we can help one another?"
Rolls: 18,19,20,17,20 (Reaper tattoo) I'm not sure what skills would be needed here, but based on the rolls I'm going to say that I succeeded at whatever I needed to do in this encounter.
*Teu-tel-quessir is Elven for Moon Elf
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Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Jul 9, 2019 14:26:53 GMT -5
For Master Whitescroll's part, he nods his head along with your observations but a smile takes his lips at your observation of his staff. "You were correct on my staff.. At one point in my life" He says and touches the foot-long piece of wood at his belt and pulls it from its place and before your eyes it grows to a full sized staff. The elf then tosses the staff behind him with a non-nonchalant gesture. Uttering words in Draconic that translate out to; "Come forth, My Love". In a flash, the staff is gone and in its place looms a Gargantuan dragon with a sleek profile, and a spined crest. The scales of the dragon glisten pure white but are also mottled by patches of pale blue and light gray. There is a disturbingly intelligent gleam to this dragon's feral eyes and it wears a bandoleer with wands across its chest, some of them seem heavily damaged. The white dragon leans its long neck over Whitescroll to look at you, it parts its lips and it breathes out, covering you and everything behind you in a layer of harmless but very cold frost. "What is this?" The creature asks, its voice sounding feminine... and hungry... "No one of consequence, Arvei, I missed your company" Whitescroll says, drawing the head of the dragon to turn and push against him. Its hard to tell whats happening with the dragon's head in the way but even from here you can hear a soft growl and Ja'lian seems to be chuckling.
The Captain also seems impressed by the dragon and seems to be fighting some internal urge before he himself clears his throat. Drawing your attention away from the dragon that seems to be nuzzling Whitescroll and raises the hand the tattoo is on. "This isn't a tattoo, it is a binding mark, a contract of sorts to a being more ancient and powerful than the Gods" He clutches his and the mark becomes engulfed in a azure flame as suddenly a Large hooded figure in a black robe with a scythe appears behind the cheery Captain. Despite how you might feel about it yourself in your very core you feel a threat on your very soul. You feel shaken as if the avatar of Death were staring you down. But, the fear seems to seep in further when both Ja'lian and the big fucking dragon are visibly bothered by the looming creature.
With both casters now having drawn what seems to be the most powerful cards from their deck you collect yourself and raise the question. Both look at each other and then to you. The captain seeming interested, a man of business. Ja'lian seeming curious, a scholar to his very core. "What have you to offer?" Both men ask in unison, seeming to surprise them as well as you. The dragon places his hungry gaze on you and you can feel the creature behind the Captain's gaze as well, both bother you deeply. "I will not be long for this world" Ja'lian says suddenly, drawing the attention of both you and the captain. "So, empty promises of IF we help you and you becomes king we'll get this and that, mean nothing, so what have you to offer?" The elf asks, stepping forward and making you feel very small in the process. The Captain nods his head. "He makes a point, we are both powerful men in our own rights, I have vast connections across the various Planes and Master Whitescroll has magic power that can easily turn your entire kingdom to dust" the man says without pause or concern that what he is saying may be an exaggeration, which leads you to believe; it is not. "So as content as I am with a written and sealed paper from the future King giving me elusive rights of trade in Somerset" He says swiftly and clears his throat as the Elf locks eyes with him. "We will need something more substantial given our stations" He says and takes his place beside Ja'lian. A smile on his face. Not his warm welcoming one but a predatory grin of a business man looking to squeeze every last coin out of you.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jul 11, 2019 21:55:08 GMT -5
Charles steps back from the suddenly appearing Ancient White Dragon, his eyes wide with surprise and fright that slips through his normally stoic composure. He manages to regain that composure surprisingly quickly, with a little unintended help from Master Whitescroll's comment. 'No one of consequence? I'm the bloody rightful ruler of an entire country!' Charles grinds down his annoyance while Ja'lian is distracted. The Captain would have seen each emotion play across his features, however briefly. He would have also seen the will of a man that is willing to do what it takes to survive, dragon be damned.
With his composure now reasserted, Charles turns his attention toward the Captain. Taking careful note that the Captain seems to have only just met Arvei himself. 'Perhaps these two are not as close as they seemed at first. They might finish each other's sentences, but they don't fully trust one another. Maybe I can use that to my advantage.' Before Charles can process that line of thought any further, the Captain clears his throat and begins speaking. 'Shar's Shadow! What is that thing?' Visibly shaken, and this time not trying to hide it Charles steps back away from the Reaper. Even though Charles doesn't actually know anything about this being, something about the way it threatens his very soul is off putting to say the very least. Charles forgets his training when it comes to that thing, and avoids looking at it as if it wasn't even in the room at all. For the third time in as many minutes Charles is forced to rebuilt his composure. 'Whitescroll and the Dragon didn't know about that either. Further proof that they're not as friendly as first presented.'
Now that the shock of the moment has passed and he has reasserted his Noble facade, Charles begins to try and regain the upper hand in this conversation. "Simply put, what I offer is knowledge." Now that he is the center of attention, those extra eyes weigh down upon him. He has enough to worry about with the men in the room, and now this? 'If any of them wanted him dead, he would already be dead. Why bother worrying about what you can't change?' "Before we continue, I believe new introductions are in order." Charles says, adding one of his princely smiles for good measure.
Not quite ready to tackle the thing that scares him the most, he instead begins by turning to Ja'lian, "She is as terrifying as she is beautiful. To have access to such a magnificent creature on a whim must be a dream come true." Shifting his gaze up to the dragon, the Prince smiles and says in Draconic, "I fear that I do not know the proper way to address a Dragon, so I hope you take no offense." Prince Charles bows before the creature, "My name is Prince Charles Somerset, and it is my absolute pleasure to meet you." He leaves off his titles, as such mundane things must be below the attention of such beings. Still unsettled by the Reaper, Charles simply turns toward it and bows as well. With introductions completed Charles turns his attention back to Ja'lian. Returning to the Elven tongue, he continues, "You must be so used to dealing with issues on a global scale. Although I would not turn down any help any of you would offer toward reclaiming my throne, that is not what I was implying." As Charles says any of you, his gaze flicks to each entity in the room in turn, "You know who Ezra Quiller actually is, and if the wrong person found out what you know..." He pauses here, his voice loosing some of it's Noble charm and becoming solemn, "My life, and the lives of my people could be forfeit. My uncle was willing to poison my Mother, and blame it on me. What do you think he has been doing to my people?" The Captain seems a good man, despite his companion, and a good deal of that was actually meant for him.
"The only help I ask of you is to keep my secret. Anything any of you offer beyond that would be a boon to be sure, but that is all I humbly ask." Knowing that all good deals are an exchange, the Prince of the Somerset Isles continues, "You say that you're not long for this world, so I offer you time. While rebuilding my life here in Clifton, I have learned a great deal. As Ezra I have become a bit of a bibliophile. I come across you in a library, so I assume that you're looking for knowledge. This I can help with."
Turning his attention to the Captain, "Like your companion, you must be called upon to deal with global problems." His eyes flick up to the Reaper for a moment, "Considering that I only wish for you to promise me that you will keep my secret, perhaps a written and sealed paper from the future King might be enough after all? Besides, you two make an unlikely pair. As such I have to assume that you're here as either escort or guide. The sooner your companion finishes what he has come here for the better, yes?"
Rolls: Wisdom Save 12+0=12. (Vs not active Frightful Presence DC 16) Deception 7+8=15, failing to hide his fear/annoyance at the Dragon/Ja'lian from the Captain.
(Charles has never been more thankful to have a Amulet of Proof Against Detection and Location.)
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Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Jul 13, 2019 19:19:19 GMT -5
The dragon lifts its head from Whitescroll, its piercing gaze once more falling on you to stare into your very being. "Well met, Charlie" The dragon says teasingly in her native tongue. "That is rude" The Elf chides. "You are rude" The Dragon quips back. "I'm rude?" "Extremely so" "How so?" "You keep me locked up in a staff-" She begins "Extra dimensional space" He cuts in. "Locked-" She begins again turning to him this time "You can leave at will" He corrects without missing a beat "You barely pay me attention" She hisses "We in constant communication through telepathy" He reminds her with a smile "You have barely t-" She falls quiet as Whitescroll lays a hand on her. "Well... You only called me out to scare Charlie" "Its simple logic that any man who thinks he is better need only meet your wife to realize he is lesser" The dragon falls silent at that. "I have magic power to spare and a wife more wondrous than all that exists in any world, who would not be afraid of such a man?" He asks sincerely meeting her eyes in a deep gaze The dragon licks up the side of Whitescroll's face putting a layer on frost where her tongue was and holding up his black curly hair on that side at an odd angle. The Elf makes no movee to correct or fix this silly hairstyle and you feel like if he did she would do something worse. The dragon mumbles something, seeming embarrassed. Whatever it was was said with a note of happiness. Its clear from their interaction that they are quite comfortable with each other. Though Ja'lian seems to have the mental control, swiftly laying concerns or chides to rest with cold logic. The Dragon has the physical power in the relationship, getting her revenge by making him look foolish because she can't match his wit. The two are also openly emotional with each other, you doubt if either has much in the way of social graces but in each others company its different. You very much doubt you would have witnessed the dragon being needy or Whitescroll spout something that corny without the other present. The Elf clears his throat and introduces his wife as "Arveiaturace Whitescroll" Once again the first name sounds like a title but you don't recognize what it could mean, perhaps an early form of draconic?
When you offer your deal The Elf shrugs simply. "Nothing for Nothing seems fair, You've given me no cause to spill your secret so I will not do so, however if your false self is any sort of reader than I'll have all the information on the libraries in the local radius and in return I'll offer you a... boon of sorts" He says and offers his crystalline hand out to you. I assume you have no reason to not tell Whitescroll of the hidden bookstore you know of and library in the lower quarter so with that done you take the Elf's hand. His grip suddenly locks your hand in place as tendrils of black mist extend from the icy limb. The world switches to a crawl, as you see on the edges of your vision the Captain suddenly becomes panicked and tries to close the gap a white tail coming between him and you. Then the tendrils cover your eyes, throwing you into an endless black A white spot comes into your vision and you see it become bigger and brighter. Eventually, you can see it is a book that comes before you and opens its pages. The words spring from the pages and surround you showing a vision of your castle in Somerset besieged by a black sludge with infinite eyes and mouths that consumes everything in its path. Your suddenly shifted to inside the Castle where both you and your Uncle fight side by side to fight off the endless Ooze's assault. Whitescroll's Voice rings out.
"From The Darkest Pit Of Summer's Set Shall Come The Faceless Lord's Maw"
The scene shifts to show the dungeons of your Castle home and a path to the Underdark.
"Only With The Light Of Divinity Can This Infinite Monstrosity Be Quelled."
The scene shifts to show the Temple Of Pelor is fighting off the creature with no problems.
"Forget Not The Black Of Family Saw"
The scene shifts and you see a memory of your childhood in the dungeons where you had hidden away in a game of hide and seek and stumbled on your Uncle talking with an elvish woman with ebony skin.
"Or Your Castle, Your Kingdom, Yourself Will Be Felled"
The last Scene flashes before your eyes where all of Somerset becomes rubble and the gargantuan slime covers everything.
You find yourself on your knees back in the library in front of the Captain and Whitescroll. The man seeming to be telling off the Elf for using such high powered magic on a mortal man. The Captain notices you've become alert to your surroundings and lowers himself to you asking if you are well. You have a splitting headache but your fine otherwise.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jul 15, 2019 9:23:14 GMT -5
Prince Charles easily pushes down his annoyance at the dragon calling him Charlie, 'Just like my Uncle. Changing my name to sounds more childish to try and make me feel small. Too bad for you Dragon, I've had plenty of practice ignoring that tactic.' Charles watches the the back and forth between the Dragon and Ja'lian, once again driving down his annoyance. This time he is annoyed at the obvious power play that is pocket Dragon. Additionally, he is annoyed by the fact that they're talking about him like he's not standing right there in front of them. 'They're both right, they're both rude.' Charles thinks with a mental smirk, this entire time his features remained a perfect mask of noble indifference. The Prince shares a look of 'Can you believe this nonsense' with the Captain, careful to turn his features toward him so as not to offend the Dragon, or Ja'lian. With Ja'lian finally giving a proper introduction, the Prince bows again, adding another of his most Princely smiles for good measure, "Well met Arveiaturace Whitescroll."
"You say nothing for nothing, but to me my secret means my life, and that is pretty important to me. Since you're not long for this world?" He intones it like a question, hoping someone will volunteer that information. "and searching libraries can take a long time. It seems to me that haste, or at least efficiency would be important to you as well." After asking a few questions, and sorting out what information they're looking to find the Prince continues, "There is a hidden bookstore that I believe contains the information you seek. There is also a few volumes in a library in the lower quarter." He goes on to provide directions so that they can find the locations mentioned. To seal the deal, the Prince shakes the Elf's crystalline hand.
The Prince's eyes grow wide at the arcane strength behind this grip, and somehow grow wider still as the tendrils of black mist extend toward his flesh. His mind races as the world seems to slow. He has been on high alert since the two men so easily uncovered his true identity. There is simply no higher level of alertness or panic possible for the Prince, so he smooths his features and rides this out with an odd detached calmness. By the time the tendrils reach his eyes, his mind floats in the madness in calm serenity.
After the ordeal the Prince places both hands flat on the ground in front of himself, and takes a few deep breaths to steady his nerves. Turning his face up to the Captain's, he nods slowly, "I have a headache that wasn't there before, but otherwise I believe I'm fine." The Prince rolls his weight up onto his toes, and then stands up. Wavering for a moment, and using the table for balance. "I have questions." The Prince says simply, turning his attention toward Ja'lian. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, and than blurts out all the questions at once, "When is this supposed to happen? What was that sludge monster with all the eyes and mouths, the Faceless Lord? Does this mean my Uncle has been working with the Drow all these years?" He pauses, realizing that he just rambled off a lot of questions without waiting for any answers, "One more questions, please. Is this going to happen? Or now that I know about it, can I change the future?"
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Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Aug 9, 2019 6:59:09 GMT -5
"Faceless Lord?" The Captain asks. He pauses for a moment taking in the information "A demon lord is involved?" He asks turning to the Elf. "Will be, it seems" Ja'lian says nonchalantly. "Seems?" The human asks. "Yes, that spell; The Book Of Fate, creates a prophecy that gives the recipient of the spell an edge on a future endeavor they will undertake. I could not see what he saw" The elf explains and looks at you. "I can only answer your last question and that is; Yes. With the future now known to you, you have already changed it" "But, make no mistake, half-elf" The Dragon interjects. "Knowing the future and living to it are different things" "An excellent point" Ja'lian agrees turning to acknowledge his wife and then back to you. "Fate is absolute. Your life is not. Fate decrees that what you saw will happen, weather it is you in that place or someone else. However with the knowledge you've just gained, you can change the ending to that story, if you die, someone else will take your place to stand at the book's end, do you understand?" He asks, unusually serious and seeming to want you to comprehend what he's saying.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Aug 21, 2019 6:41:04 GMT -5
The Prince nods, “You’ve given me much to think upon. I appreciate the warning.” Even with all these very powerful individuals standing in the room the Prince lets his mind wander over his assets, comparing them to the power of a demon lord. Accidentally speaking out loud, the Prince says, “We cannot survive that.” Realizing he spoke out loud, the Prince smiles and adds, “yet.”
The Prince continues to speak with these men after giving them all the information they would need to secure his half of their deal. Questions about the Faceless Lord, mostly focusing on how he operates. The rest of the questions would be about these men themselves, and their companions.
When the time comes to part ways, the Prince says a few magic words, and replaces his princely regalia with the attire of Ezra. His posture and mannerisms change with his clothing, Princely charm replace with social oblivion. After stuttering through a final goodbye, Ezra makes his back to his office.
Once there Ezra uses the book of royal lineages to confirm or deny his new money suspicions about the jealous seamstress. Aside from that final detail, Ezra prepares his report and busies himself with his duties. Once lost in his work only interruption, hunger or lack of light pull him from it.
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Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Aug 31, 2019 5:27:46 GMT -5
As the human and Elf converse you begin to piece together the scene that took place before you passed out, apparently you were swallowed up by a Large spectral book that you disappeared into for a time before being unceremoniously spat back out onto the ground. The results of the spell are to give you an edge in the Future. You feel no different yourself, but you feel more aware of the threat and able to better prepare for what comes next.
"Ahh, I can answer that" The Captain chimes in when you ask about the Faceless Lord. "Juiblex, Lord Of Slime, Oozes and Shapeless Things" You note that a strange bottle Whitescroll carries seems to shake of its own volition, the grey liquid inside writhing about as if possessed. "Also called Lord Of Nothing, it is one of the worst of the Demon Lords" The Elf quirks an eyebrow. "Arguably" The human corrects, quickly. "Its modus operandi, as it were, is simply; to consume all in its path, becoming larger but never to be full, it desires to consume the planes and become them, till nothing remains but Juiblex itself. Its entire territory in the Abyss is simply the creature itself, you will have an easy target to hit, but few can stop the Lord Of Nothing when its chosen a path, your fight will be dangerous" The Captain warns. Whitescroll scoffs. "Hardly dangerous, with the Book Of Fate in place, I guaranteed his victory as long as he's not a complete fool" he says. "As long as he listens well to the Pages" The Dragon intervenes, slithering out a long tongue before her husband. The Elf blushes slightly and clears his throat. "Ah, uh, yes, thats true as well" He takes moment to collect himself before looking to you. "When you hear the sound of turning pages it will tell of a fateful encounter to guarantee you on your path, it may not always be clear; you may need to make a new ally or enemy, kill someone, or anything really, simply be true to yourself and the path will become as it should" "That seems hardly helpful" The Captain inputs. The Elf rounds on him. "And what precisely have you done for the half-human??" Whitescroll questions. "I expended some of my not so inconsiderable power to assist the fallen Prince to his goal and all you have done is make a way for yourself to make more profit, assuming he isn't a arcane-blasted fool, so you sir, talamin torr rigus'fa, Ma'fever tem" "That was uncalled for" The Human frowns. "I think you mean hilarious" Arveiaturace giggles. For your part, your confused, that was definitely Elven he spoke but not words you recognize, perhaps some older dialect? Insults are not very common in the language after all and that most definitely was an insult, judging by the Captain's face. "Very well, then" Captain Smithe relents. Digging into a pouch at his side, the Captain pulls out a small gold band. Offering the ring to you, he explains, "This ring will allow you to detect the surface thoughts of nearby creatures. If you focus your attention on a specific creature, you can probe further. Have a care, as probing around within another's mind can be detected by the target of your attention. The ring can also help you detect unseen foes." The Captain looks triumphantly at his companion. "I believe this will help His Royal Highness directly."
With that shenanigans dealt with, the black cloaked figure turns in on itself, becoming a line and then nothing at all and the Dragon returns to her pocket dimension and both studious scholars shake your hand and wish you well.
After re-assuming yourself as Ezra and getting into the bookworm's natural habitat it doesn't take long to confirm your suspicions, although after reaffirming it with a copy of Clifton Law VII you also note that the Seamstress is working within a legal loophole, as she is donates her time and talents into the functions she is entitled to the cuts but also because she is a Noble, she's entitled to a bigger cut for being among the upper crust and clearly her time is much more valuable than some peasants. You note that a fair number of the most recent laws seem to have double edged meanings in them, making the Rich even more so and leaving the burden of public tax to the poor. No wonder thieve's guilds could move in. The Noble's have so many loopholes in the laws to avoid paying for things because they contribute to charity events, most of which, you come to find, the Noble's themselves own or can get their money's worth to through. The Duchess' events are also spiking things. The exotic cooks, planners like Sanvich, decorator companies, bakers, they all can tax a ton for their work but if they're all linked to Noble's that means they'd be bleeding the Duchess the more events she runs, and the more the Noble's dodge Tax, the more she needs to run these events to boost moral for the people and make up at least some of the lost funds. You'll need to confirm your suspicions with the various company's books, but if you're right, this could be huge
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