Fate of Istus

[Jabas]

Fate of Istus


Part I

Rookroost


http://i622.photobucket.com/albums/tt310/huw_williams/medieval-town_11731.jpg

It is raining in the City of Ravens, a spiteful, unrelenting torrent that set in a week ago and has showed no signs of abating. In the central districts of the city, towards the Peak, the streets are awash and more than one wagon has overturned on the slippery cobblestones in the last few days. Further out towards Rookroost’s edges, and in the slums of Outwall, the unpaved streets have been churned to a watery sludge and some are too deeply mired for a cart or a wagon to pass through at all.

The weather is a lesser worry right now, however, because plague is abroad in Rookroost.

It started a week ago, or at least that is when the situation grew serious enough for it to be clear that this is something more than an outbreak of the common cold. Now the word has spread that the disease mirrors a plague that decimated the Bandit Kingdom’s population as it swept across the Flanaess some four score years ago. The Red Death, as it was called, also started with aches and a fever, but soon showed its lethal nature. More than two thousand died in Rookroost alone, and no cure was ever found. The disease simply burnt itself out, vanishing as mysteriously as it had appeared. The word on the streets in that the Red Death has returned.

The disease starts innocuously enough, with feelings of lassitude, dull pain in the joints, swollen glands and a throbbing headache. Within hours, the lassitude grows and the victim develops a mild fever. Then strange red blotches appear, and the headache grows until it is like a trip-hammer pounding inside the victim’s skull. All attempted cures have so far failed. Poultices, infusions, draughts, quack medicines, potions from reputable herbalists, leeching, bleeding – all are ineffective. Even magic and the ministrations of clerics have proven useless.

But hope remains. In the last few days, you were approached by a well-dressed fellow with long, flowing silver hair and a white mantle worn over a suit of mail. Taking you aside, and looking around furtively, he whispered to you that he knows the origins of the plague, and has a good guess as to the location of a cure. Unable, or unwilling, to say any more, he invited you to join him at the Drunken Dragon this evening for a drink.

OOC: Assume you are already at the Drunken Dragon, a tavern in the city’s north-west corner, but feel free to fill in any details of what you have been doing in Rookroost and how you arrived at the tavern. Now would be a good time to describe your character – what they look like, how they carry themselves, etc. The mysterious stranger has not yet arrived, or is not showing himself if he has.

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=231063)

Looking a bit worn and haggard a young elf woman has taken a place near the fireplace, trying to get some warmth back into her bones. She had spent the last two days helping the churches in Rookroost tend to the sick. She knew that Simon disapproved, he had said as much already and more than once, but she hadn't just been able to sit around and wait for this evening doing nothing while all these people suffered. It had drained her, she felt cold and weary now, but her toils had also fueled her determination. The usually flighty and laughing elf maid is now subdued, but more grimly focused than she had ever been, even in her dedicated studies.
Releasing the glass of red wine she had ordered, still untouched despite having been served well over half an hour ago now, she runs her slender fingers through the thick, black hair, clearing up a snarl and then scrubbing her eyes. It felt good to have her hair falling freely after a whole day of her hair in a strict braid.

After finally taking a sip of the wine she raises her blue gaze, searches for the stranger they had come to meet and then looks to Simon.

[Frivolous]

Simon the Ordinary

Simon the Ordinary stares in disgust at the incredibly muddy garment in his hands.

Not too long ago, it had been a gentleman's frock coat. Made of wool, hooded, and gray, it was a respectable thing to wear even in a major city, keeping wearer reasonably dry and warm.

That was before Simon came to Rookroost. Now it looks like something a beggar would turn his nose up at.

Simon sighs and hangs it over the bench he is sitting on. He is an unremarkable young man, being short (no more than 5 feet 4 inches in height) and distinctly overweight. His skin is pale, showing he has some Suloise blood. His hair is light brown and short, and he wears dark red leather armor.

His bow lies on the table; the first thing he did after commandeering a table for himself and his elven companion was to restring it. He rests his white hands only inches away.

Simon keeps looking around, both for the man who told them to come here and for thieves and other predators. He softly says, "Be on your guard."

"This place is dangerous. So many people trying to keep out of the rain means it's very easy to pick your pocket or stab you in the gut."

Then he makes a face and mutters sourly, "I know, I know, I'm repeating myself. The rain and this accursed city are getting to me."

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

Managing a kind but rather frail smile Anasia shakes her head slightly and sips on her drink. "It's getting to us both, Simon. Don't worry about it. I just hope this... "lead" is genuine." Again she scans the common room for the mysterious man, anxiously so. She had come for the promise of glory in helping the needy. But it had grown personal over the last few days.

[Frivolous]

Simon the Ordinary


Simon shakes his head. He looks tired. "I hope so, too, but Rookroost has a reputation."

"Just remember this rule: All cons depend on the consent of the victims, on their greed or fear."

The fat thief pauses, considering whether to mention something. "If we do not give consent, a frustrated amateur might threaten violence, but a real professional will just walk away and try the next mark." Simon shrugs.

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

"So... 'Don't be greedy and don't be scared.' Is that what you're saying?" The elf's smile is more genuine now, if still weary and thin. She searches her mind somewhat for something her master used to say about dealing with humans. Something she should have remembered when she first set out into the world. "How about: 'Overtop the overtop and you will never be overtopped?'" She says it in a joking manner, very aware of how pompous it could sound coming from a young, inexperienced mage as herself.

[Frivolous]

Simon the Ordinary

The stout young human shrugs. "More or less. You just shouldn't let people pull you or push you into giving them your valuables."

Then he looks blankly at Anasia, clearly not understanding. "Uh, I guess? Whatever." He raises a hand to catch the attention of an overworked bartender and orders wine.

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

"I bow to your expertise in this, Simon." Smiling tiredly the young mage nods happily, blissfully unaware of having just talked somewhat above the head of her not quite as quickwitted friend.

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

Rain clouds hide the setting sun while releasing large droplets upon the dreary town. The city roads have become like swamplands, wagons sunk far into the ground. Two brown leather boots of good quality steadily trudge through the muck accompanied by a large carved staff with spherical ends. Their owner protected from the rain by a large blue cloak with the hood drawn over most of his face. He slowly makes his way to one of the many taverns in the town.

Entering the bar, the man knocks the mud off his boots with his staff then pulls back his hood revealing long brown hair, emerald green eyes, and a pair of slightly pointed ears. With water still dripping off his cloak, he takes out a blue hat which he has managed to keep mostly dry. He dawns the hat and it fits snuggly. It curves and comes to a point in the front.

The man gazes around the room as if looking for someone then walks to an open table closest to the fire. As he walks, his silver amulet shines as it reflects the light. Shaped in the pattern of an eye, it’s almost as if the light gathers and shines at the pupil. Taking a seat, he waits with his staff placed partially across this lap.

Only the second day in town, he had arrived with a small caravan the afternoon prior. They had been happy to have him on the journey as he used cantrips to spice up the evening dinners. Once in the city, he departed their company to find those with the rumored plague. First, he walked through the city and consulted with clerics who were trying to help the infected. They discussed the symptoms of the disease and what was currently being tried to cure it. The clerics stated that nothing so far seemed to help stop the disease. Before nightfall, one of the clerics took him to see a family who had contracted the disease. He and the cleric carefully reviewed the symptoms and then he cast a holy divination in the room probing to see if the disease emitted the essence of magic. He also cast a curative spell on the father of the family and it seemed to have little effect. He then retired for the evening, staying at an inn suggested by his new cleric acquaintance.

The next morning, he had a breakfast of trail rations as he was suspicious of water and food in the area. For it may not be a disease that these people are plagued with but a contamination of the water or food supply. After his breakfast he prayed and then studied, sure to take a divination which could detect poisons. Mid-morning, he set out to find the clerics again and to discuss the sickness some more. Before he found the clerics, a well dressed human stranger approached him and said that he had more information on the cause of the disease but he would only share it tonight at the drunken dragon tavern. He agreed to meet the stranger tonight and then met with the clerics again. He decided to save his divination spell for later tonight, after the man reveals his information.

Thus, the man in the blue cloak sits reflecting upon the past few days waiting for the man to appear. As he sits and thinks, occasionally a stray though or insight causes a smirk to gleam across his face.

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, Light, Detect Poison

[Calenestel]

Anasia

The door opens and in an instant the elfmaids gaze snaps to the entering man, a first look of hope and renewed energy quickly being replaced with disappointment and weariness. Not the man. Still, she studies the boccobian surreptitiosly, considering him about as out of place as her self.

[Goblinsplitter]

Vandul Verduun (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=218425)

A tall dark haired man enters the tavern, pausing to scan the room before he shuts the door. "This is the tavern that fellow told me to meet him at, isn't it?" he thinks to himself. The entirety of his person is drenched from the rain. He wears a tabard proudly displaying his family's coat of arms. His splint mail shines in the light, providing a stark contrast to the dingy dampness of the rest of his person. He wears no cloak, which explains his current soaked state. Secured on a hook at his waist hangs a morningstar, and several javelins jab up into the air behind his back. He looks weary and tired, as he should be. It had been a long journey to the City of Ravens. But finally he was here. He didn't know exactly why he was here though. Normally he does not listen to strangers, but if he could help the people of Rookroost he was willing to take a chance. He slowly makes his way towards the fire, to warm his weary bones. He notices an attractive young elven girl talking to a stout human male and suddenly there is a smile upon his lips. He approaches her and pauses for a moment. He is ridiculously good looking. His green eyes sparkle with a certain flare of their own. "Mind if I join you? I was supposed to meet someone here, but it appears he is not here yet." he asks in his soothing baritone. "Its really rather strange." he says as he takes a seat, smiling pleasantly. "I just arrived here earlier today, and this silver haired man asked me to meet him here. Mentioned something about a cure for this plague that seems to be going around." He gets the attention of one of the barkeeps and waves them over. "I'll have some mead, and get my two new friends here another of whatever they are drinking." he says with a smile and wink.

[Calenestel]

Anasia

At the look the armoured human gives her the elfmaid's face flushes a fierce red and she quickly moves to hide somewhat by drinking deep of her wine, promptly making her choke a little. Coughing, and flushing all the more, she almost shies away from the man as he takes the seat neither she nor Simon had any time to offer him. The young elf's face, while still as angular as any of her race, is slightly more rounded, not as crystalline as most elves'. It almost gives her an appearance of being a halfelf, except for the much longer ears, curling into points, the higher cheekbones and generall angular cast of her physiognomy. She is also quite cute when she blushes.
As the nobleman continues to speak to her and Simon she manages to regain some of her self-controll and cleares her throat softly. "um... W-we... are also here to meet him, I think. A-at least it sounds like him." Talking seems to help her regain her mental balance and while she stutters somewhat she manages to look the man in the eyes as she speaks. Those green, lively eyes... He's really cute... Oh, gods, what am I thinking?! The thought doesn't make her face flush any redder. But that's more because the good-looking, greeneyed paladin and the way he looks at her has pushed her face as far as it can go without exploding. Fighting hard to find something else to fill what she fear to be an uncomfortable silence she quickly stammers on: "Uh... I'm Anasia."

[Frivolous]

Simon the Ordinary

Simon the Ordinary is still waiting for his wine when the hooded man walks in. He relaxes a bit when he sees the pointy years, though he purses his thick lips at the sight of yet another elven traveler risking his life in a city with plague and so many orcs and half-orcs.

He's still too far away to make out any details of the medallion at the elf's throat. His dull human eyes see only the silver shine.

Then the tall, muscular, and handsome man approaches and Simon reflexively puts his hands on his short bow. He relaxes and takes his fingers off the carved wood when he sees the man carries a morningstar, a villain's weapon and not something you could use to backstab.

Simon blinks at Anasia's odd reaction, then he nods and grins to the man. "Hi. Nice to meet you. I'm Simon. Simple Simon."

Simon pouts a little at how quickly the newcomer managed to get some service. He tells the barkeep, "A good wine, if you have any."

He gestures with a plump hand at a free bench. "Sit yourself down, just not on my coat. It's very dirty and I'm trying to get it a little drier before we have to go out again."

[Goblinsplitter]

Vandul Verduuun

Vandul smiles when he sees how flustered the young elf maid gets when he approaches. "Good to see my charms work on all races." he thinks to himself. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Anasia and Simon. You two are the only two acquaintances I've made so far in this city. Unless you count that silver haired man of course." he says, then takes a sip of his mead. It was fairly good, but it wasn't great. He had much better at home. Ahh home. It seems like ages since he first set out, but its only been a few days. "So you're both here waiting for a silver haired man? Hmm, I wonder who else here is waiting for him." Vandul says as he starts relaxing, sipping his mead every now and then.

[Calenestel]

Anasia

Shrugging slightly, uncomfortably the elf looks around, searching for the man they all were there to meet. Her blush subsides slowly as she relaxes. But she feels uncomfortable in the newcomer's presence, who seem very much aware of his own good looks, and she would prefer if they could just get down to business. No such luck yet though, and she turns to her human company. She hesitates but clears her throat softly as she answers Vandul's possibly rhetorical question: "I... I don't know... But... But that man has the appearance of a cleric. And over all he doesn't seem to fit in here. He might be here for the same reason, maybe?" She gestures carefully with her right hand in the direction of Elrond, trying to keep a low profile. Despite her shy demeanor she seem both intelligent and insightsful, and to have an eye for details.

[Gorgondantess]

Brand bursts into the tavern, quite concealed by a grey cloak, but not for long. As soon as he enters, he gracefully tosses off the cloak, to be perfectly dry and, well, perfect, underneath.
He's a noble elf of some decent stature, tall for his race and with a lean physique. He puts on a feathered three pointed hat, perched at a rakish angle, and strides up to the counter.
In general, his clothes are the pinnacle of fashion, beautifully made, very stylish, and above all foppish. At his side is a rapier whose elegant, gilded, gem studded hilt is likely worth more than the sum total of your average plebe's belongings.
For other clothes, think 3 musketeers but flashier.
His auburn hair falls back to his shoulders, a lock over one dark green eye. He looks around the tavern with a confident grin. Perhaps too confident.
He sighs when he sees the only viable female flanked by others, and scrutinizes them with a glance.
I've been cooped up at auntie's far too long. That shouldn't stop me.
Yet despite his personal reprimand, he just heads over to the counter, and orders a round of the best wine the tavern carries.

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

Hearing the door open, Elrond glances in the direction of the main entrance as a large armored man walks through. A silver holy item of Pholtus hangs at his neck. This man must be an unmerciful, smiter of the corrupt. Perhaps this plague really isn’t a random occurrence and there is an unseen hand at work.

Elrond quickly becomes lost in thought again debating if the plague is a result of tainted food or tainted water. After a minute or so, Elrond notices an elf pointing him out to the follower of Pholtus. Hopefully, this man does not believe I am the one who needs to be smitten, he thinks to himself. Elrond begins to stand up but stops as he is startled by a gray cloaked elf bursting into the tavern. Elrond readjusts himself in his seat as he waits to see what kind of scene the flamboyant elf is about to make.

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, Light, Detect Poison

[Jabas]

Despite the dramatic entrance, there is little acknowledgement of Brand’s arrival from the patrons save for one or two distasteful looks thrown his way by less tolerant folk. These are tough times for Rookroost, and such ostentation is not appreciated. Anyone who is willing to purchase his higher-end stock is an immediate friend to the barkeeper, however, and he nods his approval of Brand’s order and motions for him to take a seat. Only one table – in a spot near the door - is empty, and for good reason: it is sprinkled with rain that blows in whenever someone arrives or leaves. “Perhaps sir wouldn’t mind sharing with these other folk?” suggests the barkeeper in a tentative tone, indicating the table occupied by the elven woman and her two companions.

Considering its location in the city’s outer environs, the Drunken Dragon is a rather refined establishment, attracting a better class of clientele than most of the inns in this area. It is well lit and warm, the glasses are clean and the wine is not watered down, at least not so heavily so as to render it tasteless.

Tonight, the bar room is particularly rowdy as folk try to shout above each other, all keen to assert their opinion on the only topic worth talking about in Rookroost right now: the plague, or what some are heralding as the return of the Red Death.

“It’s a nonsense!” barks one huge, red-faced fellow at his tablemates. “Another one of the General’s schemes to raise taxes. And the Guild will be involved, no doubt. Elara will be the brains behind the whole thing.”

“Quiet, Felnor,” hisses one of his companions. “Do you want to get killed? They’ve got ears everywhere, you know.” He glances over his shoulder as he issues the warning, his eyes widening as they fall on Simon, and he looks away quickly.

“Bah, let them try,” replies Felnor, wiping the froth from his mouth. “Wouldn’t be the first time they’ve had a go. Cowards, the lot of them. Bully-boy cowards. Show a bit of fight and they run off, then come back when there’s ten of them to one of you. Call that policing? Thugs is what they are. Common thugs.”

“Say what you like, Felnor,” says a bearded man at the same table. “I’ve been to Outwall and seen the worst of it myself. They’re dying there, and not even the church can do anything about it. I never saw a disease like that before.”

The argument continues as the participants try to shout each other down, the burly Felnor maintaining his theory that the plague is a design of the General to distract from the thuggery of his police force, while the other men at his table alternate between warning him to quieten down and professing their own fears about the alarming speed with which the disease is spreading. At other tables, similar discussions are taking place, some more animated than others. The barkeeper lets them get on with it: all that talking is thirsty work, after all.

[Frivolous]

Simon the Piggy

Simon the Piggy listens with interest to the overly loud conversation between Felnor and his companions.

His round cheeks blush with pleasure when one of the friends turns pale and looks away from him. He can't remember the last time anyone looked afraid of him.

The man with the feathers in his hat arrives. Simon blinks when he sees the pointed ears. Yet ANOTHER elf.

His wine arrives. The fat man in dark red leather armor nods to the bartender who served it and then raises his glass in thanks to the big man in splint mail who paid for it. "So, you know our names. What is yours?"

He sips the wine, then looks disappointed, as if he was used to better vintages. He sips again and murmurs to himself, "Simon says: Remember these names: Felnor, General, Elara. Simon says: Remember these issues: Taxes, police thuggery, Guild, Red Death."

It seems to be some sort of memory aid.

[Calenestel]

Anasia

The mage gives the other elf a quick glance as he crashes into the common room, but as Simon asks for the nobleman's name she turns back to her own company, barely missing the look he gives her. Lucky her, it would probably have set her face ablaze again. As it is, she instead focuses on the two humans in her company, and listening to the conversations she hears. Like Simon she commits the names and information to her memory, but unlike him she uses no memory aids, instead relying on a keen intellect alone.

[Goblinsplitter]

Vandul Verduun

Vandul takes a long sip from his mead, then sets it down looking into it, noticing his reflection upon the surface of the liquid. He swirls it around before taking another sip. He pays little attention to the conversation going on around him, instead his attention is payed to Anasia. He does so discreetly though, watching her out of the periphery of his vision. When Simon speaks to him he raises his glass and nods his head, then drains the remainder of the concoction. "I am Vandul. Vandul Verduun. Fourth son of the house of Verduun. I am also thirsty." he says, waving over another barkeep. He orders more mead for himself. "So what are you two doing in the City of Ravens?" he asks, as he stands up. He places his shield down, leaning it against the table then leans his backpack against it as well. He then takes his seat again, his belongings between his legs.

[Frivolous]

Simon the Piggy


Before Anasia can respond and possibly say more than is safe, Simon nods to the elven woman and tells Vandul, "The elflady is a physician, come here to help the plague-stricken."

"As for me, I have been detailed to act as her facilitator and factotum, and more if necessary." His fingers briefly brush against the smooth wood of his shortbow lying on the table.

The fat young man is far from handsome (in fact, his porcine features hint at an orcish ancestor), but he still smiles in a friendly fashion at the stocky and handsome armored man. "A pleasure to meet you, Sir Verduun."

"What about yourself, why are you here in Rookroost?" Simon glances curiously again at the morningstar, then looks around for anyone who might be watching Vandul.

[Goblinsplitter]

Vandul Verduun

"A religious pilgrimage of a sort." Vandul says as he sips at the empty glass of mead. "Don't really know why I am here to be honest. I don't really know where to start I guess. Figure I'll just play it by ear, as they say." Finally his mead comes and he starts sipping it again. "I hope our silver haired friend shows up soon. I am tired and need a good warm bed. Would you know a good place to stay around here?"

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

When Simon calmly tells sir Vandul that she is a physician Anasia gives her human friend a surprised glance. It was true, she supposed. She had studied with some fine elven chirurgeons and physicians despite her master's misgivings. But she wouldn't define herself as one, she was a mage, pure but hardly simple. Still, she understood that this was one of those times when Simon would like her to keep quiet about certain things and so she said nothing about the half-truth.

The other human's evasive answer to his reason to come here showed that he as well wanted to keep certain things about himself secret, though. As he speaks with Simon she studies the man, looking deeper than to his pretty face. She still blushes slightly as she does so, but thank the Seldarine nowhere near as hard as at first. She thought she didn't. As the man, and she had a guess at his calling actually, asked for a good place to lodge she opened her mouth slightly, caught herself before speaking and closed it again, once more glancing to Simon. She really didn't know if he would like to tell sir Vandul about the inn he had chosen for lodgings.

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

The tavern settled down quickly after the flashy entrance of the elf. The follower of Pholtus continued his conversation with his acquaintances while the elf busied himself procuring a drink. Elrond decided to find out what the servant of Pholtus was doing in this plague ridden town. Perhaps he had some connection to the stranger he met this morning who had more information on the cause of the plague.

Elrond stands up from his seat and casually walks over to the other table. The staff in his right hand touches the ground each time he lands on his right foot. “Good evening. I am Elrond, servant of Boccob, may I take a seat at your table and partake in the discussions this evening,” asks Elrond to the follower of Pholtus and those seated at his table.

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, Light, Detect Poison

[Frivolous]

Simon the Piggy

Simon the Piggy looks a bit nauseated when the elf (no, half-elf, he notes, since his features are not as angular as those of a full elf) comes up and proclaims himself a servant of the Uncaring.

But he nods. In a slightly strangled voice, he says, "Sure. Sit yourself down."

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

As the half-human approaches Anasia starts wondering if the whole common room is going to sneak over to her and Simon's table before their contact or employer arrives. She's not so much irritated as fascinated though, and she had pointed the man out for her company just a little while ago. Now that he introduces himself as a boccobian first and foremost her interest in the man increases. He might be a mage, or even something more, she muses. But she can't really make herself ask him, instead she just studies him while busying herself with her drink.

[Loose Cannon]

Ronan the Ranger

The heavy wooden door creaks open once more and in from the rain steps a slender, blonde haired stranger. He looks up as he enters, a boyish grin on his face as he looks around the inn in amusement. As he sweeps his sodden hair from his eyes there is a shout from one of the patrons "shut that ruddy door!".

"Apologies" he mutters, bowing his head slightly and quickly stepping forward, closing the door behind him. His dark cloak is wet through and drips on to floor. He appears to be human, too tall to be an elf. His unkempt shoulder length hair and unshaven chin suggest a rather rough, rustic lifestyle. He appears to be unarmed.

He slowly crosses the room, the sound of his boots drowned out by the raucous chatter of the patrons. His gaze flicks from one person to the next as if looking for a familliar face. Waiting for the attention of the barkeep he reaches into a pouch on his belt.

Ronan has been in Rookroost for some time now, or at least on the outskirts. He approached a traveller some days ago on the main road warning him of the plague that has befallen the city. The traveller, distinctive for his fine armour and silver hair, spoke of knowledge about the origin of the plague and even a possible cure. Ronan was skeptical but agreed to meet the man again.

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

Elrond leisurely takes a seat upon the pudgy mans acceptance of his offer. A very serious face comes over him as he states in a hushed voice, “I have come to this city to investigate the rumors. To discover the origin of this plague.” He says to the man with the morning star, “Why have you come to this place? Are there those who intentionally sow this putrid brand of chaos and suffering?”

Too caught up with his current line of questioning, Elrond ignores the opening of the door.

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, Light, Detect Poison

[Frivolous]

Simple Simon

Simple Simon sips his wine and listens to the Boccobian, Elrond, question the knight, Vandul Verduun.

An unshaven blond man walks in to a chorus of protests, but Simon is distracted by something. Someone had asked him.... Ah.

The pudgy man in dark red leather gives the name of a couple of inns to Vandul, but quietly adds, "I would not recommend leaving any important belongings in my room for very long. This town has a reputation."

Simon hesitates, trying to find something nice to say about Rookroost. He smiles. "You shouldn't have to worry too much, though. You look strong and you're well armed and armored. Too risky to rob for most. Unless you flaunt wealth like that guy," he nods in the direction of the flamboyant man with feathers in his hat and the very beautiful rapier.

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

Not as caught up in the conversation as the men Anasia notices the entrance of yet another patron. The commonroom would soon be full to the point of bursting in her mind, there just didn't seem to be any limit to the humans' numbers. That in itself made it clear to her how far from home she was now. With a sigh she turns her attention away from the roughlooking man, more prone to consider her own situation and the reasons she had come to it than the presence of what she thought of as yet another regular to the Drunken Dragon.

[Gorgondantess]

Brand sighs, and sits down at the indicated table. The proportion of males to females was much too high by his opinion, but, alas, it'd have to do.
As he sits down, it's apparent he isn't wearing any armor, but is comfortable wearing the rapier. He carries a scar across the bridge of his nose, another on his cheek, and his right hand & arm sport several more. He's either very good, or very dumb.
He deigns not to speak to any of those gathered, instead leaning his chair against the counter behind him and setting his boots (which are mouth-wateringly supple) up on the table. He pulls his hat down over his eyes, casting a mysterious air about himself.

[Jabas]

The barkeeper ushers the ranger to a table and brings over his drink, refilling any other glasses that have run dry in the process. Meanwhile, the debates over the origins and nature of the plague continue, with theories becoming more outlandish and fabricated as the evening draws on and the patrons begin to suffer the effects of the local ale.

It is well into the evening when the door opens and a slender, finely-dressed figure steps into the inn, shaking the water from his cloak as he lets his hood fall to reveal a smooth, handsome face framed by long, silver hair that is kept out of his eyes by a circlet of fine silver around his brow. He removes his robe and hangs it on a peg near the door, revealing a lute that he was carrying beneath its folds. The barkeeper raises a hopeful eyebrow, but the newcomer waves a dismissive hand. “Later, Guthric, I’m meeting with some friends first, but keep our glasses full and you’ll have a song or two”

He glides across the room and stops in front of the table where the party has gathered. “And here they are!” he says, smiling from one corner of his mouth. “Good to see you again, friends. I apologise for the brevity of our earlier meeting. Why, I never even had the chance to introduce myself – Cymbelline, at your service.” He offers a theatrical bow, his hair falling forward to reveal ears that taper to a slight point. “Footloose poet, wayfarer, and part-time scoundrel.” He glances at Anasia and winks, before sliding onto a stool and signalling to the barkeeper for a round of drinks.



Cymbelline


http://i622.photobucket.com/albums/tt310/huw_williams/cymbelline.jpg

Although he is exceptionally tall for his race, Cymbelline is otherwise fairly typical for a half-elf: slenderly built, with long silver hair, smooth, youthful features and steady blue-grey eyes.

He is well – some might even say fastidiously – attired, his garb of choice being a loose-fitting mantle over a suit of chain mail that appears to shimmer as he walks. At his side hangs a longsword of the finest craftsmanship, its hilt and scabbard finely embellished with precious stones and gold chasing.

[Goblinsplitter]

Vandul Verduun

Looking at Elrond, Vandul takes another sip of his mead, then puts the glass between his hands and rolls it between them. "I have come here to bring law and order to this city of tyranny and greed." He fiddles with the straps on his armor, somewhat nervously. "The government here is corrupt and illegitimate." Vandul says as he takes a drink of his mead.

The silver haired man enters and Vandul pauses, looking up at him. Then he takes a long drink from his mead and sets it down. "Welcome friend. Were you delayed? We have been waiting for quite some time." Vandul says as he indicates for the man to sit down. Noticing the lute, he smiles to himself. "I understand now... He is a bard. Got a flair for the dramatic."

[Frivolous]

Simple Simon

Simple Simon stares in shock as the elf with the rapier puts his finely made but nonetheless muddy boots up on the table without even an introduction. He snatches away his shortbow before the valuable weapon can be damaged.

Then his attention is caught by the jewels on the rapier's hilt. Simon's small piggish eyes shine.

After two heartbeats, the thief forces himself to look away and hopes no one noticed his greed.

Then the white-haired man also drops by, increasing the number of elven-blooded people seated at the table to four.

Simon looks peeved once their mysterious acquaintance introduces himself. He glares at Cymbelline, then looks around to see who is paying attention to the table's occupants. His shoulders hunch as if to protect his vulnerable neck.

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

First the all too confident paladin, then the ill-mannered fighter with his boots on the table, and now their awaited contact, or if it were to be their employer, it mattered little to the mage. There was all too many men studying her all too intently for her taste. After Cymbelline introduces himself as a scoundrel the look he gives her really is unbearable. Her face flaming red again the elfmaid can hardly breathe. Trying to calm herself she looks down into her lap, picking at a more or less imaginary stain on her blue dress.

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

Elrond seems disappointed with the man’s answer at first. After a moment, he gives a hearty chuckle. “That is a very tall order indeed sir.” Elrond quiets down still surprised from the answer.

Elrond smiles once he notices the silver haired stranger he met this morning enter the bar.

After Cymbelline gives his introduction, Elrond proclaims with a silly little grin, “Scoundrel? I hope it is not us you wish to deceive.”

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, Light, Detect Poison

[Frivolous]

Simon the Ordinary


Upon hearing Elrond say the word "deceive", Simon the Ordinary straightens in his stool and stops looking around. His face smooths and he nods in greeting to Cymbelline, though he does not smile yet.

He says, "Nice to meet you, Cymbelline. Sorry for my earlier bad temper. I hope you can look past that and tell us why you called my employer the good Doctor here." He nods to Anasia. "Oh, and these other fellows." He nods to the others present: Vandul, Elrond, and even the silent elf with the beautiful boots.

The stout young thief is not particularly smooth. His shoulders are still hunched defensively and his hands grip his shortbow as if he wants to use it. His voice is still tight, too. But at least he's speaking the words that might soothe the mysterious Cymbelline if he happens to be angry at how he's being treated.

[Jabas]

"I did say part time scoundrel," says Cymbelline, smiling at Elrond. "And no, I certainly don't wish to deceive any of you. Quite the opposite, in fact. But I understand your reticence - I suppose I was a little secretive when I met with each of you in the last few days. Can I just say, by the way, how amazed I am that you are all sitting together here? I'm sure you'd never as much as set eyes upon one another when I spoke to you, yet here you all are at the same table. Matched up by fate would be my guess. She's a subtle mistress, but she likes her fun as much as the rest of us.

"No, the reason I approached you is that you seem to have an interest in the plague. That is to say, everyone here has an interest in the plague, but you seem to be a little more inclined to do something about it. What if I were to say to you that I have some information that could help you get to the bottom of the disease and earn yourselves a little bit of loot at the same time? You'd be interested, right?"

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

Working hard to calm herself, and the half-human's calm demeanor helps a little, Anasia listens to what Cymbelline has to say. His comment about fate pushing them together at the same table makes her smile, she found it equally fascinated by the fact, even if she was more inclined to attribute it to a combination of chance and nosy-ness. As he started to further explain his reasons for gathering them she leaned closer over the table, following his words intently and for a short while she forgets to be shy. "As long as this might lead to a way of ending the plague, then yes... I'm... interested." She had started out strong, her voice raised much higher than usual, but the more she spoke the more she had become aware of speaking and by the end she barely speaks above a whisper, retreating into a crouch on her bench.

[Goblinsplitter]

"I agree. Something must be done. I shall do whatever is needed of me to complete this task. This plague must be stopped." Vandul says, nodding as he looks at Anasia, then to Cymbelline.

[Frivolous]

Simon the Ordinary

Simon the Ordinary is silent for now, listening and carefully observing the reactions of the rest of the people at the table.

He also resumes looking around to observe how everyone else in the Drunken Dragon is behaving and whether anyone else is looking at them, openly or surreptitiously.


OOC: By the way, Ronan is not yet at the table. Shouldn't Cymbelline recognize him as one of the people he invited, and call him over?

Also, may I ask if Simon detects any signs of incipient danger?

[Loose Cannon]

Ronan the Ranger

Ronan reaches into a pouch tied around his belt and removes a few coins to pay the barkeep for his drink. He smiles and nods cheerily as he takes the drink and takes a long sip, quenching his thirst. He almost manages to disguise the grimace at the first (dis)taste of the Drunken Dragon's ale. It's an acquired taste he figured, but continues to drink all the same. It was a welcome comfort after being drenched liked a drowned rat.

As he places the drink down he turns round to see the silver haired stranger approaching one of the tables and addressing an odd looking group. Ronan studies the group for a second, rain water still dripping from his brow. A few had caught his eye as he entered. A fair elf maiden (quite a rarity in these parts), a flamboyantly dressed elf male, and a heavily armoured human of seemingly important stock. He pouts, stroking his stubbled chin as he ponders his next move. Are these strangers trustworthy? Is it possible they could be villains, in league with The General and his militia? A chance indeed but if there was some hope of finding a cure for this plague that has afflicted many, it would be worth some risk.

He approached the table with the group in mid conversation and waits for a suitable pause before addressing Cymbelline.

"My plea that you avoid this plague ridden city appears to have fallen on deaf ears."

Ronan flashes a broad smile and extends his hand in friendship.

"Well met once again stranger. I trust you have good news."

[Jabas]

"Ah, and now we have six!" cries Cymbelline, grasping the ranger's hand and gesturing for him to pull up a stool. "I thank you once again for the warning, but my business here is too important to abandon, even in the face of such an outbreak. Please, sit. I was just coming to the good part.

"Where was I? Ah, yes, actually I'll keep it down a bit for the rest, what I've got to say might cause something of a commotion if it were to become common knowledge."

He leans forward, and as he moves his mantle seems to shimmer, appearing a different colour for a brief moment before settling back to its original white. "There is a sage in this city," he says. "A fellow by the name of Ereaden. A good man, and well known here in Rookroost as a great wizard. Now, there's a whisper going around, if you know where to listen, that Ereaden has recently been working for the General, conducting some experiments on the nature of disease. Who knows, it might be that the General's planning some sort of weapon that infects his enemies, nothing would surprise me with him. Anyway, a couple of weeks ago there was a delivery. A ranger, by the look of him, brought Ereaden some creature in a cage. Well, he took it into his tower and hasn't been seen since.

"I know what you're thinking, nothing unusual about a wizard locking himself up in his tower. But the thing is, for years now Ereaden's been paying his neighbours to bring him food and things on a regular basis. They leave the parcels outside his door and he takes them in. Now, there are packages that have been sitting there for two weeks, and his place is locked up tight. From the inside.

"In my view, he's dead. Whatever that creature was that the ranger brought, it was probably carrying the disease that's now turned into the plague, and Ereaden was one of the first victims. Knowing him, he was probably already working on a cure but died either before he finished it or before he could send it to the authorities. If a cure is what you're after, then your next step should be to get into that tower and have a look around."

He leans back, takes out a pipe and calls for another round of drinks.

[Goblinsplitter]

Vandul Verduun

Vandul sits there, taking in what this stranger has to say. He contemplates it for a moment, taking another sip from his mead. He is rather grim faced and not smiling any more. "So, is this tower guarded at all? How will we get in? Do you know what we can expect when we get in there?" Vandul says, looking at Cymbelline. He drains the rest of his mead as the bar keep brings more. He takes another sip, still looking like he has something to say. "Did I mention this sounds crazy?"

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

"Eh... I-it's... It c-could..." Staring intently into her lap, blushing slightly the elf clears her throat and makes herself lift her gaze to look into the eyes of the men gathered. She was still hesitating, stammering and blushing, but after magic had come into the discussion there had sprung up a gleam in her blue eyes and a stubborness that made her plod on, despite her insecurity. "I-it w-will probably be insanely dangerous. A-as soon as we're t-talking about arcane experiments g-gone wrong that's p-pretty much a given. But... any mage, anyone practicing the Art would want to have some defenses from his own experiments. And if Ereaden was a goodly man then he would most certainly have worked harder on it than most. Even if he doesn't have any completed cure lying about he will have his notes. If he really is the originator of the present pandemic, then visiting his home will be the way to find a solution." The further Anasia had talked the more a passion had manifested itself in the ways she spoke and moved. By the end she was almost bold. But as soon as she stopped speaking she also lost her steam and blushing she fell back once more, again staring into her own lap. Her last words are yet again not more than a whisper. "I-i say w-we g-go there a-and look. H-he could n-need help anyway."

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn

Simon stops looking around. He also stops breathing. His round face turns a pasty white as he stares in horror at their host.

He mutters feverishly to himself, "Two weeks ago. The disease started one week ago, so the timing is possible."

He takes a couple of deep breaths and asks Cymbelline, "What kind of wizard is this Ereaden? Do you know the focus of his practice? Does he have a specialty?"

[Loose Cannon]

Ronan the Ranger

Ronan perched himself on the end of the bench. He followed the example set by his host and retreived his own smoking pipe. Nothing better than blowing a few smoke rings while listening to a tall tale, and this Cymbelline seemed to have a way with words. Some kind of minstrel perhaps.

Ronan smoked his pipe as he listened to Cymbelline with a furrowed brow. Every now and then scratching his chin as if it helped him to think.

"Dangerous indeed. Is their any place more perilious than a wizards abode?" Ronan mused rhetorically in between pipe puffs.

"Do you know anything about the creature that was delivered?"

[Persant]

Anasia Amakiir "I-i say w-we g-go there a-and look. H-he could n-need help anyway."

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

“I agree completely,” Elrond quickly replies. “Might I also add that implication of deviance on Ereaden’s part is assumed, not known for a fact. Perhaps he was only studying the creature and contracted the disease from it. Cymbelline, where exactly is his tower located? Does he any surviving family members?”

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, Light, Detect Poison

[Gorgondantess]

Brand scoffs at Cymbelline's gesturing, shaking his head. There was only one scoundrel around here, and that was him. He remains aloof throughout most of the conversation, otherwise.
As the wizard is brought up, he leans forward, downs his wine, and slams it back on the table.
"Well, as far as I'm concerned, the bloke's dead- or worse. But, hey, if we want to find out there's no better way than knocking down some doors. I haven't gotten into some good wholesome trouble in weeks now, so let's change that, shall we? When can we all make it there?"

[Goblinsplitter]

Vandul Verduun

Vandul sits there quietly as everyone speaks, his head turning to face whomever is speaking. The mead, although its not the best, is certainly strong and the big man is starting to feel it. He downs the rest of his current glass, small dribbles pouring out of the corner of his mouth and raises it up in the air, calling out "Oi! Lemme get another." He turns his attention back to the table and looks at everyone in turn. "I dunno about you guys, but I am absolutely beat. I need a goods night rest. How 'bout we meet here again in the morn? Then head to this mage's tower." He pauses and lets out a small burp. "Excuse me... Actually if we are to break in, night is probably best. So, what say you all? Tomorrow morning or tomorrow eve?" The bar keep comes with his mead and he takes a long gulp, smacking his lips as he sets it down.

[Jabas]

“Aha! Nice work sir!” cries Cymbelline as Ronan puffs out a particularly well-formed smoke ring. “I’ve never mastered it myself. You’ll have to teach me when you’ve got some time. Now where are those drinks?” He turns and waves at the barkeeper, who has his hands full serving a crowded table laden with empty cups and jugs. The patrons there are well and truly sozzled, and are trying to cajole Guthric into getting Cymbelline to give them a song. The Half-Elf stands and calls over: “Gentlemen, gentlemen, don’t worry, you shall have your song. I just need to finish off some business here and then I’m all yours!” There is a cheer from the group and the barkeeper is released to attend to the other customers.

“The things I do for a quiet life,” smiles Cymbelline, shaking his head as he sits down. “Ah, now let’s see – you’ve got questions. I was afraid of that. Well, you can’t miss the tower, it’s in the centre of town, up towards the Peak. As for how you’ll get in or what you’ll find in there, well, your guess is as good as mine. I don’t think Ereaden was in the habit of entertaining guests too often, and he lived alone in there so I don’t know of anyone who’s been inside. Like I said, he didn’t get out much, had all his food and supplies delivered. But I’m sure a resourceful bunch of fellows like yourselves won’t have too much trouble with that. Just use your initiative. Don’t go breaking the door down in the middle of the day though, will you? The police won’t look too kindly on that, nor will Ereaden’s neighbours.”

His gaze then falls on Brand’s boots, resting on the table as they are. “I say, what a fabulous pair of clogs,” he says, running a hand over the leather. “You must have paid a pretty penny for those beauties. I bet you didn’t get those in Rookroost either – that’s prime workmanship there. You won’t get anything of that quality in this town.

“Anyway, I digress, and I can see Sir Vandul here is keen to get on with the drinking so I’d better let you enjoy your evening. In terms of what sort of wizard Ereaden is, well, I don’t know. I believe he’s one of your old fashioned tinkerer types, you know, always fiddling around with things no one else understands. Just like this business with the creature he brought in. I’ve no idea what it was, no one’s seen it. Ereaden didn’t let that one rest on his doorstep for too long.

“Alright then, folks, good luck with all that.” He begins to rise, casting another admiring look at Brand’s footwear. “If you stick around for a bit I’ll bash out a couple of tunes for this lot. You might enjoy.”

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn

Simon flinches as the so-far silent elf with the wonderful boots and rapier slams his goblet down on the table and he listens to the elf's expostulation.

He smiles with amusement at Vandul Verduun's seeming intoxication, unusually rapid for someone so large.

Simon listens carefully to the parting words of the smooth-tongued bardic fellow, Cymbelline. He does not comment yet on the answers to their questions.

Instead, he tells Anasia Amakiir with an employee's politeness, "If you don't mind, ma'am, we'll bring this big lug to our inn with us. I'd hate to see him get beaten or rolled."

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

Giving Simon a friendly, and clearly less nervous, smile the elfmaid nods. Waving her hand slightly, as she has seen her master do on numerous occasions when he would to tell her, or someone else, to proceed at her own discretion. "Yes, yes. You do that. Might as well." Her professional tone is marred by inexperience and friendship, though, and she's not doing a particularly good job at being an aloof employer.

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

Elrond seems unsatisfied with the hasty answers given by Cymbelline. After Cymbelline leaves the table, Elrond asks the group “Why don’t we meet again here tomorrow night at about this time?”

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, Light, Detect Poison

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn

The fat man's attention is focused on Cymbelline's retreating back. His small eyes are narrowed and suspicious.

He nods absently to Elrond. "Yeah, sure. But make that tomorrow morning. Say halfway between dawn and noon? We need to plan first."

[Loose Cannon]

Ronan the Ranger

Ronan looks around the table at each of his new found companions, studying each one as they talk and digesting their remarks. He leans back slightly, smoking on his pipe, seemingly deep in thought.

"Well I should like to be involved, if that is at all possible. This cursed malady is of grave concern to me. I think meeting tomorrow morn, when the place is a little less rowdy is a good plan." Ronan smiles and acknowledges Simon's suggestion with a nod.

The ranger then stands, preparing to leave.

"Well met my good fellows and fair lady, I take my leave. I bid thee a pleasant night." Ronan smiles and gives a polite bow the group. He looks around the inn one last time, giving Cymbeline a discreet wave before pulling the hood of his cloak over his head, hiding his features. He then disappears out into the city streets.

[Jabas]

For those who remain to see it, Cymbelline’s impromptu performance lasts well beyond the “song or two” that he promised, and goes on into the small hours, and for a while folk are able to put aside their worries about the plague and lose themselves in an evening of drink and song. The barkeeper, Guthric, keeps the ale and wine flowing and Cymbelline is able to gauge the mood of the crowd perfectly, tempering his choice of music to fully engage his audience. Most of it is upbeat and merry, and one particularly lively number sees the whole room on its feet in a spontaneous, uncoordinated jig that ends with several folk flat on their backs, grinning from ear to ear.

Finally, the minstrel strikes his final chord and departs to a chorus of cheers and pleas for more. Soon after the patrons begin to leave, and it is not long before the bar room is cleared save for a few stragglers and those too drunk to depart with any haste.

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn

The fat burglar stares at the performance for a while, bemused, then puts on his still very dirty coat. He nods to Anasia and tentatively asks Vandul Verduun to come with them to their inn so he can sleep off his intoxication.

If it is still raining as before, Simon will unstring his shortbow and take precautions to keep the weapon dry as he and Anasia and Vandul go out into the rain.

If Vandul doesn't want to go, Simon won't argue. He has no desire to tangle with a heavily armed and armored knight in his cups.

[Goblinsplitter]

Vandul downs his current mead, even though it was almost full, as Cymbelline orders another round. He decides tonight will be a night of debauchery and hedonism. He adds to the order, "I'll have a bottle of your finest rum." He starts rummaging through his backpack and takes out some jerky and starts chewing on it. When the barkeep returns he asks "How much will that be? Better settle up my tab right now I feel." He hands the man the gold he owes, then uncorks the bottle and takes a long pull on the bottle. "Ahhh. Not as good as Monty's, but this will do." he says, looking at the bottle.

As the night drags on and and Vandul finds the bottom of the bottle, he starts talking about home. "Where I am from, it was horrible before my father took over. Constant sacking by various local noble houses, barbarians, brigands, what have you. You'd have to travel in groups at night for fear of banditry. Now, our people are prosperous, happy and pleasantly plump." He pauses, "Home wasn't much, but it was home." he says somewhat sadly. As Simon, Anasia and Vandul make their way to the inn, he says to them both, "So. If we're gonna be risking our necks together tomorrow, I think we should get to know each other better. I like knowing about the folks that are gonna be watching my back. So I can know I can trust him. So, what about you Simon? Or you Anasia. Where do you come from, such a fair elf maiden?" he says, smiling at Anasia. He gives her a wink. :smallwink: Even though he drank an entire bottle to himself, he is still fairly sober. Or at least acts it. He walks normally, and slurs only slightly.

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn


It is still raining when Anasia Amakiir, Vandul Verduun, and Simon venture out into the night of Rookroost.

Simon is clearly nervous as he travels, holding his wool coat protectively over his shortbow and his quiver of arrows, even if it means he himself is drenched. He raises his voice, almost yelling to Anasia so that he can be heard over the rain, "You're going to have to navigate! I can't see anything, and no torch will stay lit in this downpour!"

As he walks, and when Vandul Verduun asks his question, Simon wonders if the tall and powerful man will even remember this conversation the next morning. Smiling to himself, he replies, still with raised voice. "I'm Simon, a very minor member of the Greyhawk Olgaryns! Some of my family are important, but I'm not!"

"I'm just here to assist and watch over Healer Amakiir! Lots of bad eggs in the world and especially here, eager to take advantage!""

Simon leans closer so he doesn't have to yell quite so loudly to Vandul, "I hope that answers your questions. Ya got any more?"

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

When the group of three had stood to leave the elfmaid had picked up a bundle of cloth from under her bench, unfolding it and revealing a grey, wellsewn cloak. It's obviously of elven make, but also obviously rather unmagic. What it does is keeping her dry and warm as they move out into the downpore. Settling the cowl of her cloak over her shining black hair, the physician looks to her "footman" and nods. Silently she takes the lead, guiding them on without faltering or hesitation. Her keen elven eyes and sharp memory never leading them of course.

As Vandul, slightly inebriated, tries to learn more about her and Simon she keeps ahead, happy that the gloom, her cowl and her position hides her blushes. She glances at him when he speaks, catches his glance as well as his wink, but turns away again, hiding her embarrasment from the men. "I... uh... I haven't m-much to s-say, really... I um... M-mostly I've been l-living with my m-master. Training. Studying. Y-you know... H-herbalism... m-m-medicine." She's not a very good liar, though. And while she isn't exactly lying the holes in her story is rather obvious, and easily filled in for the intelligent or scholarly. Reclusive masters is not common among healers. But among another line of craft.

[Goblinsplitter]

Vandul nods and continues walking through the downpour, drenched to the bone. He doesn't really seem to care though. "Are we there yet? I need sleeeeppp!"

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn

During the last part of their journey to their inn, Simon keeps giggling. Even though he is wet and dirty, he can't help but find the drunken knight very funny.

When they get to their inn, Simon assists Vanduul to his room and turns to say to Anasia, "I've got to get him out of his armor or he'll get sick. Better do this alone, though. Unless you want to improve your knowledge of human anatomy, that is."

Grinning, Simon gently shuts the door behind him. He helps Vandul get out of his armor and toweled off, then makes him drink some water to rehydrate. He then puts him to bed. He positions a chamber pot beside the bed just in case Vandul decides he needs to vomit.

Simon does not sleep yet. He arranges first with the inn for their wet and dirty clothes to be laundered. When he does sleep, it is in a chair.

In his sleep, the fat burglar sometimes snickers.

[Persant]

Simon Olgaryn
"Yeah, sure. But make that tomorrow morning. Say halfway between dawn and noon? We need to plan first."

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

“Excellent. I shall see you in the morning then,” Elrond replies with a smile as he rises from his chair. Before heading for the door, he takes off his hat and stores it so it stays dry. Elrond would much rather receive a few more minutes sleep then listen to the bard’s music.

With the torrential rain still blanketing the area, Elrond decides to head straight back to his hotel. His plan for evaluating the water supply could wait for a few more days. Besides, tomorrow’s exploration of the tower could reveal the origins of the plague once and for all.

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, Light, Detect Poison

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

Alternatly blanching and blushing at Simon's insinuation, even though she knows him well enough to know it for a joke, the elf backs of. She manages a weak: "I-i-i th-think I know e-enough about human a-a-anatomy..." Before hurrying of to her own room. There she quickly gets out of her dress and slip and, since they're both soaked and stained at the hems, neatly folds them, opens the door just a crack, leaves the clothes in a stack outside her room and closes the door hurriedly. She hadn't told Simon, but after her previous misadventures she really didn't have much clothes beyond that dress. Shivering slightly without them she quickly goes to bed, hoping that the dress will be clean and dry by the morrow. And hoping that the adventure in front of them might prove profitable. She really could use some new clothes. Dreaming of glory, riches and a chance to do some good she falls into her trance.

[Goblinsplitter]

As Simon speaks to Anasia, Vandul starts singing in his soothing baritone, "You are so beautiful, to me. You are so beautiful, to me. Can't you see? You're everything I hoped for, you're everything I need. You are so beautiful, to me." Once he is done he starts chuckling and sits down on the bed to take off his boots. Clearly not as nice as the ones that elf or whatever had in the tavern. But they were good solid boots. Vandul then stands up and starts unbuckling the buckles he can get to, then stands arms out to let Simon get the rest. "My thanks Simon. That would of been near impossible without your help." Vandul lays down and fluffs the pillow then closes his eyes. Within moments he is slightly snoring.

[Jabas]

During the night, the storm finally releases Rookroost. Some might say that Beory, the Goddess of, among other things, rain, has shown compassion in light of the other evils currently befalling the city, but there are few that would reckon the gods are in their favour right now. More cases of the plague are reported, and now it seems that the disease is spreading to the inner wards, claiming victims among the mercantile and noble classes with no regard for station or standing.

Only the most insensitive of souls could fail to feel the tension in the air. Even the marketplace is eerily quiet, both the plague and the treacherous conditions ensuring that only the most determined – or desperate – merchants have brought their wares.

Victims of the disease are now more obvious than before. No longer hiding themselves away, those still able to walk or with nowhere else to go lurch feverishly from one building to the next, their pale, clammy skin mottled with red, pus-filled sores. Sufferers slump in alleyways, pleading for help and charity while those yet to be touched by the affliction cross the street, handkerchiefs held to their faces.

OOC: It’s up to you how you want to spend the morning. You can either go straight to the Drunken Dragon or take some time to look around town, make some purchases at the market or the shops, or anything else you fancy.

[Gorgondantess]

Brand gets up after the bard finishes his speech. "Well, it's been lovely chatting with you all, but I do believe the rest of my night would be better served in other areas; I'm a busy man, and I can't spend all my nights listening to songs and tales, no matter how lovely they may be."
He whirls on his cloak and leaves the bar. He walks the streets for a while before picking a fight with a likeminded individual, and as the rain pours around them they dramatically duel across the rooftops, seemingly unaffected by the poor moral or palpable weather. Rapiers clash, blood is spilled, and Brand returns to his home (hopefully picking up a lovely woman along the way) to get rip-roaring drunk and indulge his night and dawn in senseless hedonism. He passes out a few hours after sunrise, sleeping into the mid afternoon, oblivious to the poor souls affected by the plague. It's just another enemy to be fought, and one that he will, in the end, reign over victorious.

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn

The next morning, Simon fretfully runs back and forth, gathering his and Anasia's stuff, packing it all into the appropriate packs and containers.

He sounds exasperated as he scolds Anasia. "I can't believe you brought only that robe on this trip. What were you going to wear if and when it gets burnt or shredded?"

"Anyway, I got our clothes laundered, so the robe is clean, but it's still a bit damp, which you'll have to tolerate. Damn it."

"Your lack of wardrobe shouldn't be a problem for long, though. If Ereaden really is dead, he'll probably have a closet full of wizard robes you can borrow. One-size-fits-all garments, yes? Unless he was a FAT wizard, in which case it will look like a tent on you."

Simon's red leather armor is also damp, but he doesn't seem to mind the discomfort.

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

Sighing softly as she smoothes the blue cloth and straightens the still slightly damp dress over her slip. It felt good to have clean clothes again. But she very much agreed with Simon's admonishment. She really had to get some spares. Soon. With an almost apologetical smile she lifts her gaze and meets the human's. "You know, this might sound odd from one of my craft. But it's not a robe. It's a dress." Her smile widens for a short while, setting her eyes sparkling, before the human's unamused look sobers her somewhat. "Oh, you're right. I know. I'll find replacements as soon as I can? And thanks. For getting this one cleaned."

[Goblinsplitter]

Vandul wakes up surprisingly early, reinvigorated after his night of debauchery and long journey. He dons his newly washed clothes, still slightly damp. Once he believes it is late enough in the morning, he goes and knocks on Simon's door. Quietly he says, "Simon my friend, it is Vandul." Once Simon opens up, Vandul smiles, "Good morning friend. Care to help me into my armor?" Once Vandul is fully armored and ready to go he packs up his things again and gets himself ready to go to the tower.

[Loose Cannon]

Ronan the Ranger

Hooded and cloaked the stranger entered town. He slowly traversed through the winding streets, a light shower of rain casting a gloom over the otherwise bright morning. In truth it was some relief from the torrential downpours the city of Ravens had experienced these past few days. The streets were muddy and in some places, where drainage was poor, deep puddles had formed. If one was not careful one could lose a boot or slip head over feet in the trecherous conditions.

The stranger took his time, walking slowly and sure footed he moved through town. A few of the townsfolk had ventured out. Some clearly showing signs of the plague, some perhaps near death. He watched them with a deep sadness. There was a time he could remember being homeless and living out on the streets, scrapping for food, living off his wits and the generosity of others. He empathised with these outcasts. Had even the gods themselves abandonned them?

On a whim he decided to risk being late for his meeting. Seeking out the nearest merchant selling provisions he purchased a woven basket and filled it with an assortment of supplies such as bread, apples, cheese and drinking water. He carried the basket with him through town, providing aid where he could, bringing at least one small comfort to the unfortunate. Maybe he could not help everyone, but at least on this day a few would feel some sense of hope. Alive to the danger to his own health, he tried where he could to keep some distance and not directly touch the afflicted. However he understood the risks involved.

Discarding the empty basket and left with an empty heart, he continued on his journey. He turned a corner and the Drunken Dragon tavern loomed large. He had kept a watchful eye out for town guard or militia but had seen none. Still hidden under his dark brown cloak he decided to stand across the street and light up his smoking pipe. Standing tucked away around the corner of a building he smoked, watching the street and listening to the pitter patter of the rain on his hood. What would today bring...

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn

Simon just nods when Anasia thanks him for attending to the laundry. He seems to be distracted by thoughts and plans of the meeting this morning. Keeps muttering inaudibly to himself.

When asked to help, the fat thief willingly helps the paladin don his armor, though he smiles to himself while doing so. He doesn't seem particularly experienced with heavy armor, though; he has to be given directions.

He seems a bit puzzled that Vandul is showing few or no signs of having drunk so much the night before, but he says nothing of it. He merely takes note of the other man's healthiness.

When they finally do go out, Simon keeps his bow unstrung and covered by his wool cloak if it is still raining hard. If it is only drizzling, he strings his bow but still keeps it under his cloak.

He keeps his eyes averted from the plague-stricken during the walk back to the Drunken Dragon.

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

The early morning sunlight fills the small hotel room from a poorly shaded window. The room only holds a bed, a small dresser, a coat rack, and just enough room to maneuver around. Elrond slowly shifts in bed attempting to fall back asleep but it is to no avail. He climbs out of bed and stretches. Taking a seat on his bed, he opens his backpack and takes out some of his remaining rations and his wineskin, only a quarter full of water. Tomorrow he will need to acquire and purify some more food and drink.

After a meager breakfast, Elrond stows his wineskin and carefully removes a large runed book. He places the book on his lap and begins to chant and pray over it asking for insight from the Lord of All Magic. Today, he prays for healing and the ability to detect magic. Both of these will be useful in the invasion of the mages home. Feeling wiser and refreshed, Elrond opens the book and begins to study it intensely. He memorizes an enchantment spell which he can use to peacefully put the monster in the tower asleep.

Elrond gathers his gear and all his belongings before heading out from the inn. He still wears his blue cloak but now he proudly wears his matching hat since it has stopped pouring. It is clear that the plague is spreading as many more of the infected can be seen on the street. He walks by Ereaden’s tower and views all of the piled up packages. He looks up to the top and is mildly impressed. An admirable home this Ereaden had. He continues his journey and stops to talk to a cleric he met the day before. Turning around, he walks by the tower again on his way back to the Drunken Dragon.

Before entering the Drunken Dragon, Elrond stops to knock the mud from his boots with the end of his staff. He enters the door and sees that some of his acquaintances have already arrived. With a smile and a nod, he takes a seat at the table.

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, CLW, Detect Magic

[Jabas]

Although the inn is open, there is no sign of the barkeeper, and those who are the first to arrive have to wait more than half an hour before Guthric shuffles sluggishly into the bar room. His face is pale and he is sweating heavily, his head drooping as if he doesn’t have sufficient strength in his neck to hold it up. “Sorry,” he pants, groping for the bar and propping himself against it. “Don’t feel so…good…today. What can…I…can I…get…you?”

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn


Simon gapes like a dead fish at Guthric's terrible appearance. Only yesterday the barkeep had seemed healthy.

He was wanting to approach but instead he keeps his distance from Guthric, afraid of contamination in case this is plague and not the result of a debauch. Seeing that the man is in such a vulnerable state, however, Simon decides to use that to his advantage, especially while there are so few people around to overhear.

"My friends here will be ordering drinks, I guess." He glances dubiously at Anasia, clearly wondering if it's safe to order drinks from a sick man.

"As for me, I'd like some information. What can you tell us about the half-elf musician we met the other day, the one called Cymbelline?"

Simon's eyes are wide and fixed on Guthric, and his fingers twitch greedily. He'd been itching to ask this question and others since the other night.

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

Compared to Simon the elfmaid's initial reaction is much more subtle. Her eyes widen slightly, her face pales somewhat. Busying herself with removing and folding her cloak she forces herself to breathe calmly and keep her hands from shaking. She had liked Guthric. And now she would likely watch him die in suffering. No. NO! She shakes her head ever so slightly in silent denial. As she raises her eyes there is a fierce determination in her blue gaze, something seldom seen in the kindly, shy woman. With a caring smile she shakes her head more distinctly. "I need nothing at the moment, thanks. You should sit down. And drink a lot of cold, clear water. Don't let us disturb you, master Guthric."

[Goblinsplitter]

Vandul Verduun

Vandul shakes his head and looks away when he sees the condition Guthric is in. "Can I do it? Can I save him? I've never done it before..." Vandul thinks to himself, looking at Guthric out of the corner of his eye. "You can do this Vandul. You can't save them all. Not right now. But you can save this man." He takes off his back pack and sets it next to Simon, "Watch this for me, will you?"

Vandul walks over to Guthric and says, "Let me help you, friend." Then he drapes Guthric's arm over his neck and helps the man to a back room and lies him down. Vandul takes Guthric's hand in his and starts murmuring a prayer in an odd language. He pauses to shh Guthric, then proceeds to pray and places his hand in the middle of his chest. Vandul continues to pray, rocking back and forth, concentrating on his words. It takes several minutes of prayer before it starts to happen. Guthric stiffens, eyes wide open now. Then a dull glow about the man's torso appears. It rapidly brightens, creating a flash of light in the back room that can be seen from the common area. Vandul sits Guthric up, handing him some water to drink and says, "You need not worry now. I'm sure you can think of some way to thank me." He adds a wink at the end and smiles at the man.

Once he is done, he walks back out into the common area and sits down next to Anasia. He smiles at her with his perfectly straight teeth. "So, how did you sleep Anasia?"

Guessing Guthric caught the plague. Using cure disease on him.

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn


As much as he had seemed surprised to find the Drunken Dragon's barkeep sick (maybe with plague), it was nothing in comparison to Simon's current begogglement. His eyes are like saucers as he stares.

He protests, "But you use a sword! You can't be a cleric..."

His voice dwindles, then Simon turns pale and murmurs, "Holy crap. I've been playing squire to a buggering paladin."

[Jabas]

Guthric pants heavily, and is about to respond to Simon's question about Cymbelline when a glass slips from his moist hand and explodes into a hundred fragments on the stone floor. As he bends down to start cleaning up the mess, he slumps to his knees, one hand pressed against his forehead, eyes screwed up tight, and the other flailing towards the bar for support.

He makes a weak attempt at protesting as Vandul picks him up and leads him into the back room, a makeshift kitchen, and lays him down on the floor. All through the paladin's strange ritual, he splutters and his breath grows more shallow and rapid. By the time Vandul has finished, propped Guthric against a table and poured water down the man's throat, he is barely conscious, his eyes milky and his tongue lolling from the side of his mouth.

He has also developed some horrific looking red sores on his arms. Despite Vandul's best efforts, there seems to have been no immediate improvement, at least not such as a paladin's ministrations would normally bring about.

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

Assuming that the last part of Goblin's last post is going to be changed somewhat. Since the cure disease didn't work.

Actually somewhat curious, Anasia follows the paladin, witnessing his attempt to heal Guthric. And while the nobleman walks of quickly after the act, she stays, studying the innkeeper without touching him. Sadly she shakes her head. It hadn't worked. She knew it wouldnt, she had seen several priests attempt the spell more than once. Never actually achieving anything.

The elf doesn't seem to care much about whether Vandul was a cleric, a paladin or a delusional fighter. Not like Simon does. In fact, for once she seems to overcome her shyness, laying a hand on the paladin's shoulder when he returns. Her usually almost frightened features now showing sympathy. With Vandul as much as the innkeep. "I-it didn't w-work, Vandul... I'm... I'm s-sorry. I've w-watched priests of several of y-your human f-faiths try a-and cure the... the plague by m-magic. I-i-it just w-won't w-work." Then she realizes that she's actually physically touching the man and snatches back her hand like she'd touched something painfully heated, well before Vandul has a chance of catching her. The elves' eyes goes wide, her cheeks reddening somewhat but she still has a certain amount of sympathy and respect for the holy warrior in her eyes as she retreats. That he would put himself in such risk for a stranger raises her view of him considerably.

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

The site of the ailing bartender doesn’t seem to affect Elrond as it does the others. He continues to sit in his seat happily and quietly. He watches with curiosity as the follower of Pholtus physically escorts the barkeep into the back room. The soft prayer of the Paladin can hardly be heard from the common room. The flash of light generated at the end of the prayer gives Elrond a surprised but pleased look.


Simon Olgaryn
He protests, "But you use a sword! You can't be a cleric..."


Very quickly in reply Elrond states, “He carries a morning star good sir.”

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, CLW, Detect Magic

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn

Simon makes a face and looks embarrassed when Elrond corrects him. He silently points at the javelins.

He then follows Guthric and Vandul into the kitchen. Despite his shock, he still wants to see if the cure worked.

As he notes that it does not, he sighs in disappointment.

Then he colors and stutters to Vandul. "Um, s-sorry about saying the bad words." He looks guilty.

[Gorgondantess]

Brand storms into the tavern rather later after the others, once Vandul has already tried to heal the barkeep. He looks about dispassionately, shrugging.
"Well, he's a goner. Shall we head to the tower, then, kick down some doors and whatnot?"

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn


Still distracted and unnerved by the revelation that he's been keeping company with an evil-detecting paladin, Simon shakes his head at the elf's question.

"No, not yet. First we talk. We have many things to discuss."

Then he remembers something and he smiles tentatively at the elf with the rapier. "Starting with introductions, I think. My name is Simon. My friends back home call me Simple Simon. I'm an escort to Doctor Amakiir here." He nods to Anasia.

"What is your name, good sir?"

[Loose Cannon]

Ronan the Ranger

The tavern door swings open yet again. In strides Ronan, sweeping back the hood of his cloak.

"Well met people. Here we are again it seems." he smiles looking around the room. "My name is Ronan, a simple wayfarer in these parts."

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn

Simon turns to the door, bow in hand, but then he relaxes as he sees who it is: the other stranger who had sat at the table the other day.

He says politely and deferentially, like a servant might. "Greetings, Ronan. I am Simon. My friends back home call me Simple Simon. This is my employer, Doctor Anasia Amakiir, and our new friends Elrond and Sir Vandul Verduun."

Then he turns back to the strange elf and continues waiting for an answer.

[Jabas]

Before the elf can answer, the door opens again and five stout, rough-looking humans step into the inn. They look no different to any other ruffians found lurking in the city’s lanes and alleyways, except that each one has the city’s crest – a raven against a yellow field – sewn onto the front of his tunic. Swords hang at their belts and each one carries a small shield.

They close the door behind them and fan out so that they are standing in a rough line. It seems that the one in the middle – a brutish, feral looking fellow - is the leader of the group, as it is he who steps forward.

“Alright, everyone stay where you are and keep your hands to yourselves,” he growls. “We’re looking for a man named Felnor. Any of you know him? Seems he was in here last night causing trouble.”

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

Hmmm….maybe the scoundrel bard from last night goes by another name as well, Elrond thinks to himself. Elrond inquisitively replies, “This Felnor. What exactly does he look like? I did not see a ruckus in this bar last night but then again I departed from this establishment well before closing.”

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, CLW, Detect Magic

[Jabas]

The man appraises Elrond for a few moments before replying. "You'll know if you've seen him," he says. "Big huge fella, red in the face. Voice like a bellowing ox. If you're a regular here at the Dragon you'd most likely know him, if only by sight."

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn


The fat thief instinctively cringes at the arrival of the five thugs in badges, but then relaxes as he remembers he's here with capable allies.

Still, Simon changes how he is holding his bow so that he's carrying the weapon with only a thumb and forefinger instead of gripping it with his hand.

He says nothing yet in response. He only examines the raven badge and the men who wear it.

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

After sir Vandul's failed attempt at curing the innkeep Anasia retreated into herself, letting Simon speak for the both of them. Keeping to the background she is, however, among the first to see the ruffians coming, spotting them through the windows. She had seen their kind several times after coming to Rookroost and she didn't like the sight of any of them. Bullies the lot of them.
When they start asking for Felnor, the loudmouth from last night if she remembers correctly, the elfmaid blanches slightly. The man was in deep trouble now, someone must have reported him to the authorities. Pale, but with a grim set to her jaw that belies her insecure ways she studies the roundears. As bullies they shouldn't be too courageous about the things they couldn't easily pound into the ground and while she was shaking slightly from it she then took a step forward, straightening to her almost human height. "Um... I... I s-saw him l-last night. I haven't s-seen him today. But I'm... I'm not s-sure you want t-to find him." Keeping her hands ready to start moving through the movements necessary fot the one spell he has prepared Anasia then walks up to the leader, lowering her voice so as not to worry everyone present. "T-the p-p-proprietor of th-this e-establishment has taken ill. Very ill, i-if you f-follow me. A-and your quarry w-was here a l-lot. H-he v-very probably has b-been contaminated."

[Jabas]

One of the men draws his sword as Anasia approaches, but the leader merely puffs out his chest and smirks. “Don’t try and tell me my job, elf,” he says. “Seems to me like you’re trying to throw us off to protect your friend Felnor. You’d better tell us where he is or you’ll be joining him in irons. After we’ve had our fun with you, of course.” He winks at his men, who snigger, one of them grabbing his crotch and thrusting it in Anasia’s direction.

[Goblinsplitter]

Vandul Verduun

Vandul is appalled by the actions of the "guards". "Those vile miscreants! I'll have their throats, the lot of them." Vandul silently fumes to himself. He sits with his back to them, his displeasure clear upon his face. He quietly and with as much subtlety he can muster, readies his shield then turns slightly, ready for anything from this lot of scum. He manages a sly grin as he watches them all. After a few moments he decides he must say something. He stands up, then guides Anasia back to her seat and motions for her to sit down. He approaches the feral looking fellow and begins to speak, "My apologies, she has partaken a little to much of the wine. Elfs." Vandul chuckles slightly. "I do recall this large fellow last night. He was rather talkative and very adamantly opposed to the governorship of this fine city. None of us here know him though. We cannot tell you anymore about him then you already know. I'm sure if you stuck around though, he'd show up sooner or later. As he seems to be a regular here as you say."

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

She is about to tell them to have a look at the innkeeper themselves, telling them about her work as a kind of credentials, and warning them off with the fact that she has, herself, been in frequent contact with the sickly. But the paladin manages to forestall her, leading her away. For once more frustrated and irritated than fearful of social interaction she opens her mouth to protest, especially about drunken elves! But the charismatic nobleman quite easily continues on without letting her get a word in edgewise. With an exasperated sigh she shuts her mouth and waits. Keeping her Colourspray foremost in her mind.

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn

Simon's face curdles and he stares at the man who just did that crude gesture in Anasia's direction.

Then his round face goes quite expressionless and he starts to whisper very quietly to himself a verbal description of the leader of the five thugs, telling himself the man's hair color, eye color, height, weight, etc.

He hunches his shoulders and bows his head in a submissive posture, but his eyes tell a different tale, being flat and hard.

Every few seconds, he takes a step sideways, trying to get to a part of the room that gives him a clean shot at the five thugs in badges, with little or no chance of hitting anyone else.

[Loose Cannon]

Ronan the Ranger

Ronan turns to face the five rough looking men, taking a step back, careful not to square up to them.

"My friends speak the truth, we are not acquainted with this fellow and I would say that the barkeep is far too sick to be of any assistance. Your time would be best served looking elsewhere."

"If you would like, we could alert you should he return here" he says politely and smiles. "After all, the last thing this place needs right now is a trouble maker."

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

Elrond appeared to be enjoying himself even with the entrance of the 5 policemen. His demeanor changed from happy to disgusted as the policeman makes the vulgar gesture with his crotch. He did not know who Felnor was but apparently the others do. Best to let them speak.

If the current tension breaks out into fighting, Elrond will attempt to sleep any of the policemen who try to leave the building. It’s best not to allow them to recruit more help.

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, CLW, Detect Magic

[Jabas]

The leader listens to Vandul and nods his approval at the paladin’s cooperation. “Good, that’s good information,” he says. “Better have a look around though, eh lads? And don’t forget to check the cellar.” At his motion, three of his men move off to search the tavern, one heading upstairs, another into the back room where Guthric lies, and the other into the cellar through a hatch behind the bar.

The man frowns as Ronan speaks. “Listen, I don’t take kindly to others telling me my job,” he says. “Seems like you’re in a hurry for us to leave. I’m thinking you might be hiding something, or why would you and her both be so keen to get us out of here, eh?”

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn

Simon's expression is that of a man with a bad stomachache. He doesn't look happy at all with the way things are turning out.

He calculates, then he sighs and straightens, speaking to the thug leader in a subservient and wheedling tone, "You're the Law here, Captain," shamelessly raising his meager estimate of the man's rank. "There ain't nobody here who can tell you what you can and cannot do."

"But these folks, they're not used to dealing with the kind of strong government you and your men are used to dealing out. They're just healers, here to help care for the plague-stricken. So cut them some slack, okay? They'll know better than to mouth off from now on."

After dishing out the flattery, Simon hesitates, then adds the magic word. "Please?"

[Goblinsplitter]

Vandul Verduun

"We merely wish to get back to our conversation, it was rather heated when you lot came in." Vandul says coolly. "How else may we be of service to you?"

[Jabas]

"That's more like it, a bit of respect for the law," says the man. "Say, we're a bit thirsty and there's no sign of the landlord. How about your lady elf friend here gets us a drink? That way we might be a bit more lenient towards you for your earlier rudeness."

He looks at Anasia with a twinkle in his eye, defying anyone to question his request.

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn

Simon hides a grin and affects a nonchalant tone of voice, "Oh, the tavern owner? He's here. He's just sick, you know, with the plague that's been going around. We came here to look after him."

"We're pretty sure that the plague doesn't come from contaminated water or food or drink, but I guess that even if it were, you and your men are really healthy and are bound to be immune to all that, right?"

"Anyway, the healer will get those drinks for you." Simon nods and makes a hurrying motion to Anasia, hoping to get her out of weapon range of the thug leader.

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

"Wh-what? Oh, y-yes. Of course." It makes her cheeks flash red, more from embarrasment than awkwardness to hurry of for the bullies' drinks. But she can understand the logic in Simon's way of handling things. And he was at a whole a much better liar than her. So he let her friend do his thing while she made sure to get some distance for her spell, should things still deteriorate. Quickly the elfmaid hurries of for a tray.

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn


Simon smirks at the sight of the elf, trained in both the medical and magical arts, scurrying off to play bartender and waitress.

Since the thug leader doesn't seem intent on going anywhere yet, he decides to fish for information. Simon turns and fawningly inquires, "Sir, while you wait for your drinks, may we ask your name and what you do for the city of Rookroost, and what news you would be willing to tell us? We are new to town and not as familiar as we should be with its great civic leaders such as yourself."

Simon has hunched over so that he seems even shorter than he already is and cranes his neck so that it is as if he is looking up to the thug leader. He wonders how the thug will respond to this obsequious behavior.

[Gorgondantess]

Brand stands in the back for most of the conversation, glaring. However, when the men order Anasia to get them a drink, he's had quite enough. As she's passing by he lays a hand on her shoulder, stopping her, and steps forwards.
"I don't know about these folks here, but I know a pig when I see one."
He grabs an iron-bound tome from his side, holding it in his left hand, as he raises his right, palm open. The book flips open and the pages start turning of their own accord, as obviously magical energies crackle around his extended hand.
"I advise you leave. Now."

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn

Simon turns white as a sheet, as a ghost, as a pure Suloise, when the still-unidentified elf in the wonderful boots steps forward and puts his hand on Anasia's shoulder.

He opens his mouth to hiss something, but then the elf's hand begins to crackle with magical power, and he groans, "Oh, great. A magic-user. I should have known."

And he begins to back away, strengthening his grip on his shortbow and glumly pleased that at least he got Anasia out of the way before the maggoty rat fell into the punchbowl.

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

Things were starting to go well with the brutish policemen calmed down, not that she liked playing a bar wench but this was a battle she would prefer to avoid. But then Brand suddenly turns everything very sour, very quickly. In a way she like that someone stands up for her. She appreciates it, in a way. But the look she gives him is a mix of gratitude and irritation. Whether she does so to make sure that the thugs won't understand her and she guesses Brand will or simply out of reflex the young mage then hisses at him in elvish: <No! Don't! We need to save our strenght for... Oh, great.> She stammers a lot less in elvish than in common. Or maybe it's because social awkwardness isn't that big a deal when things are turning very anti-social very quickly. Making it look like she's fleeing in fear of the budding fight she jerks her shoulder loose from Brand's grasp. But in reality she moves away more to find an angle where she can cast her Colourspray in a way where she can hit as many of the enemies as possible while avoiding as many of her so-called friends as possible.

[Jabas]

As Anasia makes her way towards the bar to fetch the drinks, the men who had been searching the tavern return. The one who had been to the cellar is clutching several bottles of wine under his arm, while the fellow who disappeared into the back room looks rather pale, likely having just met the rapidly declining Guthric.

The leader looks unimpressed by Simon's attempt at idle chatter, and strides forward to grap the portly human by the collar. "Listen fatty, it doesn't matter what my name is. And if it's news you want then there's a town crier that stands within earshot of the city gaol. How about we take you down there for a few nights? You'll know everything that's going on in Rookroost in no time."

He is about to say something to one of his men, most likely concerning the mouthy thief, when Brand issues his warning, his hand sparkling with a glow that reflects in his eyes. Simon is instantly forgotten and his collar released, and the group leader's hand moves almost of its own accord to the hilt of his sword.

"What the - how dare you threaten us, you worm? That's it, you're under arrest. Men - seize him."

One of the men hesitates, perhaps a little unnerved by the elf's magical display, but another is not so flustered and takes a step towards Brand, drawing his sword.

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

Elrond is taken by surprise when the flamboyant elf pulls out a spell book and harnesses the magical energies of a cantrip to threaten the men. It is not justice these men have come to dispense. They are acting more like thieves with stolen badges.

Elrond regains his composure and pauses to see what the haughty elf’s next move is. He cannot allow a fellow arcane caster to be unfairly imprisoned to thugs like this.

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, CLW, Detect Magic

[Gorgondantess]

Brand shrugs, then spins around, reaching into his coat for a stiletto. He times it so that he only reaches into it as his back is turned, and extends the magic of the cantrip to envelop it, so it looks more like he's created a magical dart. He uses the momentum of the spin to throw the stiletto at the leader, aiming to hit the hat and send that flying without any of them actually being attacked.
Pg. 66 of complete fighter, called shots. If this works, they'll need a morale check against my awesomeness. If it doesn't... well, things are going to get bloody.
Anyways, I'm using my nice stiletto for +3 to the attack, but with the -4 from the called shot for a total of -1.
[roll0]+the AC of the thug aiming for a THAC0 of (naturally) 20. Do you want to factor in their leather armor, or just count stuff like dexterity? Logic would dictate that leather armor wouldn't effect hitting the hat very much, but, by RAW, it does. C'est la AD&D.
...Huh. Ouch.:smalleek:

[Jabas]

The stiletto comes out of Brand’s hand at a slightly skewed angle, and flies clumsily across the room, turning over on itself and clattering against the back of the door, having missed the leader’s hat by at least a foot.

“That was stupid,” he says, his sword in his hand. “Men, try and take him alive if you can, but don’t bother if he gets tricky. Same goes for any of his friends who interfere.”
Initiative:

NPCS: [roll0]
PCs: [roll1]

You act first, you lucky devils.

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

Things went about as well as she had suspected they would when Brand had started his theatrics. Now they had a fight on their hands. But she wasn't sorry for it. These men were bullies and crooks. Even worse than thieves and cutpurses. Both her face and voice is grimmer than anyone in her present company, Simon included, has ever seen or heard. Now there's no hint of hesitation or stammers in her voice, but bonehard determination. "Try and take me alive? Try take this alive. Not that that made any sense, of course. Witticism in combat is still beyond her, but still. It had felt good to say something defiant. Her blue eyes aglow she takes the last steps to find that perfect angle and falls into her spellcasting. Her hands move through delicate and intricate movements, sometimes even tracing patterns in differentcoloured lights, and with a high, clear voice she speaks the arcane Words of Power that she had etched into her brain several days ago and never had any reason to use. As she casts her spell an almost enraptured smile spreads across her face making her all the more beautiful, the energies coursing through her very being exhilarating to the point where she just doesn't care about the consequences of the battle for as long as the spell takes to finish.
After having finished all the movements and wordings in perfect synchronization she whips her right hand forward as if throwing something and a torrent of multicoloured light bursts forward, a rainbow of chaos enveloping the guards.

As mentioned before: Anasia moves to a point where she can get as many bogies in the area of effect of her spell with as few friends getting caught in it. And then casts her Colourspray. One is acceptable (particularly Brand since that would mean getting a hit on the leader :smallamused:) but she'd really like to avoid it.

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn

Simon actually relaxed when the thug leader grabbed him by the collar and threatened him. He was used to being bullied; it was nothing new, and he was good at blubbering for mercy.

Still, he did not stay within grabbing distance, moving back and away once the other man let him go. He was not a masochist, after all.

When the thug leader gave his orders, though, and especially when Anasia cast her spell, Simon sighed. His choice was clear.

His bow already in hand, the fat thief drew one flight arrow, then another, and shot at anyone that Anasia did not incapacitate with her Color Spray, prioritizing the ones closest to himself, to Anasia, and to Vandul.

He shoots both arrows at the same target if the first one did not drop the first target.

Attacks and potential damage if hits:

Attack 1: [roll0]
Attack 2: [roll1]

Potential damage 1: [roll2]
Potential damage 2: [roll3]

[Goblinsplitter]

Vandul Verduun

Vandul sighs to himself as things start to get out of hand, then he just shrugs and takes out his morning star. "You have acted without honor. You shall die by my hand, this day!" Vandul says, pointing at the leader as he takes a step towards him, Vandul pulls back and makes a mighty swing, aiming for the miscreant's head.

Attack
[roll0]
Damage
[roll1]

HP: 11/11
AC: 3
Save vs. spell for Colourspray [roll2]

[Gorgondantess]

Brand shrugs, smirking, then throws open his coat. It's lined with long, thin blades, and he starts hurling them at the leader rapidly, with either hands. He spins about and flourishes as he does so, leaping into the air. It all looks very graceful and cool and all that, but it causes two of the blades to spin off wildly, though one hits him square in the chest with a loud 'thunk'.
Well, let's see here, I can get 3 stilettos out a round, so let's roll the bones:
Attack 1:
Attack 2:[roll1]
Attack 3:[roll2]

And damage1:[roll3]
damage2:[roll4]
damage3:[roll]1d3+2
I forget whether or not stilettos get their +2 to attack against leather armour. I think they do, but I'm away from books, so I can't check it. If they do, just add +2 to all my attacks.
Well I'm just getting unlucky now, aren't I? Nevertheless, 5 damage is respectable for a 1st level character.

[Jabas]

With a few words and gestures from Anasia, the room erupts in a blinding flash of coloured light, as devastating as it is beautiful. Windows rattle and several glasses fall from shelves, smashing upon the floor. An instant later, three of the militiamen, including the leader, are slumped upon the ground, unconscious.

There is little time for the two remaining men to absorb what has just happened. One of the two, the more youthful of the bunch, opens his mouth as if to speak, but is silenced as an arrow thumps into his just, throwing him back against the wall. Seconds later, Simon follows up with another, even deadlier missile that shears the man’s throat, and he emits a feeble gurgle as he drops to the floor.

The remaining policeman drops his sword and moves towards the door, but is halted as Vandul’s morning star crashes into the side of his head, spinning him around and making him an easy target for the stiletto thrown by Brand. He has little chance against such an assault, and is dead before he hits the ground.

Just giving a mid-round update as the first set of attacks were so effective, and it will help Ronan and Elrond decide on their actions.

Status:
Leader – unconscious
Policeman 1 – unconscious
Policeman 2 – unconscious
Policeman 3 – killed by Simon
Policeman 4 – killed by Vandul and Brand

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

The battle begins and ends so quickly, Elrond finds it to be over before finding the appropriate location for his spell. He is too acclimated to taking time and care when casting spells. He will have to learn to hasten his decision making when combat occurs.

“Marvelous placement of the breathtaking rainbow, good doctor,” commends Elrond as he moves over to the leader and disarms him. “It appears that you are trained in much more than curatives.” Elrond reaches into his backpack and begins to pull out some silk rope.

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, CLW, Detect Magic

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

"Sure. But it was my only spell." At first the elven mage doesn't seem to realize that she's in a conversation with Elrond. With an irritated look, probably about loosing her only spell for this, she stands studying the fallen forms of the so called "policemen", arms crossed beneath her breasts and one foot tapping against the floorboards. Then, just after closing her mouth, she just freezes, with her foot raised for another tap as she realizes that she was spoken to. And complimented. In a rush all her usual insecurities rush back and flushes her face red and the young elf takes a few steps back from the mage-priest. "W-well... Y-yes I h-have some t-training arcane." She has some spirit despite her shyness, that much is certain, she actually manages a secretive, if weak, grin at the man before blushing all the more.

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn


Simon tries not to think too much about how he is now a killer as he rushes to the door. He has too many other, more important things, to think about. If there is an Open/Closed sign, he will change it to Closed and then lock or bar the door.

He will then go to the windows and use the shutters or the curtains to obscure what goes on inside the Drunken Dragon, but not before he peers outside to see if anyone noticed the brief altercation and the brilliant flash of light from Anasia's spell.

Then he will go to help tie up and gag the unconscious thugs. As he kneels to work, he furtively eyes his new accomplices.

He finally says, "Well, this is a fine mess. But we can make it work to our advantage if we're smart and learn from it."

Simon doesn't sound very hopeful, though. Then he grimaces as the pools of blood from the dying men touch his armored knee. "Could someone grab a mop?"

[Loose Cannon]

Ronan the Ranger

Ronan barely has time to react as the tension in the air suddenly explodes into bloody violence, which is ended almost as soon as it begins. Ronan instinctinvely reaches for the hilt of his sword, clasping the leather grip tightly. He does not draw. Though he has no favour with the town guard, they are slaughtered like animals. This encounter was never in doubt. He releases his sword hilt and surveys the fallen bodies, then the victors.

"I see you folk are well versed in combat. Fearsome warriors indeed..." Ronan quietly summises.

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

Elrond secures the unconscious men while conversing with doctor Amakiir. He is too busy with the task at hand to notice the redness of her face. At first he speaks in a normal tone, but the more he talks the louder his voice grows.

“Ah, but what a powerful and beautiful spell it was. Able to incapacitate 3 men in an instant. And tomorrow you shall invigorate yourself and command your potent powers again. Magic is such a wondrous tool … to those who command it! Let us not waste this valuable resource. By its power, we shall find the source of the epidemic which plagues this cesspool of villiany and eradicate it! ...before it spreads to fairer lands.”

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, CLW, Detect Magic

[Gorgondantess]

Brand sighs, and grabs his stiletto off the floor, and out of that one fellow's chest, cleaning it off on an unbloodied shirt. Thing were just never going his way these days...
He gapes at Elrond's display. And he thought that elves were dignified, elegant beings.
Without further ado, he draws his rapier, about to finish off the unconscious men.
Here I'll give y'all a chance to stop me, if you please. If not, they're dead.

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn


Looking up, he sees what the elf in boots is about to do.

In a mild voice, he says, "Um, don't kill them."

To the others, especially Ronan and Vandul in their heavier armor, he says, "Back me up, will you? I think we've done enough avoidable killing for one day."

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

Paling and blushing alternately the elven mage steps forward. She's shaking from forcing herself to speak up. But she does it without any real hesitation: "N-no m-more. No m-more d-deaths on o-our hands." On MY hands. It was my spell and if he kills them now.. No. Not that. Looking straight to Brand she continues weakly: "W-we're not m-m-murderers yet, n-no m-matter what the au-authorities will s-say. L-let's just tie them up a-and l-leave them. W-we w-won't have t-to stay h-here l-long after finding the cure. We c-could j-just leave this h-horrible town then."

[Loose Cannon]

Ronan the Ranger

Ronan puts his arm across the chest of Brand, laying his hand gently on his shoulder.

"Sir, these men are helpless. To kill a defenceless being? Should we not show compassion, lest we become like them."

[Gorgondantess]

"Ahhh, but we are murderers. We're murderers, lawbreakers and vagabonds. Your short friend here just killed a man, and I killed another. Just tie them up and leave them? This is a tavern- there'll be somebody to untie them within the day. Leave them locked in the cellar? Yeah, then they'll slowly starve to death. At least this way is clean. I, for one, don't intend on having a price on my head, and I'm not going to put your flighty whims above my own safety and well-being."

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn


Simon says in the same mild voice, "Killed? Yes. But only because once Doctor Amakiir used her spell to protect you, she became a target as well."

Simon turns his head a little so that it is like he is addressing Ronan and Vandul. "I'm sure you gentlemen can see the necessity of protecting the doctor from hooligans intent on murdering her. I am her aide and she is my employer."

The fat thief smiles at the delicious irony of being able to rightfully claim he acted out of duty to a paladin and a ranger.

[Loose Cannon]

Ronan the Ranger

Ronan releases his gentle restraint on Brand.

"I can only speak for myself, lawbreaker... unquestionably. Vagabond... perhaps. But murderer? To kill in self defence or to protect the innocent is not the same as to kill in cold blood. I beseech you good sir, these men pose no threat to us now. Their deaths would serve no purpose. If your hand still bays for blood, let us make haste to the wizards tower. I am sure you will find a willing adversary there."

[Gorgondantess]

"No threat? No purpose? What the hell do you think these men will do as soon as they get out? They'll report us all to the authorities and put a price on our heads! They're awful pigs and the world would be better off without them anyways."

[Jabas]

In the midst of the debate, the leader emits a groan and his eyes flick open. He takes a moment to blink himself back to consciousness then realises that the point of Brand’s rapier is inches from his exposed throat. His eyes widen, and the fear is palpable in his face. Frozen and silenced, he stares at Brand, his lips moving but issuing no sound.

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

“So we leave them bound and gagged in the cellar and tell someone to search the cellar on the way out of town. With the influx of clerics in this town attempting to treat the plague, they should be able to find one who can speak with the dead in a reasonable amount of time anyway.”

Once the thugs have been secured, Elrond grabs one of the leader's minions and begins to drag him to the cellar entranceway. "Alive or dead, they all need to go down to the cellar."


HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, CLW, Detect Magic

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

Pale rather than blushing the elven mage looks to the dead and the bound and then to her companions. She really didn't want anyone killed except for self defense or something like that. And a plan is beginning to take form in her head. "E-elrond i-is right... If they're all k-killed, e-especially the l-leader, they c-could be found all the q-quicker if their s-superiours j-just pay f-for the s-spell. But a d-day or t-two will be n-no real d-danger to them e-even if they l-lack w-water. Th-they're all strong m-men and w-will b-be s-severely dehydrated, b-but sh-should recover. I s-say l-leave them in the c-cellar and... I w-will m-make sure noone l-looks for them here." Hoping she has been able to convince the more blood-thirsty members of her group Anasia heads over to the counter and starts scouring it for chalk, if she found none she could alway use charcoal from the hearth to make the Plague Sign on the door, but she'd prefer chalk. It'd last longer, be more easily spotted and was more often used by the clerics she had worked with. "Does s-someone have s-some writing utensils that I-i c-could borrow? And s-some paper or parchment."

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn


The fat thief relaxes a bit as Elrond makes his choice and starts to drag the thugs, both unconscious and dead, to the cellar.

He gets up from his kneeling position, the hard leather knee pads of his armor not really showing the blood much since they were already dark red.

He pulls his backpack open and extracts a few quills, a scroll tube with some parchment in it, and an inkstone, then hands all three to Anasia.

Then he coughs and says in a diffident voice, keeping his eyes on the bloody floor, "Any of you got the makings for a Charm Person? Would be nice to make one of them into an ally, get some straight answers."

Then he goes to scrounge up a mop and bucket and even soap so he can remove the bloody evidence of his killing.

[Gorgondantess]

Brand shrugs, and puts away his blade. "Well, I can agree with that, regardless of whether we kill them or not."
With that, he grabs one and starts dragging him to the cellar.
"I know the spell, but I don't have it prepared."

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

After preparing a small amount of ink the mage calmly sits down by the hearth and starts writing two short letter. One is a short introduction of the innkeep and a description of his symptoms, ending in a short decision of quarantine. The other is a quick note for a father Johannes one of the higher ranking clerics of Pelor which had travelled to the plagueridden town to help and which she had worked with on several occasions, where she simply tells him that the Drunken Dragon has been quarantined, it's patrons needs to be kept under surveillance and that she would mark the place as dangerous.

As the men return from the cellar she is carefully blowing the ink dry.

I'll have a bit more to say about it. But I'll wait and see what the boys come up with concerning the prisoners. Also I invented one of the senior priests of Pelor, I hope noone minds. :smallbiggrin:

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

Elrond drags the man across the floor to the entranceway of the cellar. He sets the man down and takes a deep breath. Removing his hat, he inspects the table's surface and then places his hat down upon the table. Grabbing the bound man, he trudges down the cellar stairs.

Elrond treks back up the stairs leaving his burden below. He replies to Simon’s question with an ominous look, “I’m afraid I never learned the spell. It looks like you’ll have to get the information the laborious way.”

He stops for a few seconds and watches the doctor finish scribing a letter. She stops and begins gently blowing on the letters to dry the ink. As he turns to head back to the incapacitated policemen, he notices his fancy blue hat on the table and smiles. Walking over to the gagged leader Elrond asks with a smirk, “Would you prefer me to escort you down the stairs, sir? Or would you rather have the elf's assistance?”

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, CLW, Detect Magic

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn


Simon looks surprised by the rapier-wielding elf's remark. "If you have such powers at your command, sir elf, why do you feel the need to kill, when you can turn them into your friends and servants?"

The fat young man tells Anasia, "That was the last of our paper, Doctor. Expensive stuff. We're going to have to get some more before we go to the tower, so we can map."

While he talks, Simon goes and finds a mop and bucket. He fills the bucket with soapy water and starts to mop up the gore.

[Gorgondantess]

"Well, let's see here."
Brand leans on his rapier, counting off the reasons.
"One: it's fallible. Doesn't always work. Two: even if it does work, he still isn't going to be an ally, just more friendly. Three: I can't even use it right now, that'll take a bit of meditation. Four: I can only charm one at a time. We have three to deal with. And for the last little piggy, it's of a limited duration, and when it times out he'll be even more mad at me for violating his mind. I've always found it's best to avoid unnecessarily multiplying variables: why mess around with magic when you can just stick them like the pigs they are? I still think we should do that... but, if you all insist, if I'm ever taken in I'll just sell you all out in return for my freedom. Now won't that just be a delightful 'I-told-you-so!'"? He claps his hands together, smirking widely. It's hard to tell if he's serious or not.

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

The flamboyant elf's callous (or is it mocking? joking?) declaration of future betrayal makes the other elf pale to almost white. Laying a hand against the base of her throat the now rather magic-less mage takes a step backward, glancing to Simon for support. She didn't know what to make of Brand, he seemed as wicked as an orc in her eyes now and yet he was supposed to be an ally, so she hoped that the more worldly thief that played her servant would be more capable of handling the suddenly tense situation. Or at least defend her. She felt weak now, with her one spell already cast she felt vulnerable and actually a bit scared. Eyes wide she looked back to the other elf. "Wh-why? Wh-why w-would you d-d-do that? W-we've d-d-done n-nothing t-t-to you."

[Gorgondantess]

Brand takes on a serious air, narrowing his eyes and stalking towards Anasia, getting far too close for comfort. "Well that's just the thing, isn't it? You've done nothing to me, but you've done nothing for me either. I just met you people yesterday- I have no stock in your fate. Why in the world would I put your well being above my own?"
He throws his head back and laughs, clearing the air. "Don't worry so much, love. I assure you, I have no intention of being captured."

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

She tried to meet the scoundrel's gaze, she did and made a fairly decent job with it. Telling herself that he obviously was joking, that he would not do what he threatened to. But she couldn't quite convince herself and then she wavered and looked away, dropping her gaze to the floor as she turned around, hating herself for it. She found herself hating him too, loathing him for making her not blush, and she didn't she was as pale as a sheet, but for making her actually afraid of him. Her voice quaked as she spoke up, but for once she wasn't stammering. At least there was that. "Let's just get this done then, all right? And then you can go your way and we can go ours."

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

Elrond watches with a confused look as an innocent question turns into an awkward discussion. He turns and looks into the eyes of the leader only to see a crushed soul. One still too stricken with fear to give any type of response to his question.

Elrond grabs the leader and drags him toward the cellar entrance.

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, CLW, Detect Magic

[Jabas]

Amidst the tension, the group sets about the grisly task of cleaning up the mess. The three surviving policemen are all conscious by the time they are dragged into the cellar, but their bonds are tight enough that they are unable to move more than an inch or two, and the gags stifle any attempts at protest. They are visibly reviled at having to share their subterranean prison with the corpses of their two less fortunate colleagues, and their eyes burn with silent promises of vengeance, but unless Guthric makes a sudden recovery there is little chance that they will be found for a few days, particularly in light of the warning sign that Anasia paints on the door.

Although the rain has stopped, the streets of Rookroost are still awash with slush and debris, and by the time the group reaches Ereaden’s tower their boots and breeches are caked in mud.

The tower stands just outside the walls of the Peak neighbourhood, the innermost of the city’s districts and therefore the most respectable. It is an impressive edifice – upwards of eighty feet tall and built of huge blocks of black basalt, roughly fitted together. A blocky base building occupies the first ten feet or so, upon which stands the tower itself, a slim, windowless spire that seems too narrow for anything but a winding staircase. The top of the tower is flat, and is encircled by a rail. Several objects are silhouetted against the sky but from the ground their nature cannot be determined.

The base building is also windowless, and there is only one door: a huge, heavy looking portal made of iron, a large, lion-headed knocker in its centre. Piled in front of the door are about a week’s worth of supplies – loaves of bread, cuts of meat, fruit and vegetables, some of which have started to spoil.

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

After leaving the first note, the one explaining the quarantine, on the floor just inside the door and painting the very same door with the Plague Sign Anasia hands Simon his writing utensils back, including one of the two sheets of parchment given to her, she had obviously cut one sheet in two, saving precious parchment for later. "I know we don't have a lot of it, Simon. But you have to admit it was well used?" When she speaks to the chubby thief she keeps her voice low, and not only out of some kind of secrecy, but she doesn't stammer or hesitate.

---

On the way to the tower she grabs ahold on the first street urchin she can find, hands him the note and a copper piece and tells him that if he can find the pelorites he will have more money waiting for him there, with only the slightest of stuttering marring her command.

---

As they finally reach the tower she studies the building, slightly in awe. Her own master had his own tower, a beautiful building in a way, but squat and short. This... this was like every Wizard's tower she had ever read about. Brooding and ominous, but still beautiful in a way, and promising of knowledge both eldritch and arcane. She suddenly found her unable to wait for exploring it and it's magical secrets. "W-well. H-here we are. C'mon, l-let's s-see if someone's home."
Confidently she walks up to the door and puts her hand on the handle.

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn


Simon receives the implements and puts them away. He stands to one side as he watches Anasia try the straightforward approach.

In a soft, diffident voice, he says, "I guess it's unlikely he's enchanted the door to hurt anyone who simply knocks. Too many corpses that way."

[Jabas]

The door is firmly locked, so firmly in fact that trying to move it is like pushing against a boulder that has been set into the earth for centuries; it doesn’t yield even a fraction.

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

Truth be told, she doesn't know first, she tries the handle. But it's locked. Of course it's locked. Strangely enough the door doesn't move the slightest. It doesn't rattle when she tries to shake it or anything. "W-weird... Simon, d-do you think the door m-might be locked? I think it might be m-magically enhanced in some way."

While waiting for her friend to answer her question she shrugs and knocks on the door. You never know what kind of simple things might work when it came to magic. Some wizards are lazy, other very unwise. Most have a very peculiar sense of humour.

Is there any way to use Spellcraft here, DM?

[Jabas]

The instant Anasia grasps the lion-headed door knocker, its eyes flick open to reveal a piercing amber glare. “Go away,” it says in a deep, resonant tone, exactly the sort of voice one might expect a lion to have if it could speak. “Private property. Trespassers will be killed.” After delivering the message, its eyes close again, becoming once more a simple door knocker.

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

"W-well..." The elf takes a step back, her face a blend of admiration, trepidation and amusement. "I'd s-say that answers m-my s-supposition nicely. Th-the door is certainly magic."

[Gorgondantess]

Brand claps his hands together, smiling ironically. "Well, isn't that just lovely- trespassers will be killed. What a friendly fellow we're investigating here.
The way I see it, we have two options: one, force open this door somehow... but that doesn't seem very easy, eh?
Other than that, it looks like there's an entrance near the top, not 60 feet up. Of course, before I attempt that, I'll need some tools- sharkskin gloves, crampons, maybe a pick... You got anything like that, O short archer?"

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn


Simon frowns at the lack of windows.

He speaks quietly, "Anyone got a Detect Magic spell?"

He cranes his neck so he can stare at the top of the tower."I wish it were shorter. There might be a roof entrance, but it's a long way to fall if I slip. The rain won't help either."

He glances briefly at the elf who addressed him and takes a few steps away before he answers.

"I have a grappling hook, but no rope. The silk kind is expensive and the hemp is far too heavy to carry when you're not sure you're gonna be doing second-story work."

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

After returning from the cellar, Elrond picks up his hat from the table and adorns it along with a smile. It was finally time to investigate the wizard’s abode and discover what wonders dwell there.
---
Once they reach the tower, the shy doctor surprises Elrond by walking straight up to the door and attempting to open it. The door doesn’t budge at all. Ereaden may have placed a wizard lock upon the door. Once the lion figure begins to speak, Elrond grins even more.


Simon Olgaryn
He speaks quietly, "Anyone got a Detect Magic spell?"


“Aye. But let us see if anyone is willing to answer the door first.” Elrond confidently grabs the lion’s head and knocks loudly on the door.

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, CLW, Detect Magic

[Jabas]

As soon as he takes hold of the door knocker, Elrond elicits the same response as Anasia. The lion's eyes flick open and it repeats the warning, before falling silent again.

It allows him to knock on the door, nevertheless, but there is no response from within.

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

As expected, no one comes to the door but formalities must be done. A visitor can’t just stroll into another’s home without knocking. Elrond turns to Simon and speaks while fiddling with his staff, “It doesn’t look like he is able to answer. Well, shall I use it to see if there’s another entrance or did you intend to work your own kind of magic on the door?”

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, CLW, Detect Magic

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn


He shakes his head and answers quietly.

"It's bound to be warded. I'm not risking it. We want to buy or acquire some rope so I can attempt to climb up on the roof. That is likely to be much safer."

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

Indifferent to Simon’s answer, Elrond begins to examine the door in more detail. He runs his fingers over it hoping to find some trick to opening it.

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, CLW, Detect Magic

[Jabas]

Running his fingers over the door, Elrond realises that it is, indeed, a formidable barrier. Made of iron, there is not a single crack or gap for even the most skilled burglar to work with. There appears to be no keyhole, and apart from the knocker it is smooth and featureless.

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

Shaking her head in dismay the elven physician/mage looks from Simon to the tower to the rest of the group. "I-it... It w-would s-seem we will n-need a p-plan. Or d-do you th-th-think we c-can get a g-grappling hook up th-there?

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn

"Finding the rope won't be too hard. This is a thieves' town."

"The problem is it's a bit far to throw the hook."

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

The iron door is seemly impassible from the outside of the tower. Undeterred, Elrond begins to walk the parameter of the building looking for another method of entry. At various points across the building, he taps the wall with one of the spherical ends of his staff listening for a variation in sound.

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, CLW, Detect Magic

[Jabas]

The half-elf's thoroughness and persistance are admirable, but the rest of the building turns out to be nothing but thick stone, which sends back the same solid 'thud' at each tap of the cleric's staff.

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

Using his staff to give him a boost, Elrond leaps up and grabs an edge of the blocky building’s roof. He pulls himself up onto what little of a ledge there is. He takes a moment to compose himself as his heart is beating rapidly and then begins to investigate the connection between the tower and the stone building.

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, CLW, Detect Magic

[Jabas]

Elrond hauls himself onto the roof of the base building with ease, and finds that there is more room than he initially thought – certainly enough to walk around comfortably. The tower, like the base, is built from large blocks of black basalt that have been fitted together rather unevenly, some jutting out further than others. The surface is rough to the touch, and seems to have lost any residual moisture from the recent storm.

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

Looking up, the elven woman realizes the down side of being short, or part of a shorter race. The ledge wasn't that hard to reach for Elrond, not with a staff to help him up. But for her it was likely more than twice her height and she had no staff to help her up. "D-do you see a-anything up th-there?"

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

Elrond looks down at the doctor and replies, “Nothing obvious”. He notices his carved staff in the mud and grimaces. He turns and begins to search the roof and tower thoroughly looking for an entrance inside. He also tries to judge if one could use the uneven rocky surface to climb up to the top of the tower.

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, CLW, Detect Magic

[Jabas]

On closer inspection, the tower turns out to be as solid and impregnable as it appears from afar, the stone as dense and thick as that of the base building upon which it stands. It does seem apparent, however, that a skilful climber with a head for heights should be able to scale the tower without great difficulty. The blocks are cut roughly enough to offer all manner of handholds and footholds with only one or two spots that look a little tricky.

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn


Simon looks contemptuous as he comprehends the tower's nature.

He mutters, "Wizards."

"We have to wait for nightfall, of course. Don't want to be seen breaking in."

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

When it dawns on her what her companions seem to have in mind the mage pales considerably. She has never been the athletic sort. Sure, she's nimble and might do all right. But she has just never had much experience with climbing and jumping and such. And she had an awful feeling of a climb like that demanding more strength than agility. Still, only a look at Brand makes her bite her tongue before complaining. She would not make herself look weak in front of the villainous warrior. She didn't want to give him any more ideas.
"T-tonight, you s-say. Wh-what should we d-d-do while w-we wait? B-buy some r-rope, maybe?"

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

It occurs to Elrond that the only way inside the tower is to climb to the top. He lacks the magical mastery to slip past the tower’s fortifications and a secondary entrance at the building’s base is nonexistent.

Conceding that the climb will have to occur at night, Elrond climbs down from the roof. In a despondent tone, Elrond speaks. “Unfortunately, I believe the only other entrance is at the top.” Elrond hoists his staff from the mud and shakes the wet mud from it.


"T-tonight, you s-say. Wh-what should we d-d-do while w-we wait? B-buy some r-rope, maybe?"
“Purchasing supplies sounds like an excellent idea.”

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, CLW, Detect Magic

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

"W-well then..." The elf-maid looks to the sky, it was hardly past morning yet, well before noon, really. And while she wasn't going to be of any especial use to the troupe when it came to purchasing mundane stuff like ropes or pitons or other climbing equipment...
"I-i... th-think I w-will r-return to m-my inn... I n-need to r-rememorize my spell. I p-promise that I w-will be here a-at d-dusk."

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn


"Anyone want to go with me to shop for rope? I could do it myself, but I'm not keen on walking around Rookroost by myself. Too easy to get mugged."

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

“I will go with you to purchase the rope. Perhaps we should walk the doctor back to the inn first.”

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, CLW, Detect Magic

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn


Simon nods agreement.

[Jabas]

Resolving that some more preparation is needed before an evening assault on the tower, the party disperses to procure some essential items, refresh their mental condition or do whatever else it is that they need to do.

Several lengths of rope are easily obtained in the marketplace, which, despite being much quieter than usual, still has enough merchants selling the essentials. It is not the finest quality, but should be more than adequate for the night’s activities.

Back at her lodgings, Anasia is already exhausted from an eventful morning and has little trouble falling into a restful sleep.

Sir Vandul returns to his room along the landing from Anasia’s, his intention to keep an eye out and make sure that she is safe while she prepares herself, but it is not long before the sound of his hearty snoring is reverberating around the corridor.

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

The moon looms overhead as Elrond returns to the tower. The streets are noticeably quieter than last night. Taking a position in the shadows of the tower, he waits for the others.

The inn he is staying at has emptied out since the proprietor has contracted the plague. The quiet surroundings helped him fall asleep for his late afternoon nap. Well rested and stocked with a few days of rations purchased in the afternoon, Elrond contemplates what surprises are contained inside the wizard’s tower.

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, CLW, Detect Magic

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

After having a maid rouse the paladin, she couldn't quite make herself enter the still unknown man's room, the two return to the tower, sir Vanduul making a big show of protecting the woman. She keeps the cowl of her cloak up now, and is tall enough to actually pass for a human woman, if a short one.

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn


The fat thief takes off his red leather armor and leaves it in the care of his companions. He also puts aside most of his other equipment. Armed only with a dagger, he starts to climb the tower, carrying the long rope and the grappling hook.

He seems fairly confident; the tower is an easy climb and the recent rain has not made it slippery.

[Jabas]

The conditions for Simon’s climb are favourable. Not only has the plague emptied the streets, but the fading light helps him to blend seamlessly against the tower’s dark stone. The soft rock has absorbed much of the moisture from the recent storm and the surface is dry and easy to grip. Nonetheless, it takes a strong will for the thief to avoid looking down as he scales the tower, and despite the plentiful handholds, he is puffing and sweating by the time he pulls himself over the rim at the top, rolling onto the flat roof.

The view from the top is spectacular, even at night, with the lights of the city spread out in all directions. Ereaden must be keen on the view too, as bolted to the stone floor are several unusual brass instruments, including a slender spyglass. The others are strange devices that appear to be measuring instruments of some sort but are not familiar. A metal rail encircles the edge of the tower, and a wooden trapdoor is set into the centre of the floor.

[Frivolous]

Simon Olgaryn

Simon pants for a few minutes, exhausted from the lengthy climb. He'd practiced many times, but never to such a height. Once he is a bit rested, he tentatively touches the metal railing, since it might do something nasty to him, like electrocute him.

If nothing hurts or alarms him, he yanks at it with all his strength, tugging this way and that, to test its sturdiness.

If it proves stable, he carefully ties one end of the rope to the railing and dumps the rest of the rope over the side of the tower so the mages can climb in relative safety. He does not bother to say anything, letting the rope speak for him.

[Calenestel]

Anasia Amakiir

Waiting impatiently at the base of the tower the elven physician-mage breathes a heavy sigh in relief when a rope is thrown down to them and not Simon himself. Who knew what nasty traps the top of a wizard's tower might have? When all seemed safe, Simon included, a relieved smile lights up the elf's face and she quickly grabs a hold of the rope, using it to scale the tower.

I can't really remember the rules right now, and I don't have my PHB with me atm. So a "Climb check" will have to wait until later.

[Persant]

Elrond (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=230886)

Elrond watches as the doctor scales the tower using the rope. Once she is on top of the roof, he grabs the rope and climbs the tower. He has strapped his staff to his back and tucked away his nice blue hat for the ascent.

HP: 6/6 AC: 6
Active Spells: Armor (9/9 hp)
Temporary Conditions: n/a
Memorized Spells: 1st: Sleep, CLW, CLW, Detect Magic

[Goblinsplitter]

Vandul resists the temptation to look up as Anasia makes her way up the rope. "I'll get my chance to see all that and more, someday. Hopefully." He snickers to himself at this thought. Once everyone else has clambered up to the top, Vandul takes a quick look around then starts climbing up the rope as well. Once he has reached the top, Vandul hauls himself over the railing and looks down, going google-y eyed at the height he just climbed. Then he proceeds to start bringing in the rope, so any passersby don't notice it and notify the local law enforcement. "Well, shall we continue on to entering? We got the breaking down. Why don't you check that door for traps Simon. I'm sure our wizard friend has some sort of surprises for unwelcomed guests such as ourselves." Vandul says with a grin.