Chaos' Flywheel-Group A

[Terumitsu]

(OOC-Thread) (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=172418)

Group A
{table=head]Player|Character|Color
Artemis97|Antheia Sinclair (http://pifro.com/pro/view.php?id=5553)|"Deep Sky Blue"
abadguy|Firavel Killeghymn (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=244410)|"Indigo"
Pyron|Polyxene (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=244527)|"Tomato"
Tyrael|Vitch (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=245794)|"Blue"
[/table]


Welcome to Windcord, traveler!

Here you are, just inside the gates of Windcord and standing in the wide, white marbled main street of the market district. In normal times, there would be the sound of bells and chimes from the Temple District mingling with that electric air of magic from the Ruinc Quarter as one strode down the lane, smelling the sweet scents of frying food as cooks waft the delectable smells toward passerbys. There would be a nearly impenetrable din of of shouts and calls as merchants advertised at the top of their lungs or haggled heatedly with a customer. There would be laughs and yells and cat-calls with the subtle yet everpresent clink of gold changing hands. There would be a lot of things... But not now

Right now, the noon-day sun has just reached it's apex and yet the usual clamor of the market is muted. Several stalls are empty and one or two shops are locked up tight. There is a worried tension in the air and many people have taken to wearing white masks, some embroidered with a rose design upon them, in hopes of warding off the dreadful disease known as the Wasting. The white pavement seems a little grey now and the days simply seem as if it is just yesterday come again only with perhaps a new body or two to add to the charnel pile. The Temple District is more full than ever and even the Runic Quarter is seeing unpresidented traffic. However, one would be wrong to think this included throngs of people. In truth, most are at home, hiding or caring for a loved one who is slowly degenerating into a husk before their eyes.

Welcome to Windcord, traveler... May your stay be both lucky and brief..

((Alright, Group A, you can start poaking around your surroundings. I'll get things rolling once someone stumbles upon the right thing or when enough time has passed. Have fun now!))

[Tyrael]

The grey pavement is slowly being restored to its original whiteness....or at least, trying to be restored by a tiny figure in a dingy brown overcoat, whose soft brown cap isn't pulled quite low enough to conceal the scaly muzzle of a Kobold from poking out. Its overcoat bulges oddly in places, and a ratty knapsack is slung over its back. The diminutive reptile is slowly pushing a mop back and forth, the end of its handle wrapped up in cloth. A small bucket of soapy water rests off to one side, the target of frequent re-dunkings by the little creature's mop.

The reptile works industriously at its task, rubbing its mop back and forth with the kind of single-minded devotion to labor that few but Kobolds can muster to even the most mundane tasks. Its concentration is interrupted only by the occasional absent-minded kicks of passerby, which it dodges with catlike reflexes before resuming its duty. Even the homeless hobos try to give it the boot.

After a good 20 minutes, the Kobold finally steps back and admires its handiwork. A 5-foot-square section of the Market District's marble pavement has been restored to a glistening sheen, and the little creature grins in satisfaction....right before a carelessly-tossed waste bucket returns it to the same dingy greyness as the rest of the street.

The tiny Kobold sighs, hefts its mop and bucket over its shoulder, and trudges to a new section of the street...where it starts all over again...

[abadguy]

The crowds of people walking away hurriedly. The stifling heat radiating from the pavements as the mid day sun beat down, the faint stench of death wafts through the air, pervasive and noticable through his acute sense of smell. He heard rumours on his travels about a strange disease infecting the citizens of Windcord, but had no inkling on how virulent it was ... until now.

I travelled so far from my home ... for this? What are my ancestors thinking? And for that matter, what was I thinking, leaving so impetously. Hair of the Dog!

He continued walking through the Market District, aware of his more rustic and earthy dressing compared to the flashy colours of city folk. Though he did notice many wore the drab colours of mourning, some even sporting strange white masks with designs on them.

He stops in front of a native elf to Windcord, bows and asks courteously,"Beg your pardon, I am from out of town. Could you direct me to where I can get one of those masks?" He points to one with the rose design on them.


In case a Diplomacy check is needed
[roll0]

[Zore]

Linnorn looked around the market district, a bit troubled to see it so subdued. This wasting was rather vexing all told, and bad for business. His more usual clientele had been largely driven away, by illness and superstition, and more than a few people had made some unflattering remarks about his ancestry.

He begins to ask around, to what few of his usual information sources are still speaking to him, if any of them have any news about the Wasting.

Gather information check [roll0]

[Pyron]

(( Jasite Church ))

The city was exactly how she remembered it, yet at the same it was. The sights of the streets, the buildings and the bazaar were all too familiar. The empty merchant stall. The silence and scent of death that lingered in the air. These were all new to her. Although, as a nun in the service of the death goddess - it was not sickening.

The sight of her mother, several of her colleagues and the masses of townfolk - all stick pale was an unbearable sight. There were akin animated cadavers; lifeless in body and soul. It's only been less than a day when Polyxene returned to the city and before she entered the gates - she called upon a few protective spells (( Casts Delay Disease)).

Upon arriving to the city, she returned to the local Jasite Church. The temple is running on a skeleton crew, metaphorically speaking. Although, some of the priests did debate whether they should animate some corpses to handle the light work.

The morning was spent conducting funeral rites. Polyxene even recognized one of them - boy who sought the apprenticeship of , one of the local wizard. He was one of her childhood friends. Her thoughts drifted to those innocent times. When the streets were whiter and she didn't know the proper end of spear.

After the funeral rites, she washed her hands and set off to locate the chronicler. Although happy to help, but her orders from the Ruby Cathedral was to locate investigate the nature of the disease and track down its source.

"Excuse, kind sir," She asked "Now that the wave of funerals of finished. Can you help me locate all the documents on the Wasting.... also, can you remind who is the current cleric in charge of this temple?"

Spells Prepared

0: Create Water, Detect Magic, Light, Purify Food and Drink x2
1: Shield of Faith, Divine Favor, Healthful Rest, Delay Disease, Delay Disease, Command
2: Lore of the Gods, Spiritual Weapon, Silence, Enthrall
3: Ring of Blades, Remove Disease, Suggestion

[Terumitsu]

A man carrying a rather large package of salted meat nearly tramps through Vitch's relocated workspace but he swerves at the last moment to walk around it so as to not cause any additional dissapointment on behalf of the Kobold. It seems the person was a kind soul of sorts, not wanting to see hard work go to waste when such could be avoided. Though, it shouldn't have mattered as his boots were actually a little cleaner than one would expect. Perhaps he was a neat freak? At least there were some considerate people in the city.
---

["Of couse, friend"] the elf replied to Firavel in their native language, bowing as well as was the elven way. ["A magician by the name of Laen sells them although I must say I doubt their functionality from doing much other than keeping one from contracting an unseasonable fever."] she said with a thin smile to indicate her perception of foolishness about the whole the endevor. ["I suppose you have only recently arrived here if I were to make a judgement. Is this true?"]
---

Roll a 1d4-1 for how many hours you spend chatting up different people and so on to gather the information. Minimum possible is thirty minutes if you roll a 1.
Linnorn would come upon a depressingly small pool of collective knowledge that wasn't rumors or myths or speculation. It seemed that there were four stages to the Wasting. First, one felt lethargic and rest did nothing to assauge the aches and pains of the day. The clerics of Wee Jas had found that a person could be kept from degenerating beyond this point with application of magical healing but there was simply not enough magic to go around, likely the cause of all the activity in the Temple District as people strove to be healed to prevent the continuation of the malady. Not to mention that this stage could be mistaken as the result of a hard day's work. The second stage followed the first after two or three days and was marked by great exhaustion and apathy. Those in this state could be found occasionally laying in the street as they simply had not the energy or the will to move. At this point, magical healing did nothing to stop the course of the disease although it could slow the passage into the next stage by a number of days. If a person had been lucky enough to have a person or group that cared about them to give them food and water, they would eventually progress to the third stage within five to seven days after reaching the second stage. This was marked by a rather strange, almost stasis like state where the affllicted would breath more and more slowly as they simply began to degenerate. Their responses would come slower and slower and they would eventually stop eating or talking altogether. Magic could do nothing at this point as, within twenty hours of stage three, usually less, the ill would simply stop breathing as if it had become too much of a burden to even inhale. Their hearts would flutter to a stop and they would grow cold soon after.

There were many worse and more painful ways to die, yes. Yet, those other afflictions were nowhere near as infectious as the Wasting seemed to be. As far as anyone was concerned, there was no real defense against it. However, a few rumors spoke of a necromancer in the Runic Quarter finding a way to at least resist the disease.
---

A wearly looking Chronicler holding a field journal was the one to answer Polyxene's questions as she sank into a hard chair, trying to get as comfortable as one possibly could in such furniture. "Ah, you are in luck, I was just adding another addendum to the collected information." she said, indicating the journal she carried with her. "I can ask the scribes to make you a copy but I cannot say they will be finished quickly as most of them have fallen to this damned malady. I can reserve this one for you for the rest of the day if you wish, though." the Chronicler said. "As for your question, that would be Maester Vice although he is currently at an assembly with Bishop Alsetor and High Priest Gweveld. Something about pooling our resorces to better treat whom we are able."

Should Polyxene take three hours (or so) to read the journal, she will find highly detailed entries about the disease and it's progression (the gist of which has been noted above). However, such dedicated study will grant a +2 on checks using the Heal skill to determine if the person under scrutiny is suffering from the Wasting and what stage they are at.

[Pyron]

"Thank you, kindly. Can you also direct me to some of the earlier documents." Polyxene bowed in gratitude, and claimed a table within the church's library. She gathered any material related. The information detailing the nature of the disease was enlightening and might prove useful. However, it's not what she was looking for.

Polyxene was hoping to find some clue about the disease's origin. For that, information regarding the first out break would be more useful. It felt like a needle in the haystack, but maybe retrieving a list names of the first victims might help or at least look up with first known date of the outbreak. From there, she might be able to trace the outbreak when it reached Windcord - or at least know where to go if she needed to cast the spell, Speak with Dead.

The disease might also have a supernatural origin much akin to Mummy's Rot, Fire Taint, and Ghoul Fever. Something in the early notes could hint at a supernatural origin. Unable to afford the luxury of a scribe, the young woman took a few parchments of paper to transcribe anything noteworthy.

She'll spend the new few hours researching before planning her next move. However, she figured she might need to head into the streets for find more information..

Rolls:
A round of knowledge checks to see if I can decipher anything supernatural about the disease.

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

[abadguy]

As Firavel has heard much from his elders about the wily ways of city folk, he decides to act the country bumpkin (well, not much acting needed really) while sussing out this new acquaintance.

"[Ah, the sound of Elven is like sweet music to my ears, Common is so coarse on the ears. Yes friend, you are very observant, I am indeed new here, guided here by my ancestors]" Firavel says as he lightly fingers his zaelshin-tu. "[Unfortunately all I find is death and decay. Tell me friend, how does one smite a disease? I feel so helpless and wonder at my place in ... all of this]"

Sense Motive Check

[roll0]

edit: natural 20 on a sense motive check =_=

[Artemis97]

A lone figure moves through the twisting, narrow streets of the Runic Quarter. She was a young lady, dressed in simple, but well made clothes. The hood of her cloak was pulled up, mostly concealing her long red hair. Though a lock or two had escaped in her hurry. She also wore one of the masks, embroidered with a rose. Her father had insisted on it, were she allowed to go out into the city. But what difference did it make, when the Wasting had struck in their own home?

Antheia Sinclair was desperate for answers and had spent a good portion of the morning scouring the Runic Quarter for anyone with an answer. So far, she'd found a lot of nothing. Rumors, speculations, and one snake-oil salesman who claimed to have a cure. She knew it wasn't what she'd hoped for after a few moments of listening. Just a charlatan preying on the hopes of the poor. Hopefully, the Watch would take care of him. Antheia thought it was unlikely. She considered reporting him, but her own errands were more pressing.

A real cure had to be found, before her sister succumbed to the Wasting. Before the entire city just stopped. Maybe the next shop would have an answer...

[Terumitsu]

Some time would pass for Vitch as he worked to keep the streets clean. It would likely be rather boring until a feminine voice called out to the Kobold from a nearby ally. "Excuse me, could you help me with something?" she asked in a voice accented with Elven, which stood to reason as she was an elf herself. Wrapped in a shawl that had many runes upon it's edge, she looked to be of the wizardly profession.
---

There was indeed a somewhat supernatural trace involved with this disease although it was of a strange sort that seemed rather resistant to healing magics. Perhaps it was an evolved immunity? That would be a scary thought... Signs pointed to no, but there was always the possibility. However, it's origin seemed to be shrouded in darkness as there was no discovered link right now. As for what happened next, that was for Polyxene to decide. Perhaps a little poking around would do?
---

Shame on Firavel for thinking another elf he just met in a city full of merchants where things live on half-truths and... Well, actually he might have had a good point. But that aside, he can be definitively sure that there is no lying here. Perhaps if the other was a human, he might have more to worry about. ["I suppose it can be a little overwhelming, yes. I am not busy right now so if you wish for me to do so, I will be able to lead you some ways into the city and into the quarter I mentioned."] she said. [Previously, a quarentine of the individuals has been successful but as it seems to spread even when others are isolated, there are some of us who fear there is another source. What it is I cannot tell you, though.]
---
Around now, Anthea would be somewhat near the temple of Wee Jas. Someone was standing just outside apparently considering their next action. This was a bit odd as most of the contemplation happened inside and most jasites came and left with a sense of duty. Not to say there was a sense of duty absent but just that it was the standing around that was odd.

That, of course, assumes that Anthea took stock of such things. If not, then it would likely be a good idea to search around for information reguarding those seeking cures. Perhaps she would be lucky and find out something about a person or persons actively doing something than just profiteering.

[Pyron]

Polyxene felt Atlas' burden on her shoulder when she sealed the last tome. So far, her researched unearth nothing useful. It was all information that discussed it's nature and how it's similar to the Sunset Fever. However, there nothing to hint at its origin. Although, the fact that it's resistance to healing conjurations is frightening - that means they're dealing with a curse that not even the gods can thwarted.

With all of her current sources exhausted, Polyxene realized that she might need to gain access to other sources. The two best places she could think of right now is the Pelorite Temple and the local wizard guilds. She begun to write two letters and sealed them with wax and the Jasite seal. She hoped that her rank as a Walker would earn her an audience with the High Priest of Pelor and/or the arcane guild master.

When she finished crafting her letter, she asked a church's tenet to help Ployxene don her armor. Although she's aware that the presence of being armed might cause some alarm, it would also help others recognize her as a Jasite Templar.

Four minutes later, she decided not to cover her face with one of those masks. Instead, her plate mail's helmet and a cloth mouth guard would take its place. she left the cloistered church and onto the pale dying streets. She had memories of the Runic Quarter being the calm in an other avenues of Windcord. Now, it's like a city of death and despair.

However, there was still some people walking about. Being somewhat new to the city, she forgot where the local wizard guild was stationed. Perhaps the redheaded commoner in the cloak might be of assistance.

"Excuse me, if you will pardon me." Polyxene approached Antheia using a tactful and polite tone, "Could you point me to the local wizard guild house?"

[Tyrael]

Some time would pass for Vitch as he worked to keep the streets clean. It would likely be rather boring until a feminine voice called out to the Kobold from a nearby ally. "Excuse me, could you help me with something?" she asked in a voice accented with Elven, which stood to reason as she was an elf herself. Wrapped in a shawl that had many runes upon it's edge, she looked to be of the wizardly profession.
---

The diminutive reptile halts in his work, blinks at her, then glances around to see if there's anybody else she might be addressing by mistake. Leaning on his mop, the tiny Kobold squeaks, "Err, that depends what you need help with..."

[abadguy]

Glad that at least his kin can be trusted, Firavel bows again. ["Perhaps I should have introduced myself. I am Firavel of the Killeghymn. I am here to find out more about this disease and if it were possible, put an end to this threat to the peoples of the land. I would appreciate if my kin could assist me in this task and any information would help greatly."]

["Maybe we can make our way toward where our brethren gather or reside? I will also appreciate any help in locating suitable lodging as I intend to stay here until I find my bearings again."]

[Artemis97]

The woman paused on the steps of the Temple of Wee Jas did catch Antheia's attention, if only for her apparent inactivity. It contrasted so strongly with the crowds moving in and out of the temple. She briefly wonders why, but soon finds out that the woman was, apparently, lost.

Antheia is mildly surprised to be stopped by the armored woman, but her expression is mostly hidden behind her mask. "Oh, I could guide you there myself, if you like?" She offers, realizing that the guild would be a great place to look for answers.

[Pyron]

"I would appreciate that. Name's Madam Vulture." Polyxene replied to Antheia, grateful for the assistance. 'Madam Vulture' was, of course, her Jasite road - a title bestowed upon her when she assumed the rank of Ruby Knight. It's not that she felt uncomfortable using her birth given, but sacred tradition and everything.

(( Lead the way ... ))

[Artemis97]

"That is a... unique name." Antheia decides as she sets off towards the Wizard's Guild. "Is it a title of some sort?" She asks, curious, and really hoping the woman's given name wasn't Vulture. What sort of wild, macabre society would endow that moniker upon a child?

[Terumitsu]

((Wake up early for an early post!))

"I need some help moving something, if you wouldn't mind. It is for reserch in curing this plauge. You will be compensated for your help." she said, using tones that suggested Vitch was an equal rather than just a lowly kobold worker. It was a wizard thing, really, as they spent so much time shut up by themselves or their peers, they occasionally forgot that there was this obvious and blatently necessary thing known as social casts. However, as a good lot of them could set the person who mentioned this on fire or turn them into a newt, most people simply accepted this quark and went on with their lives.

Should Vitch follow her lead, they would come to a body wrapped in a burlap sheet so as to keep the flies from getting to it. If Vitch was any good at noticing this sort of thing, he would see that the body was freshly dead and not quite cool. "Before you say anything, this man died of the plauge. I have been searching for fresh corpses so I might better learn what this disease does to a person as well as how. I simply need to move him to my workshop a few streets away. I would use magic but I fear it would have adverse effects upon my findings as a disease so resistant to magic must have some post-mortem effect if I were to cast a spell." the wizard said in a somewhat worried tone. There was something about this job that didn't smell strictly legal. However, as it seems it would be for the common good, perhaps that could be ignored for the moment?

That was the other thing about wizards. They had to have the proper sanctions to do this or that in this city or else they would be flying everywhere or blasting mice with fireballs and lightning or changing someone's face into a chair simply because they were mildly irked. Only those with self control were allowed to practice wizardry in this city but even then they were watched with constant vigilance. It was no secret that the temples had at least one contengent plan if a wizard decided to go rouge one day.

More than one wizard chafed under the sanctions at times and so it was a public secret that the Runic Quarter was also full of rather seedy establishments as well as several places where people don't ask too many questions. Not to mention the gambling halls or the dark allyway deals that happened between the bizarrly built houses and shops that were the staple of any proper wizarding community.

But with all that said, it was clear that this particular caster did not have the proper sanctions for whatever she planned. However, she seemed ernest in her want to aim for a cure. It was up to Vitch to decide what happened next.
---

["Killeghymn? You say of the house Killeghym? I must say this is an honor I did not think I would find myself privy to though I have not heard the name for some time. Pardon my rudeness for not introducing myself first. I am Nestha Alovit"] Nestha said with a curtious bow. Some passers-by gave them a strange look but simply walked on. Elves, they're peculiar folk sometimes, they thought. ["Come with me. I am a landlady in a fine area of the city near the gardens. I can grant you one of my rooms for as long as you need."] she said with a gracious smile.

Should Firavel have no objections, Nestha would lead him to a quieter area. It was not the hush that had crept upon the rest of the city but a strange sort of peace. The smooth, sloaping designs of elven architecture were heavy influences here and the stone used to form houses. seemed to be made of a solid mass rather than bricked and mortared together. Occasionally, there would be a tall banner hung above the street stretched from one window to another in the colors of red and gold. These were the first signs of the not too far off elven holiday of Yén Taurëlhach or 'Time of the Burning Forest.' It was held based upon the lunar calender, revolving around the nineth full moon of the year, coinsiding with the coming of autumn and the changing of the leaves. It was an old tradition that could trace it's roots back to an old treaty signed between elven warlords during the coming of autumn. It was said that there was almost no treaty at all until the entire forest's leaves changed to the colors of blood and fire, showing that the land itself wept for the lives lost in war. It was at this moment that the warring nobles were shaken and their eyes opened to the atrocities committed in the persuit of power. In the many centuries that had passed, the anniversery of the event had grown into a holiday of sorts where the basic tenent was to promote peaceful resolutions. In fact, many a warring faction of elves would take the week as a time of reflection to decide within themselves if the battles they were fighting for had true merit beyond that of political or personal power. That isn't to say there is not a fair bit of celebrating. As times of peace herald times of plenty what with resorces not being spent to fuel the war effort, more was to be had by all. In all, it was not a rowdy sort of celebration but one of joy and promotion of well being as well.

Now that the history lession was over, Firavel would be able to ask whatever question he wished as his guide strode down the streets, leading the way to the gardens.
---

The local wizard's guild house was a place that served two functions. Primarily, it was a place of community study as well as a handy place to exchange enchanted items or various other magical commodities. The second was that it kept a registry of mages allowed to operate within the city. It was much like a license of sorts and even then there were restrictions if a mage did not want the wrath of their peers upon them. It was actually rather off center of the Runic Quarter's central area. Such was not all that odd, however, as the city had grown in a radiative manner rather than a planned sort of ordeal. As such, the Guild House took a place snugly up against the outer wall and even peaked over the top of the wall by a floor or so with a bright blue rooftop rather reminecent of a large floppy hat that came to a point, This was likely more by design than by accident as such headgear was typical in some form or fasion in the wizarding community. Old folk tales say that this is because wizards were jelous that the priests of Pelor had magnificent golden headware that radiated like the sun and sought to emulate the style. Others will say that it is just a rather functional way to keep one's hair from falling into one's eyes while reading arcanabulas and other texts, freakish hat hair be damned. There was always the occasional whisper that one sorceress, not too fond of the way her hair looked after having it tucked away in one of those ghastly pointed things for so long, invented the 'beehive' hairstyle so that she could at least put it all somewhere and require only minor adjustments after she removed her headware.

Reguardless, the Guild Hall was decorated with a variety of celestial symbols, several of them literally drifting through space or randomly orbiting a passerby before returning to it's usual corse. There was much gabbing about yet this area of the city seemed almost as if there was no blight upon it at all. It had been noted before now but it seemed those who worked magic were particularly resistant to whatever it was that caused the Wasting plauge. Some theorised that this was because the disease was arcanophobic which would explain why there was almost no casualty within the ranks of casters, both arcane and divine, as well as why magic did so little to aid those suffering.

The traveling pair would find themselves near a plainly glowing sign upon which some amusing graffiti had been placed. Looking at it, the added content was likely the works of a mischevious apprentice who had just learned the spell and was wishing to try it out. The sign now read "This Way to the Hall of Wizard Affairs. Featuring this week: The forbidden romance between Theddias Rimebranch and the Lady Aldulia of the Kingdom of Riolis."

[Tyrael]

Vitch leans on his mop speculatively, eyeing the corpse. Reaching into his belt and puling out a piece of string with marks along it, he stretches it from head to toe on the corpse, measuring it. Mumbling to himself in Draconic, the diminutive reptile nods after a moment. Reaching into his belt, he pulls out a small potion marked with the picture of an ant. Gulping down the liquid, he shivers slightly and stows his mop on his back, hanging the empty bucket on top. Vitch then reaches down and heaves the body off the ground. Even though his tiny frame is dwarfed by the human's body, the little Kobold somehow manages to move around easily carrying something that's probably 4-5 times heavier than him.

Hefting the corpse, Vitch dutifully follows the wizard without complaint.

[Pyron]

"It's a designate, yes. My order bestowed it upon me, due to my habit of picking off the bones of the dead." Polyxene answered, half-joking. The girl always had a ... strange sense of humor. It got her quite a few demerits back at the Academy. It's also oddly natural for one to who is surrounded by death to be

Stepping inside the guide hall, Polyxene was in awe at the sight all the flowing magic. It was vibrant and loud - nothing like the academy grounds. The Jasite academy sported it's rich and colorful decor, but it was a little more reverent - gothic, traditional and red.

The celestial calligraphy danced like butterflies in the wind, and the young knight was tempted to make out some of the letters. She bet they each told a story. Alas, she could not get distracted.

Now, where to do to deliver this letter. She was tempted to head to the hall, but that might seem rude to barge in. When entering a hall, it's respectful to wait for someone to greet you in the greeting hall and not wander the premise. For now, she looked around hoping to spot a mage -apprentice or master who can direction

[abadguy]

"Well met lady Nestha of the fair house of Alovit. May the moon ever shine brightly upon your lake. You offer of lodging is most generous and it would be rude of me to decline. My deepest gratitude for giving this poor warrior a place to rest." Selfent bows yet again before following Nestha through the streets of Windcord.

As they walked, Firavel admires the graceful architecture of the Elven quarter. He turns to Nestha and says, "Do you know of anyone in the city or in our community who have started any sort of investigation into the source of the Wasting besides merely preventing its spread? You also mentioned earlier of ... another source which you cannot speak of. I suppose such information is privelleged but in the interests of solving this mystery, I ask of you to share it with me. I can only request this on the honour of my deeds and from whence I came from."

[Artemis97]

"Oh, that's... very nice." Antheia says as delicately as she can. She even manages a smile, a false, but well practiced gesture. The young woman often wondered if she knew how to genuinely smile anymore, so accustomed she was to wearing this mask.

Upon entering the hall, Antheia stared in awe at the floating symbols, wracking her brain to remember what they meant. She was a bit surprised when one of them decided to drift over to her and make a lazy circle around her head.

"Shoo!" She said, waving a hand at the floating symbol, trying to push it away. "Now, let's see... The sign says the hall is that way and... oh my..." Antheia leaned closer to read the graffiti on the sign, trying to recognize the names mentioned.

[Terumitsu]

The wizard seemed rather surprised that Vitch was not only willing to carry the body on his own but that he was able as well. She had already knelt down to help share the weight but if the kobold really wanted to do it himself, he was perfectly fine. In any case, weather Vitch accepts help or not, the trek to the Runic Quarter is a brief one as any one who's lived in the city long enough knows all the shortcuts. This mage's house was located in a well kept, quiet section of the Quarter. It seemed she was an able gardener looking at the various plants growing near her doorstep. Several of them seemed to have been interestingly affected by the years of high levels of background magic and grew in ways that were certainly not normal. Like that rosebush there. It likely looked quite pretty in bloom but it looked as if it had just been through a rainstorm even though it had been clear for the past week. The plants around the bush seemed to be rather hearty, though, so perhaps this was a benificial mutation? One could ask the lady about that later.

Should Vitch look at her front door, he would see the Guild mark upon her door that indicated her specific area of study glowing a faint blue. This was mostly a formality from old times where a wizard had to declare their area of persuit publicly so as to avoid any nasty surprises like the 'accidental' summoning of a demon or somesuch. As of now, it served more as a codifier and was rather useful in that respect. Anyone who had at least a smidgion of experience with the Runic Quarter knew what most of the marks declaired and this mark in particular said that the woman was apparently an accomplished necromancer if one was to judge by the small florishes included in the depiction.

"Please ignore the smell, I haven't had time to clean the place up. Let's just set it here for a moment. My workshop is in the basement and I can move it later." the mage said, pulling the hood away from her face. Uncovered and in the light, one would be able to tell that the woman was actually a half-elf rather than a full blooded elven kin. She seemed to be rather pale and had dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep that was likely the result of being very busy with some current project. The odor in particular was that of fresh manure as several potted plants sat in various places. Being an alchemist, Vitch would likely be able to recognise that many of the plants were commonly processed to use as balms or to treat illnesses. The rest were likely used for spell components, if a guess was to be made for their function.

If Vitch wanted to be inquisitive about anything, now was the time as the wizard was looking around for what was probably his payment in the meantime. "What do you think.... About having some temporary employment as a requisitional aid for a short time?" the mage asked, finally finding a bag of jingling coin hidden in the very back of a cabnet full of various sorts of tea.
---

"Of what I know, the temple of Wee Jas is the current athority of this malady." Nestha said. "And I may have misspoke before if I mentioned I had knowledge of what the other source is. I mean to say that from how the disease seems to progress and ensare others, even those who have had no contact with the ill, something else seems to be at work than just a simple, if virulent, disease. I have some ability in the skill of healing and I myself have to say that I agree with the sentiment. Quarentine does nothing and those who spend the most time amongst the dying seem to suffer no special detriment from it as it would be if this Wasting was normal." Nestha concluded.

It was about now that Firavel's guide stopped at an intersection, across from which held a very well tended garden that stretched wide and long. If he had to make a guess, he might think it was in the shape of a large crecent moon. "And here we have arrived, Ser Killeghym." the landlady said, indicating the tall, rounded building that seemed to be made of three lightly flattened spheres stacked one upon another with a half-sphere forming the bottom level. Each level had tall, round windows in the four cardinal directions and one could look out the east windows to see the still green gardens. "The second floor on the eastern side is open, Ser Killeghym. Would you like to visit your room first or do you feel that a light lunch is in order?"
---

Polyxene was getting more than a few looks now that the pair was inside the Guild Hall. It must be all that armor as well as the colors of a Jasite. That aside, the inner halls were just as spectacularly magical as one would expect. If one should look up, the ceiling would twinkle back down upon one as it depicted the night sky. In fact, if one stayed long enough, one would see that the 'sky' actually did move about as if it were a real display of the night sky above. According to the miniature telescopes on the railings of the third story, it seemed to be an astrological aid for day study when the sun was out. It was moderately noisy in here as various debates could be heard on various topics with various levels of emotion. However, it seemed the plauge was one of the more common topics judged by the snippits one might be able to glean while standing around.

Polyxene would notice a man with his nose deep in a rather thick book at a somewhat importaint looking desk on the other side of the hall. This man seemed to be the one to talk to if it involved paperwork should his desk be considered with it's rather tall piles of various forms and requisitions and requests and who knew what else. However, it was likely that, being affiliated with the temple, the letter would be given some sort of priority at least. Some of those forms at the bottom looked positively yellow from age.

As for Antheia, she would likely be able to surmise with her knowladge of the laws arcane that the symbols were a sort of message system. In fact, when she batted the rune away, it 'unfurled' at her touch to be a few sentences floating in the air. Apparently it was a request for a particular kind of rare root to be used as the base for a new spell being reaserched. The symbols themselves were the personal kind a wizard would make from an Arcane Mark cantrip and seemed to be based off that minor magic. Should she keep her eyes open and watch, a sorceress who wouldn't know fashion if it danced yelling and screaming infront of her was inscribing a message onto an obsidian orb near the center of the hall. The message soon took flight as a frighteningly guady rune and began it's orbit with the others. There was likely more to the magic than just what was seen as it appeared that there were various levels of 'orbitals,' likely sorting of topics, as well as the fact that some seemed to be on a mission as they flew toward this or that mage while others seemed content at drifting lazily around whatever person was nearest.

As for wracking her brain about the names she saw on the sign, the pair spoken of were actually somewhat famous names from new history. Roughly fifty or so years ago, Lord Thadges Aldulia of Riolis was a high noble in the king's court was a commanding officer in the king's army during a campaign against the orcish nations to the south. With his previous magician slain in a most unfortunate incident involving a bet with throwing knives, an apple balanced upon one's head, and far too much alchohol, he was forced to recruit a new wizard before he left to command the field. Rimebranch was quite skilled in the arts of transportation magic, something that Lord Aldulia found would be very fortunate to have tactically, and was appointed almost immediately. Rimebranch was said to be a handsome fellow and he caught the eye of Lady Aldulia with little difficulty. It was said that the affair would have lasted much longer if Lady Aldulia had not been discovered to be with child upon the Lord's return from the battlefield. Apparently, whith his skill at transportation magics, Rimebranch would often make visits to the Lady and had even given her a brooch that she could whisper to and he would hear whatever it was she said nomatter the distance. The entire thing might not have happened if, as the Lady said later, 'The Lord had shown interest in her as someone more than just a result of an arranged marrage.' She also insinuated that he seemed to 'be happier in the company of his men.'

Needless to say, it sparked quite a bit of juicy gossip at the time. It should be noted that there was no direct successor of House Aldulia and the land and holdings have gone to the Lord's half-brother's son as the closest line of succession upon his death fifteen years ago.

[Tyrael]

After dumping the corpse, the little Kobold stands in the woman's living room, looking rather overawed as he clutches his mop. Soon though, his natural curiosity gets the better of him and he is swarming around the place, clambering on top of tables to look at papers and ingredients, sniffing plants, and scrutinizing labels. "What is this place? What is it you do? Isn't that a necromancer's symbol?" he asks curiously. "Do you make skeleton plants?"

"And, umm....you're the first person in this city who's actually tried to talk to me instead of kicking me aside." Vitch scuffs his toe-claws in the carpet uncertainly. "Humans and elves and people like that usually hate us," he mumbles. "But you don't. Why?"

"And, umm...what kind of requisitional aid?" Vitch quavers uncertainly.

[Pyron]

"You're too kind." Polyxene, a.k.a. Vulture, replied. She not sure if her companion was unsettled by the macabre humor. Come to think of it: there are necromancers and blackguards who would literally strip the flesh of dead. Therefore, not wishing to unnerve her companion any further - Polyxene did not press the matter and tried to change the subject. Meanwhile, she removed her helmet as a common courtesy for being indoors "I never caught your name."

Should Antheia reply, Polyxene will listen before she approached the man at the desk.

She then turned her attention to the man behind the desk, stood firmly at attention stance with her helmet firmly balance in the left hand. In her right hand, she presented the sealed letter. "Pardon me, sir. I am Madam Vulture, Walking Templar in the service of the Goddess, Wee Jas. I have a letter of introduction for the headmaster, and would like to request an audience regarding the Wasting. Can you see that the letter gets delivered in a timely manner."

[Artemis97]

"That is because I did not give it." The young woman replies, before pulling down the cloth mask that covered her face. Here, inside the wizard's guild, she didn't see much point to it. Besides, it was only polite to actually be able to see the person you were speaking to when making introductions. "However, it would be rude of me to withold it any further. My name is Antheia Sinclair, and while it was very nice to meet you, Madame Vulture, I am afraid I have my own inquiries to make. I wish you luck in whatever eneavor you have in our city, and may your tasks be finished swiftly." She bows her head slightly in a respectful nod before turning and crossing the room to examine that black message orb.

[abadguy]

Firavel stood fidgeting in the beautiful architecture of the palatial estate as Nestha spoke. He was not used to so many ... right angles. He drank in the symmetry before his growling stomach interrupted his reverie. Remembering that he had naught to eat but nuts and berries he picked from the forests with the occasional pack of hard tack when he was too exhausted to forage, he turned to his host and said, "Lunch ... yes. Lunch would be good."

Over lunch, Firavel would want to find out more about the elven community in Windcord and any ongoing efforts to investigate the Wasting by them or by any other groups in the city.

[Terumitsu]

"This would be the home of Eirn Aceracei. My home." Eirn said with a small smile. Apparently the excited questions were amusing. Or rather, a bit nice to hear at least. "And yes, I am a necromancer. It is why I take upon myself the task at hand." the half-elf said, pulling a few tea leaves out from the cabnet as well as the bag of coin. Her expression softened as she listened to Vitch's account of 'normal' life. "Well, I never really thought that I had any reason to act in such a way. I mean to say that I know there is emnity between those from whom we have both decended from but I don't feel as if that should be cause for another turn of the cycle. You seemed to be intent on doing a much needed job even though there were none who would help you. It's things like that which I think judgement should be passed upon. What you do is more importaint to things now rather than what your parents or grandparents did. Any thinking otherwise is just stupid superstition. Traits don't necessarily travel down the line like that." she said, pumping water from the sink until it was clear before filling a kettle. Apparently she was going to make tea. Seeing that she had two mugs out, she intended to talk for a bit too.

"And no, I'm not making plant.... Well, perhaps in a way I am.. I press flowers as a hobby so perhaps I do in a way of thinking." she said with a laugh that seemed to take a little of the tiredness away from her face. "But no, I'm not that sort of necromancer. They are the minority, to tell you the truth. Sadly, they seem to be the ones everyone thinks of when anyone mentions the word. Really, calling up the dead like that is simply abomniable." she said with disgust clearly written across her features. "No, I'm of the sort that studies the flow of both life and death. If anything, I try to keep the balance between the two in my work." Eirn said. "And no, I don't mean for you to get more bodies." she said, sensing Vitche's apprehension "I have been getting ready to have a bit of a shut in. I plan on staying here until I make some sort of progress in determining what it is that can be done about this disease. I know I haven't thought of everything but I know I will occasionally need the odd component for my studies if not some other minor thing. I would be greatful if you would not mind helping me aquire such things. It's a bit like being an errand boy and I beg your pardon for such but I will simply be distracted if I were to do it myself."
---

The wizard at the desk was apparently only paying half attention until his ears decided to kick his brain in gear once the name 'Wee Jas' was spoken. "A letter? From the temple? Well pardon me! I shall get it done right away" the mage said, his neatly trimmed yet expansive beard shaking as he spoke with shocking alarcity. He began mumbling to himself to cast a spell, perhaps to send the message right away. Something might be a bit odd about the sudden change of tone.. It did seem as if he only half heard the conversation...

((Roll a DC 20 Sense Motive. If successful, read this:))
Polyxene might feel a small hunch that the mage may have mistaken her letter for something else. While the letter would get on it's way faster by not saying anything, it might be wise to make sure that the full story was understood.
---

The messaging orb itself was more or less just a platform from which one might launch a message into the air. Although, looking at it, one could plainly see how the orbits were organised. There were three main orbits with several subsections in each. Really, the subsections were mostly just for keeping things clean than any further distinguishment, really.

The first and closest orbit of messages were those of moderate importance as they pertained to upcoming meetings or displays or lectures upon new theories. They also had a bright blue outline to them as they whirled about. The second ring was made of things of similar importance but less urgency. This was mostly of requests for other individuals to join in on this or that expedition to a font of power or to go on a short trek to visit the various leylines scattered across the neighboring nations. There was also the occasional request for aid from any enterprising group of 'Professional Explorers' who happened to be visiting the city and wished to make a bit of coin in exchange for a service. The third and final ring was of things of minor importance such as requests for spell components of a particular sort as well as gossip and small thoughts or bits of news that were deemed worthy of circulation.

There was also an explanation on how to 'accept' a request as stated on any message. One simply had to grasp the message in question and press it into the orb, alerting the maker of the message that someone had accepted their terms. Often, the message would contain a notification of when and where to meet such as 'Noon at The Silver Snapdragon.' A few others said that the mage in question would get in touch with them personally, which was easy enough as the orb took an 'imprint' of the person who accepted the terms for just this reason.

If Anthea decided to look at a few of the messages, she might notice that 'The Silver Snapdragon' was a popular spot to meet. Then again, that shouldn't surprise her as it was a tavern she likely knew well enough. It sat in that nice middle range where those with money didn't feel put out by the decor and those with but a penny could still find something filling to eat. It also had a gambling hall underneath it but everyone turned a blind eye to that. No point in ruining a good place such as that.
---

Over a light lunch of cucumber sandwiches, mushroom soup, and a small dessert of juiced raspberries in a whipped cream, Nestha would tell Firavel what she could of the topics he aske after. The community here was perhaps not as strictly traditional as he might be used to but it could be expected due the fact that living in a city did seem to change things over time. There was some talk of friends and plans and years gone by, the events of some Firavel might easily be able to recall as not all of the other elf's stories took place in the city. Then again, it wasn't terribly uncommon for an elf to occasionally go back to their homeland for a time either. It was just how things were.

As for the Wasting, Firavel would be informed of the efforts of the temples and that of a particular wizard named Laen who lived on the outskirts of the Runic Quarter. They said he was a bit mad but in the harmless sort of way. Like how a person would talk to a cat when the cat obviously wasn't interested in the least in conversation and would rather expect you to scratch it's belly thank you very much. The temple of Wee Jas was also brought up as they had codified quite a bit of information about the disease although it was mostly symptoms and ways to prevent it from progressing very far. There was talk of a few minor groups aside from them but it appeared as if there was little they could or had done and were currently not worth the notice.

Nestha informed Firavel that he was welcome to his room by sundown as she needed to clean it up a bit and gave him a brass key for later. Now it was up to Firavel on what he should do as he had an entire afternoon to-What was that? several blurs of whistling silver dashed only just over the rooftops and seemed to be zigzagging along toward the Runic Quarter. They seemed to be following the main streets so a person of swift feet would be able to keep up with them more or less.

[abadguy]

Pocketing the key and thanking his host for her kind generosity once again, Firavel, not wanting to get distracted from his mission, decides to ignore the chase and look up the wizard Laen instead. Getting directions from Nestha, Firavel sets off with a spring in the step, his stomach satisfied by the scrumptious lunch.

[Tyrael]

The little Kobold nods in agreement. "Maybe I could help you in finding the right components?" he suggests uncertainly. "Truthfully, I'm something of an Alchemist, myself. I know all kinds of things about chemicals and components and things, and I know LOTS about how things blow up...Um." He coughs awkwardly. "I mean, sure, I'll get you your components. What do you need?"

[Pyron]

Polyxene paused for a moment, the wizard's eagerness at the sound of her name did not escape her attention. It was comforting, but odd - as if he was expecting her arrival. All though, she only been in the city for less than a day and her presence is hardly known. "This may sound like a silly question, but were your expecting a letter from the Temple?", she finally asked.

Should the wizard answer by stating the fact that he was expecting someone else, Polyxene would to stop him from running off, "I'm sorry, but I think you might had confused me for someone ((or thing)) else."

[Terumitsu]

The glimmering things would pause every so often in a small group atop the higher rooftops, obscuring their form as they moved too jerkily to gather a proper idea of how they should appear. With the beeline they were making toward the Runic District, one would think there was definitely something going on there. At the very least, it would be good to look around once there as undoubtedly it could be easy to lose the shining, squeaking things amidst the general arcanery that was so prevelent with mages.

Upon reaching the Runic District, Firavel would have to look hard to find the trail.
((Spot check of 25 grants you the following information:))
It seems the metal things have nestled themselves in an area not too far away from a tavern by the name of the Silver Snapdragon. They appear to be vaugely bird-like but birds don't have heads shaped like arrows.. The light of the sun glimmered off them as they hopped across the roof of the tavern and into the upper window of a somewhat rundown looking apartment flat.
---

Eirn seemed to be surprised about the mention of Vitch being an alchemist."I seem to have been blessed with a bit of luck finding you. And I know about that particular habit of the profession... Had a bit of fun with it a few years ago when I was dabbling with the basics." she said with a knowing smile. Being a wizard, one knew the temptations of such things. "As of right now I do not think I need anything but I have a way to communicate over a good distance. I happen to be well versed in the art of enchanting and I've many utilitarian devices ferreted away in various parts of my workshop. In fact, if you would wait for just a moment.." she said, taking the free moment to grasp the end of the impromptu body bag and drag it as gently as she could down the staircase. She managed to make it with only a few heavy thumps and Vitch could likely hear the light rustlings of glassy objects tinkling together.

Walking back up, she carried a pair of seashells. The long, helixal sort that is. "I can loan out this to you so you can hear me when I'm of need of some odd or end. I honestly can't tell you what I will need right now as I don't know what direction this research will take. That is why I am asking for aid in this odd manner. It will make a small chime noise like that of a bell when one side is trying to contact the other. I've made it so that it won't be heard by anyone but the carrier as I can think of several instances when an obnoxious sound would be looked down upon. And before I forget, I have yet to pay you for your effort." the half-elf said, grabbing the bag of coin and handing out two platinum pieces. Certainly more than one would expect to make in a good day's work. "I will also compensate you for the cost of any materials you have to buy yourself. It's only fair." she said in a kind tone, the wearyness still present but somewhat lessened.

((Roll a Spot check. Meet a 15 and get this information:))
Vitch will notice a thin silver band on Eirn's left hand that was previously hidden due to the current wizarding fasion of long sleeves. Really, if she hadn't held out the hand when granting him his coin, the thing might have gone unnoticed.
---

"Yes we are... Aren't you the... Um.. Oh dear." Realisation dawned on the mage's face but it was now too late to do anything about the letter. It soared upwards with surprising celerity and soon was lost amidst the stars shining down from the underside of the roof. "Give him a moment. He likes to make a show of things.." the now slightly worried looking mage said. With a loud 'KRACK!' the Guildmaster, a man who's beard was yet more brown than grey and who showed traces of elven ancestry, arrived in a bolt of lightning. Apparently the older mages were used to this sort of thing but one or two younger wizards had jumped a little bit and one had accidently dropped a large stack of books if the tumbling 'Thumpa-thumpa-thumpa' could be a judge of anything.

The Guildmaster, wearing veridian embroidered silk robes, was about to speak but the attendent-mage cleared his thoat rather loudly to interject right there. The Guildmaster shot him a look but the mage nodded in the direction of a corner in the conspiritorial way of saying 'I need to have a quick word.' The pair relocated and, after a bit of bluster on part of the Guildmaster once the junior mage had explained himself, they both returned so as to carry on the conversation that never had the proper chance to get off the ground. "I'm sorry for the accident of mistaken identity. While I would have rather been informed of your letter by the usual manner but I informed my college here to send up any messages from your temple right away. I can't say I expected this but honest accidents happen. Could have been worse though. You probably don't want to know about what happened to the last person who pretended importance... Erm.. Not that I'm saying you did but the misunderstanding and all would have been.. Uh. Well, thank you for correcting us on our error and let's leave it at that, shall we?" the Guildmaster said.

"I am Edmund Riddich, Guildmaster here in this fine establishment of arcane learning. I see that you are obviously a templar from our prestigious temple to Wee Jas, may we be blessed, and while not exactly what I was waiting on, I'm here now so I suppose I have time to work with you on your request. I have to apologise but I only skimmed it as a matter of urgency. I hope you understand Ms...?" Edmund said, leaving off for Polyxene to fill in the gap.

[Tyrael]

[roll0]((WOW...:smallmad:)))

The little Kobold takes the device eagerly and peers into its depths. "Oh, wow!" he pipes enthusiastically. "So anytime you want to talk to me, it chimes and I can pick it up and talk with you? Neat! What kind of range does it have??"

[abadguy]

Spot [roll0] (Shrugs...)

Firavel heads towards Laen's abode with directions from Nestha.

[Pyron]

"Madam Vulture, Walker Templar ."Polyxene introduced herself, "Since you're busy man, I'll keep this brief. I've been dispatched by the order to investigate the Wasting. I've exhausted all the research from the local temple and would like to form a committee between our church, the church of Pelor and the wizard guilds to help pool our resources. Or, at least have access to such a committee if one already exists."

[Artemis97]

After scanning the messages, Antheia had been considering traveling to the Silver Snapdragon. It seemed like a good place to gather information. At least, it may serve her better than snooping around the wizard's guild. Getting caught in the wrong place here could end very badly.

But then, the Guildmaster himself had appeared in the room quite suddenly and rather dramatically. And he was speaking with Madame Vulture. I wonder what this was about.

Antheia will try to sneak closer to the conversation and listen in.

Unless they're all talking loudly enough to be heard across the room or decently far away where sneaking wouldn't be needed.. anyways, roll time!

Hide [roll0]
Move Silently [roll1]

[Terumitsu]

((Pardon the day's delay. Also, for once, I get to do a bit of a short post. Whee!))

"Assuming perfect conditions, about ten miles. Anything more than that and it should just fade out." Eirn said. To illustrate, she picked up a similar conch shell from her table and spoke softy into it. Her voice, clear with a hint of echo, issued from the slightly smaller shell that Vitch had. "I was attempting to find ways to make the creation of such things easier before my research was diverted elsewhere" the wizard's voice said from the shell. "I think there are numerous applications in expanding the range of communication between people, especially in making the trade routes safer."
---

Firavel would eventually come to a door on the second story of a squat, round tower of three levels (and garish crenelation on the roof). Upon the door was a red symbol of what was obviously arcane, although there was not very much more that the elf would be able to tell about it from that, being a newcomer to the city. He might notice, though, as he traveled through this particular area, the various signs on the doors were of two colors, blue and red. They obvously had some meaning but what that was would have to be found out. He could ask around... Or he could just knock. The door was right there in any case.
---

The guildmaster was making no secret of his talk. The subject matter was not really all that private and while he wasn't speaking particularly loudly, his voice did have qualities that carried. Good for making speeches and arcane lectures at least.

As such, Anthea did not have to sneak ever so much to get within hearing distance but she was amazingly stealthy as she crept closer, able to blend in with the background once she was close enough.

"Are you sure you weren't the person with the letter we were waiting on?" Edmund said with a quizzical expression. "We've been waiting on a letter from the jasite temple as for where we should gather for just such a committie. I have no qualms about having another sit in myself but I would check with the pelorites and heironians if you haven't already, Madam. Once it is underway I'm sure we can provide the information you seek... Though if you could tell them to hurry up with that letter, I'd be much obliged."

[Pyron]

"Ohh... I wasn't aware that the local temple was considering, Master Riddich." Polyxene paused, feeling a little embarrassed. She felt foolish, assuming that the temple never tried this approach. Then again...
The light wand just expended a charge. She recalled the scribe said something about Maester Vice having a meeting with two other priests. Alsetor and Gweveld. At first, she didn't recognize those names. Nor, did she want to interrupt their meeting - it's bad form to barge into an assemble, unannounced.

"Now, that I think about it. The temple did say about Maester Vice having a meeting with two priests: Alsetor and Garfield... no, Gweveld. "

[abadguy]

Firavel took a deep breath and knocked while speaking through the door.

"Greetings, I am Firavel, seeking the audience of the wizard Laen."

[Tyrael]

Vitch nods, looking impressed as he carefully stows the shell away inside his coat. "So, er, what do you need first?" the little Kobold asks.

[Terumitsu]

"Oh they did?" Guildmaster Edmund said, apparently a bit pleased with the news at least. "Well that's a stroke of luck then. It should be down here tomorrow in that case." he continued. He didn't seem terribly upset about the Templay acting on her own on this case, however. "Well, assuming they can decide on anything. It's a wonder that someone managed to get them all in the same room. Politics and Religious differences, you know..."
---

Firavel would hear some tinkling and cracking noises from behind the door but nobody opened it. How odd. Either he was being ignored or he simply wasn't heard. Judging from the noise, it could quite possibly be the latter...

---

Eirn smiled. "Well, I am fine on supplies in the immediate timeframe but if you could nip down to the guild hall and create a requisition notice for Faeweed? I know that will be the first thing to go as most of my plans will involve using it so I might as well have something ready for when that happens." the half-elf said. If Vitch was even somewhat familiar with the area around the Guild Hall, he would know about that 'bulletin orb' that served as a message board.

[abadguy]

Nonplussed, Firavel knocked again, harder this time.

"HELLO LAEN, HOW'S THE WIZARDING COMING ALONG?"

[Tyrael]

Vitch nods and heads outside down the street towards the Guild Hall. Once he arrives, he spends some time filling out a note on the Bulletin Orb for some Faeweed on Eirin's behalf.

[Pyron]

"I suppose I can come back tomorrow and ask to sit in? Thank you for your help, Master Riddich." Polyxene replied. Knowing this, she does not need to head over to the temple district. "Is there anything I can do to help prepare the committee for tomorrow?"

[Artemis97]

Antheia raises an eyebrow. A meeting? She wonders if she might be able to find a way in herself. Perhaps befriending Madame Vulture would be to her benefit. The red haired young woman continues to hover around the edge of conversation, trying to look like she's not listening in.

[Terumitsu]

((Time to kick things off.. Ehehehehehehe...))

More crashing and banging, sounding rather angry. This time, there was a reply. The reply, however, came about via a thin, grimy haired gnome poking his head out from behind the door, his brow furrowed into a very unpleasant glare as he looked up at Firavel. "WHAT!? ARE YOU BLIND? CAN YOU NOT SEE THE SIGIL?!" the irate gnome said, pointing furiously at the red rune on the door. Apparently the color did indeed mean something....

He then winced as if he felt a sudden headache....
----

Vitch might notice that a few people on the other side of the room were wincing as if in pain, many of them cradling their brows for a moment or two before looking up and blinking with a confused expression. It was like a wave effect, really...

And it was getting closer.....

Anthea would likely see it as well. It seemed to be like an inky cloud of foreboding to the strange, unseen wave. Being a city-dweller, she would be able to definitively say that it seemed to be coming from the outside and moving inward towards the center of the city. In general terms at least.

Polyxene might be left out of the loop of this strange phenomenon.. At least at first. "Nothing at all, Lady Templar. In fact, if you do not have lodgings, we would be honored if you...Oh.... Aaaahhhh....." The Guildmaster put his hands to his temples as he closed his eyes as he seemed to suddenly suffer from a spike of pain just behind his eyes....

((Everyone, roll a DC 15 Will save. Yes, that means all of you. Stuff just got real.))

((On Success, Read This:))
A spike of pain throbs just between your eyes as if you suddenly were subject to the offspring of terrible eye-strain and a nasty hangover. Not only that but you swear you hear the sound of jarringly lurching gears for the briefest of moments.. It soon passes but it leaves you with a sensation that things are definitely not right.

((On Failure, Read This:))
For a moment, you feel as if it is suddenly several hours later than it should be. Much like the feeling that a Tuesday is actually a Sunday or a Friday or something like that. Not only that, it feels as if those several hours were passed by doing strenuous work. Make a Fortitude save of 15 or be considered Fatigued.

[Artemis97]

Much like many others in the room, Antheia cries out, gripping her head when the pain washes over her.

"Wh..what was that?" She asks, her voice shaking. Was someone launching an attack on the city? or the Guild? Did it somehow have something to do with the Wasting? And what was that sound?

[abadguy]

Will Save [roll0] (Using Moment of Perfect Mind)

Fort Save in case [roll1]


Firavel clutches his head as the searing pain brings him to his knees. A wave of fatigue threatens to overwhelm him but he shrugs it off with his well honed physique.

"By the roots of the forest, what in Corellan's name was that?!"

[Pyron]

The pin pricking pain struck across Polyxene's mind. If felt like a cold arrow had struck her on the forehead. Painful, and not like any sorcery she encountered before. She called upon her divine will to act as a buttress to this vile onslaught and regained her composure immediately.

See, also scanned the room and noticed that others were struck with the same spell. Immediately, her attention focused on the guild master, "Are you alright, Master Riddich?"

[Tyrael]

The diminutive Kobold staggers, leaning on his mop for support as colored lights flash in his vision. Vitch pushes his cap back on his forehead and looks around blearily. "Wait....why am I still here..?" he mumbles vaguely.

[roll0]

[Tyrael]

Hmmm, let's see that save...

[roll0]

[Terumitsu]

Everyone would notice a strange thing, should they look skyward or at least toward a window. It had just been an hour past noon yet now it was most certainly an hour before sunset... This might be troubling to those who heard the mashing of machines while those who had not might write it off as just having lost track of time.
---

All who were in the Guild Hall would definitely notice a very eerie calm. Every person was quiet with a confused and slightly fearful expression on their face, some fidgeting while others just stared at a patch of wall or carpet. That was until Edmond gathered his wits, furrowed his brow, and spoke in a loud and commanding voice. "Alright, I want each and every instructor, bookkeeper, lore-master, artificer, department head, and whoever else here in half an hour. Urvok! Where are you? Ah! You know the drill! Contact Everyone! I want to know what just happened and I want to know who, if anyone recorded it!" Not only was he showing off that wonderfully pervasive voice but the Guildmaster was indeed proving why he was the Guildmaster after all. "I am sorry, Madam, but I think I will have to ask a favor of you." Guildmaster Riddich said. "If you would return to the temple for now? While you would be welcome to stay and aid us were it any other occasion, I feel that you will be needed more there at this time."

Guildmaster Riddich half-turned to leave when he seemed to stare into space for a moment. "No, I know they need you now. I've just gotten a report of strange shadowy things cropping up in the streets, especially the dark places. In fact, I would feel safer if... Ah.. You! Over there!" the Guildmaster said, pointing at Vitch. Apparently he mistook the kobold for just another wizard hanging around... It might not be the best of ideas to ignore things as they are now... "Please escort Madame Vulture to the temple of Wee Jas immediately."

With that said, Anthea was still mostly out of sight but she might be interested enough by this turn of events to follow her new-found acquaintance. It would be smart to travel in a group at least if the Guildmaster's information was right.
---

A rather irate Laen remarked something similar yet less than polite, continuing on to say, "I've got no idea what that was but it looks like you're causing me to burn daylight that I don't have. I'm very busy and I don't have time for this! Come back tomorrow if you must but pay attention to the glowing red 'Do Not Bother' marker next time if you see it!" the gnome said and then slammed the door in Firavel's face. Wow... Somebody was wound too tightly, it seems. Perhaps it would be a good idea to take that advice about coming back later... Though, there was still time to glance around the Runic Quarter to see if any information could be had about whatever in the nine hells just happened. There certainly seemed to be a lot of commotion all of a sudden.

[Tyrael]

Vitch looks around blankly. "Umm....which one is Madame Vulture?" He wonders aloud.

After a nearby person in the crowd points him straight, Vitch scuttles to Vulture's side and tugs on her cloak. "Err....Madame Vulture? I'm supposed to take you to the Temple of Wee Jas," he squeaks.

[abadguy]

Taken aback, Firavel shook his head and looked up, noticing that it was shockingly almost sunset. He started a brisk jog back to Nestha's estate, hoping that nothing untoward had happened to his host.

[Pyron]

Vitch looks around blankly. "Umm....which one is Madame Vulture?" He wonders aloud.

After a nearby person in the crowd points him straight, Vitch scuttles to Vulture's side and tugs on her cloak. "Err....Madame Vulture? I'm supposed to take you to the Temple of Wee Jas," he squeaks.

"Very well, Guildmaster Riddich, may the eternal blessing of Prince Oirn protect you." Polyxene bowed and offer her prayer.

She then turned to the apprentice wizard, Vitch... gnome? halfling? She could not tell under the cloak and garbs. The reports of the shadow things, place her a little on edge. In preparation, she donned her helmet and unsheathed her spear.

"Yes, let's depart."

Polyxene headed towards with Vitch. However, before she reached the entrance, she could had sworn that she seen Anthea by the bulletin orbs.

(( OOC: I don't know if Anthea is hiding or now, but I'll roll a spot to see if I spot her before exiting. If I do see her, the spoiler tag takes effect. ))
[roll0]

"Miss Anthea, are you alright?"

[Artemis97]

Antheia stopped trying to hide after the strange feeling had washed over her. Not only had it broken her concentration, there was no longer any point to eavesdropping. She'd even moved to stand closer to Madam Vulture when she heard the Guildmaster ask her to return to the temple. Antheia was particularly keen on sticking with the armored woman after the shadow creatures were mentioned.

And so, Polyxene may be surprised to find Antheia walking just beside her as they approached the entrance. "I believe so. That was so strange... I hope they can get to the bottom of this quickly. It looked to me like it had originated from outside the city walls, but that doesn't make any sense. Do you think this has anything to do with the Wasting?" She asks, directing the question at both Madam Vulture and their new companion (and apparent Wizard), Vitch.

[Terumitsu]

((Well, if everyone is more or less heading out the door, I hope there will be no conflict if I assume the next logical step in sequence?))

Stepping outside, the small party will see clear evidence of chaos nearly restrained. The various shouts and yells of near panic could be heard as an aimless mob formed only to split moments later. The general consensus was to get inside and lock the door, leaving some stretches of street completely devoid of signs of life. Yet flickering here and there, as if made of a dim glowing mist, were dark creatures that seemed to be almost human in shape. Up the lane, near a squat, round tower, there was what seemed to be a line of the things, forming some sort of barrier. A sudden gust ripped through the streets, buffeting flags and wicker bowls and other things about on the cobblestone streets. It might just be the sound of the wind across the door and window frames but it sounded as if there was a hollow wailing coming from up the street...
---

Firavel would note that his path would be blocked by a group of glowing, misty shadows before he moved too far. They seemed... Almost human. At times, if one looked at the right angle, one would feel that they might see a face clear enough to identify... Yet that would only be an illusion as their misty forms would simply grow indistinct once more. The air around them felt warm. Uncomfortably so. And the elf could hear the warped, warbling wailing that emanated from them...

[Pyron]

"I would not rule anything out, Miss Antheia. Under normal circumstances, my advice would be seek shelter. I doubt the guide master would tolerate bystanders and I'm afraid I must return to the temple immediately. Under the circumstances, I can at least provide some sanctuary within the church... it's too dangerous to venture the streets alone." Polyxene explained, not that Antheia gave the impression of fleeing. Considering that the young woman stayed in guild halls during the whole time and is questioning the wasting, implies a sense of initiative. Polyxene is not sure what the temple might need from her, but she has a feeling that Antheia and the apprentice wizard might be helpful in some capacity.

About her question. Any number of things can easily bypass stone walls - ghosts, eldritch horrors, demons... none of which give her comfort if they travel en mass. She hoped the temple can provide some light. "You wouldn't happen to have a weapon handy. I fear we might have to resort to it."

[abadguy]

Firavel backs away. Torn between warning his host and self preservation, knowing his skill with the sword would be useless, he runs back to Laen's tower and begins knocking hard on the door again, wanting to warn the wizard.

[Tyrael]

Vitch looks around in panic. "What are those things!?" he shrills.

[Artemis97]

"Then it is a good thing we are traveling together. Father has always told me it is unsafe to walk the streets without a friend." Antheia recalls as she throws back the edge of her cloak revealing the rather finely crafted rapier that was hidden underneath. The young woman wraps a hand around its hilt, ready to draw her 'friend'. "Of course, I interpreted that a bit differently than he intended."

"They look like shadows." She says in response to Vitch's question, a frown forming on her face. "I don't know how effective our weapons are going to be against them. Perhaps spells will serve us better?" Antheia asks, looking hopefully at the 'wizard'.

[Terumitsu]

((Pardon the wait))

Perhaps the strangest thing was that these misty beings were going out of their way to avoid physical objects. That was odd in and of itself but perhaps it was a clue as to their nature... Setting that thought aside, though, it seemed as if there was a small barricade made of these ghastly figures. A one had broken off from the group to follow an elf who seemed intent on running a nearby stairway in what might be an attempt to get away.

Getting nearer, the figures began to grow more violent in their actions, hunching forward and reaching out as if they were trying to stanch something away...
---

Firavel would find that the wizard was not in any mood to open the door, come hell or high water and thus he was likely rather safe because of it. A single misty being had followed him slowly up the stairs and was making threatening gestures at the elf. However, it seemed to be standing upon the floor rather than floating over it... Odd for something that was otherwise somewhat ghostly

((Everyone roll initiative... I'll have a battle-map up once you do. For reference, A group of five is in the area and the nearest of which is within 20 feet of you. For Firavel, the thing is on the landing below, about 10 feet away.))

[Terumitsu]

http://i877.photobucket.com/albums/ab337/RPNotebook2/DnDMaps/Battle1A.png

Initative order:

Vitch
Thing2
Thing5
Firavel
Polyxene
Thing1
Anthea
Thing4
Thing3

[abadguy]

Firavel draws his double scimitar with a quick Elven curse and leaps toward the glowing figure, swinging his weapon at it


Swift: Sudden Leap Manuever, jump 10ft DC 20 [roll0]
Full round action: Full attack

Primary
Attack 1
Attack [roll1] -> crit
Damage [roll2]
Crit Confirm [roll3]
Crit Damage [roll4]
Concealment [roll5] -> pass
Total: 26 dmg + 2 electricity

Attack 2
Attack [roll6]
Damage [roll7]
Crit Confirm [roll8]
Crit Damage [roll9]
Concealment [roll10] -> pass
Total: 10 dmg + 1 electricity

Off-hand
Attack 1 [roll11]
Damage [roll12] - 3 dmg
Crit Confirm [roll13]
Crit Damage [roll14]
Concealment [roll15] -> pass
Total: 14 dmg

Attack 2[roll16] -> crit
Damage [roll17] - 3 dmg
Crit Confirm [roll18]
Crit Damage [roll19] -3 dmg
Concealment [roll20] -> pass
Total: 24 dmg

Edit: argh forgot off hand only adds 1/2 str to dmg
Grand Total if all hits: 65 + 3 electricity
If any attack misses, do let me know which.

[Tyrael]

Vitch reaches under his coat and pulls out what looks like a black metal sphere with a candle wick sticking out of it. With the quick application of a Tindertwig, he hurls it at the center of the crowd of creatures, which then explodes in a burst of fire.

Targeting square I8.
[roll0]
11 Splash damage to each of the enemies surrounding that square, Reflex DC 19 half.

[Pyron]

(( OOC: Please don't read until thing 2 and 5 resolves its actions. ))


Polyxene draws upon the holy magic stored within her amulet, which allowed her a more insight into the shadow's movement and hopefully allow her spear to strike true...

--- actions ---
Swift: Activating the 'Thicket of Blades' stance (( All movement within reach provokes an AoO )).

Move: Moves to engage the closet 'thing'.
((If two things are equally close, then engage the one that appears to be hurt more from Vitch's blast.))

Standard Action: Initiates Mountain Hammer Strike against the 'thing'.

Attack: [roll0]
Miss Change: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2] and [roll3] ((Note: Mountain Hammer overcomes DR))


Maneuvers available:
Mountain Hammer
Crusader's Strike

[Artemis97]

Antheia will draw her rapier and move to engage whatever creature is closest and still standing.
Attack[roll0]
Damage[roll1]

[Terumitsu]

http://i877.photobucket.com/albums/ab337/RPNotebook2/DnDMaps/Battle1A1.png

With a mighty BANG! Vitch's bomb gave the shadowy things the what for with a small storm of fire and shrapnel. None of them seemed to enjoy it very much, though. What a pity, that. One would think that fireworks would be enjoyed by everyone..

The unaffected glowing shade off to the left didn't take to kindly to Vitch's bombing of it's associates and slid over the ground at an impressive rate, reaching out a hand to touch the kobold. The effect would be like being overfull with energy and having one's body feel like it was going to break down because of it.
((Vitch takes 9 damage))

The nearest glimmering shade to Anthea decided that she would be a good target as it probably did not want to see what else the kobold bomber had in store. It too flung itself forward to strike Anthea, it's hands glowing with a sickly yellow-green energy as it struck.
((Anthea receives 11 damage))

Firavel lept down upon the shimmering shade with blades flashing red in the evening light. The shade quite promptly ceased existing. With such a violent attack, it was a surprise that the pile of grey-white ash marking the shimmer-shade's previous place managed to land in one place and not be blown about.

Polyxene skewered the glimmering shadow attacking Anthea with a well aimed strike, dispatching it with relative ease. That bomb of Vitch's had worked quite well, apparently.

Another bomb victim of a shade made a direct line to Polyxene, hands aglow with that sickly light. However, it seemed to fall just short on the attack, leaving itself open for a strike.
((Poor thing Nat 1'd. Also, roll the AoO stuff on your next post and we'll consider it as part of this round.))

Perhaps just to add insult to injury, Anthea managed a deft stab at the shimmer-shade as it came up short with it's attack on Polyxene. It was not much but it certainly stung a bit.

Firavel would find that the remaining shade-thing was now after him on the landing below. Apparently, it didn't know the fate of the first one that went after him... That and perhaps it didn't want to be set on fire any more.
((Hard to show it on the map but it's technically below you.))

[abadguy]

Surprised at how easily it was despatched, Firavel approached the 2nd with a little more confidence. He jumps down with a warcry, attacking the shade with both ends of his scimitar.


Move: Jump down beside glowing thing
Std: Initiate Wolf Fang Strike Manuever

Attack 1
Dmg
Crit confirm 1d20+13
Crit dmg

Attack 1
Dmg [roll4]
Crit confirm 1d20+13
Crit dmg [roll5]

[abadguy]

Attack 1 missed

Attack 2 is a crit
[roll0]

Rolling for concealment [roll1]

[Pyron]

(( Resolving my AoO ))

Polyxene, ever so quick and perceptive made a strike towards the lunging shadow.

Attack: [roll0]
Miss Chance: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]

(( Declaring my actions for the next round. ))
Polyxene pressed forward and turned her spear towards one of standing shadows, gaining calling on divine faith. Power that is clearly visible as her spear is etched in soft white light. Should this spear strike true, this light will dissipate into a glowing wind that will envelope Vitch in positive energy. She only wished she could bestow some of that energy to Anthea as well.

Action: Attacking the nearest shadow and initiating Revitalizing Strike to heal Vitch
Attack: [roll3]
Miss Chance: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5]
Healing (Vitch): [roll6]

[Artemis97]

Antheia cries out as the shimmering shade's strike hits home. Now injured and thoroughly annoyed with these things, the young woman grits her teeth and moves to get around behind the shades, determined to get the better of them.

Ookay, She's going to move to square I-12 and strike at the shade in front of Polyxene, unless it's already dead by the time initiative rolls my way again, in which case she'll go to H-12 and poke the one attacking Vitch, After shouting to the Kobold to "Move left a little! Keep it surrounded!"

Attack (With Flanking Bonus) [roll0]
Miss Chance [roll1]
Damage [roll2]
Sneak Attack [roll3]

[Tyrael]

Unwinding the cloth around the top of his mop, Vitch reveals a sharp, nasty-looking spearhead which he jabs half-heartedly at the beast before scurrying away with a yip of fear.

Attack H13, 5ft step to G15.
[roll0]
[roll1]

[Terumitsu]

((Time to get back into the groove of things..))

http://i877.photobucket.com/albums/ab337/RPNotebook2/DnDMaps/Battle1A2.png

Vitch manages a rather lucky stab before running away. Sort of. A tactical withdrawal...

Rather than follow the kobold, the templar looked like a better target to the shimmering-shadow as it tried to take advantage of Polyxene's plight while she was distracted with the other shade... It failed in the attempt though as it wound up just short..
((Wow.. They're not getting good rolls at all...))

Firavel SWINGS!.... And finds his blades just missing the main body of the glimmer-shade. That misty form apparently was good at turning attacks away. It was distracting to look at either way...

With a final jab, the shimmering-shade fell to Polyxene's spear. Good thing that was over as now there were only two left!

Anthea, however, missed her strike, just barely glancing the main form of the misty thing. Those shapes were not as solid as one hoped they would be...

Now that Firavel was next to his opponent, things just got a bit easier for his enemy... A ghost-thin hand reached out to touch the elf, filling him momentarily with a sickening heat.
((Firavel takes 8 damage.))

[Artemis97]

Antheia thrusts the point of her rapier towards the Shimmering Shadow's face, but at the last moment angles the blade downards towards its torso in a feignt she hoped would confuse the thing and give her a better chance to make a solid hit.



Bluff [roll0]
Attack [roll1]
Damage [roll2]
Miss Chance [roll3]

[Pyron]

As Polyxene maintains a defensive stance and attention towards the shimmering shadow - she could help but notice Vitch...

Do halfings normally... 'yip'?, she ponders to herself.

(( Again, resolving my action ahead of time. ))
The young templar drives her stick towards the torso of the shadow, hoping to draw upon a small fraction of divine to mend Anthea's wounds. Once this shadow falls, maybe she lead the charge on the final assailant that's forty paces away.

Action: Attacking the shadow and initiating Crusader's Strike to heal Anthea.

Attack: [roll0]
Miss Chance: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]
Healing (Anthea): [roll3]

*Possible Move-Action: If the shadow dies after my attack, I'm going to to move to K-11.

[abadguy]

Firavel reels in shock at the heat of the attack ... just a mere touch and it burns!

He steels himself and unleashes another flurry of slashes at the creature


Swift action: Refresh warblade manuevers

Attack 1 [roll0]
Dmg [roll1]
Crit confirm [roll2]
Crit dmg [roll3]

Attack 2 [roll4]
Dmg [roll5]
Crit confirm [roll6]
Crit dmg [roll7]

Attack 3 [roll8]
Dmg [roll9]
Crit confirm [roll10]
Crit dmg [roll11]

Attack 4 [roll12]
Dmg [roll13]
Crit confirm [roll14]
Crit dmg [roll15]

[Tyrael]

Vitch tiptoes forward uncertainly and jabs at the creature.

[roll0]
[roll1]