Bhaakon's Night of Frozen Shadows IC

[Bhaakon]

OOC (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?349958-Bhaakon-s-Night-of-Frozen-Shadows-OOC)

Old IC (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?274973-Bhaakon-s-Brinewall-Legacy-IC&p=14852176#post14852176)

After a night of celebration and inebriation (for those that partake, at least), you break camp at dawn with a new destination and two fewer traveling companions. Eirik and Theodoric depart for Sandpoint, traveling quick and light upon their own riding horses. The young Ulfen bears a paper giving him stewardship of the Rusty Dragon and Sandpoint Glassworks, made official by Ameiko's seal (the mundane mark of the Kaijitsu's, not the stamp of the artifact currently stowed safely in Koya's wagon).

Theodoric insists that the strutting peacock needs a proper escort back to civilization, but it's hard to miss the real reason for his departure. The spider poison may have been expunged from his system, but the damage was done. His left hand is frozen in a gnarled fist, useless for wielding either his bow or long blade. He can barely manage to saddle and mount his horse unaided, but you're tactful enough not to offer the proud Talden any unwanted help. With luck the high-ranking clergy in Magnimar will be able to thaw his digits, for a price.

You part with them and cross the Steam River into the Nolands, a stoney plain of earth too cold and barren for most folks to bother settling. Straddling the border between Varisia and the Linnorm Kingdoms, it's become a favored settling place for exiles and criminals of both regions. Such men inevitably fall into banditry, and, it has been whispered, some have turned to consuming human flesh to survive. But even cannibalistic bandits know something that your lot is too bold or foolish to acknowledge (despite Sandru's constant fretting): it's far too late in the season for caravans to be taking this route. Anyone heading for Karlsgard now risks being trapped there through the winter. Even cutthroats know when the settle into their bolt-holes and wait for spring.

As such, the first leg of your journey proves downright tedious. The few men or starving beasts desperate enough to prowl your caravan are quickly sent running by your numbers or a warning shot from the caravan's trusty ballista. You don't even meet another traveler on the road until you're nearly in sight of Jol, the southernmost of the seats of the Linnorm Kings.

It's difficult to tell of the place can be properly called a city. It has walls, and even a sort of bastion on a bluff near the city center, but the fortifications are squat, poorly constructed, and crumbling from neglect. Even the the settlement's gladiatorial arena, clearly of new construction, is a slap-dash affair that's already suffered a major collapse. There are no sewers beyond a trickle of effluent carving into the packed earth streets, and the buildings lean drunkenly over the streets so far that they nearly touch, trapping the stench and blocking out the sun.

At least the market is lively enough, as one would expect given that Jol is the largest settlement for a week's march in any direction. Local farmers and craftsmen man the stalls, selling to one another and scores of dwarves--workers from the nearby Kopparberget mining complex looking to spend their pay. The mine's business is enough to keep the market's stock turning over, which means that you have no trouble unloading your loot and acquiring various necessities in short order. It's just as well, since everyone agrees that the open road is preferable to the squalid confines of Jol.

That is until your second day out of the settlement. Around noon Shalelu comes galloping back from her scouting position, a few minutes ride ahead of the wagons, and calls a halt. "Form a perimeter and man the ballista, there's....there's something up ahead." She commands, her voice strained.

Something proves to be four wagons, abandoned in a ditch on the side of the trail. They've been stripped of valuables and torn apart, every crate, barrel, sack or other potential hiding place for valuables hacked open and rifled. The draft animals are gone, stolen or simply fled. The traders, driver, and guards are all present, more or less.

The tree is rooted in the middle of the path, supported by a wooden frame hammered into the cold earth. Torsos form the trunk, a dozen lashed to one another and nailed to the supports to form a solid mass of dead flesh and bone. Arms and legs form the branches, twisting away from the center in pained mockery of a real tree. The heads dangle from the limbs like rotten fruit, each staring blankly with mouth agape.

Hardly any flies buzz around the 'tree'--the nightly frost sees to that--but a hundred or more ravens flit between the branches They feed gluttonously on livers and kidneys, eyeballs and tongues, picking off all the choicest morsels before tackling the tougher bits.

DC 18 Perception
One of the ravens isn't feasting, but watching you approach surprising concentration for a simple beast. It's larger than the others, and bears a single bright red pinion on each wing.

Know (Local) or (Arcana) DC 15
Known as a blood-feather raven, these birds are considered signs of ill-omen. In Ulfen tales, they often serve as familiars for evil witches. A more reasonable person might conclude that they're just a quirk of breeding, like albinism.

Knowledge (Local) or (History) DC 12
This grisly display is a Tree of Souls, or at least an attempt at one. Such effigies can be enchanted with a powerful curse if built correctly, but whoever constructed this one simply didn't have enough bodies or skill. A true example would contain scores of corpses, and would be crafted with as little support as possible beyond the flesh and bone of the victims. Monstrous as it is, this Tree of Souls is a mere sapling.

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban spends the days in Jol blowing off some steam and drinking. He spends some of the nights praying to Desna under her starts.

Thank you Lady for showing me the road so far. Thank you for the journey. I reclaim the darkness in Your name. Spread your blessing as a wing over us. We go to do your work.

Just as they are leaving, Caleban scribes Desna 's mark on the frozen dirt. This Path has been Walked upon.

When they arrive at the gruesome sight, Caleban puts out his cigar and whistles.

So. It begins.

Caleban cannot make sense of this gruesome sight. He waits for the more knowledgeable to do so, even as he searches for tracks. Shalelu was good at it, but a second look does not hurt.

Survival [roll0]

[stack]

Lethos eyes the sight with disgust. Tree of souls. Not well done. "The curse this was intended it invoke will be incomplete. The only danger will lay in those that had the brutality to go through with it coupled with the ignorance to fail utterly."

He looks at his companions, especially the more faithfully inclined. "Perhaps we can spare the time to bury them. Take turns on guard." And see if any goods are left salvaging. Why waste?

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban helps Lethos with the digging, praying as he lays each body into the ground. He also searches the bodies for anything useful or indicative of who did this.

Assuming he can take 10 in perception. Also, waiting on the Survival check.

"Isn't that raven acting a bit unnaturally?"

[stack]

(Presuming it is okay to make a knowledge check on the bird after its pointed out)

"A blood-feather raven. Commonly chosen as a familiar by witches in this region. Locals consider them an ill-omen. Probably nothing."

[Starbin]

After the revelation of Ameiko's lineage, there was a huge celebration. Za'an spent the early part of it trying to catch up with Shelalu. He knew he had an attraction to the woman, who had no reason to be interested in him, but it didn't stop him from being as cordial as possible. He chatted, even told a joke or two (poorly) before he headed to his room once the drinks started flowing. Knowing his sister, the evening would turn into one of debauchery and debasement, and he had no wish to see that. No, this night, he needed to study a few things in his room ...

Once they departed on their journey, he spoke sparingly, but when he did it was with much less venom and animosity than before. He was even cordial to his sister, despite multiple attempts to bait him. During one barb, he did stop and stare daggers at her, but after a moment he simply chuckled and continued on, looking away to the horizon. During the evenings, he would sit for a bit with the others, chatting about the area and the lands, if any wished to share what they knew, before retiring away from the others for the night. He was usually up with the dawn, ready to press on as soon as the others were ready.

When Shelalu stopped their small caravan, he rode forward with the others to see what her concerns were. When he saw the tree, he stopped for a moment, eyes taking in the grisly scene for long moments. He nodded vaguely at the discussion of this poor attempt at a Tree of Souls. Almost in response to Lethos' comments, he spoke, his voice somewhat detached and distant and a disturbed look on his face. "Aye, the Tree of Souls is a common effigy in baser religions, created to serve as a focal point for an enchantment or curse. While this attempt is distinct enough to warrent recognition by those in the know as a Tree of Souls, it is too ill-formed and lacking in energy to generate the desired affect ... unless it was simply awe and disgust."

Blinking after a few moments, he glanced up in the tree and noticed the ravens. He stiffened as he realized the sheer number of winged harbingers, but practically froze upon seeing the blood raven. As the small, beady-eyed beast stared at the group, he stared back, clearing his throat at Lethos' comments. "Actually, their is little beside anecdotal evidence that the witches of the Ulfen use such creatures as their familiars ... at least, not any more than other lands and regions. It is a common theme within their local myths, however, that these birds are practically evil in nature and serve dark masters.

It could also be postulated that their appearance in one's dreams is an omen of foul portents. You may feel obliged to remove this ediface of corpses, but I must caution you that any such actions might serve to call down those ravens in a lust of blood, skin and eyes ..."

Two things - first off, if there are hundreds of ravens, Za'an is a little concerned about when these things go all "The Birds" on us. Second, how big of a 'caravan' do we have? Bhaakon, you mentioned a wagon and a ballista ... how many folks came with us?

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban listens to Za' an carefully. The man was changing for the better. And he was powerful in his faith.

'So what do we do, neighbor? Should we just tear it down or burn it?"

[Bhaakon]

Shalelu's nose twitches at the thought of the greasy stink of burnt flesh. "I'll check for tracks ahead, see where the butchers went." she mumbles. She sprints off before you can reply, happy to leave you with the grisly task of dealing with the 'tree.'

By this time the rest of the caravan has caught up to their outriders, and Sandru, driving the lead wagon, pulls to a stop nearby. "A couple of those carts look salvageable, and we've enough spare horses to pull them empty." He ponders aloud. "Er...after we deal with the dead, of course.

Ameiko jumps off the buckboard of the next wagon in line and joins you. "In Eirik's tales the Northmen burned their dead in ships laden with treasure, or buried them in barrows with the weapons of their enemies, but that's just the important ones. They never wrote Sagas about merchants slaughtered in the wilds. Whatever we do, it' can't be worse than that abomination."

[stack]

"Take a big fire, not enough fuel. Lets bury them and be on our way." He makes no comment of Sandru's suggestion, having already begun those calculations himself but preferring to not mention them just yet, partially from a warriors desire to at least receive a proper burial and partially from consideration for those who would object and may already think him callous.

[Starbin]

Za'an shook his head absently, still staring intently at the raven. "No, burying would take far too long ... longer than we have time to devote. Even if you sought to place them under a large cairn, simply searching for enough large stones could take days. Besides, Ameiko is correct - cremation would be appropriate. Fire cleanses; it burns away the sins of the past, and allows rebirth, like a phoenix from the ashes ..." Steppng forward somewhat stiffly, Za'an approached the 'tree' slowly, looking for the best spot to start the process. If it looked like it could be brought down, then he would. Otherwise, he was willing to use one of his flasks to start the burning process ... and would move on to using burning hands, if necessary.

Regardless, he would see these souls laid to rest ...

[Bhaakon]

Between magical persuasion, the group's ample supply of accelerant, and lumber stripped off the most badly damaged wagons, Za'an is able to turn the tree of souls into a macabre bonfire with a half-hour of diligent effort. He can't help but notice, as he dismantles the outer limbs effigy, that the bodies bear numerous pre-mortem slices and brands, too precise and repetetive to be the chaotic wounds of combat. Someone tortured these men before killing and dismembering them.

Sandru, as predicted, manages to salvage two of the carts, but the ravaged caravan has been well and truly looted. Grain, textiles, and other bulky trade goods have been torn, shattered, or tossed aside and trampled into the mud in the search for coin, jewelry, weapons, and other hand-portable valuables. Even kegs of mead have been cracked up and poured out in order to search inside.

Shalelu and Caleban spread out, searching the jumble of footprints around the ruined caravan for clues as to what happened. They tell a simple tale, 40 or so men hiding in the brush, launching a simple but effective ambush that quickly overpowered the caravan. The bandits then retreated down the road to the northeast, the same direction you're headed. Based on the trail signs, you think the ambush occurred some time yesterday morning.

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban returns to the rest with a grim face.

"There were somewhere around 40 people waiting in ambush here. And they came back the way we are heading. If they attack us, it will be a very tough fight. A very tough fight."

He lights his cigar again.

"Well, no help for it. We are going that way. And my Lady really dislikes those who make the road unsafe."

[Starbin]

Za'an sighed heavily. "What is truly disturbing are two additional factors - first, this simplistic attempt at the creation of a Tree of souls; second, the fact that many of the wounds on the corpses indicate pre-mortem torture, vice post-mortem disfigurement. While it is both plausible and comprehendable why bandits might torture a group of merchants, particularly with regard to their goods and potentially hidden treasures, I am at a loss as to what purpose the Tree of Souls would serve 'simple' bandits.

I postulate we are not dealing with simple bandits."

Bhaakon, any skill checks to see which religions/organizations might use a Tree of Souls? Or any known bandit groups?
Just in case: [roll0]; [roll1]

Maybe someone with a KS (Local) might know something ...

[Bhaakon]

@Za'an
The tree of souls, and effigies in general, are more an aspect of Ulfen culture than any particular deity or religion. Some might argue that they're associated with Gorum, given the violence involved and that god's popularity in the North, but, in fact, crafting effigies has no actual basis in his faith. It's worth noting that the magics involved in crafting a properly cursed effigy can be worked by arcane practitioners and druidic casters in addition to clerics.

Simple examples, like a heads mounted on pikes, are common means of intimidation used by ocean raiders and common bandits, but the tree of souls is typically the something a warlord would use to cow the population of a conquered city. You can't think of any common criminals who would bother to attempt something so elaborate.

[stack]

"Organized and looking for something. Best we find them before they try to question us. Maybe take a straggler and ask our own questions."

[Starbin]

Za'an nodded, watching the burning pyre of bodies dispassionately. "Yes, it might prove most illuminating to speak with a member of this band for a few moments. This tree was a symbol of power, a message for someone, and an attempt to tap into powers best left alone. Add bold or foolhardy to their list of attributes, for it is not without risk that one invokes the power of a Tree of Souls.

If what our two trackers have found is true, we are within a day of these fiends. Best to keep our eyes open and our passage as unobtrustive as possible."

Ready to move on!

[Bhaakon]

You hang around the site of the massacre long enough for the flames to die down. Burying the charred bone and ashes in an anonymous communal grave is less than the poor merchants might have deserved, but it's all you can offer them under the circumstances. It has the added advantage of smothering any coals than might have flared up and started a brush fire after your passing.

The caravan continues forward cautiously, dispatching Kasuka as a second forward scout alongside Shalelu. But Sandru doesn't cut the pace, if anything her drives the horses on faster than before. "The sooner we're out of the bandit's territory, the better." He explains. "Shalelu said the ambushers were on foot, so they can't range far. If we're lucky, we'll be out of their territory before nightfall."

Your luck holds out. Evening finds you on the banks of a confluence, where two squiggly lines labeled "Rimeflow" and "Thundering River" meet on one of Koya's old maps. The waters aren't thundering at the moment, but they're certainly frigid, and plenty wide and deep to block a caravan if it weren't for the crooked arches of the ancient stone bridge reaching out into the solid wall of icy mist rising off the water.

Kasuka and Shalelu wait on your side of the water. The elf signals for all the guards to gather as the caravan comes to a halt. "Can we cross, or not?" demands Sandru as he approached the gathering, but Shalelu shushes him down.

"We've not crossed yet. It's too confined a space, and an obvious spot for an ambush. I thought it wiser to scout it in force."

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

"Good thinking all around, neighbors. But someone should stay with the caravan, in case they attack from behind. Preferably one who is good at ranged fighting. Shalelu, would you mind? I can go ahead and scout"

If there are no objections
Survival [roll0]
Perception [roll1]

and Darkvision 90ft

[stack]

Lethos stand nearby, blade in one hand, wand in the other. "Reconnaissance in force would be wise. We do not want one of us taken alone. I will go as well, keeping a step behind to not interfere with your work."shield, 4 minutes

[Starbin]

Za'an looked at the others, then back to the caravan. "If the ambushers were particularly devious, they might actually wait for the scouting party to depart, and attack the caravan immediately. However, we are caught between two possibilities, and know evidence which one might happen.

If you wish to travel in force, I will join you. If you wish for a scouting party, my talents are not of that unique skill set. Perhaps my sister's monkey could be convinced to look around ... presuming it is not currently drunk."

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn shrugs at the comment and looks at Gleek who appears to be at least mildly sober "He seems to be halfway coherent but I WILL not allow him to go anywhere without me, he is my means to communicate with the spirit world and if something were to happen to him I would be in quite dire straits. SO it looks as if all of us are going on our merry little way, stumbling through this bleak wasteland in the dark...Yippee!" The half blood rolls her eyes at the prospect of leaving the caravan and her bottle of whiskey.

Sorry chaps, I didn't notice that the new IC was up and I was starting to get a little worried :smalleek:

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

"Enough talk then, neighbors. I will go ahead with whoever else is coming. We will freeze here."

Caleban does as he says, unless someone stops him.

[Bhaakon]

Shalelu doesn't look particularly pleased about being left behind, but it's hard to argue with Za'an's logic. She waits at the head of the bridge with bow ready as you pick your way across.

The bridge is ancient, and not in the 60-ton blocks of granite fitted together so tightly that not even air can slip through the joints that one might expect from the monumental architecture of half-remember empires. More of the cobbled-together, unplanned amalgamation of ill-fitting stones assembled by someone who lacked metal tools and had only seen a bridge once before, and at a great distance. But its builders made up for their lack of experience with shear mass, and a few crumbled sections here or there haven't threatened it over all structural integrity, yet.

More worrisome is what you find at the other end of the structure. An hulking humanoid, 12 feet of grey-green meat, ragged claws, and crooked tusks. The thing grins broadly as it sees you emerge from the mist. "Birdy was right. Food is here." It bellows gleefully. A blood-feather raven, perched atop the monster's head, caws back its response.

DC 15 Local
It's a troll, famous for tenacity, fearlessness, regeneration, and consuming mass quantities (often of people). The only way to kill one permanently is to burn it or dissolve it with acid.

Map
Lethos and Caleban are up first.

The raven is on top of the troll and beyond the reach of normal melee weapons.

http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee498/Bhaakon/trolltoll1.png

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban
HP 32 AC 21

Caleban steps up and with a quick word, activates his bracers. He then hefts his new axe, which glints in the magically enhanced edge.

"You talk too much, beast. I know many mantlepieces where your head would look good. You should have run when you saw us."

Standard action to activate. Caleban does not attack, and if he can he will wait one more round for buffing

[stack]

know local [roll0]
mirror image for [roll1] images

Lethos steps forward. "You will not find us easy prey, beast. You should have fled."


Troll.
Burn it.

The pasha had an army of them.

Not that it did him any good.

To his companions, "It is a troll. Burn it to keep it from healing."

As he speaks his form blurs and jumps, several bodies taking his place.

[Bhaakon]

The raven caws out something long and complex in its avian tongue, clearly more than the typical cries of hungry carrion bird. There's something strange about the way it weaves its head about, almost reminiscent of the somatic component of a spell. Whatever the bird's business, it appears to be done once it's finished squawking its peace. It takes to wing, flapping its way upriver with clear determination.

Spellcraft DC 17
Heat metal (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/magic/all-spells/h/heat-metal)

@Lethos, Caleban
Make a will save vs DC 16, or your armor suddenly grows uncomfortably warm.

The troll has no interest in leaving, however. "Stubborn supper still supper." It grumbles, casually closing with Caleban and attempting to clobber the half-orc with an arm as big and knotted as a tree's trunk. Caleban's hastily summoned shield deflects the blow into the dirt-covered deck of the bridge, where it digs out a divot big enough for a halfling to take shelter in.

Map
http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee498/Bhaakon/trollfight2.png

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn sneers at the Raven "I don't think so bird... Hope you can swim..." The witch points a finger at the raven and thinks of one word: Sleep

Moving to H3 and using slumber hex (DC 21)to cause the bird to fall asleep and plummet into the river... if it falls good luck surviving drowning then hypothermia

Spellcraft [roll0]


She looks to her brother "Why it would seem the overgrown crow is a better spellcaster than yourself, I have seen you botch the same spell numerous times.... Also to you fellows, the bird just cast heat metal so life may get a little painful for you two."

[stack]

"I know what it was. A pitiful attempt." Lethos snaps, pushing off the uncomfortable heat. Unfortunately doing so spoils his aim. will [roll0]
spellcraft [roll1]

5' step to I6
att [roll2]
damage [roll3] fire
shocking grasp [roll4] (not casting defensively, the AOO is less likely to hit then he is to fail the check.) Hold the charge on a miss.

Lethos Far-wanderer (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=528595)
M N Elf magus (black blade), Level 4, Init +7, HP 23/30, Speed 30
AC 24, Touch 15, Flat-footed 19, CMD 19, Fort +5, Ref +6, Will +4, CMB +4, Base Attack Bonus 3
Black Blade Elven dueling saber +1 (rapier w/ Slashing) +9 (1d6+6, 18-20x2)
touch Scorching Ray (30) +8 (4d6, x2)
mithral chain shirt +1, shield spell (+5 Armor, +4 Shield, +5 Dex)
Abilities Str 13, Dex 21, Con 12, Int 16, Wis 10, Cha 8
Condition shield
mirror image 3 images
Black Blade: INT 11 WIS 7 CHA 7
Ego 5
Speaks Common
Arcane Pool: 1/1
Alertness, black blade strike, telepathy, unbreakable

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban
HP 32 AC 21 Judgement

"When this is over, I will make sure the birdy visits the same taxidermist as you. By the Lady of the Stars, I judge you both unworthy"

Caleban 's axe glints a bit more as he sidesteps the attack and launches his own. The armor starts to get hot, but Caleban focuses on the battle and the heat fades.

PA atk [roll0] dmg [roll1]

[Starbin]

Za'an frowned slightly at the taunt from his sister. "I am certain I do not know what you are talking about, my sister. I do not recall ever attempting to cast such as spell, although I suppose I could simulate the same results via a more practical application of my abilities and divinely-granted powers. Or was your oddly-timed insult alluding to something else?"

As the bird attempted to escape, he drew his bow even as his sister cast her hex, aiming at the thing as it struck the water and began to flail about. Firing a shot, he tried to end the thing's life before it could return to whatever master it served. Perhaps we should have killed it at the tree ...

Step to H3, draw bow and fire at the fleeing raven once it hits the water. [roll0], [roll1]

[Bhaakon]

The raven dozes off on the wing, proving that not even animals are immune to Jayn's unique charms. It nap doesn't last long, what with crashing into a frigid and tumultuous river while simultaneously catching an arrow in the wing. The bird caws and flaps, struggling for a panicked instant before it can gather its wits to work its next bit of magic.

In the blink of an eye the bird is gone, replaced by the kind of fat trout that inspires toothless old fishermen to tell insipid stories about the the one that got away. In another blink the fish is gone, diving deep beneath the turbulent water with a few twitches of its tail and disappearing under the bridge.

Unfortunately for Caleban, the troll probably has no word for the concept of retreating, and the fact that the half-orcs axe shaves a solid stone of flesh of its thigh doesn't slow it in the least. Filth-caked claws batter through the Caleban's shielding spell, hooking in armor and flesh and rending both.

@Caleban
29 damage.

Map
http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee498/Bhaakon/trollfight3.jpg

[Starbin]

Za'an frowned as the creature survived the arrow, then blinked as it turned into a fish! Before he could ponder that more, he heard a grunt and sound of tearing metal. Spinning around, he saw the troll pull up its clawed hands, covered in Caleban's blood. Calling up his goddess, he reshaped on of his spells to aid in healing, stepping foward at the last moment to deliver his healing touch to the staggered half-orc.

Convert resist energy to cure moderate wounds. [roll0]

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn grumbles when the blighted animal squirmed away again but put that from her mind after the brute of a troll harmed Cael. Focusing on it she once again make the sign for her sleeping hex.

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban
HP 15 AC 21 Judgement

The troll goes through Caleban 's defenses through brute strength and soon the half orc is bleeding from multiple wounds. Caleban spits, a toothy sickly grin in his face.

"Is that your best? Because you will not have a second chance."

Right on time, he feels the cool touch of healing and his wounds close, but only half way. Nevertheless, he makes a left feint, while bringing his axe from the right.

PA [roll0] dmg [roll1]

Ya right.

[stack]

Lethos's blade is poised, ready for the moment. As soon as the troll starts to fall, he strikes for its throat, blade crackling with electricity.CDG, w/ held charge [roll0] + [roll1] electricity, fort save vs death 10+damage (assuming we drop its regen for the round)

[Bhaakon]

The sabre cuts deep, diving through the gristly neck of the troll until it's nearly scratching vertebrae. Jolts of electricity send the monster's limbs writhing about wildly, enough to distract Caleban and disrupt his aim. Lethos finally withdraws his word when the spell is exhausted, but the creature isn't dead yet. The gaping wound on its throat is already sewing shut under the influence of the thing's preternatural constitution.

someone hit it with fire please, so I can distribute XP

[Starbin]

Za'an watched with fascination as the skin and muscle around the troll's severed neck stretched to reconnect, remembering what Lethos had said. Drawing up his inner flame, he readied himself to end the creature's existence. He paused for a moment, in case any of the others stepped foward, but after only a moment, he launched a bolt of fire at the beast's nearly decapitated head.

"That should effectively deal with creature for now. Unless we need to burn the entire body, in which case I am positive we all have the prerequisite flasks of alchemical fire ..."

Hit with a fire bolt, if that will kill it ... otherwise, Za'an will use a flask of fire. That's assuming Cal doesn't burn it with his cigar ...

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban grunts as he puts his axe down. The troll really hurt him. He takes out his cigar and lits it, taking a big breath. Then he takes one of his lantern oils, lights it with his cigar and throws it at the troll.

"Food you wanted? Here it is."

Finally, he digs out the healing wand from his belt. He activates it, feeling his wounds close even more.

Two charges [roll0]

[Bhaakon]

The flesh around the garish wound blackens and crackles, cutting off all regeneration as the unconscious beast wheezes out its death rattle through its nearly severed neck. Fed by the oil, the fire spreads across most of the troll's torso, raising a noxious cloud of yellow-gray smoke. The monster is well and truly dead.

XP
500 each for slaying the troll and bloodying the shape-changing raven

Caleban employs the wand and you finish a cursory scan of this bank of the river, unsurprised to find that no bandits would set an ambush in the company of a troll. The blackened body still lies across bridge, as massive as a dead ox and every bit as effective a roadblock. There's nothing for it, you'll have to unhitch a team of draft horses and use them to haul the troll's stinking carcass clear. An unpleasant job, but thankfully not yours.

You're heading back across the bridge to give Sandru the news when the unmistakable groan and clatter of the caravan's ballista loosing a shot cuts through the mist. It's followed a split-second later by a pained bellow, very human. The clash of steel on steel begins almost immediately after the cry dies away.

Sprint towards the battle as quickly as possible? Hang back long enough to cast buffs? Sit back and let the NPCs handle it?

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban was puffing his cigar to take the sting out of the burnt troll smell when he hears the noise. With a snarl, he puts the cigar away, takes out his axe and runs towards the caravans.

"There are more, neighbors!"

His axe is already swinging, aiming for whatever target he will find near Koya 's cart.

Charging back to the fray.

Initiative [roll0]
Charge PA [roll1] dmg [roll2]

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn rolls her eyes and holds back for a moment to cast a defensive spell... She will let the gun ho half orc charge in headlong and wreak havoc later.

She will move closer but first she casts Mage Armor on herself to boost her pitiful AC.

[Starbin]

As the sounds reached their ears, before Cal could rush off, Za'an touched his holy symbol and let a wave of energy flow outward, healing any who were hurt within range. Afterwards, he waited for his sister, beckoning her to follow as he moved forward, eyes and ears straining to determine what forces were arrayed against them.

First off, I'm gonna presume Za'an saved a fire bolt, since Cal burned the creature down.

Second, using Channel Energy to try and get Cal a little closer to full: [roll0] (EDIT: wow ... could that have been more useless ... but Cal should only be down 5, I guess)

Third, moving action to follow Cal (and presumably Lethos).

Lastly, [roll1] ... and [roll2], if necessary

HPs: 27/27; AC: 20, CMD 15; F +5 R +3 W +10
Channel Energy 5/6; Fire bolt 7/7; Heroism 7/7

Spells
0: create water, mending, light, detect magic
1: bless, protection from evil, obscuring mist, magic weapon, burning hands
2: resist energy, spiritual weapon, communal protection from evil, produce flame

[stack]

Lethos sprints forward (all four of him), blade ready to a fight.if its less than 4 minutes, shield and mirror image are still up, Run feat, so he can cover 150' /round and not lose dex to ac

[Bhaakon]

Caleban and Lethos take off immediately across the bridge, followed closely by Za'an. Jayn hangs back just long enough to ward herself.

You emerge from the bank of mist hanging over the river to find the caravan desperately defending itself from two dozen bandits. All are tall Ulfen warriors outfitted in light chain and round shields, wielding battle axes with a pair of throwing axes tucked into their belts. Each wears a bright golden torc wrapped around their right arm. All of them are soaked up to the waste and spattered with mud. Sure enough, there's a dragon-headed longboat grounded on the riverbank about a bowshot downstream.

As you watch, Sandru triggers the ballista again, transfixing another bandit. Ameiko and Kasuka guard his position, the former holding the attention of a half-dozen raiders while the latter darts out from cover to hamstring a pair of them.

Koya exits her cart, calmly wading through the chaos without drawing a single swing despite passing within reach of a half-dozen attackers. She circles around tp the spot where the hired drivers are making their stand, guarding a wagon while Shalelu stands in the cargo bed, picking warriors off with her bow. Koya cuts right through the melee untouched, stopping only long enough to loose a healing pulse of lavender light from the un-bloodied starknife in her hand.

But if you'd planned to quickly re-join your friends, your hopes are dashed. A dozen of the raiders are milling about the end of the bridge, apparently waiting for you. One of them barks out something in Skald--the Ulfen tongue--as you charge out of the fog. He nearly gets the whole thing out before Caleban lands a blow that shatters ribs and sends him tumbling off the bridge.

The raven was right, that troll was usele...

But the interrupted warning is enough to get the rest of the bandits' attention. A ragged front line forms, cutting off your advance while the men behind look for an opening to hurl their weapons. One man lands a lucky blow on Caleban's arm, deep enough to draw blood but not much else. Two of Lethos's doubles waver and vanish as thrown axes spin through their illusory forms.

@Caleban
4 damage

Map, etc.
Everyone is up.

4-minute buffs cast in previous battle have 1 minute (10 rounds) of duration remaining.

http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee498/Bhaakon/banditbridge1.png

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban
HP 23 Ac 21

Caleban hefts his axe in a defensive position, using the space to take a step back. He then turns to the bandits and with his axe high, calls upon the power of Desna.

"Hear me, you scum! Before the end of the day, crows will be picking your frozen eyes and your guts will be the feast of wolves. Your souls will be in Pharasma 's spire, waiting for judgement, and you will cower and cry at her feet, saying how I send you. I will hurt you. I will hurt all of you until your world is pain!"

With a final gesture, a pulse of divine energy erupts from Caleban.

5ft step to N9, Casting Blistering Incentive. Intimidate in 30ft radius [roll0], dmg [roll1] and Ref save to catch fire.

EDIT: Really? A 3?

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn remains where she is and begins chanting, letting the words of power fill her before releasing it calmly into the enemy. A spray of bright dust explodes in the night air covering several of the raiders.

Glitterdust centered on the point L/M : 11/12 it should hit enemies at K10 and 13, M11 and N 11 DC 17 will save to avoid being blinded. Even if they pass they are now sparkly Vikings and can be mocked for it :smallbiggrin:

[stack]

Lethos wastes no time in attacking the two raiders in front of him. swift for +1 enhancement,

spell combat
concentration [roll0] vs 15 for arcane mark
attack [roll1] vs L10
damage [roll2]

spellstrike attack (failed concentration, so didn't happen)
attack [roll3]
damage [roll4]

Lethos Far-wanderer (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=528595)
M N Elf magus (black blade), Level 4, Init +7, HP 23/30, Speed 30
AC 24, Touch 15, Flat-footed 19, CMD 19, Fort +5, Ref +6, Will +4, CMB +4, Base Attack Bonus 3
Black Blade Elven dueling saber +1 (rapier w/ Slashing) +9 (1d6+6, 18-20x2)
touch Scorching Ray (30) +8 (4d6, x2)
mithral chain shirt +1, shield spell (+5 Armor, +4 Shield, +5 Dex)
Abilities Str 13, Dex 21, Con 12, Int 16, Wis 10, Cha 8
Condition +1 to blade
shield
mirror image 3 images

[Starbin]

Seeing the men arrayed in front of them, and watching the waves of attacks from his companions, Za'an determined he was best served laying back and providing support with his bow. Time enough to rush into the thick of battle later ... but hopefully not.

Draw bow with move action to P7, fire at V13
[roll0], [roll1]

HPs: 27/27; AC: 20, CMD 15; F +5 R +3 W +10
Channel Energy 5/6; Fire bolt 7/7; Heroism 7/7

Spells
0: create water, mending, light, detect magic
1: bless, protection from evil, obscuring mist, magic weapon, burning hands
2: resist energy, spiritual weapon, communal protection from evil, produce flame

[Bhaakon]

Initially, the bandits don't seem particularly cowed by Caleban's coarse tongue. Northmen being notorious xenophobes, you wouldn't be surprised is most of them didn't even speak Taldane.

But the flames licking at their boots really drive the half-orc's points home. Their axes are slowed, and it's not just because they're busy using their shield-arms to beat back the flames--a difficult task compounded by the intense motes of light that appear out of nowhere to blind a group of them on the landing of the bridge. They continue to swing wildly, but hit nothing. Two of the men in the second rank are smart enough to break for the river and douse the flames, but the rest continue to throw handaxes in vain.

Blinded, chastened, and flaming, Lethos easily dispatches the nearest attacker, and Za'an gives the one Ulfen untouched by Caleban and Jayn's magic something to think about with his bow.

The battle at the caravan isn't nearly as lopsided, but the defenders appear to be coming out ahead. The bandits have numbers, but Koya's spells give the defenders greater staying power, and Shalelu seems able to fell a man with every shot. Ameiko hurls epithets like daggers, taunting the northerners into foolish attacks that leave them open to Kasuka's blade. Sandru cranks madly on the ballista, readying a third shot.

Map
http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee498/Bhaakon/banditbridge2.png

Black = blind
Orange = on fire

[stack]

Lethos welcomes the flailing, blind northerners, easily dodging their blows as he flourishes his blade, then strikes. spell combat vs K10 & L10
concentration [roll0] vs 15 (taking combat casting @ 5!)

att [roll1]
damage [roll2]

att [roll3]
damage [roll4]

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban
HP 23 AC 21

Caleban needs room to go to the caravan. The Northerners are still blocking the way. Too bad for them. Caleban swings the axe at the guy in front of him, aiming mercilessly for the head. Each word is punctuated by a swing.

PA Atk [roll0] dmg [roll1]

"Move. Out. Of. The. Way!"

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn grins smugly at her work and casually saunters past her brother, giving him a triumphant smirk as she passes. She frowns for a moment, looking for the optimum target for her to work her hex on then grins at the only non burning person That one will do.... Taking but a moment, the witch waves her hand in a fluid, practiced motion beckoning the poor man to loose sense of hit wits and drift into a 'peaceful' slumber.

Moving to O6 (just enough) then using slumber hex (Will DC 21) on enemy at K10

[Starbin]

Za'an snorted at his sister's self-satisfaction. "Well done, sister. It is almost like you planned it." Taking aim, he fired at the wounded Ulfen again, trying to take him down before he became a threat.

Fire at U13
[roll0], [roll1]

EDIT: Good thing the die roller loves me!

HPs: 27/27; AC: 20, CMD 15; F +5 R +3 W +10
Channel Energy 5/6; Fire bolt 7/7; Heroism 7/7

Spells
0: create water, mending, light, detect magic
1: bless, protection from evil, obscuring mist, magic weapon, burning hands
2: resist energy, spiritual weapon, communal protection from evil, produce flame

[Bhaakon]

While Lethos and Caleban hack into the line of bandits, the fire continues to do its work, spreading from filthy, greasy furs to filthy, greasy hair. The stench is nearly as disagreeable as burning troll, but it spells the end of the fight for those among the Elfen foolish enough to continue battling instead of jumping in the river.

With their numbers suddenly cut in half, the remaining bandits look nervously back to their knarr, grounding hundred or so paces away, but eventually decide to rush the bridge in one last desperate effort. They're hearts aren't in it, though, and they seem ready to break even as Jayn send another of their number to the group, snoring.

Map
http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee498/Bhaakon/banditbridge3.png

[stack]

Bah, fools blocking the way. Fall so I may face someone worthy! Lethos thinks as he continues striking down the blinded raiders.spell combat vs K10 & L10
concentration [roll0] vs 15

att [roll1]
damage [roll2]

att [roll3]
damage [roll4]

[Starbin]

Sighing at the miss, Za'an took a deep breath and aimed again, firing at the one Ulfen coming from the side. Perhaps this time he would finally remove the threat ...

Fire at Q12
[roll0], [roll1]

HPs: 27/27; AC: 20, CMD 15; F +5 R +3 W +10
Channel Energy 5/6; Fire bolt 7/7; Heroism 7/7

Spells
0: create water, mending, light, detect magic
1: bless, protection from evil, obscuring mist, magic weapon, burning hands
2: resist energy, spiritual weapon, communal protection from evil, produce flame

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban
HP23 AC 21

Caleban has stopped talking. He is just hewing now, his axe flashing and clanging as it goes from blow to blow. But then he snarls

"Take one alive!"

PA atk [roll0] dmg [roll1]

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn steps up while staring intently at one of the raiders, softly chanting but never breaking eye contact with him. Her chanting stops as she unleashes an unearthly, blood chilling shriek that manifests as a visible wave striking the poor fool.

5 ft to N7 and using ear piercing scream (Fort DC 16 for half damage and resist daze)
damage [roll0]

[Bhaakon]

The line of bandits falters and falls under your assault, leaving one final stragglers who gets three steps into full-on flight before collapsing into a jumbled, snoring pile of limbs as Jayn's hex takes holds. Za'an jumps on the man and begins trussing him up as the rest of you break for the caravan.

Seeing your approach, the main body of bandits--now down to fifteen or so--breaks and runs for their knarr.

XP
600 each

You can chase them if you want or let them go. Up to you

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban


Seeing his way clear, Caleban will go to Koya and her wagon, to make sure she is not hurt. After an inspection, he will take one of the still living bandits, preferably a leader, and tie him up well, in order to interrogate him.

Going to be slow to post today and tomorrow. If needed, Intimidate [roll0]. Questions: Why the attack, how did they know and if working with the troll.

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn satisfied with her efforts this evening, takes a casual stroll back towards the caravan and stops at Ameiko giving a dramatic sigh "Why do men feel the need to run in the middle of the night shouting like lunatics while armed to the teeth. You would think by now that someone would learn once one of their numbers fell on their weapon or choked on a bug. I swear they look utterly ridiculous in those greasy furs, do they think they are intimidating or something?" Pulling out her flask she takes a pull of strong liquor and passes to Ameiko in offering.

[stack]

Lethos darts after the fleeing northmen, cutting at the rearmost. do we want rolls or should we just play it as fluff? He can certainly catch up with the run feat, but I don't expect to take out more than one or two

att [roll0]
damage[roll1]

if needed

att [roll2]
damage[roll3]

[Bhaakon]

Lethos streaks after the fleeing bandits, intercepting and cutting down a straggler before the others reach the boat. What the northmen lacked in fighting ability they make up in seamanship, using the precious second bought with the life of their companion to shove the gnarr off the beach and row clamber aboard.

Since you chased after them alone, I don't think you really want to catch up to them a take on the whole group. Unless you do.

XP
50 each

Ameiko accepts the proffered flask and takes a long pull of her own. "We should be thankful, Jayn. It's not much of an adventure without fools to run up and impale themselves on our swords. If it weren't for their particular brand of madness, this trip would be nothing but weeks of staring at the south end of a north-bound horse"

She returns the bottle, adding. "I just wish they'd have the courtesy to bathe first. You wouldn't think that river pirates would be so scared of a little water."

[stack]

Lethos shakes the blood from his blade as the boat puts out into the water. A string of elven and tien epithets curse their weakness and cowardice before he turns back to the caravan.

Once back he checks for signs of damage or injury. "Cowards. Raiders, not warriors. Was it them that raised the tree earlier? I am surprised they were capable of that, though it shows them to be little more than beasts. Worse, beasts would not delve into the wicked and macabre after their kill. It is a shame that any escaped."

He looks down at the prisoner. "This fool know anything useful?"

[Starbin]

Za'an wandered back to the others, gathering the people to provide any healing first and foremost. He said little, but went about his work in stoic silence. Once complete, he returned to the bodies of the raiders, looking for any that might need medical care to be interrogated later. He checked for any equipment or items of interest, using his ability to detect magic to find particularly interesting items.

Otherwise, he would see what Caleban found out from the Ulfen.

[Bhaakon]

Picking among the bodies, Za'an finds none still breathing besides the bound prison. He finds the raider's equipment to be thoroughly mundane. Their chain mail hauberks, shields and axes aren't quite identical enough to constitute a uniform, but they certainly leave the impression that the men were outfitted to a similar standard. Each man also bears a golden lion-head torc on their weapon-arm, and these match closely enough that they must have been forged by the same hand. Moreover, they add up to a sizable weight of bullion.

Loot
36x chainmail
36x battleaxe
36x heavy wooden shield
36x golden lion-head torcs (1260 gp total)

But Za'an's spell does pick something up. An aura of necromancy drapes over the prisoner like a death shroud, foul and black. It emanates from a glyph on the man's forehead--visible only to those using the proper divination. Anyone who can read Minkaian immediately recognizes the characters for a concept that might be translated into Taldane as "Oath Sworn," but with a connotation of loyalty in the face of death, dishonor, or even divine retribution.

Spellcraft DC 24
The spell seems to be akin to a Mark of Justice, but far more sinister. You've never heard of its like, and suspect it may be a rare or even unique variant. If so, nothing less than a spell of Remove Curse would remove the mark. The sheer amount of negative energy bound within the enchantment gives you a good idea what might happen to the man should he trigger it.

The prisoner, still shaking off the grogginess from Jayn's hex, remains stubbornly silent.

Before the questioning can begin in earnest, Koya--a bit winded from the excitement and the strain of channeling so much of Desna's energy in so short a time--makes her way over and whispers just loud enough for Caleban and the rest of you to hear. "Careful how far you push him, puerri. There's a cursed mark upon that blackguard, I'm sure of it. There's no telling what may happen if he sets it off."

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Forewarned, Caleban goes to the tied prisoner. For a long while he just looks at him. Then he goes even nearer, his huge tasked, ugly face almost touching the bandits. When he speaks, his voice is low.

"You have the mark of death on your face. Good. So you know I am speaking the truth when I say that you are probably going to die in the next few minutes.

There is only one chance that you will not. Tell me what I want to know and I will let you of, tied, with an axe that you will eventually be able to reach. Eventually.

If you do anything else but agree right now, if you do anything else than nod agreement, you will die. Know that I am a servant of Desna. My curse will follow you to the next life, as surely as the mark on your head will. And your death will not be easy. No. I will cut you and leave you to bleed out, hands... unusable, so that wolves and maggots feast on you while the curse slowly takes you.

Because I live to take out people like you and make examples of them. Your necromancer friend. I want him to know I will becoming for him and pale at the thought of what I will do when I catch him. You, I will make my messenger."

Caleban waits, his face very close to the captives. Waiting for his words to sink in.

" The troll. Were you working with it?

Why attack us? Who stirred you?

Finally. For whom are you fighting?"

Before the bandit has a chance to speak, Caleban seizes his face and squeezes.

"Remember. One chance."

[Bhaakon]

The man grows pail as snow, his mouth flapping open and shut irresolutely as he weighs his options. He licks and lip and swallows, apparently coming to a decision. He blurts out, "The Bird handled the troll. I was sent by Asv..."

The man's eye widen further than you thought possible, the mark on his forehead flares with visible darkness, and he coughs raggedly, retching up a fist-full of black ash. He looks up, pleadingly, and you realize that he's just spit out the burnt remains of his tongue. He tries to scream, but the only thing that comes out of his mouth is smoke. You just manage to step back before he bursts into flames. Within a few seconds there's nothing left of him but a pile of dying embers.

[stack]

Lethos toes the ashes, then shrugs. "Gave us some information and relieves anyone of the burden of disposing of him. Considerate."

He turns to look into the distance. "So we have a shape changer recruiting trolls and a band of raiders under compulsion to attack travelers, apparently searching for something. Is this a mystery we care to unravel? If it is not us they search for, we could simply press on and leave word the next time we come across something resembling an authority. Or we could hunt their leader down and end it, making the roads safer and relieving his corpse of whatever valuables they have already collected. Which may be a considerable horde, given the size of the band and the apparent power of the enchantments in effect."

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban


"I am afraid we will have to do both, neighbor."

Caleban has moved back when the full necromancy took its toll.

"Who do you think they are after? When we opened the artifact, I am pretty sure someone was alerted. A throne of an empire is not something that people take chances with. I believe we are being hunted and we will continue to be so. This was too much opposition to be random.

I say we take the fight to them. If we can find them. And after we go look for the troll hole. I have heard these stinky things have interesting items"

Caleban takes the chance to look for a trail showing from where the raiders came.

"But misdirection could also work. We go to the town, say we were attacked, played innocent, and when the next ambush is set along the road, we backtrack and go for their leader"

Survival [roll0] Perception [roll1]

[Bhaakon]

@Caleban
The only trail the bandits left leads to and from the spot where their boat was grounded.

The troll seems to have nested near the opposite side of the bridge for some days, at least. Such beasts need no fire (indeed, they tend to avoid flames if at all possible), but the spoor and picked-over animal bones suggest only a short-term residence. It's been too long since it arrived here to tell where it originally came from.

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn giggles "You know men, they think their putrid musk is the source of their gender, wipe it clean and they become mortally offended. I have yet to come across a raider smelling of perfume nor I believe I will ever meet such a man. As for your 'adventure' why couldn't be something more on the cuddly side of thing, maybe a unicorn or something equally majestic? " She stopped talking long enough to watch the interrogation commence and grimaced at the man's untimely demise. She takes another pull before pouring out a small measure on the ground then passes it back to Ameiko.

"Now that's one way I definitely not wish to go, it's not hard to guess what they were looking for so I think our best plan of action is to keep moving and not bring more misery to the local populous." She glances to the half orc "I really don't think a trap will work Cael, you're severely underestimating the stakes we're playing at and it goes far beyond a simple leader of raiders. It is best for everyone if we get out of here as swiftly as possible and next time we see that raven we stuff it.

[stack]

"We know what they looked like, perhaps someone will be able to point us in the direction of their home. From there we may be able to work our way up their chain of command. Anyone think they can break the enchantment that stopped him from talking?"

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

"Not I, neighbor. My understanding of the Lady 's mysteries is not strong enough. Maybe the Eccentric Twins can?"

Delivered with a hint of a smile.

[stack]

"Or Koya?"

[Starbin]

Za'an watched Caleban interrogate the man, impassive when the spell had it's inevitable, if gruesome, result. After a few moments, he simply shook his head, wondering if the inquisitor would have still asked the quesiton if he knew what results the answers would bring. At the half-orc's amused inquiry, he shook his head. "While I recognized the necromatic nature of the man's markings, and understood the basic existance of a pact of some sort, I was unaware of the origin, depth or strength of the binding. Perhaps Mistress Koya would know more, but it is not something typically tought within the schools of the Dawnflower. What will be particularly interesting, however, is to determine if there exists an entire village of bonded men such as these, or if they only take their oaths upon departure. Perhaps we cannot break the bond, we can devise a way to track the magic of the oath.

Of course, it seems to me there are only so many places a group of raiders on a boat can go ..." He glanced meaningfully at the river in the direction the Ulfen departed.

[Bhaakon]

Koya shakes her head at Lethos and Za'an. "I've heard of a similar spell, the so called 'mark of justice'--which I have rarely heard of being used in the cause of justice. That spell isn't nearly so dangerous. Crippling, yes, but not mortal. This magic is far darker and, perhaps, more powerful."

She shakes her head. "There is a spell to break curses which can erase a mark of justice, and might even work on this foul enchantment, but Desna has not seen fit to grant me access to it."

In plain English: Remove Curse could do it, but Koya can't cast 3rd level spells

[stack]

Lethos scowls at the horizon. "Then we shall just have to go to the source. Perhaps they have a camp up the river, though I have little hope of it. We would b unable to take the wagons so far off the road easily and I would neither leave them undefended for wish to split our force again so soon."

[stack]

"Ameiko, Sandru, thoughts?"

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban has lit one his cigars as he ponders the questions.

"We cannot split the caravan again. I say we move to the town and then some of us backtrack to the bandit camp. As I see it neighbors, there are two possibilities. Either we were expected, in which case we can expect another ambush in the town or elsewhere, or this was chance. If it was my Mistress' will, then we can come back and track them.

But I am pretty sure this was no accident."

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn is overwhelmed by the demonstration of stupidity "Cael, I am sorry but you should just stop speaking, you spoke a single sentence and managed to contradict yourself in the same breath 'We cannot split the Caravan again; some of us should backtrack' THAT IS THE DEFINITION OF SPLITTING UP. Now let us evaluate the remainder of your suggestion: Go to bandit camp; let's see we don't know if the location or if they even have a central meeting place so that in itself is just a silly notion. Going to town: You said it yourself that we will probably face another ambush why in the seven hells would we risk going to a town and putting the lives of innocents at risk? Tracking is all well and good but we do not have time for that, THIS WAS A SET UP, that raven is not what it seems and choreographed the entire ambush. The fact that it got away means it will happen again so there is no sense wandering aimlessly in the wilderness for an enemy that will be coming back to you. I still think our best course of action is to travel through this land as swiftly as possible, while avoiding settlements. That way no one else is at risk and we all are in one place where we can protect against another ambush."

[Starbin]

Za'an sighed, amazed at the short fuse his sister possessed - he used to think she just wanted to start a fight with him all the time, but apparently it was anyone. "Perhaps what Caleban was suggesting was not to split the caravan while we are on the road. For all intensive purposes, we are no longer a caravan once we've settled into town.

That being said, my silver-tongued sister does make a valid point - why dance to the tune this raven is piping, when we don't know all the steps? Getting to town will probably allow us to ask around about the bandit camp ... it would seem these Ulfen will have a bigger part to play later, since I cannot imagine someone taking the time to blood-bind an entire warband if they weren't to be used for a more important role.

Either way, we should probably start moving quickly, least the raven (or it's owner), direct more obstacles our way ..."

[Bhaakon]

At this point Sandru pipes in. "I second the notion of hurrying foward. As much as I hate being ambushed by bandits--or whatever those blackguards were--we can handle them. I'm more worried about getting stuck in the first storm of the winter and trapped in the open with no shelter for ourselves and the horses. We've ample food and fodder for the trip to Kalsgard, but we'll have bigger problems than unwashed ruffians if we're stuck in snow up to our flies for a week."

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban


"Perhaps you should start hearing better, neighbor. Your brother has the right of it. I said we should not split the party on the road and that we should go to town and THEN backtrack.

But what Sandru says sounds correct. The snow would be even worse. So either we move onwards now or just go on a short scouting trip and move tomorrow."

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn huffs and gives a snooty look "You are a fool to think that the caravan wouldn't be ambushed in town, they are not after just any goods but a very specific trinket. This was a planned strike after a specific item, if it was smash and grab the bandits would have had people grabbing random items and running away. Scouting backwards is counter intuitive, if you want to wander aimlessly then save us the trouble and go by yourself. With no information to go on you will only waste time. No I think the men of the caravan could use a drink from my personal stores, what do you think Sandru? I could make up some mulled wine to take an edge off of the chill, it would be slightly watered down to prevent inebriation but I still think everyone could use a bit to wind down after tonight's fiasco."

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

... snorts.

"You really have to start listening. You just said, again, what I have said twice now.

But I will forgive you in Desna 's name, if you give me a sip"

Caleban gestures magnanimously.

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn puts a hand on her head, visibly in pain "Why on earth do we let you do the speaking? Here let me break it down for you in smaller sentences:
You wish to scout for a bandit camp we have no knowledge of; I say doing so is a waste of time PERIOD. They obviously want something we have thus they will come to us.

YOU wish to go to town; I say we don't waste time and hurry through.

I think our statements are polar opposites and if you cannot comprehend that then you are thicker in the head than I thought you were. As for a drink, stand in line with the rest of the caravan."

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

"We just heard Shandru saying that we can 't even stay here for fear of ice.

And you want us to move through the town to ...somewhere? After taking three tries to understand what I have been saying?

Really. Start listening. Stop talking. And keep your damned drink. Your brother is starting to look the clever one.

I will be waiting over here. I have said my piece. I will leave your thin head in piece."

Caleban moves disgustedly away, growling in low voice. He sits by the caravan, lights his cigar again and starts looking at the stars.

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn smirks pleasantly and trails after the orc, giggling softly "My, your buttons are just too easy to push Caely-poo, I would have thought you would have kept a cooler head. I heard what you said I was just seeing how long you would crack, sadly its the only way I can establish boundaries during conversations. Give me one of those and you can have some of this." She nods her head towards his cigar and pulls out a small bottle of iridescent green fluid "Yes I know, I know I am a crazy dame but let's see you be raised by a village full of uptight, ultra conservative elves. Just testing your limit since you are by far the most sane one in the group... my brother is too quick to anger and the other elf is rather disturbed if I do say so." She pulls out the cork and quickly takes a drink, her eyes watering from the vapors before passing the bottle over "Don't let it hit your tongue or it will knock you on your rear."

[stack]

Lethos turns back to the discussion. "The weather leaves us no choice. We must press on and deal with whatever comes. If we were not encumbered by the wagon train I would say to travel at night, but that will not be an option. Let us be on."

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban stops muttering in mid-growl and actually reddens a bit, as he realizes he has been had. Without a word, he smacks his forehead hard enough to leave a dent in breastplate and then, still silent and shaking his head, he gives the elf a cigar. When Lethos stirs the conversation, Caleban, warmed up by the booze and by his cigar, nods.

"Let 's get on then".

[Bhaakon]

You manage another hour or so before darkness sets in and forces a halt. It's not the most comfortable night, but you're far enough from the river that no one can sneak up by that route. Double watches are set, just in case, but the precaution proves unnecessary. The bandits don't return.

You wake to find a thin layer of ice on the watering trough left out for the horses, a reminder of how cold autumn nights can get this far north. At least, Sandru notes, the skies remain blessedly clear of storm clouds.

The day is spent pushing hard, following the caravan route as it cuts across the eastern limb of Grugnir forest. The wooded realm is a famous haunt of gnomes, fey, linnorms, and just about any other race or beast the northerners consider tricky or dangerous (often one in the same, as the Ulfen hold magic and subterfuge to be far more sinister and dangerous than simple strength). The trail cleaves close to the river, though, and Grugnir seems like most any other forest from the trail. You even pass a few trapping and logging camps along the way, some already battered down and abandoned for the winter.

Shortly after sundown you roll into Losthome, a rowdy logging town growing off a wide spot in the river like a tumor. A few abortive attempts at a stockade have been made over the years, but the town appears to have spilled over its borders before any of them got more than halfway. The result is a tangle of half-finished walls, twisting streets, and malformed buildings fit in wherever there was space.

The river is thick with logs, all bound up in huge rafts and waiting to be floated downstream to the lumber yards in Karlsgard. Only a narrow channel near the docks remains clear, allowing the town's meager fishing fleet and small-time river traders to pass through or tie off. There are only a handful of boats on the water, and you quickly ascertain that the bandit's knarr isn't one of them.

[stack]

Lethos regards the town impassively. "Possible the bird could have minions here, but it seems like more trouble than attacking in the wild. Pays to be cautious in either case. Shelter for the night will be welcome enough, though I have no intent to linger to see the sunrise.."

[Starbin]

Za'an sighed as they approached the 'city' of Losthome. He glanced up and down the river, wondering if the bandits had gotten word up here. At Lethos' comments, he shook his head. "Perhaps. Of course, if the bandits spread rumors of us being tricksters of the woods, some fey-blooded boogeymen who are hear to steal their souls, then perhaps our welcome will be more ... problematic.

Regardless, we will find out little from here ... but might I suggest an advanced 'scout' if you will? Someone to check and see if anyone is expecting us?" He gazed steadily at Lethos, knowing the slight elf was probably the best bet to check things out ...

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn gives an impish grin "If we had more time dear brother, I have the perfect prank in my but alas we have more important concerns to attend to like staying alive. One day if we come back here I will get you drunk and doll you up to be some fey succubus, I recall you loved putting on a dress as a child. Oh wait you still do, no wonder you took up the cloth!"

[stack]

"I can scout ahead if you like. Two may be better, should there be trouble." He nods to Caleban.

[Bhaakon]

Lethos and Caleban ride ahead to check things out, They find that the lack of a circuit wall means that there's clear town border or entry points. The buildings along the road simply become more numerous and less slapdash as you approach the town center. There's a clear spot on the outskirts were caravans might park, but it's unoccupied and unguarded.

The town watch, such as it is, seems to be busy breaking up bar brawls and rousing sleeping drunks along the waterfront, where the town's alehouses are concentrated. So you're not greeted by a nosy guardsman, but an angry merchant.

"By the grace of Gorum, the caravan from Jol is here at last to deliver by eight score axe heads. Just in time for the close of the logging season." He bellows sarcastically. "So tell me, when can I expect to take delivery of my collection of paperweights? No, please, take your time and think. They're already three weeks late, what's another day or four?"

Of course you have no idea what he's talking about. There are no axe heads on Sandru's manifest.

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban regards the angry merchant with a level stare.

"I think you have us confused for someone else, neighbor. We do not trade in axe heads. But perhaps the destroyed caravan we saw as we came in, the one who had got brutally butchered, did.

Is there someone we could notify on these news?"

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn gives a vexing look at the merchant before hopping off the wagon and snatching the manifest from Sandru, giving him a wink and blowing him a kiss to make up for his confusion. Walking towards the merchant she pretends to read through the manifest, steadily getting closer to the obstinate man. "Nope, nope, nope, nope...oooo we have silk very nice, nope, nope... ah here we are." She looks up and smiles brightly at the merchant "It seems we do have an item for you, listed under dumb@ss men who should learn to be more polite to guests who have just finished slaughtering bandits and trolls. Here is your item, delivered." Her face goes stony as she raises her hand from the page showcasing her middle finger raised to the merchant.

[Bhaakon]

"You'd best put a muzzle on your wench, half-orc." He draws a thick-bladed bush knife from a scabbard on his belt and flashes his bank of crooked, mustard-yellow teeth at Jayn. "The longer she offers that digit, the more tempted I am to take it from her."

[Starbin]

Za'an sighed audibly, shaking his head as he stepped forward. "As much as I like seeing my sister put in her place, you are not among the people I wish to see try. Nor is your suggested method of quieting my dear sibling endearing you to any of us. Let me say this ... we are not your caravan. Presuming your caravan was victimized by a group of bandits, then we can at least assure you they have been avenged. If you simply required axe heads, we might have an item or two that may recoup some of your losses.

That all being said, I suggest you put away your knife and act like a civilized business man. Unless you prefer we ALL draw weapons and behave like thugs ..."

[Bhaakon]

The merchant, flushed with rage everywhere except the white knuckles clinched on his blade seems ready to charge, but Za'an's quick words--and perhaps a glance at the ballista loaded on the first wagon of the caravan--give him just enough pause to regain his sense.

He slips his knife back into his belt with a growl, then turns and stomps off, muttering to himself. "Thrice-damned half-elf going to get what's coming to her some day. I'll be waiting to laugh at her funeral, and collect my finger..."

[stack]

Lethos stands ready throughout the altercation, having nearly drawn just from the surprise of hearing the witch's grating voice. So you have us scout by bringing the entire caravan in before we have spoken to anyone? And she is quick to call others foolish. The moment passed, he shoot her a glance, "Your charms are as potent as ever. Try not to get us driven from the town before we are ready to leave."

"Sandru, You will want to arrange our disposition for the night I presume? Some of us should stay with you as you do. We would not want any harm to befall you. Or distraction." His gaze drifts significantly to the dimly lit drinking holes.

[Bhaakon]

"Let me just get the wagons off the road, then. It doesn't look like this is the type of town that bothers with fees and formalities." Sandru replies to Lethos, and turns his team off the main road and towards the clearing on the edge of town. It doesn't take long for your practiced crew to circle the caravan and un-hitch the horses. One those more difficult chores are finished, you're free to canvas the town as you see fit.

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn regards Lethos cooly with a hint of a smile "I know isn't it? At least I was successful from diverting his attention from the caravan to myself, I can protect myself much easier than the entire caravan. I do believe I shall look around this darling little stink hole, anyone wish to escort a lady?"

[Starbin]

Za'an watched the man leave, now holding a grudge against his sister. He turned to the others, listening to their conversation. At Jayn's question, he responded straight faced, "I am certain someone will. But what about someone to keep an eye on you?"

He wasn't really much for tavern crawling, so he turned to accompany the caravan. He would make sure it got settled first, before considering whether he should venture into the town or not. While drinking and dancing in ill-reputable establishments was not his particular brand of fun, it could provide interesting information.

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban opens his mouth as if to say something, closes it and chuckles.

'I will be having a small drink and a smoke in something that has a roof for certain. Plus, I want a bath. And if anyone wants to make my life hard, I will make it even harder on him. I have a lot of unspent frustration.

Let me make sure that medrana is alright and I will be going. Will we sell anything here? Will we look around for what just happened?'

Caleban indeed looks that Koya is alright before going for a bath, some food and a smoke.

[Bhaakon]

Once you're sure that the caravan is settled and secure--Koya especially--you head off for the cluster of taverns lining the Losthome waterfront. All offer drinks, and most a roof, but only one offers the luxury accommodation of a warm bath. It happens to be in the finest suite of the oddly named "Lumbering Troll," a large tavern that happens to be one of the few places in town with private rooms for rent.

You enter the common room, sliding past a statue of a troll flossing its tusks with a two-man bucking saw, to find it crowded with folk a cut above the common loggers and trappers, but that's not saying much. Whoever is raking in the the profits off the activities in Losthome probably has an impressive title and a mansion in Karlsgard, and hasn't left much for for local merchants and tradesmen to pick over. You quickly find a table, fill it with food and drink, and arrange for Caleban's soak with what amounts to pocket change after cashing out the loot from Brinewall Castle.

It's obvious that you have money to spend, and it doesn't take long for word to spread that you came in with Sandru's caravan. Before you know it, there's a merchant sidling up to the table to pump you for information.

"Ah, newcomers to our fine town. The name is Thovald, and I heard about that unfortunate incident on your way in. I do hope Tomen didn't put you off trading in Losthome. I understand that he's turned from mead to more heady liquors since that smith in Jol defaulted on his order. Most unfortunate." The man shakes his head with an exaggerated motion that sets his entire outfit in motion, a monstrous assembly of furs from just about every animal native to the north, from the coarse alabaster cloak fashioned from a complete winter wolf pelt down to delicate sable-trimmed gloves. It's a dual monument to the local fur trade and bad taste.

"But then Tomen has always been one to focus in the past, while I've found that a good trader always keeps his eye on future opportunities. In that spirit, may I be so bold as to inquire after your cargo and destination? Oh please don't look at me like some skulking spy. Losthome isn't a large enough place for you to outrun gossip."

[Starbin]

Za'an watched the others head into 'town,' finding little reason to follow them just yet. He glanced at Shelalu, nodding towards the departing group. "Rana, feel free to accompany them, if you wish to wander the night. I will stay with the caravan tonight and look to their safety. Perhaps later I will journey forth, but for now, I am not sure I wish to see my sister get drunk again."

Once alone, he took a few moments to see to his gear. Then, once he was alone, he ...

... proceeded to polish his statue. That's right, he polished his statue. He would also open his book and sketch a few drawings, for future research ... as well as taking prolific notes on the artistic stylings and methods used to create the thing.

EDIT: PS - if you'd rather Za'an follow the group, he can always catch up later. I figure he would want to protect the caravan and get away from his sister for a few moments :smallbiggrin:

[stack]

Lethos declines any drink but joins the company regardless. He watches the room for sign of enchantment, just in case. At the inquiries regarding trade opportunities, he merely nods toward Sandru. Talk and trade. Boredom may be our greatest adversary this evening.detect magic periodically

I'm not bored, just Lethos. He's so chatty.

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn offers a winning smile "Not to worry about the slight misunderstanding, I have dealt with much worse than him. Now you may be so bold to buy a lady a drink but in regards to your previous question I am afraid that would be for our caravan leader to disclose, not us. We are merely the hired help and it bad manners to discuss such things to complete strangers."

[Bhaakon]

"Come now, young lady. Your employer wouldn't mind some help moving his wares, I'm sure of it. Communication is the key to any profitable relationship." Thorvald responds, the big, fake grin plastered on his face never fading for a moment. "Yours is the first caravan through in some weeks, likely to be the last of the season, and only the desperate or the mad would chance the river while they're readying the log raft for Karlsgard--you never know when one will get loose and puncture a hull."

He leans in close, his gold-tinted smile widening. "There's a great deal of money to be made by your employer and anyone he deals with--maybe I can cut you in on a share of the profits if you help get my foot in the door."

[Morbis Meh]

Jayns smile fades and her face becomes neutral "If there's such a great profit to be made then why lower your cut by introducing a middle man? If your idea is so lucrative why not go directly to my employer, surely any wise business person would love to hear it. As for myself, wealth has never been a desire of mine, I travel for the sake of travel. There is no greater pleasure to me than seeing the sights and sounds of our vast and diverse world. So I shall say this only one more time: If you have a business proposition that you feel is worthy of note, take it to my employer for my companions and I care not for material wealth. Well except my elven friend in the corner, he is the staunchest of business men after all, see how he shrewdly he has been listening in on our conversation?"

[stack]

Lethos arches an eyebrow, but says nothing.

[Bhaakon]

Thorvald shoots a sidelong glances at the shady elf and his suspiciously non-alcohol drink. His smile dampens a little as he adjusts his sights, zeroing in on Lethos. "Well, sir, if you're waiting for the right time to push your chips onto the table, there no need to wat any longer. There will be many traders looking to ship goods on your employer's caravan, and I've found that person references are key to getting one's name pushed to the front of the line. With winter fast approaching, my furs will sell at a higher price in any northern city that isn't bordering on Grungir forest. It would be a shame for both of us to miss out on an opportunity."

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban leaves his cigar down and eyes the merchant speculatively. This was usual Shandru 's expertise, but Desna was the Goddess of Change and Travel. Some spontaneity was called for.

Desna, help me in my Travel. Give me the light of your darkness.

"I see that you are a man of the world, Master Thorvald. I think we will see eye to eye. We have a shipment of fine glass, which can be delivered without damage right now. We also have a quantity of military material, which includes axes. Maybe we can come to an agreement? We would not mind paying a ... facilitator 's fee for the help.

And as a man of the world to another, perhaps you can help us with our inquiries? We really want to identify a large body of men we came across earlier. As well as a troll guiding, of all things, a bridge"

Casting Guidance and then taking 10 for a Diplomacy of 20.

[stack]

Lethos breathes an inward sigh of relief as Caleban steps in to pry something useful from the merchant. Best to stay silent and let him try to impress me, since the wretched witch set me up for it. Sometimes I despise her. Other times I just want to kill her. He inclines his head to the half-orc, indicating the priority of his questions.

[Bhaakon]

Thorvald turns to the Half-Orc, but keeps an eye on Lethos. With the taciturn elf clearly pulling the strings here, it wouldn't be wise to ignore him and miss whatever subtle signals he's using to make his puppets dance.

"Hrmm. Not much call for glass in Losthome--whether it's panes or tableware. You have to be rich to afford to heating a house with windows this far north, and crystal goblets are a luxury just about anywhere. You must have seen enough of the town to reckon that the people who have the coin for such things wouldn't live here. But I've interest in the fighting gear. There's always call for sharpened steel so close to the Irriseni frontier. And if that opens space for your boss to take my furs wherever you're planning to sell the glass, more the better."

He leans in close, and lowers his voice. "That should be worth telling you what rumors I've heard, and I hear many, but I've never heard anything as ridiculous as a troll guarding a bridge. I might be able to help you with the men, but you'll need to tell me more. Many groups of men pass through this town: loggers heading in to the forest, Blackraven patrols, even caravans like yours--though none of those lately.

Last Fall there was even some young blueblood from Cheliax who wanted to try his luck against Fafnheir. Never saw him again, or his hundred guards. Of course, no one had the heart to tell the fool that he had to defeat the monster in single combat to claim the high crown."

DC 12 Know (local) or (History)
The Blackravens are a band of rangers* tasked with guarding the border with Irrisen. In theory they only protect the kingdom of Hagreach, but in practice they patrol the entire border, and draw their membership from across the north.

*"Rangers" as in they range along the frontier, not the class.

Fafnheir is a legendary linnorm who lives in the heart of Grungir forest. Besting an adult linnorm in single combat would earn an adventurer a claim to the crown of a Linnorm Kingdom, but killing Fafnheir would give them the right to rule over all the kingdoms. As Thorvald points out, bringing an army to subdue the beast first would render the accomplishment void.

[stack]

If such a ruse is sufficient to fool him I wonder how he remains in business? taking 10 for 14 We are not in the business of seeking crowns or wyrms. "Ship-borne raiders? We have encountered such."

[Bhaakon]

"You mean the Asvig Longthews's men?" Thorvald looks a bit incredulous. "Came up the river about a month back, said they were here to help patrol the border. There were two score of them at least, but I hear there weren't enough of them left to properly man the oars when they passed through town this morning."

"You aren't sayin' that you had a run in with those boys, are you?"

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

"We had a run with a group for sure, Master Thorvald. One that went badly for the other side. What could you tell us about the Longthew crew? Have you noticed perhaps a mark on them? Or having a spellcaster, perhaps a druid, in their midst?"

[Bhaakon]

"I neither saw nor heard of a spellcaster in their midst. Just a company of Ulfen veterans well equipped for battle, and their boat was loaded with enough provisions to last through the winter."

"It's not unusual for wealthy and noble men from across the north to send troops to the border, though few send so many. Even Kings rarely send more than a token handful, and Longthews is naught but a ring-giver. He must be wealthy indeed to raise such a force, and to deck them out with those thick golden armbands. I'd hoped to separate a few from their torcs, but no reasonable amount of drink and coin would do the job."

DC 12 Knowledge Local or Nobility
"Ring-giver" is a title that can be applied to anyone capable of supporting a standing force of troops and awarding them honors (symbolically in the form of rings, torcs, and similar ornaments). In theory, it applies to everyone from a simple manorial lord on up to a king. In practice, the only ones addressed as "ring-giver" are those who lack a more impressive title.

In vague terms, it's equivalent to the kind of petty nobility that the Kaijitsus, Scarnettis, and Deverins enjoyed in Sandpoint

[stack]

Lethos seeks Caleban's gaze. So, we have our lead.

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn falls silent in her smugness, watching the uptight Lethos being badgered by the skeezy trader. It was slightly disappointing to watch Caelban take over but when the man was still wary of the elf as he spoke, the half elf knew she had succeeded in her venture.

[stack]

"If one where so inclined, where would this Longthews be found?" Lethos draws a platinum piece from his pouch and rolls it between his fingers.

[Bhaakon]

The man's eyes glint at the sight of the platinum piece, but he remains quite calm. You get the feeling that he's not particularly impressed by single platinum piece, but his mercantile nature isn't going to let him pass up the chance at even a small profit.

"I believe he has a freehold somewhere around Kalsgard. You'll have to ask around there if you want something more specific." He replies, discretely extending his palm for the coin.

[stack]

Lethos nods, looking to the others for sign of objection before flipping the merchant the coin. "Shandru, can you help our new friend with the mercantile arrangements?"

[stack]

Lethos excuses himself to find Sandru and introduce him to the merchant.

[Bhaakon]

Lethos departs to fetch Sandru, and soon after the innkeeper informs Calaban that his bath has been drawn. Thorvald then excuses himself to attend to business with other patrons, leaving Jayn alone at the table. Eventually Lethos returns with Sandru to hammer out terms with the fur merchant, but the mood is gone (and Sandru, accomplished lush though he is, isn't one to overindulge while business is being discussed). Any further inquiries come up empty.

Early the next morning the caravan is organized and ready to depart. The weapons salvaged from the bandits are gone, replaced by tightly bound furs and locally crafted furniture destined for Kalsgard. Sandru distributes your share from the sale of the axes and armor, with and extra double-fistful of coin thrown on top by Thorvald.

Loot
300 GP each

note: I listed 36 sets of equipment in the loot, but I'm only paying you for the ones that you killed yourself. The rest went to the other caravan members. The total was actually 271 each, but I just used Thorvald's 'bonus' to round it up to 300. I didn't sell the gold torcs.

if there nothing else you want to do in town, I'll post the next leg of your journey tomorrow.

[stack]

Lethos sits back down, brooding. "Do we agree that we ought to pursue our assailants rather than continuing and waiting to be attacked again? I suppose we must take the caravan with us, it would not due to leave it exposed."

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

"I say we should. We need information on who is behind this. But I say we leave the caravan here. In a town, a frontal assault on a caravan would be punished by the other merchants. Plus, Shandru and Medrana can take care of themselves.

My vote goes for us six taking horses and going to search for this party. Then, we take out its leaders."

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn sighs heavily as the men chatter on about 'hunting down the enemy' she was really beginning to wonder how men were able to survive puberty with this mind set. She looks at the two and calmly begins to speak "I know you two really want to go out forth and lay waste to the enemy but before you make up your minds, I pray that you listen to reason then make a decision.

Cael you wish to leave the caravan unattended here within the town while we set out to find this Longthews. Indeed it would allow for us to move more freely and possibly allow us to strike them without them knowing our presence; however, we are still leaving the caravan unattended. If you wish to stake the lives of our companions on these people then you are a braver person than I. Have you considered that these people might just strike a bargain with Longthews and aid in the assault? We are carrying a lot of cargo which they could in turn sell for a hefty profit. They may even notify our enemy of our departure if he has already has a paid snoop within this settlement.

Lethos, you still wish to seek out this ring giver but with the caravan, yes we will be there to protect it but it will severely impede our progress as well as reveal our presence early. By doing so they would be able to lay an ambush in an environment that they are more familiar with than us. I am not doubting that we can overcome such an ordeal but the price may be higher than we are able to cope with.

Both options will delay our trek which may result in us being caught here for winter which is a danger in itself.

Now we can all agree that our caravan will more than likely be attacked again, correct? Then why not simply continue on and prepare for an ambush of our own? We can have someone scout ahead to ensure that we ourselves are not falling into a trap and if we are assaulted on the road again at least we can do it by our own terms instead of theirs."

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban draws a long. smoke filled breath as he considers Jayn 's words. He nods thoughtfully.

"These are all good points, neighbor. So, there is a decision to be made. Do we risk leaving the caravan and go after them, using the element of surprise, or do we hole up, waiting for the next ambush.

It will be hard work tracing natives all over the area. Tactically, we should be moving on. I fear though that who ever is behind these attacks will not be there in the next ambush. we will continue to confront puppets, without seeing our true foe.

But, it is a tough call."

[stack]

Lethos fumes, "Ambush, ambush, or have the caravan sacked while we aren't looking? We know too little to make a choice and winter is bearing down. Why did we bother ourselves with this baggage? Surely we found enough gold to buy passage on a ship rather than risk this frozen, barbarian filled waste?"

[Bhaakon]

"I think we can handle ourselves, thanks." Ameiko cuts in, a bit peeved at being lumped in with the cargo to be guarded. "We're the ones who fought off the lion's share of those bandits, if you recall, and Sandru can always hire some more hands before we leave town. Looks like there are plenty of arms for hire with the logging season closing down."


"Besides, how do you plan to catch them? Unlike you and your horses, the river doesn't have to sleep. If they're scared enough to be desperate--and they're plenty scared, judging by the browned britches they flashed when turning tail--they'll keep riding the current through the night. They already rowed through the night to reach this town ahead of us."

Knarrs (mechanically a keelboat) going downstream can travel up to 82 miles a day. Horses can only cover 40. You can push your horses using the forced march rules, but they take 1d6 lethal damage for every hour of travel beyond 8 in a day (which means you'll have to get lucky on the damage rolls to avoid killing your mounts with a single 82 mile forced march). It's about 220 miles to Karlsgard (200 as the crow flies, plus a little more because the river and the road following it aren't straight)

Personally, I have no problem with you catching them, but you'll need a plan to do it.

[stack]

"From what we have heard of the state of the river, it seems unlikely we could charter a river boat to follow. Catching up with them may not be an option, though following them could be...I like neither leaving them nor risking the winter."

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn smiles smugly and looks at Ameiko "Oh sweety, I am so glad to have you back around, it's been two long being around men hopped up on testosterone. I am truly grateful to be around someone who thinks with their larger head. Now I think it best we all get some much needed rest, we still have a long journey ahead and with winter steadily approaching it would be in our best interest not to dally."

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban


Caleban rolls his eyes again. Some people just want to see a conversation burn. As he talks, he gestures with his cigar.

"So if I understand correctly- I am no seaman- if we charter a boat, we save time in our journey and we have a chance of overtaking them?

Why are we not doing it that, then?"

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn closes her eyes and sighs softly "Cael, sweety, first of all this isn't a sea it is a river, there will not be enough boats to take the entirety of the caravan across and the river is probably not wide enough to hold the amount of ships it would take to haul everything. Also on the river we will be sitting ducks, no place to run on a river. We shall continue overland until we reach the sea then we will charter a proper ship or two. I know you wish to keep the roads safe and all but you're just going to have to let the bandits slide this time around."

[Starbin]

As the group spoke, Za'an listened, sighing inwardly as his sister continued to argue for the sake of arguing. It seemed it was not just with family that she enjoyed this pasttime. Of course, he could understand her desire to put Caleban and Lethos in their place ... both could be arrogant beyond all that was holy, and frustrating to boot. However, in this instance, he didn't understand the particulars, since they had apparently learned some things during their evening out.

"Perhaps I am unaware of the specifics you uncovered the evenign before, but what is it about these raiders that we need to hunt them down? I remember the markings, and understand that as such, the runes imply a certain involvement in a larger plot, one that involves the woman would wouldn't be queen. However, equally disturbing was the shape-changer that seemed to institgate the various obstacles in our path. What if the shapechanger was actually the culprit, using northern superstitions to drive these raiders down to attack our group? It may be that the raiders have nothing to do with us, but were a tool, much like the troll, used to slow us down ... or stop us entirely.

Of bigger concern to our esteemed merchants is probably the weather and season ... we should focus on pressing forward and preparing ourselves the best we can for whatever might await us. Surely forewarned is forearmed, yes?"

Having not heard any specifics from the night before Za'an is not entirely sure if there is news that would change his mind ... but for now it seems best they press forward and prepare for attackers on the road. Besides, if Sandru can hire additional guards (perhaps with the gold torcs found earlier), it might even the odds a bit.

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban


Caleban shakes his massive shoulders.

"I only wanted to get to the shapechanger, to be honest. But you are right. If a boat cannot hold us, then we should just continue. We will probably catch up to the b@st@rds behind all these eventually."

[Bhaakon]

With his share of the gold from selling the bandit's gear, as well as trade revenue and pay for transporting good to Karlsgard, Sandru does just as Ameiko suggest, hiring four more hands as well as enough additional draft horses to increase the pace of the caravan noticeably. Combined with the two wagons salvaged from the site of the ambush, your little trading expedition is looking significantly less rag-tag. Now your numbers should be enough to frighten off any lesser threats, though somehow you doubt Asvig Longthews or the raven will be put off.

Sandru drives you northwest at as great a pace as you can manage, both to give your adversaries less of a lead, and to reach your goal before the first snows. The weather holds, and the road proves blissfully free of marauders or monsters. By the second day out of Losthome--away from both the Irriseni border and fey-haunted forest of Grungir--the countryside takes on aspects that might even be called civilized. Small farms appear with increasing regularity, and you even spot a few unfortified villages as you near Kalsgard.

The city walls appears around noon on the fifth day, bulwarks of black stone looping between the southern bank of the Rimeflow river and a central fortress that squats in the center of Kalsgard like great pig of iron placed there to keep the city from blowing away. The walls divide up the city into eight districts, each large enough to swallow up the entire population of Magnimar.

By early evening you pass through one of the half-dozen gates in the 40-foot outer walls. It's all Sandru can to do hold his tongue when the guard captain on duty orders the caravan into the Bone Quarter, "With the rest o' the Sczarni drifters." But the man orders an escort when he sees Sandru's clinched jaw and twitching snarl of a grin. They march you through the more populated quarters into a part of the city that's somewhere between a cesspit and a slum.

Much of the quarter is open space, convenient for housing caravans, as well as most of the city's most odoriferous enterprises. Stock yards, stables, butchers, and tanneries are the primary industries, raising a hearty stink that seems to get trapped between the high walls. Only the poorest residents of Karlsgard actually make their home here: travelers and former captives from the southern lands who are now trapped in the north without the coin to make their way home (immigrants from Xian Tia have their own quarter), refugees from the endless skirmishes with the White Witches, and locals who, due to misfortune, disability, or disrepute, are unable to find work.

Your escort of guardsmen leads you to a large plot of packed dirt near the outer wall. There's room here for a dozen caravans as big as yours, but there are only two. The other open spaces you pass are even less crowded. You suppose that nearly eight hundred wagons could be comfortably parked in the Bone Quarter, perhaps a thousand with some squeezing. At present, you count only eighty.

"You can leave the quarter, but your wagons stay here until you're ready to leave the city. If you want to move something bigger than you can carry, you'll need to hire a cart at the Teamsters' Guild." The leader of your escort explains. "And if we catch any of you running one of your Sczarni cons, we'll confiscate all your goods. Understand?"

[stack]

"Even without the wagons we were just told that no one would chance the river due to the dangers of the log raft."
_________________________________

"Sandru, your reputation precedes you. Has this guard met your friends or is he just sharp judge of character?" going for the rivalry, been awhile, if needed: intimidate [roll0]

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban make sure that Medrana is well and comfortable. He ignores the guard - they are the same everywhere- and gives a pointed look to any other that would try to retort. They should now better. They will be staying here and angry guards would not make that easy.

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn smiles wickedly at the guard before raising her right hand up "Paladin's honor sir! Now, maybe you would be interested in sharing a drink with a lady such as myself? If such a thought appeals to you which establishment would I be able to call upon you? The odd thing about his comment was that she probably looked the most like a Sczarni out of the entire group but her appearance would not stop men from thinking of more carnal thoughts if she pressed them. She certainly wouldn't bed any of them but making them a little more friendly wouldn't hurt nor would picking up stray bits of gossip.

[Bhaakon]

The leader of you escort looks Jayn up and down with the kind of detached appraisal usually reserved for livestock. He pays particular attention to her ears and eyes--the most obvious signs of her non-human parentage--and seems to weigh something for a moment in his head before breaking out in a smirk that shows most of his teeth are passably straight and free of rot. He's far from the ugliest man Jayn as seen in her brief stay in the north, particularly if she goes for the type who measures his masculinity by the splendor of his beard (a group which includes just about every Ulfen male she's encountered so far, and a few of the women).

"I may swing by the Whistling Fox after sundown. Best drink in the city, for my silver, and I'm told the rooms are fine, too. It's in the Fire Quarter, if you've an interest."

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn gives a mischievous smile and an obvious wink "Sounds like a fantastic proposition good sir, I happen to be the procurer of fine spirits as well, shall I bring some of my wares for us to sample together?" She knew she was not going to hear the end of it from her brother but realistically making a friend among the guard in cramped quarters has a great many perks. Not getting robbed or access to information was always valued and men always had loose lips after spirits and a few seductive whispers.

[stack]

Sandru failingto rise to his jobe, Lethos continues with the caravan until they are situated, then turns to Caleban and Ameiko. "Perhaps we ought to do some listening of our own? This quarter seems suitably disreputable for you two to be able to put your ears to work at the local dive."

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

"Right you are. A bath and a drink with my cigar is where I would start. I would like to know if the locals have anything rallying them up."

Putting the ears into the ground, so to speak. Diplomacy? If yes

[roll0] also say that Caleban spends 5 gp in drinks to get men talking.

[Bhaakon]

Ameiko nods to Lethos andCaleban. "It would be a good idea of get the lay of the land, and that's hard to do if we're all tied to the wagons like draft horses. Small groups would be good, I think. Enough to watch one anothers' backs, but not enough to raise suspicions. It wouldn't be a good idea to wander this city alone at night, even whether or not there's someone after us."

"And I can't deny that a bath sounds nice"

"Aye, sounds like a plan." Sandru agrees. "Once you've helped settle the caravan. You can't leave me an Koya here to unhitch the horses."

Ameiko groans in half-hearted protest, but eventually moves to help. It wouldn't be fair to say that she's lazy, but traveling with a caravan has been a lot more like managing a rolling stable than the swashbuckling adventure stories she told on slow nights in the Dragon. There was nothing romantic about currying horses or ladling out the nightly stew into stale trenchers.

An hour later the chores are mostly finishes, and the sun is dipping down below the city walls, and you set out. Ameiko leads the way to one of the few ale houses in the Bones Quarter that isn't uncomfortably close to a slaughter house or tannery, while Jayn makes her way to the Whistling Fox with a few choice bottles from her collection of wares.

@Lethos, Calaban
The place doesn't smell as bad as most of the rest of the quarter, which is the nicest thing that can be said about it. But the crowd is affable enough, and more than receptive to the offer of a round on cigar-smoking half-orc. The barkeep is especially friendly, what with Caleban throwing coin around.

"Well, well, more travelers in our fair quarter, is it? Bit late in the season, though. You lot will have to beat it south soon if you don't to winter up here. I've rooms to let, if you need them, and a fine rate for winter borders. Food and firewood will be a bit more dear, but I think I can make arrangements for a small commission."

"But I'm getting ahead of myself, eh? Let me top off that horn for you." His smile is jolly as he replaces the ale in Caleban's drinking horn, but he can't keep his eyes from slipping down to half orc's belt, sizing up the fat pouch of gold and silver that hangs there like overripe fruit.

Gather information needs a specific topic or individual of interest. Just go ahead and ask the barkeeper and he'll provide the answers.

@Jayn
The whistling fox turns out to be a high-ceilinged longhouse of old Ulfen construction, a single room half a hundred paces long and one great fire pit that stretches nearly that entire length. Posts and beams bigger around than the span of your arms stretch up and disappear into the smokey haze above your head, every square inch of wood inscribed with loops, and whorls, and twists, and tangles, and every one terminating in the carved head of some fierce looking creature.

A statuesque Ulfen woman sits at the far end of the coals, plucking a lavishly inlaid dulcimer and singing a lilting ballad in Skald. You're not good enough with the local language to identify the song, but you pick out a few names of long-dead kings and heroes. The guardsman is nearer the door, a half-empty drinking horn in front of him. He straightens as you enter, and waves you over.

"You came then." He half-whispers, so as not to drown out the singing. "Wasn't really expecting that, to be honest. Most southerners keep their own company when there's no gold to had."

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn takes in the sights of the inn, to her this is what living was all about seeing the sights of new lands and experiencing new cultures. The establishment may not be as lavish as some of the other places she has been but it did hold a rustic charm in its own fashion. Smiling at the sight of the guardsman she winds her way delicately through the hustle of the room before sitting next to the Ulfin man.

Grinning at his remark she grabs his drinking horn "Well today is just your lucky day my good man, for I am not a typical southron." She gives a wink before downing the remainder of its contents in a single try. She gives a slight belch before continuing "Hmmm... Mead, not bad but I make better, the secret is in the spices with the proper ratio of honey to water. Have some of this, I have been saving this bottle for a couple of years for the right occasion, careful this will kick back like a draft horse." As covertly as possible she refills the horn with a measure Old Law Whiskey and hands it back over for him to try.

"I am the sort of person who generally prefers to immerse themselves in the culture of the land they visit, I believe its more fun that way and you learn a lot more if one keeps an open mind. I am quite well traveled if I do say so myself." She takes a moment to listen to the ballad "I am also rather fond of languages but I admit with some shame that I am unfamiliar with this one, perhaps you can teach me? I am rather gifted with my tongue." Placing emphasis on her final statement she offers a suggestive grin.

[stack]

Lethos keeps his eyes on the room while Caleban talks, taking note of any that bear enchantments. detect magic until he has swept the room, then again whenever a new group comes in.

[Starbin]

Sighing at the interchange between Jayn and the guard, Za'an kept quiet, lips firmly pressed together. It didn't seem to take long for his erstwhile sister to start flaunting herself ... whether she meant to go through with any of her suggestions was unclear. She obviously wasn't afraid to promise everything even if she delivered nothing. Of course, men of this type were unaccustomed to being led astray in the affairs of the heart, or rather pants, so he decided it was best to follow her, just in case.

A few moments after Jayn entered the drinking establishment, Za'an followed, standing in the door for a moment as he surveyed the room. He noted Jayn making googly eyes at the guard they had met earlier, sharing a drinking horn of something. Finding a seat where he could both watch the door, Jayn and the skald wasn't difficult, but it did take a few moments to work his way over. Finally he sat, waiting patiently to order something ... preferably bread, cheese and wine.

[Bhaakon]

@Lethos
Most of the crowd are workers from the local industries, earning enough to furnish shelter, food, and the occasional night of hard drinking, but little else. It's no surprise that your divination fails to reveal any magic amongst the patrons.

The barkeep is another story. Something tucked into his belt glimmers with the silvery-white of magic. It's tough to tell from a distance, but you suspect it's a wand designed to execute the most simple and versatile of spells: prestidigitation. The aura is so weak that you doubt it has more than a five or six castings left in it.

@Jayn, Za'an
The guard smirks just enough to indicate that he caught the the double entendre before lifting the re-filled horn to his lips. He downs the contents in one go.

"Strong as the mountains, but not so ragged." He finally comments, after taking a moment to let the liquor settle. "And it tastes like smoke, I think. Like drinking banked fire. This is very different from the swill the traders usually bring north."

He sets the empty drinking horn down and smiles more broadly. "Since you're interested in the northern speech, I'll teach to two words right now. Bjorn, which is my name, and akvavit, which is drink I'm about to order you. By the time the night is through, I think you'll have had ample opportunity to practice your talent on both." He signals the nearest server and makes his order. Shereturnsd briskly with an ice-cold jug and two silver tumblers. Bjorn pours out the nearly clear liquor that smells of carraway and raw alcohol.

**********************

A barmaid comes and fills you order, setting down some mead, cheese, and a dark bread that seem popular in the north. You watch as your sister wraps the guard around her little finger without much effort. After all, he's here to eat drink and be a very specific type of merry, and while Jayn isn't much of a cook, she certainly knows how to drink and make merry (or at least make a show of promising merry-making until the other party is passed out drunk).

[Starbin]

Za'an sighed to himself, slowly tearing off small bits of bread and cheese and meticulously chewing them as he sipped sparingly from his mead - best that he not join his sister in the cups ... although, he knew it usually took a fairly strong drink (and quite a few of them) to take her beyond the capacity to function. Instead, he took the time to listen to the ballad beign performed, and gazing periodically around the room to see what types frequented this establishment.

So, [roll0] to identify any of the heroes / kings / stars of the ballad
[roll1] to see anything untoward (casual glances ... not 'outlander staring')
and [roll2] to see if anyone here is plotting something (roll us in the alley, roll Jayn in the hay (DC 0 :smallsmile:), steal my statue ... etc

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban is quite relaxed himself, and is only half faking it. He has his cigar in his hand and his stock of tobacco replaced. His beer is not bad at all and the meal was quite filling. After a certain amount of spreading around his goodwill, he knows he has the eyes and ears of the barman.

"You have that right, neighbor. Us traders need to move around. It is a sad thing that I promised to deliver a letter or something like that to a friend of a friend. Perhaps you can make my job easier. Do you now a chap named Asvig Longthews?"

[stack]

Lethos relaxes slightly, keeping his face away from the bartender to disguise his listening in on the conversation.

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn smirks "Finally a connoisseur of fine spirits, most people can't handle the liquor and complain about the burn, it's really unfortunate. I take pride in my work but liquor crafting is only my hobby, my actual profession is fortune telling..." Jayn leans in close so her face is only inches from the poor guardsman's "So Bjorn, are you interested in seeing what your future holds?" Before she can answer she takes a tumbler downs half of its contents, noting its rather putrid taste, but keeps half in her mouth. Pulling the man's face into hers she begins passionately kissing him whilst depositing the remainder of the alcohol into his mouth. Drawing back from the kiss, Jayn takes the other tumbler and drains it but quickly spits it out; however, it does not come out as a liquid instead a bout of flame erupts from her mouth in a quick jet as she diverts her head away from people and objects. She grins at Bjorn and fills the two tumblers back up.

She casted spark with her free hand and if anything constitutes as flammable it would be aerosolized alcohol :smallbiggrin:

[Bhaakon]

@Lethos, Caleban
"Most everyone in the Bone Quarter knows the Longthews clan, friend, and Asvig's at the head of it all. Made their fortune selling wool and mutton. Half the butchers in Karlsgard sell meat from their herds, and all the tailors sell cloth from it. The family's holdings are a few hours south of the city, all marked off with lion-head posts. I'm certain you could find someone to take your letter there."

He leans in close, and adds with a whisper. "But I must warn you, sir, the Longthews are serious about protecting their flocks, especially this close to winter. They're like as not to take any stranger who wanders into their pastures as a poacher, and string them up for the ravens to feast on. If you're headed there, I'd advise you to stay on the road."


@ Jayn, Za'an
Between the kiss and drink, Bjorn can only grin stupidly in response to Jayn's show and downs another tumbler of akavitt. "I'm blessed with some of the seer's art myself." He explains through a tongue quickly growing fat with drink. "I see a private room, an empty bottle, a meal half eaten..."

***************************************

Zayn, unsurprised by his sister's antics, notes that crowd isn't nearly as pleased as the muzzy-headed guardsman. A good third of the customers flash an icy stare at the vulgar display of magic, and more than a few flash a superstitious sign of aversion. One or two reach for daggers, though, none draw. It occurs to you that witchery has never been popular among the Ulfen, and centuries of war with Irissen hasn't improved their opinion of the arcane arts.

The female skald frowns at a gout of flame, but is too skilled to let it disrupt the culmination of her song--which, judging by the names Za'an recognizes, must be about Saebjorn Arm-Fang, the first Linnorm King, and his ill-fated hunt for the monstrous Fafnheir. Well-trod ground, but the woman is an accomplished singer. She completes the song to scant applause, the attention of the audience having been stolen, and sets her instrument aside. She glides toward Jayn's table at a canter, but with enough grace to avoid looking rushed.

***************************************

"Odd, young Bjorn. All I see is a waste of my third finest stock." Interjects a melodious voice from behind Jayn. The bard, speaking in nearly perfect Taldane. She smiles, but it's a little too tight to ring true. "Though, I must admit, it's a far dearer bottle than the one you bought for the last girl, or the one before that. I hope your guest can appreciate it. I fear it might be a touch overwhelming for southern tastes."

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban barely remembers not to show any surprise as he hears the news. Isn't that interesting.

"So much for the letter then. I will find someone and give him a silver to deliver it. One job less. Now, if I could locate Fynn Snaevald for his ordered items, I would be free to go."

The last said as if in musing.

"Would you know the man?"

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn's grin widens at the not so subtle suggestion Sometimes it's just too easy... but the interjection of the bard made it grow even wider Ah, now for a real challenge.

The half blood reaches for the empty tumbler and fills it with her own whiskey and stands up, turning to face the definitely aggravated bard. *elven*"My apologies, beautiful one.../*elven* Brushing her hair aside she smiles pleasantly at the woman "I was hoping to draw your attention milady, your melody was quite stirring and I wished to speak with you. I apologize for my vulgar means of drawing your gaze but I am saddened to say I am not blessed with your gift. Would you honour me by sitting with us and sharing our drink, Bjorn has been a most friendly host. I can replenish your liquor stocks for I am talented in crafting fine drink, please try for yourself milady if it pleases you."

I have a feeling the dice gods are going to smite me... oh well may as well try but if I do succeed Bjorn may get a bit more company :smalltongue:
[roll0]
edit: Damn what a time to roll a 20

[Starbin]

Za'an glanced over at the vulgar display, both of the sexual and magical variety, shaking his head in dismay and resignation. Jayn, you ignorant slut ... know your audience, dear sister, know your audience ... As members of the crowd reached for blades and the skald walked over, the priest tensed, certain that violence was in the immediate future.

Of course, she stood, offered the woman a drink, and apparently presented a modicum of courtesy ... it seemed luck continued to favor the bold and the stupid.

I'm guessing that diplomacy roll will keep Jayn from getting shanked (at least not with a knife), but Za'an will continue to keep an eye on the 'angry crowd' ... who may not like losing the attention of their entertainment.

[stack]

Longthews has more on his mind than sheep, I would wager.

[Bhaakon]

@Lethos, Caleban
"Old Fynn? I haven't heard that name since my Pa still tended bar. He still alive?" The barman asks, genuinely curious. "Cor, he must be pushing a century now. Well, if that old salt is still breathin', he's probably hold up in that mansion of his in the Amber Quarter." He gives a decent directions that you're sure you can find the place.

Ameiko seems more interested in sampling northern mead and swapping tall tales with the local braggarts than anything else, but you're reasonably sure she's more attentive than she seems. Probably.

Lethos continues to idly scan the crowd with his detection spell as he listens in on Caleban's conversation. He's about to give up and dismiss the magic when someone finally walks in with something worth detecting. A suit of chain, a heavy axe, and a circular wooden shield glowing with power, all borne by the mountain of a man who just pushed his way in through the door.

His nose is red as a beet, and he lurches subtly as he turns about the common room, looking for something. He stops when he spots Lethos, his eyes narrowing. One hand reaches for his axe while the other raises up, swinging a leather collar big enough to support a fat halfing's trousers.

"You! Was you what killed her. Don't deny it, slant-eye! There was a witness, there was was. Saw you slip her the poison and slink off like the snake you are. Now Snuffles is in the ground, and I'm demanding what's mine by right. Fifty gold coins in weregild, here and now, or I'll mount your pointy ears above my mantle." Despite standing clear across the room, the man shouts with enough force to launch globs of spittle to Lethos's feet.

@Wonder Twins
At Jayn's offer the woman's forced smile suddenly become genuine, broadens even, and the half-elf has the feeling that she's just made precisely the invitation that the bard was hoping for. Bjorn, less than pleased, mutters under his breathe as the Ulfen woman takes a seat, "Now you've done it..."

"A kind offer," the bard replies, hoisting and draining proffered drink as if it were nothing but a tumbled of cold water. "But the stocks are ample, believe me. Thyrie Tarnralsdottir would never let the Whistling Fox run dry, and she never does business with a brewer without testing her first." Her smile widens to a cheshire grin as the bar-maids, used to their boss's habits, emerge with two platters of tumblers.

"But a simple tasting is not fun. What do you say to a little wager? If you win, a week for you and as many friends as you want in my finest suite, meals and drink included. If I win, I get...hmm, that's a fine pipe you have there. I'll take it when I win." It is a fine pipe, but not worth even a tenth of what Thyrie offering.

*************************************

The tension in the crowd immediately releases as the bard takes a seats, and Za'an can't help but notice the muffled laughter from a few corners of the enormous common room. He hears the clink of coin from a nearby table and turns to see a hard-looking greybeard, one of the ones with a hand on his blade just a moment ago, dangling a small purse in front of another man. The second man shakes his head, and the first turns, scanning for a taker, but no one seems to want any part of his action. Finally he settles on Za'an. "Oi, halfie" he whispers just loud enough to be heard. "Twenty gold says Thyrie drinks that witch under the table."

[stack]

Lethos eyes the man coolly, standing with slow grace as his hand drops to his side, thumbing Perfect Stroke an inch out of its scabbard.

He is strong, but drunk.


Still, he may be a worthy challenge.


Accept no insult.

Defeat him.

Silence.will save to oppose the black blade, dc = ego (5), can only fail on a 1 [roll0]

Hands spread, he speaks softly, just enough to be heard over the distance of the room. "I have no knowledge of what you speak of. I have only just arrived today. Perhaps you have me confused with someone else."

(Should the man not show any signs of doubt, Could be a ruse, or a fool. His voice now stronger and his hand on hilt, [COLOR="#800000"]"I am Lethos the Far-wanderer. If I wish someone dead I claim them with my blade, not cowardly poison. I slew my first man before your great grandfather was weaned, I have fought wars in places you have never heard of in times only your skalds recollect. I know nothing of your troubles and have no part in them. If I had, you would be on my blade."

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn smiles "First of all that pipe is not mine, it belongs to my monkey Gleek and he would be rather cross if I used it in a wager. Believe me you do not want to deal with an angry money that is when the shat begins to fly.... literally. So in order accept your proposal I ask for you to meet my condition: I ask for you to have dinner with me, in private, tomorrow's eve. Also I am two drink in so you will need to catch up but I suggest we drink from something a little more interesting." The witch pulls out another bottle, how she hides it only the gods know, and slams it on the table. The bottle appears to pulse with a green glow but that is only due to the candlelight.
"So do we have a wager? If so let us kiss upon it like friends."

I wonder if she could get away with casting pernicious poison and if would work or not. She will definitely use misfortune later on since that doesn't require any components so it should be undetectable.

[Starbin]

Za'an looked over at the two competitors and wondered. On one hand, his sister was somewhat of a lush, drinking for the expressed purpose of getting drunk. However, she was also a bit competitive, and known to cheat to win. Decisions, decisions ...

In the end, he decided not to. Chances were, Jayn would have to cheat to win, and any non-local that earned a bit of coin better on her might be looked upon poorly. With a wan smile, he shook his head. "I am sorry, but that appears to be what a gambling man might refere to as a 'sucker's bet.' I will pass on the opportunity to line your pockets for that particular test of fortitude.

However, these three have a look of the wild about them. I have heard a great deal of stories about witches in their cups and what can happen as the evening wears on. I am willing to wager that by the end of this contest there is an animal of some sort involved ... what say you, good sir? Are you willing to chance your twenty pieces for that?"

[Bhaakon]

"I'll vouch for that." Ameiko pipes in, flashing the disturbingly gleeful grin she so only displays when telling a good story or winning a fight. "Lethos couldn't brew a cup of coffee, let alone a dose black lotus extract, but he awfully creative with the sword. I remember one time he had us tie down this slanderous dog in Riddleport. I got a hold of the man's tongue with a pair of cherry-red smithing tongs, and yanked it out as far as a I could. You'd be surprised how far a man's tongue will stretch with a little help." She holds a finger up an improbable distance from her mouth.

"Once I had it out as far as I could pull, he starts shaving off pieces with that sword of his, nice and thin, like a miserly tavern keeper portioning out one of those salt-cured Chelaxian hams." An act she mimes with relish. "How many how slices did you manage before the damned thing ripped out? Thirty-six, I think? Poor bastard was a awake the entire time, too. Over an hour. You should have heard him trying to scream while I held his tongue." She takes a deep pull off her ale horn, somehow keeping the grin without dribbling any. "But that's what he gets for spreading doggerel about Lethos and those gnomish triplets."

"Which reminds me, old man, what proof did you have again?"

The man's anger subside a bit, and he's suddenly looking much more sober. "I...er...that is, that fellow outside told me. The dirty Tien man with the black cloak and the raven-feather brooch. He's just out here..." The big Ulfen sticks his head out the door and swings it about from side to side, apparently expecting to summon his witness forthwith. He comes away disappointed, and sheepishly apologizes, "I swear he was out there...I, heh, well it must just be a misunderstanding, or a trick. Can't trust those shifty-eyed Tie..um...vagrants." He corrects himself, noticing Ameiko's heritage.


Thyrie arches and eyebrow at Jayn's proposal, but it hardly gives her pause. She just downs two more shots from the tray of her own liquor and flashes the satisfied smirk of the supremely confident. "Agreed, if you win. When you lose, it will be a public dinner in the common room, and you'll have to deal with any disturbance caused by your hairy little friend." She leans forward with lips pursed and head slightly tilted to present her cheek, clearly expecting that you mean the southern tradition of cheek-kissing. It's not a common practice in the north, and few of the more inebriated patrons begin hooting their encouragement.

************************************************

The gambler adds another, larger, sack to the table, and grins. "Can't fool you, eh? All right then. I'll put up 50 gold to your 10. Thyrie's due to lose, right? Can't stay undefeated forever." His eyes flash to a stack of shelves near the door to the kitchen, creaking under the weight of a hundred and more nicknacks and trophies, from a platinum and ruby necklace worth half the cost of the entire inn, to a jade-green glass eye, to a tattered and stained child's doll.

[Morbis Meh]

Not wishing to push her luck, Jayn does the simple kissing of the cheeks to seal their bargain knowing that she could always cheat if need be. If she won the free room she would invite everyone except her brother, knowing he would turn it down due to how she acquired it. The half elf pours two glasses of absinthe and holds it up "May the best liver win." She downs her drink quickly waiting for the Ulfen woman to do the same.

Alrighty sir give me the rules of engagement here so we can begin this drunken bout of shame.

[stack]

Lethos grimaces at Ameiko's wildly imaginative exaggerations, but is content with the result. Good, I have no desire to slay a drunk in misery. I have spent far too much time there myself.

He turns back to his companions, letting his blade slide fully into place. "This Tien man sounds worth pursuing."

[Starbin]

Za'an considered this new development, glancing both at the drinking champion's trophy case, then the man's bag of gold. Finally, he nodded - the cost was neglible, and he figured this would reduce any issues with 'cheating' that might arise. Besides, the money could go to good use ... perhaps to a local temple ... or a nice wooden case with felt lining for his statue ...

Pulling out ten gold, he set it down on the table, nodding for the man to put his 50 gold down as well. "Set them here, that we both might watch the contest and our wagers together."

[Bhaakon]

"Then we command you to pursue him." Ameiko orders Lethos, putting on her best imperial bearing and shooing the elf away with a dismissive flick of her fingers and wink. Despite the way she skillfully befuddled the angry northerner, she's working on her fourth horn in less than an hour. Her tongue might get sharper the deeper she gets into her cups, but her wits certainly don't.

Thyrie just smirks in reply and throws back her own glass, then another, and another, as you work your way through the first bottle in a matter of minutes. The second takes a bit longer, as the alcohol takes hold and each competitor gives their opponent ample time to either void their stomach or black out. The third bottle is excruciatingly slow. Long past any appreciation of the liquor, it takes a surprising amount of will power just to force another mouthful of liquid down your throat to collect in your painfully stretched belly. You'd struggle to drink this much water in a sitting, let alone alcohol. You're almost thankful that you're so drunk, or the pain in your stomach might be crippling.

But both parties are stubborn beyond belief. A fourth bottle is opened, and you're halfway through when Jayn finds herself unable to force back the black curtains dancing at the edge of her vision. Thyrie is little better off herself, hunched over, panting, eyes glazed, glowing with sweat despite the cool temperature.

You're at your limit, but you're also ahead. Thyrie's hand fumbles for the next glass, nearly spilling its torturous payload, and draws it up to her lips with painful deliberation...

You're victorious, so go ahead and describe how you cheat...I mean, earn your win. :smalltongue:

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn knew she was at her limit, she was bloated and past the definition of drunk, stinking drunk, and stupid drunk. Probably around the area of krunk and schmammered, at this moment she felt like she was a balloon but she knew her opponent was also at her tipping point which was a beautiful thing. This is why Jayn always went first, it was that much more brutal to have to catch up than pull ahead psychologically. The Half Blood Witch stared intently at the bard, making sure she their eyes were connected with one another before working her magic. Sure it wasn't the most honest of moves but considering this woman was on home turf, twice the size of Jayn and using liquor she was used to it was only fair to even the odds. Wordlessly her glare intensifies but there is no other indication of anything happening unless someone in the crowd decided to detect Jayn this very moment. Her powered flared momentarily as she sent its pulse towards the Ulfen bard, Thyrie could resist it but it would be more than enough to knock her down like a sack of bricks and Jayne was sure enough the woman was too plastered to remember anything about what was about to happen.

[stack]

Lethos makes a mock bow. "Best get yourself back to the caravan, your majesty. Best not to be alone in such a state. Caleban, will you be joining the pursuit? I expect your tongue may be of more use than my feet in finding our quarry."

[Bhaakon]

"Worry not, favored retainer. We will rejoin our entourage before the coming of the sun." Ameiko replies, her voice and demeanor cracking toward the end as he inebriation overcomes her will to keep a straight face.

Outside the bustle has died down considerably since you entered the tavern a hour or so ago. The street is nearly deserted, and everyone you do see is very obviously not a hooded Tien man. Frustrated, Caleban chews on his cigar and paces in front of the bar, stubbornly searching for any sign of your missing accuser. He's about to give up when he spots a very strange looking track in the mess of churned mud that passes for a street in the Bone Quarter.

"What's this, now?" He mumbles, bending down close to examine a slim pair of parallel troughs dug into the earth. He's legitimately stumped, but Lethos recognizes the marks immediately. Geta tracks, the distinctive wooden sandals ubiquitous in Minkai. The pair follow the tracks to an alley a few blocks away. It's dark, narrow, bound on either side by two-story tenements, full of piled junk, and terminates against the tall stone wall of of the quarter boundary after about 40 feet.

Thyrie smiles drunkely as she raises the glass to he lips. She has it. The way the half-elf is glaring, it can only mean she's desperate. Can smell her defeat. Resorting to petty mind game. That pipe is as a good as...huh?

Theyrie looks down at the floor, where the tumbler has fallen after slipping between nerveless fingers. That's not right it...whoa. When did the floor get so close? Her face slams hear into the wooden floor, bounces up a few inches, then settles there. Thyrie mumbles something unintelligible as her eyes close for the night.

*************************

"By the first blade, I never thought I'd see the day." Murmurs the grey-bearded Ulfen as Za'an gathers in his winnings. "A decade...and that little slip of a mongrel elf comes out on top."

[Morbis Meh]

Jayn smirks drunkenly as her opponent crashes into the floor with defeat, delaring her victory with an inhumanly loud belch she raises her arms in the arm "Never say a drink can't elf their liquor! Woohoo... oh sweet Sarenrae and drunken Toreg I need to release my water before I burst on this chair... Sorry Bear.. Bjorn...Bjorn Beard? We will have to resume our discussion at a latttterrr juncture, right now I need to piss like a racehorse. ZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA'AAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNN I know your self righteous behind is hiding here, I can smell your judgment from over her. Come help big sister make a tinkle or I will tell everyone here how you enjoyed dolling yourself up in mom's dressclothes or that you still sometimes pee the bed..." The half elf goes to stand but the alcohol goes straight to her head causing her to momentarily see black spots and fall ungracefully on her ass with a loud crash. "DON'T WORRY EVERYONE! IMMA ALRIGHT HEEEHHEEE. JUS GONNA FIND MY BROTHER... With a heave of effort, Jayn rolls onto her knees and begins crawling on all floors in a random direction thus causing her to bump into people's legs. It didn't take long for her to find her target resulting in a full speed four legged charge towards Za'an. Using him as a stop Jayn looks up at him with a grin before using him as a post to pull herself up off of the ground. Wrapping an arm around his neck she leans heavily on him with her eyes glazed and her breath reeking of booze "Little brother... I WON! Aren't you proud of your big sister? See, drinking does have its benefits... now help me to the privvy because big sis needs to break the seal."

[stack]

Into the wall...rope, spell, or trick? Lethos checks for signs of enchantments, asking Caleban to search for secret doors or signs of someone climbing thew wall (mud leaves footprints, of course).

[Starbin]

Za'an didn't say anything when his sister was triumphant, simply gazing at the duo for a moment, before turning his attention back to the table. He hadn't reached down when Jayn's screech reached his ears, demanding his presence. Sighing, he gazed at the man who he had wagered against, an apologetic ghost of a smile on his face. Shaking his head, he pushed the majority of coins back to the man, keeping only twenty. "Given that I had a little more knowledge about the contest than you might have thought, let us keep the wager at even odds, yes? Know if you will excuse me, it seems I have hair holding duties in my immediate future." Rising, Za'an bowed to the man, then turned to gather his sister.

Catching her before she fell, Za'an leaned back at the cloud of alcohol that pratically oozed from her pores. "Yes, sister, I see you were successful in your endeavors." He started to make a comment about how proud Tara or their mother would be, but he paused as he propped his sister up and let it go this time. Walking her to the back rooms, he nodded to the barkeep. "The facilities are this way, yes? And I believe she had a wager concerning a room? Please have someone go and make up the bed. She'll be wanting a bottle of your strongest whiskey, something with kick and bite to take the edge off ... otherwise she'll be more of a royal biatch come the morning. Please have a breakfast of eggs and bacon ready first thing, or you'll be painting that room again. Finally, make sure there's a cigar ... from the Underdark, if you have any, otherwise Chelaxian is fine.

Oh, and I'd suggest you have extra sheets ready, because you'll want to burn the ones she uses tonight. In an open space, since they will be highly flammable."

[Bhaakon]

Caleban and Lethos pick their way down the narrow alley after the distinctive track, doing their best to hold their noses and avoid the most noisome piles of night soil in a space narrow enough that they can reach out and touch both walls at the same time. Eventually they reach the quarter boundry, a forty foot wall of shear basalt blacks that present a challenging, but not quite impossible ascent. The stone it tough and well fitted, but centuries of freeze and though have left enough of a mark a mountain goat or particularly well-motivated humanoid might make the attempt.

After a moment of staring at the wall, Caleban bends over, rummages around a bit in pile of rags nearby, and comes up with an uncomfortable-looking wooden sandal in each hand. "Well, neighbor. This is a dead end." Me mumbles, and take one last drag on the stub of his cigar before flipping the butt into a fetid puddle. He's just turning around to make has way back out of the alley when the pile of rags explodes into motion.

Steel flashes as the Tien man leads with his dagger, driving it hard but harmlessly into the chain protecting the half-orc's back. The second strike is quick as an adder, slipping in the gap beneath Caleban's arm pit before the big man can even turn around, let along unlimber his axe. The thrid strike also bounces ineffectually off armor, but the damage is done. The steel is stained with blood all the way to its hilt, and Caleban is wheezing in pain.

No map. The alley is wide enough for you both to attack, but you'll need an acrobatics check to move past the man and flank him without an AoO.

Za'an's prediction proves accurate. Privies are demolished, sheets are burned, chamber pots filled, passed out in, and filled again. You don't remember Jayn having ate so much in the last week. Perhaps there's some sort of portal to the elemental plane of vomit hiding in her gut? It would certainly explain some things, like how she worked up enough pressure to reach the ceiling. Needless to say, Bjorn the guardsman doesn't stick around to help.

The only thing bigger than the mess is the hangover. The twins stagger into the common room well after dawn, both sleep deprived, one enduring what must certainly be a battalion of storm giants marching in parade formation through her skull.

But she won. While you sit down and enjoy your greasy booze-sponge of a breakfast and some hair of the dog, Thyrie is nowhere to be seen. When quizzed, the help informs you that she's still passed out in bed.

[Morbis Meh]

Considering the ridiculous amount of fluid she had imbibed upon, the night wasn't all so bad. A little spittle here and there not anything to make a terrible fuss over though she knew Za'an would always chide her for it regardless. Sure at one point she achieved lift but that was more of an experiment than a consequence of her drinking, in fact during the whole ordeal she considering implanting it in combat as a useful and somewhat debilitating distraction against an enemy. Indeed she had the slightest of headaches in the morning (all lies never believe a witch still half drunk and gloating on a past victory) but she felt breakfast in the cozy, picturesque in was simply fabulous. You know what was better than hangover bacon? VICTORY BACON. Looking to her brother with a pained yet somewhat smug smile she croaks in an inhumanly hoarse voice "Za'any poo, fetch the others, let them know I have secured better lodgings for us, don't look at me like that I will be alright. Also you really need to change out of those robes because brother, YOU STINK!"

[Starbin]

Za'an gave his sister a tight smile, glancing down at his robes. "Ah, yes, my apologies, dearest sister. I believe the edges here are where you regurgiated your first meal on me. Here is where you added copious amounts of the liquor you imbibed. This ... I do not know what in the nine hells you had, but it was blue and does NOT wash out. Interestingly enough, here is were you urinated on me. The scorch marks and the reason it smells like burnt beaver pelt is because two hours ago you attempted to an experiment to see if you could ignite your own urine and almost proceeded to set my clothes and the room ablaze AND immolate your own womanhood. Fortunately, for all the jokes you make about my chosen faith, it does offer a certain benefit or two when it comes to healing, what was it you called it? Burnt cooter? I have no idea what that is, but it sounds positively foul and disgusting ... which is typical of your humor.

This dark brown sploch that spells like monkey feces? Well, it is exactly what it smells like ... your damnable pet apparently thought your projectile vomiting was a challenge to its own targeting capabilities.

So I apologize if my appearance offends ... but at least I have procured you bacon, so I would presume we are even."

Given an opportunity, however, Za'an will bath, dress and burn the robes. He will simply have to gather another set ... either from the town or the caravan. He will also go get the others ... but only after he ensures that it does not look like Jayn will get jumped.

I've decided that perhaps Za'an's personality will be better suited to playing more of a 'straight-man' to Jayn, vice the kind of viscious relationship they had before. I think I like the protective, if overly judgemental, brother who suffers the slings/arrows/jibes/spells of his sister, but actually really cares ... much better than the two siblings who appear on the verge of cutting each other open.

[stack]

Having now fought at each others sides many times, Lethos and Caleban go to work without need of direction, saber slashing up and reversing for a second cut while mighty axe blows come from the side.

Lethos
concentration [roll0]
spell combat w/ arcane mark [roll1]
damage [roll2]

spell combat w/ arcane mark [roll3]
damage [roll4]


Caleban [roll5]
damage [roll6] (PA + furious focus)

[Bhaakon]

The Tien man steps back, panting a bit from his exertion and swearing quietly in Minkaian. Under his rags and enveloping cloak you can see that he's only wearing a meager suit of leather, and the dagger seems to be his only weapon. You doubt he was planning to fight, and the eventual outcome of the fight seems obvious once he failed to finish off one or both of you in his initial assault.

His eyes flit about, desperately searching for some handhold on the wall or un-shuttered window to jump through as he reaches for something in a pouch on his belt. His hand is still there, clutching sickly green-stained chicken egg, when he collapses into the filth under a rain of blows.



I'm going to hold off on XP until the group re-unites, but here's the loot off the ninja:

1x MW dagger
1x leather armor
1x odd discolored egg
A Fugitive's Grenade. A device that summons up a 10' radius cloud of smoke when smashed open. It last for 2 rounds and otherwise works like a Fog Cloud spell. A 20' long solid tendril of smoke forms in the center of the effect, which functions as the rope for a rope trick spell. The tendril dissipates with the rest of the smoke, but the extra-dimensional hiding space persists for 3 hours. 10' throwing range. 750 GP
1x Jade carving of a raven (50 gp)
1x MW theives' tools

You pack away the breakfast with gusto, hardly tasting the food as you slam down several rashers of bacon, thick slabs of ham, a platter of some spiced sausage and parsnip hash, and several cups of coffee liberally fortified by a lesser bottle from Jayn's stock (no point wasting the good stuff on a mixed drink). Truly a breakfast of champions.

So why are you so dizzy and shaky just a few minutes after the meal? Your insides clinch and cramp painfully. Something is not right at all...

Hemlock in the hash, I fear. DC 18 Fort saves for everyone, or [roll0] Dex damage

[stack]

Lethos rummages pockets and strips weapons from the fallen man as Caleban stabilizes him. Then a cloak is thrown over the unconscious man's shoulders to hide his wounds as they pick him up, two friends helping someone too far gone into his cups get home to the caravan. lethos will take 10 on spellcraft. Cool item, never heard of the fugitive grenade before.

[Starbin]

Za'an winced suddenly, as the breakfast he and his sister were sharing suddenly disagreed with him. The look on her face indicated she was having similar difficulties, and he immediately leaned forward, sniffing the food, his eyes narrowing. He suddenly realized what had happened, and knowing his sister would probably waste time arguing with him, he reach over with a napkin, murmuring, "Dear sister, you are a *unh* mess ... let me get that ..."

As he reached for her cheek, he suddenly shoved his hand in her throat, trying to get her to regurgitate ... which given the night before should be pretty easy!

Okay, that's the best I can think of for a Heal check against hemlock poisoning w/o any supplies ... unless Ipecac is a common medicine carried by all adventurers :smallbiggrin:

So +4 save to your next Fort save vs the poison ... and you're welcome :smallwink:

I guess he'll do the same for himself, to get a +4 on his next save (made both my Heal checks in OOC) ... [roll0]

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Breathing heavily from the combat and from the looting, Caleban snarls his displeasure. After a while, he turns to Lethos as they walk back.

"I think we have found too much, neighbor. First of all, we are been tracked. Secondly, Ameiko is in real danger. They -whoever they is- know that she is active. And we have located some of our enemies and the location of the sword.

All that, for the price of three fights and an assassination attempt. What do we do know?"

[stack]

Lethos shrugs under his share of the man's weight. "We expected to be found here. Better this way then in force. I would expect the next attempt to be more dangerous. Hopefully we can pry some information from this fellow before then."

[Bhaakon]

As you speak, your assailant lies on the ground moaning and bleeding out. Somehow, in that flurry of steel, you failed to deal the man an immediately fatal blow, and Caleban manages to staunch the bleeding easily enough, allowing him and lethos to hoist the man by his limbs without killing him outright.

You're surprised that no one is raising a hew and cry for the guard. The battle was brief, but loud and brutal. Either the neighbors are all hard of hearing, or violence is an accepted part of life in this quarter of the city. Even a pair of outsider hauling a limp, injured man through the streets seems to draw little attention.

Za'an's ploy works, drawing a round of vomiting from both parties. The effect may be entirely psychological, as there's already a fair-sized dose of the poison coursing through his bloodstream, but Za'an feels a bit better after emptying his stomach.

The servers in the tavern don't feel much better. A middle-aged fellow who seems to be in charge of the morning shift rush over, bellowing in accented common and swinging a knoted bar rag around like a flail. "THAT'S IT! THE MESS IN YOUR ROOM WAS BAD ENOUGH, BUT I"M PUTTING MY FOOT DOWN! I DON'T CARE WHAT THYRIE PROMISED, WE'RE NOT TURNING THIS INTO SOME TALDAN GLUTTONASIUM. IF YOU WANT TO PUKE OUT YOUR GUTS BETWEEN COURSES, YOU CAN DO IT SOMEWHERE ELSE! OUT! GET OUT!"

Za'an passed his heal checks, so you both get to maked the next Forst save with the +4 bonus. DC 18 or [roll0] Dex damage

[stack]

Lethos occasionally pulls the odd trio aside so he can adjust the cloak covering the wounded man's more egregious marks, wishing he had prepared prestidigitation to clean up the blood. Hope fully they can reach the caravan unmarked.

[Bhaakon]

@Lethos/Caleban
It's impossibly to say how many people saw you carrying the unconscious man, or what they made of it, but you make it most of the way back to the caravan before anyone bothers to confront you about your burden. Thankfully it's neither a city guard nor, as far as you can tell, one of the unconscious man's allies.

Vaguely you remember one of the other caravan leaders wandering over and talking with Sandru about a sort of informal neighborhood watch among the traveling merchants, and it would seem that volunteers took their duty seriously enough to at least stand guard and stop anyone coming into the open lot at night.

The watchman flips open a hooded lantern as you emerge from the packed tenements and calls out. "Whoa, there. Hold it for a second. Which caravan are you with, and what's wrong with your friend there?" He's far enough away that you're only in dim light. Enough to clearly make out your forms, but probably not enough to notice the severity of the Tien man's injuries. It's a good thing he's a human, because any race with passable night vision would have no problem spotting the blood stains on both you and your burden.

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban swears some choice vile curses inside the safety of his own skull. But lying is something he has practiced excessively.

"Not really a friend, neighbor. He is one of our drivers, Djien. We were having a drink just over there and we got too free with our money. Someone must have noticed, because we were set upon in the next dark corner.

Damn me for having so much to drink. Djen was almost blind drunk and he got brained. We fought them off eventually, but Djen is hurt badly. We have a medicine woman with us, and we hope she can do something for him. Let us pass neighbor.

And stop by later on for some nice brandy. I have stood guard myself and I know how chilly it can get."

Casually, Caleban covers the captive as if to protect him from the cold and slowly carries 'Djen', making sure the guard can see Caleban doing this.

Bluff [roll0]

[Bhaakon]

The guard stifles a chuckle as he listens to you story, but straightens up when he hears how bad off 'Djen' is. "Rookie mistake, that. One of our hands did the same when we first got into town, and he's got a clutch of stitches were the cut-purse shanked him. The Bones ain't the nicest quarter, and the guard don't care enough to come down for less than a cold body...or to shake down the 'Sczarni.'" He shakes his head, buying your story so completely that he forgets to ask again which caravan you were with. "But your friend's bleeding while I'm yakking. Hurry along!"


At the caravan you find a couple of the new hired hands on watch while Ameiko is sitting in front of the fire drinking tea. Shalelu sits across the pit, glowering at the young Emperess and, once she sees you slip between the circles wagons, she shifts her gaze to you. "Why'd you leave her alone!" She demands, "I caught her in a fist-fight over a game of towers. You know how she gets when she drinks. You...er, what...who is that?"

"Phsh, they said I was cheating. It was a matter of honor." Slurs Ameiko, oblivious to your cargo. "I mean, I was cheating, but there's no way those hacks spotted it. And, um, quiet about playing towers. Koya might be awake."

As anyone who has spent time among Varisians would know, playing towers--a gambling game played with Harrow cards--is considered borderline blasphemous among Varisians. Especially ones who actively practice fortunetelling.

[stack]

Lethos deadpans, "Why we've brought you a present of course. This little fellow tried to trick a drunken fool into fighting me. We decided it would be wise to have a chat with him. He took a bit of convincing. Now if we can patch him up enough to talk, perhaps we can learn something."

[Bhaakon]

"You actually caught someone?" Ameiko oogles the man drunkenly, noticing him for the first time. "That double-sized halfwit about wet himself when I told him about that whole tongue-shaving business. I thought that old fool was selling a wagon of cow patties to beg off the fight without losing too much face."

Well, no point in waiting. Let's get to work on him, eh? She puts on her wickedest grin and rushes through a simple spell of healing, enough to bring the man back to consciousness without closing any of his wounds completely. He must be in considerable pain, but you wouldn't know it by looking. His eyes open as calmly as if he were rising from a midday nap and slowly swivel, appraising each of you with the dead-eyed stare of a viper. A light sheen of sweat is the only sign that he's anything but completely comfortable.

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban watches the would be assasin gain his senses, noting the calmness on him. As Ameiko got to work on him, Caleban appraised him with his Lady 's power.

He was to be one of those tough people, hah?

Caleban takes his cigar and lights it, filling the space with its cheap smoke. He then approaches the captive, putting his huge face too close.

"So. You were not as good as you thought you were.

I do not like you. I have been stepping on roaches like you for several weeks now. You hinder my Lady 's intent, and my sole purpose in life is to eliminate creatures like you. You are alive for one reason only. I need information.

You have two choices. Either you tell me who sent you here and how you knew where to find us, or you don't.

In the first case, we dump you along the road, as you are now, with a rusty dagger thrown some meters away. Not much of a chance, but a chance nevertheless.

Or they all leave you in my care and I make sure you die. Painfully and taking a long time. I will make sure your body is found, such as it will be by then, so that the rest of you get the message."


Suddenly, Caleban 's eyes become like pools of blackness.

"You. Don't. Hunt us. We are hunting you. And we will find you, one by one. Choose your side carefuly"

Then Caleban sits back, cigar in hand, waiting for an answer.

Intimidation [roll0]

Sense Motive [roll1]

[stack]

Lethos checks the prisoner for signs of enchantment, preferring he not combust upon being helpful.

Then he turns to Ameiko, "Perhaps we should offer our guest some refreshment. Did you bring your tea service? No reason to be uncivilized."

Lethos prepares the tea carefully, pouring for each who want some but giving the prisoner choice of cups before taking a drink himself to show it was not poisoned. "Perhaps your name, to start?"

[Starbin]

(On behalf of MM and myself ... botting my sista!)

With the vomit complete, Za'an turned to see the barkeep come rushing over with hate and disgust in his eyes. He imagined for a moment frying the man's moustache and beard and watching him writhe, but quickly shook the image out of his mind. Instead, he placed a hand on his sister's shoulder, whispering, "Say nothing, Jayn ... you cannot talk your way out of this one ..." A minor rush of energy flowed into the woman, giving a boost to her already inflated ego, and she shrugged off her brother's arm.

"Keep your girlie mitts off me, brother dear ... I'll finger-bang my own mouth, thank you! Or at least pick someone better looking, and gentler ... no wonder the laides don't swoon, if that's how you use those spindly sticks of yours!"

Standing up, somewhat unsteadily, she glared at the man yelling at her and raised her finger to her lips. In a quiet tone, she ordered, "You there ... shoosh. I'm sure you don't want me going around telling everyone the REAL reason we are both gagging ourselves with a spoon ... rotten hash! I mean, I must assume it was rotten, and that it is completely happenstance that the odor is distinctly akin to that of hemslock. I mean, really, how could poison get into a dish you served us mere moments ago, right? I'm sure that isn't what Thyrie had in mind when she made her bet, and I'm guessing it's not what your patrons would expect from a local hero, right?

So be a dear, get us some new food, new drink and a new table. Unless you'd like to carry on your conversation in the tone you originally addressed me in?" Her last line was raised to almost a screech.

[roll0] vs DC 13. Second, a diplomacy check, powered by Za'an's Touch of Glory ... [roll1]

Let's get it on!

[stack]

Lethos takes a long time brewing tea, it would seem.

[ProudGrognard]

Yep, the tea will be strong when it comes out.

[Bhaakon]

Lethos, Caleban
The man takes no tea, and refuses to acknowledge your questions let alone provide a name. Not even Caleban's cajoling can shake his determination to be uncooperative. The reason becomes obvious once Lethos casts a simple divination: there's a familiar black mark stamped into his forehead like an invisible brand. It's the same spell that killed the bandit you captured at the bridge.

The man is silent, so you can't tell whether or not he's lying, but you're still good at reading people, and you're fairly certain that the man would sooner kill himself than talk--even if he weren't marked with that fell enchantment. If you want him to speak, you'll need some sort of trickery or leverage beyond his own well-being.

Jayn, Za'an
"What's this nonsense about poisoned hash? The head waiter replies, this time in a hushed voice so as not to alarm the other patrons--a pointless effort, since they're all watching the sibling and heard every word of Jayn's allegation. "You're just hungover, and yer friend's got a weak stomach, that's all. Ain't no poisoned food here. That's just ridiculous. You can come back and search the kitchen yourself, once you've stopped puking out your guts."

Another fort save, or [roll0] Dex damage

[stack]

Lethos turns away in disgust. "Talking to him is meaningless until we remove the mark. So, how do we do that? Find a local cleric we can hire?"

[Bhaakon]

@Lethos, Caleban
Ameiko looks at the man long and hard, a vain attempt to pierce the man's mask of indifference. Somehow she's managed to pierce the fog of alcohol and put on a mask of sobriety, much as she'd managed with the enraged ulfen man in the bar. After a moment of staring your prison down she turns away and whispers to Lethos in Minkian, her glacial tone just loud enough for the captive to overheard.

"That could be expensive. We'd need to find someone willing to overlook that we've kidnapped a man and trustworthy enough not to sell the information to this fool's employers. It would be cheaper and safer to kill him now and summon up his shade for a conversation. I think Koya could manage that spell. We'd make him disappear, and no one would know." Even you, who have known the woman for years, can't tell if she's serious or not.

The man's mask cracks. His eye bug out, and he begins to shudder. Finally he calms and murmurs in Minkaian. "The mark...it lasts beyond death. I cannot break my oath, but I can answer certain things, yes? And what I can't answer, that will also tell you something."

He's unsure about the mark lasting beyond death, despite his authoritative claim.

[stack]

Lethos frowns. "A game of questions in exchange for your life? Perhaps if you are very helpful that curse may be removed one way or another; we have business with your employer." He looks to Ameiko and Caleban and shrugs his assent. "Was your ruse at the bar intended to isolate Ameiko by removing her allies? Did you take the mark willingly or was it coerced?Do you know who hired you?"

[Bhaakon]

Your captive takes his time speaking, wording his answers with careful deliberation. He starts and stops frequently, searching for the right turns of phrase to weasel around the deadly oath binding him. He speaks exclusively in Minkaian, not wanting to risk a slip of the tongue in language he's less than fluent with. He replies to each of the elf's rapid-fire questions in order:

"Isolating a mark...would be a good outcome...if one is trying to capture a target. But employing an enraged drunkard...an unknown factor. Inadvisable if one seeks a live capture."

"Coerced loyalty is meaningless, forestwalker. In time, any man worth having will find a way around a falsely sworn oath, even one compelled with magic." He shakes his head in disgust. "Such a dishonorable relationship is as dangerous to the oath-giver as the oath-taker."

"I am not for hire."

[stack]

Lethos leans back. "Interesting. Perhaps we can find a map and I can point to places that your employer does not reside?"

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban


Caleban sits back and looks at the way the interrogation is going. Smart move. Lethos saw through that one.

[Bhaakon]

The man swallows hard, considering, but shakes his head. "I might not survive that." He replies. "In any case, an organization worth concerning yourself over would have many fronts and bases of operation."

[stack]

"So the organization is extensive. Curious that such an organization would take an interest in our little caravan all of a sudden. This is tied into events at a certain castle recently? Would you be familiar with the name Snaevald?"Feel free to jump in. This is a bit tricky and I could easily be missing good questions. Always feel rushed when I post.

[Bhaakon]

"Castle? There is no castle I'm aware of." The man replies. In response to the name 'Snaevald,' he bites his tongue. There can be no doubt that he recognized it, but he refuses to speak.

[stack]

"So is there significance to a sword that the lady over their may have a connection to? Do you feel a shapeshifting minion would be of value to an organization of the sort that would like to operate in a region, seeking the death of an individual, or would such a being be better suited to a leadership roll?"

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban watches the exchange as he mulls over how he can help. But nothing comes to mind. He goes to Ameiko

"Where are the Devil Twins? Perhaps they can help. Or Medrana."

If he gets an answer, he goes out to bring them. If they are not earby, he goes searching for Koya.

[Bhaakon]

Lethos. Caleban
"The twins ran off to a tavern somewhere in the rich part of town. Or Jayn did, and Za'an tailed her with all the subtlety of bull moose in rut. As his teacher, I'm going to hope that he didn't care about being spotted. Koya's probably in her wagon." Shal;elu resplies to Caleban, her eyes never leaving the prisoner. She's right, as the half-orc finds Koya bent over her folding desk and studying a selection of maps that cover, in rather pathetic detail, the region north of Karlsgrad.

Her door is ajar, allowing Caleban to see her carefully gather and store the maps as she replies to his polite knock. "Is that you, puerri? About that man you have outside, I assume."

Lethos continues the interrogation, but he's frustrated as the man stays stubbornly silent on the subject of the sword. His teeth clinch, betraying his nerves as the elf's normally stoic demeanor betrays more frustration and anger with each non-response. So the man's relief is apparent when Lethos asks his next question, and the captive waxes loquacious. "A talented shapeshifter would make a most useful agent, of course. Enough that such a skilled individual might rise high in a clandestine organization, though perhaps not so high that he or she is ever removed from the field. It is possible that my masters possess such an agent, but I have not met one. I am not privy to all their secrets."

Jayn, Za'an
As your argument with the morning manager progresses, you notice that you aren't the only ones feeling ill. There are only a few guests enjoying their late breakfast in the common room, and fully half of them are quitely coughing, retching, or doubled over and gripping their cramping bellies. Those that aren't either haven't been served yet or didn't order the hash. Perhaps a few even began showing symptoms before you, but were less obvious about it. Now that you've started a fuss, they toss their stoic demeanor aside.

"You 'eard the elves, Mikkel. Get the cook out 'ere to answer, and send a runner for a one of Gorum's chosen afore we're off to meet our Lord in Iron in the iron!" Croaks an older patron.

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban steps into the wagon he knows so well as respectfully as if he would step on a church.

"You were always wise, Medrana. We have caught a would be assassin and he is still conditioned by a very nasty sigil. You are much more versed in the Mysteries that I am. I thought that you could help in our questions."

Caleban waits for an answer, ready to fetch her cloak if she agrees.

[Starbin]

Jayn started to make a witty come-back with the cook when another bought of spewing interrupted her well-planned witticism. Za'an rolled his eyes and shook his head. Standing up, he glanced around the inn, where others began to get sick. Glaring at the man, he spoke in a low voice, "I suggest you spend less time debating what is clearly a confirmed fact, and more time investigating the truth of our allegations, least I have to stop being polite. And please have someone bring your local inebriation champion down, so that she may be witness to both your inhospitality and the scope of this outrage."

[stack]

Lethos takes another drink of tea. "An expansive organization indeed then. I would expect that such an organization would keep close tabs on its members. They might note that an operative was delayed in making report regarding an assignment. I would presume there would be a modest amount of time before action was taken, though I could not speak as to whether that action would have to be direct or conducted remotely. I also wonder if the consequences for failure would be such that reporting it would be...unwise. So, in the absence of a report, such a group would likely continue their attempts against their target until they were either successful or some factor gave them pause. Obviously they operate outside the bounds of the local authority and as such would not want to draw that authority's attention, but that is little enough hindrance in certain unrefined locals. Still, overt action anywhere would bring unwanted eyes, so further action would continue to be indirect for such a time as a target remained in a populous area, whereas outside more overt actions could be taken. Inclement weather making the later unlikely for some time, I believe we ought all hope that clandestine organizations do not grow violently impatient as the winter draws long."writing this way is fun, but a bit challenging. I tend to be so busy writing around the point that I forget where I was going :smallredface:

[Bhaakon]

"Too expansive an operation would be unwieldy, potentially drawing unwanted attention. A clandestine force operating in unfriendly, or at least neutral, territory would be wise to keep its roster lean, loyal, competent, and only as informed as they need to be to accomplish their mission. Such an organization would not have the manpower to keep tabs on all its operatives at all times, but would certainly notice if one went missing for, say, half a day or more.

In a city such as this, they might have some trouble determining if the agent was captured on their mission, or merely ran afoul of any number of local criminals. It is not uncommon for those who aren't Ulfen to be targeted by blackguards, as they're less likely to be have family nearby to avenge them. As you may or may not be aware, it is the local custom that exacting justice falls almost entirely on the family and friends of the wronged party. The guard patrols the streets to keep order, but this is a land of blood feuds and weregild, not investigators and judges.

It would be wise to remember that you are strangers here, standing out every bit as much as me, and as trapped as anyone once the snows come. Time will be on their side, and they will be patient. The cold clears the streets of witnesses, night stretches out to swallow up the daylight, and starvation makes men more pliable to gold. In the heart of winter, their ability to act within the city will grow. What's more, the longer you stay in one place, the more resources such an organization could bring to bear."

Don't feel bad, I;m confusing myself as well. Basically, he's saying that he won't be missed until tomorrow. He hints that your enemies won't lack for opportunities to kill you in the city, since you're outsiders in a society where clan and family are the main means of protection rather than a police force (if you've ever seen the film Chinatown, this whole city is Chinatown for you guys). Finally he's suggesting that wintering in Kalsgard might not be the wisest idea.

The manager gives in, leading you to the kitchen after the few seconds it takes to send a busboy running for a cleric and another to wake the proprietress.

The kitchen itself is surprisingly small. One wall is entirely taken up by a long fireplace, complete with spit large enough to skewer a sow (currently occupied by a half-eaten ham), the opposite wall is one long work table packed with cutlery and ingredients. The atmosphere is stifling despite a door open to an alley at the far end of the room, and you think that anyone working in here for any length of time would wind up roasted themselves along with supper. You aren't surprised to find the cook himself outside, enjoying the cool air as he washes off some of his utensils.

He's indignant upon hearing about the poisoning, not believing you at first, but being hauled off to the dinning room for a moment changes his tune. "I...I don't know what to say. I mean, I made the hash from leftover meat and fresh tubers this morning and left it here to keep warm. It's all right here in this pot, the same one the servers have scooping it out of all day." He points it a cast iron pot, large enough to boil a whole chicken, sitting near enough to fire to keep warm. "I've been in and out of the kitchen since the breakfast rush ended, preparing for dinner. Any number of people could have been in here and tampered with the food, what with the back door open at all hours."

[stack]

"But it has already been proven that we are vulnerable to ambush on the road. Moving a caravan through snow would not reduce such vulnerability, hindering wagons more than a raiding party."

[Starbin]

Za'an walked over, eyeing the pot cautiously as even now his stomach rumbled unpleasantly. He searched around the kitchen while his sister began a tirade against the poor chef, demanding who normally came and went, how could he miss the distinctive mouse-like odor. She went on to mention that the parsnip taste might be drown by the similarity of hash, but a good cook would notice the difference.

Za'an paused at the last. "That is an interesting observation my annoying, yet perceptive sister, just made, although perhaps has missed it for all her ranting and raving. I have seldom met a chef that did not taste his own food prior to serving it ... or during the cooking process. How is it that you are not sick yourself, good sir? Everyone who ate your hash has evinced symptoms consistent with hemlock poisoning."

He watched the man carefully.

Okay, [roll0] ... and [roll1]

[Bhaakon]

Lethos, Caleban
The man shrugs. "A smaller, weaker prey animal's only advantages against a larger predator are mobility and obscurity. You have already been discovered here, yes? It is only a matter of time before the entire pack gathers for an easy kill. Or you can flee now, before the ring tightens, and maybe only have to deal with the one or two wolves guarding the path to freedom."

"We're not some sick doe, cowering and weak, and a pack of wolves doesn't trick an enraged bear into doing their hunting." Shalalu growls back at the man. "Shut this man up, I say. He's talking in circles, and you're letting him lead you on, Lethos."

Jayn and Za'an
The cook's face turns and angry red at his reputation being impugned--after all, he's the head chef at one of the finest establishments in Kalsgard, and, by extension, the entirety of the north--but there's not much her can say in the face of having served poisoned food. All he can do is fume and sputter while offering answers to legitimate question. "You're right, I did taste it, when I first made it, near dawn, but I haven't touched it since. Dozens were served out of that pot before anyone got sick. Like I said, someone must have poisoned it

If you want to know how it could be missed, ask the servers. They're the only ones to open the lid and spoon it out. They should have told me if it smelled off, but I've no idea what hemlock smells like myself, and I doubt they do either. If it's as pungent as you claim, perhaps they were just in a hurry."

[stack]

Lethos replies to Shallelu in elvish, "It is necessary to speak in circles to obtain any useful information. I do not put undo faith in his words. I expect him to say anything that will preserve his life. But we may wait until the others have returned for further questioning."

Switching languages back, to the prisoner, "We can wait for the others to return, if you would like break."

[Starbin]

Jayn sighed, then patted the chef on his arm. "There, there. I'm sure it wasn't your fault ... but you must learn to know common poisons, least something like this repeat. Now, where might we find these idiots that go for servers?"

Za'an sighed, nodding at the request, but unwilling to say more. As far as he was concerned, the cook's excuse was weak, and left the blame squarely on the feet of those not entirely responsible for the food. But it looked like there was little else to do but question the servers.

If you want to roll for our interrogations of the servers, feel free.

[Bhaakon]

Lethos, Caleban
"You already have me outnumbered, elf. No amount of manpower will outflank the spells laid upon me, but perhaps you will confuse me enough to accidentally activate the wards." The man, replies, shrugging. "Though it has been a long day, and circling the Mother of Souls' needle has left me exhausted. If we continue on in this fashion, I may confuse myself."

Ameiko translates the mans' words for Shalelu, as she's been doing the entire interrogation. She turns to Lethos, though her eyes never leave the captive, and mutters in elvish. "No matter how useful this man seems, he will stab us in the back and run if given the slightest opening. Killing captives is not my way, but neither is keeping a viper in my camp."

Jayn, Za'an
Once a cleric has arrived to tend to the poisoned, teh chaos in the common room subsides enough for Jayn and Za'an to question the servers. Unfortunately, the four of them all have the same thing to say: They certainly didn't poison the food. Fingers are pointed at the chef, since he had the most opportunity, but all agree that he was out of the kitchen doing various chores for most of the last hour.

[Starbin]

Za'an listened carefully as his sister continued to alternate between berating commentary and innuendo laden witticisms, with the occasional outright flirting with an attractive server or two. He watched them closely, noting their mannerisms and trying to determine if there was more going on than meets the eye.
Okay, Za'an: [roll0] and [roll1].
And Jayn: [roll2] and [roll3] with lots of detect magic!

I don't want to keep playing for both of us for now, so if we don't discover anything, we'll head back to the caravan and catch up with the others.

[stack]

(Elvish) "He is less dangerous here than out there, alive. Perhaps even dead, our pursuers seem to spare little expense. Wresting answers from the dead can be accomplished if one is so inclined."

[Bhaakon]

As Lethos and Shalelu palaver, the man succumbs to a combination of his partially-healed injuries and the exhaustion of the night's endeavors. Ameiko gives him a less than gentle kick, but he remains stubbornly unconscious. She reaches down and presses the back of her hand against his sweat-soaked brow. She wrinkles her nose, catching a whiff of the fetid swill of garbage and night soil caking his skin and clothing.

"Er...maybe you'll get a chance at that plan, Lethos. I could warm my tea on his forehead."

Koya, roused by Caleban, emerges from her cart in time to hear Ameiko's appraisal. She pushes forward to have a closer look at the man. "Where did you fight him, a midden? And I see no one bothered to wash him before the initial healing. If he's lucky, the skin didn't heal over any pockets of this swill." She clucks her tongue, putting an exclamation point on her opinion of the shoddy job. "Puerri, strip him out of those clothes while Her Majesty fetches a pail of hot water. Desna might see fit to extend his life for another round of questions, if he survives the night."

*********************************************

The man is still with you when morning rolls around, sleeping the fitful sleep of the deathly ill in a tightly bound bundle of bedding. Having stayed up beyond her usual bed time to tend the man, Koya is unlikely to rise before noon, when she might be able to call upon Desna to heal him. That is if she's not forced to use the spell on Jayn, who looks nearly as ill when she and Za'an finally stumble back into camp.

The pair dourly relate the events of the previous night and morning, to bedraggled to engage in more than token bickering. The tale culminates in a drawn out and ultimately fruitless attempt to extract more information from the waiting staff at the inn. If the poisoning was an inside job, the perpetrator was an expert liar.

[stack]

Lethos allows those more skilled to minister to the prisoner, his skills more running toward inflicting wounds than healing them.

Once the twins return, he takes Za'an aside to explain his plan regarding the mind-reading spell.

[Starbin]

Za'an shrugged his shoulders at the plan, looking to his sister. "At the risk of opening myself up to further maligning and mockery, I do not possess the knowledge of that spell; nor is it one that my goddess grants. Perhaps my all-knowing sister might be able to help you."

Jayn simply smirked. "Why does it not surprise me that my dear brother's goddess does not wish her minions to detect the thoughts of others ... it is apropos, don't you think? But I'm sorry, sweetums, I don't have that spell either. What's that? A scroll? Well, now we can talk, I think. You show me yours and I'll show you mine ..." Grinning, Jayn reached for the paper, ready to carry out Lethos' plans.

Stack, I figure you know the mechanics to carry out your plan ... just go with it, cuz MM might be awhile.