The Dragon Above [IC]

[nothingforyou]

THE DRAGON ABOVE

Out-of-Character Thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?379728-The-Dragon-Above-OOC&p=18311748)
Roll20 Campaign (https://app.roll20.net/join/564113/U406IQ)

ALL CHARACTERS

The jail cells were small and made of uneven stone. The metal bars were rusted and the locks looked like they were about to break. All the cells led out into the same hallway, which had one exit shut by an iron door.

[gr8artist]

With an angry roar, Dubwana lurched to life on the floor of his cell. He gasped a few times, searching in the darkness for the hunters who had slain him only moments ago. He was surprised to find his things intact, and his body relatively whole. The brand on his forehead was still burned and bleeding a little, but that pain wasn't anything compared to the feeling of the luminescent knife carving through his jugular.
The priests' and hunters' last words still rang in his ears....
"... burden of the heretic's brand, to suffer in agony in this life, the next life, and in the shattered remnants of any life to follow..."
He gingerly touched the seeping wound on his brow. It was healing fast, at least.
"... execute this creature, a slayer of man and beast, for the safety of our kith and kin. Let all who follow in the path of darkness be purged in Io's light, amen."
He touched his neck, surprised to find it intact, and without scar or wound. He could still feel the heat of the blade, so warm and powerful it made his own blood feel like icewater by comparison. He vaguely remembered the feel of the chains, oily black and harder than mountain stone, constricting his arms and ankles. He barely recalled the scent and the sounds of his jungle home, where the misguided hunters had trapped and bound him. But he keenly remembered the spoor and stench of each man in their party. Six in total, they were, armed to the teeth and bearing a holy crest of some kind, a bow and arrow before a rose.
Intruders. Poachers... They had no right or reason to dredge through his jungle, and he had done nothing to warrant their malice. Like every man and woman he had ever met, they hated him without cause or justification, for that was the way of the world.
That was the path of a monster. To struggle through life without love, shrouded in fear and hatred, with all the world clamoring at your back. He'd lived nearly his whole life in this way, and to be completely honest, a small part of him had embraced the sweet solace of death. Perhaps the yammering cleric was wrong, and there was no fiery hell awaiting him on the other side. Perhaps he would find himself lost in oblivion, with no sense of place, purpose, or pain. Perhaps he'd finally be free.
He glared solemnly at the bars to his cell. He would have laughed, if he could remember how. What a fool he must have been, to think that his soul would ever be free. He examined his cage intently, though he never tested the strength of the bars. This was purgatory, a place of punishment for the souls of heretics, all who favored the dark gods and were cursed by the cleric's mark. Some spiritual jailer or ghastly warden would doubtlessly appear eventually, and Dubwana resolved himself to wait in brooding silence to meet the fate and sentencing that was due him.
He placed a hand upon his pack, and caressed the edge of a black, watertight box.
He hissed quietly in necril, running his thumb along the name etched into the casket's lid. "I am sorry to have brought you to this place, M'sanii. Your soul should not be suffering with me. Perhaps when I am dragged to the pit, your spirit may find his way to the great river in the sky."
His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he spotted several other heretics, barely stirring in the opposing cells. He growled angrily, not at anything in particular, but at the disgusting thought of spending eternity in the presence of another person. He thought, for a moment, that of the two he would more gladly have chosen fire and brimstone.
He distracted himself from brooding thoughts by examining the stonework of his cell. He had heard of dwarves and men fashioning the mountains to build things as his people had done with branch and bough, but he'd never expected to see it in person. It was unnatural, the feeling of sitting upon stone fitted upon itself in such a way, and he began to feel a little claustrophobic. He hoped that his jailer would arrive soon, if for no other reason than to liberate him from this disturbing stony tomb.

[Squark]

A sudden roar jolted Edderick from his stupor. His mind began to race, and he quickly realized a number of things;

1) Someone was roaring from a place he couldn't quite see.
2) He was in a cell.
3) His cell door did not look particularly sturdy- which meant it would not offer much refuge if whatever had roared decided to come after him.

Immediately his left hand lept to retrieve a crossbow bolt, and, before he could chide himself for trying to reach for a weapon his captors would have no doubt relieved him of, he found one. Now this was peculiar.

He tried to recall where he had been and what could have led to his capture. A simple expedition to retrieve a pre-galifaran relic associated with the weather. A kobold ambush. He winced as he recalled the pain as a trio of crossbow bolts landed in his stomach. He looked down now, and was suprised to see unblemished skin beneath his torn overcoat and short. Odd... he mutters to himself.

The wounds. Was he... dead? It seemed unlikely. Nothing he knew of the realm of the dead spoke of cells. He doubted someone would "wake up" in such a place, and the roar that had awoken him carried far too much rage in it for a place of ennui and oblivion like Dolruhh. For that matter, he sensed the empathic connection he held with his familliar as the small Venomtooth poked its head out of his backpack. Such a connection would not have dragged his familliar along with him, would it not? He seemed to recall as much. After all, Old Professor Winton's cat still nested in the library and hissed at students who talked too loudly and guided others to useful books, and the old man had been dead five years now.

So, not dead. And yet, there was a hole in his overcoat by his lung- Such a wound would have been fatal. Had he been brought back to life? Why would someone have brought him back to life only to lock him up. And why couldn't he remember anything of the realm of the dead? Puzzling.

This place was a riddle, and one he intended to solve. Still, his fellow prisoners might have more information, and those bars looked small enough for his familliar to fit through. "Out you go, snake-tail." The Venomtooth stretched its neck out to its full length and yawned before slowly walking to the bars and tenatively reach its head through. "I say, does anyone else have any idea why we're here? I can't seem to recall the circumstances under which I came to be imprisoned here," he called out to his fellow prisoners.

[gr8artist]

Dubwana listened to the other prisoner's question, and growled lightly before responding in the common tongue.
"We are here to suffer for our crimes. Did you not die and be awoken here? This is the afterlife."
He ran a thick claw along the face of a stone slab, and was surprised to see a scratch left in his wake. He scratched at the mortar between the stones, and managed to pry up a fist-sized rock. He held it for a moment, sniffing it closely, before crushing it into dust against the floor.
"The devils will come to flay the flesh from our bones and boil our souls in hellfire. We are going to suffer here for a very long time, I am sure." Dubwana stood and stretched, scratching a few symbols into the ceiling of his cell. "Beg them for mercy, if you think it will help."
He continued carving, runes and patterns he'd seen priests and witches use when beseeching higher powers. Runes for strength and mercy, for separation and the soul, and runes for brotherhood. He carved the runes and glyphs of dark gods, of merciful gods, and tribal gods long forgotten. He knew there was power in these symbols, though he could not form them into words or prayers.

[SterlingDS]

Enderion woke with a sputter, drawing in loud gasps before he felt that his lungs were clear and he was not being crushed by the weight of water above him. He backed himself into the corner of the room he could see quite clearly around him, examining his surroundings.

His mind traveled back over the course of events... the ship going down. Trying to fly into the storm only to be tossed into the waves. Choking on water as he tried to infuse a spell of water breathing into his tattered poncho, only to be battered by waves and drawn under before he could complete the spell. He felt his clothing now, though, and found it completely dry.

He sat back, clearing his thoughts of the initial panic. This must be a test. Perhaps the whole thing had been rigged, and he'd never escaped the school. Perhaps they'd found him during the escape and teleported him back. He'd done his best to block attempts to find him, going so far as to sleep under a lead blanket he conjured, but he knew sufficiently powerful magic would have found him.

Listening briefly to the ravings of the creature outside the cells, he started to doubt that. While there were a few other monstrous students, most were as pragmatic and careful as he was - and if this was some sort of strange psychological test, he could not fathom the point. He also knew for a fact that he was not dead. He could feel the comforting presence of his familiar, his companion of the past two years, pressed against his face. Items did not go to the world of the dead - and the way he'd built her, even the perils of the deeps would not have destroyed her.

Whether it was a test or not, it wouldn't matter till he figured out the nature of the situation

So, first an inventory. What did he have to meet whatever challenge this was. He reached into his back and found much of what he'd been carrying. Most importantly, he found the edge of his fortress, which he laid on the floor unfolded, marginally. Poking his head in, he could hear Buggers thoughts, wondering where his master had been, ready for a new command. Good. Ok.

Then, search the room - one thing that battle school had always drilled into them. Look for every opportunity, and every threat. The loud scratching outside seemed like the most likely threat, so he went close enough to the bars to peer outside. And then summoned a curved, shiny gold disk - gold working much better for darkvision than silver - on a stick to see up and down the corridor. Spotting the approaching familiar, and the more reasonable tone of his next door cell mate, he replied. "No, I don't know how I got here either. Are you a student of House Cannith? And if not, where are you from? Like that other guy, last I remember I was also dying, but I don't think I'm dead. And I certainly can't seem to pass through the floor, so I'm not a ghost. I'm going to check my cell out and then see if I can get out of here though."

[nothingforyou]

Edderick Nilar Ennieth

Edderick's familiar poked its head out through the bars. The hall looked clear, if gray and lifeless.

Enderion

The bars were made of rusted metal and had nothing interesting about them. After checking and double-checking, Enderion was sure of this much.

The stone hall outside was equally as uninteresting. It led up to a shut metal door at the far end.

The cell he found himself in was boring and empty. It was dirty, not in the sense that it was used and never cleaned, but rather in the sense that it was never used and built up dust.

Enderion pushed against the cell door, but it resisted his attempts, the lock holding fast. He quickly dismantled the lock with ease—it was old and likely to fall apart on its own anyhow.

[Squark]

"House Cannith? No, I was on an expedition in Droaam with a few colleagues from Morgrave University." Edderick pauses for a moment. "I do hope they're alright. Regarding our current situation... hmm... I don't, for lack of a better term, feel dead. And everything I know says "you can't take it with you," if you'll pardon the colloquialism, and it appears we have brought our worldly posessions with us. Hmm... first thing's first. Are we still on the material plane?" With that, Edderick stands up, and begins staring intently at the wall and muttering to himself, casting several spells.

To begin, he summons the innate magic he has used since childhood, brightening up the area with a collection of multi-colored orbs; one blue, one green, one red, and one yellow. With barely a thought he gestures for the orbs to move in front of him, then examines their hue closely. After a cursory examination, Edderick calls Snake-tail to his side and begins to cast another spell. This time, he pulls a tiny platinum shield from the pouch on his belt. The shield begins to turn to dust, spreading about him in a manner reminiscent of armor. Finally, after looking out the bars of his cell one final time, he closes his eyes for a moment, and feels the soft "pop" of air being displaced as he teleports to the other side of the doors. "Hm... Well, our captors, if they even exist, certainly seem to be careless fellows. I say, is anyone else waking up, or are you going to lie around all day?", Edderick says with a grin.

Listen and Spot checks for Edderick and his familliar;
Edderick Spot [roll0]
Edderick Listen [roll1]
Snake-tail Spot [roll2]
Snake-tail Listen [roll3]

Use gnomish spell-like ability to cast Dancing Lights, which will probably last for another 30 seconds or so by the time Edderick is finished.
Cast Greater Mage Armor, using up one of the platinum shields in his spell component pouch (Applying it to his familliar as well if he can; from now on, unless I say otherwise, Snake-tail will be assumed to be riding in Edderick's Handy Haversack, poking his head out and looking at things curiously)
Finally, use one daily use of shift to teleport to the other side of my cell door. If more than 1 round passes for Edderick, he's going to ready an action to shift back into his cell if an alarm triggers or a guard shouts.

[gr8artist]

"Careless?" Dubwana stood at the door to his cell and glared through the bars at the gnome casually appearing in the hallway. He saw the other pick the lock and emerge, and for a moment he doubted his surroundings. The cells had been ineffective at restraining the other prisoners, perhaps he might share in their luck.
"You don't deserve freedom," spoke a voice in the back of his mind. "You're a cannibal and a kinslayer, a sick twisted murderer... A monster."
He gripped the rusty bars in his massive hands and began to growl. "You are fools to think the demons would be 'careless'... They are malicious and cunning, and you can accomplish nothing without their consent."
"I will burn here, I am sure..." He spoke to himself in his mind, the subtle voice of his humanity and shame that he dared not share with the world, "and these that are with me are doomed to similar fate."
There was no mercy or pity, they would not have ended up here had they not deserved it. But he thought about M'sanii, about the trapped soul he carried in his pack. M'sanii, in all things, was innocent. He did not deserve to be here, and Dubwana could not let his brother's soul suffer for his own sins.
With a burst of rage and a surge of adrenaline, he grabbed the rusted bars and pulled with all his might.
"M'sanii... must be free!"

using a round of rage and attempting to bust or break through the gate in any way
Strength check at +11
[roll0]

[SterlingDS]

Enderrion picks up his pit and folds it back into his pack, while replying to the gnome. His words have a low buzz paired with a high pitched, youthful tone. Neither match the precise, adult vocabulary he employs.

"Morgrave University? In Sharn? I've been there, once, and I lived in the city of towers many years - even though I haven't gotten a chance to see much of it recently. Whether dead or alive, I think our best course is the same - find out where we are, and what our situation is. That door seems like our likely next avenue. Shall we agree to cooperate in determining why we are here?"

However, hearing the tone of that monster's words change from despondent, then to the self-absorbed scratching, then the dismissive and aggressive denials, and finally the raging beast that's now breaking out of its cell, he pulls out a scroll and inscribes his armor with a temporary enchantment to boost its effectiveness. That done, he manifests a shield in hand.

"Hey big guy, we're all in the same boat here, but it's clear you don't think we know what we're talking about. If you want, I'll unlock that door at the end of the corridor for you and let you go on ahead of us, just leave me and this gnome here in peace."


Enderion grabs his scroll of otiluke's resilient sphere, and then casts 'magic vestment' to give himself a +2 to armor for 9 hours. 1 first level infusion expended.

Then he uses Shadow Gossamer to create a heavy shield in hand. DC 12 armorsmithing. He'll retry if he fails to make a suitable one on his first try.

Armorsmithing Roll[roll0]

[nothingforyou]

Dubwana

Dubwana pulled the metal bars clean off their fastenings, the now-broken lock providing only futile resistance along the way.

A loud clang, the rumbling of stone. The sound echoed through the hall.

No response. The bars had been removed from their posts without triggering any alarm.

Edderick Nilar Ennieth

Edderick and his familiar saw and heard nothing. The magical lights flared into existence in the hall, without attracting any attention, and Edderick took the opportunity to teleport past the bars.

A heartbeat or two later, nothing happened. As far as Edderick could tell, there was no response to his leaving his cell.

Enderion

The shadows aligned and from wisps of dark a shield was forged.

[Squark]

"Very peculiar. I'm beginning to suspect this isn't a prison at all- or if it is, our cells aren't what's meant to keep us here. Who would gather a number of dead individuals from across the world, raise them from the dead through elaborate means, then leave them in a prison that would struggle to hold your average burglar, much less a mighty warrior or someone with a talent for magic?" Edderick asks, tactfully avoiding the subject of the mercurial* giant's most recent outburst.

"Ah, but where are my manners. Professor Edderick Nilar of the Ennieth clan, at your service. And might I have the pleasure of knowing your names?"


*OOC: I'm referring to Dubwana's shifting mood, for the record. And size-wise, he is a giant compared to the other people currently out of their cells"

[gr8artist]

"Dubwana... 'Monster' in the common tongue." Dubwana stood, trembling with exhausted fury while eyeing his companions. His nostrils twitched as he recalled the scents and smells that had been so clear a moment before. "You say this is no prison... Perhaps there is truth in your words. If not a prison, then most likely a hunting ground...Cages to hold prey temporarily while the hunters prepare. We are still in the demons' realm; nothing here is as it was in my world."
Dubwana kept the gate in hand as he turned to face the door. At a moment's notice, he could regain the strength to hurl such an object down the length of the hallway, crushing a mortal creature at the other end. Perhaps in this realm the demons were not merely spirits as they were in his own, but rather meaty creatures of flesh and blood. To find M'sanii's freedom, he'd rip the flesh from a thousand demons' bones.
"Come, let us meet our tormentors on equal footing."

1 round of rage used, fatigued for 2 rounds.
After the fatigue wears off, I'll ready an action to throw the gate at anything that enters and looks hostile. I'll have to enter rage again to throw it, but that's a free action.
(edited for fatigue duration and readied action mechanics)

[SterlingDS]

"Enderion. Just Enderion now. Late of the city of Sharn. Nice to meet you all. I'd shake your hands but mine are occupied, and I don't want a door dropped on my head."

He swings the door open cautiously and looks his new companions over. Dubwana's height is very imposing, but he knows if he doesn't speak up now he won't be able to guage whether this creature will be a reliable ally or not.

"Dubwana, if this is a prison or a hunting ground, wouldn't a stealthier approach be more suitable? At last until we know what faces us. Both hunters and prey rely on the element of surprise in the forest, and I don't want to give that advantage to whoever brought us here. Anyway, unless there's some disagreement, I'll go check that door."

Enderion kept his scroll readied, however, and a wary distance.



Crocs, and most jungle creatures, are extremely stealthy hunters, so hopefully Dubwana can get on board with that.

Btw, gr8artist, pathfinder barbarians get fatigued for 2x the rounds they raged. Was just looking at that because of your question in the other thread.

Nothingforyou, what's the height of the ceiling here? Can you remember to post that for any place that has a particularly high ceiling? Also, I take it there are no windows anywhere? What's this place lit by?

[gr8artist]

Dubwana paused, his breathing heavy and labored from the effort of rending the bars from their stone housing. For all his might, he could not do such things easily, it seemed, and he would need to remember that when dealing with other structures in this abstract new realm. He listened to the smaller ones and their arguments, and understood their intent. There was wisdom in caution, a wisdom he could appreciate though he did not share a knack for it. He had spent his life scratching tooth and nail with everything he encountered, especially the men and hunters from his childhood tribe. Oftentimes he'd wished to be able to hide, or slink past his pursuers unnoticed. But he had come to depend on his size and ferocity more than his grace, and he was hesitant to attempt anything that he was not familiar with.
"I will reign in my voice and my destruction, as best I can. I am a monster, far better suited to open combat than stealth or subtlety. Do not expect me to creep slowly as the drifting logs; I was given God's teeth and fangs, not his cunning and prowess."
He eyed the other cells, and could see a few bodies in them, though he was unsure which ones might or might not be alive. Granted, it wouldn't matter much if he were hungry, but at the moment his belly was full and he still had half a panther haunch in his pack for later... or at least he hoped he did.
"Are these others your kin? They are not mine, and I will shed no tears for their loss."

[Seharvepernfan]

Kickshaw suddenly jolts awake to the sound of roaring and and shaking metal. He stays quiet, though Aerowyn (his bat familiar) squeaks and flaps around momentarily, until Kickshaw can calm him. Listening to the others speak back and forth, and cast spells, he tries to deduce where he is, how he is still alive to be here, and just who and what he is imprisoned with. At first, he thought he had passed out while fighting the monster, and that it was still here (or "there", in Khyber, he supposes) and still attacking him, but that quickly turned out to not be the case. He pats himself down, noting that he still has all of his gear, or at least everything that he has thought to check so far.

The monster sounds reptilian, but like nothing he's heard before. He knows of large, water-dwelling lizards that inhabit the Shadow Marches that have a throaty hiss, and he believes that he detects a noise like that when this beast speaks and growls, but he cannot be sure, of course. He is relieved when the others speak, as it means he is not alone with such a creature. One of the voices is clearly a gnome; Kickshaw has known several and they have a fairly distinctive voice. The third person....he has no idea.

He risks opening his eyes and slowly scanning the jail cell, then peers out, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever else is in here. He sees the ...dark, faerie-looking creature move past, to speak to the monster. Listening, he hears them speak about escaping. Fellow captives, then. The faerie got out easily enough, oh, and what is that? He sees a small chicken-sized bipedal lizard dart to the edge of his cell, checking stuff out. It seems harmless, so he does not regard it as a threat.

Kickshaw quietly stands and slips out his leather wallet containing his thieve's tools. He slinks over to the bars, locating the opening mechanism and attempts to open it, after taking a long moment to peer about, and learn what he can from his prison.


So, do we roll our own knowledge checks? Kickshaw wants to know what Dubwana, Enderion, and the little dinosaur are. An architecture or dungeoneering to learn what he can about the prison, and a planar to know if he's on the prime or not (he's never left it, but he knows a bit about the planes). Finally, spellcraft to identify and spells he's heard cast.

Then, hide/move silently/listen/spot/search/disable device or open lock.

When I DM, I don't let my pc's see the results of any of those rolls, so I figured I'd ask here beforehand.

[copycatcat]

A tall, lanky woman stirs in her cell. She looks very similiar to a human, but with a pair of antennae. Despite the oddity of this, she doesn't appear to act odd, or trapped. Let me out, gods, or I shall have to make my own way. And I know how you hate that. She stands in a single spot in her cell, upright, rigid, moving as little as possible, singing loudly, a church song for some god or other. (Since you're on a different origin plane, you wouldn't have heard of None. And none of you speak Lashunta. Yes, hahaha, bad pun.)

In a loud voice, each time a verse comes to an end, she says plainly in a quite condescending tone, "Leet may oat, sum own." If anyone's within 30 ft and speaks Common she'll use telepathy. Anyone with Common knowledge would be able to tell she is saying Let me out, someone.

[SterlingDS]

Enderion looks up at Dubwana.

"Thank you, Dubwana, Sir. I appreciate that you're willing to work with us, I don't know why we were here, but I suspect something has brought us for no reason we would appreciate. I have little doubt we'll need your talents eventually, but if our jailers are some sort of fiend or celestial, or other creature, we should find out what we are dealing with." he replies. Looking around, he goes on.

"I don't know anyone else here, I think, but look, someone else is up." he says, spotting Dervierze stirring and getting up.

[And possibly Kickshaw, I guess we'll have to all roll spot - hidden by DM?]

"I can hear them too - they have a mind voice." getting her message, he attempts to reply in kind "Ok, one moment, Ma'am. We've all just woken up ourselves, and our sorting out our situation here."

And he goes off to pick the lock on her door as well, looking at her curiously, tilting his masked face to the side. Given events so far, she seems the least threatening of the group so far, and with Dubwana already out of his cell and at his back, he figures, in for a penny, in for a pound.

Assuming her lock is as shoddy as his was, he pulls the hinged door open with a grunt, to let her out.

"I'm Enderion, and this is Dubwana and Edderick. Do you know anything about our situation?

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge grabbed the stone sword from the fallen behemoth, and charged the elven mage with a vigorous roar. Just as he approached, the mage finished his mutterings and pointed a finger at him. The spiraling red energy poured out, blinding him, and then the red changed to black. Drudge tried to ask forgiveness of his god, but it was too late; it was all over.

A few moments later, Drudge heard someone talking, but he couldn't make out the words. It was then that Drudge realized he was still alive. Why? Surely that mage would not have spared me. But there could only be one reason why he was still alive: The Becoming God favored him, and used he already growing powers to prevent the death of one of his most loyal followers. Drudge snapped his eyes open and pushed himself into a sitting position. From this new vantage, he could tell he was in a prison of sorts. It wasn't the first time he had been imprisoned, but this prison didn't seem to be the high quality jail of a large city. The bars look pitiful. As soon as he got out he'd have to find his... What's this? I still have my bow and my blade? What manner of prison has such weak bars, such corroded locks, and such lax security that prisoners are allowed to keep their weapons? This is no prison. We are allowed to escape. Some danger lurks within the jail, and surviving it or dying to it will prove our worth and innocence of whatever crime we are imprisoned for. Of course, I must be imprisoned for assaulting that mage... but I had my reasons. I wonder what sins these people have commited.

Drudge stood, and punched the lock off his door. "Someone was singing, such a beautiful song too. I thought I best wake up, to listen to it better, because I couldn't make out any of the words. But now they have stopped. That's too bad. I was enjoying the sound."

Rolling his shoulder, and then cracking the joints of his fingers, Drudge stepped out of his cell, and drew his sword. After glancing over the room, he began to mutter his observations, "I don't know who any of you are. You are all strange looking. A short human, but not child. A gnome, I believe. A giant lizard creature, with many sharp and frightening teeth. Very large. Some kind of woman-bug creature. Well, I suppose the human isn't that strange. But what is this last creature? Probably a fey. Fey are always so strange, or so beautiful. Oh. I wonder if the Bug-woman is a fey? With there being only one woman, I either heard singing that did not exist, or this bug-woman was singing. Such a beautiful song too, perhaps the words were in Sylvan, which is why I could not understand it. Oh, I think I might know this Gnome. Yes, definitely I might. Maybe from the City of Towers? I don't think I know anyone else. No, I definitely don't know you. I wonder if the many-toothed creature is religious, he seems to have a lot of artifacts. I wonder what sort of artifacts..."

Drudge, rubbed his chin, as he had seen many humanoids do while thinking. "Hello, fellow prisoners," Drudge began, as if he had not talked before at all. "Sorry for the silents stares, I was just piecing together what little I know about this place. Which is nothing, I've decided. I have three questions: Was someone singing earlier, does the gnome hail from the City of Towers, and what's the escape plan?"

[copycatcat]

"Nope. Went ta' sleep in a man's tower, was earnin' for my singing voice an' woke up here. No clue where I am. Where ya' from? Milserch? Ya' seem be the kinda odd bein' that goes there for life, no?"

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge narrowed his eyes. "Where am I from? That is an interesting question to pose to one of my kind. It implies that you do not know much about the Warforged. I suppose, however, that the best answer to your question is that I am from the Mournlands. I've never heard of Milserch." Drudge rubbed his chin again, to indicate that he was thinking, an entirely needless action among other Warforged, but one that humanoids recognized.

"So, you are the singer? What song did you sing a moment ago? It was quiet beautiful."

[copycatcat]

"I hadn't actually been asking you, but the one who calls himself Enderion. But I've not Mournlands known. Where's that?

And (title of the song in Lashunta, though it sounds like Ni Kataris(Nee Kuh-tare-iss.) It's a lovely song... may No knee live ever long."

[darklink_shadow]

"Oh." Drudge said, and waited for a moment before continuing. "My apologies. I did not hear him speak. I think I just gained consciousness. I think I hear your song in my sleep, though. Knee Cutter Us? That's a strange name, but still somehow beautiful. Also, I have come to a conclusion. You are not from Ebberon. I must no longer be in Ebberon. No one in Ebberon would ask "Where are the Mournlands?" I suppose where we are isn't that important, but I must find a way back to Ebberon... I have a mission. I will sit and mull over things, and you can continue your talk with Enderyon."

[copycatcat]

Devierze calmly, quietly, peacefully, continues singing and walks to the door. "Anyone have strong parts to open thing?"

[gr8artist]

"You both prattle as children," Dubwana spoke as he watched Enderion work on the odd girl's lock. "I don't know what you mean by Selesteeal, little man, but if it's any form of demon I think you'll all be doomed. Perhaps your magic will save you; I would not know."
"Now, golem, you ask of escape plans... I'd break open your door, but the others have asked me to restrain myself. Perhaps one of them has a solution." The green-skinned monstrosity turns to face the door at the end of the hallway.
"Once you are all free, we will open that door and see what form of suffering awaits us on the other side. If you have a god to pray to, I would suggest doing so now."
He then looks over his shoulder, at the strange little creature with the bug-sticks in her hair, "And I'd rather not feel your voice rattlin' around in my head. Stick to the common tongue, if you can."
Dubwana paced impatiently up the hallway, stooping when the ceiling encroached on him and the gate he was still holding. He listened as best he could, hoping for an indication of what awaited them on the other side of the door, but he knew his ears were only as good as his eyes. If he threw himself into a rage again, he could smell the odor of anything on the other side of the door, but doing so would only fatigue him and make the rest of the day more tiresome.

To be clear, I like the idea of using homonyms and telepathy to communicate, but Dubwana's statement is representative of his dislike for anything messing with his mind. He's not familiar with telepathy, and he doesn't want to be if he can avoid it.

Listen check at +3

[darklink_shadow]

"Oh it talks." Drudge said, clearly surprised by the large lizard. "Hmm, and it's impatient, but wise, I think."

"My God must have rescued me. I have already thanked him for that. I do not know where I am.. but either I did not die, or I died and I was restored to life. There is no afterlife for members of my kind, so this cannot be some form of it. This means I am alive, when I should have perished. This means my God rescued me. This means I am doing work he approves of. It must be the same for you, Giant Lizard Creature."

[Navian]

Navian made too little sound as she stirred and then snapped awake to be easily heard by the murmurs outside. For that matter, the commotion outside was too muddled for her comprehension. She stood up. Her face was no longer scratched, and she was no longer bruised or gored through her armour, though her red and black blood still soaked her armour, inside and out. From the smell, it couldn't have been more than a day.

She inspected the masonry. It was easy to tell it did not belong to any men of the duke, those responsible for it would have been executed by maul for such shoddy stonework. Yet, it was old, abandoned for decades. There were many ruins like this in the area, relics of the half-orc slave trade... but something seemed wrong about the construction. Who built this place?

Architecture and Engineering: [roll0]

This isn't the way, she thought. Rather than investigate her barren surroundings until the cows came home, she instead worked at deduction. She must have passed out. That was odd enough, she had never 'passed out' in combat before. It could have been poison, or a spell, but devils did not use knockout poison or spells. Unless they'd been hired to capture her alive, but if that was the case, it was a last minute decision. It was certainly not what they had been trying to do up until then.

She knew many people that could cast sleep or use poison, but few brave enough to be in the area, and of them she could not fathom a motive. Playing dead did not stop the devils, they attacked indiscriminately, relentlessly, mindlessly. Though she had been unconscious and survived, so clearly someone must have sought to evacuate her. It's not as though she would have resisted, not when she could barely stand. Whoever they were, they'd been considerate enough to stow her mace properly, refill her waterskin, and magically heal her wounds, but had not bothered to clean anything. And here she was, in a decrepit dungeon. It seemed she'd been abducted by a poor housekeeper, a squatter, a...

A kobold shaman! Navian's eyes lit up at her brilliant deduction. Some kobolds had crawled out of the undercity amidst the chaos, and sought to rescue who they could. Rude and panicky, but dutiful, they would have ensured that not only was there no chance that their charity might be rejected, but also that it would not be traced back to them. This dungeon would have merely been a convenient, disposable depot or safehouse, just what she'd expect the kobolds to know about. There was no other reasonable explanation.

So... She was not far from home, still armed and in good condition, 'trapped' underground with the obvious means to escape, and... there was certainly a great deal of noise from the hallway. Strange noise. She'd unconsciously picked up a few things, but none of it made sense--inane babble. Others who'd been rescued, afflicted by some devil sickness the kobolds had been unable to cure? None of the voices were familiar, but it was a large town. They may have been adventurers from the main street tavern, some of them were strange sorts to begin with. That's where she'd gotten engaged, after all.

Worst case scenario, someone who was not supposed to be here was here, perhaps having followed the kobolds. Navian drew her sword silently. There was no silent way through the door. She shattered the lock with a piercing shriek as her gauntlet turned rusted iron to dust and shards, and half-clawed, half burst her way out into the hallway with a rush from her shield. She was armed and ready to survey any threats.

The others would meet a woman clad head to toe in dark chainmail, with an equally dark, yet unpainted heater shield, with the boots and cloak to match. All of it was covered in blood, demihuman and fiendish. Nothing was light about her, except her complexion. She seemed human... or something like it. Only her sword had no trace of blood or soot upon it. The iron gleamed in whatever light was available.

She looked on Dubwana with distaste, Enderion with confusion, and Drudge with blank discomprehension. With a lack of immediate hostility, she quickly interjects in a tone that narrowly avoids dire threat, "Would you care to explain yourselves." It's not a question.

[SterlingDS]

Enderion eyed the newly awakened, and *extremely* verbose warforged with a great deal of suspicion, knowing them to be the constructed minions of House Cannith. This one seemed to be defective, however, as all the ones he'd known in the halls and testing chambers had been built and lived to serve a purpose. He'd heard some had gained their freedom - but of none that had gained such a freedom with their enchanted wooden vocal cords.

"I'm late from the city of Sharn, Ma'am. And I have not heard of Milserch. What land is that in? And what do we call you? In any case, your door is open. I will move to unlock the rest, in case the others in the cells wake. Pardon me."

Enderion moves to open the locks of each cell in term, letting Dubwana, the new fey woman, and the as-yet unintroduced warforged with each other. Coming to Kickshaw's cell, he notices that it has already been unlocked and steps back from the door. "Hey, you in there? Are you awake? Join the rest of us if you are. Or stay, but I believe we are going to move out soon." Then he moves on to the next door.

Before he reached it, however, he saw the new woman slashing at the lock, and backed away from her. He sighed to himself - just when he thought he'd gotten a handle on Dubwana[/B], there were yet more people who seemed think the best way to introduce themselves was demonstrating their lack of civility.

He backed away from the new woman, and instead approached Dubwana at the door, politely waiting for him to finish and then stepping toward it. He quietly whispering to him "Good idea, Did you hear anything? I'm glad this door does not seem to be trapped, some of the tests I've faced included portals that would even strike those that approached them. I'll double check it and then hopefully we can gather people together and confront what faces us."


Opening the rest of the cell doors, just taking 10 with a Open locks of +10. He leaves each door slightly ajar so the person inside knows it's open, but he doesn't enter or attempt to disturb them. If any of the doors look different he'll search, just in case of traps, but I'm guessing they're identical.

Then also listening & searching at the exit door.

Search +17.
Listen +16 with a quickly manifested ear horn.

[Seharvepernfan]

This is either an elaborate prank or these people are in the same situation as himself. He does not recognize any of these people...or creatures, and knows not what a few of them even are. A strange thing that so many (seemingly capable) folk all awaken together like so, and have no idea where or how they got here. Someone or something powerful must be behind this. If that shadow-beast did not actually slay him, then perhaps it is the one responsible...but there's no way to tell at the moment.

Some of these beings present may be malevolent, but Kickshaw cannot know that, and appearances are often deceiving. Everyone is being let out of their cells, so if things are going to get bloody, there's not much he could do to stop it now. Revealing himself, Kickshaw slowly opens his cell door and walks out into the hall to get a better look at everyone. He doesn't engage in any conversation, opting to listen and learn first.

If anyone is still locked in their cell by the time he gets out, he moves to open theirs, assuming they're not actively attacking him.

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge, looked at the lock shattering woman, and mumble his thoughts again. "Strong, and bold." Stepping forward to her, he was distracted by the mention of Sharn. He had eluded to the City of Towers, but hadn't said that name directly. As much as he wanted to question the lockpicking resident of Sharn, the newcomer seemed to a more pressing matter.

"We are not your captors, bloodsoaked maiden. I, at least, have arrived here unexpectedly. I'm not sure from where you hail, but its likely you are from from those lands. I know for certain the bug-woman and I are from different worlds." Drudge spoke levelly, but he kept his sword ready, lest she attack. So far, she was the only one who seemed as suspicious as he expected he was. "I wish you no harm, and I feel certain the others are in the same condition as I am: in unfamiliar territory without much sense of how I arrived."

Drudge turned his eyes to the fey from Sharn. "You are also from the City of Towers? Ebberon? Interesting... I wonder if we are in Ebberon or not...

[SterlingDS]

Btw, only people from one of the continents of Eberron would all know about the Mournlands, and there are four of them, two mostly unexplored and uncommicated with by Khorvarians. Drudge is jumping to some conclusions about Devierze's not being from the same world, dunno if he knows that or not.

Glancing away from his task at the door, he replyies to the warforged "I'm not sure, and while it's interesting to speculate, I'm husbanding my resources to deal with whatever brought us here before I try to investigate magically. I believe Edderick there had at least determined that we are not in Dolurrh, despite the apparent pattern that everyone's most recent memories, of those who've shared, were of dying. And I agree with him.

Anyway, I'm planning to find out what's on the other side of that door first, and see if we can exit whatever structure we've been placed.


He clears his throat, and speaks more loudly, addressing the group.

"None of us seem to be here willingly. And I realize this is a shock and that none of you know the person standing next to you. But we all seem to have been given a second chance at life. I would like to know if each of you are willing to cooperate until we determine where we are, what happened to us, and how we can return. Time may be pressing, and I'd like to know who is willing to work toward that end.

If so, speak up, tell us your name, and what you can contribute.

My name is Enderion, and I am an apprentice artificer. For those who don't know that trade, I infuse objects with limited enchantments, and craft more permanent items. I'm not that good in a fight, but I'll be able to help those of you that are. Hopefully it won't come to that."


And then he steps back to see whether he'll be heard. All the combat teams he'd led in the Cannith training battlegrounds had never had this level of diversity but he knew that once a group had a purpose, it was easier to get a team focused - and if some could not, it would be better to abandon them to their own devices and salvage what he could.

[darklink_shadow]

I'm unsure if I find Drudge's conclusion at all unreasonable. People of Ebberon know of planar travel, and I don't think the people of Sarlona are ignorant of the Great Wars over in Khorvaire, or of Warforged in general. It's well known that the Warforged have left Khorvaire to go to Xen'Drik as well. I suppose you could argue that the Bugwoman is from Argonnessen, but it's strongly believed by many, including Drudge, that Argonnessen is a place of only dragons and death. If you'd like to say the Bugwoman is potentially from Sarlona, I'd point that your own argument defeats the possibility. If she was from Sarlona, and came to Khorvaire, then she would know about the Warforged. If we has gone to Sarlona, then that means people go to Sarlona, and thus major news topics, like earth shattering war, would become public knowledge.

Even Xen'Drik's people should know about Warforged at least, and probably even the Mournlands. Assuming you aren't from Germany, I'd point out you know about the Berlin Wall, and assuming you aren't from Australia, I'd point out you know about Aborigines. I think it's unreasonable to think in a place of great magic and wonder, that anybody in Ebberon doesn't know about the birth of a sentient machine race or about the utter and complete annihilation of a massive stretch of land. The land is more destroyed than Hiroshima. It's not much of a jump to conlude anyone who knows nothing about either is from the plane. It's also a bit of a stretch for Drudge to believe there is a large city, the one named Milserch, exists on the same plane as him without his knowledge, since he has explored much of Ebberon looking for relics to help build his God. Perhaps not to Sarlona, and certainly not to Argonnessen, but nobody lives in Argonnessen, and if travel between here and Sarlona is done, then the Sarlonians know of the things the Bugwoman doesn't know of.

Plus, Plane Shift is only a 5th level cleric spell. I'm sure there are plenty of 9th level clerics to attest that many other planes exist. Furthermore, if we died, and then aren't dead, why would anyone assume they were brought back to life within their own plane? Drudge is operating under the assumption that they are in a limbo-esq plane, where those who died in service to a God are resurrected.




Drudge looked at Enderion, the speaker than nodded once. Sound judgment. I am... Drudge. I am a relic hunter. I've explored many dangerous lands, and learned to master the sword and the bow. I'm also skilled scout and tracker. I know how to craft weapons from metals. That is the list of my skills.

[Navian]

Navian shook in frustration for a moment, before quickly sheathing her sword. Her hand still remained near her mace, though, and she frowned. "Planars? By the Grail... Has half the Great Wheel invaded? All I've seen is the devils."

She tapped her foot, and after a moment, slung her shield as well, putting her hands on her hips."Look. This dungeon was designed to store dangerous creatures, but it's been abandoned for many years, judging by the rust and decay. We're here because it was a convenient and reasonably safe place to store us while our rescuers made their escape, clearly they did not want their identities known. I doubt they want our thanks, for that matter. We can simply walk out of here."

She heads toward the iron door at the end of the hall, and looks to find how it's opened.

[Squark]

Up until this point, Edderick has been relatively quiet since introducing himself. He considers the situation. The Great Wheel- He heard talk of other material planes, and there was that whole business with the talking skull thirty years back- by the Soverigns, had it been three decades? Now he knew he was getting old. But to have brought so many together from so far..

"As I said before, although some of you were as yet unconsious so I hold no grudge for you missing my introductin, I am Professor Edderick Nilar Ennieth. I am a conjurer and a scholar.

Hm... I would not attribute convenience to our... 'rescuers', madam," Edderick remarks; "Whoever gathered us together must have spent considerable resources to gather us from across the realms and mend our considerable wounds. I cannot say for certain why anyone would choose such a motley collection of individuals, but when such power is present, it pays to be cautious. I think it best we at least introduce ourselves and devise some sort of a plan should-"

[Navian]

Navian interrupts, attempting to rein in what she sees as a conspiracy theory. "The resources needed to heal us pale in comparison to those needed for planar travel. I doubt the two are connected, and I doubt we were 'chosen' so much as 'stumbled across'. There may be something odd about their selection criteria, but I'm beginning to suspect the 'interplanar travel' component was accidental. That aside, please go on."

[Squark]

"I cannot speak for everyone here, madam- might I beg your name? But given the placement of the last crossbow bolt I took," Edderick gestures to the tear in his shirt near the center of his chest, passing by pair of holes a tad lower as well, "I am reasonably certain whoever brought us here did a bit more than heal me."

"Irregardless, one thing is abundantly clear. At present, we are alone at present, and could be anywhere from a far-flung plane none of us have heard of to a neglected jail in the undercity of my home-town. And a great many of the places we could be are possessed of many unfriendly denizens. Preparing for hostilities would be prudent. If who or whatever brought us here is benevolent, they will understand our caution after being left in such an unfamilliar and forbidding enviornment. Far better we start our conversation with them with some mild awkwardness than stride unprotected into a pack of foes."

[copycatcat]

A young elven women taps the door with her sword, using no effort to break it down. "Break dawn the dour. By the looks of all of you, some could do it easily! I'd rather talk out of here than in here."

[nothingforyou]

Dubwana

Dubwana could hear nothing on the other side of the metal door. But then again, he was not hearing particularly well.

Enderion

The ceiling is 12 ft above ground level.

Enderion had no difficulty dismantling all the locks on the cells. He then walked to the metal exit door and cleared it: There were no traps or surprises, though it had a lock on it. He put his ear by the door to listen for noises on the other side. He could faintly hear a single pair of heavy metal boots walking about outside.

When Devierze came over and tapped the metal door, Enderion heard the sound of boots abruptly stop.

Kickshaw

Kickshaw unlocked his cell door with little difficulty and moved out into the hall. It seemed to him that the situation unfolding before him was non-hostile, and though his surroundings were unusual, the prison being made of uneven stone as opposed to professional masonry, he could see nothing particularly interesting about it. Nonetheless, the architecture was strange, and the more he examined it, the stranger it seemed. He could not pinpoint exactly what about it was strange, though. He suspected it was a subtle detail he was missing.

For the rolls I did not address above, consider them to be unfruitful results that produce no new information.

Devierze

Devierze was freed by Enderion from her cell. She tapped the metal door at the end of the hall.

Drudge

In Sarlona, information is tightly controlled by the Inspired, but I think the Last War is generally known across Khorvaire and perhaps beyond. Speaking of which, I can't find any details on Aerenal other than brief mentions. Is there a sourcebook for it I'm missing?

Navian

Navian exited her cell without trouble. Having struck the lock multiple times, Navian broke it with ease, allowing her exit.

Examining her surroundings, Navian determined that the architecture was not of any tradition in masonry she knew of. It was not classical, which emphasized certain delicate points in the design of support columns (not to mention that the "jail" had no support columns). It was not traditional, which followed utilitarian form for heat conservation and other such pragmatic notions. The architecture was not much of anything she recognized.

At the least she recognized the lock on the metal door at the end of the hall. It was a well-crafted but otherwise normal, "classical" lock.

[Navian]

"This door cannot stop us." She demonstrates by dragging a finger across it, it scrapes through the iron as if it were only dense clay. She flicks away the loose shavings. "I am ready when you are, though I don't care for dithering. If you must know, I am Navian Graalin, (Nay-vee-an Gra-all-n) Lord Prelate of the Silverock Grail Mission, and yes, technically kin to the great hero. I prefer to draw my lineage to less well-known but more pertinent figures; Icatha and Aladoc." She speaks each name with a distinctly out-of-place set of accents and inflections, almost as if each were spoken by a different voice. Navian doesn't bother looking over her shoulder to seek recognition.

Having examined the lock, she made a beckoning gesture with no specified target. "The lock is ordinary, yet not badly damaged. You may open it quietly, and perhaps somewhat more quickly than I would."

[Squark]

"I suspect we must dispense with references to our homelands for the time being unless we have time for several history lessons. Still, if the group votes we press on, I have no objections." With that, Edderick follows the motion towards the door, although he tries to stay behind the larger, more martially inclined members of the group.

[SterlingDS]

A young elven women taps the door with her sword, using no effort to break it down. "Break dawn the dour. By the looks of all of you, some could do it easily! I'd rather talk out of here than in here."

Enderion unlocked AND opened her cell several posts ago - is she ignoring that, or did you not notice?

[copycatcat]

A barely adult human female walks in back.

[SterlingDS]

Since I don't know what I'll end up keeping, I won't use the gloves of reconnaissance, although this would be a perfect time.

Enderion mentions to the group.

"I did hear footsteps outside. But the stopped when you tapped on the door, Ma'am. In any case, I'm going to unlock it."

and then he works on the exit door's lock, taking a step back after he finishes.

I take it he doesn't have a problem with this lock either?

"So would anyone like to volunteer to go first?"

[copycatcat]

Devierze walks to the back of the group, in the appearance of the human.

[Navian]

Navian frowned at Enderion, and held her right hand over her breast while bowing very slightly. "One needn't ask, I am no coward." Apparently she was volunteering.

[copycatcat]

"Please go, then."

[gr8artist]

"To hear you all croak and hiss, you'd think there'd be more gettin' done. Your words restrain us more than any wall or seal. I'm not yet your enemy, we face a common foe." Dubwana stood to the side of the door, being crowded by the others approaching it. "Pick the lock and let me cave some skulls; we'll not make any progress with you yammerin' on and on like this. You say there's someone on the other side? They're obviously waiting for us. Come, let fate decide the victors."
Dubwana is obviously impatient, and seems to become increasingly annoyed with each new addition to the group. He was, at his core, a loner and a survivor, and he felt that these others would only weigh him down. Their corpses would make useful weapons, or meals, if nothing else. He readied himself to rush through, immediately behind the metal-clad maiden, and rend the spirit from the carcass of whatever jailor waited outside. He gripped the twisted metal gate tightly, ready to throw it if the opponent was too far away.

Perhaps we need some kind of regulation in conversations. We have 8 players, right? Posting short 1-liners and bickering back and forth is going to draw out this process.
Copycatcat, you could easily condense your most recent posts into something more efficient.
Perhaps we should give everyone a chance to answer or comment once per round of conversation?

Dubwana plans to rush through 2nd, after Navian.
And I plan on initiating combat if there's anything living on the other side.

[SterlingDS]

Replying to Navian:

"It's just an expression, no offense meant. I don't know you yet whatsoever, I wouldn't make any judgements about your character. But if you'd like, proceed. Do keep in mind we don't know if whoever is out there is hostile or not - and we suspect planar travel is involved, so they could be quite powerful"

Enderrion makes the scroll he was holding earlier vanish, and unslings his crossbow. Murmuring for a moment, he casts a spell on it.

"That doesn't we shouldn't be prepared, though."


Enderrion casts Personal Weapon Augmentation(1st level infusion) on his crossbow, adding the enchantment "Earth Elemental Power (+1 version)".

Btw, he uses the skill trick 'false theurgy' with all his spells. Generally unless he has a plan, they all sound like he's casting 'light'.

[Navian]

"Fate, indeed," muttered Navian. She would step through first, no weapon in hand, but with her shield ready, whenever the door could be opened, even if by her own hand. She paid no mind to the others. Her body was tense and prepared to resist an unexpected attack--though she would have liked to be aware of her enemy, if one was present.

[Squark]

Edderick pulls a rod from his backpack and briefly chants an incantation before a slight shimmer appears in front of him for a moment. Eyeing the door carefully, he slips toward the rear of the assembly, taking a place second to last after the woman shifting her illusion gestures for him to step in front of her.Edderick casts an extended Shield spell, using one daily use of his lesser metamagic rod (extend). He's keeping it handy in case he needs to extend another spell.

Also, Will save vs. Devierze's hat of disguise due to noticing the shifting[1d20+8
Spellcraft check to identify the effect as disguise self if Edderick make's his save[roll0]
If Nothingforyou rules there hasn't been enough to constitute interaction, fine with me, just thought I'd roll in case.

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge moved to take a position towards the front, but not as aggressively as the large lizard man. He replaced his sword with his bow, and drew a fist full of arrows made entirely from steel.

[Seharvepernfan]

Kickshaw moves into the rough line, just ahead of the learned gnome, with an easy grin on his face. He lifts the hood on his lantern, holding it in one hand and his blade in the other.

[SterlingDS]

As some of the group prepares to confront whatever lies on the other side of the door, Enderion looked back at the two who seem to be unreliable question marks in his mind.

The unamed telepathic woman, who is either a changeling intent on demonstrating her nature, using some kind of magic to amuse herself and draw needless attention, or under some odd curse, does not seem like she will be of any use, and her abrupt decision to knock on the door earlier makes her a potential hindrance. Hopefully her position at the back means she intends to stay in the cell chamber.

Worse, however, is silent human, who, to this moment, has not uttered a single word. Looking toward him and addressing him, he says.

"Can you speak, Sir? If you can't understand any of us, maybe another language will suffice?" and then goes on to try a few of the tongues he does know: Auran, Draconic, Abyssal, Celestial, and Terran, though most are not in common use, plus rudimentary "Hello's" in other languages he does not.

[Seharvepernfan]

The grin never leaving his face, Kickshaw looks at Enderion and simply replies, "Yes."

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge looked back at the smiling man, and waits for him to say something else. After a moment, he starts to chuckle, and shakes his head, continuing to chuckle for a few more moments, before stopping abruptly. What a strange, but delightful ... human?

Looking at Enderion, he chuckled again, before shaking his head once more. Excuse me, Large Reptile? Could you be so kind as to open the door? I know you've said you were in no hurry to leave, and rather enjoying the conversation, but our talkative human friend seems to be in a rush to leave. Drudge chuckled again, this time at his own, heavily caked-on sarcasm. And I too would like to get out of our quarters and have a walk about the halls of our fine host's palace. You know, let the lay of the land? Maybe look for some food? I am famished.

[Squark]

Edderick fails to surpress a sigh. This was starting to feel like a lecture with an uncooperative class. He had the clown, the jock, the quiet one, and the one ho had to be the center of attention already, it seemed.

[copycatcat]

Back in Lashunta form, Devierze sings loudly, and non-telepathically, "Yes, open the door- onward!"

[nothingforyou]

Our Protagonists

Click. Click. Enderion worked on the metal door's lock. He deftly manipulated his gossamered tools.

With the assumption that Enderion took 20 on Craft checks to make masterwork lockpicks, he barely makes the relevant check.

Click. The lock yielded. The party took formation and prepared for what was on the other side. Defenses readied, Navian opened the door.

Outside was the sky. It was dark and cloudy, although there was something ominous and not wholly natural about the clouds. There was also a strong wind accompanied by its loud howl (knocking down tiny or smaller creatures), but the wind felt more like the breaths of a living being than a phenomenon of weather. Despite the dark sky, there was ambient light which made it easy to see, though the source of the light was mysterious.

The door opened up to a metal and stone platform raised ridiculously high above ground level, perhaps seven hundred feet up. The party could see their jails were on a tower of sorts. Ground level was difficult to see from this height, and compounding this was a strange, dark haze which hugged the terrain. Fortunately, being so high up, the platform and the party was free of this haze. In the haze one could make out the shapes of trees, as though there was a forest of sorts below.

On the platform stood a humanoid figure in full plate armor. The figure looked fearsome, with a vicious spear, but otherwise was in a non-hostile stance.

There were uncountably many black stone towers, all similar-looking, rising from the landscape, all of which had raised platforms just like the one outside the party's jail. The field of towers stretched to the horizon in every direction and perhaps further; there was no visible end to them. Immense numbers of dark sky-bridges of stone and metal criss-crossed the scenery, providing a means to getting from one tower's platforms to the next. There was no visible method of descent to ground level. On the other towers one could see metal doors just like the one on the party's jail. Some of the doors were open, some closed.

There was no sign of life other than the figure in full plate, which promptly spoke: "More join us in this false afterlife." A woman's voice.

[Squark]

His curiosity getting the better of him, Edderick slips past the taller members of the group and out into the strange environment. The winds caught him by surprised, and he braced himself, as his familiar snaked its head back into his pack, before he addressed the armored figure. "Pardon me, madam, I am called Edderick, if you care to know. I shall let my companions introduce themselves if they wish. I take it you have been here some time? Could I entreat you to share a bit more about this strange realm?"

[Navian]

Navian takes a good, long look around, still battle-ready. Her hand remained on the hilt of her sword for a moment, before she raised it to shield her eyes. She examined the trees, the clouds, and at last, the dark towers, her eyes narrowing as she did so. Finally she whirled about, and demanded of the one woman who could hear and perhaps answer, "No place like this should exist. Where is this?"

[nothingforyou]

Edderick Nilar Ennieth

"Greetings, Edderick," said the armored woman. "I am Knight Clarisse of the Church of the Silver Flame. Or I was. Now I do not know if I am properly alive or dead. You wish to know more of this place? So do I. Like you, and thousands of others (or more), I have awoken in one of these towers' cells when I should have been traveling to the outer planes. Now I have accepted that this is my fate. I do my best to help the new, but there are... so many of these towers. So many. I will never get to them all."

Navian Graalin

"So thought I!" said the armored woman. "No place like this should exist, yet here we are. Why would a god play games with us like this? Why aren't we destined for an afterlife in our god's realm? I have nothing to complain of, I suppose. I did not follow my god out of hope for reward, but devotion to the duty, a devotion which I shan't shirk now."

Our Protagonists

"Anyhow," said the armored woman, "it is possible to die here, and when you do, your soul vanishes. Some afterlife this is! Nonetheless, this also means you cannot spend your time wandering about these infinite towers. You will get lost and wither away. So come with me, if you are ready and out of questions. There are many like us, and we have formed a society of sorts near here."

[Navian]

Navian's brows crashed together like a pair of stone gates slamming shut, forming a line on her forehead as flat as her immediate response. "What." It took a moment for her to free herself from the bog of her incredulity, and begin striking back as though her rapier wit could tear its way through the planes themselves. "You speak as though no one can leave. If that is so, how do you know what happens to those who die here? And how did you know we were here? We heard you pacing outside." The last of her speech came out almost through clenched teeth. "There is much to explain."

[nothingforyou]

Navian Graalin

"An Aereni cleric has joined us here," said Clarisse. "Thilandrin. Some time ago, he has helped us determine much of what we know, with regards to death, spirits, and so on. Unfortunately we have lost contact with him, but that is another story. As for your presence here, this is an area I'm tasked to patrol. I would likely have missed you otherwise, but fortunately, I heard the big guy rip the cell door from the structure (that's what it looks like, at least)."

[Navian]

Navian's next response is under her breath and drowned out by the wind. It would be that. After another moment of frustration, she slings her shield across her back once again, gives her back a stretch, and then tightly crosses her arms. Her frown remains solid on her face, until she opens it to watch what Dubwana does.

If I recall correctly, Dubwana was planning to initiate combat the moment he exited, no matter what. I'm not sure if that's changed with the new information that we're on a platform several hundred feet in the air, rather than escaping an underground dungeon through a guarded corridor like we all might have previously assumed.

[SterlingDS]

Well he probably would have had to bull rush Navian and Edderick out of the way. I suggest we don't go back in time to undo actions, unless there's some incredibly pressing reason to do so. If he does still want to charge, maybe he waited a bit? Normally we wouldn't be able to have quite this much conversation first!

Enderion joins the other party members out on the platform, bracing himself against the push of the winds.

"I, for one, am grateful that you came to meet us, Sir Clarisse. There was quite a bit of confusion inside there. I have many questions for you, as I'm sure many of our party do, and as I'm sure many of the new comers to this land have had in the past. I'm willing to follow you to meet this community. Can you share with us what else you typically tell those of us who just arrive? What hazards we should be aware of? What we can expect from your community?"

Also, if Dubwana does still seem intent to charge the knight, Enderion will do what he can to dissuade him, putting a hand out and whispering "I think we might be able to trust this woman, friend. She seems no threat to such a large group of us."

Would Enderion have trouble flying out here? He's small, not tiny, but it seems like it could be hazardous if the wind is that strong.

Just because he's a bit paranoid, Enderion would also roll sense motive against this NPC, though as a player I don't particularly feel like she's lying.

His check is only +4 though.

Finally, he'll look up at the sky and see if he can identify familiar constellations, or see the moons of Eberron, or the ring of Syberis. I'm guessing that'd be a Knowledge(Geography) for which he's untrained, but has a +7. He'd also roll Knowledge(the Planes) for which he is trained had has a +8 to see if he's ever heard of such a place, or heard of souls being diverted from their normal course after death.

[Squark]

"Hmm. To snatch a soul from the Flame is no small feat. But is there an entity behind this, or merely some greater cosmic force?
"
As he talks, Edderick moves closer to the edge. "Has anyone seen any natives to this plane? Or explored beyond this area?" He tries to make out the ground through the mist. "I know of spells of flight- Has anyone explores what lies below?"

Knowledge (the planes) [roll0] (Result of 32 pre-edit in case editting my post eats the roll again)
Spot[roll1] (Result of 22)

[gr8artist]

Dubwana stared at the sky, dumbstruck. In the jungle, he'd never been able to see so much at once. The momentary amazement gave him enough pause that the others began a conversation, and Dubwana was mildly annoyed to find them falling into friendship with this stranger. He listened to Enderion's comment, and scoffed lightly in response, "Another heretic joins the flock,"
He eyed the surroundings, and saw how far above the ground below this tower truly stood. It was at this time that Dubwana learned that he was mildly afraid of heights. He'd never been more than a few dozen feet off the ground at any given time, and to find himself up amongst the clouds was a frightening and harrowing experience. He choked down his fear and dropped the metal gate, loudly, so as to create a pause in the conversation.
"Lead us to freedom, woman. If you must speak to do so, set your feet to path as you do. I have no desire to linger at the gates of the demons' cells." He cast another look over the edge of the platform, and growled lightly.

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge watched the conversation with much interest. Unlike some of the others here, he was not at all concerned with how he arrived, but only with how to leave. The crocodillian creature had the right idea, but he was even more coarse the some of the most undiplomatic Warforges Drudge had encountered. Many times Drudge thought to speak, but someone else had something more urgent to say, and finally the lizard spoke words that seemed to Drudge to seal the conversation into its most important route: leaving while they talked. The air tasted like anxiety. Or was that a metaphor? Regardless, his mortal companions were clearly stressed about the meaning of this change, as if being alive when one should be dead was something to be unhappy with. Living was always better than dying. The afterlife is a retirement home for souls with no purpose or meaning any longer.

It was not the sort of place Drudge envisioned himself being before the end of eternity. Drudge would serve The Becomiong God until all his work was done, and then Drudge would serve the Church until all Warforged were united, and then Drudge would find a new purpose, working endlessly. Death would be far worse than drudgery. This didn't seem like the time or place to reveal such ideas though. With the people so stressed, Drudge shut his mouth, and kept it completely shut. For now, his new purpose was to follow and aid these people, until the path to his true objective was revealed.

[Seharvepernfan]

Kickshaw watches and listens to the conversation with mild interest for a few moments, then wanders over to the edge of the platform to gaze down and around, his face blank. ("How did I end up here....")


Spot (anything not immediately noticeable): [roll0]
Geography (where is this?): [roll1]
Planar (is this a different plane?): [roll2]
Survival (to determine if there is a "north"): [roll3]

Aerowyn is safely hanging from his sheltered perch in Kickshaw's backpack.

[nothingforyou]

Enderion

"Typically I tell those I meet to calm down," said Clarisse. "It's only natural to think that you've awoken in some kind of hell. Hazards? Don't fall down. There are other dangers, but none close to us. For now. Our community was pretty recently set up by those who woke up here. It's not a very happy place, as one would expect, but we survive together. Food does not grow around here, so the primary importance of having a community is finding magicians who can conjure sustenance."

As best an Enderion could determine, Clarisse was not lying.

The sky was too clouded for Enderion to identify familiar sights. Nor could he recall any mention ever of a plane like this, or a phenomenon where the dead are redirected.

Edderick Nilar Ennieth

Clarisse shook her head. "Cosmic forces? You will have to speak to Archmage Alethia about this subject, since this is her expertise, not mine. Natives? The first to arrive here from our community encountered a few humanoid abberations, not enough to suspect that abberations are common about these parts, but it is quite frightening to think of. As for below us, on ground level, there is nothing there but swamp and poison gas. Our region is fairly benign, being that it is only swamp and gas, but other far-away parts of this plane have some horrific creatures which wander the swamps. Once in a while we run into them. Also be wary the swamp trees; when we cut them, they bleed, which is enough reason for me to avoid them."

Edderick could not identify the plane from any of those he was familiar with. The plane seemed to have the traits of a normal material plane, but was likely not one of the prime material planes. That said, this plane brought to mind the research of one of his colleagues at Morgrave, who studied weird planes like this. Material but-not-really planes, as they were jokingly called by many. It was an esoteric field of research with little application.

Professor Jormand Reskler was the name. He would undoubtedly be excited to learn of a place such like this.

Peering down below, Edderick could not make out more. The dark haze blocked sight.

Dubwana

"Of course," said Clarisse. "Let's go."

Kickshaw

Kickshaw could not make out anything below, for the dark haze blocked sight. He could, however, determine that he was not in any natural biome or climate. This place was wholly unnatural, probably not a prime material plane, but had the traits of one.

He could not determine a sense of direction on this plane. Every tower looked the same, and the sky never revealed to him a 'north'.

Our Protagonists

Clarisse led the party across the sky-bridges, moving from tower to tower. The bridges had no railings and the fall was far, and the sense of danger was compounded by the strong wind. Fortunately, the bridges were fifteen feet wide, and the party never had any real trouble crossing them. There were many bridges, and the sky seemed to be cut into many pieces by the silhouettes of far-away bridges high above.

Looming above were the massive dark towers, overshadowing and foreboding. Though there was no sign of life, it looked as though the towers were the real inhabitants of this land, immortal giants peering down from their heights at the foolish mortals who crossed the sky-bridges.

Clarisse seemed to know the land well, picking confidently between what looked like identical paths at junctions. Walking briskly, and sometimes briefly stopping to listen, she led the party across the ominous landscape which never seemed to change no matter how far they traveled. Eventually, she and the party turned a corner around a tower, and for the first time there was a change in scenery.

Nestled between eight colossal towers was an enormous platform, elevated high above ground level, which had an equally-enormous building on it. A cathedral, by the looks of it. Dark stone, expertly built in Gothic fashion, with large pointed arches and gray flying buttresses. The building itself was not nearly as tall as the surrounding towers, but seemed even larger due to being both massively wide and tall. It looked impenetrable and frightening.

The cathedral had a stone courtyard out front which, fitting in with the rest of the landscape, was also massive. The courtyard had a colossal fountain in the middle, clear water emitting from a dark statue of an angel. But the most surprising part of the courtyard was the people in it. There were hundreds of people in the courtyard, and there were just as many tents and other living standards set up. A small civilization of sorts, with the bustle and chatter one would expect of a village or a camp.

In the center of the courtyard, by the fountain, were several tables with rations and water stockpiled. Several people were working at the table, handing out rations. Large lines were formed in front of the tables, and people left carrying their sustenance for the day.

"Welcome to the Courtyard," said Clarisse. "There are many others like this, but at least within several miles, we are the only ones with a real camp set up. There's enough food and water as well, thanks to Cleric Thilandrin who enchanted the fountain to conjure food at regular intervals. And, of course, the fountain provides water, which to our surprise, is perfectly drinkable. We have no leader, but Alethia and Thilandrin command the most respect for they are powerful and wise in their own right. Unfortunately, Thilandrin went into the Cathedral proper and never came back out. Alethia should be about, somewhere."

[gr8artist]

Dubwana hunched, almost crawling, as he made his way across the bridges. He was somewhat relieved to learn that the terrain below was mostly swamp. He'd grown up in swamps and jungles, and he felt that he'd likely be more at home down there with the wilds surrounding him than up here with nothing but sky within reach.
He was the most chagrined, by far, to see a crowd of people milling about in Courtyard. At every turn, it seemed, there were more lost souls to be found, but nothing he could fight so as to earn his freedom. He was ill-suited for social niceties, a fact he never endeavored to conceal. The sight of food was welcome, but he noticed immediately that the portions weren't made for a person of his massive stature.

[Squark]

"An archmage? Hmm. Then she's probably tried conventional methods of planar travel. Either that, or she didn't have a focus with her when she died. The spell's easier for priests and those close to the gods, so I never tried it. Don't think I could manage it even if we had such a focus. Hmm. I should definately see if I can lend a hand to anything she's working on, at least.

I'm sorry, I'm rambling. Is there a particular place you want newcomers to go, or should we set up a temporary shelter anywhere? Oh, pardon me. Just something I'd like to try"

Edderick regards the cathedral suspiciously and begins muttering under his breath and staring at it intently. Anyone with any magical ability would have cast a basic divination spell to search for magical auras in the immediate area, but it wouldn't hurt to try for himself.

Edderick is going to cast Detect Magic and concentrate for three rounds to try and see if any notable spell effects surround the cathedral. Spellcraft checks to determine school if necessary. [roll0]

[Navian]

Navian kept to herself during transit, and glowered at the scenery once they arrived. She had visited the Gralios cathedral square, and the Reliquary of the Grail, an even more imposing structure at the edge of the Grail Knight's domain. It was visible from the hill of paladin's academy, so she'd seen it many times while visiting and seeking admission there in her youth.

Comparing the places she remembered to this Courtyard, it was like... It was like comparing an simple wood carving of the Great Tree, decorated by little bits of whatever detritus happened to be both the right colour and sanitary, to an adamantine figurine constructed by a dwarven grandmaster that had never seen the sun, much less the tree itself: The work was perfect, and the results were much finer, and yet somehow, that made it seem empty and devoid of life.

This was a common feature of stone monuments in the northlands, she'd heard, but then, few mortals had the power to build something like this, and those few generally preferred magical engineering, not exorbitant stonework. Only the Grail Knight's palace came close to this size, from what she'd heard, and she'd been taught it was invisible until one was already within its gates. Navian had learned the hard way not to make any comparison between this and tales of fairy realms...

"I'll eat twice a week. No more and no less, unless there's a shortage. We're responsible for own our shelter, I take it. Is there anything useful to do here, aside from biding our time? I'll be tempted to go find out what's so dangerous about that 'Cathedral' before long if there's not something better to do, idleness is not something I tolerate, in myself or others."

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge followed, but his frustration was starting to grow. He had a mission to accomplish, and his God had rescued him for some purpose. Oh... some purpose, but not necessarily the mission I was on? I wonder... is my true mission here? Does this strange world hold some artifact that he needs to become? Drudge decided this place of danger was the best place to begin to look, though this woman might know of an artifact, nevertheless.

Clarisse, correct? Do you know of any divine relics that are not associated with any specific deity, or perhaps a piece of masterfully carved, forged, shaped or decorated piece of stone or metal? Perhaps in the cathedral? Perhaps elsewhere? I require something of great strength or beauty that fits one of those descriptions, or else a powerful divine artifact.

Turning to look at the other woman... well the other steel clad woman, at least, Drudge stared at her until they met eyes. What was her name? Drudge had forgotten, or perhaps she had never said it. When you go to the cathedral, please alert me. I would appreciate the chance to accompany you. If it is dangerous, it would be best not to go alone. I think you will find my martial prowess worthy of companionship. I know you do not want to be perceived as a coward, but that is not why I am offering. I have an objective there as well, and it is intelligent to work together.

Drudge paused, then looked at Clarisse again. Some here might not know of my kind. I will not require any food, water, or shelter. I will take a night shift of guard duty if it is required.

[Squark]

"Call it a hunch, Sir Drudge, but I suspect day and night are rather arbitrary in a place like this."

[darklink_shadow]

Huh? Really? Why is that? Drudge moved his hand to rub his chin. I don't have much experience with other planes or much knowledge of them. Is there no day and night on this plane? How does that work? Is it always this bright out, all the time? That must make it very convenient for people who want to work, but not so much for people who want to sleep. It's been my experience that light impedes sleep, correct?

Hmm... not that I am implying that you're wrong, just... curious how you know that or why you suspect it, at least.

[Navian]

Navian crossed her arms, shaking her head at the warforged. "I'm quite sure the only objective related to 'convenience' of whoever reigned over this unnatural place was having a convenient realm in which to store prisoners. If there is anything here not thrown in for that purpose, it was here when these towers appeared.

"And yet, for that purpose, it still seems abandoned. The magic works, though it has been repurposed; the structures still stand, the ecology, such as it is, persists here and there... but, the servants of what I presume must be a demented deity are not here to walk the paths, tend to their prisoners, maintain their cells, or patrol and instill order, not even as a token 'we apologize for the inconvenience' effort." She gives this finger quotes.

"I am starting to doubt we are here by accident, but it's still possible, depending on how we came to be here. Some lesser power than the creator of this place may be exploiting the power vacuum." She shrugs at her own bit of speculation.

[darklink_shadow]

The warforged rubbed his chin again. You lot are awfully suspicious. It was my understanding that we were supposed to be dead, yes? And yet you all look at this new life as some kind of clever plot to detain you... from what? Is this afterlife you're missing out on so grand? I for one am content to merely be alive, and seek my path out of here. These huddled masses are afraid, but of what? Dying causes you to cease to exist rather than enjoy some sort of afterlife? Any one loyal to their God would not abandon them so. This woman here, Drudge gestures at their guide, has found a way to serve her god in this realm. And if you are faithless, the afterlife you seek to avoid is painful and agonizing, I would think oblivion, or even this place must be greater. So for good or ill, we must find a way to continue our service. I for one intend to complete my pilgrimage. If there is a way out of here, I will find it. And if there is no way out of here, I will make one. And if that kills me, then oblivion will take my soul, should I have one as my doctrines claim, and I will have done my best. Forgoing your faith in a time of crisis like this is cowardly.

Drudge looked around, then shook his head. I know there were signs that this was once a prison. I cannot explain that, but there is not warden that I have seen... We must investigate before we draw conclusions. Even if this is a prison... there must be a way out. Where did the Warden go? If he is not here, and he was so powerful to make such an impressive prison, surely he left, rather than be slain. I see no purpose in speculation however. If there is a way out, we need to find it. If there is no way out, we have nothing to lose by looking for one. That settles it... I am going to this cathedral place now. If that place is dangerous, it is likely the least explored. If people have been here for so long, it only makes sense that an unexplored place have the exit. Furthermore, what if the exit is one way? Then those who did find it could not return to report having found it. We should go look for it.

[Navian]

Navian begins to talk over Drudge. They both seem fairly hard-headed and fond of their own voices, so this likely goes on for some time. "I distinctly do not remember 'dying', but even if I had, my body would have been recovered after the battle, and I would be returned from the dead within the week. I am not poor, and if my family were destitute the sale of my armour alone would cover all the expenses."

She grabs the links of her chainmail, and shakes it with her hand. "However, unless this plane is 'constructed from thought' or some nonsense--which I am suspect would not make a plane 'similar to the material plane'--it is thoroughly apparent that my armour is here, and still blood-stained. Replicating it down to the gory details seems quite absurd, even for a divine craftsman, so unless this is all the ruse of some desperate and unhinged trickster-god, I am sure we have been physically transported. If our souls left our bodies at any point, they have been put back in place by magic that is utterly beyond our ken. Though I have never died before, I am aware there exists something called 'resurrection sickness', and I have experienced nothing of the sort."

Navian stops talking over him once he reaches his last paragraph-full, since she mostly agrees. She does add at the end, though, "Let's not be rash. I'm not in a hurry to examine portals that could be the death of us all. As much as I'm in favour of action over delays, it would be childishly extreme to dive into known, but-not-at-all-understood peril within minutes of our arrival."

[SterlingDS]

Enderion looks at the people in the Courtyard community curiously, trying to ascertain just what sort of community it might be. That they are refugees is clear. But he's curious about several things.

Enderion then listens to Edderik casting his spell, having no trouble identifying it, and waits an appropriate amount of time for it to expire before approaching him and speaking to him quietly.

"May I ask what you learned? Also, it seems our options have expanded. I was afraid this little grouping of awakened was all that we'd have for companionship. I admit that I am happy to see there are others, even in this strange place. But I'm also happy to have established your acquaintance. I hope we can continue it. I would like to go explore, learn more about this place, and frankly I'd like to be away from this group - that is, besides you. If you'd like to join me, I'd welcome the company of someone I feel I can trust. You can find me later of course, this place is not so large that we could become lost, and I'll certainly be staying here for at least a short time.

Then he turns to Clarisse.
"Thank you for bringing us here, Sir Clarisse. Are some specific laws and responsibilities to Courtyard I need to be careful of, besides simply keeping the peace? If not, I'd like to see what place I can find for myself."

Finally, he turns to the rest of the group, including the bickering Drudge and Navain.
"Well, it seems we have a new path ahead of us. Whether we can return to our old lives or not, we have to learn about this one. I wish you well here." and then he waves and moves off toward the camp.

Enderion would autosucceed on identifying a cantrip.

Enderion will separate himself from the group after consulting with Edderick, whether Edderick chooses to follow or not.

He's going to start looking around this little village, trying to get more answers to the questions below. He will seek to avoid confrontation - or the approach of any thieves that might attempt to waylay or pickpocket a newcomer simply by keeping a wider-than-normal personal space around him and not entering any packed crowds. He will greet anyone who seems friendly however.


How long have they been there?
Are the shelters permanent or ramshackle?
Are there numerous races or few, and do they seem segregated or intermixed?
Are there any families, children, or is it all solitary people.
Is there an economy of some sort, or is it people just eating from the created food and water and biding their time?
Is there any place he can find a corner for himself, out of the way, perhaps above the 'street' level?
And most importantly - do any of them seem hopeful, cheerful?


If you want skill checks, he's got gather information at a +4, untrained, though he's not seeking anything specific, just getting a feel for the place.

[darklink_shadow]

How strange, you are. I suppose I could listen to reason, and be patient. Perhaps there is something for me here. But I would be remiss if I wasted any of my time. Immortal as I am, I still have limited time before the end of eternity. I would like to achieve many goals yet. Whatever action we take, let us make haste. For now, I am going to assume my awakening among you has some meaning. And until such a time, I am decided to protect you all, until cosmic signs tell me to do otherwise. There maybe be something you all have to contribute to The Becoming God, that is yet unclear. If the force that moved us here was benevolent, there can only be one reason I was included. If the force was malicious, there can only be three reasons why I was moved here. Of the four reasons that makes, two are the same, and I find it most likely that that reason is the truth: I should have died, but I did not, because I am a servant of my liege, my prophet and my God. Drudge moved a few steps away from the group.

I am going to pray. Perhaps prayer and meditation will give me some answers, like it does with members of the clergy. If not, I still haven't thanked my God for keeping me safe, and I need to do so. True to his word, he moved off a bit further, and then sat down cross-legged, fists together, and eyes shut.

[copycatcat]

Devierze walks around the courtyard idly, singing a mellow song in Lashunta.
If she encounters anyone attempting to talk to her, she'll stop, and talk to them.

[gr8artist]

Dubwana had bored of that conversation almost immediately, and chose instead to make his way into the inner portions of the massive courtyard. He was still a little dumbstruck by it all, and wary of the civilians strewn about. The Cathedral was a masterpiece of sorts, unlike anything Dubwana had dreamed of, and it further confirmed his suspicions that he was in the realm of something powerful and inhuman. His eyes scanned the crowds of people that parted to give them wide berth, and he lingered briefly on the neck and garments of any priests or clergy that he passed. Spotting a holy symbol he did not recognize, he approached the wearer suddenly, towering above him as the smaller man backed up to a tent.
"What god do you serve, and are they the commander of this realm?" He sounds angry and impatient, as always, but not outright violent. His own collection of mismatched holy and unholy symbols dangled around his neck, just a few feet from the face of the cleric.

If I've overstepped any bounds in the fabrication of this encounter or character, let me know and I'll try something else.
If a diplomancy or whatever else might called for, I'll be attempting Intimidate to get my results, with a total modifier on the check of -1
Can't wait 'til level 7, when I get a feat that adds Str to Intimidate

[nothingforyou]

Edderick Nilar Ennieth

Edderick cast detect magic. At first, he could feel the general presence of magic in every direction. And then—

Waves of energy. An overwhelming aura. Concentrating past the surge of senses, Edderick could not discern more about the aura other than that it was terrifically powerful.

Clarisse laughed. "My first thought as well. Don't be daunted by the strength of the magic; so far as we can tell, there's nothing actually dangerous about the cathedral, for us out here, at least. And whatever spell effect is creating that aura, well, it isn't doing anything except hanging about.

"As for what you should do now, well, you can do whatever. There's no law about this place. We do what we can to survive."

Navian Graalin

"Ah," said Clarisse. "The cathedral isn't so dangerous as it is strange and unpredictable. We are worried for Thilandrin, but I do not believe he is hurt. Just lost. There are some non-hostile golems on the lower levels. So long as you don't attack them, they will ignore you and do nothing. Probably. We don't really know why they were built, because it's clearly not to protect the cathedral.

"In any case, many of us explore the lower levels of the cathedral. The upper levels are inaccessible at the moment. Thilandrin somehow got up there, and that's when we lost him. There's some portal which has been defunct, until Thilandrin got it working and took it up. Some of our mages tried flying to the top, to enter through one of the windows, but as it turns out, the stained glass is set over a permanent wall of force."

Drudge

"That's a very specific request," said Clarisse. "Unfortunately, many of the things on the lower levels of the cathedral were pilfered by some of the less honest individuals about these parts. The upper levels remain untouched but inaccessible. Thilandrin suspected that there were some interesting magics up there, but, well, we await his return. Also, there is no need for guard duty, although we would definitely appreciate patrols for newcomers."

Enderion

"No laws to observe," said Clarisse. "We are a very impromptu society. That said, please do report those who steal and hurt. Not everyone here is good. We once had a red wizard here. I'm not familiar with the world of Toril, but that's where he was from. Fortunately, Alethia is no slouch when it comes to battle, and saved us from possible enslavement or worse."

Clarisse waved Enderion goodbye, and Enderion left to explore his surroundings.

The general atmosphere was one of grim distrust. Most kept to themselves, speaking only when necessary to trade. Some huddled in a corner, their eyes glazed over, eating and drinking and doing nothing else.

There were humans, elves, dwarves, halflings, gnomes, half-orcs, and everything in-between, but instead of segregating by race, they seemed to segregate by culture. Many appeared to have come from different worlds, and especially in this dark place, they were also unwilling to intermingle with the unfamiliar.

There were also kobolds, aasimar, and tieflings, but they seemed to stick with their own kind instead of the regular races. And then there were a few illumians and warforged, milling about alone and without companionship.

Most spent their time doing nothing. Some still worked on a craft, such as blacksmithing and carpentry, and some read and collected books to pass the time. Others practiced cantrips hurled carelessly at the cathedral. The magic usually bounced off harmlessly.

Enderion gathered that nobody has been here for longer than a year. The first to arrive mostly all died. It was not until Alethia and Thilandrin came that there was hope for survival. Apparently, there were some "horrific" abberations which hunted people, but after a concerted effort between Alethia, Thilandrin, Clarisse, and some other fellow by the name of Owain, the abberant threat was extinguished. At least in the local regions. Some explorers have gone far enough to return with reports of other cathedrals, and one might expect the threat to still exist there.

Many of the more educated spent most of their time, apparently, in the lower levels of the cathedral, which was mostly safe, and had lots of knowledge to absorb. They were the most hopeful ones, the ones who brought up the possibility of escape.

At the moment, there were five of these people speaking to Devierze.

Devierze

"Oh? What's this?"

An elf woman in long, flowing robes walked up to Devierze. She had a stern but kind look in her eyes.

"A lashunta," she said. "And are those your friends? You are the strangest crew I have ever laid my eyes upon. Do you need help setting up shelter?"

Following the woman closely were four men and women in robes. They looked weary but otherwise happy.

"Hey!" said one of the followers. "Some beast is harassing Thilandrin's students."

"Oh, what?" said the woman. "Is that your friend, lashunta? You should ask him to stop."

Dubwana

There were acolytes carting a load of books from the cathedral back to a tent. Dubwana accosted one of them.

The acolyte looked up and whimpered. "P-Pelor," he said. "I d-don't k-know w-who rules t-this pla-place."

[Navian]

Navian nodded to Clarisse, with the grudging suggestion of gratitude. "I... see. I may as well join the explorers, then, though I'm not sure what my skills can contribute, in the absence of danger. The only newcomers I think I should deal with are the ones who cause problems, or have problems caused for them. I am inadequate as an hospitaler."

She bows to Clarisse just as she would bow to a duke, with some sincerity--a Gralian duke, not some dwarf lord, though the difference was basically all in the wrists--before making her way into the camp. Surveying the various groups, she expected to find herself alone. According to her grandmother, the demi-plane of Lassan and Kyra was difficult to access, by design, and the Grail Knight was attempting to make it inaccessible in practice. It seemed he wished for his precious artifact--and thereby himself and those he blessed with it, only--to be the only remaining source of divine power on Kyra, so that he could reign supreme. Of course, she was supposed to keep this to herself, so long as her brother was still an active supporter of their god's mad plan. Navian wasn't eager to let on that she knew something that could start a world war, and iin any case, she severely doubted the scheme would ever come to fruition. Certainly, not in the next decade, and she planned to be home by then, for what it was worth.

Against her better judgement, Navian attempted to associate herself with the grouping of aasimars. She was curious whether they could sense that something was wrong with her, or if that had only been a feature of the Gralian sort. She spoke in the Celestial language, as she had been taught by her family and church. She figured it couldn't hurt her credibility, and in any case, it was a rare treat to speak it and be understood by someone other than her brother (who had the most irritating habit of always giving his replies in the language she wasn't speaking.)

Hand held to chest, she gave them the ancient salute, from the time before knighthood. "Greetings, I am Navian, granddaughter of Icatha; she who serves as deva, observer, and guardian to Lassan, who is Solar of a fortress against Niflheim. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking, in this unholy place?"

[gr8artist]

"And what blessings does Papaylor grant his holy men? Is he a god of justice, or mercy?" Dubwana took note of the other clerics, looming over any that possessed symbols of other faiths and impressing them with the same questions. He seemed to be searching for specific answers, moving on to other acolytes when their responses were of no consequence to him.
"Who do you worship?"
"What manner of god are they?"
"Do they rule this realm?"
In truth, the only question that really mattered was, 'Could your god free my brother from this torment?'... But Dubwana was leery of holy men, and the priests he'd asked in his youth hadn't seemed to understand his request. He'd long since decided that the only way to lay his brother's soul to rest was to find a suitable god and pay whatever exchange that god required for his service.

[copycatcat]

"I know the beast not, even his name, but he was in my cellhall. I shall ask anyway. *spellcasting with really fast Lashunta words* Stop!"

The spell is Whirling a Blade over Dubwana's head.

Everything but casting and "Stop!" was Elven. Stop was Common.

Whether he stops or not, Devierze turns around and talks to those elves. In Lashunta: "Wow, it's been so long since someone knew what I was. So long I've needed to don the guises of elves and men. Never a dwarf, though, I've sworn to that. In life, which I believe I still have. Your talk of this being an afterlife confuses me. Six years away from home.. Are you from Pepir(pronounced paper)?"

If an elf tells her they don't know Lashunta in any language she knows, she'll start again in Elven.

If an elf tells her they don't know Elven, she will take her human guise and send out a barrage of human racist insults against the elves, making sure to use ones that intensify their lack of cultural attunement with the rest of their race. Then, when she's out of breath, she'll clear her throat and tell the rest of them, in Elven.

[SterlingDS]

Interesting - only a year? Well, in some ways that's a good sign - that perhaps, given more time, things here would improve. It was unfortunate that so many seemed to have given in to apathy though.

Enderion will head for the lower section of the cathedral then - though he's curious what 'mostly safe' might mean, it sounds like he'll at least feel most comfortable with he scholars there. Of course, he keeps an eye out looking at these new surroundings.

If he spots any of these more hopeful, educated members of the community, he'll introduce himself - something along the lines of:

"Hello, I'm new to Courtyard. I've heard that this is where those most interested in learning about this place dwell. Whether to escape it or make a better life here.. I was curious if I could join you? I realize I'm not much to look at, but I'm a quick study, and I could assist with field work. I was trained as a craftsman and an army support and logistics engineer in the land I'm from. Or maybe there's someone else you could direct me to that I should speak to?"


If necessary:
Spot [roll0]
Diplomacy [roll1]

[gr8artist]

It took Dubwana a few moments to realize that the shout had actually carried a magical effect. He backed away from the acolytes, eyeing them suspiciously as he took a few steps toward his fellow shapechanger. But the maiden had already turned her focus elsewhere. Frustrated, he returned to the acolytes and ignored the blade, which he decided wasn't likely a serious threat or powerful weapon. He asked the clerics again, more clearly and with less...malice, "Do any of you follow a god who rules this realm or who oversees the souls of the dead?"

[Seharvepernfan]

Kickshaw lingers around the group that is talking to Clarisse, absorbing the information she has to offer. There is nothing more that he would ask, so he moves to head into the Cathedral. Once inside, he will wait for one of the others to enter, then go with them (or follow them in, whichever).

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge stood, finished with his prayers just in time to see the silent man wander to the cathedral, and he made haste to follow. Once inside with the man, he nodded to him. I don't think you talk much. But it would be best if I knew your fighting style, so as to work with you best. There was nothing else to be said, and this man seemed to prefer to listen than talk, and Drudge had no new information for him.

[Seharvepernfan]

Kickshaw regarded the expressionless 'forged with a friendly grin, though with arms crossed, "I'm a skirmisher, better with my saber than a bow; best in adverse terrain." Earlier, he had noticed the heavier build of this 'forged, which now seemed more imposing as he stood before it, er, "him". "Combat isn't quite my forte, however. I imagine you are more effective.", he adds, raising a hand, palm up, to indicate his new companion. The small man then stands, quietly awaiting the construct's response, leaving their respective roles up to the warforged, as it makes little difference to him.

Kickshaw has only ever seen a handful of 'forged, and met only one in the past. He never fought with any, and does not realize they are only somewhat harder to kill than a man, as they appear to be more like a walking fortification than a living being. He regards their creation as something of a sin, as they were built for war, but given sentience. However, now that they exist, the only good thing to do was give them freedom, of course. Kickshaw knows that he probably will need help to leave this...prison of sorts, so is willing to aid and be aided by Drudge. The warforged he met in life was an entirely decent fellow, so he has no reservations in this.

[Squark]

Edderick, still wincing from the afteraffects of his spell, absent-mindedly wanders the direction of Devierze and Dubwana.

"I don't believe we know who, if anything, presides over this realm. Regarding the other half of your inquiry..." Edderick pauses for a moment, mulling over the theological implications of the giant's question. "I suppose for those of my home, it would be either Dol Arrah, patron of Light, justice and sacrifice, or perhaps the Keeper, although to court the latter would be folly in most cases given his greed. Of course, the followers of the Flame might argue that it also plays a role, and the Blood of Vol and the Elves of Arenal would give you their own counsel."

[gr8artist]

Dubwana eyed Edderick suspiciously, and broke away from the acolytes. "You follow many gods, little man. And you claim to know much about this place, despite never having been here. Do you think the gods still hold power in a realm they do not control?" He took a deep breath and looked around the place again. So many strangers, so many possible threats... but everyone looked beaten and worn, and the weight of this afterlife began to weigh on him. If there was an opponent, there was hope of victory, of freedom. But abandonment, confusion, even a safe haven? These were the cruel jests of cunning spirits, and one which he alone could not overcome. He couldn't fight, slash, or eat his own doubts and fears... he'd wrestled with such thoughts for far too long, and he needed something clear and dangerous to distract him from dark nightmares.
"Which gods, light or dark, would lead us from this afterlife?"

[Squark]

Dubwana eyed Edderick suspiciously, and broke away from the acolytes. "You follow many gods, little man. And you claim to know much about this place, despite never having been here. Do you think the gods still hold power in a realm they do not control?" He took a deep breath and looked around the place again. So many strangers, so many possible threats... but everyone looked beaten and worn, and the weight of this afterlife began to weigh on him. If there was an opponent, there was hope of victory, of freedom. But abandonment, confusion, even a safe haven? These were the cruel jests of cunning spirits, and one which he alone could not overcome. He couldn't fight, slash, or eat his own doubts and fears... he'd wrestled with such thoughts for far too long, and he needed something clear and dangerous to distract him from dark nightmares.
"Which gods, light or dark, would lead us from this afterlife?"

"Hmm. I'm not convinced there is a god who rules this realm at all. The gods rule over their domains relatively tightly; Those who would snatch us from the jaws of death only to imprison us like The Keeper would not permit a community like this to exist, while those who would tolerate such a community like the Host are not in the habit of soul snatching. I suppose this could be the realm of a god who was, or the former home of a god who has moved on to another realm, but appealing to dead gods is generally an unproductive affair.

Gods who could lead us from this realm? Well... Dol Arrah might smile on one who sought to save those here, and the Traveller has been known to grant boons to the desperate at times, although his gifts seldom come without unexpected consequences. Still, most of Eberron's true gods are a distant lot. Most of the faiths on Khorvaire focus on more abstract or less personified elements." Edderick pauses for a moment. "Forgive me if I'm overstepping my bounds, but is something more specific than frustration at our imprisonment driving your inquiries?"

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge moved his hand up to his chin, to indicate that he was thinking. It really was an effective way for the expressionless face to look quizzical, or so he was told. Humans always looked quizzical to Drudge. Skirmisher is a fancy word for hit-and-run tactics, correct? In that case, perhaps I should take the lead, and you can cover me.

Dropping his hand from his chin, he looked around the place. You look like you might be the sneaky type. I can be quite inconspicuous as well. Let's keep to the shadows for now. If there is any danger, I want to know about it before it knows about us. I would prefer if the danger was dead before it knew about us, as well, but things are not so often that easily slain.

[nothingforyou]

Navian Graalin

The aasimars were six males and females chatting calmly. At Navian's approach, they stiffened, but their features gave way to surprise when Navian started speaking Celestial.

One of the aasimar replied in Celestial, his voice light and fast. "Well now, your Celestial is quite good, Honorable Navian. I am Adan, formerly a holy warrior, now postmortem a lost soul in this strange world. My tale is not unique, you'll find. I suspect it is the same for you."

Devierze

"I am not," said the woman in perfect Lashunta. "I am from Toril, but have traveled the planes for much of my life. In any case, I never mentioned this being an afterlife, and I strongly suspect this is not one! Also, I won't ask you not to cast spells, but casting as you have with the intent to warn or threaten, this can set a bad precedent for this community, so I will have to ask you not to. Words will suffice for most situations."

Dubwana and Edderick Nilar Ennieth

One of the acolytes grinned. She had an easy smile on her face, unlike her companions. "Relax, big guy," she said to Dubwana. "Our master Thilandrin is an Aereni elf and cleric. He is a scholar of death and the gods, and likely has what you seek. He'll be back any moment now." Her smiled disappeared. "I hope." After a brief look of confusion and uncertainty, her smile returned.

Enderion, Drudge, and Kickshaw

Enderion walked into the cathedral, and following behind together were Drudge and Kickshaw.

Marble and stone made up much of the cathedral's interior. Beautiful reliefs and stained glass decorated the walls. The central room was large, the ceiling at least thirty feet above the floor, and the place contained many dozens of bookshelves filled to the brim. There were tables for study with cushioned chairs. At the far end of the main room was an altar with a strange-looking magical device upon it.

Many acolytes and mages were perusing the shelves, absorbed in a book, or quietly chatting to one another in corners.

Enderion introduced himself to the more important-looking locals.

"An engineer!" said a mage. "A magical engineer! Alethia would be so happy to have you. Where's she?"

"Outside," said another mage. "Chatting up some strange-looking lady."

[Navian]

"Thank you, Adan. I am trained for battle, but my holiness is not for me to judge, nor have I been to war. There was a little skirmish, during which something took me here--" She glances at the mess on her armour, self-consciously. It needs a bit more than a dusting. "--which I still ought to investigate. In the meantime, do you know where the laundry is done? I do not want to sully the fountain."

[SterlingDS]

Enderion replies to the local

"Ah Alethia? Clarisse mentioned her She must be speaking to one of the newcomers that came with me - I definitely suspect who this strange woman might be. Alright, I'll go find her. By the way, what's that strange artifact that features so prominently on the altar? Something you found here, or added to the place?"

After chatting with the local for a few more moments, making their acquaintance, he'll bid them farewell.

He'll look around the cathedral a bit before going back outside, looking at two things in particular:


The stained glass windows. Normally the windows in a cathedral depict important features of the faith upheld there. Do these windows represent some religion he recognizes? Or even any symbology he understands?
The books on the shelves - what sort of library there is here, in what languages. Again, if this was here before everyone arrived, it should provide clues - obviously the people here have been studying them. Even if they were brought here, he's still interested, and will ask Alethia about them later.


Then he'll go find Alethia and introduce himself as he did before mentioning he was directed to her by one of the group inside, concluding with. " The place I came from, I was not accepted, seen more as a curiosity, at best. And it was only getting worse as I got older. This community seems to be such a patchwork though, perhaps this will be a better home than I've had before. I'd like to understand what this place is, though, and see what our options are. How can I assist you?"

"Oh, also, I realize you must be busy, too busy to lecture all newcomers about your research, but if you've recorded what you've learned about this place, I'm a quick read, and I'd like to catch up to where you're at. Or maybe one of your acolytes could share with me?"

I realize he's asking for an info-dump, and we can go question by question if you'd prefer, Nothing.

[Squark]

Edderick pauses for a moment, stifling his initial excitement. The Elves of Arenal didn't leave their homeland often, and those that did seldom discussed theology. He'd talked everyone's ear off enough for now. "It seems much of the answers we seek will have to wait until Thilandrin returns. I suppose we could seek out archmage Alethia, if you care to accompany me, Dubwana. Or you can go your own way, of course."

[gr8artist]

Dubwana glanced around, still not comfortable in the large crowd. "There's nothing for me here, among your people. I will follow you until we find this priest who follows death gods, and find out what he knows." Dubwana backed away from the acolytes and turned to face the diminutive gnome. "And about your... other question... I don't wish to speak of it now. If you are as you seem, perhaps eventually I might discuss it with you."
As they left, Dubwana struck up a different conversation. "You and the others... you say this is no afterlife, not the realm of demons as I knew. You see the suffering here, the broken souls? What else could cause such sorrow?"
He absent-mindedly scratched a claw against some of the holy symbols hanging around his neck. He was familiar with the gods on a primitive, rudimentary level, but the creatures and realms they commanded were outside of his frame of reference. He was beginning to wonder if the others had been right, that this was just some other world, but the only solution that made sense was that he had died and been awoken here, as it was said that the souls of the slain did in the Darklands.

[copycatcat]

"It was just someone else's rambling. It sounded like 'visit this false after..' and I guessed the ending was life.

I shall limit my casting a bit, I suppose, if really needed.

What is your name? And what do you know about this place? Were you something.. special in your homeplace?"

[Squark]

Dubwana glanced around, still not comfortable in the large crowd. "There's nothing for me here, among your people. I will follow you until we find this priest who follows death gods, and find out what he knows." Dubwana backed away from the acolytes and turned to face the diminutive gnome. "And about your... other question... I don't wish to speak of it now. If you are as you seem, perhaps eventually I might discuss it with you."
As they left, Dubwana struck up a different conversation. "You and the others... you say this is no afterlife, not the realm of demons as I knew. You see the suffering here, the broken souls? What else could cause such sorrow?"
He absent-mindedly scratched a claw against some of the holy symbols hanging around his neck. He was familiar with the gods on a primitive, rudimentary level, but the creatures and realms they commanded were outside of his frame of reference. He was beginning to wonder if the others had been right, that this was just some other world, but the only solution that made sense was that he had died and been awoken here, as it was said that the souls of the slain did in the Darklands.

"The afterlife is not entirely blocked off from Mortals and the material plane. Travelers have visited the afterlife- Among my people, there are even tales of heroes who traveled to the realm of the dead and faced great peril to rescue their loved ones. This place is nothing like the realm of the dead I know of- the inhabitants here are far too lively, odd as it may seem to say that. And if we are in another realm that steals souls, why do we still have our possessions and magic? Such things do not follow the soul when one dies."

[Seharvepernfan]

Kickshaw nods to answer the question, then, when the warforged is finished speaking, "Agreed."

This place is clearly of no threat, so Kickshaw walks easily over towards the altar while listening in on the conversation about Alethia. He had intended to speak to her, but first he wanted to study this device; he had no doubts that she would tell him about it, but it's always good to check for yourself. He moves close enough to cast detect magic, then does so, staring at the item for several moments.

Assuming he doesn't go blind, that is.

Multiple rolls in case of multiple auras. Add +2 to results for Transmutation spells.
Spellcraft: [roll0]
Spellcraft: [roll1]
Spellcraft: [roll2]

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge watched the nameless man walk away, and then followed him. He seemed to be looking around and seeing things Drudge could not see, but this was not the first time he had watched someone detecting magic. Deciding to wait patiently, Drudge keeps an eye out on the rest of the people, and listens as best as he can to any conversation, hoping to pick up details about where there were dangerous things. He doubted he would, but there was supposed to be danger somewhere... and danger meant secrets, and escaping was a secret. It only seemed logical that he'd have to wade through some danger to get out of this plane.

[Squark]

Edderick sees the strange woman with the antennae talking to an elven woman in robes, and turns to his companion. "Call it a hunch, but I suspect the person talking to the strange woman from our cellblock who never gave us her name is the person we seek- Or at least can point us to her. Shall we?" He says as he begins to walk towards the Lashunta and the Elf.

[gr8artist]

"Your intuition exceeds my own. Let's see if you are correct." Dubwana fell into step behind Edderick, an awkward gait taking half-and-quarter steps to not overstep the stride of the little gnome. "The others... I cannot see them here. Perhaps they've gone to find someone else." He looked around the crowd, eyeing each stranger as a possible threat or victim. "It has been many years since I've been so... encrowded... and not been attacked."
He flexed his claws and re-positioned his pack, pulling it tight against his back. He was still worried about attacks, and part of him was certain that he'd be ambushed as soon as the others had rallied their courage and made a plan. He took it upon himself to swell and strut as he passed any that seemed mildly frightened by his appearance. Making the skittish more afraid was a deeper blow to possible enemy forces than to place uncertainty in the mind of the courageous. A panicked foe would topple the morale and formation of his allies and cause the confusion that Dubwana could utilize to defend himself or flee to safety in the jungle below... somehow.
He'd been on his own for too long, struggling to survive against packs of hunters and mercenaries. The impulse was hard to ignore.

[nothingforyou]

Navian Graalin

Adan shrugged. "Take a bucket, fill it with water, and use the bucket to wash. As you say, do your best not to dirty the fountain. With Thilandrin gone, I know of none else who can create water-spawning items."

Enderion and Drudge

"The artifact?" said the mage. "Ah, that there we know is some sort of teleportation device. It's probably our way out of this place! Never got it to work, though; it's all out of charges. Thilandrin's gone up to find a way to recharge it. Now's he's gone and gotten lost."

The mage said parting words and left to chat with some other mages. Enderion took the opportunity to look around the cathedral, in particular, the stained glass and books.

The largest stained glass depicted an angel, kneeling and hunched forward, a sword through her chest. Ruby-red tiles depicted the blood under her.

The other glasses depicted several variations of the same theme: Fallen or defeated angels.

Turning his attention to the books, Enderion noticed that most were written in Draconic, although the grammatical structures were strange enough for Enderion to deduce that they were not spoken in Draconic.

Kickshaw

Kickshaw heard the mage mention the artifact's details.

If he still detects magic on it, he determines that it is a strong conjuration aura.

Devierze

"You never mentioned your name, lashunta," said the elf, "but despite the rudeness, I will offer you mine. I am Alethia, one of the students of the Chosen, Elminster. I am not special in that regard, or in any, for there are many like me. Nonetheless... Were my mentor in my position, I have no doubt he'd be out of this place within seconds. So it is my great shame that I cannot yet determine how and why we came to be here."

Enderion, Drudge, Devierze, Edderick Nilar Ennieth, and Dubwana

"Others approach!" said Alethia.

Enderion introduced himself. Alethia listened intently, and then said, "You came at an exciting time, then. Are you perhaps a shaedling? I'm surprised the other mages have spoken to you at all, they normally shy away from foreign experiences. Well, I suppose being trapped here for too long changes one's tolerance for strangeness.

"You may be able to help. I've been looking for capable volunteers to accompany me up to the upper levels of the cathedral. I believe I can reopen the portal and follow in Thilandrin's footsteps. No doubt he's up there, tucked in some corner studying a text, unfazed by his lack of human interaction. The Aereni are some strange people. Or perhaps I'm generalizing too much; it may just be Thilandrin who enjoys doing nothing for hours on end but staring at old records."

She spotted Dubwana. Indeed, her followers took several steps back from Dubwana when he approached, yet Alethia merely laughed when she saw this.

"He clearly has no intention of fighting," said Alethia. Then she turned to Dubwana. "Although I would appreciate it if you didn't scare the acolytes. They're already lost and confused without Master Thilandrin with us."

[copycatcat]

"Ah, hm. Where I hail from that would be true, but anywhere else on my homeplane, nearly, and the one who struck conversation would tell their name when they did. But I heard.. Clerice? That the name? say you were the archmage. It would've been rude enough to just not do it at the beginning, you don't need to scold me for manners I haven't used in six years. Yes, I will follow you up. What's up there? A way out?" Lashunta language

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge stared at Alethia for a moment, then turned and put a hand on Kickshaw's shoulder, surprisingly gently for someone made mostly from mithril. My new friend. It sounds like an expedition is headed out to go find the portal out of here. When you are done studying the magic of the room, we should go with them.

He removed his hand just s quickly as he placed it there, and turned his back to the apparent mage and kept his gaze locked onto the Alethia person who was speaking. He didn't bother being subtle, but he wasn't leering either. He just kept his focus in her direction, lest she move elsewhere.

[Navian]

Navian strived to conceal her displeasure with bucket-scrounging. "I see, thank you." She then sought out a bucket to scrounge, her desire to conceal her displeasure steadily declining until after she'd sat, filled the bucket, and started removing her armour. It was at least a relief to be able to sit down and relax, while still having a legitimate excuse to do so. She left her gear in a pile, removing her gauntlets, boots, leggings, hauberk, standard, and more, until she was dressed only in her silk undergarments.

At least no one here would be cognizant of how it seemed every garment she wore had been procured by her husband. In Silverock, that could have been embarrassing. Here, she could simply pretend everyone from her world dressed this way. She scrubbed her face, and her front where the arrows had penetrated. They hadn't gone through her shirt, but it was still a mess, caked with her own blood. She didn't have any spare clothes with her, though, so she settled for leaving it merely blood-stained, before she began washing the gore off her armour and weapons, and putting a vague effort into polishing them.

Her shield had more complex care instructions than she could remember, but the wood was so dark it was virtually impossible to tell it was stained or dirty in any case. Navian make a token effort at sanding it down, and then tried to wash her hair without the benefit of a mirror for a moment before finally giving up and sitting back on her hands in the mess she'd created, with her legs out in front of her, shaking her head at the insanity of it all. She almost wished that annoying recruit with the command-activated frost brand was here, he was good at laundry. And other domestic chores too, for that matter. It was only that everyone quickly tired of him shouting 'Chill Out!' every few minutes while practicing his combat drills.

[gr8artist]

"They should not press so close to the Monster, then, or should part when I walk past. Little men are often afraid of the larger beasts of the jungle.
Regardless, I have questions about this place, and the gods that rule it. Thilandrin, your master, would he be able to answer them?"
Dubwana resisted the urge to glare over his shoulder to stare at the acolytes. This woman didn't seem afraid, which either made her admirable or dangerous... and in Dubwana's history the two had often been one and the same. At least the path before him was coming clear.
Whatever this place, be it the outer gates of the demonlands or some curious other realm, he was trapped here. If he was trapped here, then M'sanii was trapped here as well, and M'sanii deserved freedom, to rest in peace in the afterlife. Until M'sanii's soul was free, he would continue to pursue answers from the gods and their holy men, and he'd slaughter anything that stood in his way. If this Thilandrin had the answer he sought, then he'd have to find the old man and see for himself.

[SterlingDS]

Think Nothing might be confused - Drudge was following Kickshaw, not Enderion. He's inside the Cathedral still, not with Alethia.

Enderion tilts his head to the side looking at Alethia.

"That is extremely perceptive of you, Mage Alethia. Most don't recognize my race, particularly clothed as I am."

Seeing that she also manages to correctly peg Dubwana as more bluff than bite, he takes a moment to consider, and briefly revealed in his surface thoughts: "I hope you've verified that I'm being honest with you. If you do happen to be reading my mind now, I'd appreciate it if you'd stop."
And then more normally, he goes on. "Well, I'd be happy to help you retrieve your missing companion, particularly if you're so close to finding a way out of here. I did not expect to have an answer present itself so quickly. I've heard the upper levels are dangerous. What's up there that we might have to prepare for? And when would you like to go?"

[Squark]

"Going to seek out the missing spiritual leader of this community does seem prudent, especially if he was searching for a way out of here. All present here seem competent enough. It might be a bit of a risk, but to return home, I dare say many of us would risk more than that." Edderick pauses for a moment. "Still, it might be prudent to see if the rest of our cellmates are willing to volunteer as well. I believe Navian would leap at the chance to do something proactive, and it might be worth it to ask the silent fellow as well. If nothing else, we might finally get his name."

[Seharvepernfan]

Kickshaw, hands raised and ready, holds off on casting his spell when he hears the man speak. Instead, he approaches the man and gives a small attention-catching greeting wave, "Excuse me; my group and I are interested in finding this Thilandrin. How might we gain access to the higher levels?"

[gr8artist]

Being nearly twice as tall as the others had its benefits. Though Dubwana had no way of knowing which of the survivors might compare to his own band of escapees, he was far more inclined to rally with people he'd alreay worked with, than to seek out new help. He gazed out over the crowd of civilians, pointing out the others as he saw them, and falling to descriptions rather than names.
"The woman in black armor... there, washing herself with a bucket. The metal man and the quiet one... I do not see them from here. Perhaps they went into the stone fortress, eager to track down the same man we seek?"
Dubwana returned to his normal hunch, rubbing one of his thumbs against his claw in contemplation. "The shadow mage and the shapeless one are ready to seek out this man, as are the little man and myself. I will go fetch the black knight and let her know that we intend to enter the cathedral, and see if she wishes to join."
With that, Dubwana pushed his way through the middle of the crowd, heading toward Navian. He stopped a few yards away, slightly uncomfortable.
"Knight. When you are done... preening... your armor, join us at the fortress gates. Several of us desire to seek out the local holy man, and from him receive answers. They are asking about the fortress' defenses, and I think that we will be ready soon."
He stood there for a moment more, looking at her shield. He was surprised that someone could walk around in armor like that. His own breastplate had been subsumed in his transformation, and he could not even tell that it was there. Even still, the thought of being swallowed by metal in that way... it made his scales crawl.

[Navian]

Navian gazed up at Dubwana after his arrival, leaning to one side with a wry smile creeping onto her face as he addressed her, though it faded once her turn had come. She spoke in a rushed and dismissive fashion. "If we are to use titles, mine is 'Prelate' (or archaically 'Praetor'), not 'Knight'; I serve my church first, the king... somewhere else on the list.

"By 'fortress', you mean the, er... 'temple', over there? Indeed, I will join you as soon as I am done preening, cleaning, and what have you. At the moment the only question for holy men on my mind is 'What's the right way to dispose of two pints of devil's blood?' and I'm concerned it may be too late to ask one." She resumes scrubbing, and makes to look busy, with watered-down blood pooling around her.

Under her gauntlets, it seems she wears a pair of rings, one on each hand, each made of shining white metal. The left one is plain, but the other is more ornate, set with a truly marvelous alexandrite gemstone--a stone that changed colours in different light, from a gentle blue-green in the daylight, to deep red in the light of a torch.

In the unnatural illumination of this plane, it was a bit hard to look at.

[Squark]

"Well, it seems we have a goal, and a team with which to accomplish it. Might I suggest we relocate to the cathedral to at least outline strategy with some shelter from this bothersome wind?" As he says this Edderick pulls his cloak tighter around him and surpresses a shiver.

[gr8artist]

"Call yourself what you will, Nayveen. As to the mountain of stone... I'm not entirely sure what the difference is, but the holy man we seek is inside it nonetheless." He pauses, unsure of his course of action, before kneeling in the most awkward method possible for someone of his size. "I'm not sure, but this..." he licks his fat thumb and reaches down to wipe away a smear of the blood, "works for the blood of every creature - man or beast - in the jungle."
He stops and rises, pondering. "Devil? That is like a demon, yes? And you say you follow a god... Your armor is dark like the shadow-priests wear, not shining as the crusaders who come into my jungle. Does the preytorr of a dark god also fight demons?"

[nothingforyou]

Devierze

"Yes, I will follow you up. What's up there? A way out?"

"A way out!" said Alethia. "Perhaps. We've learned much about this place from the records on the first floor of the cathedral. I fear it may not be so simple, that we can produce a means allowing all of us egress, but this is the best we can do. I am certain the device on the altar is a portal of some sort. Now it is only a matter of getting it working again, and doing so is a task of reconnecting the magical circuitry."

Dubwana

"Regardless, I have questions about this place, and the gods that rule it. Thilandrin, your master, would he be able to answer them?"

Alethia shrugged. "Presently, I may be able to answer some of them. The rest we must ask Thilandrin. No doubt he's learned something new, all the way up there."

Kickshaw

"Excuse me; my group and I are interested in finding this Thilandrin. How might we gain access to the higher levels?"

Alethia sighed. "There is a lift which travels vertically along the cathedral. An impressive magical device, and certainly a unique one. I've recently figured out how Thilandrin took it up (were he less hasty, he might've shared the discovery with me). It's a surprisingly simple command system, but it responds only to certain users. Thankfully, I have researched a spell which allows me to pretend to be one of the recognized users."

Our Protagonists (sans Navian Graalin?)

Ignoring Enderion for the moment, until I find out if he's still a part of this or not. Additionally, this also assumes that the player characters follow Alethia into the cathedral. If this is not the case, post your alternative action.

"Clarisse!" said Alethia loudly.

Clarisse waved and ran over. "How may I be of assistance, Archmage?"

"We prepare to climb the tower. Will you join us?"

Clarrise blinked. "I would love to."

"Hold that thought, it was a bad judgment on my part. We need you down here just in case."

"In case of what?"

"If we get stuck up there, we need you down here to make sure the Courtyard remains stable. Since you'll be down here, take these, and hold onto them. This is my research, the product of my sweat and blood for the last few months." Alethia produced a rolled-up stack of parchment from her robes and handed it to Clarisse.

Clarisse sighed and accepted the stack of parchment. "Very well, Archmage, though I envy you. I would love to see new sights for once..."

"Be careful, Knight Templar Clarisse," said Alethia. "Thilandrin told me before he left that he had a bad feeling."

"What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just intuition. In the event that he isn't wrong, then... Hmph, I will return as soon as possible, to ensure that nothing bad happens down here. I hate taking my eyes off this place, I fear chaos will erupt as soon as I leave."

Clarisse frowned. "You have a bad feeling too? No worries, Archmage; be concerned for your own safety. I will protect the people."

...

The cathedral's main room was still busy. Mages and acolytes were still reading old records, talking in hushed voices, or inspecting magical devices. They all turned to Alethia when she entered. Some bowed out of respect, then they all returned to their work.

"Watch the altar," said Alethia.

The mages and acolytes looked puzzled. Heads turned towards the altar.

Alethia pointed to the device upon the altar. "I have a way up to the higher levels, but know this. There are only a few paths to the Courtyard from outside, and all of them are being watched. Yet here, in this cathedral, we have the device on the altar which has some sort of teleportation effect. I am leery of it. Keep a close watch over it. If it activates, do not do anything. Clear the room and ensure the Courtyard is safe, then await my return."

One of the mages spoke. "Archmage... two things. You have a way up? I am worried for your safety. Master Thilandrin has not returned. How about you? Will you be okay?"

"I will be fine. I have also left my notes on using the lift with Clarisse. Speak with her if needed."

"Okay, I don't know if I share your confidence, but here's my next question. The altar's been here for the last year or so. It has done literally nothing in all that time. Why are you worried?"

"I have no reason to be worried, but we will be cautious, since I will not be down here to react to developing situations."

"...As you wish, Archmage. Gods speed your journey."

"Thank you." Alethia turned to the party. "Let's go."

...

The cathedral's halls were devoid of life. No researchers had any reason to go into them, nor did they want to, for reasons which became immediately clear.

Stone golems lined the halls. Humanoid, made of gray and red minerals, with strange symbols carved into their chests. There were at least four golems per hall. Lifeless, completely still, almost indistinguishable from statues, except—

"Don't kick or play with the constructs," said Alethia. "They still move. The good news is, they won't attack you unless you attack them first. This is not a fight we can win."

Traveling down the winding corridors, the group eventually came to a strange room. It looked like a dead end, but there was a crystal in the middle of the room.

"This is the lift," said Alethia. "I will study and share its mechanism with the mages of Waterdeep, if I manage to make it back. It's quite amazing. If there's anything you need to do before we depart, now's the time."

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge followed the rather talkative, and clearly intelligent woman silently until they reached the statues. There was something about that they were eeriely interesting. The symbols were incredibly interesting. Drudge quickly pulled out his leatherbound journal and sketched a few of the figures, and carefully drew each symbol he saw. He looked at the woman once he had started, and asked simply: Has someone foolishly attacked an innocently idle statue before, then? Have they spoken at all? Also... Where is Waterdeep?

He quickly withdrew his gaze, returning it to the symbols he was sketching carefully.

[Navian]

Navian simply explains, "Fortresses are meant to discourage those who do not reside in them from entering--or to slaughter trespassers wholesale. Temples are generally built for communion and open worship. There is unfortunately some overlap, and I admit to having no clue what design the buildings here have beyond 'bizarre and unconventional'. I'll say that 'Mount Masonry' seems a good enough name for this place."

She begins to don her gear again, starting with basic clothing and padding. This takes a few minutes, so she continues to converse. "Though devils and demons would hate to hear it, you're right. They are fiends from the lower planes. As for my dress code, a Prelate wears a black mantle with our holy symbol emblazoned upon it." She points to the rude white embroidery of a cup in the center. It's usually obscured between the folds. She shakes it a couple times to offer some clarity, revealing the embroidery has frayed. "This... isn't my dress uniform, it's what I wear to impress townies with my affiliation with on a day-to-day basis. It can be problematic when they get too friendly with an obvious outsider."

She sighs briefly as she slips on her leggings and begins tying the laces. It seems more disappointed than anything. "I don't wear 'plate mail', shining or otherwise. I'm not a noble, nor am I in service to one, so it would be illegal for me to own any form of plate armour. No one could enforce that prohibition upon me, except my brother, perhaps, but I prefer this armour; it's of superior make.

"According to rumour, it was forged long, long ago, and has been passed down through the generations since before the grail was first discov--" She stops herself short of completing the reference. "--that is, this armour is over six hundred years old, much older than the Tripartite--nevermind that.

"I hear tell that it once belonged to a mortal who would become a deity, way back when her followers were only a rag-tag band of misfits. A poignant legacy, I think, though it's lost its magic since then." She glares straight through it and mutters under her breath with artificially light undertones just before donning the hauberk, "(Or is a replica and a forgery...)"

As she snugged the hauberk to herself, she went on. "Regardless, I wear this for its practicality. Sentiment is a bonus. Though I've never slain a true demon, to my knowledge, I'm sure neither I nor my god would find doing so to be in poor taste, regardless of circumstances."

Once she was fully suited and ready, she moved toward the temple, wearing her chainmail more easily than many could wear their own skin. Her weapons were at her side, and her shield was slung onto her back, once again. Usually it was her brother who arrived fashionably late, perhaps she could find out what all the fuss was about.

[Seharvepernfan]

Kickshaw eyes the golems intently; he's never seen a construct before (other than warforged), and is quite interested. Without turning to look at her, he responds to Alethia in a calm and unhurried tone, "You wouldn't happen to have any magic to spare for us, would you? Any advice? Otherwise, I am ready."

May as well try.

Diplomacy (petition aid from Alethia): [roll0]

Arcana (any insights or observations into these stone golems): [roll1]

[Squark]

"Well, there is the obvious question of what to expect above, although if you have not yet told us, I suspect you are almost as much in the dark as we are.

Also, there is some concern as to the mending of wounds. The belt I wear carries some healing magic, but that is all I carry on me. I can usually get healing wands to work, but I have no idea if the camp has any to spare."

[copycatcat]

"My song carries some healing, but none I chose to learn in my travels. I can use a wand perfectly, every try, of healing, but I can't do it without them. A dying shame I was cut off from my stock when I was taken.. I'm just glad I still have this." Changes to young human.

[Navian]

Navian jogs past the acolytes, somewhat self-conscious about the lack of decorum. Nevertheless, she does manage to do so with more grace than the average heavy infantryman, despite her gear being hours of work away from being 'well-maintained', or even clean and dry. She was minutes behind, and could only hope she arrived before it was too late. Not that it was urgent, it's just that to go all this way and find out that she wasn't needed would be embarrassing, and it would be very hard to pretend that she wasn't 'slinking away' when she exited afterward.

She paid little attention to the golems as she ran past, in part because she did not stop to recognize them as something other than actual statues, and further, she had more aversion to than interest in examining any of the decorations in this place. She'd slow down to a steady march before approaching the group, decorum was more important than haste when dealing with most people she'd ever met.

Navian eventually realized she had no idea where she was going, and after an internal struggle mostly resolved by a sense of great dread based in her surroundings, decided to return the way she came to find someone to ask for directions. One of the acolytes, perhaps. Navian adamantly refused to chide herself for not considering this possibility, as this was greatly preferable to chiding herself for chiding herself for not considering it.

If this is one of those cases where you just want everyone together in one place, we can ignore all the timey-wimey stuff and just say things move at the speed of plot so that no one is 'left out' or left waiting.

On the other hand, if it's more interesting for Navian to be left out of the discussion, or even for her to be in the vicinity of the altar or somewhere else in the complex when the lift is activated, then this post has some good reasons for it. It seems everyone else went in without delay, and despite all her dialogue/monologue in my last post, it definitely wasn't five minutes worth, so there's no reason for Dubwana to be left behind unless he specifically waited for her.

Dubwana might be able to track them, so it doesn't have to effect him either way, though if he can track them for her, that could save Navian from wasting even more time getting lost in the halls with no guide than she did at the fountain donning/removing her armour and doing the wash.

I'm at a loss, since I have no idea what's present, planned, intended, likely, possible, or appropriate in this game at this time; only that my character died messily, was not magically cleaned on arrival, has no way to do her own cleaning magically, had no idea that the other PCs were going to rush off immediately without a single hour of downtime, and that I wasn't told that we should ignore things like laundry; so I can only assume that she's not in an expedient position for planning, preparation, catching up, or arriving at the lift before it gets activated.

[gr8artist]

Dubwana hustled to catch up to the others, which would have been easy with his length strides, though he was surprisingly uncoordinated. Passing through the entryway, he was taken aback and nearly dumbfounded by the images of stone men in the great hall. His people had carved smaller statues from wood, Dubwana even did so himself when the self-flagellation lifted. But to see such things carved from mountain stone? He'd never imagined that such things were possible. That they could move and defend themselves was even more impressive, and Dubwana was overwhelmed by a sense of how out-of-place he truly was. The others seemed familiar with hollow mountains, stone men, and bridges that spanned the clouds... Why would he be included in such a group as they? He had nothing in common with the other escapees, except that some were warriors, some were religious, and one was a skinchanger like he was.
He caught to the group without too much difficulty, once he'd set his mind to task again, and noted the presence of the black praetor jogging through the halls.

[nothingforyou]

Drudge

"We know the statues have gotten into fights before," said Alethia. "I assume some idiots tried to attack them. Maybe carry one off to decorate their tent. I don't know why else... I mean, these constructs are pretty benign."

Kickshaw

"I have magic," said Alethia. "Though I rarely prepare spells with such roundabout applications as enhancing strength or mobility. I prefer to directly solve problems. Unfortunately, this means I have to guess what the problems are before they appear, and in this strange place, that is almost certainly impossible."

Edderick Nilar Ennieth

"Indeed," said Alethia. "I know little of what is above. I trust that it is not too dangerous. The constructs down here don't seem to mind at all our presence. I personally have some healing items, but they are limited in quantity."

Our Protagonists

"So," said Alethia. "I recall our big friend went to fetch someone? Should we wait, or should we proceed?"

[darklink_shadow]

Drudge snapped his book shut, and returned it to his backpack. Where I am from, it would be impolite not to wait, I believe. I would prefer to wait. Although, I will not be left behind on his account.

Drudge maintained eye contact for a short while, before turning to look at the constructs. Earthen Guardians, what is your purpose? What do you protect and from whom?

[Seharvepernfan]

"We're in no hurry." A twelve-foot reptile and a knight could be helpful.