JBarca's Red Hand of Doom Group 1 IC

[JBarca]

THE RED HAND OF DOOM

Soon after you enter Elsir Vale, you come across the city of Dennovar. Deciding to get a feel for the populace there before moving on, you enter the moderately sized city. As you walk around, ask questions, and keep your eyes open, you notice that many people seem to be discussing some sort of problem in the north. Apparently, people have gone missing and goods have been destroyed in the small town of Elsircross. In their places, scratches in the shape of a five-taloned claw were found.

In general, people seem to be discussing how strange it is that High Councilor Thorn, the de facto leader of Dennovar, has yet to do anything about the issue. Within a few hours, though, you notice a poster or two around town. Thorn seems to have decided to act, and is recruiting a few scouts willing to investigate the issue. Seeing an opportunity to learn more, you follow the instructions and make your way to the council chambers with your ward.


The strange creature you’ve been following for a few weeks now leads you into a large city. He spends days asking questions, listening to conversations, eating with strangers, and just walking around. Eventually, he stops to read something posted on a wall, then makes a beeline for a large building at the center of the town (Feel free to read the info under “Oziach” for more description).

While in Dennovar, your inquiries are eventually heard of by a higher-up. The highest-up, in fact; High Councilor Thorn, the leader of the Merchant Guild in Dennovar and the de facto leader of the city sends word to you that he might have the information you seek. Hoping you’ve finally found the end of your quest, you heed his summons and head towards the Councilor’s chambers.

After a few days in the Vale, you find yourself in its largest city: Dennovar. After all, when looking for a merchant, what better place to start than the trading hub? After asking around a bit, you learn that your lost husband did make a stop in Dennovar, but is no longer there. He left for a small village called Elsircross some time ago. As you begin gathering your belongings, you here word that High Councilor Thorn is hiring adventurers to head to the same village to investigate some kidnappings or thefts. Deciding you might as well get paid to undertake your own mission, you head to the Chambers to meet this Thorn.

When you all arrive at the councilor’s chambers for your own reasons, you are ushered into a smaller office by a mouselike elderly woman who smiles and nods at any questions or comments directed towards her. Along the way, you see a number of fine hallways, decorated with curtains, pillars, paintings, statues, and mosaics. There is more wealth present here than most of you have ever seen. Solid wooden doors are visible every 15 feet or so. Most are closed, though the few that are open reveal offices, kitchens, dining areas, conference rooms, and sitting rooms, all resplendent with silks, precious metals, and valuable stones.

After one final turn, you find yourselves in a small, plain room with no decoration. A darkwood desk piled high with parchment and books dominates the office. A glowing rod of some sort hangs from the ceiling and a heavy-set human man sits behind the desk. His dark hair grays at the temples and his goatee is neatly trimmed. He is wearing fine, if simple, clothes and writing a long line of numbers of a sheet of paper as you enter.

He looks up, fixes each of you with his cold blue eyes, and mumbles a single syllable. “What?”

[Hbgplayer]

Nairen seems to have an eyebrow perpetually raised as he walks down the corridor, thoroughly unimpressed with the wealth around him. As he walks into the High Councilor's office, his head sweeps around the room, his emerald green eyes taking in everything, and he brushes his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes.
His eyebrows furrow when the man sitting at the desk, presumably High Councilor Thoren, so shortly addresses the group. He glances around at the group that seemed to show up at the same time, then turns to the Councilor.
"I don't know about the rest of these folks, but I am answering your summons; you said you may have information about what happened to my parents?"

[Marlowe]

Ferrara steps into the room in a swirl of navy blues and feels a familiar pang of embarrassment to be the tallest person present. Always embarrassing for a properly bought up young lady. Had she married the only tall man on the entire continent? That would be something of a catch. If he hadn't been missing for months. She adjusts the coat hanging over her shoulders and tries not to loom as she lets the Druid finish, then responds to the man behind the desk.

"I know nothing of "What", sir. Do they speak Common in What? I came because I have business in Elsircross; and was given to understand you'd a need of freelancers to venture there. If the mission is to this hitherto-unknown-to-me land of "What", then you'll excuse me for saying my enthusiasm is flagging."

[Reogan]

Throughout the walk through the building and into the room, Thekla stays very close to Oziach, staring at the floor despite the luxury around her. Though she walks hunched over something cradled in her too-large shirt, her attention seems miles away. She stops walking when Oziach does, as by rote response rather than will. Only when the man behind the desk speaks does she react to the world around her, her face a mask of momentary fear as her dull grey eyes quickly dart from person to person. She cringes away, huddling towards her Changeling companion. Even next to his average height, she seems very small, an appearance only exacerbated by the fact that her hair has been crudely hacked away leaving her small frame bare of any adornment but her ill-fitting clothes.

Whether she speaks a question or merely an echo, she responds without meeting anyone's gaze.

"What."

[Marlowe]

Ferrara's eyes break off from appraising the value of the office furnishings and focuses on the small grey woman who had just spoken. "Unless, of course, "What" is somebody's name and I'm just talking like a lunatic." She continues with barely a pause. "Which of us is "What?"

[glitterbaby]

Oziach snatches one of the posters and makes his way to the council chambers. He admires the great wealth of this building as he walks down the corridors with a strange look on his face as he goes. His bright red eyes appraise each portable object before darting to the nearest exit or hiding place. Oziach moves a bit closer to Thekla as they approach the High Counciler. His face seems visibly offended at the tone Thorn takes with Thekla but says nothing. He takes six seconds (1 full round action) to get a gut assessment of the situation via Sense Motive (DC 20, hits by taking 10 which Changeling Rogue sub level lets him do). He then sets the poster down on his desk.
"This."

[JBarca]

As the Druid speaks, the man raises his eyebrows in recognition.
"Ah! You must be Nairen-" He begins, before being cut off by an obviously impatient young lady. He looks confused, then mildly amused, then, as Oziach acts and Ferrara offers her final remark, more than a little irritated.

"'What?' As in, 'Can I help you? Why are you in my office?' Now that we've so calmly and politely been enlightened on those points..." He glares at the two most recent speakers, then sighs.

"I'm High Councilor Thorn. There've been some odd goings-on up north, and trade is suffering for it. Now, normally, I- er, we just let the local militia handle this sort of thing. But some merchant or other got himself murdered and now there's a big uproar. Suffice to say, I need someone -that'd be you- to find out what's happening.
"The village in question is a small one on the river. Elsircross. Nairen, a couple of nature type people were said to have been in Elsircross just before the problems began. A man and his wife. Some folk are blaming them, but who can say, yet? Anyway, they may be or know your family." He shrugs.

"Regardless, are you lot willing to venture up north and check into this matter for me? I'd naturally offer a reward for any information you can find, plus a bonus if the situation is resolved without my-er, pardon- our having to employ anyone else.

The situation feels as it seems: a busy many, obviously a bit upset, trying to hire some folk. He don't detect any real underlying untrustworthiness from Thorn.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara grins a little sheepishly as Thorn begins to give actual information. Then the business about "some merchant getting murdered" comes up, and she starts looking very calm.

"Excuse me, sir" she says after the fellow has finished. "When you speak of "some merchant"; do you have the name or description of the victim? You see, I happen to be married to someone who could be described as "some merchant". And he was last heard of near or heading for Elsircross. And if you are saying I'm now "the Widow Hallevors" then I really am going to find the persons responsible for my change of status." She stops short, takes a deep breath, and her white-gloved fingers twitch a little over the ludicrously-decorated hilt of her sword.

"I mean, I'm in."

[Reogan]

As Ferrara finishes her first bit of speech, Thekla steps a bit closer to her, reaching out with her left hand, briefly and hesitantly. She quickly snatches it back and instead nods firmly in response to "I'm in."

[glitterbaby]

Oziach moves to place a hand on Ferrera's shoulder. "And I for one, would be honored in aiding you if that were the case." His attention turns back to Thorn. "If information is what you seek then you have certainly found the right man, as it is literally my job. I'm under the assumption "strange things" refers to unprompted evil or malicious acts or evidence thereof and so I would be glad to aid you. I also act as the voice of the Knights of the North Wind in the Vale; my support and the support of my order are one in the same. This is, of course, completely contingent on the your position, morally. I do not believe you to be untrustworthy but know that tyranny will not be tolerated. Should I discover of you any treachery, my breath shall bring about your last."

Oziach makes a diplomacy check to comfort Ferrera with a result of 30, hopefully that's enough for at least two comfort points. He also unconsciously makes an intimidate check after threatening Thorn, also with a result of 30.

[Marlowe]

As she feels the touch of a hand upon her shoulder, Ferrara's head turns to give the owner an expressionless look. Then her hand rises to remove the interloping instrument from her personal space. "Careful there; Voice" she says flatly. "It's considered appropriate to wait at least a little before attempting to comfort the widow. Also, telling people that you don't trust them almost never works out well. It doesn't matter how deadly your breath smells."

She takes a single step to the side, her assorted ironmongery clanking a little.

[glitterbaby]

Oziach furrows an eyebrow. "Huh?"

[Marlowe]

Ferrara just holds up a hand, dismissing the implied question. Blank-faced incomprehension in response to simple Common is not really something she cares to deal with right now. "If you please, sir", she says, addressing Thorn. "Do you have any more information on "some merchant?"

[Hbgplayer]

Nairen's stomach twisted into a knot at the possible new lead in his quest for information. He blithely disregarded even the most remote possibly that they had or have anything to do with the disappearances, other than being possible victims.
He suddenly broke out of his reverie and realized that the other three persons that came in with him were talking. He listened for a moment, then followed up the merchant's question: "Or of those "nature types?" I'll guarantee to you, councillor, that my parents are in no way behind these attacks, but instead may have been trying to root those responsible out, if they were indeed in Esircross."

[JBarca]

Thorn cringes a bit at Ferrara's question.
"Look. I'm sorry if this nonsense has personally hurt you. But I don't have any more information. I don't spend my time reading over reports of crimes in Elsircross. A merchant, staying the night in the village, was found dead. Two strangers, followed by animals and apparently talking to them, et cetera, were there at the same time. I don't have much more than that. Perhaps you should look into yourselves? I'm glad most of you are willing to undertake this. I can try to answer any more questions you might have, or you can get started."

He turns a glare toward Oziach. "Tyranny? Young man, I am a councilor, nothing more. I'm merely trying to keep the Vale together."

You get the feeling that Thorn is, beneath his apparently calm facade, very uncomfortable and nervous given your intimidating efforts. He doesn't seem to be lying, though. Just wondering where the sudden hostilities came from.

[Hbgplayer]

"I only need to know whom I can contact in Elsircross. I will leave you to debate policies," Nairen replies to the counselor then turns to the others in the room, "unless you three would prefer to accompany me. We seem to have similar agendas." he ended speaking to Ferrara directly.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara puts a gloved hand to her chin. "Evesham is a hard piece of work, and careful with his person." she says. "Not one to be lightly murdered. Well, be it him or some other, his trail still leads to Elsircross. The victim is somebody's relative. Most people are. And if my husband is alive, whatever he's got himself stuck in can wait until I catch up. He might need a while to come up with an explanation anyway." Her fingers flex in a grasping motion, and she frowns.

"Unless we can arrange some faster transport, I'm ready to start walking. Unless anyone's go any posturing or purchasing to do, let's be gone within the hour".


Thorn [roll0]
Nairen [roll1]
Oziach [roll2]
I don't think Therkla has pinged on Ferrara's radar much yet.

[Reogan]

Thekla nods hesitantly and looks to Oziach as if for instruction or guidance. She inches towards him and away from the others.

[glitterbaby]

With a quizzical look on his face, Oziach reassures Thorn. "Oh no sir, you mistake intent. I have not been in the Vale long and as such I am not yet familiar with the system of government in this region. I wanted to set my expectations, not make accusations." He then addresses the group, "I'm ready to set off at any time. Shall I arrange us a carriage?"

Oziach wins the Sense Motive with a result of 29, he can take 10 so I didn't roll (assuming it's bluff).

[Marlowe]

"A carriage. How knightly" says Ferrara, deadpan. "Depending on the state of the road and weather, we might make better time afoot." And not be entering dangerous territory stuck inside a wooden box, "Still if the rest of you are set on it; I call crossbow."

[OOC: Because you can't "ride shotgun" in a fantasy setting. People think you're doing something wrong.]

You're using Bluff; so everything you've said is a lie?

[JBarca]

Thorn thinks for a moment. "Well, I don't actually know anyone in Elsircross that well. The rulers there is "Baron" Trask, but he may not be the ideal contact. I'm sorry I can't be of more help there.

He seems a bit dubious at Oziach's assurances, but nods in acceptance nonetheless.

You don't feel that any of those who have spoken so far are attempting any deceptions or are really intending anything other than what they've said.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara pulls her mirror from her haversack and makes an effort to tuck her hair back. If she's going to be a widow, damned if she's going to be a scraggly one."We can rent horses at the Maxim's Livery for one-oh-seven silver each." she adds. "Assuming we can all sit on the back of a hay-burner without falling off. Not too fussed about the creatures, but quickly than walking and safer than a carriage."

[Reogan]

Thekla smiles at the mention of horses, looking at Oziach to see if they're yet leaving.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara catches a glimpse of Therkla's smile and darts a look at her. First sign of animation this one's shown. Or reanimation, possibly. Something's up there.

[Hbgplayer]

"Well I suppose that if that's all you can provide it'll have to be enough," Nairen replied to Thorn, then turned to his would be companions. "I'm not opposed to renting a horse, but we need to be sure they'll be controllable in the presence of a 300 pound bear. My companion is waiting in the forest outside of town for my return."

[Marlowe]

Ferrara is already heading out the door with a step like a irritated construct, tucking her mirror away as she goes. "The bear can pay for it's own horse" she says, with a city girl's indifference to the wonders of untamed nature. "I'm for Maxim's. Follow on, if you will. Or if not I'll meet you at the north gate in not more than an hour's time. You're not organised by then, I go on without."

The sharp rap of her boots on the floor recedes into the distance.

[Hbgplayer]

Nairen raised an eyebrow in bewilderment as the tall woman exited the building, then turned and glanced at the other two left behind and twisted his hands in an expression of What the heck's her problem? before following her down the hall and to the horse seller's.

[glitterbaby]

Oziach shrugs in response, "Iunno." He then bows his head towards the High Counciler, "I suppose I'll leave you to your work." He motions Thekla toward the hallway, "we're going to see the animals now, Thekla."

[Reogan]

Thekla leaves the room with what almost seems like relief, staying roughly equally distant from Nairen and Thorn, assuming Thorn stays put. Should Oziach move too quickly, she stays next to him rather than falling behind.

[JBarca]

Moving west from the palace, you find yourselves near the western wall of the city, in a sector made up entirely of inns, stables, and minor shops. The buildings here are not nearly as nicely constructed, nor as clean. Fewer humans are about, overall, and occasional exotic beings of varying descriptions are present. You are not spared a second glance by most.

Before you can decide on a stable to purchase your mounts, an overly friendly, overly round Dwarf offers his hand to each of you and launches into a lengthy description of dozens of mounts of all sizes, each "guaranteed strong, guaranteed cheap!" Naturally, this just means that he is not demanding massive amounts of extra gold, so you accept, and are each able to find a horse (or horse equivalent) to suit your needs.

Having collected your mounts, you set out, riding west and north along the region's main road, the Dawn Way. A few men and women make their way past you, towards Dennovar. Most seem relatively poor, though one or two groups are clearly merchants. The poorer folk give your group confused stares, and hurry along past you when you get near. The rich do not deign to spare you even a glance.

You are able to travel for nearly four hours before the sun is nearly hidden on the horizon. You don't notice any travelers any longer, and the area around the road is entirely plains. With your collective knowledge of the Vale, you know that you're in the safest part of the region; along the Dawn Way between Dennovar and Brindol. Night camps here are possible, though obviously not without some risks. You can only assume there are settlements along the Way somewhere, though you've yet to see any. What would you like to do?

Feel free to have retroactively spoken/otherwise interacted with the salesman or those you encountered on the road. Just skipped past it all for speed of play.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara gives the reddening sky a reproachful look, then turns back to the party. "Much as I'd like to press on, moving by night on horseback's a good way to break a leg. Best find a secure campsite quick-sweet before it gets too dark. Anyone know this country?"

[JBarca]

From the information you recieved prior to the start of your mission, you have a vague knowledge of the surrounding lands. There is a small settlement, Marthton, nearby. Maybe another hour and a half up the road?Otherwise, the land is just plains for a bit east and west, with hills and the Marth Forest to the north.

You are aware of a settlement nearby. How far, you're not sure. You know of its existence because of moderately sized Druidic circle that is in the Marth Forest near the town. The circle is probably a three, maybe four in the dark, hour ride from your current location. The town's likely nearer.

[glitterbaby]

"There is a town, Marthton, a short way up the road yet; I'd say about an hour and a half."

[Marlowe]

Ferrara gives a short nod of acknowledgement. "Good news. We move on then. Stay sharp about the roadsides and look out for anything trouble-shaping and night-coloured." She faces back down the road, and urges her mount onward.

Spot [roll0]
Listen [roll1]
Oh yeah, I actually have ranks in those. Almost forgot.:smallsmile:

[Reogan]

As soon as Thekla meets her horse, she carefully approaches it and pets it carefully on the muzzle. After a few moments, she gives a weak smile and clambers almost reverently onto the beast.

When the day begins drawing to a close, and the search for a campsite is initiated, Thekla leans forward and mutters to the horse.

Thekla asks if the horse or his/her/its/xir friends know any safe place to rest in this area.

Feral Speech (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/classes/base-classes/witch/hexes/common-hexes/hex-feral-speech-su)

[Hbgplayer]

"That matches up with what I know of the area," Nairen adds, slightly uncomfortable riding upon a horse. This is a new experience for the druid. At least all the beasts seem to be find with the bear.
Behind the rest of the group lumbers a 300 pound, deep red colored bear, that of fresh cinnamon. It has shown no aggression towards any of tge horses ir people riding them.

[JBarca]

The horse starts a bit when you speak to it, though it does not seem overly concerned. He responds that he is aware of another two-legged sleeping place along the dirt strip farther.

Assuming the group follows Ferrara and that someone in the party creates light somehow.

The party moves onward into the night, keeping a watchful eye out where possible, a "listenful" ear out where not. Aside from the normal sounds of wildlife in the distance and the slow, but steady, plodding of hooves (and paws), little is heard. The occasional small nocturnal rodent is seen, but nothing of note, really.

After an hour and a half of riding, a village is reached, presumably Marthton. Most of the village is obscured by the darkness. A small open watchtower along the road is visible, though, lit by a torch held by a man inside. As you near, he calls down softy, "Ho, travelers. Business in Marthton?"

The man is elderly and wearing what appears to be an antique kettle on his head, though you can only assume it is actually a helmet. A club hangs from one side of his belt, a horn from the other. He seems amiable enough, if bored.

[Marlowe]

"Up from Dennover. Making for Elsircross." says Ferrara. "We'd appreciate a place to stay the night, and be on our way in the morning. And if there's someone awake we could have a chat to about local events, that would be nice too. I am called Mrs Hallevors. These others are--well, I'll let them introduce themselves." They could use the practice. She moves her horse aside to let the others make their introductions.

[JBarca]

The man eyes the group for a few moments as Mrs. Hallevors speaks. "Well, I don't need each o' yer life stories. Travelers are always welcome here. G'on in. Keep on the D'Way, look for the Sleeping Log on yer left. Enjoy yer stay, folks."
The man sits back down and resumes his careful watch of the approaching road.

As you continue into the small town, you walk through a goodly number of small houses, along with a warehouse, a tavern, and, finally, the Sleeping Log. The entire village smells heavily of sawdust and sap. Seeing as it's not a few hours after dark, you're not surprised to see vacant alleys and walkways.

The entryway into the inn is small and cramped, and entirely covered with logging-based paraphernalia. Saws, hooks, logs, boards, ladders, and hatchets hang on every available surface. A short, fat man lies across a wooden counter, clearly asleep.

[Reogan]

When the party goes to enter the inn, Thekla speaks (Common) for the first time since they left. "I'm just going to stay with the horses." She doesn't look at any party member as she speaks.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara looks sidelong at the other woman. "Guess they won't mind, but we should probably check with our host.". She walks quietly up to the counter, sits herself down opposite the sleeping man, and gently wraps on the counter to awake him.

[JBarca]

The man rolls his head, leaving a thing trail of drool across the counter. A more insistent knocking wakes, him, however, and he raises his eyes to glare at the party. "C'n I help you?"

[Marlowe]

Ferrara returns the glare, but replies in civil fashion. "Sorry for disturbing you at your work. We need three beds and a stable for four horses and---her." nods toward Therkla. "Bite to eat and some chat wouldn't go amiss either."

[JBarca]

The man eyes the group for a moment, before nodding slowly. "Four gold'll cover ye fer th' night. Common room's thataway, -he points down a narrow hallway, then tosses you a key- "Room's back there," -This time he points a thin door behind the counter- "Breakfast's in the mornin'. Stables around the back."

He hold out a hand expectantly.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara fishes the coins out of her purse but doesn't hand them over immediately. Instead running her fingers over them while giving the innkeeper a look.

[roll0]

"If you're not going to ask who we are, I suppose it's a waste of time asking who else is here or who might have passed through here in the past". She places the coins in his hand. "Pity that. Opportunity wasted."

[JBarca]

You get the feeling that the fat, sleepy man in front of you is, in fact, a fat, sleepy, greedy man.

He snorts. "Don't care who'y'are. You pay me, I give you a room. Good enough."

[Marlowe]

"It may be." Ferrara rises and turns to the group. "Very well. Red-Edge. Gouger." A nod to Nairen and Oziach. "You two can check out the commons. I think Two-Hands and myself will rest in the stables. You know, in case she has one of her moments. 'Till morning?"

She moves to the door, nodding for Therkla to follow her.

[Reogan]

Thekla hesitates almost like a small child asked for her name, looking towards Oziach for both permission and protection, or at least something of that sort.

[Marlowe]

Seconds draw out as Ferrara tries not to show obvious impatience. Finally she says. "As you will, Two Hands. But at least one of us is staying with the mounts; and nobody is leaving you alone. Not after the last little incident. So follow me or spend the night in the Common Room. Okay?"

She heads out the door to put the horses away, and find a nice, clean bit of straw.

[JBarca]

The night passes uneventfully, with the party split between stables and rooms. When morning comes, the common room remains nearly empty, with only one of two individuals shuffling in or out. You are given a sparse meal, then expected to pay another day's keep or leave. Gathering your belongings, you step out into the sawdust-filled air of the town. Chopping and cutting can be heard echoing about, even at this early hour. A few people are leaving houses or apartment-style buildings, obviously headed to work based on their tired and sullen expressions.

[Marlowe]

0-Prestidigitation
1-Magic Weapon
Thereby ensuring we won't run into any incorporeals, or anything with DR/magic for the rest of the day.:smallsmile:

"A poor breakfast" remarks Ferrara as she saddles up. She'd been giving the Innkeeper the benefit of the doubt until she saw the quality of service. "We ever spread the family business this far into the backwoods, must remember to schedule this place for a hostile takeover. Maybe I'll give that chap a job scrubbing the floors. With his tongue." She mounts and eyes down the road. She's tempted to prestidigitate the grime of the road and the barnyard smell from off her, but decides to wait until they enter Elsircross.

"Maybe for the best. No reason to stick around. Let's be off". She spurs her horse down the road, keeping an eye out to left and right and, for that matter, upwards.

SPot [roll0]
Listen [roll1]

[Reogan]

(These were totally prepared yesterday too)
0- Stabilize, Dancing Lights, Detect Magic, Spark
1- Ear Piercing Scream, Ear Piercing Scream, Mage Armor, Web Bolt
2- Hideous Laughter, Burning Gaze, Scare

After a (non-mechanically) stressful night sleeping as near to her horse and as far from Ferrara as possible, Thekla doesn't seem very inclined to eat her breakfast. Seated by Oziach, she slowly moves the unidentifiable bits around on her plate, occasionally picking up a chunk with her fingers and placing it in her pocket.

Thekla doesn't speak unless spoken to throughout the morning. Her only noises are produced when the party begins to prepare to ride, and these seem to be neighs and whinnies. Or heavily-accented neighs and whinnies, at least. As the girl settles onto her saddle, she withdraws a small leather pouch and begins eating from it.

Good morning.

[JBarca]

Gathering your mounts, you continue your travel along the Dawn Way. To the north is a very large forest, very obviously the Marth. A bit the east, you can barely make out a long line of rolling hills. As you travel, the road moves northwest, before shifting almost directly west. As you the miles pass you by, the south remains the same; grass, grass, and more grass. It's warm, but not overly so. Altogether, it's a relatively pleasant, if boring, ride.

The horses aren't big into small talk, though they do greet you not-unfriendedly. (If you'd like to ask more questions/carry on a conversation, feel free to OoC or PM it so this thread isn't slowed with it.)

Five hours into the day, a smaller path splits off from the Way, heading directly North. Based on the road signs, this marks your departure from the road, as Elsircross lies to the north a small distance.

The dirt road you're on now is bordered by shrubs and grassland which, after an hour or so, turns smoothly into tended farmland. As the sun approaches the horizon, an awful odor hits you. It grows worse the farther north you go. Eventually, you crest a small rise and a little village becomes visible. It is obviously the source of the stench, though it is hard to tell what is causing it exactly. A small train of wagons is approaching from the east, piled high with logs. As you near the outskirts, two men on mangy horses ride up to you directly. The wear thick leather jerkins and hold short, brutal spears. One is young, scarred, and angry looking, the other appears to have foregone bathing for the last decade, though he smiles brightly. The each have a blue spear impaling a lion emblazoned across their shoulder.

The youth of the pair spits as he stops his mount. "Hello, travelers. Can we help you?"

The smiling man merely waves.

As he does, you notice a small knot of activity at the corner of an alleyway. Two men are shoving a third against a house, and clearly demanding something from him.

The two men antagonizing the third have the same symbol of the spear and lion on their shoulders, and appear to be demanding money from their victim.

The lion that is being stabbed is very similar to the Coat of Arms of Lord Jarmaath, the lord of Brindol and one of the most powerful men in the Vale, though the offending weapon is clearly a new addition to the motif.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara doesn't respond for a moment. Instead leaning over to say quietly to Oziarch; "Voice, I believe you had something to say regarding "Tyranny" yesterday?" Then speaks directly to the two. "Yes. First you can provide us with an explanation as to what's happening in that alley yonder. Because from here, it looks a lot like extortion if not brigandage. Then, we can discuss what else you can do."

[Reogan]

Thekla is visibly distressed at the action playing out before her. She shifts uncomfortably on her horse, glancing from the commotion to Oziach to the two talking to the struggle again. One of her hands slips into the pocket into which she had smuggled her breakfast, the other fidgeting aimlessly.

If violence begins in the form of combat beginning or one of the men menacing towards our party (meaning with apparent intention to physically force something, be it via stabbing or grabbing or what have you), then Thekla uses the Slumber hex (range 30 ft. DC17 Will or sleep as per sleep (until roused or for 4 rounds). Her target is the nearest spear lion man.

[JBarca]

The young man glances back, then shrugs. "Looks like the Baron's tax collectors hard at work. None of your business, if you're askin' me."

The dirty man bobs his head in agreement. The two men in the background continue to shove the third. The victim begins to look desperate and pleading.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara slides off the horse. "Firstly, revenue collecting does not legally entail physical assault. Secondly you're wearing the same livery so you'd better do a lot better than telling me what it looks like and thirdly I'll tell you what is and isn't my business."

[glitterbaby]

Oziach stares down the man who spoke first, picking him apart while Fererra finishes.

20, hitting DC

He then waits for a response and at the slightest hint of noncompliance (which I find likely) he straightens up in his horse, deepens his voice, and shouts, "Enough! As the acting voice of the Knights of the North Wind in this vale I demand you unhand him immediately and send him to my side. This man is now under the protection of my Order, cooperate or feel our wrath."

Check result of 30

[JBarca]

The man is full of confidence, for sure. He doesn't seem to be lying, necessarily. Most of his emotions at this point are anger and irritation.

The two mounted men tense at Ferrara's words. The filthy man, still smiling, urges his mount closer to the lad's. They both grip their spears tighter.

The young one speaks again. "I reckon it entails whatever it needs to. Happens that ol' Shelan over there is a bit behind on his dues. You've got no right to come barging in to the Baron's land and give his lawfully appointed soldiers commands." His voice goes up in volume as he speaks, until the two apparent tax-collectors give their victim one last shove and begin walking toward the party. They seems cautious, though not particularly aggressive. One of the men fingers a heavy-looking mace at his waist. The other man puts his hand on the hilt of a blade at his hip. They both have a bit of fear in their eyes as they turn toward the party, but they quickly mask it behind anger.

The young mounted man looks confused. "'Knights of the North Wind?' I really have no idea what you're talking about, traveler. You don't frighten me."

The man they were harassing stops in confusion at Oziach's words, glances at the other men, then hurries around a corner, clearly terrified.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara smiles and flicks a bit of hair out of her eyes. "Funny word that. "Reckon". Reckon you don't recognize his authority. Reckon we don't recognize yours. Reckon that leaves a certain amount of reckoning to occur." She draws the sword, looking down the blade in a briefly abstracted fashion. "Shall we dance?"

Initiative:[roll0]

[glitterbaby]

A smirk comes over Oziach's face as Ferrera draws her blade. He takes a deep breath and readies himself.

[roll0]

Edit: Oops just did the roll without modifiers, with a +6 init mod, that brings me to a 17

[JBarca]

Seeing the part prepare for combat, the young man urges his mount forward and, clearly hoping to catch the young woman off guard, thrusts his spear forward toward her gut. As he does so, Thekla's magic strikes him, though he manages to shrug is off and jam his spear into its target, drawing the first blood of the fight. His face, until now very angry, takes on an excited aspect.

The smiling man waves cheerfully, then turns his mount and flees down the road, toward the center of town.

The two men on foot run forward, pulling their weapons out as they do so. The one with the mace yells as he smashes it down onto Oziach, clearly fully intending to brain him. The weapons merely glances off his armor, though, leaving the Shepherd unharmed.

The man with the sword hurries forward and swings his blade at Ferrara as well, aiming low. She is struck in the leg, though she twists away, absorbing most of the blow.

Seeing weapons being used, the harassed man quickly hurries around a corner, obviously terrified.


The Slumber Hex is resisted.
Ferrara, take 5 damage.
Ferrara, take 3 damage.

Map (http://i.imgur.com/11Rv9wJ.png)

Ferrara, then Oziach, you're up!


[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]

[Marlowe]

AC 17. Current HP 25.

Ferrara breathes a quiet. "Marvelous." as she directs her own counterstrike at the mouthy boy before her.

Using 1 Inspir point for to hit.
If hits, adds another point to boost damage.
Attack:[roll0]
Damage:[roll1]
Crit Confirm if required: [roll2]
7 Inspiration remaining, or 8 if missed.

[glitterbaby]

HP: 34 AC: 19

I'll probably need to do this in two posts as I have bonus damage relying on rolls I make and I'm not sure how to set up a function on the forum.

Oziach takes a look at the wooden buildings surrounding him and sighs to himself, looking slightly disappointed. He quickly examines his opponents, remembering common tactics and defensive maneuvers to their kind.

I assumed local: [roll0]

[glitterbaby]

From his mouth erupts a cone of intense cold blanketing the three men, breaking just shy of Fererra.

[roll0] which is halved and then they may attempt a DC: 15 Reflex save to take half of that. Anyone who takes any damage at all is entangled, taking another [roll1] damage. All the damage is cold damage.

Edit: So 5 damage reflex 15 for half and entangled unless evasion or other way to negate the damage entirely (half speed, no run/charge, -2 attack rolls, -4 dexterity, DC: 15+SpellLevel concentration or lose spell)

[JBarca]

Ferrara's blade strikes true, and the young man looks down in shock as his leg begins to pour blood forth onto the dusty road. After a moment, he cries out in pain and anger.

Each of the men flinches away from the blast of cold air, though not quickly enough. While they manage to avoid the worst of the freezing wind (seemingly through sheer luck), they cannot escape the grasping tendrils that bind their limbs and trip them up. The youth that had been speaking pants heavily as he looks fearfully over his shoulder, clearly fearing for his life. The mounts are likewise entangled, and they scream in panic and confusion.

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

Thekla, then Nairen. I know Reogan's having connection issues, so I'll give him 24 hrs from this post to act, then take an action for Thekla. Nairen will act soon after that, then the foe.
Actually, it's Nairen, Enemy, Thekla, Ferrara. Sorry for the confusion.

[JBarca]

Nairen gestures at the lumbering beast behind him and moves his hands in a complicated pattern, then pets the creature's head. The bear's claws glow with a clean green light, and it lumbers forward, roaring. It swings a claw at the man with the mace, who cowers beneath the onslaught. The claws smashes into his chest, leaving a gaping wound. This, coupled with the freezing breath from Oziach, leaves him struggling to stay standing.

The man backpedals and swings wildly back at the beast, trying to fend it off. He lands a blow on Cinnamon's snout, startling the best more than truly harming it.

The young mounted fighter stabs down at Ferrara again, then turns his mount to flee. His hurry to retreat throws off his aim, though, and his foe avoids the blow. The swordsman swings his blade at Ferrara again, though his confidence is clearly fading. He is more fortunate than the mounted man, though, and Ferrara is struck.

The dirty man continues riding and rounds a corner, disappearing from sight.
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]
[roll4]

Ferrara: Take 4 Damage.
Cinnamon, Take 3 Damage.
Marlowe, feel free to make an AoO roll against the young enemy or his horse, either now or at the start of your turn.
MAP (http://i.imgur.com/5EpjcPQ.png)

It is now Thekla's turn, then Ferrara's.

[Marlowe]

Current hp 21. AC 17

The man. Not the horse.

Horses are expensive.

Attack [roll0]
Damage [roll1]
CCR [roll2]

[Reogan]

Current HP: 30 (unhurt), AC: 12

Thekla glances from one foe to another, a look of terror on her face. At every blow against anyone, she flinches, and she grips the reins of her horse as though she would turn it and flee. When Cinnamon is struck, an involuntary syllable of laughter escapes Thekla's lips, and her eyes widen in fear. At Ferrara's injury, Thekla gives what sounds like a giggle, but looks like a sob. Almost unconsciously, the girl's hand reaches into a pouch at her hip and withdraws a feather and a a small sticky mass. She twirls the feather about as her giggle becomes stronger, a consuming full body laugh tinged with hysteria.

As her laughter reaches its height, Thekla throws the mass at the fleeing mounted man. Instantly, she stops laughing, the sticky missile carrying the laughter towards her foe.

Hideous Laughter (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/hideousLaughter.htm). Will Save DC 17 negates. Failure forces him to fall prone (off horse?) laughing. He is not helpless.
Also, he's fleeing, so Thekla moves to catch up if needed. Range 35. If not possible, she then does this same thing but at the swordsman fighting Ferrara.

[JBarca]

As the man turn to ride away, Ferrara lashes out at him. However, her maneuvering to avoid his parting blow unbalanced her, and she is unable to connect. The two men who remain look rather unnerved by the young lady's giggling, and the fleeing man casts a fearful glance over his shoulder, right as the sweets reach him, taking him full in the face. Rather than the desired effect, however, it merely angers him. He wipes his face and continues riding.

[roll0]

Ferrara, then Oziach!

[Marlowe]

Ferrara: HP 21 AC 17

"Made a mistake here, boy" Ferrara remarks to the boy opposite her. "On the bright side, doesn't seem like you'll be alive to make many more." However, noting that the swordsman seems to be the most dangerous of the foes faced, she directs her next attack at that worthy.

Using 1 Inspiration for To-Hit, and another 1 to add damage if successful.
Attack [roll0]
Damage [roll1]
CCR [roll2]

5 Inspiration remaining. Or 6 if missed.

[JBarca]

The man cries out as Ferrara strikes him in the chest and looks utterly terrified as his lifeblood pours forth. "Please..." he begs. It looks as though he will be unable to do much more than hold himself together at this point.

The swordsman is clearly Disabled. Oziach, you're up!

[glitterbaby]

Oziach seems to position himself as he inhales, glancing at the defeated swordsman. He then unleashes a 30 foot line of white-hot flame, aiming for the man wielding man and the mounted man.

I'm fairly certain I can make a line from some point in my square that goes through both the mace man and the mounted man, but that is up to the DM. Oziach aims for the mace man first. He'll avoid the swordsman if it isn't inconvenient but he isn't too worried about killing him. No entagle this time so full damage

[roll0]

[roll1] reflex save DC:15 for half damage

[JBarca]

Oziach steps between the begging man and Cinnamon, lines himself up, and breathes. His line of fire engulfs the maceman and barely reaches the mounted man. Their skin chars, their clothes ignite, and their hair is incinerated as they fall to the ground. The horse atop which the man was sitting also screams and collapses.

[roll0]
[roll1]

Nairen barks a word at his bear.
Cinnamon, at the word from Nairen, stands over the surrendering swordsman, ready to act if need be.

[roll2]
[roll3]


[roll4]
[roll5]

MAP (http://i.imgur.com/U2S3RBK.png)
Thekla, then Ferrara. You have two down enemies, one surrendered. One fled early in the battle, and is no longer in sight. We'll stay in initiative order for now, since it is possible that at least one enemy is still alive.

[Reogan]

Thekla hardly moves after her spell fails, and when she finally opts to act, only one enemy stands. He seems to no longer be a threat, sure, but Thekla knows better than to trust...well, anyone. She glares at the man, pressing her entire force of will into making him cease being a threat.
Will DC17, failure puts him to sleep as sleep for four rounds. This Hex cannot affect an opponent who already been targeted by it this day, but this opponent has not, I believe.

[JBarca]

The man has nearly started weeping by the time Thekla turns her attention on him. When she does so, he hardly seems to notice, not reacting to her gaze at all.

[roll0]
EDIT: Are you kidding me? Sorry, Reogan. These rolls are getting ridiculous.
Ferrara, then Oziach.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara flicks blood off her sword and turns to face the wobbly swordsman, her blade aimed at his throat. "This "Baron". How many more men does he have? And how many of them are better than you?"

[JBarca]

The man does his best to lean away from the blade without falling. "T-two score in the village, maybe? A dozen or so patrolling? I don't know. I'm just a friend of Prent's. I didn't mean to... I'm sorry... Please, don't hurt me. You've won. I just want to live. D-do you want gold? A slave? I have a daughter, she's yours. Just please... Let me go. Don't let him-" He glances at Oziach with terror in his eyes, "breathe on me. Please."

The man is struggling to stay standing at this point.

Still in rounds, but, as we all know, talking's a "free" action. Feel free to pose another question or two, Ferrara, before taking an action or passing your turn.

[Marlowe]

"Yeah. Sorry about the breath. It's the garlic. And the onions. And the chives. And the garlic and the onions and the chives. As for your daughter--", she flicks a bloodied lock of hair out of her eye and wonders why she doesn't braid. "I'm a married woman. Perhaps a year or two ago--never mind. Who's this "Prent"? That some kind of horse-oyster title in these horse-oyster parts?"

[JBarca]

You get the feeling that the man is terrified, and, therefore, not withholding information.

Sorry, there was a typo in that last post. Fixed now.

"Prent's the Baron's second cousin! Or... Grand-Nephew? I don't remember. They're related by blood. He's a friend, told me Trask offers gold for men willing to collect taxes. I signed up, and am regretting it. I'll do anything for you. I can help!" The man seems to have better control of himself now. He looks almost hopeful.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara activates her Healing belt, and flicks a glance over to Oziarch. "Well, Sir Voice. Does your order wish to place this one under their protection?" Whatever the answer, she pulls herself back onto her rented horse. "Either way, decide quickly. For it seems we might have a deal of work to do this day."

healing 2d8 damage
[roll0]

[DING: HP now 33:smallsmile:]

[glitterbaby]

He turns to her to answer, "of course they would. My Order has protocol, codes of conduct, rules for treating prisoners. Rules that I, admittedly, find inhibiting. My order typically responds to extortion with imprisonment, rehabilitation, and reassimilation. Back in my country, this man would be brought in to a minimum security prison for about six months with free room and board with his family also being fed and housed in his stead..." His voice begins to trail. As his turn ends.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara gives Oziach a very sharp look. "That's nice. And did you happen to bring such a prison with you? And the guards, judges, and victuals that implies? If not we may be in something of a pickle". Her look goes back to the surrendered swordsman. "And when I say "we", I mean, of course, you. Maybe you can tell us where we could find this "Baron". Quickly now. And then maybe you could start a career as a Wizard. And make yourself disappear. I'm not sure if you're going to be the most popular fellow about here in the next few days."

[JBarca]

"Second road on the right! Right down there!" He points down the dirt path, his finger quivering as he does so. He unsteadily rises to his feet and limps away, casting fearful glances back at the party and his fallen comrades as he goes.

Nairen rides forward, looks at he nearest prone form, at Oziach, then back at the body. "Wow."

[Marlowe]

Ferrara sighs, and cleans off her blade. "Fellows, it seems we are at war. They have numbers and know their ground, we have surprise and concentration of force. Shall we go and challenge this "Baron" openly? Or should we see if we can't thin out his advantages a little by hunting down a few of these "patrols"? She looks around the area.

"No one about. That's indicative. Back where I'm from a set-to like this would have a crowd of rubberneckers, a sharp charging admission, two pickpockets working the crowd and three whores hanging up their slates. This is a scared town."

Spot[roll0]
Listen [roll1]

[Reogan]

"Maybe..." says Thekla quietly, looking only at the mane of her horse. "Um, maybe we should find the man who was... assaulted."

She glances up as she finishes, gaze flitting from the party members until it settles on one of the defeated enemies. It lingers for half a second, too briefly for anyone to speak, and then the girl recoils in her saddle as though a punch had been thrown at her.

"We need to take their weapons. Or do something more. Otherwise they'll come back."

[JBarca]

A shutter or two is cracked open, though, as you sweep your gaze up and down the road, they close quickly. You have a feeling you're being watched.
You hear... Nothing. The party's voices. The bear's growling. Your horses' breath. But nothing from the village. No voices, no animals, no wagons rolling, no peddlers calling their wares... Nothing.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara glances at Therkla. Some sheets still set there then. But what she says is; "By all means it would be nice to chat to somebody who can give a straight answer without steel on the end of it. If anyone wants to sort through the carrion, do it quick and let's be after that fellow. I don't know where we need to be, but I know this is the one exact spot in the entire world that we don't want to be standing on a few minutes."

[glitterbaby]

Oziach digs through the charred corpses looking for valuables, pretty much anything that could be sold for a gold value. What does he find?

[JBarca]

Before the bodies had even cooled, Oziach is on them, searching the remains. Charred flesh and burnt cloth make up the majority of the piles, but little piles of coin are clearly visible near the waist of each figure. In addition, the weapons and armor of the soldiers are available for the taking. One wears a cheap breastplate besides his weapon.

A short sword, a long sword, and a heavy mace are available.
In addition, you are able to gather one breastplate and one studded leather armor from the slain men.
Finally, there is a total of 100 gold pieces and 500 silver pieces between the two. Clearly, they've been busy today.
Also, 500xp to each of you.

After you grab the coins (and weapons, if you're so inclined), but before you have a chance to begin unstrapping the armor, you all hear the sound of a decent number of footsteps and hoof-steps, along with some voices, coming from around a corner in the distance. The same corner, mind you, behind which the smiling man had disappeared a mere minute ago.

[Marlowe]

"What a surprise", rasps Ferrara. Really, really wishing she'd emphasized the need for speed a lot more. "New plan, Voice. Since we're still in this spot on your business; how about you surround them and we escape in the confusion?"

She draws her blade again and shouts loudly. "Here they come; the maggots! Remember; Thorn wants prisoners so try not to hit 'em too hard!"

[Reogan]

As Oziach picks through the remains, Thekla wordlessly slides off her horse and picks up the mace. This, she stares at, cradling its head as though it might otherwise break. As soon as she hears the voices, her arms drop limply to her sides, and she mutters to the horses as Ferrara yells [presuming she has six seconds to arrange for speaking with them.

I think we have to be brave now because someone is going to hurt us. Please be brave with us. But don't let them hurt you.

Ignoring Ferrara's enthusiasm, Thekla whispers to the woman. "We're going to be brave now."

She turns towards the oncoming noise and waits.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara sighs. I've certainly managed to fool mine own team at any rate. She slides off her horse and advances toward the corner. "Stand with me, Voice." she says quietly as she passes the looter.

[glitterbaby]

Oziach snags the coinage, "I suppose we'll divide this amongst the townsfolk later," and follows Ferrera's lead. He moves to within twenty feet of the corner, listening intently to get a feel for the number of enemies. "We'll greet them with a warmer welcome than they're expecting," as he readies himself.

I'm really not sure what kind of check to make if he wants to see if he can figure out the number of enemies so I just went with listen. Listen: [roll0]

Oziach readies an action: Should 2 or more soldiers come into range of his breath weapon, BBQ time. This action may change if he thinks there are 30 or so enemies immediately incoming.

[Marlowe]

With a strange feeling that someone, somewhere is getting her name wrong, Ferrara mutters something that sounds like "Messerunheilig.", and her longsword briefly glows with an eldritch enhancement. She then moves to the wall closer to the oncoming noise and flattens her slender figure against it, attempting to make herself a little less obviously conspicuous.

Casting Magic Weapon. and making a Hide check to try to improve the odds of getting the drop on somebody.

Hide [roll0]

[JBarca]

As the sound of footsteps grows louder, the party readies itself.

There is definitely a group of individual approaching, some mounted, some not. That's about all you can discern; exact numbers are really not possible.

The noise stops for a moment, then a head is briefly visible around the corner. A young man, or boy perhaps, notices the corpses, then the standing figures, then Ferrara. As he sees the last, his eyebrows attempt to jump off of his head and he quickly pulls back behind the building.

A deep voice calls out from behind the structure a moment later.

"I see you've killed my men. Pray, tell me what your reasoning behind this madness is. I'd hate to have to kill you over a misunderstanding! Now, come over here with your hands upraised and your weapons sheathed, and we'll talk."

[Marlowe]

Ferrara mutters quickly to the others; "He's trying to distract us while his men work around our flanks. It's what I'd do." Then raises her voice loud. "We are from Thorn. He has not heard good things about this town. We were sent to investigate. And we were not even in this town two minutes before your pox-ridden dogs that you call men assault us so you can step forward yourself, or have a few more dead upon your hands."

That said, she pulls back from the corner and, gesturing for the others to follow, starts working her way around the other side of the building.

Move Silently:[roll0]

[glitterbaby]

Glancing around for enemies that may be watching him, Oziach closes his eyes and he begins to change. Eyes change color, hair lengthens, and his sharp, masculine features smooth out. Oziach now resembles a dainty human female.

[roll0]

Full-round action: [roll1] disguise

[JBarca]

There is a distinct pause, as if the man is either considering your words carefully or busy with something else.

"Thorn sent you? Then what business have you in my town? You can tell that bloated money-grubber that I have no need of him here!" The man's voice raises, as though he's legitimately upset.

"My men would not be attacking you if you weren't causing trouble, I can promise you that. Now, I think it might be best if you come over here, hands up. We don't need to be fighting, but we do need to be speaking, and I'm not in the habit of putting myself on the swordpoints of my potential enemies, no matter how friendly, and beautiful, their voices sound." You can all but hear the wink that went along with that last line.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara, who's got a voice most suited to exchanging shouts with rough men and a figure like a copper-wire golem, makes a face at this but stays silent for the moment. Instead she frantically waves back the other members of the party to join her in working around to the west of the inn , keeping her eye (and ear) out for the flanking parties she's fairly sure are working their way towards them.

Spot:[roll0]
Listen:[roll1]

[Reogan]

Thekla nods slowly at Ferrara and makes her careful way after the woman, moving as quietly as she can.

Move Silently: [roll0]

As shaken as she is, it seems, this moving silently involves a great deal of stumbling in the dirt. She also mutters to herself, urging herself to be quieter. This fails.

[JBarca]

You hear footsteps and low voices around the south side of the inn.


"Hello? You haven't wandered off, have you?"

[Marlowe]

Ferrara, wondering rather intently what Nairen and Oziach think they're doing, quickly looks for an ambush position, waving for Therkla to do the same.

Hide [roll0]

[Reogan]

Thekla, unaware completely of what Nairen and Oziach think they're doing, mirrors movement to an ambush position, waving at Ferrara.

Hide: [roll0]

[glitterbaby]

Oziach remembers back to his time with his knighthood and his sleeping through the class on dealing with articles of war. This may or may not have been what actually happened but to Oziach truth seems mutable. He says nothing and rushes to oblige Ferrara, offering an encouraging pat on the back for Theckla.

[roll0]

[JBarca]

Ferrara ducks behind a small pile of garbage just as three men turn the corner. The freeze as they see the rest of the party, including a crouching Thekla and tiptoeing Oziach. There's a moment of shock from the men as they realize who the figures are, then they pull their blades up into a guard position. They're each wearing breastplates and holding steel shields and steel swords.

As the moment passes, the party fails to act upon their temporary advantage and the guards are able to sound the alarm.

"Hey! They're back here!" Both men glance over their shoulders toward the corner, then crouch down a bit and pull their shields up, ready to defend themselves against a likely onslaught.

MAP (http://i.imgur.com/9lpmP4h.png)

[glitterbaby]

Oziach moves to position the two men in a line from him and roots himself, ready to burn them where they stand. In a shrill, motherly voice, "call off your men and lower your weapons unless you want them and your town to go up in flames. We were assaulted by your thugs and had every right to defend ourselves. I would greatly prefer to not cause inconvenience to the innocent townsfolk with whom I hold no quarrel."

Bluff: 29 Diplomacy 30

Should combat be initiated in any way, fire breath 30ft line.

Knowledge Devotion: [roll0]
Fire Breath: [roll1] with Entangling Exhalation which halves damage
Edit: 4 damage+entangle condition

[Marlowe]

Ferrara steps out of hiding to t21, muttering something about stable doors and missing horses as she directs a swing at the fellow at U22.

Using 1 Inspiration for to-hit. If successful, another point to damage.

Attack [roll0]
Damage [roll1]
Crit confirm if required [roll2]

Leaving 7 Inspiration left if hit, 8 if missed.

[JBarca]

Ferrara steps out into the line of sight of the men, and they jump in surprise. Her initial swing goes wide, though it provides the distraction needed for Oziach to get off his breath of flame. It swirls around the men and catches their clothes on fire, melting their boots to the ground, causing them to stumble.

Ferrara and Oziach see a number of other men on the road in the distance, all armed and armored.

Nairen begins to cast a spell.

His lumbering pet rushes forward and claws at the burning man, though the man seems to have been ready for the attack and dodges it easily.

glitterbaby, I'm not ignoring your social skills. The enemy response will come on their turn.

MAP (http://i.imgur.com/y4MlOg5.png)

[Reogan]

Confused by the apparent combination of diplomacy and "diplomacy," Thekla hugs her mace tightly into her chest with one hand, muttering to herself while her free hand pulls a strip of leather from a pouch and fidgets across its surface. After a few seconds, she slips the strip back into place, and for a moment, a ghostly force shimmers around her body.

Mage Armor. +4 AC. 5 Hours.

That done, the girl takes a deep breath and walks to Ferrara's side (S20), mace held almost ceremonially in her right hand.

[JBarca]

The two men grunt and struggle against the flaming remnants, before calming down and raising their blades again. They warily watch Thekla move into position, though they make no attempt to stop her.

The voice from behind the building calls out again.

"Fine! Cease with the flaming! Men, lower your arms! We'll treat with these maniacs."

A larger man with a thick beard and small, angry eyes walks around the corner with his hands raised. At his hip is slung a small, decorative blade. A heavy axe hangs across his back. The other men around the corner lower their blades, but keep hands on the hilts. The two burned men in the alley with you keep their shields up and swords out, eyes locked on the fire-breather. They don't seem aggressive; merely frightened.

"Alright. What do you want? Why are you assaulting my men?"

Unless you plan on slaughtering men during a truce, we can drop out of initiative order for now. If betrayal is the plan, then by all means, kill away.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara steps out into the middle of the street, brings her blade to a guard position, then, making a show of the whole procedure for the benefit of observers, sheathes it. "WE", she gestures to her companions, "Are in search of some missing...relatives of ours, last heard of in this town." She rather feels that would be a better point to start with than the somewhat ill-starred magic of Thorn's name.

"In parallel with this, we were commissioned by authorities in Dennovar to investigate incidents of reported violence against travellers. Also in this town. On arrival here; we found your men, if I might use the word charitably, engaged in what looked very much to us as violent extortion upon an individual unknown to us. When we asked them for an explanation for this behaviour; they drew and assaulted us. Although not very effectively."

She gives the man a hard stare. "You might like to be careful with words like "maniacs", or "assault", giving this unpromising beginning."

[JBarca]

The man walks forward to a comfortable distance so that raised voices are no longer necessary, but stops before he reaches a threatening proximity.

"Who, exactly, are you in search of? I can assure you, no one has gone missing that I know of. And my men were merely collecting the taxes owed by the people of this town. I rule here, I am fully within my rights to levy what taxes I see fit. There has been no violence in Elsircross that is of any concern to anyone in Dennovar!"

He's lying. A lot.

"And," he says, meeting Ferrara's stare with one equally hard, "You ought to be more careful with words like 'extortion,' to say nothing of literally setting my town ablaze."

He pauses for a moment, then looks at the rest of the group. "Now. What is it you'd like from me? You're... more than welcome to do what you need to while here, so long as you will cease with the violence."

You get the feeling that you're not, in fact, welcome here, despite what he says.

[Reogan]

As the man speaks and approaches, Thekla shrinks nearer and nearer to Ferrara, glancing repeatedly at Oziach with a look of helplessness. Her mace is again held tight to her chest and her free hand is in her pocket.

[glitterbaby]

"I am a Great Wyrm gold dragon in the form you see before you."

Bluff: 29

"If you're going to lie to me sir at the very least feign competence. As for the extortion, a word I find entirely appropriate, I would caution you. As I was telling your thugs, I am the acting voice of the Knights of the North Wind. My order does not take kindly to tyrants, no matter their authority or its legitimacy. So tell me, sir, are you one of these men?"

Intimidate: 30

I'm on my phone again, I'll format it later

[Marlowe]

Ferrara takes the time Oziach is speaking to mumble the syllables to her prestidigitation spell, cleaning the blood and travel-grime from her figure. A small display of power was unlikely to hurt right now; and if they assumed there was a lot more she could do, so much the better.

She steps closer to the man. "We don't believe you, sir." she says simply. "But for a start, any rights to collect taxes do not include the right to commit violence when doing so. What we saw was nothing but extortion. In fact, let's say, brigandage. That's a hanging offense for you, and all the sheep here wearing your badge. Not maybe, but certainly and soon.

"See, the security of travellers on the road, and passing through here, is very much the concern of those in Dennovar. Today, Thorn has sent us. Now maybe you can cut us down. Maybe. Cost you some sheep." She breaks off to abruptly blow a kiss at the better-looking of the two scorched guards. "And next week or so Thorn turns up with a few hundred sellswords and a noose for you, for him" points at the guard. "And him" indicates second guard. "And all your sheep and their little lambs. Now that's what you and I might call "speculation". But here's something that isn't: You've got two men dead because they don't know how to talk to anyone they can't threaten. You've got armed strangers turning up from miles away because of what's happening in your town.

"You're not "doing fine." You're teetering on the edge of oblivion. So stop blustering before you talk yourself and all your men into a crossroads grave."

[That's more Intimidate than diplomacy, so Aid Another I suppose.]

[JBarca]

The man eyes Oziach suspiciously for a moment.
"A Dragon? You don't really look like one of those... Prove it or I will treat you as though your 'form' were a permanent one. Regardless; your order sounds to be the true problem. Arbitrarily deciding who deserves leadership based on nothing but a meaningless label? That is the true tyranny. I am the Baron of this town. I rule here. Do not think to oppose me."

He turns to Ferrara. "Fine. A few people have gone missing recently. They were taken by unknown forces. Some of my men, and they are mine, saw kidnappers grab a young man and drag him into the woods. I don't know what help I can be. But I am ready to forbid you leave to stay in my town any longer. You are murdering my men, burning my town, and insulting and threatening me. This is exactly why I so despise Thorn. He thinks he can order petty adventurers to control me! Me! Baron Trask!" Trask is shouting by the end of his rant, and glaring at the party. His men from the road have edged closer; there are now more than a dozen men in the alley behind him, all with hands on their weapons.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara actually laughs at the "unknown forces'. Alas, when will there be a cure? But takes some more steps forward and keeps a straight face as she continues to confront the "baron". "So you've got people going missing on what you claim as your own turf and you're doing nothing about it, instead letting your forces spend their timing mugging beggars and picking fights with travellers, that about it? Well, we'll be looking into that for you. Oh, and we'll be staying we're we like and doing what we like. Your "leave" has about as much value as a bottomless bucket and we'll neither wait on it nor mourn its loss."

She turns away abruptly and strides back toward her group, then turns back as though something else has occurred to her. "And one more thing. Your men are dead because of a fight they started. Which means they weren't trained to negotiate in good faith nor to recognize a threat they couldn't handle. Which means they weren't trained properly which means you didn't train them properly which means you murdered them, Trask. Think on that as you say what you're going to say next."

[JBarca]

The man goes still and stares at Ferrara for a long moment before responding.

"As you will. Investigate if you'd like. Offer baseless accusations. I care not. Do as you will, you have my leave. But if a single one of my men is assaulted from this point forward, I will forcibly remove you from my town. Men, if any of these four- Five, I suppose, if you count the animal, are found to be instigating any sort of violence or aggressive behavior at all... Kill them." He nods sharply, then turns to walk away, motioning for his men to come along. They all turn to follow, though more than one shoots angry glare toward you. One of the burned men spits in your direction as he turns.

[Marlowe]

"And we too, wish you the clearest of days and brightest of fortunes." Ferrara gives a slight bow, then addresses the others. "Right. This appears to be an Inn. That makes it as good a place as any to start doing what we came here to do. Sir Voice, if you'd like to see to the horses--without burning anyone, looting anything, mentioning your order, or further cross-dressing if that would be nice--Therkla and myself will take a step inside." She brushes back her hair, prestidigitating the last flecks of blood away, and looks for the door.

Oh, yes. And if she finds it, she'll use it too. Just in case that's not clear.

[JBarca]

Ferrara opens the door to the inn and finds a common room. Four or five round tables, three or four square ones against the walls, mugs and candles sitting about, some half-eaten food evident. But no people. The room has the air of having been just recently abandoned, though.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara continues to stand in the door where she can maybe keep an eye on Oziach and Nairen; but flattens herself against the frame in case Therkla wishes to pass. "It's almost as though people don't want to be around when the Baron comes a huffing and a puffing." She muses. "But we didn't see anyone running out. So. Hello the house? We need room, board and stabling for four. Hold the pointless bloodshed."

[Reogan]

Thekla stands directly behind Ferrara, peering around the woman cautiously. She glances towards Oziach (or where he left to) for confirmation that she should remain, obviously uncomfortable. She continues holding the mace tight as though her grip on it alone is keeping the plane from disintegrating. If that were the case, one would guess from the whiteness of her knuckles that Thekla was the best courier of everyone's fate.

"Maybe we should sleep in the stables?" she says softly.

[glitterbaby]

"Right then, your orders ma'am." He turns to his ward, "If you would like to join me in handling the horses, Thekla, you're more than welcome. I know how you appreciate the animals." His attention then turns back to Ferrara, "I can't make any promises to the lightening of any thug's pockets but I'll do my best to lay off the chives for the next twenty minutes. We have matters to discuss and decisions to make collectively upon my return. Preferably at an empty table in an empty corner."

[JBarca]

A small voice comes from behind a wall.
"Um, pick a room. It's yours. Any, I mean. Or two. We only have three empty. Take one. Food's at sundown and sunup. And please don't hurt us."

When the voices ceases, you hear some murmuring, then group of seven humans comes around the corner and moves to seats around the room, watching Ferrara the whole while, clearly terrified.

If you ask, there are rooms upstairs (Around the corner). If you'd like to chat with the village folk, now'd be an opportunity. Otherwise, let me know and we'll skip ahead to morning (or the daring midnight raid by Trask and his men!)

[Reogan]

Thekla immediately edges to join Oziach, but remains with Ferrara if stopped by her.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara sidles a little further into the room, giving Therkla a raised eyebrow as she does so. "We're not here to hurt anyone. That's what you and I might think of as a complication. We're here to ask some questions and get some answers and, last I heard, people who are hurting or dead aren't a great help there.

"First off; there's been tales going around of people going missing in this town. People getting killed. A merchant murdered, they say, not too long ago. I don't suppose any of your fine ladies and gentlemen would have anything they'd like to say that would let us pin the situation down a little more precisely?"

[JBarca]

Most of the individuals in the room stare at their tables intently. After a moment, though, the innkeep (the one who had addressed you moments ago), gestures for you to approach. He leans in and whispers, "Talk o' the town is that some cousin of Sharpe's got hisself killed by some cloaked men a few nights ago. Trask is keepin' it well hid, though. No one knows why. My sister-in-law's cousin, though, he say he thinks it were more than just a man did it. Claw marks or the like on the lad's body." He shrugs. "All I know is that it's time someone did something about this. Couple other people have gone missing, though it's kept even more quiet like, since they weren't near as important. Baker's son. Young traveler; that poor lad had only been here a few hours when he went missing from his group. A travelling couple who went into the woods to explore and never came back". He straightens back up and says, a bit too loudly, "And those're the specials, and the town specials, if'n you catch my drift." He winks at you and turns back to tending his tavern.

[Marlowe]

"Think we'll try your specials before we try the town's" says Ferrara, a little loudly. Then softer. "Think we'll be wanting a bit more on the "young traveller" and "travelling couple". Not that the rest aren't important. We'll take a table next to the wall with a few of the door; and if you could serve us in really small portions and vessels so we've got to keep calling folks over for more, that might be clever." She returns the wink, and continues to stand in the door, not wanting to get out of sight of the rest of the party.

[JBarca]

Oziach and Thekla find the stables nearby and are able to, without any hassle, hand off the horses to a sleepy-looking young man. He quickly begins removing their gear and stableifying them.
I have never touched a horse in my life. There's a process for putting a horse in a stable, I know there is.
The bear is eyed with some concern, before Nairen gestures for it to move. Cinnamon lumbers to the edge of town and lies down to nap.

The group quickly rejoins Ferrara, just as she's being seated. The inkeep sets down a bit of food and a few cups of ale. "Right. Well, the young man I mentioned was a traveling merchant of some sort. Nice guy, really. Not too stingy with the gold, either. Well-liked. Went missing, oh, five? Seven days ago? Too bad, really; he'd just finished a tour of the Vale and was on his way home to his sweetheart. Poor girl'll be mad with grief, I'm sure."

He returns half an hour later and tells a similar story about a couple. A man and a woman, concerned about the logging going on the the forest. They went missing less than two weeks ago. Nairen asks a few questions about them, but the man has very little to offer him. The Druid sits back in his seat, brooding.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara wants, rather urgently, to know if the merchant in question was Evesham, but doesn't think it wise to give away the marriage connection too easily. "This merchant. You wouldn't happen to have a name and description would you? We'll try to find out what happened whoever he is, but there's some that are missing a certain person and we'd like to know if it's him." She takes a sip of the ale. "Also--please excuse our ignorance--but who is "Sharp?"

[JBarca]

As the man continues his rounds, he responds to questions. "Sharpe's one of the wealthier men in town. Born'n'raised here, and now has more money than the rest of us combined! The lad... Well, I never caught his name. Young man, friendly, like I said. He looked like this..." He proceeds to offer hair and eye color, along with a style of clothing.

The description is very open-ended and could be used to describe a huge number of people, likely. But that huge number would include Evesham.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara doesn't know if the vagueness of the description brings her relief or simple frustration. "Thank you for that. And I'm sorry we're asking questions and not giving any information, it's just--let's just say there's family involved here. Some more questions; you said this trader was part of a "group". You couldn't tell us what group? If it's the person I'm--we're looking for then he tends to work alone. Usually". She takes another bitter swallow of ale.

"The other; would we be able to speak to Mr Sharpe? Or the Baker?"

[Reogan]

As the conversation continues, Thekla gradually loses interest, and soon begins tearing bits of bread into tiny chunks. She works methodically, breaking one piece into two halves, then breaking one of those halves similarly, then breaking one of those halves, until she is finally satisfied with the remains. The two smallest bits she puts into her pocket before resuming the process with the next smallest piece.

[JBarca]

The man shrugs. "He was with a few lads from other caravans, I think. Fairly certain he came in with some... OR maybe alone? I'm not sure. Sorry, miss. And sure. Sharpe's over in the depot, probably. He and his niece've been in there since Cleose, uh, died. Baker's in the bakery, 'course. Let me know if y'need a guide. My son'll take you where y'need."

As he notices Thekla's bread breaking, he brings over another chunk for the table, looking more than a little concerned.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara gives Therkla a long look. This could be me in a little while. If this doesn't start going better. Then her eyes dart toward the barkeep. "Sorry about the mess. Claw-marks, you say? That's interesting." And seems to speak against my favourite theory.If there's no information on the trader or the couple I'm thinking we should talk to Sharpe or the baker. Probably the baker first. More discrete." Her eyes run around the rest of the party. "Any other ideas?"

[Reogan]

Thekla looks up at Ferrara for a long second before she suddenly blinks, as though realizing where she is. "I can ask their animals if they know anything. Horses are very smart. And the mice in the walls see things." She suddenly breaks into a wide grin. "There might even be a rat or two."

[Marlowe]

Ferrara starts back and blinks. Speech? Complete sentences even? Then responds slowly; "I must say that's something that honestly would never have occurred to me. Well, what works, works. And I'm willing to give anything a try right now." She thinks on this last sentence a moment. "Almost anything."

[JBarca]

Nairen stares at the wall for a few moments before responding. "I say we go now. He mentioned a disappearance in the wood, so we start there."

[glitterbaby]

Looking at Ferrara, Oziach enters the conversation for the first time. "Your call boss, executive decisions aren't exactly my favorite thing. I'm more of an observe and report type of person should the situation allow it."

"One more thing we must decide..." lowering his voice and glancing around, making sure there are no extra ears in the conversation, "... is how to allocate the town's tax money," Oziach gestures to a coinpurse on his belt. "We could redistribute it to the townsfolk, help them buy off a few run-ins with Trask's thugs. On the other hand, we could take it. We couldn't hire more than a couple swords with this but maybe start gathering funds for a small force of our own? "One thing is certain; Trask must be dealt with. I will not stand idly by while this type of abuse persists. I'm not opposed to taking some time to gather our strength, allies, funds, etc. One thing is certain in my mind, this man has forfeited his right to any shred of power."

"I would like to make one official request. At our earliest convenience I would like to spend not five minutes in Brindol or Dennovar, anywhere with a courier service really but those are the two that come to mind. I typically do monthly field reports but my superiors would be very interested in hearing of recent events."

[Marlowe]

Ferrara looks up, a little perplexed. "Any particular direction "in the woods?"" She moves a hand in a slow circle, pointing around the compass. ""The woods" isn't the most precise of directions. Anyway--" She quickly clears a space before her and sets out her writing materials. "Please, grant me your attendance."

She begins writing quickly:

""-Trask, if he wanted us dead, should have cut us down in the street and claimed hot blood. If he attacks us again it will beg questions he might later have to answer.

-If we go off into the woods, he may well think of this as an opportunity to make us "disappear". We may be tracked and attacked. This does not bother me as long as we are prepared for it, But it is a consideration.

-I believe we should go into the woods, but I think we need more information first.

-I think we should start by interviewing this baker. If we go for speaking to Sharpe first, we are more likely to attract Trask's attention and end up being unable to have frank speech with either."

This written, she sets down the pen and folds her arms, looking around the others.

[JBarca]

Nairen shrugs. "I'm going to bed." He stands and leaves the room, headed toward the stairs.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara stares after the Druid's departing back expressionlessly, but her left eyebrow twitches twice. "Guess we're paying his bill then...Sir Voice, sorry I was distracted. Yes, we should certainly keep others abreast of events. But I'd rather wait until we have something to report before we go galloping off to report it. As for that other thing--" She picks up her pen and resumes scratching.

"I don't like this "Trask". And he seems to be shamefully abusing his position and failing in his duties. But we weren't sent here to fight him, there's no sign he's directing involved in these disappearances, and we have no idea where his authority derives from.

Any other ideas?"

[glitterbaby]

What does Oziach know of Trask from his short time in the Vale, mission details, etc? Whence does his authority stem? How many does he command? Married? Children? Does he like pumpkin pie? Etc. I'm assuming that's Knowledge: Local

Roll: [roll0]

[Marlowe]

Ferrara's pen scritches again.

"Just a thought; let's not be overheard openly discussing drastic action against Trask or his men. He wouldn't be running this town if he didn't have his less obvious agents."

K/Local [roll0]
K/Nobility and Royalty (max 10) [roll1]
k/Geography {max 10) [roll2]

[Reogan]

Thekla stares at the marks on the paper for a time, almost as though she were seeing a picture rather than intelligible writing. Then, with a little gasp, she seems to understand.

"If you're worried about that," she says, pointing at the second point (about Trask attacking in the woods), "I can ask the birds to keep watch behind us. I'll bring them bread." She takes whatever remains on the table and begins breaking it as she speaks, just as she did before. "Then, at this point," pointing at the Baker visitation, "I'll get more bread. Maybe he has some with seeds in it. Birds like seeds. Song birds, at least. Owls like meat, but they prefer living prey and I'm not going to hurt a mouse. Mice are very nice. They're like rats, but worse."

She falls into a brief silence, smiling a little. After a half second, she smiles wider. She indicates the portion of writing about disliking Trask.

"I can arrange a fire."

History [roll0] (Hopefully telling us how Trask achieved power)

[Reogan]

History (again) [roll0]

[JBarca]

Nicely rolled, all!
The "Baron" was at some point merely a brigand, if an unusually successful one at that. He and his men roamed north of Dennovar, often venturing all the way to the Dawn Way to raid caravans. Eventually, he set his eyes on a larger prize: Land. So, gathering up his family (and he has a lot of them), he forcibly took control of Elsircross and the surrounding lands. This was a mere four years ago. Since that time, he has ruled as "Baron." His sons, nephews, young cousins, grandsons, grand-nephews and all the rest form the bulk of his guard and "court," though he has supplemented their numbers with skill by hiring a good number of sellswords. He and Thorn have been at odds for years, due to the Baron's means of acquiring wealth and Thorn's designs on controlling more of the Vale. Lord Jarmaath, lord of Brindol, is famous for his hatred of the former brigand, and the two are nearer to civil war than any other Vale state has been in centuries.
Trask is currently unmarried, though no one thinks this will last; he's had three wives previously, and needs to keep marrying to produce more children.
He commands more than 20 men. How many more is unknown; he is constantly calling in more extended family, and the number of mercenaries he has fluctuates widely.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara gives Therkla another baffled look, then slowly and carefully fold the paper on which she's been writing and tucks it and her writing materials away. "Let's chat to the baker." she says slowly. "Don't like leaving Nairen here; but he's been so distant. And it's not much past noon. We'll bring along the horses, lest they come to a mischief." She rises to her feet.

"Good sir." She addresses the innkeeper with a respectful nod. "We'd be never glad to take up your kind offer of a guide a little ways. How much do we owe you?"

[JBarca]

The man grins a wide grin and hollers, "Why, not a copper! I won't take money from those like you!" He comes nearer and whispers directly into Ferrara's ear.
"Find them that did this. Don't tell Trask anyone who's been a help, and I'll call it even."

He calls over a boy, instructs him to guide the outsiders to the baker, and heads back to his duties.

The lad, probably ten or eleven, ducks his head, murmurs something about "m'lady" and "following," and hurries out the door. He takes the party down a street and stops in front of the door to with a sign shaped like a loaf of bread above the door. No... Wait. It's an actual loaf of bread, nailed to the wall.

Inside, there is, as one might expect, a large amount of flour covering nearly everything, including the thin young man kneading some dough. He nods as you enter, though he does not seem excited by the prospect of potential customers.

[Reogan]

En route at some convenient point, Thekla works her magics such that she might speak with rats.
Feral Speech (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/classes/base-classes/witch/hexes/common-hexes/hex-feral-speech-su) This is renewed at all convenient points until sleep, battle, or I say otherwise.
Upon entering the baker's, she begins to scan the walls, looking for wherever rodents might hide. Cleverly, she waits until someone (Ferrara?) begins to speak before she starts calling out for the rodents in their own tongue. She calls mice too, informing all that she has bread and that she has questions, and that she would like to part with both. She does, though, warn the creatures to stay hidden for the time; she will tell them where to meet for bread.

Knowledge Nature [roll0] In case there's a better way to entice them. She does that instead.
Diplomacy [roll1]
Handle Animal [roll2]
Depending which you consider applicable when I'm speaking their tongue. I'll happily take the combined result.

[JBarca]

Well, with a roll of 49...
You hear a small voice or two agreeing to meet you later. Where would you like this to be? Your room in the inn? Outside? Space?

[Reogan]

Theks would never advise they leave the safety of their place. She asks them where they would like to meet, talking them into a place she thinks she can actually reach (not in a wall), and then goes their directly without word to anyone.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara steps forwards and gives a polite nod. "Sorry to disturb you sir. My name is...Droitwich. Miss Droitwich." She gives Oziach and Therkla a quick look, then steps closer so she can lower her voice. "My companions and I are in town to investigate reports of...well. Reports of mysterious deaths and disappearances in and around this village. I'm sorry to broach a painful subject; but we're informed you might be related to one of the victims. And we're hoping you might have some information on the wheres, whens, and hows of what happened. Just to give us something to investigate further."

[JBarca]

You're told to go to the back room.

The man stops his work for a moment when Ferrara speaks, then continues as though nothing had happened. "Son's gone. Wife's gone. I'm alone. She when he was born. He just last week. Running errands. My fault for sending him. Lad's only 21. Wasn't ready to leave the house by himself yet."

[Reogan]

Thekla's animal speech, which until this point has been a constant undertone to whatever ignored conversation is taking place, ceases suddenly as she moves directly to a door which might seem to lead deeper into the bakery. Before moving far, though, she stops and withdraws a gold piece from her pouch and places it on the counter.
"The bread with the most seeds. Nuts are okay too. No cheese; that's a common misconception."
She speaks business, no sympathy for the sorrows to which she paid no attention.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara looks at the Baker appraisingly.

[roll0]

21 years old? Too young to leave the house? And this chap doesn't look old enough to have a son that age. But she follows up with; "If you please, sir. Where exactly were you sending him?"

[JBarca]

There are three or four rats in the back room, watching you expectantly.

The man gestures toward some bread nearby when Thekla speaks, clearly letting her pick what she'd like.

Something is being hidden. You're not sure why, though.

The man stops his work for a moment, fumbles with a few syllables, then finally, "The take bread to Trask's table."

[Reogan]

Thekla grabs the seediest loaf she can find (two if they are mere rolls) and proceeds to the back room.

Holding the bread clearly, Thekla begins to break it, advising Rat that he might now be allowed to emerge from his hiding within her pocket that he might aid her in her diplomacies. She gives an initial goodwill crumb to each of the gathered rodents, asking them as she does whether they have any information about the family that lives here. She asks about common guests of the establishment. She also asks about the treatment of the rodents and whether there is anything she might do to aid them. She does not ask questions of truly probing nature, as she didn't quite pay attention to most of they heard, and she certainly has little idea why the party has come here.
She also asks which types of bread the beasties prefer. She rewards them after each question, regardless of answer.
Rodents are very intelligent, but they're certainly not higher mammals. I don't know what level of speech they are capable of, even with the spell, so I'm not trying to type translated Rat.

[JBarca]

They tell you the family used to be ok. They left food out, and they weren't too interested in killing rodents. Now, there's only one human here, and he just ignored them all the time. Used to be a smaller human, but it isn't around. They like the food, for sure. They'd like more of it, of course.
Their favorite bread is the small kind.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara is starting to feel like she's the straight man in a comedy without being given a look at the script, but takes a step forward. As much to distract attention from Therkla as anything else. "He disappeared on an errand to Trask? He wasn't in the woods?" She frowns. This man seems to just turn up everywhere. "What might you be able to tell us about Trask?"

[JBarca]

The man looks more than a little confused. "Why would I send my son to the woods? I sent him to the Baron's, and he didn't come back. What do you need to know of our Baron? He rules a bit harshly, but he protects us from brigands and the like, usually."

[Reogan]

Thekla finishes by asking if the animals know any other creatures about who might help. Regardless of the answer, she rips up what's left of the bread and distributes it freely. She returns to the main room when she has the chance.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara keeps her face blank. It would be nice to get a lead that didn't point towards a straight fight against ten times superior numbers. "Your son went on an errand to Trask. And did not return. What were you told about what happened to him? And who told you?"

[JBarca]

The rats don't seem to be too familiar with animals outside of their immediate surroundings, though they do suggest that you speak to the human who lives in this building; he might know something worthwhile?

"Told? I wasn't old anything. I asked around after Bart didn't come home. No one knew anything. The Baron apologized and offered to cut my tax in half, seeing as there's only one person working now. Listen. My son's gone. I don't understand why you're here? I don't know anything. Hardly anyone does. People go missing; it's just what happens. Have you tried talking to Sharpe? He's got money. Maybe he knows more?"

[Marlowe]

"Trask apologised. And offered to cut your taxes in half." Ferrara repeats tonelessly. Which means Trask knows or at least has a good idea what happened."People go missing, you say. If we're not distressing you, could you please tell us what other people have gone missing?"

[JBarca]

"Sharpe's nephew. Or cousin? Cousin. A travelling couple went missing in the woods. No idea what they were doing there, but that's the word. My son. That travelling lad from a few days back. I think that's it."

[Reogan]

Thekla emerges whenever she can.

[glitterbaby]

After listening for quite some time and now noticing there is no more information to be had, Oziach thanks the man for his time and opens the door. Gesturing to Ferrara and Thekla to join him.
"On to Sharpe, then?" He inquires.

[JBarca]

Taking your leave of the baker, you step outside to find the innkeep's son waiting. When asked about Sharpe, he turns and hurries off, heading toward a moderately-sized, well-built building. He points to a sign above the door that reads Merchant Lodgings.

Inside, you find a small gathering of individuals seated and reclining around a number of small tables. There are various small snacks and drinks sitting on every available surface, and there are hushed voices filtering through the various hallways and doors visible.

A man wearing a very neat suit bows as you enter. "Hello. I'm Simon. How may we be of service?"

[Marlowe]

[Sorry for brief absence. Internet playing up more than usual.:smallannoyed:]

Ferrara gives a short bow. "Delighted to meet you, Simon. These worthies are Sir Oziach of the Wind and Therkla the All-Listener. I am just Miss Droitwitch. We have been sent from Dennovar on a mission of some urgency; and would very much appreciate an interview with Mr Sharpe. I apologize for our unheralded suddenness; but as I said; Urgency." She gives the young man a quick smile and tries to sneak a look at his hands. Simply because you tell a lot about a man by the state of his palms and nails.

Sense Motive:[roll0]

[JBarca]

The man is clean and neat, and you get the impression that the man's personality is similar: orderly, neat, sharp, and boring.

He nods and leads you down one of the hallways and into a small side room. A woman is visible in the room, sitting in a chair, staring at a wall. Your guide whispers a few words to a small, pale, tired-looking man, who nods and invites you all to sit.

"Greeting's. Name's Sharpe. Cleose was my nephew, before those horrid rogues took him. This is the poor man's sister, Clarise. She's a bit distraught, as you can imagine. How can I be of service?"

The man sits on the edge of a thick mattress on the floor, leaving stools and chairs for the party and their guide.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara sits down with as much appearance as delicacy as possible. "We thank you for your hospitality, good Sir. And I must express my sorrow that we come picking at recent wounds. As you seem to have surmised, yes; we do come on the matter of the late...disappearances in this town. Including the case of your nephew. There are those that would like these things to stop, for those responsible to be uncovered and punished, and for those lost to be found, be they alive or otherwise.

"Now, if it is not too distressing for yourself and your niece; might I ask how you are so sure that "rogues" made off with Cleose; and who these Rogues might be?"

Sense Motive[roll0]
Does Sharpe seem like somebody we can confide in? Ferrara would really like to drop this "Miss Droitwich" thing and speak frankly about her husband; but it could be dangerous to admit any association with somebody who might be a hostage.

[Reogan]

Thekla immediately begins her inquisitive speaks. She again attempts to contact local rodents of all varieties. She again attempts to arrange a meeting place. She again ignores any looks from anyone and moves to simply follow the noises. Indeed, if the route to this room allowed her to see much of the building's layout, she leaves immediately to walk the halls and entice the mice to meet her. Also the rats.

She makes sure also to cross anyplace where there might be food, exchanging gold for bread.

[JBarca]

So far as you can tell, he seems trustworthy and, perhaps as importantly, at odds with Trask.

You make your way through a kitchen and to a small storeroom, gathering several odd glances and chunks of bread and such along the way. A few rodents are present, though not too many; it seems the merchants prefer to keep their housing cleaner than the local baker.

Sharpe nods several times as Ferrara speaks, and continues nodding for a few seconds after he begins to explain.

"Ah. Well. Yes. Hm. As I'm sure you're aware, we've had five, well nine if you count my boys, disappearances and two outright murders in the last few weeks. Cleose, Clarise, and myself had planned on staying in town for a few days and rest. You see, we'd just made the trip from Thrylia to the north. Buying, selling, sight-seeing, the works. Anyway, here we were. Cleose had gone out one night, and, when he didn't return, we feared one of the 'baron's'-" he rolls his eyes and allows his voice to ooze disgust here- "men had pulled something to get him imprisoned. Nasty lot, they are. Well, come morning, we find his, well, his remains on the street a few blocks down. Arm very near ripped off, big gouges in his belly. Oh. Sorry, Clarise." The woman doesn't seem to hear Sharpe at all, and continues staring at the wall.

"Right. Well, few of the lads we'd taken with us got themselves all worked up and vowed to catch his murderers. They asked around a little, avoiding Trask's men, and found some people who had been awake. Saw some men in robes moving about the town all sneak-like. That night and a few others. The sneaks went East, off in to the Marth, apparently. Well, they got themselves all excited, hired up a thug or two, and chased after them. Haven't come back. that was... Huh. Three nights ago? Yeah. Three. I'm not sure what else I can do for you, that's about all I know. No idea who they might be. I'm afraid to look into it, I'm sure you understand. Don't want to end up "lost" in the woods, yes? I'm happy to answer any other questions you might have, though?"

[Reogan]

Thekla tries to arrange a meeting with the rodents in the place most convenient to them. She does what is necessary to get there unless she is actively prevented, in which case she tries to arrange a new meeting place.
Should she arrive, she seeks friendliness. Holding the bread clearly, Thekla begins to break it, advising Rat that he might now be allowed to emerge from his hiding within her pocket that he might aid her in her diplomacies. She gives an initial goodwill crumb to each of the gathered rodents, asking them as she does whether they have any information about the people that live here. She asks about common guests of the establishment. She also asks about the treatment of the rodents and whether there is anything she might do to aid them. She does not ask questions of truly probing nature, as she didn't quite pay attention to most of they heard, and she certainly has little idea why the party has come here.
She also asks which types of bread the beasties prefer. She rewards them after each question, regardless of answer.

[Marlowe]

There's a slight rustle as Ferrara gets out her writing materials. "I've no wish that we spend our time scratching pens while the dead mount up; but from what you say; the list of the Missing is growing long. If you could provide us with a brief run-down of "the lads" that went off, and anything you can tell us of the "thug or two", we should probably make a list"

As she unstoppers her ink, she looks up sharply. "This may be a silly question, since you were hardly here long enough to spot patterns, but when your people went off hunting, you didn't see any sign of odd movements by Trask's people? Any indication they might have been sending people out into the forest themselves?"

[JBarca]

You get the idea that a great many different humans pass through here regularly, with only four or five who stay for any real amount of time. They aren't good; they're always killing rats or mice or shooing them outside. The visitors are fine, though. They typically ignore or feed the rodents inadvertently. They drink for a while and then get sloppy with their food.
The rodents like denser types of bread; more food for the same amount of effort.

Sharpe nods. "Ah. Well. Yes, my lads. They were our porters and valets, and were close friends of Cleose's. When they heard what happened, they took it upon themselves to avenge him. Yes. Their names were Charles, Jon, Rul, and Cobb. The men in the robes, though, I'm afraid I know nothing. Rul and the others were in a hurry and didn't divulge too much." He frowns for a moment, looking legitimately sad over the loss of the servants, then shrugs and continues.
"And Trask has been sending a few of his men out with the loggers of late, which is apparently a new development. Says he doesn't want anyone to be away from his "protection" should any thing else strange start happening. Does that help?"

[Marlowe]

Ferrara will ask and note down whatever brief description of the missing that she can. "It was the "Thugs" you spoke of going off with your men that I was asking about. It seems odd that in a town paralysed by fear of things both within and without that there'd be some strong-arm boys just hanging around to join a quest into darkness....well. There's a lot of strangeness to what I've heard so-far." She stands up, and looks to Oziach and Therkla in case they have questions.

"If there's a magic key somewhere in all this, I'm not seeing it. The fate of your men seems to be the freshest thing we can look into and the only one yet that gives us a direction, so unless somebody has a better idea I think we should be looking into that presently." She puts a hand to her mouth, and her teeth show in a brief thought. "I'd very much like to have that "Baron" strapped to a grating. At the very least, he knows something. But I think we're a few swords shy of getting anything useful out of him.

"Mr Sharpe." She says quietly. "I'm sorry that we can't be more help. My advice is to put yourself beyond the "Baron's"s power, and hire what agents you can in Dennovar or Brindol to investigate this matter; and resolve it if we cannot. In my family, we were taught young that the best way to ensure a peaceful life for you and yours is to arrange, for those that would disturb them, a fate both painful and infamous. Excuse my frankness." She finishes with a polite nod.

EDIT: Typed the wrong name.:smallsmile:

[Reogan]

Thekla asks if there's anything in particular she can do to help. She then asks if they have any coins (which she illustrates with some of her own). If they do, she offers to take them to exchange them for bread to bring directly back to them. Should she receive any, she purchases bread, asking for the densest bread they have. After giving the rodents the bread, should that happen, she seeks out the stables. En route, she purchases sugar, vegetables, fruits, and anything else she suspects horses would desire.

[JBarca]

The man shrugs as Ferrara finishes her suggestion. "I've considered that myself. But I'm afraid to leave this building. We have protection in here. Out there... Who knows. We're going to just wait for things to die down a bit, I think. And, um, best of luck to you. To all of you." He smiles and nods, then moves over to whisper something in Clarise's ear. The girl doesn't react.

Simon open the door and holds it in place for the party to leave, his face an almost comedic display of exaggerated pity.

The rodents have a few coins and produce them after a few moments. The accept the bread and disappear. You're able to find what you need and the stables afterward. There are 10 or so horses present, plus an equal number of mules and donkeys and the like.

[Reogan]

Thekla proceeds through the main topics again, asking how long the animals have been at the institution and with whom they tend to travel. She asks if they've seen anything suspicious and whether they know anything about troubles around town. She shares her available foods liberally, asking also whether any of the horses have any messages she should deliver to their owners. Unless they give her anything on which she might want to follow up, she then delivers any messages and returns to the party, Rat safely stowed.

[glitterbaby]

"I do have one question," Oziach motions to Simon to close the door and if he doesn't, closes it himself.

Seemingly satisfied with Sharpe's view of our lovely Baron, "and this is not entirely in regard to the disappearances." "If this Baron were to, hypothetically, no longer be the current ruler due to unspecified reasons, what would happen with the power gap? Would another man of his type take the reigns or would someone else..." looking straight at Sharp "...assume the mantle of leadership? Are there any locally with the resources to maintain power without the use of extortion?"

Oziach finishes for a moment before catching himself, "in this completely hypothetical situation."

[JBarca]

Sharpe slowly stands from his half-crouched position by Clarise. Simon's eyes are open far too wide, and constantly darting back and forth between Oziach and Sharpe.

"Miss... I would be careful what I said, here... I, well, yes, hm. I don't know what would happen. As I said, we're only merchants, trying to get back home." Sharpe looks a bit nervous, though that is certainly counteracted by his honest interest and curiosity.

"Honestly... I expect one of his sons, brothers, cousins, nephews, grandsons, grandnephews, or the like would take his place. I can't be sure, though."

"Hyopethically, of course."

The majority of the horses and all of the other animals belong to travelling men and women who rarely stay in any particular town for long. They often use carts and wagons that are heavy, and this isn't pleasant. But they're fed well, so they can't complain.
The few horses (three, actually) who aren't in the above position are apparently way-station mounts; people ride them, then leave them in exchange for other mounts when they're in a hurry. They haven't been used in a while, though. They're all a bit lethargic. They ask that you tell their masters (probably the master of the lodging) to let them run more.

Assuming to pass this message along, you're taken to a man who snorts and, obviously sarcastically, promises he'll do what he can to make sure the animals "feel better."

[Reogan]

"You're lying." Thekla stares into the man's eyes with an unblinking distaste. "Let me take the horses out now, and promise me that you'll exercise them more in the future. You're hurting them by keeping them trapped. That's not right."
Everything is said with the air of a threat. Finishing, Thekla glares at the man, practically daring him to disagree. Then she blinks suddenly, as though realizing where she is.
"Leaving bread for the mice, too, would be nice. Dense bread. They like it more."

[Marlowe]

Ferrara takes a deep breath and runs a hand across her brow. "Our commission, lest it be forgotten, is to stop people from getting murdered. Shall we go about that? Everyone up with going hunting for Sharpe's missing men? Or does somebody else have a better idea?"

[JBarca]

"You can rent the horses, sure. But I won't let you take no one else's, of course. Look. Calm down. I'll take them out myself today, ok? I need a break anyway." He seems begrudgingly sincere.

Sharpe nods as Ferrara speaks. "Warring against the Baron does seem foolhardy..."

[glitterbaby]

"Right. Your orders then, mum. Perhaps the animals of the forest will be able to share some insight, Theckla will be pleased. On that note, where did she run off to? I know she isn't a big fan of social encounters." Oziach seems to be put in his place, as if something Ferrara said struck a chord.

[Reogan]

Thekla thanks the man and makes sure she has bread before returning to the party.

[JBarca]

The party gathers itself and leaves Sharpe's abode. After checking to make sure the street is clear of Trask's goons, Simon waves you outside.

Having decided that the wood is likely the best next step, Ferrara, Thekla, and Oziach head west. They make it out of the village with no interference by the Baron or his soldiers, fortunately, and find themselves on a well-used, poorly-kept dirt road leading directly toward the forest. A little less than an hour finds the group nearing what appears to be a logging camp. A dozen or so men are working, sawing a few large logs into many smaller logs. An empty wagon sits nearby, waiting. The river a few hundred feet to the north continues on into the woods, only now beginning to turn northward. On the far bank, you can tell that the wood is much thinner, more sparsely populated with trees and undergrowth, and it continues thinning as it stretches into the distance.

Two men in armor, with Trask's symbol emblazoned on their shoulders, stand guard on the west side of the camp, watching the path from the village. As you near, they raise their hands in greeting.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara gives a little wave. Much as Trask's men weren't high on her people we-want-to-see list; she'd she'd no evidence yet that this lot were going anything wrong.

"A good afternoon to you!" She begins in a bluff, hearty, I-left-my-brain-in-San-Francisco tone. "We're looking for some lost sheep. And by sheep I mean people. You don't mind if we ask around?"

[Reogan]

En route, Thekla speaks extensively about the details of the lives of the resident rodents of both the bakery and the inn. She notes carefully which breads they prefer and which seemed to be concerningly old. Perhaps the only shred of information with any import is that the way-station mounts at the inn haven't been exercised much recently. Though Thekla seems far more preoccupied with the well-being of those horses, it's still clear that apparently Trask's town doesn't get much traffic, though it's equipped for it.

After speaking, Thekla sits back and enjoys the birdsong, occasionally whistling an encouragement in Bird. She remains in the relative peace until the emotional madness of encountering a new group. If anyone takes note of her, she first seems panicked by the soldiers, then slightly calmed by Ferrara's apparent easy-going behavior, then excited at the prospect of seeing sheep, then disappointed because apparently Ferrara is a liar who hates joy.

[JBarca]

The two men stare at the group in what appears to be deep thought for more than a reasonable amount of time before responding. When the do, you quickly realize that "deep thought" is not an action in which these two are likely to ever partake.

"'Sheep?'"

The other man shakes his head. "No, she said 'people,' I think. Yeah. Look for the, um, people? If you want. But don't steal the woodcutters. Baron's orders."

[Marlowe]

"I can that you two have been trusted with matters of grave import, and I will not take your stewardship lightly" says Ferrara, gravely. "No, we were looking for some other fellows that might have passed this way in the last few days" She gives a brief description of the missing grooms. "Seen such around? There's some to whom they might owe money"

Can't hurt
[roll0]

[JBarca]

The men glance at each other nervously. "I ain't seen any people like that. Sheep neither."

The other one shakes his head. Probably in agreement, though he may just be figuring what the rattling noise in there is. Hard to say.

They don't appear to be lying. Just stupid.
Though the look that passed between them does lead you to believe that they know something related to your question.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara nods sagely. "In that case, let us not disturb your solemn duty. We'll just continue on. Looking for them; as it were. You don't mind if we chat to the woodcutters? They might have seen something. I promise I won't make off with any."

[Reogan]

Thekla, uncomfortable with the conversation from the first, whistles to the birds asking if they see any sheep, since they seem to be missing. She also asks if there's danger about. That done, she tried to sink back into the saddle in a valiant attempt to not be noticed.

[JBarca]

The men rub their chins, clearly attempting to look deep in thought. After a moment, one gives a sharp nod.

"We'll allow it."

The other looks like he's about to respond, but stops with his mouth hanging open to wave. Approaching from behind the party is a pair of figures, one small and covered in a cloak and one of "normal" height and covered in fur.

The birds haven't seen any sheep, and they don't know of any abnormal danger (just the usual; bigger birds, sneaky foxes, etc).

[OMG PONIES]

"Ho there," a voice calls from within the small hooded cloak. The figure scurries to meet the group and stands with its hands on its knees, panting for breath. "My tracking's half of what it used to be. You tall folk are a bit tough to follow, what with your gait. Rasshano back there and I have been trying to get your attention since Elsircross." With this, he gestures with a diminutive thumb back to the other new arrival.

The hood hovers around waist level for the rest of the group while the tiny, tattered cloak flaps in the wind like a weathered flag. Whether it's the shreds of his cloak or the shadows cast by everyone else, darkness seems to swirl around the figure and obscure his presence. However, the shadows subside as he finishes catching his breath; they eventually dissipate like dust kicked up by a carriage that comes to a stop. The figure rises to remove his hood, revealing a gnome nearing middle age. He has the dark hair and lavender eyes of the whisper gnomes, but his eyes are filled with an empty sort of sadness, as if one was peering into what had once been a pond but was now nothing more than a ditch. He faintly smirks, and his graying hair is tangled in the dreadlocks that only form from having more important things to do than bathe. Even still, his salt & pepper beard is immaculately twirled into the tight whirls and spins that only a gnome could spend that much time perfecting.

"Master Sargeant Ranjeesh Whisperwind," he says as he thrusts his hand into the air to shake those of any takers. "But most folks just call me Randy or Sarge. We're on the tail of some damned gobbo kidnappers squatting in the Marthwood; any chance you're after the same?"

[Marlowe]

Ferrara raises an eyebrow at the newcomers, then a look at Therkla, then looks at the newcomers again. "Could well be. I don't think we've narrowed it down that far." She turns back to the guards. "What about you? Seen any goblin kidnappers? Woodsmen get taken often?" And without waiting for an answer turns back to Ranjeesh.

"I suppose it's possible that we could be looking for two completely unrelated groups of kidnappers operating in the same part of the wilderness. Because that sort of crazy random synchronicity happens all the time." She moves her horse a little closer to the newcomers, and says low and husky. "I am Mrs Hallevors. What led you here?"

[OMG PONIES]

"Pleasure, ma'am," Ranjeesh says with a courteous bow. "Though I've found the simplest explanation is often the correct one. I've been tracking a mischievous goblin who takes folks, and it seems your unit may be searching for folks who have been taken. Where there's smoke, there's fire."

[Dromuthra]

Watching his companion hurry ahead, Rasshano shook his head ruefully. "Have I been that poor of company? Heh, well, I do spend most of my time talking with unseen voices..." Rasshano then takes a moment to survey the clearing, noting the bored expressions on the guards' faces and the appearances of the travelers. "I wonder how much they'll be able to help. Still, more company couldn't hurt."

Striding over, Rasshano exits the shade of the trees and the sun strikes his red and black spotted fur. The fur has a metallic gleam to it, making it look as though he is covered in rust. His lapis earrings clack gently as he approaches, and his burnished plate mail appears unused. In contrast, the spear strapped to Rasshano's back appears to have seen much work, the scratches along the half and chunks missing from the few feathers ornamenting it signs of prolonged use. Rasshano's red eyes assess the gathering with a measured calm, and he wears the expression of one who has seen and suffered more than a life's worth of hardship.

Reaching the others, Rasshano also bows, though more formally. "I am called Rasshano Clanless. Ranjeesh and I have heard rumors of goblin activity in this area, and the disappearances began the day after this goblin supposedly arrived. When we heard your group was in the area and seeking answers, we thought it might be worthwhile to work together or at least meet and exchange information."


This, but with red fur and plate mail over the rest of it.

http://s8.postimg.org/mqckk4u51/Catfolk2.jpg

[Reogan]

Thekla, who had up until this point merely been shrinking back from Ranjeesh (Sarge? Randy? Far too many names), stares at Rasshano with open wonder. As he speaks, she leans forward, rapt with apparent wonder. Before any more greetings are had, she silently urges her horse forward to approach the furry creature, never averting her eyes from him. As she passes past the boundary of decorum and gets almost uncomfortably close, she speaks.
"You're a cat." A smile nearly consumes the girl's face. "I'm Thekla. Oziach is back there and he's our friend too."
She leans forward conspiratorially, moving with all the trappings of one imparting a secret but without remembering to lower her voice.
"Be nice to Ferrara. She's emotionally vulnerable, even though she acts scary."

[glitterbaby]

Oziach urges his mount towards the new faces, quickly dismounting. His cloak billows, carrying a wave of warmth all too familiar to Ferrara and Theckla. His lowering hood reveals the face of an eager young male human, licks of flame dancing around his smiling mouth. He reaches quickly at the outreached courtesy.

"An absolute pleasure to meet your acquaintance without death threats, they've been far too common of late and I was beginning to think it a strange custom of this Vale; I am Oziach of the Order of the Northwind. If our goals coincide then might I suggest we take our quarry down together? Five is harder to kill than two, or three for that matter. I'm sure we have much more to offer one another outside of numbers as well."

[Marlowe]

Ferrara just manages goggling at Rasshano and squealing "KITTY!". And as Oziach finishes his introduction gives a brief nod. "Well, you seem to know better what we're after than we do. And it seems very likely we're after the same thing. Let us continue. We were, with these noble gentlemen's permission." A quick, thin smile at the two guards. "Just about to interview the woodsmen about some missing individuals last seen in the area. Care to join us?"

[OMG PONIES]

"Absolutely," Sarge says with a smirk. "Just one request: when we find the gobbo, we take him alive. A proper interrogation is in order."

[glitterbaby]

"So then it's a goblin we're after. I imagine the birds of the forest would have more information to the whereabouts of a new resident than these loggers. Shall we?

[Reogan]

Thekla looks embarrassed. Her look resembles that of a woman of society being asked where her fine china is when she serves a meal on lesser porcelain and having to explain that she does not, in fact, possess the finer dishes. She leans towards Oziach. "I...I didn't prepare that spell today. Unless you just want me to talk to them normally? I mean, I can ask them if they know anything. But only the ones that can hear me."

She speaks to the birds in whistles that sound almost apologetic, questioning them about the goblin presence in the forest.

[JBarca]

The few birds nearby say they've seen a Goblin or six in the past few months. Only one was seen in this group of trees, and that was about three weeks ago. They've no idea where he might've gone.

[Reogan]

Thekla looks around, growing deeply red. "They...um, they haven't seen...anything. Sorry."

[glitterbaby]

Oziach places a comforting hand on Thekla's shoulder. "No matter. The birds further in the forest are sure to have seen something. That or we can venture in tomorrow when we're more prepared. What do you think, mum?"

[Dromuthra]

Rasshano smiles warmly at Thekla's open amazement and Ferrara's exclamation. Chuckling slightly, he replies, "I suppose my kind would be rare around here." To Oziach, he says, "Agreed. If our goals align, I see no reason not to travel together. From what Ranjeesh has mentioned on our brief travels together, this goblin could be a bit dangerous."

Rasshano watches curiously as Thekla twitters and chirps to the birds. "If only my bond were to nature... but we know the reason for that, don't we Marat?"

Speaking up, "There is still enough light to continue for a little while; I would suggest that we search a bit longer and then return to the town to sleep. I also may be able to prepare better to find the goblin tomorrow, now that we are nearby."

[Marlowe]

Ferrara looks a little distant. "I don't think town's a good idea." she says. "I'm not sure we can prevent further incidents with "The Baron"; we only just got this lead, and I think we should follow it up as quick as we can. All our other trails are cold. Evesham--" She gives her head a shake, then glares at Oziach. "And stop calling me "Mum", Kid."

[glitterbaby]

Oziach's face takes on a quality not unlike that of a reprimanded child who knows not for which he has been reprimanded. His shining silvery hair pales and his fiery red eyes dim. He lowers his head as to not meet Ferrara's gaze and sheepishly replies with an unfamiliar break in his voice, "I-- I'm sorry. B-ack home it's a term of respect used for a female captain or leader. I-- I'll stop if it bothers you."

"Should we go now, then?" Oziach finishes as he turns halfway towards the forest, exiting the conversation.

[OMG PONIES]

Ranjeesh almost immediately regrets his decision to join forces with these travelers when their Plan A involves talking to birds. He knew they were a bit...off...from having followed them out of Elsircross, but now he was starting to get a full picture. At Oziach's words, though, he blanches. A female leader? Now he had truly seen it all. Not one to disrespect authority, Sarge salutes upward at the woman and clicks his heels together in a stance of attention. "Aye, Captain," he says, "if the gob's been through here, I can help us track it."

[roll0]

[JBarca]

The soldiers watch the byplay with apathetic confusion before turning back to their charges. As Ranjeesh begins to search, they watch him with suspicion for a few minutes before growing bored.

For his part, Ranjeesh finds dozens of sets of tracks in and around the camp, though few are still distinct in any way; the overflow of traffic has rendered most indistinct smudges.

Near the edge of the woods, though, he finds a set of tracks leading deeper into the trees. Five medium humanoids wearing no shoes and weighing little and some sort of smaller, quadrupedal, clawed creature traveled together into the woods several days ago. After that, a group of five or six medium humanoids wearing boots and weighing a lot followed the same path.

The trail heads nearly directly away from Elsircross and into the Marth. It winds and twists at places, but always straightens back out to northeastern endpoint. After nearly two hours of walking, leaving the party in failing light, an end is reached.

Before you stands a great, rounded black stone monolith, a hundred feet high and five hundred wide. Nothing else like it is visible, and it seems to rest upon the ground, as if it had been deposited here. Across the top, you can see a long rounded curve with rough edges. It almost looks like scales across the top of the stone. It is surrounded by dead grass and withered bushes, out to fifty feet or so, where the wood begins. A well-worn path makes its way around the right (south) flank of the stone, disappearing around the curve.

[Dromuthra]

Noticing that Ranjeesh appeared to have found a path, Rasshano inclines his head as he answers. "Seeing as Ranjeesh has found an interesting path, and if this "Baron" is names Trask, what I have heard of him is less than savory. Avoiding him and the town could be the better option, so let us continue. Onwards, then."

Rasshano follows close behind Ranjeesh, as he had during their travels together. Ambling along, the sun falls as afternoon bleeds into night. As they approach the monolith, Rasshano's pace slows to take in the sight. Noticing the dead plants, Rasshano takes a moment to examine them.


Knowledge Arcane to figure out if anything arcane caused this: [roll0]
Knowledge Nature to figure out if this is a poison or something natural: [roll1]


Looking back to the group, "This blight is unnatural and uniform - we should be wary of what may be nearby."

[Reogan]

Thekla is very apparently disturbed by the area of death. She begins crying out in all manner of bestial tongues stopping without advance. Chirps move to growls move to hisses move to croaks, finally ending in a quiet blubbing that can only be icthyic in nature. Without pause she moves into Common.
"This is a bad place and we should leave and everyone should leave and I can check if it's magic but we should leave because I have to get too close to do that can we please leave Oziach let's just go away now please let's please leave." There are tears on her face

This may all have been one breath. It gets hard to keep track in the blubbing.

Knowledge Arcana [roll0]
Knowledge Nature [roll1]
She speaks to birds, beasts, reptiles, amphibians, and fish crying for explanation and checking on them. General panic talk.

[Marlowe]

"Place smells like religion." growls Ferrara. "Stout heart, Therkla. We're not here for our health." She glares at the blank stone. "We're here to save people. No point in saving people from somewhere nice, no?"

She notches an arrow to her bow, and begins to creep around the right-hand path.

Using Inspiration for Knowledge checks.
k/Arcana [roll0]
k/local [roll1]
k/religion [roll2]

And more general:
Move Silently [roll3]
Spot [roll4]
Listen [roll5]

[JBarca]

Nothing unnatural seems to be at work here. In fact, it merely seems as though someone prevented any water or sun from reaching this area for some time, and the trampled and dead grass seems to be just that: trampled.

The animals are a bit confused by your concern. For the most part, they just complain that a nest or two had to be moved when the people killed the plants. Worse atrocities are occurring to the west, after all. Plants are killed by people all the time. It's a bit chaotic, given that dozens of creatures are responding at once.

A chorus of animal noises can be heard from the surrounding wood.

Ferrara works her way around the monolith, her footsteps lost in the sound of the animals. As she makes her way to the opposite side of the structure, she sees an inset door, roughly five feet deep into the stone. The door is iron, and painted in alternating strips of black, green, red, white, and blue. The worn path leads directly to it, and does not continue around the monolith.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara shoulders the bow and waves the rest of the group over. "Looks garish". She mutters. "Weird a place like this could be just squatting in the middle of the woods, but let's see what's inside. I'm not the best at this, but we'll give it a go. Best stand back."

Taking 20 on search (checking for traps) for a total of 21.
If taking 20 is not allowed. [roll0]

Open Lock-if no traps are found[roll1]:smalleek:(counting masterwork theives tools)

Disable Device-if trap is found [roll2]

EDIT: Ow.

[OMG PONIES]

Ranjeesh complies with the orders of his new captain. He stands back with bow drawn and arrow knocked, looking and listening for anything suspicious...you know, more suspicious than a black monolith in a blighted field.

[roll0]
[roll1]

Ready Action: fire an arrow at anyone who takes hostile action against the group.

[JBarca]

Ferrra's methodical search o the door reveals no traps whatsoever. It does reveal, though, that the door is pretty old; the paint is peeling in places, there are deep scratches at points that have rounded and smoothed over due to weather, and the hinges are more than a little rusted.

The door is also unlocked. It's not even shut fully; there is no handle or locking mechanism at all. It's merely pulled to.

Ranjeesh hears nothing of note; a few animal noises, some wind in the distance, and Ferrara working diligently.

[glitterbaby]

Oziach melts at the sight of his ward in tears, offering console in the form of embrace. He begins mumbling softly a rhyme to calm her. After this passes, Oziach assumes his place in group, waiting for an enemy to dare show themself.

Readied Action: Should an enemy come onto range and form a line between itself and Oziach but not a party member, fire breath.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara raises an eyebrow at the bucolic lack of security, and opens the door carefully, using her dagger as a prod. "Unlocked. Can't find any traps." She reports phlegmatically, and takes a step back. Reaching into her haversack, she begins to knot her everburning torch to her rope. "All up for going in?" she asks in a rhetorical fashion, and then throws the torch through the doorway, keeping hold of the other end of the rope.

He pulls the torch back in slowly, keeping an eye out for anything that the light reveals. "Sir Voice; you don't seem to need a weapon. I'd be grateful if you could go in front. I'll be right behind you. Slow and careful now."

[Reogan]

Thekla begins to breathe at a more normal pace and takes the hand of Oziach. She stands very close, and when Ferrara speaks, speaks. "Okay. Let's go." She leads Oziach towards the door, failing to let him go.

[Sent from my phone. To be edited for color]

[JBarca]

A path leads down from the door. It's rough and uneven, and a bit damp. It ends thirty feet past Ferrara at another door, this one smaller, more worn down. It's honestly more a few plank nailed together than a proper "door." When the light of the torch withdraws from the door, a faint flickering of multicolored lights can be seen around the edges of the door, coming from beyond.

[glitterbaby]

Oziach nods and takes point, a position with which he feels well acquainted. He maintains a firm hold on Theckla's hand.

[Dromuthra]

Rasshano, who had been watching the proceedings carefully, steps up behind Oziach. Nodding, he whispers, "I am likely better armored than you. Perhaps I ought to open the door? If not, then please start whenever you are ready."

[glitterbaby]

Oziach complies, leading Thekla away from potential danger.

[Dromuthra]

Rasshano nods in thanks, then assumes Oziach's position. Drawing his blade, he attempts to quietly open the door and see into the room beyond.


Move silently: [roll0]

[Marlowe]

Ferrara slips her way through the pile-up of people trying to be first, slinging the rope over her shoulder and the torch in loosely in hand. "If one or two of you could stand back and watch the flanks for a moment, let's take some due precautions.."

[roll0]

[OMG PONIES]

Ranjeesh doesn't need to say anything; orders need to be followed, not responded to. He moves quietly between the legs of his party members to watch their six. His keen eyes scan the darkened passages behind them while he empties his mind to allow his ears to focus. He lingers near the back of the group, hiding behind the occasional calf as if it were a tree trunk.

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]

[Reogan]

Despite the fact that she's wholly unobservant (and also despite the fact that she's currently a little more emotionally compromised than she usually is), Thekla still pays as much attention to her surroundings as her state can afford. Despite her less-than-keen senses, who knows? Maybe she'll see something.

Spot:
Listen: [roll]1d20
Okay. The Listen just...didn't roll, and that's my bad. I'm not concerned. She doesn't hear better than others anyway.

[JBarca]

Again, the door seems to be entirely untrapped. When it is pushed open, it swings freely, creaking a bit as it does so, revealing a small stone room.

A small basin sits on the floor in the center of this fifteen by fifteen foot room. Its edges are carved into the likeness of dragons, and each of the five heads emits a stream of colored energy into the basin. There are two greenish-white streams, two blue, one red. These "streams" swirl around each other as they fill the basin, though it never overflows. A gentle hissing noise emanates from the basin.

An iron key sits in the base of the basin, barely visible through the multi-colored swirls. An iron door is set in the opposite wall than the one whence you came. The door has a very obvious keyhole in its center, in the form of a small dragon's mouth.

The floor is wet and uneven, full of puddles and moss. The walls are smooth, carved stone.

In addition to the hissing, a soft, rhythmic crunching or scraping sound can be heard from beyond the door. It's indistinct, but it's there.

[OMG PONIES]

"Scraping coming from behind that door, Captain," Ranjeesh reports to Ferrara and the others.

[Marlowe]

Ferrara slinks into the room cautiously, drawing a couple of arrows as she does so and using them to check the inside sides and top of the door before she enters.

If nothing untorward is disturbed she will use the two arrows as an improvise fork to lift the key out of the fluid before touching the fluid.

[glitterbaby]

Knowledge (Arcana): [roll0]
Spellcraft: [roll1]

[Reogan]

Knowledge (Arcana): [roll0]
Knowledge (History): [roll1]
Knowledge (Nature): [roll2]
Knowledge (The Planes): [roll3]
Spellcraft: [roll4]


Thekla stares at the apparently noisy door, her concern dropping from her face and replaced with a steely determination. The girl is clearly waiting for something to happen. She almost seems to will it, something playing at the corner of her mouth. A smile? A grimace?

Slumber Hex (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/classes/base-classes/witch/hexes/common-hexes/hex-slumber-su) DC 17 Will Save. If not within the thirty foot range, Thekla moves closer. This will be triggered by something from beyond the door opening it, targeting whatever is on the other side.

[Dromuthra]

Noting the others' intent study of the bowl, Rasshano will cross the room to place himself between the other door and the others, while still staying between Thekla and the fountain as much as possible. "You all appear to have a greater initial understanding of the fountain - I will watch the other door in case whatever is behind it tries to come through."

[JBarca]

The five dragon spouts, each with its corresponding color, is vaguely thematically similar to motifs of Tiamat, the Evil, five-headed Queen of Chromatic Dragons.

The effects of the basin appear to be something similar to a Burning Hands spell, modified to emit different types of energy. Given that it is not damaging the bowl or key in any way, though, it is also very potentially an Illusion of some sort. It's difficult to tell without seeing the magic interacting with anything.

[Marlowe]

OK. Um.

IF Ferrara succeeds in lifting the key out of the bowl with the arrows without incident, she'll place it carefully on the floor. "For some reason, I don't think we should touch that with our hands just yet." She says quietly. "I'll check the drakey door. Security around here seems quite lax and I don't that's going to continue.

Search [roll0]checking out the iron door.
K/Religion [roll1] Five dragon heads. Who could that possibly be?

[JBarca]

Sorry, Marlowe! I knew I was forgetting something. My bad!
Sorry for the hold-up to everyone else, as well.

Ferrara puts both arrows into the bowl, but before they reach the key, there is a hissing sound, and the arrows being to burn and dissolve. She is able to save one, but the other is merely a charred stick with feathers at one end by the time she pulls it out.

Yeah. The heads are definitely Tiamat-y. Chaotic Evil Dragon Goddess of violence and other Evil Dragons.
The door seems entirely untrapped; it's iron and has some sort of internal locking mechanism.

[Marlowe]

"O-Kay." Ferrara lifts an eyebrow as the arrows dissolve. "Let's not go drinking this. I'm guessing that whoever the operators here are, they've got some special glove for handling the key.

We can try experiment with poking other stuff in and see how that goes, but I suppose I'd best at least try the old fashioned-way". She moves to the door and attempts, as far as she can, to fiddle the lock.

[roll0]

[JBarca]

Ferrara's initial attempt at fiddling wit the lock yields no results.

[Reogan]

"Please don't let anyone come inside, Ferrara," says Thekla quietly as she breaks from her concentration and approaches the basin. She eyes the key inside and carefully raises up her mace. Taking a deep breath, she lowers it to try to push the key from its resting place. Thicker then the arrow, it might work.

[OMG PONIES]

Sarge maintains his post with the rigor of a good soldier, but keeps thinking about the fountain. He wasn't much for dragon goddesses and their games, but he wondered if the trick might be deceptively straightforward. *I mean, if any Garl-damned gob can do it...* he thinks to himself.

[roll0] Is there any way to get the streams of each corresponding color (2 greenish white & 2 blue) to connect? And does Sarge think that might do anything?

[Marlowe]

"Way things are going, I might not get to let anyone come inside ever again." mutters Ferrara, glaring at the door. "Oh, you mean keep watch? Sure. It seems I'm much better at keeping people out than I am at getting in. But Therkla, maybe we should try touching the dragons themselves."

Something else is niggling at her. Then she realises what it is. "The Chromatic Dragon has five heads." she says darkly. "That's what we have here. But she has a head of each colour. Black, white, red, blue, green. Why only three colours here?"

[JBarca]

[roll0] Is there any way to get the streams of each corresponding color (2 greenish white & 2 blue) to connect? And does Sarge think that might do anything?

The stone head are mounted on the basin, without any obvious way of moving them (without heavy application of force, of course). The streams are all intertwined, as they swirl about each other and mix in the bowl. Toward the bottom of the basin (near the key), all five streams are mixed such that they aren't really separate flows anymore, merely a swirl of shifting colors.

Thekla's mace dips into the streams and immediately starts to chip and crack, similar to the arrows. She feels she can probably scoop the key out if she so chooses, but it would likely cost her the weapon. Otherwise, the mace can be quickly pulled back before any lasting damage is done.

Reogan, your call. Damage the mace (possibly beyond usefulness) to get the key? OR leave the key and save the weapon?

[Reogan]

Thekla inhales sharply as the mace deteriorates, but determinedly refuses to withdraw it until the key is found. She had no weapon this morning; she'll have no weapon again.