Bhaakon's Giantslayer

[Bhaakon]

http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee498/Bhaakon/trunauelevation.jpg (http://s1230.photobucket.com/user/Bhaakon/media/trunauelevation.jpg.html)

Jubilation fills the cool evening air in the normally staid community of Trunau as nearly all of its eight hundred-odd residents pile into the overflowing amphitheater at the heart of the fortress town. Even those who might prefer a solitary meal or a drink in one of the settlement's taverns find themselves forced to attend, as all homes and business are closed and locked for the duration as everyone who isn't deathly ill or on active guard duty is swept up into the feast celebrating Chief Defender Halgra's daughter, Ruby, as the girl passes into her twelfth year.

But it's not all spitted boar, sweet potato bread, and honeyed ale--which are consumed in massive quantities, as the locals take their feasting as seriously as they do their defense. In Trunau the passage into adulthood is not a marker of freedom from parental rule or a signal of marriageable age, both of which are years away for young Ruby. The twelfth year is instead when each citizen accepts responsibility for his or her own life and death, and takes the Standing Vow embraced by all Trunauans since the initial mob of stubborn refugees claimed the cliff-ringed crown of Bloodmarch Hill and held it, even as the orcish hordes of Belkzen devoured the surrounding lands until the nearest civilized settlement was nearly a week's march distant.

The buzz of the crowd subsides as Helgra of the Black Blades, tonight both Chief Defender of the town and proud mother, leads Ruby up onto the amphitheater's stage for the ceremony. She raises her hard to signal for quiet and addresses the crowd with booming voice of a veteran commander used to shouting over the cacophony of battle.

"Thank you all for joining us this night. I take immense pride in my responsibility as Chief Defender, especially when it comes to the honor of the hopeknife ceremony. It is always a great privilege to bequeath Trunauan youths their hopeknives as they come of age.” Halgra stops speaking long enough to open an ornamental case and retrieve a slender, ornately decorated dagger hanging from a silver chain. She pulls off the tooled leather sheath to reveal that the petite weapon is no simple adornment, but a scalpel-sharp blade of watered steel with a deadly serious purpose.

“But tonight is a special occasion, for the recipient of this hopeknife is none other than my youngest daughter.” Once again, Halgra pauses, but this time she turns to talk to the child beside her. “Ruby, by the traditions of our town, you have come of age. This hopeknife represents your responsibilities as an adult and defender of Trunau. You must be willing to use it on yourself, your fellow Trunauans, and your family—even me, should it come to that. It will be a far quicker death than that which the orcs will offer, and providing it is your duty. Do you swear to guard Trunau from all comers, and to use your hopeknife only for its intended purpose?”

Ruby—dusky skinned, black haired, and painfully shy—nods her head in response to her mother’s question before offering up a squeaky "Yes!" Just loud enough to carry out past the first few rows of the hushed crowd.

Halga nods solemnly in response, and continues in a lower, graver tone. “If the orcs come, and there is no other option, this is where you cut—here, here, and here.” Halgra demonstrates which arteries to sever while Ruby watches. When she is finished, Halgra sheathes the hopeknife and places the necklace around Ruby’s neck before turning back to address the crowd.

“Tonight, Ruby becomes a full member of our community! Let us welcome her, and celebrate her passage into adulthood! Trunau forever!” The crowd echoes Halgra’s last words in unison, signaling the end of the ceremony and the beginning of the real festivities.

A contingent of the town guard, five in all, storm the stage with a coil of rope as thick as a grown man's arm. Their leader is Rodrik Grath, Patrol Captain and rising star in the Trunau militia. He drops the rope at Ruby's feet and issues the traditional challenge with a wink and grin. "Hold everything!" He shouts jovially. "The people of Trunau can't accept the word of a tiny whelp like you until she proves herself worthy! We, the strong right arm of Turnau, challenge you and a team of your choosing to prove your strength in a traditional Trunauan tug of war!"

Ruby must have been expecting this, but the shy girl looks flustered as she scans the crowd for likely-looking teammates. Perhaps that explains some of her odder choices as she points to each of her champions: a local hothead known as much for clashing with militia leadership as his skill with the bow, a hulking dwarf decked out for battle even in the midst of a party, a slender woman whose exotically hued hair and eyes make everyone overlook her sickly-pale flesh and over-generous smile, and the spindly son of the town's most eccentric shopkeepers.

The crowd respects her selections, though, gently but insistently pushing each of you towards the stage.

Centuries of experience in fighting a larger, stronger, more monstrous foe has taught Trunauans that fair play is for suckers, and this attitude is reflected in the 'rules' of the traditional Trunauan tug of war. Anyone who has seen or heard of this game before knows that all manner of subterfuge and chicanery is allowed, even encouraged, so long as no one gets hurt. They also know that it's traditional for the guards' side in this little display to play fair and, eventually, lose. Though it's considered a sign of good fortune if the birthday girl's side wins outright before the guards throw the game.

Please make a strength check, plus your plan if you decide to engage in some creative gamesmanship (ie: cheating).

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

I like this town!

This thought crosses Asdoukar 's mind quite a few times during the festival. He has visited Trunau quite a few times these last years, and the festival is always the best time. These people take their fighting seriously and their drinking the same. Asdoukar is sure that they must have had a dwarf organize things some time in the past. Usually, he disliked crowds, even dwarven crowds, but today, he is on a fine mood indeed.

Asdoukar drinks and eats enough for two people all day long. Ale-especially human ale- rarely affects him, but by the end of the day, he has a huge grin stamped into his face. The effect on his already ...eccentric look is intimidating, as he looks a bit like a maniac on top of everything else. But the locals- the guards at least- know him by sight and some have trained with him.

When he is called out, he emerges on the scene laughing his 'Ghar ghar ghar' laugh, a sound like granite slumps rubbing together. He spits the tobacco he is chewing and takes the rope in both hands,coiling it around his armpits. He sees no way to cheat a bit, and the rest of his teammates do not look very strong -most of them don't- but Asdoukar is prepared to give his best.

No way to cheat I can see. Here is the Str check [roll0]

[bcool999]

Jeis

Always ready to enjoy a good roast boar, Jeis is caught up in the festival spirit along with the other Trunau natives. He is a bit surprised that little Ruby is already this age, and is eating and drinking with a will to deny the sudden realization of time's passage.

The passing of the Hopeknife itself is a sobering event however, and during the proceedings, Jeis remembers when he obtained his own Hopeknife and is glad that the occasion to use it has never come up for him. So caught up in eating and reminiscing, Jeis doesn't even notice when Ruby mistakenly points him out of the crowd. It takes a gentle nudging from his father and a slap on the back from his mother to make him aware of his situation as the crowd propels him forward toward the stage. Looking a tad dumbfounded and hurriedly trying to finish off the boar rib in his hand, Jeis makes his way onto the stage, wondering how they are going to avoid the pity victory.

Then Jeis remembers that the goal of tug of war was to get the colored rag tied in the middle of the rope over to your side. Nothing says you need all of the opponents rope as well. When the battle starts, Jeis tries to stealthily use his powers to fling a carving knife to sever the rope and secure their victory.

Going to try and sever the rope on the guards side so we can win.
Slight of hand rolled OOC: 9
Attack roll to hit the rope: 13
Damage done to the rope: 13
Strength check to pull: 12

[Desril]

Sylvia

Not being native to the town, the dhampir found herself enjoying the festivities but couldn't help but be shocked at being chosen to help with some tug of war game as part of a child's coming of age ceremony. I guess the girl must think I have a spell prepared that could help her out, perhaps I should've chosen different this morning...but I think I can make this work.

Not a fan of being touched and shoved by a mass of strangers, and seeing how the crowd was treating those who tried to resist the summons, the arcanist made her way toward stage, baring her fangs in an intimidating smile at the guards as she passed them. Hopefully it's too noisy now for anyone to notice, she thinks as she focuses on the guard at the lead of their opponents' rope and mutters a spell. Normally this would cause someone to run in terror, but if I tweak it a little as I cast it I might be able to lessen the effect and just make the strength go out of his limbs.

Smiling in a more friendly manner toward Ruby, she glances from her to the rest of the people she'd selected. "Well, if you're going to honor me with helping you here, then I guess I'll have to give this my all. Come on, we're going to do this right. Everyone, get on the same side of the rope, it will help center us."


....Stealth to hide casting? [roll0]
Casting Cause Fear trying to make the opposing group's strongest looking guy suffer a lesser effect (Shaken?)

And hell, Diplomacy to get on Ruby's good side. [roll1]

Str check (1d20-2)[9]

[stack]

Eric tried to keep to the edges of the feast, his brooding unabated since the shame and loss from the other night,standing in sharp contrast to the festivities. Being selected for the rope team, normally an honor and recognition he would revel in, drove him further into his angst, knowing the guards would have it out for him now, when just a few weeks ago he would have been happy to drink with them. Ruby should have known better, the sight of him may make the guard forget to throw the game.

No longer in a position to grease the rope or the other usual tricks, he goes to take up his spot, then bellows and encouraging call to his team. "Pull them into the dirty, one tug should do for them. They have a cask down each."
encouraging roar gives +2 att and damage, can we adapt it for the contest?
strength [roll0]

[Bhaakon]

Ruby cracks a mischievous smile as you gather. You notice that she's wearing surprisingly sensible footwear for a such an occasion; her scuffed boots stand in stark contrast to her vibrantly dyed and lace-splashed birthday dress. The reason for the fashion faux pas becomes apparent when she produces a set of wickedly sharpened metal cleats from a sack stashed near the stage, the kind used to keep a hiker from slipping on an icy trail or help a lumberjack find purchase while climbing a tree. She quickly straps them over her boots and stamps hard, driving the spikes deep into the weather-beaten planks of the stage. If you'd confused her fear of public speaking for a lack of intelligence, you were clearly mistaken.

She ties the end of the rope around her waist while the rest of you stand on one side, as Sylvia suggested. The guards take a bit longer to get ready. One of their number, a particularly muscular fellow, seems to have developed a case of cold feet. Finally Rodrik Grath wraps the frightened man up in a bear hug long enough for the remaining three guards to tie him to the end of the rope.

While the guards are busy getting their squad in order, buckets of table scraps from the feast filter forward through the crowd to be dumped in between the opposing teams. By the time you've started there's a respectable pile of refuse to greet the losing side.

Finally all is ready, and Halgra signals the start with a clap. Eric throws his weight into the rope with a prodigious tug that nearly beats the Chief Defender's start signal. It's enough to pull the guards onto the balls of their feet and give your team the momentum. You force the guards to advance a step, then another, each time Ruby anchors her cleats securely in the sun-beaten boards to prevent any retreat.

Just when you seem to have the best of it, the frightened guard snaps. He lets out a feral growl and turns, leaning hard against his bindings while arms and legs scramble for every bit of purchase. He finally finds a rotten knot and knocks it loose, hooking a hand in the hole and pulling with all his strength. It's enough to bring the battle back to a stalemate, one that drags on for a dozen heartbeats before the spot where Jeis had managed to slice the arm-thick cord finally frays to the point of snapping.

With a crack like a bull whip, the rope snaps right in the middle of the guard's team. Three of them fly forward, arms flailing, to land in the heap of table scraps with a loud squelch and a tsunami of creamed spinach (not a favorite in Trunau, apparently, as there was plenty left over for the refuse pile).

Rodrick hauls himself out of the mess, carefully cleaning the mashed parsnip from his face before declaring: "Brute strength was no match for you, Ruby! You and your champions have proven clever and resourceful in the face of overwhelming odds, like any good Trunauans. We accept and confirm your vow! Trunau Forever!"

The crowd roars rushes forward, bearing Ruby up on their shoulders for a celebratory round of crowd surfing. You're left on the stage when they retreat, with three very messy militiamen (the frightened man having run off with the fifth in pursuit). Rodrik and his fellows shamble over, gleefully clapping each of you on the shoulder with creamed spinach-y hands.

"What do you say to a drink, eh? Eric and Asdoukar I could see, but I'd thought Ruby had a gone a little crazy when she picked you two," He nods toward and Jeis and Sylvia, "but I see know that she's got her mother's eye for talent. Maybe I should trust her judgement on this. Something that needs looking into...well, we'll talk about it more later. How about that drink? You can tell me how you got Jeb to brown his trousers. Mighty useful that. And the whole flying knife trick of Jeis's. Always had my eye on that one, right Kurst?"

"Huh? Oh, um, r-right, Roddy." Stutters a second guard. Kurst Grath, Rodrik's slightly younger fraternal twin. He's not as strapping or quick-witted as his (minutes) older brother, but everyone around town knows he's a better rider and murderous with a bow. Both serve under their father in the patrol wing of the Trunau militia.

"See, he knows you've got potential in the militia, even if my Pa can't see it. The way the old man prattles on about push-ups and chin-ups you'd think we were having an arm-wrestling competition with the orcs." Rodrik chuckles as he leads you to the nearest tapped barrel. "He should take a lesson from the tug of war. Not every battle is about crushing skulls the fastest. Even the orcs can be tricky if they put their minds to it. They're not as dumb as we like to tell ourselves, don't you think so?" He glances at Eric.

[bcool999]

Jeis

Feeling the rush of victory after winning the tug of war, Jeis figures that Ruby must have survived being the youngest of a rough and tumble clan through cunning considering her choice today. However, Jeis is somewhat surprised to hear that Rodrik actually appreciates his particular talent... especially considering Rodrik's father wouldn't even let Jeis practice it during militia training. He already knew of Eric, though was a bit fuzzy on his recent escapades, but he introduced himself to the two non-natives before settling in for a nice chat.

"Well it isn't just knife tricks," Jeis says as way of explanation when Rodrik shows interest, "Rocks, sticks, bits of glass, anything really can be tossed around by my ability as long as it's light enough, and it all hits with roughly the same strength... which is how I managed to lodge a wooden bowl into a wall of my house."

Jeis fills a tankard from the tapped barrel and takes a drink before continuing, "As for how I do it your guess is as good as mine. Even Argit can't figure it out, she mentioned something about me being able to manifest a connection to another Plane, but that's way above my head. As for what caused it, my mom swears it was dads potions and dad quietly (and out of earshot of mom) says that it was a glowy bit of salvage mom got her hands on."

[Desril]

Sylvia

Grinning at their victory, always loving being on the winning side, the dhampir nods to Rodrik at his offer of a drink. "I'd love to, and maybe I can get you to tell me more about this place. Trunau certainly has some interesting celebrations." Glancing toward Ruby though, she continues, "She's certainly a clever one, but I wonder what she'd have done if I wasn't as magically blessed as I am?"

Listening to Jeis' explanation as she pours her own mug, Sylvia ***** her head to the side, "Curious. I've heard of abilities like this, but I'd written them off as rumor. Interesting." Taking a drink herself, she gives her own answer, "My story is much simpler. Between innate magic ability and a fair bit of schooling, a simple spell to freighten someone is easy. The hard part was making him weak with fear without immediately trying to run off," she says with an amused smirk, remembering the sight of the hardened guardsman running in terror from, seemingly, a 12 year old girl with a rope.

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Asdoukar lets out a roar as the guards fell on their faces. This day gets better and better. He looks his teammates with different eye. These were capable people, despite being strange. Silently, he follows them to have another drink, grinning all the while, his slight limp sprightly. With the tankard in hand -this was good ale, for human standards- he follows the discussion, his other hand absentmindedly rubbing his left knee.

" Run' krit, sei dit. So be it, as it is, you would say. You do what you have to do, with whatever you have in hand. And you are careful to have in hand whatever you need. I have my axe"

He points to the axe strapped in his back. His voice is deep and throaty, like coming from a mine shaft.

"The people here now this truth. That makes them rare among humans."

[stack]

Eric gives a small smile as the guardsmen tumble into the refuse, giving Ruby a clap on the shoulder before the crowds can rush in.

He basks for a moment in Roderick's approval, something that he had little of recently, before silently accepting the offered drink. He doesn't miss the veiled rebuke, though. Face reddening, he looks away. "They can be clever enough, indeed." He leaves the talk of magic to the others, glad to leave Jeis to talk to someone interested in such matters.

[Bhaakon]

Rodrik listens and Jeis and Sylvia politely enough, but the glazed stare suggests that he's more interested in the practical applications of magical power than their theoretical origins. He cuts in before the discussion descends into academic minutiae. "Well, bookish studies or glowing artifacts, it's all the same to me as long as you keep your skills as sharp as Asdoukar's axe. The orcs aren't much for arcanery, so every different kind of magic we can muster is one more edge we have on them."

"Which is part of why I'm talking with you. Like I said, my Father isn't much for schemes that don't hinge on strict discipline and strong sword arms, but I'm not my father. I have reason to think..." He glances around, apparently thinking better of saying too much. The crowd has thinned a bit, but there are still plenty of people in ear shot. "Well, let's just say that a more diverse unit might be needed."

The looks at each of you in turn, pausing especially on Sylvia and Asdoukar, the two non-Trunauans. "I know that not all of you are interested in joining the militia of a town you're not from, so I won't even ask. I doubt my Father would let you in anyway. This would be unofficial work, but I'd see that you're properly compensated."

"B-brother. Not this a-again..." Kurst pipes in, but Rodrik ignores him.

"If you've an interest, come see me in the morning for details. I'm staying at the Ramblehouse. Just ask Cham and she'll send you up to my room." He drains his tankard, dried food flaking off his uniform as he moves. "Speaking of which, Cham was supposed to have a clean change of clothes and a hot bath waiting for me. I hope she didn't pawn it off on her idiot nephew."

You all know the Ramblehouse, it's a boarding house as well as the town's only inn. If you're not a native, you're almost certainly staying there. It's staffed by and home to most of Trunau's halfling population, a single extended family that settled here after escaping from bondage.

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Asdoukar 's face gets serious as he wipes ale from his beard. He knew Ramblehouse. He has lived there many times.

Special team? Delicate task? Asdoukar knew those. The question is, what does it matter to him?

The next ale arrives as he ponders the question. He was a Brother now. Angradd expected things of him. But he was in the midst of an orc and giant infected area. If Angrad 's Work was not to be found here, where would it be?

Asdoukar stays up a bit more, paying his tab and nodding to the rest as he leaves. By way of goodbye, he says

"I am going. Hope to see you there."

He limps slightly as he walks out. Some hours later, he asks for directions to Rodrik's room.

[stack]

Well, we know how these things turn out. Still, even if did not return, they might think better of me...or I may return will gold and glory at a time I see fit...Black Blades will retire someday, how better to earn such a position? Eric nods, "See you in the morning then. Breakfast is on you. Which will be a sight better than what is on you now." He gives a smile and returns to the bountiful repast.

[bcool999]

Jeis

Biting his lip in thought, Jeis considers whether or not he should go, on the one hand he had always been a bit of the town's punching bag, able to take a punch but unable to dish it out so this was a rare opportunity to gain respect. On the other hand, Rodrik's father was a terror when he was angry, and it sounded like this had every chance of blowing up in their faces if he found out about it... much like dad's one and only attempt of making a potion of fireball to aid in the town's defense...

"Alright I'll drop by and see what you're offering, but no promises on joining in if it seems like a one way ticket to getting full contact drills with the militia... some of them really don't pull their punches, especially the nasty ones who know I can't fight for love or money." Jeis says before taking his leave and searching the crowd for his parents, mostly his mom who can get a bit too festive when drink is involved.

[Desril]

Sylvia

Intrigued, more than anything, the dhampir nods her head in agreement with Jeis, "The same for me, I'll certainly stop by, but I don't ever promise to help out before I know what I'm getting into. But if we're not meeting until tomorrow," she says trailing off, her gaze wandering toward the stronger ales and more energetic drunks and grinning, "I think I'll go do something stupid tonight. What's the point in having a party behind nice thick walls if you can't enjoy get drunker than an alcoholemental?"

Assuming no one stops her, Sylvia makes her way into the heart of the crowd after refilling her drink and looks around for someone fun to spend the evening with. Or, failing that, someone who'll keep her from drowning entirely in booze.

[Bhaakon]

"Just don't do something so stupid that you can't wake for our meeting. And I promise that there will be no calisthenics or mock battle involved." Rodrik answers. "But if there is some fighting, no one is going to pull any punches. We can discuss more in the morning. If all goes well, me and my men will handle the dirty work. If not, well, there's a reason I'm asking Asdoukar and Eric along."

"I don't want to wake you too early. An hour after dawn should be fine. Now there's a bath and bed waiting for me" He nods his goodbyes and dismisses himself.

The rest of you do as you see fit. Jeis find his mother somewhat more sober than he might have expected, and he quickly discovers why. She's liberated Gorkis's inventory of alchemist's kindness and is preparing to auction off parchment envelopes of the medicinal powder. Gorkis, for his part, is snoozing nearby. Jeis recognizes the half-empty jug on the table near him--the pure alcohol he distills for certain alchemical preparations.

Sylvia has no problem finding drink or friendly company. Maybe even too much of each. Most of the town's population of young and un-attached adults has been drinking since mid-afternoon, and oversize dentition isn't as big a turnoff as it might be in a town with fewer half-orcs.

With the feast completed and the hopeknife ceremony over, the celebration quickly begins to decentralize. Some pockets of partying inside homes and taverns will likely continue into the next morning, but anyone who hangs around too long will find that the amphitheater is more or less clear of revelers by midnight.


***

A shriek cuts the air of lower Turnau shortly before dawn, waking anyone staying in the vicinity of the Ramblehouse. In minutes the common room is filled to bursting with bleary-eyed guests, staff, curious neighbors, and uniformed militiamen. Details are in short supply, but every rumor floating through the crowd seems to agree that Patrol Captain Rodrik Grath has been found dead in his room!

Usually the proprietor, Cham Larringfass, would have stood up on one of the taller tables and started shoeing out the milling crowd, but the halfling hlocked herself away in her room shortly after discovering Rodrik's body. So when Kurst Grath, the smaller, quieter Garth sibling shuffles down from his brother's room, it takes him a few minutes to gather the four of you up from the crowd and ask you to "P-please come with me. We, um, we need to talk."

Kurst leads you up to the stairs and stops outside the room where his brother's body is still lying in a tangle of blood-soaked bedding. Through the open door you can see the precise slash wounds on his wrists, inner thigh, and neck--the same spots Chief Defender Halgra had pointed out to young Ruby the night before. There's a delicate blade in his right hand, a hopeknife.

"You can see that it's...it's true." Kurst begins. "He's dead. M-my Father says it's suicide, and the Chief Defender will listen to him. I-I know it's not. You know it, t-too. He had plans for this morning. N-not plans to kill himself. And he was scared of something...I know it. He wouldn't tell me much, b-but he was going to tell you, I think."

The lanky Patrol Lieutenant pauses to steady himself, physically reaching for the wall. From the haunted look in his eyes you realize that he's barely holding it together. "Please, you ha-have to look into this. The guard won't investigate, may Father won't allow it, not even me. My brother, he couldn't have done this to himself, to us, and I know he'd found s-s-something important. I c-c-can pay you. I found some pouches in his room, four bag of gold. For you, I think. A r-retainer. I'll gladly give them to you if you will find the truth."

He draws the pouches from his belt, each holding a hundred golden coins. "I...I had wondering where his books had gone. He must have sold all of them to come up with this." Jeis can confirm that last part. There's a shelf full of well-worn tomes in That'n'Such to prove it.

[bcool999]

Jeis

Face paling when he hears the news of Rodrik's death, Jeis finds it hard to look at the body of the man who only yesterday was the lively rising star of the militia. So that is why he sold all those books, to pay for some shady business that ended up killing him? Sweet Iomedae what have I gotten mixed up in? Still, despite his worrying about a possible killer inside the walls of Trunau, Jeis feels responsible in some way for Rodrik's death, and in making sure no others suffer his fate. He swallows his bile, steels his nerves and looks about the room for any evidence of foul play.

While he searches, he asks the others, "We should also speak to Cham shouldn't we? She should know something about the comings and goings in the Ramblehouse?"

[roll0]

[Desril]

Sylvia

Having enjoyed her evening, enough that she's at least pretty sure she remember's that cute girl's name anyway, Sylvia refuses to let the discovery of a corpse sour her mood. She's studied and worked with plenty, one more, even if it's one she was supposed to meet this morning, isn't overly troublesome. Still, she tries to at least look upset, though the chance to still get paid to investigate the murder of the one who was going to hire them makes her curious. I have always loved a good mystery, so, let's see if I can find anything.

"Well, I can hardly ignore such a heartfelt plea," she says to the younger brother, "I promise, I'll find out who killed Rodrik. Just leave it to us. And we should ask Cham, I agree," she says to Jeis, "but if this was an assassin, they wouldn't have been spotted sneaking into this room. Let's give her a chance to calm down and see if we can find any clues here." Crouching down next to Rodrik, she examines the wounds more carefully, looking for any oddities in the cuts.


Diplomacy to improve Kurst's attitude toward the party [roll0]

Heal [roll1]
Perception [roll2]

[Bhaakon]

You find no signs of a struggle or binding on Rodrik's body, or at least none that couldn't be explained by the tumble he took into a pile of garbage the night before. The wounds fit the knife in Rodrik's hand, and while there are no hesitation marks typical of a conflicted suicide victim, that doesn't prove foul play.

One thing does strike you a bit odd, though. Under the coppery twang of the blood and the dying reek of alcohol, there's a bitter, medicinal scent about the dead man's mouth that you can't quite identify.

[Desril]

Sylvia

Wrinkling her nose, the dhampir frowns. "There's something off about the smell. It's hard to pick out under the blood and booze, but it's still there in his mouth..." Folding her arms, she thinks, Some kind of poison, maybe? Mundane then, not magical. Wouldn't explain how they got into the room, but given how drunk everyone was last night, I probably could've snuck in here last night. What could do this though, something ingested, probably something that renders the imbiber unconscious, otherwise the smell wouldn't be on his mouth and they wouldn't have needed to slit his wrists.


K: Nature on Poisons [roll0]

[Bhaakon]

Sylvia racks her brain, but there are just too many poisons that would render a man unconscious, and that's that's setting aside the ones that would knock a man out on the way to killing him outright. She's just not experienced enough handling actual toxins to pick one out by smell alone.

Jeis, meanwhile, after coming up empty on his initial scan of the room, tries searching more systematically. It takes a few minutes, and some help from the others, but he manages to finds two items of interest. First is a false bottom to the drawer in the rented room's battered writing desk. It's empty now, but there's a clean spot in the layer of dust blanketing the hiding space which suggests that something about as wide and long as a grown man's hand had been stored here.

The second is a crumbled paper lodged between the wall and the headboard of the bed. He opens it up to reveal a receipt of purchase from Morninghawk's Fine Steel, the town smithy bet better known as Clamor.

http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee498/Bhaakon/RodrikClue1.jpg (http://s1230.photobucket.com/user/Bhaakon/media/RodrikClue1.jpg.html)

600 for finding clues

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Years of training instilled into him make Asdoukar jump up and reach for his axe when the scream is first heard. It takes him a second to realize that he is not in the mountain shafts. It takes another to realize it does not matter.

When he gets to the room, he scowls and curses in dwarven.

Rust and tarnish!

Silently, as the others prattle around him, he starts to look around the room and out of the window for tracks and clues. There was a reward and he liked the man. Asdoukar nods when Kurst offers the reward and grabs his hand.

"Done deed. I will help you."

He helps Jeiss go through the dead human 's things. At last, he speaks.

"There was probably a knife here, hidden. And there is a smell on the man. We should talk to Cham and then to Urnsul. Sara is a friend of my family. I think she will allow me this."

[bcool999]

Jeis

Jeis scratches his head as he thinks on the clues they had found, "So the poison Sylvia smelled makes it likely that this wasn't a suicide, and some object was taken from that hidden drawer, and there is a receipt for a Hopeknife here... Did Rodrik order it for himself? Weird message if he did."

Jeis takes a look at the murder weapon making sure it isn't the one mentioned in the note before saying, "Well I don't think there is anything left in the room... Let's go see if Cham has calmed down any."

[stack]

Bloody...Roderick. What happened here? Eric takes a moment to come to his senses, the shock of the scene, losing someone he had known all his life, stunning him momentarily. Certainly everyone in Trunau had lost friends and family, but usually to raids or other such things, not like this.

He aids in the search of the room, trying not to look at the corpse. "Need to find out who ordered it, seems a fair lead. I can go while you talk to Cham."

Looks like the rolls are already made successfully, unless taking 20 for 25 on perception matters at this point.

[Bhaakon]

Kurst hesitantly enters the room when you hears mention of the receipt and its contents. "Wh-why order a new one? Unless..." He hesitantly reaches for the bloody hopeknife in his brother's hand, extracting the small blade from his grip with the help of a handkerchief to avoid the blood on the blade. He studies the handle of the weapon, where the engraving is much more distinctive than the fairly uniform blade, and morosely declares. "It's n-not his. Not the one Father gave him."

[stack]

"How is it marked?"

[bcool999]

Jeis

Considering their next course of action, Jeis also mentions, "We should also get someone to come in and try to identify the poison used on Rodrik, it could be useful to know what it was and who has access to it... We could try my dad, he dabbles in many things alchemical, and someone at the church of Iomedae may also know what was slipped to Rodrik."

After the others agree on some course of action, Jeis heads down with whomever may join him to speak with Cham.

[stack]

"Don't know anything about poisons, but seems like it might not last. Maybe get your dad first thing."

[Bhaakon]

"The blade has Sara Morninghawk's mark, but the inlays on the hilt, it's n-not the same as Rodrik's. Sh-should be a griffon, like mine. F-Father had ours special ordered." He fishes out his own hopeknife and shows you the design, an antler inlay of a rampant griffon on a burnished ironwood grip. The knife he'd taken from Rodrik has a completely different design, a leather-wrapped handle with a brass crossguard formed in the shape of unfurling leaves. "Th-there's no inscription like on the receipt."

The man nods when Jeis suggests calling in his father or the High Priestess. "I've called for some acolytes from the Sanctuary to collect my brother. Th-they should be here soon. You should have Gorkis go there if you want him to look. The High P-Priestess is there, too. I-I-I mean, you know that. It's Iomedae's temple." He takes deep breath. "I must wait for them...t-to make arrangements."

[bcool999]

Jeis

"I will go grab him before seeing Cham then." Jeis says as he leaves the room, clapping Kurst on the shoulder on the way out to show his support. When he reaches his dad he tells him about the death of Rodrik and the possibility of an ingested poison and asks if he would go to the Sanctuary to see if he can identify the poison used.

That completed Jeis makes haste back to the Ramblehouse to meet with Cham.

[Bhaakon]

Jeis makes all haste back to his home, where he finds his father laying atop his bedding in the same clothes he wore to the party, snoring loudly. It takes a few minutes to rouse the man, and a few more for him to stagger over to the chamber pot, change into fresh clothes, and comprehend what Jeis wants him to do. "I'll help, I'll help. J-just let me get some-uh-something from the lab..." He wobbles over, eyes half-closed to protect his hungover eyeballs against the harsh glare of what morning sun trickles through the drapes.

A moment later a profound sigh echos from the alchemical workshop, Garik having found that not a single dose of alchemist's kindness remains. Resigned, the man downs a cloudy vial of jointfir concentrate, a powerful stimulant, and grabs a small box of testing reagents before following Jeis back to the Ramblehouse.

***

Gorkis pays muted respects to Kurst in the hallway before joining you with Rodrik's body in the now quite crowded room. The middle-aged alchemist gets right to work, first bending down to sniff the dead man's lips, then taking out a small swatch of sterilized cotton cloth and rubbing it inside Rodrik's mouth. That finished, he cuts the swatch in four smaller squares and douses each with a few drops of different chemicals selected from his wooden case.

"Well smelt, w-whoever it was." He croaks as he stands up the small writing desk where he'd run his experiment. "B-b-barely c-caught a whiff myself, under that-um-that ale breath. N-now we wait." He adds, wiping his brow but never lifting his eyes from the cotton squares.

After two minutes, something happens to the third sample. The cotton browns and curls in on itself, as if burning, but without a flame. "A-ha!" The mousey alchemist exclaims. "Oil of taggit. Not deadly. M-m-main ingredient in my sleeping draught. Th-that and sweet mead t-to cover the t-taste. Er...don't b-blab about that. T-trade secret." He smiles sheepishly, then realizing that he's in a room with a dead man, quickly goes stone-faced and begins packing up up his equipment. "Um...not hard t-to find, or make, if y-you have the knowledge."

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Asdoukar waits at one corner while Jeis goes to find his father, rubbing his knee and straightening his bread-locks, thinking. Asdoukar remembers the man, he had bought an alchemist kindness for his uncle from his last year. He seems to know his stuff.

When the drug is identified, Asdoukar gets up.

"We know important things now. This man was drugged and then killed while asleep. I will take this knife and the receipt at the smithy and ask what they know of them. Now, we must hurry. The killer could be ready to leave at any moment. Anyone coming with me?"

Asdoukar looks around and then leaves by himself, if noone comes.

[stack]

"I will go with you. One question first; Gorkis, has anyone purchased oil of taggit from you recently? I doubt someone planning a murder would be so careless, but it is possible."

[Bhaakon]

The mousey alchemists shakes his head in response to Eric's question. "N-not in the p-pure form, no." He thinks for a moment, then adds. "My sleeping d-d-draught is too dilute to use like this. Someone would have to b-buy a dozen of them and extract the oil of t-taggit. N-no one did that, I th-think"

If no one stops him, Gorkis finishing packing up and quietly takes his leave. With another solid lead to follow, Asdoukar and Eric take the respect and the hopeknife that you're now sure is a murder weapon and walk them down to Sara Morninghawk's smithy.


***Eric & Asdoukar***

Morninghawk's Fine Steel, colloquially known as Clamor on account of a pugnacious neighbor's complaints about "that damned clamor at all hours of the night," sits near the edge of the Hopespring, the pool of spring water that collects at the base of Bloodmarch Hill. Sara Morninghawk is already at work living up to her smithy's nickname, pounding out a dented militia breastplate with an her characteristic glower that seems to highlight the orcish portions of her ancestry. A pile of similarly damaged items sits on a worktable near the forge. Clearly she's in for a long day.

"Throw it on the table and leave your name. I'll get to it when I get to it." She mutter without looking up from the forge. "Damned revelers broke half the crap in this horse-piss town last night, and I'm here short-handed..." She finally looks up from her work to throw some more coal on the forge and gets a look at who is coming. Flashing a tight grin that highlights her inch-long tusks, she addresses her visitors. "Oh, Asdoukar. If I sharpen that long axe again, you're going walk out of here with a long hatchet. And who is that with you, Eric? Finally shopping for new armor? Maybe something more interesting than banging out dents and straightening bent keys."

[stack]

Eric gives the smith a friendly nod. His own shop was not a stone's throw away and he had lent a hand at the bellows on more than one occasion. The thought that Sara was complicit in this never crossed his mind, but she might be able to tell them something helpful."It's a mess in here! Still going to make that batch of broadheads next week? Almost out. Still have bodkins, but you know how many orcs have enough armor to make them worth carrying."

"Afraid we aren't here about work though. Also afraid it is interesting. What can you tell us about this receipt?"

[bcool999]

Jeis

Thanking his dad for his time and watching as Asdoukar and Eric make their way to the smithy, Jeis turns to Sylvia and says, "Let's go see if Cham knows anything about what happened."

Jeis makes his way to Cham's door and considers whether to ask permission or forgiveness to bypass the locked door. Eventually he settles on asking permission and knocks calling out, "Cham? This is Jeis Meeson. Would you mind opening the door and talking to us about Rodrik?"

[roll0]

[Desril]

Sylvia

Nodding, the dhampir goes along with him. Getting to the door, she adds her voice to his, keeping the tone as sympathetic as she can. "Please, I know it must be hard for you right now, but we want to make sure that you are going to be okay too."


Diplomacy [roll0]

[Bhaakon]

***Clamor***

"I'm going to have to push back the delivery date a few days, Eric, unless you want to lend a hand." Sara fumes. "Damned apprentice is probably passed out on a floor somewhere, because she sure as the hells isn't here. I've half a mind to roast Urusel's bony arse on the coals when she finally..." She trails off as she looks over the receipt, eyes widening a bit.

"How did you two get mixed up in Rodrik's death?" She asks, her tone much cooler. "Bad business, suicide. Didn't look like he was going to off himself when he ordered that hopeknife last week, but I guess I'm not the best judge of character. My flake of an assistant, for example. Gave the knife to Urnsul to do the engraving a couple days back. Should still be on her workbench."

Sara strides over to a sturdy work table away from the fire, crowded with delicate chisels, rasps, and picks for engraving soft material and bottled acids for etching metal. She sifts through the tools then rifles a couple of drawers before returning empty-handed. "Huh. I didn't think he'd come by to pick it up yet, but I don't see the hopeknife anywhere. Maybe Urnsul delivered it after work yesterday?" She shrugs apologetically.


***Cham's Room***

Cham's private rooms and offices lie at the very end of the inn's most lavish wing, surrounded by the quarters of her staff and family. Jeis and Sylvia are forced to walk hunched forward to avoid scraping their heads on the plaster ceiling, as this part of the Ramblehouse is sized for halflings. It's an open secret in town that Cham enjoys inviting humans into her personal offices to discuss business just to watch them shuffle around bent over at the waste and squirm uncomfortably in child-sized chairs.

Your knock and entreaties are answered by an exasperate groan and much tromping about and banging before the door finally opens. A face peeks out, slack faced and a bit dazed. Cham blinks once before opening the door wide to reveal a finely appointed sitting room all of it sized for a halfling. There are a few heavy pillow nearby, apparently places for humans and similarly large creatures to sit without breaking the undersized furniture. A smokey haze hangs in the air, heavy with the unmistakable reek of Pesh. Whatever was used to burn it is nowhere to be seen.

"Please come in, come in." Cham invites, talking slowly but not slurring. "I'll answer whatever I can, but, really, I just found the poor soul. I just can't imagine how I could possibly be of help. Um, are you working for the militia?"

[bcool999]

Jeis

Taking a seat on a nearby cushion, Jeis shakes his head at the question and says, "No we're not with the militia. Kurst hired a few of us privately to look into his brother's death. We were just wondering if you heard or saw anything last night that was suspicious. A visitor for Rodrik perhaps? A stranger, weird noises, anything at all really that seemed out of place. We already determined that Rodrik didn't kill himself so we were hoping that you would have noticed something last night."

[stack]

"Didn't figure on it taking more than a second for word to spread. But it ain't suicide, meant to look like it though. We're helping look into a few things, like this receipt, that don't add up. Got anything else?"

[Bhaakon]

**Clamor***

"Not suicide? Better start spreading the word, then. Half the town thinks it is, and the other half is still sleeping off last night." She shrugs, "I can't tell you anything else about it, besides the obvious: It's kind of strange to have an engraving of love dedicated to yourself. Only seen it once or twice before, when someone poor sod loses a hopeknife they'd taken as a wedding pledge. But I wouldn't know about that. Rodrik didn't say, and I didn't ask. Maybe his brother knows something, or Patrol Sergeant Omast Frum. Those three are thick as thieves."

It's traditional for lovers to exchange hopeknives when they become engaged.

You feel like Sara is lying, exactly, but she's not telling you everything.


***Cham's Room***

"Strange? My, no. I stayed back to watch the inn while everyone was at the celebration. Nothing strange happened, and no visitors. I spent the whole night helping drunks up to their rooms, but nothing more interesting than that." she shakes her head vigorously. "You...you don't think it was murder, do you? It looked like he did it to himself, I mean, before I passed out."

She's lying.

[Desril]

Sylvia

Furrowing her brow as she listens to Cham's story, Sylvia's thoughts go from Cham being an unfortunate woman caught in the crossfire to her being an accomplice. "You're gonna have to try better than that dear, I may've had plenty of help, but I don't recall you helping me or my friends back inside." Baring her fangs in a grim smile, she continues, "Now, instead of trying to make yourself look innocent, why don't you tell us what you really saw last night?"


Sense Motive (1d20-1)[15]

Diplomacy to convince her fessing up is better for her! [roll0]

[Bhaakon]

***Cham's Room***

The halfling wilts before your eyes, sinking back into her with a pathetic murmur of fear and dismay. "I...well...you see...I mean, it was a lot of gold, and, and, he was scared! It's not that strange for a person to pass through here on the run from something. I know what that's like!" Sobbing, the halfling yanks down her high collar to expose the old scar around where, most of a lifetime ago, a smith at a Molthuni slave market had bent a cherry-red iron slave collar around her neck. Nearly all of the older halfings in town bear a similar mark.

"He refused to give me his name,” she manages between gulps of air, “and he paid me a fistful of gold. He said he’d be gone before sunrise. I didn’t ask any more questions. I had no idea that something like this would happen!”

[Desril]

Sylvia

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she mentally comments to herself before speaking more diplomatically. Damn, I figured that'd be all it was, but I was hoping she'd been directly involved. It'd have been more fun to make her squirm...oh well, answers are answers, even if they're boring ones. "It's OK, there's no way you could've known. We all have our blindspots," she says with a friendly pat on the shoulder, "but we have to catch the person who did this, and that will be easier if Patrol Leader Garth is helping us look for a murderer than trying to mourn his son's suicide. If you want to make this right, then we're going to need your help to bring Roderik's killer to justice."


Should I roll another Diplomacy?

[Bhaakon]

***Cham's Room***

"W-wait." She says, getting up and scrambling over to her office to fetch a large leather book. she flips it open to the marked page and turns it around to show you. "I didn't get a name, but I can show you his room." She points at a line in the ledger marked with an 'X' in place of a signature. The room number indicated is labeled "Tall #4."

"I have a key with me for all the rooms. It hasn't been cleaned yet. I can take you."

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Asdoukar reflexively checks on his axe as the smith teases him about its sharpness.

"If it cannot cut giant skulls from 10 feet away it is not sharp enough, Smith Sara and you know it"

The way he inflects Smith shows that this is an honorific.

After he hears the discussion, Asdoukar points at the workbench.

"So, is it not strange that the assistant who did this is nowhere to be found? The coincidences keep piling up.

But lend me your eyes again, Smith. What do you know about this hopeknife? It is the murder weapon and we were supposed to believe it was Rodrik 's knife. We now it ain't."

Asdoukar shows the hopeknife.

Damn untrained Sense Motive!

[Bhaakon]

***Clamor***

Sara takes one look at the the hopeknife and starts, blinking her surprise. "That's it. That's the one he ordered. I forged the blade myself, and handed it over to Urnsul to do the inscription and assemble the hilt. Did she deliver it without an inscription? Oh-ho, I'm going to give her a thrashing when she hauls her sorry arse back here. " The big smith grumbles, her fists balling up until the knuckles pale.

"Just because I'm the only smith worth half a damn in this town doesn't mean I'm going to put out half-finished goods. Best put it back in your pack, Asdoukar. I've a mind to snatch it out of your hand and finish the piece right now."

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Asdoukar looks at the knife and rubs his knee absentmindedly.

"My grut echoes* that you will not see Urusel again, Smith. Can you tell us where she lives? Or if she had any special relation with Rodrik?"




*My grut echoes: Dwarven phrase, literally meaning 'My pick echoes', equivalent to 'something tells me' or 'my gut instinct is'

[Bhaakon]

***Clamor***

"Aye, I can tell you, but it won't help you much. She lived here in the forge, in that cot folded up against the wall there." She nods towards the corner of her shop farthest from the burning bed of coals, and there is indeed a cot and bedroll neatly stowed there. "When she showed up looking for work a month back. The poor wretch could hardly string three words of Taldane together. Said she'd managed to escape one of the slave camps the full-bloods keep for growing food. The tattoo on her face was proof enough that she was an slave, and she didn't know an anvil from an ant hill, but she was good enough with leather. I doubt she'd met Rodrik, let alone was friends with him. I only ever saw her with other half-bloods like me."

"We'll see if your gut is right, old man." She shrugs. "I'm not about to give up on her yet. Can't."

[bcool999]

Jeis

After giving a Sylvia a glare for making Cham panic, Jeis says, "Thank you Cham, hopefully he left something behind that will tell us for certain who killed Rodrik. However, if the man has already fled there isn't much we can do to bring him to justice if he is indeed the killer. Maybe a patrol could try tracking him down and bringing him back, but that's a long shot."

Standing up, such as he can in the halfling room, he gestures for Cham to lead the way to the man's room.

[stack]

Eric nods gravely. "She probably had no part in this beyond being made victim. Could be the blade was stolen from here and she taken to delay pursuit. She never struck me as one to jump in to some murder conspiracy just for kicks.We'll find find her." If it's not too late.[roll0]

[Bhaakon]

***Ramblehouse***

"Well I hope you catch Rodrik's murderer, if he's been murdered, but you'll have to excuse me for hoping that the man who rented a room last night had nothing to do with it." The halfling laments, her sobbing more or less under control. She draws her master key from a pocket and leads you down the halfling-sized hall and into a more human-appropriate part of the boardinghouse. "I just don't know what I'll do if he did. I can't have that on my conscience."

She stops outside a door labeled "T4" with a little scribble of paint at hip-level. "This is it." She pauses a moment before opening the door, but fights back her reluctance and twists the lock (which is also placed lower than most humans would find comfortable). Inside, the room is virtually identical to Rodrik's. The same straw-stuffed mattress, the same threadbare linens, the same too-small window that doesn't open, and the same time-worn desk and stool. The bed is made smartly, the crisp sheets showing that either the mystery guest did his own housekeeping or he didn't sleep. There's no luggage or dirty clothes lying around. The only hint that anyone has even stayed here is a raven's quill pen left beside an open bottle of ink on the room's little writing desk.


***Clamor***

"Well, send her back when you do. Late for work and losing a clients' hopeknife...I'll have her wishing that she'd stayed at that slave camp." Sara grumbles. "For a week or two, anyway."

500 for finding more clues at Clamor

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Taking the last sentence to mean that the chit-chat was over, Asdoukar bows and waits for Eric. Not much to learn anyway. Maybe the others had more luck.

On the way back, Asdoukar looks at the tall human

"What have we learned so far, you think?"

[Desril]

Sylvia

Moving over to the writing desk, the dhampir frowns and stares at it quizzically. "This...isn't right. I don't care if they were made at the same time from the same tree, this desk looks exactly like the one that was in Rodrik's room, doesn't it?"

Hopefully it's not trapped. I doubt it's an illusion, but...well, only one way to find out. Reaching for it, she goes to open the drawer and see if anything of value is inside.

[bcool999]

Jeis

"Well it saves the carpenter time to only draw up one design and make a bunch of them.... probably manages to sell a few of the ones that turned out poorly too that way." Jeis says as Sylvia inspects the desk. "Anything interesting in the false bottom of that drawer?" Jeis asks watching over Sylvia's shoulder.

Perception for traps since Sylvia mentioned it and paranoia: [roll0]
Disable Device if locked take 10 for 18
If trapped also take 10 for 18 but warn the others off first.

[Bhaakon]

If you're done talking with Sara, you can make your way over to the Ramblehouse and join the others in-scene.


***Ramblehouse***

As Jeis guessed, the desk appears to have been made from the same pattern as the one in Rodrik's room, right down to an identical false bottom in its single drawer. But the similarity ends there, as this secret compartment is not empty. The young man pokes and prods until he's sure there are no unpleasant surprises, then gingerly lifts open the hidden space to reveal a folded sheet of parchment. It's a letter, printed out in a rushed hand and either forgotten or left behind for later retrieval.

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

500 xp for uncovering yet more evidence.

[bcool999]

Jeis

Reading over the letter, Jeis lets out a sigh and leaves the letter with Sylvia for her perusal. He turns to Cham and says, "We are going to need a description of the man who stayed here... also do you know anyone by the name or Melira? She may have a connection with the man who stayed here."

[Bhaakon]

***Ramblehouse***

The halfling woman had be out in the hallway trying not to sob. She rubs here eyes one last time before turning around and shakes her head in the negative. "I don't know of anyone named Melira. You can check the ledger again if you like, but my memory is pretty good. If she's ever stayed here, it wasn't recently."

"As for the man who rented this room, he was tall, but then all you humans are tall. His face was all, you know, human-ish. Big nostrils, hairy, heavy jaw, like all of you... Um, I mean, he had scruffy brown hair, brown eyes. His nose was kind of crooked, like he'd broken it and let it heal wrong. He was older than you, but younger than your Pa. And no, I didn't know him." It's not a terribly specific description. Brown hair and eyes are exceedingly common, and half the adults in Trunau have broken their nose in militia training.

You can't be sure, since you didn't see this mysterious stranger yourself, but the vague description is an uncomfortably close match for Harred, the dead man you left behind on your ill-fated raid a few weeks back. Or at least you assumed he was dead.

As far as you know the man had no family, no significant other, and only came to town to sell his crops. He was one of the few homesteaders who didn't pay the "siege fee," the de facto tax Trunau collects from the surrounding farmers to maintain an emergency shelter for them within the town's walls. He had a reputation as a stubborn bastard who hated the local government almost as much as the orcs, which made him a natural choice to go with you.

[stack]

Eric takes his leave of Sara and rejoins the others just in time to be struck by Cham's description. Now, that can't be right...no.

"Did he, perhaps, appear to favor his left hand, like his right shoulder had been wounded not long ago?"

[Bhaakon]

The halfling starts when she hears Eric's unexpected question, having not noticed the man slide up behind her in the hall.

"N-no. He seemed healthy enough. I guess he could have been hiding it under the cloak. All I did was talk with him and hand over the key!" She replies, her voice rising until it threatens to become a shriek. "Please, you must leave me out of this. All I did was rent out a room. That's not illegal, not even wrong. There's no law that I have to take everyone's name, I just do it in case they damage the room or run out on the bill, but the man paid so much up front that I could refurnish three rooms! This isn't my fault!"

[Desril]

Sylvia

Noting the halfling's distress, the dhampir decides that calming her down might be worth the effort, especially since they might still need her to convince the Patrol Leader that this was foul play rather than a sudden suicide. Putting on her best friendly smile, she crouches down to put a comforting hand on Cham's shoulder, "Don't worry, we know this isn't your fault. No one can blame you for what you did or for getting scared when you found out what happened to Rodrik. But don't you think his father will want to hear every possible detail you can think of? What if, after we leave, you remember that he smelled like bat guano and are just too upset to remember right now? Shouldn't you at least tell the Patrol Leader what you told us so he knows to come to you later?"

Gah, so sappy. It'd be so much easier to just haul her in, but that won't help her recall anything.


Diplomacy [roll0]

[Bhaakon]

Heartfelt or not, Sylvia's speech has its intended effect. Cham takes a deep breath to steady herself and something of her typical clever self returns to her features. "Yes. Yes!" She replies, her voice returning to a more typical register. "You're right. This isn't my fault, and I need to make that clear to...to Jagrin. You'll help me explain it to him. Should we go now?"

[bcool999]

Jeis

Nodding to Eric and Asdoukar in greeting at their return Jeis says, "Yeah we should probably go see Jagrin and let him know what's up. We can fill each other in on our findings along the way."

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

"Run’ krit, sei dit*. Let 's go. We have things to share. And we have people to see also."

Asdoukar gives the strange little halfling another look and gets ready to leave.


*Dwarven proverb:So be it, as it is. signifies decision.

[stack]

"Doesn't seem right, none of this adds up. He had his flaws, but...may just be someone that looks somewhat similar. Let's go"

Once away from Cham, "Be nice if our main witness wasn't peshed up. Not sure how good her description is." Eric proceeds to give his full knowledge of Herred, just in case it matters.

I presume Eric doesn't need to roll for the first spoiler

second spoiler: intelligence check [roll0]

know local [roll1]

[Bhaakon]

Jagrin proves to be somewhat difficult to find. It strikes you that he wasn't among the crowd gathered at the Ramblehouse, and, when you check Iomedae's Sanctuary, you find that Jagrin hasn't been in to see his son's body there, either. Finally you catch wind of a fresh patrol forming up outside the gates, where Jagrin is inspecting a half dozen mounted scouts.

"Just run the length of the Kestrel" He's instructing the young man who appears to be in charge. Rodrik's death, which requires both Kurst and Jagrin to stay behind for the funeral, has left the patrol force woefully short on officers. Still, you'd expect Sergeant Frum to be leading the group rather than this youth. "We're edging up on the flood truce*, so I doubt they'll risk being trapped on this side when the river rises, but..."

The middle aged Patrol Leader notices your approach and spins on his heels, his coal-black gaze appraising you with all the disdain of a Taldan Legate eying a pack of Kellid tribesmen. He's surprisingly intimidating for a scrawny, balding man only a hand-span taller than Asdoukar. You're struck by the lack of family resemblance between the man and his offspring, to his sons' benefit.

"Kurst's hirelings." He finally growls. "Well he certainly chose...strangely. What is it you want? No, let me guess. You've finished pawing over my son's corpse and you've figured out a way to extract more gold from my family."

The period of peace each spring and early summer when rainfall and snow melt closes most of Belkzen's fords. The nearby Kestrel river is particularly treacherous; a difficult crossing even when the water is low. It gives Trunau enough breathing room to sew and harvest crops in relative safety. The floods also pen in the migratory aurochs herds which serve as the orcs' main food source, and inter-tribe warfare is taboo during this season of open hunting. While this prohibition doesn't extend to battling non-orcs, in practice the tribes are too busy gathering a year's worth of meat to go raiding.


http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2013/312/7/6/jagrin_by_mattiasfahlberg-d6th23r.jpg

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar


Asdoukar 's hands reflexively move nearer his axe for a second but then he controls himself. People, especially humans, do strange things during their grief. And Asdoukar was never very good at talking. Others would be better at handling this.

For a while at least.

[bcool999]

Jeis

At their cold and unwelcome reception, Jeis hesitates to share what they had found with the father of the deceased. However, with a steadying breath, Jeis begins listing their findings, "Uhm... well no sir we just came to report what we had discovered so far. So far we were able to determine that your son was in fact murdered, we don't know for sure who did it yet, but we believe we have the how and possibly the motive for it. With the help of my father Gorkis we discovered that Rodrik had been poisoned with Oil of Taggat. It didn't kill him, but it did knock him unconscious and make it easy for the killer to stage it as a suicide. We also found a suspicious letter in the room of a guest staying at the Ramblehouse that suggests that Rodrik was investigating something and the author of the note may have killed him to keep him quiet. As for the murder weapon, we determined that it wasn't your son's hopeknife, but one he had ordered from the clamor. We are looking into finding the smith that was working on the weapon to determine how it ended up at the murder scene."

[stack]

Eric lets Jeis give the rundown, figuring nothing from his own mouth was likely to improve matters, but one thing Jagrin said caught him. "More money? You talking about what your son offered to help find out who murdered his brother? 'Cause we wouldn't have gotten the offer if you looked into it yourself. Don't care about the money either; I bloody well won't let a good man die in this town without trying to find out who did it and why. Your own son."

[Bhaakon]

Far from showing signs of relief or appreciation, Jagrin's cold mask cracks into a sneer. "You have your orders. Leave." He snaps at the scouts over his shoulder. To their credit, they pause only briefly before following the command, kicking their horses to a mile-devouring trot as they head north. He turns back to you once they're out of earshot.

"Then it looks like you're done. Hand over the evidence and leave the rest to me." He hisses, extending an arm to accept the evidence. "If Kurst agreed to further payment, you should get it from him."

After an uncomfortable pause he adds, with a sarcastic tone belying the words. "Trunau thanks you for your service."

[stack]

"We're not done just yet. You're busy today and you just sent your men out on patrol. We'll finish what we started."Eric HAS a diplomacy score, he's just too angry to use it at the moment

[Desril]

Sylvia

Leaving the details of their findings to her new-found companions, Sylvia can't help but be impressed by Jagrin's cold indifference and pragmatism even as she finds it distasteful. Still, Rodrik wasn't her son, and she was doing this partly for the money, so Perhaps it's best if I don't open my mouth and prove his point, she contemplates.


Sense Motive, he's a little too cold. Either being very stoic about the whole thing, or involved, but I can't tell which. [roll0]

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Asdoukar 's face could well have been carved from stone. Some things should not go unanswered.


"You did nor hire us, as you said. You do not get to tell us when we are done, old man. And we were not hired to find a killer, so that part is not over yet.

Though we will find him."

[Bhaakon]

"Rodrik's death is my affair, not yours, dwarf. Nor yours, Truebow. And anything my son was investigating was business of the militia, which is also my business." The man continues. His left hand remains outstretched to receive the letter and the hopeknife, but his right is not resting on the pommel of his sword. "So you may report what you will to my surviving son, but you'll turn over your evidence to me right now, or you can do it in a few hours when I track you down with the Chief Defender and a score of soldiers."

The man's tone is so flat that you can't read him at all.

[stack]

"Then we will take a receipt for the items, fully described, signed and witnessed, as is our right."

[Bhaakon]

"Witnessed by whom, Miss Cham?" Jagrin answers, his hand slipping from his weapon. "I can smell the pesh smoke rolling off her from here. At least she isn't so far gone as to be eating the stuff." The halfling softly snorts at the insult, but doesn't protest. Jagrin's accuracy aside, even a drug-addled Cham isn't foolish enough to make an enemy of one of the three or four most powerful individuals in Trunau.

Eventually the Patrol Leader shrugs acquiescence. "But if it will end this ridiculous standoff, so be it. Draw up your paper and I will sign."

[stack]

Eric gives a nod, swallowing his insolence as he gets his way. not sure that anyone has paper handy or what the proper local custom is for this, but as a Trunau native of reasonable intellect, Eric will execute the document and procedure to the best of his abilities, taking 20 or asking an expert if needed to make sure he gets it right.

[Bhaakon]

Without a training in law, Eric does the best he can to draw up something official-looking. He copies the text of the letter found by the group and adds a detailed description of the hopeknife. He even thinks to trace a rough outline of the blade on the back of the paper. When he's finished, he signs the bottom and passes it around for each person present to make their mark, Cham and Jagrin included.

"I'll take these, then." Jagrin grumbled, snatching the evidence while the ink is still drying. "Be on your way, and stop digging into this matter. I don't need your ham-fisted 'investigation' mucking up my inquiries. On the off chance that the author of this letter is still in town, I don't need you sending him to ground."

Next course of action, then?

[Desril]

Sylvia

The dhampir waits until Jagrin is out of earshot before commenting, "Well, as much as I hate to admit it, he has a point. If we just go asking around casually, the guy who did this will probably disappear if he hasn't already. Not that I think we should give up looking, but we need some kind of plan. I could probably ask around discretely, people like this, always on edge, aren't that hard to get to talk, but that requires someone seeing something useful to help us. It might be more productive to look for this missing smith, and asking about her shouldn't raise too many eyebrows. Do we have any leads?"

[stack]

"I have half a mind to tell the chief defender what is going on before we go any farther. Something stinks here and I don't want Jagrin casting us as fools or villains before we've spoken out peace."

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Asdoukar watches the human leave with his eyelids half closed before turning suddenly to the others.

"Yes, let's meet with the Chief Defender. And then I say we go look at the farm of this person. We will not rouse any suspicions there. I think looking for the smith is a dead end, she is not in her bed and nonoe has seen her yet.

Then, we talk with Rodrik's friends."

[Bhaakon]

Two votes is good enough for me. At least for things that aren't like to result in an imminent TPK :smalltongue:

The idea of meeting with Halgra before jagrin has a chance to poison her ear against you seems wise, and, just as important, much less daunting than a four hour trek to visit a "dead" man's homestead or organizing a full-blown man hunt--or half-orc woman hunt, to be precise--without the help of the militia.

You find the town's venerable Chief Defender where she spends most of her days, working from the Ivory Hall. The Chief Defender's official residence is positively monumental by the standards of Trunau's typical ramshackle architectural style, and the whitewashed walls give it a downright airy atmosphere all at odds with the building's history. This was once the town's trophy hall, a literal charnel house with bleached orc bones mounted on every conceivable surface. Artfully arranging and re-arranging the macabre collection was once the town's chief pastime, a practice borrowed directly from the surrounding orcish horde. It went out of fashion nearly a century ago, as the last of the original settlers died off, and the bone collection didn't long outlive it.

Now the building serves as a more typical town hall, with the council meeting room where Halgra currently broods at its apex. The dark-skinned woman isn't going to see sixty again, and while you might have said that she wore her age well at the previous night's celebration, you can't say the same now. She sits hunched over in her chair, frow deeply furrow, a mug of tepid black coffee untouched on the long council table before her. Her unfocused gaze barely shifts from the room's commanding view of the surrounding countryside when her honor guard (one of her older sons, a half-orc nearing 40) announces you.

Far from the show of oratory she put on the night before, Halgra skips the pleasantries and quietly cuts to the point, "Kurst has informed me of his decision in the matter of Rodrik's death. I can only assume you've come here because you've found something."


http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee498/Bhaakon/Halgra.jpg

[stack]

Eric is now careful to mind his temper. Halgra was not one to annoy lightly, and it seems they would need her support. "I am sorry to disturb you, Chief Defender, but yes, we have found evidence of interest. Rodrik was drugged then killed. Her is the list of evidence given to Jagrin." He gives a complete account of the morning and their findings. "We thought it best to inform you directly. Such a murder, a conspiracy, in the town is deeply troubling. I fear perhaps my name is not the best to be associated with an investigation. If you feel I am a hindrance, I will gladly leave the matter in other hands. I only care that the murderers are brought to justice."[roll0]

[Bhaakon]

Halgra's visage darkens, if that's possible, as she hears Eric's account and reads the copied text of the letter on the receipt. She carefully puts it down and leans forward, eyes meeting your directly for the first time since you entered the room.

"I must admit, Truebow, that while I thought it wise for Kurst to engage someone outside of the patrol squad for this investigation, someone who wasn't a brother by blood or battle, I would have advised against your inclusion if he'd come to me ahead of time." She replies without malice, making a simple statement of fact. "But I am glad to be mistaken. As you say, the only concern here is to see the murderers brought to justice, thereby exposing whatever plan is alluded to in this document. Your...doggedness would be an asset in that regard."

"Still, my first instinct is to congratulate you and instruct you to leave the matter to Jagrin. Yet you're here and he is not, even though he clearly has the evidence in hand. Should I be troubled by this? Is he sprinting up the stairs as we speak?" She gives the barest nod to her guard, who makes a show of opening the door and peering down the steps before indicating the negative. "Hmm, I suppose he is not. Curious."

[bcool999]

Jeis

Somewhat afraid of the more powerful town authorities, Jeis hangs back when Jagrin takes all their evidence and when they go to meet Halgra. However, when Halgra seems to question Jagrin's behavior, Jeis finds it hard not to blurt out, "Wait... you can't mean to say that Jagrin is complicit in his own son's murder right? The man may be an A-cough- an incredibly insular man, but this is his own flesh and blood here... Besides as patrol leader he has a lot of duties to see to."

[Bhaakon]

"I believe that Jagrin might be capable of it, under the right circumstances, because I believe him capable of most anything. Including putting the town at risk to seek personal vengeance if he is indeed innocent. In either case, I cannot let Jagrin handle this investigation alone. Since Ila's passing, the only things I am sure of are his competence as a warrior and his hatred for the orcs. I can't tell if he cares a wit for Trunau, or if the town is only a convenient base for his obsession."

Seeing some confusion on the faces of the outsiders, Halgra explains. "Ah. I see that not all of you know that story. Jagrin was once a happy family man. Always a bit grim, but balanced. Humorous, even, in a sarcastic sort of way. Then the orcs turned an ambush on a patrol, and his wife died right there in his arms. The previous Patrol Leader, Obrun, also died that day. So did Jagrin, in a manner of speaking. What came back was not a man, but a sea of rage bound up in a bag of flesh."

"Do you know that he collects the skulls of his kills, like the Trunauans of old? He thinks I don't know about his totem in the Longhouse storeroom, but I do. Oh yes, I do. Twenty four of them, by my last count, and not all of them full-blooded orcs." The Chief Defender shrugs. "The day I found that hoary pile was the day I promoted him. I can use a rabid pit bull chained up outside the gate. I need one, in fact, just like I need a stubborn bloodhound rooting out the truth at this moment. For instance, the truth behind Rodrik leavings his officer's quarters in the Longhouse barracks, a personal room adjacent to his Father's and Brother's, for a rented bed in the Ramblehouse.

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar


Asdoukar has bowed out of true respect to the Chief Defender and as the wordplay moves along, he stands there listening very attentively. Rubbing his kneww be reflex, he approaches Truebow and tries to discreetly whisper.

"Tell her to give us leave to search these apartments and to talk with those we need. Suggest that we report to her as soon as we find anything."

Asdoukar should not be the one to speak directly, as he is neither a native nor particularly charismatic.

[Desril]

Sylvia

Interesting, even the Chief Defender thinks he's little more than an attack dog. I wonder if he's keeping anything else hidden under that stoic mask, or if that's really all he is at this point? Shame it's too risky to push him to find out. Guess I'll have to wait and see.

As Halgra points out that Rodrik wasn't sleeping in his usual quarters, Sylvia practically kicks herself for not realizing that on her own. "Well, the simple answer is just that he wanted to be somewhere less intimidating and more private when he spoke to us, but in situations like this, the simple answer is rarely the complete truth. You're right, it'd be prudent to search his usual room too, and we'll head there next, with your permission, of course."

[stack]

Eric bows his head. "Thank you, Chief Defender. Your point is very good, we should speak with Kurst, if anyone knows why Roderick moved, he will. We will also try to find the missing smith's apprentice, if she has not fled the town entirely."

[Bhaakon]

"No, thank you. People have no hesitation in heaping problems on my shoulder, but few volunteer to help bear the load. Unless there's an orc attack, that is. For what it is worth, I give you leave to invoke my authority in your investigation. If nothing else, it will get you access to the barracks, and good folk might respect it enough to cooperate. Don't abuse it." She nod towards the guard, who opens the door for you to exit. You notice that the Chief Defender seems, if not relieved, at least less beaten down. As you leave she reaches for her coffee and draws it to her lips, frowning when she finds it cold.


***

By happy coincidence, both of your immediate goals can be completed in the same spot. Kurst has finished making initial arrangements for his brother's remains, and has returned to the Longhouse to catch up on his militia duties, and most of Rodrik's as well. You find him looking over a list of receipts and expenditures in the main hall of the Longhouse, and you can't help but think that he looks more at home tracking down an errant sum than leading a charge.

You get quite close before he notices you, at which point he starts a bit and quickly pushes the ledgers aside. "You...you've found something?" He asks hesitantly.

I was going to hand wave your report to him, since this will be the third time you've given the whole "this is what we've found..." spiel, but then I realized that a lot could be riding on how (or if) you describe his father's potential involvement.

[bcool999]

Jeis

After the current evidence is explained to Kurst, Jeis asks, "So why was Rodrik staying out in the Ramblehouse anyway? He have a fight with someone here in the Longhouse? Also, do you have any idea what he was working on? Whatever it was might have gotten him killed."

[Bhaakon]

Brow furrow flatten and the bags under Kurst's eyes seem to evaporate somehow as you lay out the evidence in front of him. "So he didn't kill himself, then? I...I knew it. I knew it." He finally responds, some of the color returning to his haggard face.

He lets out a long breath before answering your questions. "He had a fight with Father, yes. I-I didn't witness it, I was out on patrol. I assumed it was about that poem he wrote, The Other Side of Contempt. It's about A half blood whose orcish mother is killed by a human attack. The poem wasn't to my taste, but Father, w-well, he treats killing the orcs like some sort of divine crusade. That was probably it. Neither of them would tell me, and I didn't push."

"I don't know much of what he was working on since he moved out of the barracks. I know he spent some late nights out before Father ordered him to leave, but I didn't ask where he was going. All he said that something strange was going on, and I should keep an eye out for people behaving oddly." He explains, sighing his regret. "I had my own duties, and I figured he'd tell me if he found something specific. You can look in his old room if you want. He left most of his belongings there while he was looking for somewhere more permanent."

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Asdoukar hears Kurst 's tale, his hand in his beard, thoughtful.

"Thank you, Kurst. We should check your brother's room and quickly."

[Bhaakon]

"Y-yes, of course." Kurst reaches down to his belt and untied the leather thong holding on a ring of keys. He picks one out and hands the ring to Asdoukar, selected key first. "It's through that door over there. F-first room on the right."

The directions take the dwarf and whoever follows him (immediately or after a few more questions) to a modest bedroom not much larger than the space Rodrik had rented at Ramblehouse. A simple bed sits against the wall opposite the door, neatly made but dusty. The wall to the right is nothing but book shelves, most of them bare. Of the dead man's once extensive collection only a dozen or so tomes were spared, as a well as a shelf of personal journals and notebooks. To the left are a cramped writing table and chair squeezed in next to a wardrobe, which now holds only a change of bedding and some old outfits about ready for the rag pile. A pair of racks flanking the door, clearly meant to store armor and weapons, stand empty.

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Asdoukar looks at the tomes and journals with a disdainful look. He is not a man of scrolls and the human language lacks the solidity of the dwarven rune. Why doesn't anyone use the dependable dwarven script is beyond Asdoukar. Racial shortsightedness probably.

With a look at the more lore-learned members in the party, Asdoukar goes over the room inch by inch.


Take 20 to Perception for 26.

Also just noticed that Asdoukar has Local... Had forgotten about that!

[Bhaakon]

Taking his time and going over the room systematically, Asdoukar comes to one simple conclusion: only one person has been in this room in the last few weeks, and only briefly. The dust layer on the floor isn't substantial, but it's thick enough to show tracks, one set, and left within the last few days. It leads to the book shelf, meanders back and forth, and then heads back for the door. A square scuff mark on the plank floor suggests that whoever left the tracks set down a crate near the bookshelves. Asdoukar recalls that Rodrik sold much of his collection to provide the very gold now weighing down his belt.

Disinterested as he is in ephemeral human scribblings, there's one fact about the books that Asdoukar can't help but notice. Rodrik's journals and notebooks are all marked with dates on the spine, a personal record starting nearly fifteen years back and continuing unbroken until about four months ago. The most recent journal is not present, and you didn't find it in his rented room.

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Asdoukar gets up from measuring the floor for hidden compartments and dusts himself off. He eases his beard and massages his knee as he addresses the others.

"Well, this human only came here once. And he took with him a journal, the last one, which is not here. I guess that this journal was the reason he was killed.

And he writes a poem about a half-orcish child, right about the time one is missing. Strange coincidences. "

[stack]

Eric aids in the search after asking Kurst, "Do you know of any contact your brother had with Herred or the Sarah's new assistant? We would like to find them, see if they know anything."

[bcool999]

Jeis

Jeis also looks through the room, and goes to the book shelf to see what books Rodrik decided to keep, he even leafs through a few of them, just in case Rodrik left a message in one of them or something.

After that he starts searching the furniture for secret compartments.

Taking 20 on perception: 24

[Bhaakon]

Kurst answer to Eric's question isn't especially interesting. "Well, Rodrik and I both delivered the militia orders to Sara, d-depending on which of us was free. I'm sure he'd seen her new apprentice around the Clamor. S-sara goes through them pretty fast, though. She likes to take in strays, often with no experience at all, but her standards of work are very high, and she can give a tongue lashing like a drill sergeant."

"I could tell a few of my men to keep an eye out, if you like. Trunau is a tough p-place to hide for long."


The books remaining aren't particularly valuable or interesting as far as Jeis can see. Mostly they're collections of poetry and drama, worn and dog-eared. Chelaxian Opera, Taldan Epics, a odd little book of dirty limericks carved in Absalom tavern tables, and a three volume set of selected Ulfen sagas. The journals are mostly dry accounts of Rodrik's daily life, interspersed with scraps and drafts of his own creative writting. Jeis flips through hoping for a clue to fall out from between the pages, but he's not so lucky. None of the room's walls or furniture is hiding any secret compartments, either.

[stack]

"Can they be subtle about it? We do not want to spook her. No pursuit, no questioning, just have them tell you if she turns up."

[Bhaakon]

Kurst nods. "Yes, I-I think. I'll just ask a few of my trusted men to r-report in if she's spotted, and not let her l-leave through the gate."

[stack]

"Very good. i think we may go look in at Herrod's farm, just in case. I swear he is dead and our witness mistaken, but we have little else to go on."

[Desril]

Sylvia

Shaking her head, Sylvia finally speaks up after having zoned out and been lost in her own thoughts for too long. "Don't tell them to stop her from leaving. Just keep an eye out. Don't do anything that might scare her off." Turning to the others, she continues, "Meanwhile, let's go find Rodrik's friends first. Any evidence that might be at the farm has been there for a while. Another hour or so won't change anything, there's no sense in rushing that when circumstances with Rodrik's friends can change much more quickly and readily."

[Bhaakon]

Kurst nods his understanding of Sylvia's suggestion. "I-if you think it best." He replies. "I'll just tell them to report if they see her, n-nothing more. And if you're l-looking for Sergeant Omast, he's st-stations at the southern t-tower today. If he's not at The Killin' Grounds." He names the town's most infamous drinking house.

"He's a g-good man, but he's taken Rodrik's death poorly. H-he might turn to old habits" Kurst sighs and frowns. If you've nothing left to ask, he reaches for the ledgers once more.


***

As it turns out, Rodrik is right on bother counts. You do find Sergeant Omast at the south tower, nursing a large jug of the The Killin' Grounds' finest moonshine. Someone has painted a big white cross, or maybe a cruciform sword, on the side of the tower, and Omast is attacking the graffiti with a boar-bristle brush, alternating sipping his hooch and splashing it against the wall. The infamous rotgut isn't living up to its paint-stripping reputation, as the white cross sticks stubbornly to the stone.

"...more shtubborn than goose shyte, this shtuff." He mutters to no one. "Gunna crack shome fingers when I find who did thish. Make 'em beg fer latrine duty. Hur-hur, latrine duty. Hur, hur, hur."

[bcool999]

Jeis

Surprised to see that Omast had managed to get a jug of the Killing Ground's brew while on duty, Jeis wonders just how helpful the Sergeant will be. Nevertheless, he decides to ask about the graffiti to give the man a nice neutral topic to start off with. "Hey Omast, what is with the paint?"

[Bhaakon]

"*Hurp* Shtubborn's all, little Jeish." Omast slurs back without bothering to turn away from his scrubbing. The way his legs are swaying, you get the impression that he'd fall down if he didn't have his brush hand resting against the tower. "Shtupid little 't's' keep poppin' up all over the lasht day or three. Can't git 'em off with lye shoap and wader. Thought I'd conferskate some of Rabus's 'shine to help, but it ain't doin' the job neither. That'll learn me to take his sorry arse at his word, eh?" He takes another deep hit off the bottle. "'Strong enuf to eat through an ankheg's armor,' bah! I bet this shtuff ain't even strong enuf to burn."

The paint's indelible nature is enough to identify it as Marker Dye, an alchemical stain that's immune to anything short of magical erasure for the first 72 hours after it's been applied. Jeis has seen his father mix up a batch for an order, but not recently.

No deity or cult uses an unadorned cross as a symbol so far as you're aware, but the graffiti could be a crude representation of the Iomedae's sword. If so, the vandal seems to have been too hurried or insufficiently talented to render the symbol properly.

[bcool999]

Jeis

That moonshine was strong enough to burn, Jeis knew that for a fact. Back when his dad had attempted to make a throwable potion of fireball the ingredient that ultimately doomed the project was none other than the Killing Ground's moonshine. His father had since done everything he could to try and figure out how it was brewed, though his samplings never seemed to return results.

"I wouldn't blame the strength of the moonshine Omast. I would hazard that it would work for paint fine, but that's Marker Dye you got there. Dang near impossible to get it off once it sets unless you plan to gouge out the wall. Best get a wizard or some powerful solvent if you need it removed." Hoping that his assurance that the dye will not come off will get the sergeant to cease his furious scrubbing Jeis continues, "If you wouldn't mind Omast, could we speak to you for a moment about Rodrik? We know you two were close, and since we are investigating his murder we were hoping you could give us a list of enemies Rodrik may have had."

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Asdoukar breaks off staring at the alchemical paint long enough to join in.

"...Or friends. Unusual friends that is. Rodrik was a good man, and perhaps he had unusual compant these last days. Everything would help.

But stop the brushing for a minute. This is thirsty work. Here, have a drink of water. It is official militia work we are conducting here, noone will have anything to say".

Asdoukar knew that drink and extertion do not make good companions. A bit of water would help.

[Bhaakon]

"Yesh, yesh, Thirsty work. Thank you kindly, sir." Says Omast as he accepts long pull from Asdoukar's proffered waterskin. It doesn't magically sober the ma up, but at least it gets him to put down the brush for a minute and actually turn to face you. He returns the skin when he's done, a good bit lighter.

"Sho you think it's some kinda magic paint?" Omast finally answers Jeis, absentmindedly wringing spilled water out of his goatee. "Explains a lot, I guessh. Maybe hafta chisel it off, or make a call on Agrit."

But the rmoval of the distraction of scrubbing, however pointless, darken's the drunken man's mood, and the mention of Rodrik sends him reeling near to tears. "But if you want to talk 'bout Rodrik, I...I don't know." He fights off a sob by reach for the jug of moonshine once more. "I was the firsht one, you know? First guard to see him like that, havin' sliced hisself up. I knew that thing with his Pa tore him up, but I guessh...Damn It! Ish my fault. Shoulda kept quiet. Gonna keep quiet. You'll hafta talk with Jagrin. Not my place. Learned my leshon."


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

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Asdoukar darkens at the mention of the half-crazy human. Talking with him would be all but impossible. He glances at the others, hoping that they will hop in with their silver tongues.

[bcool999]

Jeis

Flustered slightly that what he said was such a trigger for the man, Jeis tries to get Omast to open up by telling him the truth about Rodrik's death. "Wait, Omast, Kurst hired us to investigate Rodrik's death and we have already determined that Rodrik didn't kill himself. He was murdered. Could you please tell us what happened between Rodrik and his Dad? Was it about that poem?"

[Bhaakon]

"*Hurp*, He didn't kill hisself?" Omast screws up his face in genuinely confusion, forgetting that we was on the verge of tears a moment ago. "But I saw. Are you shure? Looked pretty certain, I thought. But whatta I know? Nothing, I guess."He sighs heavily but doesn't reach for the bottle again. "Well if it were murder, then I guessh It couldn't a been my fault."

"You see, I told Jagrin. I told him 'bout Brinya. Omasht, you ogre-brained dolt. Washn't that dumb poem, Jagrin probably didn' even read it. Nah, I shaw Rodrik an' Brinya sneakin' off together. Thought Jagrin knew, and said something stupid. Never saw a man turn red like that. Thought the old man'd stroked out on the spot. The bashtard damned near drew his sword on Rodrik that night, when he tossed his own son out on the street."

He shakes his head, his regret still evident. "But if that fight didn' drive Rodrik to suicide...then I didn't have a hand in it, you see? My hands are clean..." The Omast claps both hands on Jeis's shoulders, pulling the young man close. "Right? Right?"

Brinya Kelver is a local weaver. She's also a half-orc.You know of the boardinghouse where she lives and works

400 for getting Brinya's name

[Desril]

Sylvia

Brinya? I know that name...Did I meet her last night? Or was it just someone talking about her...well, guess I'll find out soon enough.

Moving up to try and put a comforting hand on Omast's shoulder, "You're right, you can't be blamed for what happened. But that also means you don't have an excuse to throw yourself so hard into this," she says reaching for his bottle. "Why don't you grab a bite to eat and go get some rest? It wouldn't do for you to be drunk off your ass when we catch the bastard that killed Rodrik, right?"


K: Local [roll0] Do I know anything else about her?

[Bhaakon]

"Yer right. Could use shome food, and a nap. Maybe a nap first." Omast replies, letting go of Jeis. "You'll tell me when you find the bashtard who did in Rodrik, won't you? Promise me, and promise you won't tell Kurst or Jagrin 'bout...'bout this." He waves has hand around, indicating the bottle and himself in the wild gesture.

You don't really know anything about her. You're pretty certain she's been in Trunau for a long time, definitely much longer than you. If she was at the party last night, you didn't see her.

[bcool999]

Jeis

Trying gamely to keep a supportive face as Omast's pungent brewery breath rolls over him from the mans proximaty, Jeis is stricken mute but nods enthusiastically as Sylvia proclaims Omast's innocence. As he is released from the mans grip he says his farewells promising to keep the drinking under his hat before starting to move away from the guard and talk to the others privately.

"Well... that was informative. So Rodrik was seeing Brinya. No wonder Jagrin kicked him out, a man like Jagrin who started back up the old way would be incised at such an event." Jeis looks sideways at the others, "Perhaps incised enough to kill from what Omast said... Still, so far we have only gossip and hearsay and nothing that relates to the note, but maybe if we go talk to Brinya she might be able to fill us in Jagrin and Rodrik."

[Desril]

Sylvia

Still holding the bottle taken from Omast, having discretely kept it for herself after giving the drunk a little encouragement, she takes a quick swig while Jeis speaks up. "I doubt it was Jagrin, at least, not just because he was pissed about his son's lover. He may be heartless, but I doubt he's crazy enough to do that. I think Brinya is a good lead though, we definitely need to go talk to her. What'd you think though? Hit the farm first, or check her out?"

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Asdoukar helps the drunk man up and watches him go.

"I know this Brinya. She lives and works over there. But why would anyone kill over her? I also do not see a father killing his son over it. It also does not explain the missing diary and why Rodrik wanted something investigated. On the other hand, it explains the missing hopeknife. A shamed father would not want his son to have the family hopeknife.

But let 's meet Brinya. Perhaps Rodrik had said said something to her. People say strange things when in love."

Local [roll0]

[stack]

"Its true that the farm will wait. Let us go see her, perhaps she can provide a clue, even if she does not realize its importance."

[Bhaakon]

You leave the south tower as Omast staggers off to scrounge up a meal and a bunk, in the very opposite direction of the Longhouse barracks, where he'd usually find both. The trudge back up Bloodmarch Hill, to the boardinghouse where Brinya makes her home, is an interesting one. Word of your investigation has spread some, and while the locals aren't exactly avoiding you, you can't help but notice that many conversations end when you walk past. The few times that you manage to catch a snippet of those exchanges, they're usually about you or Rodrik's death--no, his murder. It would seem that you've become the center of Trunau gossip.

But that the news hasn't spread everywhere. You find Brinya's door locked, and the parchment-thin walls of the cheap boardinghouse aren't up to the task of holding in the woman's sobs. You knock politely, then, when she doesn't answer, more insistently. Her voice breaks as she asks you to wait a moment, and it takes a few minutes for her to compose herself, but eventually Brinya cracks the door open and peeps out with one blood-shot eye.

"You...you're that kid from That'n'Such. Um, Little Jeis, I think? And you..." She glances at Eric, "I've seen you before. Wha...what are you doing here? I...I'm very busy." She asks meekly.


http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee498/Bhaakon/Brinya.jpg

[stack]

Eric bows his head in greeting, then speaks softly. "We are sorry to disturb you, but we are trying to find out as much about Roderick and the last while as we can. We know he didn't kill himself and need to learn as much as we can to find out who did it and why. Can we talk a bit?"[roll0]

[Bhaakon]

"I don't know why you'd talk to me about that. I don't even know..." Brinya begins, even as Eric is explaining. But mention of the details of Rodrik's death brings her up short. "Wait. I-it wasn't suicide? Then...someone did this to him? It wasn't our argument, or the fight with his Father, then? Yes...please come in. Um..there isn't much space. Let me move some things."

She opens the door wide, revealing a cramped space that's barely large enough to hold a cot and clothes chest squeezed in next to a hand loom, rolled textiles, and hanks of yarn. Except for the door and a tiny window, every scrap of wall space is covered with geometrical tapestries in a riot of colors. Brinya, in comparison, is dressed in simple whites and earth tones. As the half-orc bends over to move some things around, making room enough for you to stand in the crowded room, her hopeknife pendant slips out from blouse. The hilt features a rampant griffon inlay on ironwood, same as Kurst's.

[bcool999]

Jeis

Eyes widening as he spots the hopeknife Jeis feels compelled to say, "I am sorry for your loss." Jeis says pointing to the hopeknife around Brinya's throat, "That's Rodrik's right? We heard some gossip that you two were seeing each other, but I didn't realize it had gone far enough for engagement. Please, if you could tell us about these arguments you mentioned, and anything else Rodrik may have told you he was worried about or looking into, I promise we will bring his killer to justice."

[roll0]

[Bhaakon]

Brinya's hand wraps around the hopeknife defensively as Jeis points out its provenance. "The engagement was supposed to be a secret." She begins, slipping the knife back under her blouse, "but I suppose it doesn't matter now. We exchanged blades after...after Jagrin blew up at him. Somehow he'd found out that we were seeing each other. I don't know how. We were always so careful, meeting in the plague house well after dark."

She staggers over to her cot, pulling the bedding around herself as she sits down. "I'd thought Rodrik was being ridiculous. All the secrecy, like we was ashamed of me, but...but it was really Jagrin. He was ashamed of his Father, of what he might say or do, and of the others in the militia who quietly shared that old bigot's opinions. Even after the fight, Rodrik was afraid to make our relationship public. I...I think he was hoping to convince Jagrin, that he might see reason, but I was still angry that he wouldn't tell his friends, his brother."

She continues. "Then suddenly, a few weeks ago, he ended our meetings in the plague house. He said it wasn't safe anymore, but wouldn't tell me why. Said it might be important, maybe militia business, or it might be nothing. Either way, he didn't want to worry me. I...I think he told Katrezra, that old kook in the Sanctuary, but he wouldn't tell me anything. But by then Jagrin had already heard, so we didn't have to be as careful. We could meet here, or in his room, or somewhere else out of sight. Just not in public."

"But the secrets, they still bothered me. And then yesterday I noticed...saw that he didn't have his hopeknife, my hopeknife, the one I'd given him. He said he'd lost it somewhere, that he'd find it, but I was so angry. It wasn't about the knife, not really, it was all the secrecy, the shame and cowardice. I told him that...I said we were through. That if he ever wanted to meet again, he'd better come to me wearing my hopeknife, and do it in public, in front of everyone. He...he just left..." She breaks off, the sobs returning, and buries her face in her blanket.

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Asdoukar is quite unaccustomed to public displays of emotion. His time in the Deeps and in the Wilds have not prepared him for it. He tugs his beard and massages his knee a a bit absentmindedly as the half orc breaks in tears. Trying to help, he says

"We found out that he had indeed lost your hopeknife somewhere, miss. He had ordered a replacement. He would come to you again. And now, we know that when we find your hopeknife, we will have found why Rodrik was killed. He was a good man. He would do the brave thing. And now, you have helped us find his murderer"

He looks at the others. This mention of the cook Katrezia and of the plague house has made him restless. They were getting closer.

[stack]

"So, how did he lose the knife then? I suppose the sanctuary is our next stop. Thank you for your help." Eric muses, then suggests their next course of action.

[Desril]

Sylvia

The dhampir looks at Eric. "If we find his murderer, we might find the knife. It's possible that it was stolen from him while he was investigating...whatever it was that got him killed."

[bcool999]

Jeis

Agreeing with the others assessment that they were done here, Jeis thanks Brinya for her help and tells her to get in contact with them if she remembers anything else. Once they have left the boardinghouse, Jeis says, "Yeah we are definitely making progress... I just don't like the way the investigation is going. I would totally believe Jagrin capable of murdering Rodrik over hearing about this engagement... I also really hope that this doesn't lead out to the plague house. My powers are tied to the plane of Aether, so creepy haunted places and me don't mix well..."

[Bhaakon]

You quietly excuse yourself as Brinya continues sobbing into her blanket. She gives a tearful nod when Jeis suggests contacting you with any further information, but can't hold her composure long enough to give a proper farewell. Once the door is shut you hurry out of the cramped boarding house and discuss matters outside, eventually deciding that tracking down Katrezra is the best course of action.

Those native to Trunau are passingly familiar with the eccentric half-orc, a scarred and crippled old man who was long ago given permanent refuge in the Sanctuary of Iomedae. He claims prophetic power granted by the mysterious Brimstone Haruspex, but most in Trunau agree that he's just mad, and the Iomedaeans keep watch on him as a charity.

The Brimstone Haruspex is a temple built atop a volcano in the Kodar mountains where orcish chieftains send for oracular advice on important decisions. The priesthood there is secretive in the extreme, but most agree that they achieve their prophesy by dangling volunteers or victims above an active caldera until the caustic fumes cause visions (or hallucinations, it's difficult to say).

But when you reach the Sanctuary, you find that he's not in his quarters. When questioned, the acolytes mention seeing the old half-orc hobbling away with a big sack slung over his shoulder some time that morning. You're allowed to examine his room with a little convincing (dropping the Chief Defender's name helps here) and find his small chamber a shambles. Books on gyromancy, tasseography, scapulimancy, and other obscure forms of divination are stacked on an unmade bed. Someone seems to have begun rolling up a large poster outlining the key points of reading omens from a calf's liver, but thought better of it and set the thing aside. About half of the book collection seems to be missing, though, along with any clothing and weapons Katrezra might have kept here.

The coals in the fireplace are nearly cool, but you notice something odd poking out from the ashes. The shoulder blade of an ox or similar creature, inscribed with letters, drilled full of holes, and cracked by the fire. A simple question is carved at one end in common, "Where should I run?" , with a score of answers written around the edges ranging from "Ramblehouse" to "Arcadia," the distant continent across the western seas.

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Asdoukar takes a look at the room and sniffs disdainfully. The half orc must indeed be mad. He then goes carefully and systematically over the room, but his search turns out nothing, except the old bone.

Asdoukar turns to the others.

"This ...kook believed in his own powers, it seems. He is running and will keep running. This is the second half orc that skips town.

Something is coming. And those who know are fleeing like gerdakuns in thardaks*.

We should visit the plague house and then the farm."

* dwarven expression, meaning tongues of flame over the forge.

[bcool999]

Jeis

At the mention of going to the plague house, Jeis seems physically unwell but nods his head in agreement with the dwarf. "I am inclined to agree... let's inform the church that their extended house guest seems to have skipped town and focus back on the investigation, wherever it may lead..." Jeis says with a tone of resignation.

[stack]

"Agreed, let the priests know, then to the plague house."

[Desril]

Sylvia

Not having a better idea, Sylvia simply nods her head in agreement with the others. Plague house, then farm.

[Bhaakon]

With Katrezra in the wind, you search out the ranking cleric in the Sanctuary to inform her that the half orc is missing. You find High Priestess Tyari Varvatos outside, examining another of those white cross-shaped symbols painted on an outcropping of Bloodmarch Hill bedrock that juts out of the cliff behind the temple. From the look of things the acolytes have already tried to scour it off, but only managed to polish the granite around the symbol. When informed of the graffiti's alchemical nature, she nods and says that she'd expected a much.

The priestess takes the news of Katrezra flight without any sign of surprise. "Yes, well, the man was...touched. I thought it was more than simple madness myself, but that didn't make his actions any less strange or more predictable. I will have the faithful keep an eye out for him, and inform you if he returns."

You can speak with her more if you like, or move on the the second part of the post below


***

The Plaguehouse sits outside the gates of Trunau, a former temple of Iomedae built against the Freestone, an enormous granite boulder on the southern flank of Bloodmarch Hill. The Trunauans initially distrusted The Lady of Valor because of her association with the nation of Lastwall. Even generation removed, native Trunauans still rankled at being abandoned to fend for themselves on the wrong side of the border, bearing a grudge strong enough to banish Iomedae's clerics outside the walls when the Plaguehouse was constructed. Tensions have eased significantly since, and the Iomedaeans were allowed to rebuild within the town proper when the Plaguehouse was burned and their order slaughtered nearly to a man by orcish raiders.

But building's thick stone walls survived, which is why the Trunau council decided to hastily throw a roof on the structure and use it as an infirmary during a particularly virulent plague epidemic some 50 years past. A mysterious second fire put an end to that plan, killing patients and healers alike just days after the repairs were completed. Thus the site's current name and the reputation for being haunted. Two fires and several dozen deaths tend to start those kind of rumors.

Not that the rumors stop people from visiting. Usually adolescents looking for a fright, trysting lovers, or anyone else seeking privacy without straying far from Trunau's walls.

Those of you unfamiliar with the structure are surprised to see that the temple's old stained glass windows survived both fires with little more than a heavy layer of soot staining their inside. You can't help but conclude that there's magic at work, a practical enchantment by the original builders to make a temple situated outside the walls more defensible. Even the doors are more or less intact, though the walls themselves have begun to crumble in places. The northwest corner has fallen into a heap of rubble, revealing a short hallway, and a sinkhole has opened a huge rent in the northern wall of the building. The southern face is intact, but you notice a fire pit nestled up against the structure where it wouldn't bee seen from the hill above. It's seen recent use, but not so recent that the coals are still warm.

http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee498/Bhaakon/plaguehouse1.png

Obvious entrances labeled. You can try to get inside other ways, if you think of any.

I'll need a climb check from anyone trying to climb down sinkhole C

[bcool999]

Jeis

Seeing the temple folk going to work on the symbol, Jeis says, "Who keeps drawing these all around town? It seems a little excessive for petty vandalism..." He listens to the High Priestess's insights on the matter before going with the others to Jeis's least favorite place.

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

Those that pay attention to Jeis as they approach the plague house see him start to scratch himself incessantly. As though something is making his skin crawl. He tries to avoid looking at the building as much as possible, and checks how much daylight is left in the day as though worried of being caught here after dark. As the party passes by the Northwest corner Jeis suddenly speaks as though compelled to by the place. "This is where my powers first awakened..." Jeis says his voice distant despite his proximity, "Me and a few others came here trying to impress a pretty girl. Usual dumb kid crap. Big dumb jackass threw weak little me into the house and held the door shut. It was dark and I couldn't see a thing. I eventually looked for the back door, but was afraid of the sinkhole. Everywhere I went was just another cold stone wall and the sound of the others laughing their heads off outside."

Jeis pauses to shake his head as though dismissing the memory. "Eventually I was so tired and angry and scared I just threw all my frustration at the wall in front of me... and it buckled. The others ran screaming that I was possessed by the dead. Apparently I was silhouetted with unearthly light and my eyes glowed white and pupiless that night." Jeis runs a hand through his hair and growls, "I'm not staying here longer than I must, so let's get it over with." With that, Jeis moves to open the main doors of the place.

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Asdoukar looks at the stone walls with a bit of racial curiocity. Good, stout walls, though why humans kept building above ground was a mystery to him. He knew of the place, but has never been here. After Jeiss tells his story, he looks around again. He has never understood what this himan can do, though stories in Trunau abound. He seems a good enough lad. His heart in the right place. A wizard perhaps? But what do they do, Asdoukar also did not know.


"It seems to me you showed them right and gained a measure of yourself in the purpose. Not bad. Kids need these kinds of lessons you gave. It strengthens character.

I have never seen the Dharth Kara, the Restless Departed, but I have known good soldiers that have. I hear that an axe to the head is as effective in death as in life.

But I do not like the place. Let 's go through the great doors. But let me see if I can see anything first.

I wonder, do the strange cross things appearing in town have anything to do with here? It used to be of the Iomedea, no?"

Perception 1d20++ and Survival to see for recent tracks 1d20++

EDIT: Le moi stupid player is stupid. OOC it is

[Bhaakon]

The weather stained, fire-scarred oaken double door of the old temple are heavy, but not locked. Jeis pushes hard and, eventually, they give way with piercing screech of hinges left un-oiled in living memory. Large sections of the ceiling have been burned away or collapsed under the annual assault of Belkzen's ferocious spring storms, allowing the afternoon light to filter down through charred beams and whatever blackened roof slates remain stubbornly in place. The building is noticeably cooler than outside, and still reeks of fire some five decades after the last tragedy.

The far wall of the temple's central hall is the natural face of the Freestone. Off to one side the rough sheet of granite forms an alcove around a large bookcase, and next to it a small cabinet rests against the cut stone wall. On the exposed section of the Freestone beside the bookcase someone has splattered blood-red paint or dye into a stylized, more jagged version of orcish runes. They spell out "SKREED," which isn't a word in Orcish (or any other language you know, for that matter).

Asdoukar scans the grounds for signs of recent passers by, finding plenty. Numerous pairs of humanoid feet have been through here since the last rain, shod in everything from hobnail boots to some sort of high-heeled dress shoe. A more troubling spoor can be found near the collapsed wall in the northwestern corner of the building, two parallel patterns made of small, closely-spaced disturbances about a hand-span apart. Any adventurer worth his salt recognizes the tracks of a giant centipede.

http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee498/Bhaakon/plaguehouse1_1.png

Looters, weather, and rodents have long since stripped the bookcase of its original burden, but you immediately notice that it's not empty. A loop of silver chain dangles off the top shelf, a silver chain attached to a delicate but finely crafted dagger. It's a hopeknife, exactly like the one you found on Rodrik and handed over to Jagrin, except that this one has "For Rodrik, my love" engraved on the blade. Nearby "R+B" has recently been carved into the hardwood of the bookcase, the the newest among many similar carvings.

The frame of the bookcase seems surprisingly sturdy for human construction, holding up against two fires and decades of exposure with only some light scorching and water staining. In contrast, the back piece is loose and splitting. At first you mark it down to lazy craftsmanship or inferior repair work, but then you notice tell-tale wear marks suggesting that the damaged piece was meant to be removed. You work it loose with the blade of your dagger and pull it out, revealing a jewel-encrusted silver coffer stuffed with crystal vials and rolled parchment.

Jeweled coffer (500 gp)
2x vials of holy water
Potion of Shield of Faith
Oil of Magic Weapon
2x Scrolls of Knock
Scroll of Summon Swarm

1000, for finding Rodrik's missing hopeknife.

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Asdoukar spends several minutes lookinga round the ground, sometimes literally tasting the dirt. When he gets to the north wall, he frowns and points to the strange tracks.

"Giant bug, for sure. Bet its lair is down there"

But it only when Sylvia gets in the search, near the bookcase, that thing get interesting. When the hopeknife is found, Asdoukar starts palming his beard.

"What have we here... How do you think this came here? I do not see how that was lost. It was left here. Perhaps someone wanted to propose here? Strange humans... "

But the bookcase had even more surprises. Looking even closer, with a greedt gleam in his eyes, Asdoukar takes a small, onbviously expensive coffer out. Parchments and phials appear, when he opens it. Asdoukar turns to the more arcane savvy people on the group for answers.

[Desril]

Sylvia

Glancing to Jeis, she gives a little toothless grin, "Why wouldn't you want to come back here? Don't you want to understand how your powers work? How else are you going to master your ability if you don't even know what it is? This is a good place to start."

****

Handing the hopeknife to Asdoukar, she purses her lips while listening to him. "No, I doubt that's it. Rodrik might have left it here for some reason, safe keeping, maybe? But he wouldn't have tried to propose in a place like this. Still, Brinya will be relieved to have this, I think."

But why was it here? Was Rodrik using this place to look into something in secret? Or was it stolen and stashed here by someone else? We need more information.


Seeing the potions and the scrolls though, Sylvia shakes her head and looks to Jeis. "I've neglected studying enchanted objects, I'm afraid I won't be able to tell what these are without taste testing them."

[Bhaakon]

The excitement of discovering the hopeknife and secreted coffer proves ample distraction for the predator making its home in the blackened beams of the old temple's ceiling. Silently scuttling from one rafter to the next, the hairy, chitinous horror had been stalking you since you first entered the Plaguehouse, but even its primitive nerve-sack of a mind could comprehend that it was outnumbered, that it should bide its time until an opening presents itself, then pounce on the weakest-looking of its prey. The opening of the coffer was just the opportunity it was waiting for.

A heavy weight drops on Sylvia's shoulders, threatening to drive the slight woman to the floor. Twin lances of agony burst through her shoulder and the weight disappears, replaced by a spreading, tingling numbness that somehow feels worse than the pain it's dulling.

4 damage, DC 16 Fort Save or [roll0] Strength damage

The others see a flash of movement as the enormous hunting spider drops down, forelegs and cephalothorax settling on Sylvia just long enough for dagger-length fangs to slip into the flesh of her shoulder. Then it retreats a step on its eight legs, each as thick as a man's arm, waiting for the poison to do its work.

Belkzen is a land notorious for producing creatures that are bigger and tougher than just about anywhere else, and this arachnid is no exception. It's larger and stouter than giant spiders from more civilized lands, with a coarse layer of bristles serving as an extra layer of protection on top of its chitinous exoskeleton. You wouldn't be surprised if its venom was stronger as well.

Surprise round is over (I rolled perception in the OOC, Asdoukar missed by 1 :smalltongue:). Good thing, since you trounced the spider on initiative. It probably wouldn't have gotten to act at all if it hadn't surprised you. All the PCs are up, and don't worry about posting in order. I'll sort out any conflicting actions if they arise.

*Asdoukar
Jeis
Eric
Sylvia
Spider

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

[Desril]

Sylvia
HP 3/7 +4 Temp HP
AC 13

Stumbling, Sylvia cries out in pain as the spider bites into her shoulder, its venom already burning her, Damn, I should've been more careful!

Quickly glancing around, she tries to figure out where to go before realizing that the spider's managed to trap her in the corner and that there isn't any way out. Drawing her rapier, she quickly darts to move behind the creature, calling out with a pained tone, "Kill this thing, quick! I...I don't feel so good." Realizing that leaving herself open like this might end badly, however, she erects a shadowy barrier around herself. That should help some...come on you damned bug, try that again and see what happens.


5ft step to behind the spider, flanking with Asdoukar

K: Nature [roll0]

Move action to draw Rapier (like it'll help)
Swift Action to use Twilight Barrier (Arcane Pool 2/4)
Standard to stab at the spider [roll1]
Damage [roll2]

Though if it dies before my turn, saving that AP point will be nice. In any event, I'll be siphoning its life force if it's dying but not dead when my turn comes.

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar
HP14 AC17

Engrossed in the study of the findings, Asdoukar only hears the thump. Looking up, he sees the spider already at work. He recognizes at first glance.

"Be careful! This spider bug is larger and better protected than other giant spiders. Its venom would be strong!"

Taking a step, he swings his long axe in a wide powerful circle, going for the soft spots between the carapace.

Power Attack with flank [roll0] dmg [roll1]

[bcool999]

Jeis

Surprised by the spider's fall from the ceiling onto his ally, Jeis blinks for a moment before saying, "Seems like we found a squatter in this dilapidated wreck..."

With a flick of his hand, Jeis then sends a piece of rubble at the spider.

Telekinetic Blast: [roll0] Damage: [roll1] Bludgeoning damage (+1 to attack and damage from point blank shot added.
Confirm: [roll2] Damage: [roll3]

[stack]

As Jeis tells the story of his last visit to the plague house, Eric looks away sheepishly. "Yeah, sorry about that. Stupid kid stuff. I got paddled good when my pa found out. No hard feelings?"

...

He quitely helps the others search. When the spider appears, he whips out his trusty bow and lets fly a shaft that bursts into flame on impact. tie in backgrounds?

in stance of piercing rays (never have to leave it, so always in it) for +1d6 fire, using Horizon Wind Lancet boost as a swift, making one attack

[roll0] (includes PBS)
damage [roll1] + [roll2] + [roll3] fire

[Bhaakon]

The spider's eight legs twitch and dance, sending the bloated arachnid through a mesmerizing dance of avoidance that might be considered mesmerizing if the creature doing it didn't have eight eyes and venom-dripping fangs longer than your hand. It bobs down under Jeis's hurled chunk of cornice work, adroitly side-stepping both Asdoukar's powerful swing and Sylvia's awkward lunge.

Eric manages to time the thing's feints correctly, burying a flaming arrow in the spider's bristle-coated abdomen. The spider convulses in pain and the stench of smoldering hair fills the room. It wheels on the archer and charges with a halting scuttle, just deceptive enough to prevent anyone from interrupting its advance. But Eric reads its movements well, and easily dodges.

Another DC 16 Fort save or [roll0] strength damage

I just remembered why I usually do maps in excel instead of paint--saved changes are permanent. Oh well. This combat isn't complicated enough to make a map strictly necessary.

The spider moved to I6

[bcool999]

Jeis

Distracted by the revelation that Eric was there that night, as Jeis's recollection of that night was hazy at best, Jeis nearly jumps out of his skin as the spider skitters past to stop Eric from releasing more flaming missiles.

Taking a quick step back (K7), Jeis pulls out his sickle for defense and hurls more masonry at the spider.

5ft. step to K7, Move action draw Sickle, Standard action Telekinetic Blast.

Attack: [roll0] Damage: [roll1]

[stack]

"Just roll over and die, blasted bug!" Eric calls as he looses another shot. encouraging roar to give everyone +2 morale bonus to all attacks and damage
att [roll0]
damage [roll1] + [roll2] fire

[Bhaakon]

Pain and injury steal the enormous spider's agility, and Eric getting to shoot from point-blank range certainly doesn't help the arachnid avoid a second salvo, so it's no surprise when the skilled archer plants an arrow in one of the thing's eight beady eyes. The dying spider folds up its legs into a surprisingly compact ball and begins convulsing in death throes that continue for some minutes.

If you want to chow down on its soul, go ahead. You'll gain 2 AP since it had more HD than you have levels. Additionally, you'll need to make saving throws to prevent the poison from running its course (these are in addition to the one from the previous GM post, so three total. Making one cures the poison and prevents all further damage):
Rd3:[roll0]
Rd4:[roll1]

600 for trouncing an advanced giant spider

As the chitinous horror curls in its death ball, you wearily eye the nearby doors and inky throat of the sink hole for any attention the brief battle might have attracted. Despite Eric's final bellow of encouragement and the stink of burning bug, it would seem that the melee went unnoticed. That, or whatever else haunts the Plaguehouse is waiting for a better opportunity.

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Preparing for a counter swing can be slow when you are wielding an axe your size. Not so with a bow, as Asdoukar watches two flaming arrows put the arachnid in arachnid hell. He gives it a good axe stroke to be sure it 's dead and turns to Eric.

"Those were good shots!"

He then looks around.

"Is everyone all right? You there Sylvia, how are you? We should continue."


I vote for the room in the HIJ south part of the map

[bcool999]

Jeis

Relaxing a bit after Eric's second arrow downs the spider, Jeis says, "I will definitely need to work on my aim... of course being here doesn't help... How about you Sylvia, are you alright?"

I agree to exploring the southern room.

[Desril]

Sylvia

As she watches her allies deal with the troublesome spider, the dhampir could feel the poison running its course, sapping her strength and making it difficult to move. When the over-sized arachnid falls, however, she limps her way over to its body, crouching down next to it, her eyes consumed by red. "You're not the only thing here with fangs," she mutters to it, not caring that it doesn't understand as she weakly puts a hand on it to hold it down and sinks her teeth into it, crunching through its exoskeleton in spite of her weakened state.

Making a weird face, as not even she can quite figure out if she's elated by the taste or disgusted by the source, a energy rises out of the spider and into Sylvia after a few moments and she finally stops her disgusting show and stands up. Or, rather, she tries to, using the wall for support as her knees shake under her own weight. "Damn...I can still move, but...barely. That poison hit me harder than I thought..."

What am I carrying? Spellbook, components, my armor, and the rapier. I don't care if I can't move, my spellbook and the components aren't going to leave my possession...the rapier isn't that heavy, but getting one of them to carry it might be a good idea. And dropping my robes might be suicidal ordinarily but I'm not sure I can move in them...she blushes, Then again, I'm also not alone. Muttering to herself aloud again, "No, probably not a good idea..."


Rolled in OOC

(1d20)[3]
(1d20)[12]
(1d20)[20]


Arcane Reservoir +2 for 4/4

[stack]

"What are you...that is disgusting. What are you?" Eric asks, backing away warily. Turning into a spider perhaps? Can spiders do that to people? That needed a reaction post.

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Asdoukar was wiping his axe from Angradd knows what since he did not hit anything when Sylvia goes near the spider and... feeds on it. Asdoukar 's beardy face manages to display a total show of confusion. He looks at Sylvia, then at the others and then back at Sylvia.

Is that something wizards do? Is she trying to cure herself from poison?

He approaches wearily and says

"If you are that hungry I have some dried jerky in my pack. Spiders are not edible."

[Desril]

Sylvia

On her feet now, though barely, and only thanks to the wall's support, Sylvia shakes her head at Asdoukar. "It wasn't that I was hungry," she says weakly, breathing heavily as the poison still flows through her veins and saps her strength so much that it even creeps into her voice. "There's...a great deal of energy in life. And when that life is...snuffed out...the energy goes with it. I know how to absorb...a bit of it. It's just sometimes...unappetizing," she says, forcing a toothy, bloody smile.

"Anyway...let's keep going. I'm not so...weak that a single spider bite will kill me."


Still can't believe I made that last save. Wonder what we would've done if I hadn't? Sylvia would've been so weak as to be helpless and unable to move until the damage wore off.

Anyway, she's kinda exhausted now, but not willing to stop.

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Asdoukar gets closer. He didn't mind people using dead things, but he had to make sure of something.

"You are alive, aren't you? I mean you are not one of those Restless?"

If the answer is no, Asdoukar grabs Sylvia 's hand to make sure it is warm. Satisfied - the Restless probably do not get poisoned- he says

"You are poison-weak. You need to lose something heavy. Remove the armor. I can carry it"

[Desril]

Sylvia

Chuckling weakly, she shakes her head. Letting Asdoukar take her hand, he can feel that her skin is cooler than it should be, but not quite as cold as death, and though it's faint, her pulse can still be noticed. "My father was, I suppose. I never met him myself...but I'm just as alive as you are. More...in tune with death, perhaps...but alive."

As he offers to carry her armor, she blushes again, glancing to the rest of the group, "Uh...I appreciate the offer....but this is as much my clothing...as it is armor...I wouldn't want to offend," she says, preferring to say it's for their benefit than admit she'd just be embarrassed.

[bcool999]

Jeis

Nodding in Sylvia's direction as she dines on the fallen spider Jeis says, "That is why I am cautious of exploring my powers too vigorously... power always comes at a price..."

Seeing how weak Sylvia is from the spider's venom, Jeis also says, "Don't push yourself too hard if you are feeling weak. I am sure we can find a curative in town either from the Iomedians or from my dad... though the former might expect a donation in return and the latter a payment for services rendered."

[Bhaakon]

The door to the south is stuck in a frame the settling of the slowly decaying temple, but the decoratively carved portal was never meant to be defensible even before they were ravaged by fire. A few stout shoulder checks split the burnt and rotten planks, spilling you onto a landing atop a stairway headed down. To your left lies a few scraps of lumber, all that remains of a wooden ladder once leading up into the temple's web of rafters. To the right is another door.

Directly in front of you is a steel lockbox, seemingly untouched by fire or weather. The scratches around the keyhole prove that more than one attempt has been made to open the chest, though it doesn't look like any have proven successful. Someone even tried to cut through the iron staples anchoring the box to the granite blocks of the floor, but left little more than a shallow groove in the metal and three broken rasps.

There's a weak aura of abjuration on the chest

Arcane Lock has been cast on this chest.

You catch the barest flash of movement from a fuzzy white-beige mass clinging to a crook in the burnt beams about 10 feet overhead. At first it looks like a bail of wool or cotton, or a huge hank of yarn like you saw in Brinya's room. Except that this one is pulsing and shifting. Your stomach clinches as you realize what you're seeing. It's a sack of spider eggs, like you'd find in an old store room or poorly-kept home, but this one is as large as the spider you left twitching in the other room.

A slit opens in the side of the egg sack as you watch and spiders as big across as your hand begin to pour out. Only a dozen or so at first, but the breach is widening.

http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee498/Bhaakon/Plaguehouse2.jpg

[bcool999]

Jeis

Seeing the locked chest, Jeis's hands immediately move to pull out his tools and have a crack at it. However, movement from his peripheral vision makes him notice the pulsing egg sack hatching right above him. Trying to quell the rising panic as countless poisonous spiders are born right before him the thought flies through his head, I wonder if they know we just killed their mum and are after revenge. and then his mouth finally catches up with his brain and he says, "Please someone tell me we have fire on hand to burn that." as he points at the egg sac in dread.

[stack]

"Bugger. Okay, one torch, coming right up." Eric reaches into his pack to retrieve a torch and flint and steel, working frantically to get it lit.

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Pointed by Jess, Asdoukar wastes no time at attacking the spiders before the make it out. He uses his longaxe as an horizontal broom,squiching spiders left and right.


PA atk dmg 1d12+7[/roll]

EDIT: Bah, the bad rolls continue. Not worth correcting the damage roll.

[Desril]

Sylvia

Seeing Asdoukar fruitlessly attack the egg sac and Jeis trying to light a torch, Sylvia sighs and stumbles toward them. "Stand back...I'll deal with this." She tries to sound angry, but in her weakened condition, it comes across more as winded and desperate. After giving her allies a chances to move aside, she slowly raises her arms and weaves intricate signs in the air, chanting in the arcane tongue, Now, let's put that energy I took to use!

A moment later, a jet of fire bursts from her hand, encompassing the entire swarm of arachnids.


Spending Arcane Resevoir to increase CL by 2. AR 3/4

Burning Hands (Ref half DC 16) [roll0]*1.5

Spells per day 3/4

[Bhaakon]

Whatever physical toll the spider venom has taken on Sylvia, her magic is utterly undiminished. Flame rolls out in a broad gout, completely enveloping the silken egg sac and the score or so hatchlings that have already emerged. A few second of constant jetting fire is more than enough to reduce the encapsulated swarm to a smoldering heap, flash-cooked spiders occasionally tumbling out to land on the stone floor in with a crispy crunch.

The iron chest proves only a bit more stubborn, forcing Jeis to make several attempts before the last of the magically reinforced tumblers finally slips into position. He raises the lid with a grunt of effort to reveal another potion vial, a small sheaf of scrolls, and a case of tiny quarrels, and a tastefully embellished hand crossbow.

400

1x potionPotion of Darkvision
1x scroll Barkskin
1x scroll Ghostbane Dirge

1x MW hand crossbow
10x bolts
10x cold iron bolts
10x alchemical silver bolts

http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee498/Bhaakon/Plaguehouse2.jpg

[Desril]

Sylvia

Breathing heavily, as if just keeping her arms raised to direct the spell tired her out, she sighs and glances to Asdoukar. There's no choice. I can barely stand up right now...I need to be able to move, in case we need to run out of here. Better blushing than dead. "Are...you still willing to hold on...to this for me?" She asks, tugging at her ceremonial armor's sleeve.

If he is, she quickly slips out of the silken robes, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she uses a hand to conceal her most intimate parts but otherwise tries to pretend like nothing is wrong. "I'm sorry I can't....help figure out what those do. I'll...have to fix that weakness...when we get out of here."


Sylvia strips down and hands off her Silken Ceremonial Armor and Rapier to Asdoukar, putting her back into a light load

[stack]

Eric gives an appreciative nod when the spiders are roasted, then finds himself looking away awkwardly shortly thereafter. He studies the hand crossbow to give himself something to focus on. "A nice piece, bit small for my taste. Could come in handy for one of you lot. Let's try that door next." He points to the single door opposite the chest.

[Bhaakon]

Eric tests the next door, another fire-damaged decorative affair, but while the settling building jammed the previous portal shut, this one is stuck open. It clatters against the wall when pushed open to reveal the soaring space once used as a hall of worship, and later as a sick room for plague victims.

A blackened altar sits near the far wall, flanked by a badly damaged statue of Iomedae and the collapsed remains of a table. Two rows of wrought iron bed frames dominate the floor space, all but one left bare of bedding by the fire. Some enterprising soul has seen fit to restore one of the cots, furnishing it with a simple hay-stuffed burlap mattress and moth-eaten sheet too badly stained to determine its original color.

Despite the conditions, the place has seen plenty of use as a trysting spot, evidenced by the forgotten cloaks, coats, and, in one case, a pair of trousers for an extremely rotund man. It's not hard to imagine eager lovers unable to find their recklessly discarded outwear in the dark, and too embarrassed to return in the daylight. How the pants-less man managed to sneak back into town unseen is a real mystery.

In addition to the lost clothing, a quick search uncovers a forgotten hopeknife (100 gp), a heart-shaped golden pendant (45 gp), and 6 gp 3 sp in assorted change.

You find a scuff mark on the stone blocks where one of the old bed frames has been pushed aside a number of times. Moving it aside yourself reveals a rather rickety-looking trapped door in the floor.

[bcool999]

Jeis

Almost afraid of turning around once he has finished opening the chest, Jeis wonders just where Sylvia was raised that she would consider such behavior. Face as red as a tomato, Jeis grabs a discarded cloak in the next room and thrusts it blindly behind him towards where he assumes Sylvia is, "Surely you aren't so weak from poison that you can't at least don a cloak?" Jeis says in exactly the opposite direction from Sylvia.

[roll0]

[stack]

Eric first sweeps the room, collecting various trinkets, before giving it another, more thorough check over just to be sure. taking 10 for 15 for the first go, then taking 20 to be sure. No time crunch, really.

Spotting the scuffed floor on his third pass by that bed, he pushes the frame aside to reveal the trap door. "Well well, look at that. Guess the church had a cellar. Wonder who has been using it?"

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar


Noding in appreciation at the arcanist, Asdoukar nevertheless spends some minutes cursing loudly at ddwarven.His performance has been subpar this last few days. He must get it together and soon.

When the female strips in frifront of him, Asdoukar looks surprised around, until he remembers the human views on nudity. Strange people.

But then the trapped door emerges. Asdoukar grins.

'WWhy don't we find out what is down there? Anyone good with traps? '

[Desril]

Sylvia

Seeing the cot, the naked dhampir stumbles toward it briefly, thought overcome by an exhaustion fueled urge to sleep. She pauses before getting there, however. What am I doing? There's no way I can sleep here. haking her head, she finally pots the discarded clothing and the cloak Jeis is holding out for her.

Reaching for it, she does her best to slip it on, glad for the cover again. "Thanks..." Struggling with the cloak, she tries to move in it, every step and raise of her hand draining her as she shakes her head in the negative to the question of traps.


Perception [roll0]

[bcool999]

Jeis

"Not sure if the 'trap' in trapdoor is literal but I can take a look..." Jeis says as he takes his time examining the trapdoor.

take 20 for 24

[Bhaakon]

The stench of burning grows slowly the more time you spend in the room, building up from the distant reek of a long-dead campfire until it smells like the Plaguehouse conflagration was only quenched a few hours ago. Busy as you are with searching the trap door and discarded belongings, you don't give the smell much notice, or just chalk it up to ash being kicked up in the air as move about the room.

When you push the bed hiding the trapdoor aside, the stench takes on a sickly-sweet quality, the unmistakable smell of burning meat. You look up from what you are doing to find the beds no longer unoccupied. Bodies lie in them, covered in blood-filled pustules. You can see the charred bed frames through the long-dead plague sufferers, but they become increasingly opaque as their ragged bedding burns, flesh blisters and bubbles, and each one sits bolt upright and belts out an unearthly shriek of unimaginable pain.

DC 14 Will save or flee in fright. Please provide a 1d8 roll to determine where you end up running to should you fail the save.

[Desril]

Sylvia

Seeing the beds suddenly occupied, the dhampir represses the urge to run away, instead pulling her newly donned cloak more tightly around her as she bites her own lip to push herself through the fear and figure out what's going on. "This place...it must be haunted by...those who died here. We should...be more careful."


Save made in OOC Will save (1d20+1)[20]

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar


Asdoukar looks around for the source of the smell. Then his eyes become as big as shields when he sees them slowly getting occupied. He starts to tremble and run.

"Rust and tarnish! Get out! Get out everyone, this place is diseased!"

He starts to run.

I would like Asdoukar to roll more than 10 once, just for the feel of it. [roll0]

[stack]

"I hate this place." Eric's eyes dart around before he dashes away in fear.

[Bhaakon]

The apparitions fade away as suddenly as they appeared, though the shrieks echo about the cavernous ruins for a few heartbeats, chasing Asdoukar and Eric down the halls as the flee. When hes regains his senses, Eric finds himself well outside the old temple, panting heavily from sprinting out the double doors and another bow-shot besides. Asdoukar didn't make it so far, his dwarven sensibilities leading him to the nearest chunk of solid rock to set his back again, the only proper place for a last stand. He presses himself against the rough granite of the Freestone, knuckles clinched white around the haft of his long axe.

After a moment to collect themselves, both make their way back to the burnt-out sick room, where Jeis has finishes checking the trapdoor for any devious devices. He's found none.

[stack]

Eric straightens his cloak as he reenters. "Coast is clear outside, no one trying to sneak up on us. Let's get on with that door then."

[Bhaakon]

The trap door conceals a tight passage into the undercroft beneath the temple. A conveniently placed ladder bodged together from scrap wood provides access to the chamber below, a surprisingly room space of barrel-vaulted stone blocks. Embedded in the floor is a marble mosaic of a golden sword on a white field, the symbol of Iomedae. The fire seems to have left the basement untouched, preserving a bookcase loaded with worm-eaten Iomedaean scriptures and a simple chest.

There are five exits, not counting the trapdoor: A wooden door to the east, two more in a short hall leading north, an opening barred by a stout wooden portcullis heading south, and an unbarred passage heading east.

A mouldering wall hanging next to the portcullis doesn't do much to hide the iron winch and chain for raising and lowering the barricade. It even looks like someone has recently greased the mechanism

One of the doors to the north is barred from this side, someone having jammed it shut with a a wooden beam and several square nails. You hear quick, frightened breathing from the other side of the door.

The hall to the east isn't as clear as it first appears. Someone thought they were being clever by covering a string of interconnected bear traps under a layer of hay and loose dirt, but the camouflage just made the trap stick out on the cellar's otherwise clear stone floor.

Whoever has been making use of the cellar seems to have trusted in its obscurity to protect their horde, because the chest is neither locked nor trapped. You crack it open to reveal an odd assortment of valuables which, as evidenced by the stamps on the coins and fashion of the clothing, has been assembled recently.

1x Sovereign Glue
2x Universal Solvent
50' Silk Rope
Disguise kit (6 uses remianing)
MW Thieves' tools
Noble's Outfit embroidered with semi-precious stones (75 gp)
Signet Ring (50 gp)
253 gp, 5 sp, 5 cp


http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee498/Bhaakon/Plaguebasement1.jpg

[bcool999]

Jeis

On a quick inspection of their new surroundings Jeis notices quite a bit the recent resident tried to keep hidden, and also that they are not alone if the frightened breaths behind the barred north door were of any indication.

"Ware the east hallway, beneath the hay and dirt I see the glint of steel jaws ready to snap at unsuspecting toes. The mechanism to release the portcullis to the south is behind that rotted tapestry, freshly maintained as well, and I believe there is a prisoner down here behind the north door there." Jeis points out before opening the chest and pocketing the set of shiny new thieves tools with soft leather handles to replace his old chipped set.

[Desril]

Sylvia

At the sight of the clothes tossed about, the dhampir sighs in annoyance, realizing that they're likely no lighter than her own outfit. Feeling a draft, she pulls her cloak tighter as she walks off to the side of the room to lean against a wall for support.

Having been just about to step on the hay that Jeis just warned everyone about, Sylvia pauses in mid-step and retreats away from the trap she so nearly set off. Instead, trusting keener, less distracted eyes, she decides to wait in the back and endure without the aid of a solid support. "Well, they probably already...know we're here, so there's not..." I never imagined talking could be so draining. That poison did a number on me. "much a point in hiding it, but we should figure out who...or what...they are before we risk letting them out."

[Bhaakon]

As if on cue, the captive behind the locked door starts shouting for your attention. "INHERITOR'S LIGHT, SOMEONE SPEAKING A PROPER TONGUE! CAN YOU HEAR ME? I CAN HEAR YOU! I'M TRAPPED...UM...SOMEWHERE!!! I DON'T KNOW! MY NAME IS OTHDAN! PLEASE, LET ME OUT OF HERE BEFORE THEY COME BACK!"

Jeis and Eric recognize the name, a pig farmer who lives near the walls. You weren't aware that he'd gone missing, but he lives alone and it might take days for someone to notice if he wasn't about. He pounds at the door from the other side, but it's stuck tight enough that it doesn't even rattle.

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Asdoukar is quick to go downstairs, slightly red from the embarrassment of falling under the ghost 's influence. When under the earth, he seems to relax. He looks around, then looks again.

"You are right. There are bear traps there, and someone recently greased the mechanism here..."

The rest of his phrase is cut off, when someone starts to pound on the other side of the door. Asdoukar looks at the chest with longing and then at the door. He then focuses on the disguise kit. 'Someone is not who they say they are', Rodrik had said.

"Calm down, you there! Rust and tarnish! Quiet! We will let you out."

If noone stops him, Asdoukar takes his crowbar and methodically takes the nails out. He readies his ace and swings open the door.

"Out! But it is dangerous here and we need information. Who are 'they'?"

[Bhaakon]

A mousy, ragged man covered head to toe in coal dust tumbles out through the door as Asdoukar levers out the last of the nails. Othdan--and it is Othdan, Jeis and Eric recognize him despite the meager daylight filtering down through the trapdoor and the layer of filth--nearly bowls the dwarf over in his eagerness to escape the makeshift prison, but pulls up short when he gets an eyeful of Asdoukar's looming axe.

"I...t-thank you, Sir Dwarf, and... is that Jeis? Oh, and Master Truebow. And you, Madam, in the back there. Can't quiet see you between the cloak and shadows." He says, raising his coal-blacken hands to show that he's unarmed. "I...um...don't know who caught me. Someone got me from behind. Clouted me right on the head, and next I knew I was trapped in that...that..." He turns and looks back into the tiny room, almost entirety taken up by a rust-bucket of an old heating furnace and a bunker half full of coal. Othdan wouldn't have even had space to lay down in there. "Well, that room. Doesn't look so frightening in the light, I guess. Would have sworn that rusty old fire box was an iron maiden." He says, chuckling anxiously.

"I thought I was a goner for sure. Don't know how long it's been, but the bastards sealed me in there without food and only the half-full canteen I'd happened to have with me. I'm not dead, so I guess it couldn't have been more than a couple days. I only heard them once, talking some sort of grunting nonsense I couldn't understand. Wasn't Taldane, Varisian, or Orc speak, I know that much." He shakes his head, jarring loose another detail. "One of them had a normal voice, but the other... it wasn't right. Too deep, too guttural to fit a man, or a dwarf, for that matter. And it had this dry, hacking cough."

"Um...do you have some victuals and drink? And could you tell me where we are?"

And I just realized that no one is carrying torches or prepared a light spell. There's enough light coming down through the open trapdoor to leave the room you're occupying in dim light, but that's it. There are a couple unlit torches in wall sconces, if you want to light one. They look like they've been there a long time, possibly since the last fire.

[bcool999]

Jeis

Handing over his waterskin to Othdan Jeis informs him, "We're beneath the plague house mate. Head up the trapdoor and you'll be in the trysting room. The main door is not far from there. You can probably find some grub in town with this." Jeis says handing over a gold piece. " Go on ahead, we still need to find your captors and ask them some pointed questions." Jeis says nodding to Asdoukar's axe.

Giving him my waterskin for some water and the ability to buy food when he stumbles into town.

[Desril]

Sylvia

Sighing in relief when the alleged Othdan comments that he can't make her out due to the darkness, Sylvia leaves the discussion to those who knew the man, instead focusing more on trying to figure out why someone would be held captive down here. Well, there's always the chance not everything is as it seems...maybe if I...

Quickly casting a simple spell, the dhampir tilts her head to the side as she moves over to whisper to Jeis, "I don't know if I buy this guy is who he claims to be...but he's not using any sort of magic to alter his appearance at least...Either way," she pauses to take a breath and glance at him again, "is it a good idea to let him go back without us?"


Detect Magic, get nothing as per OOC

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

As the others talk with the former captive, Asdoukar again tries to see if he can see anything in the tracks of the area.

Perception and Survival
[roll0] and [roll1]

Unless something extraordinary comes out, I would suggest we go the trapped way, after we remove the traps.

[bcool999]

Jeis

Responding to Sylvia's concerns, Jeis says, "It's Othdan clear as day, and he can make it back to town on his own two feet at least. If you were stuck down here for two days wouldn't you want to leave? Besides, if he stays he will be underfoot if a fight with his captors breaks out."

[Desril]

Sylvia

Exhausted and weak from the poison, and still a little distracted by the strange feeling accompanying her shameful state of dress, the dhampir shifts her eyes downward in contemplation but finding herself unable to pin down what's bothering her. Eventually she nods, but adds "Alright...but something about this is...wrong. I mean, why keep him captive? Do what you like. I won't stop him from going."

[stack]

"Think he may be safer with us, for the moment. Othdar, we are looking for any signs of what was going on here, what your captor's plans may have been. You can leave if you wish, but it may be safer to stay with us, though keeping well back for safety. I would like to take you straight to the chief defender when we are done here. Oh, you're probably starving." Eric speaks as he fishes a small loaf and some cheese out of his pack, passing it over to go with the waterskin.

[Bhaakon]

The coal-blackened farmer wolfs down the proffered rations and nearly empties the water skin in a single go, splashing the few gulps left over onto his face in a fruitless attempt to wash away the coal dust. A few moments of wiping leave his handkerchief blackened and his skin smeared with coal paste. Still, he's smiling when he's done. "The plague house, you say? At least they didn't drag me too far. One of my sows had gotten loose, and I'd tracked it near to the plague house. Foolish of me, really. I should have given up before sundown."

He shrugs at Eric's comments. "I'll do whatever you think best, Master Turnbow. I'm feeling much better with a meal and a drink, and I must admit that I'd like to see whoever did this to me taken to task. I'd hate to be seen about town and send them fleeing."

[stack]

Eric gives the man a small smile. "We'll add the pig to our list of things to find. It will have company there."

He holds up the torch he's been carrying. "Alright, then, what is left to find down here?"figure we finish searching the undercroft, then check if we missed anything upstairs.

[Bhaakon]

http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee498/Bhaakon/undercroft2.jpg

A quick search of the furnace room turned prison cell turns up a very pleasant surprise. Someone has burieda coin pouch loaded with fat little platinum dics in the coal bunker.

LOOT: 55 PP

The pattern of stone blocks on the western wall of the furnace room looks a little off. The joints are staggered everywhere else, but here they form a straight line. You find a loose block and prize it loose, revealing a lever that opens a secret door.

http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee498/Bhaakon/undercroft2secret.jpg

[stack]

"Make our way clockwise, I suppose. Wait, what's this? A fine bit of coin to stash here." [roll0]

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar


Asdoukar was just about to suggest that they go towards the hallway that is trapped, figuring that if someone did not want them there, they should go that way. But then Eric finds a stack of coin which seems to have escaped Asdoukar 's search the first time. Asdoukar, mumbling, does a sweeping search of the whole premise.

After he is done, he turns to the others.

"There is a secret door here. I say we go that way and then go back and go down the trapped hallway."


Perception 20 for 25 and Survival [roll0] for tracks

[Bhaakon]

There are quite a few sets of boot tracks in the dust, half a dozen different ones at least. There are also rodent tracks and, perhaps most troubling, the three-toed prints of a decidedly inhuman biped. Whatever left those last prints would have had to crouch to keep from scraping its head on the arched stone ceiling of the undercroft.

Most of the boot prints go just about everywhere except, of course, the trapped corridor. The more monstrous tracks seem to be limited to the central chamber and the door next to the furnace room (the door labeled 'A' on the map).

[bcool999]

Jeis

Chuckling slightly at the revelation of the secret door, Jeis elbows Othdar playfully and says, "Bet you didn't know that escape was one loose brick away huh? I bet only the original occupants of the chaple ever knew of it... could be a secret way out or a treasure room... won't likely find your captors here though."

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Asdoukar keeps staring at the floor, rubbing his knee and looking troubled.

"Also. There are various booted tracks in this chamber. And one that is from something big and not People-shaped*. The tracks mostly converge at that door there. They avoid the trapped corridor.

I am getting worried, I tell you. Let' see where the trap door leads and then continue looking around."


*People-shaped: The dwarven expression for humanoid.

[Bhaakon]

The door of the secret passage slides clear with a quiet grinding of stone-on-stone, revealing a short hall that's thick with dust-draped cobwebs. You push through the silken strands, finding none of their former inhabitants. Even the spiders have been starved out of this long abandoned passage.

Five steps take you to the exit, a matching camouflaged door that also slides aside on a century old bronze mechanism. You find yourself squeezing out from behind a marble statue of single spoked wheel, its circumference limned in fire. The work was probably more striking before someone scraped the gold leaf off of the flames.

This odd bit of statuary is a representation of Jingh, one of Iomedae's celestial emissaries. It's a fine bit of work, and well worth the effort of restoring. Informing the Sanctuary of its presence might net you a reward.

The room itself seems to be columbarium. The walls are pockmarked with hundreds of niches, a few dozen of them containing brass or ceramic urns. It has long been the habit of Trunauans to cremate their dead, on account of the orc's habit of crafting totems and fetishes from the bones of their enemies, and this would be the resting place for many of those who died during this building's brief time as a functioning temple.

But the sight in the middle of the room makes it rather difficult to pay much attention to other details. Floating in mid-air is a finely wrought chain shirt and a falchion, blade pointed down towards the floor. Surrounding the otherwise invisible, incorporeal swordsman is a veritable cloud of coins, jewelry, and, you think, a steel scrollcase, all hovering lazily about.

You instantly realize that this is not an invisible warrior or ghostly knight, but that you're actually seeing these items suspended in some sort of viscous substance that's very nearly transparent. You wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for the weird way Eric's torch light refracts near its edges

You've heard of the notorious gelatinous cube before, an enormous blob of caustic snot that's been the death of untold numbers of spelunking adventurers. You're lucky to have realized what it was before blundering into it, like so many before you, becoming paralyzed by its poison, enveloped, and dissolved.

http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee498/Bhaakon/Spectre1.jpg

O = Othdan
Cyan box = invisible swordsman and cloud of hovering loot

[bcool999]

Jeis

Not having heard of any giant treasure filled gelatins hanging out in temples before, Jeis asks, "Umm... what the heck is a giant cube of gelatin doing here?"

He then flings a random rock at the thing to see if it would float inside.

If I has surprise round, attack the cube with a rock! Otherwise we can just sub this for my first combat action.

Attack: [roll0] Damage: [roll1] Bludgeoning

[Bhaakon]

Jeis's bit of broken masonry rockets into the mucus-y wall of the nearly transparent creature with a wet splat, sending out wobbly rings like pebble striking a pond. The momentum carries the stone deep inside, waves distorting the creature slightly and sending the floating coins and jewelry drifting around randomly. It finally drives its way through into the chain shirt, which crumbles around the rock and envelopes it while the projectile's momentum carries both it and the armor out the other side of the gelatinous cube to drop on the floor.



Currently: Surprise round. Anyone who beats the 15 Perception check may take a move OR standard action.

After that, first round initiative:

Sylvia: (1d20+2)[10]
Jeis: (1d20+2)[19]
Cube: (1d20-5)[9]
Eric: (1d20+4)[7]
Asdoukar: (1d20+1)[2]



http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee498/Bhaakon/Spectre1.jpg

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar
HP 14 AC17

Asdoukar sees the cube very clearly and suddenly remembers where he has heard of such creatures before

"Rust and tarnish! Careful everyone, this thing will burn you with a touch and swallow you whole!"

Asdoukar takes a small step back and swings his axe with his cry of "Hazz and Grutt!"

5ft step to get space and swinging the axe.
PA [roll0] [roll1]

[Desril]

Sylvia
HP 3/7
AC 12

Glad for the extra coin, Sylvia keeps silent for a while, following the others into the secret passage. Seeing the statue of Jingh, Sylvia rolls her eyes. Herself being a servant of the Vampire Queen, the relic of Iomedaen faith was better off being lost and tarnished for eternity in her mind. But that train of thought was interrupted by the odd sight of a floating suit of armor.

What the...wait...that's!

Recognizing the gelatinous mass for what it really is, she lets Asdoukar answer Jeis' question but quickly adds a warning of her own to it. "Not only that! Its touch is paralytic!" She breathes rapidly now, the adrenaline from being so close to something so dangerous giving her the strength she needs to talk without pausing, "They're slow though, kill it now, before it can move!"

Taking her own advice, she steps clear of the rest of the party and holds up her hands, repeating the incantation she'd said when faced with the swarm of newborn spiders, throwing all of her arcane might into the blast.


Taking 10 for 19 on K: Religion

Perception (1d20-1)[19]

K: Dungeoneering (1d20+9)[28]. I know oozes, apparently.

5ft step somewhere that I can use Burning Hands without Friendly Fire. Spend Arcane Reservoir (back down to 2/4 now) to boost it to CL 3. [roll0] (Ref DC 16 half)

[bcool999]

Jeis

Hearing his allies explanation that this is an enemy, Jeis hurls another stone at the creature(?) in an attempt to fell it. He then backs back into the hallway to avoid any counter attack.

Attack: [roll0] Damage: [roll1]
Move to C3 to avoid getting caught up in melee.

[Bhaakon]

Sylvia darts forward and sends a gout of flame crashing against the big mound of gelatin. It's not as satisfyingly flammable as the spider egg sack was, but the ensuing cloud of acrid steam and the way the surface layer of ooze boils and bubbles certainly suggests that it's taking a toll. Jeis wisely retreats back into the hidden passage, burying another chunk of fallen stone in the translucent cube from the relative safety of the narrow hall. Unfortunately, it's not enough.

The blob crashes forward like a wave, and it's all Eric can do to dive backwards and avoid the advancing wall of acidic mucus. Asdoukar takes another tact, meeting the creature with the head of his long axe. The blade bites deep, splitting open a large rent in the blob, but the rent closes on the axe with a wet slap, trapping the blade. The veteran warrior tries to tear his weapon free, but instead the mindless ooze flows forward, right down the haft and around Asdoukar's hands. The dwarf feels his muscles go slack as the slimy muck slips through the seams in his gauntlets and beings to burn, finding himself unable even to curse as he's sucked into the advancing cube of gelatin.

Paralyzed for [roll0] rounds.

[roll1] acid damage

http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee498/Bhaakon/Gelcube2.png

Sylvia: (1d20+2)[10]
Jeis: (1d20+2)[19]
Cube: (1d20-5)[9]
>Eric: (1d20+4)[7]
Asdoukar: (1d20+1)[2]

[Desril]

Sylvia
HP 3/7
AC 12

Seeing Asdoukar get engulfed by the mindless cube, Sylvia frowns. "I warned you!"

This isn't the time for snark, however, and she quickly realizes that she's the best chance he has of getting out of that thing with his skin still attached to the rest of his body. Damnit. I can't just let him die after he helped me out back there. But how do...oh Abyss take me. Knowing there's no other way she could possibly get to him without being consumed herself, she quickly pulls the cloak off of herself, thankful for the adrenaline surge giving her the strength, however temporary, to at least do that much without struggling.

There's no time to be subtle about this...well...it's not like they haven't already had a good look. "I'll try and get him out! Just kill this damned thing quickly!"

Wrapping the cloak around her arm and hand, doing her best to make sure that no part of the limb is exposed even though it leaves the rest of her body bare to the elements, she skittishly steps closer to the cube. I'm going to regret this, she thinks as she shoves her hand, now with make-shift glove, deep into the gelatinous mass, reaching for her foolish companion in the hopes to pull him to relative safety before there's nothing left.


Move action - Remove cloak and wrap it around hand/arm
Standard - Reposition? check to pull Asdoukar out of the Cube. I'm not sure if I even can due to my low Str, but it's not like I have many other options. Anyway, should I assume that, whether or not I'm strong enough, failed check = cloak comes partly undone and I get exposed to the ooze's paralysis?

CMB [roll0]

[bcool999]

Jeis

"If you warned him why are you jumping in?" Jeis yells as Sylvia foolishly delves into the cube.

Hoping he and Eric can finish off the beast and save the others, Jeis launches more rubble at the cube seeking to finish it.

Attack: [roll0] Damage: [roll1]

[Bhaakon]

The ratty old cloak Sylvia had taken from the old sick room upstairs isn't nearly up to the task of staving off the gelatinous cube's caustic slime. Its excretions find the many worn sports and moth holes in the cloth as the arcanist plunges her arms in to grope for Asdoukar, rendering the limbs numb and lifelless almost immediately. She tumbles back, but it's too late. The paralysis quickly spreads, and, worse, she seems to have gotten the creature's attention. It begins to squeeze into the narrow side corridor, moving to envelope the helpless woman.

Jeis sees her predicament and acts quickly, hurling admonishments along with another chunk of rubble. Whether his words find purchase is up to Sylvia, but the flying stonework certainly strikes home. It hits the giant ooze broadside and blasts through, carrying a good bit of acidic jelly and a double fistful of coins alone for the ride. This final blow exceeds the thing's ability to seal itself, and it splits oven like a rotten melon. Whatever natural process kept its chemistry in check malfunction, and its innard evaporate into a cloud of rank steam as quickly as they can pour out.

Within a few moments there's nothing left but lingering smell and a small pile of treasure.

800

MW chain shirt
Falchion
Rose quartz amulet (125 gp)
1x scroll in steel case Hold Portal
30 gp, 9 sp, 4 cp

[Desril]

Sylvia

Knowing that he's right, she smirks to herself, No point in spoiling my image and making them think I actually care. Calling out to Jeis as she reaches into the cube, though her voice lacks the strength to carry far beyond the room, she shouts, "It's not like I can just leave him in there! He has my things!"

Unfortunately, the wiser, rock-chucking man wasn't wrong to call her out on it as the paralytic acid quickly seeps into the cloak's holes and onto her skin. Jerking back, she does her best to brush the cloak off her, tossing it to the floor as she herself falls backwards into a rather compromising position, her body locking up and refusing to move. Though she's unable to move, the paralysis does nothing to slow her mind or her rapidly growing terror. Oh cold Abyss! Come on you lot, kill it, quickly! I don't want to be eaten like this!

As the cube dies though, release Asdoukar and saving her from a painful experience, she breathes out a sigh of relief. Or at least she tries to, but lacks the control of her lungs to do more than breathe shallowly. Instead, she's stuck frozen in that position for nearly half a minute, enough time to watch everyone gather the treasure from the nearly fatal encounter. Finally, feeling starts to spread through her limbs again, and eventually she's able to drag herself onto her knees, and, using the wall to help her as she turns away any hands that may be offered, eventually gets back to her feet. "Thanks...sorry I couldn't be of more use. I expected spiders and...maybe some undead or orcs. I didn't plan on something so...big."

[bcool999]

Jeis

As the cube dissolves and releases it's hoard of treasure's (and one grumpy looking dwarf), Jeis breathes a sigh of relief and moves back into the room to check on his two paralyzed companions. Noting that neither seemed seriously injured (though he merely gave Sylvia half a glance over considering her state of dress), he drapes Sylvia's borrowed cloak over her to protect the shredded remnants of her modesty and begins gathering up the stray coins littered about.

[Bhaakon]

As you collect the coins and various other valuables dropped by the gelatinous cube, you get a good look around the burial chamber. It's not a terribly interesting place, and, unless you have a desire to melt down brass urns for a couple silver in scrap metal, there's nothing else of value. One has to wonder how the resident ooze grew to such a size in here, or got to be so full of loot and weapons.

A mystery for another time, perhaps. For now, it's a simple choice of where to go next.

http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee498/Bhaakon/undercroft3.jpg

[stack]

The fight over before he can act, having spend it stumbling away from the gelatinous mass, Eric looks a touch chagrined. Putting his performance aside, he helps the dwarf to his feet and looks through the items previously suspended. "Nice bit of armor, there. Better than the one I lost."

If no one objects to his claim, Eric gathers some rags (while also procuring another cloak for the perpetually unclad mage), wiping off the remaining goo and donning the armor with a minimum of numbed digits. "Well, I can take point."
door A next, if everyone is willing to proceed

[Desril]

Sylvia

Nodding thanks to Jeis for the cloak, she silently berates herself for having been so weak as to take so long to get it herself. When we get out of here, I need to get really wasted and write this whole adventure off as a weird dream, she thinks to herself and follows the others, staying toward the back of the group.


I agree with A

[Bhaakon]

You proceed back to the main hall and open the next door to find sanctuary that must have been truly impressive in its time. Here the rough-cut stone of the rest of the undercroft has been faced with marble, and the high arching ceiling is supported by seven alabaster pillars carved in the coldly beautiful form of armored celestials.

But the impression has been ruined by squatters and vandals. The faces of the sculpted pillars have been chipped away, the marble walls are stained with obscene charcoal drawings and slogans in orcish. The middle of the tiled floor is marred by a well-used fire pit, surrounded by four empty bedrolls. Discarded picks and shovels are piled near a tunnel bored into the northern wall. It dead-ends almost immediately where it pierces the wall of a circular sinkhole. Above you can see the evening sky--the hole in the earth that swallowed the wall of the plague house. About a man's height below is a still pool of water, too deep to see the bottom.

http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee498/Bhaakon/undercroft4.jpg

The oversized, three-toed tracks Asdoukar found earlier lead right up to and out of the water.

The walls of the excavated tunnel and te sinkhole itself are a honeycomb of animal burrows. A glint of crimson from a particularly large burrow nearby catches your eye. You crouch down and find that a weeks-dead half-orc whose corpse has been wedged into the hole, plugging it. You wouldn't have even noticed him if it was wasn't for a red gold amulet in the shape of a bloody orcish double axe.

It will take some effort to pull the body out, but it's still clad in its chain mail and appears not to have been looted.

The amulet is more than an ornament. It's a holy symbol of Nukgreth the Blood God, orc deity of anger, rage, and strength.

[stack]

"Been quite a few visitors down here. Seems there is much more than simple murder afoot. We best be thorough."I think we've seen enough suspicious things to warrant taking 20 on perception checks

Eric searches the area carefully (as do the others, no doubt), pointing out the tracks then finding the body stuffed in the hole. "Gah, bit ripe, being here that long. Surprised whatever made these burrows, didn't eat him yet." He pries the body free from the hole.

[Bhaakon]

Eric grabs the half-rotten body by the arms and heaves, pulling it loose with a sickening squelch. The half-orc's gear is all still strapped in place, but his legs have been shredded to ribbons of rotten meat. Strangely, it doesn't look like any of the flesh has been devoured, just ravaged and torn as if something was trying to dig through it.

Four somethings, as it turns out. You've barely had time to look over the ravaged corpse when you hear a scratch and scrabble from the now unplugged burrow. Four forms emerged, scabrous, milky-eyed rodents the size of house cats. They're strangely insubstantial in the flickering torchlight, and you swear that you can see through them to stone floor...

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

Despite appearance, these are not simply mangy rodents. They're shadow rats, undead horrors that blend into dark places and can even make themselves incorporeal for a short time. In addition to being known carriers of filth fever, a shadow rat's bite sucks the very strength from an adventurer's limbs.

No map for this one. The rats are smaller than one square, and rules for fighting tiny creatures generally make maps a pain in the butt. Let's just say that you're all within a move action of melee.

>Asdoukar
Rats
Sylvia
Eric
Jeis

[Bhaakon]

Asdoukar's big axe flashes flickers down and neatly bisects the first of the vermin, spilling a putrescent cargo of gray-green organ and blackened blood. the other three scatter, wisely deciding to harry the humanoids who aren't wielding a proven rat-splitter.

"No you don't" The dwarf growls, spinning his weapon in a low sweep designed to catch one of the strangely insubstantial rodents as it passes by, but it's Asdoukar who is denied. The shadow rat's incorporeal form scatters like a wind-blown cloud as the axe passes through it, only to re-form unharmed behind the weapon. It leaps at Eric, its rotten inch-long incisors sinking into the young man's through with...

...With nothing but numbing cold. The archer shivers as the rat continues entirely through his neck, and right out the other side to land lightly behind him. Eric's avoided having his windpipe torn out, but he's not unharmed. His muscles tense as if someone had just thrown a boulder into his pack. Somehow the nasty little beast has stolen the very vigor from his limbs.

2 str damage

But Eric is fortunate compared to Jeis. His rat proves very much corporeal as it latches onto the young man's wrist, worrying look a painfully long strip of flesh before Jeis can shake it loose. Bu the wound is superficial compared to what comes next. Suddenly his knees buckle, his muscles cramping and straining to keep him from falling. He looks down to make sure that creature didn't happen to hamstring him as it attacked. but the enervation is merely an effect of the rodent's fell nature.

1 damage, 3 str damage

Sylvia's tattered cape billows as she tries to avoid the rat coming at here. The rodent is fooled, jumping through a fluttering scrap of cloth instead of hitting exposed flesh.

Everyone can act now. One of the rats is already dead. The ones facing Eric and Sylvia are incorporeal, the one facing Jeis is not, but all have the shadow blend ability which grants total concealment in anything short of direct sunlight.

[stack]

As the rat-thing closes, Eric bashing at it with his small shield. [roll0]
damage [roll1]
no counters while flat-footed though, so boo.

He steps back, struggling to draw the string of his bow, and attempts to spit his assailant on a shaft. "Just re-kill the blasted things." swift - encouraging roar, +2/+2 morale on attacks

5' step away, attacking with bow, taking -1 attack from low strength with a composite longbow (add +1/+1 to the roll if the AOO prevented the strength damage

attack [roll2] (PBS applies)
damage [roll3] + [roll4]fire

[Desril]

Sylvia

Seeing how easily the first of the rats goes down, the dhampir does her best to dodge out of the way of the one that charged her, unfortunately getting the beast tangled in her only form of cover. Naturally, she thinks, sighing.

Still, as easily as the first one went down, she decides these things can't be that tough, meaning there's no point in wasting power that could be spent elsewhere as she calls up another burst of flame, aimed toward her feet at the incorporeal rodent.


I don't care if it's incorporeal, magic still hits it! Albeit at half strength. And by provoking an AoO. Sylvia's head isn't in a good place right now. I blame the spider and the ooze.

Ref DC 16 for half [roll0]

[bcool999]

Jeis
HP 12/13
AC 15 (+1 from Aegis if within 10ft. of Eric)

Quickly stepping away form the rat that bit him so viscously, Jeis almost feels his legs buckle as the strength leaves them. Why does everything in this place sap one's strength? At this rate I will be as bad off as Sylvia... Sylvia!

Not sure how much more strength the spellcaster can stand to lose, Jeis focuses on her attacker before his own.

5ft. step from all rats so I don't provoke on my attack.

Attack the rat attacking Sylvia: [roll0] Damage: [roll1] Lets go with piercing damage for this one.

Miss chance: [roll2] (Not sure if DM is going high misses or low misses)

[Bhaakon]

Eric's attempt to swat the rat does little more than disperse its shadowy form for a moment. His bow attack proves a bit more effective, with the flaming arrow licking at the rat's tail. It lets out a rattling hiss and leaps forward. Eric attempts to fend it off with his buckler, but the nastly little beast jumps right through his shield and the arm behind it, stealing yet more of his strength.

1 str dmg

Sylvia's luck isn't much better. Her magical flames are effective, but the startlingly quick rodent sidesteps the brunt of the blast. Somehow the undead rodent's pelt still gives off an acrid stink of burning hair in its incorporeal state, but Sylvia spell doesn't seem to have hit anything vital. At least the shadow rat is too distracted to attack effectively as it darts and rolls about to extinguish its fur.

The shadow rat facing Jeis leaps for the young man's throat, causing him to flinch as he hurls a loose chunk of rubble at Sylvia's opponent. The stone flies well wide, but Asdoukar's axe is on target. The shining steel catch the rodent in the mid-leap, and the two rat halves that bounce off Jeis are decidedly less lively than before they met the dwarf's weapon.

Two remaining, and both are incorporeal.

[Desril]

Sylvia
HP 3/7 +4 temp HP
AC 12

Breathing heavily, the dhampir glares at the remaining rats, Alright, I'm running low on fire power...this is going to be risky, but I can take one of these things out with me, and if I collapse afterward, judging from how they've been acting, I can trust these guys to get me to a healer.

Not having a better idea, Sylvia keeps a careful eye on the nearest rat as she calls upon her arcane power to shield herself as she raises a foot, intending to smash the damnable rodent as soon as it solidified.


This is going to go badly. But I'm going to take it out with me. Spending 2 Arcane Reservoir (stupid increasing costs) to gain a temporary +4 HP from Twilight Barrier. If it goes down, it blasts whatever destroyed it for 4 damage.

...and then I ready an Unarmed Strike to attack the rat when it becomes solid. Intentionally provoking, since I can't really hurt it much with the stomp itself, but the shield's explosion ought to help.

Unarmed Strike [roll0]
Damage ....[roll1] Yay for minimum of 1 damage without DR?

[Bhaakon]

Seeing the dangling foot, the shadow rat can't help itself. Undeath had stolen most of its more skittish rodent tendencies, like fear of big things, while leaving it with a never-ending desire to gnaw on warm flesh. It couldn't actually eat any longer, but the chewing was so comforting, so...right. Almost like being alive again. And it couldn't gnaw properly unless it returned to its solid form.

The rat regains its corporeal body and leaps just as Sylvia strikes. The Arcanist's flashing leg passes close enough for the greasy, patchy hide of the creature to brush her skin, but neither lands a blow.

[bcool999]

Jeis

"Asdoukar go help Sylvia! I think she might out of spells!" Jeis yells as he sees the rat return to it's physical form.

Turning his attention to the last ghostly rat, he again tries to use his power to attack it not only physically but on the aetherial realms as well.

Attack the incorporeal rat.

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

[stack]

Eric again struggles to draw back his mighty bow, contenting himself with a partial draw to prevent his weakened limbs from shaking and spoiling his aim...hopefully. 5' away from the rat, PBS applies
[roll0]
damage [roll1] + [roll2] fire

[Bhaakon]

The back and forth continues, without much change. The corporeal rat scampers after Sylvia, but even weakened the dhampir proves too quick for it. All the rodent manages to do it avoid Asdoukar's axe, forcing the dwarf to pull his swing short for fear of hitting Sylvia.

Jeis and Eric fair no better, with their incorporeal target flitting in and out of the shadows. Eric's flaming shot keeps it at bay, but little more.

Yay, everyone misses! Next round!

[Desril]

Sylvia
HP 3/7 +4 temp HP
AC 12

Baring her fangs in irritation, Sylvia tries again, breathing heavily as she waits for the rat to expose itself, leaving her own leg open so she can try and smash it underfoot when it goes for the opening.


Trying this again! Provoking via unarmed strike because I have nothing better to do.

Attack [roll0]
Damage [roll1]

[stack]

Eric keeps moving back, loosing another half-drawn arrow.5' away from the rat, PBS applies
[roll0]
damage [roll1] + [roll2] fire

[bcool999]

Jeis

Jeis again launches rubble at the incorporeal foe.

Attack: [roll0] Damage: [roll1] Piercing magic damage
Miss chance (If still needed): [roll2]

[Bhaakon]

The rats cleave close to their respective targets, landing glancing blows and Eric and Sylvia that steal away yet more of their energy. Exhausted, the dhampir drops to the ground, utterly helpless. The nearby shadow rat scrambles in to finish the job, but Asdoukar drives it back--for a moment, anyway--with a flurry of swings.

1 str damage

1 str damage

[bcool999]

Jeis

Seeing Sylvia go down from the rat's strength draining bite, Jeis hurls a salvo of loose debris at the remaining Incorporeal rat.

Expediency Attacks!
Attack: [roll0]
Attack: [roll1]
Attack: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3] Piercing Magic
Damage: [roll4] Slashing Magic
Damage: [roll5] Bludgeoning Magic (just to see if the rat gets impaled, sliced, or crushed by whatever Jeis throws).

[Desril]

Sylvia
HP 3/7 +2 Temp HP
AC ...6?

As the last of her strength leaves her, Sylvia silently curses herself for not having thought this through better. So pathetic...should've been smarter...These guys better make this count...

Too weak to stand, the dhampir crumples gracelessly to the floor, cloak sprawled out beneath her as she lands on her back and her head rolls to the side. Unable to even focus her eyes, the last image she sees before her consciousness is swallowed up by the darkness is that of the rat being pushed back by Asdoukar's fists.

[Bhaakon]

Desperation proves a boon to Jeis's aim and power...perhaps a lesson from the time he was trapped in the plague house and somehow found the strength to knock down a stone wall?

In any event, his volley of stones strike the incorporeal rat squarely, snapping bone, pulverizing rotten meat, and driving it fully into the material plane. The remaining rat belatedly thinks to flee, but Asdoukar has none of it. The long-hafted axe comes down once, twice, thrice, carving the pustulous little horror into foul-smelling quarters.

The end of the battle gives you an opportunity to catch your breath and take stock. Eric is reeling, Sylvia is barely able to move her lips to speak, and even Jeis is panting under the enervating effect of the shadow rats. Only Asdoukar is unharmed, and lets the other rest for a moment while he occupies himself in searching the ravaged body Eric had hauled from the rodents' den.

Only when the dwarf has picked everything of value off the corpse does Othdan re-appear, shuffling forth rather sheepishly from the furnace room. "Sorry. I...uh, don't have any weapons to fight with. I went and hid in the secret passage." He explains.

800

1x Chainmail
1x Wand Wand of Cure Light Wounds, 16 charges
Double-axe pendant (60 gp)
Fine silver dagger (150 gp)
6x onyx gems (25 gp each, 150 total)

[bcool999]

Jeis

Panting slightly from the strange weariness the rats inflicted upon him Jeis says, "That's fine Othdan, no harm done. Unfortunately, I think we are going to have to visit the temple for some healing before we can be in a state to face your captors."

[stack]

Eric slumps a bit under the weight of his pack. "Aye, in a bit of a shaky spot myself, can't imagine the rest of you are any better. Come on, let's unload a few things in town and get patched up, take our friend here to report to the chief defender too. Sylvia, here, arm on my shoulder, let's get you out of here...hmm." He stows his bow and hand off his pack to pick the woman up, careful to arrange her cloak first so the gate guards don't get a show.

[Bhaakon]

"Yeah, you guys looks worse off than me..." Othdan mutters, as he comes forward to help Asdoukar wrap up Sylvia in her cloak and maneuver her back up through the trap door into plague house sickroom. There it's a relatively simple matter to throw together a makeshift stretcher from a ruined cot and a bedroll. One couldn't say it's comfortable or sturdy, but it's good enough to make the fifteen minute trip back to the Sanctuary of Iomedae without falling apart.

And acolyte at the door rushes you to a small room with a bed for Sylvia to use while you wait for a higher ranking member of the order. Othdan quickly excuses himself, eager to find a proper meal and, "Make sure my farm hasn't burned down."

Eventually a middling level priest comes and gets straight to work, explaining, "We can discuss any monetary considerations once your friend in out of danger." But he's hardly begun a formulaic invocation to Iomedae when he cuts the prayer short, bends in for a closer look at Sylvia, and frowns. He retreats a step, muttering something about not having "...anything to help a sveto, let alone a poisoned one.". He sees to Eric and Jeis before rushing off to find the High Priestess.

High Priestess Tyari arrives quickly, decked out in a simple robe instead of her more complex formal vestments. "I've been led to understand that your friend will be burned by the Inheritor's light instead of healed." She frowns. "I...we don't have much reason to prepare the proper spells to heal your kind. I believe I can reverse the enervation, but the wounds are another matter. She'll have to come back in the morning, or we can bandage the wounds and let them mend naturally. It is your choice." Sure enough her spells restore strength to Sylvia's limbs, but the twin punctures from the spider fangs continue to ooze blood.

800 xp for saving Othdan

[bcool999]

Jeis

Glad to finally be away from the plague house, Jeis wonders why he feels... stronger. Sure his muscles are aching from the rat bites, but somehow he feels... more solid? He shakes it off tiredly, not having the strength to deal with such weird feelings.

When the priests say they can't cure Sylvia's wounds, Jeis tilts his head and asks, "Why won't your healing work? Healing is healing isn't it? You just draw up some energy and give it to the other person and boom wounds healed right?" As Jeis finishes his somewhat naive asking of how priests heal the wounded, his fingers brush up against Syvlia and suddenly he feels drained of some vitality. He looks over at Sylvia and sees that her wounds have started closing and somehow he knows he was the one that did it, What the... since when could I do that? Looking sheepishly up at the High Priestess, "Well um... looks like I can handle her wounds... I guess? Ha ha ha..." states Jeis with a bit of nervous laughter.

I will take the burn on this one. Healing for Sylvia: [roll0]

[Desril]

Sylvia

Opening her eyes, Sylvia jolts awake, instantly sitting up and looking around in a panic before she starts to make out the faces around her. "Oh." She glances at the party, stopping on Jeis who happens to be closest after sealing her wounds, "I guess we won then? What's happened?"

Belatedly noticing the fact that she could move easily again, she looks at the cleric who's closest. "I take it you rid me of that poison?" Why did it have to be a church? Bah, I can't believe I'm about to have to say this. "Thank you."

[Bhaakon]

Tyari's widen in surprise at Jeis's unexpected talent, missing Sylvia's thanks entirely in her fit of shock. "That was not the usual way. You...you haven't been dabbling in devil's blood, have you child? I know your father keeps some unusual reagents, but I never thought..." She draws back half a step, summoning up some minor spell with a muttered prayer.

Detect Evil

She stares first at Sylvia, her eyes lingering a moment on the dhampir's pouch of spell components, then long and hard at Jeis. Finally she lets out an easy sigh and breaks her gaze. "No...no. I see nothing...untoward in your magic. It is something very different from that particular error of arcanery, and don't sense that you're a conduit to one of the darker deities. Hmm. I'd thought your talents fell under Agrit's purview, but perhaps I was mistaken. Perhaps you should spend some time studying here." She says, visibly relaxing

You are all healed of HP and strength damage, BTW

[bcool999]

Jeis

Still wondering about this new wrinkle in his powers, Jeis responds, "Yeah umm... thanks for the offer, really, but I didn't really feel any divine guidance or whatever when that happened... I just felt that same sapping of my energy that you saw when I pushed myself too hard during that orc raid."

Jeis is referring to an orc raid where he used his ability to fling things at the orcs. However they were far away and Jeis didn't take the time to focus his energies before throwing which led to him hurting himself a bit but when he sought healing from the Sanctuary their spells didn't do anything to help him recover. Sleeping helped though. (Basically the High Priestess understands that Jeis's abilities cause Burn damage)

"Still, you would think that an old church to Iomedae would be less infested with strength draining shadow rats, spiders, orcs, and giant cubes... oh yeah!" Jeis says as he remembers something he wanted to ask Tyari about, "Did you know there was a whole undercroft under the plague house that was pretty much untouched by the fire? There was even an urn room for ashes that had a statue hiding a hidden passage, though the statue had a lot of scrape marks on it from where someone had knifed off the gold leaf. Anyway, does the current Sanctuary have any maps of the underside of the old one?"

[Bhaakon]

"Untouched, really? And a statue of the Burning Wheel? Well, no, I don't think there are any maps so..."

"Wait, did you say there were orcs?" The Priestess does her best to follow the quick-talking young man, but mention of the town's hated enemy grabs her attention to the exclusion of all else. "How did they slip past the patrols. Jagrin must to informed, and the council."

The Town Council currently consists of Halgra, Sara Morninghawk, Agrit Staginsdar, and Lessie Crumkin, the ranking Cleric of Abadar. A tie vote goes to whichever side the High Defender is on.

[bcool999]

Jeis

Taken off his trail of thought by the High Priestess's sudden alarm, Jeis tries to answer her as best he can, "Eh? Well yeah there was one orc. He was dead and stuffed into this burrow holding those dang rats. They seemed to have trouble chewing past his legs. We didn't really see any more than that, but some might have abducted Othdan since we found him trapped down there. Asdoukar do you still have that necklace the orc was wearing? The red gold one with the axes?"

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Watching Sylvie get well from Jeiss' strange magic makes Asdoukar almost miss what Jeiss was saying. With a restraining hand, Asdoukar cuts in.

'It was a half orc. He was wearing this. Do you know what it is? And we are working under the command of the High Defender, to which will report now. Please keep this a secret.

Is the information of the statue and a map of the temple worth the help of the Inheritor? If yes, we should really move on'

[Bhaakon]

The High Priestess grimaces in disgust at the sight of the double axe pendant, and fishes a handkerchief from a pocket in her robe so that it won't touch her bare flesh when Asdoukar hands it over. "Bloody double axes, the sigil of the Blood God. I'll not invoke his proper name." She returns the unholy symbol after briefly examining it, still wrapped in her handkerchief. "It veritably glows with malice, so much that I might have noticed without Iomedae's second sight, but I don't believe it is enchanted. If you're intent upon selling it, I'd suggest that you have Mistress Morningstar will melt it down first."

"A malignant cult operating in Trunau would be bad, perhaps even worse than orcs so close to the wall. There are many half-orcs in town, and I fear what might happen if word spread that there were worshipers of the Blood God among them. She shudders, and it's not hard to think why. Trunau isn't a town for half measures or mercy; suspected orc sympathizers would be fortunate to die quickly.

"I have heard that you are working with the Chief Defender, so I will trust in her and hold my tongue for now. Secrecy might be best. Secrecy and a wary eye. As for payment, I can see clearly enough that you are doing Iomedae's work. So long as you walk in her footsteps, you will have the full support of my order. Within reason, of course. Perhaps you can lead a few of my acolytes to the undercroft of the old Temple once this matter is settled."

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

'I will lead them myself and they will have my axe, if they need it, while exploring their temple. Also, I will speak with my uncle, should dwarven help is needed in restoring it. He might negotiate cheaper dwarven labor for you.

This, I swear by Angraad's Axe, which is my order's patron. '

[stack]

"I will go as well, when the time comes. We should go see the chief defender now, things seem larger than a murder."

[Bhaakon]

"Your gracious offers are most welcome, Masters Grathulkas, Truebow." the High priestess bows lightly in thanks. "Now if you're looking for the Chief Defender, I believe she's overseeing preparations at the Flame of the Fallen. The Patrol Captain's funeral is scheduled for tomorrow, and it's her custom to see to such matters personally for militia officers."

The Flame of the Fallen is a spot on the peak of Bloodmarch Hill were Trunauans are traditionally cremated in a large pyre.

Tyari's advice is correct, You find Halgra at the Flame of the Fallen, directing a few green militia recruits in stacking logs painted with a sticky, black alchemical mixture designed to make the fire burn hot enough to fully consume a body. The chemicals have the added benefit of overpowering the smell of burnt flesh, when the time comes. The boiling tar stench isn't much better, but at least no one would mistake it for a roasting pig.

"Not like that, you oaf. Crosswise, and line up the notches or the whole thing will collapse as it burns." The High Defender snaps in her best drill sergeant voice. Then she spots you approaching and motions towards a spot out of the earshot from the workers.

"So you've found something, then?" She begins, not bothering with pleasantries.

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

Asdoukar again waits for someone else to speak first, a native, before jumping in.


Did we do the IDing and the selling or does that come later?

[stack]

"More than we expected." Eric speaks softly to make it hard for anyone nearby to overhear their report, telling of the rescued prisoner, the orcish cult, and the strange goings-on in the undercroft. The weakness brought on by strength eating rats may have been downplayed.

[Bhaakon]

Halgra listens to the report her usual stone-faced stoicism, waiting for Eric to finish before responding. "Hmm. If nothing else you've saved Othdan from a cruel fate, and you found Rodrik's proper hopeknife. It would have been a shame to use the murder weapon in his funeral. Beyond that, though, you've returned with more questions than answers. The murder has been confirmed, but not solved, and inklings of a cult..."

The Chief Defender puffs out a deep breath through her nose, closing her eyes and grinding her jaw in her usual pose of deep thought. A moment of reflection turns into a pregnant pause as she mulls the news. Finally she opens here eyes and speaks. "I'd very much like to turn this over to the militia, given the gravity of the threat, but I fear that Jagrin would use news of Nulgreth worship as an excuse to round up Trunau's half-orcs. More than a few fools would support him, especially among the old families. It would cost me to stop him, but not as much as allowing it would cost us all in the long run. I don't need to tell you how many Trunauans have mixed blood."

"No, I need this solved discretely, if at all possible. Do you have any other leads to follow?"

[ProudGrognard]

Asdoukar

"There are some things yet, Chief. We have not finished exploring the old temple yet. We need to go back. We can also wait in ambush to see who visits it, if they have not returned already.

Finally, there is another whose farm we must visit."