[PF/3.75] The Blood Answers

[dream]

"The Blood Answers" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Ga5fOI10sU)


“There is something to be learned from a rainstorm. When meeting with a sudden shower, you try not to get wet and run quickly along the road. But doing such things as passing under the eaves of houses, you still get wet. When you are resolved from the beginning, you will not be perplexed, though you will still get the same soaking. This understanding extends to everything.”
http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e235/eldritchword/Westcrown_zpsrsf8t0bt.png

A hard rain falls across the region, grey-black clouds transforming afternoon to near night as the Cruor, a mid-sized merchant ship servicing the waterways from Dekarium all the way south past Egorian and Westpool, into Westcrown, cruised into Wescrani waters. The ship's sails billow violently driven by strong north winds that cause travelers and crew to adjust their garments, despite the semi-warm temperatures. Sailing slower, Westcrown's Adivian Bridge comes into view, the expansive stone structure with guard-posts at either side of the river, where a group of Hellknights, elite enforcers of the House of Thrune, clad in their ebon armor, watch the ship pass under the raised gateway.

Even with the torrential rain, Westcrown's gargantuan statue of the dead god, Aroden, casts a tremendous shadow over the storm-shrouded "City of Twilight". Once known as the "City of Nine Stars", a bloody civil war erupted 4606 AR, resulting from the death of Aroden and the subsequent kingdom-wide power struggle. 34 years later, a victor emerged: the House of Thrune, bringing with them a new, infernal order of Asmodean hegemony. No longer the glorious Chelian capital, most Wescrani nobles fled north to Egorian, and Westcrown fell into a city of degradation and wandering nightmares. Despite the dark times plaguing the city, Westcrown remained one of premier trading ports in all of Cheliax, and its constant fleet of merchant vessels made access to the city easier for those who possessed the contacts ... or coin.

A flash of lightning reveals the gigantic statue's raised arm and sword held defiantly against the thundering sky. Wisecrani buildings and towers come into view, most of their windows illuminated by firelight, with the occasional rain-blurred pedestrian moving swiftly through the streets. The only perceptible sound was raindrops, and the Cruor's congregation ... sailors rushed about the ship, adjusting riggings and readying for docking. The gaggle of twenty-something passengers were mostly huddled near the bow, chatting among themselves while awaiting exit from the Cruor, and the rain. Many of them were either locals returning home, travelers, tourists, and the usual types of pedestrian occupations.

But, the merchant ship also escorted a separate party. One that had made the voyage to Westcrown for a decidedly different purpose. A special coterie responding to a special summons: someone needed able "professionals" of a sort most people only hear of and rarely meet but once ... These 'blood-brokers' had come on the promise of five-hundred gold to merely meet with the summoner and hear a proposal. Compared to the meager three silver commonly offered for a day of their time, ten pounds of gold was less a temptation and more of an obligation. While they had done foolhardy things in the past; Kyrsaku Sereni, Naiisif A'Val, Taurg, Damal, and Nicto were no fools. They would test this rumor of fortune to see just where it led ...


Players should introduce their PCs now; please include descriptions, mannerisms, what they are doing on the ship, thoughts (if you like), and interaction with other PCs. The group, having completed their last mission (but forced to flee prior to receiving full payment from their patron), now arrives at Westcrown to investigate the recent rumor. The first step is finding the Dusk Market: make a DC15 Knowledge: Local check to even know what it is and PCs will need to figure-out how to find it. A DC10 Knowledge: Local check can be made to see what your PC knows of the city, when necessary, and the (DC10) check can be made untrained (no ranks). Using "social skills" with locals might also prove very useful ...


The Dusk Market. (http://pathfinderwiki.com/wiki/Dusk_Market) PCs have three hours to find it before sundown ...

... again, the PCs are a team and have been operating together for at least a month, so interaction should not be a problem.



http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e235/eldritchword/TBA%20-%20Fallen_zpsbnkhvulu.jpg

[Geckus]

Leaning against the port-side rail of the Cruor, Damal smiles into the rain, enjoying the feel of the raindrops pattering against his skin and plastering his dark hair to his scalp and neck, the wind and wet reminding him of the home he'd left some years ago. His gaze shifts from the storm-grey clouds to the Hellknights as the ship passes the Adivian Bridge, and though the smile doesn't leave his lips, his thoughts take a darker turn.

Now there's an order that knows how to put the fear into their enemies...can't wait till the day my name is enough to set even them to shivering.

Altering his stance to cast an eye over the sheep gathered at the bow of the ship, he unconsciously adjusts his war-gear; the gleaming mithral of his breastplate covering a finely cut red and grey tunic, hardened leather bracers studded with iron to guard his forearms, and the weapons...a vicious looking battleaxe with a blade engraved with nordic runes, a brace of lesser axes weighted for throwing, and a pair of daggers tucked into his boots and belt. Even without the axes or the armor, it is unlikely he'd be mistaken for anything but a warrior; the dead coldness in his eyes, the same color as the clouds above, would mark him as a killer to any with the wit to mark the look.

Speaking quietly to his nearest comrade in arms, he considers the rumor that had brought them here.

"Money to be made in this city, no doubt. Now where was the meet supposed to be...ah yes, the Dusk Market. Supposed to set up in the Rego Cader district; that's the north end ruins, not the prettiest place to visit. And only for the two hours afore sundown, so not overlong to find it. We'll need to find out where it's set up from some of the local scum."

[ylvathrall]

Kyrsaku Sereni is standing a short distance from the group at the bow, wearing the body of an attractive young human woman. She'd been a courtesan back in the last city the group went through, whose beauty had been matched by an unfortunate lack of discretion concerning just who her clients were. Sadly for her, one of those clients had been a magistrate whose response to her attempts at blackmail had been exceedingly unfavorable. He'd wanted her to suffer before she died, and he'd wanted her to be so thoroughly discredited that nothing she could say would stain his reputation at all. Given that both of these were within Kyrsaku's realm of expertise, he'd had no difficulty arranging matters during the time he had to spare from the main job. She hadn't been half so pretty by the end; by the time she took poison and threw herself into the river, the strain and sorrow had added a dozen years to her face, and hard years at that.

That had been a pleasant job. The way her friends had turned on her when she began to lose her mind had been a wonderful tragedy, the payment from the magistrate had been a lovely addition to that the group had been given for the main job, and he'd added another appearance to his collection in the bargain. All in all, a worthwhile use of his time.

Even if someone on the ship happened to know of that story, though, they likely wouldn't connect the disguised kitsune to that woman. His clothing is fairly appropriate to her profession, loose and a bit provocative with many pockets and a pair of extravagant scarfs. But his attitude, the way he carries himself, is much more confident, even imperious. He hasn't been a noble for a long time now, but the inbred arrogance of that station, the attitude of someone who walks through the world with the casual certainty that the world will bend to accommodate his whim rather than the other way around, is still a persona that he can slip into like a second skin. It's almost second nature, the first mask he learned to wear and in some ways still the one that fits him best.

As the Cruor approaches port, Kyrsaku takes some time to consult one of the books he purchased before boarding the ship, holding it under his scarf to keep the rain off the pages. Though it looks like nothing special, beneath its plain leather cover lies a wealth of information about the seediest parts of Westcrown, the brothels and the gambling halls, the dance parlors and burlesque houses. Finally, after he's refreshed his memory to his satisfaction, he tucks the book neatly back into his pack and looks around for a bit of entertainment to pass the time until the ship makes port.

Kyrsaku will spend an hour consulting his blue book for information about the Dusk Market. I'm assuming the bonus applies on this check.
Knowledge (local) (with +2 from blue book): [roll0]

Also, any preference for whether I use male or female pronouns for Kyrsaku while he's mimicking a female? I don't have a preference and I could see it being a bit confusing either way, so if one works better than the other for the rest of you I can certainly adjust to suit.

[Gunhaven]

Nicto had remained apart from the majority of the group, working with them when it was necessary and little else. The Tengu realized that they were the closest things he had had to allies in this strange land and he knew he did it mostly to protect them on the off chance that what had driven him from Tian Xia happened again. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that the courtesan was a familiar face from his past. It certainly helped that he radiated a palpable aura of dread and was clearly marked as a play thing by Zon-Kuthon with the holy symbol burned into the left side of his head and his shadow turned into the monster inside him by the Midnight Lord.
Now though the fighter remained out of the way. His Mithral breastplate clashed with the feathers that looked like oil, the exotic Kusarigama that was coiled on his right hip with its crystal ball and perpetually clean sickle, and the pack of truly miscellaneous gear that he had acquired over the years in Golarion. He looked up as they neared the bridge, blinking away the rain, and let out a brief caw of laughter. The Umbral Court told him of their neighbor and more importantly the strings that the Dark Prince pulled in the great play of life. The same strings that the Prince of Pain tugged for himself.
He turned to Damal then and looked at the fellow warrior with beady black eyes, tilting his head in thought. Then he returned to some level of normality and said "A good idea...cities not my speciality. We bleed it out of them or no? Would like eyes again, yes." The joke was punctuated by another caw of laughter before he awaited impatiently to leave the boat and be upon land again.

[Mornings]

A'Val; The Pale Bride

...Moments Before
She had not been disappointed with her strange companions. It truly had been quiet the interesting encounter, yet her occupation demanded a certain level of tact and suspicion from all parties - 'allies' and 'employer' alike. After all, 'allies' more often then not were a temporary arrangement of circumstances. She felt no bitterness nor resentment towards those she killed, only a quite, infuriating indifference. She wanted to 'feel' like the mortal souls she stalked in shadow and slayed with light. She did not tell her companions her name, only maintained her persona of 'A'Val, The Pale Bride'. An assassin of some renown among a dark and very small circle in individuals who dealt in death, and thus below deck in a dark corner of the ships hold she begun her preparations.

A'Val prepared as she did each day with careful and ritualistic motions - examining her 'tools' with her soft pale-skinned hands. She slid her long white sleeves over her arms, zipping the seems to her slim formfitting suit - what had once been a scatterlight suit before it had run out of energy during the sojourn and been converted into functional cloths. The sleeves were unreasonably long and baggy, made of a strange slick rubbery material, a common accessory for those in her line of work that operated under the watchful eyes of The Technic League. She carefully strapped the long thin bands of blackened steel and nano-fibre to the backs of her forearms. The weapons, small an easily concealed were popular with her dark-brothers - long knives hidden on the arms and employed with stealth. Yet she had adopted techniques during her brief time in Katapesh. The Duskwalkers often employed interesting hidden weapons in such fashions that she had never before seen. It had been perhaps the most influential experience she had the chance witness and learn from. The lessons of deception and guile had become her most carefully employed weapons, even going to the extent of having her equipment custom forged for such purpose - then putting the skilled craftsmen to the sword to ensure the secrets would indeed, remain secret... The 'Ebon Blades' had become a trusted weapon in her arsenal of tools. She cinched down the black rubbery bands of nano-fibre, which tightened around her arm appearing as if painted-on, before covering her arms with the longsleeves. She slipped the white many-pocketed outer-coat over, then belted similar pants on, beginning the careful placement of many small black needle-like darts into hidden pockets and the fabric's seems. Quickly she fitted her heavier armored vestments on, then her large heavy cloak. It served as her armor, interwoven with mithril and steel thread within the waxed and oiled white twill-canvas. It served fairly well in a defensive capacity for its generally light weight and ease of movement. She had not been permitted the use of her normal neraplast armor by The Matrons for this mission, but instead been given her current replacement. A 'parade armor' of sorts for those who hunted men in shadow within Cheliax, or so she had been told. She had studied the city and the country before she had left, but she had never before ventured to the place. She folded the collapsible shortbow and slid it into the slim white quiver belted to her left thigh, buttoning down the cover over it while fitting her long white pocketed scarf around her neck, carefully checking and loading it with her miscellaneous trade tools. She pulled up the scarf to cover half her face while donning her thin translucent visor, a souvenir from a rather skilled, and now dead, VEEMOD technician. The use of goggles and other forms of visual aids was common for assassins that wandered the Numerian wastes, but she was especially fond of this particular tool - it was so light and hardly noticeable, it made a fine addition to her assets. She pulled her hood over her face, the cowl and the scarf formed a particularly effective guise, with the exception of her long silver hair which flowed out of her cowl. She appeared as a faceless white specter. With a swift movement, she slung her short, broad bladed sword over her back. A simple white scabbard attached to a colorless strap she cinched down with a quick tug. The large 'D' ring guard of the sword was made of some strange skymetal-alloy which even she did not know the origin or name, intricately engraved with strange eldritch symbols of some lost lore or arcana. It was the only weapon she carried plainly visible - after all, the art of deception required proper misdirection... She sharply turned now prepared, heading for the stairs that would take her above deck.


(Hidden Items - Slight of Hand: Assassin's Ebon Blades)
- 1d20+22 / Take 10 [32] - If seen, requires DC15 Perception ea. to Identify as weapon (Switchblade)

(Hidden Items - Slight of Hand: (All) Small Items)
- 1d20+20 / Take 10 [30] - Weapons (Small) / Items concealed in hidden pockets / Pocket Scarf


...Above Deck
The rain whipped and howled, the grey skies, the rock and keen of the roiling waves. She loved it. She didn't understand why, yet beneath her thick scarf she smiled, looking on at the raging of the storm with eager eyes - there was a certain magic in the expressions of the world and nature, just as there was in people. She glanced at the Hellknights, she did not feel any particular way. A certain kind of indifference, like looking upon an effigy of stone. She had heard the simple sight of the infernal order stuck fear into many men's hearts. Fear. What was it? She 'knew' what it was, described in such detail within the pages of tomes and accounts of men she had studied - yet she could not truly comprehend something she had never felt. She had hoped such would change standing under the eyes of the order which inspired it so freely in others, yet, it did not... she frowned silently, feeling cheated. She skulked past her allies, the waterproofed cloth of her cloths deflecting the rain with relative ease, though the wind threatened to simply lift her light frame away. The assassin tilted her head at Damal, " The Dusk Market... I've heard the name, though I am not particularly familiar with it. As for Rego Cader however, I am much better acquainted. I had the opportunity to study a map of the city and some of its 'finer points' before our departure. " She looked to her shadow.

' Do you recall The Dusk Market? ' The shadow shrugged. She sighed, more towards the lack of information then at their circumstances. She did not like being caught unaware, knowledge was a powerful and dangerous weapon she enjoyed retaining control of. " It seems our employer has chosen a location particularly disadvantageous to us, perhaps we should have one of two of our number maintain a distance and cover until the nature of our benefactor is revealed. Having hidden allies may keep negotiations in our favor, rather than all gathering at once at the mercy of this would-be employer. I have dealt with many such individuals before, and out of my experience, the most lucrative contracts are those which require the utmost care. The prospect of a 500 gold consultation payment does not sit well with me, and honestly raises much concern as to the nature of our employer and the work to be done. It would not be the first time I have been paid a small fee, then threatened to complete a job... There is money to be made - by the living." She glanced at Nicto, making a mental note of his lack of familiarity with urban environments.

[Geckus]

Laughing at the bird-man's comment, Damal shakes his head, "What is it with crows and people's eyes?" He had no aversion to even the darkest of deeds, but Nicto's predilection towards torture certainly exceeded his own; too much work for too little gain in his mind. "Shouldn't be a need for blood to learn what we need; or at least not that much of it. Lean on the right person or flash a bit of coin for starters."

He eyed the short elfin girl as she joined the conversation; a surprisingly deadly creature in such a small package. "For five hundred, I'll indulge a bit a gamesmanship A'Val."

[dream]

Everyone:

The Cruor turns slowly as it nears the pier of Westcrown's Parego Dospera at the city's northern edge. From the docking ship, the rain-swept riverfront is primarily large, run-down stone or wood structures with cracks and vines creeping along the face of the warehouses. Dock-hands wander the pier with ropes to secure the Cruor as it inches closer to the dock, finally coming to a 'thudding' stop that rocks the vessel abruptly. Whistles from the pier-workers and the Cruor's crew signal a successful arrival, as a web of ropes are rapidly created to harbor the merchant ship securely. The hard rain continues, but one couldn't tell from the men working along the ship and dock, as if these fellows were nigh-immune to the weather. The smell of the Adivian river is replaced by the odor of waste, old wood, and various foods cooking in the distance.

A metal-reinforced wooden gangplank swings from the side of the ship and after being secured by dock workers, the crowd of travelers begin exiting the Cruor, the sound of footfall, chatter, and rain echoing off the pier's aged architecture. At the end of the gangplank are a few cloaked figures, most of them appearing to have braved the weather to greet some of the passengers. A couple of travelers exit, then wait ship-side, as crewmen carry collections of luggage and large packages off the ship. Small streams of rainwater wash over the cobblestone-soil walkways leading from the pier into greater Westcrown as lightning illuminates the dreary landscape - also revealing the presence of armored guardsmen carrying dark shields bearing the symbol of a red cross within a double-circle. These sentries seem to be watching the new arrivals from a distance of roughly a hundred feet, while occasionally talking among themselves as rain drips from their armament.

The mercenaries are the last group to exit the Cruor, with the crew watching the adventurers and mumbling to each other as they are clearly trying to maintain a safe distance from the unusual travelers ...



DC10 Knowledge: Local check to identify the guardsmen, and DC10 Knowledge: Religion to recognize the symbol on their shields (these checks are optional). To PCs familiar with Westcrown (successful check), Rego Cader is an hour's walk from the pier, with the rain. Time-wise, it would be around 3 p.m./1500 hrs., but with the weather, it looks more like 8 p.m./2000 hrs.

PCs can 'get their bearings' and decide their next move ...


The guardsmen are Dottari, Westcrown's largest group of wardens, who keep the peace across most of the city.



The symbol is the "Eye of Aroden", former (lawful) patron deity of Westcrown.

[Gunhaven]

Nicto let out a series a light caws in enjoyment before righting himself in time for the boat to near the dock. He remained a rock in the stream of people as he reached into his pack and removed his mask; the skull of the humanoid fitting over his own and painted in dried blood on the ivory surface with the lower half removed so that his beak could poke through. His stance adjusted further as he noticed the guards, eyes growing dead and the shadow seeming to grip his Kusarigama as he withdrew his chosen weapon. He gave it a couple of simple swings before he stepped forward and toward the plank, saying flatly "We go, yes?"

[ylvathrall]

Local: [roll0]
Religion: [roll1]

"We're looking for Rego Cader," Kyrsaku says, stepping onto the docks. "Over that way, I believe. And then we should ask around for where the Dusk Market is tonight." He grins. "My kind of place. I think I might like this mysterious employer."

[Mornings]

A'Val; The Pale Bride

She sighed seeing her words had little or no impact to the band of mercenary soldiers. It was more beneficial to her mission to keep her few allies breathing and out of the way of obvious traps, however as with all things and as The Teachings had educated her, all possessed a duality. A liability and vulnerability could just as easily prove to be the advantage required to tip the scale in her favor. If surrounded by willing bodied volunteers, she was more then willing to allow them to go gallivanting through the city - as long as they knew the risk. What better distraction so that she could pass unseen? The small elf slid off to the side pressing her back against the wall and sliding into a crouch behind the ship's railing as they begun the slow approach into port. She pulled her cowl low. She didn't like welcoming parties.

Take 10: (1d20+24) [34]
Take 10: [19] Local & Religion

She squinted seeing the city wardens gathered at the dock. She slid down below sight the deckhands begun their work and started to unload cargo, looking over to her allies with a frown, they were such an eye-catching lot of Ne'er-do-wells, she almost dropped her face in her palm having to work with such a strange group. '...What an ostentatious lot.', her shadow silently laughed at her discomfort, the soundless words of her ghastly counterpart speaking in her mind. ' It is no matter, what better misdirection could be found? ' She thought about it for a half second, 'the most outrageous lot, with the most silent blade', something about it seemed fitting to the Edgewalker. She hesitated for a moment considering the best method to initiate her entry into the city... '...If it's trouble. Best to keep things quiet.' - '...Or loud? Shock & awe are rather effective tools. As is a well placed grenade.' She shook her head at the notion. '...To many people. But moreover it is likely our lot would just run into it. Would be troublesome. However, I doubt any affiliated parties would be so bold as to greet us in public. Your suspicions seem baseless to me, but there is no harm in caution.' The shadow crossed its arms as if being mocked, she rolled her eyes. She went to work quickly, snapping out her small broad-bladed sword from her back and thrusting the weapon into her shadow - the diamond blade penetrating the dark-reflection which recoiled as if in pain. She ripped out the blade, now coated in a faintly glowing red inchor, dividing the butterflysword in two. She sheathed her right-handed blade, Rapture, and slid the other weapon, Anguish, with a reverse-grip behind her long-sleeves concealing the blade. Outwardly, it appeared as if nothing had changed, the sword still on her back, her hands still hidden from view...


[6 Seconds]
- Standard Action: Use - Inchor of the Firefly
Duration: Until Used / On Strike
Effect: +5d3 Untyped Damage on Strike

- Free Action: Divide Sword (Rapture & Anguish)
- Move Action: Sheath Rapture
- Conceal Small Object (Weapon: Anguish, Left Hand): Take 10 [30]
******
- Half speed (Stealth), follow behind Nicto

After completing her preparations, she slowly skulked after her allies, walking behind sailors and sliding back and forth between the deckhands until she came to hide behind the large dark bird-man. She liked his eagerness, but he also seemed like the first who would likely find trouble. At the least she could cover the eager-aven's rear while he served as a large feathery distraction for her to pass unseen. She took note of Kyrsaku's words, he, it? Seemed to be fairly familiar with the city, though she was still struggling with her thoughts about the creature, unable to make heads-or-tails on how she should even refer to the Kitsune. She wondered what you would call a male creature that could effectively polymorph into a female of another race... She pressed on, shaking her head while making a mental note to research it at her earliest continence.

[Geckus]

As the last of the passengers disembark from the ship, Damal pushes away from the rail and heads towards the gangplank - the only things he had brought with him were already well secured about his person. Realizing he had not seen the last of their band, he calls out to the others, "Oy, is Taurg still with that beast of his?"

Descending the gangplank, he stops beside Kyrsaku, taking an admiring glance at the form he'd adopted before shaking his head. Shapeshifter, birdman, elf-girl and a half-orc; odd band of allies, these. His gaze lingers on the guards for little more than a moment before he starts following the course of the majority of the other passengers; he wasn't marked in this city, at least as far as he knew, so they really weren't cause for concern.

"Tavern, then? One of the right sort should have the type of patrons we need for directions. And that trip has left me right parched, it has."


Knowledge: Local [roll0]
Knowledge: Religion [roll1]

[Mornings]

A'Val; The Pale Bride

She pressed close enough to the Tengu to remain out of sight but looked back over her shoulder at Damal with a frown under her muffler. He was right, the dumb-orc was no where in sight. She paused for a moment, digging through her neatly organized contents within her pocketed scarf producing a small wand. She felt the ring on her hand tangle as the arcane tool and the ring begun to synchronize.

Wand of Message - Duration: 10 min
Charges Remaining - (39)
Take 10 (1d20+10) [20]
She slid the wand out and pressed it to her neck activating the magic. Then she swiftly begun pointing it at her allies. The weak magic flickered to life in her hand, silently enchanting her companions. She had no intention of relinquishing her concealment just to speak, and thankfully with her tools there was no need to. A'Val's quiet voice spoke out magically to the others carried by the arcane energies producing almost no audible sound to those about her. (("...He's still aboard the vessel, I've yet to see the orc above deck. Perhaps you'd be so kind as to fetch him? I'd prefer to get off these docks quickly - We seem to be drawing much unwelcome attention."))


Near/Adjacent creatures not effected by the magic may attempt to hear Message (DC25 Percep)

[ylvathrall]

"I like taverns as much as the next girl, but can we wait to get drunk until after we do the job?" Kyrsaku says to Damal. His voice matches the persona: breathy, just a touch haughty, with a trace of a foreign accent that couldn't quite be pinned down to any nationality in particular.

When he hears the assassin whisper to him, he snorts quietly. She must be using one of her trinkets. Useful trinkets, granted, but if she wanted to do magic, why not just learn magic?

Attention isn't a bad thing, he whispers back to her. And trust me, I can keep them from looking for you. You hide in the shadows; I hide right in front of them. And we can settle who's going to the meeting when there aren't so many people listening in.

I'm assuming I was included in the message spell? You just said "her companions," so I'm not totally sure whether you mean all of us or what.

[Mornings]

A'Val; The Pale Bride

The small elf did agree, there was such things as positive attention - but having so many people with their eyes in her general direction was surely not positive, and the thought of it made her squirm. The assassin had to concede to the shapeshifter however, he did know how to 'hide' particularly well - at least in regard to masking his true identity, whereas she preferred remaining undetected. Still having a strange exotic woman and a large bipedal-bird-warrior were perhaps some of the most colorful distractions she'd had to work with - they could have perhaps even passed as some far-traveled band from Tian Xia, assuming the human and orc posed as bodyguards and she remained unseen. The thought wasn't terrible, but the complexity of such an outlandish lie was something to consider as well. (("...Very well then. See to that, and I shall see to dispatching any unwelcome guests."))

[dream]

Exiting the ship as they whisper intentions, the mercenary troupe passes between the guardsmen, who watch them intently ... if looks could kill ...

Stepping through the torrential rain-shower on water-soaked cobblestones, the group makes their way to Rego Cader, taking note of their surroundings: the narrow roadways, roughly sixty feet wide, are uneven and littered with potholes; the streets are mostly empty of foot-traffic save the occasional pedestrian or couple rushing by under the cover of nearby buildings; music and sometimes laughter or conversation from tall stone or wood residences filter into the street along with the smell of Wisecrani culinary treats; often a stray dog or cat wanders into view - pausing to eye the party - then scrambling down an alleyway. No street merchants. No prostitutes. No families and children. No fanfare, all seemingly washed away by the storm ... or so it would seem ...


The check can be handled with 'Take 10' ...


A lightning flash reveals four figures, two on each side of the road, walking near the buildings. They seem to be walking in step with the party, but just twenty feet behind. You're being followed ...

[Mornings]

A'Val; The Pale Bride


Perception: Take 10 [21]
Remain in Stealth: [34]
Store wand
(Assuming we haven't walked for 10 minutes) - [if so Recast Message on party, Charges (38) ]

The storming rain, the slick cobblestone streets. It was very much 'home' for the small assassin. Remaining unseen was made all the more simple under cover of rain & shadow. The booming roar of thunder in the sky above gave way to a flash of lightning. The holographic reticle appeared on her thin visor, the figures clearly coming into view only briefly from behind behind them. She slid her wand back into place after ensuring her spell was still active, quickly tapping the side of the visors frame, setting a visual marker for reference; <Distance: 20>. She did not enjoy being followed, simply because it raised the question as to why. But with consideration towards her rather outlandish allies - it very well could have been as simple as a robbery, or perhaps just a gang of brigands looking for something to stab in the neck. All well and good, but there was the slim chance the lot shadowing them were contacted or otherwise employed by some adversarial benefactor with knowledge of her business. She couldn't have that. She was never good at convincing others to talk - but a man without a head was a man that could not act against her, and that was more often then not, a simple enough solution to her troubles. (("...It appears this will not be an uneventful march through the city. We've guests. Four visible, on our rear, perhaps more in hiding. They may mean to simply 'borrow' some gold, but I'd rather leave their bodies in an ally and be on our way. How would you like me to dispose of them? - It would not do to let them trail us until we reach our employer, or our business in the Market. Cut-purse or not, they've erred in their selection. I'm willing to wager a few lives they are not associated with our own employer, but feel free to ask them before I put my knife in their spine.")) She slid out a new wand as she put the previous back in place. ((" If you'd like, we could move our business into an ally. It is a simple matter to lay a trap or two behind us as we enter, and keep our guests in one place.")) With a quick flick she let the new magic manifest over her. A defensive spell in the unlikely event her enemies were more skilled then she cared to believe, she put the other wand away - prepared for the inevitable battle.

UMD: Take 10 [20]
Wand of Shield: Cast Shield - Charges (9)
Store wand

[ylvathrall]

Once out of sight of the guards, around the corner, Kyrsaku adjusts his appearance again. The girl was a good body, but she just wasn't suited to this sort of area. Too likely to attract the wrong sort of attention, and while that was fun at times, they did have a job to be doing.

Instead, he slips into the form of a human thug he'd known back in the north. That had been a real brute of a man, a bit bent in the head even by Kyrsaku's standards. He'd carved his own skin up with knifes and brands until there was almost no part of his body that wasn't scarred over. He'd died with the rest of the brigands, but Kyrsaku had kept the man's appearance in his collection for occasions just like this one. Where the girl looked like easy prey, this body would make most respectable citizens more than slightly wary. He adjusts his clothes as he does this, slight changes that make a very noticeable difference. The colors alter slightly as he casts a quick cantrip, darkening slightly; he also adjusts the scarves so that they look less like veils and more like the sort of capes a flamboyant thug might wear.

When the assassin tells him that they have company, he doesn't bother questioning her. She's a professional; if she says they're being tailed, they're being tailed. He barely even glances back to see if he can spot the people she's talking about. "I'd keep one alive if it's convenient," he whispers back to her. "It might be a useful guide, and either way I think Nicto's been getting bored. Other than that I'll defer to your expertise to get it done, although I should be able to tangle a couple of them up for you one way or another if you'd like."

Using change shape/Realistic Likeness to alter my physical form, and prestidigitation to alter the color of the clothing. I can roll a Disguise check if you'd like, or take 10 for a 39 (+4 if I'm interacting with a creature that could be sexually attracted to me, assuming I was able to perform my obedience on the ship today).

I'll also roll Perception, just for kicks: [roll0] (not including any penalties from the rain)

[Mornings]

A'Val; The Pale Bride

She considered the kitsune's offer. The help of magic would be a large boon to their endeavor and greatly increased the likelyhood of taking one of the thugs alive. Yet, there were other things to consider. Time. It was a precious thing. Did they really have time to waste on this lot? After all, who openly trained after their quarry in the street? ...Amateurs. Then there was another crucial bit to consider. Resources. This was not the last battle they would see this day, of that she was certain. They had yet to even meet their employer, or come to this traveling black market, no doubt teeming with the most brutish human-filth the city had to offer. Magic was a crucial resource, a resource that should be spent wisely. Simple cantrips and minor enchantment was one thing, but she'd no desire to waste her allies strength over this petty band. The underbelly of cities were like living things, beasts that poked and prodded you, bit and gnashed their teeth - spend your strength unwisely and it would finish you off as you tired under the weight of constant threat. ((" Though it would be of great aid, save what magic you've prepared. That is a resource I'd much rather employ against another, more threatening enemy. If we were to take to an alley, I could perhaps trap the entrance and let the fools talk into a hall of caltrops and other such festivities - but I feel it would perhaps be time ill spent. Unfortunately, I'm rather unskilled in taking my quarry alive." ))

(("This particular lot does not strike my as exceptionally skilled either, openly pursuing us in the streets - even under the cover of the weather, an amateur approach. They clearly do not understand the fine art of stalking. However, they are not stupid either, using their position to potentially flank us. I recommend we take to the alley to deny them such advantage and draw them together, rather then risking potential ambush by others or allowing them toe opportunity to flank us - Better to kill them all. If you'd like however, I could cut the flesh from one of their skulls and you could perhaps present the face to one of his friends. Perhaps then they may be more willing to lend their ear to your words - When you are prepared to begin, make for the next alley. Prepare your magic to deal with any potential casters, those can pose quite the problem if left unchecked, but martial brawlers - as I assume these brigands are, should be no issue.")) Her hand quietly slipped up, removing her other sword from her back with her freehand, rejoining it with its twin back into a single sword hidden from view under her sleeve. There was no need for such deceptions now. Not with a kill so close at hand.

Unsheathe & Rejoin butterfly sword.
Waiting for party to act/move to an alley.

[Geckus]

Though he is disappointed by the decision to wait on visiting the tavern...I mean, really, who gets drunk on just one beer?...Damal takes it in stride and follows along with the others as they venture towards Rego Cader. The glares from the Dottari bothers him a whit more than the steady downpour of chilling rain, leaving him wondering if it's the obvious non-human they disfavour, their all-too-obvious weaponry, or something else entire.

Maybe some idiocy to do with their dead god.

He's unsure of what exactly drew his attention - perhaps an inattentive footfall splashing through a rain-filled pothole, or the subtle difference of the rain striking flesh and cloth rather than cobbled road, or just a finely honed survival instinct built over the years - but Damal is already aware of their shadows when A'Val's whispered missive reaches his ears. He half-turns his head to address Nicto, so that he can just make out the pair to his left out of the corner of his eye - marking them as the first to feel his axe should they clear steel - while pretending to be unaware of their stalkers, laughing as if they'd just shared a joke.

"We definitely need one alive...I'd wager twenty gold these are exactly the type of scum we can squeeze the location of the Dusk Market from, and as much as I like the rain, I don't feel like wandering the district blindly."

Confident of how quickly he can bring his axes into play, Damal doesn't feel the need to reach for them just yet, but is ready to react the moment it becomes needed.


Take 10 on Perception = 18
Bluff [roll0] - faking being unaware of the followers
Studied Target on the closest target to his left (move action)
Readied action to attack the first one to come within reach with a weapon drawn

If more than 1 round of prep:
Studied Target on remaining person to his left

[Gunhaven]

The Tengu's shadow moved when the Elven girl entered, wings of darkness enveloping the child. Even with the night the shadow didn't leave him, a constant reminder of who his Lord is, and he began to walk with the others. He remained near the front, slowly extending the crystal ball of his Kusarigama and swinging it lazily through the rain as he walked. When the thugs were spotted he let out a similar caw of laughter and confirmed for himself that they would be joining Zon-Kuthon soon. With a click of crystal on stone he replied to the message with his own missive, pausing his step shortly after it before catching back up easily enough.
(( "Yes, we spare one. I tie him up, let him watch friends get killed. Will teach him pleasure of pain, quick and easy. Can also send running back through traps if needed." )) Even as he spoke the shadow of the crow seemed to coalesce around his fist, appearing to drip with dread. In the shadow cloaked hand he reached behind himself and pulled out his barbed manacles, keeping them at the ready for if he had need of restraining a cowering enemy.
Will use Missive and regain Psionic Focus, just getting ready to stack on the fear effects now.

[dream]

Suddenly, the four stalkers run out into the street roughly twenty feet in front of the party! The four figures wear dark-gray, ankle-length cloaks and high boots of the same color, Their clothing beneath the cloak seems black. The rain and their hoods make their whole faces hard to see, but it is obvious they are humanoid, with pale-white skin and dark eyes that glimmer in the storm. Each of them is roughly six feet tall, slender but muscular and obviously quick and graceful. While they keep one arm concealed under their cloaks, each of the four figures reveal a wicked, gleaming sickle (http://szaboinc.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/10/battle_sickle2.jpg) in their other left hand! One of them yells to the party, Greetings, Nicto, and welcome to your end. We were told to explain that since you are no longer under the protection of the Umbral Court, those you struck down in their service may now be avenged. Your time of hiding in the shadows of power are over, as is too, your life. There is a significant bounty on your head - and we mean to have it. We have no quarrel with you others. The tengu is our only target, but if you choose to interfere, Rovagug will dine on more than Nicto's soul this night. If you do not wish to die, leave now ...!"

The rain descends like a waterfall as the four figures begin to slowly pace around and closer to the group, specifically Nicto ...


Players can roll d% to see if your PC recognizes this group ...


These are the Fallen; a quartet of bounty-hunter-assassins that operate in the Ravounel Forest of northwest Cheliax. Rumor has it they are disowned Elven royalty, banished from Kyonin (rather than being executed) for a string of unspeakable murders. They relocated to Cheliax, establishing a foothold in the Ravounel Forest, where they may have played a factor in the appearance of an evil cult of Ravogug there. The Fallen always operate together and working in unison, have been known to cut-down even the best swordsmen across the realm. Some have even whispered that the four brethren made a blood-pact with Ravogug, granting them magical immunity in exchange for their souls! Perhaps this is how they've built their reputation around the assassination of mages and outsiders ...

PCs can talk (Free action) to the four men, but it should be brief & the actual combat begins Friday with two of your foes going first. The order should be kept, so please wait for your turn;
Initiative Order:
Foe 24
Foe 21
Naiisif 19
Foe 17
Kyrsaku 12
Nicto 8
Foe 7
Damal 4

A map has been provided on the IC OP ...

[Mornings]

A'Val; The Pale Bride

The large grin under her scarf was almost unable to be contained, threatening to erupt into laughter. They had only just begun their venture within the city and things were already looking so well. The band of would-be assassins had so brazenly stated their business and intention. Two things she would never freely provide her prey, gods be good, she'd sooner be caught dead then having a target even hear her voice. Was this a duel, or an assassination? Things were so different in Cheliax it seemed. However, she was not displeased with the turn of events - rather, she felt something similar to gratitude. With intent and even their employer's organization so neatly provided, how much time had been saved? - There also came with it a certain peace of mind. She was completely un-involved in the matter.

Options. She considered both. What had she to gain simply turning a blind eye to the band of 'merry men'? - She could avoid a conflict... there wasn't much else to consider. She found their offer was painfully lacking. Denied a critical asset, distraction and shield to avoid murdering a handful of fools in a wet street with no witnesses. They weren't exceptionally fast - though seemingly trained well enough in martial combat. She found herself underwhelmed, and somewhat disenchanted with such a seemingly straight forward attack... almost insulted. The mirth turned sour in her mouth. This was not how things were done. There was no 'art'. There was no thought, or pride. It was an affront to her delicate craft.. She didn't know what to call the strange sensation in her chest. The twitch in her hand, and flinch in her left eye. The knot in her throat and turning in her stomach. She felt ill, as one might feel watching their mother violated by some grime-covered band of brigands. Was this... disgust? She whispered magically to the others, namely Nicto. ((" It seems they have saved us a great deal of trouble, revealing to us their purpose. There now exists no purpose to allow one to live. Though perhaps this could be some falsity spun for some other end - I'm afraid I cannot permit such vermin to continue to exist. There is no tact. No art, nor value in their methods. They are an affront to my craft, and I will see such blight's expunged..." )) - She readied herself. Unfortunately for them she waited patiently within the corvid's strange shadow.

[ylvathrall]

Kyrsaku feels a sort of mild interest when the group of attackers comes into view, which swiftly fades when they open their collective mouth. A group of bounty hunters? How...mundane. And what they actually said was no better. Ranting about vengeance, invoking the Rough Beast, it all seemed so bland. As an offer, it was pathetic. Right after mentioning the bounty, he'd have hoped they would at least think to offer a share of that bounty in exchange for Nicto. It was like they couldn't even be bothered to lie.

And as a threat? It was so very, very lacking. Too long to be pithy, not detailed enough to leave a person dwelling on it. Any fool could sneak up on someone in the rain and flash a little steel, and while the prospect of having his soul devoured by Rovagug was genuinely intimidating, if these pathetic imbeciles could manage that they wouldn't be chasing bounties.

It is, he decides, an insult. There's simply no other way to interpret this. To suggest that such a moronic band could seriously pose any threat to himself and his associates is insulting, whether they know it or not. Thus, his response is gauged to be as offensive to them as this insult is to him. The tone is casual and dismissive, the exotic lilt of his previous accent exchanged for the slow drawl of a Chelish street thug. He looks them over briefly, his expression conveying very mild disdain, and says:

"Amateurs."

That's all. The very casualness of it all, the fact that he doesn't care, will sting their pride more than anything he could add to it.

They would likely be astonished at the notion that so much care and intent could go into a single word. And that is why Kyrsaku is an artist, and they are merely rubbish to be disposed of.

[Geckus]

So, not just stupid street thugs, but bounty-hunters? Interesting. They've made a bad choice of blades for a straight fight; assassin's tools, not a warrior's. Other hand's still hidden; throwing blade or hand-crossbow?

Damal gives their offer no more than a moment's thought; one of his very few rules was not turning on those he'd chosen to call allies, though he did try to choose them carefully. They had to be someone he could trust to watch his back, even if he couldn't trust them for much else.

"The bird's ours, friend. Walk away while you still can."

[Gunhaven]

Nicto for his part cawed with laughter. He stammered out "You here for me?" in between bouts of laughter before straightening up and getting a deadly glint in his eye, his voice growing cold. "No understand. Court no protect, only direct. Now Zon-Kuthon feast on your screams too, yes." He began to swing his manacles openly, tempting them to close the distance and teach them the real meaning of fear.

[dream]

The four hunters pace closer, seemingly ignoring the party's comments, then spring towards the mercenaries while throwing small objects in their direction! There is a brilliant flash of blue light, accompanied by a thundering explosion of sound that does not come from the heaven's above ...!


[roll0]
All PCs must make a DC20 Will save and a DC15 Fortitude save ...


PC is Confused for 1 round; roll d% and wait ...


PC is Deafended & -4 Perception for an hour, plus there's a 20% chance any spellcasting requiring verbal components will fail ...