[IC] The Witchwar Legacy

[Conaldar]

THE WITCHWAR LEGACY

<mood music> (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YKnY1vlZ1i4)
"Nearly 500 years ago, the Witch Queen Tashanna, Ninth Daughter of Baba Yaga, sought the
means to overcome her mother and rule Irrisen unopposed for all time, sparking the short but
exceptionally bloody rebellion that became known as the Witchwar. Baba Yaga ruthlessly crushed
Queen Tashanna’s rebellion, and the Old Crone executed all her wayward daughter's loyalists, placing
them in a frozen tomb in the far north. There, it is said, their spirits remain entrapped alongside the
wealth looted in their short-lived coup—left as an object lesson by Baba Yaga for any who would
ever dare to challenge her power again and risk the fate of the Witchwar Legacy."


The snow never stopped - and never melted. The party, pursuing an incredible fairy-tale across at least three nation-states, surged into Irrisen from the south, cutting through Hoarwood and its massive forest under the veil of night. Racing past ancient snow-crowned trees, the quartet pushed their steeds, the chilling echo of eternal winter cutting into their faces as they sped ahead for their destination. The snow-Goblin army inhabiting the great ice-capped woods probably felt the party easy prey - but within a few hours, the mighty quartet had overwhelmed the goblins and taken their hoard of magic items - a fair ransom for the life of their king.

As night fell across the howling snowstorm of a nation - the party soon noticed the harder the wind raged, the slower the snow fell - the adventurers came upon the cool waves of Glacier Lake. Rounding it to the east and then avoiding roving wolfpacks, the party soon reached their goal: Whitethrone, ever-frozen capital kingdom of Irrisen! Based on the memories of at least one of the party, the crew found their way to "Grandmother's", perhaps the finest inn one might hope to find in this wilderness of winter. After days of hard riding, the crew spent only a few hours enjoying their new "toys" along with shining pitchers of warm spirits .....

then they slept. In.

The sounds of laughter and revelry roused the adventurers the next afternoon. That, and the smell of a delicious roast. Sunlight refracted by the region's ubiquitous cloud banks illuminated the room. Crawling from under massive bearskin covers and looking outside from their fourth-floor suites, all of Whitethrone lays still embraced in sheets of glistening snow. Amazing skyscrapers of solid ice tower over rows of homes, businesses, and city buildings. A few miles distant, Queen Elvanna's sprawling castle of diamond-ice stands as a powerful symbol of the lineage that dominated Irrisen since 3313 AR. On the snowed-over streets below there's little traffic, and what pedestrians crawl over the city seem to be coming towards the inn ...

There's a loud crash from somewhere outside the room - and more laughter! Someone scolding and more voices, then music - flute and fiddle begin a playful tune that brings a rush of energy to the waking adventurers. Each in their own semi-lavish suite (with a balcony, no less), the party members looked over the room that perhaps still contained "remnants" of the night before, and considered what their associates were up to ---


Players can now fully introduce their character: what do they look like (when they wake up)? Sober or drunk? What were they dreaming of? What happened with those Hoarwood goblins? What new magic item(s) did they acquire (from your list)? How do they feel about Irrisen/Whitethrone? How do they feel about the noises from the other guests? Do they think the rumor of an incredible treasure here real? What's next?

Also, make a DC10 Knowledge: Local check, even if you don't have ranks in it.

[Thisguy_]

His restless dreams easily interrupted by the revelry, Sabin Sendall suddenly wakes and bolts upright. Gathering himself, he confirms first that he is alive, and second that he is not captive. Post satisfying the first, and warily assuming the second, he collects his composure.

Both long rests and drinking tend to work to exacerbate a gruff exterior, and exactly that is spelled out over his face. He slips out of bed looking only slightly better than he had in the harsh winds which whipped around the hinterlands of the city of Whitethrone. He dresses himself, and considers the whereabouts of his belongings.

Having recently acquired it leads to him searching first for a small, wooden rod with runic engravings spiraling up its length and ending in a rough gemstone. The goblins had, post the end of their days, treated him well. Despite being used to cold weather, even he finds Irrisen to sting a bit, so next, he dons his spell-laced boots. Being ever devout, it is at this point that he stops to utter a brief morning reverence to his Lady. "I feel blessed not to have died in my sleep."

With the sound of a crowd and of waking comrades all the while providing a fanfare to his morning march, he collects his arms and armor and dons them. This occupying his body well enough for a while, he probes his mind for an answer as to what is going on.

Knowledge (Local) 1d20+13: [roll0]

[jscape2000]

Milos MacCuga stirs only slightly as he hears his companions stir around him. This city makes the tall warrior uneasy, because it is the source of nearly all the unhappiness in his life. His true foes are here. He remains crouched on the balcony. Balanced on one knee is Fury's Trance, the mighty falcata forged for Milos by the wizard Flynn. Milos smiles slightly and wonders what the enchanter would say if he were here now.

He again spins the enchanted ring on his finger. Taken from the dead hand of the goblin king's chief shaman, the ring has left Milos immune to the pains of hunger and thirst, and have left him needing only a brief nap to serve as sleep. It's been hours since he awoke, and he's spent much of that time contemplating the city and how different his life might have been if he'd acquired an enchanted ring like this when he was a child.

He puts a hand out and lifts his magical backpack, already packed with his gear stowed.


[roll0]

[tonberryking]

Jebalsah slept like she had been hibernating. Sleep was easy after after a long day of moving through the icey lands in an animal form, on her own or giving her teammates a ride, (she can't recall which,) and a short night of teasing trollops and the other red-gowned ladies of the evening to see if any of them had wanted to 'ride a dinosaur.' Last night she had merely scared the girls away, all the awhile chortling into her cider. She loved giving those girls harmless trouble. Maybe someday she'd find someone freaky enough to amuse her, though.

The crash from somewhere else in the Inn is enough to rouse her, though, crawling out from under her furs and stretching like a cat, belying her thick girth. Then, with a spider's grace she begins rebinding her dreads and braids, step by step; her mind now ignores the material ant hill of humanity in order to commune with nature and prepare her spells. Not the most ideal place, a suite, to do so but this queendom was hardly very natural to begin with.

And with her last plait tied, she muses on what to do with a folding boat and some bottled yeti fur (maybe she could get the prostitutes to try it?) before standing, and stuffing herself into all of her gear.

Her allies find her in good spirits as she tries to get a big meal for the morning.

"So, boysies, how long are we staying here, this time?" she asks if she gets more than one of them at a table together, preferring to follow their lead en route to adventure...

[roll0]

[grifter730]

Nameless woke to the revelry of a usual inn. He never needed much sleep these days, and had mostly been quietly resting and contemplating the night away as he was wont to do. He had twirled around and stared at the simple torch-like ioun stone he had taken from the Hoarwood goblins, contemplating their demise, and the nature of good and evil in the world, and whether killing evil creatures were morally justified. There didn't seem to be any reason for them to have attacked the party, and yet they did, and it sealed their fate. The law of the blade seemed justified enough. Was it? It made him morose and melodramatic, and he didn't wake up feeling much better.

His eyes opened naturally, as if having just blinked. He always slept in his day's clothing when traveling, but he placed his twin wakizashis on his back before going through his morning ablutions. He was getting used to the chill of Irrisen, though it was far from comfortable. Still, he was alive, and the rumors of an incredible wealth of treasure seemed promising. He didn't particularly care for treasure, but some of his companions did, and the idea of another battle did excite him. The perfection of the blade, that was all that mattered to him.

The sounds of the raucous was more audible as Nameless opened the door and exited his room. He enjoyed the familiar sound. He was never much for companionship, but always enjoyed being around others, watching them enjoy their busy lives. He was still surprised that he's found companionship as it was, but he was comfortable with them now, and couldn't imagine life without them anymore, though it's always in the back of his mind that that's inevitable. No reason to continue being morose though, it was a new day, with new glories to be found! It was time to start gathering information and learn more about these rumors.


Knowledge (Local): [roll0]

[Conaldar]

Exiting their rooms, the party meets out in the hallway and greet each other with nods or small-talk. Following the long wood-lined hallway to a central staircase that descended down past the other two levels to the lobby area - where all the noise was coming from! Reaching the lobby, the adventurers are met with a spectacle;

the large tavern-area is filled with people: several human handmaidens rush around the area carrying pitchers of drink, trays of steaming food (grilled venison, mainly), and dirty dishes; people of various races (mainly human, elf, winter wolves, and gnomes) wander the area chatting and watching the action; a trio of musicians playing the flute, fiddle, and harmonica play a pleasurable tune as the many lanterns mounted around the tavern flicker with soft wind gusts;
there are several well-dressed human females at the bar and wandering the room - plainly they are 'women of the night' looking to ply their wares during the day now. A pair of them see the adventurers and wink, beckoning them on;
in front of the party several big people (mostly male, mostly human, half-giant, and dwarf) crowd around a small table where two muscular human males are arm-wrestling! Scattered around them on the table is a sea of gold coins and those gathered shout to encourage the competition. Many of those standing by seem to be preparing for the contest;
nearest the bar and overseen by one of the twin Gnome tavern-owners, a drinking contest goes on, with a half-orc warrior drinking a shot just as his human warrior opponent slams his shot glass on the table, licking his lips! Another half-elf within the crowd around the bar stumbles back and passes out, slamming down on the carpeted floor! The crowd looks at the finished drunk and cheers wildly before reaching for their drinks! The bar itself is covered with gold and silver coins as bystanders seem to be actively betting on who will win this current contest as handmaidens rush around behind the bar;
in the corner nearest the tavern's double-doors, the other twin Gnome tavern-owner sits at a table with three others (a human, an elf, and a winter wolf) shuffling cards and smiling - in the center of the table is a veritable mound of gold coins and jewelry, no doubt the "pot" of their game. The Gnome cardsharp nods respectfully at the party as they enter the lobby ...

[jscape2000]

Milos moves over to the arm wrestling contest, and observes.

Perception check [roll0]
Who's playing? Who's watching? Anything fishy going on?

If he thinks he has a fair shot at winning (there's no obvious magic being employed by the other contestants) he'll ask whomever is standing closest, "So what are the stakes?"

[Thisguy_]

Sabin harkens back to an old bit of advice his master once gave him. When he was learning the arcane arts, he was told that a "quiet, dry environment" was the best bet to prepare for a day's worth of spellcasting in. He looks around the bar. Close enough, he thinks to himself.

With experience, he discerns the locations of all of the nearby liquids to watch out for, gentlemen and ladies who might cause interruption, fires, and other such dangers to the two different books he'd be poring through, and keeps track of them whilst he works to study his spellbooks and practice his newest mnemonics.

Offhandedly, he responds to Jebalsah. "If I had any say in it, we would make our way towards the View of Tears in broad daylight. We learned what happens to people who travel at night here. I would stipulate clear weather," he adds, "if I was able to believe that Irrisen had any."

[Conaldar]

Milos:

There's around eight large, warrior-types gathered around the small table where two gruff musclemen sit, grunting at each other as their clasped hands shake and struggle against the strength of the opponent! A smaller, slender older human male with a long moustache watches their hands intently, standing as close to the table as possible without standing on it! Those gathered around the table grunt, cat-call, and yell at the contestants like wild children!

A nearly-eight foot-tall, sweaty half-giant female in chain-mesh armor bumps into Milos! She scowls at him, looking the barbarian over as he were a tramp,

"You may as well give me your ten gold, cur - those scrawny arms wont survive long!"

The tall woman's sharp liquor-smelling breath blasts Milos' face as a handmaiden walks up to him smiling,

"Drink, sir? It's ten gold pieces to enter the tournament and you get one chance at the prize - up to 'round three-hundred gold by now ---"


Everything looks kosher: the moustached-man seems to be the judge and he's watching the contest vigorously. Milos notices that every few seconds a random bystanders make a quick glance at him, only to return their attention to the arm-wrestlers. You can make a Sense Motive check for the glances, if you like.

[Conaldar]

Sabin:

The bar is composed of fine dark wood, crafted by a master no doubt, because as there seems to be a slight chill drifting through the room, the tabletop seems warm. Two attractive human females turn and gaze at Sabin, smiling, then whisper something to each other while still glancing at the mage occasionally. The sound of a small glass slamming down on a table echoes from a few meters away as a drinking contestant finishes yet another,

"I can do this all night, Trily."

His opponent, seated across from him, holds up a shot of alcohol,

"And I can do this all week, Cherris!"

The Gnome barkeep-owner, standing on a fine wooden stool to reach the bartop, looks over at Sabin while wiping out a mug,

"So, where did you say you were from, traveler?"


Make Perception and Sense Motive checks.

[grifter730]

Figuring that the best way to gather information was to split up, Nameless heads over to the table of card players. He nods over at the gnome and the other players. "Got room for another?"

[jscape2000]

Milos smirks up at the half-giant. "There are plenty of men and women around the world who are my betters. And I'm always happy to acknowledge them... after they prove it."

He turns to the barmaid, and produces ten gold coins from a small pouch on his belt. "Here's my wager. I'll save the drink after I've collected my winnings."

As Milos awaits his turn at the table, he scans the room.

Sense Motive [roll0]
Perception [roll1]

[Conaldar]

Figuring that the best way to gather information was to split up, Nameless heads over to the table of card players. He nods over at the gnome and the other players. "Got room for another?"
The gnome smiles while cards fly in an arc into the air from one hand to the other,

"Of course, of course! Please, have a seat, warrior. The game is 'No Limit Poker' and the ante* is fifty gold! I think my - our pot - is up to ...."

The gnome scrambles to stand on the table and looks over the shifty mound of gold and jewelry,

"... about 3,000 gold."

He grins and takes his seat again, as the Elf drums the fingers of a hand on the table edge and the human strokes his short beard. Everyone glances at Nameless, including the white wolf that leans on the table and sniffs the pile of booty ....


Roll Sense Motive and make two 1d52 rolls for your pocket cards.

[Conaldar]

Milos smirks up at the half-giant. "There are plenty of men and women around the world who are my betters. And I'm always happy to acknowledge them... after they prove it."

He turns to the barmaid, and produces ten gold coins from a small pouch on his belt. "Here's my wager. I'll save the drink after I've collected my winnings."

As Milos awaits his turn at the table, he scans the room.

Sense Motive [roll0]
Perception [roll1]

Milos only notices the quick glances from people all around the room - and they aren't just watching him: they seem to be watching his teammates as well ...!

There's a loud slam and a cascade of cheers as the current contest is decided! The victor stands and looks around at everyone with a wicked grin - he's not the tallest human, but he does have impressive arm muscles which have tattoos of dragons coiling both arms.

The slender referee shushes away the loser, then looks across at Milos, looks around, then waves Milos over while nodding! There's a quick silence and everyone stares at Milos - then the uproar begins!

"Who - why does he get to be next?!?"

"I am supposed to be next, by Ymir!! What is this nonsense?!?!"

"I wouldn't worry - it'll be over quickly!"

"Bullocks! There's an order here - I don't care who he is!"

"So are you going to do something then?"

The agitated group seems to simmer, some angry, some curious as they stare at Milos - from his seat, the victor turns, looks Milos over, then spits on the floor,

"C'mon, precious! I'll do you quick - that way you can skip home before yur mum comes lookin' for ye!"

Laughter erupts as everyone watches Milos still ...

[jscape2000]

"C'mon, precious! I'll do you quick - that way you can skip home before yur mum comes lookin' for ye!"

Laughter erupts as everyone watches Milos still ...

Milos grimly chuckles along. "Oh thank ye sir. I shudder to think what the world would be like if there were fewer people like you in it."

He marches towards the offered seat. If anyone fails to get out of Milos' way, he shoulders them aside. At 6'8" and 260 lbs, the barbarian is hardly a small man.

As Milos takes his seat he allows his mind to drop into the dark place within him that he so often struggles to hold at bay. The frigid nights spent huddled in the shanty town of Trollheim. The tens of thousands of hours spent training with sword and shield. The mocking laughter of those who assumed that the man's size indicated slow wits. The satisfying way their skin splits beneath his blade and the tangy reek of exposed organs.

So how're we doing this? Opposed strength checks?
[roll0]
If something else, just let me know and I'll toss the dice.

[tonberryking]

Jebalsah bobs her head, listening to her wizardly compatriot Sabin before he heads off to play at cards "Well, I'm sure you'll let me know when the time is right... but should we make sure our sword arms-" she obviously means Nameless and Milos, "Stay sober? Or are we all free to make mischief?"

The blue-green orc grins like the crocodile she is before waving over two of the strumpets by the bar, as eagerly and doofy looking as possible. She didn't see these two on her way in last time; maybe these girls know how to take a joke...


[roll0] Perception
[roll1] Sense Motive

[Thisguy_]

Sabin deliberately looks up from his spellbooks, wary now of his surroundings moreso than before. To the gnomish barkeep, he replies, "Small village in Ustalav," suddenly suspicious that he is being observed. He chooses not to mince words, because he knows that he's no good liar. "It's no longer there."

[grifter730]

Nameless takes a seat, and cautiously plops down the 50 pieces of gold required. He smiles at everyone, a smile devoid of any emotion. Not because he was trying to hide his emotion, but simply because it's not a familiar gesture to him.

"So... I'm a stranger in a strange land here, as you may have surmised. What's the situation like around here?"

As the cards are dealt, Nameless takes a peek at his cards.


Sense Motive: [roll0]
Pocket Card 1: [roll1]
Pocket Card 2: [roll2]

[Conaldar]

Milos grimly chuckles along. "Oh thank ye sir. I shudder to think what the world would be like if there were fewer people like you in it."

He marches towards the offered seat. If anyone fails to get out of Milos' way, he shoulders them aside. At 6'8" and 260 lbs, the barbarian is hardly a small man.

As Milos takes his seat he allows his mind to drop into the dark place within him that he so often struggles to hold at bay. The frigid nights spent huddled in the shanty town of Trollheim. The tens of thousands of hours spent training with sword and shield. The mocking laughter of those who assumed that the man's size indicated slow wits. The satisfying way their skin splits beneath his blade and the tangy reek of exposed organs.

So how're we doing this? Opposed strength checks?
[roll0]
If something else, just let me know and I'll toss the dice.

As Milos gets set in his chair, the opponent gives him an evil stare,

"I heard of you. A killer of killers you're supposed to be. One man army. When I beat you, I'll be known across Irrisen as the man who beat the great killing-machine!"

He slams his elbow on the table and offers Milos his hand! The two grasp hands firmly - the man's got a grip like an ogre! He grunts a laugh at Milos,

"O, your in it now, sweetheart! I'll try not to rip off your arm!"

The contestant struggle, testing the other's initial strength, while the judge checks the table, seats, and your hand-grip .... then he slaps the table signaling the start! Cheers rage from the crowd, which has grown since Milos sat down - most of the people shout in support of "Tull", Milos' opponent! Tull gets the initiative and yanks Milos' arm back, pushing the barbarian's hand slowly towards the tabletop ....! Tull grins as veins pulse on his muscled arm and saliva drools down his chin,

"Just let it happen, eh? You can't beat me!"


You won with a close match: you lost the first roll, but won the 2nd and 3rd - but it was very close. Tull has better technique, but Milos' raw power takes the prize. Please narrate how Milos defeats Tull.

[Conaldar]

Jebalsah bobs her head, listening to her wizardly compatriot Sabin before he heads off to play at cards "Well, I'm sure you'll let me know when the time is right... but should we make sure our sword arms-" she obviously means Nameless and Milos, "Stay sober? Or are we all free to make mischief?"

The blue-green orc grins like the crocodile she is before waving over two of the strumpets by the bar, as eagerly and doofy looking as possible. She didn't see these two on her way in last time; maybe these girls know how to take a joke...


[roll0] Perception
[roll1] Sense Motive


The two women wander close, looking Jebalsah over as a barmaid walks up,

"Drink for you?"


Jebalsah doesn't pick-up anything from the women yet.

[Conaldar]

Sabin deliberately looks up from his spellbooks, wary now of his surroundings moreso than before. To the gnomish barkeep, he replies, "Small village in Ustalav," suddenly suspicious that he is being observed. He chooses not to mince words, because he knows that he's no good liar. "It's no longer there."

"Ah, Ustalav!" the gnome says while hanging the cup above the bar,"The shadow of the Whispering Tyrant will forever haunt that region, sadly. It was once such a magnificent kingdom. So, you and your friends are here seeking forgotten treasures, then? It's a dangerous thing, going after what's better left lost. What are you drinking --- eh, what was your name again, traveler?"

Across from Sabin, one of the drinking contestants - Trily - stands wobbly, says something incomprehensible, staggers into the bar and slides down onto the floor! Several people gathered around the table clap lightly and comment amongst themselves, as Cherris, the winner, crosses his legs and pours himself another shot while smiling at the now-sleeping Trily ....


Try a Sense Motive check again and give me a Bluff check.

[Conaldar]

Nameless takes a seat, and cautiously plops down the 50 pieces of gold required. He smiles at everyone, a smile devoid of any emotion. Not because he was trying to hide his emotion, but simply because it's not a familiar gesture to him.

"So... I'm a stranger in a strange land here, as you may have surmised. What's the situation like around here?"

As the cards are dealt, Nameless takes a peek at his cards.


Sense Motive: [roll0]
Pocket Card 1: [roll1]
Pocket Card 2: [roll2]


The gnome finishes dealing the cards and raised a furry eyebrow at Nameless,

"It's Whitethrone: cold, snow, daily toil in such a place. It's a hard life, but most of us here wouldn't trade it for anything. What brings you to us, stranger?"

He peeks at his cards, as does the others; the Elf tosses in 50 more gold, but the human raises - tossing in 100 gold! The wolf sniffs its hand and barks loudly before backing away from the table and joining a group of wolves in the corner. The gnome folds the wolf's hand, then tosses in 100 gold while the elf adds another 50. The human, dressed for the cold and somewhat extravagantly, tilts his head at Nameless,

"100 gold is the bet, stranger --- you in?"


Nameless can't read the others yet, but his hand is good enough to cover the bet. He can call by paying 50 gp more, or fold his hand. Make three Sense Motive checks and a Perception check.

[Thisguy_]

"I'm Sabin," Sabin says, somewhat surprised, "And I'll take something light. People tend to avoid the topic of the Tyrant where I come from," he says, explaining his affected expression.

To Jebalsah, he suggests, "If they can handle their liquor, let them handle it."

Sense motive 1d20+10: [roll0]
Bluff 1d20+1: [roll1]

[grifter730]

Nameless looks at his cards once more. Thinks about it. Shrugs. "Sure, I'm in." He throws the fifty gold pieces nonchalantly.

"Heard some rumors there's a big pile of treasure to be had... for those with the courage and ability. You heard similar?"

[grifter730]

Sense Motive 1: [roll0]
Sense Motive 2: [roll1]
Sense Motive 3: [roll2]
Perception: [roll3]

Can you tell me what cards I actually got with the rolls I made before?

[jscape2000]

"Just let it happen, eh? You can't beat me!"


You won with a close match: you lost the first roll, but won the 2nd and 3rd - but it was very close. Tull has better technique, but Milos' raw power takes the prize. Please narrate how Milos defeats Tull.


"Just let it happen, eh? You can't beat me!"


You won with a close match: you lost the first roll, but won the 2nd and 3rd - but it was very close. Tull has better technique, but Milos' raw power takes the prize. Please narrate how Milos defeats Tull.
[/QUOTE]

Milos is startled to find his hand bending backwards in Tull's iron grip, but his expression never changes. Wearing the same slight grin all along, he pushes back against his opponent. The same strength that gives his blade speed and precision serves him now. He forces their hands back up to even, then stares down his opponent.

Milos can see the panic on Tull's face as their fortunes reverse and it is now Tull's hand descending. The din of the bar and shouts of the patrons around him barely penetrate Milos' concentration, and when the big barbarian has Tull's hand three quarters of the way over, Milos simply holds him there. Not long, no Milos thinks to himself. Don't humiliate him. But make sure he knows.

Decisively, Milos brings Tull's hand down to the table.

Milos lets out a great laugh. "Well fought Tull! You nearly overwhelmed me in the opening. Let me buy you a pint of ale so you don't leave empty handed."

Milos stretches his fingers. "Well fought Tull! You nearly overwhelmed me in the opening. Stick around. If I best these others, I'll buy you a pint of ale so you can toast my success!"

[Conaldar]

"I'm Sabin," Sabin says, somewhat surprised, "And I'll take something light. People tend to avoid the topic of the Tyrant where I come from," he says, explaining his affected expression.

To Jebalsah, he suggests, "If they can handle their liquor, let them handle it."

Sense motive 1d20+10: [roll0]
Bluff 1d20+1: [roll1]

The gnome nods, reaches under the counter, brings up a white-porcelain pitcher, sits a cup in front of Sabin and pours a gold-colored, honey-scented liquid,

"I meant no disrespect to you, Sabin --- but we're a ways from Ustalav, eh? 'Spoze it's just living in Whitethrone, but when your homeland's been cursed by Baba Yaga herself, takes more than some bag-of-bones lich to worry you. That'll be one gold, please. So, what have you heard of the 'Veil'?"

The gnome barkeep gazes softly at Sabin with a wry smile on his impish face ....


Sabin can tell the sudden attention from those around the bar centers around his mention of the "Veil of Tears". Sabin knows a great deal about the VoT. He can share info or not, up to you. If you have specific questions, ask OOC.

[Conaldar]

Nameless looks at his cards once more. Thinks about it. Shrugs. "Sure, I'm in." He throws the fifty gold pieces nonchalantly.

"Heard some rumors there's a big pile of treasure to be had... for those with the courage and ability. You heard similar?"

As Nameless throws in, the others immediately return to their cards, occasionally glancing at each other at random. The Gnome snaps out three cards, places them to the side ...

"There's treasure everywhere, traveler - if you follow the cackle of chickens."

The human and elf players chuckle to themselves and look around the table.

The gnome continues,

"Legend says there's a veritable mountain of talking, platinum coins buried under Queen Elvanna's castle - but who's the fool going after certain death? Truth be told, there could be chests of gold and gems under this very tavern, but my brother and me are too busy to bother. I'm just a simple businessman making my way as best I can. But --- I'm not against the notion of investing in the ventures of others ..."

... then deals out three more cards, one at a time and face-up:

King of Diamonds, Five of Hearts, Two of Spades.

".... so tell me: what have YOU heard of treasures ...?"

The gnome, elf, and human all toss in two-hundred gold apiece as their eyes never leave Nameless ---


Give me a Bluff check:
Noted on post #50 of the OOC thread Nameless has the Ace and Ten of Clubs. Check there for more tips. If he can catch a Queen and a Jack with the next two cards, he has a straight, but that's unlikely. He can keep playing to get info, but I noted also on the OOC that based on your 'Knowledge: Local' check, Nameless knows a great deal about the VoT already.

Perception: the three players are watching Nameless very closely, as people do with poker, but maybe it's more than that? Sense Motive was useless this round, but you can make additional checks if you like. Don't forget Diplomacy and Bluff, if needed.

[Conaldar]

Milos is startled to find his hand bending backwards in Tull's iron grip, but his expression never changes. Wearing the same slight grin all along, he pushes back against his opponent. The same strength that gives his blade speed and precision serves him now. He forces their hands back up to even, then stares down his opponent.

Milos can see the panic on Tull's face as their fortunes reverse and it is now Tull's hand descending. The din of the bar and shouts of the patrons around him barely penetrate Milos' concentration, and when the big barbarian has Tull's hand three quarters of the way over, Milos simply holds him there. Not long, no Milos thinks to himself. Don't humiliate him. But make sure he knows.

Decisively, Milos brings Tull's hand down to the table.

Milos stretches his fingers. "Well fought Tull! You nearly overwhelmed me in the opening. Stick around. If I best these others, I'll buy you a pint of ale so you can toast my success!"

As Milos rises, the crowd seems to quiet a considerable degree - to nearly a hushed whisper! Everyone just stares at Milos and Tull, as the loser looks as if he means to say something to Milos, but words wont come to his fluttering lips ....

... just then, a tall, gaunt figure emerges across from Milos: the half-giant female that liked him so much!

"That was my turn, dog! Sit your a** down so I can teach you the lesson your wolf-skinned parents couldn't!"

The crowd breaks out into loud laughter and step back from the table a step, expecting trouble, as they giggle and watch Milos' reaction. The fierce-eyed half-giantess sits defiantly where Tull just was, stares up at Milos, and clenches her large, weather-worn fists tightly as her knuckles begin cracking loudly!

There's a noticeable pause - like slow motion - followed instantly by a buzz of bystanders placing bets with the judge! Pockets and pouches are emptied of their gold as the coin-pile on the table grows taller and wider!


Diplomacy check for Tull, if you have it, please. Also, Perception and Sense Motive, please.

[grifter730]

Nameless looks at the cards on the flop, and debates what to do next. In all likelihood he was probably dealing with at least one or more cheaters, but he never was good at guessing those things. He's also still unsure of what these guys know exactly, so perhaps seeing the turn wouldn't hurt, if only to get more info. Seemed pretty costly though.

With a subtle smirk, Nameless calls the pot and raises another 50 gp. (bluff)

"I've heard about the Veil of Tears, and might know the way there. What kind of investment are you looking into? I was hoping for more info myself, if more could be had. Not sure I'll be needing investment money after I clean you out with this hand."


Bluff: [roll0]

[Thisguy_]

Sabin offers a piece of gold in exchange for the full mug. Relatively assured that he isn't being hexed, but cursed naturally with some degree of paranoia, Sabin carefully abstains from consuming what is in it for some time. The conversation, however, he continues to imbibe from: "Stories and scribblings of it were hard to come by, I admit," he recounts, "but I've come to gather that it is a burial ground for the deeply unwise, and a loose collection of several fortunes' worth of coinage and an artifact of magical significance. I could offer to you my reason for coming here, as well, should it interest you."

He returns to studying, now not entirely unconvinced that he's in no immediate danger, though relatively assured that he's on metaphorically low ground. He waits for the barman to turn around, so that he can smell his mead (Not that he knows what poison smells like).

[jscape2000]

As Milos rises, the crowd seems to quiet a considerable degree - to nearly a hushed whisper! Everyone just stares at Milos and Tull, as the loser looks as if he means to say something to Milos, but words wont come to his fluttering lips ....

... just then, a tall, gaunt figure emerges across from Milos: the half-giant female that liked him so much!

"That was my turn, dog! Sit your a** down so I can teach you the lesson your wolf-skinned parents couldn't!"

The crowd breaks out into loud laughter and step back from the table a step, expecting trouble, as they giggle and watch Milos' reaction. The fierce-eyed half-giantess sits defiantly where Tull just was, stares up at Milos, and clenches her large, weather-worn fists tightly as her knuckles begin cracking loudly!

There's a noticeable pause - like slow motion - followed instantly by a buzz of bystanders placing bets with the judge! Pockets and pouches are emptied of their gold as the coin-pile on the table grows taller and wider!


Diplomacy check for Tull, if you have it, please. Also, Perception and Sense Motive, please.



Diplomacy [roll0]
Perception [roll1]
Sense Motive [roll2]

I'd like to wait for whatever you tell me from the checks before writing Milos' next actions.

[jscape2000]

Milos takes a moment to glance at the bustle around him.

He takes his seat opposite the half-giant, but doesn't offer his hand yet.
"Sorry to take your turn, deary. I thought the referee was calling to me." He shrugs nonchalantly, and deadpans "I'm so used to these city boys being taken by my pretty face."

"Let's give these good folks plenty of time to place their bets. They're all entitled to lose it to one of us, wouldn't you say?" he says to her.

When all bets are in, he offers his hand to the half-giantess. He does is best to position himself in a way that will compensate for the added leverage her long limbs will provide her.


Str [roll0]
Str [roll1]
Str [roll2]

[Conaldar]

Nameless looks at the cards on the flop, and debates what to do next. In all likelihood he was probably dealing with at least one or more cheaters, but he never was good at guessing those things. He's also still unsure of what these guys know exactly, so perhaps seeing the turn wouldn't hurt, if only to get more info. Seemed pretty costly though.

With a subtle smirk, Nameless calls the pot and raises another 50 gp. (bluff)

"I've heard about the Veil of Tears, and might know the way there. What kind of investment are you looking into? I was hoping for more info myself, if more could be had. Not sure I'll be needing investment money after I clean you out with this hand."


Bluff: [roll0]

The elf's eyebrows raise as he gazes at Nameless - he looks at the gnome, who smiles and folds his hand - then the elf tosses in his hand as well! Seeing this, the human, who seemed to be debating his hand, curses and throws his cards in!

"Beginner's luck! Damned --- I need a drink!" the human hisses as he stands and walks away staring at Nameless. The gnome and elf sit back in their seats watching the winner and the pile of gold he just nabbed ...

The elf says, "So you don't need money - but men, supplies ... I've heard the tales of your group, but surely even you four aren't considering trekking to the edge of the Crown of the World alone?


Namelss has 3,750 gold to add! The elf and gnome seem very interested in his quest, as well.

[Conaldar]

Sabin offers a piece of gold in exchange for the full mug. Relatively assured that he isn't being hexed, but cursed naturally with some degree of paranoia, Sabin carefully abstains from consuming what is in it for some time. The conversation, however, he continues to imbibe from: "Stories and scribblings of it were hard to come by, I admit," he recounts, "but I've come to gather that it is a burial ground for the deeply unwise, and a loose collection of several fortunes' worth of coinage and an artifact of magical significance. I could offer to you my reason for coming here, as well, should it interest you."

He returns to studying, now not entirely unconvinced that he's in no immediate danger, though relatively assured that he's on metaphorically low ground. He waits for the barman to turn around, so that he can smell his mead (Not that he knows what poison smells like).
The gnome's emerald eyes light up,

"Artifact, you say?"

There's a female squeal and the gnome spins to see a drunkard pawing one of the barmaids,

"Sohmert, time! Time you be getting home to your wife. You don't want me calling on her - and her five brothers - again, do ye?"

The drunk swipes a dizzy gesture at the gnome,

"Blah! I'm just leaving, Xev - diamond-hearted devil!"

The man staggers towards and out the entrance as the crowds return to their entertainments. The gnome turns back to Sabin,

"... No doubt worth the world's fortune, if it even exists. But, please, share with me why you've braved Whitethrone's infinite winter to sit before me now."

[Conaldar]

Milos takes a moment to glance at the bustle around him.

He takes his seat opposite the half-giant, but doesn't offer his hand yet.
"Sorry to take your turn, deary. I thought the referee was calling to me." He shrugs nonchalantly, and deadpans "I'm so used to these city boys being taken by my pretty face."

"Let's give these good folks plenty of time to place their bets. They're all entitled to lose it to one of us, wouldn't you say?" he says to her.

When all bets are in, he offers his hand to the half-giantess. He does is best to position himself in a way that will compensate for the added leverage her long limbs will provide her.


Str [roll0]
Str [roll1]
Str [roll2]

Tull spits on the floor in front of Milos, gives the barbarian an angry gaze, then stomps away for the door! Surprisingly, he's followed by several others who were crowded around the table - one approaches Tull and whispers something that makes the jaded arm-wrestler push the other man into and over a table!

As that group exits the tavern, The half-giantess shakes her head slowly while looking at Milos,

"You're the funny one, aren't you? Always making light, no matter the stakes. How will you feel when you've been bested by a female? Probably not so glib, I'd say. This will be perhaps your most humbling defeat, clownish one, and I mean to make sure everyone in Whitethrone knows it!"

Milos can tell from her grip that she's stronger than Tull, and she bears the scars of a warrioress, to boot. The judge collects all the bets, sets the table, checks the contestants - with a very keen look at the mutual hand-grip - then backs away, slapping the table simultaneously to start the contest! The she-warrior growls aloud in what seems to be unnatural rage ...!

The crowd goes wild, shouting for the woman, named "Krivae"! Most of them are near-screaming, but Milos can hear more than a few yelling for HIM to win this time!


Crom's cold sword! your dice are officially on fire! I wont even try to beat that set because I can't. Go ahead and narrate Milos' victory over the she-warrior.

[jscape2000]

Crom's cold sword! your dice are officially on fire! I wont even try to beat that set because I can't. Go ahead and narrate Milos' victory over the she-warrior.


"Oh I don't think I'd mind losing to a woman. I might try it some time, just for a change of pace."

Krivae takes Milos' hand, and the barbarian knows he has a real match on his hands. The half-giant has an advantage in size, but the barbarian leaps to an early advantage. Milos can tell that in a different contest Krivae might match him. But the early lead helps Milos stay on top. Once Krivae's hand begins descending towards the tabletop, Milos refuses to let up.

Once the ref signals Milos' victory, the big man stands up and flexes for the crowd.

He looks back across the table at the half-giant. "On a different day Krivae, you might have bested me. I'd not deny your strength. Can I buy you an ale? I'd like to hear what brings you to Whitethrone. Warriors like us, I'd wager you have a story or two worth hearing."

[Thisguy_]

"Some time ago," Sabin explains from behind his book, "a friend picked up a tip. Something to do with the undead, something to do with Irrisen, and no clear details. It's in my area of interest, that; I am sworn and beholden to a certain lady who finds them offensive, you know." He finds the courage to have a sip of mead.

"And you know how rumors lead into each other. Eventually I ended up speaking with a seer, who owed me a favor. He told me about this far-off place, laden with treasure, and told me that he saw it in my fate. I tend to buy into that sort of thing, so I got to researching it.

For a while, no leads turned up, but eventually, crawling through dusty books, diving into out-of-the-way and run-down towers, and the like, I happened upon something useful. Far from its home, I found a record from then, that time when Irrisen was troubled. And there was something about that record, which told of some of the figures involved, which bothered me. I kept it, and mulled over the thing for some time, but it was only on the way here, thinking that I'd come to investigate the rumor of rampant undead, that I was able to resolve what it was that I had recognized in it."

At this point in his story, he takes care to look the barman in the eyes.

"There was a section in that manuscript, I now understand, which followed exactly to the pattern of a certain bit of scripture I've memorized from Pharasma's holy writings. Names changed, but it was there. I took it as an omen."

Offhandedly, he mentions, "I've also been thinking that I'm likely to die soon, so I may as well be doing something interesting when it happens."

[grifter730]

Nameless takes the pot without any fanfare, shrugging his shoulder. "Truly must be beginner's luck, I've very rarely played this game. I was just joining in to gather some information on rumors from around here." He spoke candidly and honestly. "I'll buy a round of drinks for the lot of you, just won a whole pile of gold after all."

With that, Nameless gets up to fetch some drinks. "Let's talk while I grab the drinks. Our group's only a group of four, but we're a hardy lot. Even so, any more info would be helpful."

[Athaleon]

Azen came down late to the lobby, having taken his time in his dawn prayer. He looked around for his companions, and found them engaged in the various diversions laid throughout. Odd, he thought. He'd always assumed from his vision—and his limited experience of Irrisen so far—that this country would be poor, miserable, barbarians huddled in mean huts while the wolves howled and the snow piled outside. Of course, the prosperity of this city and apparent cheerfulness of its inhabitants didn't necessarily mean much, either. What were his comrades up to? Gambling at cards and arm-wrestling half-giants? Not for him. He decided to join Sabin at the bar. He nodded greetings to the wizard, asked the barman for "a shot of something fiery," and plunked down the appropriate coin. Sabin had his nose in a spellbook. He'd chosen to prepare his spells down here? Azen decided not to interrupt with idle chatter, and looked around lazily—as though deciding on his next diversion—to see if he was being watched.


Perception: [roll0]



Level 0:
Detect Magic
Read Magic
Guidance
Light

Level 1:
Liberating Command
Liberating Command
Obscuring Mist
Shield of Faith
(Vacant)
(Vacant)
Domain Spell: Shield of Faith

Level 2:
Endure Elements, Communal
Grace
Shield Other
Protection from Evil, Communal
(Vacant)
(Vacant)
Domain Spell: Extended Shield of Faith

Level 3:
Dispel Magic
Extended Ironskin
Invisibility Purge
Hold Person
(Vacant)
(Vacant)
Magic Vestment Cast on Azen's shield

Domain Spell: Extended Ironskin

Level 4:
Divine Power
Divine Power
Freedom of Movement
Greater Magic Weapon Cast on Azen's scimitar
(Vacant)
Domain Spell: Holy Smite

Level 5:
Righteous Might
Wall of Stone
Fickle Winds
Breath of Life
(Vacant)
Domain Spell: Righteous Might

Level 6:
Greater Dispel Magic
Blade Barrier
Heal
Heal
(Vacant)
Domain Spell: Greater Heroism

Level 7:
Summon Monster VII
Summon Monster VII
Holy Word
(Vacant)
Domain Spell: Holy Sword

Level 8:
Empowered Summon Monster VIII
Empowered Summon Monster VIII
Domain Spell: Holy Aura

Level 9:
Miracle
Domain Spell: Gate

[Conaldar]

"Oh I don't think I'd mind losing to a woman. I might try it some time, just for a change of pace."

Krivae takes Milos' hand, and the barbarian knows he has a real match on his hands. The half-giant has an advantage in size, but the barbarian leaps to an early advantage. Milos can tell that in a different contest Krivae might match him. But the early lead helps Milos stay on top. Once Krivae's hand begins descending towards the tabletop, Milos refuses to let up.

Once the ref signals Milos' victory, the big man stands up and flexes for the crowd.

He looks back across the table at the half-giant. "On a different day Krivae, you might have bested me. I'd not deny your strength. Can I buy you an ale? I'd like to hear what brings you to Whitethrone. Warriors like us, I'd wager you have a story or two worth hearing."

The half-giantess grimaced at Milos,

"Enjoy your victory, dog-breath! I've wasted enough time here."

She stomps away from the gold-laden table as the crowd disperses. The judge looks around then,

"I can secure your gold in a case, sir - for say, 100 pieces?"

[Conaldar]

"Some time ago," Sabin explains from behind his book, "a friend picked up a tip. Something to do with the undead, something to do with Irrisen, and no clear details. It's in my area of interest, that; I am sworn and beholden to a certain lady who finds them offensive, you know." He finds the courage to have a sip of mead.

"And you know how rumors lead into each other. Eventually I ended up speaking with a seer, who owed me a favor. He told me about this far-off place, laden with treasure, and told me that he saw it in my fate. I tend to buy into that sort of thing, so I got to researching it.

For a while, no leads turned up, but eventually, crawling through dusty books, diving into out-of-the-way and run-down towers, and the like, I happened upon something useful. Far from its home, I found a record from then, that time when Irrisen was troubled. And there was something about that record, which told of some of the figures involved, which bothered me. I kept it, and mulled over the thing for some time, but it was only on the way here, thinking that I'd come to investigate the rumor of rampant undead, that I was able to resolve what it was that I had recognized in it."

At this point in his story, he takes care to look the barman in the eyes.

"There was a section in that manuscript, I now understand, which followed exactly to the pattern of a certain bit of scripture I've memorized from Pharasma's holy writings. Names changed, but it was there. I took it as an omen."

Offhandedly, he mentions, "I've also been thinking that I'm likely to die soon, so I may as well be doing something interesting when it happens."

The gnome nods,

"Chasing omens and ancient scrit. I see. Must be quite a bounty to bring you, a renowned wizard, to Irrisen. Is your group planning on going it alone?"

[Conaldar]

Nameless takes the pot without any fanfare, shrugging his shoulder. "Truly must be beginner's luck, I've very rarely played this game. I was just joining in to gather some information on rumors from around here." He spoke candidly and honestly. "I'll buy a round of drinks for the lot of you, just won a whole pile of gold after all."

With that, Nameless gets up to fetch some drinks. "Let's talk while I grab the drinks. Our group's only a group of four, but we're a hardy lot. Even so, any more info would be helpful."

The gnome waves at a barmaid and nods, then he turns his attention back to Nameless,

"Very well. What information are you chasing, friend?"

Within a minute, barmaids arrive at the table and serve everyone a drink of their choice. The gnome nods at them and the girls return to working the rest of the tavern ...

[Conaldar]

Azen came down late to the lobby, having taken his time in his dawn prayer. He looked around for his companions, and found them engaged in the various diversions laid throughout. Odd, he thought. He'd always assumed from his vision—and his limited experience of Irrisen so far—that this country would be poor, miserable, barbarians huddled in mean huts while the wolves howled and the snow piled outside. Of course, the prosperity of this city and apparent cheerfulness of its inhabitants didn't necessarily mean much, either. What were his comrades up to? Gambling at cards and arm-wrestling half-giants? Not for him. He decided to join Sabin at the bar. He nodded greetings to the wizard, asked the barman for "a shot of something fiery," and plunked down the appropriate coin. Sabin had his nose in a spellbook. He'd chosen to prepare his spells down here? Azen decided not to interrupt with idle chatter, and looked around lazily—as though deciding on his next diversion—to see if he was being watched.


Perception: [roll0]


The gnome, listening closely to Sabin talk, turns to Azen and smiles, then motions at one of the barmaids. She brings a cup over to Azen, sits it down, and pours a reddish-brown liquid, filling the cup. After collecting 10 gold for the drink, the barmaid walks away.

Looking around the tavern, Azen notices a few well-dressed, attractive human females watching him the way cats watch spiders. The crowds in the room appear less than fifty, with people leaving and arriving moment to moment. Two musicians play the flute and banjo (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7sA8bTTZ41Q) as a couple of winter wolves attempt to howl a song in accompaniment.

Azen also notices people around the room stealing quick glances at him and his companions ....


Make a Sense Motive check, please.

[jscape2000]

The judge looks around then,

"I can secure your gold in a case, sir - for say, 100 pieces?"

Milos laughs, and with a practiced shrug unshoulders his backpack, and sweeps the pile of gold into one of its enchanted pockets.

He take a gold coin and flips it to the judge, then sits down at the table. Slapping the tabletop with both hands, he calls to the barmaid.

"Be a good lass and bring me some good dark ale and some breakfast. Eggs and sausage."

With a practiced eye he scans the room. Saben and 'Less both seemed to yammering away with whatever dumb sods they'd cornered to talk to death. And poor Azen was standing by bar...

He calls out to the priest, "Azen, do you like the look of the girls? I'd buy you one, but I worry you wouldn't know what to do with her.

Come sit and break fast with me.

[Athaleon]

Azen whistled not at the barmaid but at the price of the drink. He was no skinflint, but even so. "Stuff must be Whitethrone's finest." He held the glass under his nose for a good whiff of the stuff, and was about to take a sip when Milos called him over.

"I know what to do with 'em, trust me, but I've never 'bought' one and never intend to" he laughed. "As for breakfast, I'd be delighted. Don't look now," he said in a quieter voice, without changing his expression, "but some in the crowd are watching us. Don't know what to make of it, after all we're newcomers, but stay sharp."

[grifter730]

Nameless pays the barmaid, and looks at everyone sitting at the table before awkwardly falling silent. He never was good at this sort of thing. "Bottoms up!" He cheers, before downing the drink.

"Well, now that that's done with, onto business. Any information is always welcome. Have there been other parties that set out to reap its rewards? Is there a map that details its exact location? What kinds of monsters can be expected around the area? Any survivors that have returned from the Veil? Those sorts of things."

[Thisguy_]

To the gnome, Sabin replies, "Nothing is set in stone. We had no plans to bring anyone else, but neither did we plan to go alone. It depends on who is asking, I suppose," he says, growing slowly more comfortable with his mead, drifting gradually back into his books.

"Specifically, I feel, it would be useful to have someone around who actually knows the area. My knowledge only runs so deep, having never been here."

[Conaldar]

Azen whistled not at the barmaid but at the price of the drink. He was no skinflint, but even so. "Stuff must be Whitethrone's finest." He held the glass under his nose for a good whiff of the stuff, and was about to take a sip when Milos called him over.

"I know what to do with 'em, trust me, but I've never 'bought' one and never intend to" he laughed. "As for breakfast, I'd be delighted. Don't look now," he said in a quieter voice, without changing his expression, "but some in the crowd are watching us. Don't know what to make of it, after all we're newcomers, but stay sharp."

Azen's pricey drink smelled of whiskey and something else that cleared his sinuses!


Azen notices the people watching the party seem to have a passing curiosity, perhaps even admiration, for your group - as if your reputation is well-known in Whitethrone.

The drink's rare enough to merit a DC15 Knowledge: Local check. Please.

[Conaldar]

Nameless pays the barmaid, and looks at everyone sitting at the table before awkwardly falling silent. He never was good at this sort of thing. "Bottoms up!" He cheers, before downing the drink.

"Well, now that that's done with, onto business. Any information is always welcome. Have there been other parties that set out to reap its rewards? Is there a map that details its exact location? What kinds of monsters can be expected around the area? Any survivors that have returned from the Veil? Those sorts of things."

The gnome sips his drink and nods while giving the elf a quick glance,

"For what you're after, there's been many an eager party set out to claim it. In the past. Now, few bother with ---"

The gnome looks around to make sure no one else is listening,

"--- an old witch's tale mostly. None who went after it ever returned. Probably got lost or frustrated or some of both, right? I've heard of maps and if someone were to possess one, such a thing would be a precious find, indeed. Monsters? Well, depends on how you define 'monster', eh? All monsters aren't as monstrous-looking as one would imagine. There was word of a large clan of goblins in the area, but they've probably moved on. I heard once that a party went looking for the Veil of Frozen Tears and vanished, like most of the others, but this group of adventurers were supposedly cursed by Baba Yaga herself - doomed to stalk the land as flesh-eating beasties forever!"

The elf traces the rim of his cup with a long-nailed fingertip and smiles,

"So you have no map? That would mean no route - how do you mean to find your way without a legend?"


There's a deeper conversation going on: make another Sense Motive check, please.

[Conaldar]

To the gnome, Sabin replies, "Nothing is set in stone. We had no plans to bring anyone else, but neither did we plan to go alone. It depends on who is asking, I suppose," he says, growing slowly more comfortable with his mead, drifting gradually back into his books.

"Specifically, I feel, it would be useful to have someone around who actually knows the area. My knowledge only runs so deep, having never been here."

The gnome nods and turns his head to watch the tavern-goers,

"Strange coincidence, then, that there is someone familiar with where you're considering - and I'm fairly certain their expertise would be of great gain to you, good Sabin. But, what cost would having that information be to you? Fill your drink ...?"

The gnome barkeep raised his pitcher as his other hand stroked at his gold-and-silver-haired chin ...

[Athaleon]

Azen's eyes widened at his whiff of the drink. "On second thought, I think the locals are just curious, given our reputation. Must be getting paranoid in the lap of sudden luxury."


Knowledge (Local): [roll0]

[jscape2000]

Azen's eyes widened at his whiff of the drink. "On second thought, I think the locals are just curious, given our reputation. Must be getting paranoid in the lap of sudden luxury."


Knowledge (Local): [roll0]


"I'd noticed, too. Paranoid's good. Paranoid's not dead."

In a soft voice Milos confides,
"Towns make me nervous. Whitethrone's not just a town. It's the absolute heart of the beast. There's no place on Golarion I'd rather see receding in the distance. I'm as happy as anyone to have a hot meal, but I hope our friends can get the lore they need and we can be on our way quickly."

[grifter730]

Nameless looks at the gnome and elf, debating how to respond. He really does hate social interaction. If only living life didn't require it. He shrugs. "Maps would be nice, but not necessarily required every time."


Sense Motive: [roll0]

[Conaldar]

Milos and Azen:

As the pair chat, two barmaids rush up with steaming hot plates of hot eggs, sizzling sausages, and a flagon filled with dark ale! The serve both men, then one of the maids nods at Milos,

"Enjoy, m'lord - compliments of the ladies."

She turns her head at two of the remaining concubines sitting at the bar. As the barmaids leave, a beautiful redhead smiles at Milos and raises her drink ...

[Conaldar]

Nameless looks at the gnome and elf, debating how to respond. He really does hate social interaction. If only living life didn't require it. He shrugs. "Maps would be nice, but not necessarily required every time."


Sense Motive: [roll0]

The elf gives the gnome inn-keeper a look. At that, the gnome nods, then smiles at Nameless,

"Good game, traveler. I'm back to work, but if you have need of anything, just ask."

He leaves the table, shuffling towards the bar, as the elf returns his attention to the adventurer,

"My company knows the way to the Veil of Frozen Tears. Like yours, out group is small - no more than a handful of my best, but our chances improve if we band together. There's worse than frostbite along the way: bandits, wolf packs not nearly as civil as these, and creatures of the foulest sort lay in waiting. And this speaks nothing of what we will find at the Veil itself. I've heard of your exploits; you, Milos MaCuga, and the mages, Sabin Sendall and Azen Ebari. Yes, your reputations precede you. You may call me Shtaron Nreal, and my lord has tasks me with infiltrating the Veil and capturing its secrets. Now of course I know your party normally operates alone, but what my lord has to offer you would surely change your position, I'm sure ......"

[Athaleon]

"Enjoy, m'lord - compliments of the ladies."

"Huh, and here comes that paranoia again, and me without Detect Poison readied." With that he got up to ask Sabin to prepare that spell before he was finished and had to start all over again.

[Thisguy_]

With a nod to the bartender and a gold coin, Sabin accepts the offer of mead. Having now had a fair amount, Sabin begins to drink more slowly.

In response to the gnome's offer of information: "It could cost me more, I think, to have no guide. I feel it would likely be worth some bit of gold. Unfortunate, that I do not carry much... I have made a habit of charitable donation over the years, you know." And to Azen: "Good choice; now, what do you think of this?" he says, filling the holy man in on the deal.

[jscape2000]

"Huh, and here comes that paranoia again, and me without Detect Poison readied." With that he got up to ask Sabin to prepare that spell before he was finished and had to start all over again.

"Mmmmhmm."

Milos starts in on his sausage and eggs, as well as his ale. He has little interest in the concubines. Not here, and not now, he thinks to himself.

[Athaleon]

With a nod to the bartender and a gold coin, Sabin accepts the offer of mead. Having now had a fair amount, Sabin begins to drink more slowly.

In response to the gnome's offer of information: "It could cost me more, I think, to have no guide. I feel it would likely be worth some bit of gold. Unfortunate, that I do not carry much... I have made a habit of charitable donation over the years, you know." And to Azen: "Good choice; now, what do you think of this?" he says, filling the holy man in on the deal.

"Hmm. As you say, a guide would most likely prove a wise investment. Likewise, our guide might be persuaded to view his services as an investment in the venture. Our current finances to one side, it'd make him more of a... a 'partner' if he had some skin in the game, more so than a hireling paid up front." Azen despised such sideways talk, but there must have been a good reason for it.

[Conaldar]

"Huh, and here comes that paranoia again, and me without Detect Poison readied." With that he got up to ask Sabin to prepare that spell before he was finished and had to start all over again.
Azen suddenly feels the soft fingers of another on his neck!

A beautiful blonde-haired woman smiles at him as she caresses his back,

"Subtle blessings for the sinful, lord?"

[Conaldar]

With a nod to the bartender and a gold coin, Sabin accepts the offer of mead. Having now had a fair amount, Sabin begins to drink more slowly.

In response to the gnome's offer of information: "It could cost me more, I think, to have no guide. I feel it would likely be worth some bit of gold. Unfortunate, that I do not carry much... I have made a habit of charitable donation over the years, you know." And to Azen: "Good choice; now, what do you think of this?" he says, filling the holy man in on the deal.

The gnome barkeep grins and walks away - as one of the attractive prostitutes draw close - her brunette hair flailing under an unknown breeze,

"Looking for the Veil?"

[Athaleon]

Azen suddenly feels the soft fingers of another on his neck!

A beautiful blonde-haired woman smiles at him as she caresses his back,

"Subtle blessings for the sinful, lord?"

Azen stiffened up at the touch. He moved away as he turned with affected calmness. "Ah, it's a bit early for that, for me anyways," he offered, coolly diplomatic. "And I think we might be on our way soon."

[grifter730]

Nameless looks at the elf warily. "And what is it that your lord offers exactly? In any case, it's not a decision I can make on my own, but I'll pass your word along to the group." He looks around to see where all his comrades are.

[Thisguy_]

"Unfortunately, I can contribute only so much to the business venture," Sabin says, directing his comment to Azen, "But I would be comfortable putting up the same amount as you would for the sake of the investment. If we split the bill, so to speak, I should be able to pull my own weight," he says, with some hint of apologetic tone.

He briefly scans the room for his friends.

[jscape2000]

Milos sees Nameless scan the room for the companions. Taking a swig of ale with his left hand, he allows his right hand casually rest on Lightning, his throwing axe.

He appraises the elf talking with 'Less, and (as casually as he's able to) scans the room to see if anyone else is paying special attention to the conversation.

A couple rolls to hopefully keep things moving, let me know if you'd like something else
Sense Motive [roll0]
Perception [roll1]

[Athaleon]

"Unfortunately, I can contribute only so much to the business venture," Sabin says, directing his comment to Azen, "But I would be comfortable putting up the same amount as you would for the sake of the investment. If we split the bill, so to speak, I should be able to pull my own weight," he says, with some hint of apologetic tone.

He briefly scans the room for his friends.

"We will all meet our obligations," Azen said absentmindedly. "Provided we can drag ourselves away from this carousing and carrying-on."

[Thisguy_]

"Sounds like the makings of a deal, then," Sabin says, turning to the gnome. "We'd like to learn the identity of this mysterious benefactor."