Age of Exploration [0] - The Secret under Ravenwell [IC]

[Magni's Hammer]

It is the morning of Sarday, the 11th of Barrakas, year 1837 Imperial Reckoning. You were dragged out of bed in the wee hours of the morning by the postman’s agitated banging on your front door – one of those expensive direct missives that has to be handed off personally. Within the envelope is a confusing and truncated message from Thomas Prest, professor of history at Ravenwell University and a close friend of yours. The message concerns the archeological expedition Prest had been arranging, set to depart for the eastern country of Therme in a month; Prest had asked you personally to accompany him, along with a few others, but now apparently there’s some big hiccup in the plans and he wants you to come immediately. So you pull on your coat and trundle down to the cobbled streets of Vanalot, which is muggy from last night’s summer thunderstorm, and board a carriage for the big white house on Locust Row, the professor’s residence, near Gideon’s Square.

The scene on your arrival fast stirs you out of your morning delirium: a dozen constables arrayed on the pleasant garden lawn, neighbors crowded around gawking from the fence, and a hulking, haggard sergeant striding towards your coach as you disembark. His copper badge reads “Roderick Chapman,” and his furrowed brow tells that this has been quite a harrowing morning. “Another college boy, eh? –don’t interrupt, your friends already told me. They’re in the parlor, Constable Stordus is conducting interviews. You got some letter this morning, didn’t you?” You offer it, thoroughly confused, and he takes a quick glance at it before brusquely returning it. “Yeah, just like the others. I’ll level with you son, you’re in for a rough morning. Your professor’s just been murdered.”

The constable Stordus turns out to be an dark, middle-aged man with heavy eyebrows and a prominent bald spot. He occupies the center of the room, asking simple questions and mostly listening, clearly a little frustrated and uncomfortable. A few other constables prowl about the house and the garden in the back, but the air is one of misery and confusion. The men are not interrogating you -- in fact, they seem to want your help. Locust Row has always been a quiet neighborhood as far as anyone can remember, and a murder like this is alien and frightening.

Mrs. Prest is sitting in her armchair, utterly silenced by shock. Her maid, Juliet, is standing beside her, the woman's left hand wrapped tightly around her arm for support. The rest of the party is arrayed about the familiar room, its walls of pastel green and white decorated with family portraits and accumulated curios; nothing has been stolen. The door to the dining room is open, but the one behind that (to the kitchen, pantry, and garden) is closed. The hallway leads to the bath and the stairs up to the bedroom, study, and attic, and to the steps down to Juliet's room, Volk's old room, and the cellar. The main door to the street has been shut, as have the windows, but you can hear murmur of the crowded street. Thomas' chair is empty.

Thus far, everyone understands that Prest arrived home late last evening, had dinner with his wife, and then spent most of the night up in his study. Very early in the morning, before the sun was up, Juliet was awakened suddenly by the sounds of the back door opening (her room is below the pantry) and a few words, followed by a single gunshot. She was very startled and slowly crept up the steps to find Mr. Prest dead on the floor of the pantry, the back door open and Jack furiously shaking the professor, pleading for him to wake. The commotion quickly spread through the neighborhood and the constables were hailed to cordoned off the house and garden. Almost immediately thereafter, the party began arriving, according to the instructions in the letters that had woken them. Stordus asks, firmly but politely, that you gentlemen (and lady) continue on with what you were saying.

[SlyJohnny]

Volk has become distracted from the constable's line of questioning, glancing over at Martha Prest and her thousand yard stare. He mumbles an 'excuse me' and bustles over to her armchair, leaning over her. "I am so sorry." he tells her, squeezing her shoulder tightly. He drops to one knee in front of her armchair rather than sit opposite her in his old friend's empty seat, and then hovers awkwardly, unsure of what else to say, or how to hold his weight, or what he should be doing with his hands. He's no stranger to death, but he is certainly stranger to comforting the bereaved after the fact. "If there is anything I can do for you in this time, anything at all, please tell me at once. I will help however I can." He eventually says. "We will speak later, when the police have left." Maybe by then, he'll have figured out what to say.

After a pause, he looks to Juliet.

"Juliet, when you came up the stairs, did you hear anyone else leave? Did you see Jack arrive?" Volk murmurs, as he tries to visualise the layout and imagine how anyone could have entered the pantry without being in view of Juliet as she came up the stairs, other than by entering through the door to the garden.

[Kvard51]

Okaan Rhukaan Taash bows his head upon the news of his friend's death. Murmuring prayers for his passage into the afterlife, Rhuk fondles the handle of his long-bladed knife. He leans in towards the Doctor, whispering quietly for his ears, "We will discover the murderer and revenge ourselves upon him, yes? the Professor has been a friend to us both."

Hearing the question put to the maid reminded Rhuk of something important. "Excuse me miss, but does it appear anything is missing from the Professor's study?"

[Grek]

Lydia Cassus shakes her head with vehemence, the susurrus of veils sliding against one another barely audible. "He was a good man! Who could have wanted to hurt him?" She is seated now, hands gesturing vigorously as she addresses the space where Mr. Prest ought to be. "Who could have done this to you, Thomas? It couldn't have been over the expedition, could it? But why call us all here, and with such a worried sounding note, if not for that?" The empty chair provides no answers.

[JeenLeen]

Donovan is mostly in shock. He'd seen his fair share of death and violence in his youth, but this was just horrid. He felt some guilt that he wasn't there to help the dear professor when it happened. He knew it wasn't rational -- there was no reason he'd be there so early in the morning -- but he almost felt betrayed by the miraculous, healing tar that lay dormant in his satchel. Surely it could have stopped his death if he had only been close enough.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, he says, "Mind if I take a look around the neighborhood? I know this is a nice side of town, but there's random beggars and drunks most places. Maybe one of 'em saw something and might talk to me more kindly than a constable." Realizing a possible faux pas, he blushes and sincerely adds, "No offense, sir," towards the constable.

Dang, was he so out-of-touch with life on the street that he was willing to offend a cop? Sure, they didn't beat ya here like they did in some places he worked, but that was embarrassing in more ways than none.

If splitting the party will mess things up, feel free to have the constable request I stay for now. Definitely no offense taken at that. I've DMed and am well aware of how annoying a split can be.

Also, would our radstone-enhanced senses detect anything amiss?
If he were killed by a gun using radstone powder, would we notice that in the gunpowder residue?

[Magni's Hammer]

Mustering herself, Martha gives Volk the best smile she can, and takes his free hand with hers. “Thank you dear. All of you…I’m sorry, I’m failing to find the words.”

“It’s alright Missus Prest,” Juliet gives a comforting pat. The young woman is clearly frightened but puts up a strong face. “Of course, Mister Volk, after the gunshot there was shouting, I think from Jack, and the dog was barking, and the horse started to scream. I– I’m not sure how long I was hiding, it could only have been a moment, but when I found the courage to come up there was no one but Jack. I saw what was there and I choked, felt like I might scream, but I heard Missus Prest was coming down the stairs so I ran to her. I didn’t think she should see…” she trails off, unsure how to go, so Okaan takes the chance to ask about the study.

Stordus here offers to interject. “Ah, no, the professor must have locked his study sometime in the night. Fact, the lady had offered us the house key, and I was about to open it when you all arrived. …Um, that Jack boy is the one that went and raised the call for us, ran all the way up and down the neighborhood calling until Antony – he’s the morning walk in this part, now – he ran smack into Anthony and by then the crowds were out so we, um, well we all came in here,” he finishes, somewhat lamely.

At Donovan’s question, Stordus hurriedly replies. “Oh no, no slight taken, young sir. Just give a holler if you run into any trouble; the Sergeant Roddy has us up and down the next three blocks. Don’t need ruffians badgering good folk like yourself.” He seems to have mistaken you for a gentleman of a higher class, perhaps because you’re a professor’s friend and all, and has taken your stumble for a different kind of class-consciousness.

[Boethius Junior]

Since arriving upon his late friend's stoop, Dr. Ridley has stiffened with morbid stupefaction; by all accounts he is stone, or dearly wishes to be. Eyes clamped shut, he mutters soft nonsenses and pretends not to hear Okaan's appeal - finally muttering vague agreement: "Of course we will, chum. Of course..."

As Donovan makes ready for the street, Hieronymus animates enough to follow. He smiles weakly to the constable, "Not to worry, old top - I'll walk with the lad. I think a touch of air would do me well, anyhow." Donning his overcoat, he turns to offer the bereaved an uncomfortable bow. "Do forgive us madam; miss. We'll return presently." Cane in hand, he follows the younger man towards the street.

[SlyJohnny]

Volk nods absently as Stordus talks.

"Is the firearm that was used still here? Has it been located?" he asks.

He rises, slowly, peering towards the kitchen door, disentangling himself from Mrs Prest and Judith with as much politesse as he can muster.

"I would like to see the body." he announces.

So saying, he walks towards the door and opens it, just wide enough for him to squeeze through, and closes it behind him. No need to subject Mrs Prest to further distress by showing her the body, and he'd like to examine the scene before he has words with Jack.

[Grek]

Lydia nods to Constable Strodus and rises. "Perhaps while they are out asking about witnesses and... dealing with other matters, we ought inspect the study? Call it a hunch, but I suspect whatever matter prompted Mr. Prest to call us here, it bears some relation to the murder. He had been terribly concerned about rivals stealing his discovery, after all. And insisting on buying pistols, of all things!"

She pauses for a moment, looking between those present. "Has anyone contacted young Sebastian? Mr. Prest's secretary at the university. He ought be informed. The school too, for that matter."

[JeenLeen]

Donovan gives a tilt of his cap and a nod to the constable. "Thank you, sir."

As he starts to head out, he says to Lydia, "I know our eyes are a bit more keen than most. Keep an eye and nose out for any hint of archsilver from the murderer. I'll be sniffing around as I try to find any witnesses."

---

As they step outside, he gives a weak smile to Dr. Hieronymus Ridley.
"This is so strange, isn't it?
Hey, um, I don't know a lot about mesmerism. Took a class on it, but it was just a survey of what it does, history, et cetera. You don't know how to talk to his, um, ghost or psychic echo or something, do ya? Or ask any spirits nearby if they saw anything?"

He feels a touch embarrassed asking. He's aware there's a couple schools on thought on mesmerism, with the more scientific view being more popular now-a-days, but it's hard to talk about it any other way.

After exchanging some conversation, he starts to walk down the nearby area, looking for anyone who might've seen something. He's thankful for his keen radstone-influenced eyes illuminating the pale sky, and sniffs for any hint of archsilver, either hidden in the ground or held by a hidden murderer.

[Kvard51]

Rhuk is torn as hewatches the Doctor follow the other man outside. His oath is to Doctor Ridley, but his instincts scream at him to inspect the room and body. The words of the veiled woman finally decide for him. Thomas Prest’s fear was clearly justified, and the Doctor was both capable and not alone. Okaan Rhukan Taask would follow into the study...

[Magni's Hammer]

Donovan and Dr. Ridley:

The neighborhood crowd presses about you, eager for news. You get a lot of questions about what's been going on, are the Prests alright, and most of the information is unhelpful conjecture or echos what Stordus told you: after the gunshot Jack ran up and down the streets, terrified out of his mind and crying about murder, until he ran into the constable Antony.

"He's a good young man, Jack" a tall, ruffled-looking fellow tells you. "His family lives just up the way, and Mrs. Prest knows his mother from their charity club, same as my wife Ellie. When that big fellow...Vant, I think?...got his own place, Mr. Prest hired Jack on as his driver. I think it was more to get him out and working respectably than from any real need. Anyway, I couldn't say what was up, but he's surely seen something."

"Saints and saviors, what a horror," says a pudgy woman among the crowd. "I was out in the alley dumping the wash water when I heard this terrific bang, like a rocket going off. Then there was this awful baying and shrieking that followed it, carrying all the way down the alley. Well sirs, I threw myself back inside and locked tight, that's what I did! Didn't come out until I heard constable Antony calling and ringing his bell." At her conclusion, there is much general smattering of approval, thanking the saint, saviors, and constabulary for keeping whatever horror it is at bay.

At some point, Donovan separates himself from the crowd, and circles around behind the Prest's house. In the alley behind their garden, you find a few muddy boot-prints here and there, fleeing away from the garden.

Okaan and Lydia:

Stordus leads the unusual duo up the stairs to the study, key in hand. After asking about this 'Sebastian' fellow, he unlocks the door for them and leaves them the key. "Seems important; maybe the young fellow knows something about the poor professor's last night. If you'll excuse me, I'd better tell the sergeant about that; back in a jiff." With that he shuffles off, leaving the two of you alone in the room.

Prest's study is a small and cramped room, with a broad glass window overlooking the garden. It is crowded with bookshelves and chests of treasures from his travels. The small heating stove is unlit -- it was a warm night -- but the portable gas lamp on the desk is still on, and the tell-tail faintness of burnt alchemy lingers with the smell of old books, a sure sign of an old gas lamp burning a long time in a closed space.

The desk is piled high with office papers, but on top of it all is a hastily scrawled note, written in some kind of cuneiform, or a rough approximation. Thomas' favorite ink pen is left beside it, a dribble of ink pooling onto the wood and papers where it was dropped.

Volk:

The kitchen is just as you remember it, and the parlor the same as always, except for the cloth sheet draped over his body. Thomas Prest was never a large man, and in death he looks even smaller. Under the hastily-thrown blanket, the professor lies on his back, his face frozen in confusion and pain. He is dressed in his usual clothes: the brown loafers he liked to wear at home, the old pants that were ever-so-slightly baggy, the faded smoking jacket that he told you was inherited from a great-uncle, and the favorite green cravat. His heavy walking stick is gripped high and firmly in his right hand.

A small, ragged hole has pierced his jacket, just above his heart, and fresh dried blood has soaked the cloth around it. Squinting closely, you see that the jacket is scorched, as if he was shot at point-black range. Thomas would have been standing, facing the door, and his killer just on the other side. Stordus had said there was no gun found, but you wonder...

Standing, Volk carefully pictures the scene, and traces the path of the bullet through the parlor. At so close a range, it would have passed right through him...and there it is: a small hole in the wood paneling, where the bullet burrowed into the wall. No shell on the floor, though. It could have been an old flintlock, with all that powder, but without digging out the bullet you can't know.

Now straightening, you look through the open pantry door into the garden beyond. You hear a constable, presumably this Antony, talking softly with Jack. It sounds like they are by the carriage house.

[SlyJohnny]

Volk frowns down at Prest's body, as if it's just delivered him some disappointing news. Oh, Thomas. What did you go and do now?

He begins his examination of the corpse with the bullet's exit wound as he idly listens to Antony's interrogations, and how Jack sounds when he responds. Volk has more experience with corpses that were stabbed or beaten or gnawed on, but this isn't his first gunshot victim, and he draws on his practical experience as well as general knowledge of the science of forensics that he's picked up from here or there. He tries to determine what kind of firearm it must have been, the calibre and it's likely appearance, and if there are any other clues to be had; he leaves digging out the bullet out of the wall to inspect for later.

This done, he searches the body, wondering if it's carrying anything interesting or shows signs of wounds other than the obvious gunshot. He searches the kitchen and larder, too; he doubts the weapon has been abandoned and concealed around here, but you never know.

Finally, he examines the blood and dust on the floor, and heads out of the larder and into the garden to scrutinize the mud outside, searching them for any hint of tracks. A bootprint would be ideal, but he's looking any sign of disturbance, any hint of this mysterious assailant's passage. He peers about the garden, performing some calculations about the murderer's possible approach vectors, and likely routes of fast and stealthy escape, after the gunshot sounded and the neighbourhood was alerted. He moves off, following his trail (whether evidential or just hypothetical) as far as he can. This is more Okaan's area than his, but perhaps he can save the man some time later.

Not sure how many rolls I need, so I'll make three, using Jack of All Trades:

[roll0] Perception/Listening
[roll1] Investigation
[roll2] Tracking

[Grek]

Lydia frowns at the pen before setting it back where it ought be. "It appears that Thomas was writing a note just as his attacker arrived, and a coded note at that." She peers out the window, trying to discern what, if anything, Prest might have been able to see from this vantage point. Could he have seen the murderer coming? If so, it must have been someone the good Professor knew in life, for only a fool would open the door to a stranger skulking around the garden at so late an hour. But it was dark and Prest blessedly lacked the painfully sensitive eyes of an archsilversmith...

[roll0] Untrained Linguistics check to glean information from the cuneiform note. If nothing else, to figure out what language it might be and who could provide a translation.

[roll1] Perception check to determine whether Prest would have been able to identify the murderer as they arrived by looking out of his study window at the garden.

[JeenLeen]

Donovan gives a wan, sad smile and words of thanks at the crowd's information, being polite despite how useless it is. He perks up at the woman's mention of "baying", until he realizes that's probably just Jack's yelling for help.

---

When he sees the bootprint, he perks up. A clue, something helpful for the man who helped him so.

He stares at it, puzzled for a moment, then decides how to take a print. He only does so of one footprint, in case the constables have a better way: best to limit how much the evidence is disturbed. So he heats up one of his scarbalms -- less than needed for a true healing, but enough to make it a slushy sludge -- and pours it into the print of the boot. If he's right, it should harden to make a mold which they could use to try to match the murderer's foot size and maybe a perfect match to the footwear itself. Or maybe not. He wasn't sure.

He finds Dr. Ridley and motions him over, explains the clue, and then continues down the path of the footprints, to see where they lead. Hopefully not to stop as the stone road takes it place. He'll gladly take Dr. Ridley's company if he wants to come, but is also fine with the bootprint being reported to the constables. (Donovan won't go off long--he doesn't want to face the murderer without any backup, but hoping to see if it leads to a nearby house or some clue to how he got further away.)

[Magni's Hammer]

Volk:

There are no other marks on Prest's body, and nothing interesting on his person either. It doesn't look as though the killer rifled through his pockets or did anything of the sort, nor was the gun hidden in the room. Currently, it seems that when Thomas answered the door, staff in hand, the killer had produced a pistol on the threshold, shot him point-black in the heart, then turned and fled back the way he came, through the garden. There are several different sets of foot prints in the muddy path leading to and from the door and about the place, as well as a set of animal prints, probably from a dog. The biggest set of boots leads straight through the garden, into an alley behind the house.

Through all this, you hear the constable attempting to console Jack, while carefully questioning him about the events of the murder. Apparently, Prest had told Jack to come early this morning, and the teen had just reached the house when he heard the gunshot. He rounded the back of the house just in time to see a huge man in a blue cloak and black cap flee the garden. Nellie, the horse, was shrieking and kicking from the walls of her stall, spooked by the violent noise, while Argus, the Prest's dog, snapped his chain and went snarling and baying after the man, who fled for the alleyway. Jack ran for the open parlor door, where he found the professor dying on the ground.

When you exit the building, you startle them, and constable Antony calls out to you.

Lydia:

The writing is clearly something primitive, like the markings on a clay tablet. You have no idea what it says, but surely anyone in Thomas' department could. Maybe Sebastian, for one, and possibly any of the other professors too: Elliot, a short man, bearded and bespectacled; D'Aubrey, tall, old, and old-fashioned; Marchios, bald and brawny; and Bruthe, who was very recently hired to fill in for some of Thomas' lectures.

If the murderer came through the garden, Thomas could almost certainly have seen and recognized him. You can see Volk leaving through the parlor door now, actually.

Donovan:

The scarbalm idea will work, but you'll need to use a full dose (scarbalm bottles aren't that big!).

Unfortunately, the bootprints do terminate at the street. The killer must have had a horse, carriage, or steamcart waiting.

As you are pacing around, you hear a pitiful whine from behind a collapsed stack of rotten pallets. Argus, the professor's black barbet, struggles to pull himself from the broken wood. The dog is bleeding from his head and side, and panting very heavily. Tangled around him is a ragged cape of torn and muddy blue cloth.

[Boethius Junior]

The moment his feet are safely across the threshold of Dr. Prest's hallowed home and tap upon the cobbles of Locust Row, Hieronymus plumbs the depths of his jacket, retrieving a pungent torpedo-cigar from within. Hastily he sets the pungent cheroot alight, shaky hands spilling matches about him - finally he takes an anxious, sucking draw, and breaths a bilious spume of white smog into the crisp morning air. At last he begins to calm, leastwise enough that to answer Donovan's questions. "Alas," he replies, "the spirit is an ephemeral thing. A man's life is terribly brief, just as this spark-" he brandishes the cigar, offering the student a pull. "It is burnt and is then gone; reduced to an ash that cannot be reformed. We know that somewhere the smoke has continued to drift through the heavenly sphere, but only by chance might we find it again - and even then so formless has it become, might we be capable of recognizing the remains?"

He follows the youth through the oncoming crowds, his sad monologue now practically impossible to interrupt. "Whatever other wisps we might summon are likewise mere fragments; anima long spent; purposeless wanderers. Were it within my power to enchant them unto our cause, I would refuse - they are mercurial and unworthy of our trust..." Hieronymus is shaken from his thoughts as the crowd presses round him alone, just barely catching sight of Donovan breaking free to the alleys beyond. Then I shall placate the masses! His attention is particularly taken by the woman's account; searching for any noteworthy detail, no matter how meager.

"Madame, begging your pardon, would you mind recounting your experience in greater detail? Baying, you say? I daresay that sounds rather bestial to have been our dear Jack, allowing for the touch of grief of course."

[Kvard51]

Okaan Rhukaan Taash stops at the doorway. He takes amp end to let the feel of the room wash over him. The window beckons him, and he moves toward it. The veiled woman might as well not exist as he examines the sill. He removes a battered book from inside his coat and begins making notations in it as he looks at the glass. Let us see. Was this broken in a circular pattern, or is it more random? Did the glass scatter inward, or fall outside?

Inspect the broken window looking at direction and type of break, the sill for marks or residue, etc

[JeenLeen]

Donovan uses one of his precious balms to make the bootprint.

When he sees the wounded hound, a mix of pride and anger fills him. Pride at the faithful companion who tried to protect his master and defeat the intruder, and anger at another injury. Perhaps it was a waste, but in his heated emotion Donovan heats up yet another tonic and soon pours it into the worst of the animal's wounds.

With that, and after calming the no-doubt somewhat panicked beast (it did just have hot tar poured into its wounds), he gathers the evidence it holds and leads it back to the house, collecting his bootprint sample on the way.

I will need to make more scarbalm soon.

Been a bit busy and distracted, but hope to update OOC post soon.

Used 2 scarbalm so far. How long does it take to make a dose out of a radstone stone? I have one stone on me, so I might make another dose before we leave the house, if there's time and means to do so.

[SlyJohnny]

Volk peers over at the alley, and vows to investigate it later. He ambles over and nods to Jack and the constable. "Jack, I heard you saw the murderer. Did you catch a glimpse of his face?"

[Magni's Hammer]

Volk and Donovan:

Jack is a short boy for his age, with tan skin and messy hair, but a modest set of good cloths befitting a professor's driver. Antony, the constable, has the sharp cheekbones and hook nose of a Vastian, and when he speaks it's with a clear western accent. The two are standing with the cart horse, Nellie, who seems calm now. Jack brushes the horse's mane absentmindedly, like a nervous distraction, while the constable leans against the stall to jot notes into his book. He is initially worried, seeing a large, dangerous-looking stranger emerge from the Prest's house, but Jack recognizes Volk immediately, and the constable relaxes.

In answer to your question, Jack is sadly unhelpful. "No sir, Mr. Volk, I can't say I did see him. He was big for sure, and pale." He pauses, frowning as he thinks. "I don't think he had a beard, or long hair, if that helps. I guess it could have been under his hat, though."

Antony soon takes over, filling Volk in but also asking questions of his own. "Jack says he went to pick up Mr. Prest from his office at the normal time last night, but the professor had a number of letters to write and send. It was late, so they went a ways off to find an open postal shop, then they returned late to the house, where he told him to come back early this morning." He pauses to size you up, book in hand. "Now, I understand you're one of the men that received a letter. Mind telling me what that was about? Any idea why the professor would send for you? And who else he might have brought here, and why?"

Sometime during this conversation, Donovan emerges from the alleyway with Argus and the torn and muddy blue coat.

Dr. Ridley:

The pudgy woman, introducing herself as Mrs. Balleck, a landlady from across the street, is all too happy to become the center of attention. "Certainly, mister. No, it was more like a howling dog, baying and barking as it raced down the alley. Even through the door, I could hear curses and growls, like there was a scuffle of sorts. Then an awful crash, and the wheels of a cart racing away." She thinks for a moment, then continues. "I could tell you something else, sir: that Mr. Prest has been funny the whole past week. Why, my sister -- she often has tea with the wife and Mrs. Ortess, to discuss their gardens -- well, she told me that she heard the husband hadn't been sleeping well, and wouldn't talk to his wife about it. She could tell it had something to do with his work at the university, since he's been so busy since his promotion. But God's name, I can't think why anyone should want him dead over such a thing as that."

She and some of the other neighbors have been scrutinizing you as she talks; eventually the ruffled-looking man poses the question: "Begging your pardon, sir, but haven't we seen you around the block before? You and those other funny, foreign-looking folks sometimes call on the Prests, don't you? And that Vant fellow that used to work for them. Any chance you know something about all this?"

[JeenLeen]

Feeling a touch out of breathe after the run to the house and all the excitement, Donovan says to his comrades, "I got a print of the assailant's boot, and found tracks leading to the pavement. Argus here took a blow or two, but seems he got some of the person's cloak."

He makes a wan smile, glad to have found some useful information and to have saved the dog's life.
With a sudden bolt of realization, he adds, "Might be the dog will recognize the guy's scent, should we encounter him again. He should rest a bit -- scarbalm or no, he was hurt bad -- but maybe Ms. Prest will let us take him with us if we go a'searchin.'"

[Boethius Junior]

Dr. Ridley hums absentmindedly and taps his chin as the woman tells her story, wondering aloud at the circumstances. "Thank you kindly for your testimony, madame - I suppose the blackguard had means of escape after committing his foul deed. That would explain the clattering, while I suspect the loyal Argus is to blame for the fearsome howling. He is quite the champion hound! I hope he's well after all this black business, I have not seen him yet today."

Lost in his own head still, he puffs his cigar thoughtfully until the shabby ruffian interjects. "You wound me, sir," the doctor replies in mock-insult, "have you not heard the name of Hieronymus Ridley, man of the world? Perhaps I am no longer as well known about Vanalot as I used to be - in days past my name was whispered among all the most-learned socialites." He winks - "The late Dr. Prest was an old friend of mine. He and I, plus another few dear fellows you've seen 'round Locust Row, were planning all a little vacation to this brilliant isle near Elysium. Dandy place," he finishes wistfully, "Tom and the missus both would have loved the beaches."

[SlyJohnny]

"Thomas was my friend. I accompany him on archeological digs and other trips, before. Another expedition was being arranged. The letter he sent was... rushed, I think. He normally takes his time with letters. Normally very detailed. Asks after your health and such, yes? This time he said only there was some problem with arrangements, and he wanted the five of us to come immediately." he confides to the constable.

When Donovan reappears, the skin on Volk's forehead crinkles as it would if he were raising an eyebrow (if he had an eyebrow to raise).

"You did well. The others are in the study, I think. Let's bring this fabric to them."

He eyes the constable. "I'd like to dig the bullet out of the pantry wall to find the calibre of the weapon, look for a manufacturers mark. May I? Or does one of you do this thing?"

[Magni's Hammer]

All

Antony is surprised and pleased to hear that Volk found the bullet. As they go to dig it out, he produces the brass case for you to inspect. "Found it on the stoop, in the grass," he says. "Looked re-used to me." You are inclined to agree: the casing is worn from multiple firings, the manufacturer's stamp worn to uselessness -- re-use is a common thing among criminals, tinkerers, and others without an interest or inclination to be seen buying bullets. It does give you some important information, though; the killer was using a revolver (Jack would have seen if he was carrying a repeating rifle), and he makes his own cartridges (or at least this one was hand-made). Digging the bullet from the wall, sadly, gives little extra information; it's nothing but a deformed lead slug, utterly typical. The caliber is a bit odd for a pistol, rather on the small side, but that's typical of hand-cast bullets.

The house is tearfully glad to have Argus back, and the dog has turned up an unusual clue: the muddied blue coat pulled off the killer is one all too recognizable when unfurled. It was hard to see with the grime, but the badge above the breast is unmistakable. This is a Ravenwell professor's coat, one much like Thomas himself would wear. All professors have the right to sew badges on their clothing, to show their loyalty to the university, and most do so on the blue and black cloaks that are in fashion at the moment. The revelation is quite shocking, to the point that Mrs. Prest is near to fainting at the idea that one of her husband's colleagues could be behind the morning's horror.

At this point, the party has likely assembled again in the parlor (unless you want to do anything else). Antony and Stordus are conferring with Roderick about these new and serious clues. Roderick, who was just informed about Sebastian, declares that someone should probably go to check on the young man, as well as Prest's office at the university. Given that he doesn't know what Sebastian looks like, the sergeant asks if any of you would be willing to come with them. He's dispatching Stordus to the university and Antony to track down Sebastian, while he returns to the local headquarters to give a report in person. Outside, the crowd is already being pushed aside as a mortician's carriage appears to take the body away. Roderick will leave a constable here for the day to guard the household, while Stordus goes to flag a carriage for the university (since Antony doesn't know where Sebastian lives, he'll tag along and ask around Ravenwell to see if he can get an address; since it's a summer weekend, the student isn't likely to be at the office).

Lydia and Okaan have Prest's letter, found in his study, but no one else has seen it -- not sure if you want to tell the police about it or keep it quiet.

[JeenLeen]

Feeling his age, Donovan is a bit hesitant to speak up amongst the professors, professionals, and constable, but he nonetheless does.

"If it's a professor, or someone at least trying to look like a professor... and we have a bootprint sample... could we get all the professors and staff together and compare foot size? Maybe also check for traces of any wounds, like if Argus got a bite into one of 'em. Or see if Argus responds negatively to any of 'em.

I didn't study law, so I'm not sure of the legal rights one has in this circumstance, but- Dr. Ridley, Mrs. Prest, Lydia -- perhaps the three of you could put pressure on the university to encourage cooperation, if that's needed?"

Some hesitancy enters his voice, "Though, I guess that would tip off the assailant, and maybe they'd skip town. Could let us know who it is, but I don't like the idea of them escaping justice." His expression is replaced with frustration. "I feel like we could catch someone pretty easy now, if not that trying to the easy way would let them escape."

[Grek]

After conferring briefly with Rhuk, Lydia decides to show the letter to Mrs. Prest and the waiting constables. Her voice is barely a whisper, but her words are with filled with conviction.

"Putting it all together, Mr. Prest discovered some problem last night and called us all here. He was writing out a message in his study when he spotted the man through the window. Mr. Prest rushed down, spilling his ink in his haste to meet whoever it was, perhaps expecting the man or perhaps mistaking him for one of us. Either way, Mr. Prest opened the door only to be shot once with a revolver after only a few words were spoken. The killer fled through the garden, leaving tracks in the mud, but brave Argus chased the man, defending his master as a good dog ought. The criminal fought Argus off, but lost his coat in the process. From there, it isn't clear where he might have gone, but we know that he was fair-skinned and had a hat."

She looks around, waiting to see if anyone else has anything to add to this summary of the events.

"I don't know whether we can get every professor together, Donovan, but we could certainly inquire. All of the innocent members of the history department ought be eager to prove as much, after all. And if we notice any professor who refuses, or who is wounded, or who tries to leave town, or who does something else to rouse suspicion, all we would need to do is confirm that his boots and his coat match the size of the killer's. That would certainly be enough to warrant bringing them in and having the constables - or perhaps Dr. Ridley, if you are willing? - question them about their whereabouts last night. And if there is every chance that Thomas named his attacker in his last words here. Whoever did this, he will not escape justice."

[SlyJohnny]

Volk shares his meagre findings with the group, and then moves over to Juliet. "You said you heard some words from upstairs, before the gunshot. What could you make out?" He murmurs. He falls silent to listen to Donovan and Lydia as they speak up.

He knows Donovan by sight, of course. Even if they hadn't met, he'd know him by his reputation, as a rogue and a cad and a bounder, and a breeder of unnaturally mutated creatures. But university professors are an easily scandalized group of people, as a rule, and Volk knows the young man began his studies into radstone out of a fascination for scarbalm, and his desire to do right by his fellows. Volk wishes he had the same gift, and envies the younger man for the seeming ease with which he moves through life. But Volk has learned that you never truly know what's going on in a person's head. He seems dependable, though, and that's ultimately the most you can say of a man.

He initially doesn't recognise the woman in the veil, and is about to introduce himself when it clicks. Oh. That is Marcus' wife. What is she wearing? He peers at Lydia's attire in confusion. Mourning blacks? Did she know the professor was dead ahead of time? He remembers she wore them for a long time after her husband died, even to all the expedition planning meetings... he ponders. He never knew her particularly well; they first met back when Volk was a half-feral, dying animal, alternately writhing feverishly in bed or snarling and barking at the shadows whenever the play of light from a window caused them to move around. Even after Volk recovered, he treated her with wary, polite deference, not wanting to violate some rule of etiquette and turn her husband against him. He wonders, belatedly, if he should have checked in on her after the funeral, and feels a stab of guilt.

He nods vaguely at her summation of events. "Perhaps we can hire a Khoj specialist find the damaged coat. We should do this quickly. Perhaps the murderer hasn't disposed of it yet." He points to the coded letter. "I should like to see this. Thomas used codes to send messages to me before. I think I know the kinds of cyphers he favors. Even if he hasn't left a key somewhere in his study."

If someone passes the letter to him, he'll move up to the study and search it thoroughly for anything that has any similarities to the symbols on the page, that might aid his efforts, or for any other clues the other searchers might have missed. Then he'll purloin some paper and a writing implement, beginning to cover a page with a shaky rendition of the alphabet and rows upon rows of vowels, as well as examples of the symbols on the letter. He'll welcome assistance from any of the others, no matter how inexpert.

Jack of All Trades, Investigate/Search roll [roll0]
Jack of All Trades, Decryption roll [roll1]

[Kvard51]

Rhuk glances at the symbols to see if he recognizes them as Volk looks at the letter. Moving closer to Donavan, he says leans in close to the young man, "You say you have a boot print sample? Did you draw it? Might I look at it?"

d20 to recognize the symbols: [roll0]
and to glean information from the bootprint casting: [roll1]

[JeenLeen]

Donovan holds out the bootprint: a thin slab of soldified tar, with a touch of the local dirt in its edges. The imprint seems pretty good, nonetheless: scarbalm is good at fitting in all the nooks and crannies, albeit it usually to close wounds instead of copying an image.

"Yeah, no problem. It is made from scarbalm, though. Should be inert enough in this state, but I'd recommend washing your hands afterwards and one of us archsilverist should probably keep hold of it.
But you should be safe to hold it for a few minutes to an hour, regardless." A slightly manic gleam comes to Donovan's eye, perhaps a touch like the mad scientist stereotype that he so rarely embodies. He quickly suppresses it, and doesn't vocalize it, but his mind is now pondering exactly where and how the inertness of scarbalm occurs.

I'm guessing that the process of heating and/or applying the scarbalm alters it so that it no longer counts as radstone, since otherwise anyone treated with it would die of radstone poisoning. But if it's the mixing of scarbalm with flesh that makes it inert, then this print might still count as radstone.

If I heat a scarbalm but wind up not using it (e.g., whoever my target was dies before can be healed), is it wasted or can it be left to cool and still be useful later?

[Magni's Hammer]

Rukh

You scrutinize the cast print -- it looks like a large man's work boot or hunting boot, something made for tromping through mud. Unless the wearer has unusually large feet, it must be a tall man, over six feet. There can't be too many professors that big.

Volk

Puzzling over the coded letter, you are struck suddenly with a memory from years past. Thomas had been conferring with a colleague at another university and had anxiously awaited the mail for weeks until it arrived: a small, red book, just recently published, of his friend's analysis of some old tablets and pottery shards. He had gathered the household around the table and trucked out some of his artifacts, and with the book had attempted to translate the small scribbles around them. His friend had theorized that what had long been assumed to be stylistic marks on ancient clay, were in fact glyphs of a proto-Kitaran language, possibly the earliest in the world. The little red book was his argument for the theory and contained his hypothesized "proto-Kitaran alphabet." In your case, Thomas' artifacts had proved stubbornly unreadable, but it had been a fun and pleasant evening regardless, puzzling out the symbols scratched onto old stone. Looking again at the letter to double-check, you are sure they match.

All

Volk makes for the stairs, and in an instant he is back, carrying a small red book in his hands. Juliet had just finished apologizing that she could not make out the words she had heard in the pantry, only that it had sounded like a man, when Volk plants himself at the table with the letter. Through hurried explanation, he lays out the story as he tries to translate Prest's scribbles. Rukh catches on quick and finds some paper, then the rest of the party joins in.

Mercifully, Thomas did not actually write his note in an ancient language; he merely used it as a kind of cypher, so by sounding out the syllables his message gradually appears:

"Friends. Sorry to have kept secrets. Go to the Hothsdort Hotel. Alessia will explain."

"Cryptic," is all that constable Antony can mutter. The Hothsdort is a rather fancy newer establishment in the center of the city, overlooking the wide river. The place is well-liked by visiting industrialists, since it is close to both the business districts and several large universities and private labs, and is within walking distance of Ravenwell.

[Boethius Junior]

Happily retiring from the gawking crowd, Dr. Ridley chances a moment to explain his latest half-truth to his compatriots, for the sake of surety. Since then he has returned to quiet contemplation, overwhelmed by the investigation - yet word of the swanky Hothsdort rouses him again. "While I dare say the name Alessia doesn't rings any bells, I'm certain I have a few chum that often happen to loiter 'round the Hotel. It would be only small trouble to wander in and see if we can't drum up some answers."

[Magni's Hammer]

Lydia, Donovan, and Volk

Setting off in a pair of hailed coppery cabs, your party reaches Ravenwell University without incident. Antony splits off to begin asking around for Sebastian, while Dr. Ridley and his bodyguard proceed to the Hothsdort; this leaves the three of you to travel the campus, with Stordus tagging along.

Ravenwell is rather empty, but that's to be expected of a small institution on a summer weekend. Folks still cross the main green, but most of the buildings are closed to guests; though they will surely have secretaries and custodians about, most of the inner doors will be locked unless a professor is in doing some work (which, to be fair, many are). But the students are all but absent.

Stordus wants to go to the history building, to check Prest's office for any clues, and asks you for directions if you aren't heading there yourself. Antony has already left for the administrative building, a towering and rather obvious structure of red-black brick and sour, feathered gargoyles, in hopes that someone there is in charge of sending letters and can direct him to Sebastian's apartment. Incidentally, your own residences are nearby if you want to get anything.

The university, having been built during the Revolution, took advantage of the frequent urban fires and property seizures to control a wide strip of this neighborhood. The central green is bordered by the main buildings and laboratories; radiating out from these are apartments (most owned by the school), several shops and bookstores, and some of the newer laboratories. The more dangerous workshops are partly underground, dug into the deep and winding undercity to keep the surface residents safe from alchemical radiation.

Rukh and Ridley

"Swanky" is more than appropriate a term for the Hothsdort. Reconstructed during the Neoclassical revival, its original, abstemious severity was replaced by the richness, splendor, and practically florid opulence of a culture subconsciously justifying its prosperity by aping the reverent history of the Rhoscan Empire. Passing between soaring marble columns and under a gilded ceiling of carved exotic wood and layers of golden paint, you arrive in an open-air courtyard where gentlemen lounge upon divans beneath a silk canopy, sipping coffee, smoking pipes, and ruffling newspapers. Above the murmur of polite conversation, a statuesque cherub pours infinite water into the central fountain. Waiters and valets cross the floor regularly, and a large checking desk guards the doors leading into the hotel proper.

A quick glance about the place draws your eyes to an unusual party: beneath a wide blue umbrella stands an enormous mound of hair, bunched uncomfortably into a servant's suit, predatory eyes flicking across the room. On either side of the creature sit two women, one young and the other old, casually chattering about something or other. They certainly stand out from the crowd of regulars.

On the other side of the room fidgets a face familiar to Hieronymus (and perhaps Ruhk too). You remember Julius L'lam, with his glossy black curls and audacious mole on his left cheek, from your time in the west. As a functionary for the d'Antonio Steel Trust, he rambles around, nose to the ground, sniffing for new businesses to purchase, new inventions to gobble up, and other opportunities for vertical integration into his master's metallic empire. You've traded rumors and gossip in the past, and he's both usually accurate in his advice and relatively free with his money.

[Grek]

Lydia elects to go along with Stordus, on the presumption that whoever wanted to hurt Mr. Prest wanted to do it for a reason. Given nothing was taken from the house, that mysterious reason is likely in Mr. Prest's office. Or so the criminal mind would think. Surely? "Do you think it could have been one of his colleagues? It strains the imagination to think any of them could have done something like this."

She thinks back to what she knows of the History department. She had visited with them, on occasion, when her duties to the University required it. Before the accident, mostly. Elliot was too short and Marchios too bald to be the killer. Could it have been D'Aubrey? Could such an old and genteel man have had such malice in him? Perhaps the new hire, then - that Bruthe fellow. Though, it need not be a history professor...


[roll0] to try to recall what I already know about the faculty of the History department - do any of them stand out?

[SlyJohnny]

Volk sidles along behind Lydia and Stordus, staring at Lydia's dress. He starts at her conversational entreaty. "Is hard to believe it was someone he knew. I had thought, perhaps some foreign person with an interest in the tomb..." he trails off.

Volk peers about him for anyone taking an undue interest in the party or the constables. Beyond that, the only thing he can think of is getting a khoj tracker up to the university, to search for a blue cloak with a conspicuous bite mark. He makes a mental note to check whatever laundry service the university has, on the possibility that the murderer was extremely stupid and decided to have his muddied robe laundered. Likewise for any seamstresses he knows who tend to the faculty. For now, though, checking his friend's office seems like as good a bet as any.

[Boethius Junior]

Ridley gives Rukh a nudge, pointing out the flamboyant L'lam from across the hall. "Remember this sot?" he asks with wry smile, swaggering towards his quarry. Far more at home among this upper crust than the gape-mouthed wonderings of the smaller folk, Dr. Ridley lights another of his seemingly endless supply of fumigants and gives the young dilettante a friendly clap upon the shoulder. "Julius, you stuffy rascal! Such a small world it is; how's the missus these days?"

[JeenLeen]

"Now that we're here, probably good we stick together," Donovan adds as he accompanies Lydia and Volk. "Y'know, this university was the first real home I had in a long time, when I moved here. It's always seemed a peaceful place to me. But the idea of the murderer hiding here, as one of our own in a sense... Everything here seems so different now."

The fixtures do indeed have an almost malicious glint to them now, to the young archsilverist's eyes. He makes a note to pick up his 'pets' before leaving the university grounds.

[Kvard51]

Rhuk looks where the Doctor points. A fleeting grimace crosses his otherwise smooth features. He remembers, all right. I'll need to watch the Doctor's back with this one. He looks like a fool, but he is dangerous...

Following Doctor Ridley, he smiles when Ridley engages the man, little more than baring his teeth, really. He keeps his eyes on L'lam's face while allowing his ears to pick up whatever he can from the rest of the room.

Watching L'iam's face to judge his intent [roll0]

Listening to the room for tidbits [roll1]

[Magni's Hammer]

Lydia, Volk, and Donovan

Elliot Jho was a student here and became a lecturer after receiving his degree; since he’s young for a professor, everyone calls him “Elliot” instead of “Professor Jho.” He’s a short man, with a dark beard and a bit of an accent – his family are probably immigrants from the west, but he’s never talked about it. He is very bookish, and avoids going on trips, but is quite a whiz at translations, and can both speak and read several ancient languages. Thomas seemed to like him and spoke highly of his talents.

Professor Ghent D’Aubrey is now the senior most professor in the department. He is same age as Thaddeus Wash, the late head of the department, but where Thaddeus was fat, mustached, and jolly, D’Aubrey is a reedy, bald, and severe man students call him “the buzzard” behind his back. He was passed over for the position despite his seniority, but it’s assumed he didn’t want it. As far as you know, the old man lives alone and has little interests beyond his scholarship. Thomas regarded him as professional and intelligent, but a cold and lonely person.

Professor Herbert Marchios is a muscled, hirsute man with a gleaming bare head and a thick scar running across it. Like Lewis Monk, an alchemistry professor, he is a former military officer and spends a lot of time drinking and gambling. He is a hard man, a severe disciplinarian, and not well liked by his students. You don’t think he’s married, but as far as you know he has a brother still in the army. Thomas did not like him and Marchios didn’t like most others, as far as you know.

Lastly, Professor Delian Bruthe is an ugly man from the colonies, known for his bad breath and worse teeth. As far as you know, he was the sole history professor of the new Academy of Stros but left promptly to take the higher-paying job here in Vanalot. He has a heavy accent and some nasty habits, like spitting, but seems congenial enough. Thomas hadn’t quite figured out what to think of him; Delian was friendly, but ignorant, a poor lecturer, and tended towards the casual rudeness of colonials.

The Department of History squats in the humid green. As you cross to the great oak doors you pass by a gardener pulling weeds; a young woman greats you politely beyond the front, then returns to her sweeping; the building is otherwise quiet. Climbing the stairs to the third floor, down the plain wooden floors to the director’s office at the end, and a pause, as the door is unlocked and ajar.

An open window lets in a soft breeze. Prest’s office is well-ordered, dominated by a heavy desk and a portrait of Sir Palladian Venture, the famous explorer. Everything is neatly stacked, and you hear a scratching pen cease in the adjoining secretary’s room. In an instant, Sebastian emerges, looking tired but otherwise his normal self, and he brightens as he sees you. “Ah, good morning Mrs. Cassus! Volk! Donovan! This is a surprise, I thought the Professor had wanted to meet with you this morning.” His face darkens as he notices the constable behind you. “Is something wrong? What has happened?”

Rukh and Ridley

L’lam’s sudden start turns to the usual false smile. “Hieronymus, I didn’t know you were in, old boy. What a pleasure. My Janie is quite well, thank you, and sends her warm regards. We have a place in Tarraco now, lovely little villa – you must visit some time, you and Rukh.” He moves to shake the Khoj tracker’s hand, all limp wrist and fake friendship. He calls for coffee and directs you to a set of unoccupied armchairs by the fountain. He continues to prattle amicably about his wife and their new house, asking after your health and such, but Rukh’s keen eyes note how he positioned himself to watch the unusual trio on the other side, and how his eyes regularly flick towards the women and their hulking bodyguard.

Pleasantries end once the coffee arrives, and Julius shifts back to his usual demeanor. “Business has treated me well this past year, but it’s kept me in the capital. The Trust is poised to snatched speculation rights in Maarvald from Ironhead. In fact, I have it on good authority that they will declare bankruptcy within the year (so best to sell off their stocks now); convincing the senate of this has been a bear, though.” He sighs and sips his coffee, wrinkling his nose at the pungent puffs from Dr. Ridley’s cigar. “Everyone in the royal department has already assured me the transfer is ready, but it’s one of those things that still requires senate approval, and too many still remember old Cleos too fondly. Nevermind his son is running Ironhead into the ground, those soft codgers can’t stand the idea of going back on their promise to an old, dead friend.”

“And speaking of heirs,” he smiles into his cup, “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but another’s surfaced just recently. She’s my mark today, in fact. See if the old ‘Julian Charm’ can convince a young lady to finally sell off daddy’s crumbling old company.”

L’lam is paying attention to you, but he’s also watching that trio over there, and their guard is, similarly, watching him. Presumably the young woman is the heiress he mentioned. You know he likes to talk about business, and no doubt he’ll at some point try to level any useful information out of you. His job is to make deals for his company and buy up land, inventions, and other firms in the steel business, and he’s not above bribes, blackmail, and other pressures to get agreements. As such, any information is useful, which is probably why he’s here in this hotel while he waits for his lobbying to move the government.

Your ears pick up a smattering of conversation about that, in fact. A lot of people are talking about pulling out of the Ironhead Mining Concern after some train wreck in Maarvald. That little mountain country has apparently gotten more fractious since its ruling Grand Duke passed on, and some bandits dynamited an Ironhead rail line, stole the coal and lead, and held the crew for ransom. Some are men talking about it like it’s the last straw for Ironhead, a humiliating financial disruption for a company already struggling.

Those that aren’t talking about that, or general pleasantries, are talking about the heiress. You hear ‘Venture Industrial’ bandied about, whether she’s hear to sell or not, and how much of her father’s company is left after all these years. You recall Venture Industrial being a big name decades ago, manufacturers and inventors that made all kinds of curiosities, but you thought they went under years ago after the head, Amadeus, died. Most of the chattering men have similar impressions.

[JeenLeen]

Donovan feels a tension at seeing the door ajar. Maybe I shoulda brought my pets NOW, he thinks, but it evaporates (mostly) at seeing Sebastian.

The look of surprise on the young man's face is a relief; Donovan is feeling paranoid, but he'd like to think Sebastian is as trustworthy as Dr. Prest thought him to be.

Sense Motive?
[roll0], assuming it's a Wisdom check

If the background of living on the streets and some savviness can give a +2, I'll take it, but don't think I really deserve it.

[SlyJohnny]

"Let's go into your room. You should take a seat." Volk says, before anyone can say anything. He wants to usher the secretary out of the office so that he can search it. He peers at the man, noting how tired he looks, and wonders why, making a mental note to ask later.

After he's ushered everyone out of Prest's office and into the secretary's room, he woodenly intones "Thomas is dead. He was murdered, this morning." He studies the young man's eyes to check that he is genuinely surprised, though more out of habit than anything- he doesn't really suspect him. "We don't know more yet. Why it happened, who did it. This constable-" he gestures expansively to Stordus- "-is questioning Thomas' coworkers and friends. Any small thing you remember might be useful."

He steps back out of the room, apparently to afford the constable privacy, but in actual fact so that he can dig through Prest's office for any clues.

Sense Motive [roll0]

[Magni's Hammer]

Donovan, Volk, and Lydia

Sebastian is thrown into total confusion and worry by the news. He immediately begins asking questions, and once fully appraised he falls into a short, contemplative silence before beginning. "The Professor has- had, been not his usual self since Professor Wash's death and his taking on the position. He had been to see him, you know, before he passed. Mr. Wash, I mean. And the Professor was communicating with someone -- whomever it was that gave him the tip for the expedition, I think. He's left a few times in the past several months, and was always gone for hours at a time. Now, that's not unusual, mind -- he had his various meetings once he became dean -- but he wouldn't tell me what it was about. Not wanting to pry, I didn't question it, but with all this now...well, maybe I should have asked something.

"This past week he was very distracted. He kept putting off work -- which is why I came in this morning, incidentally, what with the grant letter still unfinished -- and he had taken out these charts from the university archives. I didn't ask about it, but I think they were building plans of some kind." At that, he retrieves his satchel from beside his secretary's desk and produces a thick fold of old architect's papers. They look like plans for various renovations of Ravenwell's alchemistry and metaphysics labs from over the past century; a fair bit of ink has been scrawled in the margins, with short notes like "missing funds," "D’Aubrey's story doesn't match what Wash told me," and "but Mrs. Cordaine said it was added in '14!" all in Prest's neat little handwriting. On the page for the new basement of the Metaphysics Deparment, there is a rather cryptic note that simply reads: "It's here."

As you look over the papers, Sebastian continues. "He gave these to me after Professor Monk came by. I stepped out to give them some privacy, since my door doesn't keep out the sound at all, but when I came back from my walk I could see Mr. Monk leaving, and he looked extremely angry. The Professor was very quiet after that, and after a while he took those maps out and gave them to me. He said I ought to keep them with me tonight, and then he sat down and wrote six letters before he left. That was the last I saw of him."

Volk hears all of this as from the main office as he searches the place. Nothing seems out of place, and there are various old letters carefully arranged on the main desk, with one of the finished grant letters set and ready to be mailed. Upon closer inspection, you start to spot evidence of Sebastian's work to clean the place: there are still bits of ash on the floor (where presumably a burglar was picking through the fireplace, and the secretary tried to sweep it back in), there's a bit of paper in the corner (where the wastepaper-basket had been overturned), and many of the shelved books are crooked, upside-down, or in the wrong order (where the burglar had pulled them off the shelf and Sebastian later hastily put them back).

Sebastian is genuine in his shock and sadness, and his information seems accurate.

[Boethius Junior]

"Charm?" Ridley offers L'lam a crocodile's smile. "My dear Julius, the whole study of mesmerics could not compel you to charm. Besides, surely poor Janie would frown at this latest philandering?" Spewing a trail of smoke, the doctor turns 'round in his chair to observe the out-of-place arrivals. "So which one is she? And has she any name besides the late father's? Us freemen wish to know."

[SlyJohnny]

Volk pockets the grant letter and the mysterious bit of paper for later perusal, and glances over the letters, wondering if there's anything interesting or any clue as to who the professor's mysterious penpal was. He glances over the bookshelf- just in case the upturned books spell out some coded message that will crack this case wide open- but otherwise sits and reads the letters until the constable and the others are ready to move on.

[Magni's Hammer]

Rukh and Ridley

"I'm not planning to ravish her, if that's what you mean," Julius feigns hurt, "just lead her on a little. Whatever gets her to sign over Venture Industrial to the Trust." The three of you regard the odd trio quietly. "She's quite unusual, Alessia," L'lam murmurs. "Miss Alessia Venture, twenty years old and the very last of the family -- as far as anyone can tell, anyway. She was just a baby when her parents disappeared, along with every brother, uncle, and cousin. You remember that little fiasco, don't you? I think we were abroad when it happened. Factories closed, bankruptcy, the end of an era... Except little Alessia, spirited away until just under a year ago, when she comes out and convinces the board to return control of the family business to her. What's left of it, anyway."

He shifts his eyes back to Dr. Ridley, steely and earnest. He taps the side of his nose. "Word to the wise, she'll be looking to sell soon enough. Her finances can't be good. Story says she's been roaming the city like a lost little ghost, checking in with old acquaintances of her father's, begging for loans or a favor." He shrugs. "I'd offer to help, in my own charming way, but between the governess and that animal bodyguard I haven't had a moment." And as if the idea just struck him, his dark iron eyes light up like arc lamps, and he leans in conspiratorially over his empty coffee. "Say, perhaps you could introduce us? A plump old charmer like Ridley might just strike her fancy in a more...nonthreatening way. And who knows, Rukh, that hairy fellow might be a distant relative!" he chuckles. "And I'd be willing to pay, of course. Usual rates. Just get me onto a quiet balcony or a closed room, without any of those fussy old minders around, and by Honest Johnny I'll have Venture Industrial signed off to the Trust within the hour! Just think of all the ideas she could be sitting on; all of Amadeus' untried designs are probably just moldering away in her closet somewhere! Why, we'd be doing the doll a favor, taking her parent's crumbled legacy off her hands."

If you can arrange a private meeting between Julius and Alessia he will cut you a check large enough to raise each of your wealth levels by +1. He'll pay you before the meeting, but you'll of course have to deposit or cash the note at a bank before it takes effect.

[Boethius Junior]

"So that is indeed Miss Alessia? I should have guessed as much." Ridley finishes his coffee with a sober pull and stuffs his cigar's remains into the nearest ashtray. "Though I would love nothing more than to spend my afternoon humoring you, I believe I have more pressing business than to watch you make yourself the fool at the poor lady's expense." Rising from his chair, he turns to his loyal friend. "Shall we then, Rukh?"

Whatever L'lam's protestations, Ridley carves a path through the meandering crowds towards this young emissary of the Venture name - bearing his brightest smile and wielding the warmest of regards: "So it is true!" he all but shouts, "the prodigal darling has returned to Vanalot at long last!" Bowing low enough that what few whispers of hair atop his crown brush the ground, Ridley showily announces himself to the heiress: "Doctor Hieronymus Ridley, at your service."

Should one be necessary at this junction:
EDIT: I fudged the form, so I shall post in the OOC

[Grek]

Lydia tries to be comforting. Soothing, even. The young man just had a colleague die, after all. But...

"I don't mean to alarm you, Sebastian, but you may very well be in danger. We have reason to suspect that the murderer wished to keep Mr. Prest quiet about some matter relating either to the University or to a recent discovery. If it were suspected that you had the missing notes, or that you knew about the secret - whatever it is exactly - you may very well be the next target. If you have friends or family in the city, please, stay with them for the next few nights? If only to put my mind at ease that you have someone looking out for you."

[Magni's Hammer]

Lydia, Donovan, and Volk

"Thank you, Mrs. Cassus. I, um, yes, I share my apartment with two other students, Francis Chillae and Davin De Patois. I'll stay with them for the while, they're friends of mine." Sebastian fiddles with his satchel, thinking his thoughts through. "I believe you should keep the maps, though. I'm sure the Professor was planning on telling you about them, though I cannot understand how Ravenwell's architecture is relevant to Therme." A nervous flash shoots across his face. "Goodness! Wait, I had almost forgotten: when I came in this morning, the Professor's office was very dirty and I thought maybe the maid had left in the middle of cleaning, but when she didn't come back I started to tidy up myself. What if someone broke in during the night, looking for these? I could have destroyed evidence by mistake!?" The exhausted student slumps back against his desk, face pale.

With further kind words from Lydia, Sebastian is coaxed out of his funk, but he can't think of anything more useful to say. Constable Stordus offers to escort him home -- though they'll stop at the administration building on the way out to find Antony, as he'll no doubt want to record everything Sebastian has told you. In the adjoining office, Volk has exhausted his search of the room. The paper trash is nothing useful, just unfinished drafts of the grant letters, and you can't figure any meaning out the order of the books (though their disorder is almost certainly due to Sebastian's haphazard attempt to clean up after what was certainly a break-in). The grant letters and associated dean's paperwork are basically just formal money-orders for the various expeditions and new books the university is sponsoring in the coming years, allowing the addressees to draw a certain amount of money from Ravenwell's account to cover their expenses. Curiously, one detail stands out: there is no mention of the Therme Expedition here at all; not even a receipt for the guns and tools he already bought, now waiting in a warehouse down town.

Ridley and Rhuk

The enormous creature glares at you as you approach, but the women both smile politely and the bodyguard makes no move to interrupt Dr. Ridley. As he straightens, the young woman rises and offers you a soft handshake. She is short and dainty, her sable hair drawn back into a polite bun, her tiny hands encased in white lace gloves. "Dr. Ridley, your reputation proceeds you! Thomas spoke very well of you, and of your companion, Mr...Taash? I hope I have said that right," she says, nodding to Rhuk as he approaches. Returning her bright eyes to Hieronymus, she continues "Please, allow me to introduce my beloved companions: this is Mrs. Claudia Wippel, my nurse, governess, and business advisor--" the older, heavy-jowled woman rises and curtsies with a formal 'hello,' "--and this is Maximilian, my valet, driver, and bodyguard. He was an associate of my father's, and with Claudia, they are the last of the Venture household." The huge creature simply folds his arms and grunts. This close to him, you detect a faint musky scent mixed with moss, covered by a ridiculous amount of workman's cologne.

Alessia offers you seats, then sits to produce a letter from her purse: it looks just like the ones you each received this morning. "Thomas has been meeting with me for quite some time now, about the..." she whispers with girlish conspiracy "...expedition." Chipper, she continues, handing over the letter for you to scrutinize: "...Anyway, this letter was delivered very early, and in it Thomas wrote that we were to convene here this morning. I must say I am so excited to finally meet you all. I arranged for a private room for breakfast, where we could go over the details. Tell me, will Thomas and the other three be arriving soon? I'm so eager to finally meet Mrs. Cassus, Volk, and Donovan. Thomas' letter was so very fervent, I'm rather surprised they haven't come racing in the door!"

[JeenLeen]

"Do you think we should check out the metaphysics building? I... it doesn't seem like there any big clue what IT is, and... this is frustrating.

If the professor's murderer is afoot here, he might be watching our actions. Directly or indirectly. So we probably shouldn't reveal what these maps mean, and thus should avoid the metaphysics department. At least for now.
Perhaps, after checking in with administration, we should reconvene with the rest of our group? Given the danger, I'd like to pick up my pets. I can put a cloak on them so they don't stand out from a distance."

It wouldn't help a lot, but a mysterious cloaked figure tended to get slightly less attention and alarm than a freakish mutant.


Can I give one an order like "protect Sebastian", if I wanted to send one as a bodyguard for someone? Or do they have to be near me to stay obedient?

Also, to clarify the IC: no real action suggested right now. Just some uncertainty about the best next action lest we tip our hand.

[SlyJohnny]

((Okay, that makes more sense now. I was wondering what robber you were talking about, earlier.))

Volk checks behind the portrait just in case it conceals a safe or something, then follows the others out. He waits until the constable has retreated out of earshot, then turns to the others.

"Neither of you need follow me, but I am going now. The trail may go cold, otherwise. We must give enemy no time to react. All three of us can see in the dark, so we can move without visible light. I will see if I can get inside without raising attention... perhaps our enemy will be too busy watching the constables." he replies to Donovan. Or perhaps they are waiting down there for us. Perhaps they sought the plans only to destroy them, and maintain their secrecy. Perhaps we will come upon them in the dark, and then I can make them pay. Volk muses. He shudders suddenly, flexing his arms. His fingers are fidgeting, curling and uncurling.

[Magni's Hammer]

It might be better to put OOC-posts in that thread [http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?589454-Age-of-Exploration-0-The-Secret-under-Ravenwell-OOC&p=23995258#post23995258] to avoid clutter. You guys are all on track, and have found most of the clues in the module, so it might be a good idea to hash out a timeline and everything you know in that thread, and see if anything pops out to you then.

[Kvard51]

At the young woman's words, Rhuk bows from the waist in an archaic, formal manner. As he stands, he looks into her eyes and offers a rare smile. "You may call me Rhuk, lady, as is appropriate among friends."

With that, he steps back two paces, returning to Ridley's flank, Watching the room while listening to the conversation between the Doctor and Miss Venture.

[Grek]

"I suppose that is a risk, Volk. Permit me to fetch something from my residence and I'll be right along with you."

Lydia does not like the idea. Not of going into the Metaphysics building without the rest of the group, nor of using the prototype as a weapon. But what else could be done? She wasn't going to let Volk go alone, not after the secrets of that place had already claimed a life.

[JeenLeen]

"Volk, take one of these with you, in case there is any danger" he says as he passes a flask of scarbalm, with its small burner attached.

"I won't be much use if anyone is waiting there, and taking my pets will make it really obvious what we're doing. But I and the constables can go get my pets. If we are being watched, I can be the distraction."

[SlyJohnny]

Volk takes the flask of scarbalm and secures it onto his tool belt. He nods to Donovan. "Thank you. I will not take foolish risks. If there's no safe way inside- if seems to be more than we can chew, I will instead wait for the rest of the group."

He looks over to Lydia. "There is no rush. We can first retrieve whatever you need, Mrs Cassus."

[Boethius Junior]

Passing the letter to Rhuk, Ridley takes the offered seat and somberly meets the young Alessia's eyes. "My dear, your enthusiasm is infectious, but I implore you to quiet on these matters. You never know who might be listening, hm?" He glances conspiratorially about the room; voice dropping to scarcely a whisper. "My friend Rhuk and I have not merely sought you out on the good doctor's word; I am afraid we bring tragic news: Thomas Prest was murdered this morning at his home on Locust Row - if you trust his word then trust mine now."

Standing again, voice returned to its natural abundance, Ridley showily dons his cap. "Yes, I'm afraid the vacation plans will have to be put on hold, until the matter of attendance is sorted. Still, I believe there was word of breakfast? Somewhere we might away from these banker-vultures?"

[Magni's Hammer]

Rhuk and Ridley

Seeing the dawning horror in her charge's amber eyes, the governess rises to the occasion. "Of course, doctor," she says just a tad over-loudly, "If you will just follow me." Arm around her wrist, she scoops up the now-pallid heiress and leads you further into the Hothsdort, prattling on about how fine the eggs Pavian are here as if you hadn't just told them about the murder of their close confidant.

The two bodyguards fall in behind them, eyes sweeping the room for any dangers. Except for Llam's greedy glances no one seems to care about your departure. Satisfied, Rhuk's attention turns for an instant to the creature, 'Maximilian.' You've been all about the western rim of Isidia in your tour, but you cannot recall ever meeting a thing like this. Whatever Alessia's manservant is, he must have come from very far away. As you walk, he speaks suddenly, posing a question in a rumbling, heavily-accented Relian: "You also ahre ah guard, yes? I haff serfed thah lady since she was fery smahll, and her fahther before that. You and thah doctor seem close ahswell." He inclines his hand as he finishes; if you care to elaborate he seems curious and happy to listen.

Once seated and fixed for breakfast in a fine private room on the second floor (the decor tries a bit too hard, but the gilding is unobtrusive and there's a lovely floral imitation around the window), and sure that the waiting staff is unlikely to barge in, Claudia begins a careful series of deliberate questions about the morning. Maximilian has chosen to stand by the door, a mug of coffee in hand and one lupine ear pricked for any sound in the hallway. I'll assume you fill them in on the necessary details; Alessia remains focused but quiet as you talk, picking at a boiled egg without eating.

Now property informed, the young woman carefully musters a reply. "I...I suppose I must thank you, gentlemen, for everything you and your friends are doing. I did not know him as long as you, but I considered Thomas a dear and trusted friend, and it pains me to think that this evil should befall him and his family." She fixes you will a brilliant stare, her amber eyes intense and serious.

"He was a friend of my father's, you know. I never knew my father, or any of my family, but I was told that at school Thomas Prest was a close companion of his, though in life they went their separate ways." Now that she mentions it, you dimly recall, back years ago when he was in the diplomatic service, Thomas telling you about a friend of his, an ambitious young man that had left school when his rich father died to manage the family business. He had said he was a capital fellow, brilliant with mechanics and alchemistry and endlessly curious, but prone to bouts of introspective melancholy and manic pride. Had he been talking about Amadeus? You can't quite remember, it was so long ago...but it does sound like the kind of man that would rise to the greatest heights of industrial power before vanishing in a mysterious instant, leaving everything of his to fall apart without him.

Alessia continues. "When I took over my parents' company, I was desperate; I am not ashamed to admit it. I was given a fine education, but I am no genius like my father. So I sought out whatever talent I could, and that led me to Ravenwell and to Thomas. He was more than happy to take up the task, and it must have been his inquiring for opportunities that led to his conversation with Professor Wash, the old dean." She stops to hand you another two letters from her purse, these ones very wrinkled and dated less than a month apart, both over a year ago.

"Thomas wrote to me that, during one of their rambling conversations, the dean let slip something about an abandoned project between my father, when he had just taken charge of the business, and the university. Curious, because he had never heard of such a thing, Thomas pressed him about it, and the man eventually confessed that it had been kept hidden, due to its potentially ground-breaking nature, only to be abandoned for some reason or another." The young woman's smile is a mix of earnestness and sadness.

"My family has made all sorts of wonderful things through its years. Ventures pioneered the heliograph and sponsored all of Volta's research into his 'batteries'...Just imagine what brilliance my father could have brought into the world, had he lived? I wrote back begging Thomas to pursue this at all speed, and he promised, but," she hesitates, "he soon wrote back that Professor Wash was being obstinate. In fact, he denied ever having the conversation, and demanded Thomas drop the subject. When he went to the university archives to find any record of this contract, he found nothing and the archivist refused to speak to him about it. That was about about a year ago now, when he told me about this, and we arranged to meet him here in person shortly after."

"Thomas was very upset, and concerned that there had was something criminal in all this history. Perhaps embezzlement, or an accounting fraud. He knew how tightly the chancellor, Damian, keeps the university's accounts; how fragile the institution can be. I can sympathize. And though he did not say so, I suspect our professor was worried about, well, other things." Her voice drops again, but the subject is plain: laboratory scandals; unethical experimentation; abuse. The kind of things neither a young industrialist nor a struggling university would want associated with its name. Better just to seal it up and keep bad history hidden away.

"Nevertheless, we agreed that this was something we all should pursue -- if not for the sake of my company, then for the truth. He told me he had several friends that he could trust, and would assemble them to investigate. I think it was shortly after that meeting that he called for you."

Again Alessia hesitates, so Claudia takes up the story. "We know that Thomas was a good and honest man. Please, gentlemen, do not think he kept this from you out of any malice or desire to deceive."

The older woman stiffens. "Rather, I insisted on it. He spoke very well of all of you, but I simply could not trust anything of Miss Venture's reputation to chance. It was better for everyone that the subject of your investigation be kept between the professor and the three of us. Should it prove to be an old family scandal we were investigating -- well, I simply could not bear the idea of my charge being blackmailed by some scurrilous vagabonds." She coughs into her hand at this. "Ahem, not to imply either of you, or your other friends, would do such a thing. But now we are introduced. Then we were not."

[Grek]

The Cassus Residence is a narrow pile of bricks nestled in the middle of a row of similar structures, pressed snugly against its neighbors like lumpy grey molars in a brown-grassed jaw. Although the building is clearly intended to house a small family (perhaps a very small family), the window (for there is only room for one window in this cramped abode) lies dusty and dark on the second floor.

Lydia herself lives in the basement, out of sight of the memories that still loom so large and well away from the places where people aren't and never will be again. There is an oil lamp on a hook by the door and a stair that squeaks six steps down. A curtain has been drawn around a cot, a little island of calm amid the papers and the chalk. Their owner navigates the clutter without looking, stepping over this and dodging past that to retrieve a key left atop a yellowing reference book.

The key slides into a lock, the lock turns in the latch and the lead-lined coffer creaks open to reveal a sheet of moss-hued velvet tangled around a contraption that looks like a network of steel veins and sounds like barbed bells in a burlap sack. Lydia cradles it in her arms, keeping it well away from anything too firm - or too fragile. "Alright. I don't like using this, but... Well. I hope we won't need it."

[Kvard51]

Rhuk falls in behind the Doctor, smiling widely at L'lam as they walk away. He turns back at Maximillian's voice, a bit surprised at the thickness of his accent. Nodding in agreement, not sure if the man can understand the concept of "Life-Debt". "I am Okaat Rhukaan Taash. Doctor Ridley is my friend. I serve him out of love and loyalty. It seems you do the same for the Lady?? Rhuk takes the proffered hand, giving it a firm grip.

Once situated for breakfast, Rhuk falls into an easy squat where he can easily see both the door and the Doctor's back. He lays his pistol across his knees and takes a up of coffee when offered. He listens intently to the conversation, hoping to hear something from the heiress' party that might give a clue to Thomas' death.

[Boethius Junior]

Once comfortably secure, Ridley takes every pain to explain their current predicament, to the fullest extent of his knowledge. Upon learning the truth however, his somber mood further deepens. "I cannot blame your care, Miss Claudia - in fact I advise you keep to your premonitions. These revelations are...unwelcome," he muses. "Being something of a locus for mischief myself, I am scarcely taken by Ravenwell's sordid histories. Yet, to think that Thomas may have been embroiled - well, Wash passed recently too, and at about the hour of my grandiose return. Which, though I dare not sully his name by implication, was indeed at Thomas's behest. The pieces fit."

After a quiet pause, he stands to abrupt attention, shoving on cap and shouldering cane. "Come then, my new friends!" he cries with fiery zeal. "There is much good to do; and little more that may be done here - you must be introduced to our compatriots, posthaste! I shall be damned if I allow any stone unturned, until justice has been delivered." Swiftly he crosses the room and flings wide the door; storming the street, and onward to the University.

[SlyJohnny]

Volk peers about him, openly nosy about the house and Lydia's quarters. He glances around at the scattered papers around the basement.

"I know an old Thaal woman from the old country who lodges near this street. Mostly retired, but she does odd jobs. She is wonderful cleaner and housekeeper. Tidies, dusts, changes sheets. She can read, so would even organise files and correspondence. Cheap. Quiet, too; would never know she was here. I give you her address, if you like?" he remarks, apparently apropos of nothing.

When Lydia retrieves her contraption, he tilts his head, as if trying to make out a faint sound with a pitch just on the edge of what his radium-heightened hearing can pick up. He runs his tongue over his gums. He glances down at the bundle for a moment, apparently tracing it as the source of the itchy feeling in his teeth.

"Why, is that the..." he trails off for several moments, his lips moving but making no sound. "...screaming steel?" he finishes, lamely.

He stares silently at the object she retrieves, and nods his assent when Lydia signals she is ready to go. He gropes around for something to recover the conversation with as they meander upstairs.

"Archsilver is wretched stuff. Isn't it? Takes more than it gives. My interest was always with the studs... your husband always called it my 'enlightened self interest'." he smiles. "Such wonderful potential. Placement of needles and spars maps inexactly to theories of acupuncture, you know. Cures gout, tremors, improves coordination, can reverse the effects of aging. And yet it poisons and corrupts anyone without a developed resistance to it." he shakes his head in apparent frustration.

[Magni's Hammer]

Several things are about to happen in succession:

1. He can already hear them scratching at the door as he climbs the stairs to the third floor. The apartment door swings open and three misshapen creatures tumble through with a ghastly whining and purring at their master's return. Donovan locks the flat behind them with one hand, the other scooping up his favorite. "Come quickly now, beasties," he smiles, "I have a job for you."

2. Introductions, explanations, and breakfast over, the Hothsdort group is soon on the street again hailing a pair of cabs. As you climb inside and give the drivers their instructions ("Swiftly to Ravenwell, if you please"), something tingles at the back of Dr. Ridley's skull; the kind of dry, clumsy pressure of a magnetic disturbance. Sweeping the street with his gaze, the mesmerist's pupils begin to dilate wildly as he takes in the subtler waves that would be beneath the vision of most. What dances eternally on the edge of his vision now comes into focus; scintillating whirls of impossible colors, all else rendered to clouds of shadow and dust. Unreal wind whistles out from nothing as he sees he world as it really is.

Rhuk has already noticed the subtle change in his friend. "On the second story, third window to the right. I saw him too." He had gone out first to check the street, and his focus had come to a Midian glassworker on the second story. He looked like he was replacing the window-pane and had stopped for a break, but he had followed their party as they exited, and was now watching their cab. "I don't think he has blinked once since he laid eyes on us."

"His aura is wrong," mumbles the doctor. A simple statement in his usual tone, but you know when Hieronymus is worried over something. "Things are stretched and layered about him, I cannot..." The crack of the coachman's whip breaks his focus. When he looks back wordlessly his eyes are red and watering. The workman continues to stare from his window until the cab rounds the corner and puts the Hothsdort out of sight.

3. When Lydia and Volk return to the campus, the constables, Antony, Stordus, are waiting with Sebastian beneath the sour, red-black bricks of the administration building. Nods of acknowledgement are traded, and the five settle in on a set of benches to wait for Donovan. If either of the watchmen are curious about Lydia's concealed device, they don't ask for it.

"I spoke with the chancellor," Antony tells you. "I thought the news should be broken to the university before the broadsides get to it. He was very eager to help, and said he would call up any professor we needed to interview. In fact, he left to do just that after I met with him." He frowns. "I did not realize the university lost its older history dean just a few months ago. Perhaps that's the angle we need to pursue. Someone in the department trying to climb the ladder?"

"Possible, I suppose," replies Lydia. "Though I suspect something else must have happened to push anyone to such state. We professors do not, as a rule, strike at each other."

Volk considers how much to offer. These watchmen seem trustworthy, but he's not a man inclined to trust men he only met today. Could the confusion with the finances be a reason? Was someone blackmailing or threatening the Professor for money? Was that why there were no funds for the Therme expedition; why Thomas had purchased so little in the way of material?

Soon enough Donovan appears, and he's brought his creatures as he promised. While Sebastian is slightly disturbed by his new guard, a few words from Donovan is enough to convince him the beast is trained and safe to accompany him. With some rising and shaking of hands, the group prepares to depart, until Donovan spots two carriages pulling up to the other side of the green, and the familiar forms of Rhuk and Ridley pouring out of them. "Interesting; that must have been a short meeting. Perhaps we should ask them wh-"

A thick crack interrupts him. Nobody sees the fat, tumbling canister land amidst you, but it almost immediately begins spitting grey gas across the lawn. Volk roars something and drags as many as he can reach to the grass as another shot follows the first, this one sharp and lethal, chipping the bricks where Sebastian was standing only a moment before. People on the green are screaming and running from the attack. Crawling for cover behind the benches and bushes, you hear a third shot but it goes completely wild. The smoke is thicker and close to the ground, stinging the eyes and catching the throat. You cover your mouth, but you can only hold your breath for so long before you'll have to break cover and expose yourself to the gunman.

[Magni's Hammer]

Lydia, Volk, Donovan (and creatures), Sebastian, Stordus, and Antony are being shot at by a gunman somewhere on the green or in one of the buildings near it. They are currently in cover, so he cannot hit them, but he fired a gas canister round first and the area is filling up with noxious smoke. Each round you breathe it, you must make a DC 10 Con save or take 1 point of damage -- you can hold your breath for 1d4+Con rounds (roll that now), but once that's up you take 1d6 damage/round until you breathe. Obviously, you cannot talk while holding your breath.

If you leave the smoke, you could run to the door to the administration building (1 turn), run across the green towards Rhuk and Ridley (3 turns), run for another building (2 turns), or do something else like scan for the gunman and return fire (you have your weapons).

Rhuk and Ridley see all this happening, and have similar options. The gunman has not shot at you yet, and may not have noticed you. The shots are probably coming from one of the buildings on the green. Alessia, Claudia, and Maximilian are here in the other cab but have not exited.

[JeenLeen]

It's nice to see his pets again. He pets Cloak Rat, gives Fishy a rub under its gills, and ruffles the few remaining feathers on Pretty Bird's neck. His animals grunt and squeak in pleased response. Yes, to most others the noises and appearances would be rather nauseating, but these were pets Donovan had worked with for months.

With a moment of deep sadness, he realizes it's quite possible that some of them will die in the near future. He always knew that potentiality existed. The main reason he started studying this archsilver process was in case he was ever in dangerous situations, but... not having used them as expendable 'troops' before, it was a hard reality. But the death of his friend was a hard reality, too.

But for the moment, he could enjoy them. He gives them each a treat, drapes each with a cloak then leads them on.
Cloak Rat is assigned to Sebastian. It seems to bother most folk the least.

---

A gunshot? GAS!!!

Donovan instinctively leaps for cover, along with the rest of the group, but as his wits return he decides to take action. He's a lousy shot, but the gunman doesn't necessarily know this. Donovan pulls out his pistol and, scanning for where the gunman would be, returns fire.


I rolled "hold breath" in OOC, but forgot to do these.
Not sure if any adjustments for stats, so I'll two 2 d20s: one for firing the gun (not that I expect to hit anything, more to try to get him to flinch or wait to return fire), the other for scanning for the gunman.

[roll0] Fire Gun wildly, +2 Dex modifier
if I read the rules right, we don't have disadvantage from lacking proficiency, do we?
EDIT: so a natural 1. Is that a critical failure or fumble in your system? Kinda fitting, actually, for wildly firing towards the roofs of buildings in a general direction

[roll1] Scan area, -1 Wisdom modifier

[Grek]

Lydia steels herself, knowing that she can't simply stand here in the gas and get shot at. She leaps from the dubious safety of cover and makes a break for the administration building!

[roll0] for breath.
[roll1] to spot the shooter, if I can while still running

[Kvard51]

Upon hearing the shot ring out, Rhuk slings his rifle around and activates his Lower Power, using the magic of his ancestors to search for the shooter. "Doctor, perhaps you should get back in the carriage with the ladies while I handle this?" It would grieve me to see you wounded before our expedition even begins."

[Boethius Junior]

"Nonsense, Rhuk!" Ridley huffs, hurrying to the other carriage. "I didn't cower during that Stygian fiasco, did ? I've no intention of hiding myself away the moment something exciting happens!" Upon reaching the second cab, he gives a curt knock upon the window and clears his throat officiously. "We've arrived, Miss Venture - welcome to Ravenwell! At the moment, there would appear to be a hubbub on the green, so I recommend you stay beneath cover 'til all's sorted. You as well, dear Claudia; I entrust the both of you to Maximilian's care."

The guests handled, the doctor swings his attention to the rooftops. With a grunt of effort, he opens his spiritual third eye; scanning the surrounding for any further aetheric disturbances.

[roll0]

[Magni's Hammer]

There are no fumbles in this system at present.
You all know how to use your own guns at base, without the feat (same way you don't need a feat to speak your native language), so no penalty.
No need atm to roll for initiative, the gunman obviously won and used his surprise round to launch a gas canister.
You are all focusing on the gunman; there are at present no other combatants.
Donovan draws his pistol and fires from his prone position, but between the smoke and the shrubs he has no idea what he's shooting, and cannot see the gunman.

Lydia bolts out of the smoke and wrenches open the doors to the administration building. As she does, she catches sight of movement from the old alchemistry building on the green. Once the original university lab, it's now an office building -- and a long-barreled rifle wielded by a heavy figure looms upon the sloped, tiled rooftop.

Drawing from a well of inner powers, Rhuk sweeps the campus green for their foe. Without having a specific idea of who the gunman is, you'll only be picking up the closest person of whatever type your seeking. Do you have a suspect in mind?

Similarly, Dr. Ridley scans for any disturbances in the aether of the university. The magnetic energy is coiled into many shapes, clouds of what are most likely people, or the impressions of people (you're never 100% sure), mostly scarlet puffs of terror and ivory jets of confusion scattering across the landscape. But there's also the vivid yellow of madness to your right, near the old science buildings, and somewhere the same strange frequency you felt at the Hothsdort is pealing in your head like a tin whistle.

The cabbies are scattering, drawing Alessia and her two cohorts away from the madness.

Once Volk posts (or at the end of the weekend) a new round will start.

[SlyJohnny]

Volk silently motions everyone to stay down. A long, thin knife has appeared in his hand, from somewhere. He grimaces as Donovan opens fire... surely that will attract return fire. But perhaps that is the young man's intention, if Sebastian in particular is the target. When Lydia breaks for the building, he watches her progress anxiously. He supposes they'll soon find out who the sniper wants to kill.

Hold breath: [roll0]
Spot: [roll1]

[Magni's Hammer]

Volk doesn't roll high enough to spot the gunman from within the smoke. However, Lydia is now inside the doors of the admin building and is out of both the gunman's line of sight and the smoke cloud. Having seen the gunman, she can easily call out his location, and indeed probably has. Everybody now knows he is on the roof of the old alchemistry building (even if Rhuk and Ridley are too far to hear Lydia clearly, they can detect the gunman by this point).

New Round

Stordus and Antony are going to try to haul after Lydia, and bring Sebastian with them into the building. The gunman is taking his turn to aim down his rifle into the cloud. He can't actually see his target with the smoke, so he was hoping to shoot once the target stumbled out of the cloud for air. Aiming means, if nothing is done to distract or advert him, he will get to fire at the end of the round with a bonus, should his target appear.

Sebastian only has AC 11 and 12 HP, and Stordus and Antony aren't too much higher, just so you know. The gunman is a ways away and will take a penalty to-hit, but with aiming this will largely cancel out. A shot from a repeating rifle is 2d6 damage base.

[Grek]

Lydia has indeed called out, and is in fact making her way around to the back of the admin building, out of the gunman's line of sight. It is her intention to circle around and approach the alchemistry building from out of the line of fire, as to cut off his escape now that the ambush is foiled. Hopefully foiled. Donovain's shooting should throw off the assassin's aim, no doubt.

[Kvard51]

Rhuk keeps his eyes moving along the windows and rooftops, searching for the shooter. As is seemingly always the case, it is movement that gives the hidden marksman away. Just a subtle shift of his head as Lydia breaks for the Admin building, but that's all it takes when you are being hunted by a Khoj tracker. Rhuk drops to one knee and brings his rifle to bear on the sniper, carefully squeezing the trigger as he releases the breath he has been holding...

Rifle shot: [roll0] (not sure what other modifiers I should get, so feel free to add any you are aware of, Magni. The +1 is Soldier Synergy.) for [roll1] damage

[JeenLeen]

Hearing Lydia's call, Donovan looks in the appropriate direction to see if he can find the assailant through the gassy mist. He's glad his archsilver training included training his body for hardships; while part of him is aching is go ahead and draw breath, he knows he can handle it for at least a few more seconds. (Besides, this is nothing compared to when that first-year screwed up his experiments and flooded the lab with archsilver gas. A small part of Donovan's mind -- perhaps giddy from the adrenaline and shock of everything today -- gives rise to the funny idea that the professors mighta been more mad that day than they'd be at a gunman lose on the grounds.)

If he gets an eye on the gunman, Donovan shoots at him. If he doesn't, he shoots towards the general direction Lydia gave note to.


If the rules allow, Donovan will stand to shoot then drop prone again. I figure that risks a readied action to shoot him when he emerges, but I've got scarbalm. Or do it dramatically/narratively with no mechanical impact.

Gunshot: [roll]1d20+2
Damage, if hits: [roll0]

[SlyJohnny]

Volk grabs Stordus' arm, as notices the group about to break for the Administration building. He meets the constables eyes, slowly shakes his head, motions with his hand, waving to the ground beneath the benches and foliage they're crouched behind. Stay down. On the ground. Don't let him flush you out with the gas, that's what he wants. Better to breath it in than be shot.

Volk peers out over the no man's land. Remembers the layout from before. He wonders about the possibility of sneaking out of the smoke unseen, closing the distance to the building that shelters the gunman. He listens to the sounds coming in from the world outside the swirling gas cloud, wondering if there's any sign of anyone else approaching the pinned constables. He also tries to pinpoint the nearest horse- tied up, or loose and panicking over the gun fire, he doesn't care- other than the ones tied to carriages and cabs too far away to be of immediate use.

[Boethius Junior]

Satisfied that the fleeing cabbies will ensure the Venture-trio's safety, Ridley holds his ground at the green's edge, peering through the invisible aether. He starts at his companion's gunshot, momentarily losing focus. "Aha! You've spotted him then, have you Rhuk? These tired eyes of mine can barely spy the rooftops from here, and all this invisible-rattling is not helping either." He squints back across the yard, trying for himself to find exactly where the gunman has hidden - and following Lydia's calls finally spots him.

"The blackguard's above the chymist's then?" He mutters, mustering his quickest trot sets off toward the building's entrance. "Sharpshooting is not for me; I shall go have words with the scoundrel presently."

[Magni's Hammer]

I've but brackets for those in smoke to countdown how long you have left as of the end of the round; if you reach [0/X], you'll start taking damage that round's end.

Lydia: A few cowering staff look to you for some advice as you rush through the interior of the administration building. Someone assures you that the call has been raised for the constables. If you hurry, you can get out through one of the side doors and take the path behind the buildings for language studies and the symphony hall; it'll take about two more rounds, but you'll be out of sight and end right at the side door to the alchemistry building where the gunman is prowling. You remember there's a staircase right inside that door to take you up to the room.

Rhuk: Sounds like you are spending the round just readying your shot and aiming, which gives you a +4 bonus (since the target is treated as surprised). As a repeater has a range increment of 90', and the gunman is ~200' away, you do take a -4 to-hit, so this all cancels out. You'd also add +2 from your Dex, since this is a ranged attack. That's a 17 total, which hits him. He is wearing plated coat, so he takes 5 damage total.

Donovan [4/6]: You can definitely shoot and move (crouch) on your turn. Since you aren't aiming like Rhuk or the gunman, your shot misses, unfortunately. He is ~150' from you, taking into account the elevation from the alchemistry building. By the way, your beasties are squawking and yowling around you in the gas, but won't bolt while you're holding here. If you want to order them to do something, you could probably communicate something like "go there" without speaking.

Volk [3/5]: Stordus' eyes light up with understanding, and you successfully keep him, Antony, and Sebastian from bolting out. There aren't too many ways out of the gas from where you were caught -- either a dash to the administration door (in the open for a brief instant) or running out into the green. Unless you broke the heavy shutters on the first-floor window...(Str DC 15, one person could help you). Then you could crawl inside without leaving the cloud. You don't hear anyone approaching; everyone, human or animal, fled from the gas and gunshots.

Ridley: You pass fleeing passersby as you approach the alchemistry building. I assume you're making some effort to stay in cover -- behind other buildings and such? If so, you'll reach the back entrance a round after Lydia. BTW, that ghastly psychic frequency is starting to coalesce; there is definitely a figure, like the one at the Hothsdort, observing the gunfight from the symphony hall.

Thanks to the efforts of Rhuk, Donovan, and Volk, the gunman has no target and doesn't fire. Instead, he himself has become the target, and while the shot (5 dmg) wasn't enough to reduce him to half HP, he is definitely wounded. The three NPCs have hit the dirt again with Volk.

New Round

The gunman is going to retreat back from the roof's edge to one of the tangles of chimneys and lab exhausts. Shooting attacks on him now have disadvantage (roll 2d20 drop higher) from the cover (as do his attacks on you if he tries to shoot). Stordus, Antony, and Sebastian are waiting on Volk's direction.

[SlyJohnny]

Volk grimaces. He desperately wants to close with the alchemistry building that the gunman is hiding on top of, and get up on to the roof to prevent the assassin's escape, but that's not possible without abandoning the others- and exposing himself to fire, but he considers that a secondary concern.

He decides the best way forward is to get the constables and Sebastian somewhere secure, that way he can go chasing off after would-be murderers to his heart's content, with a clear conscience. When he spots the shutters, he points them out to the other three men, and starts moving towards them at a crouch. He glances behind him at Stordus and Anthony, sizing up their frames and taking a quick measure of them, then beckons the strongest-looking of the two forward to assist him with tearing the shutters open.

((Strength check [roll0] ))

[JeenLeen]

Seeing Volk's plan, Donovan gives the standard "follow - go" gesture towards his pets to tell them to follow Volk. That Sebastian is with them should at least make it very easy for Cloak Rat.

For himself, Donovan rises out of the gas and lets fire towards where the gunman ran to. Unlikely to hit, but perhaps it'll keep him pinned down while his allies pursue him.
Also in hopes of keeping the gunman distracted, Donovan does not duck back down into the gas. He's ready to try to dodge, but confident in knowing that his scarbalm is handy.


Mechanics: motion for pets to leave, take fire

At Disadvantage, right?
[roll0]
[roll1]

Edit: that disadvantage stinks

[Grek]

Lydia puts her trust in her companions and continues on with the plan.

[Boethius Junior]

Ridley will continue on his path, gritting his teeth and enduring the psychic manifestations while he can.

[Kvard51]

Seeing the Doctor moving toward the building where the shooter is, Rhuk slings his rifle over his shoulder and follows on his heels. Drawing his pistol and his longknife, he tries to watch every direction at once for threats to Ridley's life.

Perception to identify threats while following the Doctor: [roll0]

[Magni's Hammer]

Volk easily rips the shutters off the window and dives through, followed by the constables, student, and Donovan's creatures. The terrified janitor on the other side nearly bludgeons him with his mop before he is assured they are no threat.

Meanwhile, Donovan's pistol shot off the roof tiles, driving the gunman further back behind the pipes. The others begin to close in on the building, Rhuk scanning the green for any other threats. Thus far, only the would-be assassin poses a danger.

New Round

The gunman is reloading while behind cover.

[SlyJohnny]

Volk thinks hard about the layout of the buildings, assessing the gunman's options for movements. Whether he intends to flee or press his assault, his most direct way down is back through the building and past his pursuers. So he's either going to have to come down from the roof of the building via a rope or some contrivance- there are no fire escapes or anything similarly convenient- or make a jump to the symphony hall. Seeing his comrades either snapping off shots at the gunman to keep him suppressed, or currently engaged in rushing his position, Volk decides to trust in them to do their part, while he will cut off the only other means of escape.

He ushers the constables and Sebastian and the more biddable of the mutant animals inside the admin building, through the open shutter. "Stay inside, find a room to lock yourselves in. I will be back." he tells the constables. He takes another deep breath, and then starts moving through the gas towards the symphony building, trying to stay out of sight and surprise the gunman, should they attempt to flee to the neighboring building. He rather hopes the gunman will attempt to flee in this way. He grins nastily to himself, as he imagines the man's surprise.

[JeenLeen]

Donovan curses. Seeing his allies moving about, it seems like they have the idea of cornering the assailant. Donovan has succeeded in keeping him busy, but he didn't want to send him too far into fleeing just yet.

With an eye to dodge any incoming bullets, Donovan stands so as to be visible and begins to move across the green to where Rhuk and Ridley previously were.


Trying to keep the gunman occupied. I reckon I can't speak yet, without taking poison damage, or I'd yell out a Coward!

Anyway, moving towards the 'outside gas' area so I can be clear when I'm out of breath, but currently hoping to keep the gunman occupied. Full Dodge action.

[Boethius Junior]

Striving for quickness, Ridley bulls on towards the alchemistry building.

[Grek]

Lydia commits to the plan: she is almost upon their attacker, he shall not be allowed to escape at the last second!

[Magni's Hammer]

Because this is a little slow, I'm going to skip ahead one round. Lydia is at the gunman's building, while Rhuk, Ridley, and Donovan are almost right there and will meet up with her this turn. Volk has reached the symphony hall.

Volk, make a Wisdom check for me to see if you can hear or spot anything.

New Round x2

[SlyJohnny]

Volk attempts to enter the symphony building like an ill-liked, scavenging feral cat, unseen by all, and silently make his way to the roof.

(( Perception [roll0] ))

[JeenLeen]

Donovan will stand back and let his more martially-minded comrades take the lead. But, once the gunman is cornered and engaged, he'll also join the fray


This is assuming the others attack this round. If not, Donovan follows their lead and waits. Sorry to post before their posts, but work is busy and flying off tomorrow. Should be checking in Wednesday and Thursday at least. Maybe Friday.

Gunshot
[roll0]
edit: my first kill? Should be troubling to the young guy.

[Grek]

Lydia sees Volk headed in and moves to guard the rear exit. There's no escape now.

[Magni's Hammer]

Volk shoulders into the symphony hall as the other adventurers surround the old alchemistry building. From the rooftop, the gunman takes a flying leap from the rooftop...not towards the symphony hall, but straight into the open air! A pneumatic roar erupts from under his boots as he falls, jets of compressed air. He attempts to control his fall as he tumbles. [roll0]

[Magni's Hammer]

Well, shoot. The gunman doesn't land very gracefully. He takes [roll0] damage, and falls prone with a grunt. He has a revolver in one hand and some kind of grenade in the other; a large rifle is strapped to his back. His top hat, tied to his head, is blown free, but his face is still obscured by a tightly-wrapped scarf. Everyone is within melee range to rush him.

New Round

[Grek]

There is a 'plink' of metal on metal. Then there is the noise. When it ceases, Lydia is still holding the Harmonic Prototype, but the gunman is no longer holding the grenade.


As far as I can tell, Screaming Steel does not require a roll to destroy objects. If one is needed, let me know and I'll roll it in the OOC. Lydia, due to her high Con and the Sonic Resistance feat, does not take damage from Screaming Steel even on the maximum possible roll.

[Magni's Hammer]

The grenade appears to have been of similar type to the smoke bullet he launched at the beginning. The gunman takes 1 damage as the makeshift explosive bursts in his hand, pressure escaping through the crack, and jets of black smog coat his body; a roaring curse follows as he shakes his torn and bloodied fingers. If anyone tries to jump him, he won't do much but try to use his action to get to his feet and stab with his knife.

[Boethius Junior]

Rather than directly engaging in fisticuffs, Ridley opts now to step forward and transfix upon the ruffian his stare - thrusting forth his hands to magnify his puissant presence; bathing his foe in electric magnetism!

[Kvard51]

Rhuk slid to a stop, his pistol trained upon the would-be assassin and his long knife in his other hand. He knew what Doctor Ridley was unleashing and did not want to be caught in the backlash.

Aiming, should the bad guy still want to fight. Holding an action to fire should he attack Ridley.

[JeenLeen]

Donovan was about to charge forward with his knife, but sees his comrades' actions bare greater fruit. And probably greater wisdom.

He stands in awe at seeing the wonder of archsilverist's ring as it disrupts the grenade. (His experiences with that wonder are few, though a trace of scarbalm's tar around his left ear notes some experimentation.) And then their more mysterious power is aimed at the fellow...

Donovan pulls his pistol and follows his comrade's lead, aiming and preparing in case something happens.

[SlyJohnny]

Volk lunges forward, attempting to grapple with the man. "We need him alive for questioning!" He shouts to the others.

Grapple at disadvantage:

[roll0]
[roll1]

[Magni's Hammer]

Dr. Ridley stares into the eyes of the gunman as he struggles with Volk. Wis save [roll0] against DC 8 (10 - 4 (lvl diff) +2 (hands)).

[Magni's Hammer]

With a flying leap, Volk tackes the gunman. The fighter is big, easily your equal in strength, and clearly knows what he's doing as he twists to stab with his knife, but you grab his wrist and wrench it from his hand. Suddenly, the would-be assassin goes limp, as the electromagnetic waves from Dr. Ridley's eyes and hands penetrate his brain. Rhuk and Donovan advance on him, guns drawn, and Lydia readies her strange weapon, but the fight seems to have left your enemy. Pulling down the scarf, which secured a makeshift gas mask underneath, you are startled by the glazed, haggard face of none other than Lewis Monk, the alchemistry lecturer! As you ponders this, someone slips unseen out the back door of the symposium, and vanishes unseen into the bustling city.

The NPCs will come back in a bit. Antony certainly has a pair of manacles if you need something to bind him. For now, you have about a minute to search him or interrogate him on your own, though remember that you are in public, in the middle of the green. Monk will obey Ridley's commands while under his stare, but these must be physical commands: "walk there," "sit down," etc. If you want to talk to him, you will have to shake him from the trance. If you do question him, just go ahead and describe what you do/say; I won't call for a Cha roll unless it seems necessary.

[Boethius Junior]

"I believe we have found our murderer," Ridley remarks offhandedly, intent on holding the man still until he can be properly restrained. "He must be searched forthwith and disarmed of any further hidden contraptions. Fear not, for the time he is thoroughly harmless."

[JeenLeen]

Donovan hesitantly holsters his pistol, then approaches the man. How dare he?! Part of him wants to slit the traitor's throat, but his comrade is right: we need to question him.

Instead, he moves up to Volk and starts to remove the man's weaponry. He gives a questioning look to Dr. Ridley and asks, "What all can you make him do? Can he give up anything hidden on him?"

Donovan goes on to quickly search the man's pockets, seeing if he can find anything. He was never much of a pickpocket in his street days, but it's not something completely foreign to him. He'll make a special note to remove anything mechanical that might hold a hidden clue, such as a watch.

[SlyJohnny]

Volk grips the man tightly, holding him secure in case Ridley's hold over him should somehow waver, so his comrades can check him for traps or loot or clues safely. He wants to start punching him unconscious, but supposes he can do that more safely after the man is shackled. He takes the man's knife and adds it to his collection; it disappears into Volk's toolbelt, nestled behind a clawhammer and a pair of screwdrivers.

[Grek]

Lydia scowls at her brute of a 'colleague'. "Monk. I should have known that you would be involved in anything underhanded going on around this campus." She wraps her weapon back up in its wrappings, turning to address any onlookers and rubberneckers. "Move along, move along! The constables have been alerted to the disturbance and are on their way. We'll see him handed over promptly and without any further chance to do harm."

[Kvard51]

Rhuk keeps his gun trained on the sniper even after Volk grabs him. As soon as he is disarmed, Rhuk is scanning the rooftop looking for accomplices... and the gun the shooter used.

[Magni's Hammer]

Monk is heavily-armed, for a lecturer, but then again, he was once in the military. Slung over his back is a repeating rifle that looks to have been modified with some kind of scope; inside of his coat and pockets are numerous regular bullets, and there are a few hand-made ones labeled "special" that seem to contain pressurized gas. Besides the knife, he has a revolver holstered in his belt, a second homemade gas-grenade, and a heavy purse of what appear to be caltrops. His heavy coat has metal plates sewn into it -- not an uncommon form of armor, but certainly unusual for a non-murderous lecturer. You also find a crumpled train ticket for this coming afternoon, a wallet with assorted marks and change, a lighter, a pocket-watch, and a mashed carton of cheap tobacco smokes.

When checking his boots you felt what you at first mistook for either concealed knives or leg braces, but what proved to be some kind of pneumatic contraption. Twin canisters of pressurized air are strapped to the backs of his legs, presumably how he managed to survive a three-story leap off the roof. Of further note is a small tattoo on his upper left arm, which looks like a small, winged eye.

With the gunman subdued, people are starting to come out from cover and onto the green. You see Antony and Stordus approaching.

[JeenLeen]

Eyeing the leg-flying device, Donovan says, "We should probably take that for the university. Research, nominally. But whatever allies this person might have could have supplied it, and having one device made by them could help us link it.

The train ticket seems odd to me. Do you think we could find out when it was purchased? If he bought it before committing the crime... well, seems odd to secretly do murder and then... whatever he was trying today, only to have to start over anew elsewhere. If he was planning to flee, what had he to gain?"

The tattoo also draws his eye. Some sort of cult or conspiracy?

[SlyJohnny]

Volk nods in agreement with Donovan.

"Yes, we will tell the constables that we and our colleagues will examine them." For his part, he scrutinises the home-made rounds, wondering if they are similar to the type of chambering he saw on the bullet that killed Thomas Prest. He sniffs at these bullets, wondering if he can determine what type of gas they'd release. He also glances at the ticket, trying to identify the lecturer's destination.

Otherwise, he is content to hold monk until the constables arrive with the shackles. He's confident he can maneuver around the two of them to address the questions he has to Monk, and doesn't want to risk releasing the man from his hold (or Ridley's gaze) until he's securely bound.

[Grek]

"I am sure that if we explained the situation at the train station, they would be willing to cooperate with us. I would not be surprised to discover that he was expected onboard the train by a conspirator of some sort. Monk here is a hard man, but I can't see him as the mastermind of this whole affair. What could it possibly gain him?"

((Assuming that nobody objects, I'd like to make that the next stop after we're finished with Monk.))

[Magni's Hammer]

Ahead of the cautiously-approaching crowd, constables Antony and Stordus produce a set of manacles and clap them on the semi-conscious lecturer. Stordus looks to give him a swift kick as well, but thinks better of it. "Bloody maniac," he grumbles. "Amazing he didn't kill someone."

Antony is more temperate. "Thank you for your assistance. We might have had serious trouble were it not for you all. I'll summon a carriage and escort the suspect to our watch-house; if any of you would accompany me with that I would greatly appreciate it. The man may have other conspirators ready to free him. Stordus will bring Sebastian to his apartment, and we could surely use some assistance there as well, since he may have been the target." The student shuffles his feet at this, nervously glancing over his shoulder at the crowd of onlookers. "I shall put in a good word with the sergeant for you," Antony continues. "Perhaps he can arrange for a post-hoc commission; you've certainly earned it."

"Might be easier if we had some help with the interrogation," Stordus offers. "Doctor Ridley, forgive me if I'm wrong, but you have the look of a, um, wizardly-type." He waves his hands about his eyes, as if to illustrate, then gestures to Rhuk and Volk. "And you fellows seem rather fierce. Ever considered contracting as interrogators?" With that, the constables collect Monk and proceed to the street, pushing the crowd away and hailing for a cab. The gunman, his wits returning to him, remains silent.

The crowd of university clerks and passers-by are hungry for information if you want to talk to them. Going with Stordus and Sebastian will take you towards the rail station, so you can go with them and then onward, or directly there if you think it's urgent. Antony did not demand you hand over any of Monk's items, but anything you don't take will be brought with him to the station. Alessia and her companions will likely have retreated back to the hotel, if you want to reconnect with them. If you want to examine the pneumatic leg-braces, you could go into the alchemistry building, where there are magnifying glasses and chemical testing equipment, or just take it back to one of your homes.

[Boethius Junior]

The doctor rubs his eyes, finally able to relax after the heightened focus required of summoning aetheric mysticism - habitually, he lights another smoke. "Unless my services are explicitly requested, I'll have to pass on the interrogations. Frankly, I have little stomach for so ugly an art of persuasion, and furthermore I expect my fees are too great for the constabulary to bear."

In fact, Ridley would prefer to reconnoiter with the young Miss Venture and her companions, and will hail another cab for himself and any who wish to accompany him - once the rubberneckers have been calmed, that is. He addresses the onlookers with typical fanfare: "My dear friends and colleagues, I ask you please return yourselves to normal activities! The ruffian has been duly apprehended and is now in the safe-keeping of our honest city's watch. Should your appetites desire more for satiety, I direct you to tomorrow morn's papers."

If necessary, that is.
[roll0]

[Grek]

Lydia nods her head to Antony, but notes that she is perhaps not the most suited of the group to ferreting out or fighting off conspirators. "Better that I look into this strange equipment, see what can be made of that." Monk had used pneumatics before, of course. There had been the incident with the 'rocket'. But gas grenades and pneumatic bullets are new developments entirely. What could they be made of?

"Volk, would you like to come along? Assuming you're not needed at the station. I seem to recall us discussing the mysteries of archsilver before all of this fuss."


[roll0] +2 Int, +2 Madness toward figuring out what chemicals are present, once I'm back at the labs.

[Magni's Hammer]

Ridley, and those going back to the Hothsdort

Still jittery, the Ravenwell staff return to their business and the onlookers part to allow you through. The cabbie probes you for a scoop as you ride back to the hotel, but he won't pry if you aren't interesting in talking about the attempted murder.

Back at the Hothsdort, it's as if nothing has changed. A few faces may have shuffled out for a day's work, among them the pinched character of Julius L'lam, but otherwise the gentleman financiers have remained content to lounge, smoke, and chatter. Venture's party waits in their usual spot; Miss Alessia seems very relieved at your safe return, as is Mrs. Claudia -- if the bodyguard shares their sentiment, he doesn't show it.

Lydia, and those going into the labs

Burners lit and goggles on. In principle, it operates like Monk's compressed-air rocket: there is an antechamber with a kind of volatile solid fuel, and when an electric spark is introduced the fuel vaporizes, expanding violently out the open end. There is one "rocket" for each leg, secured by metal braces to the back of each leg, and thin wires run to them from a cannibalized arc torch in the pocket. A flip of the switch, lightening runs down the wire, and the rockets are off. There's nowhere near enough fuel to make a man fly, but it could enhance a leap or slow a fall -- provided the wearer has enough balance and muscle control to direct the jets and avoid pinwheeling head over heels.

Donovan, interrogating Monk

Monk stiffens once within his cell. The radstone mutants disgust him more than they unnerve him, but nobody's even comfortable within the narrow holding cells of a watch-house. "No need to threaten me, boy. If I'm going down, I swear I'll drag down the chancellor with me; done being his patsy." At the mention of the tattoo, he seems genuinely confused. "I don't know what you're talking about," he snaps. "I don't have any arm ink."

If you wish to interrogate him further, give him your question and roll Cha. Depending on how good your threat is written or your offer is put, the DC for a given round could be 5, 15, or 25. If you want the animals to threaten Monk, make a "damage roll" for an animal's bite and add the result as a positive modifier to your roll. You may roll and add this bonus again in later rounds, but if you ever roll less "damage" than you rolled before, Monk realizes they aren't actually going to attack him and the bonus no longer carries. Note that this "damage" isn't actually hurting Monk, it's just a simulation of how it scares him.

[JeenLeen]

Donovan isn't sure where his talents would fit best.
As he looks at his pets, then back to the murderous Prof. Monk, he gets an idea. Plus, it would help make sure nobody rescues the captured conspirator.

"Constables, I know you made the offer to others, but perhaps I could help with interrogating this fellow? I myself might not be the best, but with my pets breathing down his neck, he might be more willing to talk." In listening range to the man, he casually says, "It... would be okay if he gets a bite mark or scratch or few, right?"

Before leaving, he makes sure to note the tattoo to his friends and allies. Quietly.
He then makes plans to touch base with Lydia back at the labs afterwards, thinking this shouldn't take too long.

---

If they agree, Donovan accompanies the constables. Once they are where the constables deem appropriate, Donovan sets his pets along the professor, now just close enough that some drool and a bit of ooze from one of Cloak Rat's sores is dripping on him.

"I know I wasn't one of your students but rarely, so I don't know you well, but you seem to have made a poor decision. Why give up everything to kill my friend and flee the country, flee your livelihood and ruin your reputation? What's that tattoo mean?"


I assume some roll is needed for talking to him, so I'll roll a d20 and let you add whatever modifiers are appropriate.
[roll0]

[Magni's Hammer]

Interrogation stuff added to the post above.

[JeenLeen]

A Question and a View
Donovan lets anger slip into his expression, and speaks with a sneer. "The chancellor? Well, if you wanna drag down whoever put you up to this, I'm very happy to accommodate. But don't think I trust you. Cloak Rat, try to... encourage him to tell the truth!"

After he responds:
"No ink, you say? I saw the tattoo while we had you mesmer'ed." Donovan moves to reveal the marking. If it's gone, he shall look confused and frustrated. If it's there, he looks to Monk for an explanation.


[roll0] BITE from Plague Rat
[roll1] for question on chancellor

I figure no roll for the tattoo, as it sounds like he'll be surprised if it's there. Or thing I'm dull if it's not.

[Magni's Hammer]

Monk lurches backward from the snarling animal -- at least as far as he can in the narrow cage -- then composes himself. "Pull your mutant off, boy," he glares, "I'm in no mood to play; maybe I should clam up and demand a barrister. I've killed two men already, and tried for a third. I know where that ends me. Could be if I make it harder for you, you won't get what your after, and my friends pull me out in gratitude." His smile is rotten as he approaches the bars. "Or maybe I squeal. All depends on the kind of pull you and your buddies have."

He nods a finger towards Stordus, holding the key ring, and Antony, focused carefully on his notepad. The four of you are the only ones left in the watch house -- the night-drunks have all been released, and the other constables are home, on patrol, or upstairs in the small building. Monk continues. "How about that deal, constables? I point you towards the big fish, and you let me wriggle out like I was planning. I've even got some money squirreled away; I'll take you to it, before I catch my train."

Before they can answer, Donovan reaches in through the bars and plucks at Monk's sleeve, pulling it back to reveal a winged eye. The thug snarls and pulls away again, but stops when he realizes it wasn't an attack. "No ink, you say?" the young man calls accusingly. "I saw that tattoo while we had you mesmer'ed."

Monk glares, then rolls back his sleeve to look himself. He has to turn his arm to catch the edge of it, as the tattoo is small and on the underside of his limb (just over the triceps). He seems disarmed by it, staring wordlessly, his face working as if to puzzle out how it got there. An expression flashes across his face; "Mesmers," he croaks. "That damn Hieronymo better not have done anything else to me while I was out."

[Magni's Hammer]

The Hothsdort (PCs Ridley, Rhuk; NPCs Alessia, Claudia, Max)

Alessia and her party are more than pleased to hear that you are alright. "I wish we could have stayed to help," Alessia insists, "But Maximilian just took charge and raced us out." She gives her bodyguard an affectionate pat on the arm. "He's very protective that way, Mister Max."

"Yes, yes, Miss Venture," Claudia tut-tuts. "But this derring-do aside, we still have the original matter of your father's legacy to attend. If this morning's frights have promised anything, it's that we and our new friends have plenty of enemies, the sort that crop up whenever serious money or secrets are to be discovered. Armed vandals are not for a young lady to trifle with, but perhaps these fine gentlemen would continue to volunteer their service?" She leans close, making her thoughts very plain. "Thomas stumbled upon something, something very valuable that belongs to the Venture family, and it's hidden at Ravenwell; of this I am increasingly certain. Whatever it is, it cost the poor man his life before he could tell any of us, and it's nearly cost us ours too. You must find out what, for all our sakes." Even Alessia has grown serious at this, and the young women's earnest look is fierce. "We'll help in any way we can," she promises.

Ravenwell (PCs Lydia, Volk)

Having discovered about everything you can about the pneumatic rocket, the two of you leave the laboratory to find the rest of the party. You watch your backs carefully for another surprise attack, but nothing ever comes. Thank the saints for small miracles, you suppose; two assassination attempts in one day would just be excessive.

As the carriage rattles along, you quietly ponder your discoveries. Lewis Monk: ex-soldier, tinkerer, and now apparently attempted murderer; hmm. Sure he had the capability to construct a little arsenal -- he's not an unintelligent or cowardly man, just (apparently) recklessly homicidal -- but why? Surely he didn't decide in a night to murder Thomas and Sebastian, cobble together some prototypes, and set off at dawn? No, this would have required planning. Time. This was set up. On somebody's orders? Could he be part of some secret society? What does all this have to do with Thomas' odd acquaintances, the tattoo on Monk's arm, and the strange building plans currently folded safely into Lydia's purse? As the carriage rolls away to take Volk to the watch-house, Lydia climbs the steps of the Hothsdort, both sleuths still full of uncertainty.

For narrative convenience, I'll assume that Ridley spent enough time calming the crowd and the constables enough time trussing Monk into the cart that you aren't too short on the heels of either. It would be silly to keep characters floating in limbo for a few days. Lydia's next post can be at the Hothsdort, and Volk's at the watch-house.
Watch House (PCs Donovan; NPCs Monk, Stordus, Antony)

Sensing an opening in Monk's defenses, Donovan presses forward. "Two men, was it? You've been busy, Lewis." He edges Cloak Rat towards the bars again; the beast picks up on its master's line, and resumes snarling at the prisoner. "You killed professor Prest, but you didn't get Sebastian. Who's the other man, Monk?"

1d4+0 bite from Cloak Rat
[roll1] question on second victim]

[Magni's Hammer]

Roll for bite didn't work, so doing it again here: [roll0]

[Magni's Hammer]

Watch House

Monk gives a vile laugh. "Clever boy, but I don't fright that easily. Your fat friends aren't hear to tame me, and your little barking rat is only that, I think." Again he speaks over Donovan, to the constables. "Thinking on my deal, fellows? Let me out, and there's good money in it for you, and a great big prize at the end of the chase. The chancellor's behind it, of that you can be certain. Yes sirree, master Damian Ravenwell the Second, and you can bet I'm not the only pawn he's got to play." His voice begins to harden, and he grips the bars tight with his hands, flecks of spit flying from between his heavy lips. "There'll be more killings, oh yes you can be sure of that, whether I'm locked in here or swinging from a gallows. But let me out to help you and I won't steer you wrong. I swear on my soldier's honor," he finishes, hand above his heart.

Worryingly, Stordus considers it. He blanches Donovan's and Antony's aghast stares, and stammers out a defense. "Now, I know, yes but hear me out friends. Just hear me out I say! We're going nowhere with this pickle, and the man does make some good points. Monk is the only lead we've got, and it doesn't seem to me that your, em, method, is getting much from him, Mr. Mireck." He frowns at the floor, and undoes the key ring from his belt. "There's three -- well, three and a rat -- anyway, three of us and one of him. He tells us where we're going, then we get the special watchman's cab, let him into it, and he takes us off. If there's really some great clue out there like he promises, then bang we are in business, but if not we just truss him up and put him back here like we did before. Makes sense to me anyway," he finishes, as if convincing himself first and foremost.

[JeenLeen]

Donovan starts to consider the offer. A lead on who is really behind it. And the money ain't nothing, neither.
Plus, as much as the murderer seems sincere, he also seems tricksey.

But Donovan isn't that street rat anymore, and this is the man who killed his friend.

"Constable, if you're really considering his offer... and, honestly, I am too, to a degree... but he might have friends lurking in the shadows. And, really, unless we break his arms or hands, I wouldn't feel completely sure of all three of us keeping him down, especially if backup showed up. Even if he gets his freedom, we can take away part of his ability to tinker if we cripple 'em.

What if, instead, we call back my mesmer friend and Volk. You saw both of them work. I'm pretty sure they'd manage to get the evidence and the money."

Turning back to Monk, he says, "You're right that I've been bluffing with my pets. I'm not up to torturing you, much as I want to see you hang. But I got the feeling my comrade has a rather... violent past. He might feel differently, especially if you're not helping us. Sure you don't wanna tell us now and save the trouble?"


One final Intimidate, but plan on calling in the team to help extract clues if it fails.

[roll0]

[Boethius Junior]

"Madam," Ridley starts, removing his cap and opting for a respectful nod, "it shall be done. Whatever our friend uncovered, I swear to you that I shall not rest until I have the answer." Leading the group on he hails another cab and begins the journey back to campus, hoping to reunite as was originally intended.

[Grek]

Lydia, having found out as much as she's able without time and tools that she honestly didn't have, elects to return to the campus and prepare once more for the investigation into the Metaphysics Basement.

[Magni's Hammer]

Monk's Confession

The malicious light dims in the thug's eyes at the prospect of another round with Volk and Ridley. He pulls away from the bars, further into the relative safety of his cell. "Now, eh, let's not be hasty, young man. Perhaps I might explain myself:

"I was out of the army and needed work. The university hired me, but I don't think it was for my teaching. I always wondered if Ravenwell had really wanted muscle, or maybe an army contact. Well, a few months ago the chancellor himself approached me about being needed for some rougher work. He didn't say more than that, but soon enough we were making a call on Professor Wash. You know, Thaddeus P.? That fat old history dean with the big mustache. 'parently he had let slip something he shouldn't have, and Damien and I were coming to 'chastise' him. You know, have mean old Monk take hold of his collar and shake him around a bit, just to impress upon him the need to keep...well whatever it was, quiet. Hmm, well old Wash wasn't much up to it. Hardly sooner than I lay a paw on the old turd and he's kicking on the floor, clutching his chest. He died right there in the living room. Stopped heart. Guess the stress was too much for him.

"Damien's real quiet, then. 'You killed him,' he says. Wash lived alone, and far as he said nobody knew we were there. He told me it would be best to keep this between ourselves. I knew what he meant, the evil bastard. I should have split town that morning. Hell, I should have cracked his head open right then and there. But I nodded like the fool I was and said nothing. He could hand me over to the authorities for murder any time he liked, and we both knew there'd be no tears for ol' mister Monk. So I go back to business like nothing's happened, and get ready for when the chancellor calls on me again, like I know he will.

"Now, I wasn't about to take this lying down. If I was going to be that old man's patsy, I had better know at least what I was in for. I still don't know much, but I've put together this much at least: the university had some kind of research deal, big money thing, very secret; very cloak-and-dagger; I think the government was involved, at least in paying for the idea. This must have been a long time ago, like decades. Wash was on it somehow, and the chancellor too. Well someone or something upsets it all. Maybe scandal, or the funding crumbles, or somebody on the inside panics. They shut it down fast and hard, and everybody swore they'd say nothing about it. Well, all's roses until Thomas comes sniffing along. I think he was hooked by some rich concern, and they were using him to ferret out whatever the project might have left behind. I don't think he knew what he was looking for, but he knew that Wash knew, and old man was dangerously close to spilling the whole scheme.

"So Wash is offed, and quick as winks Thomas gets his post, and all the work that comes with it. If Damien hoped that would scare him, or tie him down, it didn't; the man got more jittery, but he wasn't thrown off the trail. Soon enough the chancellor's calling on me; Farday is the last chance. I head up to Prest's office, make a big show, tell him all kinds of threats to make him call it off. He won't budge, not that I figured he would. It didn't matter since I already had orders for it. I went home, put together the kit I had been making, had a light rest, then set off early on an empty stomach."

Monk fixes Donovan with a haggard, steely-eyed stare. He looks weak now, almost tired. "I killed Thomas Prest at his kitchen door, one bullet through the heart. I think I might have killed his dog too. Then I set off back to wait for his secretary; I had to make sure there was nobody left to keep the search going. And it was all under the chancellor's orders, the whole time, because I'd already killed Wash and he'd turn me over in a heartbeat if I wasn't staying useful."

Finished, he slides down to the floor of his cell, back against the bars, head hung. "You got all that, constable?" Antony gives a quiet nod from his notebook. Monk looks to Donovan again. "That's the whole of it, boy, and all true. I swear that; on my mother's soul I swear that. I've got no foolish dreams about what's coming for me; I know what's next up now." After that he stays slumped, and says nothing more.

[JeenLeen]

Any happiness Donovan had at getting the testimony fades as he hears the story. Monk's not a good person, but he was trapped in this.

"Hmmm... well, thank you. Maybe if you turn over that cache of funds, the constables might treat you more hospitably, but I don't think you'll be leaving. Constable, please post reliable guards. Those that won't be tempted by bribery either from Monk or anyone the chancellor might send to silence him. You should also limit visitors, lest he wind up with a bullet in his head. We may need his personal testimony if this involves higher-ups.

Monk, I'll try to keep you alive. Perhaps there'll be some lessened sentencing since you were coerced. The first death was an accident. The second... part of me still wants to see you hang, but the chancellor was the one behind it. You were just a weapon."

As he turns to leave, Donovan says quietly, "And, constables... keep in mind that if someone susceptible to bribery does free Monk, well, I'll have testimony of my own to your superiors. But if you are able to weasel some extra money from him for providing him comfort, I have no objections and can be discrete."

He snaps his fingers and Cloak Rat follows him. He then hails a cab and -- once he gets one willing to carry his pet with him -- gets a ride to meet up with his associates.

[Magni's Hammer]

Ravenwell University

It's now mid afternoon. The party has reassembled at the university green, ducking quietly into the alchemistry research building to hide from any attentive or curious crowds. Soon enough there will be newsmen knocking on your doors, eager for comment about the morning's heroics, but now there is work do be done. From her purse Lydia produces the maps of the metaphysics building Prest had left in Donovan's possession the night before. Somehow these must contain the clues to whatever lost Venture project hides in the university's past, something the chancellor wants buried at all costs.

Donovan shares Monk's confession with the group, how he was used by Chancellor Ravenwell to silence Wash, Prest, and very nearly Sebastian as well. Pointedly, he notes that Monk did not confess to ransacking Prest's office in the morning, suggesting the chancellor may have other agents still at large (that is, if the old man didn't do it himself). Ridley brings up the unusual presence he detected at both the Hothsdort and the symphony hall; Rhuk confirms that there was likely someone watching them as they apprehended Monk.

[Magni's Hammer]

Given this risk, the party decides that they must explore the metaphysics building as soon as possible, before their enemies have a chance to obscure or abscond with whatever may be hidden there. The plan is to meet under cover of darkness in an alley a block from the building, send someone up and in through a back window, then unlock one of the side doors and quickly scurry inside. From there you can proceed to the basement, to the stairwell where the cryptic note ("it's here") is scrawled on the building plans.

Volk, recalling that the professor had bought some supplies for the trip, suggests stopping at Ilien's Provisions sometime before nightfall, to collect any useful equipment or possible clues. Since you all believe that Prest was planning to eventually tell you all about the mystery, he might have put something valuable there.

[Boethius Junior]

"It would be best to prepare as much as we can, given the circumstances! If not even poor Thomas was exactly sure of the cellars's stash, then we can hardly do wrong to arm ourselves accordingly - ready all contingencies and what." Though a poor shot, Ridley will equip himself as available from among their late friend's stockpiles; allowing all applicable firearms have been dolled out to the superior warriors amongst them first.

[Magni's Hammer]

Ilien's Provisions

The hour is five past noon as your carriage rumbles down South Garnet Row. Ilien's is a modest shop not far from the docks, an outfitter for sportsmen and travelers. From the window you can see down the slopes to the great Nepenthe, yellow sunlight glimmering off river-water slick with oils and waste. Though not a poor district, the tanneries, leather-workers, and shoe factories of Brocking have steadily crept downstream towards Dawnside, to the disappointment of its middle-class inhabitants. The shops and houses here may have the same old careful architecture, and the streets may be clear of trash and vagrants, but nobody swims in the greasy river water.

Rolling to a stop before the warehouse -- a tall, grey-shingled building on the corner -- the driver gladly accepts his pay as you disembark. "Shall I wait, masters, or will you be long in Dawnside?" he asks down from the seat. "No need for you to wait," is Donovan's reply as he approaches the storefront. "Besides, we may need a bigger cart."

Mr. Ilien turns out to be a short, balding man with dark skin and a hawk nose. Gruff and businesslike, when he hears you are there for "Prest's order" he immediately summons his nephew to mind the desk and leads you to the back. The provisioner's shop consists of a small front office and display room, where hunting rifles and metal canteens rest well polished on wall mounts; the majority of space is given over to the stockroom and warehouse, a cavernous barn full of wooden crates and a set of double doors large enough to accommodate a cart from the side street. "I had almost given up hope of anyone coming to collect these," the man grumbles. "And I had to order some of them personally -- I don't usually carry dynamite, you understand. But your professor payed up front and in full, so I was content to let them sit." He hauls two heavy trunks down to the floor and unlocks them for you." As promised: everything necessary for your expedition." Now eyeing the lot of you, and the rifles in the trunk, Ilien appears a tad worried. "What sort of expedition is this, anyway?"


3 repeating rifles with 24 bullets each. Range 90’, 2d6 Damage, AP 2, 6 Bullets, 2 Hands, Reload 1, Heavy Item.
1 shotgun with 16 shells. Range 40’, 1d4+4 Damage, AP 0, 2 Shells, 2 Hands, Reload 1, Heavy Item.
6 revolvers with 24 bullets each. Range 30’, 2d4 Damage, AP 2, 6 Bullets, 1 Hand, Reload 1 round, Heavy Item.
6 broad hunting knives. Medium Reach, 1d6+Str Damage, AP 0, Melee, 1 Hand, Light Item. Can be thrown at Range 10 ft. or attached to a repeater (making it long reach and 2 hands).
6 gun belts, with pistol holsters, knife sheaths, and pouches for bullets and shells.
1 plated coat, a long leather garment with steel plates sewn into it. Armor, +0 AC, DR 2, Heavy Item.
1 suit of sergeant's armor, a flexible steel carapace protecting the torso, neck, and groin. Armor, +3 AC, DR 1, Heavy Item.
2 metal helmets, the kind a soldier would wear. Armor, +2 AC, DR 0, Light Item.
1 pickax, 2 shovels, and several metal buckets. Each is a heavy item.
1 coiled rope ladder. Heavy Item.
a small wooden box with a lock and key; inside are five sticks of dynamite. Range 20’, target and all in 5 ft 3d6 dmg (Dex 12 half), thrown, 1 Hand, Light Item. Requires 1 round to “load” (lighting the fuse) before it can be thrown; there is chance if you are hit with a fire attack (25%) that the stick lights and explodes immediately in your hand (no save). Sticks can be bound together so they explode at the same time; each additional stick increases the damage by 1d6 (max 10d6 dmg) and the radius by 5 ft (max 20 ft). They can also be rigged with a longer fuse to explode at the end of the round after a set amount of time, usually 1-6 rounds later.
1 firebomb, a heavy stoppered glass holding a potion the color of a tangerine. Range 20’, target lit on fire (ignores armor DR), thrown, 1 Hand, Heavy Item. Requires 1 round to “load” (lighting the bomb) before it can be thrown; there is chance if you fall (15%) or are hit in melee (5%) that the bottle shatters and coats you in flammable liquid.
1 acid flask, a heavy stoppered glass holding a potion the color of a tangerine. Range 10’, 1d6 Damage (ignores armor DR), thrown, 1 Hand, Heavy Item. There is chance if you fall (15%) or are hit in melee (5%) that the bottle shatters and you are damaged.
1 magnifying glass and several sets of pens, pencils, and pocket notebooks.
a small tin containing 6 vials of antitoxin. If you drink antitoxin, you get a +5 bonus on poison saves for 1 hour. Very Light Item.
2 arc-torches, like short metal taser-batons. These autowound electrical devices clearly illuminate a 20’ radius and provides shadowy illumination out 20’ beyond that. It lasts for four hours and produces a loud buzzing while activated; touching the metal prongs delivers a sharp shock (1 dmg). Heavy Item.
an oilskin wrap containing two smokesticks, alchemically treated wooden rods that instantly create thick, opaque smoke when ignited. Range 20’, smoke cloud, thrown, 1 Hand, Light Item. Requires 1 round to “load” (lighting the stick) before it can be thrown. The smoke fills a 10-foot cube that completely obscures vision. The stick is consumed after 1 round, and the smoke dissipates naturally (a moderate or stronger wind dissipates the smoke in 1 round).
a padded paper box containing 1 sunrod, a foot-long, gold-tipped, iron rod that glows brightly when struck. It clearly illuminates a 30’ radius and provides shadowy illumination 30’ beyond that. It glows for 6 hours, after which the gold tip is burned out and worthless. Light Item.
a sturdy leather backpack containing a bag of ball bearings, a spool of string, a tiny brass bell, five beeswax candles, a paper-wrapped stick of artist's charcoal, ten climbing pitons, two flasks of oil, a book of quick-strike tindersticks, several cloth drawstring bags of various sizes, and a canteen. Strapped to the side of the pack is a huge coil of hemp rope, a hooded landern, a crowbar, and a hammer. Very Heavy Item (with all the gear inside).

[Grek]

"Was Prest planning to fight a small war? Perhaps overthrow a foreign country? What in the world..." Lydia shakes her head in bemusement. "It is supposed to be an archeological expedition. But I suspect that the Professor had other ideas, looking at all of this. Still, I suppose we'd better take custody of it all the same. Shall someone send for the carriage?"

[Magni's Hammer]

The Metaphysics Building

The summer night is warm and dry. Buzzing insects drift off the river to suck the blood of sleeping drunks and cart-horses. One such carriage-puller trots carefully down the Street of Students, a broad avenue connecting the main campus of Ravenwell to its outer satellites, such as the Institute for Metaphysical Inquiry, which squats in the shadows of larger buildings. A hushed gaggle of drunken young men passes up the street, cautious of the squad of mounted gendarmes on the other side of the road. Jack drives the carriage between the two parties, rigid with fright; but they both pass on without incident, and he steers Nellie into the darkness of the alley beside the institute.

Immediately the doors spring open. Quiet and swift as a panther, Donovan is two steps to the wall and leaps for a low-hanging dripstone, catching it and scaling the gargoyle to vanish onto the level below the second-floor windows. Simultaneously, Rhuk and Volk barrel out from the other side of the carriage, unhooking the shrouded trunk from the back of the vehicle, and heft their load to the side entrance, which soon enough Donovan unlocks. Behind them come Lydia and Ridley, who with a whispered nod to Jack, sends the carriage back into the night and quietly closes the door behind them.

The two burly men haul the trunk into the central floor of the building, all the while scanning the galleries for any sign of movement. But there is nothing and no-one here except the party. Lydia ignites one of the arc-torches, and unrolls the building plans to the soft electrical buzz of the tool. As the rest arm themselves with Prest's equipment, Ridley draws a long, deep pull from his pungent stub of a cigar, and opens his wizard's eye.

'Metaphysics,' as a discipline, is very old and odd, a cobble of philosophy with physics, maths, and mesmerism; it largely dealt with the study of interactions between the spirit world and our own, and attempts to understand just what spirits are exactly. It's extremely airy and esoteric, with few students and very old faculty. Almost more mysticism than science, it's just not very popular in today's industrial, materialistic version of academia. Ridley has been inside the metaphysics 'laboratory' a few times, and Lydia far more often: it was renovated years ago and is a very nice, if empty, place. Tall pillars, narrow lancet windows, and presiding over it all the statue of Ellias Cordaine, deceased dean of metaphysics, bearing an imperious, yet serene look and a brass incense wand in his outstretched hand. The dead man's eyes look down with judgement on the intruders, his wand extended as if to banish them. Behind him, the stairwell marked on Prest's map.

As Volk and Lydia descend carefully, Donovan draws Rhuk aside to the upper gallery, where he had gained entry via a window to a small office. Wordlessly, he shows the Khoj tracker the shattered latch, and the office door forced open by levering; someone else had broken in first. Guns drawn, they prowl back to the rest of the party.

The other two have reach the basement stairs, where Prest's map had cryptically indicated "it's here." Well, just what "it" is does not appear obvious -- they stand on a raised concrete landing, looking into the hall of adjunct offices, storerooms, and the large, modern boiler.

Upstairs, on the main hall, Ridley snaps back to the waking world as Rhuk taps his shoulder and whispers the warning to his friend. "We may not be alone in here. Donovan has found signs of a forced entry on the upper level. Have you seen anything?"

"Not as such, Rhuk," the mesmerist replies. He frowns, dashes the stub of his cigar, and draws his revolver. "There's too much magnetic activity in this place. Built into the foundations, all crossed with copper, silver, iron, and lead if I remember the professor's notes. There's much construction on the basement levels."

"It fell in, several decades ago," Lydia shares, having returned with Volk to the main chamber. "Deep sewer construction had weakened the foundation, and once the University won enough donations for repair work they rebuilt the whole structure. That was in 1813, according to these plans Thomas left us, but-" she glances at the papers under the torchlight, "-yes, here he wrote 'but Mrs. Cordaine said it was added in '14!', so I suppose there is some discrepancy about that." She regards the statue of Mr. Cordaine with her tired eyes. "Volk and I saw nothing at the base of the stairs, but I'm sure that means little. Everything we've seen today has led us here; we just need to find what Prest wanted us to see."

[Boethius Junior]

"Curious, very curious," mutters the aged mesmer, tramping around the basement in bewilderment. After a moment, he taps a foot against the finished concrete floor. "I do wonder why the new work was so reinforced; almost specifically to ward against aetheric intrusions. Perhaps there is another level below?" Still humming his thoughts aloud, the professor descends the stair himself, seeking any grate, drain, or hatch that may allow further access to the deep.

[JeenLeen]

After seeing the forced entry and letting his allies in, Donovan sets Cloak Rat just inside the building, before closing and locking the doors back. He then has the other two guard the stairs leading down to where the group treads. All have orders to call out if attacked or see anybody else.

---

Donovan feels a bit frustrated looking over the area. Seems like a riddle, and while he enjoys investigating the biological riddles and other attributes radstone gives insight to, this is not his area.

With a motion to Lydia, he notes, half-seriously, "Well... we could weaken some of the new construction and see if that leads to any clues, or an entryway. We already know the Chancellor is guilty, so I'm not too worried about him getting mad at us setting off some dynamite."

But, for the meantime, he goes around the area sniffing, trying to scent out any hint at radstone that could be a clue, or anything his attuned-senses may sense as out-of-place.

Not exactly sure of what roll to make.
Wisdom mod is -1. Radstone mod is +3. So +2 total for a Perception check?
[roll0]

Also, OOC, I wonder if that statue or its wand are part of it, though that seems kinda cliche and Prest did point us to the basement, not the floor the statue is on.)

[Grek]

"It is the Metaphysics building, Dr. Ridley. A certain metaphysical sturdiness is doubtlessly necessary. Wouldn't want the lamps to become possessed, or the bannisters to get pulled free by a fiesty bit of etheric fauna. Of course, that means the building itself is rather heavy. Full of metal and stone and all manner of things that I wouldn't want to come crashing down on us. Let's give it a good half hour with a gentle touch before we break out the explosives."

She continues to contemplate the statue. Surely, it couldn't be as simple as a secret latch? But it would be foolish not to try. She applies pressure to Mr. Cordaine's wand, attempting to shift it as if it were a lever.

[Boethius Junior]

"You are correct of course, Mrs. Cassus, yet the occasional poltergeist would give these stuffy traditionalists something to do. Earn their keep and what!" He pauses to consider Donovan's proposal. "Might be best to avoid such an explosive excavation young master, unless we want the gendarme breathing down our necks - Chancellor be damned! ...Have we any hammers?"

[Magni's Hammer]

The wand is not a lever, sadly. On the floor below, Donovan and Ridley puzzle over the landing. It's a thick concrete step, several inches above the basement level and incongruous with the rest of the floor, like a slab poured on top. You do have a pickax and several shovels, in addition to the dynamite. Donovan does not detect any radstone, by the way.

[Grek]

"Have you found something down there? I'll go fetch a pickaxe and be right down."

Lydia returns promptly, the required equipment in hand. "Perhaps they've covered up one set of stairs with another?"

[Boethius Junior]

"That would be rather silly, would it not? I suppose when one has need to obscure their unscrupulous activities, desperate measures may be taken." Ridley hefts the procured ax, testing its weight in his hands. "Shall we then?" he huffs, taking an experimental swing.

[roll0]

I figure this will be necessary! As Ridley is not of any particularly great vigor, it may be for the best to have some of the more staunch characters take over.

[Magni's Hammer]

Well, you say that, but a couple swings of the pickax shatters the concrete. Perhaps Ridley has prior experience breaking things?

At any rate, with a few minutes of careful chopping, lifting, and prying, the concrete slab is broken up and dragged away. Beneath this is the true floor, a now-shredded tarp lain between it and the poured concrete, properly level with the rest of the basement floor. The spiral staircase now descends to an inlaid landing with an obvious hatch, which if removed would allow one to descend further. But how to open it? The hatch is perfectly flush with the floor, with neither handles nor hinges -- if you weren't looking for a trapdoor, one might mistake it for an overlarge tile. Careful tapping reveals the inlaid glyphs scattered across the landing will rotate when pressure is applied; walking across wouldn't move them, but deliberate application of a crowbar or screwdriver could turn them in place. There are thirteen glyphs, scattered in no discernible pattern, each a numerological symbol; the orientation almost certainly has some kind of metaphysic significance.

[JeenLeen]

Donovan lets out a low whistle of anxiety.

"Eh... metaphysics aren't really my strong point. I mean, I took a couple classes, but my focus was mostly on anatomy and radstone. Hieronymous, Lydia, do either of you have experience with this stuff from your studies?

I remember a few mathematical patterns. Golden Rule, or Mean... whatever it is when numbers circle around, sorta? Fibonnaci. Urgh."

That said, he does look over the systems and try to divine some purpose, or remember some clue from his lessons.

Int check to remember a clue from his mandatory metaphysics class
[roll0]

EDIT: guess he slept through that part

[Magni's Hammer]

Picture something like this:

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/a8/58/01/a8580175ba98b4254cb552c9ba28369a.jpg

The above is not the exact pattern on the floor, but similar to it. The whole landing is a piece of expensive stone (like marble), or maybe several cuts of stone lain so they fit snugly together. It is crossed by thin lines of metal, which may just be set into grooves in the surface or might go all the way through, there's no way to tell; the metal and stone are flush, so the whole landing is smooth. They do form a kind of spiral or pile of circles.

The "trapdoor" is like the central black circle. The metal spiral staircase descends directly to it, such that if the door was removed you could either step off the stairs onto the basement landing or keep descending into the hole (assuming the staircase continues on the other side of the trapdoor and it isn't just a straight drop).

The thirteen glyphs are like the various smaller circles scattered throughout the image above. Again, they don't correspond directly (the above image I found probably has more than thirteen little circled-symbols), but they should give you an idea of what your characters see. They aren't readable to those outside the discipline, and they don't correspond directly to any kind of real-world clock. They probably mean something to metaphysicians -- maybe they correspond to the heavenly spheres, and the number value associated with each? Perhaps they are a clock for dream-time. At any rate, they don't mean anything to you, nor should you expect them to.

The larger metal rings do not rotate; only the symbols within their small circles. It's as if the floor is set with multiple padlocks. It isn't easy to turn them, since there's barely anything to grab. Maybe they are rusty from however long they've been buried under the concrete? Maybe the mechanism had a power source that has now run out? Maybe something else.

The metaphysics building has plenty of symbol-piles like this one scattered around. You can even see them here and there across the basement. Some are just drawn on paper and put up on the doors, such as the big one plastered under the sign that says 'boiler-room'; others are inlaid in the floors, columns, and walls. Some are repeats, others are unique. The number and types of symbols vary, but none here in the basement match the one you've uncovered.

[Boethius Junior]

Ridley wipes the sweat from his brow, already beginning to furrow with frustration. "Can't say I understand this frippery either, lad. Mesmeric spiritualism may be, ah, tangentially related to metaphysics - but I was never much of a scholar myself." He offers his friends an optimistic wink. "Don't go fink to the other professors, though!"

Still, the puzzle has the doctor at least momentarily stumped. Allowing a chance for reflection, Ridley draws open his third eye. Perhaps there might be some clue hidden from the layman's eye?

[Grek]

"I detect no signs of tarnish or corrosion in the joints. Logically, the rings should be able to turn just as soon as we can provide the necessary force to move them. I believe that I shall go inspect the boiler, the in hopes that device may be steam powered." Hopefully, it would be as simple as restocking the boiler and any need for explosives could be avoided.

[Magni's Hammer]

The door to the boiler opens inward. With a heave, Lydia pushes into the room and switches on the gas light, revealing the enormous boiler and a mess of valves, piping, and old labels. The professor scans the room for any kind of conspicuous knob or dial, and her eyes quickly settle on a small, dusty pump handle without a label, and seemingly connected to nothing. After a second's hesitation to think of any risk, Lydia raises the switch. With a dull roar the boiler shudders and steam is pumped down a new channel. Across the basement, something clanks beneath the landing. Within the recesses of the boiler room, a weak groan calls out an the noise. Beneath a dirty tarp hastily thrown lie three unconscious bodies, one stirring painfully as the steam-boiler clanks and piping shakes.

Instantly recognizable is Professor Marchios, bald, brawny, and very much bound and unconscious, with an enormous bloody welt on the back of his head. Beside him are two other men, similarly subdued, one with a burnt shirt and blasted raw skin. Clubs, lanterns, and a pistol have been tossed beside them, none bearing signs of use in a struggle. All three are alive, but probably need hospital attention. Their breaths are quiet, sparse, and ragged, especially the one that looks like he was burnt or electrocuted. Behind the heavy insulated boiler door there's no way anyone could have heard them.

As she sees this, Ridley's third eye is focusing on a manifesting figure upon the landing between himself and Donovan. Though the student's senses tell him nothing, he can nevertheless intuit something has changed in the space, besides the steam now pumping beneath his feet. To the mesmer, however, a ghostly apparition has formed out of the ether; an old man, with a severe and concentrated frown, gesturing with a metal rod at the sigils inlaid about him. He then regards Ridley with a sudden incredulity, as if he had only just noticed him, and so freezing in the same pose as the statue on the foyer above, he fades again into nothingness.

[Boethius Junior]

"A phantasm? It seems even yon spirits desire our entry." Ridley states flatly, shaking away the otherworldly sights. He calls down the hall to Lydia, "It would appear rousing the boiler did the trick Mrs. Cassus! Now, to solve the lock." Taking especial care, the aged doctor claims the ghostly figure's position and mimes his actions, tracing the pattern of sigils with point of cane. Aloud, he explains this process: "I have witnessed an aspect of the late Professor Cordaine, who marked before his dissipation this exact pattern."

Once satisfied that he has the procedure down, Ridley gets to work moving the tiles in their (supposedly) proper order.

[JeenLeen]

Donovan visibly shudders. Ghosts were not something he was accustomed to, even having experienced a couple in the very large city.

"Wow... um, Cordaine, you say? Uh, excuse me a moment. Gonna check on my pets. I'll fire off a shot if I run into trouble."

Going on a hunch, but not wanting to seem foolish to his older compatriots, he goes back upstairs to the statue and tries to fiddle with the wand that Lydia beforehand had. Maybe the boiler is linked to some mechanism there as well? Also, as stated, he makes sure his pets are still on guard and uninjured, as that noise could have covered up an enemy's movements. He has his pistol out to send a warning shot should he need to rally his allies to help fight intruders.

If all's well, he returns to the group as soon as he can.

[Grek]

Lydia drags the wounded out of the boiler, room, naturally. That's no place for a burn victim, be they a probable criminal or otherwise. "Gentlemen, I do believe that I've found Monk's co-conspirators. Which raises the fascinating question as to who's knocked them out like this, if it wasn't us and it wasn't Monk. I believe weapons at the ready may be appropriate. As might be some rope and bandages for these three."

After securing the suspected conspirators, Lydia elects not to take a revolver, despite encouraging the others to take up arms. She already has a far superior weapon in her prototype.

[Magni's Hammer]

With the boiler reconnected to the landing, the locks slide easily under Ridley's cane. A regulated "tick, tick, hiss" issues beneath him as the sigils glide into their proper orientation. Then, with an ominous pneumatic sibilance, the central disc descends into blackness, folding away to reveal an inner stair dropping into lightless depths. Grave silence issues up, carrying with it the damp, moldering scent of cold fertilizer and wet, fresh-tilled earth. The passage is opened.

On the floor above, Donovan collects his creatures -- all are accounted for, unfazed. As he fiddles with the statues wand, it frustratingly refuses to budge. The wand is no lever, but rather gestures to the symbols about the atrium floor. Now that you have seen the landing, they actually look rather similar. But there is no time to dwell on it; finding nothing, he returns to the basement.

The prisoners are already tied, so Lydia needn't waste extra rope on them. The rest of the group hears your warning to arm themselves. You can apply bandages, but it's a gamble whether the burned man will make it without taking him to a hospital, unless Donovan was to use some of his precious scarbalm on this nameless invalid.

[Boethius Junior]

"I suspect we shall find these cellars thoroughly occupied, my dear friends - and by whatever struck these vagabonds low. On my honor though, I will not leave them in so decrepit a state. I have not bandages, Mrs. Cassus, but I may provide an alternative that works just the same." With a grunt of effort, the aged doctor stoops to eye level with the most injured abettor, gently rousing him to wake. As the man's conscious mind slowly returns, Ridley seizes upon the opportunity and throws wide his third-eye, flooding the hurt soul with rays of magnetic mental electricity - to clutch his nerves and dull his synapses into a sympathetic stupor.

His task complete the doctor returns to the beckoning portal. Claiming an arc-torch from amongst their supply he begins the descent, revolver drawn and readied.

Tracking ME, Ridley is left with I believe eight remaining, having now spent one to activate Suppress Pain in the subject for one hour. I also figured it was safe to assume that we have access to the arc-torches? If not that, then Ridley will attempt to claim some form of illumination from the nearest fixture.

[Magni's Hammer]

The air is moist and heavy here in the narrow under-stair, and the electric buzz of the arc-torch reverberates farther than it casts light. The metal staircase drops into a wide, dark cavern; all the light only shows steel steps suspended in darkness. Ridley can feel the damp chill of water all about him, for the "cave" appears to be an abandoned sewer-rail tunnel -- at least, it's wide enough to be one. Dimly, he can see the struts and brick columns put in to support the ceiling above. Soon enough he reaches the bottom, where an iron walkway traverses the damp muck of the tunnel floor. Crossing it cautiously to the edge of the chamber, where he can see a sunken loading platform and train-tracks leading off into the dark, there is a tall, circular door built into the wall. It has a single great gear in its center, like a ship's wheel, connected to pneumatic pipes that bar either side. On the wall beside it there is an unlabeled switch flipped down. Above the wheel the door is written:


Ravenwell University
Venture Artifice
Laboratory 01

[JeenLeen]

Donovan almost offers use of scarbalm, but is reserved. If these are members of the Conspiracy, then... well, helping them doesn't seem to fit. Killing would be one thing, but letting die through inaction. Still, he says a silent prayer that the mystic's arts preserve the burnt one.

---

Downstairs, Donovan shudders. What is this? Could it really be connected to elsewhere in the city? Frightening to think of them able to move about so easily.
But, for now, the path seems obvious.

"So... I'm guessing we should go inside, right? The pneumatics look like they'd open the door. You all ready?"
He sets himself to open the gate. Or at least, to try the most obvious method to open it.

[Grek]

Lydia nods, "Ready as I shall ever be, I suppose. Let's see this through. For Prest!"

[Magni's Hammer]

The switch is flipped, there is a hiss of old air, and the gear turns. Behind the door, or perhaps within it, more gears twist like the tumbles of a lock. Rusty, groaning hinges protest as the door swing open, revealing the hidden laboratory.

Before you is a hallway, lightless except for the arc-torch. The floor, walls, and ceiling are all of flat concrete, coated with a thin film of patchy orange slime. You see a few gas lamps built into the walls, but most have been smashed. There are four doorways, two on each side of the hallway, and at the other end there is what appears to be a landing, looking out over a large, domed chamber. All four doors appear missing (probably rotten), but you can't see into the rooms from the doorway.

The air is thick, humid, and you can see spores floating in the torchlight. It smells like a turned-over log; damp and cold, yet alive with musty filth. There is the sound of soft, phlegmatic breathing from nowhere in particular, oddly synchronized. Above it all is the regular drip of water from deeper inside, in the domed chamber.

[JeenLeen]

Donovan coughs, taking out a handkerchef and putting it to his mouth.
"urgh... this is one of those times I regret these senses..."

As he collects himself and looks around, he puzzles for a moment.
"This mold, slime, and... that... breathing?... Can't quite tell if it's pneumatic hookups or something alive independently..."
is it similar to the biological archsilver stuff he has done, or similar biological studies he has read of?


[roll0]
I'm thinking an Intelligence check, so -1 base, but +2 for proficiency as related to archsilver/biological studies and +3 for madness. So +4 total? But I'll let you decide the actual bonus, so the roll itself is just a d20 unmodified.

[Grek]

"I think that I am beginning to see why this place was shut down. Perhaps not why it is such a dreadful secret, but certainly why noone wants to work down here any longer."

[Magni's Hammer]

I doesn't sound mechanical; it sounds alive, like a hospital wing all breathing weakly together.

[JeenLeen]

"Be on guard. I think... it's something living." Donovan shudders at the thoughts of making whatever this is. And wonders if Prest's adventure was somehow tied to this, or if this was just some unfortunate secret he somehow happened upon.

Donovan starts to walk forward, assuming his allies come as well.

[Magni's Hammer]

The floor of the laboratory is slick, so you walk carefully, and try not to breathe in any spores. Beneath the sounds of dripping water and soft breathing, roaches (or something like them) skitter near-inaudibly from the light of the arc-torch. Everything smells like rust and mold. As you pass the first door on the left you peep inside with the torch, and the source of the breathing is at once apparent.

Amidst the clutter of rotting desks, overturned chairs, and listing metal filing cabinets is a stand of hollow, meter-long metallic tubes erupting from the floor, like a bundle of piping that burst from a pressure-backup. They have a rough texture, unpleasantly organic, reminding you of mineralized fossils or a mud-wasp nest, and are rooted to the slimy concrete floor by a web of petrified tendrils. Worse, emerging and retracting from the mouths of the tubes are glistening bifurcated organs, whose wet, pink saccules swell with the omnipresent breathing; they are like a patch of inverted human lungs, each mounted on tube growing from the ground. With each "breath," the spore clouds are disturbed a little, and waft towards the door.

Recoiling, the party checks the other rooms. The ones close to the door are labeled "records" on the right (the one just opened) and "bunks" on the left; the far ones are "storage" and "power," respectively. Beyond that, the hallway opens onto a metal landing looking out over a wide, domed chamber; a long stair on the right is built into the wall, and it slowly spirals down to a platform that rings counterclockwise around the lower level, then down on the left to the floor. The platform has railings and numerous doors to inner rooms, which look like they could be laboratories; the floor level is flooded, but amidst the hulking, rusted machinery down there you can spot more clusters of the tubular structures and their pink filaments above the waterline, and some kind of pale, silvery coils of thick wire, which trail out of one of the laboratory rooms and down into the cold, cloudy shallows. Both Donovan and Lydia can feel the ugly pulse of radstone from the power room and the laboratories on the second level; to Ridley, the place is awash in painful, broken memories, like a hospital or asylum.

Above it all hangs half of a gigantic shattered glass orb, still suspended from the chamber's ceiling by steel chains. There is the sound of dripping water, the wet stink of metal acid and cold fungus, the skittering of what are probably insects, and slow, monotonous breathing.

[JeenLeen]

Panic creeping into his voice as they see the monstrosities, Donovan says, weakly, "I... I think we're in over our head here. We should go tell... someone. The constables know about the conspiracy with the headmaster. Whatever... this is, it seems like something the nobles in the city would be against, even if the chancellor tries to justify it or disavow it."

He does relay that radstone powers the power room. If the others want, he'd be willing to poke around in there and see if he can deactivate the power, but really he wants to get out and see what they can figure out.

I realize my character's advice is probably bad, but it seems hard to know what to do next. Maybe the plot will be advanced some as we leave, regroup, and/or involve another party.

In other words: feel free to propose another plan, and Donovan will go with it.

[Grek]

Lydia covers her mouth and proceeds forward, edging around the pulsing saccules, floating spores and rotting metal. She holds a lamp up to the glass at the heard of it all, peering into the broken shards. "What did they even do? Radstone causes mutations, but this is beyond anything I've ever heard of."

Pulling her eyes away, Lydia turns to Donovan and nods her head slowly. "Agreed, we can't handle... whatever this unnatural business is... on our own. I think we need an ecologist. Or a priest. I'd say the military, but... what if they want to try using it?"

[Boethius Junior]

Ridley exhales a thin whistle of amazement at the horrors, restraining as best he can the mounting nausea. “Indeed,” he concurs, “this may be beyond our ken - yet perhaps dear Thomas knew, or suspected? His preparation...the armament, could this be the cause? Miss Venture perhaps has answers still, but whatever we have stumbled upon must be undone. The air is thick with the psychic imprint of misery; I would gladly see it burnt to ash.”

Slowly he descends the stair towards the stagnant waters, seeking any further clues below.

[Magni's Hammer]

Ridley seems to take the lead, and sets off down the chamber stair. He moves cautiously, the slime-slick metal creaking as he goes. The three doors on the landing are, as expected, labeled as laboratories 1-3. Numbers three and two have their doors shut; but the first, by the stairs, is flung open. Bundles and bundles of knotted, finger-thick cable spills out from the entryway, a tangled carpet of translucent roots winding across the landing and over the ledge, into the pool on the chamber floor. The roots pulse with gentle rhythm, some pumping clear water out of the pool and others dribbling an ashen-white silt into it.

The roots cover the inside of laboratory-one, roping over metal tables and across the shattered cabinets of scientific instruments. They are all outgrowths from a central trunk, completely encasing what was once a table, or perhaps a machine. This solid block, the size of a dresser or chest-of-drawers, occupies the far corner of the room; bits of rotten wood and corroded metal can be glimpsed beneath the coiled web of roots. A brass crankshaft emerges from the center, and you can see that the block is connected to the walls by copper wire, the rubber insulation of which is mostly peeled and rotten. Above the crankshaft, on the top of the structure, are its most gruesome ornaments: a row of three metal spikes, made of badly-oxidized blue copper, each at least a foot tall. The rightmost is bare and sharp, labeled "gamma," but the other two, "beta" and "alpha," are adorned with eyeless, earless heads.

They are like no creature you have ever seen; in fact, they may not be creatures at all, but intricate models. The heads are covered over in overlapping plates of black chitin, like the shells of thousand of insects. Each has only a single orifice -- a small, raw sphincter around which the black plates array like ragged lamprey teeth. Each is impaled upon a spike, and silver coils spill out from where the neck should be, quietly pumping in water and carrying away the viscous waste. If you lean close, there is the faintest sound of a beating piston inside each head. They smell like spoiled silage. The crankshaft is labeled "action" in small letters.

Above, Donovan peels back the crumbling door to the power room. Built into the wall is a small and primitive radstone engine; copper wire, its rubber insulation lost to time, traces out from it in a spiderweb and burrows into the walls to feed the other rooms with electrical energy. Warped, pustulous mushrooms erupt from the wet walls and ceiling, lurid yellow puffballs. Razor-thin velvet worms writhe and squirm in the light of the arc-torch. The place smells like bile. The radstone core still hums and crackles with vile puissance; it would be a simple matter to disconnect the wires or remove the core.

By the exit, Lydia watches as spores drift outside, off into the tunnels from which the party came.

[Boethius Junior]

Stricken with sudden and utter revulsion, Ridley swiftly exits the first laboratory, calling to the landing above with his findings. "There is a pair of wee beasties spitted down here, like the tarred head-trophies of some wild huntsmen. It's unlike anything I've ever seen. These mechanisms appear to keep them alive, but I can't figure the workings. Perhaps you two machine-minded can make some sense of the mess?" Enduring the stench a little longer the doctor tests the second laboratory door, shining his torch within should the portal yield.

[JeenLeen]

Disgusted by the creatures, Donovan begins to dismember the radstone core from the energy mechanism and pockets it. In one of his empty pockets, realizing he'll probably burn the jacket later after exposure to whatever is in the air and liquid here.

He watches the creatures closely to see if they respond, remaining ready to run out of the laboratory if their response should be... well, most anything besides seeming to die.

[Magni's Hammer]

The radstone core comes free with a rough yank, warm and heavy like a leaden organ. The wet worms have slithered away amidst the puffballs, some of which erupt in clouds of yet more pungent spores, but otherwise show no signs of death or agitation. Donovan casts the arc-torch about the room as he stuffs the core into an empty pocket. No signs of immediate decay, so he retraces his steps gingerly out of the room, holding his breath to avoid inhaling any of the fungal dust.

Below, Ridley calls out his report. With the core removed, the heads have begun to sag and wither under their scales, now deprived of power. The faint piston-sound audibly slackens, and you can see the fluid pulse slacken within the silvery vessels. Leaving the first laboratory, the noise off the water has already changed from a continuous drip to a turgid dribble, silty waste now only trickling into the pool. Ridley tries the handle of the second laboratory door and, finding it receptive, pries it open to investigate.

This chamber is shaped like the first, but far more cluttered and overgrown. In place of the lung-tubers or venous tendrils there are shelves of glistening coral the color of yellowed bones; the patchy red slime that coats it pulsing visibly, like quivering gore. This room smells like blood. There are narrow paths between the coral bodies, and towards the back you espy what may be a kind of bed or nest. There is most certainly a hammock or webbing there, an assortment of jars and tin trays scattered about, and a rusted metal filing cabinet, turned sideways to serve as a low table. Perched atop it, almost hilariously conspicuous against the organic growths and detritus, rests a phonograph in what appears to be working order. A similarly clean metal toolbox rests beside it.

On the floor above, Lydia moves to close the heavy door to the outside, but not before a frantic Cloak Rat leaps through and races for Donovan, chattering and clicking his teeth -- his own quiet, frantic alarm-call. In the gloom beyond, the professor discerns a team of figures descending the spiral stair, moving slowly and without any light.

[JeenLeen]

Turning to Ridley, Donovan postulates, "Maybe we should take that phonograph and box? Get out of here and look into it more aboveground."

But when he hears Cloak Rat, he rushes in its direction, beckoning his other two pets to keep up. Gun readied, he looks at the descending individuals, wondering how easily they see without the aid of natural light. Radstoners?

If there's time, get gets close to Lydia so they are not separated, though he tries to let Volk be in the front line.

[Grek]

Lydia pulls back toward the rest of the group after finishing with the door. As much as it pains her seal the group inside this radstone-fouled abattoir, she can't exactly allow the spores to continue leaking out into the rest of the campus. Or be standing there mulling it over when the men above, doubtlessly sent by the Chancellor, arrive to deal with them.

"People coming. We should ready ourselves. Quietly.", she whispers toward her companions, before assuming a position out of view of the lab's entrance.

[Boethius Junior]

"Damn and blast," Ridley grunts, unceremoniously stuffing his errant revolver through his waistband. He huffs an agreement to Donovan's suggestion, "I think you've got the right of it, lad. How much you bet the goons upstairs are after these gadgets, eh?" Without time for further chatter he tucks the suspiciously pristine toolbox under arm and hoists the phonograph as best he is able. Once suitably balanced he trudges after his companions into the nearest available hiding-spot, preferably somewhere not more than knee-deep in the sludge below.

[Magni's Hammer]

Quietly as possible, Lydia wrenches shut the great door, then rushes back to the records room, Donovan and his pets on her heels. Outside, beyond the door, the two figures on the stairs hear the bulkhead snap shut, then continue carefully down the staircase, weapons drawn.

Below, Ridley hefts the equipment and balances the arc-torch in his other hand. With the bulkhead closed and his companions in hiding, it is very, very dark. He makes for the steps down to the flooded level, roachlike vermin scurrying away from his heavy footfalls, then doubles back, thinking better of entering the cloudy, placid waters. As he turns, the shaft of electric light catches the tail of some movement. He freezes, the beam flitting about for its source. Is that a sound above the dripping water, like scurrying feet?

There is a quiet voice from somewhere inside the chamber. "Please," comes the soft wheedling. "Please, my things; why people take my things?" It echoes up and out into the hallway, such that even Lydia and Donovan, drawing weapons from behind the makeshift barricade of the lung-tubes, can hear the gentle query. Cloak Rat's hackles rise at the childlike words, the other mutant beasts growling as they cast about the room for the source of the alien voice.

"Long empty, and now people-take," it continues. Two short, hacking sobs follow this, then from the center laboratory the voice comes again: "Things mine." The voice is atonal and careful. Behind each word is a careful clicking, like spinning wheels or a ticking gear. When the voice stops so does the noise, but not the cautious wheezing of disembodied lungs, or the constant dripping of water.

[JeenLeen]

....no, could it be... possible? Please no.
As Donovan listens to the words, thoughts and theories race in his mind. Radstone mutation is much more... palatable when done upon animals, forming things like his mutants. Upon humans, the safest routes are minor things like spikes. Human testing had occurred, often illegally, but was usually non-viable. Could this voice be a human, maybe even a child, turned into something like Cloak Rat or Fishy. As empathetic as Donovan was towards his pets, the idea of a human being changed such was abhorrent to his mind. (Well, most of it. A small part is shuffling the equations and theories.)

If it starts to search thoroughly, it'll probably find us, especially with his pets reacting. And those unknowns are coming closer.

A feint?

Moving apart from Lydia, lest his bring its wraith to her as well as himself, he calls out, "To the stairs. Strangers coming. Strangers who take things!"
Perhaps the creature could finish off the on-lookers. Or be finished off. Perhaps the latter would be a mercy.
Or... well, after he says his words, he realizes it could be their allies coming down, but he hopes not. He could always run to their aid if a fight breaks out.

In case needed, a Charisma roll for the subterfuge.

[roll0]

[Magni's Hammer]

As Donovan crosses the hallway to a different room, to keep separate from Lydia, he catches a brief glimpse of Ridley on the landing below. The doctor hasn't moved, and his torch-beam is focused into the yawning doorway of the second laboratory. Knowing the power room to be full of spores and worms, Donovan tries the hallway door marked 'storage.' With a forceful grunt, the young man pushes open the doorway and dashes inside, his snarling pets at his heels. The rotten door, swollen with moisture, pulls apart as he goes, and the locked doorknob comes away in his hands. This place appears cleaner than the rest, though many of the shelved cans have popped and spoiled, the books are moldering, and the linens are blotched and moth-eaten. Large shelves occupy the walls, and one big one is in the center. They are stacked with cans, tools, paper, glass, and spare parts. Near the door is a coat rack beneath a framed picture -- hanging on it are several labcoats and a ring of keys.

Below, Ridley stands rigid, his eyes darting about for any sign of movement. From the hallway above, he hears Donovan's yelling and the sounds of movement. "Place mine; things mine, left for me," comes the voice again, a soft, pedaling ticktock accompanying it. Angry wheezing shudders out from laboratory two, the room Ridley had just exited. "Go-people. Why come, so empty-long." Something is moving behind the yellow, bloody coral; the stepping of a shapeless thing glimpsed only through the holes in the coral. "Stray-gers... strayers..." More clicking. A black, crusted hand grips the slimy edge of a coral bank. Another appears, and then a claw. "Takers," it states, a reserved, deliberative voice. "Take my only... other... voice."

Eyes and a scaly brow lift into the torch-beam, shining reflective in the electric light. Another limb appears to grip the coral, hauling more weight out of the gloom. Heaving breaths strain regular. Shining orbs face Ridley from the darkness of laboratory two; a ragged mouth, a limp wound cut across the empty face; a sheaf of green petals that cloak the body like a coat of kudzu. Too many limbs, too many eyes. The green fronds hide banks of pinkish lungs, which heave out wheezing as the thing gulps air, then disappear with every cautious exhalation. Bile drips from a retracting tube that vanishes into the trunk. From inside it comes a quiet, clicking. Ticking that is now firm and strong, like a little piston. Long, chitinous legs grip the doorway, and it draws itself to the height of a man, facing the professor and his torch. "Give it back," it hisses.

[Boethius Junior]

"Ah," Ridley hardly breaths, carefully adjusting his balance; weighing options internally. Though he desperately wishes to drop everything, make for his pistol and send the beast back to whatever hell spawned it, the nagging look of those talons stops him short. Eventually the instinctual compulsion to wriggle free overwhelms and he rambles a nonchalant response. "Me? Take? These old knickaknacks? Why I wouldn't dream of it, sport. I'm simply moving them out from the wet, you see - make sure they don't get spilled on and wot. It's dreadfully damp down here, and this is quite the splendid gramophone you've procured."

[JeenLeen]

Donovan quietly curses that he drew the creature's attention toward his companion, and he motions for his pets to remain quiet. Seeing the keys, he grabs and pockets them. Then he waits. As he does, he looks at the framed picture to get a better idea, touching it to straighten it and rub off a bit of the dust.

...

And it seems his companion is making a go of diplomacy. He hopes it works.

[Magni's Hammer]

The painting has been protected behind a glass frame, and is a fine if simple work. It probably depicts one of the laboratories Ridley was exploring, back when this place was in operation. A crowd of people stand clustered around a mechanical bench, on which three vague objects seem to be mounted. Electrical cables spill out of the device, and the floor is covered in thaumaturgic chalking. You recognize a few of the faces, and the ink scrawl along the bottom labels them all: Thaddeus Wash, the old mustached history professor; Damien Ravenwell, the chancellor, severe as ever; Mr. and Mrs. Cordaine, the metaphysicists; several medical doctors, anatomists, and chemists you don't recognize; and none other than a young Amadeus Venture, grinning ear to ear. Most peculiarly, the objects on the table seem to be named as well: subjects 'alpha,' 'beta,' and 'gamma.' The painting is dated 1803, and appears to have been done by one of the doctors present, who signed the bottom.


~

The thing in the doorway hisses like sucking breath, then slithers slowly out towards Ridley on its many legs. "Taker-talk; so many words. New-words." Drawing closer to him, the thing's hunched back levels its gruesome head with the professor's. It looks remarkably similar to the heads from the other laboratory, but it's as if many extra pieces had been attached. Lidless glassy eyes stare at nothing; superfluous limbs dangle uselessly at odd angles, atrophied and skeletal; wet, pink organs shudder beneath its leafy frame. It ticks like a clock-piston, or a little motor, and stinks like curdled milk and old blood.

"Things for me. Teach-talk. My keep work and clean." Bony child's hands clench and grasp at nothing. "Come back-place for waiting? Time to leave?" It's last works are wheedling, almost plaintive. "Cold, wet-so. It talks of warm sun. No sun here-now, not since leaving." Hands gesture towards the shattered pieces of glass still hanging from the chamber's roof, while others reach cautiously for the gramophone, and for Ridley.

A peal of wrenching metal cuts through the room, and it recoils at speed back towards the doorway, eyes casting about for the source of the noise. Gurgles and hisses erupt from its core like a warning. In the hallways above, whoever it is that followed you down here is pealing open the portal door!

[JeenLeen]

The picture could be good evidence of who was involved here.

Donovan tries to quietly take down the picture. If he can get it out of the frame and roll it, even better. If not, he'll hand the frame to Cloak Rat with an order to hold it.
He also hopes his friend talking to the creature can think of a good thing to say.

[Boethius Junior]

"Hear that lad?" Ridley calls after the retreating thing, while carefully unloading the bulky paraphernalia onto the driest surface in reach. "We've got company from topside, and not likely of as kindly a sort as me and mine." He chances a glance up the stairwell, drawing once more the foreign weightiness of his revolver, hoping his compatriots are similarly readied. "I daresay a spot of sunshine would do you right - but first we'll need to get past them at the door. I suppose you're at all handy in a spat?"

[Magni's Hammer]

As Donovan carefully slides the painting out of of its frame, and tucks the roll into his coat, he listens for the intruders. The dull 'clank' of steel-toed boots on rusted metal floor sounds; the door has been opened, but no light shines from torches or lanterns. Instead a silent blue light peers into the hallway. Cautiously, two cloaked men in heavy leathers creep forward, pausing regularly to check the slimy floor for footprints. One carries a shotgun, the other appears unarmed, but keeps his hands raised. Both have masks drawn up over their mouths, and blue light shines out from beneath their derby hats.

Below, the entity's many eyes shift between the professor's face, the machine, his revolver, and the dim glow now emitting from the upstairs. "Sssun," it utters from its puckered mouth, and sets off for the stairway. "We go, thingman, and cut whatever stops us." Manifold insect legs click out from beneath its leafy frame, and whatever pumping organ moves its fluids hums with great intensity. Thin black fingers grip the metal walls, and it hauls its body at speed under the stairwell, climbing for the platform above.

You have a surprise round on the two intruders. Ridley can run up the stairs as his full turn, but they are rather loud (and rickety). If he just climbs them carefully as a normal move, it will take two turns to get to the landing.

[JeenLeen]

Donovan motions for his pets to be quiet, and he waits for the Thing to attack the intruders. Good job, Ridley, good job.

Once the Thing has engaged the masked men, he motions his pets to attack, himself also taking a shoot at one of them (ideally in the back). He'll shoot whoever is not being attacked by the Thing, but send his pets to attack the same person, so as to make it clear they're on the same side.


I'll lose surprise rounds as needed to wait to engage until the Thing is fighting them also.

Then
Donovan gunshot
Acc: [roll0] plus any bonus for surprise/shot-from-behind
Damage: [roll]1d6-/roll]

Fishy
[roll1]
[roll2]

Pretty Bird
[roll3]
[roll4]

Cloak Rat
[roll5]
[roll6]

[Grek]

Lydia listens, aghast, as the monstrosity speaks. This creature, with hands like a degloved child's and legs like a dozen spiders stitched together, blood like spoiled gravy and skin like leaf litter! It is enough to make any sane woman want scream out in horror. And yet it has the mind of a man! A victim of this place, broken apart and rebuilt by whatever maniac operated here. Not only does it speak, it negotiates peacefully, even lucidly, with her companion!

She waits at the bottom of the stairs, not willing to leave her position of cover, but prepared all the same to disarm the first thug to come through that doorway.

If readied actions are a thing here, I'd like to take one. Otherwise, I'm waiting for them go get into position, as I would prefer not to get shot.

[Boethius Junior]

"Marvelous," Ridley remarks, falling in beside the creature's skittering advance. "We'll be as the valiant boys of the 78th, charging the enemy banks at Sutten Creek!" As the beast flows up through the scaffolds, Ridley takes the steps; vaulting them two at a time with a thunderous roar of "Tally-ho!"

Once more unto the breach, dear friends! Ridley is taking his surprise round to charge the invaders, matching the creature's step.

[Magni's Hammer]

In the shadow of the door frame, Donovan watches the two intruders pass. The glow from there blue eyes is bright, and one peers in through the doorway, but a boisterous yelling draws their attention away to the stairwell down. The one holding a shotgun readies it, but not fast enough as Lydia attacks with her weapon and shatters the device. Donovan's pets spill out to nip at his heel, and the creature from the pit reels over the lip of the chamber, outstretched feelers grasping for purchase on his coat. Below, Ridley thunders up the staircase.

Pretty Bird and Fishy both struck the shotgun-wielder, dealing 3 damage.
Lydia's device destroys the intruder's shotgun.
Donovan hits the other, but [see note].
The creature attempts to grapple the disarmed intruder [roll0] vs AC 16.
Ridley thunders up the staircase.

Your damage roll didn't work; would you mind rolling again?

[Magni's Hammer]

Roll initiative! Donovan has the highest Dex, so roll 1d6+2 for the PCs, and I'll roll [roll0] for the intruders; higher has priority, ties going to the players. Note that nobody is more than 10' from the two intruders at this point, and that the creature failed to grapple the one -- it's numerous claws only tore and pulled at its coat as he reeled back in shock.

[Grek]

Having already disarmed one of their opponents, Lydia feels safe in turning her radstone instrument on the other, seemingly unarmed individual. Nobody would come into this place unarmed, not knowingly, so he must have some mesmer's trick or other such hidden advantage. "We've got you outnumbered! Put your hands up, or I will have to shoot!" She doesn't particularly expect them to yield, not if they're the Chancellor's men, but offering them the chance is only the right thing to do.


[roll0] for initiative, not that we can fail.
[roll1] for sonic damage, DC 15 Con for half.

[JeenLeen]

"Press the assault. For freedom!" Donovan yells, playing along with Ridley's promise of freedom to the creature.


I posted in the OOC for my damage roll from last round.

Initiative for Donovan
[roll0]
Do the pets also roll, or go with me as my pets? Feel free to roll for them if needed to expedite things.

Donovan gunshot towards the one the creature is fighting
Acc: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]

Fishy stays on current target
[roll3]
[roll4]

Pretty Bird stays on current target
[roll5]
[roll6]
EDIT: crit!

Cloak Rat engages the one the creature is engaging. (He wasn't included in the last write-up. Was he unable to attack?)
[roll7]
[roll8]

[Magni's Hammer]

Pistols are actually 2d4 dmg (I went back to check the rules in the first page of the OOC under the gear list). So I'll roll for Donovan's shots last round [roll0], but if the result is below the 5 you rolled on the 1d6 I will take that instead. Also, I figure your creatures go at the same time as you unless there's some reason otherwise.

The one that was using a shotgun and is being attacked by the creature, Pretty Bird, Fishy, and Cloak Rat (the rat missed it last round, which is why his attack wasn't included). The intruder opts to guard, focusing on all four attackers. This and not moving gives him an AC bonus (now 20), and none of the attackers can gain surprise or ignore reach penalties (which I think the little beasts would have, since they are only tiny animals trying to bite a full-grown man). Anyway, only Pretty Bird hits and deals 3 more damage, but the others miss (as does Donovan's pistol-shot). Unfortunately, it's only a crit if you beat the enemy's AC by 10.

Teetering on the edge of the landing, the creature hisses and spits catlike, spraying noxious bile across the platform, showering the intruders and the three creatures. All make Con 13 saves ([roll1] for intruder 1, [roll2] for intruder 2) or take 1d4+2 damage. For each of the creatures, assume it has no Con bonus.

I guess Ridley stays still and guards for the round, focusing on the two intruders.

The "unarmed" intruder will try to take the sonic attack from Lydia's weapon ([roll3]) and directs his own special weapon at her! Thrumming sparks leap from his hands: [roll4] for the ranged attack, and [roll5] shock damage if he hits.

[Magni's Hammer]

Alrighty, so both intruders failed their saves. Intruder 1 takes [roll0] damage, and intruder 2 takes [roll1].

[Magni's Hammer]

So that means that intruder 1 (the disarmed one being mobbed) has taken 12 damage out of 16 HP, so only 4 left. Intruder 2 (the electric wizard) only took 3 damage from Lydia's sonic weapon, so he has 13 HP left. Intruder 1 would be taking penalties for being so injured, but for a unique quirk of these fighters...

End of Round 1, start of round 2.

Intruder 1 will continue to fight defensively, but intruder 2 will act normally and probably shoot someone. Intruder 1 screams "Help me!" to his companion in a voice like a MIDI-file, strained and artificial. The creature attacks with its claws.

[Grek]

10/18

Lydia clutches her side and strikes one more teeth-clenching cacophony with her radstone contraption before ducking back into what she has mentally labelled as the 'head room'. As awful as whatever the experiment within is, it does just barely beat getting struck by lightning. Again.

[Boethius Junior]

Finally reaching the stairs' summit, Ridley opts to close the gap further and barrels straight into the electric-wielding miscreant; as the echo to Mrs Cassus's auditory-assault. Though he may be a poor shot, once upon a time the good doctor was a deft hand in the squared-circle - hopefully these long years have not stripped him of his skill!

I figure this will necessitate some contest of strength, in which case: [roll0]

[JeenLeen]

Sorry if my delay was holding things up

Donovan presses the attack, a guilty and fearful part of him glad his pets would likely absorb the blunt of any offensive.


Acc:
Damage: [roll1]

Fishy stays on current target
[roll]1d20+1)
[roll2]

Pretty Bird stays on current target
[roll3]
[roll4]

Cloak Rat
[roll5]
[roll6]

[Magni's Hammer]

Not your delay, just the holidays coming right in the middle of the end encounter. You did forget to roll for your three creatures, though, to see if any got hit by the monster's acid last round. The perils of keeping track of minions. I guess I'll roll those now, before the update:
Fishy (save [roll0] v 13, dmg [roll1])
Pretty Bird (save [roll2] v 13, dmg [roll3])
Cloak Rat (save [roll4] v 13, dmg [roll5])

[Magni's Hammer]

Well, the plucky, terrier-size rat manages to avoid any damage (it's coat probably took the worst of it), but both the squirming, fanged land-trout (HP 3/6) and the ankle-biting plucked pigeon (HP 2/7) are injured by the spray. They flee back towards Donovan to hide behind him, after their attempts to further injure the intruder fail. Cloak rat stays to fight, gnawing and barking at the man's stomping boots. Donovan's pistol shot sadly misses its mark, leaving only his pet and the monster to face the intruder.

The lightening-shooter reals as another pulse of Lydia's arcane sound strikes him (save [roll0] v 15, dmg [roll1]) before Ridley thunders up to him, throwing jabs left and right. However, the professor's pugilistics avail him little, and the man easily parries most of the blows. Ridley does get in one good hit to the jaw, only to yowl in pain as his fist contacts with what feels like the steel toe of a miner's boot beneath the cloth mask. Facing each other in the dim light, the intruder's face looks almost warped by the solid strike -- the mask is knocked askew, and his exposed lower jaw now twisted like wet clay. Beneath is a dull glimmer of wet grey bone...no, steel! Only taken aback for a moment, his opponent seizes the chance to counterattack, his fists crackling with electricity! Against Ridley that's a melee attack of [roll2] vs AC 8, dealing [roll3] damage if it hits!

On the landing, the monstrous inhabitant of the chamber again scrabbles at the injured man, clawed hands pulling at him over the ledge. That's another attempt to grapple the disarmed intruder [roll4] vs AC 20.

[Magni's Hammer]

End of Round 2, Start of Round 3

Intruder 1 (disarmed) is at a mere 4/16 HP, but intruder 2 (lightening) is at 11/16 HP.

The monster is tired of this scrap, and what with freedom so close, I think it's going to break past its enemy and dash for the open doorway. Intruder 1 is going to drop its defenses and try to punt Cloak Rat (aka melee attack), while intruder 2 will probably attack Ridley, since Lydia has ducked away and he's right in front of him.

[Grek]

Rather than attacking her thunder-fisted foe directly, Lydia leans out of cover and directs a cacophonic blast at the flooring beneath the intruder, in hopes of sending him and his lightning-sheathed form into the stagnant waters below.

[Magni's Hammer]

I don't think that plan will work; the landing is a bit bigger than a mere shotgun, so Lydia's weapon probably won't collapse the platform immediately but only weaken it (it might fall with repeated attacks or after a few rounds); plus, Ridley's standing on that platform too (so is Donovan's rat, for that matter), and would fall with the intruders if the thing broke. Are you sure you want that to be your action?

[Grek]

You know, with Ridley there maybe that isn't such a good idea.

Lydia briefly considers doing something very foolish, but reconsiders! Instead, she gives the most wounded of the intruders a blast with her device, in hopes that losing one of their number will scare the other off.

[roll0] sonic (DC 15 Con save for half)

[Boethius Junior]

Ridley stifles a grunt of pain and reels from the electromancer's sizzling touch, opting for a psychic counterattack rather than risk another ineffectual corporal assault. Locking his gaze with the blaring visage of the mechanical-thing, he attempts to leverage his towering spiritual might against his foe, failed by his comparatively waning physique.

Presuming that the metal-man can indeed be affected, Ridley will burn two points of Mesmeric Energy to amplify his aetheric aspect, and thrust his arms force to cascade Mesmeric Waves upon his enemy.

[JeenLeen]

"Fishy, Bird, fall back," Donovan shouts, letting his pets continue what they were already doing. Part of him hopes this isn't a foolish, sentimental mistake, but he is confident his pets will join the fray again if he himself is injured. He hopes Ridley's mysticism and Lydia's device work well.

He aims another shoot at the more-injured of the man-things, letting Cloak Rat continue its assault.


Acc: 1d20+2)
Damage:

Cloak Rat
[roll]1d20+1)
1d4)

----copy from OOC----
Acc: (1d20+2)[8]
Damage: <worked first time>

Cloak Rat
(1d20+1)[7]
(1d4)[3]

dang, the one really good damage roll and my accuracy stunk :smallfrown:

[Magni's Hammer]

Effectively the mesmerism is DC 16 (10 base, +2 level difference, +2 mesmeric passes, +2 for ME spent) v save [roll0].

Against the other, more injured intruder, let's see whether he takes full damage from Lydia. Save [roll1] v DC 15.

Unfortunately, neither Donovan's shot nor Cloak Rat's bite got through.

The intruder attacking Cloak Rat rolls [roll2] v AC 12, dealing [roll3] dmg if he hits.

Against Ridley, assuming his mesmerism doesn't work, that's [roll4] v AC X, dealing [roll5] dmg if he hits.

[Magni's Hammer]

As the fighter lunges for him, Ridley's third eye opens and billowing waves of magnetism roll across his outstretched hands. The assault stops not a moment too soon! Peering into the thing's mind is utterly baffling, and very nearly painful. Names of improbable colors pop into Ridley's head as he wrestles with a very damaged psyche, rather like the kind he saw watching at the Hothsdort and the Ravenwell green.

Lydia and Donovan blast away at the more injured target as its heavy boot slams down onto the poor mutant fighter. Concussive force ripples through his (its?) body, sending sparks flying from both lambent eyes (1 HP left!). The creature scurries past you all, down the hallway and into the sewers, or perhaps up the spiral stair.

New Round

The first intruder can't do anything but as it's directed by Ridley. Cloak Rat is down for the count. The second will try to disrupt Ridley's control, either by attacking the mesmerist or shaking it's companion free.

[JeenLeen]

Donovan groans at seeing his pet fall. He'd assess later if it's merely wounded or actually dead. Despite knowing -- even purposefully making -- them as some expendable, he was still attached. And now angry.

And his gunshots didn't seem to really do any good against this thing.
"Lydia, finish him off," Donovan shouts, hoping his more-adept technician will be able to finally disable the wounded man-thing.

Donovan instead jolts to the mesmerized man, puts his gun to its temple and shoots.

Not sure exactly the mechanics with trying to do point-blank shot at a mesmer'd target, so I'll roll normal. Add modifiers as appropriate.
[roll0]
[roll1]

[Grek]

Lydia winces, but shouts back. "On it!" Both sides here were bloodied, and she was really hoping against hope that these thugs would have the sense to just flee. But it could never be that easy... That lightning was going to leave the weirdest scar, too.

[spoiler=Rolls]
One more blast of the steel!

[JeenLeen]

After Lydia's bolt, Donovan whistles to command his two remaining pets to re-enter the fray. Things were brutal now, and it was not conscienable to let them remain why humans perish.


I'm assuming this is okay given the loose initiative system. Attack the wounded one if still alive (or if have to declare a target regardless); otherwise Fishy to wounded and Pretty Bird to mesmer'd.

Fishy
[roll0]
[roll1]

Pretty Bird
[roll2]
[roll3]