The Red Hand of Doom 3.5 II

[Saintheart]

The Blockade,
Lhespenbog, Cannath Vale
Midafternoon, 19 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 1 of 6

Calyd's sphere leapt over the barricade, scorching the great ogre as it stood there, followed a second later by a sizzling spear of acid that drew an agonised snarl as it hit.

That gave Keda the opening he needed. The neraph pulled one of his annulats and hurled it - and it caught the ogre's neck clean, shearing the beast's head clean off. Unmentionable black fluids spurted as the ogre staggered and crashed to the ground inside the palisade. The neraph leapt from the palisade, stealing around the northern side of the structure, hunting for another target.

However, there was a great eruption of noise as Vokon crashed into the clearing. And the noise did not come from Vokon. It came as a million plants suddenly grew as though a thousand springs had all come at once, in a field of green centred on the big goliath. The rune on the log gleamed gold one final time and faded, and a rune on the corner of the palisade also glowed and disappeared, and Vokon's limbs numbed as though he'd been exposed for hours on a bare mountainside. The plants grew fast, unbelievably fast, and wrapped themselves around everyone they touched. Which included Vokon, Alastor, Aeric, Cyzar, Piko, and the summoned wolf, grabbing them all with a hundred verdant hands. They whipped around Alastor's throat, and while he was able to keep breathing, the sudden interruption sent his illusionary army flickering ... and disappearing.

https://images2.imgbox.com/93/5d/DoBxBhdL_o.jpg


Right, a few bits and pieces here...

(1) Meta, the closest parapet-thingie to get cover behind is that position I moved Mikolt to. If there's some other location she should've gone, let me know.

(2) Dexam, if Keda wouldn't have jumped off the palisade at seeing Big Ugly fall, then let me know and we can correct.

(3) Aracor ... Vokon triggered the runes because he has one thing not shared in common with everyone else who went into that clearing: the word 'Good' in his alignment. Failed Reflex save for Entangle, which means his DEX drops by 4. But, um, the other rune was a Shivering Touch, which hit for 8 DEX damage. And, um, I think that sets off his Wild flaw as well. But I think you might be very happy to know that, yes, Iron Heart Surge does apply to the panicked condition in that case.

If it's any comfort, those two runes are now expired.

(4) A.A.King ... yeah, Alastor fails his Reflex save (as do the animals and Aeric) and are all entangled, but worse still he also fails his Concentration check, meaning the Silent Image spell sputters and dies.

(5) danielx, you'd already specified where Arendi is putting the Celestial Bison, so on your turn next round it'll show up at U5 and have to take a Reflex saving throw like everyone else.

(6) Alhallor, ... yeah, nothing to add.

That leaves us with the following initiative order:

Initiative Order
Arendi, Mikolt, and Alastor
Monsters
Calyd, Vokon, Keda

So that leaves us with danielx, Meta, and A.A.King to let me know their actions, and then we'll see what the monsters do. 48 hours deadline as usual.

[Metastachydium]

The satisfying thump from behind as the west side ogre falls did not fail to catch Mikolt's attention, but circumstances just wouldn't allow her to derive as much joy from it as she wished to: the burst of vegetation choking down most of the circus below was all too visible from her position. By the Black Hand… she murmured to herself displeased. Where did that even come from? Regardless, however, this gave her task all the more weight: the last thing the Sublime Master and his entourage needed was arrows from up high. Backing further towards the center of the platform, she adjusted her grip on the haft, her eyes darting between the two ladders. Should they come, she was to be ready.


Roger roger. Let's forget about the parapet. Mikolt moves to the very center of the towertop, i.e. P14 and stays down on one knee. She stays down on a knee and temporarily loses the Blessing's +2 to attack; her AC goes down to 19 against melee attacks, but increases to 23 against ranged (27 if the table with chairs counts as cover (I just realized there's a table with chairs)).

While at that, she readies an action to strike the first foe getting close enough to hit: [roll0] for [roll1] magical slashing.

She still threatens everything within 20' of her, which is the whole platform and 5' beyond on all sides. Enemies treat this same area as difficult terrain and DCs to Tumble rise by 6. It is impossible to cast defensively within this area. Mikolt has 8 AoOs remaining for the round.

[danielxcutter]

Arendi let out a litany of profane curses in Infernal under his breath as the spells triggered and his summon creature manifested right in the middle of them. Of course they'd set traps against the virtuous, but he hadn't thought of that at all.

He didn't have any way to get around that either. He hissed out a prayer under his breath, imbuing himself with speed and moving around towards the neraph.

Cast Longstrider on himself, then move to (S,2).

Bison reflex save: [roll0]

If it succeeds, he orders it to move right behind Alastor's wolf, or charges the door if movement allows.

If it doesn't, it probably makes a full-action DC 20 Str check... without him needing to give an order honestly, given that it's tied up with vines all of a sudden.

Str check: [roll1]

[Saintheart]

The Blockade,
Lhespenbog, Cannath Vale
Midafternoon, 19 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 1 of 6

The bison somehow managed to avoid being caught in the twisting, waving branches and greenery into which it appeared, and went crashing through the plants toward the front door.

Another rune on the corner of the structure glowed gold for a second and faded. The bison groaned aloud from the sudden influx of poisonous fluids appearing in its body, although it did not fall.

The ogre on the eastern end of the structure seemed to palm another rock as it lumbered toward the watchtower, putting it out of sight of Calyd for at least this moment. It was shouting something in the goblinoid tongue, and there were answering snarls and barked words from within the tower.

Keda, around the rear of the palisade, was in place to see it: there was a clunk of some bar being dropped, and two double doors were thrown open on the northern side of the structure, a match for the doors on the southern side that the bison stood at. Nothing came out - yet - but the northern side of the structure was open.

https://images2.imgbox.com/d3/7a/krjixOaj_o.jpg


The bison takes 7 CON damage from a poison spell, though that rune has also expired. It made its save against entanglement this round, and spent a full round getting to right outside the doors. It'll take another Reflex check against being entangled again before it gets to act again, though.

Alastor and his allies drop into the second initiative group. That leaves us with:

Arendi, Mikolt
Monsters
Alastor, Keda, Vokon, Calyd

That leaves Dexam, Aracor, Alhallor, and A.A.King with 48 hours to respond. Over to you.

[Dexam]

Keda glanced over his right shoulder at the crazily twisting branches and other plant-life... A spell-singer amongst the goblins, perhaps? Or maybe some strangeness of those runes? At least Friend Arendi is free of the effect. The others he could not see; he could only hope that they were able to continue the assault on the structure.

Hearing and seeing the gates ahead of him open, he draws another annulat and stalks forwards, readying to throw should a target come within range.

Sneak 20' to M7, activating Improved Skirmish, then ready action to throw if a target comes within 30' - once it's clear of cover from the gates.

Hide: [roll0]
Move Silently: [roll1]

Readied annulat attack, if triggered:
Attack: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3] plus skirmish [roll4]

AC: 23

[A.A.King]

Alastor is caught of guard, he never thought the wards might be smart enough to distinguish between mere animal and actual threat. The sudden growthes had caused him to lose confusion and his fake army left as quickly as it got there. All he could do now is leave the area and try to refocus his mind on a counter plan to the goblin's counter-counter plan

Alasor, Aeric and the Animals (sounds more like a babd than a circus) all just move to the nearest point out of the entanglement. Not much else they can do sadly.

Luckily Inspire Courage does not require concentration and as such Aeric can keep playing his buff music

[Alhallor]

Calyd raises a bit higher, about 20 feet to look over the compartment, to get the ogre in his sight, letting his blob of fire rest for the moment.

Got you! He repeats his acidy incantation and releases another bolt of acid towards the ogre.

Gonna rise up 20 feet.

Ranged touch attack against Skullcrusher Ogre 2.

Ranged touch attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1] acid damage, with an additional [roll2] Because I burn one use of my Caustic Belt.

I'm not sure if I can get the ogre in sight this way, I guess it could work if not he raises further up till he can see the ogre or a different target.

[Aracor]

LET GO OF ME!

Vokon's shout rings out loudly, and his muscles bulge and flex while his hammer swings out at some of the vines that were lashing around him.

Vokon activates Iron Heart Surge. Aracor is unsure how that works. Does it remove the entanglement on Vokon? Does it get rid of the entire entangle effect? Something else? We'll find out next time! Batswipe

If he can use a move action and the entangle effect is gone, he'll end his movement at V12. If he's still restricted to half speed, he'll move to W11.

[Saintheart]

The Blockade,
Lhespenbog, Cannath Vale
Midafternoon, 19 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 1 of 6

Keda crept into position in the tenuous cover of the palisade’s shadow, palming another annulat to hurl if the opportunity presented itself. South of the wall, Alastor and his allies began to crash through the undergrowth towards the edge that could be sensed. Vokon, though, roared his defiance to the heavens … and the plants, it seemed, heard him. Muscles surged and made way for other muscles as his awesome frame sent power surging through his limbs, and he ripped free of the plants holding him, wading through more of the waving, tangling weeds toward the double doors where the bison stood.

Calyd levitated higher, and saw what he had been looking for – the chest and head of the ogre were visible, and with an invocation of power, the magic coiled and surged around him –
-- a rock the size of his head went sailing past his shoulder. Five inches to the left and he would’ve taken it full on the chest. The ogre had damned good aim, and Calyd was, after all, in the open air with no cover.

It didn’t matter. The magic surged and leapt across the intervening distance, catching the ogre’s own shoulder, with a disgusting sizzle that drew an angry snarl from the ogre and a reeking odour of burnt flesh and chlorine that billowed over the south side of the structure. The ogre was again calling out in its own language, and there were more shouts from inside the structure…

https://images2.imgbox.com/6a/c3/Fih86NtU_o.jpg


Calyd levitates and has a shot on the ogre, and so took it. Since he had line of attack on the ogre, the ogre has line of attack on him too. The ogre had a readied attack, but luckily its roll fell a point short of a hit.

As for Vokon, strictly speaking he shouldn’t be able to fire off Iron Heart Surge because he can’t move, being at DEX 0. That said, Immense Bicep Flexing Energy is more fun than just sitting there, so we’ll rule he can use Iron Heart Surge against the entangled condition. And since he’s not entangled after using it, his Panicked condition also goes away. Lastly, we’ll also rule that Immense Bicep Flexing Energy Makes Plants Scared Of Vokon, so he won’t have to roll further Reflex saves while still in the effect of this spell. The only effect that’s left for him is that he still has to move at half speed through the area of the spell, which means he ends up at W11.

That leaves us with the following initiative order:

Arendi, Mikolt
Monsters
Keda, Vokon, Alastor, Calyd

So it’s 48 hours for danielx and Meta to provide actions. Danielx, remember your bison takes another Reflex roll to avoid being entangled on your initiative count.

[danielxcutter]

Reinforcements? Well we can't have that, thought the greywarden, using his divinely-granted speed to rush near his neraph friend. Pointing at the ground, he says a word and caused part of the ground to freeze over. Then, he readied his sword and shield to engage the enemy if need be.

Meanwhile, the celestial bison was faring less well due to being caught in the vines. It let out a loud MOO and struggled against the foliage.

I move to (L, 6) and then cast Ice Slick, the bottom left corner being right above Keda's square. The entire area is a 20 ft. square.

Arendi isn't actually reading an action, but since this is his fifth turn since combat started he should have access to all five maneuvers he has prepared. Therefore, switch stance to Iron Guard's Glare as a swift action, and will use the Shield Block against next attack on Keda.

Holy Cow makes full-action Str check against the Entangle. [roll0]

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt did not try too hard to suppress a quick nod of growing confidence. The Reds are gearing up for something; but her own companions made their way to the north side without issue. The ogre was being dealt with. The rest, they were breaking away, but soon enough, the growth to the south would be more of an issue to the besieged than the besiegers. The Sublime Master and Aeric had no business engaging the Reds hand-to-hand anyhow. And she still had the roof. All of it. It all seemed like a perfect trap with no way out. All they had to do was make good use of it, and for her part, she was prepared to do just that.


Mikolt continues to threaten everything within 20' of her, which is the whole platform and 5' beyond on all sides.
Enemies treat this same area as difficult terrain and DCs to Tumble rise by 6.
It is impossible to cast defensively within this area.
Mikolt has 8 AoOs remaining for the round;
and readies an action to strike the first foe getting within reach: [roll0] (+2 blessing, -2 position, +2 morale) for [roll1] magical slashing.
Her AC remains 19 against melee attacks, but increases to 23 against ranged (27 if the table with chairs counts as cover).

[Saintheart]

The Blockade,
Lhespenbog, Cannath Vale
Midafternoon, 19 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 1 of 6

Keda didn’t get a chance to call a warning as he heard Arendi clattering around the corner. Perhaps it would have made no difference if he had.

Two runes – one on a stump north and east of Arendi, another from the corner of the watchtower – flared with golden light and disappeared. Arendi’s limbs went as numb as the Fugue Plane, and in the blink of an eye a million plants exploded into existence, wrapping around the cleric … not that he could do much to resist it, all but paralysed as he was. Whatever spell he had meant to cast went uncast.

Neraph reflexes were still quick enough to slip aside from the reaching tendrils, though, and Keda snapped his gaze back to the doorway. Hobgoblins were boiling out from behind the cover of the doorway, and all but on instinct he turned and hurled his annulat at the leading one. Even partially obstructed by a thousand reaching plants, his aim was good, and the razor-sharp disc cut into the shoulder of the closest hobgoblin – a plate-armoured hobgoblin who’d daubed the steel skin with yellow and white markings, and with a red hand daubed on his heavy steel shield.

The hobgoblin snarled, tearing the annulat free and fixing Keda with an evil gaze. It reached to its arm and touched a rune on one of its vambraces – which gleamed gold and disappeared. Not only did much of the terrible injury from Keda’s annulat heal, but the hobgoblin seemed to be fuelled by it, blood rushing through its skin and its stance growing more resolute.

There was another one behind it, in much the same armour – in fact it might have been difficult to tell them apart but for the differences in markings on the armour – blue and green rather than yellow and white. It drew an odd-looking short sword, broad in the blade, and touched its own rune, power gleaming from the contact. And then those two dropped into stances that looked despairingly familiar to Keda – he didn’t know the precise nomenclature, but one stance seemed identical to one the greywarden had practised, something called Iron Guard’s Glare.

Four more hobgoblins scattered out behind them. Two pointed back over the barricade to the mage floating in midair, and sent two shafts buzzing toward Calyd. One nicked his upper arm, drawing blood, while the other went awry. The last two had wooden shields and handaxes and touched their own runes, clearly getting ready to strike.

Calyd, for his part, saw the other Skullcrusher Ogre bang open a door on the eastern side of the watchtower, and duck within, out of his sight.

https://images2.imgbox.com/37/d7/Cvp28lsP_o.jpg


As a start, the bison is entangled but doesn't get free despite a full round action of trying.

More importantly: when he rounded the corner of the palisade, Arendi triggered both a rune of Shivering Touch and Entangle when he hit 30 feet out from each. He's Lawful Good, the runes trigger on his alignment. Shivering Touch did precisely 10 DEX damage, which puts Arendi to DEX 0 and paralyses him and stops him from casting. Entangle fired with him at the centre of the effect. And he failed that save, not that there was much he could've done anyway.

Keda made his Reflex save and so isn’t entangled, but is down to half movement. Although it’s obscured, the wall of the palisade is still clear and unimpeded if he’d rather try to get out from there.

Calyd takes 3 hitpoints’ damage.

And yeah, HC A and HC B on the map appear to be members of the Crusader class, meaning that at least part of Keda’s damage went to Steely Resolve. And then he healed himself with a rune.

This then leaves us with the following initiative order:
Arendi, Mikolt
Monsters
Calyd, Alastor, Vokon, Keda

So it’s the usual 48 hours for Alhallor, A.A.King, Aracor, and Dexam to get their posts in.

[Alhallor]

Well this battle was nothing if not interesting. Calyd was in a lot of mock-battles, and some real skirmishes and had been mulling over who knows how many tactical battle situations but nothing could have prepared him for this pure unadultered chaos.

He was lucky that the big stone missed him, in his excitement he barely even registered the small nick he was given.

He flew closer to the battle to better land his spells, while he feeled his acid spell still doing his work he expended the last charge of his sash just to make sure.

When coming into the correct position again he made a bow but this time a ice spike formed and he try'd to target one of the more powerful looking hobgoblins. Freeze!

Move action to get towards W3.

Acid damage burns the Skullcrusher ogre for another [roll0] and because he was damaged by one of my acid spells I can burn my swift action to loose my last charge on my Caustic belt for another [roll1] Acid damage. (I really wanted to use that combo.)

As a normal action I cast Ice Knife on HC B it's a normal ranged attack (but with a +4 to hit.)
Ranged attack against HC B: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3] Cold damage and a DC 17 Fortitude save and lose 2 Dexterity on a failed save.
If I miss deal [roll4] Cold damage in a 10 foot radius. DC 17 Reflex save for half.

[A.A.King]

Having (almost) escaped the weird undergrowth that tried to lock them in place, Alastor, Aeric and the Animals begin moving forward when they see another burst of plants appear where Arendi turned the corner. There is not much they can do from where they are, but Alastor does draw his whips and tells the wolf to come back to him. He fears he may have to trade the wolf for a fallen member of the circus.

Alastor and co move as far north as they can go without getting into the new area of entanglement. The wolf with his base speed of 50 ft can hopefully double move its way out to around U2 (the square, not the band). If Alastor can see Arendi after one move action he will use his whip (drawn as a free action) to use the wand of Benign transposition as a standard action and swap Arendi and the summoned wolf (after the wolf has moved out of the entangled area)

If Alastor can make the swap this turn (I'm not sure what he is aware of just yet) and the wolf can make it out of the entaglement area, then Aeric should be able to get to Arendi with a single move action. (He should be able to get to V2 if my counting is correct). This would leave Aeric with a standard action and the ability to spontaneously convert "Cloud of Knives" into "Lesser Restoration". This would recover 1d4 points of Dex damage, at the very least enough to heal Arendi from his temporary paralysis.

If that isn't quite possible yet this turn, then all Alastor Aeric can do is move to try and get closer to the battle. They are a bit far away to help otherwise I fear.

All cyzar can do is move anyway. He wants to join in and play, but everybody is far away. I think he should be able to rush to U1 I think, if he moves along the edges of the entanglement.

[Aracor]

Gaah! It looks like I have only two ways to travel: Over or through! But either way, I must GET THERE first!

Unfortunately, the difficult terrain makes it impossible for him to actually charge. Otherwise he'd try to smash through the door this round.

Double move to S12.

[Dexam]

Keda, swiftly leaping clear of the grasping plant-life and seeing his annulat strike the heavily armoured hobgoblin, quickly surveyed his options. Friend Arendi was down, unmoving, due to some unknown effect of the strange magics of the rune-traps; but at least the hobgoblins were unlikely to enter the area of moving plants themselves - or so he hoped.

With palisade wall at his back, up and out seemed to be the best option. He leapt to the palisade top, attempting to pull himself up.


Standing Jump check to reach the top of the palisade (N7): [roll0]
Climb check to scale the wall: [roll1]

Edit: failed the climb check, so all of the below is irrelevant now.

Balance check to move to N9 (assuming enough movement): [roll2] activating Skirmish.

Attacking Hobgoblin HC A with annulat, using Neraph Camoflage for flat-footed attack:
Attack: [roll3] (includes IFB, IC, and PBS)
Damage: [roll4] plus Skirmish [roll5] if applicable

AC: 21

[Saintheart]

Calyd’s icy knife glanced off its target’s armour and exploded into shards a second later. There were snarls from the knot of hobgoblins in the immediate vicinity, though they were mostly superficial wounds and the original target of the weapon also seemed to grunt and channel the pain inward.

Alastor his allies frantically crashed through brush and mangrove, trying to get further north. They’d seen the sudden explosion of green from around the corner of the stockade, but there was no immediate sign of Arendi from where they were.

Keda jumped … and got his taloned hands onto the top of the palisade, but his feet couldn’t get purchase on the wood of the palisade, and he scrabbled madly, hanging exposed on the wall…

https://images2.imgbox.com/e6/6d/TZxLyai6_o.jpg


Main thing is that Alastor and his allies can’t see Arendi, so transposition is out. Vokon keeps going toward the stockade’s door. Some minor injuries to the hobgoblins.

Initiative Order:
Arendi, Mikolt
Monsters
Keda, Alastor, Calyd, Vokon

48 hours for danielx and Meta to get their posts in.

[Metastachydium]

How? Why? The dark shadow of a scowl swept over Mikolt's face as she took a sharp breath, the air hissing between her teeth. Their positioning seemed flawless just a moment ago; even the growth to the south was their ally. And then this happened. Spinning, the zenythri darted for the edge of the tower to take flight and drop by the open gate, a mere ten feet, perhaps, between her and the hobgoblins. This is farcical! I'm giving you one last chance! she shrieked at the warriors gathered before her, the blade of her polearm flashing forward to try and slash into the nearmost champion. Drop. Your. Weapons!


Mikolt move action run/flies down to J15;
standard action attacks HC B: [roll0] for [roll1]; and
is generally very pissed.

She threatens everything within 20' of her, which includes all the hobgoblins. Enemies treat this same area as difficult terrain and DCs to Tumble rise by 6.
It is impossible to cast defensively within this area.
Mikolt has 8 AoOs remaining for the round.

[Saintheart]

The Blockade,
Lhespenbog, Cannath Vale
Midafternoon, 19 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic


Complication Pool: 1 of 6

Mikolt’s glaive lashed out at one of the champions as she landed with her demand to surrender.

The hobgoblin seemed as impervious to her request as its armor was; the superb steel rang as it glanced off one of the champion’s armor plates.

The pack of hobgoblins responded frighteningly quickly, swarming her. The martial, cold part of her realised with some disquiet that this group of hobgoblins had been trained to solid shield discipline; at a grunted word from the champion, they locked shields in against her, and though the others’ shields were made of wood and not heavy steel, the effect was still solid – to narrow the available angles of strikes. Still, instinct prevailed and she lanced out one strike against the same champion as it advanced on her, drawing blood and a snarling grunt from the creature.

But then its own weapon flicked out from behind its steel shield, a wide-bladed shortsword of some kind – the martial part of her again calculated there was an odd turn of body coming with the--

--the shortsword hit her, just so, with unbelievable force right to the solar plexus. Even as the wind was knocked out of her, legs and wings trembling, she felt the others circling in around her. Two handaxes nicked her, and her own strikes with the glaive glanced off shields; and finally the other champion – who seemed to be making her blows harder with the same technique Arendi sometimes used – came sidling in with a strike that missed her by a mile but seemed to settle the defensive stance of the others.

She dimly noted the two hobgoblin archers skittering away northward. No way to make a strike with her glaive against them, not with all the others pressing in around her. They seemed to be pressing runes on their bows.

And, within the shadows of the watchtower, revealed for the first time, she could see the looming shape of the other ogre. It seemed to be turning toward her, but there was a barked command from one of the champions, and instead it turned to the southern, barred doorway, pulling some tiny stone from its pouch and pressing another rune on it…

https://images2.imgbox.com/11/ef/QTSsdx9i_o.jpg


Preface – as requested, skipping Arendi.

As for Mikolt, the hobgoblins are using a combination of Allied Defense and Phalanx Fighting amongst other stuff; the following things are significant:
- Mikolt was hit with a successful Stone Vise maneuver, which cuts her movement – all forms -- to 0 feet for 1 round.
- She took a total of 16 hitpoints’ damage after DR is applied from 3 hits.
- HC A is using Iron Guard’s Glare, which cuts Mikolt’s melee attacks by 4 against anyone but HC A.
- Remember since she’s fighting at close range against these guys, her attacks will also take a -2 with the glaive under Shorten Grip.
- She didn’t get AoOs against H1 and H2 (or the ogre) because although she threatens those squares, they have cover from the intervening hobgoblins who are in the way.

Initiatve Order:
Mikolt, Arendi
Monsters
Keda, Alastor, Calyd, Vokon

So that’s 48 hours for Dexam, AAKing, Alhallor, and Aracor to get their actions in.

[Aracor]

We plan to disable this blockade anyway. I may as well start NOW.

Vokon will crank up and see how well the wooden door holds up to the Hammer of Selune.
Full-round action: Full attack on the door, power attacking for 6.
Attack #1: [roll0]
Damage #1: [roll1]
Attack #2: [roll2]
Damage #2: [roll3]

Since the door is an object, I'm presuming that there are no critical hits possible. But this should be minimum 50 damage ignoring hardness. Hopefully it's enough to get someone to answer the door.

[Dexam]

After a moment of failing to gain purchase on the palisade walls, Keda manages to hoist himself up and clear of the entangling plants.

Spying the archers readying their bows, he flings an annulat at the closest.

Move action Climb check rolled in OOC thread, so ending up in N7

Standard action: throwing annulat at hobgoblin H1, using Neraph Camouflage for flat-footed attack. IC and IFB applies, -2 for range increment.

Attack: [roll0] vs flat-footed
Damage: [roll1]

EDIT: and the usual luck continues...

[Alhallor]

Calyd flew closer towards the action, his glob of fire snuffed out and not close enough to reach anyone, Mikolt was in danger but the more pressing issue seemed these bow-wielding hobgoblins who were activating some runes of they're own. He forcefully stretches out his hand, fingers spread while incantating. What is an arrow, what it bristle? If you get hit by magic missile?

Calyd flews towards Q3 and targets H2 with 3 magic missiles dealing [roll0] Force damage.
His fiery orb snuffs out this round.

[A.A.King]

Alastor rushes towards the edge of the second overgrowth being followed by Cyzar, trying to get a glimpse of what is going on on the other side

Moving towards T,0 with Cyzar on T1. If I still can't see Arendi from there then next turn i'll try and cast a dark way over the area so that we can walk over it without getting entangeled

[Saintheart]

The Blockade,
Lhespenbog, Cannath Vale
Midafternoon, 19 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic


Complication Pool: 1 of 6

There was an earthshattering boom. Splinters flew as both great, heavy double doors on the southern side of the blockade ripped clean from their hinges, and the heavy wooden bar securing them bent and broke as though some god had snapped a toothpick in half. In the drift of dust and smoke, Vokon lowered his hammer, peering into the gloom within ... and there he saw the great, heavy shape of the other ogre. It didn't look as injured as he'd expected. And it grinned with massive, yellowed teeth as it realised what appeared at the door. "Gulat!" it said, raising the spiked morningstar it wielded, armour spikes shifting with the movement like shadowed knives...

The noise made one of the archers shift its gaze for a second. It was one of those moments. Keda knew them well enough, when despite one's own assurance a throw had failed, that some force intervened to make it otherwise. The hobgoblin's neck was exposed for a crucial half-second, and the annulat he'd thrown sheared clean through it.

The other archer was quicker, and began to raise its bow again -- but there was a crackle with a noise undescribable, a smell of ozone, and three packets of arcane energy thundered into its chest, blasting the creature backwards a half foot back through the air and into Kelemvor's realm. Calyd lowered his hand, which still smoked with wisps of the power consumed to release the magic.

Further south, Alastor puffed and crashed through the woods, but he still couldn't quite see what was going on around the corner of the stockade.

https://images2.imgbox.com/83/e7/32Olhy4K_o.jpg


So as said, most of the movements come off, and H1 and H2 are down and dead. Alastor still isn't quite there enough to be able to see Arendi yet.

Initiative Order:
Arendi, Mikolt
Monsters
Keda, Alastor, Vokon, Calyd.

That leaves danielx and Meta 48 hours to declare their actions, and we'll see what happens then. Yes, daniel, you can mooooove M. Bison now.

[danielxcutter]

While Arendi was unable to move, the celestial bison was a different issue. It let out a loud bellow and struggled its way out, just out of reach of the vines.

Bison moves to just inside the door. Remember that allied squares can be moved through without restriction as long as you don’t end your movement there.

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt offered a bitter smirk to the crusader. Unlike the guttural tongue of this people, this was a language she understood quite well. A challenge had been issued in response to her demand; and she would meet it. Unlike those poor excuses for watchmen atop the tower, these soldiers lived up to their reputation: disciplined, well trained, well commanded. This was, it seemed to her, not the worst place to fall in the end. Still (and her eyes flicked left and right to take in the sight of the archers collapsing slain and the southern gate bursting into splinters), for the time being, she intended to stand. Very well. she nodded at the enemy officer. Very well. – and her hand slid forward along the shaft; and the blade snapped forward, twice.


Full attack on HC A: [roll0] (+2 blessing, +2 morale, -2 Shorten Grip) for [roll1]; and
[roll2] for [roll3] magical slashing.

She threatens everything within 20' of he. Enemies treat this same area as difficult terrain and DCs to Tumble rise by 6.
It is impossible to cast defensively within this area.
Mikolt has 8 AoOs remaining for the round.

[Saintheart]

The Blockade,
Lhespenbog, Cannath Vale
Midafternoon, 19 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic


Complication Pool: 1 of 6

Something in Vokon’s instincts told him there was something off about the ogre’s stance as it shifted to meet the bison as it entered the room. He had been taught enough about skullcrusher ogres to know that they normally sought to come to grips as soon as possible and therefore attacked with a wide, open-footed footing … but this one seemed to be lowering its shoulder and chambering its Morningstar in two hands.

A second later, he got his answer.

The ogre sprang forward, shoulder and head lowered. It sprinted across the room oblique to Vokon’s position … because the goliath wasn’t its target. The ogre’s weapon lashed out with unthinkable force at the creature Arendi had summoned. Not only did Vokon hear the awful thud as the weapon connected, but the bison lifted clean off the floor and was thrown through the air from the sheer force of the strike.

And in its path lay Vokon.

Roughly 2,000 pounds of celestial beef hit him full force, and the goliath crashed prone to the ground. The animal gave a last, pitiful moan and faded from sight, returning to its home plane.

North of the stockade, Mikolt did have somewhat more luck. Although she didn’t manage to land a blow on her intended target, the strikes going high and wide, the hobgoblin’s answering swipe she recognised and managed to avoid. She felt the numbness from her wings start to ease. Its comrade, though, found an opening, drawing blood from her forward arm; she could continue the fight. And her instincts were still enough to fend off two more strikes from the other two flanking her.

https://images2.imgbox.com/ea/27/BBgLKwQ6_o.jpg


Mikolt takes 7 damage after DR factored in, but no Stone Vise effects – that one missed. As did most other strikes, even though Vanguard Strike got up.

Vokon … well. No hitpoint damage, but he’s prone, and the bison’s dead and gone.

Knockback + Shock Trooper (Directed Bull Rush + Domino Rush) + an unexpectedly good set of rolls = the skullcrusher ogre bullrushed a heavenly bull 20 feet backwards, clipping Vokon as it went through. Bison was already down 7 CON from the poison earlier, the ogre’s strike did enough damage to kill it even with DR 5. Vokon’s Powerful Build was factored into those.


Initiative Order:
Mikolt, Arendi
Monsters
Keda, Alastor, Calyd, Vokon

So that’s 48 hours for Dexam, AAKing, Alhallor, and Aracor to get their actions in.

[Alhallor]

Calyd only gave himself a short moment of internal accomplishment after having dispatched the archer and then soars towards the group around Mikolt, slightly dropping in altitude to cast another spell at one of the more hardier looking hobgoblins.

The warmage stretches out his right hand, like he is holding a bowl. Burn!

When a small orb of fire appears in his cusped hand he smashes it with his left towards his target.

Move action towards J11 and dropping down 5 feet. That should bring me down to 35 feet above the ground and I think I can hit HC B with an Orb. (who has a range of 35 feet, with the height of the goblin I think I can get in Point blank shot range? If not just subtract 1 to hit and damage.)
Ranged touch attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1] and lose a charge on my Burning veil for another [roll2] Fire damage. As a swift action.
Should I not be in range it's another magic missile for [roll3] Force damage.

[Dexam]

With no more archers visible and the sounds of destruction coming from within the structure, Keda drops down into the stockade. Unclipping an annulat from his belt and making his way to the door, he cautiously opens it and peers though the gap into the watchtower.

Move to Q10, which activates Improved Skirmish.

Action to open the door, using it as cover, and look through.

AC: 23 plus cover.

[A.A.King]

Alastator keeps moving around the edge of the overgrowth in the hope to find a straight line for Cyzar to charge through when he suddenly spots Arendi immobile on the ground. He cracks his whip to make him swap places with the wolf, and lets Aeric take care of him.

Alastor and Cyzar move clockwise around the entanglement area. Seeing as Arendi could be almost seen last time, Alastor should be able to see him in one move action (at around Q-3 if not sooner). The idea is that Alastor is trying to create a path to send Cyzar pouncing at some enemies. He doesn't want to create a dark way when he can't see where it ends.

This should finally give Alastor a chance to use a standard action for Benign Transposition and Aeric a chance to cast Lesser Restoration as a standard action, putting Arendi back to at least one point of dex.

[Aracor]

I guess I did get your attention after all, did I? I'll bet I can get it again. Time for you to fall.

Vokon will stand up, then move to R12, where he can make an unbroken move.
Then, he'll activate White Raven Tactics, and charge the ogre. This will likely provoke an attack of opportunity.

Charge to Q14.
Attack roll (Power attack for 3): [roll0]
Confirmation roll: [roll1]

Damage: [roll2] + 1 acid damage
Confirmation damage: [roll3]

[Saintheart]

The Blockade,
Lhespenbog, Cannath Vale
Midafternoon, 19 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic


Complication Pool: 1 of 6

Calyd’s orb fizzled as it arrowed in on the hobgoblin who was the chosen target – but with blinding speed, the other hobgoblin in similar armour flicked its shield upward, intercepting the orb as it came in, and the blast exploded against the steel shield, doing no harm.

Keda quietly pushed open the doorway into the watchtower a crack, and was able to see what happened next. Vokon came barrelling in at the ogre – who wound up and unloaded a fast, two-handed strike with its Morningstar that half-caved in the goliath’s lamellar armour, plates screaming as the living metal was bent out of shape by the impact. The unbelievable force of the ogre’s blow sent Vokon skidding backwards, the straw of the floor flying up in yellow dust – though he somehow managed to keep his feet. He wouldn’t be able to take many more blows like that.

Alastor, meanwhile, finally pushed through an intervening vine and saw what he’d suspected – Arendi, hanging immobile among weeds and branches that contorted around him. The Halfling murmured and wheeled his fingers in a circular motion –

-- and suddenly the wolf was where Arendi had been, and vice versa. The wolf howled pitiably as the vines wrapped around it. Aeric, though, took his cue and was lightning-quick, laying a hand on the death cleric and murmuring words … and Arendi’s hand kicked up, in reflex, the absolute numbness of his limbs retreating a little.

https://images2.imgbox.com/a8/61/BKigJ6lb_o.jpg


Shield Block maneuver meant the Orb of Fire didn’t hit.

Arendi gets healed 4 DEX damage.

Vokon takes 32 damage after DR from the attack of opportunity, and worse still, gets pushed backward by the force of the blow by 10 feet.


Initiative Order:
Mikolt, Arendi
Monsters
Keda, Alastor, Calyd, Vokon

So that’s 48 hours for Meta and danielx to get their actions in. danielx, Arendi can be taken as standing up. Meta, Mikolt can move again.

[Metastachydium]

With Arendi whisked away (by a spell of the Sublime Master or Aeric, most likely) and the strength of her wings returning in a sudden surge, Mikolt recognized the opening she needed. The balance of power had shifted to the favour of the Reds; it was time she readjusted the scales. Leaning forward, she spread her wings wide to give herself some speed and with but two powerful beats she hurled herself backwards and up, jutting her weapon forth menacingly so that the enemy knew: she can still reach them.


Mikolt withdraws, moving diagonally 5' backwards and up and then climbing 5' further above J16 (likely drawing AoOs from the two mooks, but not the crusaders).

If the grunts don't somehow drop her, she's now got 10' beneath her; this means she should still threaten all four remaining hobs and might have a +1 to attacks for having the high ground (for a total of +13 (8+2 blessing+2 morale+1 circumstance)). Enemies continue to treat the area within 20' of her as difficult terrain and DCs to Tumble rise by 6.
It is impossible to cast defensively within this area.
Mikolt has 8 AoOs remaining for the round.

[danielxcutter]

"Thanks," the greywarden said to Aeric. He eyed the tangle of vines - tricky, but the earlier magic had drained his agility, not restrained him. Kelemvor's blessing should still endure.

With his god-granted speed, he moved up quickly to the broken gateway. Arendi swung Reason around over his head before snapping it out at the ogre's direction, an ephemeral thread lashing out across the arc of the swing at its neck.

Yeah I know what the Shadow Garrote fluff is but this is cooler.

Move to (U, 12) - Longstrider means he has a 50 ft. movement speed, remember - and attack the ogre with Shadow Garrote. Arendi's Dex sucks now, but here's the thing; the ogre's touch AC probably does too. And I got that +1 bonus from Interfaith Blessing.

Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage roll: [roll1]

[Saintheart]

One of the hobgoblins slashed at Mikolt’s heel as she went skywards, but she managed to take up a position in the air. The hobgoblin champions barked orders, and as a part of her guessed they might, the four began to pull back into the shadows of the keep. She smashed out one good blow with her glaive and caught one of the warriors through the chest where an opening presented itself, that creature falling.

Within the tower, though, blood unfolded.

The ogre gurgled for a moment, its face paling as shadowstuff lashed around its throat and constricted it for a few moments. But its eye still fixed on Vokon as it recovered from the witchery thrown on it … and, whirling its Morningstar around its head once more – with unexpected speed – it took a long step towards the goliath and threw blows with unbelievable speed and force.

He managed to avoid the first, which carved a decent chunk of earth out.
The second smashed into the goliath’s leg, breaking his hip.
Vokon only felt a sudden explosion of black and red through his body from the third blow, hearing a crunch that echoed through the chamber, as he collapsed into darkness…

https://images2.imgbox.com/9f/c0/DsXgzzXG_o.jpg


Vokon is down.

The ogre is certainly on its last legs, but it hit with two full force Power Attack blows at pretty high rolls, even with DR factored in. It’s under the influence of a Haste spell - likely via a rune - to have pulled out three blows like that.

Mikolt takes 3 damage after DR and killed another hobgoblin. All other AoOs missed or were foiled by cover. To press in or be able to take AoOs from here she’d have to descend to at least to 10 feet and come within the doors, which are in the way.

Initiative Order:
Mikolt, Arendi
Monsters
Keda, Alastor, Calyd, Vokon

So that’s 48 hours for AAKing, Alhallor, and Dexam to get their actions in.


Vokon took a combined total of 54 hitpoints damage after DR from those two blows, so under normal circumstances he would be dead. If you want to accept your PC is dead, you can.

But if you don't believe your character's story is over, you can instead have your character stabilised at -9 hitpoints, i.e. hovering at death's door instead. If so, your character takes a -2 to their CON score, permanently, with all the changes that ripple from that (CON score, not CON modifier). He also takes a -2 to Diplomacy and Bluff checks (not CHA, just the skill checks) from here on in. This represents Vokon having very briefly looked through death's door, but having been pulled back for ... some reason. Leaving aside the physical scars which the changes to CON and skill checks would represent, you might also be of the view there's something ... odd about your character from here on in, something a little disturbing about your characters that people interacting with you can't put their finger on. This might have some implications for Arendi's interactions with you since you're not undead, and Kelemvor is not screaming at his clerics from the Fugue Plane that you need to be put down, but there's this vaguely unsettling sense about you that you're Not Supposed To Be Here. Or indeed other partymembers might have different interactions with you.

Subsequent deaths ... well. Let's not tempt fate. If that happens, we can talk about it then.

As said, though, if you do want to let your characters die, that is a matter for you. The choice is, quite literally, yours. And I think it's more fun if you don't reply IC or OOC here, but let me know by PM. It may be that it's not known whether your character is alive or dead until someone gets the chance to look over your bodies IC.

If your character dies, and you want to start working up a new character, that's fine too. We'll work them in together. Your character will start with the same XP and pretty much the same gp levels as Vokon had when he departed this mortal world, you're not going to be shafted back to level 1 or something. Let me know.

[Alhallor]

Calyd flew towards the fleeing targets still trying to keep in the air and saw that the massive ogre was still living somehow despite being strangled by something. The warmage pointed a finger at the ogre. Conflagrant! And a ray of fire flew towards the ogre, hopefully burning it to a crisp.

Flying towards J13 (I was at J11 before), and a bit down if I can't see the ogre.
Attack: [roll0] Now with all the bonuses. (+2 Morale, +1 Blessing, +1 PBS)
Damage: [roll1] (+4 Edge, +1 Morale, +1 Blessing, +1 PBS) and losing a charge on my Burning Veil [roll2]

[A.A.King]

After Alastor moved Arendi out of his predicament and after Aeric patched Arendi back up, they both look a litte surprised to see him rush back into battle immediatly. Unlike Arendi though, neither Aeric nor Alastor has the ability to just walk freely past the overgrowth. So they are a little bit left on the sideline, Aeric stays where he is and keeps up his drumming, hoping that the warriors inside the building can still hear him and be inspired by him. Alastor and Cyzar in the mean time, try to travers the overgrowth to get to the back of the building.

Aeric pretty much stays where he is, keepin gthe inspire courage buff going. Alastor and Cyzar keep moving the way the were when they were looking for Arendi. I think with a full movement and going in a slight arc, Alastor should be able to get to H,-3 while Cyzar should be able to get to H,-2 following the same path but being faster than Alastor

The wolf can try to get to Mikolt, but I don't think there are many more turns left on that summon. If all it does is move it should be able to get to J12 or 13 I think (50 base speed) so might just draw some fire before the summon ends.

[Dexam]

Keda winces as he sees Vokon brutally struck down, followed quickly by the ogre igniting and then collapsing in flame.

With both Vokon and the Ogre fall in rapid succession, Keda decides to risk a dash for the now-sundered gateway rather than potentially remain enclosed in this building. Buildings...

Springing across the field he reaches the corner of the palisade and the shattered gate, and with a sideways flick of his left hand he curves his annulat towards the closest hobgoblin.

Moving to T16, activating Improved Skirmish.

Attacking Hobgoblin HC B with annulat, using Neraph Camoflage for flat-footed attack:
Attack: [roll0] (includes IFB, IC, and PBS)
Damage: [roll1] plus Improved Skirmish [roll2] if applicable

AC: 23

[Saintheart]

The Blockade,
Lhespenbog, Cannath Vale
Midafternoon, 19 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic


Complication Pool: 1 of 6

The ogre gave a last, gurgling roar of pain before its immense form collapsed to the ground of the watchtower, the vile smell of burnt flesh rolling through the cabin.

Keda took his moment, springing from the doorway and breaking for the southern door, turning and hurling an annulat as he went. Good as his throw was, though, there was a clank and the throwing circle fell to the floor of the tower; the hobgoblin's heavy armor had turned the blow easily.

https://images2.imgbox.com/c5/ec/6xbsB7zl_o.jpg


Yep, so even with flatfooting that armor's solid.

Initiative Order:
Mikolt, Arendi
Monsters
Keda, Alastor, Calyd, Vokon

So that’s 48 hours for Meta and danielx to get their actions in.

[Metastachydium]

With Calyd drifting dangerously close to the tower and all the Reds dead or fled, it took little expertise for Mikolt to tell what she needed to do. Silently, she drifted left and forward and swept her wings back, letting herself drop to the ground. What she saw was not quite what she expected to see. The ogre was down, cooked alive by Calyd's fire – but so was Vokon, lying crushed on the ground (dead or alive, she couldn't tell). And the battle was hardly over. With a single, annoyed twitch of her nose, she sent her arms stretching all the way forward to slash, twice, at the armoured officer who gave her so much pain thus far.


Dumb things ahead! Mikolt 5' steps above the gateto K15 and free action drops 10' (Jump: [roll0] to avoid [roll1] nonlethal damage). Ridiculously enough, all three remaining hobgoblins are within her reach now, so she full-attacks HC A: [roll2] for [roll3]; and
[roll4] for [roll5] magical slashing.
Everything within 20' of her counts as difficult terrain; Tumbling DCs rise by 6 and it is impossible to cast defensively. She has 8 AoOs remaining and her glaive is considered set against charge attacks.

[danielxcutter]

Quick as a cold snap, Arendi was standing in the doorway and stabbing his blade into the ground, frost spreading from that point with a sharp word.

"You know what," said the greywarden, as he pulled the weapon out, "I'm getting real sick of these c*nts trying to kill our friends. How about we fix that?"

Since I wouldn't have been able to cast Ice Slick once the Entangle and Shivering Touch went up, I'm moving to R14 and casting Ice Slick now. Just enough to catch all three hobgoblins inside in the 20 ft. square.

[Saintheart]

The Blockade,
Lhespenbog, Cannath Vale
Midafternoon, 19 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic


Complication Pool: 1 of 6

Mikolt's glaive at last lanced true into the hobgoblin champion, inflicting a dreadful wound as it carved clean into a gap in the creature's armour just below the arm. Even then, though, the creature's immense strength of will held it upright; blood was pouring from its wound, and yet the creature would not stand, as if preparing one final burst of effort. She almost absently snik'd out the glaive and killed one of its companions.

But whatever effort the creature had in mind, it was forestalled as ice suddenly crusted the floor of the watchtower from Arendi's blade. Mikolt's reflexes were quick enough (and the butt of her glaive solid enough) for her to keep her feet. Not so the hobgoblins, who lost their footing and crashed to the ground in a clatter of armour and weapons.

Decided to skip the map since not that much has changed here and it really comes down to whether you guys are going to try to take the remaining hobgoblins prisoner, or finish them off here and now.

Mikolt can tell HC A (the one she critted) isn't going to live for more than one round and its sheer steely resolve is keeping it alive, so if you were going to keep it living you'd likely have to intervene with healing. HC B is in somewhat better shape.

That said, nobody in the party speaks Goblin, so without some diplomatic lubricant in the form of a Tongues spell this might or might not be something you want to pursue.

Once you're decided on what you want to do we can bring this to a conclusion. Oh, and Vokon might need an inspection too.

[Alhallor]

Calyd, after observing the situation of the falling goblin floats down, but just hovers a bit above the ground. The sight of the fallen Vokon shakes him up, but it wasn't his specialty to aid the wounded, the strongman surely could not have get killed that easily.

He procures some snarls and unpleasant vocal noise which he accompanies with some harsh and abrupt hand gestures.


If you throw away you're weapons we may decide to let one of you live, we give you only this chance.
Diplomacy:[roll0]
Or Intimidation: [roll1]

[Saintheart]

The Blockade,
Lhespenbog, Cannath Vale
Midafternoon, 19 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool 1 of 6

As its companion bled out alongside it, the other hobgoblin glanced around at the bodies and at the motley collection of creatures and humanoids gathering at the watchtower.

With a surly grunt, it let its short sword fall to the icy floor below it, laying open its body, settling back and gazing silently at the wooden ceiling, saying nothing.

What do you do?

[danielxcutter]

"Well at least there won't have to be more people dying," muttered the greywarden darkly as he moved to check on the fallen goliath. Twice he'd seen almost certain death been averted... but could their luck hold out a third time? Really?

[Dexam]

With all of their opponents either fallen or surrendered, Keda rushes to the side of the fallen goliath. He was no healer, and judging by the blow he had seen Vokon receive it seemed unlikely that the warrior still lived... however some folk were hardier than others, and in the mad chaos of all realities there was always a chance, no matter how unlikely.

He touches a curious metal stud on his magical belt, feeling a gentle warmth infuse his hand, then reaches out and grasps Vokon's still form until the warmth flows into body.

Using a charge from Healing Belt, because Keda doesn't know if Vokon is dead or not: [roll0]

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt shot an almost betrayed look at Arendi (was it the death priest by the road past Terrelton, then?) and then a quizzical one at Calyd as the man addressed and then disarmed the armoured zealot with his words, whatever those were. Careful not to lose her footing, and seeing that Vokon is tended to, she reached out with her glaive to scoop the strange sword away from the crusader's side. You… she then turned to Calyd, tilting her head somewhat. You speak their language? she glanced at their prisoner again. Tell the knight they fought well. There's no shame to their defeat. the zenythri went on, backing off the ice cautiously.

[Alhallor]

Yes I do. I was enamoured with a certain children story and, well, I guess that doesn't matter now.

The warmage gives Mikolt an appreciative nod after she gets the weapon out of they're reach.

I'm not sure if they appreciate that but I try.

Calyd makes some more aggresive hand motions and continues.

You gave us a rough beatin and broke some bones here, bud. We may leave you no more bloody than ye already are if ya answerin some questions for us. If ya decide to stay silent we'll have to send you to your gods when you hadn't the chance to reap enough blood for them, what about it?

Diplomacy: [roll0]

Should he agree to tell us stuff.

Are some of ya still scouting or where you the only ones here?
How do ya keep in contact with yar bloody army?
What are the names and the way of killing of the leaders of yar bloody army?

[Metastachydium]

Thank you. Mikolt replied with a grateful nod of her own, unaware that the warmage weaved more threats into what she intended to be a simple compliment. She picked up the sword and shifted closer to Calyd, shoving her own glaive into the man's hand. Keep an eye on our captive. she then said, bluntly and abruptly. I'll see if I can remove the traps that remain. she kicked herself into the air, casually tossing the captured blade on the top of the tower, before appending a sudden afterthought. If you will, perhaps you could ask the goblin one more thing. Would he rather see his comrades buried or burned? With that, she drifted off towards the west, intent on retrieving the morningstar of the ogre that fell first. It seemed a better fit for the task she had in mind than her own blades.


Mikolt's plan is to get the Large morningstar (she can wield it two-handed) and use it to hit the runes as many times as neccessary until they break, starting with the one on the tower.

[A.A.King]

Alastor on Piko followed by Cyzar rush around the overgrowth only to find... the battle has ended. He sees most of the members of his circus badly hurt before noticing Vokon lying on the ground. The big goliath actually looks quite small when horizontal. He takes his hat in his hand and asks.

"What happened here?! Is Vokon....
"

He doesn't want to finish the question, as if merely voicing it makes it true. He just looks at Keda who seems to be trying something to get the big man back to his big self..

[Saintheart]

The Blockade,
Lhespenbog, Cannath Vale
Midafternoon, 19 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 1 of 6

The hobgoblin, wincing as it clambered to a seated position, looked up at Calyd evenly.


"I am the last of this position's complement," it said. The language was Goblin but the tone and pronunciation clear and refined, even if the voice was cold like the ice melting away beneath their feet. There was something about his manner that reminded Calyd of certain officers he'd known in Chessenta's troop contingents, those with the sort of frightening dignity and detachment reserved only for veteran troops who kept icy calm to keep their subordinates in line. The hobgoblin glanced momentarily at its companion as the other hobgoblin bled out and breathed its last, making no movement or showing any sign of emotion. This creature was no berserker but a consummate soldier, a credit to the warlike culture of the hobgoblins.
"There are no others," said the hobgoblin. "Our orders were to hold this road until the time came to rejoin the main column. I am under the command of Saarvith, Wyrmlord of the Red Hand. But I think very little of your chances at killing him, let alone finding him."

Across the way, Mikolt had set to work with the morningstar, and though it was a heavy, unwieldy weapon, a few blows with it proved convincing enough. The two rune markings, in turn, flared briefly with golden light and then faded into smoking, black ash as she damaged them enough to destroy the two emplaced spells.

The morningstar was certainly a more mundane weapon than the hobgoblin's weapon. It was unwieldy to the hand, but she realised what it was shortly after destroying the second and final rune: a broadblade shortsword, more of a defensive weapon designed to block strikes - which it had done, she realised. Not a few of the blows she'd thrown during the combat against the hobgoblin champion and its companion had gone glancing off one of these weapons. The next question was whether and to what extent they spent picking over the spoils of the bloody battle.

Should note it's 1,100 XP each for overcoming this encounter.

What do you do? Policing bodies and doing a thorough search of the blockade will raise the Complication Dice by 1.

[Aracor]

Sorry, it's been a busy couple of days! I haven't had time to do much here, so I missed the fact that Keda had tried to heal him.

As the healing energy from Keda's belt flows into Vokon, he gasps and chokes, then rolls over and coughs up what seems like several cups of blood. Then his eyes widen.

The ogre!

He looks, almost reflexively reaching for the Hammer of Selune, then sees the scorched ogre fallen where it fell. He allows his hands to relax, and he sits up, staring numbly, then one last single word passes his lips.

Ow.

[danielxcutter]

"Really, if it wasn't for the lucky survivals I'd assume a couple gods explicitly had it out for us," muttered the greywarden.

[Metastachydium]

Her work done and the mace cast aside, Mikolt landed again, returning to Calyd's side to retrieve her glaive, and taking advantage of the strange blessing that was her long arms to carefully place the broadblade at the ground. With a nod and half-smile of satisfaction upon seeing Vokon rise from the ground, and another, curt but respectful nod at the hobgoblin, now likewise sitting, she shifted her weight on her glaive-hand foot. People die, Arendi. she retorted bluntly and dispassionately at the priest's comment (a servant of Kelemvor should be well aware of that, after all) before fixing her gaze on the ringmaster. I see the crisis's been averted. Orders, Sublime Master?

[Alhallor]

Calyd took Mikolt's glaive and immediately shifted in a comfortable stance. It was a very fine weapon indeed and it was hard for him to not make some probing slashes, surely she would lend it to him for a performance? But it was no time for glaive-envy.

The words of the goblin made Calyd shiver and from the tone he almost reflexively looked away Yes, Lieute... He shook his head. He was here to get away from all of that and then he found it again from goblins! It was almost too much to bear.

When Vokon woke up and Mikolt got her glaive back the warmage said. He says he's the only remaining soldier at this fort. They should have held this fort till they joined up with the remaining army and he serves under a wyrmlord Saarvith. He doesn't think we can win against him, let alone find him. What do we do with him? I'd say we strip him of his weapons get the fort down and send him on his way, let him take care of his fallen comrades. Calyd hesitates but then adds.

He... Speaks very clearly and pronounced. Almost like a veteran officer. Should I ask him anything else?

If they are other questions Calyd asks them as best as his goblin let him.

[danielxcutter]

"Well, we killed that bugbear, I think he was a Wyrmlord, and we also killed one of their dragons, a green one," replied the greywarden. "Tell him and see what he thinks of that."

Of course, Arendi was conveniently leaving out the part that the bugbear had actually killed one of their friends, and that the dragon'd mostly been Chatty, who'd dropped out because of disagreements with the ringmaster. But Cayld didn't need to know that(yet, they'd certainly have to talk with him about that later), and the goblin didn't need to know ever.

[Metastachydium]

Unsurprising and indeed. Mikolt flicked her eyes between Calyd and Arendi, lending the latter's suggestion a nod of approval. But regardless how he carries himself or answers that question, we cannot have the knight run loose. That would be unwise. she went on. Nonetheless, I would still have you ask him if he favours a burial or the pyre for the others. she reiterated her earlier request. We have much work to do here, I believe, she paused to regard Alastor who seemingly was yet to regain his composure. But I will see it done, if at all possible.

[Dexam]

Keda crouches next to the sitting Vokon. "Friend Vokon, that blow looked as if it could have felled a dragon. You must be both terribly hardy and incredibly fortunate to have survived; both good traits to have in this House."

He claps a four-clawed hand on the goliath's shoulder and another burst of soothing energy from the belt flows into Vokon. Keda then stands and walks over to the blockade to begin the process of retrieving his annulats, and searching the building and the fallen for anything of interest or value.

A second charge from the Healing Belt for Vokon: [roll0]

[Aracor]

I think I should be dead. That ogre was much faster than I expected. I don't know why Vanua didn't take me, but I'm grateful that I still live.

We should finish this. I can finish dealing with the stockade.

He stands up and grabs his hammer.

Let's search the place and take anything we want, and then reduce it to rubble.

[Saintheart]

The Blockade,
Lhespenbog, Cannath Vale
Midafternoon, 19 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 2 of 6

Calyd continued relaying questions to their hobgoblin prisoner.

The hobgoblin gave a snort of contempt when Calyd described how the group had killed a bugbear leader in the Red Hand. "Koth was hardly a warrior to be afraid of, if you deprived him of his minotaur pet."

Even so, there was a faint look of uncertainty as they mentioned the green dragon.

Calyd moved on to the topic of disposing of his companions. The hobgoblin tilted his head, looking at the group with interest, flicking his gaze across to Mikolt before answering: "A great pyre would be most suitable. Burn their forms all within this blockade that they spent their lives defending, and ensure the conflagration is great. She Who Breathes will be pleased. You grant a warrior's honour. I am content."


Led by Keda and Mikolt, the circus spent some time policing bodies and recovering all there seemed to be of value in the post. The hobgoblin's weaponry and armor was stripped from him and he was given a rough blanket with a small tie of rope to wear over his undergarments; the rest of the bodies simply had their items removed. There didn't seem to be anything of value from unfortunate traders or anyone who had journeyed through the area, which struck them as odd given the blockade had been in place for a period of time and its purpose (apparently) had been to waylay travellers along the trail. There was no sign of gold or trade goods, in particular.

That said, the recovered materials were both chilling and intriguing. There were more of the runes that they'd run into previously, but more varieties had turned up once again among the hobgoblins' equipment, and then there were the sets of armor that the champions wore, and two cloaks that appeared mundane, mere unembroidered green, but carried some sort of magical aura to them...


This is partially mechanical. In essence, the list of all stuff recovered is below. I have assumed Detect Magic was cast, so bold text and an asterisk indicates which items are magical, but I've left the strength of the aura and its school off unless you particularly need them. That's because you may want to prioritise uses of identify - I don't know, up to you. Runes you've encountered before I have identified, others I've left unknown - it will take an identify check or a good Spellcraft check to look at them.

12xRune of True Strike
1xRune*
3xRune*
1xRune*
7xRune of Cure Moderate Wounds
3xRune of Hunter’s Mercy
1xPotion of Cure Serious Wounds (Arendi recognises this without a check.)
2xArmor Crystals* (these were on the ogres' armor)
2xSpiked Half Plate (Large)
2xMorningstar (Large)
2xMasterwork Broadblade Shortswords
6xHandaxes
6xLongbows
2xFull Plate*
6xStudded Leather Armor
2xHeavy Steel Shield (Large)
2xHeavy Steel Shield
6xHeavy Wooden Shield
2xCloaks*

6xBedrolls
Inedible hobgoblin rations
Flint & Tinder
8xWaterskins
Mundane knife x4
3 rocks

Taking time to identify using Spellcraft checks, given the amount of stuff, will raise the Complication Dice by 1. Building a pyre and destroying the blockade will also raise the dice by 1, although you could do all of these things at once and only raise it by 1 for the lot. Destroying the blockade by fire (unless you can come up with a much faster method) is also going to take actual time - it'll likely take you until sunset.

What do you do?

[Alhallor]

Calyd relies the information the goblin told them and cautiously he asks him some more questions.

It's good that ya are content.
What would you do should we set you free without yer stuff? What would you're leaders do?
Did you send off traders or disposed of they're stuff?

Diplomacy: [roll0]
Sense Motive: [roll1]
Use Magic Device in case Runes count as scrolls.
1: [roll2]
2: [roll3]
3: [roll4]

[Metastachydium]

Once the hobgoblin made its will known, Mikolt offered the prisoner one last grave, solemn nod, simply stating It will be done. before silently entrusting her glaive once more to the tried and tested Calyd. Her hand shifted to her belt for a moment: with the fighting over and the current priorities set, the pain of her fresh wounds, including that grievous one that nailed her feet to the ground for a few terrifying moments, caught up with her, and it had to go. They did not have all the time in the world for all they had to do here.

The warmth of the healing was yet to subside when she was already in the air again. She was hardly quite as well suited for the task of bringing the structure down as Vokon was, but she would do her part – and make sure the pyre would rise as the palisade falls. Having retrieved the morningstar, she got down to work, methodically. She wasn't nearly as comfortable in the wilderness as Keda or even the Sublime Master, but she had lit fires, bonfires even, before. The large, wet logs would feed the fire – but only once they got the to burn. She smashed up the table and chairs atop the tower and tore up the boards of the towertop, setting the wood, broken thin, aside, away from the doomed edifice. She scoured the room just under once more, in hope of finding some rough fabric or a few straw mattresses. Motioning to Calyd to lead the enemy knight away from the building, she even attempted to gather up and sweep together as much straw as she could, piling it all up by the smashed wood and weighing it down with splintered boards.

She only stiopped for a moment, focusing her gaze on the captive briefly to then reach into her pack and retrieve a simple set of loose, light linen clothes and an equally unassuming grey travelling cloak to toss them at the hobgoblin's feet: they would serve the warrior better than the awkward blanket. And with that, she was off again, now here and now there, hammering the walls from the top down, splintering the broken gate further up, erecting more piles of material that seemed easier to ignite than the great rafters or pulling the fallen bodies closer together.

She payed little heed to Calyd, carrying on with the interrogation or Aeric, hopefully busying himself with sorting out the spoils. She would have been of little help to either, just as the two (unless, of course, the human wished to spend more arcane might on this venture) were unlikely to help much with the demolition itself. There was efficacy in breaking down the task to manageable pieces. And it would be done, by nightfall, if all went well.


Let's heal some: I'll spend the last two charges of the belt, separately: [roll0].

In other news, M. will offer up a peasant's outfit (based on the description in the SRD, I doubt it won't fit) and a cloak from one of her traveller's outfits to the crusader and then go smash up stuff, starting with the less sturdy bits. Do I need to roll for that?

[Saintheart]

The Blockade,
Lhespenbog, Cannath Vale
Sunset, 19 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 3 of 6

The fire burned high.

Although it had taken some time and effort to start it, the blockade's timbers now were roaring with light and illumination, and the pillar of smoke rolled high into the reddening sky. Within lay the bodies of the hobgoblins, except for their one companion who stood quietly under a mangrove at the edge of the clearing and watched as the fire roared higher.

Calyd was thinking about what the hobgoblin had said in response to his queries. He had casually replied that they had ended those travellers who had come south down the trail, and such of their goods that had been recovered - mostly trade goods - had gone back with an emissary from Saarvith to the Wyrmlord's base, which was somewhere deep in the mangroves well off to the west. The hobgoblin didn't know its precise location - none of the blockade's occupiers had, as a security precaution - but Saarvith certainly would not be alone therein.

Calyd had asked him what he would do if set free with none of his gear. The hobgoblin's reply was delivered calmly and without any bravado: survive.
The marshlands were not uncontested ground and he had little doubt that were he to enter them unarmoured and unarmed, many within would seek to end his life. But he had faith in his own abilities, and in She Who Breathes who had ordained he live when all others around him had fallen. Whether through the mangroves, or around them, he would return to his clan, in the mountains, and there, rearm.

As for what his leaders would do, that was for them. He did not presume to know their minds.


No, Mikolt doesn't have to roll on any of those. Note the time has advanced, everyone.

As for the runes, Calyd's talent working with both magical aurae and magical writings actually allows him to identify the spells remaining in the runes that are unidentified:

1xRune of Haste
3xRune of Conviction (CL 6)
1xRune of Divine Favor (CL 9)

What do you do now? It's getting on toward sunset, so are you planning on pushing travel into the night hours, or something else...?

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt stood tall and solemnly motionless, glaive held straight close to her body, as if she were serving in a proper funerary guard of honour as she gazed into the fire. It was a comforting, if melancholy feeling, upholding the customs of war like that, and there was a comfort greater yet in the chaotic circus people lending their aid to that, willingly and without protest. And yet, she wasn't perfectly comfortable. They were still in hostile territory – contested, at best; sooner than later they would have to withdraw for the night, perhaps to the previous camp. She would suggest that, once time was right – but it wasn't yet the proper time for talking.

[Aracor]

Vokon eventually shakes himself out of the fog he was in, and expends his own healing resources for his wracked body.

Charge 1: [roll0]
Charge 2: [roll1]
Charge 3: [roll2]

That puts him at 54/59. Good enough for now.

[Saintheart]

On the Trail
Lhespenbog, Cannath Vale
Near midnight, 19 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 6 of 6

The glow of the blockade burning persisted on the northern horizon for a good hour or so. The circus spent that time and more trudging back down the trail, amid stinging swarms of mosquitoes and among the croaking of distant frogs. The heat of the day did let up, a little, but the night was still a deep, dark, thick haze of warmth, the moon a silver smear in the sky where clouds gathered and the humidity mounted.

More moisture in the air than around them, though; there wasn't a pool of water they found that wasn't stinking or rancid. There were a couple of marouleh trees that Alastor spotted, which normally had water-heavy fruit, but the two the halfling looked over were withered and dying, a dangerous proposition for consumption. So the circus had to content itself with its waterskins and rations as it carried on down the dark and dim road of the trail through the swamp.

Eventually Keda pointed out a half-reasonable-looking clearing by the road, and near-exhausted, the group turned in for the night. Nothing, at least, disturbed their rest from outside. Within was another matter.

Calyd had tied the hobgoblin's wrists well with the rope that was available. The problem was not the knot. The problem was the rope itself. And more relevantlt, a shard of bone that had been left behind by some predator years or even decades before. That, and the appalling luck that led the hobgoblin to be placed and left to sleep next to it. And that the hobgoblin's hands had brushed across a surprisingly sharp section of the bone and near-cut itself.

It took the hobgoblin a few hours, feigning rest, feigning sleep, waiting for moments when whoever was watch in the circus was distracted, to cut further into the twine holding its wrists. And then another hour, once its hands had been freed, to then slice through the rope bonds at its ankles. And, finally, when the night was darkest and its eyesight was at full capacity, to wait for a moment when Alastor - who had been on watch and was down the other end of the small camp - was least observant, and get up and go sprinting into the mangroves, relying on its eyesight to guide it even if the noise of its escape was unavoidable ...

What do you do? Alastor is awake and heard something, but everyone else is still asleep and needs rousing...

[Saintheart]

On the Trail of the Hobgoblin
Lhespenbog, Cannath Vale
Near midnight, 19 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 0 of 6

Keda set off in pursuit.

He'd been in the strange, twilight world that was what could be called 'resting' in This Place, and the combination of Alastor's hurried call and the sound of crashing through trees were plenty enough to rouse him.

It became very apparently very quickly that trying to catch the hobgoblin by sight or sound alone wasn't going to work - as such. Even though it didn't have a strong lead - yet - the hobgoblin had clearly decided to put everything into its flight, and it at least had the same capacity for seeing in the dark as Keda did. And the night was overcast with heavy cloud, and the song of every other animal in the marshland rose up in a chorus of noise, disguising even the hobgoblin's crashing footsteps as it scrambled through the swamp.

But then, being unable to see or hear the target was how most hunts began. And Keda had hunted in places far worse than this Place which smelled of bad water and was rife with tiny, buzzing insects that nonetheless avoided his foreign flesh. Gaining more confidence with the ground with the passing moments, Keda turned his initially slow, careful steps into larger and larger strides and finally to bounds, vaulting from one great, gnarled tree root to the next, across the black, warm soil and broken pools of water among the mangroves.

The trail he followed was clear: haste meant the hobgoblin could not cover its tracks, and its manner of flight was like any other desperate quarry: in one direction, and only choosing a different direction more out of a sudden impulse or need rather than any particular plan. It stumbled, at one point, leaving a heavy dint in the black ground, crushing five delicate-looking flowers whose yellow phosphorescent sap bled on the earth as Keda arrived, the luminosity fading nonetheless. Despite the wild all around him, Keda was actually reasonably comfortable. Strong as the hobgoblin's constitution and will to flee was, the neraphim had the feeling its burst of fear-inspired haste would be deserting it. And Keda's relatively silent pursuit might cause it some reassurance, which would make the hunt easier.

So it was Keda's relative comfort with the pursuit that allowed a part of his mind to register the object.

It was lodged in a low-hanging mangrove branch, presumably left there. It was a sort of hard, nail-like piece of material, curved in shape and faded, as though it had lost its colour. There was enough time and interest in Keda's mind to slow for a moment to consider it, and his long experience with the hunt registered it for what it was...

It was part of a discarded carapace. Many creatures, both in This Place and Home, had to periodically discard the hard, chitinous armour that protected their outer forms as the inner form grew. This was exactly like that; Keda didn't know the local word for crab, or crustacean, but he would have recognised the concept: this was part of a molted section of a creature's carapace.

Which was not significant in itself. What was significant was what it told the young neraph. Things had come to Home from Other Places, and those things often had a biology that made them survivable in many such Places. Some were most suited to watery environments. Perhaps they had grown and adapted from a watery place so well as to move to Other Places. It mattered little. This particular part of carapace came from the pincer of a creature that the neraph called Sha'hul. Whether the name had been taken to other places or not, Keda was aware enough to know one of the local names for it was Chuul (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/monsters/chuul.htm). A hunter that preferred such watery haunts as the mangrove.

Sha'hul were cowardly but dangerous; one would not likely have shed its skin so openly unless it knew and dominated the surrounds such as to be a near-apex predator. Given how Sha'hul lived, lingered, fed, and died, the odds were good he was trailing the hobgoblin into a chuul's territorial mark. Which meant things were, presumably, more complex.


What do you do, Dexam? The most obvious choices are to continue trailing the hobgoblin into this monster's territory, or you could just turn back. Or delay, or bring back the others, or do something else. The webpage reference is not by accident, Keda at least can be taken to be familiar with the abilities of default chuul, even if this chuul turns out to be different in some way.

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt woke thoroughly unimpressed. Who she was unimpressed with, she wasn't sure yet. The hobgoblin, herself, whoever was on watch, maybe Calyd – it was a bit early to tell. The prisoner was apparently loose, however, and the first priority was remedying that – unpleasant as that duty promised to be. This was the altercation with the orcs all over again, except with less welcoming conditions thrown in. She would have to learn to sleep in her boots. And her weapons tied to her hands, somehow. For now, she had to do with the glaive, hastily picked up from the ground.

For all that haste, she only barely managed to catch up with Keda, easy as it would have appeared to follow the hulking figure of the neraph for someone with her eyesight shaped by unending gloom, but catch up she did, even if it took choosing a more noisy and inelegant approach than what she favoured – as well as Keda slowing down unexpectedly. What is it? she asked the neraph's back breathily, scanning the darkness for trouble.


Out of curiosity:
Hide (with HiPS, at a -10 penalty for moving at full speed): [roll0]; and
Move Silently (at -12 for moving at full speed through overgrown wetland): [roll1]

[Dexam]

Being no stranger to being both hunter and hunted, Keda knew the warning signs when he saw them: if this creature felt secure enough in its domain to leave the cast-offs of its growth just lying around, it was clearly the apex predator of the region and felt no threat from being hunted. Based on the size of that carapace, it was not a small creature either.

Spying Mikholt flapping about overhead, he calls her over while he catches his breath. "Sha'hul," he says quietly as she lands. "A dangerous predator that has claimed this area as it's own, and not a small one by the looks of those leavings. Is the prisoner worth risking our lives for recapture? I do not think so. It is likely that the hobgoblin will fall to the Sha'hul, whatever it preys upon, or the terrain itself." He eyes Mikholt. "If we do want to recapture, then it means a slower, more careful pursuit, and those wings will be more hindrance than help in that plant growth." He starts slowly retracing his path back to their camp site.

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt glared into the swamp air ahead and her grasp on the glaive's shaft tightened. Sha'hul meant nothing to her; failure, on the other hand… She was familiar with the sting of that. I don't like to leave a task half-done. her voice had an obstinate, grim ring to it. She appeared to be in no hurry to turn around. Especially if I'm not blameless in that there is a task.

[Saintheart]

Elsewhere…..























































The Dawn Way, Shaareach Forest, Cannath Vale
Before sunrise, 20 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

The fires burned high.

That was the reason they made a faint red glow over the treeline on the eastern horizon. They would continue into the daylight. Forests burned fierce but brief; the cut, dried and painted wood of settlements held flame like a jealous lover. The only mercy was that they had been long abandoned.

In a haze of agony, the druid clawed his way to consciousness. The jolting of the wagon helped him upward; every bump in the Dawn Way’s paving below the wheels sent fresh waves of pain rippling through him. At least his hands were numb from the constricting bonds. They had taken their time with him back at the Keep; after they realised he’d not been sent on to Silvanus from the crushing strike to his temple, the hobgoblins had made sure to find just about every point on his body where a bruise could be inflicted.

He was going to die, he thought.

The only comfort in this thought was the presumption his distraction had worked. They had not brought Natherson or the giant back in chains; had neither tales nor tokens of their deaths. The grizzled woodsman had locked eyes with him in those final moments, a look of frustrated gratitude in his face, and then was away into the forest. Silvanus was their only protection, now; all that Avarthel, druid of Drellin’s Ferry, could do now was hope that his blood would be sufficient sacrifice for his god to extend his protection to them.

The image of the woodsman’s eyes prompted other recent memories: forest giants falling, one by one; fanatical hobgoblins screaming as they swarmed them, even as it cost handfuls of their own troops. Manticores, wheeling above a clearing. Jorr Natherson grunting as he snapped the end off an arrow protruding from his shoulder. Warklegnaw’s gauntleted fist, rising and falling, blood-clad. Stumbling along the forest paths. Whispering an entreaty to Silvanus and watching as the undergrowth rose to snare and entangle the pursuing worgs. Vraath Keep’s walls. Forest giants hurling stones from inside. Jorr hissing in pain as he drew and loosed arrow after arrow. Blood in the nostrils and moans in the air.

And then: flame.

A blood-red cross above them, the dragon silhouetted against the sky as it swooped. Forest giants screaming as dragonfire consumed them. The walls falling, Vraath Keep overrun a second time.

He closed his eyes in despair, but another bump in the road sent fresh pain flaring through him. The worst of it was that they hadn’t even thrown the entire force at them; it was clear even to Avarthel these hobgoblins were perhaps only a fraction of the force the horde had available to it. Knowing he was going to die, the only question now was: why had he not?

And just like that, they halted.

Two hobgoblins came round and hauled him unceremoniously off the buckboard. Even with blood pounding in his ears, he heard the whispering of the wind in the trees either side of the Dawn Way, though all was in near-darkness. Still, he knew the rough surroundings; they’d have to be a good eight miles out from Drellin’s Ferry, judging on the vegetation around him and the intensity of the red glow on the eastern horizon. The hobgoblins said nothing; merely dragged him away from the wagon and to the side of the Way.

Movement, from the east. Avarthel turned his head, seeing for the first time in the gloom the massive shape walking towards him. Seven feet tall; clad in heavy dragonscale armour. A hobgoblin, taller than any he’d seen before. Behind the yellow eyes was a fierce intelligence to match the incredible physique. In the hobgoblin’s wake drifted a robed, hooded figure, though Avarthel did spot a black, scaled hand quickly retreat inside the figure’s robes. The two hobgoblins dragging Avarthel bowed low, backing away.
“This is the prisoner?” said the tall hobgoblin. The Common tongue, of all things; though it came out with that guttural accent that all the goblinoids seemed to have when they pronounced the language.
“Yes, Wyrmlord,” said one of the hobgoblins, raising his face for a moment and lowering his head again.
Wyrmlord. Avarthel remembered the term. Back in Drellin’s Ferry, at the Circle—
The hobgoblin reached into a large bag next to him, pulling out a circular-looking object and tossing it to the ground. The smell and the features billowed recognition over Avarthel’s face: before him lay the head of a giant—no. Warklegnaw.
“You will tell me of those who delivered the ruined keep to you,” said the tall hobgoblin.
Avarthel looked away.
A hand wide as a floorboard and thick and strong as ancient eucalyptus seized him, hauling the druid to his feet -- off his feet.

But the Wyrmlord was calm. There was no suggestion of any effort in his feat. No hint of anger. He might have been chatting conversationally with Avarthel in the grove of the Old Ones. “I can promise you, there is a great deal more pain I can inflict than you have already suffered. Much of the story I know already. A band of adventurers took the ruins and killed Koth. There is a strong chance they were the same group who took the bridge at the other end of the forest and brought it down.”
“Don’t—know—” Avarthel gasped through the pain and the massive hand around his throat.
The hobgoblin was silent for a moment. “These adventurers likely returned to your village. The one my troops are now burning. You have nothing more to fight for. Where did they go?”
Avarthel remembered, even in the midst of the pain. Unfortunately, he didn’t conceal it fast enough. The hobgoblin squeezed, cutting off Avarthel’s breath. “You will not keep this from me. Agony is only the first of many indignities I can heap upon your soul.” The hobgoblin leaned closer, yellow eyes burning.

Avarthel’s breath rattled as he inhaled. He felt his will break and the shame upon his forefathers. “Said—going to Rethmar—warn the people—bring help--”

The hobgoblin stared at him for a long, long moment. Then, just as negligently, tossed him to the ground. Avarthel’s body shrieked in pain, even as he gasped. Above him, the hobgoblin was speaking.
“Skather, when was the last dispatch from the north trail?”
“Seven days ago.” This voice came from the robed and hooded figure next to the hobgoblin – a sibilant hissing. “With nothing out of the ordinary to report.”
The Wyrmlord stood there for a moment, yellow eyes gleaming. “Send word to Saarvith,” he said, again in that calm, conversational tone. “Have him inspect the blockade. Learn if there is nothing out of the ordinary to report.”
“I was to return to the—“
“You will follow my orders,” said Wyrmlord Kharn, again in that calm, conversational tone. But his eyes blazed. The robed figure bobbed its head in a nod that looked more contemptuous than respectful, but there was a certain tightness in its gait that betrayed apprehension as Skather turned and started off to the east.

They think something’s happened, Avarthel thought. They realise they are not invincible. The idea was surcease from the pain for a moment. His eyes shifted back to Kharn. He didn’t think anyone could hurt him … but now he believes they can.

As if the Wyrmlord had heard his thought, Kharn was suddenly turning to Avarthel again. No – he looked past the druid, and another hobgoblin ran up, bearing a filled scabbard a good six feet long. There was a rasp of steel clearing leather, and Selune’s light was eclipsed for a moment by a heavy greatsword’s shadow. Again, that conversational tone:
“You have cost me the lives of my brothers. You have cost me time. But you fought a warrior’s fight. Against overwhelming odds. Therefore you may speak your last words.” The greatsword raised itself, fearful blade to the sky, edge hovering over the druid’s head.
Avarthel finally pulled himself to his knees. His despair was gone. Even in all the pain and death, even in his last failure to keep silence, he had never lived as fully as he had in the past seven days. Jorr was away, in Silvanus’s hands. Now there was only the god to meet.
Avarthel looked up at his executioner. Coughed. Spoke the words. “This ground is sacred to Silvanus.”
The blade descended, lightning fast, reaving at the base of the neck.
Red pain, then the world tumbling, then a wave of darkness.
And Wyrmlord Kharn’s reply, whispered in his dying mind: “Now it is sacred to Tiamat.”

[Saintheart]

Witchcross, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 20 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 0 of 6

The storm was at least an hour past.

It had hit just after daybreak; a sudden roll of thunder, flickering lines of lightning dancing across the black sky above, and moments later a sudden downpour of rain, driving away the endless mosquitoes to seek shelter. Sheets and sheets of rain, ringing off Arendi's plate armour in a dancing tune, puttering off the ancient living metal of Vokon's armour. It sloughed off Calyd's barechested skin (it was still warm) and made unidentifiable noises where it contacted the eldritch, extraplanar chaos beast leather of Keda's second skin.

(Mikolt's innate nature warred against the sudden sagging of cloth and fabric that immediate moisture brought on, with mild success; whilst previously she radiated the impression of a high-end courtier ready to present at a formal, black-vest dance before a high king, she now radiated the impression of a drowned rat ready to present at a formal, black-vest dance before a high king.)

They'd set a quick pace, both on the urgency of their mission and on the prospect of flooding. The trail was still visible enough to see, but all around them the swamp's pools and billabongs swelled with the downpour, circles rippling as the mangrove lands refilled. It almost smelled clean, the rain damping down the smell of the swamp so fully that even the sour smell of decaying plants and fertile soil was suppressed. Flashes of occasional lightning lit their way. Whatever gods had kept them alive so far also kept pedestrians off their path as well, and setting that strong pace, they cleared the swamp before the rain had stopped, and left the marsh behind.

The trail led on back towards the Vale proper, the swamps replaced by more orthodox floodplain, with the Giantshield range rising on their left as they headed southwest. The rain eventually cleared with the clouds, leaving the day much more pleasant for briskly walking.

It was around late afternoon they made it back to Witchcross, all of them sweating from the journey. Nobody had opposed their stopping in at the ancient, stone-walled well that stood in the centre of the village, and it was their first chance to momentarily take stock.

Which was when they discovered other consequences from the rain.

Perhaps they hadn't been ready for a massive storm or had been more relieved (or concerned) with the downpour. Because the moisture had wreaked its own mischief on them, due to a variance of oversights, unsecured containers, or just plain bad luck...

Arendi discovered that the scroll of Summon Monster III he had been carrying had been hit with rain, and was droopingly drenched. The dweomers creating the item ensured the scroll's magical energies were intact, but it wouldn't be safely useable -- or unrollable -- until it was thoroughly dried out, something that would take direct exposure to sunlight or a heat source for at least an hour or two at least in a mundane fashion. Trying to use the scroll while wet was a potentially dangerous exercise, since if he handled it wrongly, it might cause the scroll itself to be damaged - which might not affect the spell within it as such, but might make it unuseable entirely.

Calyd discovered that the two tiny pouches in which he'd been storing the gold dust and ruby dust were thoroughly soaked through. It wouldn't be possible to fully recover the contents of either without drying them out very thoroughly and very carefully in the open sun (and then presumably in a safe place so someone didn't try to make off with gold or ruby dust lying out for the taking.)

Vokon's flint and steel were drenched; the wax seal he'd had on their pouch had failed somewhere in the fighting back in the marshlands. He wouldn't be able to use them to light a fire or a torch until they were carefully dried out, something that would take a couple of hours.

Although Keda didn't have much that suffered from the moisture, one notable exception was the Blessed Bandage he was bringing with him. Soaked completely through, the bandage simply would not work properly until it was fully dried out, taking an hour or two to do so of dedicated time in the sun.

Leaving aside critical injuries to Mikolt's sense of fashion appropriateness, Mikolt's bedroll, supply of canvas, and fishing net had been unexpectedly exposed to the downpour. Whilst none were damaged as such, the moisture had clung thickly to the bedroll and canvas in particular ... effectively doubling their weight. She had been pushing hard to keep up with the party to this point, but had reached the stage now that if she meant to stay as effective in a fight, either she'd have to dry them out or sacrifice some other items. (which is to say, doubling the weight of the bedroll and canvas seems to take Mikolt out of the light load category and into medium, which cuts your movement, max DEX, and adds armor check penalties. (https://www.d20srd.org/srd/carryingCapacity.htm)

What do you do?

[danielxcutter]

"Well, we should probably dry off before anything else," said the greywarden. "We've already got to fix Vokon and Mikolt, I don't want to have to use spells to fix colds and sniffles as well."

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt, still visibly displeased with the ultimate outcome of that wrethched nighttime chase and her role in it, spent most of the last hour lagging a pace behind the Circus, using the space to keep her wings spread, the muscles softly undulating under her skin keeping the feathers in a constant, slowly quivering motion. Occasionally, she would add a more violent wingbeat to the mix, sending sprays of droplets flying towards the road ahead. And yet, they seemed to remain ever heavier than she'd have liked in the humid air. She felt heavier, overall.


♣

Upon learning part of the reason why, she merely wrinkled her nose, fighting back the gross, unruly urge to just bash her head against something hard instead. She couldn't even remember why she had a fishing net in the first place. But the worst part of it was not that, not by any means. She just couldn't shake the feeling that her current misgivings, if not the Circus's were not undeserved. She was found unprepared, again and again, and the chance to fulfill her duty seemed to drift farther and farther away.

I tend to agree. she nodded to Arendi, stirred from her thoughts by the cleric's words. It's a pity we don't have much sunlight left for today. but then, why would the oppressive heat help rather than hinder, even for once? Do you think you could make a fire, Calyd? she threw a sideways glance in his direction. We can't leave it on for long, but every hour could be of use. the zenythri went on, looking around for something to put a frame together from. She should probably just throw most of this wet junk away; but if she didn't… She didn't really feel like spreading them out on the ground. Soaked as they were, they'd just develop a lovely crust of mud. The very thought made her shudder.


This drowned rat still has standards!

[Aracor]

Vokon dumps the water along with his flint and steel out of the pouch he had it in.

Eww. I hope someone else will be able to light a fire for a while.

But - he says, looking at Mikolt, it appears that it could have been much worse, so I suppose I'll count my blessings.

[Alhallor]

Well the warm rain was definitely a nice thing. For the first few minutes. But getting wet right to the bones was enough even for Calyd.

When they finally got out of the rain and thankfully weren't swept away by the rising swamp he wringed out his clothing and checked his equipment.

I can definitely make a fire. And I would really love to sit down a bit and dry my dusts, because I would really like to use at least one of them for a little surprise I think it would be better if we continue, though I'm definitely in favor of a quick dry off. Could you make that frame a bit wider?

When Mikolt has finished Calyd cusps his hands to form a sphere and summons a Flaming sphere inside it to at least superficially dry off and help the other stuff dry too.

What do you think, what would the army do if they get sent a tribute to get spared? Like a closed chest? Would they think it's trapped and check it for traps and spells? Or greedily open it? Given how disciplined they are I wager they go with the first option it's kinda uncanny how they operate. So very similiar.

[Saintheart]

Witchcross, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 20 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 0 of 6

Aeric, the star elf, was double-checking that his drum had not been soaked (it hadn't). "I think it unlikely that such tribute would not go uninspected," he said in reply to Calyd's question. "In such records as I studied of history, a hobgoblin army is nothing if not disciplined and careful with their security when on the march. It is not an army of savage orcs the Vale faces. It is a highly organised force."
"We can worry about all that a bit later," said Alastor, pushing his improbably tall hat back on his forehead. "This circus is headed back to town. After we've worked out exactly who or what's in charge at Rethmar, we can figure out what to do then. Put that fire out already, Calyd, we're going."

* * *




Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Early morning, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X56kbqsPdS0&list=PL804F71572F4A36CD&index=6)

Complication Pool: 1 of 6

Long green plains stretching southeast gave way to orchards, crops, herds of cattle; farmhouses spotted the land as they followed the Trail back along its course, a meandering brown track headed to civilization.

An hour after sunrise, it finally came into sight: a splash of white and brown on the horizon that resolved into the largest human construction in the Vale that they'd seen so far. The city of Rethmar crouched in the morning heat on the south bank of the Cannath River, three-quarters of a mile from west end to east end. The city was surrounded on three sides by a wall of stone; the fourth side used the river on the northern side as the boundary; the circus approached from that direction. Two bridges crossed the Cannath, connecting the city with the river's far bank. The highest point in town was a hill nestled in the southeastern quadrant; a large, well-built keep of stone crowned that hill, its towers rivaled only by a grand cathedral built of white stone that stood nearby. The western gates stood on the Dawn Way, and at that gate a steady stream of carts, caravans, and people were crawling into the city. (And a smaller stream of carts, caravans and people trickling out, from the eastern gate.) The north gates were relatively quiet by comparison.

Alastor sniffed. "Not exactly Calimport for scale."
"(Awwk) Even Calimport's gates were getting on too narrow for you to -- ARRK!"
Aeric lowered his hand from where it shaded his eyes. "I make the wall perhaps thirty feet high, Sublime Master. Not terribly imposing. I do not think it dwarven construction. I have seen few battlements in my hundred years--"
"(Arrk) That the last time they made any repairs to the walls? (Squawk)"
"--but there is some comfort to any archer in that wall. Unlike many cities long at peace, they have kept the killing ground intact." The elf gestured at the empty, barren spaces lying outside the city wall. "No cover for troops to advance on the battlement. A contingent of archers on the walls could do fearful damage to any force advancing on the wall. Assuming, of course, they have a good contingent of archers."
"Got to say, looking at the place makes me wonder if they can hold it at all. What do you think?"

Memories swam up of lectures back at the College; of the Warmaster, Palon - a strategist whose personal history was as impressive as his knowledge of military tactics:

"Different walls for different purposes," said Palon's memory, his tenor forever shattered by the crush of an assassin vine's grasp. The scratch of his chalk on the slateboard was a whispering counterpoint to his broken voice. "Keeps are strongpoints. Their purpose is entirely military. They are meant to withstand sustained assault for lengthy periods, and they use the terrain to form choke points, in best design. Height can be invested in because length is typically less of a consideration. By contrast, walls around cities are long and expensive. Every foot of extra height adds orders of magnitude to the overall cost. One builds a high wall around a city for one of three reasons: to keep the people within, keep an inclement environment out, or keep a ruler's ego intact. A wall built thoughtfully around a city has two principal functions: elevation for archers while it remains whole, and a funnel to choke points when breached."

Palon had limped away from the slateboard. "But a good wall means little with no warriors to hold it. Much also depends on the stuff of the wall's commander. History is filled with geniuses who wrung victory from an impossible position - and fools who held superior battlements and lost."

Vokon could see this much even from relatively long distance: the walls were in need of repair work, and fairly quickly. He might not have been a dwarven stoneworker, but time in the mountains and other rough places of the world had given him a sort of rough instinct about how solid stonework could look, how much it bore in common with the sheer, naked strength of a mountain's side. The wall was not of great, thick granite, but likely a heavy sandstone ... reasonable enough, no doubt, given how long ago it had been built, but could certainly use some buttressing.

"It is difficult to say," replied Aeric evenly. "Military strategy was not my forte. But generally much depends on the leadership of such a place when it falls under siege."

And Mikolt couldn't say she was intimately familiar with local customs, but there was a certain gestalt in what she'd seen of the organisation in the towns of Cannath Vale thus far. Something about the way the people referred to their rulers - town Speakers, local village councils, and the like - and the dress of the more prominent people she'd seen so far seemed to suggest the local authority figure was likely to be based on what she had come to call the Erintes model; the local authority was called a 'Lord' by most, but likely wasn't a king ... no, she had a feeling the nobility in this town were remnants of an old human empire's bureaucracy and structure. Not as straightforward and hierarchical as those back in the North, and nothing like the magocracy of Thulthanthar or the militarised structure of the Zhentarim ... but still, a bureaucracy that reserved judicial and military power to a figure who was often called the archontes. Who - at least on her experience, and that of the Zhentarim - usually had slightly more brains and nous than the normal petty king, thanks to a dose of good breeding and often a good education; there was, apparently, some sort of large library in this town, too.

Which wasn't that the archontes likely ruled alone, or was unchallengeable. But between a full autocrat such as a king and a truly weak lord who owed favours to everyone and his dog, an archontes was likely a good somewhere-in-between.

"And what about that big church up there?" Alastor's change of topic was unexpected but not uncommon in the circus's experience, as he pointed a well-rounded finger in the cathedral's direction. "There's a temple to Yondalla somewhere in here - we have to make a visit - but I doubt that's it."

Arendi knew it would be Lathander's church. He couldn't even make out its holy symbols from this distance, but he didn't need to. The rose window visible on the west face was a dead giveaway (so to speak). And Arendi couldn't think of any other gods who like ostentatious cathedrals and stained-glass windows as much as Lathander's did. Even Waukeen's gold-plated temples didn't come close. He could only think it must belong to someone pretty influential in the town to jam an edifice that size that close to the local keep.

And that aside ... there was something else.

He couldn't put a finger on it, no more than one could explain why a scent brings back a certain memory with sudden force. It was just a feeling of something both cold and warm every time he looked at the city.

"I do not know," said Aeric (for once). "But it may be meet to get a sense of all of the city's resources. Especially those of the arcane. A hobgoblin army - especially one with dragons - is not likely to be resisted with steel alone."

And there were other reasons the neraph would agree with that remark: one of the chief ones being simple - an arcanist had brought him to This Place, and it might be that another arcanist could return him Home.

In a while.

"Well, the day's not getting any longer standing here," said Alastor, kicking his heels into Piko, and the goat lumbered forward, toward the city.


No other complications. The canvas is in the Bag of Holding until it gets dried out.

So here the first choice to be made is how the circus approaches entry to the city. It's not terribly likely that it'll be opposed on entry, but it comes down to whether you want to demand to see who's in charge right away, or whether you enter a bit more discreetly and get some other stuff done before turning to talk to anybody in authority (if you want to talk to anyone at all.) Or you could run some combination. Or just flat out get on with your personal errands and not go looking to take over the defence of Rethmar at all. All up to you.

[danielxcutter]

"I am... admittedly not too impressed," remarked the greywarden. "But then, it's not like anyone really prepares for ten thousand zealots with military training and dragons around here. Or anywhere on the Material, really. We probably shouldn't be making too much noise from the start, but we should probably go to the leaders today or tomorrow to at least check how they're doing."

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt did her very best to fight off her growing impatience with musings on local politics and matters military, but a rigid mind like hers was hard to bend away from a task she wanted performed. At long last, Rethmar was within, so to say, her long arm's reach, after all those detours. Of course, the battle at the blockade yielded her first hand experience that she had need of, were she to produce an accurate assessment on the current state of affairs, but the journey from the Ferry seemed excruciatingly long nonetheless; and to her most pleasant surprise the strange mind of the Sublime Master seemed to harbour similar thoughts for once, of duty and oaths to act upon.

As the group finally set out to close the little distance remaining, she pursed her lips for a moment and then spoke up, abruptly. Once we are past the gates, I am going to need some 500 gold, if you see it fit to grant me that much from the spoils of the fights I aided you in. There. It felt unbecoming to make such requests, but she was to make one and it was made. I have… she hesitated fro a moment, looking for an innocuous word. An errand to run and a purchase to make. Once done, I shall accompany you as a courtesy, her mind added to the Lord, if indeed he will have you, and you'll have me. she paused again, letting the words linger a little. What she was to say next – that would be the other difficult bit. She exhaled, somewhat louder than she intended. But after that, we might have things to discuss.

[Saintheart]

Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late morning, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 2 of 6

It was impossible to miss that Rethmar was a city preparing for war, even though as yet there were no smouldering fires or war-torn battlegrounds. On the walls, soldiers were toiling raising temporary watchtowers and securing wooden palisades to the battlement. There was a frenzy of activity in the marketplace, that being the large, open-air square the circus entered due south of the Gate of Kings, the northern gate. Along with the riot of clashing colours of stalls and caravans, and a wave of aromas – leather, incense, sweat, the perfume of oranges – there was another scent on the air: fear.

Travelling merchants and local farmers were swarming the square, but there was an undertone of panic in the transactions rather than greed as such; money was being switched for goods and commodities at a rapid pace. Trios of soldiers – occasionally, a band of Lions of Rethmar on houndback – moved through the square frequently, damping down disturbances where they arose. As the circus watched, a shabbily-dressed halfling with wild grey hair from every facial orifice got onto a large wooden crate, and started shouting about ‘the day of judgment’ and ‘behold the coming of the Crimson King and the Beamquake’. He was brought down quickly by two soldiers who hurriedly marched him from the square and were speaking to him down an alleyway. Whatever the official word on the streets, it was clear that news of the Red Hand’s march had broken in Rethmar.

“The prospects of an appropriate venue or receptive crowd appear somewhat decreased in this vicinity,” said Aeric, flatly, and once again it was impossible to tell whether he was joking or not.
“Well, let’s keep some optimism going,” replied Alastor. “The Great Bremer Circus generates receptive crowds wherever it goes. But a great performance rests on a great night’s sleep the night before, so I’m going to find somewhere to stable the herd and then find the Temple of Yondalla to drop off those papers Kellin Shadowbanks left with us. I’ll aim to be back here about mid-afternoon. Aeric, you come with me – we may need to drum up some business.”
“(Arrk) Oh sweet Silvanus’s knothole you did not just drop a pun like that …(Squawk)”
“—and as promised, here.” Alastor glanced around to see whether they were being watched and then handed over a bag of gold to Mikolt. “We’ll doubtless see you back later today I hope. And best of luck seeing what you can flog that other stuff for, too. Come along, Aeric.”
The fat halfling tipped his top hat and ambled off down the street in search of alcoholic substances.


Calyd, Vokon, and Keda

Various places
Rethmar

The next several hours involved a good deal of talking and walking through the streets of Rethmar. They did manage to get hold of an old street map that was useful in orienting themselves:

https://images2.imgbox.com/52/a9/vNHPKkat_o.jpg



As far as locations and local sights were concerned, Calyd’s conversations were cheery, incisive, and productive:


- The Stone Wyvern is a popular and decent quality inn that got its name from the petrified wyvern dominating the common room. Apparently the wyvern was petrified a century earlier by a group of adventurers defending local farmers, and the inn was built around it. The inn owners have a generational habit of worrying about someone coming along and turning the creature back from stone to flesh.
- Laughing Manticore Tavern is a combination tavern and brewery that catered to rich but wild patrons, meaning the odd adventurer felt right at home in it. Although it was good quality, it seemed everyone Calyd talked to knew (or suspected) that the dapper male human who owned the Manticore, Rillor Paln, was the guildmaster of Rethmar’s Black Knives – a thieves’ guild. But that isn’t apparently a true picture of the Black Knives, since they tended to repress outright crime within the city walls. And much was forgiven Paln because he made very, very tasty drinks at the Tavern.
- The Craven Raven was a high class tavern run by Andraki Lenn, a minor noble who won the place off the reprobate Fargan Fishlip in a game of three-dragon ante and then made significant upgrades. The place is a favourite among Rethmar’s nobility – after performances at Velorian’s, the taproom is always crowded. Adventurers usually weren’t welcome unless they were cultured, dress well, and kept their language clean.
- The Thirsty Zombie was down the ‘economical’ end of locations to stay. It was rough, but popular, mainly because it served strong drinks and sat right on the waterfront, where ships and caravans would dock and refuel (so to speak). There was apparently rarely a night when there wasn’t some sort of fight in the place, or next to it.

- Red Magic and Sundries was the premier, but expensive, location to trade in magic items if one wanted to find something out of the ordinary or failed in Rethmar’s other stalls and stores. It was a thin, multistorey building, one of the few completely stone structures in Rethmar – and was home to Immerstal the Red.
- Shank’s Shivs was to weaponry what Red Magic and Sundries was to arcane items. The proprietor was apparently an ex-bandit who served 10 years in the dungeon below Rethmar Keep, then the next 20 establishing himself as a respectable businessman. It was widely regarded as the best place to get weapons in all of Rethmar, and had a half-dozen artisan smiths on the payroll.

- Rethmar Academy was a two-storey building and perhaps the most prestigious place of learning in the whole of Cannath Vale, including the city of Dennovar another 80 miles further east on the Dawn Way. It had been founded and financed by a revered wizard named Lessiter Kayne and aside from its extensive library, offered courses in history, magical theory, geography, alchemy, engineering, and the arts. There was also a finishing school on the grounds and there were three dormitories nearby.
- Velorian’s Playhouse was a large building which hosted (of course) plays, concerts, dances, debates, and magic demonstrations. The owner was a striking half-elf named Velorian, apparently a retired adventurer who saw the opportunity to build the playhouse. That said, the playhouse was closed given the panic besetting the city from the impending war.

- Haskinar Mansion, Teskerwill Manor and Kaal Manor were the homes of three of the major, influential noble families within Rethmar. Many of the nobility in Rethmar could trace their family lineage back centuries, apparently to the lost kingdom of Lhesper. Of these three major families, the most prominent … and apparently, most dangerous … head was Verrasa Kaal, a shrewd and gifted merchant who held more markers than anyone else in Rethmar – if not the Vale. There were rumours – which were expressed to Calyd with a glance over the shoulder to see if anyone was listening – that Verrasa was intimately linked to Rillor Paln at the Laughing Manticore.

- Rethmar Keep was the principal military fortification for the city. Aside from the Cathedral of Lathander, it was the most recognisable landmark in the city: a squat, five-towered keep perched on Rethmar’s central hill. The archontes, Lord Kerden Jarmaath, ruler of the city, made it his home, which was a much-welcomed reinstitution of an old tradition; apparently, the city’s ruler used to live in one of the mansions downhill, but Jarmaath had taken up residence in the keep on his ascendancy to the title. Jarmaath apparently was one of the best and best loved leaders Rethmar had ever had … although it remained to be seen whether history would care.

The Keep was also the headquarters of Rethmar’s Lion Guard, which was made up entirely of halfling warriors (some of whom the circus had already met on their travels.) The Lions were frequently underestimated as a fighting force, and to their enemies’ dismay. Their commander, with the old title of Gan, was Lars Ulverth, a compact, powerful-looking halfling with a pronounced limp in his left leg which he had stubbornly refused to have healed. He was also stubborn about the funding of his troops, or so the story went, and as a result they were fiercely loyal to him and to Rethmar.

-The Cathedral of Lathander was the most distinctive building in Rethmar. It was a massive structure well over 100 feet in height, supported by the sophisticated architecture of flying buttresses and intricately carved pillars. As the sun rises, its rays shine through a massive stained glass window in the cathedral’s eastern face, washing the interior with a riot of colour. There were about two dozen clerics in the cathedral, led by Shining Servant Tredora Goldenbrow, who was Rethmar’s most powerful cleric.

- The Temple of Kelemvor and the Temple of Yondalla weren’t really the subject of much comment or particularly noteworthy of visitation. Most people didn’t like to think about the God of Death unless it was absolutely necessary, and the Temple of Yondalla was mainly the centre of a large halfling enclave. That said, the halfling presence in Rethmar was extensive and apparently also ancient; certainly it had some historical link to the Lions of Rethmar all being halflings themselves, but there wasn’t enough detail on the street to say what the whole story was.



Amongst the sightseeing and friendly queries, the little triptych of neraph, goliath, and warmage also asked around about the trade goods, artpieces, and jewellery they’d picked up over their travels:


- They were offered 1,200 gp for the two 10-pound hessian sacks containing the sugar made by Halruaa’s Cane Mill. Alastor had thought that would fetch 2,000gp.
- The turning bag of garlic, which Alastor had appraised as worth between 10 and 15 gold, got an offer of 9 gp.
- The 5 pound sack of good quality wool, marked as from the downs outside the Hammerfist Holds, got an offer of 50 gp against the the 40-60gp Alastor had appraised it as.
- A Calimshan merchant offered them 25 gp for the 10 pound sack of milled grain, appraised at 20-30gp.
- They were offered an outrageously low price of 10gp for the red clay amphora with images of a tree in autumn inked on it, which held about 4 pounds of pepper - reasonably rare to find something like that spice in this quantity. Alastor had thought it’d be worth 50gp.
- The corked wine bottle got an offer of 1 gp for it, which wasn’t that far off the appraised value of 2 and 6 gp.
- The black glass bottle with a passable-smelling wine, scenting a little of orange, had been appraised by Alastor between 5 and 15 gp. They got an offer of 12 gp for it.


- They had a canvas depicting the dead sun god Amaunator falling during or right after the destruction of Netheril, and uncommon given it was of Halruaan origin. Alastor had guessed it to be somewhere in the 750-1,250gp range, but they only got an offer of 500gp for it.
- The finely-made locket they had -- with the image of an elven man inside it, and elven runes delicately wrought in silver around the frame – was (Alastor thought) worth about 500 gold, but they got offered about 100gp.
- The fine chalice -- made of gold, and inset with a hundred tiny black pearls, and topped on its rim with a beautifully-carved image of Cyric's mark – got an offer of 1,500 gp. That was well above the 800-1200gp Alastor had thought it to be worth.
- The polished Lady's Mirror, set in gold filigree with a silver rim, decorated on the rim with images of elves, got an offer of a miserable 700gp. Alastor thought this should have been worth 900-1100gp.
- There defaced bronze set of scales got an offer of 80 gp. Alastor had thought they'd probably only garner somewhere between 80 and 120 gold.
- The abacus made of white and black stones got an offer of 100 gp, and Alastor had thought it’d be worth no higher than 110 gp.
- The flute had been appraised at between 50 and 150 gold, and they got an offer of 70gp.


- The five pound polished jade sphere Alastor had thought would be worth between 200 and 1,200 gold, but they just got no offers on it at all; they’d likely have to seek out a more specialised merchant in town to flog it. Some possibilities mentioned included Red Magic and Sundries or indeed the Cathedral of Lathander itself.
- The ring with a chip of obsidian had been appraised by Alastor at 50 gold, but they were only offered 5gp.


The trade in weaponry – perhaps understandably – was pretty brisk, and there wasn’t a dearth of buyers … and there wasn’t a dearth of suppliers, either. Most of the armor and weapons they’d recovered they were only being offered about half of what Vokon, Calyd, and Keda knew to be the full market value of the weapons, which was neither a good offer or a bad one.

There were two exceptions: the Skullcrusher Ogres’ spiked armor, and the plate armor of the blockade commanders. These suits were too big or exceptional to be of much interest to the street merchants and traders they approached over it, especially the plate armor which would not function for a non-hobgoblin. If they wanted to sell it, they’d likely have to seek out a more dedicated merchant – such as Shank’s Shivs, who ran the biggest weapons store in town.

The three adventurers had some choices, then. They could, of course, accept some or all of the offers they were given on the goods thus far, which amounted to a reasonable first-run of local traders to see what the market was for their goods. If they wanted to try their luck with a deeper dive into the local merchants and traders and more specialised stores for better prices, it’d take more time out of the day and the prospect of the offers they already had lapsing. And certainly they might get some sort of price for those goods that had been refused in the first round. Or they could simply take the offers they had and retain the goods that they hadn’t sold. That said, Rethmar was a city about to come under assault and whether there was a market for goods outside the most obvious in the coming days was an unknown question.

What do you do? Looking for more buyers would raise the Complication Pool by 1, and even Vokon and Keda can tell people are starting to take an interest in the interesting trio of travellers with an even more interesting bag of loot.


Arendi

The Temple of Kelemvor
Tall Way, Rethmar

He hadn’t really needed a lot of directions to find his way here. He had simply focused on the brew of cold and warmth at his core that he had been feeling from the moment he’d come in sight of the city walls, and allowed it to draw him on. He made a wide circle westward, passing the great whited structure of the Cathedral on the hill, eventually turning his back to the sun and focusing on the little shadow on his heart that called to him from the southwest.

And finally he turned down the little street that was quiet and still among the bustling of the surrounds, and lifted his eyes to what stood at the centre of the street.

The temple lacked the grandiose scale of the Cathedral up on the hill behind him. Indeed it wasn’t even anywhere near the size of the monastery back in Ormpaturr. But what it lacked in scale, it made up for in sheer age. The temple was built of simple, dark granite, a stone that wasn’t common in the structures in Rethmar. It was essentially a large, domed central building with smaller outbuildings clustered around it. Kelemvor’s symbol – a skeletal arm grasping scales – was carved above the double doors – one of black, one of white -- but Arendi also spotted older, faded symbols on the stairs and in some of the great stones: Jergal’s symbol, and Myrkul’s. This temple had stood here for a long, long time.

As expected, there was no one at the door to greet him. Only the cresting of the shadow at his heart and the song of warmth and ice that accompanied it. He simply pushed open the black door (one traditionally exited the temple by the white) and stepped quietly into the shade and silence beyond. The circular chamber beyond had its usual large statue of the Lord at the centre of the vault, with the pools and biers scattered around the room, lit by arrays of white candles sending sweet-smelling scents into the air. One or two of them were already occupied, and he could see some of his brethren – in greys and blacks – sitting alongside them, leaning in to listen to the people on the biers.

He didn’t have long to wait before he was seen. An acolyte saw Arendi and left the centre chamber, emerging with a man dressed in what looked to be the local robes of a Mortarch: the person at least nominally in charge of the temple. He was a tall, powerfully-built human, six foot six, wearing old-fashioned grey and black robes of office, with pale skin and a heavy red beard below which hung a pendant of the scales of balance similar to Arendi’s own holy symbol.

The mortarch gave a bow. “Greetings, brother. We’ve not had a travelling doomguide here for many years.” Doomguide was almost as archaic an expression as greywarden – it was how they used to speak of itinerant hunters of the undead who swore faith to the Lord of the Dead.

What do you do?


Mikolt

Rethmar

And Mikolt Karabek, holding 500 gold in a pouch, set off into the city on her errand.

What do you have in mind?

[danielxcutter]

Arendi bowed in response as well to the fellow priest. "Greetings to you too, brother. I assume I have you and the other brethren to thank for the relatively warm reception I've had around here. Immediately, some of my friends have had their wills damaged by a group of nasty allips we took care of on our way here, but I do not think the others would mind me looking for other services that would aid us. I am not quite sure, but I believe there's a pretty good chance I and my companions will help defending the city, and we have already done a number of things to delay the army and warn the other towns."

[Metastachydium]

With a simple Thank you, Sublime Master. I will rejoin you as I'm able. Mikolt drifted off into the crowd, looking for a good shadow to disappear in for a moment. She had to be sure that the others pick different paths than her own, uncomfortable as that thought may have made her: she had to proceed discreetly about this. Nor could she fly this time, for much the same reason.

Once all seemed clear enough, she set out, taking the small roads, her wings wrapped around her. She dismissed the idea that she might end up lost; her destination was large and ostentatious enough that she couldn't possibly not stumble across it, especially if she were to ask for directions as needed. Curious, wandering eyes were a bigger issue, of course, but she was confident enough in her ability to stare nuisances out of her way through dispensing glacial glances in a manner sufficiently liberal.


♣

Once the imposing building was finally within sight, the zenythri blended into the shades once more. She removed her quivers first, and then her gauntlet, sinking them into the pack on her back. She could hardly afford looking all too threatening, among other things. Somewhat hesitantly, she pulled her ring, thus far concealed beneath the gauntlet, off her finger. It felt odd. But it had to be done, for all her distaste. She disappeared it in a pouch on her belt. The rest, she would have to handle differently. Composing herself, the knight stepped forth and in a leisurely stride, scanning the entrance for a guard or attendant, she began to close the distance between her current position – and the Cathedral of the Morninglord.


Mikolt uses her Hide in Plain Sight twice, taking 10 for a 25 each time. I hope I can assume she reached the cathedral on her own; otherwise feel free to disregard whatever I got wrong.

One more thing: once there, she doesn't intend to just barge in armed; that's what looking for someone at or around the door is for.

[Saintheart]

Arendi

The Temple of Kelemvor
Tall Way, Rethmar

"Allips? Excellent. The less of those poor tormented shreds of souls remain to harass the living, the better." The mortarch nodded. But even so, he had cocked his head a little to the side and had an odd look in his eyes. "In truth ... we had some idea you were coming. Do you travel with a goliath, a halfling, and ... one who is not from this plane, saer?"

What do you do? The way the mortarch is speaking this doesn't seem to be a request for idle gossip and rather more interest than usual.



Mikolt

The Cathedral of Lathander,
Rethmar

The cathedral's double doors were open. The space within was as cavernous as it appeared from the outside, and the vault as soaring as only a good deal of money and a decade's dedicated construction could buy. Cathedral vaults were meant to resemble forest glades, with the pillars' tops arching like branches from trunks of stone. This one was like one of the glades in the legendary elven domains of Suldanessellar. The main hall would have to be a good hundred, hundred and fifty feet in length from entrance to nave. Flying buttresses and carved columns abounded -- the highest tower's dome was out of view, but it would have easily crested seventy feet or more. The rose window at the far, eastern end of the building was a massive circle of daylight from which Lathander's symbol glowed in stained glass mosaic, vibrant colours washing over the pews and alcoves of the interior. The air tickled the nose with faded incense, and polished wanderwood and darkhelm abounded in every row.

It was hard to miss it was a cathedral dedicated to Lathander, Mikolt could see. The god's legendary ego radiated from every statue in each alcove, which included some of the more notable clerics and heroes of the sun god's faith, but overwhelmingly Lathander's avatar: a muscular, powerful man in the full bloom of youth, a gold headband at his brow, standing in various heroic poses. Lathander shooting an arrow; Lathander holding a child up; Lathander holding the sun in his hands.

The traditional 'pantheon' mosaic was present, up above the windows of the right hand of the cathedral's transept. It showed up a lot in human temples, emphasising the alliance or affiliation of certain elements of the pantheon -- said alliance/affiliation often being against the god she followed, or so she'd been instructed. Lathander, of course, was represented front and centre and several orders larger than the depictions of the other gods. (She could see Kelemvor's image was amongst them. He was up the back with the look of someone trying to edge into an overcrowded portrait).

It apparently wasn't a particular time for group rituals, since the great altar at the cathedral's heart was untended. However, there were a couple of prayer groups scattered around the space, led in each case by a white-robed acolyte. And there while the space wasn't as busy as the streets back down in town, there was similarly an apprehensive feeling over the cathedral; people were sitting in silence in a couple of places, hands wringing.

Eventually a young, dark-skinned human woman in a white robe came over. She would've been no older than eighteen or so and had a waterfall of curly black hair that cascaded down her back, her face framed by a simple golden circlet. "Hello. You look a little lost. Is there something I can help you with?"

What do you do?

[danielxcutter]

"Two someones not from this plane actually, but otherwise yes. Did Lord Kelemvor bestow you some insight, brother... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

[Saintheart]

Arendi

The Temple of Kelemvor
Tall Way, Rethmar

"Mazrim," said the mortarch, tapping a hand to his chest. "Mazrim Haskinar, gardener of the Lord's field." And there was another old-fashioned name - this time, one for a graveyard, and sometimes an ossuary or crypt. "And yes, brother, there has been a divination. The Lord has given us to know a great harvest is due for him, soon, here, in this city. As always, we are not given to know its outcome, only that there will be much work for us in the midsummer. And that we may ourselves be part of the harvest. We are to prepare."

Mazrim had the usual equanimity one expected of a cleric of Kelemvor when it came to death, even his own. And then the strange look came back into his eyes. "But with the Lord's message was another: that three would come walking with a brother of our faith. Three who were meant to be here ... and who were not meant to be here. Three who saw the Lord's land ... and then did not see it." Mazrim was now peering intently at Arendi. "Do you know what I'm talking about?"

What do you do?

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt got past her distaste for the assembled host of depictions featuring the foes of her god with a mere, barely perceptible twitch at the corner of her mouth. Whatever their position on her lord, these were still vast beings and this dwelling was sacred to one of them. She would behave. That said, when that young thing assumed the zenythri was lost, she was not wrong. This promised to be a complicated situation to navigate and she wasn't much of a talker. Greetings. she said, nevertheless, quickly and with a little bow that she meant to be very polite. I'm here to purchase a service. she explained slowly, hesitantly. A spell of some power that I need cast on my behalf. she added. But entering the abode of Lathander armed seemed… Unbecoming, to say the least.

[danielxcutter]

"That... does remind me of something. Three times so far, I have seen one of my friends come close to death, but turned out to be barely hanging on to life under closer examination. Alastor, the halfling ringmaster during the fight against one of the Wyrmlords. Keda, a hunter from I believe Limbo, I do not remember what his race is called, almost died to a curse used on him by a foul priestess of Cyric. And Vokon, goliath strongman and great warrior, during our assault on a goblin blockade."

Arendi paused before continuing. "And brother Mazrim... I have felt something else as well. Twice I have performed funeral rites on this journey, once for a merchant slain by the goblin raiders, once for a friend after the assault on the Wyrmlord. Both times, there has been something... more. Just for a moment perhaps, a touch of our Lord's grace? I am not quite sure, but I do not think it is an ill omen. At least, not any more than the current situation."

[Saintheart]

Arendi

The Temple of Kelemvor
Tall Way, Rethmar

Mazrim shook his head. "No, it is not an ill omen. But combined with the incidents around your travelling companions, it does confirm the divination. Be sure - you did not find your companions close to death. They had in fact passed. And then returned. A journey of that kind is rare. It leaves a ... mark, on those who return. They return, less vital, less ... full, than they once were. Were you to bring them to this temple, every of the brethren here would feel their presence, for one. Others they deal with can feel it, too. And it comes because of something stirring in this Vale that we had thought long asleep."

Mazrim gestured to a nearby empty bier, where the two of them sat down. The mortarch smoothed his beard down before speaking again. "Centuries ago an artifact came to the Realms. The Lord does not choose to risk us with great knowledge of the thing. We know it was made by a powerful worker of magic named Maerlyn, that it was the last of thirteen glass orbs he made, his Bends o' the Rainbow. This artifact, the Black Bend, was filled with and driven by the evil of the unspeakable powers lying between the planes of all worlds. Its foul presence alone attracted misfortune and destruction; it led to great sorrow for a band of heroes, and eventually it obliterated the great tower in which it was hidden to keep it safe from men. In that destruction, it shed much of its power to survive ... and brought itself here. To the Realms. And here, in this place and time, its evil is to tamper with the passage between life and death ... and to allow those who know its secrets to use it in a tiny, pathetic way, to break the boundary between life and death. It is a foul taste in the Lord's mouth ... and for centuries, it slept, somewhere hidden in the wilds of the Vale."

The temple had become quiet, even for its sombre surroundings. "Something has woken it. It is here, somewhere, in the Vale ... or coming to the Vale. We do not know where. Even with much of its power lost, it has lost none of its cunning for concealment. And we were always commanded, by the Lord, and even by his predecessors, to refrain from seeking it out. Its taint is not yet pervasive, but it takes particular pleasure in seeking out, tempting, or twisting those who destiny has touched. Or means to touch. But the time to avoid seeking it out is past. This much the Lord was willing to say. And he indicated that if it is not found, not put back to sleep, then it will play a part in the great harvest that is to come. The taint it has marred your travelling companions will depart when it sleeps once more."

Mazrim made a sort of shrug with his hands. "We can restore such damage as the undead may have inflicted upon your companions. Undoing what the Black Bend, what others have called Black Thirteen, has done ... that is well beyond our power. It requires finding and dealing with the source of its taint."

What do you do?


Mikolt

The Cathedral of Lathander,
Rethmar

The young cleric had an understanding smile. "Your discretion is appreciated, saer. We don't have many ... visitors, of your people, who come here. What sort of spell do you seek? Some things many of us can deal with, but we are not all as favoured in the faith as Tredora Goldenbrow is."

What do you do?

[danielxcutter]

"That... that would explain a few things, yes," replied Arendi softly.

"And it seems that evil is crawling out from every crack in the floorboards these days. I mentioned that Cyric priestess right? She was posing as an ordinary shopkeeper, but was sacrificing villagers to her mad god every full moon. And the goblin army seems to be interested in the Ghostlord. A druid of Silvanus told us the folk tales were actually rooted in truth. I don't suppose you know anything about that, Mortarch Mazrim? Ah, where are my manners, I've not even told you my name. I am Arendi Marthebar. My friends will introduce themselves when I bring them there, as soon as convenient."

[Saintheart]

Arendi

The Temple of Kelemvor
Tall Way, Rethmar

Mazrim nodded. "We'll see them as soon as you bring them in. And well done for eliminating that cancerous presence of the Cyricite, too. Things are dire enough without a priestess of that mad god running around sowing chaos. As for the Ghostlord..." He lifted his opened hands what passed for a hand-gestured shrug. "That name is known to us, but we have always been ... discouraged, from intervening. The local druid circles are not keen on supporting any efforts to locate such a being. Exactly why has never been completely apparent to us. Of course, if such a being existed somewhere closer to more, shall we say, cosmopolitan regions, I don't doubt there would be sufficient doomguides or indeed outright paladins of the Lord to make a determined search. But as for us? We're long-established, but our time is well-occupied just dealing with the Lord's most mundane duties." He nodded discreetly to the other biers around the temple's interior. "We haven't the strength to begin sending our own brethren out to chase a legend. If you were of a mind to do so, I'd say the best starting point would be somewhere in the history of the Vale itself. As much as we've gathered about such an entity is that the stories first began to arise around the time of the foundation of Rethmar. Not that the Ghostlord has any connection with the city itself, just that the tales go back to then."

What do you do?

[danielxcutter]

"Ah, I see. Well, with something this important I'll have to bring the others. Thank you for the information, brother Mazrim," replied Arendi, bowing. "And as I said earlier, I would assume the warmer-than-usual reception I've gotten is due to the work done by the brethren here, so thank you for that as well."

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt

The Cathedral of Lathander,
Rethmar

The young cleric had an understanding smile. "Your discretion is appreciated, saer. We don't have many ... visitors, of your people, who come here. What sort of spell do you seek? Some things many of us can deal with, but we are not all as favoured in the faith as Tredora Goldenbrow is."


I am told it is known as Sending and it allows for delivering short messages, no matter the distance. Mikolt replied with a highly appreciative nod, not bothered in the least by the young cleric being in no immediately apparent hurry to usher her inside. She wasn't meant to enter and she knew that. I'm also told it is a hard one to cast for those without many a year to serve a faith. That is why I'm bothering you now: this is the grandest place of worship in the Vale that I'm aware of, and a place of power. the knight went on, with no trace of empty flattery to her words. I'm ready to pay and in advance if you see fit.

[Saintheart]

Mikolt

The Cathedral of Lathander,
Rethmar

"I know the incantation," said the acolyte, smiling. "Well, that is, I know of it, but it's not a spell that someone like me can cast. It's something only the head of the faith here in Rethmar has enough favour to attempt. You'd need to see Tredora Goldenbrow, the custodian of this cathedral. And I'm certain she can make herself available for an appointment, but it won't be today - tomorrow at the earliest, since she'd have to seek the Shining One's blessing before casting it. And she'd need to meet you, of course. But you're right, it would require a donation to the temple, in advance since it's taking an incantation away from our leader that she might need for someone else. Especially now, with things uncertain and the needs of the city growing more important. So yes. The sum of 400 gold should secure you the casting."

That sum's a bit larger than normal for the casting of a spell, but it is wartime. What do you do?

[Metastachydium]

Something not much unlike a relieved smile appeared on Mikolt's face. Tomorrow seemed far away alright, but she was all but certain that the solar clergy prayed at dawn and the hike in prices was somewhat less than she anticipated. Thank you; I will request an appointment, then, at Mistress Tredora's earliest convenience, if possible. she said with a simple bow. Shall I just… she looked around, appearing somewhat lost yet again. Count the gold into your hand here, or… she pursed her lips, before letting loose a sigh. Please pardon my stuttering; I'd like to follow the proper procedure as closely as I'm able.

[Saintheart]

Mikolt

The Cathedral of Lathander,
Rethmar

The acolyte smiled. "I can take the gold off your hands now, and if you return here shortly after dawn tomorrow, the morning service should be over and we'll get you before the priestess then."

What do you do?

[Metastachydium]

The zenythri nodded again, solemnly. That would be excellent, thank you. she confirmed, pulling out the pouch Alastor gave her to open it, letting the sun glint on the gold: it was Lathander's to take.


Feel free to separate the 400 from the 100 as the little cleric sees fit; Mikolt being Mikolt, she intends to return the latter sum to the Sublime Master ASAP.

[Saintheart]

Rethmar Keep,
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 4 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Keda

Alastor hadn't returned.

They had waited until reasonably late in the afternoon, but there was no sign of the rotund halfling or the thin elf who had gone with him (not to mention any sign of their menagerie). But the group had decided given the urgency of the situation that they'd try to find halfling and elf later on, and so headed back into the city once more - this time to the building highest on the hill around which Rethmar had been built, the five-towered castle that was Rethmar Keep.

The castle seemed to be in better repair than the wall that ringed the city; there were signs of new-laid mortar and mismatching dark grey colour patches where new stones had replaced cracking, ancient ones. Whoever had designed the keep long ago, the coverage of the towers was solid, covering all the approaches; the walls themselves were thicker than the city wall itself. Whatever else might happen in the event of an assault on the city and its wall, the Keep would hold out much longer ... although it would be a fateful and sorrowful defence if they were pushed to, quite literally, the last resort. There was no moat, but labourers, sweating in the heat, were digging frantically and setting heavy stakes in around the base of the wall. The doors must have been of dwarven construction: they were as thick as the walls, and made of stone, constructed on carefully-engineered stone pegs similarly to Morlin Coalhewer's smithy back in Drellin's Ferry.

Inside was where the keep revealed its elegance. Most keeps in the northern parts of the Realms were musty, dark, stuffy places, but the spaces inside the walls had been crafted to give a defender ample room to move while hampering those of the defenders; murder holes bloomed and patches of floor clearly designed as quick-open trapdoors leading to pit traps lined passageways. And yet the military function of the place was not completely overbearing; there were still beautiful cornices carved into vaulted ceilings, and shafts of light were thrown across light patches of stone, sending ambient radiance bouncing into the shadows.

They were not opposed. There were Lions of Brindol on the gate - two triplets of halflings mounted on riding dogs, and when they gave their names there were flarings of recognition among the bushy-haired defenders of the keep, and they were both ushered into the keep and led quickly towards its heart.

The keep's great hall was filled with orange light like fire. The windows had been placed to take advantage of the setting sun. Mosaics inlaid centuries before gleamed in a hundred colours on the walls. There were images of Silvanus, Lathander, and Yondalla on the walls, and at the far end a great portraitlike mosaic of a human with a diadem with three great white gems set upon it. The floor was stone, and inlaid with its own mosaic: an old, old map of what - at a glance - seemed to be Cannath Vale itself, although the text was untranslatable and seemed to have more green plain in the southeast corner than maps the circus members had seen so far.

There were about a dozen servants and officials in murmuring groups around the hall. A couple of them were in rich-looking togas, but the majority seemed to be wearing practical gear and rather more swords than perhaps was usual in a noble's court. Off to one side, some of the circus would have been surprised to see a couple of familiar faces: Falspar, the half-orc merchant they'd met at Talar, together with the red-headed woman who had been accompanying him. The half-orc looked more grim than when he'd met them, and the woman was focused (as many others were) on the ongoing discussions around the hall.

However, the little knots of conversation in the hall were as moons orbiting the focus and centre of the hall: a man and a halfling standing on the map of Cannath Vale, frowning over small wooden statuettes laid out at what presumably were towns and settlements in the Vale.

The halfling was barely that. This one was heavily muscled, built like a barrel and hard like oak, rising almost to the height of a dwarf. Grey-haired, he was clad in mail armour, and his piercing blue eyes drew attention away from the longsword strapped across his back and the lions' head pendant around his neck. That, presumably, was Gan Lars Ulverth, the leader of the Lions of Rethmar.

The man wasn't in armour, but the scarlet robes and black toga he wore did nothing to conceal his health and build. He was a tall man, halfway to seven feet, with brown eyes, a short beard and long hair tied in a ponytail, both of salt-and-pepper. He wore a longsword at one hip and a dagger at the other. His arms were folded, and a gold signet ring with a single purple gem gleamed from one hand where it rested on his arms. He stood more or less where Rethmar presumably was located on the mosaic of Cannath Vale. Judging by the way the room oriented to him, the way the people were waiting on his word, this could be no other than Lord Kerden Jarmaath, the archontes of Rethmar.

The halfling who'd brought them to the great hall rapped the butt of his shortspear on the floor and announced the circus to the room in a rolling baritone designed to cover a battlefield. And most of the great hall turned toward the circus.

What do you do?

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt had a bad feeling about this; the disappearance of someone so hard not to notice, even from afar, as the Sublime Master was odd, at best. This feeling of unease persisted throughout the trek back down to Rethmar's center and up the citadel's hill, further worsened by the weight of the pouch with the halfling's gold she hoped to return before the sun would set. She could have stayed behind to wait for him some more, of course, but an audience with the local lord before the next dawn promised intelligence she would rather garner – and the way the Lions guarding the Kepp received them told her that was certainly feasible.


♣

Once the echoes of the impromptu herald's words ceased, Mikolt stepped forward to stand somewhat apart from the Circus and leaning on the glaive's shaft, now held in her left, her arm coiled curiously around the wood she gave the two in the center of the hall a stiff bow, as if reporting for duty, her empty right raised in greeting. Archontes. Gan Ulverth. she said solemnly, keeping her head down. She was a soldier, after all. She had served for long enough to know this much: it was not yet her turn to speak; and if and when it would be was not hers to decide. The lords came first and the lords spoke first, by right. Her part was, then, to wait and hope they would choose to talk.

[Saintheart]

Rethmar Keep,
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 4 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Keda

The dignified approach drew a raised eyebrow from Lord Jarmaath. Glancing at the old halfling with him, the tall man took a couple of steps toward the circus. The movement drew him away from the mosaic of the Vale and its array of little statuettes.
"So you would be the ... band of travellers that we've heard much about," he said. The voice was deep; commanding. Hint of a local accent, a slight softening of the occlusives. He gazed over their group. "The tales have been growing in the telling. Still, the Speaker of Drellin's Ferry attests to your exploits there. And the Lions," he nodded to the Gan, "tell me you diverted your course to deal with a blockade on the Lhesper Trail. Is this so?"

What do you do?

[danielxcutter]

"...Not without some difficulty, but yes," said the greywarden, nodding.

[Metastachydium]

Arendi's oddly casual tone surprised Mikolt, in turn. We captured, demolished and torched the barricade three days ago, Archontes. she elaborated quickly, maintaining a rigid stance, even as she tried to spy a side glance at the battle map behind Jarmaath and Ulverth. Its garrison fell in the action, barring an officer that surrendered and was captured for further questioning. The prisoner escaped, unarmed and unarmoured, the first night, into an allegedly dangerous tract of marshland. We have no evidence of his demise, however. she confessed sourly. Do you need proof for any of this?

[Saintheart]

Rethmar Keep,
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 4 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Keda

Although it wasn't terribly clear, the partial glances she got from the map seemed to indicate the statuettes were placements of troop numbers - there were several gathered in what presumably was Rethmar's location, and other much smaller configurations scattered across the Vale. One prominent piece, a frowning dwarf, seemed to be placed over in a range of hills roughly south of where Drellin's Ferry stood.

(The mosaic looks much like the overall map of Cannath Vale that's at the front of the OOC thread. The statuette of the frowning dwarf is sited on the area of the map marked Hammerfist Holds, at the northern edge of the North Wall.)

"Yondalla's Bountiful Horn, there's some good news," said Gan Ulverth. The halfling's voice was scratchy and broken with age, but his relief and brightening face was apparent even as he limped forward. "With that road open we can send safely to Shaarmid." He seemed to remember himself, turning back to Jarmaath. "My lord--?"
Jarmaath nodded. "Yes. Your fastest three riders, and your best mounts. Send them now. We'll have to hope the hussaryn respond as fast as they receive the message."
The Gan nodded, snapping a finger to one of the halflings who stood by, and the two folk drew aside to speak for a moment.
Jarmaath turned his attention back to the circus, and in particular to Mikolt. "We've not particularly the time for proof, and here we warrant actions more than words. You've killed a dragon, so it's told by Speaker Wiston and others who've come here from Drellin's Ferry - and the outriders we've got along the Dawn Way confirm the march of the hobgoblin army. I see no reason to doubt you and have much reason to believe you. It would seem that twice now the people of this Vale are in your debt. If the hussaryn arrive, it will be that many more troops to place against this horde ... and we will need every fighting man we can gain. But you needed only send word of the blockade, so what is it that brings you here, saers?"


What do you do?

[Alhallor]

Calyd took a decisive step forward, briefly bended one knee, barely let it touch the ground and then elegantly flowed up again to adress both Gan Ulverth and Jaarmath.

We wanted to offer our help in these trying times. We see that you have a lot to do and as you said, this troupe has brought down a dragon. Even if Calyd wasn't strictly part of that endeavor, but he definitely did his fair share of fighting. If you have an idea where we could get additional allies or have other ideas how we can help you, we will try. We also have acquired some weaponry that we would like to share, to better the defenses of Rethmar. And if you would let us take a look into your personal library we may be able to scrunge up an unusual ally, though we can't say anything concrete at this moment.



Diplomacy should it be needed: [roll0]
Should Calyd be pressed about the nature of the unusual ally: I'm sure you've heard of "the Ghostlord"? I'm well aware that it's a mere childs tale to most, but seeing what walks towards Rethmar and what I've heard from the rest of the troupe, it seems foolish to not even consider.

[Saintheart]

Rethmar Keep,
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 4 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Keda

Jarmaath's eyebrows rose. "I ... don't have a personal library, I'm afraid. Not enough room in this keep for books, you see." There was a sort of group chuckle from the covey of courtiers scattered around the hall. "If it's a library you seek, though, I'd suggest you look to the Academy - the scholars there have a not-inconsiderable array of texts and historical works. But I trust you'd consult with me before you bring some sort of unknown force to aid the work we have to do here."

But the archontes smiled. "Any weaponry you have available to share with us would be most appreciated, yes. We've had some civic-minded conversations with some local merchants in that respect," he added, glancing over at Falspar off to the side, "but frankly any resource we can access is going to be useful if not needed."

"As for what you might be able to do to assist ... well." Jarmaath stepped back over to the mosaic of Cannath Vale, sending the courtiers slipping away to the edges of the map.

https://images2.imgbox.com/99/e6/pz0D8J8l_o.jpg

"The first priority is gathering as many troops as possible to defend this city." He waved a hand at the little statuettes sitting at various settlements and on roads in the Vale. "I am calling up everyone I can assemble from every town and village that owes the city vassalage. They will all help, but even if every farmer who can swing a sword is put on the wall, I do not think we can hold the city without a significant core of well-trained warriors. Courageous as they are, the Lions will not be enough, and so far we only have a small contingent from Cannathgate's watch to form any sort of backbone." His voice deepened to a growl. "They realise the scale of the threat and apparently would rather wait out the assault and let us bleed here first. In any event, there will be no further aid from there." Jarmaath sighed. "Which leaves us with three other groups I think might be feasibly brought in and who could stiffen the city's defences. The first are the hussaryn - but now that you've cleared that blockade, that is a matter for a fast courier, not for your band. There is nothing more I could ask you to do on that front."

The archontes moved across the map, nodding to the frowning dwarf statuette sitting on that portion of the map which seemed to indicate the Hammerfist Holds. "The second are the forces that Othrek Hammerfist commands in his mountain villages. Leaving aside the warriors of clan Hammefist itself, there's also a contingent of three hundred dwarven mercenaries - the Shining Axes - who make the Holds their base of operations. The mercenaries can, of course, be bought, and I have a sum of funds available for that purpose. But it needs someone to safely get that sum out there. And the ideal would be if Othrek can be convinced to swing his clan forces to the defence as well, but that would be a matter for persuasion rather than payment. I can, of course, send a small contingent out there, but with the time eating away I'll need to send someone soon."

Jarmaath turned back to that portion of the map north of Rethmar, indicating the marshlands that the circus had come out of. "And the third is more speculative, but might be most valuable. The one saving grace to this city's structure is that the killing ground is still intact outside the walls. But we can't leverage that asset without a force that can best use it. We need archers. We need them very badly. And the Blackfens, the swampland where the blockade was, contains such a force. There is a tribe of elves living there - the Tiri Kitor, as we know them."
"And that's about as much as we know of them," said Gan Ulverth. The halfling commander had finished his discussion and had limped back to Jarmaath's side. "The elves in these parts aren't the shy, retiring types like in Suldanessellar, or up in the Cormanthor. A Tiri Kitor warrior's more likely to slit you in half than sing ancient songs at you. Wild huntsmen, one and all. They mark those swamps as their territories and the reason we know they're good archers is because a decent number of foolish people've gone into that swamp looking to talk with them, usually ending up with three arrows augured right between the eyes." He tapped the bridge of his nose for emphasis. "Now and then, a trader gets in and out and tells us something of them. They usually keep to themselves and they've never harried the Lhesper Trail, so we leave them be. How exactly the hobgoblins got that damned blockade built in there I've no idea. Anyone going in there best have his next of kin selected and his last will and testament filled out and resting with the temple of Kelemvor."
"We are all going to have to make those arrangements come highsummer if we don't man the walls," said Jarmaath, and the Gan folded his arms and subsided into silence. "And we could cost the hobgoblins dearly in blood with a force of Tiri Kitor archers on the walls. Which is why, even if it is more out of desperation than anything else -- someone needs to go into the swamp and make contact with the Tiri Kitor. See if they can be brought over to the defence of Rethmar. If there were any one task I would ask of you, it would be that one. But you are not sworn to the defence of this city, and anything you could help with would, again, be appreciated."

"There's things other than recruitment we need help with," added Gan Ulverth. The halfling tapped that section of the mosaic where the western end of the Dawn Way lay. "The hobgoblins burned Drellin's Ferry two days ago, and based on the timeline you've given us, the Red Hand main force is on its way to Terrelton. It's both a blessing and a curse that they seem determined to make a straight march up to the walls here rather than sack all the towns south of the river. If they hadn't, we might have more time to get ready. But because they haven't, the outlying villages will have more time to evacuate. But we've got teams of harvesting peasants out between here and Terrelton, trying to bring in every sheaf of grain and bushel of fruit they can get, or fire the rest, ahead of the hobgoblins - it's all coming back here for storage. But I'd say the odds are good that the hobgoblins'll have raider parties ranging out ahead of the main force, and those peasants are prime targets. We've got small forces to protect them, but they'll at best only hold off a raid, they're not equipped to stand and fight - and every wagon of grain or band of gleaners we lose out there is another child starving come the winter - if we can hold the wall here. And then there's the walls themselves that need buttressing, the gates, trying to put mass cauldrons of pitch to pour over the wall - all those things..."

"But as said," interjected Jarmaath, "you are not sworn to the defence of this city, and we would take your aid in any respect with thanks."

What do you do?

Again for reference, Koth's map from the keep which sets out the hobgoblin timeline is here:

https://images2.imgbox.com/15/1f/DBzvPn4J_o.jpg

Drellin's Ferry burned 2 days ago, and from that you should be able to work out the Red Hand's planned timeline from here. Happy to elucidate if needed.

[danielxcutter]

"Hmm. That reminds me, we have a map of our own, from the Wyrmlord we slew," said the greywarden. He looked back at the others and asked, "Who has it again?"

[Saintheart]

Rethmar Keep,
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic


Complication Pool: 4 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Keda


The Gan was nodding. "One of your number made a replica on the shield of the Cul you met on the road to Talar. We made our own copies, here." He limped over to a table at the wall of the room and unrolled a parchment that looked very similar to the notes the circus had recovered from Koth's body.

So, yeah. What do you do?

[danielxcutter]

"Well, don't suppose anyone knows anything more about the Ghostlord? The brethren of my faith didn't know much about that legend, but the goblins seem to be interested - and a grovemaster we met back in the Ferry said that there was indeed such a person back then."

[Saintheart]

Rethmar Keep,
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic


Complication Pool: 4 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Keda

"The Ghostlord?" Jarmaath blinked. "We saw the name scribed on the hobgoblins' notes, but I must admit I didn't take much account of it. We were rather more worried about the timeline for arrival of the army. It's a Harves'ide story from long ago..."

Gan Ulverth frowned. "I have to say it's more than just a story to the Lions of Rethmar, my lord. It's part of our history. When the kings of Lhesper first built this city, south of the river, a war with the barbarian tribes that lived here was all but inevitable. There was a decent halfling settlement here back then, and their leader - Lannis Fogmount - swore fealty to Good King Elias, where the Temple of Yondalla now stands, in exchange for the king's protection. Fogmount also gave his warriors and his people into the service of the kings of Lhesper, and Fogmount's clan - his Riders - went into battle with Elias against the Ghostlord's tribesmen and the lions he ruled over. When the war was over, Fogmount's Riders were given the title of Lions of Rethmar ... in memory of their shadow, the Ghostlord, the foe they had helped to conquer."

The Gan brushed an ageing hand through his grey-white hair. "We're not historians, but the way our stories tell it, the Ghostlord was said to have had a lair in the lands where the Thornwaste now lies. Exactly where we don't know, but given the story of the war includes that the Ghostlord was killed there, I presume its location was once known. It might be that there's a record somewhere in the Academy, but we'd have nothing here or in the Temple of Yondalla about it I think."

What do you do?

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt glowered at Calyd briefly, soft wrinkles forming on her nose, as the man gave the lord his all too generous offer, but with it becoming increasingly clear that the reckless magnanimity of the warmage did what she hoped to achieve here, she relented somewhat. They would need to talk this over; but not here and not at this point. Instead, taking advantage of the digression about the Ghostlord devolving into idle storytelling, she cleared her throat and spoke up again. At any rate, these are not the only issues your lands face, Archontes. While and she shot a pointed, side glance at Calyd I cannot tell you if I can be of service to Rethmar, and in what capacity until tomorrow morning, allow me to remind your lordship of some further causes for worry, to show goodwill. she went on, her tone ever respectful. There is a man called Kalmar that holds sway over Terrelton, and another in Talar, a certain Kiburi who, I am told, is a werewolf as well. The one chose to hinder the efforts needed for evacuation; the other walks unmolested in front of the guards and threatened us with violence for reasons unclear. They will never become a threat on par with the Reds or so I reckon, but your lordship might want to account for them.

[Saintheart]

Rethmar Keep,
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic


Complication Pool: 4 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Keda

Jarmaath shrugged. "I appreciate you bringing these issues to my attention, but as you say, Terrelton's issues with who rules over it will be somewhat irrelevant once the Red Hand rolls over it in a few days' time. If there is some thug in Talar threatening you there, then by all means we will keep watch for such a one - where we can spare an eye at all. Turning to more immediate matters - is there some way your band might be able to assist?"

What do you do?

[danielxcutter]

"Hmm, what'd be the shortest route to tackle each of these in sequence?" mused Arendi. "Also... while I'd honestly love to go and take out some of those raider parties, that won't mean much if the army comes to Rethmar and all the extra defenses they have are three toothpicks. Definitely something worth doing if we do end up having some spare time, though."

[Saintheart]

Rethmar Keep,
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic


Complication Pool: 4 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Keda

Jarmaath nodded, gesturing back at the map. "A wise question, saer greywarden. Albeit I am not sure it is achievable for you to deal with all of these causes, at least on foot - and I am honoured and humbled that you would consider doing so. For my part - I must send to the Hammerfist Holds soon, since no matter how quickly the messenger reaches Othrek, they will take I would have thought the better part of two weeks to march their troops back here. The deeper the Red Hand penetrates up the Dawn Way, the more circuitous the route a force would have to take to reach Rethmar from the Holds without engaging the hobgoblins in the open. It is one thing for your band to travel at speed, another thing entirely to force-march a contingent of heavy infantry up unsealed roads, since the Dawn Way is now denied to us."

He pointed to the marshes. "Obviously the fens are much closer, so your travel there and back would take much less time. And as said, if I could order you to go, that would be where I would send you first, since archers I regard as the greater priority, and because I would have to better-equip a force I send there as opposed to a force I send as courier for a payment to mercenaries."

What do you do?

[Alhallor]

Calyd's face turned sour for a moment, he didn't wanted to embarass Jarmaath but it doesn't seem to bother him that much, thankfully. Though the thing about the elves were... Weird. Of course he knew that elves are perfect little servants if trained right (at least that's what was claimed but these elves seem to be really something else entirely.) He was too absorbed in his own thoughts to realize Mikolts warranted glare.

If you could point us in the directions of some of these traders who could get into they're territory without getting shot at would be quite helpful. Establishing diplomatic relationships with these... Swamp elves seem to be a bit harsh, getting as much information about them as possible seems to be necessary if we want to persuade them to lend Rethmar they're aid.

Should it become necessary what would you be willing to offer them, should they want compensation for they're warriors? I do know that Rethmar needs them but I can't imagine they willingly joining just because we ask them nicely. They don't seem to be these types of people by your description. Really what weird elves do they have here?

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt bowed her head respectfully towards the lord before shifting back somewhat. At this point, she didn't know if she had anything to offer and least of all future service. Once the discussion settled on circling around the swamp elves, however, she cautiously interjected a side remark, aimed more at her companions than their hosts. Saarvith lairs thereabouts, with a dragon.

[Saintheart]

Rethmar Keep,
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic


Complication Pool: 4 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Keda

At Calyd's request, Gan Ulverth's face took on the sort of smile one normally associated with halflings. "As it happens, there's one right in this room. Trader Falspar," he said, turning to the tall half-orc with piercing green eyes and curiously delicate hands. "You've had some experience at dealing with the Tiri Kitor and not dying in the process."
Falspar glided over to them. And sort of loomed once he'd gotten there. His female companion came up in his shadow, throwing a (quickly-erased) disappointed look in Arendi's direction. The half-orc folded his delicate hands in the folds of the loose robe he wore, giving a polite bow to the circus but turning his gaze to the Gan and Lord Jarmaath. "It is not a process I particularly enjoyed," said the half-orc.
"But you have been there," said the Gan.
"I have traded with them. I cannot say, because I do not know, whether I had reached their main settlement, or any significant leader amongst them. And the trading was more an accident than anything planned. Years ago, I came across one of their young warriors, injured, just off the Lhesper Trail - on my way to Shaarmid. I helped him, and then was taken prisoner when the band that was looking for him found me. The bravo I'd saved argued on my behalf, and for my pains they took my goods, blindfolded me, and took me somewhere deep in the marshlands. I spoke with one of their clerics - Illian Snowmantle - at one of their encampment, and after some questioning we had some transactions." Falspar shrugged, which was an impressive sight. "I happened to have a couple of ingots of bronze with me, and they were interested in that. Afterward I was taken back, blindfolded, to a location off the trail and told that if I wished to deal with them again for trade, I should proceed there and await their presence."
"Where is this place?" asked Jarmaath.
"I do not think it wise to disclose trade secrets in such company," said Falspar, gesturing to the courtiers around the room. "I would consent to lead a group to the location - for a price."
"That's unhelpful, saer," said Jarmaath, and the frown and look on this place said that was an understatement.
"You are asking me to risk open movement in time of war, into an area where there have been hobgoblins present, my lord," said Falspar, evenly. "You are risking my reputation with the Tiri Kitor also. I do not know how they would react to my coming to the rendezvous with company. I am no more sworn to this city's defence than these are, and I am far less equipped to help than they are. If by doing this you end any association I have with the Tiri Kitor, I am entitled to just compensation under the laws of the Vale."

What do you do?

[danielxcutter]

"Well, knowing the Red Hand they won't exactly be safe just staying in their swamp either," said Arendi. "Perhaps we can contact them with magic first? It'd be more polite to do that before we try knocking on their door first. Actually did they have doors?"

[Saintheart]

Rethmar Keep,
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic


Complication Pool: 4 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Keda

"We have attempted that, both in the past and very recently," said Jarmaath. "And had silence in reply - at least as against the cleric that Trader Falspar mentioned. We don't know any of the others, and something interferes with any scrying we have tried in that part of the fens. Which is why I must resort to bringing the request in person. As for what can be offered on the city's behalf, if they have an interest in gold, then we can run ourselves bankrupt to bring them in, I suppose--"
"Gold is unlikely to interest them," said Falspar. "Their trading was mostly in stock and minor magic items. They don't appear to require the metal that drives dwarves mad. I would hazard that a compact assuring them control over the marshlands would render them more amenable. So far as I could tell anything about them, they are mostly nomadic, and consider the marsh their domain."
Jarmaath opened his hands. "If it is that ground they want, then they can have my assurance that their borders will be respected by us. That ground is not fit for farm nor mine - and likely never will be."

What do you do?

[Saintheart]

Rethmar Keep,
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 4 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Keda

There was a short silence, and Falspar nodded. "I can work with those terms. All that's left is to determine my price," said Falspar.
Jarmaath shook his head, gaze darkening. "Damn it all, Falspar--"
"I'll not be charging anywhere near what it'll cost you to hire the Shining Axes, archontes," said Falspar. "And you've all but admitted it'll cost you near nothing to offer the Tiri Kitor what they already have. If they agree to your proposal and don't skin all of us on sight. At least allow me the belief that my hide is worth something."
The archontes appeared to be gritting his teeth, but finally folded his arms. "Fine. A thousand gold - half now, and half when you return."
Falspar bowed. "That is more than I could ask, my lord. Agreed. Now, shall we--"

There was a commotion from outside, and even as the circus turned toward the main door and a couple of Lions of Rethmar sidled over to Jarmaath, and Gan Ulverth put his hand to the hilt of his longsword, a small (in more senses than one) mob of well-dressed halflings barrelled into the room, shouting at one another as much as anyone else.

A part of Arendi, Vokon, Mikolt, Calyd, and Keda sighed. A fat halfling in a top hat, and an immeasurably skinny elf, were at the centre of the knot.

They were being pushed about as much as they were trying to keep walking. A yellow parrot came flapping in behind them and shot up to the rafters more or less unnoticed.

"Fraudster!" was one of the recurring themes of the cacophonous choir of halflings . "No they're not!" was another. "They're trying to steal the old lands back, they are!" was another. "String them up!" was yet another, and somewhat more concerning.

Meta, danielx, Mikolt and Arendi are closest to this sudden ... incursion. What do you all do?

[Alhallor]

Oh well it seemed nearly settled to get on towards these uncertain elves. At least it would be something to do.

When a mass of very loud halflings stormed the room however Calyd quickly realized that he didn't had any weapon on hand. But it doesn't seemed he really needed one.

Despite not being near the loud mass, Calyd at least had an idea how to react and was quite happy about his own personal research.

Don't be alarmed, Jarmaath. The dancer stretched his arms high in the air, stretching himself, standing on his toes then quickly fell down with a rasped Let the day break. A globe of brilliant radiance erupts silently, as though the light of dawn had arisen, over the crowd of halflings, hopefully to draw they're attention and at least for a short moment let them concentrate on something different than shouting.

Well what have brought you here on this fine day, especially with your volume in front of Jarmaath and Gan Ulvert? Said Calyd, loud enough to be heard and probably loud enough for the halflings to realize how unruly they're behaving.

Casting Dawn Burstabove the mob to get they're attention together with a dreadfilled roll of
Diplomacy: [roll0]

[danielxcutter]

"What'd he do now?" grumbled Arendi. "It sounds like they're calling him a fraudster, but I don't remember him doing anything like that..."

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt didn't even get around to become visibly annoyed before routine kicked in. She turned and strode forward, bloting into the crowd with a single, fluid motion so that she could stand ride beside Alastor and Aeric, spreading her wings menacingly with little regard for whom she needed to slap away with them to do so. You talk to him she motioned briskly towards Calyd or you deal with me; your choice. she proclaimed to the mob assembled around her allies, before scanning the two quickly for signs of injury. Sublime Master. Master Aeric. Are you unhurt?


Mikolt goes ballistic! All enemies (meaning the abgry halflings) within 20' of her stand on difficult ground and they cannot cast defensively. She is more than ready to dish out nonlethal damage of opportunity to anyone who gets pushy.
Also, Intimidate: [roll0]

[Saintheart]

Rethmar Keep,
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 4 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Keda

The Lions of Rethmar in the hall had already pulled weapons, and Gan Ulverth's longsword was in his hand as Mikolt proclaimed the probabilistic onset of many meetings with Arendi's god should matters not de-escalate rapidly - but the sudden ignition of light on just about everyone in the room certainly got the mob's attention, and more or less as one the group quietened down.
"No," said Jarmaath, suddenly, and his voice had a rumble at its bass end and steel in its timbre. "You will speak to me. This is my keep, and my domain. Gods of the Vale!" And now the halflings were falling back against the man's rising temper. "What is this commotion you bring here! With hobgoblins marching on your homes and your countrymen, women and children weeping, Drellin's Ferry burning! You dare come here, like a braying mob of jackals at my door? I will have order in this hall, now, or I swear by Lathander's glory you will be outside the city wall when it comes time to bar these gates against the horde!"
His words echoed into the hall's arches; they had no other competition, for everyone had fallen silent.
"We were accosted by these folk, saer," said Aeric, calmly. As always his face was an empty prairie. "We had delivered a package to the Temple of Yondalla, as requested by--"
"Requested by those thieves the Shadowbanks!" spat one of the halfings. He had astonishingly gold locks of hair and piercing blue eyes to go with a circumference rivalling that of Alastor. "The Shadowbanks seal is on the papers!"
The crowd began to murmur again. It stopped when, at Jarmaath's glance, Gan Ulverth and the Lions of Rethmar grounded the butts and points of their weapons to the ground in a single, threatening clank.
"Speak again without my leave, saer Moonbough," said Jarmaath, and though his voice had lost volume, it had gained in icy menace, "and I will not await the arrival of the horde to throw you over the wall."
The halfling glanced around the hall, clearing his throat, and putting his hands on his (wide) hips. "These two came to us with a package to be placed in the Temple of Yondalla, my lord. They said they'd been told it was a request by Kellin Shadowbanks to place his will at the Temple. But that's not possible! It's the Deed to the Dell, I know it!"
Gan Ulverth shook his head, closing his eyes and sighing. "Yondalla's horn, Galdal--"
Jarmaath was quick, but the more perceptive members of the circus noted the rolling of his eyes for moment, disguised by adjusting his toga. "The matter of the Summerbraids' claim to Dauth Dell is settled, saer Moonbough. I ruled upon it last Harves'ide, you will recall."
"You were tricked!" the halfling - Galdal Moonbough - blurted out. At the answering flash from Jarmaath's eyes, he bowed his head hurriedly. "--my lord archontes. And yes, I was at my lord's court, and heard the witnesses. But you had not the Deed! And now it is here! In Rethmar itself! Under a Shadowbanks seal!"
"Even if that were so," said Jarmaath, evenly, "why would that justify you manhandling these two strangers through the streets of my city to my court? Why should a messenger know anything of the package he carries?"
"Because they chose a halfling messenger," Galdal shot back, pointing a fat finger at Alastor. "Who else would Kellin Shadowbanks trust but a confederate of our people to deliver such a package! He could disguise the journey with ... outsiders," continued the halfling, waving a hand at Aeric, "but he couldn't fool us!"
"(Awwk) Well, you have to make sure your messenger is pretty dumb, too, so-- (Squawk)"
Jarmaath opened his hands in a way that matched his perplexed expression. "I appreciate you have reason to ... disagree with the Shadowbanks clan, saer Moonbough, but why would you think the documents were other than what the messenger claimed them to be?"
"Because Kellin Shadowbanks' will already rests in the Temple," said a female voice from the back of the mob. They made way for her, and she came forward: clad in greens, yellows, and orange, a red-haired halfling woman petite even among the halflings who respectfully parted to allow her passage. Arendi recognised her as a cleric of Yondalla, though the looks of deference marked her out as that, as did the cornucopia necklace that glittered at her chest. Her face was lined with age and her hair frizzed greyer than the Gan's -- and even he inclined his head as she approached. "Lord archontes. It was drawn decades ago and remains where I saw it last placed."
Jarmaath frowned. "Did you bring this mob upon the Keep, Camellia?"
"Mobs form of themselves, my lord," said the cleric. "These here were quite displeased when I told these two travellers the same thing."
"You see, my lord!" said Galdal Moonbough. "If the messengers were lied to, or lied themselves, then what else could be so valuable that Kellin Shadowbanks would place it under seal and ask it be hidden away here! In plain sight! It could be nothing else!"
Jarmaath held up his hand. "Be silent. This is a serious charge you bring upon these two, Camellia. These two messengers are part of this band of travellers who have already done service for the Vale. They've warned us of the coming of the Red Hand. Drellin's Ferry - and the whole Shadowbanks clan along with the rest of the people - would be dead now had it now been for these people."

What do you do?

[danielxcutter]

Arendi raised a finger. "Okay, I'm not very good at halfling customs, but an imminent army invading seems like a good time to make some adjustments to your will if ever...? Also, could we get a quick history lesson for those of us who've never even heard about this entire thing?"

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt bowed her head in reverence towards Jarmaath when he thundered at the halflings. That was the exact style of leadership she hoped to encounter: strict, with a real weight to it. Words that cut and the promise of action, unless they are heeded. Still, she remained largely where she stood, keeping watch on the halflings and looming over Alastor and Aeric protectively. Such fickle beings as these fat city folk she had little trust in.

And her distrust in their judgment struck her as more and more justified as she listened to the back and forth. This all seemed to be a matter of pointless greed and obsessing over something long settled. And on that, she couldn't resist to comment. Turgarun wants halflings to eat, she pronounced coldly, shooting a knowing look in Ulverth's direction, followed up by another bow of the head offered to Lord Jarmaath. if you'll pardon my interjecting, Archontes. Dauth won't be the concern of any halfling before long. It's two weeks, perhaps, if the Ferry has fallen, and I doubt it can offer much resistance.


Parenthetical remark: since Mikolt is still wary of the halflings as a whole, Camellia might feel… Funny, right now. As in, "unable to muster the Concentration to safely cast" funny.

[Saintheart]

Rethmar Keep,
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 4 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Keda

"If we are all to die, then let us die at least knowing justice was served!" blurted out Moonbough.
"Galdal," said the cleric of Yondalla, and the halfling was silent like his mouth had been shut. She turned to Arendi. "The matter relates to a valley just east of Dauth. It was in the possession of the Summerbraid clan for centuries. But the clan's family tree withered these last hundred years."
"Forgive me, priestess," said Moonbough, clearly unable to hold his tongue any longer. "The Moonboughs are the Summerbraids' direct descendants--"
"Such lies!" came another female halfling's voice from the crowd; this one's hair was curly and red and framed a pale face with green eyes the colour of emeralds. "I felt my grandsire's bones twitch at that!"
Moonbough's face went red. "Everyone knows what your grandsire twitched, Amarylla Yellowleaf!"
"My grandsire was Larilla Summerbraid's one true love!" snapped Amarylla. "My mother was their only trueborn child, no matter what libels you spread about the Shadowbanks clan!"
"If it were libel, why's your clan need to lie about the will--"
"Enough," snarled the archontes, and they went silent. His face was like thunder. "I have little enough time to prepare this city for war, and to try and settle this debate now--"
"But settled it has to be," said Camellia, the cleric. "The word is already spreading. There is already enough danger of a riot. Enough that even some Lions of Rethmar are considering--" She went silent. Jarmaath threw a sharp glance at Gan Ulverth, who didn't meet his eyes.

Jarmaath exhaled heavily through gritted teeth. "Amarylla. Where is your cousin?"
The red-haired halfling was silent.
Jarmaath's hands went to fists and he stepped forward. "Your people shelter under these walls at my cost and my sufferance, saer. I determined this claim already. If I must revisit it I will do so at speed. Where is Kellin Shadowbanks?"
Amarylla looked down, then up. "He is in Dauth, from what I know."
Galdal snorted. "Protecting his interest--"
"Silence." Jarmaath looked at Gan Ulverth. "This is ridiculous that I must address this issue now. But still. Send a trio of your riders to Dauth now. Get Kellin Shadowbanks here, at my order. If he will not come, drag him back here."
Galdal Moonbough clapped his hands. "Well said, my lord!"
Jarmaath's finger went up, and pointed. The two lions of Rethmar closest to Galdal were surprisingly quick for their size, and moments later Galdal was manhandled out of the hall.
Camellia had watched Moonbough depart, and looked back at Jarmaath. "You cannot release these two," she said, indicating Aeric and Alastor. "There will be trouble if you do."
"I'm well aware of it," growled Jarmaath. "Which is why I'm not releasing them." He held a hand up to forestall any objections from the hall. "I am not releasing them, and I am not placing them in the dungeons. I am releasing them to you, Camellia. They will be under house arrest in the precincts of the Temple until further notice. They will be well cared for. They will not be harmed. Until I have had a chance to bring Kellin Shadowbanks back here and ascertain the truth of this." The halfling cleric had opened her mouth for a moment, and Jarmaath's eye took on a gleam that caused her to close it a second later.

What do you do?

[danielxcutter]

"Forgive me saer, but that's half our spellcasters! And it'd have been two thirds if we hadn't picked up a warmage on our way to Rethmar!" said Arendi in alarm. "We barely won several fights at full strength!"

[Alhallor]

I fully understand that the political situation is quite severe and delicate. Calyd gestured around the hall.

If you could spare any capable individuals to aid us, it would be highly appreciated saer.

It pained Calyd to see the halfling and the elf taken prisoner after he was welcomed warmly, but there was little chance to fight against the authorities in this delicate situation.

[Metastachydium]

And upon a brazen demand to deal out injustice or face treason, at that. Mikolt appended to Arendi's complaint, wrinkling her nose in clear disgust, flashing a glare at Camellia. It would be so easy to cut her down, here and now; but she had to mind her manners. Why don't you all go die for your filthy hole down south, if you'd risk your lord and his realm for it, I wonder? she scoffed at the remaining halflings, adopting a wider stance.

[Saintheart]

Rethmar Keep,
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 4 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Keda

"That will do, saer," rumbled Jarmaath at Mikolt's remark. "Your assistance is appreciated but you are still guests here. As it is," and he turned to Arendi, "I have a proposition for someone who might serve as a temporary replacement in your band. A very fitting replacement."
Camellia was peering at the archontes, and then twitched, blinking. "My lord--"
"Ulverth," said Jarmaath, ignoring the cleric. "Have him brought up here."
Ulverth seemed to hesitate for a second, and even glanced toward Camellia. "Are you sure this is--"
"Now, if you please," said Jarmaath, mildly. "Best the introductions and proposition are made sooner rather than later. We do have other things to concern ourselves with."
"Yes, my lord," said Ulverth, though the tone behind the words sounded more like I hope you stored your own will with the Temple of Yondalla and the Temple of Kelemvor. The Gan nodded to two Lions of Rethmar, who headed out the doorway. The noise of their booted footsteps seemed somewhat loud in the suddenly quiet hall. A sizeable proportion of the halfling mob seemed to be taking the opportunity to vacate the premises, though Alastor and Aeric remained with Camellia a few steps from them.

Falspar shifted his hands in his robes. "As for other companions, I may also be in a position to assist. An acquaintance of mine happens to be in town; I chanced across him yesterday. He has worked as a guardsman for me in the past and is a measured soul. I can go and send word to him at the Craven Raven - we can be back within the hour...?"
"Go," said Jarmaath.
"He is not of the most orthodox presentation," cautioned the trader.
Jarmaath raised a single eyebrow and looked around at the circus.
"I go," said the half-orc, bowing and turning, the young woman trailing after him.
Jarmaath beckoned to Ulverth. "A moment of your time, Gan. Please excuse us."

"Well, it looks like this will be farewell for the time being," said Alastor, the fat halfling finally turning to his former companions as the archontes moved away to talk with his general. Alastor rubbed his hands together. "What a fantastic stroke of luck!"
"Imprisonment does not concern you?" asked Keda. The neraph looked about as surprised as he had ever been.
"Imprisonment? Imprisonment? This is the greatest opportunity Tymora could have handed us, my fellow performers! Mysterious halfling and tall elf kept away from public, prying eyes, in a Temple of Yondalla, also known as the source of all gossip in a halfling quarter--sorry, priestess," he said, tipping his ridiculous top hat in the direction of Camellia's narrowed gaze. "The city will be OVERRRRRRUN with rumours three dusks from now! They'll be talking of nothing but the Grreat Brremerr Cirrrcus by the time we're done!"
"(Awwk) Maverick, I don't think that's such a good idea-- (Squawk)"
"Quiet, pus-painted parrot! This is where the legend begins! There shall be so great a swell of PUBLICITY the entire city will be awaiting our next performance! There will be fame! Riches! Trysts! Rich and famous trysts!"
"Sublime Master, are you sure you're all right?" An actual line of concern had appeared on Aeric's features.
"I have never been better!" He smiled at the circus. "So proceed on this venture, friends. I will be here when you return, no doubt!"
"As will I," said Keda suddenly.
"That's not required, Keda," said Alastor, and even he looked surprised.
"It is best that you have as many friends as you can hold here," said the neraphim. "To manage the ... publicity, as you call it. I would be one of them."
Alastor looked uncertain for a moment, but, finally, nodded.

"My lord," called one of the Lions of Rethmar from the hall's entryway. There were two of them, and between them stood a giant.

Or it seemed that way for a second. In fact it was another halfling, but there was something noble enough about his bearing that most of the eyes in the room seemed drawn to him. Those eyes were drawn first to an immense, silky, flame-yellow beard, and then to gleaming, white eyes, and to the pale skin of his bald head -- almost unheard-of in the halfling species. The face rode a riotous array of loose, flowing clothing like a flying carpet. His muscular form was unmistakeable, even though his hands were manacled and a gag had been put in his mouth.

Mikolt immediately had the impression of shadow and flame, billowing out from the creature. She noticed Camellia rub her forehead and sigh.

Lord Jarmaath stepped forward. "Release him," the archontes said, and the Lions of Rethmar hurried to comply. "This," said Jarmaath, as the halfling's gag was removed, "is Pareto. The companion I suggested."

What do you do?

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt averted her eyes and fell silent for a moment. Another challenge to his authority was certainly not to help the archontes, pathetic as his caving before the clamours of these pompous little bags of fat might have been. She was not displeased to see them squirm out of the hall for certain. Alastor's ensuing rant was, well, far more worrisome indeed, but with Aeric, Keda and a sufficient number of guards around he was unlikely, at least, to offer a performance to a lynch mob. Still, though what tomorrow would bring remained to be seen, this seemed to be the time to try and settle debts, lest she wouldn't have another opportunity. I will protest this distasteful comedy she glanced at Camellia no further then, Sublime Master. she said slowly and with caution. I trust you'll be kept safe. This does make certain matters more pressing, on the other hand. The coin you lent me; a 100 gold of it I didn't ultimately need. Would you like me to return those—

The question remained hanging in the air as the knight turned sharply to catch a look of the newcomer the archontes announced – and suddenly, she felt an odd, intangible kinship with the halfling priestess she fancied cleaving in half mere moments earlier. She had to keep herself from sighing in unison with her, in fact. So that's what Jarmaath alluded to before. A man of flames and flashes. She had some of that same kind of blood in her veins, but this man was very much unlike her otherwise. A troublemaler. Again. This really wasn't her day, after all.

[Auranghzeb]

Pareto

Pareto (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2763595)
m CG Fire-Souled Half-Janni-Strongheart Halfling Spellthief Swordsage, Level 6, Init 10, HP 50/50, Speed 20
AC 21, Touch 19, Flat-footed 17, Fort 4, Ref 9, Will 9, Base Attack Bonus 4
3 charges: 1/returning 3/mini fireball Meteoric Knife +11 (1d3+1 (5), )
Ray of Frost +9 (1d3, )
Sling +10 (1d3, x3)
(+1 Armor, +4 Dex, +1 Size, +1 Natural, +4 Misc)
Abilities Str 11, Dex 18, Con 14, Int 13, Wis 18, Cha 11
Condition Immune to Fire
Immune to daze and stun
vulnerable to cold
Smartly dressed
Slightly pissed off
Expeditious Retreat Stance

Pareto had been waiting patiently inside his cell, going over his maneuvers without moving a muscle; mentally tracing the movements that made enemies burn, feeling the ground under his bare feet slide to his will. It was all part of his plan; those meek priests of Yondala and their stubbornness had proven to be what he needed. The town authorities had noticed his immense power and tried to repress him. But now, that fool Jarmaath was finally releasing him. Little he knew that Pareto had planned it all all along. Escorted down the hall by these two mentally challenged thugs. Pareto chuckled under the mouth gag.
The gag had been unnecessary, not the greatest of details from Jarmaath. Pareto made a mental note, but he was not surprised.
He made his grand entrance into the hall and glanced around the adventurers inside the room, making a point of not looking Jarmaath eye-to-eye. He pointed at them with his bearded chin as the Lion's untied his arms. He flexed his arms and warmed up his wrists. Then slowly removed the gag from his mouth. He boomed with a strange voice for a halfling, deep and musical:

Reconsidering your mistake I see. I guess you realized that I was right and you need me after all. Who are these colorful people? They wouldn't look out of place with the buffoons of Pasha Ralan el Pesarkhal himself. NAH, Don't bother! I demand my possessions be handed back to me before I sit down to negotiate the terms of my assistance.

[danielxcutter]

"Oh boy," mumbled Arendi.

[Alhallor]

Well it never got boring while he travelled with this group, that's for sure.

Calyd (https://www.heroforge.com/load_config%3D505052704/) strode towards the halfling and granted him an obeisance. I think we should bother, seeing that you well may accompany us. We are part of the Bremer Circus, perhaps you've already heard from us? This currently sour looking human Calyd points towards Arendi. Is our greywarden, Arendi. Out colorful winged companion. A wide gesture towards the Zenythri. Is Mikolt. And of course there's Vokon. Calyd points towards the Goliath.

There are of course still others but we are probably who you'd accompany as for now. Oh and I'm Calyd, glad to make your acquaintance.

Calyd gives a bit of a pompous bow.

[Metastachydium]

I'm not colourful. Mikolt grumbled at the man's back, for lack of a better thing to do about this Pareto person. Calyd was really lucky she owed him a blood debt.

[Auranghzeb]

Pareto

At least one of them had the manners of the land. Pareto beamed a clear, slightly arrogant smile at the group and directed a subtle bow to Calyd

I have heard some rumors about you, and about the events in Drellin's Ferry.

In fact I knew someone here needed my assistance. Sharess in her infinite wisdom guided my steps and had Jarmaath imprision me, even if this colossal fool thinks it was his doing.

The name is Pareto, Fulgor of the southern lands. Don't get me wrong, my friend, I have nothing against any of you, but the hospitality in these lands is notoriously lacking.

I will assist you.



Pareto shows both his empty palms to Calyd in a gesture of friendship. And he suddenly seem more inspiring, assured and grand.

Jarmaath, my stuff, NOW!

As soon as Pareto considers Calyd an ally, Calyd can feel the inspiring emanating from the Janni.

[Aracor]

Vokon grunts, easily falling into his role as the strong, silent, man - looming.

I am not so colorful, either, friend Mikolt. Yet I am here as well. I will admit to not understanding what's actually happening between the halflings. I understand Lord Jarmaath's decision, though I do not agree with it. From my perspective, it is simple. Open the package of documents. So far, everyone is jumping to conclusions about what is in them, but no one has actually taken that very basic step.

However, it is not my choice, and this is not my place.

Lord Jarmaath: I hope that we will be able to assist further. The Red Hand does truly seem to be an existential threat to this valley, and I am willing to put my hammer, as well as whatever other skills I have, to work assisting however I may.

He bows slightly to the noble.

[Saintheart]

Rethmar Keep,
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 4 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Pareto

It was around this point that a heavyset halfling came puffing up into the hall, carrying a large burlap sack. Bobbing his head apologetically, the halfling scurried across to Pareto, placed the sack down in front of him, and then withdrew just as quickly. Pareto found all of his worldly goods within.

"I am most pleased to hear you're willing to help us further," said Jarmaath to Vokon, returning a respectful nod to the goliath. "We will need as much of your help as we can gain. Pareto, the circus has been assisting the city with the effort to defend it. They've done so indirectly, and I am asking them to do so directly - if they are willing. I mean to send them to the Tiri Kitor, in the Lhespenbog, as an embassy to see if they can forge an alliance with the elves. They've been deprived of some of their members, though, and we need to increase their numbers. I have proposed that you so assist them--"

Falspar came back into the hall. The half-orc was walking far more quickly than he'd left, his loose robes billowing as he approached.
"Ah, hold on a moment, Pareto. Falspar, have you managed to secure--"
"Yes, my lord," said the trader, "but I did want to speak with you first. There is a compl--"

And it was around this point that another noise echoed through the hall. The noise of four hooves, walking rapidly and in the direction of the circus, ringing as if indignantly on the stones. An impressive form turned the corner at the hallway's door: seven feet tall at the shoulder, measuring from hoof to chest. The centaur came trotting into the hall, a bow over one shoulder, a massive greataxe slung at one side, and surveyed the company with a pair of green eyes as piercing as Falspar's own.

The half-orc sighed, gesturing. "My lord, this is the guardsman I spoke of. Athelras Duskrun."
"A centaur!" said Gan Ulverth, the old halfling blurting the words out. "I heard there was one in the city, but this is a turn up for the books!"
"Yes," said Falspar, hurriedly. "But as I said, there is a complication--"

The complication being that Athelras was still owed about 200 gold from the last job that he had done for Falspar: a failed business trip to Cannathgate, where the person Falspar had been selling to had gone bankrupt after Falspar had already made his purchases.


What do you do?

[danielxcutter]

"Well, it's not like we're unfamiliar with atypical members," said the greywarden. "I assume both of you can hold your own in a fight?"

[Lioslaith]

As Athelras looks over the group the words of his mentor creep through his mind, a low southern drawl If ya gonna be a mixin in wit da smaller folk mind where ya step, deys dont like ta be trampled. He steps somewhat carefully through the crowd to get closer to whom in speaking, but not too close, his feet now more of a sort of sliding shuffle than a step. He nods politely, I am told I might be of some aid to this .. group?

[Auranghzeb]

Pareto

Pareto listens absentmindedly to Jarmaath while he picks up his gear, checking that everything is here. He sheaths his knife and fits his gloves.

Ah, my fingers were getting a bit cold in that damp cell. You need to improve your isolation system Jarmaath. Even camel merchants in the desert know hot to protect a tent from the drift.

He ends by placing his amulet around his neck and Calyd, whom Pareto considers now a possible ally, suddenly feels a link of anticipation, as if he and Pareto could coordinate better. Pareto winks at the Mage.

I may look like a loner, but I'm quite the team player you'd see.

He gets more serious.

I heard of Drellin's Ferry fire... I'm honored to meet you then if you helped all those folks escape. I knew Sharess had something for me in this valley. As I told you, Jarmaath here thinks it was his idea, but it was written that I would help you. Foolish men of authority, always trying to take credit for good fate and dismiss responsibility for bad fate.

He stops when the centaur gallops into the hall.

Alas! someone of comparable stature to Pareto! NOW we are truly a circus. Welcome noble warrior. My name is Pareto and this is my party, we are off to find some elves to assist us in the defense of this valley.


Pareto (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2763595)
m CG Fire-Souled Half-Janni-Strongheart Halfling Spellthief Swordsage, Level 6, Init 10, HP 50/50, Speed 50
AC 21, Touch 19, Flat-footed 17, Fort 4, Ref 9, Will 9, Base Attack Bonus 4
Meteoric Knife +11 (1d3+1, 19-20 x2)
Ray of Frost +9 (1d3, x2)
Sling +10 (1d3, x3)
(+1 Armor, +4 Dex, +1 Size, +1 Natural, +4 Wis)
Abilities Str 11, Dex 18, Con 14, Int 13, Wis 18, Cha 11
Condition Immune to Fire
Immune to daze and stun
vulnerable to cold
Slightly amused

[Lioslaith]

“I take it then you are their leader? Are you the one to settle the debts of the former contract?” The centaur asks somewhat informally. Making eye contact slowly with other in the room.

[danielxcutter]

"Eh, that'd have been Alastor," said Arendi. "Right now I guess it'd go to me or Vokon since we've been with him the longest, but in general I don't think we really care about having a specific leader that much."

[Lioslaith]

”Nor do I particularly but there is the matter of paying what is owed.”

[Metastachydium]

And what is owed, exactly, saer? Mikolt inquired, tilting her head ever so slightly to one side. This, at last, was a perfectly reasonable attitude and she could relate. Not to mention that discussing the matter also had the distinct benefit of distracting her mind from the notion that she would somehow have to survive not only travelling but actively cooperating with this Pareto, and perhaps on the long run. She wasn't sure that would come to be of course, and couldn't indeed be until after the next morning, but the prospect was alarming regardless.

[Lioslaith]

”200 gold pieces.”

[danielxcutter]

"That's... actually I think we can afford that? Pretty sure we can afford that," said the greywarden.

[Lioslaith]

Athelras looks directly at Falspar but answers the greywarden, ”Who settles the terms of the contract is less of a concern to me than the actual settling of those terms.”

[Auranghzeb]

Pareto looked at Jarmaath in disbelief.



200 gp? is this delaying us helping the people of the Valley? Jarmaath, pony up and pay so we can go and do our job.

I'll wait for you outside.

And saying this he waved his hand dismissively and stormed out of the Keep looking for his riding dog.

[Lioslaith]

"Well, I would say the 200 is keeping me from aiding you. Helping the people of the Valley is still undecided."

[Alhallor]

Well now I'm pretty sure we can sort out the minutiae in a more somber location, perhaps aided with something to drink? Don't you think so Falspar? Calyd jovially get's a hand around the half-orcs shoulder to direct him and (hopefully) the others out. I'm sure the lord still has things to do which our bickering being more distracting than delightful. I have a good flask of wine that I'm more than happy to open on the occasion of us gathering.

With a short but still respectful nod towards Jarmaath and Gan Ulverth Calyd try's to leave to then gather at the Stone Wyvern, a location he was curious about anyway.

[Lioslaith]

Athelras watches the group as they sort things out. Eyes flicking from one to the next.

[Saintheart]

Rethmar Keep,
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 4 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Pareto, Athelras

"Falspar," said Jarmaath, disguising a grin by rubbing at his short beard, "I imagine we could deal with this subject by addressing your payment for bringing this group to the rendezvous."
Falspar's eyes narrowed. "My lord?"
Jarmaath gestured to the centaur. "I accept that your efforts will require - expenses, to be met. Shall we say, two hundred gold to defray the cost of having saer Athelras attend upon you?"
The half-orc appeared to be grinding every tooth except his two lower tusks. "That is most generous, my lord--"
"But of course I cannot, as a matter of propriety and prudence, pay both expenses and reward. I'm fairly certain there is an ancient statute forbidding it. I am sure we can address it by, say, reducing the amount of your reward by the amount of expenses and paying that sum to Athelras presently?"
Falspar stopped grinding his teeth, mainly because it looked as though he was about to object. But he again settled for putting the upper and lower sets of teeth together, and speaking from between them. "Yes. My lord."
"Gan Ulverth - see to the expenses, if you please."

200 gold was paid to Athelras, and 300 to Falspar. The half-orc's polite bow to the Lord had more the look of a sportingly-defeated chess player than one of annoyance, and the half-orc turned to the party, joining them as they all headed more or less in the same direction out of the keep.


The sun had somehow grown warmer by the time they threaded their way through the streets to the western half of the city. The Stone Wyvern was an impressive two-storey inn built of beautifully-engineered adobe on Fisherman's Fortune, not far from the westernmost gate of Rethmar, the Elsir Gate. The exterior walls of the inn had been painted in riotous combination of red and blue. On entry it turned out the actual building was more a square structure around a central garden of scented flowers, with the common room being the garden itself. Canvas shade sails gently billowed high above, and the centrepiece of the garden was, finally, the petrified wyvern that had given the inn its name. The wyvern didn't have the expected snarling snout, but rather a perpetually petrified look of surprise.
"This is Rethmar," grunted Falspar at the looks of some members of the circus regarding the garden-common room. The half-orc signalling for water and stronger drinks to a server clad in veil and robe. "Few things are quite as they first appear."
They were seen to a long table; despite the swarming and movement on the streets, at this hour at least the Stone Wyvern's central space was quiet.

What do you do?

[Lioslaith]

Pocketing the gold, Athelras nodded to Jarmaath and followed the rest of the group to the inn.

[Auranghzeb]

**Pareto**

Finally reunited with Lorenzo, his dog, Pareto moved through town with confidence next to his newly founded allies.
He was a loudmouth, but the halfling in him made him gregarious; he felt well along this motley crew, he knew he’ll fit right in.

**I can’t contribute much to any gear right now. But I have some tricks down my sleeve and I’m an excellent diplomat. What exactly do we need from these elves?**

Once in the tavern, he pays a round of ale for everyone in party, and stares intently at anyone who even dares mocking the centaur trying to fit through the doors.

He asks for a large mug of hot tea for himself.

**What’s the plan?**

[Saintheart]

Rethmar Keep,
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 4 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Pareto, Athelras

"I've no particular plan," said Falspar. The half-orc's strangely delicate hands reached out and picked up a date from the bowl which had been set on the table. "Only my - somewhat discounted - commission. We go to where I last saw the Tiri Kitor, and I return here. I'll not risk more expenses by bringing any of my guards with us; they'll be needed to guard my caravan's wares -- and Amyra, my assistant. I'll bring and water my own camel. We can go whenever you wish."

What do you do?

[danielxcutter]

"Hmm, speaking of wares, do you know where to purchase some items that contain spells for weathering extreme environments?" asked the greywarden. "We don't have as many spellcasters to spare now."

[Auranghzeb]

Pareto


Extreme weather? Are we going somewhere cold? I hate cold places.

[Saintheart]

Rethmar Keep,
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 4 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Pareto, Athelras

Falspar thought for a moment, the date pincered between two of his delicate fingers. "I don't carry that sort of thing myself, sadly. As for Rethmar, you're likely astute enough to have seen what's happening to trade in this city. People are afraid, some are leaving, some are stockpiling. All of which are bleeding the local markets white. I'd say we've only a week or so before outright panic buying sets in. That'll be when our archontes finally realises what's happening and he uses his powers as the Castellan of Rethmar Keep to commandeer anything not tied down for the city's defences. Once that happens it'll be shadow market prices through Rillor Paln's factors, or speaking nicely to our Lord Jarmaath, or nothing."

The half-orc chewed and swallowed the date before continuing. "I think you've got three or four options, and those are closing fast. Red Magic and Sundries might still be carrying something of the kind you're asking, but Immerstal the Red would've done a lot of business and chewed through a good fraction of his inventory when news of the Red Hand first broke here. And he'll be wanting to leverage his time for better returns than he'd normally get for turning out a twinkly twig. Besides, I don't like his quality that much."

"As I said, I don't carry items of that kind, but I could try to turn up some of my contacts who might still be here. It may well cost you a premium more, but I'm reasonably sure I could find you a wand somewhere before we leave."

"Or you could try heading over and trying your luck on The Saddle - it's a cul-de-sac off Dawn Street, where the caravans often stop to water," he added at looks of incomprehension from the circus. "If you were to catch someone willing to sell you something like that at probably an elevated price, that's the best place I could recommend."

"And there's also the temples. Camellia Drybarrel you met, and Mazrim Haskinar's head of the shrine to saer greywarden's god," said Falspar, nodding to Arendi. "But I'm uncertain whether either of them have acolytes who've trained in crafting those sorts of items. I don't believe either Camellia or Mazrim do. No, if there's any temple that might still have something like that, it's that great affront to architectural taste and restraint up on the hill -- Lathander's cathedral. The faith attracts the sort of gold to make a dwarf drool, and they did do some trade in items before all this got started."

What do you do?

[Metastachydium]

"This is Rethmar," grunted Falspar at the looks of some members of the circus regarding the garden-common room. The half-orc signalling for water and stronger drinks to a server clad in veil and robe. "Few things are quite as they first appear."

I certainly hope so. Mikolt remarked under her breath; Jarmaath made a vry poor impression on her overall. But otherwise, she remained mostly silent as the others set out their agenda; she had plans of her own, and the expectation of what was to come the morning tomorrow occupied her thoughts almost completely. Even Pareto trying to buy her ale, of all things, only drew a wordless look of wounded confusion rather than a true glare from her.

The concluding words of Falspar's enumeration of possible sources for magical supplies, however, did catch her attention just fine. She wrinkled her nose irritably; that was another complication she certainly did not need. I have business thereabouts in the early hours. she said quickly, but (hopefully, she would surely want to add) not too quickly. If you trust me with the gold for it, I can try and make that purchase. the zenythri offered with infinite caution.

[Lioslaith]

”Once we conclude the shopping, what is the next course of action to be?”

[Aracor]

That's simple. We try to talk the elves into helping the city. Not just for our benefit, but for their own as well.

[Lioslaith]

"What benefit does the city provide the elves?"

[Auranghzeb]

Pareto.

The was good, but the half-orc was right, people’s eyes showed some nerves.


“I believe the benefit they get is that they get to fight these Hordes with allies and knowing it in advance. Instead of being steamrolled by surprise. Not that it is easy to surprise an elf.”

[Aracor]

Vokon nods at Pareto.

Indeed. The numbers of this army make it so that we NEED walls and to concentrate our forces to stand against them. Facing them piecemeal is asking to be defeated in detail.

[Saintheart]

Rethmar Keep,
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 4 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Pareto, Athelras

"I wonder whether they're already aware of the threat," mused Falspar into the conversation. "You took down a fairly significant hobgoblin outpost on a trail that passes right through the Lhespenbog. Even if they don't claim the trail as their territory I don't see how they wouldn't have known about the outpost at least. A curious puzzle."

What do you do?

[Lioslaith]

"More then likely they are aware. Whether they choose to do anything about it is another matter. Say, Falspar, might you know anyone adept at repairing or ... resizing... magical gear? I noted that the group seems to have an abundance of items they needed to offload and if I were able to have something fixed it could be beneficial to our cause."

[Auranghzeb]

Pareto

Pareto ponders the information while sipping on his tea and lets his mind ramble around different ideas.

The elves are aware but don't care...

The elves have been obliterated and we are walking into a trap

This tea is good and I need a kettle for the trip

The elves may have somehow joined forces with the hobgoblins...

He chuckles at the last idea and comes out of his concentration...

If I learned something about elves is that they are slow thinkers when it comes down to threats. Their long lives make some threats look more trivial and banal than their really are... remind me of my dad's side of the family... we'll probably have to shake them off of their indifference

[danielxcutter]

"Eh, the Council of the Ferry took some convincing as well too, it might not be just elves," commented Arendi. "Besides, they might not know that there's ten thousand hobgoblins and that's not counting the dragons."

[Auranghzeb]

Pareto:

DRAGONS! That's a compelling argument if there ever was one! Just tell me there weren't any white dragons, I hate white dragons

[danielxcutter]

"Well, the last one was green. No promises, though," replied the greywarden.

[Saintheart]

Rethmar Keep,
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 4 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Pareto, Athelras

"As for repairing magic items," said Falspar, in response to Athelras's question, "it depends on what type of item. Immerstal the Red can put a set of armor or a blade back together, but I vastly prefer the work of the armorer to the Lions of Rethmar - a Crinti, Kai Quessillar I think by name. But if it's something magical that needs leatherwork, or cloth or the like, then there is someone still here who I recommend. A woman named Atala - runs a textile house over on the other side of the city, on Sparrow Street. It's built on wool trading, but she made her first stake from her skill with a needle. I'd trust her with a cloak of resistance over anyone else in the entire city. But I don't know how long she's going to be in Rethmar, either."

What do you do?

[Lioslaith]

"Many thanks Sir Falspar, we will defintely pay her a visit should the others decide to go there. Should we mention your name if we do?"

[Saintheart]

Rethmar Keep,
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 4 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Pareto, Athelras

"If you wish," shrugged Falspar, "but she seems to enjoy the challenge as much as the coin. The only question is how long she'll be here."

What do you do?

[Auranghzeb]

Pareto

The extreme manners of the Centaur marveled Pareto, who would have thought this massive warrior was going to be so softspoken. After learning the properties of the robe to be mended Pareto offers his bracers of armor in exchange to the group.

This is the sort of item I can use, and I won't bother too much right now in mending it, we may have little time and resources.

He finishes his tea and uses his fingers to clean the last drops of honey from the cup's bottom.

We should bring some tea and some of these dates, by Sharess, wonderful stuff!
When are we planning to leave? After a few days in the cells I'm a bit restless for some good old fashioned goblin hunting

[Aracor]

Vokon looks from one face to the other.
Arendi, is there anything we need that cannot be taken care of yet today? I know you've been looking into getting my malady cured after being attacked by the undead. I'm assuming that we will be coming back here at some point, so trying to get something commissioned may make a lot of sense if anyone has plenty of gold burning a hole in their pouch.

But I think I'm comfortable leaving tomorrow at first light if no one has any suggestions.

[danielxcutter]

"Hmm... now that I think of it, actually, we probably need something to handle dragons. Obviously a lot of preparations that work in general work on dragons too, but we might benefit a lot from specifically anti-dragon things as well," replied Arendi. "Most nets won't work on dragons, though... hmm. Oh, and probably marsh stuff as well. Can't forget that."

[Alhallor]

The talk about elves made Calyd a bit jittery, but nonetheless. Well, we know that they build a barricade yes, but perhaps it didn't bothered the elves? Why hinder something if it doesn't bother you in any way? There could be numerous reasons why they didn't attack the hobgoblins on the spot and definitely not all mean that they regard the hand as allies. We will only know when we take a look.

Calyd took a swig of the ale and relaxed his hands when it comes to talk about magic items. I'd like to visit Immerstal the Red anyway because of some weird stuff we found. Why don't you join me? I try to get us a good prize for the weather gear. I'm actually alright with a needle but I like to add embroidery to my clothing, not repairing magic.

[Metastachydium]

I cannot leave with the first light, if at all. Mikolt reminded Vokon once again, shifting on her seat as she all but exhaled the last few words, hoping to keep them beneath notice. We may as well let Calyd and the others make their rounds and resupply. With some luck, the fire-halfling would content himself with just that tea and kettle and would not try to add on an entire field kitchen.

[Auranghzeb]

Pareto

So, dragons, in plural as in many... Pareto had only faced a wyrmling blue dragon in the dunes of Calimsham, he knew very little about them other than they were big, smart, and the chromatic ones had elements that fit their color. He feared white dragons as frost harmed him most than anything else, but he also knew that he could deal them enough fire damage to keep a small one at bay.


I speak from ignorance, but aren't dragons of really keen intellect and sorted by element? As I see it, more than nets, we need ways of sneaking and a variety of ways to do elemental damage. I got Fire and Electricity cover, but we'd want something else too.

[Lioslaith]

"You have the gist of it ... Pareto ... was it? They aren't particularly vulnerable to whatever happens to be the opposite of their breath weapons but they are resistance to what they breathe. In my experience, damage is damage and it all adds up, they are just smart like you said and very difficult to take down."

[danielxcutter]

"Pretty much, yeah - big, tough, strong, smart, also that breath weapon is nasty. Speaking from experience, being in melee range of a dragon probably isn't worth it."

[Auranghzeb]

Pareto

Big, though, smart, and with a smothering fire breath, I think you might be describing me!

Pareto burst in laughter.

Let's find some magic items then

He waved towards the door and ordered some stew bones for his good old Lorenzo.

With your generous contribution, I can ditch these bracers and swap them for a wand of resistance to energy or a few scrolls of something stronger. I can't cast them myself, as I don't delve in that kind of magic, but I Arendi or Calyd surely can

And he set way to find the wondrous item shop.

[Saintheart]

Red Magic and Sundries
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 5 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Pareto, Athelras

Finding Red Magic and Sundries wasn't that hard; it was one of the most well-known stores in the city going by the passerby who pointed in its direction. The building was a thin, tall, two-storeyed structure that stood out like a knife amongst the squat adobe and wooden buildings around it. It also stood out as one of the few in Rethmar made entirely of stone - at least of those they'd seen so far.

The entrance was through a polished wanderwood doorway with a large red circle painted on it, the circle inlaid with undulating lines and patterns. The room beyond was cool and shaded from the day's heat, although it wasn't quite certain whether the stone of the building or something else in the air provided it. The room was cluttered with (presumably) merchandise - glass bottles, clay pots, inlaid wooden boxes, and racks of unidentifiable substances proliferated like weeds on the wooden boards of the floor (and which creaked as Athelras moved in trying not to knock anything over.)
"And tell him if he wants it done any faster, it's going to cost him double," a voice came from among the stacks.

A dark-skinned (and annoyed-looking) trader came stomping out from towards the rear of the store and shoved past the circus members, slammed the front door open, and strode out into the street, letting the door bang behind him.

In the trader's wake, from further back in the stacks, came Immerstal the Red.

Perhaps some of the circus members had expected someone in a red robe, or even with red hair, perhaps a suitably bristling auburn beard to go with the name. The human who appeared was none of these. Immerstal the Red was a thin, tall, late-forties male dressed in white robes from head to toes. The white robes matched his white hair, which was straight and fell to his shoulders in carefully-combed locks, turning his tanned-looking skin even darker by the contrast. He had a small pendant around his neck from which an expensive-looking figure of a sphinx dangled, and piercing eyes.

Immerstal turned those eyes on the circus, sweeping over them in a second. "Hm. Goliath, greywarden, winged individual with overlong arms. Heard about you. The rest - gods." His gaze had switched to Pareto. "They let you out? Well, what do you want here? I'm busy."

What do you do?

(Just assuming here that Athelras came along because someone asked him to.)

[danielxcutter]

"Okay, I expected some red on him," muttered Arendi to the goliath.

[Alhallor]

Calyd raises a hand in greeting towards Immerstal. Greetings Collegae. The warmage strode some steps towards the other magician, not perturbed by a lack of redness.

We are simply here for some business. We do of course realize that you are hardly pressed by the current goings on, but we have something interesting to trade and are in need of some magic ourselves and I'm sure we can come towards a profitable agreement.

Calyd being the social butterfly that he is, has no problem switching his attitude towards a respectful collegial exchange.

We found this quite interesting leather worn by enormous bats, having accumulated magic and being twisted by it, possibly by generations nested on a ley-line.

Calyd showing Immerstal the leather and trying to get a bit more out of the mage by just theorizing about things.

We also need something to protect us from harsh weather I'm sure you have something that could accomodate us? I'm also in search of a Scroll to protect me and my party from breath-weapon-based elements and perhaps you have something in stock to get us rid of fear? we also have a slightly damaged magical armament if you had a quick way to reinforce it, that would be splendid.

Calyd ends his explanations with a open smile.

Diplomacy: [roll0] More to make a good impression than to get us a discount. If I have forgotten anything just assume I'd have asked anyway.

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt slipped inside, trying to wrap her wings around herself in such a way as to minimize the risk of knocking things off of their designated place, and entirely unsure why she were even here in the first place. Keda was right; tight spaces were just horrible to navigate, especially with someone of her proportions. She actively had to bite her tongue lest she thanked Immerstal for gently reminding her that she's a freak in his summary description. That he did show enough sanity to lament Pareto running loose was a saving grace, of course, but only a small one. She could only hope Calyd would be able to wrap this up fast.

[Auranghzeb]

Pareto

Pareto is puzzled that this individual knows about him, but it is only natural, after all, he IS the Fulgor of the South

Yes! I've been Freed! And we are on an important quest to help all you merchants keep a steady business. Mainly by virtue of keeping your clientele safe and in town. Supporting us in such a heroic task would be an honor for you.

[Saintheart]

Red Magic and Sundries
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 5 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Pareto, Athelras


"Hmph." Whatever pleasant reaction Calyd and/or Pareto had been hoping for from Immerstal, it wasn't coming. Pareto and Athelras noticed that the mage's expression developed a sort of sneer when Calyd brought up that they shared a similar profession.

The sneer vanished off Immerstal's face when they mentioned they'd come for trade, and Pareto and Athelras noticed the hickory-skinned man's eyes lit up when Calyd produced the leather. Indeed his tongue briefly darted out to lick his lips for a second while he was looking at it.

The mage - if he was one - leaned against a large stack of boxes and sighed heavily. "Not much I can do with that leather, but I can take it off your hands as part of a deal, especially if you're looking to buy. As for repairing magical armanents - well, that will cost you. Business is brisk," he said, nodding toward the busy streets outside, and gesturing with an arm thrown out towards it, seemingly for emphasis. "and frankly there's a lot of competition for my time. Let's be real, you want something done quicker, gold moves the sands in the hourglass a lot faster than magic."


Sorry about the delays again, everyone, the season has been wreaking hell on my schedule. Should be a bit more sane now, and I'll tidy up the front of the thread to include Pareto and Athelras's sheets shortly.

Take it that the above includes all relevant information that can be garnered from relevant Spot rolls.

[Metastachydium]

And steel faster yet than gold Mikolt thought to herself; but this was neither the place, nor the time for steel, she had to admit. The two notions annoyed her equally, in a way. She would rather they had visited the church of Arendi's faith first (even as the prospect of dodging the gaze of yet another god appealed to her little): how often she had to restrain herself from whacking someone since they reached Rethmar grew alarming. And putting that aside, this was not a place for her, the crowded shop with this glorified swindler playing his games. She could only hope Calyd would breeze through this fast – and as such, she forced herself to continue deferring to the human, for now.

[Alhallor]

Calyd, unabashed continues the trade.

A trade would be perfect! I guess we can forego the repairs for the moment, they are the least important. If we trade in the leather, what would our items cost us?

Protection from harsh weather, like a Cloak of Comfort a Wand of Endure Elements, etc...
Scroll of Mass Protection from elements.
Something to get rid of fear, dragonfear if he has anything.
A Wand of Protection from arrows.
I think that should be everything.

[Saintheart]

Red Magic and Sundries
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 5 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Pareto, Athelras'

Immerstal listened to Calyd's list of sought items with narrowed eyes, though his gaze kept flicking back to the leather. He looked over the group again as he chewed the inside of his lip, and finally spoke. "I've a wand that will protect you from projectiles. 5,000 gold. There's a couple of used items - a staff that can Remove Fear, not much in the way of charges left to it - that would cost you 800 gold. A Scroll of Mass Resist Energy - depends what form of protection you want, but that'd cost you about 1,100. And I've a wand that will push back the elements, though it's partially used. 700 gold - there's precious few of them left in the city. Against that, I'll credit you 400 gold for the leather. And that's being generous, I'll take it off your hands for that."

What do you do?

The prices Immerstal is offering and the items, mechanically:
Wand of Endure Elements: 20 charges – 700gp
Scroll of Mass Resist Energy – 1100gp
Remove Fear item – CL 8 staff, 10 charges left = 800gp.
Wand of Protection from Arrows – 5,000gp (fully charged).

The bat leather he's offering to take for 400gp.

[danielxcutter]

"Say, do you have anything for dragons specifically?" asked the greywarden. "It doesn't have to work against the oldest and most powerful ones too, because we're probably doomed if that's the case anyways, but every little edge adds up."

[Saintheart]

Red Magic and Sundries
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 5 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Pareto, Athelras

"Dragons?" Immerstal blinked. "Not a lot of call for would-be dragonhunters around here, greywarden. Tend to find people who go looking for dragons need your services more than mine." He narrowed his piercing gaze once more, glancing down at the floor for a second, then looked at them again. "Two things that might be useful. I've a scroll of a dweomer called Antidragon Aura, although it can only be cast by an arcanist," he added, with a sniff in Calyd's direction. He found the scroll on a nearby shelf and placed it on a nearby box. "It's a reasonably powerful iteration of the spell; cover most of you, I'd wager. 800 gold for that. But I also have --"

He held up a delicate finger, and went looking among some of the boxes on the floor, finally finding a long, thin wooden rectangle shape, covered in dust. He undid the catches, and took out a slender, silvery spear of some kind, that somehow grew in length as it held it out to them until it was a good five feet long. The spear's head was an elaborate diamond shape with four barbs protruding from it. "Yes. This might interest you. Now, good as my work is, I can't claim to having made this. I acquired it under fairly remarkable circumstances - indeed I doubt it's even from our plane of existence at all, it seems to have a certain ... perfume ... suggesting it's not from around here. It took me nine moons to actually unravel the weave of spells surrounding it, Mystra bless us all. Where it came from, I can't tell. I was able to tell it was ... altered, in its journey to our realm. But what I can tell you is that this weapon will do a terrible thing to a dragon into which it is hurled. It will sour its strength enough that it likely won't be able to hold itself aloft in the air."

Immerstal rubbed his thumb on a knot in the spear's handle. "But it grants that power at a price. First, it was made only to graze a dragon. Against any other being, living, undead, or whatever, it will harm its wielder if one attempts to use it. Second, its power will only work once; the magic in it will discharge and the weapon will fail. And third ... it will sap the lifeforce from the one who hurls it and strikes the dragon it grazes. I've not heard of anyone who could craft such a weapon in this way, and I doubt I would want to know the art myself. For want of a better name, I call it a Wyrmcurse. But if you wish it, the weapon is yours -- for 700 gold."


What do you do?

In game terms, the scroll of Antidragon Aura is a CL 9 arcane scroll, i.e. a Sor/Wiz 3 spell. At this caster level, the spell confers +3 luck bonuses to AC and saving throws against the attacks, spells, and special attacks (Ex/Su/Sp) of dragons. It lasts 9 minutes and can cover 4 people when cast.

The Wyrmcurse - which can be wielded and otherwise functions with the stats of a javelin, i.e. it's a Simple weapon meaning virtually anyone can use it - has a couple of crucial provisos and conditions on its use.

First, if wielded against any target other than a True Dragon, it does 3d6 hitpoint damage to its wielder or thrower per attempted attack - whether the attack succeeds or fails. That's on top of the -4 penalty you take from trying to wield a javelin in melee.


Second, if the Wyrmcurse successfully strikes a True Dragon, it does 12 STR ability drain to the dragon, no save. The act of hitting the dragon with it also consumes its magic, and the weapon will crumble into nothingness when it does. Its magic is potent but unstable and it's only good for that one successful hit.


Third, if it does 12 STR ability drain to the dragon, it will at the same time deal 6 CON ability drain to the person who hurled it. For the avoidance of doubt, a miss has no effect on the thrower. The weapon has to draw on a living being's lifeforce to deliver its punch, and it's perfectly fine with sucking out the vitality of someone who attempts to circumvent its conditions by using a spell (e.g. Launch Item) or mechanism or trap. Or it may simply draw on the lifeforce of the last living creature who touched it. Or if it can't find a target to pull strength from, it will simply fail to do any damage to the dragon and its power will be spent anyway, causing it to become useless.

[Metastachydium]

Good thinking, Arendi. Mikolt said softly, still sticking close by the doorframe. The scroll was something for the mages to understand; but the spear (menacing, powerful and much like herself, not of this world) did catch her eyes. She almost stepped forward to inspect it more closely, catching herself in the last moment, but thankfully before giving herself a chance to push something off of its precarious position with her wings. I'd take both she told the humans' backs. if you can afford them, and perhaps before anything that's only good against arrows. Archers worry me less than dragons.

[Auranghzeb]

Pareto despised ranged combat, but he did see the gleam in Mikolt's eyes.

Wyrmcurse... he muttered. And apt name

He held out his bracers of armor.

I can contribute these to the pool. Let us strike a deal and begone, Miklot seems eager to try out that Wyrmcurse

[Alhallor]

Well then, please pack us both of the dragon items, the staff of Endure Elements and Remove Fear and the other Scroll against harmful energies.

Calyd let Aracor handle the money transfer. I guess we can be prepared as we can be, let's see how you're collegaes tread us, Arendi.

When out of Red magic and sundries Calyd adresses Mikolt.

Sorry that people seem to scathe you. Just know that I think that you're gorgeous.

[danielxcutter]

Once the transaction had been made, Arendi nodded and said, not unkindly, "Thank you for your business saer, may you have more to come, and a sincere hope that my Lord will not be requesting it any time soon."

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt slipped out of the room and into the open first with but a polite nod, but by the time she was done swallowing a perfectly inappropriate sigh of relief, Calyd caught up and things got… Weird. The zenythri narrowed her eyes, slowly and in clear confusion, missing a beat. Thank you? she uttered with an equally confused, rising inflection, before looking around hurriedly. She would figure out if that was a stealth insult once her mind would get restored.

[Alhallor]

No problem, Mikolt! I have your back should you need me. Calyd grants her the brightest smile and then makes sure to pack away both valuable scrolls securely but still reachable.

[Saintheart]

Sammath Street,
Southern half of Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 6 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Pareto, Athelras

They'd finished their trading and were headed down through the southern part of town, trying to avoid the late afternoon crowds that seemed to be surging through the mercantile districts centred around the Marketplace. Although you could feel the anxiety sweating from the adobe and wooden walls of the buildings around them, the city was slowly winding down from its daytime activities, and as they walked they passed or saw traders, carpenters, seamstresses, leatherworkers, and every other of the myriad professions in a city all starting to close their stores and workshops, trudging off towards home. The smell of cooking began to billow down the streets with the light lazily spreading from the west down the packed avenues.

They'd reached Sammath Street and realised that others were walking with them. A ragtag bunch of children, somewhere between the ages of five and fifteen, were starting to crowd around the circus, calling variously "Gold! Bread! Please, saers, water! A coin!" They all had the lean and hungry look of children that some of the circus members had seen in dozens of cities across the world: clad in rags, bare feet, some smiled, some wore desperate stares, some wore no shirts at all, and they followed after and to the sides of the circus, their plaintive calls echoing up the street. Women and men at windows looked; so too did passerby, glancing at the strange party who as yet had to decide what to do about this band of lost children...

What do you do?

[danielxcutter]

"Honestly, what we could spend in a night would probably feed all of them for a month. What we just spent might feed them for years," muttered Arendi to the others. "I'm worried about it backfiring, though. You know what they say about teaching a man to fish...?"

[Metastachydium]

Some look old enough; if they don't "fish" now, that might not change. Mikolt commented, all impassive. Watch your pockets and pouches, at any rate. she suggested, her voice softer and meant mostly for the Circus. And do tell if you need them scared off. For the first time since the Keep, she was very glad Alastor was, for the time being, separated from his troupe. The halfling would likely try to adopt them all, like those they found with the orcs back when.

[Lioslaith]

Athelras takes 19gp and places them in a small pouch, visibly. As they move down the street he picks a lamppost or other suitable difficultly high spot and hangs the pouch. "Urchins, here." As he points to the pouch hanging quite a ways above the ground.

[Auranghzeb]

Pareto takes a few gold coins from his purse magnanimously and let the kids have them. His inspirational voice booming through the streets gives them sound advice:
Spend it in health and enjoy, death looms on this cursed city if we cannot stop the impending threat! But fear not, we will succeed!

Spot [roll0]
Sense motive [roll1]

I keep forgetting that Pareto speaks in purple, not in gold...

[Alhallor]

Athrelras and Pareto seem to have everything in hand, which was good, Calyd always felt a bit weird about beggars. Should there still be some remaining after both actions Calyd goes down to one knee to be on eye-level if necessary and adresses them.

You know you're could always go to the guard to... Calyd interrupts the potential groaning and harsh words with a quick I know Captain Red Nose smells like cabbage, but for a fact I know that they are in some need of quick feet who know the town well and I'm sure that you can do that right? You should at least get a warm meal and a place to sleep out of it. But you shouldn't just do it for nothing.

Calyd gives some copper coins.

But remember, I'm a mighty magician if you don't at least try talking to the guard for a job I will know!

To sell the illusion more Calyd gives one of the kids a friendly bump and let's they're shirt glow with some comforting Light.

Giving out 4 Silver in copper.
Diplomacy: [roll0]
Bluff: [roll1]
Casting Light on a shirt or something.

[Saintheart]

Sammath Street,
Southern half of Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 6 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Pareto, Athelras

And as tends to happen when handsome, colourful people offer (a) free money and (b) a virtual lighthouse in the form of a Light spell indicating indirectly where said free money could be found, more children began turning up. In the space of a good couple of minutes, the crowd of children had grown from a dozen to twice that number, all with hands out, pressing in around the party, a little sea of open palms, smiling faces, desperate eyes, and heart-rending calls for bread and gold. And more adults were looking down from windows and doorways at the disturbance.

What do you do?

[Auranghzeb]

See! I knew Jarmaath was an oppressor! why so many people craving for simple things! Pareto bursts with indignation.

He climbs to a high position and then says:


Listen up, folks, listen up! He says with utter conviction, We have no more gold to share. We are off on a mission to save this town and your lives! But I feel your discontent and understand it deeply! The authorities of this place have failed you all if you cannot feed nor dress your children.

Once we are done with the threat that looms over this city, I swear I'll deal with your oppressors! Hear me out, for you have Pareto's word, and the word of the Fulgor of the South is granted by the will of Azuth!

He waves his hand over the growing crowd.

My men, my Circus, will free this city!

He then continues moving towards the city exit with expeditious speed.

[Metastachydium]

More purple than blue suddenly, Mikolt stared at the back of Pareto as the obnoxious little quasit pulled away rapidly, in clear disbelief. That was… Not tolerable. Not at all. Jarmaath stood too weak already, and this halfwit was calling for unrest. No, that could not stand. Way too indignant herself to wait for Arendi's approval, she straightened up, spreading her wings and glowered at all those still present. No. she said, simply, but loudly enough for all to hear. You will listen to me, now. Archontes Jarmaath graciously released this pest, in the vain hope that he can make himself useful, at the face of the storm that's coming for the city. To serve. He is nothing and no one, of no men to claim as his own, let alone command. This city needs no traitors. He'll be watched and handled as he deserves. she rumbled on. As for you: you listen to him, your homes burn. You die. Yours die. Do you understand that? If you would bleed, you will bleed. Would you? she pauses to draw a loud breath. Now, disperse. And do watch your thoughts.


Intimidate: [roll0]

[Saintheart]

Sammath Street,
Southern half of Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Late afternoon, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 6 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Pareto, Athelras

The announcement of there being no money left had introduced a certain resentful element to it, which had been smoothed over by Pareto's promise of more or less an uprising in the offing. However, Mikolt's announcement and not-so-implied threat made it spring up again. The children had fallen back already, muttering angrily.

The rock was about palm-sized and came tumbling through the air from one of the alleyways, its thrower gone just as quick. It was irregular and likely a broken clay brick, and it rebounded off one of Arendi's paldrons with a clonk, doing no harm. And that was about when the mass jeering started, and the children's calls weren't for gold and bread but rather more insulting and directed to somewhat improbable biological phenomena.

That was also when Arendi, made conscious of his possession from having been hit with a stone, found that sometime in the pressing of bodies, despite keeping a lookout, that some little poltergeist had slit a hole in his belt pouch. The nine hundred gold he'd had in there wasn't all gone, but there certainly was considerably less than he'd seen when last he checked. The pouch could be repaired easily enough, but the lost gold was another matter.

What do you do?

(I make that 19gp off Athelras, 3 gp off Pareto, and 150gp off Arendi.)

[Lioslaith]

Athelras flicks a hoof or two to get the mob away from his feet and then starts towards the city exit at a brisk pace, grumbling, "If they'd have just left the urchins to retrieve the gold pouch we'd have been rid of them."



Removed it (the gold) when I posted that I hung it up.

[danielxcutter]

"Honestly, I don't feel like chasing down a kid and shaking him down for the money," said Arendi, showing the others his slit purse. "I am slightly worried about what is probably a sizable fortune for these people entering circulation, though."

[Lioslaith]

"If we stick around here the sizable fortune is going to enter circulation whether we want it to or not."

[Metastachydium]

I positively feel like chasing down Pareto and strangling him, on the other hand. Mikolt glared, in the absence of the little troublemaker, at mostly everyone else still present. As for the gold, wartime prices make your concern somewhat moot. The winged knight sighed, irritably. Can we just move on, now?


One of M.'s flaws makes retrying that apparently botched Intimidation a no go, so the Mess is good to leave this other mess behind.

[Auranghzeb]

Pareto ignores Miklot's attempts to flame things up and sees the crowd depart, a bit richer, not less miserable.

He simply sighs to no one in particular: No justice, no peace

Let us right the ills of Goblins before we right the ills of men.


He scratches Lorenzo's ears and whispers very quietly

The less we spend with these dictator's bootlicker, the better.

[Alhallor]

The stream of children didn't seem to stop and appaerently not a single one was even interested in some normal work, even when getting the opportunity. Seemed his father was right. Thankfully Mikolt took care of the situation, with Arendi haven gotten even more gold flat-out stolen Calyd grinded his teeth. He was probably at fault by drawing more attention to them than was necessary.

When going towards the temple he got towards Pareto's side. Don't get me wrong, Pareto I like you, but this is not your circus! I don't know what have gotten you into jail but think about that Jarmaath not only gave you a chance to redeem yourself but also to get some money out of it so you could rebuild a new life, here or everywhere else. Don't start a ruckus in this town to the detriment of every single living person here.

[Saintheart]

The Temple of Kelemvor
Tall Way, Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Sunset, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 0 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Pareto, Athelras

As was often the way with temples devoted to the god of the dead, Kelemvor's Temple seemed to gather height and scale as the sun's rays weakened in the sky. It hadn't changed since Arendi came here earlier today. The structure was built of simple, dark granite, an uncommon stone hereabouts. It was essentially a large, domed central building with smaller outbuildings clustered around it. Kelemvor’s symbol – a skeletal arm grasping scales – was carved above the double doors – one of black, one of white. And though there were one or two people departing the place -- hugging one another, dabbing at their eyes - there were no armed guards on the doors.

As was tradition, Arendi brought the party through the black door; they would exit by the white. They all fit easily into the large, vaulted space beyond. The circular chamber had a large statue of Kelmvor at the centre of the vault, with the pools and biers scattered around the room, lit by arrays of white candles sending sweet-smelling scents into the air. Two novitiates were bringing and igniting oval-shaped lanterns to supplement the candlelight, and these flickered grey light around the room. At the far end, three more priests - acolytes, Arendi thought - were slowly wrapping a form in long white cloth on one of the biers.

But when Vokon entered the room, every priest in the chamber turned in his direction. Some of them raised their hands in a threatening way. Others grabbed cudgels from corners of the room ...

What do you do?

[danielxcutter]

"Brethren, please," said an exasperated Arendi. "Mortarch Mazrim himself knows of this, and the taint plaguing Vokon is not my friend's fault. We come here because of other afflictions, actually; as I also told the Mortarch, he and Mikolt here suffered wounds to their psyches repelling the unquiet remnants of the dead. I believe Mikolt has solved her problem on her own, but Vokon cannot, and I am not as blessed with our Lord's divine will as I hope some of you are. And maybe a closer look at the aforementioned taint itself, for good measure."

[Alhallor]

Calyd entered the domain of the lord of the dead, which was still a bit of a foreign concept to him. It seemed they infringed on Waukeens territory, on the other hand Calyd was never good with church politics. No sign of respect or reverie came from Calyd, because of this, but when the priests seem to ready they're invocations Calyd almost shot a Melf's at one of the priests, but thankfully Arendi prevented the worst.

The warmage still held the spell in his mind, just in case.

[Auranghzeb]

Pareto shivered in disgust at Calyd's words. He was starting to believe these were not necessarily the good guys.
Deflated by this revelation, he simply said.

You are right, this is not my Circus.

Upon reaching the temple, he decided to stay outside, he sat down on the masonry sitting and took out some beef jerky for Lorenzo. Then he shared his thoughts with the dog, who simply stared at him while chewing on his beef jerky.

Once again, we find ourselves doing the dirty work of a petty puppet passing as a ruler, keeping the order so the rich can fill their bellies. But what options do we have, dear Lorenzo? Letting an army of goblins raze everything to the ground? Nah! Unfortunately we have to travel with this Mikolt...

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt found herself, yet again, in a difficult situation so far as etiquette was concerned. Staring into the cavernous, somber hall from the threshhold, she was unsure whether entering armed was something she wanted to do, unsure what Arendi might have meant by suggesting "she solved her problem on her own" (perhaps he misunderstood the nature of her visit to the Cathedral?) and equally unsure whether she should correct him. The commotion, to make things even more complicated, presented yet another dilemma. Some part of her was quietly grateful that Vokon kept the eyes of the clergy and, perhaps, their god on himself, but another part was urging her to interfere: the assault on a fighting companion, and an undeserved one, to her knowledge, called for that. She adjusted the grip on her glaive's shaft and wrinkled her nose. Hopefully Arendi would handle this; and if he couldn't…

[Aracor]

Vokon stands up tall as the priests stare at him. I am no threat to you. I was injured while fighting undead abominations. They will no longer plague the tower where we found them.

Then as Arendi speaks up, he subsides and lets the cleric take care of it.

[Saintheart]

The Temple of Kelemvor
Tall Way, Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Sunset, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 0 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Pareto, Athelras

Two of the acolytes glanced at one another with Arendi's words, and hesitantly edged forward to meet the circus, having lowered their weapons. The other priests in the room seemed to either slowly go back to their own tasks or outright left the room.

Looking over Vokon despite their hesitation, their fearful gazes were replaced with mild interest as the moments went by. Eventually one of them asked the other to go and get the appropriate implements, and that acolyte headed off to one of the back rooms.

The second acolyte was a middle-aged with pale skin and her head and neck concealed under a grey hood and headwrap, which went with the black-and-grey of her temple robes. She had astonishingly green eyes and a long, curling scar that marred the smoothness of her right cheek. A simple ring with a scales-and-bones motif was on the fourth finger of her left hand. "I'm Masinne," she said, at length, addressing Arendi. "And we have heard about you, doomguide. This one," she nodded at Vokon, "we can restore to some extent, but the taint on him we can do nothing about ourselves. Not without ... well, without dealing with ... the ... the artifact." She licked her lips, drawing her hand away from Vokon's form as she spoke.

What do you do?

[danielxcutter]

"The Mortarch told me as much, sister Masinne, so I do not blame you," replied Arendi. "I don't suppose there's any insight to be gleaned from a direct inspection, but we would have had to see to the wounds on his psyche anyways. Though... is the taint that obvious? I didn't know it was anything so dire until I was told. If further inspection is needed, the other two victims of the taint are being cared for at the temple of Yondalla."

[Saintheart]

The Temple of Kelemvor
Tall Way, Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Sunset, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 0 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Pareto, Athelras

Masinne paused in her inspection (it had reached Vokon's left armpit by this point.) "We don't know much about how to remove it, doomguide. We know it's there, all right. You might not be quite as aware of it because you've been travelling in this one's company for a while. You know how you can get used to a smell, that after a while something rancid doesn't actually bother you anymore? It works a little like that. You would've felt something wrong about him when he came back from the Lord's fields, even if he was only there for a moment. 'Tisn't dire. Not in the way that the taint is ongoing. It's just there, and people can feel it. And it makes them a little uncomfortable. We're just more ... attuned to it, especially within the Lord's temple," Masinne added, gesturing at the quiet, shadowed space around them. "He stepped in here and it was like fingernails down a chalkboard, and it's still there - a little - as long as he's here. But I'm prattling on now, and -- ah."

The other acolyte had returned with a scroll in hand. Masinne reached out without ceremony, grabbed the first piece of grey-marked parchment and began to unroll it. "As said, this'll deal with the mark of the undead. One moment--"

She began to chant, the words a prayer to Kelemvor, and as she did, the candles seemed to flare a little higher in the room, and unseen whispers or echoes of whispers augmented her words. Her chant reached higher, and there was a stirring of air, and finally, crescendoed as she reached out to Vokon's forehead (standing on tiptoes as she did) and touched it with her index and forefinger of her right hand. The lights faded, and the noises receded. And for Vokon, his spirit was healed.

Masinne settled on her feet again, handing the scroll back to the acolyte. "That should do it. The donation to the temple is less, doomguide, because you're with them. Is there anything else?"

150gp please. Vokon's ability drain is all restored. What do you do?

[danielxcutter]

"Are there any items imbued with the Lord's power that might help? We're off to the swamp at the moment, but anything that might work against the goblins or dragons would also be nice," the greywarden said, handing over the coin.

[Metastachydium]

With the gtransaction apparently about to conclude, Mikolt decided (against her impaired judgement) to step in, and literally. Flexing her long, right arm all the way back to be certain that if nothing else, the business end of her glaive stayed outside the edifice, she stepped in and cleared her throat. Shall I take it that the cloud the allips left on me she paused, looking for a polite way to word her mild disappointment. are deemed not to be severe enough to need immediate attention? she said slowly, and almost apologetically at last.

[danielxcutter]

"Oh wait, I thought you'd gone to one of the other temples to get fixed," said Arendi. "My apologies, we'll need to fix you as well then. I shouldn't have assumed."

[Saintheart]

The Temple of Kelemvor
Tall Way, Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Sunset, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 0 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Pareto, Athelras

"Oh my!"
The words came from Masinne, and when they glanced at her it was plain to see how red her cheeks had flushed, and she had her hand over her own mouth. She hurriedly took it away, her gaze shifting to the other members of the party, but quickly coming back to rest on Mikolt. "I'm sorry. I didn't see you back there - great Lord, you are gorgeous. Oh no!" She clapped her hand over her mouth again, then hurriedly turned to the other acolyte as she removed it. "Well don't just stand there Delris, go and get another scroll!"

Masinne was wringing her hands as she hurried up to Mikolt, edging the other members of the party away (she forced Athelras to actually make a half turn on his four feet, the death cleric moved so quickly. "Forgive me, saer. I ... well. *ahem* Have - have you been, ah, ... on this plane for, er, long?"

What do you do?

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt's eyes flashed left and right, all but begging for some support. Had everyone in this city go insane in the last few hours? First Calyd, and than this peer of Arendi's. And to think that she used to believe the Shadowfell was odd! Still, steeling herself, she fought back the urge to retreat through the door and adopt a stance of defense. Since the first of Hammer this year. she answered, politely but audibly flustered, instead. And far from long enough to properly grasp, well, some of the local customs. I'm afraid. she added quickly.

[Saintheart]

The Temple of Kelemvor
Tall Way, Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Sunset, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 0 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Pareto, Athelras

"Oh ..." Masinne's eyes seemed unaccountably showing more whites to them than was usual. "Well, well, we must ... er, that is, we should -- ah -- show, er, tell you some of our, ah, customs." She reached a hand slowly towards one of Mikolt's wings. "Ah ... may I? They look so soft..."

What do you do?

[Lioslaith]

Athelras takes a couple steps forward effectively cutting off Masinne’s access to Mikolt. ”You may not.” is all he says. Glowering down at Masinne.

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt wrinkled her nose in utter confusion, her eyes still darting about, now primarily between Athelras and Masinne. To her deepest annoyance, mention of her wings got those big stupid things instinctively twitch and hit the doorframe with an audible thud. Could this be… That thing Master Harakh complained so much about? Is this… she whispered towards her closest companion, somewhat alarmed. Is this supposed to be small talk?


WIS-drained Sense Motive on the room! [roll0]

[Lioslaith]

”My apologies for stepping in on your behalf. It seemed somewhat rude to be touching parts of you without permission. Let alone even asking to touch said parts. If you do however, welcome the attention, then again I would apologize for interfering.”

[Metastachydium]

Please don't! I'm mostly just trying to understand what's happening! Mikolt lifted her free hand, ever more defensive. But the fog she couldn't lift.

[Lioslaith]

Athelras leans down and talks in more of a hushed tone, ”I too am mostly unaware of what is happening, but as you are now a companion I thought to possibly step in on your behalf. You seemed a bit stressed. Just know that I have your back should you need anything.”

[Saintheart]

The Temple of Kelemvor
Tall Way, Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Sunset, 22 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 0 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Pareto, Athelras

Masinne shrank back at Athelras's stern request, and her cheeks had flushed an even more scarlet shade, visible even in the dimness of the vault. "Oh. I am sorry. My apologies. *Ahem*. Ah! Delris!"

The other acolyte was walking back with a scroll in his hands, and a confused look on his face as he looked over what was going. His blue eyes, in his ageing face, were frowning under a very unflattering bowl cut of his hair. "Saer Masinne? Is everything all right?"
"Yes, yes, of course, hurry up now, let me have that." She all but grabbed the scroll out of the man's hands and unfurled it. She managed to regain some of her poise as she began to read from the scroll, and the words flowed out once more; the candles dimmed a little and another distant choir hummed, and she reached out to touch Mikolt's forehead. (This time it seemed appropriate to allow it to take place.)

The light bloomed again, and the voices faded. And the fog lifted from Mikolt's mind. Masinne stepped back, adjusting her robes.

Delris looked from the woman back to Arendi, an uncertain look on his face. "You were ... asking about anything that might work in a swamp, or functions against goblins or dragons?" At Arendi's nod, the acolyte expanded his hands. "I don't think we've got anything specific to fight such creatures - most of our items are made to deal with the dead, or the dying. We haven't had many doomguides through here so we haven't really had to guard against undead menaces. What we've got..."


The acolyte invites you to a small cabinet in an alcove where he indicates what they've got for sale, with some comments on each:

1. Scroll of Speak With Dead - "We don't much enjoy using this, but sometimes it's the only way to resolve how someone passed".
2. Potion of Cure Moderate Wounds - "Unfortunately the ... Cathedral of Lathander's taken most of the trade in these things. And usually we're being consulted around the time this isn't much help."
3. Scroll of Detect Undead - "Also not much call for this. Last time the Temple needed to track down one of these was when there was a desecrated burial over in Dauth. The Mortarch led that task."
4. Holy Water - "Not that you'd have much difficulty in acquiring this I suppose."
5. 3xScrolls of Protection From Evil (CL 8) - "These are leftovers from the task in Dauth. The ones that were used came in handy, I heard."
6. Scroll of Blessed Aim (CL 5) - "Huh. I didn't realise we still had this. Look at the dust on it, I thought we'd sold all of these to Yondalla's temple years ago."
7. Scroll of Remove Paralysis (CL 5) - "I think the Mortarch crafted this because we were concerned the vile creature in Dauth might have been a ghast. As I remember it didn't turn out that way."
8. Ring of Protection +1 - "I think this was left to the temple under inheritance laws for ... yes. That was Al'kesra, do you remember, Masinne? Poor man, he wanted us to make sure his sister got this ring on his deathbed, but I travelled to Witchcross myself and found the poor dear was killed in a treefall three days after he'd died. So it fell back to us. We don't have much use for it, though."

Scrolls are all 3/4 of the normal price for them. The Ring of Protection, though, is full price, 2000 gp.


What do you do?

[Metastachydium]

Having offered Athelras a still fairly confused nod of appreciation, Mikolt accepted, thankfully without further incident, the healing hand offered. And the mist did, indeed, recede. Thank you, saer. the knight bowed curtly towards the overeager priest. Her mind clear enough again, she felt increasingly convinced that this would have to do in terms of polite conversation from a soldier like herself. Something was odd, with Calyd, Masinne and then possibly Athelras acting strangely (although she had to concede that had it not been for the centaur using much the same words as the warmage before, the way the former behaved would have struck her as more than natural, and, in fact, refreshingly like how she'd have expected a comrade in arms to carry himself); she would have it explained, if she could, by someone more capable, but that would have to wait. I shall be she motioned, trying to project a subdued confidence, towards the door. outside, should you need me. – and out she backed

[Alhallor]

Calyd kinda getting shoved out, was a bit unexpected but the glow of the priestess of the dead was a nice compensation. Who would think that these stuck-up-seeming people could look so different when flustered? When Mikolt got out too and Arendi was still concluding some business the Warmage was just playing some dexterity game with the few remaining coins he had.

Say Mikolt, not that I want to pry or anything but has anyone ever flirted with you before?

Calyd try'd to look as neutral as possible while asking and trying to keep a silver coin still dancing on his fingers.

Reflex saving throw: [roll0] against 10 I guess.

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt wrinkled her nose yet again and nodded slowly. I've heard that word before? Grimeld tried to make sense of the notion for her once, but her sister was… Not really good at that. Or the notion itself didn't make much sense. The zenythri did not want to offend Calyd, however. What do you mean, Calyd? she asked after a long pause, swallowing her vague distaste.

[Alhallor]

Well it's... Calyd put his coin away and makes some gestures, then stops abruptly, thinking about how utterly complicated the whole act truly is. Well, I just really realized that you are from a whole other plane and I was not sure if you were accostumed to some things we take for granted, or how some social interactions may be interpreted by you in a totally different way.

The warmage thinks for a moment before continuing. It's really a complex interaction that can be done with words, body language, a glance... Comparisons to eyes with the shining stars in the nightsky or comparing a nice bosom towards a mountain range may happen too. Calyd, not at all flustered, seems to be getting into a description.

It's mostly to express interest to another person, I guess. Is it a common practice in your plane?

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt considered Calyd's words and managed not to frown too much – except when the man brought up the thing with bosoms. That sounded needlessly carnal and, if anything, quite rude. It is possible. she answered slowly and cautiously. But I can't recall it ever happening to me… Was that… That? she motioned towards the church door. She could basically hear Grimeld laughing herself to death in the background.

[Auranghzeb]

Pareto

Oblivious to the awkwardness going inside the temple, Pareto simply meditated to change his martial maneuvers. As the sun passed over the temple and the shade over the stone grew deeper, he started to feel chill and moved to a sunny spot to wait for the group.

[Saintheart]

Somewhere in Rethmar...







Whatever conversation passed between Mikolt and Calyd, constant reader, let us not tarry upon it.

Instead, let us leave the group of companions to their commerce and their discussions (feel you not the tug of my hand on your shoulder? Come now, my friend, we need not see all that transpires here, there are other things afoot we must pay mind to) Let us sweep through the white door of the dead, draw our eye draw back out and away from the Temple of Kelemvor (can you see, there, where Pareto shivers as our eye passes over him? Does he sense our formless, shapeless movement, or is it merely the sun he longs for on his bones?)

Let us fly, now, above the darkening streets of Rethmar. We can be leisurely as we do. Dusk is giving in to the entreaties of the night, and the surrender is sweet and flares with red and blue in the twilight. But the night gloom even fogs our eye, constant reader, o, there is darkness afoot, magic and echoes of the great song in the air, and we cannot see exactly what place we are in this city that is being covered by the night. We can only flutter down, as a wounded bird, from the night air to a lighted window, a single candle burning in a square window. The song of magic here is strong. We can feel it in the air, and we are not the only one who know of the magic. There is one here who does not only listen to the song, but sings it.

She has beautiful hands. That much we know. We can see little else of her, for the remainder is robed and hooded. But her hands are visible and they move, in eldritch gestures, and we hear a voice, whispering with liquid syllables, words forgotten as soon as heard and never comprehended. This is the voice of magic. And look: a tiny animal comes, a dove that does not fly by night, should not now be awake, but cannot withstand the great song that the woman has sung. The animal waits while the woman's beautiful hands scratch a note onto a scrap of parchment:

'They who killed Koth are here. Morale is lifted. They are being sent to the swamps to recruit elvenfolk. The blockade is broken. What orders?'

The woman uses her beautiful hands to tie the scrap to the sparrow's leg. At her nod, it leaps from its perch and out the window, gliding, banking. It turns west, above the Dawn Way, arrowing westward.

We need not track its path, constant reader; we know where it will go, in this strange night of magic. We know where it will land. Hours later, the sparrow's heart almost exploding in its chest from the effort and the pain, it will alight at a n appointed location in the hills near Terrelton. One distinct by the shape of the rock there. There a set of hobgoblin hands will take the scroll from the exhausted, dying animal, and ride speedily on the back of a worg to the main encampment of the Red Hand.

Wyrmlord Kharn expects nothing less from his troops.


































The Cathedral of Lathander
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Early morning, 23 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 1 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Pareto, Athelras

Night had passed quietly enough at the Stone Wyvern, with Falspar seeing to their rooms and meals.

So the circus was well-rested and sharp as they navigated the morning streets of Rethmar up to the top of the hill that formed the city's backbone. Although there were still anxious looks aplenty, the city was quiet enough, and their last journey up the hill was accompanied by a chorus of distant music: a hymn to Lathander, presumably coming from a dawn service (as Arendi explained). For most of the party it was their first visit to the Cathedral (albeit perhaps not for those who'd been in the city a while, such as Pareto and possibly Athelras.)

The cathedral's double doors were open and spilling people as the circus came up across Cathedral Green. The space within was as cavernous as it appeared from the outside, and the vault as soaring as only a good deal of money and a decade's dedicated construction could buy. Cathedral vaults were meant to resemble forest glades, with the pillars' tops arching like branches from trunks of stone. This one was like one of the glades in the legendary elven domains of Suldanessellar. The main hall would have to be a good hundred, hundred and fifty feet in length from entrance to nave. Flying buttresses and carved columns abounded -- the highest tower's dome was out of view, but it would have easily crested seventy feet or more. The rose window at the far, eastern end of the building was a massive circle of daylight from which Lathander's symbol glowed in stained glass mosaic, vibrant colours washing over the pews and alcoves of the interior. The air tickled the nose with faded incense, and polished wanderwood and darkhelm abounded in every row.

Lathander's legendary ego radiated from every statue in each alcove, which included some of the more notable clerics and heroes of the sun god's faith, but overwhelmingly Lathander's avatar: a muscular, powerful man in the full bloom of youth, a gold headband at his brow, standing in various heroic poses. Lathander shooting an arrow; Lathander holding a child up; Lathander holding the sun in his hands.

The traditional 'pantheon' mosaic was present, up above the windows of the right hand of the cathedral's transept. It showed up a lot in human temples, emphasising the alliance or affiliation of certain elements of the pantheon -- said alliance/affiliation often being against the god she followed, or so she'd been instructed. Lathander, of course, was represented front and centre and several orders larger than the depictions of the other gods.

(Arendi could see Kelemvor's image amongst them. He was up the back with the look of someone trying to edge into an overcrowded portrait).

A thin, old man in a white robe came over to them as they entered (not that they were hard to go unnoticed given the party's composition.) He immediately wrinkled his nose as Pareto stepped into the building. "Oh. They let you out. Ah ... what is it you want here ... er ... saer greywarden?" He turned to Arendi.

What do you do?

[danielxcutter]

"Not much personally, though if you do come across saer Kendil tell him that Arendi Marthebar says hello again; he did aid me and a friend with getting rid of a priestess of Cyric," replied Arendi. "Immediately, however, do you have any magical items that could help against either swamplands, goblin soldiers, and/or dragons?"

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt hung back somewhat behind the group, scanning for the young acolyte she made the appointment with. The whole circus (and Pareto) tagging along was not something she anticipated; and nor was she particularly happy about or comfortable with it. But then, if Arendi would manage to arrange for further purchases, that might keep the others busy for as long as she would have to slip away. She could at least hope that much.

[Alhallor]

Calyd looked around the temple of Lathander. He wasn't exactly sure if it really was a temple of Lathander, because it seemed so painfully obvious that it must be a font for something different. He was captured by the mural of Lathander together with the other gods and try'd to found Lliira and perhaps the one who really was in charge, because it really couldn't be Lathander. The richness of the temple though made it clear that the street childern definitely were some kind of leechers, if they just asked in the temple for an occupation they would surely get help.

Search: [roll0]

Calyd's not really thinking that a shadow power is reigning over the temple, he just thinks it's a bit too much.

[Saintheart]

The Cathedral of Lathander
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Early morning, 23 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 1 of 6

Vokon, Arendi, Mikolt, Calyd, Pareto, Athelras

The old man's face brightened when Arendi mentioned Kandil. "Oh! So you're the one he was talking about!" The cleric took another look over the circus, as if afresh. "Yes, Brother Kandil did safely reach us here, Morninglord be thanked. I was wondering why a cleric of Kelemvor would be here - I didn't recognise you from the priests from the graveyard. Yes, yes. Well, we've a few things that might assist here, but we've not much in the way of items that would help against a goblinoid menace -- most of our efforts are being turned to equipping the Lions of Rethmar ever since word came of the ... the army," he added, a shadow crossing his features. "So," he continued, "I'm afraid we've not our usual stocks for that sort of thing. Those of us who can brew potions or scribe are running themselves into the ground trying to prepare for the onslaught. And our supplies are running a little thin..."


The Cathedral's repository of items is pretty impressive, indicating they have multiple acolytes or priests capable of brewing potions or scribing. However, they don't have a lot of the more powerful stuff available, since a lot of it has either been purchased already or is being commissioned for the defence of the city.

1. The Cathedral has potions and cleric scrolls of most Core/d20srd-listed cleric list spells up to level 2, topping out at Caster Level 6. But their prices are steep: potions are going for triple the normal market price, and scrolls going for double.
2. It has a cleric scroll of Water Breathing (CL 6) available at normal price on the justification that nobody seems to have wanted it. This is on the cleric list.
3. It has a cleric scroll of Control Water (CL 7) available at double the normal price.
4. It also has a couple of mostly-burned-out Wands available ... but not of cleric spells. No, there's a Wand of Darkvision with 4 charges left in it (goes for 600 gp) ... a Ranger wand, meaning Athelras can cast it. And there's a Wand of Spider Climb (380 gp) too, albeit it only has 2 charges left to it and it's on the Wizard/Sorcerer list.
5. In terms of items, the most significant item immediately to hand (unless you had something specific in mind) is a set of Boots of Striding and Springing, which are going for an inflated 8,000 gp.

As Arendi and the old man went through what was available, Calyd was musing through the murals and peering around the splendour of the Cathedral. He finally located some acknowledgment of Llira's presence: one of the alcoves had a mural that seemed to be devoted to Lathander's aspect as the god of youth, in which he was cavorting with the goddess. As usual, though, the artists had been keen to portray Calyd's patron goddess as swooning in the presence of the Morninglord. Theology wasn't perhaps one of Calyd's stronger suits, but he did not have a recollection of Llira being that impressed by the Morninglord.

Mikolt felt a hand tap her shoulder. She turned to see the dark-skinned young acolyte she'd met yesterday. Although this time the girl was in a deep-hooded robe, she smiled and beckoned Mikolt away from the circus, deeper into the Cathedral.

What do you do?

[Lioslaith]

Athelras looks stoically at the offered items then nod’s politely as he declines to get anything. He waits patiently for the others to finish their business.

[Metastachydium]

Mikolt was never happier to be snuck up on. With only a curt bow to accompany a very relieved, very genuine smile of her own she complied with the equally silent gesture of the girl, pulling her wings close around herself (for the sake of the evidently expensive furnishings' continued safety) making sure her footfalls made little noise if any. It was about time she finally cleared a duty, rather than just constantly accumulating new ones.


Move Silently to slink away, because I like to roll stuff: [roll0]

[Saintheart]

The Cathedral of Lathander
Rethmar, Cannath Vale
Early morning, 23 Mirtul
1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

Complication Pool: 1 of 6

Mikolt

The young acolyte led Mikolt up to the cathedral's transept, where the ceiling soared and the light of the Cathedral's eastern rose window, stained in the image of Lathander's symbol, poured shades of yellow and orange onto the intersection of the arms.

Oddly, they didn't proceed into another alcove or into some back doorway. No, instead the young, hooded acolyte folded her delicate hands into the folds of her white robe and sat down in the frontmost pew, with the sanctuary and high altar before them. The crowds from the morning service were gone, and this spot had strangely assumed a little pool of stillness and quiet. The acolyte was facing away from Mikolt, and as the winged warrior sat down (gingerly) on the wooden pew, she lowered her hood and turned to look at Mikolt.

Except it wasn't the acolyte anymore. The acolyte's face, caramel skin, dark eye, and curly black hair had been replaced by pale skin like alabaster, blue eyes, and blonde hair framing a face a few years older, though the smile was the same:

https://alchetron.com/cdn/asher-keddie-61389ef6-862d-456d-8796-d30e9a5790d-resize-750.jpeg

"Forgive me for my ... misdirection," she said. "Sometimes it is necessary to take a slightly different form to do the Lord's work. In my defence, I did not lie to you. When we met, I did not know the prayer you sought to cast, and there are none of the Morninglord's faith other than myself who have the Lord's favour enough to do so. I am Tredora Goldenbrow, custodian of this cathedral and the faithful here in Rethmar. Do you still wish of me what you asked yesterday, friend?"

What do you do?