The Town in the Ruins IC

[4th number]

You are awakened in the dead of night by the horrific howling of the hellhounds, a vile, choking noise that insinuates itself into your dreams before you realize that it's coming from reality.

The entire town is up and stumbling toward the park that serves as Blackstone's town square. It's where everyone goes in case of anything, from a troupe of bards rolling into town, to an oncoming storm, or a serious crime committed. In this case, it's evident within minutes that the interest is focused on the public hall, a large building that had once housed a massive indoor lake but now serves as an amphitheater for meetings, speeches, and performances.

As each of you fight through the crowd, you begin to hear words repeated in the terrified rumors-- Magga the baker's daughter says that the mayor's possessed. Jok, the fat scribe, claims there's a pack of monstrous flaming dogs inside and that they've eaten the mayor. Everyone is talking about an attack, but there's no sound of fighting.

Through it all, the retching howls echo through the ruins.

[Quellian-dyrae]

Ardan was up at the first howl. The guardsman slept light, and the sensation of evil hit him like a bucket of water. By the time the din had grown enough that his siblings had awakened, he was already in full armor.

He considered quickly. In times like these, the people would gather at the park. The baying of the hounds sent a chill down his spine; he was imagining a pack of great mastiffs, darting through the crowds, tearing into people with their teeth. Even not knowing that these particular hounds would likely spew flame, it was a scary thought.

But only slightly less scary than the idea of such a dog rooting through his home, coming upon his siblings - two teenagers and a "mage" whose best battle spell could basically make the target blink really hard - while he was out on the streets.

"Come on," he told them as they gathered in the living room. "Stay close, stay behind me, and if someone you don't recognize approaches, scream."

"What's going on?" his elder sister asked, voice steady.

"My guess? We're under attack. I need to get out there and I can't be sure it's safe here, so you three are with me. Let's move."

His brother's eyes got hard, the youth going quick for the kitchen, coming back to pass knives to his sisters. Ardan gave him an agreeing nod, then warning, "Only if you need to use them," before leading his siblings out into the dark streets.

As he expected, people were heading for the park. He did what he could to keep them moving in an orderly fashion, calling out orders and encouragement. As they went, he'd try to form his people into a semblance of a marching order, trying to get the bigger, stronger, trained, or armed people at front and back, the younger and weaker - and his siblings - in center ranks, though even for the watchman, herding the frightened people into anything resembling order would likely be difficult at best.

He kept an eye out for anything that could be pressed into service as a weapon. Did he plan to have these people fight? Hades no! But if something came after them, he wanted to make sure they had as good a chance as he could give them to survive.

Once they reached the park, he bade his siblings to stay safe, and started through the throng, still doing what he could as he went to keep people calmer and more organized. He gazed across at the town hall, grip tightening on his hammer, and began to work his way through the crowd in that direction. The threat was there, which meant that that was where he needed to be.

[hoverfrog]

Ever a light sleeper Eupraxia heard the sounds even from her remote little home at the edge of town. Dart was standing at the foot of her bed, his tail swishing from side to side impatiently. Something was wrong, something otherworldly. They both sensed it. Pausing only long enough to pick up her crossbow and sickle, the latter a tool rather than a weapon, and an old cloak she ran for the town centre. The cold night air would have made another shiver but Prax barely noticed it through her scales, even wearing only her shift. She through the cloak around her for decency but it trailed behind her as she began to sprint.

She almost ran into the crowd that had gathered round the old amphitheatre. Too many people, all with their pointless questions and babbling nonsense. She heard someone saying that the mayor was possessed by demon dogs and another that he'd been eaten alive. Most likely he was cowering under his desk or asleep in the bar again. "Dart, let's hurry. I sense a darkness at work here, " she yelled at the crowd to make way, slashing at those who came too near with her tail. She'd found out long ago that people shied away from a tail even when it was barely felt.

She spotted a Blackstone guard making his way through the crowd, hopefully he wouldn't get in the way or try to stop her. "You there, guard!" she didn't remember his name though a handsome muscle bound fellow like that certainly had one, "Have you seen what was making that noise?" Not waiting for an answer she bounded up the steps, moonlight reflecting from her silver horns and scales and a feral, hungry look in her eyes.

[BigKahuna]

Rogar, ever the hedonist, awoke from a crazy drunken nightmare to find that not only was he still slumped over a table at his sister's tavern, the horrific sounds which had been torturing his dreams were real. Rogar, slurring his words as he spoke, yelled, "Someone better have an explanation for this!" Unfortunately, the few remaining drunks at the inn also had no idea what was going on. Not only did they not know what was going on, all of the drunks were not in full possession of their faculties and they firmly believed that someone in the tavern must be responsible for the noise. A fight ensued, but it was a very sad affair as the drunken men swung wildly and missed with every single punch, except for Rogar who was having a good time and managed to land quite a few punches, successfully knocking out one of the other drunks. Inga, Rogar's older sister who owned the tavern and had also been woken by the noise, walked into her tavern to see this sad display. She reached under the bar, grabbed a large blunt stick, and smacked the remaining drunks over the head to get their attention. After a while, and the promise of a free round of drinks, she managed to convince everyone that it would be a good idea for them to head to the park and see what was going on.

Due to the fact that everyone but Inga was in a drunken stupor, they were among the last people to arrive at the park. Once there, Rogar saw that everyone was looking at the amphitheater. He walked straight towards it, knocking people out of his way as he went. Once there he opened the door, drew his Greataxe (which he always had with him in case a fight got really heated) and drunkenly bellowed at the top of his lungs, "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"

[Quellian-dyrae]

Ardan turned to face the voice calling out to him, and actually lifted his polearm to a ready guard for just a moment when he spotted the tiefling, before his logical mind ("She's a local healer") caught up with his instincts ("HORNS AND TAIL!") Lowering the weapon with a shake of his head, he responded, "Nothing y-" before she went for the stairs.

His first instinct was to stop her, but this wasn't some simple pick pocket or burglar they were dealing with. The town did have capable warriors, and he knew he'd be foolish to act like they were limited to him. He started after her, though in his armor, he wouldn't be able to catch up, settling for calling out, "Hold a moment! If we're going in there, we should organize a team." Worst thing they could do, he figured, was have people going in there one or two at a time, without knowing what they would encounter.

[4th number]

Rogar stands at the door to the public hall, greataxe in hand. Prax is at the bottom of the 10 steps leading to the doorway. Ardan is 30 feet away in the thick of the crowd.

The rest of the crowd, some four or five hundred by now, quiets down as the tougher and more experienced citizens on the scene take charge. Eupraxia alone probably commands half the forces of the underworld-- surely she, a drunk dwarf, and a guardsman could take care of... whatever this was.

Rogar hears from behind him, "... organize a team!" a moment before he bellows out, "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" into the open door.

There is a moment of silence, broken only by the clanking of Ardan's armor as he shuffles up the steps.

"Why don't you three come in?" suggests a reasonable-sounding voice.

[Quellian-dyrae]

The voice got Ardan's hackles up. Too calm, too collected. He almost would have preferred booming threats and bravado. Almost. With any luck, this could be dealt with peacefully. Still, unless his chanced-upon companions made a move, he didn't plan enter the hall just yet. He was brave, but not rash.

"Why don't you tell us who you are, and what is going on?" he requested in return, calling through the open door, his voice calm, but authoritative. He'd advance, quickly but cautiously, as he spoke, wanting to get ahead of Prax and beside Rogar, in case anything came through the door at them.

Seeing Rogar among the people who had stepped up to face this threat gave him...mixed feelings. The dwarf's penchant for fighting meant he wasn't entirely unknown to Ardan. Still, if things turned violent, Ardan was confident that both he and the healer would be good allies to have.

[BigKahuna]

Rogar was taken aback by the reasonable sounding voice, as he had been expecting something much more monstrous and ready to fight. He was also confused by the fact that the voice was asking "you three" to come in as, to his knowledge, Rogar was not three people. He turned around to see Prax, the town healer, whom he knew relatively well as his penchant for fighting and drunkness often lead him to seek medical attention. While she could be a bit standoffish, Rogar thought that it would be very useful to have her here so she could heal him if things got hairy. Behind her, but heading towards him, he noticed a town guard who had stopped some of his fights. While he didn't particularly like this guard, he was happy to see him as Rogar figured that anything which was likely to attack would probably go for the guard first, allowing him plenty of time to dispatch it from behind. Rogar waved to both of them and said, "Ah, that's what he meant by three."

[hoverfrog]

"Hiss," is that the mayor's voice she heard? She'd only listened to the blustering old fool a few times in her life and couldn't be sure, "Who is that? What's going on in there?" Prax ran up the stairs to stand behind the dwarf, noting the stink of stale ale on him, did he bathe in the stuff?

[4th number]

Eupraxia takes an instant to glance at the crowd, and she notices a few of the people of the village have brought weaponry with them. Many look ready to fight, if only someone else will go first.

Rogar's hangover magnifies all sound and transformed it into pain. In the midst of the transformation, though, he hears something. The mayor, an occasional customer of the same establishments* is definitely in there, talking to someone in conversational tones.

Ardan's back is to the crowd and his eyes are on the doorframe. The noise of the crowd overwhelms his senses, and he can barely make out what the visitor said next.

"It's good that the three of you are bold enough to come here armed as you are." You hear a sharp whistle, and the hounds cease their howling. "I have some need of boldness at the moment. Do come in and join your neighbors."

*

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There are two places to get a drink in Blackstone-- The Pub and the beer garden. The Pub is where one goes to discuss the news of the day over a pint, which, in a town of less than a thousand people, tends to be similar to very advanced gossip. The beer garden is where you go for a beer, a potato with butter, and a string band show for a copper piece.

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Perception rolls for everyone! I'll make this a proper post in a sec.
Ardan (1d20+1)[2]
Rogar (1d20+6)[13]
Prax (1d20)[14]

[BigKahuna]

Rogar turns to Prax and the guard and tells them "The mayor is definitely in there, I can hear him. He doesn't sound like he is in pain, in fact he sounds fine. Ideas?"

[Quellian-dyrae]

Ardan kind of craned his head, trying to make out what was being said. It didn't sound like a declaration of name and business, that was for sure...unless maybe, his name was Goothat Threyu and he was here to harm them with boulders in the name of Duke Johnny's Boars...? No, no it...probably wasn't that.

When Rogar said he heard the mayor in there, and he didn't sound hurt, Ardan nodded slowly. So did that mean, the mayor was possessed? Or was he just trapped? Or involved? Ardan didn't know. He didn't want to be too hasty, but he also didn't want to put lives at risk by waiting, or seem hesitant before the crowd that was looking up to them to do something about this. "I do not think we will accomplish much waiting out here," he said. He raised his hammer to the ready, met Rogar's gaze, and added, "I say we advance."

[BigKahuna]

Rogar eagerly replied, "Good idea." He then began to advance into the amphitheater with a barely contained sense of joy as he readied himself for a fight.

[hoverfrog]

"Let's just go in," Prax loads her crossbow and walks in. Dart hops up to her shoulder, wraps his tail round her neck and chitters nervously. Instinctively she heads for higher ground, cautiously peering into the open space ahead. As she moves forward she sniffs the air for anything unusual, a whiff of sulfur, a hint of chlorine, anything out of the ordinary.

Spoiler

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Pax has low light vision to 60 feet and darkvision to 120 feet depending on the lighting inside.

If Prax does sense anything or see anything then try to determine what it is from her knowledge of the mystical and of the world as it is.
Knowledge (Arcana) check (1d20+8)[10]
Knowledge (Nature) check (1d20+8)[11]
Knowledge (Planes) check (1d20+8)[13]

[BananaPhone]

The road over from the last town had been long, arduous and delightful fun. The tree's had been green, the plains plentiful and the empathetic witticisms of Mr Sparkle and the Xaan was almost sad to see an end to such delirious joy.

But come to an end it did, and in spectacular fashion!

Coming across the town of Blackstone at a time when the shadows were long and deep, Xaan's keen eyes picked out the grey silhouettes of a crowd that was aggregating towards the town square.

Perking up immediately, her blue eyes widening, Xaan quickened her pace into the town. Carried by the exciting notion that she was happening upon some sort of town party or celebration - or that these people had a strong sense of a community welcoming travelers - the half-orc trotted through the emptying village streets and stopped at one of the entrances to the town square.

Instead of partying and joyous celebration, the half-orc was greeted with a dreary and depressing scene: people standing around, staring at a building while a handful of folks approached.

Tugging someone's sleeve, Xaan uttered quietly: "Is this a play?"

[4th number]

The entrance hall is unguarded, and it opens into the fully-lit amphitheater. Seated behind one of the five Council desks is the mayor, who is drinking a small beverage and holding a cheerful, animated conversation with a drooling demonic hellhound.

Inside, seated in the third row, are four other people. Ardan recognizes his fellow guardsman Berent as one of them, but the others have their backs turned. They, too, are among hellhounds: two of them. Berent gives a friendly wave of greeting and gestures up the the mayor's chair on the level above the council seats.

Seated there is a demon. Its face is cloaked in shadow, but the shape is unnatural. Its arms don't end in hands, but rather an ever-shifting mass of tentacles. Its thick red robe is draped carefully over its legs, but it's obvious that nothing resembling a mortal leg is underneath.

"Please step up onto the dais." Cordial, inviting.

[4th number]

Outside, the man whose sleeve Xaan tugs is another half-orc, a tall, well-tusked young man.

"It's something demonic. They're going to find out what's going on, I think," says the man hopefully, nervously punctuating with a rapid, long-tongued lick of his left tusk.

On the steps, Xaan sees the three people catch up to each other and exchange a few words.

[Quellian-dyrae]

Ardan moved with them, sticking side by side with Rogar. When they came to the amphitheater, what he saw chilled him.

It was some sort of compulsion, it had to be. They were under an enchantment. Question was, what sort? Ardan had a fair knowledge of spellcraft, gleaned from several nights helping his sister study, and knew that there were many ways to control the mind. What sort of influence his people were under, he did not know for sure, though his initial theory was a charm. He spent a moment appraising the townsfolk, mainly Berent and the mayor, trying to remember what he had read and see if he could get a more solid read on whatever enchantment held them under its sway.

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Spellcraft: (1d20+5)[13]

Regardless, he most certainly did not approach the dais. Lacking any formal education on planar lore, he didn't know the hounds for what they were, but they we still big, formidable, dangerous-looking canines, and he couldn't even begin to guess at the demon's capabilities. Definitely not ideal odds.

Though he analyzed the situation with a warrior's tactical eye and healthy caution, when he spoke to the demon, his words were calm, polite, and firm. Ardan was a skilled negotiator, and knew there was a time for threats and bluster, and a time for etiquette and tact. "Greetings, sir, and welcome to the Town of Blackstone. May I ask, what brings a being such as you to our humble town? Your arrival has caused our people a bit of a stir."

Yeah, he didn't expect to get much from it, but it was worth a shot, and might buy him or his allies time to come up with a better plan.

[hoverfrog]

Prax looks back to see if any reinforcements are coming. Maybe it would be better if they weren't. There was no way that they could handle even on hell hound, let alone a demon as well. That left negotiation or flight. Indecision stopped her from moving. "Who are you? What do you want?" she eventually choked out, wishing that her guard dog was with her instead of back at her hut.

[BigKahuna]

Rogar walked in and briefly observed the scene. Upon seeing the hell-hounds, the demon, and that the mayor seemed to be OK with all of this, two thoughts crossed his mind. The first was that Prax and the guard seemed to not want to step onto the dais for some reason he obviously didn't understand. The second was that, strong though he may be, it would be very hard for him to fight the demon and those big scary dogs in his current condition, and the demon had cordially asked him to step onto the dais. He had spent a bit of time around dogs and other animals in his many labouring jobs, so he figured that maybe he could calm them down, but he still didn't like his chances with the demon. So, unsure of what to do next, he heard Prax begin to question the demon so he added, "Yeah, and why do you want us to step on the dais?" Hoping that with this extra information he could figure out whether it was a good idea or not.

[BananaPhone]

The half-orc listened to the other half-orcs explanation, her curiosity not sated in the slightest.

Instead her excitement seemed to inflate.

"Ohh, actual hell-spawned demons...the actual demons with the horns, and the raaaargh!" she held her two index fingers to the sides of her head to immitate the proper imagry. With her feminine tusks and green skin, it wasn't that hard of a sell.

Almost as quickly as she had piped up, Xaan composed herself. "But has anyone discerned that it is demonic mischief afoot or instead the machinations of devils? Because there is a sharp and divisive difference between the two groups that one should be informed on when deciding a course of action should an encounter be confirmed!" she chirped up, raising a long, black-claw-tipped, green finger to accentuate her point.

[4th number]

Outside, the three step into the public hall as Xaan speaks. The other half-orc seems distracted, and begins to edge toward the front of the crowd, nearer to the steps.

"You sound like you know about demons. Come on. You can see what kind it is."

He pushes through a few people and appropriates a sword from the young blacksmith's apprentice who was clearly struggling with it.

"They call me Poldice, by the way."

[4th number]

The thing stands, intertwining its arms in front of its abdomen. It steps forward-- click, click.

"Why am I here, who am I, what do I want, and why should you step forward?" It laughs pleasantly for a second or two. "Perhaps I can clear things up somewhat. We need something from this city, but our information has proven somewhat..." Its tongues flick out for a moment as it considers its word choice. "less than current."

It steps down closer (click click click), near the top of the stairway to the dais. It detaches three tentacles from its right "arm" and points them at each of you.

"You will be helping me."

[BigKahuna]

"You get me up in the middle of the night, ruin my dreams, and now you want my help?" Rogar bellowed angrily, with a hint of drunkness still remaining in his voice.

He then quickly realised that going along with the demon could probably lead to some fighting, or at the very least some good times, so he stepped onto the dais and confidently talked back to the demon, "Sorry about that, I'm still a little drunk. I'll help you, but I don't work for free." He then turned to Prax and the guard muttering, "I learned that the hard way."

[4th number]

It separates its arms and pats Rogar on the back gently.

"That truly makes me happy, my friend. I am seeking a small box made of black wood bearing a blue gem on the latch. It was part of the collection of the Arch-Lord Fellind the Fifth, but that was some time ago on this plane."

It glances around the room and flicks out its thin tongues again.

"Your payment will be provided on delivery. Among other things, I am planning to leave as soon as I have what I need, and I see no reason to be anything but friendly while I'm here."

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(1d20+8)[11]

[hoverfrog]

"What happens if we refuse?" Prax keeps her distance from the tentacled thing, ready to bolt if it makes a grab for her.

[Quellian-dyrae]

Not flame-blasted likely, was Ardan's first thought, but he managed to keep it down. If you were a negotiator, you learned not to deal in absolutes.

He could not believe that Rogar stepped up to the dais. They had very little leverage in this situation, and agreeing like that tanked it even further. To say nothing of the risk of doing anything a fiend asks of you of your own free will.

Still, he didn't show it in his face or voice, and did his best to build his response off the dwarf's move, rather than weaken their position further by acting at odds with him. "As a show of good faith, then, release the mayor and our people from whatever enchantment you have them under, and let them leave here unharmed. We will not work under duress."

Far as Ardan was concerned, this was a hostage negotiation. If he could get them out, it was something. He didn't much trust the thing, though, and examined its words for any hint of duplicity.

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Sense Motive: (1d20+4)[17]

[BananaPhone]

"I?" Xaan asked as she followed behind the other half-orc. She got to identify the infernal denizens! How exciting!

"I am Xaan!" she announced, inflecting her name and placing her green fists on her hip.

[4th number]

Poldice leads Xaan around the building at a run until they arrive at a side entrance. He gestures for silence and cracks the door open, revealing the scene on the dais and in the space below.

The two of them hear the last exchange between Ardan and the thing.

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Xaan's perception: (1d20+8)[21]
Xaan's Knowledge(the Planes): (1d20+8)[15] PM incoming.
Some other rolls: (3d20)[14][8][9](31)

The thing lowers its tentacles and seems to stare at Ardan for a long moment.

"Anything for a friend, I suppose."

The mayor, left of the stairs at the base of the dais, lets loose a blood-chilling scream and knocks over his chair in a desperate bid to escape the hellhound, which does not move. Berent, in the seats to the right of Ardan, shouts "Everyone behind me!" as he draws his sword and faces the hounds near him and the others.

[Quellian-dyrae]

Ardan's mouth formed a thin line as the mayor proved incredibly useful. Berent, fortunately, had his wits about him, as he had come to expect. He gave the demon a respectful nod.

"Berent, take them outside, get some patrols organized, do some crowd control. We've got this," Ardan told his friend serenely. There was no one he'd rather have at his side in a fight - or, really, in a negotiation; he and Berent could play quite the game of good-cop-bad-cop - but the security of the city was the priority. If Berent argued, he'd respond with a simple, "Gotta guard the gate."

Either way, he'd finally approach the dais. Well, that was the issue with negotiation, wasn't it? You had to give to get. The demon had shown good faith, and had so far proven non-hostile. Was it an act? Almost certainly, but the point was, it was an act he wanted the demon to keep up, and so he had to play his role too.

It wasn't among the easier things he had done in his life. To be honest, he hoped Prax was smarter than him and followed Berent out the door (well, assuming Berent did follow Ardain's request). Still, he moved decisively, and stood solidly beside Rogar. "So, what can you tell us about this box of yours?" He was carefully not to verbally agree to actually retrieve it. Still, whatever information he could glean would help.