Tales of Neutral Ground IC

[CozJa]

Seeing Gryphon's antics after he gets up (well, technically, down from his shoulder) brings a feeling of refreshment into the paladin, as does seeing him spending some time to secure Layla.
The young and brash magician changed a lot since he first met him as a simple contractor with delusions of grandeur, even as he tries to disguise it.

As he speaks at lady Velancor with a not exactly friendly tone, a thing the older Khoravar can completely understand, he reinforce the young arcanist's words.

"Well, yes, it is late and we still have our business to mind, and some people to meet. What do you wish to do lady Velancor? Want to join us at ir'Sencriss manor? You can count on us to explain how things went in a way most... appeasing for all parts involved."

[Starbin]

Professor Drake Shardstone

Drake bowed in genuine respect to Lady Velancor. "My sincerest thanks, milady. It has been a pleasure to work with you, and I prefer you as an ally vice an enemy. I look forward to future collaborations." He also bowed to the celestial serpent, his thoughts as gracious and appreciative as they were to Lady V. He frowned slightly at Gryphon's comments, but only responded once Arimart spoke. "Not to presume for Lady Velancor, but perhaps keeping her involvement in Layla's ... recovery ... is best left as a need-to-know, and perhaps saved for a less emotional time than I anticipate we shall encounter at the Ambassador's home. Of course, should the topic be necessary to broach, I am certain we can elaborate on the vital assistance Lady Velancor and the noble Khabris provided. But we should hurry away from prying eyes and those eager to garner a more thorough solution to this evenings shenanigans."

Drake motioned for the others to lead the way to the Ambassador's home. Once the group departed, if Lady Velancor and Khabris left, he would bow again, then hurry off into the night. As they headed, out, he murmured to the others, without moving his lips, "Best we move swiftly - least our previous associates find added cause to deal with us tonight. I'd hate for this victory be spoiled by someone taking another shot at our young ward ...

---

OOC - Stage setter for the next portion of the

Spoiler: Status

Show

AC: 14 HP: 19/52 Init +2 Move 30’
Saves: Str +0 Dex +2 Con +2 Int +2 Wis +6 Cha +0
Skills: Arcana/Religion +8; Insight +5; Perception +9;
Warder’s inspiration (+1d4): Investigate, History, Thieves tools
Weapons: shortsword (+5 / 1d8+2); shortbow (+5 / 1d8+2)
Channel divinity 3/3 (Turn undead, destroy CR 1/2, Knowledge o/t Ages, Read thoughts)

Spoiler: Spells

Show

Prepare 9 spells, DC 15, 4-1st / 3-2nd / 3-3rd
0: guidance, thaumaturgy, toll the dead, mending
1st (x3): command, identity, alarm, armor of Agnatha, cure light wounds, healing word, guiding bolt
2nd (x2): augury, arcane lock, knock, suggestion, silence, enhance ability, locate object
3rd (x1): non-detection, speak with dead, glyph of warding, magic circle, clairvoyance, meld into stone, dispel magic
Wards & seals (1/long): alarm, arcane lock, mage armor

Effects: 60’ darkvision

[3SecondCultist]

Velancor listens to the words spoken, but does not propagate the conversation any further. She meets Gryphon's eyeline much in the way she looked at Arimart just a minute ago: silent, steady, and ever watchful. There is no amusement in her stance, no smug superiority after her victory. She simply assesses your group one at a time, giving each of you your due without lingering on any one of you in particular. When it becomes clear from Drake that you are willing and capable of taking Layla back yourself, the older woman does not press the matter and politely says her farewell. She dips her head to Layla last of all, but the girl pays little mind as she continues to clutch to Gryphon.

"Well," says Draci as she clanks forward, sword still drawn and resting easily over her left pauldron, "I guess I'm not about to kill anyone tonight after all. Shame, I was looking forward to giving it a real try." The knight never takes off her helmet, but you get the impression that she's staring at you much in the same manner as her mistress as she walks away.

The final departure is unlike both the woman's and the half-orc's, for Khabris is neither. The celestial-in-humanoid form wears a smile possessed of warmth and grace as it approaches one single member of your band. As it closes the distance to Arimart Kaessel, Khabris' hair begins to plait and smoothen, folding beneath its skin. Arms and legs follow quickly after, and the trunk of the torso absorbs its clothing into the same sinuous ophidian body it inhabited when it first appeared. Burned tiger-stippled wings flare outwards, and the gloom of the alley disappears into waves of silver glass. By the time the couatl reaches Arimart, it looms at least two feet over him.

Khabris' human-like visage bends down over the Thronehold prosecutor, eyes closed as its lips press themselves gently against the half-elf's forehead. It stays frozen in that pose for nearly a full minute - far longer than would be usual - as the glow around it begins to fade away for some reason. The mystery is solved when Khabris breaks away, and all of the brilliance that once filled the air burns back into existence around the spot where Khabris kissed it.

<We will not meet again, Arimart. Go with the grace of the Flame; as long as its light shines, you will know that you are walking the right way.>

[(Un)Inspired]

Gryphon keeps his arm around Layla’s shoulder as he rolls his eyes at the waves of silver magic radiating off of the Coatl. My gods, this has got to be the most tawdry display of magic I’ve ever seen. I don’t know why I expected style from a professional baby-gate for demons. Well, enjoy your makeout with my lawyer’s forehead, hope it lets your puff back up some of your sanctimony that scrapped off when you abetted Layla’s kidnapping.

With these thoughts in his mind, the wizard continues to console his young friend until Velancor and her entourage leave.

[Amnestic]

Kett Collier Human Shadow Monk/Rogue AC: 19 HP: 23/59 PP: 19 PIv: 13 PIs: 13 Conditions: Darkvision (~5 hours), 4/6 Ki Remaining Concentrating: -- She's quietly glad Velancor has gone. Involving her at the mansion would complicate things and spread information of the Codex more than necessary, potentially causing another fight that she'd rather avoid. For now, at least. They might still end up a target later on. Draci's comments elicit an eyeroll though. "Yes, we're all impressed you managed to beat up an old man, you're very scary." She'd seen Draci fight twice now, and the spy-assassin is fairly sure that even in a direct encounter she could take the knight with both arms tied behind her back, nevermind a situation where she gets the drop on her. Kett has no comments for Arimart on the affection shown by the giant rainbow snake, though she does, silently, share a look with Arano that communicates her distrust of creatures that can read minds when the power isn't mutual, a look he shares back. The information disparity on one side requires more trust than most romances would usually allow for.

[CozJa]

Ready to answer at Draci bluster, Arimart chooses not to after Kett happens to be quicker than him.

Lost in thought for a moment, everything changes when the celestial creature unveils its form and the reality of its gracelessness in front of the paladin.
Struck as if an entire plane of exsistence collapsed upon him, he is unable to resist the creature when it nears him and kisses hise forehead, leaving a lasting symbol of the very Flame he strive to follow and help manifest in each persone every day.

Completely overwhelmed by this experience, the Half-elven paladin is almost unable to answer to anything and anyone around him, meditating on Khabris departing words.

He needs almost a full minute before he can shake off the feeling and come back to the real world. A real world full of dangers and deceit, and of kids to bring back to their parents, for now.

"I... I think we should meet sir Danilos, now." is the only thing he is capable of saying, still hearing his voice as that of a distant relative from another plane of exsistence, and less if his own words spoken right now.

[GameOfChampions]

Kleris has to try very hard to keep his face an expressionless mask for the exchange when Drake pulls the book out and manages it even as Drake pulls it out of his pocket. Seems like Drake managed to pull off something at least in the exchange, which left him to wonder whether or not the other Changeling would reach out to him and for what.

Gladly he walks out with the group as they get away from the area, ending this fiasco of a night finally.

Kleris watches as Layla runs to the newly risen Gryphon but winces a little at Gryphons words, the both of them had been taken down handily by a combo of poison gas and two spells. Still probably not the thing to say to the terrified child they had just rescued. He moves past that and instead focuses on the leaving Valancor and her draconic ally. He raises an eyebrow as the Coatyl touches him on the brow and Arimart starts to glow on the head.

I think your friend caught something from his celestial buddy there. Make sure you don't go near him on the playground Kleris I don't want you catching what he caught.'

'Bite your tongue heathen! Kleris would be lucky if he received the blessing of the celestial as his comrade did! Kleris should be the one begging to see the type of gift granted to his comrade.'

Kleris ignores the voices... even though its harder then normal. It felt like they were pressing at the edges of his mind, straining himself more then usual to shut them out. He agrees with the others "Lets. The sooner we get Layla reunited with her Da the sooner we can all crash."

Also the sooner they can find out what benefits saving the ambassadors daughter comes with.

[3SecondCultist]

Khabris floats back on the skies without another word, its ancient gaze washing over all of you like the gentleness of a cool stream. The flying serpent inclines its head at Drake as a further sign of respect for the dwarf, yet does not repeat its miracle. Even now, the mark of its touch lingers across Arimart's skin, and even as the radiance begins to fade from 'blinding' to simply 'glowing', the area beneath the khoravar's skin burns with a dormant lambency. Oddly, the silvery scar bears a striking resemblance to a formless dragonmark.

Lady Velancor stares at the mark for some time, looking at it with some intensity. "Unusual," is all the Argentum agent says before turning to stride away down the cobblestones. Draci follows her, two steps behind and to the right. Eventually, Khabris soars after them, coalescing on the ground back into its humanoid form as it does so, leaving behind only a memory of feathers and scales.

The rest of the trek towards Solstice House sees the dark tresses of midnight fall upon the city. With Layla kept close and Arano following close behind you, your group crosses the border into the Thrane Zone with relative ease - the elf has found a way through one of the base walls. A modest house backs onto the wall from the Port District side, and is owned by a merchant named Tynabres who is willing to let people through a tunnel he's dug in his cellar - no questions asked - for a meagre five sovereign fee per head. Arano pays the fee for the group and all of you are permitted through the well-trod passage without any issue, emerging in the basement of an old storefront on the Thrane side. Climbing up the stairs, you pass a store cleaner who simply nods and unlocks the front door out to the street.

Unlike the scores of skulkers and midnight businessmen you've seen in and around Throneport's center of commerce, the Thrane Zone is all but empty of people. The wide boulevards of striking Flamite colonnades and dramatic expressions of piety carved in stone find a new quality in the deep dark. Wisps of a faint mist plays around your knees, and new-formed dew glistens on the manicured lawns and hedges that pass you on your walk. As you cross the invisible threshold into the neighbourhood of more well-kept manors of the country's elite, silver mage-lights gleam from the top of metal lamp-posts placed regularly on street-corners. The light adds to the vague phantasmal quality of the mist; for a few minutes, it is as though you are walking through someone's dream.

Before too long, the familiar outer gates and grand façade of Ambassador ir'Sencriss' home come into view. Unlike the rest of the street, the windows of the house are awash with warmth from within, its stained glass windows betraying movement behind them. The guards at the gate are quick to halt you with the vague sense of threat that is promised at the entrance to every wealthy establishment, but the moment that Layla shows her face they change their tune. A runner is dispatched into the house to go and fetch the lord ambassador and his steward, while you are asked to wait just outside and in clear view of the sentries.

"Thank you, Sir Kellson," says the girl with feeling when they've gone. "And everyone else. I'm sorry that I've been so much trouble for you. Ever since Professor Frey gave me his charm to hang onto..." She reaches up to touch the pendant at her throat, a silver trinket carved in the shape of a small chest.

[Amnestic]

Kett Collier Human Shadow Monk/Rogue AC: 19 HP: 23/59 PP: 19 PIv: 13 PIs: 13 Conditions: Darkvision (~5 hours), 4/6 Ki Remaining Concentrating: -- There was no telling who else was watching or listening. Kett shares a meaningful glance with Arano. There's little doubt that either of them could snatch it and go, likely escape into the dark of night before anyone else could stop them, but that was only part of the problem, and the resources on hand would still be needed for its destruction. "Well, hopefully after today it'll be the end of it for good." She's not looking at Layla though, her eyes searching the expressions of the group to discern intent, just in case any of them were stupid enough to try to take it first. Gryphon and Arimart seemed unlikely, but Kleris remained a concern. "This conversation shouldn't be taking place here either way." Perhaps paranoia was getting the better of her, but Dox sending someone-or-thing to follow them wasn't even remotely out of the realm of possibility.

[(Un)Inspired]

Gryphon almost tears up at little Layla's words. Oh kiddo, you haven't caused any trouble for us, those jerks who tried to ruin your birthday and their friends tonight, are the troublemakers. Let's get you inside so we can tell your dad all about how brave you've been and we'll get you a snack and find out where Jaunt's been. Afterwards you and I can talk. I've got a plan to stop them from bugging you for good! With that, the wizard takes the little girl's hand and walks her into her house, nodding for his companions to follow. I can't wait to Suggest Dox to try and change her skin as I flay it back from each of her fingers like a banana peel.

[GameOfChampions]

Kleris chokes in surprise a little as Layla gestures to the necklace, groaning all the while inside. 'Of course its the friggin necklace!'

'I gotta say this ones on you, we aren't exactly looking about out there.'

'Rookie mistake Kleris, you always have to examine the target.'

Kleris crouches down to get a better view of the necklace, trying to determine if there was something magical to it or if he could remember any details with some arcane item. After a few seconds he gives up and stands back up, smiling at Layla "Don't worry at all little one, we didn't mind and it all worked out in the end."

[CozJa]

As Layla mentions the necklace, Arimart unerstands that this must be what Kasimir meant when he spoke about giving something to her.

If that's the case, and his intention is that of leaving the most versed in magic in his group to determine it, then they made more step further along their road than he expected.

"And so, as usual, the light of the Flame shows the rightful path to those who stop to care for the weak."

[Starbin]

Professor Drake Shardstone

Drake was quiet as they walked back to the Ambassador's house, his hood pulled down, but his eyes scanning the dark as they journeyed. His mind was racing on how the evening had played out. No artifact ... no journal ... but potentially the key to the greatest threat to stability the world had known. Well, at least since the events in Cyre. Or the invention of warforged. Or those strange bodies they had studied in the keep ... speaking of which, when were they going to talk about those?

No, now is a time to focus on the Codex. How to get it ... how to destroy it ... how to find the patron responsible and destroy any notes she might have ... how to kill her ...

Drake swallowed hard at that thought. Surely it wouldn't come to that, but the group had to consider every possibility. If it had to be done, Arano and Kett were the clear candidates, while Arimart would likely be a pebble in the boot. He wasn't sure about Gryphon and Kleris, but both men had a dark side he could see ... and feel. For all he knew, they might be the most draconian of the group. Regardless, if he had to give up the orrery, he wanted to make sure the price was worth it, and that meant securing the Codex and ensuring no one could use it. Or, barring that, no one else could use it.

---

Upon arriving at the mansion, the guards quickly scrambled to summon Layla's father. In the moment's as they waited, the young lady touched her pendant and revealed it's nature. Smiling to himself, he spoke quietly, where watchers could not see his lips. "In the interest of security and not wanting to burden the Ambassador any more than necessary, perhaps one of you would like to collect the pendant on behalf of the tutor. The longer it remains with Lady Layla, the longer she remains a viable target and leverage."

---

OOC - Drake won't reach for it (he doesn't have that rapport with the girl) but he will suggest it to those that know her!

Spoiler: Status

Show

AC: 14 HP: 19/52 Init +2 Move 30’
Saves: Str +0 Dex +2 Con +2 Int +2 Wis +6 Cha +0
Skills: Arcana/Religion +8; Insight +5; Perception +9;
Warder’s inspiration (+1d4): Investigate, History, Thieves tools
Weapons: shortsword (+5 / 1d8+2); shortbow (+5 / 1d8+2)
Channel divinity 3/3 (Turn undead, destroy CR 1/2, Knowledge o/t Ages, Read thoughts)

Spoiler: Spells

Show

Prepare 9 spells, DC 15, 4-1st / 3-2nd / 3-3rd
0: guidance, thaumaturgy, toll the dead, mending
1st (x3): command, identity, alarm, armor of Agnatha, cure light wounds, healing word, guiding bolt
2nd (x2): augury, arcane lock, knock, suggestion, silence, enhance ability, locate object
3rd (x1): non-detection, speak with dead, glyph of warding, magic circle, clairvoyance, meld into stone, dispel magic
Wards & seals (1/long): alarm, arcane lock, mage armor

Effects: 60’ darkvision

[(Un)Inspired]

The Wizard from Droaam looks down at the necklace and realizes the sort of spell it likely corresponds to. Layla, can I hold onto your necklace for a little while? I think you’re right, it’s one of the reasons these people keep coming after you.

[3SecondCultist]

Layla looks up in surprise when Gryphon poses her the question of borrowing the necklace, and there is the briefest flash of something guarded in the cast of the girl. Her hand wraps unbidden around the symbol of the box, fingers clenching the ornament possessively before starting to loosen. But her eyes slowly settle into something new as they survey you. A few loose curls of blonde hair floats down in front of her face as she reaches around to undo the clasp, and as it comes off the chains clink together in her palm.

"Professor Frey told me to keep this safe from everyone. Especially people who asked about it." There is no mistaking what you saw in the girl now for anything other than fierceness. "But I think you're good. Or at least, you'll know what to do with whatever he put in there. I wanted to help him too, but I'm... I'm afraid that woman will come back for it. That's why she took me, isn't it? To get this?" She places the necklace firmly into Gryphon's hand.

"If anyone can keep this safe from her, I think it's you, Sir Kellson. I don't think Professor Frey would have minded giving it to you, if he'd known about you when he had to... leave." The nine year old's face says exactly how little she believes whatever story she's been told about Kasimir's disappearance. "He told me how to open it in an emergency. There's a special word you have to say; it's the name of the Dreamer, the Forgotten Moon. It's called -"

"Layla!" The shout could wake up half the neighbourhood. Striding down the steps is Danilos himself, followed by Ghastor and a healthy retinue of armed guards and house-servants alike. The Thrane ambassador looks two steps south of haggard - on top of the five-o-clock shadow, messy hair and desperate gaze, the man seems to have added a slight stumble and some spots of wine on his collar to his ensemble. Yet even impaired, there is no earthly force that seems able to stop the man from pushing through the gates and gathering his daughter up into his arms. The swarm of attendants follows swiftly after, and those of you who keep close to the girl have to contend with a dozen bodies all angling for position.

"Please, if you would accompany us inside." Sercyl Ghastor, unlike his master, appears to have retained some measure of calm. The steward of the house wears the same long evening cloak over his jacket and tie. "I am sure that the ambassador will see to your reward shortly."

[(Un)Inspired]

Whatever comes next kiddo, I’m gonna do everything in my power to redirect all of this away from you. I promise. Gryphon slips the necklace into his bag of holding as he watches Danilos carry Layla off to the house. Expressions of exhaustion and relief struggle against one another across the occidental wizard’s face as he sees his young friend reunited with her father.

Lead on, Mr. Ghastor, there’s no need to rush a family’s reunion. I don’t suppose you know the whereabouts of the young Lady’s new puppy? She’s expressed some concern as to his condition.

[Amnestic]

Kett Collier Human Shadow Monk/Rogue AC: 19 HP: 23/59 PP: 19 PIv: 13 PIs: 13 Conditions: Darkvision (~5 hours), 4/6 Ki Remaining Concentrating: -- She doesn't conceal the fact that her eyes are glued to the necklace that Gryphon slips into his bag. Literally in 'their' hands now, though she can't relax yet, still. One because the Codex was still in play, second because it wasn't in their hands - the Nailo's - and if Gryphon thought trading it away might keep Layla safe, instead of destroying it, then he might just do that. She's got no doubt that Arano and herself are dedicated solely to its destruction, but the others might be more flexible. The power vacuum left by the destruction of the Mark of Shadow could easily be something the hags of Droaam look to fill. Kleris was, as ever, a wildcard. Drake's motivations were still a mystery, but if it gave him leverage then she could see him wanting it. Arimart...well he worked for a demon. Probably. His apparent ignorance of that fact made him more trustworthy though, in a way. Kett shares a quiet, almost imperceptible nod with Arano, quietly making sure she's next to Gryphon at all times. Unfortunately for him, his safety was now the more important for Layla's, so she'd be on bodyguard duty until that changed. "Agreed, the sooner we're inside somewhere safe and warm, away from prying eyes and ears, the better."

[3SecondCultist]

The Sencriss servants waste no time whisking both father and daughter inside, all of you invited to follow in their wake. The guards do check your personages for weapons on your way in, but Ghastor vouches for each of you - even Arano - and obviates the need for any awkward confiscations. However, several of the men at arms continue to escort you; trusted though you may be, they are surely still under orders to keep a watchful eye on every arrival to the estate.

Passing through the doors, you find yourselves in the familiar great hall of Solstice House. The grandeur of the operatic ballroom is lessened only somewhat by the scorch marks burned into the chequered marble, but the absence of a crowd makes the whole place seem haunted. Without the magnificent light show of the Burning Birthday, the fixed stares of the heavenly sentinels that flank the entrance seem even more devoid of warmth. The portly Ghastor escorts you all to the booth where Lycia Velancor once sat with her Thrane cohort, overlooking the empty dance floor. Each of the side tables hosts a bottle of liquor and several crystal glasses, and salon couches are remarkably comfortable to sink into.

"The Ambassador will join you shortly," announces the seneschal of the house, watching the disappearing forms of Danilos and Layla at the top of the stairwell that leads to their family's private quarters. From under his arm, he retrieves a sleek leather case from which he produces an ornate scroll. "In the meantime, I have been instructed to provide you with a catalogue of some of the most exclusive Sencriss treasures that we keep stored with House Kundarak. The Ambassador has authorized the withdrawal of five such items, to be loaned to you until the time of your natural death. For the elf Arano Nailo, he has foregone this prize in favour of pressing the Tribunal to drop all charges against him. You are free once more, sir."

Arano raises his eyebrow at Kett when he hears the news, and then shrugs nonchalantly. "Well I wasn't just in this for shiny things, so I suppose I should feel grateful to be walking around again."

Spoiler: OOC

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Here we are, the loot! Each of you may pick any 1 item of Rare rarity or below. However, to make things a bit more interesting I am going to challenge you to come up with an Eberron-specific short backstory for your chosen item and explain how it came to be in the Sencriss vault to begin with. More details are better, but you don't need to write a whole essay if you don't want to; a short paragraph will suffice.

[Amnestic]

Kett Collier Human Shadow Monk/Rogue AC: 19 HP: 23/59 PP: 19 PIv: 13 PIs: 13 Conditions: Darkvision (~5 hours), 4/6 Ki Remaining Concentrating: -- Kett, in hearing that her husband is being denied his just reward of an item and instead has to make do with something as worthless as "charges being dropped" - as if Throneport's finest posed any significant threat to her beloved - is a little put off. But now was not the time to argue or press the issue. No, they had bigger fish to fry, and if they desperately wanted something from Danilos' possessions they could always perform some aggressive wealth redistribution at a later date. She leans over and pecks Arano on the cheek. "I'll work double hard to make up for it. Eyes on the prize." She glances over the list provided by Ghastor. Plenty to pick from, plenty to ignore. Her lips purse into a devilish smile as she spots a specific treasure, one that would bring her great joy to wear in a number of ways. She points at the item in question. "Think this is the one for me." A Scarf of Displacement. Spoiler: Displacement Clothing in Eberron Show Displacer Beasts have been hunted for their hides for centuries. A skilled hunter and a more skilled craftsmen are able to retain the displacement magic in the leathery skin while turning the item into wearable clothing. For most, this was strictly use cases - being hard to hit is incredibly useful in a variety of situations. For some, however, this was fashion, and years ago there was a brief summer's extravagance that pushed the animals to the brink of extinction. Every nobleborn scion and their admirers just had to have a jacket or a cloak or a scarf made of displacer beast hide to show up at the gala or opera or court so everyone could laugh at how they were slightly off centre and fall into raucous hysterics whenever two people appearing to be 10' apart crashed into one another. There's no doubt in Kett's mind that Danilos, or one of his sycophantic hangers-on, acquired the item while it was at its most vogue. Perhaps he'd been a victim of the trend, or perhaps Danilos had picked it up simply out of obligation. The trend ended hard and fast when Thuranni took the animal as their sigil and it became a practical social taboo overnight to wear displacer beast clothing, for fear that you might not wake in the morning should the wrong person see you sporting the goods. Kett's more than aware that this almost never actually happened - the fledgling House had more important matters to deal with - but they didn't do anything to dissuade the rumours either, as it helped their image. Phiarlan however noticed, and to this day makes it a point to occasionally organise displacer beast hunts and contract artisans to turn the hides into clothing for their agents as rewards or equipment for particularly difficult missions. Thuranni would like to pretend they're unaffected by such things, though Kett has heard through the grapevine of some agents (mostly the brasher ones) doing the same with hydra scales and hides. While sturdy enough, and occasionally fetching to look at, they fail to assist in spycraft in the same way displacer beasts do. Mechanically this operates as a Cloak of Displacement, but it's a fancy scarf instead. While definitely useful on its own merit, the idea that it might twist a knife in at Dox is too good to overlook. And perhaps the 'hero of the burning birthday' wearing it around town might prompt another fashion craze in Throneport. Trends are fickle.

[(Un)Inspired]

Gryphon squints at the scroll that Ghastor provides with terms and a list of items. Mr. Ghastor, the terms of this contract aren’t entirely clear. Does Thrane have a legal definition for what constitutes a ‘natural’ death?

He continues reading and as his eyes tick down the list of items his brow soften and a smile teases at the edge of his lips. Ahhhh, repatriation is one of the most beautiful expressions of quid pro quo, wouldn’t you say? I believe this item with be appropriate. The Khorovar magician points to an item on the list and watches as a servant scurries off.

Spoiler: Gloves of the Nocturnal Poltergeist

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Devilish faces and grasping little arms stir in the purple ectoplasm roiling outward from the interior of the supple batwing-leather, gold plated gloves.

Crafted by a night owl of a bheur hag that ruled a fiefdom, in what is now Droaam, over 130 years ago. Infused with the spirit of a particularly mischievous werebat, the gloves were part of the hag’s evening ensemble (which included a Cloak of Arachnida and a Robe of Eyes) which she donned to personally oversee her nocturnal kingdom. Unfortunately, all three items were lost in 876YK, when a Silver Flame Crusade swept through what was, at the time, far Western Galifar, the bheur hag and her demesne were lost to their inferno.

For years after the Magical Items were brought back to “Civilization” they were rumored to be possessed by the spirits of either souls they were crafted from, or of the vengeful ghost of the bheur hag herself, and consequently the gloves have mostly just lingered in the back for a treasure horde for several decades.

The Gloves of the Nocturnal Poltergeist themselves grant all the powers of a Cloak of the Bat, the Spirit that resides in the gloves themselves flowing ephemerally out across their master to grant their supernatural powers.

[CozJa]

"A 'loan' until death do us apart... an interesting choice from the ambassador, surely a good way of demonstrating his gratitude while showing at the same time his... interest in the duration of our lives..."

As the paladin reads the list, he reads the informative descriptions, until his attention is caught by a particular item.

"So... that's where it ended up?"

Spoiler: Mantle of Spell Resistance

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Particullary sought of by Cannith artificers during the Last War, this mantle was an original project of Merseux d'Oreleis, an Aundarian wizard and former rejected student of Arcanix. A passionate man, Merseux was well known for his tastes in magic, wines and women; that meant he spent most of his time dueling against other arcanists or Aundarian nobles, at least when he wasn't occupied in his researches.
He was clever and ended up creating this mantle to give himself an edge in his frequent duels. Sadly this did not prevent his demise at the hand of one Deneith scion whose wife had an affair with Merseux.

As the Deneith warrior took the spoils from his victim, he didn't immediately caught up the importance of the mantle, and it was stolen from his possession when a contingent of mercenaries guided by him were forced to retreat on the Aundarian-Thrannish frontier.

The Mantle was then recognized as a powerful magic item by Aurian Kloos, a cleric of the Silver Flame and servant of the church. He used it with great success and helped the group known as the Argentum in understanding the project.
At the same time, both the Dark Lanterns and agents of house Cannith infiltrated the Argentum with the goal of stealing the project, and ended up achieving success.
Not anymore an unicum, the Mantle lost most of his importance, especially since the project ended up being quite costly, and not even house Cannith have been able to find a way to mass-produce it. Right now, some other copies exist in the world, but this is the only original one, as showed by Merseux d'Oreleis own silvered signature in the inside of the Mantle.
The fact that it ended up in Danilos' vault is a demonstration of the good relations that the ir'Sencriss family has always been able to keep with the church of the Silver Flame, now de facto rulers of the country.

[GameOfChampions]

Kleris eagerly peruses the manual, he was going to be holding it pretty close to the chest but 'Kleris' could realistically live for centuries being passed on from changeling to changeling within the Cabinet. Maybe it was time to start requesting a couple new agents to join him here so he could start training them. Thronport was promising to be fertile grounds for the Cabinet in the years to come.

As he is going through the list he isn't seeing anything that catches his eye until the last few pages, as he spots it the warlock reads the history of the item with a curved grin.

'Oh ya. We don't always see eye to eye but thats a winner right there.'

Kleros pipes up a sounding a bit resigned and petulant 'We couldn't get that necklace of prayer beads? It would be a fitting way to honor our great god.'

Both Kleris and Istren scoff while Istren comes back 'You wuss. the prayer beads are fine but this... this has style!'

Kleris points the item out to Ghastor "This one seems perfect for my use."

Spoiler: Rod of the Pact Keeper +2

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In the times of Danilos' great great grandfather the House of Ir'Sencriss was lead by the canny Jurian. The old man was known for his devious deals with both his competitors and his allies alike, often the damning details of the deal not coming to light until decades after. Jurian left his peers in disarray with his dealings and often the question asked was "How did he know?". That question was never answered before Jurians sudden death at the age of 66.

Never did they suspect that the answer was in the stylish cane he had on him at all times. The coal black wood of unknown origin, the rune engraved silver heel of the cane, and the rune engraved silver handle shaped in the form of a great eye.

Deep within the archive of the House lies a secret history of the real Jurian. A powerful Great Old One warlock who used his connections to the unfathomable beyond to beguile and manipulate his peers for decades before the being called Jurians debt. The great being reaped Jurians soul from his body in order to enslave him for the rest of time, leaving behind only his beloved cane.

[Starbin]

Professor Drake Shardstone

Drake watched Danilos ir'Sencriss sweep his daughter up into his arms and hurry back into the house, the dwarf and his companions forgotten by the ambassador for the moment. For a man who seemed capable of things both great and dark, it always gave Drake pause to see the exposed heart of such a man. Where some might perceive it as weakness, it could denote a source of strength. It was certainly something to consider in future interactions.

When Ghastor approached them with a contract, he quietly perused the document, shrugging inwardly at the wording. If necessary, he was certain he could change the details - the script was the best kind to forge, full of sweeping curves, soaring peaks, and self-importance that marked most noble writings. For now, it was fine. He let the others review the catalogue first, waiting patiently as he scanned the room - while he didn't expect trouble, but he had learned long ago that was the precise time to expect trouble.

After Kleris stepped back with a small, self-satisfied smirk on his face. Drake quipped, "Obviously you found something of interest, eh?", but inwardly thought, Watch that one ... can't forget he's a changeling, and there was something going on between him and Dox ... Stepping forward, Drake adjusted his glasses and began to scan the book for items of interest. He noticed several items that interested him - a pipe of apparent dwarven-make That reminds me of the pipe Da used to have ..., a Kundarak keyrune ... probably not a smart move ..., a prism I could carry my own couatl in my pocket ... , and ... an Orrery of the Planes Well I'll be damned ... he even catalogued that ... and it has my name. Damn ... I almost had it ... what's that say there ... Xen'drik Expedition #602 ... hunh ... interesting ...

As Drake continued to scan, Drake paused in his scan as he came across an interesting entry. Wait, what is this? An 'unidentified mirror' ... 'strange images' ... 'strong divination magic' .. with Xen'drik Expedition #602, entered the same date as the orrery ... hunh ... wait ... that rune in the notes ... I've seen that before ... He thought back for a long moment, then paused to reach into his satchel and pull out a journal. He flipped through the book, scanning with his finger as he did. After a moment, he stopped and tapped the line. Kestia's sigil ... I knew I recognized it ... wasn't there a rumor ...?

His eyes widened slightly for a moment, then he rose and pointed to the line in the catalog. "I respectfully request this item, sir."

---

Spoiler: Kestia's Eyes aka Mirror of the Past

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Kestia, master magewright of The Augury, is an established force in the world of trafficking arcane and mystical artifacts and related items of power. However, as her influence has grown, so have the number of potential enemies. In order to better monitor her competitors' efforts to undermine her business, the elf created a mirror to show her a target of interest. While a crystal ball or scrying spell could watch someone in real time, it was easily defeated by several protective spells. Instead, Kestia concentrated on circumventing modern nondetection and glamour spells. What she created was a mirror that could capture past instances of the target.

It was occasionally useful, but uncontrollable - that is, one could not specify the time one viewed, the order or sequence of observations, nor increase the duration beyond a minute. Most viewings resulted in a series of images, often disjointed and cryptic. While there was potential value, the unpredictability of the artifact relegated it to niche applications, and mostly storage as Kestia planned to build an improved version.

However, due to a clerical error, the mirror was accidentally moved to the Minor Magical Items section, where it was inadvertently purchased amid a bulk order by an adventuring group planning an expedition to Xen'drik. When the group successfully completed their mission, they shipped their discoveries back to their financial backer, including the remaining items initially charged to the patron in support of their venture.

Upon arrival, the mirror was catalogued and added to the ir'Sencriss vault, forgotten in the wake of the orrery and the events of the Burning Birthday.

OOC - Finally picked my item!

Spoiler: Status

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AC: 14 HP: 19/52 Init +2 Move 30’
Saves: Str +0 Dex +2 Con +2 Int +2 Wis +6 Cha +0
Skills: Arcana/Religion +8; Insight +5; Perception +9;
Warder’s inspiration (+1d4): Investigate, History, Thieves tools
Weapons: shortsword (+5 / 1d8+2); shortbow (+5 / 1d8+2)
Channel divinity 3/3 (Turn undead, destroy CR 1/2, Knowledge o/t Ages, Read thoughts)

Spoiler: Spells

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Prepare 9 spells, DC 15, 4-1st / 3-2nd / 3-3rd
0: guidance, thaumaturgy, toll the dead, mending
1st (x3): command, identity, alarm, armor of Agnatha, cure light wounds, healing word, guiding bolt
2nd (x2): augury, arcane lock, knock, suggestion, silence, enhance ability, locate object
3rd (x1): non-detection, speak with dead, glyph of warding, magic circle, clairvoyance, meld into stone, dispel magic
Wards & seals (1/long): alarm, arcane lock, mage armor

Effects: 60’ darkvision

[3SecondCultist]

"For the purposes of our deal, a 'natural' death means old age or some other natural cause," replies the steward. "Death by dismemberment, immolation, exsanguination, poison, petrification, electrocution, or other forms of assorted grievous bodily harm would not automatically return these items to us, but you are not permitted to will them to any heirs or give them away to another until such a time as you have passed beyond this plane of existence. Should your whereabouts be unaccounted for for a period of five years or more, you will be presumed dead by this estate but Ambassador ir'Sencriss - or more likely, whoever winds up in control of his estate - will not dispatch collectors until there is proof that the death is natural."

Ghastor raises a single eyebrow. "Will that suffice?"

By the time that all of you have had a chance to review the contents of the scroll, scanning over the contents until you have found items that seem unique or useful, several more servants have returned to offer you evening refreshments such as tea or a nightcap. A small cheese platter materializes from the kitchens as well, along with a few sumptuous grapes and half a loaf of day-old bread. There is a draft in the ballroom, and wool blankets are quickly provided to ward off the chill. It is several minutes before Danilos himself reappears at the head of the stairs, a ring of steel in tow. This time he banishes his bodyguards to approach you in person, taking a seat opposite you all. He doesn't look any of you in the eyes; instead, he rests his head in his hands.

"You found her..." The Thrane ambassador drags his right hand down his face, as if he could wipe away his exhaustion. "I almost didn't believe it when they said you'd brought her back. Thank you. Thank you. I believe that I misjudged some of you before, and for that I must offer my most sincere apologies. When I needed you, you all stepped in to help, and I shall never forget it. You have a friend in House Sencriss.

Now, it is clear that my seneschal has already shown you the list and you have chosen your rewards. I will speak to my contacts in House Kundarak tonight, and arrange for everything to be transported into the city within two days at most. You'll be able to collect what you need down at the docks - the Kestrel should be landing then at my own private slip. Does that arrangement suit you?"

[(Un)Inspired]

Old age or or natural cause? Well if they don’t accept Droaam as a Thronehold nation, good luck trying to serve papers to Baba Maenya to get those gloves back. And if they do take on Droaam as an ally, then the gloves will be passed on to Layla. Win-Win.

Thank you, Mr. Ghastor. As we’ve come to expect, your elucidations banish any specter of concern.

Gryphon sips his nightcap while begging off any tea. He does, however, put a sizable dent in the cheese that’s brought out and disappears quite a few of the grapes as well (he doesn’t even touch the old bread). When ir’Sencriss arrives he dabs his mouth and turns his attention to the beleaguered noble. So used to quarreling with Danilos, the Khorovar Wizard is actually surprised at the man’s frankness and appreciation. Hold onto this feeling Sencriss. This is the parent that Layla deserves. The man who cares more for her safety than the management of his estate.

Lord ir’Sencriss, I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say that, while we greatly appreciate your reward for our efforts, what’s important tonight is that your daughter is safely home with her father. If something ever happens to threaten her again, we will be there to get her home safe. Further reward is unimportant, we just don’t need Lady Layla to be another victim to the cruel games of power adults play. I don’t mean to seem ungrateful for your offer to expedite the shipment of the treasure you’ve offered us, but would it be possible to have porters bring the items to our place of business, Jhory’s Reprieve in the port district tomorrow?

He turns to look at each of his accomplices directly before looking back to the noble. With the recent events we’ve been through, I’d like to have a collective meeting with all of you, as well as individual meeting to discuss personal matters that have come to the fore.

[CozJa]

As their host finally appears, Arimart accomodates himself, sipping a cup of tea; a relaxing habit from his days at Sharn with Berem, which he kept from then on, whenever possible. Occasionally, some people noted how a tea may not be the best choice of drink before sleeping, to which the Half-elf usually answered that even sleep may not be the best choice in his line of work, but he takes it nonetheless.

Still shaken by the evening's events, not last his close encounter with A COUATL! , the paladin eyes Danilos ir'Sencriss actions, pondering on how it is true that every man is a complex mixture of thoughts, actions and feelings. The very man who ruthlessly murdered an agent of the Brelish crown, and who greedily forced an auction on lady Velancor, endangering his daughter in the process, right now stands before them, as a meek and moved father, with nothing but gratitude for the same people who just one week ago would have happily arrested him.

"The ways of the Flame are deep and winding, and the mind of humanoids even more..." as he thinks this, he looks at his companions.
Gryphon, who he finds worringly similar both to himself and lord ir'Sencriss, and to whom he can't help but feel some familial affection, master Kleris, who is contemporarily the most helpful and the most reclusive of them all, but he feels a kind of kinship with him, the same one would have with a comrade in arms, maybe because he is the one who reminds him most of the war.
Even professor Drake, who joined their... association after the Burning Birthday, is proving himself a dependable and capable colleague, surely not a friend and not someone whom he'd like to make friendship with, but strange times build strange connections.
And what to say about Kett? The woman may be the most glaring example of the contradictoriness he ever met. Even now, she apparently effortlessly juggles between her roles of caring wife and remorseless house agent; still, something in her seem to be greater than even she can imagine. After all, she may of may not need their help, but stuck around until now. Maybe house Phiarlan teaches loyalty to their people?
"What irony, that a human may lead me to re-evaluate my opinion on the shadow demesne. I may be seeing in her more than what really is there, but who knows?"

As Gryphon answers to Danilos, Arimart nods to his fellow half-elf then interjects, adding some of his considerations.

"I concur with sir Gryphon, what was more important was your daughter's safety, and I'm positive that we achieved this goal. You have been more than generous with us, and I don't think we have anything more to ask you. The only other thing I wish to remind you, right now" and saying this, the paladin leans closer to the ambassador, still keeping his almost empty cup of tea on his left hand, "is that you take real care in providing an adequate suggestion for the late Evam Taralos. The Tribunal officially deliberates with extranational authority, but there's no need to remind you that the opinion of the ambassador of one of his founding nations would be taken into careful consideration. We need to be back in full force as soon as possible, to demonstrate how even the death of one of our highest council can't stop the hand of Justice."
The paladin leans back, placing the cup of tea on its saucer.

"But for now, I'm sure you want to spend time with your daughter, and I'm sure non of us wish to take away any more of it."

[Amnestic]

Kett Collier Human Shadow Monk/Rogue AC: 19 HP: 23/59 PP: 19 PIv: 13 PIs: 13 Conditions: Darkvision (~5 hours), 4/6 Ki Remaining Concentrating: -- Gryphon had a tendency to talk too much and overpromise. In this case, his promises were that Kett (and the others) would help out in the future if anything happened to Layla, and apparently for no reward. He was wrong. But there didn't seem much point in correcting him. They had the Codex now, and with its destruction Arano's issues with the House would be put to bed, Lia would be safe, everything tied up in a neat bow and Kett'd be back to doing her normal work instead of this...whatever this was. "Mm, it's quite late, but we should cover off everything before retiring. Don't want anyone to sleep on a full mind and empty stomach." Not that she expected a proper night's rest. Lack of trust would now be at an all time high. She was steeling herself for what she expected would be a boring and difficult conversation - that of how to deal with the Codex should they not be able to destroy it. She already had her solution in mind, and one that Arano would almost certainly agree with eventually, even if he objected at first. Selling the rest of the group on the matter was another thing, and if it were to work she'd still ideally need them on board rather than across the table. Her main playing card here was Dox - the threat of her looming over them all, threatening either Layla or the Codex itself - put them under a time pressure. Tomorrow would be busy, whatever happened.

[3SecondCultist]

Your dealings concluded, for the time being you all take turns shaking hands and saying your farewells. Danilos makes a point to shake each of your hands on your way out, and they seem steadier than they were before. He pauses as he comes to Arimart, his eyes catching the strange new mark on the paladin's forehead and narrowing in some interest. But instead of commenting on it, he replies instead to the request asked of him. "I have already sent word to Flamekeep, and they are deliberating on a new Magistrate. I'm told that the Keeper herself is weighing in, which is unusual. Once the cardinals inform me of the candidates, I can offer them an official recommendation."

Ghastor asks for each of your signatures as well, to authenticate the order with the appropriate dragonmarked houses and ensure swift delivery of your new treasures. Other than that, you are permitted to finish your tea and the midnight snacks provided and then led back out the same way you came in.

"Take care, Heroes of the Burning Birthday," says Danilos ir'Sencriss as you come to the doors. When he smiles, it is suffused with genuine sentiment. "Please stop by if you wish to talk more in the days to come. I will leave instructions at the gate to let you inside. I'm sure Layla will want to see you if nothing else."

Leaving the Thrane Zone behind, the return journey to the Reprieve is uneventful. Though Throneport is still held tight by evening's grasp, there are no clouds in sight and even the magical lamps aren't enough to blot out the endless procession of moons and stars above. Getting across the border back into the Port District takes no time at all - this time you go over the curtain wall, using the attic of an abandoned building that leads up to a rampart out of sight of most of the patrols - and you all make it down with relative ease to the still-busy streets of the market.

Once you unlock the doors, you find the inn precisely the way you left it. The lanterns still burn low on their wall-hooks, the polished glassware gleams and sparkles just waiting for customers, and the well-worn common room that has become your base of operations is empty of visitors or distractions. Arano settles down at the edge of the bar. The Phiarlan agent conjures a strand of phantasmal shade from underneath the counter, the illusion winding leisurely between his fingers.

"So," Arano declares, "who wants to find out if this all-powerful artifact is everything the dear departed Kasimir said it was?"

[(Un)Inspired]

Gryphon drags the comfiest chair he can find over to the fireplace in The Reprieve and rubs some of the exhaustion off of his face as Arano talks. If this chest doesn’t lead to something particularly special than I’m gonna spit on Kasimir’s grave for all the trouble he’s caused us tonight. He thinks to himself for a moment, Well, maybe tonight was more about the Orrery than that damn book, but still. What the hells was the fool thinking, throwing Layla into the path of an oncoming lightning rail. I ought to find his corpse and animate it just to give him a piece of my mind.

I suppose I should be the first to speak tonight. It seems we have the key that will open the door to the ever illusive book that has caused so much trouble. To be rather frank, as much as I’d like to confirm the truth of this matter, I’m worried about what will happen if, and when, I utilize said key. Consider this, the miniature chest, that is the key, is non-magical on its own terms. The book, however, is likely to be one of the most potent sources of magic within this city. The moment I bring it to this plane of existence, it’s very likely to set off any number of diviners who are actively searching for it. I’m uninterested in leaping back into the fire, once more, this evening. I’ve recently made a breakthrough, however, in the development of a new spell that can actually tell us if the book is currently being sought, who and how many are seeking it, and most importantly, if we’ll be attacked the moment I bring it back to Eberron. Unfortunately, I’ll be unable to cast the spell till I get a chance to sleep.

The worn out ambassador looks at each of his companions, and Arano, too tired to keep up his typical aloofness, before continuing.

With the additions Sir Kleris and I have added to this building it is one of the safest places we have to rest in Throneport. I suggest we each grab a bed, Kleris deadbolts every door and we all get some sleep. If there are those among us who do not require a visit to Dal Quor to recuperate, then they can stay up on guard.

Properly dealing with an artifact is delicate business. We shouldn’t just rush into it pell-mell.

[Amnestic]

Kett Collier Human Shadow Monk/Rogue AC: 19 HP: 23/59 PP: 19 PIv: 13 PIs: 13 Conditions: Darkvision (~5 hours), 4/6 Ki Remaining Concentrating: -- The assassin purses her lips at the suggestion. She'd like it done with as soon as possible, but his explanations were valid and when he's not posturing and preening for a point of political power he can talk some sense. If there were some trap or divination retaliation attached to the object they'd want to be in the ideal position to deal with it. Dox probably wouldn't have the journal decoded in less than 8 hours, nor could she openly launch an assault on the Reprieve the same way she had outside the city walls, especially with Velancor and her pet lizard gone. They had some time. She glances at her husband for reassurance. He was still in top form, ideal to keep watch, especially since he could trance instead of sleeping like the rest of them. "I...could agree to this, with the explicit caveat that we all spend the night in the same room. Safety in numbers - for us, and the artifact." She doesn't say it out loud, but her implication that there might not be a total trust considering the object now in their hands isn't difficult to miss even for the most socially blind. Yes, none of them had the Mark of Shadow to actually use it (save Arano, of course) but that didn't mean it was useless to them, either immediately or later. "We can keep watch in shifts, two at a time. I'll even volunteer to not watch with my husband if it helps alleviate any concerns." Of course the flipside meant that the Nailos would have more watch coverage in general, to keep an eye on the others. Good for the assassins in making sure nothing happened before they could set about destroying the damnable book, and her offer would perhaps buy some positive reception of its own. She's not blind to how people would view them, given the object in question.