The Madness of Men in a World of Monsters (D&D 5e IC)

[Theophilus]

Mal Levistus Tiefling Bard 4 AC: 14 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 13 PIs: 11 Spell Slots: 1st - 4/4 2nd - 3/3 Magic Initiate: 1/1 Fey Touched: 1st - 1/1 2nd - 1/1 Levistus Legacy: 2nd - 1/1 Bardic Inspiration: 4/4 Healer's Kit: 20/20 Conditions: -- Concentrating: -- When the gnome takes to literally blasting at random, Mal tactfully takes a step to the side as if to say I'm not with him. He then rests his hand on a silken satchel with embroidered designs as he maneuvers toward the proffered chair. A voil case tastefully clung to the scholar's pack with its clasps within easy reach of its owner. The bearer settled into the chair like mist floating over a lake at dawn. His immaculate hair and trimmed beard did not shift out of place in these transitions, and the tiefling trained his eyes of molten gold upon Set as he spoke. Mal's gaze coaxed him to speak, gently urging him that the man had his full attention. "Well met, Set. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." The attache considered the insights from the seasoned mercenary. The prospect of hazards on the highways of the Vale permeated the discussions with Mistress Moira. Yet, the conduct of travel in any embattled lands tended to be precarious at best. He waited for an appropriate moment to inquire into the matters at hand. "Do you have means to project scouts ahead of our cohort? Similarly, do you have any contacts within the villages, townships, and cities along our route? If not, we shall cultivate these networks in support of Dr. Fixer's efforts, so that we may succor strength to call the arms required." He roved his gaze slowly from person to person, considering each person assembled. He then added, "I am an outsider to the Vale, but the conduct of war remains similar. Our foe counts his solidified strength his main hope, which is not insignificant. He holds the human species as a screen to resist the encroachment of our varied kinds. However, with the revelation that vampires lurk within them, we may twist this uniformity into terror. When any human may be a bloodthirsty agent, who better to trust than a nonhuman? Such doubts would bolster our would-be allies' stakes in the realm, while endearing Mistress Moira long before her name again echoes at every table in Aelindor."

Spoiler: OOC

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[Awful]

Selissa Betula Wood Elf Scout Rogue AC: 16 HP: 31/31 PP: 16 Conditions: None Concentrating: -- Selissa's intense green eyes met those of the tiefling when he cast his gaze about, taking his measure just as much: gold versus emerald. "Am a scout," the wood elf interjected. "Good at it. Could try Yurl. Helped save them. Only five years ago. Humans, but might remember still." She paused, and her wooden arm involuntarily clenched its fist. After a long moment, she added, "Fought the Horror." Again, she lapsed into silence for a moment before she spoke again. Finally, the quiet elf introduced herself. "Selissa Betula."

[purepolarpanzer]

In Bo'Tel Castle, The Entryway, Breakfast.

Moira wheels to witness Madaras' display, annoyance crossing her features. That is better than Dr. Fixer, whose face turns beet red as he grabs his hat and utters "Hack!" under his breath. When the pyrotechnics and fanfare calm down, Moira smiles in a strained way and bows slightly. At Set's question, Dr. Fixer snorts. "More of an understudy. A pale imitation hired by the lady who happens to share a profession with yours truly. Though I will admit, should he prove able to shamelessly copy my formula he will be able to produce Vargath's elixir for him on the road. Moira then responds to Madaras' question. The only two ways we've found to destroy Ebonstone is a diamond hammer or a volcano, so destroying them, while a possibility, is not always a practicality. If other methods exist, we haven't discovered them. Whether you utilize Ebonstone or destroy it, the choice is yours. I'm sure an inventor such as yourself can find many applications for the relics and items you find.

Then the gnome artificer orders his homunculus to attack the castle, and Moira loses her temper. Dr. Madaras! While I appreciate that you wish to display your value to these individuals, I must insist you without further obnoxious magics while in my home! Please, both of you, sit down. When everyone is seated at the table, she turns to Mal with a smile. Vargath, Selissa, and Set, this is Mal, my atache. He is on loan to my movement from an organization based outside the Vale that has the wisdom to support our efforts. While in the field and away from Dr. Fixer you can consider him a step above in terms of authority. I will not order you to follow him, but he will have this... she removes a pair of stones from her pack and slides one across the table to Mal. Both have indentations in them that allow one to grip the stone easily in a fist. And will have direct access to me in the field via a sending spell once per day. The stone can carry twenty five words, to it's partner and back, and will be the primary way I communicate missions, objectives, and warnings while you are away in the field. When Dr. Fixer is present, he carries my authority, but while you are away from both him and myself Mal carries the weight of the Bo'Tel household in all matters. I expect daily reports, Mal, as to the efficacy of your efforts and any support you need. She turns back to Mal and answers his question. For now, Maledictus, you all ARE my scouts, until more men and women come to our banner. Right now you five and Dr. Fixer are my only field agents I can trust without reservation. I am hoping that your efforts may lead to more.

Moira stands from the table, walking along one side of it with a driven stride. She stops next to Set, placing a hand on his shoulder and lifting, indicating she wishes him to stand. Then she smiles at him, places a kiss on each cheek before pressing her lips to his own for several seconds while clasping her hands behind and around Set's neck, a gesture Selissa would recognize as the greeting of a paramour. Moira whispersTime grows thin, and I must leave, but I wanted to let you know that I will be thinking of you, and hope I will be in your thoughts as well, outcast of Abydos. Until we next meet, and may that meeting be as sweet as our introduction... Then she speaks more loudly so everyone can hear. Last chance for questions. I assume you will be spending one more day to wait for Vargath's elixir from the good Doctors, but if Birel is as intelligent as she seems I may not return in that time. You have your orders, and I trust you all to fulfill them with exceptional effort and due diligence.

[Theophilus]

Mal Levistus Tiefling Bard 4 AC: 14 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 13 PIs: 11 Spell Slots: 1st - 4/4 2nd - 3/3 Magic Initiate: 1/1 Fey Touched: 1st - 1/1 2nd - 1/1 Levistus Legacy: 2nd - 1/1 Bardic Inspiration: 4/4 Healer's Kit: 20/20 Conditions: -- Concentrating: -- Mal smiled politely to Selissa. He noted the arm composed of natural fibers. He replied courteously, "Thank you for the insights, Selissa. It is a privilege to meet a green elf dedicated to her element." The tiefling listened attentively to Moira's stipulations and chosen method of communication. He collected the stone with notable agility, though Selissa may discern his movement was nothing compared to the wood elf's own adroitness. He secured the object within his satchel and he answered the Mistress. "Thank you for entrusting me with this responsibility. Unless required otherwise, I shall contact you at last light to provide a report for the day's activities. I trust this assembled crew can find likeminded souls to expand your endeavors." Otherwise, the attache left the final remarks to the rest of the crew. The tiefling understood his position as consultant required his availability to the necromancer's whims. He mentally assessed the prospects of their mission and realized they would need to limit their overt actions. None of the cohort was nondescript, though he suspected the scout could blend into the natural realm with relative ease. This outdoors emphasis may be our lot in this phase of the operation. He mused and allowed that fortune to settle into his bones. He would make the most of his appointment. The Vale appeared ripe with opportunity so long as they did not blunder into the strength of their foes' forces.

Spoiler: OOC

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I added Sending stone to character sheet.

Spoiler: Mal's Notes

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Set: outcast of Abydos / Romantic connection for Moira?
Selissa: Blighted or reconstructed wood elf? Purported Scout.
Vargath: Afflicted Lycanthrope seeking to suspend his curse
Mandaras: Rival to Dr. Fixer.
Dr. Fixer: Moira's lieutenant and cultivates relations with the locals of Vale.

Report daily updates to Mistress Moira at last light.

[Riggdgames]

Set Al-Sayyid Changeling Fighter/Hexblade AC: 17 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 9 Conditions: Iumenta Pox (currently no symptoms) Concentration: -- While the subtleties of Mal's movements are lost on Set, the eyes and easy manners are not. Set examines the tiefling warily as they sit back down, but a memory interupts his thoughts. Growing up, the only snakes that made it into the palace-proper were those on two legs. But whether through malice or accident, one day a serpent was found in Sisi's bedroom. Her shrieks brought the guards, of course, but it was one of the cats, Elora, that killed the thing first. Set could remember watching her carry the lifeless snake in her mouth straight to the king's chambers to lay at his door before he'd even been notified of a disturbance. Both the viper and the protector had shared golden eyes. Shaking his head to clear it, Set gives the man a polite, if slightly uneasy smile. It was a coin toss, but the coin had already been flipped. There was nothing to do now but move forward. He couldn't help a slow nod as the tiefling explained his assessment of the situation. At least it sounded sensible enough. As Evergreen responds to the tiefling's question, Set's eyes narrow at her. He looks away before it could be called a stare, but even after looking away the creak of a wooden fist closing in on itself sounds off in his mind. What was the Horror? Set had watched Selissa face down demons, fey, and weres without flinching. She had sliced the scorpion claw that held him in place as the thing had tried to stab him repeatedly and then slew the beast when she couldn't free him. But she'd never spoken of a Horror before, nor could Set imagine what could've earned the name compared to those other foes. Moira's confirmation that she trusts Mal is a balm to Set's mind as he watches their exchange. He knew his own trust in the coin was not misplaced, but even the most faithful could appreciate a sign. As she turns to stride towards him, Set catches her eye. It was strange to think those eyes had held him captive before he'd ever met her, but they had, and they held him still. Set leans into the kiss, having already resolved to show her that she was in his thoughts and would remain there. He still didn't fully understand how it had happened and he knew better than to think anything could last, but Set had been living on borrowed time since the crypts. He might as well borrow whatever happiness he could. Breaking their embrace, Set carefully guides Moira a few paces from the table to where his pack and a couple spears lean up against the wall. With one hand still clasping hers, Set's free hand reaches for his Favorite. "I promised you a lesson," he says, a sad half-smile on his face as he presses the spear into her hand. "This spear has kept me safe from the day I left Abydos to this one. Keep it close." Leaning in to hug her, Set whispers in Moira's ear, "do not forget what you told me after the lesson was promised. Do whatever you must, but stay safe Moira. <Ma'a salama.>" Set's lips find hers one more time before he pulls away half a step, memorizing her face before the moment passes and their attention turns elsewhere. Set stands beside Moira in silence as she looks to the others for any final questions.

[Spore]

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant! Gnome Alchemist Artificer | Raven Homunculus AC: 14 HP: 27/27 | AC 13 HP: 9/9 PP: 11 PIv: 16 PIs: 11 | PP: 14 PIv: 10 PIs: 10 Conditions: Minor Illusion (evil organ solo) Concentration: - For Madaras at least, there was some kind of friendly competition between alchemists, so he responded to Dr. Fixer. If you may be so good to share the recipe with me, I shall find a way to speed up the mixing. Your genius allows you to create new tinctures in a slow and academically replicable way, my benefits lie more in the...uh...field testing of such things. I would be glad to offer you any findings that would speed up the production or make it cheaper. We could go far, we two, with my industrious mind and your scholastic expertise. The good doctor then approaches Moira's concerns. My deepest apologies milady. I would rather preferred a field exercise with my new companions but as you say the time is short. And I thank you for showing my new allies, that you too have full confidence in my abilities and loyalty. Despite my stakes in this being partially of economic nature, I do have a personal gripe with the human king's harassment of non-human artifice and workers. Finally turning to Selissa, who he never spoke a word to today: I have ever noticed your agility as I entered the room. To be fair, your kind is known to us forest gnomes only in fleeting encounters, constantly hidden and enigmatic. Regardless, you are fast, so why not make you faster? He hands her a potion of swirling greenery. It appears to be moving leaves on its own. A swiftleaf potion, but highly volatile. It works only today. He measures her left arm more than once, but decides not to mention it. She can see his interest in the matter however. Rubbing his chin, he takes a step back again. So, Commander Maledictus? What shall your 'evil-doers' do for you tonight? Madaras grins at his own play of words. Where shall we start by crushing the human kingdom? He snaps his fingers again, filling the room with a chilling organ concerto.

[Theophilus]

Mal Levistus Tiefling Bard 4 AC: 14 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 13 PIs: 11 Spell Slots: 1st - 4/4 2nd - 3/3 Magic Initiate: 1/1 Fey Touched: 1st - 1/1 2nd - 1/1 Levistus Legacy: 2nd - 1/1 Bardic Inspiration: 4/4 Healer's Kit: 20/20 Conditions: -- Concentrating: -- "Mal, please," replied the tiefling, gently reminding the gnome. "Mistress Moira has given us our orders, and Dr. Fixer shall guide us in her absence until we part ways." The attache considered the assembled team for a moment. Moira would leave, Dr. Fixer would direct the team forward, and this cohort would face the dangers of the road together. This last piece suited the tiefling. He wished to see their mettle. The three warriors appeared hardened. The gnome acted eager, if overly so. This quintet promised to mingle boisterous energy with subdued minor chords. Spare a verse for each soul you meet, advised his magister. Mal thought he understood. If lycanthropy and dismemberment cued anything, danger and foreboding lay on the paths of the Vale. He let the rest conclude their farewells with Moira. When she stood, he stood out of courtesy. When she left, he bowed in deference. He looked to Dr. Fixer to see if the doctor would maneuver toward his shop to concoct his blessing for the half-orc or advise on other preparations needful for this place. Mal would let the others set off onto their individual tasks before conducting his final preparations. House Bo'tel had a keep after all, and he would tour the construction to better survey Mistress Moira's current strength. Embellishing would not be a problem, yet Mal preferred the bones of truth to structure the façade of enticement.

Spoiler: OOC

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Spoiler: Mal's Notes

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Set: outcast of Abydos / Romantic connection for Moira?
Selissa: Blighted or reconstructed wood elf? Purported Scout.
Vargath: Afflicted Lycanthrope seeking to suspend his curse
Mandaras: Rival to Dr. Fixer.
Dr. Fixer: Moira's lieutenant and cultivates relations with the locals of Vale.

Report daily updates to Mistress Moira at last light.

[/QUOTE]

[Amnestic]

Vargath Hubrecht Half-Orc Rune Knight Fighter AC: 19 HP: 40/40 PP: 12 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Conditions: Infected (Lycanthropy), -1 INT Concentrating: -- Vargath bristles a bit at the "orders" comment, a feeling probably conveyed slightly when Moira bids her farewell. It put her in a role above them, dictating, instead of equal partners. He understands it, logically. She was giving directions, telling them where to go, but she was also asking for help from them, and by her own admission had little she could rely on besides them. They weren't - Fixer and Mal excepted - subordinates or subjects. Vargath wasn't anyone's subordinate. It's a quibble for later though, neither of them had the time for a discussion about hierarchies and positions right now, and soiling the relationship after a cure had been promised wasn't in anyone's best interest, least of all his. "No more questions, stay safe on the roads." It's a polite farewell, biting down any further comments. If anything it may seem a bit detached. Once Moira has left, he speaks up further, "If we're to wait a day for the elixir, we shouldn't spend it doing nothing. Idle hands make for the devil's work." He iterates the idiom without realising it may cause a touch of offence for Mal. While he felt more relaxed now than he had yesterday, there's still a degree of antstiness in him until he's actually got the curative in his belly. "Any suggestions of how we can make ourselves useful in the meantime?"

[Theophilus]

Mal Levistus Tiefling Bard 4 AC: 14 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 13 PIs: 11 Spell Slots: 1st - 4/4 2nd - 3/3 Magic Initiate: 1/1 Fey Touched: 1st - 1/1 2nd - 1/1 Levistus Legacy: 2nd - 1/1 Bardic Inspiration: 4/4 Healer's Kit: 20/20 Conditions: -- Concentrating: -- "I do hope our enemies have been idle. It makes my work easier," casually remarked Mal to Vargath with a wink. He set his manicured hands behind his back in a manner that pronounced his commanding posture while conveying a slight relaxation. He paced with an eased gait, each bootfall emitting a staccato click. The tiefling continued his reply to Vargath, "I would like to see a test of skills through a series of contests. These drills would enhance our cohesion and responsiveness on the road, so that we can evade capture when we must and kill efficiently when required. Our venture is fraught with the promise of cursed beasts and deadly foes. Why not match them with a unified wall of death?" He paused his pacing as he concluded the response. Mal extended his left hand, his sword hand, toward the others by way of extending an invitation. Despite his smile, his eyes gleamed with a lethal cunning. The attache clearly wanted their success, individually and collectively. The proffered experiment would bolster their understanding of each other, surely. And provide insight into the strengths and weaknesses of Moira's inner circle, he mused behind his polite, encouraging mien.

Spoiler: OOC

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Spoiler: Mal's Notes

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Set: outcast of Abydos / Romantic connection for Moira?
Selissa: Blighted or reconstructed wood elf? Purported Scout.
Vargath: Afflicted Lycanthrope seeking to suspend his curse
Mandaras: Rival to Dr. Fixer.
Dr. Fixer: Moira's lieutenant and cultivates relations with the locals of Vale.

Report daily updates to Mistress Moira at last light.

[Amnestic]

Vargath Hubrecht Half-Orc Rune Knight Fighter AC: 19 HP: 40/40 PP: 12 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Conditions: Infected (Lycanthropy), -1 INT Concentrating: -- Nothing better to get the blood pumping. "As long as we can do so without incurring any lingering injuries, I think some martial drills sounds like an excellent way to spend a day." It was a smart suggestion, assuming Vargath could keep a hold on the beast in his heart and not go too far. It would give him a chance to see Mal and Ignacius in action before any real fights at least, get an idea of capabilities so no one would be taken too by surprise, and the castle grounds seemed safe enough that they could let loose without worrying about conserving strength for later. "A hearty jog for an hour or three might not go amiss to start with."

[Awful]

Selissa Betula Wood Elf Scout Rogue AC: 16 HP: 31/31 PP: 16 Conditions: None Concentrating: -- Well, that goodbye Moira gave to Set certainly confirmed that source of the noises. Selissa took a moment to wonder at the sheer impetuousity of humans, and men in particular; within an evening, he'd gone from rightful suspicion to... romance, if you'd call it that. She fought off the twitch to her expression when Set gave Moira his spear. He'd done enough of that already, in her opinion, and it wasn't like a mage like the corpse witch would be using one. If she ever got a mate, she wanted practical gifts. Arrows, maybe. She didn't say anything along the ways of farewell, just giving a small nod of the head. For a moment, she thought of speaking up against the assumption that she'd become Bo'Tel's servant, but concluded she might well find it less of a pain to do her own thing without them trying to assert some form of dominance. She listened in to the conversation on what to do in the day they had carefully while inspecting the potion given to her. The swirling foliage inside made it... interesting, to consider drinking. She gave the medicine man a tight nod of thanks. "Want to go into the village," Selissa said, quite and quietly eager to avoid any grueling social sessions of teamwork and mutual exercises. She was no stranger to long stalks of prey, but just jogging for the sake of jogging for hours sounded excruciating. "Leaving, so want to talk to Chief. Take what's worth taking from the house. Doubt it would take all day, though." She turned her vivid green eyes onto Set. He'd asked her to teach him, and if nothing else maybe they could make a start. A day would not make him close to good, but it might - perhaps - make him a little less wrong. "Cursed one. Said I'd teach you some harra tu wasal." She frowned for a moment as she thought of the translation. "Hunting walk. Could start."

[Spore]

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant! Gnome Alchemist Artificer | Raven Homunculus AC: 14 HP: 27/27 | AC 13 HP: 9/9 PP: 11 PIv: 16 PIs: 11 | PP: 14 PIv: 10 PIs: 10 Conditions: - Concentration: - An hour of jogging? Ignacius asks exasperated. I appreciate your concern for our health but what we do will require finesse and cleverness, and not hours of stupid running. I do confess however punching things and a certain endurance is helpful. But we cannot train in such little time, unless you want me to help with some chemical stimulants. Ignaz nods towards Mal. While I agree we do need a unified strategy, my usual strategy is just throwing stuff around and literally just see what sticks. Be it bioluminiscent fungus, grease or acid. When I throw a bottle, just dodge. When I chuck it, catch and drink. Madaras winks. Alvis can channel my magic too, though his main frame is fragile. If you want to see me in action I am an average sniper and knife user. Everything else eludes me.

[Riggdgames]

Set Al-Sayyid Changeling Fighter/Hexblade AC: 17 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 9 Conditions: Iumenta Pox (currently no symptoms) Concentration: -- As a potion changes hands, Set watches the swirling foliage dance like leaves in a river. The contents seem tailor-made for Evergreen, and Set looks back to re-examine the gnome. Where was he from, exactly? He'd seemed like a creature of the city, his penchant for dramatics more fitting for the stage than the forest floor. Indeed, his raven was made of clay rather than flesh. But a second look has Set wondering if he'd missed something. Set opens his mouth to ask, but the moment passes. When there's more time. Set looks on, intrigued as Mal lays out his plan for making them into a unit rather than five individuals. The idea had merit, but Set knew well that it was sometimes easier to train the uninitiated than it was to retrain those with habits already fully-formed. Still, if Vargath saw the merit in it as well, then Set was willing to give it a try. When Selissa refuses, however, and states her own purpose, Set quickly abandons the idea. He wasn't sure what he could learn from Mal, but Set had seen Evergreen work. His people told stories of the Windwalkers who hunted in the deep-desert, but few Abydosians could emulate the almakira, the cunning with which they disappeared from sight and made no sound. Here in the far north, further from the desert than Set had ever dreamed he would be, Evergreen was offering to teach him. It was an offer he couldn't refuse, even if he wasn't worried at the prospect of any of them traveling the road alone. Those who stayed would be safe enough in Moira's keep, but Set could only hope they'd completely cleared the road last night. Barely flinching at the title Cursed, Set inclines his head towards Selissa, noticably deeper to those paying attention than he'd inclined his head towards Mal upon meeting the tiefling. "I'd welcome a chance, Selissa. A few words with Maus wouldn't go to waste, either," Set says, though a moment passes as he wonders just what those words would be. Turning to Mal, Set brings a palm to his chest to indicate the fault is his. "I'm afraid for my part I still have much to learn, and my time would be best spent studying how to move as she does rather than showing what I know. Another time," Set says earnestly, meeting Mal's gaze. He knew it was unlikely they would get another day of rest for some time, but he held the tiefling's eyes for an extra beat. Mal's challenge had been refused, but Set's eyes promised another before looking to Vargath. Mouth twitching behind his shemagh, Set realizes belatedly they'd be without the Mighty if they ran into trouble. Still, at least Set didn't have to worry about Vargath. An amused smile crops up of its own accord as Set imagines a contest between him and Doctor Madaras and Mal. If physical might and prowess were to play a part, Set could only assume they'd need the whole village of Dam'ess behind them to even the odds. He takes a step over to Vargath and drops a hand on the half-orc's shoulder. "Take care you don't hurt anyone," Set says, only half in jest. "I imagine we'll be back well before the sun falls."

[Theophilus]

[QUOTE=Theophilus;24996742]

Mal Levistus Tiefling Bard 4 AC: 14 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 13 PIs: 11 Spell Slots: 1st - 4/4 2nd - 3/3 Magic Initiate: 1/1 Fey Touched: 1st - 1/1 2nd - 1/1 Levistus Legacy: 2nd - 1/1 Bardic Inspiration: 4/4 Healer's Kit: 20/20 Conditions: -- Concentrating: -- "This Elder Maus sounds like a valuable acquaintance to make," Mal replied undeterred by the prevarications of this mercenary band. "What good is a stalk without someone seeking to spot you? Why not turn this into a proper farewell hunt? A jaunt in the woods would serve us well, even for the javelineer of flasks." Mal maneuvered as he spoke, trailing Set at more than a spear's distance. He knew that a band of wandering sellswords rarely fell into line on first blush. Yet, he understood that each would require the other's aid to survive. This skulking about on one another would only lead to more afflicted skinchangers or worse when facing vampyri. The tiefling affected a relaxed stride, smiling gently. Mal glanced toward Mandaras and quipped, "Besides, you seem eager to demonstrate your raven's cannonade. This would give you more than brick and mortar for targets."

Spoiler: OOC

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Spoiler: Mal's Notes

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Set: outcast of Abydos / Romantic connection for Moira?
Selissa: Blighted or reconstructed wood elf? Purported Scout.
Vargath: Afflicted Lycanthrope seeking to suspend his curse
Mandaras: Rival to Dr. Fixer.
Dr. Fixer: Moira's lieutenant and cultivates relations with the locals of Vale.

Report daily updates to Mistress Moira at last light.

[purepolarpanzer]

In Bo'Tel Castle, The Entryway, Post Breakfast.

Moira accepts the offered spear with some skepticism, but understanding the meaning of such an offer she folds her fingers around the shaft of Set's Favorite, holding it more like a staff than a spear. She readily accepts the second kiss from the Abydossian, but once it is done she hefts her own pack and and turns to salute the assembled party. Best of luck, to all of you. Though you take my direction, I see us all as partners in this endeavor more than anything. And despite our short time together I am placing the utmost trust in all of you. Thank you for your assistance. She bows, incants a spell, and proceeds to fly to the nearest window, open it, and soar out of it. She circles the castle once, seemingly getting her bearings, and then heads south towards Dam'ess.

Dr. Fixer then stands, clears his throat, and stands up from the table. "Well, folks, I'm going to head into my lab in the basement and whip up an extra potent potable batch of Dr. Fixer's Cure All Elixir, specifically tuned for our lycanthrope friends. As I work, I'll transcribe..." He sighs, then looks directly at Dr. Madaras. "AN EXACT FORMULA that must be followed TO THE LETTER to ensure the efficacy of the solution! I will meet you all here tomorrow morning for breakfast again to provide you my results. Until then, you're all on your own. I'm not the type of guy to give orders, but we roll out for Velumn tomorrow at ten rings of the bell. Good day." Dr. Fixer downs his glass of water, erupts with a small burp, and then heads for the stairs heading down.

The day is yours.

[Spore]

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant! Gnome Alchemist Artificer | Raven Homunculus AC: 14 HP: 27/27 | AC 13 HP: 9/9 PP: 11 PIv: 16 PIs: 11 | PP: 14 PIv: 10 PIs: 10 Conditions: - Concentration: - Ugh, always these stuffy old fools thinking they're better than us for being certified and peer reviewed. His pampered butt has not understood that life and science on the road is always based on economical groundedness. But never fear, my hairy orcish friend. We will defeat that curse together. Now if you will excuse me, we need to procure medical supplies and hover up any and all silver pieces in this small town. He turns to Mal. In an hour, at the tavern? Then you can have your target practice.

[Amnestic]

Vargath Hubrecht Half-Orc Rune Knight Fighter AC: 19 HP: 40/40 PP: 12 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Conditions: Infected (Lycanthropy), -1 INT Concentrating: -- He thought he was being rather soft with the suggestion of a three hour jog - he'd intended to have it done without equipment, even - but apparently not everyone was as enthusiastic as he was for a hearty workout. More fool them, really, when their soft-skinned feat start to blister and their lungs give out after a mere 8 hour march, he would find it hard to muster much sympathy. Healthy body leads to a healthy mind. Which might explain Ignacius'...quirks. "Ah well," he says, with the grace of the defeated, if only due to being outnumbered. "Just don't regret it later," his hand matches Set's, a soft pat on the shoulder. If he was going to sneak like Selissa that would still be useful, and Vargath knows well enough that his chosen equipment made him less than suitable for such a task. "Think if you're all off to town I'll make myself useful in the castle, no doubt there's some boxes to be lugged around or repairs that need doing, assuming I won't trip over another secret artifact that tricks me into bringing about the end times that is." He'd still get his jog in though. He was rather looking forward to it actually. And if they'd all left then he could take it at a proper pace instead of matching it to slow-and-small legs. As the crew leaves, he does however remember to call out "And make sure the Chief doesn't forget to pay me." If the elixir was going to cost, he'd need the money, even if he'd prefer to barter with his skills than coin.

[Theophilus]

Mal Levistus Tiefling Bard 4 AC: 14 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 13 PIs: 11 Spell Slots: 1st - 4/4 2nd - 3/3 Magic Initiate: 1/1 Fey Touched: 1st - 1/1 2nd - 1/1 Levistus Legacy: 2nd - 1/1 Bardic Inspiration: 4/4 Healer's Kit: 20/20 Conditions: -- Concentrating: -- Mal watched the witch sail through the window. He noted how she incanted and gestured to accomplish the feat. Perhaps... Then he reconsidered the motley partners who remained. Once Fixer fled to his study, the tiefling replied to the others in kind. "Vargath, we could jaunt to the village or from it as part of the tour, though I commend your industrious spirit. A true work hound," Mal answered the half-orc with a smile. He replied to the alchemist, "An hour suffices." Mal would make the most of the opportunity to tour the castle and screen its contents. Perhaps he could uncover something of worth or value to peruse before adjoining with this troupe. The items in the teams current possession intrigued him, and an opportunity to inspect artifacts of ebon would be delightful.

Spoiler: OOC

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If we take an hour, Mal will use Detect Magic to scan the castle grounds and general access points for any arcane items lying about or on passersby.

Spoiler: Mal's Notes

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Set: outcast of Abydos / Romantic connection for Moira?
Selissa: Blighted or reconstructed wood elf? Purported Scout.
Vargath: Afflicted Lycanthrope seeking to suspend his curse
Mandaras: Rival to Dr. Fixer.
Dr. Fixer: Moira's lieutenant and cultivates relations with the locals of Vale.

Report daily updates to Mistress Moira at last light.

[Riggdgames]

Set Al-Sayyid Changeling Fighter/Hexblade AC: 17 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 9 Conditions: Iumenta Pox (currently no symptoms) Concentration: -- "This Elder Maus sounds like a valuable acquaintance to make..." Set's eyes narrow, watching the conversation carry on as Moira makes her grand exit. Set isn't sure what a discussion with Maus will lead to, but he is sure of one thing. He doesn't want an audience when he and Maus speak. Certainly not if one is Moira's attache and the other carries around a bull horn with which to amplify their voice. Evergreen, at least, could be counted on to say little, no matter her private thoughts. A pang of disappointment hits as Set remembers how he'd disregarded her warnings from the night before. At least the morning had proven he'd made the right choice, Set tells himself. Moira meant them no harm. Indeed, she only meant to save the Vale despite how it's people hated and feared her. Set could sympathize. He didn't know what his people thought of him, but he'd left his homeland to save them all the same. When the opportunity arises, Set cuts in. "Begging your pardon, Mal. Maus was," Set begins, stumbling momentarily. "Is a valuable acquaintance, but I'm afraid this isn't the time for introductions. He asked us to come here hoping we'd kill a witch and instead we've taken Moira's side. It's likely to be a...challenging conversation." If there was a conversation at all. Perhaps Selissa would speak her piece and then they would go their separate ways. Set didn't know the whole story between Maus and Moira, but he knew enough. He'd heard a fragment from each of them. Once Maus had learned who she really was and what she intended to do, he cast her out of the village, betraying her when she needed him most. Set, having heard Moira put Mal nominally in charge, reluctantly gives an inch. "We'll meet you at the Oaken Larder. Perhaps if things go better than expected, we can bring him to the tavern to meet you both," he says, looking to Doctor Madaras. "Assuming he's not already there when you arrive." Set's stomach twists at the thought, but it was a flip of the coin. Maus could be anywhere in the village if he wasn't at home. After he's had a chance to answer any questions or offer further discouragement, Set turns to his pack. He picks through his things, leaving some gear behind to lighten his load since they'll be returning this evening. "I'm ready when you are," Set says to Evergreen, still donning scale mail and oblivious to the soft clank of metal as he moves. Whenever they make their exit, whether it's with Doctor Madaras and Mal in tow or as a pair, Set hears the Mighty's voice call from behind. "And make sure the Chief doesn't forget to pay me." Set's eyes close as he takes a deep breath. As if they needed anything else to make this conversation more difficult. Even so, to Set's ears Vargath spoke with a certain ring of authority. Gulping silently, he calls back, "we'll try!"

[Theophilus]

Mal Levistus Tiefling Bard 4 AC: 14 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 13 PIs: 11 Spell Slots: 1st - 4/4 2nd - 3/3 Magic Initiate: 1/1 Fey Touched: 1st - 1/1 2nd - 1/1 Levistus Legacy: 2nd - 1/1 Bardic Inspiration: 4/4 Healer's Kit: 20/20 Conditions: -- Concentrating: -- Mal raised an eyebrow slightly before smiling at Set. The tiefling yielded no ground. "No need to perform these exchanges of formalities, Spearman Set. Difficult discussions are among my specialties. I graciously accept your hesitant offer to aid you in expanding the good elder's perceptions of Mistress Moira." Mal inwardly laughed at this wandering scion of Abydos. Merits for consideration of the political interactions, but quite an act of sabotage to his desired outcomes... If a village elder needed soothing, not having a skilled diplomat would reinforce a doomed exchange. Winning hearts, well, that ran in Maledictus' family on both sides. Despite this internal sidebar, his face remained a smooth expression of consideration. His golden eyes communicated confident reassurance. He moved toward the door where Selissa prepared to depart. "This promises to be enlivening. I do love a rousing discussion with locals."

Spoiler: OOC

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Spoiler: Mal's Notes

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Set: outcast of Abydos / Romantic connection for Moira?
Selissa: Blighted or reconstructed wood elf? Purported Scout.
Vargath: Afflicted Lycanthrope seeking to suspend his curse
Mandaras: Rival to Dr. Fixer.
Dr. Fixer: Moira's lieutenant and cultivates relations with the locals of Vale.
Elder Maus: Seeks to kill Moira. Hired mercenaries who betrayed him.

Report daily updates to Mistress Moira at last light.

[Riggdgames]

Set Al-Sayyid Changeling Fighter/Hexblade AC: 17 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 9 Conditions: Iumenta Pox (currently no symptoms) Concentration: -- Set frowns in puzzlement beneath his shemagh at the tiefling's words. Had Set misunderstood him? It didn't seem likely. Despite his accent, Set was confident in his own mastery of common, and he was quite sure Mal had just said that he'd graciously accept Set's offer to...have him come along? To expand the Chief's perception of Moira? Set stands at a loss for words for the full span of a minute as Mal moves on towards Selissa. He'd seemed so genuine just then, as if he'd really understood Set to be asking for help and cared enough to do whatever he could. It made Set want to wade back through every word traded between them, but he only grows more confused as he thinks back. Perhaps Mal was the one who'd misunderstood? He looked and spoke like a noble, but was he just a well-dressed charlatan? Maybe he didn't understand the difference between a polite refusal and an invitation? Set shakes his head as he gathers his things and moves after the others. That didn't make sense either. Moira trusted Mal. He alone was singled out from among all of them. She wouldn't have done that if he was the sort of man who could misread a situation so poorly, would she? A social misunderstanding was uncomfortable, but they were walking headlong into war together. Set's stomach twists into a knot of anxiety as he considers the new company he's been asked to keep. And then, finally, it dawns on Set. Of course. He'd only had one night with Moira, but it was impossible not to see just how smart she was. In the past few days Birel had dazzled Set with her keen insight and her incredible intelligence, but Set suspected Moira was just as bright, if not brighter. She must've foreseen the possibility that they'd want to talk to Maus before leaving, and she would've sent a message to Mal this morning to ensure he was there to back them up if things got carried away. Set's frown deepens, a fragment of doubt still hanging on. Moira was certainly smart enough to have planned this, but he wishes she'd trusted him enough to handle it without her 'attache.' "Well, let's be off then. My people have a saying, <'I did not learn Sylvan until I was already a man, but I speak it quite well. And you?'"> Set asks in Sylvan, watching Mal carefully. "It means, 'movement is a blessing. The viper lays in wait, but always it acts first.'" Spoiler: OOC Show Going to roll Deception if Theophilus is interested in an opposed roll since Set's lying to Mal's face. I'm not opposed to Mal getting advantage since you might know what Sylvan sounds like, or suspect that Abydosian might sound different than that (1d20+6)[18]

[Awful]

Selissa Betula Wood Elf Scout Rogue AC: 16 HP: 31/31 PP: 16 Conditions: None Concentrating: -- The wood elf considered the tiefling for a moment, before she gave a tiny nod of her head. "Fine," she said, blunt as always. "But want to talk to him privately for a while. Without you. Private matters." When Set spoke again, she gave him a glance out the corner of her eyes. She, certainly, did speak Sylvan, and that was not what that series of words meant. Still, she could figure out what Set was doing; this was some of ruse. She decided she wouldn't give it away; without speaking more, she turned to seek out the way back to the village. The conversation with the Chief would not be easy. She still had to ask him about the curse of the village, if he was certain it came from this quarter and was still in effect; it didn't make sense that the corpsewitch might be doing it, if she intended for this place to support her, but who knows the minds of that sort of creature.

[purepolarpanzer]

In Bo'Tel Castle, The Entryway

The Aeyilles take this opportunity to clear the table and set about their daily routine. The eldest Aeyille, the long limbed ghoulish patriarch, taps Vargath on the shoulder and leads him away up the stairs. That leaves the four of you to head towards Dam'ess.

In Bo'Tel Castle, The Second Floor

Pater Aeyille leads Vargath to Moira's bedroom door. He slowly lifts one of his gangly arms and points at the horrible craftsmanship that has been used to replace the double door there. "Can you fix this? It would please the Lady oh so much to feel safe sleeping in her own home again." His pointing finger slides to the left, down the hallway towards the rooms you stayed in last night. "And the unwilling traitor's room... suffered from the madness of the wizard and the anger of the Lady. I will clean the walls if you will afix the door." He gives Vargath a look of sad desperation, like a sailor pumping water out of the bowels of a ship doomed to sink. The repair and upkeep of this castle is demanding to say the least, and for a small family of misfits ranging in age from nine to the untold age of this butler it was obviously more than he could bear. He was the type of professional to straighten a painting in a strange tavern, not the type to hammer nails into wood, and any help would be deeply appreciated.

The Road to Dam'ess

For the other four members of the newly reinforced party, the trip back to the village is much easier and much safer than the initial trip in. The boat ride is much less stressful on a bright, sunny day with a light breeze. There are no Mogg brothers during the day, and guiding the boat across the water is easier than it looks with the long, odd paddle Pater used to row you in. Similarly, the road is well lit and covered with sun dappled leaves as you all make your way along it. It isn't until you come across the stretch where you fought the spider that anything amiss is discovered. It would be easy to miss it with an untrained eye, but Selissa and Set recognize the area of the fight implicitly, and there are no bodies remaining. The spider and the zombie both have disappeared, though pus, blood, and ichor still stain the dust of the road.

Spoiler: Survival DC 10

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There's a lot of broken trees coming out of the Banewood to the south. Something the size of a elephant came through this way and disappeared into the Hartswood to the north, presumably with whatever the source of the blood and bodily fluids was.

Spoiler: DC 15

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Whatever came through and destroyed so much foliage, it had odd, animalistic humanoid feet. Though there are none native to this region, these are the footprints (and handprints) of an ape, though you've never heard of an ape this size. Peculiarly, this creature also seems to have six fingers and toes.

Spoiler: DC 20

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The hole in the trees and foliage this thing made coming out of the woods and onto the road is much larger than the hole going off to the north. This creature can change size. But the prints get smaller too, so it doesn't appear to be changing it's form. This creature isn't natural.

Spoiler: Arcana DC 20

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These are the prints of a Barlgura, a large, ape like demon from the depths of the Abyss that can disguise itself with illusions, grow to truly massive proportions, and most dangerously summon others of it's kind. It is a creature of bestial cunning, savage fury, and unrepentant evil. Someone summoned something nasty.

[Riggdgames]

Set Al-Sayyid Changeling Fighter/Hexblade AC: 17 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 9 Conditions: Iumenta Pox (currently no symptoms) Concentration: -- Set slows his pace as they come upon the scene, trying hard to listen for anything on the road besides the four of them. When he's satisfied he can't hear anything else, Set plants his spear in the dirt and considers the empty space where he feels sure they'd finally put a zombie to rest last night. "It was right here, wasn't it? Where we fought?" he asks Selissa. "I know it was dark, but...no, it was here. There is still some fungus dusting the road from that <walking-dead.> But where..." Set looks over to Evergreen, leaving the question unasked. Rather than search the open ground for clues, Set searches her movements and her face to see if she's found anything. He couldn't make sense of where the bodies could've gone, but Evergreen was part of these woods. She would find the truth. Almost as an afterthought, Set glances back at Mal and Doctor Madaras. First he thinks to ask if they had any ideas, but just looking at them he's brought up short. Could they have had anything to do with this? But what reason would they have to move the bodies? "Mal, Doctor Madaras? Did either of you pass this way earlier?" Set asks carefully as his mind takes off down a perverse road of possibilities.

[Amnestic]

Vargath Hubrecht Half-Orc Rune Knight Fighter AC: 19 HP: 40/40 PP: 12 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Conditions: Infected (Lycanthropy), -1 INT Concentrating: -- Vargath gives a look over the door. It...should be fixable. At the very least, he could try, and it couldn't get much worse than it already was. The butler, at least, earns his respect for continuing the work. Devotion to a cause was admirable, even in the face of encroaching age. He expects, like some other old warriors he knew, the butler would keep working until his last breath. Probably keel over mid-job, and quietly Vargath wonders if there's any causes or people he'd do the same for, decades from now. "Of course," he finally says, giving his muscles a small flex of preparation for the work ahead, waking them up for the work ahead. If either the butler or Moira were worried he'd use the opportunity to pry into her bedroom affairs they can find their concerns assuaged. Vargath doesn't give the interior even a moment's second look as he focuses on the task at hand. It's cathartic, in a way, tearing away the old and rebuilding it with the new. Reusing what can be reused, discarding the rest. The steady rhythmic hammering of metal on metal, into wood. It had been some time since he'd done much more than carve runes into his weapons and armour, so the 'back to basics' feel was refreshing, even nostalgic. Hammer one nail, check, measure, hammer another. The old castle still had materials and tools enough that he had plenty to work with, and when he needed to make something a bit more bespoke, he was pointed at an old forge that he manages to resurrect, letting him melt down the old ruined metal to create something new. It wasn't good metal, the impurities in its form were clear when he worked it, but nevertheless it would suffice for what they needed. It wasn't as if they were bringing the doors to the battlefield. Not unless Moira's tearing of Birel's former room had been in search of a weapon, at least. The work does take him the better part of the day to complete, essentially requiring a complete replacement of Birel's door and a comprehensive re-do of Moira's, and he passes most of it in quiet silence. If the butler doesn't speak up, nor does he, choosing instead to focus on the task at hand, with the sound of his tools being more than enough conversation to keep his mind alight. In truth, he's not quite satisfied with it when it's complete. The moment he stands back to assess it he starts noticing small flaws here and there. A screw here that's slightly off tilt, a nail there that could have been turned for a more perfect finish, aesthetically. It works though, and it's a definite improvement over what they were before (especially in Birel's case). Freshly oiled, they don't even squeak as they move, and the locks are sturdy enough that most people that weren't Vargath (or Moira) would have difficulty breaking them down.

[Theophilus]

Mal Levistus Tiefling Bard 4 AC: 14 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 13 PIs: 11 Spell Slots: 1st - 4/4 2nd - 3/3 Magic Initiate: 1/1 Fey Touched: 1st - 1/1 2nd - 1/1 Levistus Legacy: 2nd - 1/1 Bardic Inspiration: 4/4 Healer's Kit: 20/20 Conditions: -- Concentrating: -- Mal smiled at Selissa and answered, "Confidence is a sacred compact. Should you require assistance with Elder Maus, I shall be within earshot of the door. Please call if you require me." The tiefling listened to Set's parochialism. He had learned to commit remarks to mind, but not commit his mind to his expression. The language sounded akin to elvish, a strange thing for a desert folk. This seemed more floral in tone, woody in tenor, and supple in structure. He would guess a language adapted to a forested realm rather than an arid merchants' hub. This made the translation proffered odd, but he would await a better opportunity to see the fruit of the exotic plant. Mal smiled easily and cordially replied, "Thank you for sharing. I'm sure I'll learn more of your people's ways as we venture together." Once upon the road to Dam'ess, the attache kept a brisk pace. He seemed possessed of a near constant energy and driven demeanor. The road yielded a strange opportunity: A scene of clamor and destruction. He rested his hand on his rapier's hilt and scanned the treeline, especially where the devastation centered and then its opposite. Ambushes do like an obvious disruption to hide a subtle one. When Set belies a previous battle, he listens to his exchange with Selissa for details. Mal smiles dismissively at Set's inquiry. The advisor replies, "I have been about the Bo'tell estate. I missed out on happening upon your aftermath. What did you face? Was it perhaps apish in nature and giantesque in size? Whatever returned and left this scene did not originate in these woods."

Spoiler: OOC

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Spoiler: Set's Gambit

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I'll roll a couple of things:

(1d20+1)[6] insight into his relative truthfulness
(1d20+3)[20] history to associate the language with its proper region and dialect.
(1d20+8)[28] deception to screen his own reaction behind a nonchalant mien.

Spoiler: Mal's Notes

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Set: outcast of Abydos / Romantic connection for Moira?
Selissa: Blighted or reconstructed wood elf? Purported Scout.
Vargath: Afflicted Lycanthrope seeking to suspend his curse
Mandaras: Rival to Dr. Fixer.
Dr. Fixer: Moira's lieutenant and cultivates relations with the locals of Vale.
Elder Maus: Seeks to kill Moira. Hired mercenaries who betrayed him.

Report daily updates to Mistress Moira at last light.

[Spore]

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant! Gnome Alchemist Artificer | Raven Homunculus AC: 14 HP: 27/27 | AC 13 HP: 9/9 PP: 11 PIv: 16 PIs: 11 | PP: 14 PIv: 10 PIs: 10 Conditions: - Concentration: - Not really helpful, but not a burden rowing, Ignaz instead watches the shore eagerly with all the elegance and patience of a 6 year old that has been given too much candy. He just off the pier, and along the way, though you can see his short legs are already struggling when he is not hurrying. He points at the toe printed foot imprints and claims. I did not know your Elder Maus preferred to walk around bare-footed. to which the others, but especially Selissa, just shake their heads. But your elder hopefully is not a size-altering demon ape, is he? Madaras adds, with a seriousness in his voice this construct of a sentence does not deserve. Nono, I am serious. There is a Barlgura around, some kind of Bigfoot, if it made a pact with demons. And it can summon others of its kind. We can best a single one, or two. But not a half a dozen or more. He pulls out his "doctor's notes", some kind of preprinted official apothecary form. Using a pencil, he quickly scribbles a few lines onto it, and gives them to Alvis. Go and fetch Vargath. We need to hunt ourselves a Barlgura. He whistles once and his homunculus takes flight, back to the castle. Spoiler: Letter Show Dear Ser Hubrecht, we are going to hunt a 10 foot tall ape demon. Your assistance would be required to face it. I hope your carpentry can wait. Sincerely, Dr. Madaras, Alchemisté Extravagant!

[Awful]

Selissa Betula Wood Elf Scout Rogue AC: 16 HP: 31/31 PP: 16 Conditions: None Concentrating: -- Selissa's stride, as always, was a effortless lope that seemed to eat up distance and make very little noise. She'd stopped, same as Set, when they'd reached the place of their battle yesterday. No corpses - but tracks, and inhuman ones. Selissa followed the tracks, frowned as the size of the footprints had changed as the beast- no, the monster- had walked. There had been something loose in the Banewood, but with everything happening they'd not had the chance to hunt it down. In truth, she'd expected whatever it was to have... disappated, or whatever it was that happened to demons when the magic that kept them here ran out. "There was an demon altar," she said to the others, "With a stag on. Defiled, bitten. Don't think you saw it, cursed one. Knew something had been in the woods. Hoped it had faded as magic ran out." She looked at the trail it had left, clear as day to her trained senses; the forest seemed to shiver from the path the thing had taken, as if rejecting the unnatural thing. "Could follow the trail while you wait for the halfblood," she suggested. She turned her intense green eyes on the alchemist. "If it can summon more - how many could there be? Do they stay? Any other tricks?"

[Riggdgames]

Set Al-Sayyid Changeling Fighter/Hexblade AC: 17 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 9 Conditions: Iumenta Pox (currently no symptoms) Concentration: -- "It was not," Set replies to Mal, frowning as he finally spots what was obvious to the others. "There was a man and a spider," he continues absentmindedly as he studies the tracks for the first time. "Both beyond their first life, if the fungus growing from them was any indication." Set gingerly places his own foot in the barlgura's footprint, his heart beating a bit faster as he slowly comes to grips with its size. To Set's surprise, Doctor Madaras is the first to put a name to the beast. Despite a joke that made Set's head tilt to the side and stare, the gnome just kept talking until he started making sense. It was jarring. One moment he was making a crack as if the Chief were large enough to have made these tracks, the next moment he was educating them all on the capabilities of a certain kind of demon-ape. And to cap it off, rather than dwell on his own intellect, the gnome's earlier confidence-bordering-on-arrogance was tempered by the most sensible thing Set had seen him do yet. He called for aid from the Mighty, sending the fleshless raven in his stead. Set watches it disappear through the trees before looking back down at the unimposing gnome. Shaking his head to clear it, Set asks him, "have you fought one before, then? Do you...do your people hunt them?" Given the gnome's exuberance and expertise, it seemed possible that he actually had personal experience. It was not a surprise at all to realize that while the gnome spoke, Evergreen had quietly consumed every detail on the trail and then waited until everyone else had fallen silent to speak. He can only shake his head at the mention of an altar. He'd not seen what she had. That was on their first night, then. When they'd split up and he, Birel, and Fanlomen had found another altar of sorts. A bull, chained and carved in celebration of Pale Night, drowning in maggots while it still clung to life. Set bites down on the inside of his cheek, stilling himself for a moment as he remembers. There was no question they would need to find the Barlgura, if for no other reason than it was better to find it while they had the initiative. Wandering into it blindly on their way back later, or having it crash through the wall at the Oaken Larder before they could leave was not an option. Set looks expectantly at Doctor Madaras, his reservations dwindling as Evergreen looks to him for information as well, trusting the gnome to know more. When there's a moment, Set turns to Mal, his gaze flitting up to the pair of horns resting atop the other man's head. "Are you familiar? With barlgura, that is?" Spoiler: OOC Show Response to Mal's rolls (subject to revision by Pure) Insight 6 vs Deception 18 - You don't get anything from Set. Maybe it's the shemagh, but you can't read him. History 20 - That said, you're a student of history. You may not have met anyone from Abydos or heard anyone speak Abydosian, but you've studied the occult at length, and not all such scrolls come from the North. Perhaps the Obsidian Tower has a translator or a scholar able to read and transcribe scrolls from that region or perhaps you've sought someone who could and that is the limit of your familiarity. Either way, you've interacted with elements of the South and that didn't sound right. You're pretty confident Set was not speaking his native tongue. Deception 28 (nat 20) - Set is absolutely positive you took it hook, line, and sinker. You clearly don't suspect a thing.

[Amnestic]

Vargath Hubrecht Half-Orc Rune Knight Fighter AC: 19 HP: 40/40 PP: 12 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Conditions: Infected (Lycanthropy), -1 INT Concentrating: -- He'd prefer to continue his work on the doors. In all truth despite their finished state the small flaws continue to bother him, and ideally the new metal would be polished and painted. Ideally ideally all the doors would get a touch up, so that none of them particularly stood out from each other. Yet as he palms the message from the clanking mechanical avian he feels the satisfaction of a day's work slipping away. He sighs softly, scribbling a short reply "Understood. On my way. -Vargath" before handing it back to the gnome's bird machine. "Go." The homunculus doesn't move. "Uh, return." Still nothing. He waves his hands dismissively at it. "Head back to your master?" he tries, skepticism creeping into his voice as it still doesn't respond. Wonderful. However it worked, it clearly didn't want to take instructions from him. "Look, you've delivered your message, I've recognised it, I'm going. I just need to make sure nothing else is pressing first." Whatever brain clicked in the cogs of the 'creature' still didn't seem to understand, so he gives up, feeling more than a little foolish trying to get comprehension from a tiny mechanical bird in the first place. "Apologies," he says to the butler, having found them still working hard on the removing of Birel's insane scribbles. "It seems Set and the others have managed to find some sort of demon monkey that they can't handle alone. The doors are fixed, and if I have time when I'm back I'll finish the job. I'll be taking the other boat, so if there's anything you need on the other side of the lake let me know now and I'll add it to the list of things to do." After saying his goodbyes he returns to find the homunculus has vanished. Perhaps the message finally got through and it's returned to Ignacius, or perhaps it's flown into a wall somewhere and destroyed itself. They'd see him soon enough, so it hardly mattered if the return message wasn't carried. With whatever requests Pater Aeyille has in the back of his mind, he sets himself off rowing across the lake, finding a moment to appreciate the charming serenity of it on a summer's day, when not being harassed by water trolls, giant spiders, and - he shudders - vomiting mushroom zombies.