Iron Crisis Pt3 IC

[Amnestic]

Duke Eltan briefly glances to Scar and his halfling companion, both of which give slight shakes of the head. "We don't have much call to deal with makeup in the Flaming Fist. Any theatre in the city will likely know someone though, I'd suggest you start there."

"When you're done, report to the Flaming Fist compound. I will hear your results personally." With that, he rises, and without another word he and the others filter out of the door, marching with defiant purpose, and leaving you alone to plan your next steps.

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock/Bard | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 62/62 | AC: 13 HP: 32/32 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 --- | Spider Form, Invisible The Morning "That's a great idea," cutting a tired pump of his fist short by covering his mouth during a yawn, Sam gives Senna a thumbs up. It would be nice to see a friendly face again, and see how Gerrick is doing. After the Duke shuffles out, Sam outlines his plan. "So, I think I can disguise myself as that vampire guy from the mines. Then all we have to do is disguise the rest of you as my undead servants. I can claim I survived and escaped, and get us in the front door with a promise of a full report." He holds up a few fingers as he goes along the pieces of the plan. "You guys can be like... masked and cloaked up, or turn into animals for disguises. We could get some corpse-smelling uh... perfume? If that exists? And if they ask for proof of identity under the masks, we can have those ones made up into zombie stage makeup." "Well, it's ridiculous, but it is a bit more reasonable than trying to barge in or pretend to be business associates with no records thereof," Grepha admits.

[Bobthewizard]

Leaf Tabaxi Rogue 8 AC: 17 HP: 63/ 63 PP: 18 PIv: 15 PIs: 14 HD: 8/8d8 Restrain: 3/3 Dawn Conditions:

Aergid Silver Dragon Wyrmling AC 17, HP DEAD /45 PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 Bite +6 1d10+4 Breath 15' cone 4d8 DC13 Con Recharge 5-6 Paralyzing 15' cone DC13 Con paralyzed 1 minute DEAD!!!!!

Leaf considers the option presented by Sam and thinks it's a good one. But acting is just not his specialty.

"I think that plan could work. Although, I'd rather sneak around than be a part of the deception. Do you think it would be better if I start as a zombie and then slink away or if I just just sneak in a second story window?"

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Spoiler: notes

Show

Commander Scar, Flaming Fist
Dabron Sashenstar, Merchant's League
Ragefest, wizard
Abela, nymph
Ramazith, wizard that Ragefest doesn't trust.
Aldeth Sashenstar, Dabron's brother
Halbazzar Drin, owner of Sorcerous Sundries
Vivian/Ninian, sister to the others
Lieutenant Angelo Dosan, jerk Flaming Fist
Bounties

[Archmage1]

Grok Dwarf Paladin 8 AC: 20 HP: 86/86 PP: 10 PIv: 9 PIs: 10 SR 2/2, Conditions: Branded Grok nods respectfully as Duke Eltan departs, but listens intently to Sam's proposal. "That seems like a plan. But will whomever is manning the desk know this vampire? Do you know his name? So far, our foes have gone to a great deal of effort to conceal their efforts from the general public, so perhaps such a disguise is not the best idea? It would be very abnormal."

[purepolarpanzer]

Caelyn Syol'arael Wood Elf Druid AC: 15 HP: 59/59 PP: 18 PIv: 10 PIs: 18 Conditions: Concentrating on: 8 / 8 d8 HD Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 3/3 2nd, 3/3 3rd, 2/2 4th 2/2 Wildshape Caelyn waits for the Duke to depart before saying much more. She understood the nature of this relationship. While she doubted their abilities to do this task without bodies dropping (their enemies almost ALWAYS insisted on fighting to the death it seemed), she hoped they could keep a low profile to work within this man's wishes. Not because she gave much of a damn about preserving the lives of the Iron Throne criminals so they could march to a Duke's gallows instead of dying by their hands, but because as much as she hated it, politics were at work, and either politics would be a wave to carry them all towards their goals, or the wave would drown them all. It would prove intelligent to swim well. When they began to plan in earnest, she became more talkative. "As always, my sibling's imaginations spring a plan that just might work, if we dedicate ourselves to it. Gerrick's expertise may be just the thing to get us in the door, and from there we can conduct a thorough and subtle investigation. Or, more likely, something will go horribly wrong and we'll end up either running or fighting for our lives. While I have an obvious preference, we should prepare for both eventualities. I can be a wolf or a bat or whatever other creature a vampire would enslave to it's will. I'll do my best to prepare helpful magics if the disguises don't last, such as shadowcraft spells for stealth."

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock/Bard | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 62/62 | AC: 13 HP: 32/32 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 --- | Spider Form, Invisible When asked to name the vampire, Sam flounders for a moment, trying to recall the rather unusual name - just on the tip of his tongue. "He was called dduuh, Duh, Dave- Davie? D-" "Daveorn," Grepha interrupts. "Worry not, I will be in the boy's ear to remind him of crucial details like these. Figuratively speaking," she adds, given her current size very well could crawl partway inside someone's ear. "As for you Leaf, I would recommend using Samuel's old cloak to take the form of a wolf until we are inside. You are the most recognizable among us, after all. And the Throne are wealthy enough to have perimeter alarms or magical defenses you cannot slip past alone."

[Amnestic]

With your plan arranged, you begin trawling the city for theatres in the hopes of tracking down Garrick. Third time appears to be the charm, as the first two are utter busts - well, they're full of enthusiastic performers, of course, but none that are already inclined to help a bunch of wandering vagrants put on zombification makeup at the drop of a hat, and so you're forced to keep searching.

The Moonlit Serenade is neither well known nor particularly prestigious. It sits on the eastern side of the city, and at best is seen as a place for young up-and-comers to make a name for themselves before being picked up. More often than not, it's where big dreamers go to be washed clean of foolishness and sent back to a mundane life with the stage only as a lingering memory of brief joy and pain numbed by time.

Garrick has yet to be stripped of his dreams, if his easy and friendly smile is anything to go by. It's been close to four months since you'd last seen him, and while he looks slightly less naive, it'd be a stretch to say the man with boyish charm and disarming eyes has even a hint of worldweariness to him. For better or worse, the city has yet to slither its cynical tendrils beneath his skin. Sure enough he's more than willing to donate his time - and that of his comrades-in-costume - to helping the Senna (and by extension, the party). As a bonus, they don't ask any questions, though they do demand a small payment to cover their time and materials. At a mere five gold, it's near a pittance for you.

Doing so takes hours - good makeup always does - but you have nothing but time to spend since you need to wait for nightfall either way, but eventually night falls, your preparations are completed, and you head back across the city, trying your best to either blend or simply not attract attention from anyone who might see a vampire wandering the streets with its undead companions and express concern over the casual undead 'invasion' taking place.

The Iron Throne building is as you left it, tall, imposing, with lights brightening up most of the windows, and a pair of guards out front, both of which look distinctly more on guard as you make your approach, clutching at their spears with a mix of confusion and apprehension.
"Identify yourself," one says, stuttering a little.

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock/Bard | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 62/62 | AC: 13 HP: 32/32 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 Daveorn Disguise | Spider Form, Invisible Accompanied by an entourage of strange, masked and cloaked figures (and two rather mangy-looking wolves), the likewise cloaked figure of Daveorn treads up the hill to the Throne compound. As they draw near, he pulls back his hood enough to make his imposing, pale visage known. "Steady yourself, you look like a frightened child," he commands in Daveorn's venomous tongue, doing his best to imitate the man's voice. Grepha talks him through it using their telepathic link, helping him to be assertive and act like he belongs. "I am an associate. Daveorn. I must deliver a report to your management as soon as possible, and it must be in person," he emphasizes the last four words, looking back towards the street. "Lines of communication are compromised, I am already unacceptably late, and we are drawing more attention than I like." Spoiler: Rolls Show Performance to act like Daveorn, in case they know him: (1d20+7)[10] Persuasion: (1d20+10)[19] Grepha Help: (1d20+10)[22]

[Amnestic]

The guards exchange glances, a silent conversation playing out only in their looks. Whatever the reasoning behind their decision, one of them knocks twice on the door and it swings open, allowing you entrance.

The entrance hall occupies the entirety of the floor, made up of polished patterned blue marble. Chairs and tables at which to conduct meetings are scattered around in small groupings, and you feel the eyes of a dozen statues carved from white stone linger on you. A pair of staircarses in opposite corners lead up, while one in the corner to your right leads down.

A few people are milling around here, still conducting business at this late hour, and what glances you receive are filled with revulsion and fear. No one approaches you. A pair of guards in supple leather with clubs at their hips and crossbows at their back stand at each of the stairs up.

[Archmage1]

Grok Dwarf Paladin 8 AC: 20 HP: 86/86 PP: 10 PIv: 9 PIs: 10 SR 2/2, Conditions: Branded Grok shuffles through the door, following Sam, moving as though his limbs were stiff.

[Bobthewizard]

Leaf Tabaxi Rogue 8 AC: 17 HP: 63/ 63 PP: 18 PIv: 15 PIs: 14 HD: 8/8d8 Restrain: 3/3 Dawn Conditions:

Aergid Silver Dragon Wyrmling AC 17, HP DEAD /45 PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 Bite +6 1d10+4 Breath 15' cone 4d8 DC13 Con Recharge 5-6 Paralyzing 15' cone DC13 Con paralyzed 1 minute DEAD!!!!!

Leaf stays in the back, his hood up, trying not to draw attention to himself. While the make-up makes him look like a zombie, he still looks like a tabaxi zombie, which might still draw attention. Better to not be noticed at all.

Once we get inside, he looks around for the best place and time to sneak off.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Stealth (1d20+11)[31], advantage (1d20+11)[13]

Spoiler: notes

Show

Commander Scar, Flaming Fist
Dabron Sashenstar, Merchant's League
Ragefest, wizard
Abela, nymph
Ramazith, wizard that Ragefest doesn't trust.
Aldeth Sashenstar, Dabron's brother
Halbazzar Drin, owner of Sorcerous Sundries
Vivian/Ninian, sister to the others
Lieutenant Angelo Dosan, jerk Flaming Fist
Bounties

[purepolarpanzer]

Caelyn Syol'arael Wood Elf Druid AC: 15 HP: 59/59 PP: 18 PIv: 10 PIs: 18 Conditions: Concentrating on: 8 / 8 d8 HD Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 3/3 2nd, 3/3 3rd, 2/2 4th 1/2 Wildshape As someone with an intrinsic interest in shapeshifting, transmuting, and change, Caelyn watches fascinated as layers of paint, rubber, and make up change her companions into a dire vampire or a shuffling undead. There is a fascination and a hint of delight as the artistic transformation takes place over time, and when Garrick and his companions are finished she gives a small clap of applause. "Good job! All of you look positively dreadful!" She steps forward and looks Sam close in the face, a look of muted awe. "I wish my camoflauge was so convincing!" Once they have privacy, she transforms into a wolf, and almost immediately her senses are assaulted with new smells, new instincts, new anxieties, and a aggressive hunger that drew her eyes and nose towards the walking, blabbering, foul smelling humanoids around her. Gripping her control with an iron, experienced grip, Caelyn follows her "master" into the guildhall, doing her best to act enthralled and loyal as can be. Once inside, she set about snuffling, sniffing, and smelling anything interesting she could find without leaving her master's side.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Rolling perception to see if wulf nose smells anything exotic, dangerous, or interesting. (1d20+8)[27], and (1d20+8)[25] if staying at master's side gives disadvantage.

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock/Bard | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 62/62 | AC: 13 HP: 32/32 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 Daveorn Disguise | Spider Form, Invisible The Theatre Sam laughs at Caelyn's comment. "Of course it is, it's from my magic hat," he taps the side of his head. "I'm pretty sure not even the theatre crews could make me look human." The Investigation Striding towards the guards at a business-like pace, hands folded, Sam-as-Daveorn addresses one of them in a low tone, "I am here to report a supply issue," he states with dry understatement. "Is management in?"

[Spore]

Senna Human Arcana Cleric AC: 19 HP: 56/56 (?) Spells: 1st: 4/4 2nd: 3/3 3rd: 3/3 4th: 2/2, Turn Undead: 2/2, Short Rests: 2/2 (+d8) Harness Divine Power 2/2, 2nd Conditions: Con reduced to 13 (?) Moonlight Serenade: Deeply doubtful the plan would work, it was at least offering Senna to see Garrick again. He had grown as a person no doubt, and she had too. And Garrick was not smart or wise, but he could tell them at least if their plan was bad. Meeting in the Moonlight Serenade was just as dreamy as she expected however. Garrick was still a man of dreams and words, of beauty in rhyme and song. Seeing him, she hugged him, social graces be damned. Garrick's coworkers SHOULD gossip. If their lives were not able to align properly, she was still enjoying a bit of closeness. She felt that death and loss followed her, but at least in the presence of Garrick, that was untrue. How did the past few months treat you, Garrick? she asks with in much better mood. Her face turns serious for a moment. And before you ask, it is best I tell you nothing of our ventures. You are safer than way. Anyhow, my new friends and me need your expertise in masking ourselves as realistic undead. Can you do that? Just don't overdo it on the smell. With the right necromancy spells and a bit of medical knowledge you can make undead that barely smell. At least with the retainers meant for polite company. Senna was not completely sure but she did not want to smell like a horrible butcher's shop. Iron Throne: A block away from the Iron Throne tower, Senna invokes the Metatext to aid her disguise. Her tabard glows ever so faintly, as she is suddenly less noticable. Her movement are just unnatural enough to count as an undead. Pretty sure any competent acolyte or apprentice worth their salt could detect our disguises due to our collective magical artifacts. But should I try to mask any illusion magic happening anyway? Senna says slowly to both try out her act and not let her rubber mask morph too much. Spoiler Show Using Channel Divinity to gain proficiency in Deception. Offering to cast Nystul's Magic Aura up to three times to mask Caelyn's and Leaf's transmutation as well as Sam's illusion magic.

[Amnestic]

Spoiler: Senna and Garrick

Show

Garrick sighs charmingly. "Ah Senna, my dear, your appearance is like the fresh dew atop a flower gilded by the dawning sun, to disguise you as a vile undead is to paint a field of green with blackest of oils." The flattery is laid on thick and fast, almost as if he is overcompensating - or lost in his characters. "You ask me for both aid and silence both. You think I would fear or shirk danger? Banish such thoughts from your mind. My time on the stage has driven me to the brink of madness and pulled back again. I have plumbed the depths of the human soul, been laid bare as none others could, and entertained devils both figurative and literal. Pray tell my darling, what worries you so? Whom must I see put to rights and vanquished?"

The Iron Throne

Leif's attempts to evade sight only grant him slightly strained joints - the guard's eyes are set on the party in full and on their charge in guarding the way up. There is no opportunity to slip past. Your disguises may have gotten you in the front door, but they are also attracting significant attention. Caelyn's nose finds the stench of wine, sweat, and the incense used to conceal it, but nothing particularly out of the ordinary.

The guard glances at the rest of the party. "You don't have an appointment," he says, apparently having decided that at a glance - though a vampire and his undead entourage would probably have been the sort of thing they'd plan for in advance. "Just who are you here to see, exactly?"

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock/Bard | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 62/62 | AC: 13 HP: 32/32 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 Daveorn Disguise | Spider Form, Invisible The Investigation Use as much of the truth as possible, Grepha advises telepathically. The fewer pauses for making up details the more confident you will seem. Lowering his head and voice both, Sam answers while the eerie visage of his illusion glares at the guard. "I am to report to Rieltar," he sweeps his arm in the direction of the wood. "My role was to oversee one of his undertakings. Enemies of the Throne have engendered an alliance with forces from the Feywild, and through their machinations I was trapped in that realm for a time." Bringing his arm back down, he resumes a more dignified posture. "The developments must be reported to him, and I can trust only my own tongue with fey trickery hounding my steps." Spoiler: Rolls Show Sam Deception: (1d20+5)[17] Grepha Help: (1d20+5)[6]

[Spore]

Senna Human Arcana Cleric AC: 19 HP: 64/64 Spells: 1st: 4/4 2nd: 2/3 3rd: 3/3 4th: 2/2, Turn Undead: 2/2, Short Rests: 2/2 (+d8) Harness Divine Power 2/2, 2nd Conditions: Con reduced to 14 (Slimy Dooooom) Spoiler: Moonlight Serenade: Show Aren't you ever the charmer. Poetic as always. But I have grown weary of sonnets and artistry. This is survival. You mustn't know, dear. Our enemies don't know you are our friend. And I want to keep it that way. I could however share tales of past foes defeated to inspire your heart. Senna pauses, grinning from one ear to another. If you are to share some of your last months. Did you interact with fiends from the lower planes? she interrogates, eager to share at least their fight with the hag and the Shadow Druids, but skipping out on any details regarding the Iron Throne and any mines. Her tale feels like an accurate brief war report at first but seeing Garrick inspires her to embellish latter parts, playing up the cruelty of the hag and the wondrousness of the portal to the feywild. Iron Throne: As agreed, Senna masks only the illusion magic of the hand with that of a mundane one keeping any and all magic on the "vampire warlock" intact. While inside, Senna starts getting a bit nervous, concentrating on keeping her breathing down and not reacting to the movement of the guards. It was odd that Davaeorn had no vampire spawn with him, but she would be able to play the role of a silent guardian much better than that of a somewhat suave vampire fledgling. Especially in her armor and with her shield. She put her hood up and hid her divine tabard to elongate her greyish skin color in save shadows. Her only arm was her father's dagger, which was unusual for a guarding undead soldier, but she was in somewhat "polite" circumstances. Then again the dwarf brought a glaive.Stop overthinking, Sen. she thinks to herself.

[Amnestic]

Spoiler: Senna and Garrick

Show

The young strapping bard with a surprising amount of musculature starting to come through from hours on the stage balks, just a little, at the idea of sending someone so delicate facing danger. "Some devils came to town on business," he confirms, almost reminiscent. "They had us performing as entertainment. As far as audiences go, I've had worse. And they tipped well..." He fishes a coin from his pocket revealing one made of wrought black iron. "They said this one was lucky and to hold onto it, and...well, sure enough, here you are. It seems to be doing something right!" His smile is bashful, yet simultaneously eager.

Spoiler: Arcana DC13

Show

Garrick holds a soul coin, made of infernal iron. Every soul coin bears the soul of another creature locked inside in torment. Destroying it by conventional means destroys the soul within; the use of a Remove Curse spell could free the soul, allowing it to travel to its 'proper' resting place.

The Iron Throne

"Rieltar's not in the city," the guard replies shortly. The explanation for your haste, at least, prompts no further questions about why you didn't know that. He glances past you, at the rest of the room, noting that you're still gathering stares. "Could be I'd let you up to see the people who are in, but I'd need a bit of incentive, just to cover any undue risk you're putting me under for letting you in without an appointment."

The request for a bribe is as transparent as it could be, complete with an outstretched hand. "200 each for me and my fellows should see us taken care of. A...man of your means has that sort of funding on hand, I'm sure."

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock/Bard | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 62/62 | AC: 13 HP: 32/32 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 Daveorn Disguise | Spider Form, Invisible The Investigation "A... man of my years knows what makes the world go round," Sam responds in a dry tone, taking the bag of many coins from one his 'undead' servants. He steps aside to use a decorative end table as a surface to count out twenty platinum coins into two smaller pouches, then he deposits the coins in the hands of the stair guards.

[Archmage1]

Grok Dwarf Paladin 8 AC: 20 HP: 86/86 PP: 10 PIv: 9 PIs: 10 SR 2/2, Conditions: Branded Shuffling along in his bloodstained, acid scarred armor, Grok continues to say nothing, just standing perfectly still, like a zombie would.

[Amnestic]

"Pleasure," the guard is all fake smiles, clearly very pleased with his little dealing. "Ground floor is as you see it, first floor is balconies, third floor is dining, fourth floor is the bar and offices, fifth floor is where the bigwigs carry out their business. Fine evening to you, move along now, your pets are disrupting business."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

-400gp for the bribe.

You ascend up the first set of stairs and arrive at an empty landing, which indeed is a set of balconies bordered by chairs and reclining sofas, all of which look down upon the ground floor. No doubt this area is used for entertainment, when it's actually in use. Tonight is not one such night.

Ascending once more you come to a room laid out with long dining tables surrounded by chairs, segment by a wall at the far end, from which you can smell the scents of food cooking away - roasted meats and spiced stews. A few people are milling around here - merchants sat at tables haggling over something or other, servants delivering meals, and one man who looks both irritated and well past his patience limit. The moment he spots the party he beelines towards you, his fine exotic clothes of Eastern styles belied by his otherwise relatively local appearance.
"You. Clearly not one of the rabble. Tell me where I can find Rieltar. It's crucial I speak to him, and I've been given the run around for far too long. His damn child Sarevok seems to believe he's in charge here."

[Spore]

Senna Human Arcana Cleric AC: 19 HP: 64/64 Spells: 1st: 4/4 2nd: 2/3 3rd: 3/3 4th: 2/2, Turn Undead: 2/2, Short Rests: 2/2 (+d8) Harness Divine Power 2/2, 2nd Conditions: Con reduced to 14 (Slimy Dooooom) Spoiler: Moonlight Serenade: Show Senna shakes her head and investigates the coin closely. You are a sentimental fool and I love you for it... The priest immediately blushes at the implication. You.....me.....I didn't mean. Her face is a brighter red than any devil's skin. There was something strange about a cheap metal coin of fiendish origin. But just watching Garrick move was almost hypnotizing. It was ages since she spoke with a proper normal humanoid, that was not related to her or trying to kill her. And this human filled out his pants and shirt quite nicely. His face was pleasing, and his smarts were no threat to Senna, though she envied his charm. Still somewhat awkward, she finally says: If this thing is done, maybe Grepha could take a look at your coin. A single piece made from a workable non-precious metal is an odd payment. I fear it might be a way to spy on you, Garrick. Please keep it away from you. Devils rarely gift anything without an ulterior motive. Iron Throne: Senna has had to deal with abrasive people in the last few months, but nothing got her quite as worked up as an arrogant ignoramus, that got what he wanted. She had to recite at least a few lines of the Metatext mentally to steady her performance. Meanwhile Grok was a natural at being a ghoul. Steady walk, eyes forward, she could only guess the dwarf was a learned soldier, or at least very disciplined.

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock/Bard | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 62/62 | AC: 13 HP: 32/32 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 Daveorn Disguise | Spider Form, Invisible The Investigation Returning the fake smile, with some rather pronounced pearly whites, 'Daveorn' moves up the stairs to the upper floors. As they pass the banquet hall, he is interrupted by the strange man. A merchant of some sort, presumably. Too clueless to be one of Rieltar's conspirators surely, Sam thinks to himself. There is an opportunity here. Get him somewhere private, he may have useful information... "Hm, of course," sweeping an arm for dramatic effect, Sam gestures to the stairs leading higher, as Grepha walks him through a plan in his mind. "He has been too busy to handle common affairs, but to leave someone of your obvious station unattended is woefully negligent," he peppers on, taking the lead. "Come with me. I was about to find an available office to attend a magical conference with him, myself. You may join me, sir...?" he leaves a gap for a name. Spoiler: Rolls Show (1d20+10)[11] Persuasion (1d20+10)[27] Grepha Help

[Amnestic]

Senna and Garrick

Spoiler

Show

"Yet, I held it, and it brought you back to me!" Garrick remarks, clearly not in a hurry to be rid of the devil's trinkets. Yet, a thought does strike him. "Still...if this is as lucky as it seems, maybe you would be better served by it than I. I need no luck to perform on this stage of ours, but if you insist on thrusting yourself into danger then...Nay, I do not merely offer this, I insist, Senna. You must take this coin of mine, lest a terrible fate await you!"

The Iron Throne

"Finally, someone with the good sense to understand my importance!" The man remarks. "My name is Nortuary. I have been sent from Selgaunt by the Iron Throne headquarters to inspect and get some answers as just exactly what Rieltar is using this branch for. You may address me as 'Sir' only." He sniffs, apparently having no issues with ordering a vampire as such. "Lets get on with it then. The sooner we're done here the sooner I can report back as to just how much of a mess has been made."

You ascend up another floor, Nortuary in tow, to the bar, just in time to see a larger lady being escorted up the final flight of stairs by another guard, and the words "-way, Emissary Tar." before they disappear from sight and sound. It's emptier than the dining room was, but there's still a singled grizzled bartender, thick armed and keen eyed, cleaning an eternally dirty glass, stood behind the bar.

Beyond a wall is where the offices are most likely located, but before you can get there you're interrupted by a Xvart turning the corner. The small blue creature glances between the party, recognition in his eyes when he lay sight on Daveorn. The small humanoid crosses the distance between you in a moment, getting in close that his raised voice doesn't quite reach the bar. "Where in the Nine Hells have you been!? It's been months! The Sendings went nowhere!"

While Daveorn may be familiar with this individual, you are quite sure you have neither seen nor heard of them before.

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock/Bard | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 62/62 | AC: 13 HP: 32/32 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 Daveorn Disguise | Spider Form, Invisible The Investigation This is good. The explanation for this aligns with the story you've already given, no need to tangle it with new fabrications. "Feywild," 'Daveorn' informs the xvart he apparently knows, in a venomous tone. "Not the Nine Hells. Adventurers with fey allies decided to interfere with my business," he remains vague on said business, in the presence of the inspector, who he assumes this Throne branch is keeping in the dark intentionally. "I was trapped there for only a day, and yet when I returned it had been months. Fey nonsense. No attempts to communicate made it through. More fey nonsense, I assume." Moving a hand towards the inspector, he informs the tiny blue gnome, "I'm dealing with something right now. I will report shortly, and in private." Spoiler: Rolls Show (1d20+7)[22] Performance again, since he has to impersonate Daveorn to someone who actually knows him. (1d20+5)[18] Deception (1d20+5)[24] Grepha Help

[Amnestic]

The Xvart looks between Sam and Nortuary for a moment. "Of course, I'll leave you to it." He stands aside, allowing the party to head past further in. All the office doors are ajar, leaving you with the choice of any as good as each other. In a moment, you're inside, with the Iron Throne inspector, who is now impatiently awaiting your next step.

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock/Bard | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 62/62 | AC: 13 HP: 32/32 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 Daveorn Disguise | Spider Form, Invisible The Investigation Striding into the office with Nortuary, Sam posts Leaf outside the door as a guard, then closes the door. A simple illusion should do the trick. See if you can get him to talk about his business, indirectly. Pulling aside a chair, Sam offers it to Nortuary, walking around the desk to take a seat at it himself, pulling himself forward to fold his hands in his lap. "As you overheard, communication has been difficult with fey interference," he explains to the inspector. He draws out a stone - one of Caelyn's enchanted wine rocks. "This stone functions much like a Sending spell. If you squeeze it and speak a message into it, Rieltar will receive the message. Then, he may reply. The words will appear before you, briefly, as if written in the air. The limit is twenty five words. Perhaps if you send a message, rather than I, the fey will not pick up on it." Reaching across the table, he hands Nortuary the stone. "Inform him first: Daveorn has returned, is in the process of reporting, and has lent Sir Nortuary the inspector this stone. He will not respond if he does not know whose stone it is. Then, conduct your business as you have need." Spoiler: Rolls Show (1d20+5)[23] Deception if needed, to bull**** about the stone's magic (1d20+5)[22] Grepha Help Planning to summon the response to Nortuary from 'Rieltar' with Minor Illusion, hiding somatic components under the desk

[Amnestic]

Nortuary looks at the stone, turning it in his hand, before walking to a window, opening it, and tossing it out into the darkness. "Feywild interference wouldn't require you to come all the way to this building. If you needed to speak to Rieltar, you could have used this before, and you chose not to." His eyes narrow as he turns back to you. "More than that, you wouldn't need to bring an entourage like this to the building for a 'magical conference'. Explain yourself. Now."

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock/Bard | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 62/62 | AC: 13 HP: 32/32 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 Daveorn Disguise | Spider Form, Invisible The Investigation "Sir Nortuary," Sam invokes with quiet contempt, standing as his 'vampiric' claws drag a few small furrows into the surface of the desk. "If you had no interest in making use of my property, you should have returned it, should you have wished this civil discussion to remain civil." Facing the man, Sam motions towards the window. "You see, that was the quiet option, to get you to go away none the wiser. It would have been so much easier that way. Rieltar does not want to speak with you, if he wanted you to know anything, he would have informed you. You still have a chance to walk way, Sir Nortuary. Return overseas, as if all is well. If you do not, our associates will find you, and you will never be found again." Part bluff, part truth. The man would be better off walking away from all this. Spoiler: Rolls Show (1d20+5)[7] Intimidate to get Nortuary to leave (1d20+5)[6] Help if any of my 'undead servants' wants to assist in some menacing

[Spore]

Senna Human Arcana Cleric AC: 19 HP: 64/64 Spells: 1st: 4/4 2nd: 2/3 3rd: 3/3 4th: 2/2, Turn Undead: 2/2, Short Rests: 2/2 (+d8) Harness Divine Power 2/2, 2nd Conditions: Con reduced to 14 (Slimy Dooooom) Spoiler: Moonlight Serenade: Show Well, if you insist; thank you. Senna eventually caves. It WAS a gift, and Garrick was well-meaning, but kind of seems to sober up whatever she was seeing in him back in Beregost. Granted, she was and still is a bit blue-eyed when it came to men. But Garrick's emotional and intellectual distance from real life was no longer cute. His romanticism was artistically pleasing, but Senna was grounded in the grim reality so much deeper than before. My own power grounds itself in beliefs of ideals and a grand text that has all eventual outcomes written down, but we determine our own fates, Garrick. Don't you forget that. It was not luck, that brought you to where you are. It was skill. After all, we are not seeking your help out because you are so darn lucky. Even Deneir, the Divine Scribe, is not that powerful to take away that agency. We scribe our adventures together. Not the storyteller themselves. But we are not here to bore you with teachings on the matter of gods. Also don't go overboard on the costuming. Remember we need a fast way to dispose of these costumes as well. Iron Throne: Senna steps forth and tries to intimidate the merchant by snarling. Instead her bright voice lets out an almost cheery hum as the "undead guard" steps up to the merchant.