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Character Pages

2012-02-09T19:10:53Z

Alteri:

Emblem of Ea is home to a number of colorful and interesting characters. Below, you can read a little more about them.

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[[Category:Player]]

==A==
* [[Abrahil]]
* [[Agril]]
* [[Amira|Amir'a al'Jarim]]
* [[Alteri]]

==B==
* [[Bashkim|Bashkim Sylaj]]
* [[Boshter]]

==C==
* [[Colrick Voss]]
* [[Craft]]

==D==
* [[Darshan]]

==E==
* [[Edmee|Edmee Sulwen]]

==F==
* [[Faiza]]

==G==
==H==
==I==
* [[Ionus]]

==J==
==K==
* [[Kaliara|Kaliara Sein]]
* [[Kama'o]]
* [[Karelin Andarin]]
* [[Karl Mattock]]
* [[Kerbasi]]
* [[Koszhey Urvald Malinovyi]]
* [[Kylie D'malthyae]]
* [[Kyra Smith]]

==L==
* [[Leisel]]
* [[Lithuin]]

==M==
* [[Maerkkus]]
* [[Matthias Haelker]]
* [[Mikilos]]
* [[Munch]]
* [[Myrana Jn'Rajh]]

==N==
* [[Nim]]
* [[Nin-galad]]

==O==
* [[Ormarr]]

==P==
==Q==
*[[Quint]]

==R==
* [[Roland]]

==S==
* [[Lady Sandiel]]
* [[Hailee Serene Tigriil]]
* [[Lady Sienna Meribeth McBane]]
* [[Sophia Lightbringer]]
* [[Selia]]
* [[Shyntae]]

==T==
* [[Thaim]]
* [[Thistle]]

==U==
==V==
==W==
==X==
* [[Xander]]

==Y==
* [[Younger, Bruce The|Bruce the Younger]]
* [[Yerathiel]]

==Z==

Social: Cabin in the Woods

2011-10-21T06:16:01Z

Alteri:

<pre>
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* Light Woods *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The trees are increasing in number and density, moss covered rocks can be seen along
the way, offering places to rest and camp for the night. The scent of pine blends with
the deep rich scent of the earth and paths break off the main road trailing in several
directions.

Further off into the forest, it seems like night has fallen. Only it stays this way all day
and night. Old trees crowd together, making it seem almost impossible to pass through.
Darting in between the trees, animals can be seen, dark furred creatures gliding in and
out of the trees as travelers move on.

OOC: At this point you are about a days travel from the city. Going further into the
Deep Forest brings you to two days away from the city.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Alteri Eldanar fighter; dark hair, pale eyes, shit luck. 3s 1h
Svarshan Be a brightscale! Chomp a demon! 0s 1d
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= Exits -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Deep Forest <NW> Druid Grove <DG> Eldwyn Road <S>
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

It's Korday, Rhaltaas 20 13:45:52 1013. The full moon isn't up. The tide is high and ebbing.

Everything is grey, veiled by mist. It's chilly and the air feels damp. There is no wind.
</pre>

It is that time of day, when animals have done their foraging and found nooks to nap in. Birds nestle against the boughs of sturdy evergreen oaks, heads tucked under their wings. Little disturbs the grey, misty afternoon, and the sun's rays feel distant, weakened by the turning of the seasons. Nearby, a stream burbles gently, more deep than wide, it has cut a path through softer rock over the millennia, doing its best to sparkle with what light that does reach it.

Drifting through the quiet, a soft whistling tune is heard. Laced with a depth of yearning and sorrowed memories, it floats in the still air, hanging. If one is to follow the sound, the damp mists will part, revealing a figure clad in the monochromes of dark and shadow. She too, has found a spot to nestle under one of the mighty oaks. Heavy branches sway and dip in the stream, a benediction of life despite all that Ea has seen.

"..." *grunt* Svarshan trudges into the small grove of peace, a bundle of sticks over one broad shoulder. He walks heavily, though steadily, his tail out behind him like a weighted balance. At the center of the grove, he drops the sticks--they clatter, bouncing once against the fall-hardened ground. And then he looks at Alteri, a silent: one has brought the firewood. He doesn't bother with words.

The melody, a Sendoran folk's song of lost love, ceases as sounds of the makar's arrival grow louder. A small bird chirps a protest at having the song end, but settles back down with a huffed chirrup. Surprised to find a visiter, more so that it is a Sunblade, Alteri flows to her feet, hurriedly brushing away any brightness that might have lingered around her pale eyes.

Those eyes drop to the firewood Svar has brought, and they widen. Swiftly moving to greet the Sith'makar, the Eldanar drops in a low and respectful bow, "You honour us with your peaceful gift, Sunblade." Straightening, two leaves are seen fluttering out of her hands to settle like boats on the stream's surface, paired travellers on the path to life. It appears that had been what she was playing the tune on, a leaf whistle.

Glancing up to the higher ground, where shadows of a half-built cottage meet grey with the grey of the autumn ground, Alteri gestures in invitation, "I fear my hospitality shall be as incomplete as my roof, but pray, come warm your peace at my hearth."

He opens his muzzle, but closes it, and eyes her, eyes dark as a pair of coals. Smoke drifts faintly from the lava-lines between his scales, and he bends, lifts the firewood with a, "You still talk too much."

And followed by a: "Where do you want this?" He doesn't appear much for chatter, just eyes her as though waiting for a reply. The teeth at his necklace clatter, their tips stained in blood that will never quite wash away.

Though reddened at the edges, the corners of Alteri's eyes crinkle just a smidge. "A failing of my race." Nodding, she adds, "Inside," in regards to where the firewood goes. This is said with a touch of humour, for as they approach, it is obvious that only three of the four walls have been completed. Meticulously stacked stones, smoothed by countless years of rushing water, packed tightly with mortar. Noble she may sound, yet this Highborn still seems more comfortable in solutide, away from crowds and perhaps, lynch mobs. The fourth wall, the front, has no door, just a tightly lashed sailcloth to help keep rain out. This, Alteri unties to offer easier passage to the larger Sith'makar. A whuffle comes through the door by the fireplace, revealing where the small stables have been built. Clever. Having the living area and the stables on either side of the hearth to keep both mistress and mount warm in the coming months.

"Every race has its failings," he growls generously, though it comes with a warm sort of humor that says he's pushing, as a sith'makar is prone to push. He slows as they near, and sniffs the air, its flavor tinged with cold. Smoke curls from his muzzle in response, and he lets out a sigh before trudging inwards...and dropping the sticks unceremoniously near the fireplace.

"They will need food," of the mount. Suddenly, and out of the blue.

Alteri makes a low sound of agreement, "Humans more so than most." She looks thoughtfully up at the newly stuffed rafters, the straw so painfully clean, for now, "At times I feel the gods placed all capacity for greatness and evil within us to truly test this, the most youthful of the races." she muses, then blinks, "Pardon, I do talk too much."

A sturdy cupboard has been set next to the fireplace. The bottom segment she opens, revealing a modest store of wood. One imagines more must be stacked elsewhere, this is hardly enough to last a few days. "Tea?" she offers, "I met a Xian merchant with a fresh store of fermented leaves. Mistress Greyfeather did enjoy it." At Svarshan's sudden rejoinder, the Highborn pauses in her efforts at hospitality, "They will. I'm expecting the bales delivered later today." Perhaps why she is here and not at the Guild looking for more work.

Rugs lie scattered about the freshly varnished floorboards. Thick and deep, the bounty of years of hunting for her table, they offer makar feet a respite from the cold, hardpacked ground outside.

He stands there heavily in the midst of the half-finished cottage. His shoulders are broad and his countenance is quiet, content out here in the wilderness and away from the City. Still... he turns his muzzle halfway, and eyes her with eyes that are coal-black and dark and without blinking.

"...there is a ssssmall khazad mining village. They are not-so-large, but would have stones-for-building. ...and there isss a farmer, who may have exssstra grain, asss well. They are not City-bound." And then after that, a pause of some kind and an unspoken and unasked question if she will make use of the opportunity and meet her new neighbors, or continue relying on the resources of Alexandria.

Which is not a bad choice.

He scratches at his jaw with the claw of his thumb, quietly. He watches Alteri in a way that isn't unfriendly--quiet, warm, but at odds with the abruptness of the words, and the teeth hanging from his neck.

He smells of brimstone.

"Saaa. Yess." And another, awkward pause: "Thank you."

A large water barrel sits on the other side of the hearth. One fancies it will use the hearth's fire to keep water unfrozen throughout the winter. Looking rather odd as she bustles and tries to be domestic, Alteri gets a pot filled and hooked over the fire she has poked back into life. The shelves above the woodstore are revealed with a tug of handle. Retrieving cups for the two of them, she tries not to feel nervous under the elder Sith's unblinking look. A youth, trying to show she has not been idle since being released from the Watch's cells. Pausing, she considers, "I... had not explored that far." Her lips twitch and that dark head dips into a smaller bow of thanks, "I shall have to speak with them. Stupid gets bored with the same grain." A sad excuse for not wanting to stress Alexandria's resources, but one she'll work with.

"...yes. Ssshhee iss a good mare." The word and phrasing is simple, but warmly spoken. He gives his heavy frame a shake, as though waking it up, but the movement is sluggish, like trying to move a great weight that wishes to rest. He looks across at her. "...the winter. Will be harsssh. You will come and visssit if there is...trouble." It is not a question, and the look stays just that, quiet and unblinking. Reptilian.

A small flash of defiance greets Svarshan's not-question. The Highborn prides herself in being self-sufficient and troubling no one, yet, her time in the City has taught her much. Though her back remains proudly erect, she nods in quiet acquiescence. "My thanks, Sunblade." Then an impish look flashes across her usually sombre features for just a second, "You will come visit, too, if there is trouble." Fair is fair. She will help as he would help.

"...good." And, then he straightens slowly as though making an effort. A... "...it isss good to see another here. It isss a good place."

He pauses as though he might say something else, though shakes his head instead, awkward, and heads out into the woods and morning Sun.

[[Category:Logs]]

PM Plot: Ezra's Golden Parachute

2011-10-21T06:09:16Z

Alteri:

The word came down through backward channels for those of you on the streets, a friend of a friend setting up the job on whispered reputation from shady tavern rowdies. Or from the small notice placed in the corner of the board at the Explorer's Guild, the one that read "Bounty sought on fugitive criminal. Hefty sums for experienced professionals with discretion. Ask for Silas at the Vigilant Blade Arms Shop." The rumors of work for professional magi also spreads amongst the more adventurous and 'field-oriented' of the arcanely inclined that work is available.

No matter the path, the destination all ends up with you quickly established with a meeting that evening at the backroom of a small concert hall, once used to store chairs and spare instruments, now quickly turned into a conference room with the addition of a long table and 8 chairs. 3 are occupied when you arrive. To the left sits a stout dwarf with a well manicured beard with all sorts of gold and precious stone beadwork woven into it, but otherwise simple but clean and well tailed clothing. The middle hosts an excessively thin and gaunt half-elf, spectacles purchased precariously on his nose. The last is a plump and matronly woman in a somber but expensive dress of fine silk. Perhaps lower nobility or an extremely successful mercantile class?

Each of you are gestured to come inside by the lady on the right, then ushered to sit down. "Evening, gentle...folk. Have a seat. Time of is of the essence on this issue, so we can't waste a moment. Our names are unimportant, but we each represent mercantile and economic interests in this area. Lucrative interests. And we have a job for you. Legitimate, of course." The aging matron greets you, matter of factly.

Spike stares at the wide away of chairs as she enters. She doesn't ask names. Doesn't ask details. Just stares at the wide array of chairs,"It's a trap! My chairfoes have ambushed me! I surrender."

Mab has buffed her blunderbuss to a brilliant shine. She's put on her best outfit, gathered her satchel of supplies, made sure that nothing in her lab is likely to explode in the next few days, and has then set out for the meet. Somewhat unused to such events, the blue-haired goblin has settled as comfortably as she can into an oversized chair, simply nods her understanding to the woman... and squints at Spike. If time is of such drastic essence, there's no need to complicate matters further with speech or introductions right now!

Ducking through the doorway, Alteri's pale eyes take stock of the room and its occupants. A woman of few words, she simply nods a silent greeting to the trio. By her martial mode of dress, it can be easily discerned that she was one of those who saw the notice at the Guild.

Spotting the staring Spike, she attempts a comforting pat on the War Golem's shoulder. "Promise the chairs will behave." Whether that will be true, well, we shall have to see. Polished boots scuffing the floorboards, she strides to take a chair, unobstrusively shifting it so she gets full view of the entire room, also nodding to the already arrived Mab.

Sharna is keeping pointedly AWAY from the war golem as she enters the room, as if fearing the insanity may somehow spread. Unheeding of the evil of the chairs, she saunters over, taking a sideways seat in one, her legs crossing at the knees with only a soft creak of protest from her armor. The rest of the adventurers get a nod. "Good to be here." she says, a small, business-like smile on her lips. Her elbow rests lightly on the table's surface. "What can we do for you?" she asks, gaze flicking across the employers.

Azog ducks into the room and bows his head in greeting. At the offer of seating, he attempts to make use of one of the chairs, his bulk settling in despite the addition of heavy armor. It's not great for the chair, but ... He looks around to the others, then turns to listen to these erstwhile patrons.

The three eye Spike a moment and confer amongst each other in a few hushed whispers before the dwarf on the right grudingly uses a pole nearby amongst the stacked crates to slide Spike's chair out of the way in some effort to soothe the automaton. The half elf in the middle nods to the noble matron and hefts a small satchel up. He produces a small painting, the oak frame covered in a bit of dust, a well-worn leatherbound book, and a profesional looking pencil set. The panting it offered to whomever ever will take it.

Looking upon it reveals a middle aged gnome with salt and pepper hair and a pinched face, in a stoic pose. It looks like it came from someone's mantle. For the more social and mercantile of some of you, the ones that tend to handle party chores such as taking the loot to be appraised and counting out the split, recognize as being familiar. "Ezra Chiselworth." The matron names him. "He is one the premiere appraisers of gems, magical items, art objects, and precious metals. Until yesterday, he was the man to see about appraising and finding a buyer for anything you adventuring sorts manage to procure. Yesterday, we discovered that he had conspired with dozens of jewelers, artificers, pawnbrokers, and others to misvalue and embezzle thousands of crowns worth of coin, gems, and magic items. He slipped the grip of the watch and we want you to track him down and return him and the stolen goods."

Spike looks mildly mollified when efforts are made to calm her. Attention returning to the business at hand, she wonders,"Does it matter whether he's exceptionally flat or not?"

Mab can't help but smirk as the situation is laid bare. Though she does give each of her companions a nod in turn, the goblin is more amused by the apparent untrustworthiness of this erstwhile appraiser. "He sounds like a clever man to have gotten away with so much." She says, cheerfully. "And if he's got a lot of magical items on hand, tracking him down could be next to impossible. Do you have any leads? He could be anywhere from Charn to Clockwork Point by now, if he's got the right connections and the right preparations."

Sharna studies the painting for a moment before handing it off to the next adventurer to see. "Mm-hmm." More a noise than a word, really. She nods. "Well, then. We'll need a list of the goods and whatever leads you have to find this man." she asks, politely and sweetly. She is assuming, of course, that they do have leads, and that the adventurers are not expected to comb the city looking for a lone gnome.

Azog eyes the strange golem as well, then shrugs. So many strange things in this city. And ... as he listens to the explanation of why we're here, he nods slowly. "So much wealth," he says in Dran-accented Tradespeak. "If he has left tracks, I can spot them," he adds. He probably means it only in the literal sense, though he seems heavily armed and armored for an outdoorsman.

Alteri's eyes grow glacial. This is personal! "Daring, isn't he?" She works to keep her voice light, though a hint of a growl still manages to steal its way through to the surface. And truly, it is a dare, what with all the powerful adventurers about who might take offense at the gnome's specific slice of the crime-pie. Since others have asked the most pertinent questions, the Eldanar subsides, though from her glowering expression, it does not bode well for the criminal in question if she were to get her hands on him. Accepting the portrait, she transfers her glower to the study of it.

"Apparently once he became a trusted figure, he exploited the lack of appraisal skills amongst...your profession." The dwarf replies with equal parts dourness and sarcarsm. The half-elf shoots the dwarf a withering glance, then turns the floor back to the aging noblewoman. "Our own resources have been playing cat and mouse with him since yesterday. The trail went cold last evening, so we resorted to coercing a local wizard of some power to help us in the endeavor. He expended his divinatory magicks not long ago and now retires to replenish himself for the journey head. Somehow, the gnome has fled into the Mythwood in an attempt to escape into Myrrish territories. The last known point that Ezra could be tracked was here. Near this small lake." The half-elf opens the leatherbound book and withdraws a detailed map of Alexandros and the surrounding territories, marking the gnome just a day's travel into the Mythwood near a small pond on one of the main trails that heads west to Rosalia and Sendor. "If you accept, you have until dawn to prepare." The pencil case and a sheet of folded blank parchment produced from the book is pushed across the table. "Determine what you will need for the travels and we will provide what we reasonably can. The bounty will be 100 crowns each, along with possible bonuses for discretion. I'm sure much of his stolen treasure is undocumented and I think all parties can be made happy by this?"

Spike ponders this,"So... we squish the gnome, grab the treasure, bring back what's on the list, and divvy up everything else. Okay! But I want hazard pay if we meet dastardly chairs on the way." Riiiight.

Mab actually laughs at the pseudo-accusation. The goblin shrugs her shoulders, her good humor apparently entirely undiminished. "Not many of us have a head for gold and for the manipulation of reality on a fundamental level, it is true." She says, as she hops up from the chair, and adjusts her blunderbuss to be more comfortable. "I'm happy with the money. I'm afraid divination isn't my particular field of study." She brushes the glass baubles in one ear, making them jangle pleasingly, "But I look forward to working with these fine men and women regardless~." And that bright goblin smile is turned on her gathered compatriots.

"He exploited trust, as well, good master." Drier than a Veyshanti desert, Alteri counters the dour dwarf in an urbane drawl. "You say to return him. Do you mean alive? How, ah," she glances a moment to Spike, "squished, is he allowed to be?" The Highborn has no plans to be bloodthirsty, but who knows how enthusiastic the rest of the party may be. She quirks a faint almost-smile to Mab, her version of a friendly grin, really.

Azog grunts at the lack of appraisal skills among adventurers, though Spike gets a particularly puzzled look before the orc shakes his head ruefully. "Maybe we'll exploit his lack of cutting people in half skills." He looks over the map thoughtfully, to familiarize himself with the lay of the terrain. "Good," he says at last. "I will help bring this one to justice," he says slowly, nodding in affirmation to Mab, though Alteri's comment draws a snort of amusement. "I will not kill him if he surrenders. If he gives fight, I will fight him. Then ... we shall see."

"Alive would be preferred," The dwarf speaks up, cut off by the half-elf, "But dead would dissapointing, but acceptable." The matron takes her turn and steeples her fingers, "Then it is agreed? Meet here again at the crack of dawn. Our wizard will teleport you to the last known area and provide as much support as reasonably able. After two days, we have the wizard find you and bring you back once you recover the stolen goods and subdued Mr. Chiselworth."

Uncoiling her legs and rising from the chair slightly to have a glance at the map, Sharna gives a small nod. "Very well. We shall see what we can do for you." the part-elven girl says, her smile remaining plastered on her face in spite of the sort-of-insult. A glance at Azog - and a pointed grin is given to the orc, not at all friendly. "If our employers prefer the man be brought back alive, well. That is what they will get, if at all possible." That's what we are getting paid for, that grin says.

Spike crosses her arms for a moment to think, then nods slowly,"Fine. As unsquished as we can possibly make him." Then she sticks out one of her big spikey paws for a handshake from one of the employers.

Mab nods her head, "We'll see what we can do, I suppose. That's all that we can do!" She claps her hands together, and works a kink out of her shoulder. "Well. I'll be off then. Things I could be prodding in the lab until it is time to go, unless any of you want to talk strategy before we head off into the unknown?"

You colloborate quickly and write your requests down, then are swiftly ushered out of the concert hall, now shut down in the dead of night. The crack of dawn finds you back at the hall, joined by only the half-elf and a positively stereotypical old wizard, complete with a long flowing grey beard and a pointy hat. And he's not even wearing it ironically like those hipsters upstarts that hang around the Academy of Sages these days. His eyes are bloodshot and he sounds as grumpy as he looks. "Hurry up with it, this is no hour for wizardry. This is the time proper folks should be getting their rest." He opens the door and steps out onto the stage, where several large suitcases, carpet bags, and satchels wait. "Golem, you stay out here. You'll rupture a bag. The rest of you hold your breath and climb into that carpet bag or the grey suitcase. Try not to jostle around or tear anything. I'm not getting my credit extended near enough to go jaunting into the Astral after you."

Saddlebags thrown over both her shoulders, Alteri walks over to peer uncertainly down into both containers. Seeming to get a grip of herself, she does her best to squish her bedroll close to herself, takes a deep breath and steps into the carpet bag.

Mab can appreciate class when she sees it, and it is quite obvious to her that the wizard assisting them is clearly a man of taste. She is dressed much as before, clean pressed clothes, hair carefully styled, she refuses to let the early hour get her down. "Thank you for this, I'll do my best not to cause undue hassle." She says, with a respectful curtsy (even if she isn't wearing a skirt, how do human customs work?) to the elder wizard, before she ducks into the transportation herself.

Spike eyeballs the wizards, then says argumentatively,"No, YOU stay out here." She DOES however folow the wizard's directions anyway, though she can't help but observe,"You like chairs? No... I bet you're an ottoman lover. Good ottoman-respecting blood in your background, I suspect." She whips out a brightly colored cape to tie around her neck, then puts her fists on her hips,"Ready."

Sharna glances at the suitcase. At the bag. At the wizard. And again at the containers. "... Seriously?" the woman asks, jaw a little slack. She looks just like she feels - like someone who's being reminded just why they're not a big fan of wizards. Muttering something that sounds like (flowery) obscenities in Sildanyari, she goes about doing as asked. Gingerly. She doesn't trust those things.

Azog arrives, bright and alert at this dark hour. Of course the dark isn't much of an impediment for him. He leads his hairy horse in, and looks honestly surprised at what he sees. "This city surprises me more each day," he admits dryly as he joins the group, saddlebags packed, a cosh in his swordbelt along with the more lethal toys he normally carries. His horse is stoic, but Azog laughs after a moment. "Sometimes people say foolish things to make others laugh. Sometimes ... people say foolish things, and it turns out they're not foolish." But he gets into ... a bag? Really? He does his best.

Horses are loaded with gear and saddles, and those besides spike get to enjoy the comforts of the inside of a bag of holding. Which in this case, happenes to look like a flat black void with starry sparkles and motes denoting the tenebrous and mutable 'edges' of the bag's capacity. The air is stale and smells of hay, salt, ginger, cinammon, and other spices. Seems these were cargo bags for this mercant-mage at some point. Once you are all loaded, the bags are closed and loaded on the horses, whom's reigns are handed off to Spike. A few spoken intonations (after nodding grudgingly to Mab and eyeballing Spike like a mental patient.) and Spike, the wizard, and the horses find themselves at the edge of a game trail that overlooks a scenic pond, surrounded by trees and plantlife, yellowing and preparing for the fall. The rest of you get a quick breath of fresh air as each of the bags open, replacing the stale breath with a brisk breeze of an autumn forest. The aging wizard (We'll call him Larry) sighs and leans against a tree, lighting his pipe as he adjusts to the dawn sun shining his eyes. "Hurry it up, I've got a warm bed still waiting for me."

Mab emerges from the bag with a spring in her step. There's just something *bracing* about being thrust into the unknown and trying to remember not to exhale because doing so may see your guts ejected through various orifices. Really helps to focus the mind. "Wonderful trip!" She chirps, as she gets her bearings. "Looks like it is going to be a beautiful day as well! I have a good feeling about this."

Sharna spends her time inside the bag, well, staring at it. It's not every day you see a void-space packed inside a mundane-looking container. She is, however, very happy when it is reopened and climbs out of it with haste, taking a deep breath of the fresh air, finding she likes forests much better when they come immediatelly after a trip in a musty-smelling bag of holding. She dusts herself off, absently, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head and rubbing her gloved hands together.

"PAUGH!" Blowing out her held breath, Alteri gasps the fresh forest air with relief. It appears she was in the bag that once carried pepper amongst its number of spices. Eyes red and tearing, she tosses her bags out to the side before clambering out with haste. Between mighty sneezes, she tries to coax her also sneezing mare out. In the end, she gives up and has to climb back in, and half-heft, half-push her stubborn mount out. "G'wan, Stupid, git!" Hurururumphing in affront, the blindfolded roan clatters to a stop a few paces away, tossing her mane and just being generally unhappy with everything.

She doesn't need a horse. She's a golem. She's big. She's heavy. But there's a big ugly conjured black warhorse waiting for her. She approaches it,"HAIL AND WELL MET, EQUINE FRIEND." She tells the others,"You have do to this with a certain expertise." She adresses the horse,"YOU SHALL BEAR ME TO MY DESTINATION, LOYAL STEED." The horse eyes her dubiously, and sidesteps a few times. When she approaches anyway, and swings a leg over it, one might almost swear the horse cringed and grunted. But horses don't do that... right? It's sort of like watching a toy rocking horse carrying a mountain. A mountain covered in spikes. She unlimbers her big-ass spear, raises her shield, and then says,"Away, Champion! To danger and glory!" The horse takes a creaky step, then looks at the wizard with a horsey look that almost says: 'You can't be serious.'

Azog climbs out of his bag with a look of chagrin, though he muses, "I suppose it wasn't all that bad." Perhaps he didn't know how close to horrible death he was! He looks around the area, looking at the trail and the pond thoughtfully for a moment before he grabs his horse's bridle and checks the animal out to make sure the horse is okay as well. When he's satisfied with the horse's condition, he takes another look at the terrain, orienting himself. "You said this was the last place he was seen?" he asks. "Or near here?"

<OOC> Azog says, "I suppose I use survival to check for tracks? Any chance of taking 10?"

"He seems like a nice man." Mab says, as she hauls herself up onto the back of a pony. She's not much of a rider, but she's fairly light and nimble, so this isn't the worst thing in the world for her. She smiles to the others, then, and claps her hands. "Well! This *is* exciting! You folk lead the way, I'll follow and work on the proper spells to stop you all dying a horrible death from." She glances at the lake. "Nature, I suppose."

Giving the conjured steed a friendly pat on the neck (and getting a rather disinterested look in return), Sharna does a full turn to take in their surroundings. "Well. I suppose we ought to get to work." she decides, leaving the horse to contentedly sift through the grass and leaves for something not dry whilst she begins sweeping the area for tracks or other signs where their quarry might've went.

Still giving the occasional residual sneeze, Alteri works on getting her packs settled onto Stupid's back. The roan tries to sidestep away from the burdens, causing the Eldanar to swat a blue-ticked bum. "Quit *HACHOO!* that, you big *SNIFF* baby." Giving Stupid's tack a final once over, the female fighter finally finds a kerchief to honk her red nose into. Sharna's words spur her on and she mounts up one-handed, still rubbing vigourously at her nose.

<OOC> Owen says, "Alright! Survival for those looking for tracks. Notice to start searching around for clues."

<OOC> Spike assists on Alteri-perception.

GAME: Spike rolls perception: (7)+0: 7

<OOC> Spike FAILS.

<OOC> Azog says, "Is there a command to take 10, or do I have to roll?"

<OOC> Sharna says, "As above, I'll look for tracks with Perception! I believe that is still allowed in PF (but can't follow them with Perc, just find 'em)."

<OOC> Owen says, "You can just take 10. What's your modifier and end result?"

<OOC> Azog says, "+8, so 18"

<OOC> Alteri offers AA for Azog's survival, if possible.

<OOC> Sharna says, "Oh, take 10 allowed? In that case, I'll Take 10 on Perception for 21."

<OOC> Owen says, "Sure, Alteri."

GAME: Alteri rolls Survival: (19)+6: 25

<OOC> Spike will attempt to assist on Survival as well! :D

GAME: Spike rolls survival: (1)+0: 1

<OOC> Mab will keep Detect Magic active, just in case he's leaving a trail of magical breadcrumbs or similar.

<OOC> Owen says, "Yeah. Azog and Alteri and Azog, You find the tracks pretty easily before Spike stomps into them. D: But they are not subtle at all. It looks like one small horse or a pony that was fairly lightly loaded but moving at a steady gallop along the trail. Sharna, you find a pretty fresh paper wrap by the bank of the pond. It smells like it held a simple lunch ration. Not quite trail rations, but the D&D equivelant of a Lunchable. An paper wrapped small loaf of bread, wedge of cheese, and bit of salt pork or beef jerky. Judging by the lack of rain or mud on it, and the lingering smell of the cheese and sausage in this one, it has to be less than a half day old. Mab, your detect magic, after getting the magic of other folks out of the way picks up traces of it running along the trail, just barely perceptible. Like several faint signatures of minor magic having been here hours ago, their combined traces leaving a signature of magic that is barely dying."

Spike tramples all over the tracks with her ill-controlled, utterly irritated hourse,"THIS IS HELPING."

Consulting with the large Yrch, Alteri splits the area to scan with him. Enough time has passed that she no longer looks like she's suffering from a cold, merely that she has been crying her eyes out recently. Even so, she manages to keep her eyes peeled. Spike's enthusiasm is appreciated, though she winces each time the golem stomps over a track. At least they spot them before the stompings.

Azog looks over the tracks with a practiced and thoughtful eye, grunting in the affirmative as Alteri catches a couple things he missed. "He went this way, fairly qucikly," he tells the others, then mounts up, his horse to pursue, pulling his shield around once he's mounted, and taking the reins in his shieldhand. He nudges the horse into motion, to lead the way.

After a cursory examination of their surroundings, Sharna picks up a tiny piece of paper wrap from the ground - just in time, too, forced to lean back so as to avoid Spike as the golem thunders past. She brings the paper to her nose, giving a small, careful sniff. "Seems fairly fresh." she says, waving it to indicate it. "We're not too far behind at all. Half a day, maybe." And with that, she's hopping adroitly into the saddle of her chosen conjured steed, apparently ready to leave.

Mab mutters under her breath, "Detecticus Abnormalius." And her eyes glow a bright and shining emerald green. "He's still got the goods with him." She calls to the people ahead of her, as she tries to spur her pony to follow along with them. "We should hurry though, he's got a definite lead on us."

As you saddle up and ride, the conjured steeds creepily trotting together in perfect unison. The dawn turns to morning turns to noon. You find yourself deep into the Mythwood, on a trail barely wide enough for barely two riders or a small cart to transverse. Despite the quick pace to wring as much use as possible from the animals and to catch up, the trackers amongst you notice one disturbing fact. The tracks indicate the pony never dropped it's speed. Though the more astute and skilled woodsman amongst you notice that twice the horse tracks suddenly stop, replaced with another set of horse tracks that appear out of nowhere, with two small footprints in between them. along with drag marks from what appear to be several sacks or saddlebags.

Continuing further into the day, you break for a quick lunch and debate what what your next move is...

Azog notes the abnormality with the tracks, grunts, and turns to ask Alteri, "Do you think he's conjuring fresh mounts, to keep this pace?"

Nibbling on a piece of spiced bear whilst she waters her mount, Alteri grunts in agreement to Azog, "Was my thought," she mutters once she's done with her mouthful. "Mayhaps tying the pace down to our flesh and bone mounts wasn't the best idea." she concludes ruefully.

<OOC> Owen says, "And since we're moving along. Who is on point/what's the general marching order? You can ride two abreast along the trail easily."

<Discussion omitted.>

<OOC> Owen says, "So Azog-Spike, Sharna-Mab, then Alteri taking up the rear."

Spike eyeballs the horse, eventually fed up with its trotting. She hops down, stowing her spear and tells it,"No. Now. You watch, and follow. This is how it is done." When it's time to run, she'll have a panting horse trailing behind her with murder in its eyes,"See! You just run forever across the land! It is much quicker this way, and not as boring!" Yep. That's a big spikey golem with a big steel shield on its arm charging down the road with a cape fluttering behind it like a maypole.

The pace picks back up quickly after the quick lunch and the gnome fugitive shows no signs of stopping. At least for the next few hours. As you press further west, you run into hilly terrain, frought with undergrowth. The sounds of the wild forest echo all around you in all directions. You are just a few short hours from making camp. At least, if pursuing your quarry wasn't on the agenda. But as the two point-men/women/robots crest a steep hill, they look down up on the trail that continues on for several paces before it stops in a small clearing, the campfires, litter, and notches in the tree indicating it has been used as a campsite by dozens over the years. And right now, there is an Owlbear camping there. Or rather, tearing into several saddlebags, devouring the contents of several of the waxpaper bundles. Both distracted, you surprise each other and time hangs motionless for just a brief moment while the rest of the party gets a peek for themselves. The owlbear sniffs and looks up, then hoot-roars at the assembled adventurers, hackles and plumage rising! WHAT DO YOU DO?

<OOC> Owen says, "Looks like it's time for inits!"

<pre>
===== Current Initiative Order =========
----------------------------------------
23 Owly
----------------------------------------
20 Mab
----------------------------------------
18 Sharna
----------------------------------------
11 Alteri
----------------------------------------
7 Spike
----------------------------------------
7 Azog
----------------------------------------
========================================
</pre>

<OOC> Owen says, "Spike, you get the Owlbear lovin."

<OOC> Owen says, "It'll be a bite this round since I gotta look up grapple/grab rules. I am rusty."

<OOC> Owen says, "Charge!"

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+10: (18)+10: 28

GAME: Owen rolls 1d6+4: (4)+4: 8

<OOC> Spike says, "So, six."

The owlbear doesn't waste any time. It lurches and charges up the hill, sinking it's massive beak into one of Spike's pauldron/shoulder plates and crinkling it with the force of the bite!

<OOC> Owen says, "Mab!"

<OOC> Mab says, "I'm going to make Spike BIG. Because that seems like a helpful thing to do."

<OOC> Owen says, "Aight. That'll happen on your round next action."

GAME: Mab casts Enlarge Person.

Mab draws a small pouch from the inside of her vest, and clears her throat, "Stay calm! Spikius emboldinus, biggius smashius!" She throws the pouch open, and iron filings coalesce into a large 'plus' sign over the top of Spike's head. There does not seem to be any other immediate effect...

<OOC> Owen says, "Sharna!"

<OOC> Sharna says, "I'm gonna attempt a Fast Dismount to begin with!"

GAME: Sharna rolls Ride: (1)+5: 6

<OOC> Sharna says, "Move action spent dismounting, then."

<OOC> Sharna says, "Second move to move behind owly into flank position and draw shortswords, action over. :("

<OOC> Owen says, "You'll have to end up in difficult terrain from the brush off the trail or tumble through owly's square to get behind him. WHich is doable, of course."

<OOC> Sharna says, "Then I'll just make way over there normally and end up halfway please."

Sharna tries to hop adroitly off the magic-created horse. It would have worked, too, if only her foot didn't get caught in the stirrup. Cursing up a storm into her chin, the woman frees herself of the saddle, but it takes a few moments. Flicking her blades into her hands, she darts forwards, aiming to creep up behind the big, scary monster while it is distracted by the golem. The undergrowth trips her up something awful, and her efforts only take her part of the way there.

<OOC> Owen says, "Alteri!"

<OOC> Alteri will try a fast dismount as well.

GAME: Alteri rolls Ride: (4)+8: 12

<OOC> Alteri says, "Dismounting normally then. Can she make it to where Spike is? If not, she gets to where Mab is and readys a PA if something gets in range?"

<OOC> Owen says, "So same as Sharna, Alt? Move to dismount, then move to melee? You could flank with Sharna with a move, standing in the underbrush. Right now it's owly taking up two squares of trail, then spike to the left, azog to the right (stuck in the middle with you)."

<OOC> Owen says, "So moving to melee/sharna flank or move to Mab are viable after spending the move to dismount."

<OOC> Alteri says, "Ah I see. Alteri flanks with Sharna then."

Somewhat gobsmacked by the sight of the owlbear stuffing its face with travel rations and now with bits of Spike, Alteri's dismount is less than graceful too. Caught by the underbrush, she mutters her own curses whilst drawing her bastard blade, working to get into a flanking position with Sharna. "Gods send this one doesn't have friends..." she murmurs in a half-prayer.

<OOC> Owen says, "Aight. Pose it! Spike"

<OOC> Owen says, "wwsd what would spike do"

<OOC> Spike says, "I am not big yet. So I five foot adjust right up into his bidness, and flail around with my powerful power attack of spikiness."

<OOC> Owen says, "Aight. Roll the bones!"

GAME: Spike rolls melee: (11)+7: 18

<OOC> Owen says, "That'll hit!"

GAME: Spike rolls 1d6+6: (6)+6: 12

<OOC> Spike says, "Screw you owlbear."

<OOC> Owen says, "You gouge it up real good like."

Spike does not like being bitten and having her pretty armor dented,"I DO NOT LIKE BEING BITTEN AND HAVING MY PRETTY ARMOR DENTED." She abandons whatever pretense was left to her, and slams the side of her spiked body into the thing, driving those large spikes deep into its flesh. She pulls away with a twisting, ripping motion, bringing bits of owlbear with her,"You take some, I take some! New game!"

<OOC> Azog says, "Where am I in relation to it? Can I do a normal dismount without drawing an AoO? Can I dismount into melee range, or will I need to move?"

<OOC> Owen says, "It's right in front of you in melee range. Dismounting doesn't draw an AoA. Since you are at the top of the hill, you get the +1 superior position bonus to hit."

<OOC> Azog says, "Woot. I'll dismount and take a swing."

GAME: Azog rolls 1d20+9: (1)+9: 10

Azog is too concerned with the trail, it seems, because when the party sights an owlbear, Azog rides another couple steps even after it charges Spike. Way to not pay attention. Azog slides out of the saddle, drawing his pretty sword clumsily as he tries to catch up with events, and ... if that's a swing, he probably doesn't belong here and should go back to play swords. He growls with rage as he tries to get his head back in the game.

<OOC> Owen says, "Okay, I guess it will claw/claw Spike and Bite at Azog?"

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+8: (9)+8: 17

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+8: (4)+8: 12

<OOC> Spike says, "Miss, miss."

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+8: (5)+8: 13

The owlbear thrashes and shrieks in pain, rearing up on it's hind legs to slam it's might back down on Spike and Azog to silence them once and for all. But it's claws and beak find nothing but empty air as it flails and snaps, warding off errant weapon blows and dropping back to all fours.

<OOC> Owen says, "Mab! Spike is big! What now?"

<OOC> Mab says, "I will try to punch it with my mind! (telekinetic fist)"

<OOC> Owen says, "Aight. Roll the bones!"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+1: (11)+1: 12

<OOC> Owen says, "That'll hit. Roll the bones!"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d4+1: (4)+1: 5

<OOC> Owen says, "You tear a chunk out of it. It looks more knackered, but still pissed and upright!"

Mab is quietly pleased that her growth spell takes hold of the wargolem... because she's never tried to cast it on one before, and you never really know how these things will go until you try. As Spike grows and grows, however, she takes the opportunity to draw her fist back, and the little goblin thrusts it forwards at the air. Which obligingly ripples, and smacks the owlbear straight between the eyes with a *CRACK*.

<OOC> Owen says, "Sharna!"

<OOC> Sharna says, "I spend mah move to get to it and then there is joy and flanking and STAB."

<OOC> Owen says, "You are in difficult terrain, but Alteri has set you up the flank already by going to the other side of the trail opposite you!"

<OOC> Owen says, "So you can full attack and start working the ribs!"

<OOC> Sharna says, "Ooh. How kind of her. FULL ATTACK."

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+2+5+1-2+2: (15)+2+5+1+-2+2: 23

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+2+5+1-2+2: (13)+2+5+1+-2+2: 21

<OOC> Owen says, "Hits."

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d6+2+2d6: (5)+2+(4): 11

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d6+1+2d6: (1)+1+(2): 4

<OOC> Owen says, "You shiv it good like. It's starting to slow down signifigantly, but it's not dead yet."

Grinning wildly over the back of the owlbear at Alteri, Sharna flips the two swords in her hands so their tips point towards the ground, ducking and scissoring them across the strange beast's belly. The thick fur doesn't save it from the blows entirely - dark blood begins to stain its shaggy coat from the twin wounds.

<OOC> Owen says, "Alteri!"

<OOC> Alteri says, "I charge the remaining bit, use flankage and PA it in the fase."

<OOC> Owen says, "Well, I had assumed you was flanking already, so no charge. :("

<OOC> Owen says, "But you do got flank."

<OOC> Alteri says, "Ah okay!"

GAME: Alteri rolls 1d20+10+2: (2)+10+2: 14

<OOC> Owen says, "You can't penetrate it's thick, furry-feathery, poop-and-mud caked hide with your weapon. D:"

Doing her best to keep level with the nimbler rogue, Alteri finds her much longer weapon being foiled by the underbrush and the creature's own natural defenses. Instead of Sharna's stiletto stabs, the Eldanar attempts a heavy swing. No cigar. She manages to carve off pieces of dried birdbear poop and hey, a feather souvenir! A low growl of frustration escapes her lips.

<OOC> Owen says, "Spike. You are long and strong."

<OOC> Owen says, "Are you ready to get some friction on?"

<OOC> Spike says, "Owen, what would be funnier? Owlbear wrestling, or owlbear stomping?"

<OOC> Owen says, "Wrestling, but only if you...You know what? There's an antique rocking chair sitting on the campsite, amongst several other discarded boxes and bags."

<OOC> Owen says, "It rocks...ominously."

GAME: Spike rolls cmb+2+2+2: (20)+7+2+2+2: 33

<OOC> Spike says, "He's prone, I'm sure. :)"

<OOC> Owen says, "You do. The owlbear is shoved to the ground mercilessly as Spike stomps over it to get at the chair."

Spike smacks one metallic fist into the other as she feels herself growing,"Now you see my true might, you owl-faced bear-like creature. Quiver in fear as-" And then she sees a battered rocking chair as she grows over its head, rocking gently in the breeze. One can actually SEE her eyes glowing red. With a roar, she runs forward, shoving the owlbear to the ground and stepping all over its face as if it weren't even there,"Run! I'll save you my friends!" She charges forward, to splinter and do battle with the vicious rocking chair.

<OOC> Owen says, "Azog!"

<OOC> Azog says, "I'll take a hack at the (prone?) owlbear."

<OOC> Owen says, "Alright, roll it!"

GAME: Azog rolls 1d20+9: (20)+9: 29

GAME: Azog rolls 1d20+9: (4)+9: 13

<OOC> Owen says, "Crit."

<OOC> Owen says, "On account of proneness."

GAME: Azog rolls 2d10+10: (7)+10: 17

<OOC> Owen says, "You split it's head clean open as it struggles to climb to it's feet!"

Azog is able to recover his wits, and when Spike charges the rocking chair, Azog takes advantage of the bowled over owlbear's surprise to drive his blade down through its owly head in a splatter of blood and bone and beak.

Mab watches Spike charge the dastardly chair, and adjusts her glasses smoothly. "Just as planned." The Goblin wizard states, after Azog finishes the thing off. Because naturally, this was all according to her grand scheme. You just can't argue with results!

Spike continues thrashing around on the wreckage of the rocking chair. Sort of like watching a great wyrm red dragon go to town on a village full of level one commoners. "RAAAAR!"

Azog cleans his blade off on the monster's hide, then sheaths his blade, going back to his horse, who stood there calmly the whole time. He tries to avoid looking at Spike, though he does look over the other remains of the campsite. "Could these have been left by the person we're following?" he wonders aloud.

Sharna takes a moment to wipe the thing's filthy blood from her weapons before sheathing them, turning her gaze in the direction of the camp Spike is now demolishing. She winces, cringing a little. "It's dead! The chair's dead! You can stop now!" she shouts over.

As you survey the damage and calm the...much less frightened than they ought to be magically conjured steeds, the camp site looks like a dump. Of things that most wouldn't throw away. Two large saddles bags are torn open, containing extra provisions, empty water skins, rope, leather straps, and other useful but non-essential gear. Worn old shirts, paintings, fine books, sentimental mementos, pipe tobaco, a shattered rocking chair, an urn of ashes, and a large sack of copper trade bars are strewn across the ground, along with other bric-a-brac.

<OOC> Owen says, "Trackers I needs survival. Velmas, I need a Notice. :D"

<OOC> Owen says, "Err. Perception."

GAME: Azog rolls survival: (8)+8: 16

<OOC> Mab says, "Can I be a special snowflake and use detect magic and appraise for 'anything worth grabbing'?"

Spike finally rolls to a stop, panting, covered in scraps of her chairfoe (and owlbear) as she towers over it. Then she turns her key eyes to helping people search for crap.

Alteri huffs out a breath, looking mighty displeased with herself. Glaring at Melyndra, she hmphs, "That lecture wasn't personal, cease with this pouting." After this odd address directed at her blade, she slams it back home across her back. Glancing to ensure Stupid remained where she left her, the female fighter tramps through the brush to inspect what which Azog is musing at. "'Tis on the trail we were following..." she offers, but not making any calls until all have had time to study the site.

GAME: Spike rolls perception: (11)+0: 11

GAME: Alteri rolls Survival: (16)+6: 22

GAME: Sharna rolls Perception: (19)+11: 30

<OOC> Owen says, "Alteri/Azog. You find the tracks continue on. This time only no hoof prints. Just one pair of fairly deep small footprints, like that of a halfling/gnome or a child, at a walking pace. Sharna! You find a blackened, burnt out oak wand and a small vial tossed in the underbrush. Mab! The vial and wand have traces of magic on them. Faint!"

Spike points as the others find important things,"I found bear-owl poop!"

<OOC> Owen says, "2 Spellcraft checks, Mab. To identify the remains of the wand and last couple dregs of potion left in the vial."

GAME: Mab rolls spellcraft: (8)+13: 21

GAME: Mab rolls spellcraft: (8)+13: 21

<OOC> Owen says, "An expended Wand of Mount, and a drank potion of Lesser Restoration/"

Azog scratches his chin as he looks over the tracks and the debris. "It seems our culprit went on afoot," he says after some thought. "Is this his loot?" He gestures to the stuff the owlbear was going through. "Some travelling gear, but also ... things that adventurers might've sold to a buyer of stuff?"

Sharna takes to snooping around the campsite with haste. As she passes by a patch of low-growing bushes, she stops, bending down and retrieving a small, ornate-looking stick and a vial, the contents of which have been drained already. She holds them up, grinning proudly. "I figure these are in your area of expertise." the half-elf girl says as she strides to Mab, presenting the two items to the spectacles-wearing goblin girl.

Alteri exchanges glances with Azog, a dark brow lifted as if to say, Are you thinking what I'm thinking? Giving a low whistle, she calls Stupid over. "He ran out of mount conjurations, I do believe." Casting her eye over the debris the orc gestures at, she nods, "Makes sense. The depth of those footprints seem to indicate either a very fat person, or one burdened muchly."

Mab stretches on the back of her horse, apparently quite happy with how all this went. A dangerous creature dispatched, and she didn't even get scratched! And as far as she can tell, Spike seems happy despite the chewing she took. "Lets see." She replies to Azog, making her eyes glow bright all over again to see if there's any evidence of the magic having stopped here... when she sees the wand and the vial, she nods absently. Plucking them up, she scrutinizes each in turn. "A Wand of Mount that is out of charges, and the remains of a potion of Lesser Restoration." She says, tucking the ruined items away in her satchel, because you never know when they'll come in handy. "I believe that your hypothesis has been proven correct, Miss." She calls over to Alteri, at the revelation.

Spike walks up with some of her 'findings' on the end of a stick she apparently found in the woods,"I have found evidence that there may be a bear-owl nearby." Like, perhaps, the one they just killed. She just hates being the only one with nothing to show off. What she is showing off this time? Owlbear poop on a stick.

Sharna glances Spike's way a second... then leans towards Mab. "Do war golems have an 'off' button?" she whispers, low, in the gob's floppy green ear, never taking her eyes off Spike.

Turning, Alteri regards the blue-haired goblin calling over to her. Her other brow joins its kin as she approaches Sharna and Mab to take a closer look at the items found. "Huh, what do you know." Popping her neck and rolling her shoulders, the Eldanar does a tiny bit of stretching prior to frog-leaping up to settle back onto Stupid. "Looks like we might have a chance to catch up, afterall. Shall we?" Spike's find, she peers concernly at, "Another of them?" A quick look around from the higher vantage point of her mount's back is made.

You saddle back up...most of you at least. And off you ride again. The tracks go on this way for another mile or two, before the addition of a cylindrical spot parallel to the right track and several wood shavings indicates your quarry cut a a sapling down to use as a walking stick. You ride well into the night, your trail illuminated by whatever light you can muster along with the light of the moon. You finally stop to take a few hours of sleep lest your horses die or you find yourselves confronting this white collar criminal too saddle weary to fight. But you find his campsite. Scraps of hardtack and jerky replace the bundle-lunches left behind.

At first light, the horses have gone, leaving you on foot. But with so much ground gained against such a slow, burdened target, you should catch up some time today, provided the little bugger has no tricks up his sleeve. The hilly terrain continues, with the forest sporadically thinning to a leaf-covered forest floor with open space under the decaying tree canopy to thick gobbets of underbrush and rocky outcroppings.

You progress on for several hours, and then you spot it. A fresh cigar butt thrown on the trail. It's still warm.

<OOC> Owen says, "Perception checks, plz."

GAME: Spike rolls perception: (15)+0: 15

GAME: Azog rolls perception: (10)+0: 10

GAME: Sharna rolls Perception: (6)+11: 17

GAME: Mab rolls perception: (19)+4: 23

GAME: Alteri rolls perception: (13)+5: 18

Mab gives a little smirk to Sharna. "You'd have to ask an artificer I suspect." She replies, "I think that'd be far too easy, though."

And then there is traveling. So much traveling. More, in fact, than the goblin has ever done in a single stretch before. It makes her grumpy and irritable.

Her brow furrows after the cigar butt is spotted, and she huffs. Something is definitely off here, and she comes to a halt. Muttering to herself, her eyes yet again go bright green, and she starts to peer around the area in turn. "I'm certain something is watching us." She grumbles, wishing she could be more specific.

Azog doesn't find the nighttime slows him much, tracking by darkvision as easily as by sunlight. He is at home in the outdoors, and when we decide to stop for the night, he'll prepare the campsite, make use of the terrain to get some shelter, and generally be outdoorsy.

In the morning, he will continue to ride, even when the others' conjured mounts have gone, so that his pace in heavy armor doesn't slow the group. Azog pauses as the cigar butt is spotted, and though he doesn't see anything, he wonders, "Could that have been left for us to find? Is it part of a trap, then?"

Spike meanwhile has taken to sweeping her cape left and right. Woosh. Woosh. Woosh. And also swinging her 'sword' around (read: stick with owlbear poop on it). "And so the daring heroes ventured forth, intent on slaying the evil- Oooh, smokables!"

At Mab's warning, Sharna's hands move in that slow, casual fashion to rest on the pommels of her twin swords. Wary, but doing her best not to betray it. "It's probably nothing." she notes, shrugging. She's clearly not convinced.

Something. Not the most descriptive, but most definitely better than nothing at all. Alteri is on foot, giving Stupid a rest after such a long day of travel. She has practiced enough, at least, to not slow the group down despite being armoured. Ground tethering the mare at Mab's initial discovery, the Eldanar immediately draws her blade. Indeed, she will take no chances after their encounter with the owlbear. As per her job to be rearguard, she turns that her back is to the rest, checking for possible eyes behind them.

<OOC> Owen says, "Okay. Another round of perception checks as we FF a little bit."

GAME: Spike rolls perception: (2)+0: 2

GAME: Mab rolls perception: (18)+4: 22

GAME: Azog rolls perception: (4)+0: 4

GAME: Sharna rolls Perception: (2)+11: 13

GAME: Alteri rolls perception: (12)+5: 17

Heeding Mab's warning (Possibly. Spike.) you move forward, ready to be ambushed by this vicious murder-gnome at any minute. Or at least spook him from his hiding place so he can be chased down. Another half mile, and you find yourselves facing the most classic (cliche) of adventurer set-pieces. THe rope bridge.

You crest the hill and spot the bridge just 30 yards off on a gentle slope downwards before it drops off into a small limestone canyon. 20 feet away, the fissure stops and cliff continues on slightly uphill, with thick underbrush on both sides. The sound of rushing rapids gurgles below. Somewhere nearby, a crow caws. The wind blows through the trees, plucking out leaves and making the branches rustle, and the rope bridge, a wooden planked affair built to take the weight of pack mules and horses (hopefully), sways gently. If there was going to be an ambush, this would be the perfect place.

GAME: Mab rolls 1d6: (2): 2

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+7: (5)+7: 12

GAME: Mab used a Scroll of sleep.

As the group approaches the bridge, Mab withdraws a slender scroll from inside her pack. She unravels it, relying on the fact that she's in the middle of the group to hide her actions. The scroll turns into a variety of feathers, which float down over the far bush. When there's no immediate response, she hrms. "That either worked, or it did not. Either way, there's someone over there."

Mab's spell doesn't cause any bushes to start snoring, but it does illicit a voice coming from the left side of the bushes. "Knock it off with the spells. I got scrolls and wands and I know how to use them! Don't come any closer!" Squeaks the possibly familiar voice of the formerly esteemed Ezra Chiselworth.

Azog rides towards the bridge, next to Spike at the head of the group. He grunts as the target pops up, nodding slowly to Mab. "Not a hundred percent effective," he states solemnly, not slacking his pace. Indeed, he gives the horse a nudge in the ribs to hurry it towards the bridge, lifting up his tower shield to give him full cover against anything the fugutive might hurl his way. Well, except magic and things.

And the voice confirms what Mab says quite handily. Being the stuffy Highborn sort, Alteri leaves her mare behind and steps forward. Chin lifting, she calls back across the ravine, "Master Chiselworth, I presume? You may have many trinkets but we have many arms and legs. I offer you a chance to hand yourself in and no harm shall come to you."

<pre>
===== Current Initiative Order =========
----------------------------------------
23 Sharna
----------------------------------------
19 Azog
----------------------------------------
19 Mab
----------------------------------------
17 Ezra
----------------------------------------
13 Alteri
----------------------------------------
11 Spike
----------------------------------------
========================================
</pre>

<OOC> Owen says, "Okay, Sharna! You up!"

<OOC> Sharna says, "Well, our cover is totally blown. Can I get to the other side of the bridge in one round's actions?"

<OOC> Owen says, "Possibly. It's 90ft to the bridge from the hill, downhill. Then 20ft across the bridge. You can run, but I will require some acrobatics to make sure you keep your balance and don't sprawl out in a tumble."

<OOC> Sharna says, "Wow. Okay, hypothetical situation - if he cuts the bridge's ropes, is there another way to keep chasing him down available or are we stuck facing off right here right now?"

<OOC> Owen says, "Call it DC 9. 0 + 5 (Full Speed Run) + 2 (Slightly Rough Dirt Terrain) + 2 (Slight downward slope)."

<OOC> Owen says, "Jumping 20ft, or getting over to the other cliff face and climbing up. There are roots and vines growing along the cliff face."

<OOC> Sharna says, "Hm. I'll actually delay to see if my companions (who are faster to react than he is) make it."

<OOC> Owen says, "Okay. Mab!"

<OOC> Mab says, "Helpfully, having pointed out it is my turn... I'm going to hold action because I'm too cowardly to try and run across a bridge ._."

<OOC> Azog says, "So, it's DC9 acrobatics to run across, or DC20 to clear it in a jump?"

<OOC> Owen says, "Yeah. Using your ride modifier or the horse's acro modifier, whichever is lower."

<OOC> Azog says, "OK. It's got a base dex 14, so +2 for that, and it's heavy template, so +2 to the roll?"

<OOC> Owen says, "Well, no problem for the acrobatics, since you can't fail it. Now, the ride check."

<OOC> Azog says, "What's the ride check for, again? And any mods?"

<OOC> Owen says, "The jump across. You gotta use the lower modifier. Your ride or the horses. And the horse gets pretty decent bonuses with the speed and run feat, etc. Still seems kinda crappy with all that momentum built up. So call it a ride check with a +2 circumstance bonus."

<OOC> Azog says, "Ah."

GAME: Azog rolls ride+2: (16)+8+2: 26

<OOC> Owen says, "You ace that shit. It looks totally bad-ass."

<OOC> Owen says, "You do land in a pile a underbrush(difficult terrain), but it's just that one square. Make me a perception check, Azog!"

<OOC> Azog says, "How close does my full move get me to the gnome?"

GAME: Azog rolls perception: (11)+0: 11

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+5: (12)+5: 17

<OOC> Owen says, "Right next to where you heard the voice, but you don't see him underfoot or anythign."

Azog looks left and right at his companions, then at the bridge, and at the bush over there where it seems like the bad guy came from. The bridge looks sturdy enough ... well, damn. He nudges his horse in the ribs, urging it on hard, hard, hard, and it hits that bridge at a run, and before he knows it, he's across, ready to lop the head off that little bugger .... only where is he? "Surrender now, or die!" he bellows, perhaps a little late.

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+7: (6)+7: 13

<OOC> Owen says, "That hit your touch Ac, zog?"

<OOC> Sharna says, "Oh! I stop my delay now that I'm not doomed to being alone over there and take the run. No jumping, though, just across the bridge all lithe and light-like. If I might?"

<OOC> Owen says, "Sure, just make an acrobatics check DC 9 to not go ass-over-teakettle with the full run."

<OOC> Azog says, "Yep, I think. +2 for dex is all I get for touch, I think."

GAME: Owen rolls 2d6: (8): 8

<OOC> Sharna can't fail DC 9 Acro:

GAME: Sharna rolls Acrobatics: (1)+11: 12

<OOC> Owen says, "Aight. Just pose it then!"

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+18: (18)+18: 36

Seeing Azog vault across the chasm on his horse has Sharna stare. "Wow." she says, shaking her head, as if unsure she just saw that happen. And then she, herself, breaks into a run towards the other side. She trips. A -lot-. It's really quite unlike her. But it doesn't slow her down the least, tumbling and hopping back onto her feet each time, and soon enough, she's across as well, huffing, puffing and peering about for their target.

As Azog amazingly arcs, arcanely augmented appraisers act! To the bushes to Azog's right, there is a rustle as the bedraggled gnome criminal Ezra bursts forth and points his fist at Azog. "Blathering Blatherskites!" And with that nostalgia-infused command word. The ram-headed steel ring glows and flickers, a ghostly ram like figure of force projecting from it as it. The ram slams into Azog and sends him hurtling backwards off his horse, luckily hard enough to launch him off his steed and back across the chasm onto the side he just left, his armor crumpled from the force.

<OOC> Owen says, "Okay. Ezra is now visible for those on hold."

<pre>
===== Current Initiative Order =========
----------------------------------------
20 Mab
----------------------------------------
19 Sharna
----------------------------------------
19 Azog
----------------------------------------
17 Ezra
----------------------------------------
13 Alteri
----------------------------------------
11 Spike
----------------------------------------
========================================
</pre>

<OOC> Owen says, "Okay. Unless Mab wants to come off delay/hold and act, I guess we'll move to Alteri."

<OOC> Owen says, "Aight. Since I kinda moved ahead already. We can have your attack/standard action go to a move to stand up from getting bull rushed by Ezra's ring of the ram so you will be upright when it comes back to your turn?"

<OOC> Azog says, "Sure, that's fine."

<OOC> Owen says, "Well, we'll get to Mab when she wakes up. Alteri?"

<OOC> Alteri says, "The bridge is 90ft away. Alteri will doublemove 60ft to get closer."

<OOC> Owen says, "Alright. You hustle and slide down the trail. Go ahead and pose it. Spike?"

Trying to keep up with her much swifter comrades, Alteri immediately hightails it down the slope, her eye kept constantly on where she heard the voice emit from. And good thing too, for she manages to catch sight of the gnome using an arcane object on Azog. She winces at the crunching sound the orc makes. "Resisting arrest," she says to herself, hurrying and if managing to reach Azog, checks on him. "You all right?"

GAME: Spike rolls intimidate+4: (13)+6+4: 23

Spike goes rolling almost unconcernedly down the hill as she begins calling out to the gnome,"You may have noticed, I am quite a bit larger than you! Some relevant statistics which you might want to consider while you think about surrendering: I weigh a quarter of a ton. My skin is hard adamantine. I'm covered in spikes and torn up portions of owl bears. I just ran over a bear-owl-creature. I am much larger than you. And I find you extremely irritating for punching my friend. You should, for your own good, reach the logical conclusion. Before /I/ reach /you/. Or else."

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+1: (5)+1: 6

MabAUTOPILOT takes the trail well traveled, now rutted up and pounded by the feet of Spike, Alteri, and Sharna and the hooves of Azog's horse. She cautiously moves to take cover, then again to take cover at the edge of the cliff behind one of the anchor posts supporting the bridge on her side. She readies a gob of grease and shapes it along with several arcane gestures and intonations into a spell, causing the ground below and behind the gnome's feet to become slick. Ezra takes a step backwards and tumbles to the ground, coating his back with the slimy oil.

<OOC> Owen says, "Sharna!"

<OOC> Owen says, "You are like 5ft away from Ezra, who is mucking aroudn in all the grease and whatnot."

<OOC> Sharna says, "Not wanting to be thrown in the chasm by his magic ring of doom, I'll move so that my back is away from it fully, drawing my saps in the move. And ready an action to brain him when he either tries to do something funny with magicz or tries to move in the grease."

<OOC> Owen says, "Alright. Pose it. :D"

It is not the blades that Sharna flips into her hands, but the pair of trusty blackjacks, sauntering so her back isn't to the extremely dangerous pit. She flips them, staring the fallen gnome down, ready to whack him at a moment's notice at the sign of any funny business. "You're a reasonable man. Listen to the crazy golem and just give up, hmm?" she croons.

<OOC> Owen says, "Azog! You are 10ft to the left of the bridge. So to get in melee reach with the little gnome, you need to move 35ft. 30ft if you got a reach weapon."

<OOC> Owen says, "Incidentally, the chasm is kinda all Butch and Sundance. About 30ft down then you get white water rapids with lots of rocks and all that."

<OOC> Azog says, "I will doublemove, which gives me 40, and if I can move to where Sharna will get flanking when he tries something, I will do that"

<OOC> Owen says, "You can, but you'll be in the grease."

<OOC> Azog says, "Anywhere non-greasy to stand?"

<OOC> Owen says, "There are spots next to Sharna that are non-greasy and in reach of Ez, but nothing directly across from her."

Azog grimaces as no sooner than he heroicly rides across the bridge he's slammed back to the far side, breastplate dented and ribs hurting. He pulls himself to his feet, nodding to Alteri about being OK, and bellows an Yrch warcry. Hustling across the bridge on foot this time, he finds the gnome in the middle of a sticky, slippery mess, and winds up going around the mess to approach the little rat.

<OOC> Owen says, "Ezra is reaching to a belt pouch! Sharna, commencing clubbing!"

<OOC> Sharna says, "Hokay."

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+2+5: (17)+2+5: 24

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d6+2: (3)+2: 5

<OOC> Sharna says, "He takes that much nonlethal."

<OOC> Owen says, "You club him in the arm as he pulls out a small fuzzy ball from the rust colored pouch and tries to throw it toward you and Azog. Let's see where it goes flying!"

GAME: Owen rolls 1d12: (4): 4

<OOC> Owen says, "Or no, that'd be 3 o'clock. This would be...to the right of Azog, i guess."

GAME: Owen rolls 1d100: (34): 34

<OOC> Owen says, "The suddenly appeared wolf will attack Azog!"

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+2: (12)+2: 14

<OOC> Owen says, "The wolf tears at your clothing/armor, but accomplishes little else. Okay, Now ezra gonna scramble to his feets. Make your AoO's, you two."

GAME: Azog rolls 1d20+8: (6)+8: 14

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+2+5: (2)+2+5: 9

<OOC> Owen says, "Azog, you hit. Sharna, you miss as your sap's blow is absorbed by a shimmering force armor (Mage Armor)."

GAME: Azog rolls 1d10+5: (1)+5: 6

<OOC> Owen says, "You give him a good poke in the leg as he stands up."

"YEARGH!" Ezra cries as his arm is hammered with the blackjack, the freshly produced fuzzy ball dropping from his tiny fingers from the shock. The tiny thing lands next to the Yrch warrior and in a puff of smoke, dissappears. It is replaced with a snarling timber wolf, that starts to attack and tear at the warrior. Meanwhile, the gnome tries to clamber to his feet, barely avoiding getting brained once more, but does suffer a vicious stab in the calf by Azog in an opportune moment. "I'll split it!" The gnome cries. "Just let me go!"

<OOC> Owen says, "Alteri!"

<OOC> Alteri says, "I doublemove again, hoping the bridge doesn't collapse under meh. To a spot to hopefully give someone flank on gnome or wolf."

<OOC> Owen says, "You can move in to flank the wolf with Azog, yessum. Pose it!"

"Resisting arrest most violently," Alteri appears to be taking mental account of all of the gnome's building list of crimes. Not that her feet remain idle while she does so. Pausing just a moment to ensure the bridge takes her weight, her long legs eat up the distance and she pounds across to skid to a stop by the wolf. Her sword is already out and she prepares to menace what is menacing Azog.

<OOC> Owen says, "Spike!"

<OOC> Spike says, "Anybody ever seen what happens when an adamantine-bodied war golem fails an acrobatics check?"

GAME: Spike rolls acrobatics+1: (9)+-4+1: 6

<OOC> Owen says, "Kay....Spike. High or low?"

<OOC> Spike says, "Low. :)"

GAME: Owen rolls 1d100: (37): 37

<OOC> Owen says, "Okay. You don't go plummeting off into the river. You stumble and go all barrel rolling/snowballing down the hill. Tuck and roll! The bridge supports sort of whip-launch across the chasm (breaking the support posts on the other side), possibly hitting 1) Sharna, 2) Azog, 3)Wolf, 4) Alteri."

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (1): 1

<OOC> Owen says, "Sharna! Reflex save!"

GAME: Sharna rolls Reflex: (3)+8: 11

GAME: Owen rolls 3d6: (14): 14

GAME: Owen rolls 2D6: (6): 6

<OOC> Owen says, "Okay. That concludes your action, Spike. You are next to Sharna, prone. And crumpled and with all sorts of wood chips and whatnot smashed into you. Sharna you get smacked real good and hard by Spike as she goes flipping through the air."

Spike is now waving her hands as she's calling out,"Hey, guys! Wait for me! I wanna punch him to-OOF!" She trips, going down. And then a curious thing happens. Trying to avoid being damaged by her fall, she tucks, and rolls.... And keeps rolling. In fact, she looks a little like some sort of spikey cannon ball. When the bridge sling-shots her, shattering its own posts, she looks even more like a spikey canonball. Finally, Sharna's constant attempts to keep distance from Spike prove prophetic as the big spikey war golem goes sailing through the air, clipping Sharna pretty hard. As she untucks from her canonball, she has time to wave to Sharna as she passes, before thudding into the ground in a poof of dirt, dust, wood chips, and Gods know what else with an ear-splitting sound of shrieking metal and splintering wood. She is silent for a brief moment. Then. "Ow."

<OOC> Owen says, "Mab is going to use her TK fist on the wolf!"

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+1: (4)+1: 5

<OOC> Owen says, "And her aim gets thrown off by the exploding, whirling, spinny-cam maelstrom that is Spike and all the debris flying through the air with her. :("

<OOC> Owen says, "Sharna!"

<OOC> Sharna says, "I'm totally boggled by the positioning, so I'll ready action, yeah."

"You know, I'm tempted." Sharna whispers to the fraudulent gnome, her lips pursing rather cutely. "But they wouldn't approve." she finishes, quietly, a miniscule, almost imperceptible dip of her head indicating the other adventurers. "Sorry."

And then, well, then her eyes widen and she's -mangled- by a flying Spike.
"You're supposed to be on my side!!" she shrieks at the golem, forcing herself to whip her gaze back to the gnome as she flips the blackjack in her hand. "Be sensible. Do you WANT the golem getting its hands on you?" she tells Ezra.

<OOC> Owen says, "Azog!"

<OOC> Azog says, "I'm gonna swing, darnit. He's got tooo many HP. He'll be more amenable to persuasion if we can fix that."

<OOC> Owen says, "Alright. Roll it!"

<OOC> Azog says, "I have flanking, you said?"

<OOC> Azog says, "Or, no, on the wolf. I'm attacking the gnome."

GAME: Azog rolls 1d20+8: (17)+8: 25

<OOC> Owen says, "That hits. Roll it."

GAME: Azog rolls 1d10+5: (8)+5: 13

<OOC> Owen says, "You get him good. He's barely up at this point."

Azog had tried to prevent the little pest from getting up, but there's a wolf gnawing on his greaves, and it kept him from getting his shoulder behind the swing, resulting in a less than devastating poke in his leg. He can do better, oh yes he can! He ignores the wolf now, it's not nearly as dangerous as this little gnome! Snarling defiance as Spike comes tumbling through and plowing into Sharna, Azog brings his blade across in a flat arc, slashing the gnome deeply, steel biting into flesh, leaving a deep slash.

From a battered satchel, Ezra produces a twisted looking thick wand of some bizarre wood with a lacquer that gives off a rainbow in an oil puddle type sheen. It twists and curves wildly before it comes to a platinum cap bearing the face of the Coyote! that point relatively straight from where the gnome grips it. He points it at the prone Spike and shrieks, "BACK ALL OFF! OR SO HELP ME THE GOLEM GETS IT!" He slowly takes a step backward...

<OOC> Owen says, "Do you take your readied action? He is taking a 5ft step back."

<OOC> Sharna says, "The golem gets it? Isn't this a good thing? I will take my attack. :("

<OOC> Owen says, "Kay, it'll go simultaneously for lulz. Make your attack!"

GAME: Owen rolls 1d100: (54): 54

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+2+5: (17)+2+5: 24

<OOC> Sharna says, "He FF?"

<OOC> Owen says, "He is since he moved."

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d6+2+2d6: (4)+2+(11): 17

<OOC> Sharna says, "That much nonlethal."

"... Really? The golem gets it? Really?" that's Sharna, setting her hands on her hips briefly. She's battered and bleeding -because- of the golem! And with that, the blackjack gives a loving kiss to the side of Ezra's head. THUNK.

<OOC> Owen says, "Okay. Just before Sharna cold-cocks him and knocks him unconscious, Ezra activates the Rod with a mighty "DURP" command word. Black inky darkness drips from the wand before it shoots past the War Golem, narrowly missing her. It goes on for a few feet, before it explodes in a cloud of utter blackness, enveloping you all! D:"

<OOC> Owen says, "That was a suck result. I wanted elephants or lightning bolts. Or somebody to turn to stone. :("

Spike sits up, as if she were never in danger at all, and reaches out. Pop. The gnome goes into the sack she brought, rather unceremoniously, and declaims to Sharna as if everything were fine,"Hey guys, I got him!"

Azog eyes the sacked gnome, and recalls his own recent time in a bag of holding. "Make sure he doesn't suffocate," he suggests, then thinks again, and says, "But first, make sure he isn't carrying any more magic stuff. If he does wake up, we don't want him armed and dangerous." He looks around at the greasy ground, the bridge, and his horse (which gives him a reproachful look). "Let's get back."

The embezzler captured with no loss of life (minus that wolf and the bridge), you search him over. A handy haversack and a backpack of holding bulge with goods, along with several ledgers and accounts and the bare essentials of traveling supplies. The bean counters will sort it out in the end (assuming you don't pocket something for yourselves. Talk it out with whirl, it's above my paygrade), and the indignant gagged cries of Ezra sound ever so sweet as you wait for Larry the Merchant Wizard to pick you up. One bag of holding trip later, you find yourselves back in Alexandria, triumphant!

The End!
[[Category:Logs]]

PrP: A Tangled Web

2011-10-21T05:48:09Z

Alteri:

PCs

Quint – Human Paladin – Lvl 3

Azog – Orc Fighter – Lvl 3

Darella – Human Sorcerer – Lvl 2

Alteri – Human Fighter – Lvl 4

Sharna – Half-Elf Rogue – Lvl 3

Encounters

CR 6 (Bypassed) – 2,400 budget (2,400 spent)

6 x Thugs (Level 3 human warrior)

CR 4 (Bypassed) – 1,200 budget (1,200 spent)

1 x Aranea (1,200 xp)

A nobleman receives a strange ransom demand. Unable to raise the ridiculously huge sum of money asked for the return of his only son, he instead turns to the aid of adventurers. It soon becomes obvious, however, that all is not as it seems, and something weird and uncanny seems to be underway. In truth, the boy had returned from his hunting trip empty handed, and, hearing rumors of half-spider monsters, had tracked them down and killed many of them with fire, until the father returned and subdued the assailant in horror. Unused to the common tongue and half-mad with grief, he had sought some kind of justice from the boy’s father. The heroes unpicked this mystery, strand by sticky strand, and ultimately resolved the situation without another drop of blood being spilt.

Word is that there's a job going in the noble district; one Lucius Dalaborn has sent out a call for brave and noble adventurers to assist him in some deed. Rumors abound, but they are often contradictory as to what the purpose of this is.

The Dalaborn family home is a very nice one, though, and if said brave and noble adventurers have expressed an interest across the seedy taverns, guild halls or campfires around which they had heard this rumor, they will know to arrive for midday this day, and present themselves with the password 'Fenny'.

The doorman is a somewhat snooty man, who will usher the first four people through into the hall of the great estate, and then lock and bolt the door behind them.

Azog hangs out at the Explorers' Guild, so that would be where he heard the word. He rides up to the gate, looking fairly respectable... or as respectable as a seven foot orc in full plate armor can look. Hitching his horse and offering a nod to the doorman, he says, simply, "Fenny," and waits to see what happens.

<OOC> Mab says, "Also, feel free to give me a diplomacy check if you want to have gathered and tried to sort rumors pre-meet."

GAME: Darella rolls diplomacy: (5)+8: 13

GAME: Sharna rolls Diplomacy: (18)+7: 25

You paged Darella with 'You don't hear much about this meeting particularly, but in the past the Dalaborn family have paid adventurers to help hunt wild animals. Lucius Dalaborn is the head of the family.'

Being both brave and noble, it is little wonder that Alteri is here. Yea right. It's a job, and jobs need doing. Securing the ties of her cloak, the Eldanar warrior shows up at the door in good time. Her boots have been spit-polished, and she appears every inch the competent mercenary. Appearences count when it comes to dealing with employers. A nod to Azog, as she sees him already there. She tethers her mare next to his mount, "Play nice, Stupid." Patting the bowed neck, she steps up after the orc. "Fenny."

GAME: Alteri rolls diplomacy: (4)+3: 7

Arriving on foot in a somewhat hurried manner, Darella looks over towards the doorman and says, "I'm here about the job for adventurers that you had offered... Oh right, it would be strange to not introduce myself-Though that can wait until we meet later, if we do at all. Oh! Right, you'll be wanting the password then. Fenny." before she proceeds past the doorman whom she may have confused with the amount of talking she had done and walks in.

You paged Sharna with 'Word is that Lucius Dalaborn, the current head of the Dalaborn family, was badly hurt in a hunting expedition recently. And that his son has gone missing after traveling towards Charn, but people have been trying to keep that quiet. It is *well* known to you that Lucius himself can't have any more children, a rather embarrassing situation for him ... and he's been trying to make his only son 'worthy' to take over for some years now. The boy is sixteen, brash, foolish, and desperate to prove himself in combat.'

You paged Alteri with 'Nothing on that roll I'm afraid.'

Sharna arrives on foot, beaming good-naturedly (or at least doing a good impression of good-natured) at the butler as she offers the password and saunters inside the manor. "I see you got my note." she says to Alteri, her hands hooking relaxedly in her belt as she casts an eye over the mottley gathering of adventurers. Brave and noble, perhaps not so much - but certainly interested in the pay, and seemingly convinced it'll be good pay.

If Quint is troubled at all by the snootiness of the man-servant it isn't obvious as he stands there stiff-backed and frowning mildly in the foyer. His surcoat is clean and strapped fastidiously into place over his polished breastplate armor. Not much for smalltalk, he awaits the arrivals of the more fiscally-minded individuals with one hand resting lightly on the pommel of his sword.

The doorman sniffs, and raises an eyebrow at Darella. "... Indubitably." He states, as he closes up the door. "If you fine ladies and gentlemen would follow me, the Master will see you in his study."

It isn't a very long walk; maybe three minutes of portraits, mostly of aging gentlemen with the same, characteristic pointed nose and dark, piercing eyes.

The study itself is rather different; decorated largely with the heads of various animals; exotic creatures from far away. There are five chairs arranged in front of a writing desk, and behind that sits Lucius. His torso is heavily bandaged, but his eyes are dark and keen, and his nose just as pointed as his predecessors.

"Ah, good, good to see you, yes, hello. Please. Make yourselves comfortable. I'd get up, but, I'm afraid I'm not to move too much. Doctor's orders and all that. May I offer you gentlemen some port? Maybe some water for the ladies?" Indeed, port /and/ water have been thoughtfully provided on the desk, amongst papers depicting various creatures; giant spiders and raging badgers.

Azog offers a polite nod to Alteri and the others as they arrive, following the doorman inside and eying the other adventurers curiously but saying nothing. He shifts his shoulders and settles into a more comfortable stance, the heavy armor creaking slightly. He follows the doorman inside and, glancing at the portraits and things, makes his way with the others to the study. He takes a seat when it's offered, clanking into the chair and looking over the fellow. He shakes his head at the offer of port. "I've tasted the water down where the ships come in, don't like it." He doesn't care how manly these people think it is.

Alteri eyes the beaming Sharna askance. "I did, thanks. You're in a good mood," she remarks in mild observation. "Found someone else to thank?" Casting about, she studies the inside of the manor, conspicuously avoiding meeting the elf-blooded's eyes, instead nodding greeting to Darella and Quint. The latter, she studies a mite longer, before seeming to relax a hair.

Following the sniffy snoot, the Highborn studies the portraits with interest, finally settling her hawkish gaze on the bandaged Master of the manor. She inclines her head at his offer, "My thanks, but nay, 'tis not my habit to imbibe whilst on duty." Funny how she calls it duty and not 'on the job'. While she does her best, there really is no hiding the noble upbringing that permeates her manner.

"Oh... I ought to be calmer than I am now." Darella says as she remembers the manners which had been impressed upon her in years past before taking a breath and saying, "As generous as your offer is, I'm quite alright for now. If I don't seem to hasty, would you mind telling us the reason for which you have called us? It seems to me that the sooner we get on with this business, the better."

"A most impressive collection, m'lord." Sharna compliments the... artistically preserved heads of things long since dead on display. Gloved fingers idly pass through the mane of some wild hunting cat, its maw arranged so it seems like it is roaring from its plaque. Sashaying over to one of the chairs, the lithe half-elf folds into it, legs crossing at the knee with a tiny creak of the armor on her.

"Must've been quite a ferocious beast to have injured you so, considering." she notes of the heavy bandages. She's wearing a tiny smile, one of those casually pleasant, business-like expressions. A small wave of hand in the negative indicates that no, she's quite fine, far as drinks go.

There certainly are signs of noble upbringing permeating the manor. Quint declines the offer of refreshments with a subtle headshake and a gloved hand lifting easily, palm out. The leather skirts of his armor flap subtly as he maneuvers towards one of the chairs, taking his time and managing to avoid bumping into the furniture and bodies scattered about the room. He stands behind one of the vacant seats and turns to listen...

Lucius smiles at Azog, but he doesn't correct the orc. Instead, he nods respectfully to Alteri. Surprised, somewhat, that nobody is taking him up on his drink... but he shrugs. Popping open the decanter, he pours himself a long measure, and takes a long, slow sip before he responds to Darella.

"You're quite right. Ah, for the days of my youth, when I would go running off..." He sighs softly. "Thank you." He says, at last, to Sharna. "It was a damned large bear. Actually gutted me right through. Dashed inconvenient. Cost an awful lot to get myself put back together again."

His lips draw into a long, thin line, and his brow furrows. "Which, brings me to my problem. My son has chosen this moment to get himself kidnapped and held for ransom. They're asking a ridiculous sum. I..." There's a definite, weariness in his eyes. "I can't afford to pay." He admits, doing his very best to keep a stoic demeanor. "I can, pay you some for your efforts... less, I daresay, than you deserve... but if you could bring my son back to me, I'd be in your debt."

Azog is smiled at. Clearly, he's making a good impression, as it's been gently suggested he try to do, and learned the humans' ways sufficiently to get along in their society. He actually perks up at the fellow talking about getting gutted by a bear, maybe he's ... well, like an elder - too bent and mangled by life to go toe to toe with a young warrior, but deserving of respect for old accomplishments? He rouses from his attempt to fit this all into his own worldview as the man talks about his kidnapped son, then nods gravely. "I will help rescue your son, Elder."

Stiffening at the man's revelation, Alteri seems to loom a little more, blue eyes sparking at the outrage. "His age? Has he been hurt?" these, she asks sharply, having shed any semblance of courtly manners for the sake of time. There is little, she appears to think. The tension in her lines speak of a marked need to hit something, preferably an honourless kidnapper.

Quint rests a hand on the chairback, looking away from the wounded host to watch Alteri as the ticking clock is introduced. He has little to add at this juncture -- no questions spring immediately to mind -- and so contents himself to continue listening.

"I am sure your Lordship values the life of his child enough to compensate us as best as is possible, given the circumstances - if we succeed." Sharna says, a tiny rise and fall of her shoulders following the casually-spoken words. "As you can see, we are all eager to help. No doubt you have some information as to the identity of these kidnappers and their whereabouts?" she inquires of the nobleman. "And maybe a likeness of the boy?" As if the nose won't give the youth away already, should there be family resemblance!

Darella appears somewhat surprised as she says, "Kidnapped? I can't say that I have much experience with these things... None the less I will do what I can. If I may, do you believe that there could be other reasons for this than simply money? I understand that such a thing is the most common reason, but a greater understanding of the situation could lend itself to a more peaceful solution, especially if other things have been tried first."

Lucius produces from the inside of his vest a tattered and torn piece of paper. The writing on it has been etched inexpertly; likely by someone to whom writing is not an everyday task. In the common tongue, it says:

"We have your boy. Dancing propriety is willingly broken. No hair on head misplaced. Small cuts and bruise as wiggle and thrash. Four weeks contact Glade Point. Sum of 100,000,000 shining gold misplaced from coffers to mine hands. All is well. Otherwise blood to sate dancing missteps."

"I don't know what to make of it." The Lord says simply, rubbing at his temple. "The boy is sixteen years old. I don't have a good portrait, the last one was done four years ago, and that is all I know. It was delivered to my butler by a man in a hooded robe, and that was the end of it. Glade Point is some three day's ride from here, they must have ambushed him just on the last stretch home."

Azog's air of helpfullness fades a little at hearing the boy's age. "He didn't die fighting them off?" he wonders. But still, this is a service to a distinguished warrior, and if the son was overwhelmed and taken without being able to fight back, Azog will help, for the old man's sake. "We can go there with a heavy trunk, as might contain the asked for ransom, to allay suspicion," he suggests. "And then kill them all."

A faint line furrows Alteri's brow. "Dancing... propriety?" She glances to the others gathered, wondering if any can make head or tail of this. "When was this note delivered?" Arms crossing, she tucks her chin to breastbone, musing, "One might assume he can walk, but a spare mount wouldn't be out of place. If your man could show us the portrait? Even an old one is better than nothing." Her chin lifts, "I left word with the Guild that we may require extra mounts." Reluctantly, she has to add, "You may add it to a Guild tab if..." If the man's finances are too tight, presently, though she does not finish her sentence. Delicate sensibilities must be assuaged, though whether it is hers or Lucius', is a question left unanswered.

Turning towards Azog, Darella shakes her head as she says, "I would sooner resort to trickery of some kind rather than risk an open conflict. A martial strike such as that would have to be swift indeed, or I would fear for the hostage's safety. As soon as we engaged in direct combat with his captors, I would assume an alarm would give them good reason to kill him outright if for no other reason than to deny us additional success beyond a victory of force."

"Ambitious." Sharna drawls upon seeing the number scrawled so haphazardly on the note - but her tone suggests she thinks it foolish and ridiculous, rather than merely optimistic. Her gently slanted eyes narrow slightly and ivory brows furrow as she works to make out the words, to decipher the meaning of the message, before passing it along. "Well, what can I say? It's a start. We'll look into it." she promises, quirking that tiny, business-like smile once more.

"Not the most practiced -- or intelligent -- of ransomers." Quint agrees with Sharna, the quiet intensity of his voice something of a surprise after the extended 'vow of silence' act. "We should proceed with caution lest they are driven to panic and take dire action." A shallow nod and then he falls quiet again.

The Lord nods gratefully to each in turn. "I appreciate that you'll do what you can. I don't know what madness this, one one-hundredth of that price would be a, difficult proposition, but I can only hope that if they believe he is worth so much, whoever they are, they will not have dared to hurt him in any way."

He gestures, and the doorman - who has been waiting, apparently, at the back of the party, like a statue, clears his throat. "The Master has prepared some horses, a chest, and supplies, assuming that you would wish to make use of them. If you'd follow me, I'll show you the portrait, and you can be on your way."

The portrait is upstairs - and it shows a young boy and his father, he clearly has his father's nose. The horse and cart bearing six days food for six people and a very large, ornate chest are of a high quality and good standard, at least; clearly the noble isn't completely out of money. He simply doesn't have several king's ransoms on hand.

<OOC> Mab says, "Oh, I forgot - he'll say he received the letter two weeks ago."

Azog shakes his head to Darella, "We'll make them bring the boy out before we open the chest, and when he's there with us, we'll make sure the kidnappers are /too busy dying/ to hurt the boy. We'll bring an extra sword, so he has a chance to fight back as well and gain honor." Following the butler back to review the picture of the boy, he makes a note of the nose and nods at the contents of the cart as well. "I think we're set," he declares.

The scar lining her neck, Alteri strokes with the back of one callused finger. A gesture of rapid thought. She nods cautiously at Azog's suggestion, then at Darella. "Ensuring they are unable to do this to another, would be good... The one best at putting up a harmless-looking front could present the chest to them." at this, her eyes rest on Sharna, crinkling a little at the corners.

Lush carpets mute her bootsteps as she paces after the butler, still thinking up a, for her, mental storm, "Perhaps it would be large enough for one of us to hide within. A layer of coin could fool them initially while the rest of us free the..." Her steps pause, and she turns to the butler, "I beg your pardon. What is his son's name? Was he on his way back from a ball?" The Eldanar gnaws still, at the cryptic scribbles mentioning 'dancing'.

"Well, I do think that such an approach would be a more sensible plan than just charging in." Darella says, "It would be to their disadvantage to let us see their hostage before they receive the ostensible ransom, so sending someone inside wherever he is being held would give us a higher chance of success even if we do plan to simply attack from both fronts at that point. I also see no reason why we wouldn't be able to sneak one of our own in, as given the sheer quantity of gold that they are asking for they most likely have no concept of the size, or even number of containers that would be involved at that point."

"Thank you for your time, your Lordship. We'll see you in a week." Sharna says, sounding as cocky - or perhaps as experienced? As ever. One can only hope it is experience. Unfolding her legs, the half-elven girl hops easily to her feet, moving to follow the butler about and inspect what's been prepared for the party. She commits the boy's likeness of four years past to memory, as even that should make him fairly easy to recognize... and gives Alteri a narrow-eyed glance at the look she's given. "If anything, I'll be too busy sneaking to the back to free him." she says. "Besides, I don't think I could pass for a typical serving girl of this household." is added, with a feral little grin. Her gray skin, after all, is not a particularly common nor welcome sight in the region.

As the party moves outside to be given the horse, cart and supplies, Sharna hangs back, directing a beaming little smile at Alteri. "To answer your earlier question - no, I haven't." she says to the other woman, giving a little 'tsk tsk' noise following. "Maybe I'll give you a reason to thank me in turn on this little outing. We'll see." she adds to the Eldanar sellsword before moving to inspect the arrangements. The part-elven woman gives a little nod, then - it seems they'll do fine, by her standards.

"I must retrieve Brannigan and make arrangements at the temple if we are to be absent from the city for such a length of time." Quint speaks again once outside, standing back and to one side while the supplies provided are inspected by others. "Select a place and time to reconvene and I will be there.

"He was on the way back from a hunting expedition." The manservant explains. "Trying to kill some big monster out towards Charn." His brow furrows, and he exhales slowly. "His name?"

"His name, is Darius."

The journey to the meeting point is an easy one. It is relatively well traveled until the last day, which is spent riding hard through a small, hard-worn trail in claustrophobic trees. The trunks are pressed close together, the leaves working hard to block out the sun. Small animals run and scamper in the undergrowth, but up ahead is where you would presume the meeting place to be; largely because there is a campfire blazing up ahead, adding a choking smog to the oppressive natural atmosphere...

((I am now going to suggest you guys sort out OOCly what way you are going to approach the situation; you have ample time to reach a common plan before arriving at the meeting place, and we can change pose order to suite who is going in first and in what manner.))

[RPOne] Azog notes he has Survival and Handle Animal, if you want me to lead horses/drive a wagon (assuming such a large chest isn't otherwise portable/luggable?)

[RPOne] Darella has joined this channel.

[RPOne] Azog notes he has Survival and Handle Animal, if you want me to lead horses/drive a wagon (assuming such a large chest isn't otherwise portable/luggable?) (Re for Darella)

[RPOne] Mab says, "Honestly, I'm happy to handwave rolls such as that unless/until they become actually dangerous or important - fleeing the scene, for instance."

[RPOne] Alteri says, "I have both as well, though I figure having Darella looking pale and innocent as the exchange person might help lull them into thinking the Lord is behaving."

[RPOne] Sharna says, "Being a sneakytype, I can try scouting, or just lying in wait for you guys to distract the guards/make a commotion, by the way."

[RPOne] Alteri says, "No offense, Azog, you is intimidating and lolhueg."

[RPOne] Alteri says, "Yea, I was thinking Sharna might sneak in ahead and get the lay of the land."

[RPOne] Darella says, "Well, if Sharna's sneaky then I vote we send her in the false ransom."

[RPOne] Azog says, "Cool. Not asking to roll, just saying he has the skills if we need them. Hah, yeah. Maybe put a huge cloak on him, though, and he's just a beefy wagondriver for hire."

[RPOne] Sharna says, "Good luck getting her to do that. She'd rather just sneak 'manually'."

[RPOne] Alteri says, "Nah, as Sharna mentioned, she looks shadow elfy, which is suspicious in and of itself for many. XD"

[RPOne] Sharna says, "Hiding in a big chest likely to be opened and riffled in, not such a good idea in my book."

[RPOne] Darella says, "Yeah, I suppose they might... Alright, Sharna sneaks in but what do the rest of us do?"

[RPOne] Darella says, "I look innocent and helpless while delivering a false ransom..."

[RPOne] Mab says, "If Sharna is going in to get the lay of the land, I'll do that very quickly with her, and then you can decide how to proceed."

[RPOne] Mab says, "Scouting and going in at the same time would seem illogical."

[RPOne] Sharna says, "Yeah, if I'm scouting, we'll need to do that so I can give them the info (or get killed trying). :P"

[RPOne] Alteri nods and will wait to see what Sharna reports back.

You paged Sharna with 'Give me a stealth check.'

GAME: Sharna rolls Stealth: (8)+11: 19 to Mab

[RPOne] Alteri says, "I'd suggest multiple chests with false bottoms but that's getting pretty over-complicated. XD"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (14)+-1: 13

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (20)+-1: 19

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (16)+-1: 15

Sharna pages: I won't be going too close, mind you. Just having a peek from WAY far.

You paged Sharna with 'There are a total of six men in the camp. Three of them are playing cards by the campfire, three others are positioned at three corners of the camp to form a triangle, and seem to be playing a game which consists of whistling to one another. The three at the corners have longbows ready. All of them are wearing chainmail, the 'guards' have short swords and heavy shields to swap to from their bows, two of the men in the camp have battleaxes and heavy shield, the remaining man has a longsword. None of them seem to have noticed you.'
You paged Sharna with 'There is no sign of the boy.'

Sharna pages: All human?

You paged Sharna with 'Yup, and rugged-looking. But given the state of their equipment, probably hired thugs rather than bandits; doesn't have the dirty, worn look you get from living in the woods for most of your life.'

Sharna pages: I shall return to my companions and tell them the news!

After a while, Sharna emerges from the undergrowth, idly picking branches and leaves from her clothing. "Far as I could see, half a dozen of them. Humans. Gruff, rugged types - thugs, probably, rather than bandits. All armed - three guards at the camp corners with bows as perimeter defense, further three inside with axes and blades. Couldn't see any sign of the kid." she relays. Irritably flicking a large-ish, green insect from her shoulder, she looks decidedly put out. "I hate forests." is muttered.

Pacing by the wagon, Alteri glances over to where the foliage spits out a Sharna. Listening to the report, she grunts, "Did any of the thugs resemble Darius?" Perhaps she recalls her own misspent youth and the times she made her own family gain white hairs over her antics. For all they know, the youth himself is behind the 'kidnapping'.

You paged Sharna with 'In answer; no, they are all professionals who are easily mid-twenties or older. No way any of them is 16.'
"Not in the slightest. Even from the distance, they looked older and more experienced than a human boy of sixteen would." Sharna says, shaking her head slightly. Finally rid of the bits of forest that had been clinging lovingly to her, she corrects how her hood and cloth mask lay, arms crossing at her chest. "So, what's the plan?" she asks, then.

[RPOne] Azog says, "So, walk in with chest, demand to see the boy, and refuse to show the money til they cart him out. I throw down a Dazzling Display to get their attention, One of you sneaky types sneak attacks the ones holding the boy, grabs him, and we kill them all?"

[RPOne] Alteri says, "I'm good with Azog's plan."

[RPOne] Alteri says, "The melee'ers could bristle and look intimidating, distracting them from looking for a sneaky Sharna?"

[RPOne] Sharna says, "Sharna will be so displeased about having to go back into the forest. :("

[RPOne] Azog says, "Sounds good. Hah."

[RPOne] Sharna says, "I'll have to move a lot closer this time, though, so hopefully I won't roll like crap on the stealth!"

"It is entirely possible the boy is not in the camp." Quint observes, sitting high atop Brannigan and holding his recently-repaired polearm so it stabs up and into the sky. "They may intend to verify the ransom before giving us a rendezvous location. If this is the case -- and our ruse becomes obvious -- we will need to make sure none escape and at least one is left alive for interrogation."

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, so Azog drives the cart with Darella next to him, Alteri on one side, Quint on horseback on the other, Sharna sneaking in from the side."

"Well, this isn't quite what I had in mind but I suppose an aggressive approach is going to be necessary here." Darella says, "After all, I'm hardly the leader of this group. I suppose I'll do my best to help in combat, however I can." she says.

"I'll stay back till you start screaming or they bring out the kid." Sharna says, giving her clean clothing a forlorn look before ducking back into the thick forest, keeping distance so as to not risk notice before it is time to move in in earnest.

Azog nods slowly at what Quint says. "That's right, no kid, no deal, we'll be firm on that." He takes his greatsword from his back and places it in the back of the wagon, where he can reach over and grab it, then settles himself to ride, or drive, as required. He grunts softly to Darella, "They've demanded huge amounts of cash. To pay them for committing crimes just encourages them to do it more."

As the cart rumbles closer to the camp, it isn't long before they are spotted. There's a sudden hurrying of motion and movement, archers fall back, and melee come forward. Two men with battleaxes and heavy shields next to a man who looks, more at ease, with longsword and shield on his back. They are all wearing chainmail, though there are no identifying markers of any kind.

"Hail, travelers." The apparent leader in the center calls. "What brings you this way, eh? You have the look of a /fine/ company of rogues about you."

GAME: Sharna rolls Stealth: (20)+11: 31

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, pose order, to avoid confusion, is now: Azog, Darella, Alteri, Quint, Sharna (if necessary), Me. Feel free to say you don't want to pose if you don't have anything to add."

Azog looks up as the men swarm around them and reins in the horses, setting the leads where he can grab them back quickly if needed. Not that so few people can really /swarm/, but they're getting as ready as they can. His first scan doesn't spot the boy, but when they rush forward, he shrugs his shield around into place, though he doesn't draw his blade, not yet. He'll leave the talking to others.
Getting off the cart, Darella steps down and says, "We are here concerning the ransom of a boy, Darius Dalaborn. I believe you requested quite a large sum of money, but none the less we are here to acquiesce, as you may be able to see."

GAME: Darella rolls bluff: (10)+8: 18

The clean-cut, stalwart and shiningly earnest form of Quint in full battle regalia might seem at odds with the image of a mercenary tough. Thankfully, Brannigan glowers and snorts with the best of the ill-tempered, midnight black nightmare steeds and the templar's surcoat is a simple white trimmed in the blue and silver of the Dreaming Goddess -- lacking any obvious iconography. Gray eyes stare with unblinking intensity from behind the barbute's eyeslit and the hand not holding his three-pronged stave is in his lap holding loose to the mount's reins.

The muscled draft horse' front hoof kicks at the grass and dirt in irritation, snort as it digs up short, shallow furrows. A short, muttered phrase, and the beast calms for the moment. Quint remains otherwise silent, allowing for others to maintain the deception.

Footsteps like those of a cat on the prowl in spite of the crunching leaves of autumn underfoot, Sharna creeps through the forest. She crouches down, then, slowly, placing a hand with splayed fingers upon the forest floor for balance... and waits. A grasshopper lands on the top of her hood and she stoically ignores its presence until it moves along - remaining still as a statue in the chosen spot and watching the proceedings from afar. The foliage nearly completely obscures her, her clothing and skin melding into the shadows of the trees and bushes.

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+9: (14)+9: 23 to Mab

The thug who speaks for the thugs nods his head. "Alright." He says, all business suddenly. "Well. I was told a group might show up. I'm meant to check that you've brought, quote, a lot of, endquote, gold before I do anything else." He nods in the direction of the chest, "You won't mind if I check, will you?"

GAME: Sharna rolls Perception: (16)+11: 27 to Mab

<OOC> Darella says, "We have enough gold to stand up to inspection, right?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Of one million gold pieces? No. Of 'lots', that depends."

<OOC> Azog says, "I was just wondering the same thing. I think I'm going to shake the box to let him hear the jingle."

<OOC> Sharna says, "A hundred million. :("

<OOC> Alteri says, "Is there enough that Azog can throw open the lid for them to see but not touch?"

[RPOne] Sharna says, "A BILLION ZILLION GOLD! NO WAIT! PLATINUM!"

<OOC> Mab says, "There is a chest. It has some gold coins in it. The thug wants to open the chest and look inside, if you guys want to try and
stop him, that's something to be RP'd."

Azog growls at the man who demands to see the gold, and though it's not really his part, the attitude annoys him. "You can see the gold when we see the boy, and not a moment sooner," he snarls in accented Tradespeak, though he does lean back to lift one side of the crate and let it thump back down, with a muffled jingle of the coins that /are/ inside.

<OOC> Darella says, "Oh, I know that we don't have 100 million but neither do they. They've asked for so much they might as well have asked for a number that's just imaginary and used to represent, "A lot"."

<OOC> Azog says, "Not really bluffing, but if it mattes, I can try Aid Another on someone else's bluff?"

<OOC> Azog says, "Matters, even."

<OOC> Mab says, "I'll allow it."

Sharna pages: Did a roll, by the way, as requested. *points above* Not sure if you saw it/if it matters at all.

You paged Sharna with 'I saw it. It wasn't quite high enough.'

Sharna pages: Alrighty!

GAME: Azog rolls bluff: (11)+0: 11

<OOC> Azog says, "Sorry about the delay, I'd forgotten how. :/ Well, someone gets a +2 to convince them we're legit?"

<OOC> Mab nods.

<OOC> Darella says, "So yeah, that makes my bluff check a 20 then since you were ICly helping me out."

<OOC> Mab says, "You'll need another check to convince him not to do his job."

<OOC> Darella says, "I will?"

<OOC> Mab says, "... Yes."

GAME: Darella rolls bluff: (2)+8: 10

<OOC> Darella says, "Crap."

<OOC> Darella says, "At least it wasn't an automatic failure."

<OOC> Mab says, "There's no automatic failure with skills."

<OOC> Darella says, "Oh, right. Saving throws only."

[RPOne] Azog says, "First check was to convince them we were the messengers, this was to convince them not to peek in the box. Hopefully we get positive mods for a good setup and so forth. Or, we can kill them all now. ;)"

<OOC> Mab says, "You'll need to pose too, just FYI, and... if you had to go around 5ish, we may as well stop before we actually get to the dice rolling."

<OOC> Darella says, "Don't the enemies roll a sense motive based on their stats or are you just using a generic stat-less character?"

<OOC> Mab says, "I'm rolling."

<OOC> Darella says, "Oh, ok."

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (12)+-1: 11 to Mab

"These are sensitive matters, and we both know it." Darella says, "We only perform the exchange once both parties have brought out that which we are exchanging. You can tell that we have our gold here already. Besides, what good would a ruse do? Any sort of attempt to circumvent a normal exchange and we both know that it will end badly for Darius."

Pale eyes glinting coldly down at the thug, Alteri shifts her gaze to stare impassively at the rest of the thugs, quietly noting positions and equipment. Azog's growled response, and Darella's more wordy one, she backs up by a silent, unseen signal to her mare, who snorts and rears. Flashing hooves slash at the air near the thug before thudding back into the drying brush. None shall pass, is the message. "Apologies, she's off her feed." the warrior intones without any apology in her voice, idly patting her mount's neck. With the hand encased in a spiked gauntlet.

Quint's hand opens and closes around the polearm, his grip going tighter and causing the wooden haft to groan quietly. His eyes narrow just a touch and his nostrils flare. He still doesn't speak -- he doesn't even open his mouth to sigh. He just waits and watches for now.

Sharna remains still and quiet, a ghost in the night. She sees no reason to move just yet, after all: the ruse, at least, seems to be working from where she's standing. For the moment, anyway. Her muscles tense, she soundlessly detaches her crossbow from where it lurks on her belt - carefully, slowly releasing the safety latch so that it can be fired, if the need should arise.

The thug pauses for a moment, and then shrugs his shoulders. "It isn't my job to care." He says, frankly. "We're just here to make sure you brought the gold. Don't know where this Darius is, so I can't get him for you." He shrugs his shoulders again, and spits on the ground. "Come into the camp, and I'll send up a signal to say you brought what you should have. No need to get stressed now, is there? All just business."

[RPOne] Alteri says, "Okay, show of hands, we let them send the flare or do nothing (choice A) we let them send the flare and jump them (choice B)."

[RPOne] Alteri says, "*and do nothing."

[RPOne] Quint is fine with 'wait'n see'

[RPOne] Sharna says, "Let them send the flare but don't attack, for my OOC vote. Because my worry is we don't know where their employers
ARE."

[RPOne] Azog picks A

[RPOne] Sharna says, "If they're near, they could show up midfight or hear the combat, and then they might slit the kid's throat or do a standoff."

[RPOne] Alteri says, "Okay, I'm taking Choice A as well. Azog, mind posing that we follow 'em?"

[RPOne] Darella says, "Let them send the flare/do nothing. It's better we know the full extent of the situation, plus that dancing thing could mean
something we're completely unaware of like a relationship to Lucius."

Azog takes up the reins again, and barks an Yrch command to the horses, snapping them into motion again and guiding the wagon after the ... whoever they are.

You paged Sharna with 'Another perception check please.'

GAME: Sharna rolls Perception: (20)+11: 31 to Mab

Sharna pages: I... see the universe functioning. It is... beautiful. *stares all googly-eyed* :(

Darella jumps up onto the wagon as it starts to move forwards, staying wit Azog and looking about as she attempts to take stock of the situation, looking for distinctive marks on clothes, examining weapons and such as best she can without looking like she's doing more than looking at the scenery.

GAME: Darella rolls perception: (7)+1: 8

The party are brought into the camp, and the leader of the thugs moves over to the campfire. The application of some strange powder from his pouch turns the smoke billowing from the fire a bright and bilious blue.

"Should only be ten minutes or so." The leader says, before adding, "You all seem really on edge. Me and the boys have got no quarrel with you so long as you play straight with us. We ain't getting paid to hurt anybody, today."

<OOC> Mab says, "They have weapons! It is hard to tell their quality, there is no identifying or unifying mark."

You paged Sharna with 'As the smoke goes up, you sense movement above you. Something impacts the ground about fifty feet from where you are. Peeking out from the undergrowth, you see a large (person sized) black spider materialize from apparent nothingness. Utterly silently, the flesh of the thing melds and runs like water, and soon, it has taken the form of a man in flowing robes, dark skinned, thick haired. The metamorphosis takes a few seconds, but he doesn't seem to be in a hurry. He's looking in the direction of the camp, however.'

Eyes narrowing a hair, Alteri nudges Stupid to follow, fanning out a little from the group. "We have no quarrel with you, either," she states quietly to the leader. Not dismounting, she uses her higher vantage point to scan the campsite and its denizens.

Azog shrugs at the accusation of being on edge. He doesn't offer a reply, glancing off in whatever direction these men are watching. Presumably they know where their erstwhile allies are coming from.

Sharna twitches and nearly abandons her post so as to -run away screaming-. She quells the instinct, though. Not that any of her companions can see... which is a bad thing, in this case, as it means they also aren't looking her way at all and communication is next to impossible. She has no choice but to stay perfectly still, gritting her teeth in frustration

"An odd number of battle-trained and well-armed men being paid to act as go-betweens and messengers." Quint observes quietly -- but loud enough to be overheard -- from atop his steed. The ranseur still points towards the heavens inoffesnviely as he looks down at the signal. "What sort of man is your employer?" He adds, speaking at the kneeling mercenary's back.

GAME: Quint rolls Diplomacy: (16)+11: 27

The thug scratches behind the back of his head, and shrugs his shoulders. "He's an odd one." He admits, "Didn't speak to him much. Just gave us our money and told us the job." He smirks, "No offense, buddy, but you don't get to stay in this job long if you ask too many questions. Seemed a bit... not all there, if you ask me." He gives a short laugh, "But his money was good, and--"

From the side of the camp, on neither of the trails, a tall, dark-skinned man in heavy black robes steps from the brush. This seems to get a start from the thug, who looks surprised he came from /there/. The man's head is completely bald, and his eyes shine with... tears? He's actually shaking, looking, completely, as though he has lost his composure. "--Fuck me that was quick."

[RPOne] Azog says, "And now we know (OOCly) that it's the son, out to see if dad really cares. :/ But. Does Azog see through the disguise? Or should I just slam him?"

[RPOne] Azog says, "Well, not -know-, but it seems so."

[RPOne] Mab says, "You are free to have any preconceptions you want."

[RPOne] Alteri says, "Um, was dad darkskinned too?"

[RPOne] Mab says, "If you want to see through the 'disguise' roll Perception. And no he was not."

[RPOne] Alteri says, "Aight."

GAME: Darella rolls perception: (11)+1: 12

GAME: Azog rolls perception: (7)+0: 7

[RPOne] Mab says, "Definitely doesn't look like a disguise on those rolls."

Azog growls as he sees the single individual show up, without the boy. He either misses the tears, or misinterprets them. These humans, confusing people! But enough! He tosses the reins of the wagon down and rises to his feet. "We're here for the boy," he says to the robed man, placing one hand on the hilt of his bastard sword. "Show him now!"

Sharna pages: Wait, spiderboy is having a nervous breakdown?

You paged Sharna with 'He looked composed until he actually saw the camp, but now he looks /very unhappy/ yes.'

Darella quickly stands up, placing her hand on Azog in a restraining gesture as she says, "We don't quite understand. We had been lead to believe that you were going to bring out Darius. It appears as though there was something that we weren't told regarding this deal... Or are we mistaken?" before she starts making a few motions and whispers a few words in some sort of odd language in an attempt to see if any magic is being used and afterwards says, "I am not attempting to attack, simply trying to see if the source of confusion is more... Arcane in nature."

Alteri squints at the dark-skinned fellow who appears, noting that the thug leader seems more than a little surprised at the swift arrival. Ever cynical, she tries to make out if the fellow might be the son in disguise. The tears are an odd thing to see, either way.

At Azog's reaction, she exchanges looks with the rest in the party. On one hand, there is a need for caution, on the other, she would -love- to start bashing heads in until someone gives in. Settling for looking really ticked off at the lack of Darius, she sets her jaw and tightens her hand on Stupid's reins, waiting to see if Darella notes anything arcane in her efforts.

GAME: Alteri rolls perception: (20)+5: 25

You paged Alteri with 'It is not a disguise.'

Alteri does, however, give a mute shake of her head, meaning to say that is not the boy in disguise.

Alteri pages: Okay. :)

<OOC> Alteri says, "Sorry, just posing the result of the roll. :)"

Quint draws in a slow, deep breath at the sight of the man stumbling from the woods, lifting the ranseur from its rest and letting the tip droop down to a more horizontal orientation. The tears he interprets as madness and that coupled with the robes makes him suspect some variety of cultist. He'll be well ready should this come to blows.

Sharna's eyes narrow. The crossbow is quietly, slowly, stowed, the latch reapplied to prevent accidental firing - replaced with a pair of blackjacks as she scoots just a bit closer, more tense than ever. Fingers tighten and release on the weapons in barely subdued nervousness... but she waits, her teeth grinding just a tad.

The Newcomer narrows his eyes at Azog, and snarls himself, lips curling back in a nasty grimace. The noise he makes is utterly animal, a snarling his before he erupts; "What is this trickery?!" He bellows, "What disrespect? You weave a web to snatch my sight, and think me too fool to count the ticker-tick of blood memory?! I SAW THE DANCE. My pattern is torn, the larvae burn and slash and kill and YOU come to DECEIVE ME?! One thousand by one thousand by is not one drop of blood for coin for wound!"

His voice is cracked and furious, each word spoken with the utmost care, pronounced in a strange and alien accent, as though the act of speaking with lips and tongue is unfamiliar to him. The thugs look utterly confused. Since Azog has gone for his sword, though, their weapons are grasped as firmly; the leader is moving to try and position himself between the orc and his boss, though. "Oi, oi, oi, look, everyone, lets not do anything rash, shall we? Come on now, we're all, /sensible/ people..." He sounds like he's trying to convince himself of that fact. His boss certainly doesn't seem to be in possession of all his faculties, to say the least.

<OOC> Azog says, "I'm going to try to inditmidate him into revealing where the son is, not that it'll work."

<OOC> Mab says, "Feel free."

<OOC> Alteri says, "I could try to AA the Intimidate."

<OOC> Mab says, "Yup!"

GAME: Alteri rolls Intimidate: (5)+5: 10

<OOC> Alteri says, ">_>"

GAME: Azog rolls intimidate: (7)+13: 20

Sharna pages: Something occurs to me. Those pictures daddy dear had on his desk... were they of similar spiders as this one?

Sharna pages: He had pictures of giant spiders, my brain is nagging me?

You paged Sharna with 'They were similar, but they were different, too - they were hairier whereas this thing is smooth and chitenous, it was
*probably* a coincidence.

Azog steps off the wagon and towards the man in robes, getting closer and closer to the one guard as if he intended to walk through the man, bellowing, "Rash? We came here to bring a boy back to his father! A proud warrior injured and unable to complete the task himself. But all we are presented is a madman. Bring the boy immediately!" He snarls, drawing his sword and swinging it so hard that the swish of air is audible in the pause after his shouting. He does stop short of walking over the guard, but is clearly looming for effect.

<OOC> Darella says, "Wow. I just had a crazy, crazy idea that could either be awesome or horrible."

<OOC> Darella says, "Try to understand the crazy guy and speak his language which either has references to something that he doesn't quite understand, or is just mad rambling."

Darella steps down alongside Azog and says, "He may be mad, he may not be. Speak of a bow and arrows to those who know of swords only and what are you but mad?" she then closes her eyes, before appearing to relax and saying, "We don't know of larvae burning, or torn patterns. Whatever has torn you so, whatever cuts through the world, blood for coin doesn't have to be the only way to bring force to your side. Ask, and you may find allies against that which you are so desperate to stop."

Coolly, Alteri watches the Newcomer ranting at the 7ft tall Yrch. Addressing the thug leader, she lets the Orc do his Orcish thing to ask the man, "This, is the one who hired you?" Dry as a Veyshanti desert the dark-skinned fellow might have hailed from, her voice is.

She works to loosen her sword in its scabbard, making a show of finely honed muscles that she appears more than willing to employ at this point. "I suggest finding work at the Explorer's Guild next time, neighbour. They tend to ensure the employers aren't raving lunatics." The Eldanar is taking it that this person is crazy and negotiating is bust. She'll give Darella room, but that room is swiftly shrinking into inexistence.

Sharna pages: You know, I just had a crazy idea. If he's been there and watching all along... I look up into the trees. Is there webbing? Cocoon? Anything of the sort?

You paged Sharna with 'There are some strands of web, but not what you would expect to be the big one here, if that is where your mind is going.'

GAME: Darella rolls diplomacy: (19)+8: 27

"This far from the walls, it is possible they do not call Alexandria their home and thus do not have access to the same Guild." Quint tells Alteri, still stiff-backed in his saddle as he watches the madness spill out of the bald fellow. He tips his head in a shallow nod at the mercenary captain, offering mildly "Your employer is clearly not of sound mind. I would recommend stepping aside. If a peaceful resolution is possible it will be found."

<OOC> Mab says, "You can roll diplomacy, but you're going to have a penalty with a member of the party waving a sword around and being intimidating."

GAME: Quint rolls Diplomacy: (20)+11: 31

The Newcomer hisses again at Azog, low in the back of its throat. "You would pluck justice from the sticky web and seal with fire and sword." He says, somewhere between fear and anger. He's starting to back off from Azog, though. His eyes focus on Darella, and there's a disconcerting moment where they seem to focus /again/.

"Too late. Too late for prevention. The patterns which have been woven are of blood. Too much blood." His voice is starting to crack with sorrow rather than anger. He visibly sags. To Darella he continues, no less energetically but with less heat in the tone; "You think my heart bleeds less than old warrior's when children plucked from web of home and skewered on sharp steel? To squeal and beg and cry? You want yours and I want mine but mine are gone and where is justice for the dead?"

As the dark-skinned man rants and raves, the leader of the thugs, sweating profusely, draws his sword, and tries to square up to the much bigger orc. Until Quint's speech is heard. He hesitates, and starts to step aside. He still looks very unsure of himself. "I took his coin." He says, with genuine uncertainty in his voice. This sure isn't making much sense to him, either. "Can't let you lot just, barge in and hurt the poor sod, can I? Even if he's off his rocker..." He trails off. The rest of his group don't look too sure either. Are they still going to get paid for this? What, exactly, have they gotten wrapped up in?

Azog lets the man back down, and the guard as well, or back away at least, and he ceases his advance as the man's ravings seem, for a moment, to make more sense. His face twitches, though, at what he's putting together. It doesn't really make sense to him, even when the pieces start fitting, because orc druids, while they care for nature, understand that hunters have to hunt. Though, in his tribe at least, they didn't hunt exclusively for sport. "He killed your animals?" Azog asks brusquely. "Human children? Or bears and deer?" He's not actively at least, which may make the guards less nervous.

<OOC> Darella says, "What do I detect, if anything from the area around me due to detect magic?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Give me a knowledge/arcana check."

GAME: Darella rolls knowledge/arcana: (18)+7: 25

<OOC> Mab says, "He's under the effect of a minor transmutation aura."

<OOC> Darella says, "Ok, so we're either looking at a polymorph or some sort of physical enhancement, though It's obvious that it's a polymorph effect OOCly since you said that guy was Darius."

<OOC> Mab says, "... I did not ever say he was Darius."

<OOC> Darella says, "Conversely, I understand that it's honest insanity and not an enchantment."

<OOC> Darella says, "Would I know what sort of spells could produce a transmutation aura or would I just know, "Transmutation"?"

<OOC> Mab says, "You've pretty much covered the basics. Polymorph, enhancement."

<OOC> Quint says, "Schools from the school of Transmutation?"

<OOC> Quint says, "*Spells from"

<OOC> Darella says, "Right, so I would probably sooner think that it's an enhancement spell rather than polymorph 'cause polymorph would be
just plain out of place."

<OOC> Mab says, "Atually."

<OOC> Mab says, "On a 25, and given the broken speech patterns."

<OOC> Mab says, "It is possible that he is not a human naturally. That would explain a great deal."

"There is a question I'd like to ask." Darella says as she faces the man who had hired the thugs, "What do you really look like? I can tell that you're different from your usual self in some way, and I'm starting to wonder if it has anything to do with your appearance. Now, if you don't want to reveal that then it's not something I'll press but... There is no sign of Darius, I can tell something is different and I would sooner assume that it is either you, or you are someone that we would recognize quite easily without magic."

Alteri nods slightly to Quint, "Granted." She is still not impressed with the thugs' choice of employers. The jumble of words rattles confusingly in the fighter's head. She cannot make head or tail of what he is saying, and words were never her strong suit. "Who?" she asks the dark-skinned man. "Who is, or was, yours?" Maybe getting that solved will give a point of reference to the rest of his words. She tenses when the thug leader draws his sword. "Easy now, no rashness, yes?" Her hands are kept away from her blade, supporting Azog's backing down. Between Darella's circular questioning and Alteri's more direct one, hopefully the dark-skinned fellow is able to answer one of them.

"If we wanted to hurt anyone, we would have done so already." the shadows of the forest whisper. Sharna detaches herself from her the shadows, stepping from the trees and into the flickering light of the campfire with slow, measured strides. Her hands are where they can be seen and all weapons are sheathed... for now.

"The boy? He's a young fool. Hotblooded and not thinking enough. He is, however... irreplaceable, as flawed as he may be." Sharna says, addressing the dark-skinned man, trying to remain cool and composed in her voice and posture. "You're holding all the strings, spider-mage. You can stop the bloodshed, or you can force everyone into more of it. More violence. More death. You don't really want that, do you?"
Spiders. Why did it have to be spiders?!

"Animal." The dark-skinned man repeats. "Human." He says, again. Some of that anger has returned. But Darella's words seem to make sense to him. He speaks very slowly, very deliberately. "He." And the back of the man's robes opens up, blossoming like a flower with a thick and bulbous back end, encased in chitin. "Killed." And his arms meld and melt, another three pairs growing out from his torso. "My." And his mouth splits, his features warping in a truly horrible, unnatural fashion. "Family." Clacks from between mandibles which seem much more used to speech, distorted as the common tongue is by the ill-suited body.

The spider is easily the size of a man, having inverted itself into being, glossy red inhuman eyes observe the gathered humanoids. It is tense. Suddenly, it rounds on Sharna, horribly aware that it is surrounded. The creature's voice is mournful. "The web is woven! How do you propose to unspin the spun and make whole the torn pattern? All the richness of Ea will not bring it back."

The leader of the thugs looks utterly horrified for a moment, and then raises his sword, suddenly, in the direction of the spider, "WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE GODS IS /THAT?!/." He shouts, and his panic seems to spread like a wave amongst his men...

<OOC> Mab says, "You can give me a knowledge/arcana to know what it is, incidentally."

GAME: Darella rolls knowledge/arcana: (15)+7: 22

You paged Darella with 'It is an Aranea. Generally peaceful, live in colonies of 2-6 in high trees where they study magic. Can naturally shift between giant spider, half-spider, and human form.'

Azog actually takes a step back when the man changes into a spider. A huge spider. He rounds on the mercenaries, demanding, "This is who you serve?" Azog's already had issues with ants and almost died, and he's not favorably inclined at all towards spiders in disguise. Though he's never met, nor even heard of ones that are smart enough to hold a conversation before, however rambling. "You can't unweave a web," he admits dourly. "But you can weave a new one. But not if the boy comes to harm. If the boy comes to harm, it all ends. We may even be able to help you, to find a safe place for you to raise a new family. But you must choose to weave a new web that leaves ... er, two-legs in peace as well. What will it be?"

"No! No. Don't do anything." Darella says, backing away from the thugs towards the spider creature while waving her arms in a defensive manner before she says, "It's alright... We don't need to spill more blood where it has unnecessarily been spilt already." she then slowly turns to the giant, spider-like creature and says, "It's alright... I know what you are, and I think we understand what happened. I know the Dalborn family has many hunters, and they don't always understand what they hunt do they? You took Darius in revenge for the slaughter of your family, didn't you?"

A sharp word and very strong hand is all that prevents Alteri from being thrown off her mare. The whites of the animal's eyes are obvious as it tries to rear, snorting and reacting to the revealing of a predator. A large one. In contrast, the Highborn appears cool, though her jaw tightens. "Gods send this one doesn't phase..." she mutters. Then she barks to the thugs' leader, "Calm yourself and your men!" Negotiating with spiders is beyond her ken, and she knows it. Instead, she works to get between at least one archer and the spider-person-thing. Hopefully, one of the more diplomatic members of the party can find the words to see this through without bloodshed. By one of the others, she means everyone but herself, of course.

Quint continues to watch passively, turning Brannigan at an angle -- ready to brace the polearm against a charge from the monstrous creature should the need arise.

"If you do this, no matter what happens, there can only be more death." Sharna says, though she does swallow rather hard at the second sight of the enormous spider. She's... not a big fan of spiders. It's taking all her willpower to give a pretense of being nonchalant. "You have to stop. Hell, you're both fathers - the..." Ivory brows furrow as she brings to mind the words they'd been refering to Lucius with all along. "... old warrior might understand the magnitude of your sorrow - but only if the boy's returned safe."

The leader of the thugs is momentarily taken aback by Azog's words, and he looks ready to give the order to kill it... but when Darella /and/ Alteri move to get in the way, he hesitates. Once again, he feels completely out of his depth. He's not really following what is going on. But, his loyalty to money outweighs his natural inclination to kill things that look different to him. A wise and honorable mercenary. "Hold! It still paid us well, didn't it?" He shouts. There's nervous muttering.

The spider bobs its body in what might be an accepting manner to Darella. It picks its way back across the ground so it can view the gathered humanoids in one place, every movement alien and unnerving. When it speaks, it does so slowly, and carefully. "No hair on head harmed; has been crooned and coddled like child of mine." It babbles, in this form, its voice is almost melodic. Lilting and musical. "Not enough to move away. To ransom is tradition; to bargain worth against worth for crimes. If I give and he goes and he pays nothing for his macabre dance of steel and death then what worth have they? They must weigh on his heart as heavy as mine or else he'll harm others in turn when called."

Azog squints at the spider as it shifts. Spider traditions? Alexandria has more strangeness than a month of drunken binges. "If Ransom is your desire," he says, moving to the back of the cart, towards the chest, "then mayhap you shall have what you wish." Particularly if he doesn't entirely understand the concept of varying degrees of wealth. "The boy's father has assembled a ransom he feels worthy of his son," Azog says, though perhaps he'd have assembled more if he really intended to pay it. Azog lifts the lid briefly enough for a flash of gold, then slams the lid back down. "You may take it, but we must see the boy safe and unharmed first."

"I have a better idea. Ransom won't prevent a slaughter like this from happening again, the best thing in this case would be to actually get these two to talk about what happened." Darella says, "Perhaps Darius may not be able to make any sort of promises on his family's behalf, but his father may be able to. You have the ability to take human form, for however long. Perhaps you may be able to come back with us for a short time and negotiate a more appropriate settlement that could ensure peace for the Dalaborn family as well as what family you yourself might find later... Though I believe that Darius would have to come back as well."

Senses on edge, Alteri works to keep an eye on all the thugs, in case one decides listening to their leader just isn't worth helping A GIANT TALKING SPIDER. At the spider's assurances to the boy's safety, she exhales a slow breath, taking the melodic babbling at face value. Turning to glance sharply at one of the more nervous bowmen, she nudges her protesting mare, who wants only to get -away- from here, to impose their bulk between the creature and that wavering arrow. Glancing to Darella and what she says, the Eldanar grunts, muttering to herself, "This could get complicated." but she straightens in her saddle, "I will personally ensure your safety if you choose to meet with the boy's father." she calls to the spider-being.

"This scenario will serve as an object lesson." Quint counters, shaking his head briefly. "If the creature is satisfied by delivery of the ransom there is little sense in complicating matters further, taking it from its home, and smuggling it into the city." He lifts the tip of the ranseur and rests the weapon against the saddle again as the situation defuses. "The boy's father was terrified at the loss of his son. He will be overjoyed and relived at his return. If the boy requires further instruction in consequence that can be meted out through proper authorities." Perhaps the monstrous thing is the one wronged here but the bearded human has no interest in bringing it into the walls of his home. He has no way to tell what might happen in that case.

"The old warrior is badly injured. He can't come to you, else he would have, and we can't really speak on his behalf." Sharna endeavors to explain to the eight-legged creature. "This is what we got." A gloved thumb flicks to indicate the chest. "You can have it for the boy. Or you can come along, bring the boy, and speak to the old warrior yourself if you prefer." Who may or may not kill you and mount your eight-eyed head on the wall, she thinks to herself, but does not say it aloud.

The creature seems to consider the options before it for a few moments. It bobs and sways on the spot, and then it shoots a sticky strand of web up into the trees above, and begins to wheel itself up there. "I will return with him." It promises. "I can be human. I can walk on two legs and speak not a word. Until I will speak with the father of the boy who burns and cuts and has so much hate when stroked and prodded and chided for the sins that lay thick and syrupy on his tongue and he will accept that..."

It wings off into the trees, apparently still talking to itself as it does so. The thugs look uncomfortable for a few moments, and then the leader clears his throat. "Well. Either way, looks like our job is done. You've got the trade down. So. We'll be going." And they begin to pack up their camp. A job where they didn't have to use their weapons seems like a good job to them.

After about fifteen minutes, where presumably the spider is scuttling back to its primary web, it comes swinging back with the boy tucked under one arm; firmly gummed up in sticky strands. He lays him down with exaggerated care, and in a few sick moments, has regained human form. At which point he looks back to Quint.

"You can deny me if you will. My men are gone my bargain gone my hand extended with no weapon or barb. But one thousand by one thousand was a start to soothe what has been lost. I would give up all that for brief and peaceful words to make the broken weave meaningful."

Azog waits impatiently. He's actually a bit miffed that the mercenaries are going, he was looking forward to a good scrap with them. But since the spider is returning, he'll stow his shield on his back and get the wagon turned back around, probably much to the horses' relief. He waves farewell as the mercs get going post-haste, and waits, eventually relieved to see the spider return with the boy. He'll get out of the wagon to pick him up bodily and place him reasonably gently in the back of the wagon without actually cutting him loose, though he does look the boy over for injuries. "Shhhhh," he mumbles under his breath. "Stay calm, we're taking you back to the city. We'll get these off as soon as the spider is safely dealt with."

Darella smiles at the creature's acceptance of the situation and says, "Very well, I suppose we'll go back to Alexandria much in the same way that we came... Thank you for agreeing to this, whatever your name is, I think that everyone will be much happier than they would be otherwise once you and Lucius reach an agreement."

The departure of the thugs is a welcome thing. No telling where loyalties lie, when one discovers one's employer is not quite what they seemed. The few sick moments when the spider returns to human form sets Alteri to a few hard swallows. Thankfully, Stupid has calmed down at least. Turning to the paladin, the slightly pale Eldanar murmurs, "If speech will see this through with both sides soothed..." She eyes the once-more man, and the boy safely delivered unto them. "He, at least, is true to his word thus far. If he reneges, it will be my blood spilt first."

Like Azog, she makes no move to free the boy. Honestly, if he had behaved, things would not have come to this point. He is safe, is he comfortable? Who cares. Keeping pace with the dark-skinned 'man', she is both guard and prison warden to the creature for the foreseeable future.

Sharna would look pale if only her skin allowed it in earnest. She hops into the back of the wagon herself, adroitly, keeping a wary eye on the man-spider - but like the others, not moving to undo the bonds on the boy, lest he do anything rash. "Come on, then, spider-mage." she calls, gesturing for him to climb aboard. It's going to be a weird journey, that's for sure.

<OOC> Mab says, "In conclusion - Lucius will be horrified by what his stupid son has done when the situation is explained to him. Communication is, obviously, difficult between all the parties concerned. Eventually, though, a compromise is found. Lucius forces Darius to swear to never fight unless his life or the lives of others are in danger... which of course, means no more hunting, no more questing to prove himself, and much more time locked up studying.

The Spider, which doesn't give a name at any point, will leave the city when its work is done. If anyone asks, it will explain, in a roundabout way, that there is another group far to the north that it knows of, and it will go there for a time."

PrP: Escape to the Noble House of Mummies Part 1

2011-10-21T05:33:37Z

Alteri:

GM: Mab

PCs:
Quint - Human Paladin - Lvl 3
Hrothgar - Giantborn Druid - Lvl 3
Jugga - Giantborn Barbarian - Lvl 3
Sharna - Half-Elf Rogue - Lvl 2
Alteri - Human Fighter - Lvl 3

Encounters:

CR 4 - 1,200 budget (1205 spent)

4 x Zombies
3 x Skeletons

CR 5 - 1,600 budget (1,600 spent)
Mummy

No purchases.

Summary: Builders constructing a new home disturbed the ruins of a long-forgotten ancient one, and in so doing awoke the ancient homeowner from his slumber. But the ages had passed, and his mind had eroded... he knew he had tried to save his family after death, but it seems the sacrifices weren't made - so he set about sacrificing the fools who had awoken him.

The Heroic PCs turned up and put an end to all that with cunning, smarts, and lots of steel.

There's an emergency! But... when is there ever not an emergency?

The Explorer’s Guild has put out a call on behalf of the Stonemason's. There's been some awful disaster on the edge of town; whilst constructing a new house, the builders had uncovered an old crypt.

Details on what *exactly* happened next are somewhat sketchy, as the unfortunate soul who ran screaming for the nearest guardsman was not in a very clear state of mind. The general gist of it was though; something bad, and probably, something dead.

Which is what brings the adventurers to the building site. Everyone except the foreman has left, which leaves him standing in the middle of a half-constructed building of thick granite blocks... standing over a very old, very heavy oak trapdoor. The lock that had fastened it shut has rusted away with age.

The foreman looks to be in his fifties; human, balding, stressed. Harumph.

<OOC> Quint says, "Noble-y part of town? With the granite blocks and all?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Yeah, relatively; merchant district most likely, rather than actual nobility."

Hrothgar rubs his nose and peers with a scowl at the trapdoor in the ground. He remembers the last time he went down into a place like that. It didn't end well. "Hrmph." the giantkin rumbles, adjusting the weight of his massive hammer over his shoulder. "Dun like the smell of that." And neither does the little bear cub that's hiding behind the large man's leg, peering cautiously out from behind him. "Probably some wizard's crypt." he rumbles. "Nothin' good ever grows from burying wizards."

Absently adjusting a strap on her breastplate, Alteri takes in the building site with a long cast of her gaze. She nods a greeting to the foreman; they know each other, due to the fighter having had cause to moonlight at the building site now and then to supplement her income. Jerking her chin towards the trapdoor, she grunts, "That what your guys found?"

Jugga rushes to answer the emergency, slowing from a jog to a walk when she gets to the construction site. She looks this way and that as she explores a bit before discovering the foreman. Studying the trapdoor she grunts, "Well...looks like a door."

"This is, what? The fourth? Fifth? Time that we're heading into certain doom together. If I didn't know better, I would think you're stalking me." Sharna idly teases Alteri - business as usual - as the mottley group approaches the building site. She's munching on an apple, an ocassional gentle crunch as the fruit is bitten into adding to the more general noise of the city. The noise is constant, really - although lessened, here, by sheer lack of people. She lets Alteri talk, at least for a moment, what with her seeming to know the fellow in charge. Or, shall we say, the only fellow who has deigned to stay behind.

It's a short trip to the courtyards and open-air grounds that Eluna's faithful worship from and live in -- which is likely why Quint arrives on foot rather than astride his ornery warmount. The white surcoat, the leather skirt, and all the rest are quite thoroughly scrubbed and smell strongly of votive candles and incense as he stands there listening. His usual odd intensity is troubled today and while he endeavors to pay attention his gaze keeps dancing to one side -- as if someone is calling to him or shouting nearby. Instead of having his gloved palm loosely balanced on the pommel of his sheathes sword, his fingers knot around it in what is likely a white-knuckled grip. He stands a ways back, leaving plenty of space for all of the others to gather 'round and hear what has to be said.

The foreman looks at the gathered party and stamps. "About time!" He huffs, because it is his job to be agitated about delays.

"Yes, this is what the idiots found." He continues, waving at the trapdoor. "I don't know what is down there, and I don't much care neither. Nothing has come up yet, but unless the damn fools are playing a tasteless prank, it is only a matter of time. If you don't come back up by tomorrow, I'll just brick the whole damn thing up and call it there."

And with a wrenching grunt, he hauls the lid back. The entrance down is wide; big enough you could probably fit three people in side by side, and there are stairs descending into the depths. No light, so it is hard to see too far down there, but the stench of rot and the ancient workmanship is unmistakable.

Jugga steps up to the trapdoor and peers down the stairs into the darkness. "Well. I hope someone thought to bring along some light. I brought smashing things, healing things, and cutting things. No lighting up dark holes in the grounds things. Really should add a few torches or candles or sunrods to my standard pack out. I got booze though if anyone is thirsty." She takes a few steps down into the darkness, but lowlight only goes so far

Hrothgar doesn't let himself be rushed. He peers from the foorman to the opening, leaning over the edge to glance into the darkness beyond. "Hrm." he remarks again, fastening a gaze on the foreman. "You have torches?" he asks simply. "They'll be needed... just a few I think." He glances sidelong at Jugga then, offering the other giantborn a nod. "We'll make do." he rumbles.

"Always has to be a door," Alteri mutters, nodding greets to the rest the Guild has sent. Except Sharna. Sharna gets a flat-eyed look, "I see you've got your hairpoof tamed." is all the Eldanar will say. Movement at the back catches her eye then, and she glances to note Quint's arrival. "Bright Lady's blessings," she greets, cautiously. Mouth open to say more, she is interrupted by the agitated foreman, and so it is snapped closed once more, as she peers past the taller ones in their party to see what-all.

"Don't know what's down there, hmm?" She settles her light-coloured gaze on the foreman, "Bricks... may not be enough, if those of us gathered here can't clear whatever it is out." and the corners of her eyes crinkle a bit. With that oh-so-reassuring statement, she loosens the drawstring on the small sack tied to her belt. From it, she draws forth an everburning torch, and slips it into a belt-loop fashioned just for it.

Sharna puts her hood into place, flipping the crossbow into her hand in a quick, smooth motion. The safety latch is removed, the bolt within checked. She peers into the gloom below, smiling at the burlier partymembers. In this case, that's everyone. "After you." she says, to nobody in particular. When light must be used and she cannot sneak terribly well as a result, she prefers to have a bit of muscle and steel in front.

"If we face the restless dead... then I am comfortable in the first rank." The armored human pauses, lips pressing into a thin line mid-thought. He might even sound a little irritated when he finishes his thought but its all pushed behind his normal impassive frown the next moment as he steps towards the crypt entrance. Nodding shallowly at Alteri, he pats at three brass, torchlike rods hanging from his own belt. Sunrods. "I am prepared as well should we require additional lighting."

He slides the scimitar from its scabbard and pauses one last time on the threshold before starting his cautious descent. The crescent-shaped shield strapped to his arm leads the way

Hrothgar glances over the gathered group, taking note of each in turn. Then he nods and steps up to join Quint, descending in the darkness. On the way down, he speaks a few rough words in some strange tongue, a faint shimmer of magic settling over his form as he, and the little bear, make their way through the opening

A blink is all Alteri gives to see Quint volunteering for the front spot. Chewing toughtfully on her bottom lip a moment, her pommel shifts in a slight shrug and she slips in after, keeping her position at a median to ensure enough light is cast forwards and backwards. Sword in one hand, javelin in the other, she steps lightly, feeling the press of the ancient surroundings upon her consciousness. This has the happy coincidence of keeping her ankles away from that little bear's nippy teeth.

Jugga squints into the darkness, "Hulloooo!" She listens to the echoes then looks back at everyone else, "Looks like Alteri gets to be in front. Anyone else..." She nods to Quit, "I guess you've got some light too. Too bad we don't have anyone that could make a weapon glow. Hate depending on things that we've got to drop if fighting breaks out."

The foreman shakes his head to Hrothgar, and then looks to Alteri. "Hrmph. We'll see. Whatever's down there hasn't come up in godsknows how long. But I'm sure a bunch of professionals like you lot..."

And by this time, the party is descending into the depths, spluttering torches providing enough dreary light to make out the impression of a very, very old passageway; about half a mile down into the earth until the stone steps start to shallow out and the impression of a doorway is seen.

<OOC> Mab says, "Perception checks!"

GAME: Alteri rolls perception: (4)+1: 5

GAME: Sharna rolls Perception: (11)+10: 21

GAME: Hrothgar casts Longstrider.

GAME: Hrothgar rolls perception: (19)+10: 29

GAME: Jugga rolls perception: (1)+10: 11

GAME: Quint rolls Perception: (15)+1: 16

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, everyone can make out a kind of, groaning, shambling noise ahead. Sharna and Hrothgar will be getting more."

You paged (Sharna, Hrothgar) with 'You two can make out... a bit more than just 'there is something there'. You reckon there's about a half dozen entities moving about the room, and judging by how far away they are, that makes it a very big room; probably two hundred feet or more.'

Hrothgar hmrphs faintly as he pauses by the door ahead. "Big room beyond this portal" he rumbles as a warning. "A number of creatures... hard to tell exactly how many." he reaches to absently scratch at his beard. "But from the sound, I think we can rule out natural vermin."

Quirking a slight smile, the Highborn pats the sturdy fastening on the belt-loop that will hold the torch firmly in place, "Unless someone steals my belt, we should be all right," she assures Jugga. Further in, Alteri's footsteps freeze as the sounds of groaning and shambling impede upon her senses. She squints at the portal, nodding at Hrothgar's assessment. To Quint, she asks, "Is there aught your Lady can tell you, of what lies beyond this?"

Sharna squints into the darkness, eyes narrowing. "Maybe six or so that I can see. Could be wrong. He's got it right... seems like a real big room." she whispers as an addition to Hrothgar's recounting, slender digits tapping gently on the crossbow. It is at this point that she tries to find way to remain unnoticed - moving along the hall's edges, so as to keep out of sight of the room's occupants and stepping as lightly as she can upon the stone of the passage.

<OOC> Alteri says, "To clarify, it's a hallway ahead, no door between hall and us?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Yup; doorframe, no door."

Jugga looks around the rest of the crew, "Hmm...no one here happens to be a master of big balls of fire. Any casks of things that blow up or catch on fire when you pitch them into a big room full of monsters?" Quirking her lips to one side and pondering the crew again she shrugs, "So...we're going to charge in and smash things?"

Quint doesn't answer Alteri for some time, the polished metal of his barbute tilting just slightly. "Little," he finally speaks with a turn to look back over his shoulder, his halting speech quiet. "I must see the foe with my eyes before I can know the truth of it." A pause and then a nod to Jugga, "We have been called to do good works for the Grey Harpist. Goddess' blessing." And then he'll continue to advance cautiously, giving a subtle shake of his head.

<OOC> Sharna says, "If there's any possibility of stealthin', I would like to do so - crawl along the wall so I can't be seen from inside the room, maybe, since I figure with the party's light skulking in shadows is hard-ish. If not, c'est la vie!"

<OOC> Sharna says, "Not scouting, mind, just keeping out of sight. :("

<OOC> Mab says, "You can."

GAME: Sharna rolls Stealth: (18)+10: 28

Hrothgar lifts the hammer off of his shoulder, cracking his neck. "Roight. Let's see what lies ahead, shall we?" he rumbles as he follows Quint's advance. As he moves forwards, he mutter the words to another spell. Faded runes of some long-forgotten script dance faintly over his frame for a second, before sinking into his broad frame.

<OOC> Mab says, "I think that so far, Quint and Hrothgar are going in, likely side by side?"

"Hngh... I'd like to see what we're up against 'ere charging, myself." Six of anything will give even the young Highborn pause, and so Alteri simply nods and keeps up with the paladin's cautious advancements. At one point in the advance, she lifts her faintly glowing blade to her lips, murmuring a soft prayer to the Dread Lady. "As you have blessed this, let her bring rest to those late to your halls..."

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, so Bear|Hrothgar|Quint and then behind them Alteri|Jugga and sneaking in from the side is Sharna."

<OOC> Mab says, "If that is all correct I shall pose again."

The room is big; very big. A burial chamber some two hundred feet long by fifty wide. There are a total of nine caskets in the hall, grouped in
the center. All of them have had their lids removed, and a pair of lanterns - slowly dying as they run out of oil - illuminate these disturbed burying places, and a pair of bodies which are ominously still.

At the far end of the hall there is a second door, and through that a sickly pale purple glow.

Of more immediate concern, however, are the badly-illuminated shapes which shuffle through the darkness at the edge of the room. Now that the light bearers have entered, they are starting to move irregularly towards them, at a shambling pace. Low, guttural groans are heard - an unearthly moan all too familiar to those who have dealt with the living dead before.

Now that they are closer, Alteri notes an interesting little thing. Those shambling forms seem to have a specific direction that they are moving towards. A direction that happens to be Directly Towards Her. To further confirm things, she takes a broad step to the side Sharna is NOT sneakily sneaking along, just to see if that changes the direction of their shambles any.

Hrothgar grumbles as shambling shapes become visible on the edge of his low-light vision. He glances briefly over his shoulder as the light behind him begins to dance off to one side, furrowing his bushy brow as he seems to get an idea. Reaching into a pouch, he produces a copper coin between his fingers, speaking a single word to make it glow like the torch Alteri is holding. With a gesture of his hand, he flips the coin off into the darkness. Vaguely in the opposite direction Sharna disappeared to.

Mildly startled by the sheer scope of the place, Quint's guard dips a fraction of an inch and his gaze leaves the slow-moving forms for a moment. An unintelligable, whispered prayer crawls furtively from between his lips and his eyes narrow. The shadowplay of Alteri's torch, the distant glow... it makes the abnormally large hall seem almost surreal. Pauldron scrapes quietly against breastplate when he rolls his shoulder, setting his jaw behind the barbute and making sure to keep himself between the expirementing woman and the risen. "They may be fresh from their torpor -- slow and stiff -- but do not take their awkward movements for granted. Many undead abominations are exceptionally quick..." He warns them all quietly even as he tries to pick out any particularly distinguishing features of attributes of the animate corpses, taking a step or two closer.

<OOC> Quint says, "Can we see well enough for a Know/Religion roll to identify them, Mabster?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Give me a perception check first - that could probably go for all of you - and then most likely yes."

GAME: Jugga rolls perception: (4)+10: 14

GAME: Hrothgar rolls perception: (15)+10: 25

GAME: Alteri rolls Perception: (4)+1: 5

[RPOne] Alteri says, "I'm consistent. *cries softly while trying to comfort herself*"

<OOC> Sharna says, "I'll creep after the others."

<OOC> Sharna says, "Trying to keep out of sight, though."

GAME: Sharna rolls Perception: (7)+10: 17

GAME: Quint rolls Perception: (1)+1: 2

Sharna stalks forward, following the others - keeping to the shadows and cover, if any, now that she's been given some room to maneuver. The
crossbow is held at the ready, but she does not do anything to betray her presence. Yet.

Jugga rolls the thick shaft of her earthbreaker in her hands as she eyes the shambling creatures revealed first by Alteri's torch, then Hrothgar's coin. She releases hold of her club with her left hand and pulls her fighting mask down over her face. Once the mask is settled into position she rolls her neck to loosen it up, faint pops coming from the joints.

The undead do seem to be congregating towards the light at least; that much is for certain. There's a total of seven of them, three of them seem to be moving (if you rolled a 16+) somewhat faster than the other four, but not by a huge amount. It will still take a few moments for the first shape to reach the light; about sixty feet away from the gathered group...

Quint's warning is appreciated, and Alteri nods, keeping her movements smooth and unassuming. No telling what else draws the attention of these beings. Eyes narrowing, she studies their reactions, lips pursed in thought. "Well, it appears light does gain their attention."

Jaw tensing, Alteri spots a wall sconce at a, perhaps, halfway point between the party and the moving figures. She gives a firm nod towards it, "I plan to plant my torch th..." her words die as Quint brings up his suggestion. "A much better plan," she compliments. Unlatching the torch, she slips it back into her carrysack and pulls the drawstring tightly closed that no light leaks out.

Hrothgar hrmphs faintly and glances to where the corpses are gathering. "Hrmph. I don't know what unholy power lets them see at all" he rumbles. "A fine idea to circle them... but best be ready should they not fall for such." With that, he makes to move in a wide circle around the glowing coin.

Sharna waits, tense. Simply... waits. What else is there to do, truly? She's not jumping the proverbial gun - or is that crossbow? - at the very least. Crouched low, inside the room with the group, she just waits for their cue to proceed.

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, if you guys wait, quietly, whilst they gravitate towards the light, and then sneak around the /far/ side, they will be gathered in that spot. Which will allow you to investigate the door at the far end of the hall no problem."

The undead are not known for their cognitive reasoning skills. Gathered around the light, the group are able to slip past them, and make it around to the far side of the room.

The door is, in a word, grand. Ancient symbols have been moulded into the bronze of it, and it is clearly very old. The sickly purple light spills from the cracks around it, but the door is shut fast, and there is no sound from within...

<OOC> Mab says, "Knowledge religion, history or local if you have it."

GAME: Quint rolls Knowledge/Religion: (12)+7: 19

Jugga watches the slow moving creatures from beyond the grave drag themselves across the burial chamber towards the coin. Once it seems the plan is working she nods to the others, waiting for those in the lead to start moving so that she and Alteri can follow.

You paged Quint with 'Hard to be certain, but those symbols bear some resemblance to modern day Thul iconography; actually, now you think of it, almost certainly is - the whirls in the bronzework make up a stylized depiction of The Commandment.'
The knowledge that these are, quite likely, restless dead, keeps Alteri's footsteps light as she can make them. Tippy-toeing around the figures, she never takes her eyes off where they are gathered. Hey, you never know if one might suddenly grow a brain and come after them.

You paged Quint with 'Probably, therefore, a prayer room.'

A purple glow is rarely a good sign. Hrothgar hrmphs and absently reaches to scratch the bear behind the ear. "Mighty pretty door" he rumbles in a muffled tone. "Ah say we break it open an' see what's on the other side. Nothin' natural sheds light like /that/"

"The Seller of Souls." Quint offers bluntly, disgust creeping into his tone. "Thul, lord of Undeath," he clarifies for those that might not be familiar with the regional name fo the black god. "We do indeed need to get through this portal and disable whatever defiling craft is at play beyond. Once the immediate threat is vanquished the Mourners will want to investigate the site thoroughly..."

Sharna can't help but keep glancing over her shoulder. There's a whole pile of disgusting, foul-smelling undead over there, milling around that coin, and that's enough to set anyone on edge. "Alright. Let me have a look at this thing. Feel free to give a hand - just look for anything suspicious." the part-elven woman whispers, setting about carefully inspecting the door for booby-traps and other such unpleasant manner of thing.

"Grandfather Winter" Hrothgar rumbles in return to Quint's explanation, shaking his head with a disgusted scowl. "No honest death await beyond these doors... step careful." He closes both hands around the giant hammer he carries, looking all but ready to smash the door open himself. He does step back to let Sharna do her work, though.

<OOC> Mab says, "Give me a perception, Sharna."

<OOC> Sharna says, "I was thinking take 20, but can I do that in a room full of disgusting albeit distracted zombies?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Probably not the smartest move. ;p"

GAME: Sharna rolls Perception+1: (1)+10+1: 12

Jugga looks at the door and the glow, then turns her attention to the creatures behind them as Sharna works at the door. "You know...Won't we have to destroy those anyway? Can't have undead under whatever building they are putting up...but I guess they might all go to sleep if we finish off whatever is making the purple glow."

You paged Sharna with 'Doesn't seem to be trapped; in fact, it looks like the door was opened recently - the latch is a sphere in the whorl of bronze, and it has been rotated, so all you need to do is push it in.'

"Looks clear. Let me see if there's a lock." Sharna says. Mind you, she spent the entire inspection looking over her shoulder to see if the undead have moved. She glances down the door, finding the opening mechanism. "Looks like it's been opened not too long ago. I think this is it..." And yes, confidently reaching out for the opening mechanism! Hooray!

The enquiring expression Alteri had directed to Quint, bleeds away at his disgusted declaration. All that is left behind is a coldly implacable mask, and she slowly slips her javelin back into its low-slung quiver. "Indeed." The ring of her contralto sounds hollow, personality seceding to purpose. With deliberate care, her throwing hand slips to join its brethren in a twohanded grip that tightens, creaking the leather wraps around her blade's hilt. Trying her best not to loom while Sharna works, she too, looks the door over, hawkish gaze seeking almost, to sear right through the barrier into whatever awaits behind.

<OOC> Mab says, "I'm going to ask for two things now which you are all going to hate me for."

<OOC> Mab says, "The first, is initiative; this is likely not too unexpected."

<OOC> Mab says, "The second is a will save."

GAME: Hrothgar rolls initiative: Roll: 2 + Bonus: 2 = Total: 4

<OOC> Mab says, "I remember being annoyed by where the actual helpfiles were last time; it is not +prhelp"

GAME: Sharna rolls initiative: Roll: 6 + Bonus: 5 = Total: 11

GAME: Hrothgar rolls will: (18)+5: 23

GAME: Alteri rolls initiative: Roll: 17 + Bonus: 2 = Total: 19

GAME: Alteri rolls Will: (4)+2: 6

GAME: Sharna rolls Will: (16)+0: 16

Quint pages: If this is fear: You're Welcome.

Quint pages: mt!

<OOC> Alteri says, "I'd say +1 for Fear effects but like that'd help."

GAME: Jugga rolls initiative: Roll: 2 + Bonus: 2 = Total: 4

<OOC> Sharna says, "Quint has an aura for that."

GAME: Jugga rolls will: (20)+3: 23

Hrothgar pages: Bear needs to save as well?

You paged Hrothgar with 'And do init.'

Hrothgar pages: It has a better init score than me, isn't it easier to just let it act on my turn?

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20: (14): 14

You paged Hrothgar with 'Sure'

GAME: Hrothgar rolls 1d20+2: (19)+2: 21

<OOC> Hrothgar says, "bear is iron will!"

The door slides apart; the contraption it is made of making near-invisible lines slide to one side in a way evocative of the way the night sky would move stars above around a single point. It is almost beautiful, in a strange kind of way.

What is not beautiful is on the other side; a wretched creature swathed in old linen cloth is stooped over an altar on which a heart has been set; glowing a bright, unhealthy purple as it is suffused with unholy power.

The mummy turns, and bellows in incoherent rage, every scrap of the being purely evil, radiating fear like the sun radiates warmth. Everyone feels it... and poor Alteri is frozen in terror.

<OOC> Mab says, "4 rounds of paralysis I'm afraid Alteri."

<OOC> Mab says, "Well, the mummy got a fourteen... so... it is going to hit the person in front of it, which would be Sharna."

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+14: (6)+14: 20

<OOC> Sharna says, "That is most certainly a hit."

GAME: Mab rolls 1d8+10: (5)+10: 15

<OOC> Alteri lolwuts, is not interested in that pettanko. :(

<OOC> Mab says, "And a fort save. :("

GAME: Sharna rolls Fortitude: (9)+2: 11

<OOC> Sharna fails.

<OOC> Sharna says, "What was the onset?"

<OOC> Mab says, "1 minute."

Bellowing with a furious wail, the mummy brings both arms forwards, and bodily slams into the thief who would dare to disturb this most sacred ritual. There's a billowing cloud of dust left from the impact, which likely causes Sharna to cough and choke, not to mention the pain of the impact... the unnatural strength could shatter stone! But thankfully it hasn't yet broken her in half.

<OOC> Sharna says, "Delay until after Quint and hope he'll allow me flanksies."

<OOC> Mab says, "Quint, you are up."

<OOC> Mab says, "Feel free to roll knowledge/religion to go"

<OOC> Mab says, "'OHMY MUMMY'"

GAME: Quint rolls Knowledge/Religion: (10)+7: 17

<OOC> Mab says, "Oh my, it is a mummy."

<OOC> Quint says, "swift to declare my Smite target, 5' in to melee, full attack (PA, TWF)"

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."

You paged Quint with 'It is vulnerable to fire!'

You paged Quint with '(As something you might want to relay specifically)'

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+7: (11)+7: 18

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+7: (10)+7: 17

<OOC> Mab says, "Miss and a miss."

<OOC> Mab says, "Or, more likely, you are hitting it, and the power of the thing is beating back your blows."

<OOC> Sharna says, "If I take a 5' step diagonally, does it put me in flank with Quintz0rz?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Yes."

<OOC> Sharna says, "Then I would like to stop delaying and take my action, please!"

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay!"

<OOC> Sharna says, "I will drop the crossbow, 5' into flank, pull shortswords, stab it once due to using move to draw weapons."

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+1+5+1+2: (5)+1+5+1+2: 14

<OOC> Sharna poses a miss!

Quint's prayer spills out of his lips, rich and full and overtaking itself when echoed by a decidedly cold, feminine voice. Silver and blue energies begin to play about his armored figure when he steps forward to engage the shambling, wrapped monstrosity with a leading stab from the scimitar and a hook-arc slam with the crescent-shaped shield. Form reinforced by profane magics most foul, the mummy bats aside the sword with a gnarled claw of a hand and simply lifts a forearm to absord the impact from the shield. Divine energies writhe and coalesce around Quint as he bears down on the undead thing. "The ritual oils make it vulnerable to fire," he voice echoes, two speaking in tandem as he channels the divine through his very soul.

Sharna's eyes widen. Dear gods what-- And then the undead is upon her, and she shudders, barely even remaining on her feet after the assault. She huffs for a moment, sweat beading on her brow - and seeing Quint slide into attack position springs into action herself. The crossbow is discarded in favor of her twin blades, one of which is brought around in an attempt to bury it in the monster's side. It is deflected harmlessly, much like the paladin's own strikes.

GAME: Hrothgar rolls weapon1: (8)+7: 15

Hrothgar grunts as the undead monstrosity screeches at the group and launches its' attack, stepping up with the rest, swining his hammer with a vicious backhand sweep. The blow of the earthbreaker glances harmlessly off whatever foul magic animates the monster, though.

<OOC> Jugga says, "Step into the gap left for me by Hrothgar, Rage, Power Attack with MW Earthbreaker."

GAME: Jugga rolls 1d20+9: (11)+9: 20

<OOC> Mab says, "A tie is a hit IIRC."

<OOC> Quint says, "Yessir"

<OOC> Mab says, "Roll damage!"

GAME: Jugga rolls 2d6+11: (2)+11: 13

<OOC> Mab says, "It notices!"

Jugga starts to huff and puff as the door is opened and the waves of magic wash over herself and her companions. Her body tightens and her muscles bulge as the pressure of her fury builds up within her. With some bestial growls she grinds her hands on the shaft of her maul as her faster companions lead the attack and for a moment it looks like her fury will be denied a target on which to vent it, but Hrothgar clears a path for her and she jumps forward eagerly as soon as she's got a spot to swing from. She swing heavily but misses the creature in her haste, but with a strain of tendons and joints she sends her maul in reverse, scraping the iron shod tip along her foe, not the cleanest connection but it makes the woman behind the mask happy, and she starts to laugh merrily almost immediately.

<OOC> Mab says, "What's your raging AC Jugga?"

<OOC> Jugga says, "AC? What/s that? looking"

<OOC> Jugga says, "13"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+14: (5)+14: 19

GAME: Mab rolls 1d8+10: (1)+10: 11

GAME: Mab damaged Jugga for 11 points. 25 remaining.

<OOC> Mab says, "And a fort save please!"

GAME: Jugga rolls fort: (15)+6: 21

<OOC> Jugga says, "Oh...figured my damage incorrectly Mab. Should be 1 higher."

The mummy rounds on Quint at first; completely ignoring his companions whose blows do not even break its momentum. Apparently, being a paladin in the presence of such a powerful undead monster has gotten its attention. "You... can't... interfere...!" It starts to rasp, horribly, in a voice slowly heating with rage... and then Jugga's massive maul strikes it across the front, and the tip cuts through some linens.

With a horrendous bellow the creature throws itself back at the giantkin, and easily connects with the laughing woman, though whether the force of the blow is enough to knock the wind out of her remains to be seen.

<OOC> Mab says, "OK"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (1)+9: 10

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (20)+9: 29

<OOC> Quint says, "threat"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (6)+9: 15

<OOC> Quint says, "no confirm"

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay - first successful attack, so +2 damage/level"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d4+1+3+3+1: (3)+1+3+3+1: 11

<OOC> Quint says, "ignores DR :D"

Muscles locked, Alteri's eyes dart back and forth, the whites showing bleakly in her eyes as she tries but fails to fight free of the numbing fear that has gripped her in its claws. The tendons of her neck strain and beads of sweat trickle down her temple as she watches her comrades battle the evil she cannot, for the life of her, pull free to join.

<OOC> Alteri puts in a pose while waiting for 4 rounds to end. ^_^;

<OOC> Mab says, "Definitely noticed that one."

Intending to sieze the opportunity presented by the feral woman's distract, Quint cuts down and across with the dull-black blade of the scimitar only to have his wrist caught by the mummy's own iron grip. Grimacing, the whispers of prayer still girding him in faith's own armor, he brings to bear his shield-arm. A heavy metal thump and the crack of ancient bone couples with a silver flash as the defensive-item-turned-weapon. "The Harp players for you... creature," he challenges, his voice oddly serene

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+1+5+1+2-2: (20)+1+5+1+2+-2: 27

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+1+5+1+2-2: (19)+1+5+1+2+-2: 26

<OOC> Sharna says, "Two threats."

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+1+5+1+2-2: (20)+1+5+1+2+-2: 27

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+1+5+1+2-2: (2)+1+5+1+2+-2: 9

<OOC> Sharna says, "One crit. :("

GAME: Sharna rolls 2d6+4+1d6: (7)+4+(6): 17

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d6+1+1d6: (6)+1+(6): 13

<OOC> Mab says, "Wow, nicely done. Okay, you score across its back, ripping open ragged wounds and sending out a tumble of old petals and dried up husks of flowers. You are now situated almost directly behind it, which will allow Hrothgar to move to where you were, and therefore the bear to move to where he was."

<OOC> Mab says, "Do the mummy-slaying conga."

<OOC> Mab says, "After which, Hrothgar is up."

<OOC> Hrothgar says, "If I move, I flank with Quint?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Yup."

<OOC> Hrothgar nods and will do this, then. Both of us! Then attack, power attack style

GAME: Hrothgar rolls weapon1+2-1: (2)+7+2+-1: 10

<OOC> Hrothgar says, "blah"

GAME: Hrothgar rolls 1d20+5: (2)+5: 7

GAME: Hrothgar rolls 1d20+5: (12)+5: 17

GAME: Hrothgar rolls 1d20+5: (2)+5: 7

Hrothgar swings his hammer in another wide arc, growling as the weapon bounces harmlessly off the mummy's thick hide. The nameless bear has given up tugging on Alteri's shoelaces and instead move into the open space around the dead creature, roaring as it tear at the monster with tooth and claw. To little effect, however.

Sharna ducks beneath flailing fists and trailing bits of bandage. She's breathing quite heavily - something's wrong with her, she can tell, but she can't put a finger on it. Scared out of her wits, she focuses herself on something more productive... like tearing this thing apart.

The blades dance as she darts in, ducking low, a couple of jabbing feints to distract before making the actual strikes. The profane defenses of the thing falter under the assault - the slender sword cuts deep, spilling aged flora as the woman twists the weapon with a vengeance. The other blade joins, tearing the bandages on its side and leaving its painful mark there.

GAME: Jugga rolls 1d20+3+6+1-1: (8)+3+6+1+-1: 17

Jugga thumps the mummy, and gets thumped back pretty hard. The blow cracks her mask, knocking it across her face, blood flowing from a smashed nose. Shaking her head to clear her vision she sheds the remnants of the mask while she lashes out with broad strokes of her maul. Some semblance of control allows her to keep from smacking any of her neighbors in the brawl, but her strikes don't find any solid connections as the mummy it hit from all sides, which has her angrier than ever. "Damn you. I'll crack your motherless skull open you pig ****ing **** **cker!"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+14: (1)+14: 15

The creature is surrounded on all sides, and the beings which had, at first, seemed like naught but buzzing insects are starting to cut into it; this is unnerving. Blindly, it thrashes out in all directions - wild swings might have been aimed at Quint, or Jugga, or even the bear but it is difficult to say. Thankfully, they don't seem focused enough to really land home. This is not an emotionless, mindless creature, and it is starting to panic.

"BARGAIN... Must... complete... HRAAAAARGH!"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (18)+9: 27

<OOC> Quint says, "threat!"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (16)+9: 25

<OOC> Quint says, "crit"

<OOC> Quint says, "HOORaaaaaaay"

<OOC> Quint says, "OH"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (19)+9: 28

<OOC> Mab hahs

GAME: Quint rolls 2d6+4+6+6+4: (7)+4+6+6+4: 27

GAME: Quint rolls 1d4+1+3+1: (4)+1+3+1: 9

<OOC> Quint says, "both ignore DR :D"

<OOC> Mab says, "Yup, that destroys it."

Klefnaft finally strikes true with a backhanded slash that cuts deep into the mummy's flank even as the shield mirrors the action to slam in at head level. The scissoring attacks utterly destroy the foul undead thing, crushing the head to spin away a tangle of pulped, ancient bone and yellowed, rotting bandages even as the assaulted torso drops down into two dusty, bulb-filled pieces. The encircling energies playing around the paladin immediately begin to pull apart, sucked away to some distant plane now that the borrowed power is no longer needed. "We are victorious," he comments in his own voice between heavy, deep breaths.

"Not yet" Hrothgar rumbles to Quint as the paladin finishes the mummy, gesturing with his earthbreaker as he strides towards the altar, indicating the pulsating heart glowing with that ominous purple glare. He raises his hammer with both hands, ready to smash the vile thing to pieces. "Lord of Frozen Death, this is not your place!" he growls as he swing the hammer.

Jugga spits out a stream of invective at the fallen mummy then winds herself down from her rage, crunching her maul into the floor. She coughs and hacks up blood, spitting to clear her mouth and throat of the blood from her broken nose. She looks over at the glowing heart, "You going to take..." she starts, but Hrothgar looks to have it covered. Given that, she reaches up and snaps her broken nose back to the middle of her face where it belongs.

Sharna had been preparing another strike, but as the mummy crumbles beneath Quint's onslaught, her arms lower. Her weapons are sheathed, the crossbow reclaimed. Shaky on her feet from that bone-shattering blow she'd received, the half-elven woman holds a hand to her chest. "I think one of my ribs might be broken." she says quietly, wincing and twitching at the feel of her own touch. More like FOUR ribs or so.

Quint sheaths his weapons, looking between each standing combatant, eyes narrowed. "How do you feel?" He asks in his odd, halting manner, eyes dancing between Jugga and Sharna. "Such creatures can bring to bear vile curses with their very touch. Extremely painful and ultimately life-threatening should they take root..."

Jugga grumbles between her panting and sweating, "Mmmph. I feel fine. Better if I'd got the death blow on that thing." She grabs at her nose and tugs and pulls on it with lots of grimacing and hissing, "Is my nose straight?"

Crushing the heart kills the purple glow, and with it, the soft sound of dead flesh hitting stone and bones clattering to the floor echoes through the hall.

With the mummy defeated and the sacrifice averted, the heroes can return to the surface; there to rush Sharna for medical attention... and, with the immediate crisis no longer a concern, to allow cleanup to occur.

It transpires that this was once a noble burial place, consecrated to Thul in days long past. Somehow, the ancient rituals hadn't taken, until the builders had disturbed the casket of the dead nobleman's wife. In so doing, they awoke his sons and daughters, and himself...

The taint of evil will take some time to erode, but at least all concerned can take solace in the fact that the tormented souls have met their final rest.

[[Category:Logs]]

PrP: Escape to the Noble House of Mummies Part 1

2011-10-21T05:32:57Z

Alteri:

GM: Mab

PCs:
Quint - Human Paladin - Lvl 3
Hrothgar - Giantborn Druid - Lvl 3
Jugga - Giantborn Barbarian - Lvl 3
Sharna - Half-Elf Rogue - Lvl 2
Alteri - Human Fighter - Lvl 3

Encounters:

CR 4 - 1,200 budget (1205 spent)

4 x Zombies
3 x Skeletons

CR 5 - 1,600 budget (1,600 spent)
Mummy

No purchases.

Summary: Builders constructing a new home disturbed the ruins of a long-forgotten ancient one, and in so doing awoke the ancient homeowner from his slumber. But the ages had passed, and his mind had eroded... he knew he had tried to save his family after death, but it seems the sacrifices weren't made - so he set about sacrificing the fools who had awoken him. %r%rThe Heroic PCs turned up and put an end to all that with cunning, smarts, and lots of steel.

There's an emergency! But... when is there ever not an emergency?

The Explorer’s Guild has put out a call on behalf of the Stonemason's. There's been some awful disaster on the edge of town; whilst constructing a new house, the builders had uncovered an old crypt.

Details on what *exactly* happened next are somewhat sketchy, as the unfortunate soul who ran screaming for the nearest guardsman was not in a very clear state of mind. The general gist of it was though; something bad, and probably, something dead.

Which is what brings the adventurers to the building site. Everyone except the foreman has left, which leaves him standing in the middle of a half-constructed building of thick granite blocks... standing over a very old, very heavy oak trapdoor. The lock that had fastened it shut has rusted away with age.

The foreman looks to be in his fifties; human, balding, stressed. Harumph.

<OOC> Quint says, "Noble-y part of town? With the granite blocks and all?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Yeah, relatively; merchant district most likely, rather than actual nobility."

Hrothgar rubs his nose and peers with a scowl at the trapdoor in the ground. He remembers the last time he went down into a place like that. It didn't end well. "Hrmph." the giantkin rumbles, adjusting the weight of his massive hammer over his shoulder. "Dun like the smell of that." And neither does the little bear cub that's hiding behind the large man's leg, peering cautiously out from behind him. "Probably some wizard's crypt." he rumbles. "Nothin' good ever grows from burying wizards."

Absently adjusting a strap on her breastplate, Alteri takes in the building site with a long cast of her gaze. She nods a greeting to the foreman; they know each other, due to the fighter having had cause to moonlight at the building site now and then to supplement her income. Jerking her chin towards the trapdoor, she grunts, "That what your guys found?"

Jugga rushes to answer the emergency, slowing from a jog to a walk when she gets to the construction site. She looks this way and that as she explores a bit before discovering the foreman. Studying the trapdoor she grunts, "Well...looks like a door."

"This is, what? The fourth? Fifth? Time that we're heading into certain doom together. If I didn't know better, I would think you're stalking me." Sharna idly teases Alteri - business as usual - as the mottley group approaches the building site. She's munching on an apple, an ocassional gentle crunch as the fruit is bitten into adding to the more general noise of the city. The noise is constant, really - although lessened, here, by sheer lack of people. She lets Alteri talk, at least for a moment, what with her seeming to know the fellow in charge. Or, shall we say, the only fellow who has deigned to stay behind.

It's a short trip to the courtyards and open-air grounds that Eluna's faithful worship from and live in -- which is likely why Quint arrives on foot rather than astride his ornery warmount. The white surcoat, the leather skirt, and all the rest are quite thoroughly scrubbed and smell strongly of votive candles and incense as he stands there listening. His usual odd intensity is troubled today and while he endeavors to pay attention his gaze keeps dancing to one side -- as if someone is calling to him or shouting nearby. Instead of having his gloved palm loosely balanced on the pommel of his sheathes sword, his fingers knot around it in what is likely a white-knuckled grip. He stands a ways back, leaving plenty of space for all of the others to gather 'round and hear what has to be said.

The foreman looks at the gathered party and stamps. "About time!" He huffs, because it is his job to be agitated about delays.

"Yes, this is what the idiots found." He continues, waving at the trapdoor. "I don't know what is down there, and I don't much care neither. Nothing has come up yet, but unless the damn fools are playing a tasteless prank, it is only a matter of time. If you don't come back up by tomorrow, I'll just brick the whole damn thing up and call it there."

And with a wrenching grunt, he hauls the lid back. The entrance down is wide; big enough you could probably fit three people in side by side, and there are stairs descending into the depths. No light, so it is hard to see too far down there, but the stench of rot and the ancient workmanship is unmistakable.

Jugga steps up to the trapdoor and peers down the stairs into the darkness. "Well. I hope someone thought to bring along some light. I brought smashing things, healing things, and cutting things. No lighting up dark holes in the grounds things. Really should add a few torches or candles or sunrods to my standard pack out. I got booze though if anyone is thirsty." She takes a few steps down into the darkness, but lowlight only goes so far

Hrothgar doesn't let himself be rushed. He peers from the foorman to the opening, leaning over the edge to glance into the darkness beyond. "Hrm." he remarks again, fastening a gaze on the foreman. "You have torches?" he asks simply. "They'll be needed... just a few I think." He glances sidelong at Jugga then, offering the other giantborn a nod. "We'll make do." he rumbles.

"Always has to be a door," Alteri mutters, nodding greets to the rest the Guild has sent. Except Sharna. Sharna gets a flat-eyed look, "I see you've got your hairpoof tamed." is all the Eldanar will say. Movement at the back catches her eye then, and she glances to note Quint's arrival. "Bright Lady's blessings," she greets, cautiously. Mouth open to say more, she is interrupted by the agitated foreman, and so it is snapped closed once more, as she peers past the taller ones in their party to see what-all.

"Don't know what's down there, hmm?" She settles her light-coloured gaze on the foreman, "Bricks... may not be enough, if those of us gathered here can't clear whatever it is out." and the corners of her eyes crinkle a bit. With that oh-so-reassuring statement, she loosens the drawstring on the small sack tied to her belt. From it, she draws forth an everburning torch, and slips it into a belt-loop fashioned just for it.

Sharna puts her hood into place, flipping the crossbow into her hand in a quick, smooth motion. The safety latch is removed, the bolt within checked. She peers into the gloom below, smiling at the burlier partymembers. In this case, that's everyone. "After you." she says, to nobody in particular. When light must be used and she cannot sneak terribly well as a result, she prefers to have a bit of muscle and steel in front.

"If we face the restless dead... then I am comfortable in the first rank." The armored human pauses, lips pressing into a thin line mid-thought. He might even sound a little irritated when he finishes his thought but its all pushed behind his normal impassive frown the next moment as he steps towards the crypt entrance. Nodding shallowly at Alteri, he pats at three brass, torchlike rods hanging from his own belt. Sunrods. "I am prepared as well should we require additional lighting."

He slides the scimitar from its scabbard and pauses one last time on the threshold before starting his cautious descent. The crescent-shaped shield strapped to his arm leads the way

Hrothgar glances over the gathered group, taking note of each in turn. Then he nods and steps up to join Quint, descending in the darkness. On the way down, he speaks a few rough words in some strange tongue, a faint shimmer of magic settling over his form as he, and the little bear, make their way through the opening

A blink is all Alteri gives to see Quint volunteering for the front spot. Chewing toughtfully on her bottom lip a moment, her pommel shifts in a slight shrug and she slips in after, keeping her position at a median to ensure enough light is cast forwards and backwards. Sword in one hand, javelin in the other, she steps lightly, feeling the press of the ancient surroundings upon her consciousness. This has the happy coincidence of keeping her ankles away from that little bear's nippy teeth.

Jugga squints into the darkness, "Hulloooo!" She listens to the echoes then looks back at everyone else, "Looks like Alteri gets to be in front. Anyone else..." She nods to Quit, "I guess you've got some light too. Too bad we don't have anyone that could make a weapon glow. Hate depending on things that we've got to drop if fighting breaks out."

The foreman shakes his head to Hrothgar, and then looks to Alteri. "Hrmph. We'll see. Whatever's down there hasn't come up in godsknows how long. But I'm sure a bunch of professionals like you lot..."

And by this time, the party is descending into the depths, spluttering torches providing enough dreary light to make out the impression of a very, very old passageway; about half a mile down into the earth until the stone steps start to shallow out and the impression of a doorway is seen.

<OOC> Mab says, "Perception checks!"

GAME: Alteri rolls perception: (4)+1: 5

GAME: Sharna rolls Perception: (11)+10: 21

GAME: Hrothgar casts Longstrider.

GAME: Hrothgar rolls perception: (19)+10: 29

GAME: Jugga rolls perception: (1)+10: 11

GAME: Quint rolls Perception: (15)+1: 16

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, everyone can make out a kind of, groaning, shambling noise ahead. Sharna and Hrothgar will be getting more."

You paged (Sharna, Hrothgar) with 'You two can make out... a bit more than just 'there is something there'. You reckon there's about a half dozen entities moving about the room, and judging by how far away they are, that makes it a very big room; probably two hundred feet or more.'

Hrothgar hmrphs faintly as he pauses by the door ahead. "Big room beyond this portal" he rumbles as a warning. "A number of creatures... hard to tell exactly how many." he reaches to absently scratch at his beard. "But from the sound, I think we can rule out natural vermin."

Quirking a slight smile, the Highborn pats the sturdy fastening on the belt-loop that will hold the torch firmly in place, "Unless someone steals my belt, we should be all right," she assures Jugga. Further in, Alteri's footsteps freeze as the sounds of groaning and shambling impede upon her senses. She squints at the portal, nodding at Hrothgar's assessment. To Quint, she asks, "Is there aught your Lady can tell you, of what lies beyond this?"

Sharna squints into the darkness, eyes narrowing. "Maybe six or so that I can see. Could be wrong. He's got it right... seems like a real big room." she whispers as an addition to Hrothgar's recounting, slender digits tapping gently on the crossbow. It is at this point that she tries to find way to remain unnoticed - moving along the hall's edges, so as to keep out of sight of the room's occupants and stepping as lightly as she can upon the stone of the passage.

<OOC> Alteri says, "To clarify, it's a hallway ahead, no door between hall and us?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Yup; doorframe, no door."

Jugga looks around the rest of the crew, "Hmm...no one here happens to be a master of big balls of fire. Any casks of things that blow up or catch on fire when you pitch them into a big room full of monsters?" Quirking her lips to one side and pondering the crew again she shrugs, "So...we're going to charge in and smash things?"

Quint doesn't answer Alteri for some time, the polished metal of his barbute tilting just slightly. "Little," he finally speaks with a turn to look back over his shoulder, his halting speech quiet. "I must see the foe with my eyes before I can know the truth of it." A pause and then a nod to Jugga, "We have been called to do good works for the Grey Harpist. Goddess' blessing." And then he'll continue to advance cautiously, giving a subtle shake of his head.

<OOC> Sharna says, "If there's any possibility of stealthin', I would like to do so - crawl along the wall so I can't be seen from inside the room, maybe, since I figure with the party's light skulking in shadows is hard-ish. If not, c'est la vie!"

<OOC> Sharna says, "Not scouting, mind, just keeping out of sight. :("

<OOC> Mab says, "You can."

GAME: Sharna rolls Stealth: (18)+10: 28

Hrothgar lifts the hammer off of his shoulder, cracking his neck. "Roight. Let's see what lies ahead, shall we?" he rumbles as he follows Quint's advance. As he moves forwards, he mutter the words to another spell. Faded runes of some long-forgotten script dance faintly over his frame for a second, before sinking into his broad frame.

<OOC> Mab says, "I think that so far, Quint and Hrothgar are going in, likely side by side?"

"Hngh... I'd like to see what we're up against 'ere charging, myself." Six of anything will give even the young Highborn pause, and so Alteri simply nods and keeps up with the paladin's cautious advancements. At one point in the advance, she lifts her faintly glowing blade to her lips, murmuring a soft prayer to the Dread Lady. "As you have blessed this, let her bring rest to those late to your halls..."

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, so Bear|Hrothgar|Quint and then behind them Alteri|Jugga and sneaking in from the side is Sharna."

<OOC> Mab says, "If that is all correct I shall pose again."

The room is big; very big. A burial chamber some two hundred feet long by fifty wide. There are a total of nine caskets in the hall, grouped in
the center. All of them have had their lids removed, and a pair of lanterns - slowly dying as they run out of oil - illuminate these disturbed burying places, and a pair of bodies which are ominously still.

At the far end of the hall there is a second door, and through that a sickly pale purple glow.

Of more immediate concern, however, are the badly-illuminated shapes which shuffle through the darkness at the edge of the room. Now that the light bearers have entered, they are starting to move irregularly towards them, at a shambling pace. Low, guttural groans are heard - an unearthly moan all too familiar to those who have dealt with the living dead before.

Now that they are closer, Alteri notes an interesting little thing. Those shambling forms seem to have a specific direction that they are moving towards. A direction that happens to be Directly Towards Her. To further confirm things, she takes a broad step to the side Sharna is NOT sneakily sneaking along, just to see if that changes the direction of their shambles any.

Hrothgar grumbles as shambling shapes become visible on the edge of his low-light vision. He glances briefly over his shoulder as the light behind him begins to dance off to one side, furrowing his bushy brow as he seems to get an idea. Reaching into a pouch, he produces a copper coin between his fingers, speaking a single word to make it glow like the torch Alteri is holding. With a gesture of his hand, he flips the coin off into the darkness. Vaguely in the opposite direction Sharna disappeared to.

Mildly startled by the sheer scope of the place, Quint's guard dips a fraction of an inch and his gaze leaves the slow-moving forms for a moment. An unintelligable, whispered prayer crawls furtively from between his lips and his eyes narrow. The shadowplay of Alteri's torch, the distant glow... it makes the abnormally large hall seem almost surreal. Pauldron scrapes quietly against breastplate when he rolls his shoulder, setting his jaw behind the barbute and making sure to keep himself between the expirementing woman and the risen. "They may be fresh from their torpor -- slow and stiff -- but do not take their awkward movements for granted. Many undead abominations are exceptionally quick..." He warns them all quietly even as he tries to pick out any particularly distinguishing features of attributes of the animate corpses, taking a step or two closer.

<OOC> Quint says, "Can we see well enough for a Know/Religion roll to identify them, Mabster?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Give me a perception check first - that could probably go for all of you - and then most likely yes."

GAME: Jugga rolls perception: (4)+10: 14

GAME: Hrothgar rolls perception: (15)+10: 25

GAME: Alteri rolls Perception: (4)+1: 5

[RPOne] Alteri says, "I'm consistent. *cries softly while trying to comfort herself*"

<OOC> Sharna says, "I'll creep after the others."

<OOC> Sharna says, "Trying to keep out of sight, though."

GAME: Sharna rolls Perception: (7)+10: 17

GAME: Quint rolls Perception: (1)+1: 2

Sharna stalks forward, following the others - keeping to the shadows and cover, if any, now that she's been given some room to maneuver. The
crossbow is held at the ready, but she does not do anything to betray her presence. Yet.

Jugga rolls the thick shaft of her earthbreaker in her hands as she eyes the shambling creatures revealed first by Alteri's torch, then Hrothgar's coin. She releases hold of her club with her left hand and pulls her fighting mask down over her face. Once the mask is settled into position she rolls her neck to loosen it up, faint pops coming from the joints.

The undead do seem to be congregating towards the light at least; that much is for certain. There's a total of seven of them, three of them seem to be moving (if you rolled a 16+) somewhat faster than the other four, but not by a huge amount. It will still take a few moments for the first shape to reach the light; about sixty feet away from the gathered group...

Quint's warning is appreciated, and Alteri nods, keeping her movements smooth and unassuming. No telling what else draws the attention of these beings. Eyes narrowing, she studies their reactions, lips pursed in thought. "Well, it appears light does gain their attention."

Jaw tensing, Alteri spots a wall sconce at a, perhaps, halfway point between the party and the moving figures. She gives a firm nod towards it, "I plan to plant my torch th..." her words die as Quint brings up his suggestion. "A much better plan," she compliments. Unlatching the torch, she slips it back into her carrysack and pulls the drawstring tightly closed that no light leaks out.

Hrothgar hrmphs faintly and glances to where the corpses are gathering. "Hrmph. I don't know what unholy power lets them see at all" he rumbles. "A fine idea to circle them... but best be ready should they not fall for such." With that, he makes to move in a wide circle around the glowing coin.

Sharna waits, tense. Simply... waits. What else is there to do, truly? She's not jumping the proverbial gun - or is that crossbow? - at the very least. Crouched low, inside the room with the group, she just waits for their cue to proceed.

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, if you guys wait, quietly, whilst they gravitate towards the light, and then sneak around the /far/ side, they will be gathered in that spot. Which will allow you to investigate the door at the far end of the hall no problem."

The undead are not known for their cognitive reasoning skills. Gathered around the light, the group are able to slip past them, and make it around to the far side of the room.

The door is, in a word, grand. Ancient symbols have been moulded into the bronze of it, and it is clearly very old. The sickly purple light spills from the cracks around it, but the door is shut fast, and there is no sound from within...

<OOC> Mab says, "Knowledge religion, history or local if you have it."

GAME: Quint rolls Knowledge/Religion: (12)+7: 19

Jugga watches the slow moving creatures from beyond the grave drag themselves across the burial chamber towards the coin. Once it seems the plan is working she nods to the others, waiting for those in the lead to start moving so that she and Alteri can follow.

You paged Quint with 'Hard to be certain, but those symbols bear some resemblance to modern day Thul iconography; actually, now you think of it, almost certainly is - the whirls in the bronzework make up a stylized depiction of The Commandment.'
The knowledge that these are, quite likely, restless dead, keeps Alteri's footsteps light as she can make them. Tippy-toeing around the figures, she never takes her eyes off where they are gathered. Hey, you never know if one might suddenly grow a brain and come after them.

You paged Quint with 'Probably, therefore, a prayer room.'

A purple glow is rarely a good sign. Hrothgar hrmphs and absently reaches to scratch the bear behind the ear. "Mighty pretty door" he rumbles in a muffled tone. "Ah say we break it open an' see what's on the other side. Nothin' natural sheds light like /that/"

"The Seller of Souls." Quint offers bluntly, disgust creeping into his tone. "Thul, lord of Undeath," he clarifies for those that might not be familiar with the regional name fo the black god. "We do indeed need to get through this portal and disable whatever defiling craft is at play beyond. Once the immediate threat is vanquished the Mourners will want to investigate the site thoroughly..."

Sharna can't help but keep glancing over her shoulder. There's a whole pile of disgusting, foul-smelling undead over there, milling around that coin, and that's enough to set anyone on edge. "Alright. Let me have a look at this thing. Feel free to give a hand - just look for anything suspicious." the part-elven woman whispers, setting about carefully inspecting the door for booby-traps and other such unpleasant manner of thing.

"Grandfather Winter" Hrothgar rumbles in return to Quint's explanation, shaking his head with a disgusted scowl. "No honest death await beyond these doors... step careful." He closes both hands around the giant hammer he carries, looking all but ready to smash the door open himself. He does step back to let Sharna do her work, though.

<OOC> Mab says, "Give me a perception, Sharna."

<OOC> Sharna says, "I was thinking take 20, but can I do that in a room full of disgusting albeit distracted zombies?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Probably not the smartest move. ;p"

GAME: Sharna rolls Perception+1: (1)+10+1: 12

Jugga looks at the door and the glow, then turns her attention to the creatures behind them as Sharna works at the door. "You know...Won't we have to destroy those anyway? Can't have undead under whatever building they are putting up...but I guess they might all go to sleep if we finish off whatever is making the purple glow."

You paged Sharna with 'Doesn't seem to be trapped; in fact, it looks like the door was opened recently - the latch is a sphere in the whorl of bronze, and it has been rotated, so all you need to do is push it in.'

"Looks clear. Let me see if there's a lock." Sharna says. Mind you, she spent the entire inspection looking over her shoulder to see if the undead have moved. She glances down the door, finding the opening mechanism. "Looks like it's been opened not too long ago. I think this is it..." And yes, confidently reaching out for the opening mechanism! Hooray!

The enquiring expression Alteri had directed to Quint, bleeds away at his disgusted declaration. All that is left behind is a coldly implacable mask, and she slowly slips her javelin back into its low-slung quiver. "Indeed." The ring of her contralto sounds hollow, personality seceding to purpose. With deliberate care, her throwing hand slips to join its brethren in a twohanded grip that tightens, creaking the leather wraps around her blade's hilt. Trying her best not to loom while Sharna works, she too, looks the door over, hawkish gaze seeking almost, to sear right through the barrier into whatever awaits behind.

<OOC> Mab says, "I'm going to ask for two things now which you are all going to hate me for."

<OOC> Mab says, "The first, is initiative; this is likely not too unexpected."

<OOC> Mab says, "The second is a will save."

GAME: Hrothgar rolls initiative: Roll: 2 + Bonus: 2 = Total: 4

<OOC> Mab says, "I remember being annoyed by where the actual helpfiles were last time; it is not +prhelp"

GAME: Sharna rolls initiative: Roll: 6 + Bonus: 5 = Total: 11

GAME: Hrothgar rolls will: (18)+5: 23

GAME: Alteri rolls initiative: Roll: 17 + Bonus: 2 = Total: 19

GAME: Alteri rolls Will: (4)+2: 6

GAME: Sharna rolls Will: (16)+0: 16

Quint pages: If this is fear: You're Welcome.

Quint pages: mt!

<OOC> Alteri says, "I'd say +1 for Fear effects but like that'd help."

GAME: Jugga rolls initiative: Roll: 2 + Bonus: 2 = Total: 4

<OOC> Sharna says, "Quint has an aura for that."

GAME: Jugga rolls will: (20)+3: 23

Hrothgar pages: Bear needs to save as well?

You paged Hrothgar with 'And do init.'

Hrothgar pages: It has a better init score than me, isn't it easier to just let it act on my turn?

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20: (14): 14

You paged Hrothgar with 'Sure'

GAME: Hrothgar rolls 1d20+2: (19)+2: 21

<OOC> Hrothgar says, "bear is iron will!"

The door slides apart; the contraption it is made of making near-invisible lines slide to one side in a way evocative of the way the night sky would move stars above around a single point. It is almost beautiful, in a strange kind of way.

What is not beautiful is on the other side; a wretched creature swathed in old linen cloth is stooped over an altar on which a heart has been set; glowing a bright, unhealthy purple as it is suffused with unholy power.

The mummy turns, and bellows in incoherent rage, every scrap of the being purely evil, radiating fear like the sun radiates warmth. Everyone feels it... and poor Alteri is frozen in terror.

<OOC> Mab says, "4 rounds of paralysis I'm afraid Alteri."

<OOC> Mab says, "Well, the mummy got a fourteen... so... it is going to hit the person in front of it, which would be Sharna."

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+14: (6)+14: 20

<OOC> Sharna says, "That is most certainly a hit."

GAME: Mab rolls 1d8+10: (5)+10: 15

<OOC> Alteri lolwuts, is not interested in that pettanko. :(

<OOC> Mab says, "And a fort save. :("

GAME: Sharna rolls Fortitude: (9)+2: 11

<OOC> Sharna fails.

<OOC> Sharna says, "What was the onset?"

<OOC> Mab says, "1 minute."

Bellowing with a furious wail, the mummy brings both arms forwards, and bodily slams into the thief who would dare to disturb this most sacred ritual. There's a billowing cloud of dust left from the impact, which likely causes Sharna to cough and choke, not to mention the pain of the impact... the unnatural strength could shatter stone! But thankfully it hasn't yet broken her in half.

<OOC> Sharna says, "Delay until after Quint and hope he'll allow me flanksies."

<OOC> Mab says, "Quint, you are up."

<OOC> Mab says, "Feel free to roll knowledge/religion to go"

<OOC> Mab says, "'OHMY MUMMY'"

GAME: Quint rolls Knowledge/Religion: (10)+7: 17

<OOC> Mab says, "Oh my, it is a mummy."

<OOC> Quint says, "swift to declare my Smite target, 5' in to melee, full attack (PA, TWF)"

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."

You paged Quint with 'It is vulnerable to fire!'

You paged Quint with '(As something you might want to relay specifically)'

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+7: (11)+7: 18

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+7: (10)+7: 17

<OOC> Mab says, "Miss and a miss."

<OOC> Mab says, "Or, more likely, you are hitting it, and the power of the thing is beating back your blows."

<OOC> Sharna says, "If I take a 5' step diagonally, does it put me in flank with Quintz0rz?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Yes."

<OOC> Sharna says, "Then I would like to stop delaying and take my action, please!"

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay!"

<OOC> Sharna says, "I will drop the crossbow, 5' into flank, pull shortswords, stab it once due to using move to draw weapons."

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+1+5+1+2: (5)+1+5+1+2: 14

<OOC> Sharna poses a miss!

Quint's prayer spills out of his lips, rich and full and overtaking itself when echoed by a decidedly cold, feminine voice. Silver and blue energies begin to play about his armored figure when he steps forward to engage the shambling, wrapped monstrosity with a leading stab from the scimitar and a hook-arc slam with the crescent-shaped shield. Form reinforced by profane magics most foul, the mummy bats aside the sword with a gnarled claw of a hand and simply lifts a forearm to absord the impact from the shield. Divine energies writhe and coalesce around Quint as he bears down on the undead thing. "The ritual oils make it vulnerable to fire," he voice echoes, two speaking in tandem as he channels the divine through his very soul.

Sharna's eyes widen. Dear gods what-- And then the undead is upon her, and she shudders, barely even remaining on her feet after the assault. She huffs for a moment, sweat beading on her brow - and seeing Quint slide into attack position springs into action herself. The crossbow is discarded in favor of her twin blades, one of which is brought around in an attempt to bury it in the monster's side. It is deflected harmlessly, much like the paladin's own strikes.

GAME: Hrothgar rolls weapon1: (8)+7: 15

Hrothgar grunts as the undead monstrosity screeches at the group and launches its' attack, stepping up with the rest, swining his hammer with a vicious backhand sweep. The blow of the earthbreaker glances harmlessly off whatever foul magic animates the monster, though.

<OOC> Jugga says, "Step into the gap left for me by Hrothgar, Rage, Power Attack with MW Earthbreaker."

GAME: Jugga rolls 1d20+9: (11)+9: 20

<OOC> Mab says, "A tie is a hit IIRC."

<OOC> Quint says, "Yessir"

<OOC> Mab says, "Roll damage!"

GAME: Jugga rolls 2d6+11: (2)+11: 13

<OOC> Mab says, "It notices!"

Jugga starts to huff and puff as the door is opened and the waves of magic wash over herself and her companions. Her body tightens and her muscles bulge as the pressure of her fury builds up within her. With some bestial growls she grinds her hands on the shaft of her maul as her faster companions lead the attack and for a moment it looks like her fury will be denied a target on which to vent it, but Hrothgar clears a path for her and she jumps forward eagerly as soon as she's got a spot to swing from. She swing heavily but misses the creature in her haste, but with a strain of tendons and joints she sends her maul in reverse, scraping the iron shod tip along her foe, not the cleanest connection but it makes the woman behind the mask happy, and she starts to laugh merrily almost immediately.

<OOC> Mab says, "What's your raging AC Jugga?"

<OOC> Jugga says, "AC? What/s that? looking"

<OOC> Jugga says, "13"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+14: (5)+14: 19

GAME: Mab rolls 1d8+10: (1)+10: 11

GAME: Mab damaged Jugga for 11 points. 25 remaining.

<OOC> Mab says, "And a fort save please!"

GAME: Jugga rolls fort: (15)+6: 21

<OOC> Jugga says, "Oh...figured my damage incorrectly Mab. Should be 1 higher."

The mummy rounds on Quint at first; completely ignoring his companions whose blows do not even break its momentum. Apparently, being a paladin in the presence of such a powerful undead monster has gotten its attention. "You... can't... interfere...!" It starts to rasp, horribly, in a voice slowly heating with rage... and then Jugga's massive maul strikes it across the front, and the tip cuts through some linens.

With a horrendous bellow the creature throws itself back at the giantkin, and easily connects with the laughing woman, though whether the force of the blow is enough to knock the wind out of her remains to be seen.

<OOC> Mab says, "OK"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (1)+9: 10

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (20)+9: 29

<OOC> Quint says, "threat"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (6)+9: 15

<OOC> Quint says, "no confirm"

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay - first successful attack, so +2 damage/level"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d4+1+3+3+1: (3)+1+3+3+1: 11

<OOC> Quint says, "ignores DR :D"

Muscles locked, Alteri's eyes dart back and forth, the whites showing bleakly in her eyes as she tries but fails to fight free of the numbing fear that has gripped her in its claws. The tendons of her neck strain and beads of sweat trickle down her temple as she watches her comrades battle the evil she cannot, for the life of her, pull free to join.

<OOC> Alteri puts in a pose while waiting for 4 rounds to end. ^_^;

<OOC> Mab says, "Definitely noticed that one."

Intending to sieze the opportunity presented by the feral woman's distract, Quint cuts down and across with the dull-black blade of the scimitar only to have his wrist caught by the mummy's own iron grip. Grimacing, the whispers of prayer still girding him in faith's own armor, he brings to bear his shield-arm. A heavy metal thump and the crack of ancient bone couples with a silver flash as the defensive-item-turned-weapon. "The Harp players for you... creature," he challenges, his voice oddly serene

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+1+5+1+2-2: (20)+1+5+1+2+-2: 27

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+1+5+1+2-2: (19)+1+5+1+2+-2: 26

<OOC> Sharna says, "Two threats."

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+1+5+1+2-2: (20)+1+5+1+2+-2: 27

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+1+5+1+2-2: (2)+1+5+1+2+-2: 9

<OOC> Sharna says, "One crit. :("

GAME: Sharna rolls 2d6+4+1d6: (7)+4+(6): 17

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d6+1+1d6: (6)+1+(6): 13

<OOC> Mab says, "Wow, nicely done. Okay, you score across its back, ripping open ragged wounds and sending out a tumble of old petals and dried up husks of flowers. You are now situated almost directly behind it, which will allow Hrothgar to move to where you were, and therefore the bear to move to where he was."

<OOC> Mab says, "Do the mummy-slaying conga."

<OOC> Mab says, "After which, Hrothgar is up."

<OOC> Hrothgar says, "If I move, I flank with Quint?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Yup."

<OOC> Hrothgar nods and will do this, then. Both of us! Then attack, power attack style

GAME: Hrothgar rolls weapon1+2-1: (2)+7+2+-1: 10

<OOC> Hrothgar says, "blah"

GAME: Hrothgar rolls 1d20+5: (2)+5: 7

GAME: Hrothgar rolls 1d20+5: (12)+5: 17

GAME: Hrothgar rolls 1d20+5: (2)+5: 7

Hrothgar swings his hammer in another wide arc, growling as the weapon bounces harmlessly off the mummy's thick hide. The nameless bear has given up tugging on Alteri's shoelaces and instead move into the open space around the dead creature, roaring as it tear at the monster with tooth and claw. To little effect, however.

Sharna ducks beneath flailing fists and trailing bits of bandage. She's breathing quite heavily - something's wrong with her, she can tell, but she can't put a finger on it. Scared out of her wits, she focuses herself on something more productive... like tearing this thing apart.

The blades dance as she darts in, ducking low, a couple of jabbing feints to distract before making the actual strikes. The profane defenses of the thing falter under the assault - the slender sword cuts deep, spilling aged flora as the woman twists the weapon with a vengeance. The other blade joins, tearing the bandages on its side and leaving its painful mark there.

GAME: Jugga rolls 1d20+3+6+1-1: (8)+3+6+1+-1: 17

Jugga thumps the mummy, and gets thumped back pretty hard. The blow cracks her mask, knocking it across her face, blood flowing from a smashed nose. Shaking her head to clear her vision she sheds the remnants of the mask while she lashes out with broad strokes of her maul. Some semblance of control allows her to keep from smacking any of her neighbors in the brawl, but her strikes don't find any solid connections as the mummy it hit from all sides, which has her angrier than ever. "Damn you. I'll crack your motherless skull open you pig ****ing **** **cker!"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+14: (1)+14: 15

The creature is surrounded on all sides, and the beings which had, at first, seemed like naught but buzzing insects are starting to cut into it; this is unnerving. Blindly, it thrashes out in all directions - wild swings might have been aimed at Quint, or Jugga, or even the bear but it is difficult to say. Thankfully, they don't seem focused enough to really land home. This is not an emotionless, mindless creature, and it is starting to panic.

"BARGAIN... Must... complete... HRAAAAARGH!"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (18)+9: 27

<OOC> Quint says, "threat!"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (16)+9: 25

<OOC> Quint says, "crit"

<OOC> Quint says, "HOORaaaaaaay"

<OOC> Quint says, "OH"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (19)+9: 28

<OOC> Mab hahs

GAME: Quint rolls 2d6+4+6+6+4: (7)+4+6+6+4: 27

GAME: Quint rolls 1d4+1+3+1: (4)+1+3+1: 9

<OOC> Quint says, "both ignore DR :D"

<OOC> Mab says, "Yup, that destroys it."

Klefnaft finally strikes true with a backhanded slash that cuts deep into the mummy's flank even as the shield mirrors the action to slam in at head level. The scissoring attacks utterly destroy the foul undead thing, crushing the head to spin away a tangle of pulped, ancient bone and yellowed, rotting bandages even as the assaulted torso drops down into two dusty, bulb-filled pieces. The encircling energies playing around the paladin immediately begin to pull apart, sucked away to some distant plane now that the borrowed power is no longer needed. "We are victorious," he comments in his own voice between heavy, deep breaths.

"Not yet" Hrothgar rumbles to Quint as the paladin finishes the mummy, gesturing with his earthbreaker as he strides towards the altar, indicating the pulsating heart glowing with that ominous purple glare. He raises his hammer with both hands, ready to smash the vile thing to pieces. "Lord of Frozen Death, this is not your place!" he growls as he swing the hammer.

Jugga spits out a stream of invective at the fallen mummy then winds herself down from her rage, crunching her maul into the floor. She coughs and hacks up blood, spitting to clear her mouth and throat of the blood from her broken nose. She looks over at the glowing heart, "You going to take..." she starts, but Hrothgar looks to have it covered. Given that, she reaches up and snaps her broken nose back to the middle of her face where it belongs.

Sharna had been preparing another strike, but as the mummy crumbles beneath Quint's onslaught, her arms lower. Her weapons are sheathed, the crossbow reclaimed. Shaky on her feet from that bone-shattering blow she'd received, the half-elven woman holds a hand to her chest. "I think one of my ribs might be broken." she says quietly, wincing and twitching at the feel of her own touch. More like FOUR ribs or so.

Quint sheaths his weapons, looking between each standing combatant, eyes narrowed. "How do you feel?" He asks in his odd, halting manner, eyes dancing between Jugga and Sharna. "Such creatures can bring to bear vile curses with their very touch. Extremely painful and ultimately life-threatening should they take root..."

Jugga grumbles between her panting and sweating, "Mmmph. I feel fine. Better if I'd got the death blow on that thing." She grabs at her nose and tugs and pulls on it with lots of grimacing and hissing, "Is my nose straight?"

Crushing the heart kills the purple glow, and with it, the soft sound of dead flesh hitting stone and bones clattering to the floor echoes through the hall.

With the mummy defeated and the sacrifice averted, the heroes can return to the surface; there to rush Sharna for medical attention... and, with the immediate crisis no longer a concern, to allow cleanup to occur.

It transpires that this was once a noble burial place, consecrated to Thul in days long past. Somehow, the ancient rituals hadn't taken, until the builders had disturbed the casket of the dead nobleman's wife. In so doing, they awoke his sons and daughters, and himself...

The taint of evil will take some time to erode, but at least all concerned can take solace in the fact that the tormented souls have met their final rest.

[[Category:Logs]]

Dramatic Scene: Is It Lynch Time Yet?

2011-10-09T21:30:51Z

Alteri:

<pre>
-=--=--=--=-<* Watch Constables - Jail Cells and Visiting Area *>--=--=--=--=-

The cells at the Watch are often often full with various people: the
usual, returning drunks, the occasional shifty halfling, and then a few
Korites who appear to have a rotating door policy. Visitors may stand
outside the cells to speak, while being overseen by an officer.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Kama'o Older Egalrin female, greyish-brown in color. 3s 4h
Alteri Eldanar fighter; dark hair, pale eyes, shit luck. 0s 3h
Svarshan Be a brightscale! Chomp a demon! 3s 7m
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= Exits -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Out <O>
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

</pre>

Kama'o found Svarshan earlier in the day. He was probably peeling potatoes under Greta's supervision. At least he has automagical potato peelers on his hands. In any case, wherever he was, Kama'o found him and told him that he needed to come with her. Now. If any questions were asked, she simply says it is, 'about Alteri-iiwa.'

...After which, she proceeds to lead him to the jail. When they enter, several of the guards seem to recognize Kama'o, and more than a few wilt just a little. Kama'o, meanwhile, begins to puff out her feathers to seem larger than she actually is. All of this, of course, is in the outer chamber, so poor Alteri will be completely unaware that anything involving her is occuring yet.

A ball of yarn walks into a jailhouse, accompanied by a small dog and a talking bird. Most jokes don't start out that way, but this one might. The small dog bounces in circles, grabbing at the yarn with its teeth...which just keep walking, though slowly. The apparition follows along behind Kama'o, though as it rounds a corner, it gives a slow sigh at its state, and says, "Storyteller, one is not sure that Alteri's underwear is that dirty."

Meanwhile, completely ignorant of what is afoot, Alteri is in her cell concentrating on teaching her flea friends how to jump through hoops. The guards have had to separate her from the rest of the inmates due to some misunderstanding about trying to steal her food and a fist in testicles. Some people just have no sense of humour about these things. Ah well, solitary confinement just means peace and quiet for the Eldanar stray.

"They are keeping Alteri here for something she did not do," Kama'o says, loud enough that everyone can hear her. And then...she marches up to the guard in charge. Thankfully, it's not Snady this time, but rather poor Hack, who sort of pushes himself further and further backward in his chair as she approaches. "Kama'o has brought the dragon-kin! Alteri-iiwa is to be released into his custody! Agril said so." She is...polite, but loud and firm. Alteri may overhear some of this. "Please check your papers. It was written down, Kama'o saw it yesterday."

"Sssaa..." Svarshan draws to a halt, and then grunts, slowly, as he looks at the yarn beneath his arm. The dog continues to bark, though now the little thing is reduced to yapping--its head bobs animatedly, wobbling back and forth with small, sonic bursts eminating from its skull. And slowly, he drags his gaze upwards, the inner lids sliding slowly half-shut...and open.

"I sssseee...one could always ussse help at the rrancch. Good day, Guardsman."

Between the caws and yaps, Alteri cannot help but look up from her hard work of whipping her fleas into shape. Bad timing, one just jumped up her nose. "ACHOO! Oops, sorry." And the poor flea goes flying, to 'thp' into her cell door. Stepping over, she carefully avoids stomping on her circus employee to peer out the small slit in the metal door. Just in time as a guard walks by, "Gods above, it's that shrill birdwoman again." the guard mutters, now running towards the source of the sounds to perhaps offer Hack some back-up.

"Um. Um. Well. Er..." Hack stammers, randomly selecting and then discarding bits of paper on the table. Kama'o finally helpfully taps one with a sharp talon, and he pulls it out of the pile, shaking as he reads it. "Um. Uh. You are...Svarshan, Sunblade of Daeus?" he asks the pile of yarn, reading from the paper before looking up. Kama'o steps back, lowering her feathers into a more polite position. She -is- smiling.

"Brightscale," Svarshan says slowly, distractedly. "Daeus, yes. ...she smells of rotten apples and three-day fish. Why is that?" the words trail off and he turns back around to eye the guard. The dog continues to bark. And yap. And bark. "...I would like the keys. And a copy of whatever it isss...she is charged with." These words come slowly, dredged from memory and difficulty, and spoken with a gentleman's Myrrish accent.

Recognising the sibilant accent, Alteri perks a little. Hastily straightening bangs that could use a wash, twice, she hurries to make her cot in military fashion, with the corners folded just so. Glancing about, all she sees left are the fleas on the floor. "If you follow me out of here, I will kill you." she warns them. Trying not to think of the possibility that she does -not- get released, or that she may have to make amends to the fleas she just threatened, she sits as innocently as she can on the side of her cot. Nope, no criminals here, just us innocent bystanders.

"Well...um...the investigation is...is...ongoing," Hack stammers, looking grateful and slightly more in control once the other guard arrives. "She is suspected of..." he peers a bit closer at the paper and frowns, "Murder. But...we have not charged her, yet," he tells Svarshan. "Um...the guard who arrested her and...and Father Agril said she was to be released to you, yes," he says, sounding a little surprised and glancing up at Kama'o, who is now doing her best fly-on-the-wall impression.

Svarshan's eyes narrow and he looks long and hard at the guardsman. "Murder." His nostrils flare and he looks over towards Alteri, and back. "I smell no Maugrim-stink on her soul. What has she murdered?" he asks. He tucks the yarn beneath an arm...and the little dog's body just quivers. Its eyes...brighten. And it stares hungrily, hungrily at the loose pile of colorful string. Buttwaggin'.

Alteri is in a walled room, with a metal door. But she swears she is not giving off any sort of stink, except one of ripe humie. A flea hops over, trying to stay friends. Reluctantly, she brushes it away, then begins twiddling her sword-callused thumbs. Nervous? She is not nervous. She is keeping her thumbs limber, they can stiffen when one is living in jail, doncha know?

"Well, we...um." Hack has to flip to a second page, and scan the text there. "Some...fishermen pulled up a corpse. It had no...had...no, head." Someone's going to get a talk about handwriting. "And...the suspect...had been in the water," he puzzles out.

Kama'o lets out a screech. "She was in the water because she was saving one of the fishermen from the low place," she informs Svarshan, feathers flattening as the words irritate her. "If they had asked questions, they would know that. But they have been..." she decides to let out another screech rather than say it to their faces, but Svarshan is another animal. He will understand the body language. They have been lazy and stupid, or at least not up to Kama'o's standards. "Kama'o was not there, but Agril was and he said she did not do anything except help fish the body out of the water," she tells Svarshan.

"I sssseee..." The Myrrish accent slowly vanishes towards something more primitively Am'sherian. And Svarshan leans back, not aware he'd even leaned forward. His mouth works once, twice, before it can force the words. "I am sure they have been...bussy," Myrrish again. And then he jerks his head back, and walks over towards the bars. Stares hard at Alteri. "We will take her home. Now."

"Now, now, we have had a lot on our..." Hack breaks off at a Look from Kama'o, and clears his throat. "Um. Well. Um, it says here that that's just fine. But...you'll need to sign for her. Here...and...here. It says you're responsible for anything she does. Bran, go get her." He's sweating. It's running down his face. He pulls out a hankie and dabs at it.

Kama'o immediately brightens, feathers lifting, as Bran heads first for the keys and then for the jail cell. "Your friends are here to get you," he explains to Alteri, before leading her back into the main room.

Alteri's twiddles freeze, as does the rest of her, under Svarshan's draconic scrutiny. Hesitantly, her lips peel back in a poor imitation of a smile -- the sort a child would dredge up if ordered to smile for the nice painter man. Springing up when she hears the door being unlocked, she shifts from foot to foot, impatient to get out. Those fleas are so clingy even after repeated rejections.

Entering the office under the guard of Bran, the Highborn immediately settles into a formal kneeling position and thumps her forehead on the floorboards in Svarshan's and Kama'o's general direction. "Sunblade, Wise One, you do me honour." Damn Eldanar and their stiff-necked customs.

Svarshan's eyes narrow further, though he doesn't look away from the jailed female. "Saaa. Responsible." They're slits by the time he turns back towards the guard, the movement slow and his footsteps heavy on the cobbles. "I take it...no. One does not need to hear the answer." The sentence ends there, though there might be more of it. It hangs in the air heavily. "...the papers."

Whirlpool has arrived.

"Kama'o will be responsible, if you do not wish to be. Kama'o has seen her in several temples, and Kama'o is a good judge of iiwas," the bird tells Darshan, as Hack mutely hands over the papers to be signed. She's a bit bemused by Alteri's formal submission, however, and after a moment, responds with a strange and elegant dipping of her wings and baring of her throat. "There, there, Alteri-iiwa. It is all right." Kama'o immediately shuffles over and tries to help Alteri up, careful not to stab her as she pats her on the back.

Alteri is so grateful to be free of fleas (try saying that fast thrice in a row), she would likely submit to Kama'o stabbings without protest. Curious eyes watch the Egalrin's elegant response, though. Not seen that before. She tries, however, polite creature that she is, to keep a bit of space between herself and the feathered one. Not telling if a clingy flea might try to jump ship, as it were. "The winds of the gods blew favour on me this day," she mumbles, frantically looking about for her... Ah... she nods silent thanks to the guard bringing her confiscated belongings.

Svarshan gives himself a shake. He does so stiffly--irritation rolls off the reptile in silent waves. "...thank you. But." He sucks in his breath. "Get your bags," to Alteri. "We are leaving. ...ssaa. I know who did this, Kama'o," he says as he drops his muzzle to his chest with a half-smile. He looks at her out of the corner of his eyes. "I am...not sure why. It is humor...or he wants her out of the City. For a while."

Personal space? Pshaw. Kama'o is probably hoping that the back-patting turns into a hug, but when it doesn't, she does step away. The Egalrin would frown at Darshan's words, but...immobile beak. "Who? This is not funny. It was not nice in there. Kama'o had to take a long dirt bath to get rid of all of the lice, yesterday." she tells Svarshan, putting hands on hips. The guards seem content to ignore the three, assuming Svarshan signs the papers.

A sword and breastplate, one very moth-eaten purse, and a ridiculously frilly kerchief, is all Alteri had on her when she was brought in. These, she collects as directed by the Sunblade, in-between Kama'o's fluffy almost-hugs. Uncertain, she glances from guards to Sunblade, "Should I not be in chains until the investigation is over?" Kama'o's mention of needing a bath has the youngster's face turning beet-red, and she stammers an apology to the Egalrin for that.

"Not..." Svarshan is bad with words. Svarshan makes a motion with his claws, and then steps up to the desk. And eyes the papers. He begins to glance through them. "Saaa. Not of this. No." And then the scratching of ink on paper, and the shuffling and crackling of parchment.

<nowiki>*scribble*</nowiki>

<nowiki>*scribble* *scribble* *scribble*</nowiki>

Kama'o lets out a caw, and waves a taloned hand. "Kama'o needed a good dust bath anyway, iiwa," she says. "It was not your fault. And Kama'o does not think they will put chains on you, but Kama'o does not know why they put you in here in the first place." Scaleless are hard to fathom. Kama'o eyes the closest guard, who promptly attempts to look Very Busy (TM). Once Hack has the signed papers, he waves them out the door with a hand.

Assuming they have departed from the jailhouse, Alteri glances behind to ensure no one is close, then lowers her voice, "Forgive me, Sunblade, you said you know who did this?" Her eyes shift to Kama'o, "If wearing chains as a semblence of continued guilt will lull the true culprit into thinking they are free to act once more, it may aid... someone," she was going to say the City Guards, but her faith in them is being sorely tested. "In capturing the true murderer." That, was a lot of words. Alteri actually looks a
little tired for saying so much in such a short span of time.

The further they step from the guardhouse, the more the sith's shoulders relax. They do so by degrees...though so slowly that they're still boards by the time they step onto the dirt road and street. "Mistakes get made," he says by way of explanation to Alteri. "...and I am not..." he twists 'round, and looks briefly towards the now-retreating guardhouse. "...sure, but one knows who asked me to take care of you," his muzzle twists. "The...I think Sunguard Doran would like you out of the City a while. I live up that way," he nods down the road, the implication being 'not in Alexandria.'

Kama'o, on the other hand, seems perfectly happy to have accomplished her goal of getting Alteri out. Nevermind that she doesn't truly know whether or not the woman is an axe-murderer. "Kama'o does not understand humans," she opines, bracelets jangling as she shuffles along beside them. "But they were being silly. At least they could have asked the man she saved."

The talk of mistakes being made has Alteri wryly glancing back at the slowly disappearing guardhouse. "Indeed. The guard also asked that I become scarce for a while." Absently jingling her very light purse, she adds, "I will comply. There is a clearing on the edge of the forest that I know." Cheaper than staying at the Den! "I hope someone looked after Stupid while I was gone," she muses quietly. Then, coughing, she scratches ruefully at her cheek, "I believe they did, Mistress Greyfeather. He said I assaulted him."

Svarshan makes a sound in the back of his throat. "One..." and he does not know what to think. He walks a while, listening to the two females talk, one eye slanted towards the slowly thickening woods. "Huhhhrrrurrmmm... there isss a place. You will ssstay at one's lodge, Alteri. ...and we will talk to this man," he adds, half-beneath his breath.

"...Oh." Kama'o doesn't seem sure what to say to that. So, she fluffs up her feathers and then shakes them, sending dust flying as they walk along in the heat. "Kama'o is just glad that you do not have to spend any more time in there," she says finally.

Shocked, Alteri blurts, "Surely not, Sunblade? House a convict? Is that not beneath your station?" The woods, the Eldanar eyes as well. Gods, she hopes there is a stream somewhere nearby. And soaproot. If she had feathers, she might well be fluffing them up like Kama'o is doing, simply in anticipation of being clean again. "As am I, Wise One. The jail... needs better bathing facilities." Surrepticiously, she scritches at a buttcheek. Must have been one of the fleas she had rejected.

Kama'o caws, a little louder than usual, since they're a bit further away from most of the scaleless than usual. "Kama'o does not speak this language very well, but Kama'o is pretty sure that you have to be shown to be guilty of something before you are a convict." With a little more room to stretch her wings, she does exactly that, fanning them out to their impressive span before folding them again.

Svarshan slows, which for him is going from just 1 mph to 1/2. And he stops then, and looks towards

the ground a while as he turns things over in his head. And then looks towards Alteri. "...youngling, you are with me because one is to see to your behavior." The way he pauses after saying that means he'd been about to add more--and doesn't.

Alteri does not see the humour in this, so worried is she for Daeus' good name. "But, Wise One, perception is everythin-" Svarshan's ponderous explanation cuts the Highborn's protests off at the pass. Oh, right. Ears reddening, she nods stiffly. "Yes, of course. Apologies, I am not thinking straight." Scrubbing tiredly at her face, she glances down the crossroads to the other section of town, "If I could trouble you a moment? I should collect my horse and belongings in the Den." Gods, she forgot Stupid too. She really is not thinking straight right now.

Kama'o is completely oblivious to the tension, and decides to turn into Happy Old Grandmother. "Kama'o would invite you to stay with me, but I do not think that humans would like to sleep in a tree any more than Kama'o likes your beds," she rambles. "....Horses." That makes her wilt just a touch. "Horses do not like Kama'o." The feeling seems to be mutual.

"..." Svarshan looks back towards the city, and nods, once, in the human style. "...I will send someone for them. If the Sunguard wants you out of the City..." he makes a noise, and starts down the trail again, though Kama'o's words draw a half-smile. "Then away from the City we will head." After a while, he...pats...Alteri awkwardly on the shoulder. Like one would a fragile glass or oddly shaped lump that might either break or produce squishy goo.

Awkward.

Alteri is tough! She can take Holy Censure, and awkward pats. But, she is rather worn from being kept up nights by overly friendly fleas. Shoulders drooping a little, for she missed her horse, she manages a tight smile, "If they look for the smartest horse in the stables, that will be Stupid." Tilting her head to the fluffy Granny, she adds, "I would like to study the high place you make your bed in, actually. It will be good to know, if my stay outside becomes an extended one." Then her smile widens a little, touching her eyes, "That is because horses know you are a fierce predator. They are not stupid..." a pause, "Except Stupid, who is also not stupid."

"Perhaps Agril-iiwa will bring your horse," Kama'o brightens once it becomes clear that they are not going to go get one of those animals. "Kama'o has several trees she sleeps in. But I can show you the one where my things are hidden. You said you would like some of the twine, yes? Kama'o will bring you some." She seems to have every intention of going home with Svarshan at the moment. Well. -Someone- has to make sure everyone is comfortable.

Mobs are not subtle things. Let's be frank about that.

They are not subtle in the -least-. As the lot of you depart the guard house, head north along the street, you see a rather large number of people coming the opposite way. With torches.

One of them up front has a length of rope. A very long length of rope.

A lot of them have haggard looks. Some of them are refugees.

Svarshan slows as the crowd nears. He doesn't say much, just tightens the grip on Alteri's shoulder, and moves her behind him. "...I hope you don't object to swifts, Storyteller. ...is there any chance they are after you?" to the young warrior.

Alteri gives Kama'o a blank look. A long moment, with gears turning in her head... "Oh, yes, him. Mistress Halani, who was also there, thought he was the murderer. He was bloodied with birth waters." Nodding, she brightens, "Yes, could I pay for them with hunted game?" Broke-ass warrior is broke.

The buzzing of the mob impedes itself on Alteri's senses, and her attention breaks away from the Egalrin to see... Carefully bundling her sword and armour in her tatty cloak, she carefully hands it to Kama'o. "If something happens to me," she says in a low voice, "Please donate this to the Temple of Daeus." Straightening, she lifts her chin, the setting sun shrouding her face in shadow. Only the pale glints of her eyes show any hint of colour, picking up hints of the fading light. They fall on the Sith'makar, showing a measure of regret, "Please, step away."

"Kama'o likes Srassha," the Egalrin says slowly, tilting her head to the side as she looks at the oncoming mob. "And hunted game," she adds, as she accepts the bundle of armor and sword. After a moment, she, too, steps in front of Alteri...just in case. Letting out a loud caw, she takes another step forward. "Kama'o sees you," she calls. "What is it you are doing, iiwas?" It sounds like a perfectly innocent, perfectly reasonable question. "Do you need help? Is anyone hurt?" Objective: Engage them in discourse until their common sense kicks in.

Oh yes. They're definitely after Alteri. That's for sure. The one with the length of the rope says, "Stand down, paladin... bird.. thing. We're here for the traitor." A finger is pointed at Alteri.

"She and her ilk have escaped justice far, far, *far* too long. We're going to end this here and now. If the city guard is too corrupt to do it, we'll do it. Do you know *what* she's done?"

He growls. He's very growly. The others, many of them appearing to be Sendoran in descent, are beginning to spread out more. Looking like they're ready to rush forward and seize her at any moment.

Svarshan takes a slow and steady breath. And lets it go. "You are not a mob," he says firmly, looking at them. "Those are not torches. ...that is not a pitchfork. And you are not going to make a liar of me in front of the Lord Daeus."

"Kama'o does not know." The Egalrin is still keeping her body language friendly, neutral. "Why don't you tell Kama'o what has happened, iiwa? Kama'o would be happy to listen to your story. My people like stories. Kama'o is thinking of a few stories about silly people like you who did things that made them very sad later when they thought about them." Yes, that was too many prepositions. No, Kama'o is not a bard. In fact, no one seems to be paying her rambling the least bit of attention.

GAME: Svarshan rolls diplomacy: (2)+12: 14

Alteri visibly stiffens at the label the growly man places on her. Still, her posture remains erect and unashamed. Sidestepping around Svarshan's bristling bulk and Kama'o's more beneign fluff, she stares down the mob, "Please go," she pleads aside to the two with her, "This is not your fight. Gods willing, I will repay my obligation to you in my next life."

Then she lifts her voice and addresses the rabble, "Pray, do not cause trouble in the city that has accepted so many of our brethren." Jeers and hisses greet her daring assertion to be brethren to -any- of them; a few spit at the ground. She expected nothing less, given the hostility surrounding her, held off just barely by the shield of her remotely cool gaze that now sweeps over them. Making a swift executive decision, she lifts her hands, showing she is unarmed, "They are not a mob, they are friends, here to take me for a walk to catch-up on things." she states evenly, and begins walking toward the ones they face.

GAME: Kama'o refreshes spells.

There is a long pause from the mob. They all look at Svarshan. Then at Kama'o. Then at Alteri. They hesitate. Svarshan is a paladin. Paladins are good people, after all. Even if they're terrifying Sith-Makar. One of them finally says, from the back, "But I DO have a torch."

He's cuffed.

"This one and her family betrayed Sendor, honored sir. You should be here with us, doing justice and Daeus' work! Her family starved others! Enslaved them to the ogres!"

Svarshan reaches out and makes a grab for Alteri's collar. "...shut up," he snarls, meaning both of them. "Was it this-one who made you slaves?" he hoists Alteri in the air like a sack of potatoes. Uncomfortably, but also--roughly, barbarically, in his own way showing her as a helpless 'thing.' "...answer!"

Kama'o also reaches for Alteri, but misses when Svarshan grabs her away. "Kama'o may be a bird, but Kama'o is not stupid, iiwa," she asides to Alteri, before shuffling forward again. "Everyone does things that they are not proud of, later. Kama'o thinks that if you are not careful, today -you- will be doing those things. What would your nanas say, if they could see you now? Would they be proud of you? Kama'o does not know what Alteri-iiwa has done. But Alteri-iiwa has put wreaths on the new monument,
and helped rebuild the Moon's temple. Are you -sure- you have the right woman?" Pause. "You all look alike, after all."

Alteri takes one step. The second step never happens. The second step is sacrificed upon the altar of a Sith'makar's barbaric show of, uh, moral support. "GURK!" She is indeed, quite helpless. A few days of watery gruel and no sleep does that to one. Dangling by the grace of her shirt-maker's skill and nothing more, she flails a little, and tries her best not to turn blue.

"...she's got the family name. They're traitors and cut throats," says the man with the rope, glaring at Alteri and Svarshan and, yes, Kama'o too. She's a bird. She's not human. She's probably here to take their jobs or something. At any rate, these humans and their mob are not exactly happy looking with having been stopped, but its clear they don't exactly want to tangle with Svarshan. He's a well known figure about town -- and Kama'o's talons looks like they'd hurt.

"One of them hanged my brother! It's only fair that we hang her!"

"Yeah!"

"I do not smell the stench of the Conqueror on her." Svarshan lowers the Alteri back to the ground carefully. "If she was like her blood, her soul would stink of rusted iron and molten fire." He releases her shirt, and looks across at them.

Kama'o suddenly begins to swell. No, really. Her feathers stand on end, her tail spreads, she raises herself up to her full height, and suddenly it's a lot more obvious how sharp her bill is. Her feathers sort of...frame it. "Kama'o has taken responsibility for Alteri-iiwa," she says loudly. "Kama'o will not let any of you hurt her." Her eyes darken, and the breeze begins to pick up. Clouds suddenly coalesce above and behind her, making feathers and hair stand on end with static electricity. A small, but powerful, rain shower occurs underneath. It...would obviously not be good to be standing in the middle of it. "Kama'o does not want to hurt anyone," she says. "But Kama'o will, if you give me no choice." This might make them pay more attention to the bird.

GAME: Kama'o rolls intimidate: (19)+0: 19

Alteri heaves a breath. Another. She leans a hand weakly on the Brightscale's arm a moment, "They... They lost much. If my blood will appease them, perhaps it is for the best. At least my name will be of some use to the people we swore to protect." The last she admits bleakly as she views the people, -HER- people, with shuttered eyes. Pushing off Svarshan's solid form, she is about to head over to them when the Egalrin pulls off a big show of intimidation. Gaping, she looks from Bird-kin to the sudden thunderstorm. "No, please, do not hurt them. They are my people, regardless. It is -they- I must protect if need be. There is no honour in hurting... such dear friends." Torn, the Eldanar looks from mob to Paladin and Druid, to mob.

There is a pause. Between Svar's comments, Kama'o's comments and then.. well.. then there is Alteri's. Faces fall.

Let's be honest: It's no fun to get your vengeance when the one you would take it on is being meek and martyrly. There is a lengthy pause before one of them lowers his torch and tosses it into the trough nearby.

"This is bullshit," he mutters.

"Maybe we don't have the right person."

"She doesn't seem very bloodthirsty."

"Maybe it's a trick?"

"If it was, the paladin'd know."

"Feh."

There's a lot of general muttering and discontent about this and a few people begin to peel off the mass of the mob. Than a few more. Finally, only a hard core of angry Sendorans is left, all of whom have lost too much to be dissuaded so easily just yet. They slowly stand aside, but with obvious rage in their eyes.

Svarshan lets go a sound, and then looks up towards the mob. "Saaa. ...this is why you lied." It is not a question, it is a...open statement. That one of them had framed her for the murder--just out of hatred. "Is that what one is hearing?" And he looks at them, then, really /looks./ He catches the eye of the one who had flinched, and /holds/ it.

"Allowing them to kill you will not help them, iiwa, even if it makes them feel better right away," Kama'o says gently, deflating back to her normal grandmotherly self, while still keeping an eye on the worst of the troublemakers. "Later, when they are older, they would regret it. If you would help them, do what you can to make their lives better. Even if they spit on you for it. They cannot spit forever, and even if they do, you will change thier children's minds." Pause. "But, you might want to be with one of us when you try."

GAME: Svarshan rolls sense motive: (1)+18: 19

He doesn't quite meet the paladin's gaze. He's just so -angry-. He looks down, his hands clenching into fists. "... it's all their FAULT!" He roars, finally, bashing his fist into the nearby brick and mortar wall. It doesn't go well for his hand.

Cool blue continues to watch the remaining Sendorans, but her low voice she pitches only for her companions. "It would wash away the stain of failure, Wise One." She seems almost sad to see the mob dispersing. Her head snaps to one Sendoran in particular. In the chaos, she had no realised, but with the Sith'makar's words she sees the one being addressed for the first time. Her eyes widen in recognition, then wince when his fist meets brick. "No wonder..."

"...ssaaa." Svarshan's tail drifts to the earth, and he falls quiet for a while. He watches the man, and doesn't make a move--just lets him rage. And after a while, walks over towards him, and grabs the man's fist. "Hit me," he says. He looks at the man, glances at Kama'o as though to say: it is alright, before she scratches his eyes out, and then back again.

"No, iiwa. It would serve no purpose. Besides. If you truly think you are at fault," Kama'o says quietly, and gently, "Then allowing them to send you to the gods is a coward's decision. Much harder to face it, and try to make amends." And then one of them punches a wall. Kama'o clucks, and starts to shuffle toward him...but Svarshan beats her to it. She gives him a little nod. She would have gone for a hug, but his way is probably better.

Mouth open to argue at first, it snaps back closed again. Head dipping, the Eldanar submits to the greyfeather's wisdom, quietly closing the door to the early death she might have sought. Looking up, she blinks at Svarshan's actions now. Alteri tries to get between the Sith'makar and her accuser. Honestly, this human has no sense sometimes. "I should be the one he hits, Sunblade. His grievance is not with you. House n'Aijma must not suffer further stain of a Servant of Daeus bearing her blame."

Wordlessly, Kama'o reaches out and gently folds her arms around Alteri, attempting to prevent her from interfering in the fight between the Sunblade and the Sendoran. She is not strong, and does not have a death-grip of any sort. However, she is fairly certain that Alteri won't try to force the issue. After all, who would want to hurt harmless old Kama'o? She could fall and break a hip or something.

When Svarshan grabs his fist, he tenses. He looks so angry. And then he hits Svarshan as hard as he can. He really does. It doesn't really do much. There's a lot of scales. Thick scales. And he's not exactly all that strong. "I LOST EVERYTHING," he roars. "BECAUSE OF THEM! BECAUSE OF HER FAMILY! BECAUSE OF THE ONES LIKE THEM! Oh god. They had enough. Why did they have to take what little I *had*?" He slowly drops to his knees and buries his face in his his bloodied hands, bursting into tears.

Svarshan looks down at the man, and grunts, a slow, rough breath tinged in ash and smoke. "...It is what he needed. Saaa. He needs the priests, Alteri, not...martyrdom. You are an...a *focus*. Not a...*cure.*" And after a while, after struggling with words and meanings and translations, he grimaces, his shoulders shifting at some difficult decision. And a low voice, "You never saw this. None of you." And he slowly crouches down by the crying man, leaving Kama'o to take care of the warrior.

Feathers surround her. Soft, fluffy feathers. Startled that her defenses are so shoddy -- the Egalrin had no trouble invading her personal space whatsoever -- Alteri immediately ceases in her attempts to put herself between the paladin and her accuser. She would die before breaking a granny's hip. Such dishonour would be a stench unto her name for seventy-seven generations! If she ever bred children, that is.

As the man begins to cry, a faint crack shows in her stoic demeanor, "Many lost everything." she grates out, "I lost family, holdings..." her throat works as she forces words past the sudden lump in her throat, "The other half my soul. The half I would die a thousand painful deaths to bring back, to change the course of time." her face twists as she fights back the rictus of grief. "I -know- loss, I live it every, single, day. It dogs me like a curse, never lets me forget. I -never- forgot my people, even as they would as soon forget me!"

Kama'o hugs Alteri tighter for a few moments, and then releases her and gives her a gentle nudge toward the crying man. Kiss and make up now, her body language suggests, as if this were just a fight between a couple of children. ...Well. To her, it is. "Can you fix his hands, paladin?" she asks quietly. Otherwise, she seems content to let the scene play out.

He's hopeless at this point, sobbing quite a bit.

The remaining Sendorans are looking away, effected by the emotional display and outbursts.

None of them want to say anything.

Svarshan grunts at the grandmother's words, and looks back at the man then, and, "Let her live, and she will work to right the things her family did." And then he grabs the man's chin and makes the man look at Alteri. "/See/ her." To Alteri: "/Talk/ to him!!" His claws dig in slightly. Not cruelly. ...he's just...

Not. Human.

Alteri is unsteady enough that Kama'o's nudge sends her stumbling to the ground by the sobbing man. Uncertainly, she looks up at the Egalrin, then to Svarshan. She is supposed to do -what- now? Not one for physical displays of affection, she only manages to pat the man on the back, if he would let her. Even so simple a task has her looking vastly awkward. "I am sorry for your loss." she says hesitantly, but sincerely. We were betrayed as surely as the rest of Sendor was." She brushes impatiently at suspiciously bright eyes, "I swore on my blood and the blood of my beloved that I would hunt down the ones who sold us to fire and destruction. That vow, still stands."

Kama'o waits until Alteri begins to speak to the man, and then shuffles slowly over, rounding all three individuals until she is behind the sobbing man. Taking a sprig of holly out of a pouch, she tucks it into his hair and puts a gentle hand over it, not even making contact with her claws. Her eyes darken once more as she begins a slow chant, and soon his hands are...well, they look much better. Suspicious individuals, however, may note a conspicious lack of bad-smelling ointment.

GAME: Kama'o casts Cure Light Wounds.
GAME: Kama'o rolls 1d8+2: (1)+2: 3

He finally looks up. HE finally looks at her and tries to talk. He does. But he simply weeps and begins to babble about 'sorry' and 'so sorry'.

It's human weakness. All too real human weakness and frailty on display.

Kama'o totally goes for a group hug, and doesn't care how much snot gets on her feathers. ...She also slips a coin in the man's pocket.

He finally straightens up and wraps his arms around Alteri.

And then? Then he hugs her. And snots on her. And bawls into her. That's all he can do.

Dramatic Scene: Is It Lynch Time Yet?

2011-09-12T00:27:20Z

Alteri:

<pre>
-=--=--=--=-<* Watch Constables - Jail Cells and Visiting Area *>--=--=--=--=-

The cells at the Watch are often often full with various people: the
usual, returning drunks, the occasional shifty halfling, and then a few
Korites who appear to have a rotating door policy. Visitors may stand
outside the cells to speak, while being overseen by an officer.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Kama'o Older Egalrin female, greyish-brown in color. 3s 4h
Alteri Eldanar fighter; dark hair, pale eyes, shit luck. 0s 3h
Svarshan Be a brightscale! Chomp a demon! 3s 7m
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= Exits -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Out <O>
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

</pre>

Kama'o found Svarshan earlier in the day. He was probably peeling potatoes under Greta's supervision. At least he has automagical potato peelers on his hands. In any case, wherever he was, Kama'o found him and told him that he needed to come with her. Now. If any questions were asked, she simply says it is, 'about Alteri-iiwa.'

...After which, she proceeds to lead him to the jail. When they enter, several of the guards seem to recognize Kama'o, and more than a few wilt just a little. Kama'o, meanwhile, begins to puff out her feathers to seem larger than she actually is. All of this, of course, is in the outer chamber, so poor Alteri will be completely unaware that anything involving her is occuring yet.

A ball of yarn walks into a jailhouse, accompanied by a small dog and a talking bird. Most jokes don't start out that way, but this one might. The small dog bounces in circles, grabbing at the yarn with its teeth...which just keep walking, though slowly. The apparition follows along behind Kama'o, though as it rounds a corner, it gives a slow sigh at its state, and says, "Storyteller, one is not sure that Alteri's underwear is that dirty."

Meanwhile, completely ignorant of what is afoot, Alteri is in her cell concentrating on teaching her flea friends how to jump through hoops. The guards have had to separate her from the rest of the inmates due to some misunderstanding about trying to steal her food and a fist in testicles. Some people just have no sense of humour about these things. Ah well, solitary confinement just means peace and quiet for the Eldanar stray.

"They are keeping Alteri here for something she did not do," Kama'o says, loud enough that everyone can hear her. And then...she marches up to the guard in charge. Thankfully, it's not Snady this time, but rather poor Hack, who sort of pushes himself further and further backward in his chair as she approaches. "Kama'o has brought the dragon-kin! Alteri-iiwa is to be released into his custody! Agril said so." She is...polite, but loud and firm. Alteri may overhear some of this. "Please check your papers. It was written down, Kama'o saw it yesterday."

"Sssaa..." Svarshan draws to a halt, and then grunts, slowly, as he looks at the yarn beneath his arm. The dog continues to bark, though now the little thing is reduced to yapping--its head bobs animatedly, wobbling back and forth with small, sonic bursts eminating from its skull. And slowly, he drags his gaze upwards, the inner lids sliding slowly half-shut...and open.

"I sssseee...one could always ussse help at the rrancch. Good day, Guardsman."

Between the caws and yaps, Alteri cannot help but look up from her hard work of whipping her fleas into shape. Bad timing, one just jumped up her nose. "ACHOO! Oops, sorry." And the poor flea goes flying, to 'thp' into her cell door. Stepping over, she carefully avoids stomping on her circus employee to peer out the small slit in the metal door. Just in time as a guard walks by, "Gods above, it's that shrill birdwoman again." the guard mutters, now running towards the source of the sounds to perhaps offer Hack some back-up.

"Um. Um. Well. Er..." Hack stammers, randomly selecting and then discarding bits of paper on the table. Kama'o finally helpfully taps one with a sharp talon, and he pulls it out of the pile, shaking as he reads it. "Um. Uh. You are...Svarshan, Sunblade of Daeus?" he asks the pile of yarn, reading from the paper before looking up. Kama'o steps back, lowering her feathers into a more polite position. She -is- smiling.

"Brightscale," Svarshan says slowly, distractedly. "Daeus, yes. ...she smells of rotten apples and three-day fish. Why is that?" the words trail off and he turns back around to eye the guard. The dog continues to bark. And yap. And bark. "...I would like the keys. And a copy of whatever it isss...she is charged with." These words come slowly, dredged from memory and difficulty, and spoken with a gentleman's Myrrish accent.

Recognising the sibilant accent, Alteri perks a little. Hastily straightening bangs that could use a wash, twice, she hurries to make her cot in military fashion, with the corners folded just so. Glancing about, all she sees left are the fleas on the floor. "If you follow me out of here, I will kill you." she warns them. Trying not to think of the possibility that she does -not- get released, or that she may have to make amends to the fleas she just threatened, she sits as innocently as she can on the side of her cot. Nope, no criminals here, just us innocent bystanders.

"Well...um...the investigation is...is...ongoing," Hack stammers, looking grateful and slightly more in control once the other guard arrives. "She is suspected of..." he peers a bit closer at the paper and frowns, "Murder. But...we have not charged her, yet," he tells Svarshan. "Um...the guard who arrested her and...and Father Agril said she was to be released to you, yes," he says, sounding a little surprised and glancing up at Kama'o, who is now doing her best fly-on-the-wall impression.

Svarshan's eyes narrow and he looks long and hard at the guardsman. "Murder." His nostrils flare and he looks over towards Alteri, and back. "I smell no Maugrim-stink on her soul. What has she murdered?" he asks. He tucks the yarn beneath an arm...and the little dog's body just quivers. Its eyes...brighten. And it stares hungrily, hungrily at the loose pile of colorful string. Buttwaggin'.

Alteri is in a walled room, with a metal door. But she swears she is not giving off any sort of stink, except one of ripe humie. A flea hops over, trying to stay friends. Reluctantly, she brushes it away, then begins twiddling her sword-callused thumbs. Nervous? She is not nervous. She is keeping her thumbs limber, they can stiffen when one is living in jail, doncha know?

"Well, we...um." Hack has to flip to a second page, and scan the text there. "Some...fishermen pulled up a corpse. It had no...had...no, head." Someone's going to get a talk about handwriting. "And...the suspect...had been in the water," he puzzles out.

Kama'o lets out a screech. "She was in the water because she was saving one of the fishermen from the low place," she informs Svarshan, feathers flattening as the words irritate her. "If they had asked questions, they would know that. But they have been..." she decides to let out another screech rather than say it to their faces, but Svarshan is another animal. He will understand the body language. They have been lazy and stupid, or at least not up to Kama'o's standards. "Kama'o was not there, but Agril was and he said she did not do anything except help fish the body out of the water," she tells Svarshan.

"I sssseee..." The Myrrish accent slowly vanishes towards something more primitively Am'sherian. And Svarshan leans back, not aware he'd even leaned forward. His mouth works once, twice, before it can force the words. "I am sure they have been...bussy," Myrrish again. And then he jerks his head back, and walks over towards the bars. Stares hard at Alteri. "We will take her home. Now."

"Now, now, we have had a lot on our..." Hack breaks off at a Look from Kama'o, and clears his throat. "Um. Well. Um, it says here that that's just fine. But...you'll need to sign for her. Here...and...here. It says you're responsible for anything she does. Bran, go get her." He's sweating. It's running down his face. He pulls out a hankie and dabs at it.

Kama'o immediately brightens, feathers lifting, as Bran heads first for the keys and then for the jail cell. "Your friends are here to get you," he explains to Alteri, before leading her back into the main room.

Alteri's twiddles freeze, as does the rest of her, under Svarshan's draconic scrutiny. Hesitantly, her lips peel back in a poor imitation of a smile -- the sort a child would dredge up if ordered to smile for the nice painter man. Springing up when she hears the door being unlocked, she shifts from foot to foot, impatient to get out. Those fleas are so clingy even after repeated rejections.

Entering the office under the guard of Bran, the Highborn immediately settles into a formal kneeling position and thumps her forehead on the floorboards in Svarshan's and Kama'o's general direction. "Sunblade, Wise One, you do me honour." Damn Eldanar and their stiff-necked customs.

Svarshan's eyes narrow further, though he doesn't look away from the jailed female. "Saaa. Responsible." They're slits by the time he turns back towards the guard, the movement slow and his footsteps heavy on the cobbles. "I take it...no. One does not need to hear the answer." The sentence ends there, though there might be more of it. It hangs in the air heavily. "...the papers."

Whirlpool has arrived.

"Kama'o will be responsible, if you do not wish to be. Kama'o has seen her in several temples, and Kama'o is a good judge of iiwas," the bird tells Darshan, as Hack mutely hands over the papers to be signed. She's a bit bemused by Alteri's formal submission, however, and after a moment, responds with a strange and elegant dipping of her wings and baring of her throat. "There, there, Alteri-iiwa. It is all right." Kama'o immediately shuffles over and tries to help Alteri up, careful not to stab her as she pats her on the back.

Alteri is so grateful to be free of fleas (try saying that fast thrice in a row), she would likely submit to Kama'o stabbings without protest. Curious eyes watch the Elgarin's elegant response, though. Not seen that before. She tries, however, polite creature that she is, to keep a bit of space between herself and the feathered one. Not telling if a clingy flea might try to jump ship, as it were. "The winds of the gods blew favour on me this day," she mumbles, frantically looking about for her... Ah... she nods silent thanks to the guard bringing her confiscated belongings.

Svarshan gives himself a shake. He does so stiffly--irritation rolls off the reptile in silent waves. "...thank you. But." He sucks in his breath. "Get your bags," to Alteri. "We are leaving. ...ssaa. I know who did this, Kama'o," he says as he drops his muzzle to his chest with a half-smile. He looks at her out of the corner of his eyes. "I am...not sure why. It is humor...or he wants her out of the City. For a while."

Personal space? Pshaw. Kama'o is probably hoping that the back-patting turns into a hug, but when it doesn't, she does step away. The Egalrin would frown at Darshan's words, but...immobile beak. "Who? This is not funny. It was not nice in there. Kama'o had to take a long dirt bath to get rid of all of the lice, yesterday." she tells Svarshan, putting hands on hips. The guards seem content to ignore the three, assuming Svarshan signs the papers.

A sword and breastplate, one very moth-eaten purse, and a ridiculously frilly kerchief, is all Alteri had on her when she was brought in. These, she collects as directed by the Sunblade, in-between Kama'o's fluffy almost-hugs. Uncertain, she glances from guards to Sunblade, "Should I not be in chains until the investigation is over?" Kama'o's mention of needing a bath has the youngster's face turning beet-red, and she stammers an apology to the Elgarin for that.

"Not..." Svarshan is bad with words. Svarshan makes a motion with his claws, and then steps up to the desk. And eyes the papers. He begins to glance through them. "Saaa. Not of this. No." And then the scratching of ink on paper, and the shuffling and crackling of parchment.

<nowiki>*scribble*</nowiki>

<nowiki>*scribble* *scribble* *scribble*</nowiki>

Kama'o lets out a caw, and waves a taloned hand. "Kama'o needed a good dust bath anyway, iiwa," she says. "It was not your fault. And Kama'o does not think they will put chains on you, but Kama'o does not know why they put you in here in the first place." Scaleless are hard to fathom. Kama'o eyes the closest guard, who promptly attempts to look Very Busy (TM). Once Hack has the signed papers, he waves them out the door with a hand.

Assuming they have departed from the jailhouse, Alteri glances behind to ensure no one is close, then lowers her voice, "Forgive me, Sunblade, you said you know who did this?" Her eyes shift to Kama'o, "If wearing chains as a semblence of continued guilt will lull the true culprit into thinking they are free to act once more, it may aid... someone," she was going to say the City Guards, but her faith in them is being sorely tested. "In capturing the true murderer." That, was a lot of words. Alteri actually looks a
little tired for saying so much in such a short span of time.

The further they step from the guardhouse, the more the sith's shoulders relax. They do so by degrees...though so slowly that they're still boards by the time they step onto the dirt road and street. "Mistakes get made," he says by way of explanation to Alteri. "...and I am not..." he twists 'round, and looks briefly towards the now-retreating guardhouse. "...sure, but one knows who asked me to take care of you," his muzzle twists. "The...I think Sunguard Doran would like you out of the City a while. I live up that way," he nods down the road, the implication being 'not in Alexandria.'

Kama'o, on the other hand, seems perfectly happy to have accomplished her goal of getting Alteri out. Nevermind that she doesn't truly know whether or not the woman is an axe-murderer. "Kama'o does not understand humans," she opines, bracelets jangling as she shuffles along beside them. "But they were being silly. At least they could have asked the man she saved."

The talk of mistakes being made has Alteri wryly glancing back at the slowly disappearing guardhouse. "Indeed. The guard also asked that I become scarce for a while." Absently jingling her very light purse, she adds, "I will comply. There is a clearing on the edge of the forest that I know." Cheaper than staying at the Den! "I hope someone looked after Stupid while I was gone," she muses quietly. Then, coughing, she scratches ruefully at her cheek, "I believe they did, Mistress Greyfeather. He said I assaulted him."

Svarshan makes a sound in the back of his throat. "One..." and he does not know what to think. He walks a while, listening to the two females talk, one eye slanted towards the slowly thickening woods. "Huhhhrrrurrmmm... there isss a place. You will ssstay at one's lodge, Alteri. ...and we will talk to this man," he adds, half-beneath his breath.

"...Oh." Kama'o doesn't seem sure what to say to that. So, she fluffs up her feathers and then shakes them, sending dust flying as they walk along in the heat. "Kama'o is just glad that you do not have to spend any more time in there," she says finally.

Shocked, Alteri blurts, "Surely not, Sunblade? House a convict? Is that not beneath your station?" The woods, the Eldanar eyes as well. Gods, she hopes there is a stream somewhere nearby. And soaproot. If she had feathers, she might well be fluffing them up like Kama'o is doing, simply in anticipation of being clean again. "As am I, Wise One. The jail... needs better bathing facilities." Surrepticiously, she scritches at a buttcheek. Must have been one of the fleas she had rejected.

Kama'o caws, a little louder than usual, since they're a bit further away from most of the scaleless than usual. "Kama'o does not speak this language very well, but Kama'o is pretty sure that you have to be shown to be guilty of something before you are a convict." With a little more room to stretch her wings, she does exactly that, fanning them out to their impressive span before folding them again.

Svarshan slows, which for him is going from just 1 mph to 1/2. And he stops then, and looks towards

the ground a while as he turns things over in his head. And then looks towards Alteri. "...youngling, you are with me because one is to see to your behavior." The way he pauses after saying that means he'd been about to add more--and doesn't.

Alteri does not see the humour in this, so worried is she for Daeus' good name. "But, Wise One, perception is everythin-" Svarshan's ponderous explanation cuts the Highborn's protests off at the pass. Oh, right. Ears reddening, she nods stiffly. "Yes, of course. Apologies, I am not thinking straight." Scrubbing tiredly at her face, she glances down the crossroads to the other section of town, "If I could trouble you a moment? I should collect my horse and belongings in the Den." Gods, she forgot Stupid too. She really is not thinking straight right now.

Kama'o is completely oblivious to the tension, and decides to turn into Happy Old Grandmother. "Kama'o would invite you to stay with me, but I do not think that humans would like to sleep in a tree any more than Kama'o likes your beds," she rambles. "....Horses." That makes her wilt just a touch. "Horses do not like Kama'o." The feeling seems to be mutual.

"..." Svarshan looks back towards the city, and nods, once, in the human style. "...I will send someone for them. If the Sunguard wants you out of the City..." he makes a noise, and starts down the trail again, though Kama'o's words draw a half-smile. "Then away from the City we will head." After a while, he...pats...Alteri awkwardly on the shoulder. Like one would a fragile glass or oddly shaped lump that might either break or produce squishy goo.

Awkward.

Alteri is tough! She can take Holy Censure, and awkward pats. But, she is rather worn from being kept up nights by overly friendly fleas. Shoulders drooping a little, for she missed her horse, she manages a tight smile, "If they look for the smartest horse in the stables, that will be Stupid." Tilting her head to the fluffy Granny, she adds, "I would like to study the high place you make your bed in, actually. It will be good to know, if my stay outside becomes an extended one." Then her smile widens a little, touching her eyes, "That is because horses know you are a fierce predator. They are not stupid..." a pause, "Except Stupid, who is also not stupid."

"Perhaps Agril-iiwa will bring your horse," Kama'o brightens once it becomes clear that they are not going to go get one of those animals. "Kama'o has several trees she sleeps in. But I can show you the one where my things are hidden. You said you would like some of the twine, yes? Kama'o will bring you some." She seems to have every intention of going home with Svarshan at the moment. Well. -Someone- has to make sure everyone is comfortable.

Mobs are not subtle things. Let's be frank about that.

They are not subtle in the -least-. As the lot of you depart the guard house, head north along the street, you see a rather large number of people coming the opposite way. With torches.

One of them up front has a length of rope. A very long length of rope.

A lot of them have haggard looks. Some of them are refugees.

Svarshan slows as the crowd nears. He doesn't say much, just tightens the grip on Alteri's shoulder, and moves her behind him. "...I hope you don't object to swifts, Storyteller. ...is there any chance they are after you?" to the young warrior.

Alteri gives Kama'o a blank look. A long moment, with gears turning in her head... "Oh, yes, him. Mistress Halani, who was also there, thought he was the murderer. He was bloodied with birth waters." Nodding, she brightens, "Yes, could I pay for them with hunted game?" Broke-ass warrior is broke.

The buzzing of the mob impedes itself on Alteri's senses, and her attention breaks away from the Elgarin to see... Carefully bundling her sword and armour in her tatty cloak, she carefully hands it to Kama'o. "If something happens to me," she says in a low voice, "Please donate this to the Temple of Daeus." Straightening, she lifts her chin, the setting sun shrouding her face in shadow. Only the pale glints of her eyes show any hint of colour, picking up hints of the fading light. They fall on the Sith'makar, showing a measure of regret, "Please, step away."

"Kama'o likes Srassha," the Egalrin says slowly, tilting her head to the side as she looks at the oncoming mob. "And hunted game," she adds, as she accepts the bundle of armor and sword. After a moment, she, too, steps in front of Alteri...just in case. Letting out a loud caw, she takes another step forward. "Kama'o sees you," she calls. "What is it you are doing, iiwas?" It sounds like a perfectly innocent, perfectly reasonable question. "Do you need help? Is anyone hurt?" Objective: Engage them in discourse until their common sense kicks in.

Oh yes. They're definitely after Alteri. That's for sure. The one with the length of the rope says, "Stand down, paladin... bird.. thing. We're here for the traitor." A finger is pointed at Alteri.

"She and her ilk have escaped justice far, far, *far* too long. We're going to end this here and now. If the city guard is too corrupt to do it, we'll do it. Do you know *what* she's done?"

He growls. He's very growly. The others, many of them appearing to be Sendoran in descent, are beginning to spread out more. Looking like they're ready to rush forward and seize her at any moment.

Svarshan takes a slow and steady breath. And lets it go. "You are not a mob," he says firmly, looking at them. "Those are not torches. ...that is not a pitchfork. And you are not going to make a liar of me in front of the Lord Daeus."

"Kama'o does not know." The Egalrin is still keeping her body language friendly, neutral. "Why don't you tell Kama'o what has happened, iiwa? Kama'o would be happy to listen to your story. My people like stories. Kama'o is thinking of a few stories about silly people like you who did things that made them very sad later when they thought about them." Yes, that was too many prepositions. No, Kama'o is not a bard. In fact, no one seems to be paying her rambling the least bit of attention.

GAME: Svarshan rolls diplomacy: (2)+12: 14

Alteri visibly stiffens at the label the growly man places on her. Still, her posture remains erect and unashamed. Sidestepping around Svarshan's bristling bulk and Kama'o's more beneign fluff, she stares down the mob, "Please go," she pleads aside to the two with her, "This is not your fight. Gods willing, I will repay my obligation to you in my next life."

Then she lifts her voice and addresses the rabble, "Pray, do not cause trouble in the city that has accepted so many of our brethren." Jeers and hisses greet her daring assertion to be brethren to -any- of them; a few spit at the ground. She expected nothing less, given the hostility surrounding her, held off just barely by the shield of her remotely cool gaze that now sweeps over them. Making a swift executive decision, she lifts her hands, showing she is unarmed, "They are not a mob, they are friends, here to take me for a walk to catch-up on things." she states evenly, and begins walking toward the ones they face.

GAME: Kama'o refreshes spells.

There is a long pause from the mob. They all look at Svarshan. Then at Kama'o. Then at Alteri. They hesitate. Svarshan is a paladin. Paladins are good people, after all. Even if they're terrifying Sith-Makar. One of them finally says, from the back, "But I DO have a torch."

He's cuffed.

"This one and her family betrayed Sendor, honored sir. You should be here with us, doing justice and Daeus' work! Her family starved others! Enslaved them to the ogres!"

Svarshan reaches out and makes a grab for Alteri's collar. "...shut up," he snarls, meaning both of them. "Was it this-one who made you slaves?" he hoists Alteri in the air like a sack of potatoes. Uncomfortably, but also--roughly, barbarically, in his own way showing her as a helpless 'thing.' "...answer!"

Kama'o also reaches for Alteri, but misses when Svarshan grabs her away. "Kama'o may be a bird, but Kama'o is not stupid, iiwa," she asides to Alteri, before shuffling forward again. "Everyone does things that they are not proud of, later. Kama'o thinks that if you are not careful, today -you- will be doing those things. What would your nanas say, if they could see you now? Would they be proud of you? Kama'o does not know what Alteri-iiwa has done. But Alteri-iiwa has put wreaths on the new monument,
and helped rebuild the Moon's temple. Are you -sure- you have the right woman?" Pause. "You all look alike, after all."

Alteri takes one step. The second step never happens. The second step is sacrificed upon the altar of a Sith'makar's barbaric show of, uh, moral support. "GURK!" She is indeed, quite helpless. A few days of watery gruel and no sleep does that to one. Dangling by the grace of her shirt-maker's skill and nothing more, she flails a little, and tries her best not to turn blue.

"...she's got the family name. They're traitors and cut throats," says the man with the rope, glaring at Alteri and Svarshan and, yes, Kama'o too. She's a bird. She's not human. She's probably here to take their jobs or something. At any rate, these humans and their mob are not exactly happy looking with having been stopped, but its clear they don't exactly want to tangle with Svarshan. He's a well known figure about town -- and Kama'o's talons looks like they'd hurt.

"One of them hanged my brother! It's only fair that we hang her!"

"Yeah!"

"I do not smell the stench of the Conqueror on her." Svarshan lowers the Alteri back to the ground carefully. "If she was like her blood, her soul would stink of rusted iron and molten fire." He releases her shirt, and looks across at them.

Kama'o suddenly begins to swell. No, really. Her feathers stand on end, her tail spreads, she raises herself up to her full height, and suddenly it's a lot more obvious how sharp her bill is. Her feathers sort of...frame it. "Kama'o has taken responsibility for Alteri-iiwa," she says loudly. "Kama'o will not let any of you hurt her." Her eyes darken, and the breeze begins to pick up. Clouds suddenly coalesce above and behind her, making feathers and hair stand on end with static electricity. A small, but powerful, rain shower occurs underneath. It...would obviously not be good to be standing in the middle of it. "Kama'o does not want to hurt anyone," she says. "But Kama'o will, if you give me no choice." This might make them pay more attention to the bird.

GAME: Kama'o rolls intimidate: (19)+0: 19

Alteri heaves a breath. Another. She leans a hand weakly on the Brightscale's arm a moment, "They... They lost much. If my blood will appease them, perhaps it is for the best. At least my name will be of some use to the people we swore to protect." The last she admits bleakly as she views the people, -HER- people, with shuttered eyes. Pushing off Svarshan's solid form, she is about to head over to them when the Elgarin pulls off a big show of intimidation. Gaping, she looks from Bird-kin to the sudden thunderstorm. "No, please, do not hurt them. They are my people, regardless. It is -they- I must protect if need be. There is no honour in hurting... such dear friends." Torn, the Eldanar looks from mob to Paladin and Druid, to mob.

There is a pause. Between Svar's comments, Kama'o's comments and then.. well.. then there is Alteri's. Faces fall.

Let's be honest: It's no fun to get your vengeance when the one you would take it on is being meek and martyrly. There is a lengthy pause before one of them lowers his torch and tosses it into the trough nearby.

"This is bullshit," he mutters.

"Maybe we don't have the right person."

"She doesn't seem very bloodthirsty."

"Maybe it's a trick?"

"If it was, the paladin'd know."

"Feh."

There's a lot of general muttering and discontent about this and a few people begin to peel off the mass of the mob. Than a few more. Finally, only a hard core of angry Sendorans is left, all of whom have lost too much to be dissuaded so easily just yet. They slowly stand aside, but with obvious rage in their eyes.

Svarshan lets go a sound, and then looks up towards the mob. "Saaa. ...this is why you lied." It is not a question, it is a...open statement. That one of them had framed her for the murder--just out of hatred. "Is that what one is hearing?" And he looks at them, then, really /looks./ He catches the eye of the one who had flinched, and /holds/ it.

"Allowing them to kill you will not help them, iiwa, even if it makes them feel better right away," Kama'o says gently, deflating back to her normal grandmotherly self, while still keeping an eye on the worst of the troublemakers. "Later, when they are older, they would regret it. If you would help them, do what you can to make their lives better. Even if they spit on you for it. They cannot spit forever, and even if they do, you will change thier children's minds." Pause. "But, you might want to be with one of us when you try."

GAME: Svarshan rolls sense motive: (1)+18: 19

He doesn't quite meet the paladin's gaze. He's just so -angry-. He looks down, his hands clenching into fists. "... it's all their FAULT!" He roars, finally, bashing his fist into the nearby brick and mortar wall. It doesn't go well for his hand.

Cool blue continues to watch the remaining Sendorans, but her low voice she pitches only for her companions. "It would wash away the stain of failure, Wise One." She seems almost sad to see the mob dispersing. Her head snaps to one Sendoran in particular. In the chaos, she had no realised, but with the Sith'makar's words she sees the one being addressed for the first time. Her eyes widen in recognition, then wince when his fist meets brick. "No wonder..."

"...ssaaa." Svarshan's tail drifts to the earth, and he falls quiet for a while. He watches the man, and doesn't make a move--just lets him rage. And after a while, walks over towards him, and grabs the man's fist. "Hit me," he says. He looks at the man, glances at Kama'o as though to say: it is alright, before she scratches his eyes out, and then back again.

"No, iiwa. It would serve no purpose. Besides. If you truly think you are at fault," Kama'o says quietly, and gently, "Then allowing them to send you to the gods is a coward's decision. Much harder to face it, and try to make amends." And then one of them punches a wall. Kama'o clucks, and starts to shuffle toward him...but Svarshan beats her to it. She gives him a little nod. She would have gone for a hug, but his way is probably better.

Mouth open to argue at first, it snaps back closed again. Head dipping, the Eldanar submits to the greyfeather's wisdom, quietly closing the door to the early death she might have sought. Looking up, she blinks at Svarshan's actions now. Alteri tries to get between the Sith'makar and her accuser. Honestly, this human has no sense sometimes. "I should be the one he hits, Sunblade. His grievance is not with you. House n'Aijma must not suffer further stain of a Servant of Daeus bearing her blame."

Wordlessly, Kama'o reaches out and gently folds her arms around Alteri, attempting to prevent her from interfering in the fight between the Sunblade and the Sendoran. She is not strong, and does not have a death-grip of any sort. However, she is fairly certain that Alteri won't try to force the issue. After all, who would want to hurt harmless old Kama'o? She could fall and break a hip or something.

When Svarshan grabs his fist, he tenses. He looks so angry. And then he hits Svarshan as hard as he can. He really does. It doesn't really do much. There's a lot of scales. Thick scales. And he's not exactly all that strong. "I LOST EVERYTHING," he roars. "BECAUSE OF THEM! BECAUSE OF HER FAMILY! BECAUSE OF THE ONES LIKE THEM! Oh god. They had enough. Why did they have to take what little I *had*?" He slowly drops to his knees and buries his face in his his bloodied hands, bursting into tears.

Svarshan looks down at the man, and grunts, a slow, rough breath tinged in ash and smoke. "...It is what he needed. Saaa. He needs the priests, Alteri, not...martyrdom. You are an...a *focus*. Not a...*cure.*" And after a while, after struggling with words and meanings and translations, he grimaces, his shoulders shifting at some difficult decision. And a low voice, "You never saw this. None of you." And he slowly crouches down by the crying man, leaving Kama'o to take care of the warrior.

Feathers surround her. Soft, fluffy feathers. Startled that her defenses are so shoddy -- the Elgarin had no trouble invading her personal space whatsoever -- Alteri immediately ceases in her attempts to put herself between the paladin and her accuser. She would die before breaking a granny's hip. Such dishonour would be a stench unto her name for seventy-seven generations! If she ever bred children, that is.

As the man begins to cry, a faint crack shows in her stoic demeanor, "Many lost everything." she grates out, "I lost family, holdings..." her throat works as she forces words past the sudden lump in her throat, "The other half my soul. The half I would die a thousand painful deaths to bring back, to change the course of time." her face twists as she fights back the rictus of grief. "I -know- loss, I live it every, single, day. It dogs me like a curse, never lets me forget. I -never- forgot my people, even as they would as soon forget me!"

Kama'o hugs Alteri tighter for a few moments, and then releases her and gives her a gentle nudge toward the crying man. Kiss and make up now, her body language suggests, as if this were just a fight between a couple of children. ...Well. To her, it is. "Can you fix his hands, paladin?" she asks quietly. Otherwise, she seems content to let the scene play out.

He's hopeless at this point, sobbing quite a bit.

The remaining Sendorans are looking away, effected by the emotional display and outbursts.

None of them want to say anything.

Svarshan grunts at the grandmother's words, and looks back at the man then, and, "Let her live, and she will work to right the things her family did." And then he grabs the man's chin and makes the man look at Alteri. "/See/ her." To Alteri: "/Talk/ to him!!" His claws dig in slightly. Not cruelly. ...he's just...

Not. Human.

Alteri is unsteady enough that Kama'o's nudge sends her stumbling to the ground by the sobbing man. Uncertainly, she looks up at the Elgarin, then to Svarshan. She is supposed to do -what- now? Not one for physical displays of affection, she only manages to pat the man on the back, if he would let her. Even so simple a task has her looking vastly awkward. "I am sorry for your loss." she says hesitantly, but sincerely. We were betrayed as surely as the rest of Sendor was." She brushes impatiently at suspiciously bright eyes, "I swore on my blood and the blood of my beloved that I would hunt down the ones who sold us to fire and destruction. That vow, still stands."

Kama'o waits until Alteri begins to speak to the man, and then shuffles slowly over, rounding all three individuals until she is behind the sobbing man. Taking a sprig of holly out of a pouch, she tucks it into his hair and puts a gentle hand over it, not even making contact with her claws. Her eyes darken once more as she begins a slow chant, and soon his hands are...well, they look much better. Suspicious individuals, however, may note a conspicious lack of bad-smelling ointment.

GAME: Kama'o casts Cure Light Wounds.
GAME: Kama'o rolls 1d8+2: (1)+2: 3

He finally looks up. HE finally looks at her and tries to talk. He does. But he simply weeps and begins to babble about 'sorry' and 'so sorry'.

It's human weakness. All too real human weakness and frailty on display.

Kama'o totally goes for a group hug, and doesn't care how much snot gets on her feathers. ...She also slips a coin in the man's pocket.

He finally straightens up and wraps his arms around Alteri.

And then? Then he hugs her. And snots on her. And bawls into her. That's all he can do.

Dramatic Scene: Is It Lynch Time Yet?

2011-09-09T08:33:38Z

Alteri: Created page with "<pre> -=--=--=--=-<* Watch Constables - Jail Cells and Visiting Area *>--=--=--=--=- The cells at the Watch are often often full with various people: the usual, retur..."

<pre>
-=--=--=--=-<* Watch Constables - Jail Cells and Visiting Area *>--=--=--=--=-

The cells at the Watch are often often full with various people: the
usual, returning drunks, the occasional shifty halfling, and then a few
Korites who appear to have a rotating door policy. Visitors may stand
outside the cells to speak, while being overseen by an officer.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Kama'o Older Egalrin female, greyish-brown in color. 3s 4h
Alteri Eldanar fighter; dark hair, pale eyes, shit luck. 0s 3h
Svarshan Be a brightscale! Chomp a demon! 3s 7m
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= Exits -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Out <O>
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

</pre>

Kama'o found Svarshan earlier in the day. He was probably peeling potatoes under Greta's supervision. At least he has automagical potato peelers on his hands. In any case, wherever he was, Kama'o found him and told him that he needed to come with her. Now. If any questions were asked, she simply says it is, 'about Alteri-iiwa.'

...After which, she proceeds to lead him to the jail. When they enter, several of the guards seem to recognize Kama'o, and more than a few wilt just a little. Kama'o, meanwhile, begins to puff out her feathers to seem larger than she actually is. All of this, of course, is in the outer chamber, so poor Alteri will be completely unaware that anything involving her is occuring yet.

A ball of yarn walks into a jailhouse, accompanied by a small dog and a talking bird. Most jokes don't start out that way, but this one might. The small dog bounces in circles, grabbing at the yarn with its teeth...which just keep walking, though slowly. The apparition follows along behind Kama'o, though as it rounds a corner, it gives a slow sigh at its state, and says, "Storyteller, one is not sure that Alteri's underwear is that dirty."

Meanwhile, completely ignorant of what is afoot, Alteri is in her cell concentrating on teaching her flea friends how to jump through hoops. The guards have had to separate her from the rest of the inmates due to some misunderstanding about trying to steal her food and a fist in testicles. Some people just have no sense of humour about these things. Ah well, solitary confinement just means peace and quiet for the Eldanar stray.

"They are keeping Alteri here for something she did not do," Kama'o says, loud enough that everyone can hear her. And then...she marches up to the guard in charge. Thankfully, it's not Snady this time, but rather poor Hack, who sort of pushes himself further and further backward in his chair as she approaches. "Kama'o has brought the dragon-kin! Alteri-iiwa is to be released into his custody! Agril said so." She is...polite, but loud and firm. Alteri may overhear some of this. "Please check your papers. It was written down, Kama'o saw it yesterday."

"Sssaa..." Svarshan draws to a halt, and then grunts, slowly, as he looks at the yarn beneath his arm. The dog continues to bark, though now the little thing is reduced to yapping--its head bobs animatedly, wobbling back and forth with small, sonic bursts eminating from its skull. And slowly, he drags his gaze upwards, the inner lids sliding slowly half-shut...and open.

"I sssseee...one could always ussse help at the rrancch. Good day, Guardsman."

Between the caws and yaps, Alteri cannot help but look up from her hard work of whipping her fleas into shape. Bad timing, one just jumped up her nose. "ACHOO! Oops, sorry." And the poor flea goes flying, to 'thp' into her cell door. Stepping over, she carefully avoids stomping on her circus employee to peer out the small slit in the metal door. Just in time as a guard walks by, "Gods above, it's that shrill birdwoman again." the guard mutters, now running towards the source of the sounds to perhaps offer Hack some back-up.

"Um. Um. Well. Er..." Hack stammers, randomly selecting and then discarding bits of paper on the table. Kama'o finally helpfully taps one with a sharp talon, and he pulls it out of the pile, shaking as he reads it. "Um. Uh. You are...Svarshan, Sunblade of Daeus?" he asks the pile of yarn, reading from the paper before looking up. Kama'o steps back, lowering her feathers into a more polite position. She -is- smiling.

"Brightscale," Svarshan says slowly, distractedly. "Daeus, yes. ...she smells of rotten apples and three-day fish. Why is that?" the words trail off and he turns back around to eye the guard. The dog continues to bark. And yap. And bark. "...I would like the keys. And a copy of whatever it isss...she is charged with." These words come slowly, dredged from memory and difficulty, and spoken with a gentleman's Myrrish accent.

Recognising the sibilant accent, Alteri perks a little. Hastily straightening bangs that could use a wash, twice, she hurries to make her cot in military fashion, with the corners folded just so. Glancing about, all she sees left are the fleas on the floor. "If you follow me out of here, I will kill you." she warns them. Trying not to think of the possibility that she does -not- get released, or that she may have to make amends to the fleas she just threatened, she sits as innocently as she can on the side of her cot. Nope, no criminals here, just us innocent bystanders.

"Well...um...the investigation is...is...ongoing," Hack stammers, looking grateful and slightly more in control once the other guard arrives. "She is suspected of..." he peers a bit closer at the paper and frowns, "Murder. But...we have not charged her, yet," he tells Svarshan. "Um...the guard who arrested her and...and Father Agril said she was to be released to you, yes," he says, sounding a little surprised and glancing up at Kama'o, who is now doing her best fly-on-the-wall impression.

Svarshan's eyes narrow and he looks long and hard at the guardsman. "Murder." His nostrils flare and he looks over towards Alteri, and back. "I smell no Maugrim-stink on her soul. What has she murdered?" he asks. He tucks the yarn beneath an arm...and the little dog's body just quivers. Its eyes...brighten. And it stares hungrily, hungrily at the loose pile of colorful string. Buttwaggin'.

Alteri is in a walled room, with a metal door. But she swears she is not giving off any sort of stink, except one of ripe humie. A flea hops over, trying to stay friends. Reluctantly, she brushes it away, then begins twiddling her sword-callused thumbs. Nervous? She is not nervous. She is keeping her thumbs limber, they can stiffen when one is living in jail, doncha know?

"Well, we...um." Hack has to flip to a second page, and scan the text there. "Some...fishermen pulled up a corpse. It had no...had...no, head." Someone's going to get a talk about handwriting. "And...the suspect...had been in the water," he puzzles out.

Kama'o lets out a screech. "She was in the water because she was saving one of the fishermen from the low place," she informs Svarshan, feathers flattening as the words irritate her. "If they had asked questions, they would know that. But they have been..." she decides to let out another screech rather than say it to their faces, but Svarshan is another animal. He will understand the body language. They have been lazy and stupid, or at least not up to Kama'o's standards. "Kama'o was not there, but Agril was and he said she did not do anything except help fish the body out of the water," she tells Svarshan.

"I sssseee..." The Myrrish accent slowly vanishes towards something more primitively Am'sherian. And Svarshan leans back, not aware he'd even leaned forward. His mouth works once, twice, before it can force the words. "I am sure they have been...bussy," Myrrish again. And then he jerks his head back, and walks over towards the bars. Stares hard at Alteri. "We will take her home. Now."

"Now, now, we have had a lot on our..." Hack breaks off at a Look from Kama'o, and clears his throat. "Um. Well. Um, it says here that that's just fine. But...you'll need to sign for her. Here...and...here. It says you're responsible for anything she does. Bran, go get her." He's sweating. It's running down his face. He pulls out a hankie and dabs at it.

Kama'o immediately brightens, feathers lifting, as Bran heads first for the keys and then for the jail cell. "Your friends are here to get you," he explains to Alteri, before leading her back into the main room.

Alteri's twiddles freeze, as does the rest of her, under Svarshan's draconic scrutiny. Hesitantly, her lips peel back in a poor imitation of a smile -- the sort a child would dredge up if ordered to smile for the nice painter man. Springing up when she hears the door being unlocked, she shifts from foot to foot, impatient to get out. Those fleas are so clingy even after repeated rejections.

Entering the office under the guard of Bran, the Highborn immediately settles into a formal kneeling position and thumps her forehead on the floorboards in Svarshan's and Kama'o's general direction. "Sunblade, Wise One, you do me honour." Damn Eldanar and their stiff-necked customs.

Svarshan's eyes narrow further, though he doesn't look away from the jailed female. "Saaa. Responsible." They're slits by the time he turns back towards the guard, the movement slow and his footsteps heavy on the cobbles. "I take it...no. One does not need to hear the answer." The sentence ends there, though there might be more of it. It hangs in the air heavily. "...the papers."

Whirlpool has arrived.

"Kama'o will be responsible, if you do not wish to be. Kama'o has seen her in several temples, and Kama'o is a good judge of iiwas," the bird tells Darshan, as Hack mutely hands over the papers to be signed. She's a bit bemused by Alteri's formal submission, however, and after a moment, responds with a strange and elegant dipping of her wings and baring of her throat. "There, there, Alteri-iiwa. It is all right." Kama'o immediately shuffles over and tries to help Alteri up, careful not to stab her as she pats her on the back.

Alteri is so grateful to be free of fleas (try saying that fast thrice in a row), she would likely submit to Kama'o stabbings without protest. Curious eyes watch the Elgarin's elegant response, though. Not seen that before. She tries, however, polite creature that she is, to keep a bit of space between herself and the feathered one. Not telling if a clingy flea might try to jump ship, as it were. "The winds of the gods blew favour on me this day," she mumbles, frantically looking about for her... Ah... she nods silent thanks to the guard bringing her confiscated belongings.

Svarshan gives himself a shake. He does so stiffly--irritation rolls off the reptile in silent waves. "...thank you. But." He sucks in his breath. "Get your bags," to Alteri. "We are leaving. ...ssaa. I know who did this, Kama'o," he says as he drops his muzzle to his chest with a half-smile. He looks at her out of the corner of his eyes. "I am...not sure why. It is humor...or he wants her out of the City. For a while."

Personal space? Pshaw. Kama'o is probably hoping that the back-patting turns into a hug, but when it doesn't, she does step away. The Egalrin would frown at Darshan's words, but...immobile beak. "Who? This is not funny. It was not nice in there. Kama'o had to take a long dirt bath to get rid of all of the lice, yesterday." she tells Svarshan, putting hands on hips. The guards seem content to ignore the three, assuming Svarshan signs the papers.

A sword and breastplate, one very moth-eaten purse, and a ridiculously frilly kerchief, is all Alteri had on her when she was brought in. These, she collects as directed by the Sunblade, in-between Kama'o's fluffy almost-hugs. Uncertain, she glances from guards to Sunblade, "Should I not be in chains until the investigation is over?" Kama'o's mention of needing a bath has the youngster's face turning beet-red, and she stammers an apology to the Elgarin for that.

"Not..." Svarshan is bad with words. Svarshan makes a motion with his claws, and then steps up to the desk. And eyes the papers. He begins to glance through them. "Saaa. Not of this. No." And then the scratching of ink on paper, and the shuffling and crackling of parchment.

*scribble*

*scribble* *scribble* *scribble*

Kama'o lets out a caw, and waves a taloned hand. "Kama'o needed a good dust bath anyway, iiwa," she says. "It was not your fault. And Kama'o does not think they will put chains on you, but Kama'o does not know why they put you in here in the first place." Scaleless are hard to fathom. Kama'o eyes the closest guard, who promptly attempts to look Very Busy (TM). Once Hack has the signed papers, he waves them out the door with a hand.

Assuming they have departed from the jailhouse, Alteri glances behind to ensure no one is close, then lowers her voice, "Forgive me, Sunblade, you said you know who did this?" Her eyes shift to Kama'o, "If wearing chains as a semblence of continued guilt will lull the true culprit into thinking they are free to act once more, it may aid... someone," she was going to say the City Guards, but her faith in them is being sorely tested. "In capturing the true murderer." That, was a lot of words. Alteri actually looks a
little tired for saying so much in such a short span of time.

The further they step from the guardhouse, the more the sith's shoulders relax. They do so by degrees...though so slowly that they're still boards by the time they step onto the dirt road and street. "Mistakes get made," he says by way of explanation to Alteri. "...and I am not..." he twists 'round, and looks briefly towards the now-retreating guardhouse. "...sure, but one knows who asked me to take care of you," his muzzle twists. "The...I think Sunguard Doran would like you out of the City a while. I live up that way," he nods down the road, the implication being 'not in Alexandria.'

Kama'o, on the other hand, seems perfectly happy to have accomplished her goal of getting Alteri out. Nevermind that she doesn't truly know whether or not the woman is an axe-murderer. "Kama'o does not understand humans," she opines, bracelets jangling as she shuffles along beside them. "But they were being silly. At least they could have asked the man she saved."

The talk of mistakes being made has Alteri wryly glancing back at the slowly disappearing guardhouse. "Indeed. The guard also asked that I become scarce for a while." Absently jingling her very light purse, she adds, "I will comply. There is a clearing on the edge of the forest that I know." Cheaper than staying at the Den! "I hope someone looked after Stupid while I was gone," she muses quietly. Then, coughing, she scratches ruefully at her cheek, "I believe they did, Mistress Greyfeather. He said I assaulted him."

Svarshan makes a sound in the back of his throat. "One..." and he does not know what to think. He walks a while, listening to the two females talk, one eye slanted towards the slowly thickening woods. "Huhhhrrrurrmmm... there isss a place. You will ssstay at one's lodge, Alteri. ...and we will talk to this man," he adds, half-beneath his breath.

"...Oh." Kama'o doesn't seem sure what to say to that. So, she fluffs up her feathers and then shakes them, sending dust flying as they walk along in the heat. "Kama'o is just glad that you do not have to spend any more time in there," she says finally.

Shocked, Alteri blurts, "Surely not, Sunblade? House a convict? Is that not beneath your station?" The woods, the Eldanar eyes as well. Gods, she hopes there is a stream somewhere nearby. And soaproot. If she had feathers, she might well be fluffing them up like Kama'o is doing, simply in anticipation of being clean again. "As am I, Wise One. The jail... needs better bathing facilities." Surrepticiously, she scritches at a buttcheek. Must have been one of the fleas she had rejected.

Kama'o caws, a little louder than usual, since they're a bit further away from most of the scaleless than usual. "Kama'o does not speak this language very well, but Kama'o is pretty sure that you have to be shown to be guilty of something before you are a convict." With a little more room to stretch her wings, she does exactly that, fanning them out to their impressive span before folding them again.

Svarshan slows, which for him is going from just 1 mph to 1/2. And he stops then, and looks towards

the ground a while as he turns things over in his head. And then looks towards Alteri. "...youngling, you are with me because one is to see to your behavior." The way he pauses after saying that means he'd been about to add more--and doesn't.

Alteri does not see the humour in this, so worried is she for Daeus' good name. "But, Wise One, perception is everythin-" Svarshan's ponderous explanation cuts the Highborn's protests off at the pass. Oh, right. Ears reddening, she nods stiffly. "Yes, of course. Apologies, I am not thinking straight." Scrubbing tiredly at her face, she glances down the crossroads to the other section of town, "If I could trouble you a moment? I should collect my horse and belongings in the Den." Gods, she forgot Stupid too. She really is not thinking straight right now.

Kama'o is completely oblivious to the tension, and decides to turn into Happy Old Grandmother. "Kama'o would invite you to stay with me, but I do not think that humans would like to sleep in a tree any more than Kama'o likes your beds," she rambles. "....Horses." That makes her wilt just a touch. "Horses do not like Kama'o." The feeling seems to be mutual.

"..." Svarshan looks back towards the city, and nods, once, in the human style. "...I will send someone for them. If the Sunguard wants you out of the City..." he makes a noise, and starts down the trail again, though Kama'o's words draw a half-smile. "Then away from the City we will head." After a while, he...pats...Alteri awkwardly on the shoulder. Like one would a fragile glass or oddly shaped lump that might either break or produce squishy goo.

Awkward.

Alteri is tough! She can take Holy Censure, and awkward pats. But, she is rather worn from being kept up nights by overly friendly fleas. Shoulders drooping a little, for she missed her horse, she manages a tight smile, "If they look for the smartest horse in the stables, that will be Stupid." Tilting her head to the fluffy Granny, she adds, "I would like to study the high place you make your bed in, actually. It will be good to know, if my stay outside becomes an extended one." Then her smile widens a little, touching her eyes, "That is because horses know you are a fierce predator. They are not stupid..." a pause, "Except Stupid, who is also not stupid."

"Perhaps Agril-iiwa will bring your horse," Kama'o brightens once it becomes clear that they are not going to go get one of those animals. "Kama'o has several trees she sleeps in. But I can show you the one where my things are hidden. You said you would like some of the twine, yes? Kama'o will bring you some." She seems to have every intention of going home with Svarshan at the moment. Well. -Someone- has to make sure everyone is comfortable.

Mobs are not subtle things. Let's be frank about that.

They are not subtle in the -least-. As the lot of you depart the guard house, head north along the street, you see a rather large number of people coming the opposite way. With torches.

One of them up front has a length of rope. A very long length of rope.

A lot of them have haggard looks. Some of them are refugees.

Svarshan slows as the crowd nears. He doesn't say much, just tightens the grip on Alteri's shoulder, and moves her behind him. "...I hope you don't object to swifts, Storyteller. ...is there any chance they are after you?" to the young warrior.

Alteri gives Kama'o a blank look. A long moment, with gears turning in her head... "Oh, yes, him. Mistress Halani, who was also there, thought he was the murderer. He was bloodied with birth waters." Nodding, she brightens, "Yes, could I pay for them with hunted game?" Broke-ass warrior is broke.

The buzzing of the mob impedes itself on Alteri's senses, and her attention breaks away from the Elgarin to see... Carefully bundling her sword and armour in her tatty cloak, she carefully hands it to Kama'o. "If something happens to me," she says in a low voice, "Please donate this to the Temple of Daeus." Straightening, she lifts her chin, the setting sun shrouding her face in shadow. Only the pale glints of her eyes show any hint of colour, picking up hints of the fading light. They fall on the Sith'makar, showing a measure of regret, "Please, step away."

"Kama'o likes Srassha," the Egalrin says slowly, tilting her head to the side as she looks at the oncoming mob. "And hunted game," she adds, as she accepts the bundle of armor and sword. After a moment, she, too, steps in front of Alteri...just in case. Letting out a loud caw, she takes another step forward. "Kama'o sees you," she calls. "What is it you are doing, iiwas?" It sounds like a perfectly innocent, perfectly reasonable question. "Do you need help? Is anyone hurt?" Objective: Engage them in discourse until their common sense kicks in.

Oh yes. They're definitely after Alteri. That's for sure. The one with the length of the rope says, "Stand down, paladin... bird.. thing. We're here for the traitor." A finger is pointed at Alteri.

"She and her ilk have escaped justice far, far, *far* too long. We're going to end this here and now. If the city guard is too corrupt to do it, we'll do it. Do you know *what* she's done?"

He growls. He's very growly. The others, many of them appearing to be Sendoran in descent, are beginning to spread out more. Looking like they're ready to rush forward and seize her at any moment.

Svarshan takes a slow and steady breath. And lets it go. "You are not a mob," he says firmly, looking at them. "Those are not torches. ...that is not a pitchfork. And you are not going to make a liar of me in front of the Lord Daeus."

"Kama'o does not know." The Egalrin is still keeping her body language friendly, neutral. "Why don't you tell Kama'o what has happened, iiwa? Kama'o would be happy to listen to your story. My people like stories. Kama'o is thinking of a few stories about silly people like you who did things that made them very sad later when they thought about them." Yes, that was too many prepositions. No, Kama'o is not a bard. In fact, no one seems to be paying her rambling the least bit of attention.

GAME: Svarshan rolls diplomacy: (2)+12: 14

Alteri visibly stiffens at the label the growly man places on her. Still, her posture remains erect and unashamed. Sidestepping around Svarshan's bristling bulk and Kama'o's more beneign fluff, she stares down the mob, "Please go," she pleads aside to the two with her, "This is not your fight. Gods willing, I will repay my obligation to you in my next life."

Then she lifts her voice and addresses the rabble, "Pray, do not cause trouble in the city that has accepted so many of our brethren." Jeers and hisses greet her daring assertion to be brethren to -any- of them; a few spit at the ground. She expected nothing less, given the hostility surrounding her, held off just barely by the shield of her remotely cool gaze that now sweeps over them. Making a swift executive decision, she lifts her hands, showing she is unarmed, "They are not a mob, they are friends, here to take me for a walk to catch-up on things." she states evenly, and begins walking toward the ones they face.

GAME: Kama'o refreshes spells.

There is a long pause from the mob. They all look at Svarshan. Then at Kama'o. Then at Alteri. They hesitate. Svarshan is a paladin. Paladins are good people, after all. Even if they're terrifying Sith-Makar. One of them finally says, from the back, "But I DO have a torch."

He's cuffed.

"This one and her family betrayed Sendor, honored sir. You should be here with us, doing justice and Daeus' work! Her family starved others! Enslaved them to the ogres!"

Svarshan reaches out and makes a grab for Alteri's collar. "...shut up," he snarls, meaning both of them. "Was it this-one who made you slaves?" he hoists Alteri in the air like a sack of potatoes. Uncomfortably, but also--roughly, barbarically, in his own way showing her as a helpless 'thing.' "...answer!"

Kama'o also reaches for Alteri, but misses when Svarshan grabs her away. "Kama'o may be a bird, but Kama'o is not stupid, iiwa," she asides to Alteri, before shuffling forward again. "Everyone does things that they are not proud of, later. Kama'o thinks that if you are not careful, today -you- will be doing those things. What would your nanas say, if they could see you now? Would they be proud of you? Kama'o does not know what Alteri-iiwa has done. But Alteri-iiwa has put wreaths on the new monument,
and helped rebuild the Moon's temple. Are you -sure- you have the right woman?" Pause. "You all look alike, after all."

Alteri takes one step. The second step never happens. The second step is sacrificed upon the altar of a Sith'makar's barbaric show of, uh, moral support. "GURK!" She is indeed, quite helpless. A few days of watery gruel and no sleep does that to one. Dangling by the grace of her shirt-maker's skill and nothing more, she flails a little, and tries her best not to turn blue.

"...she's got the family name. They're traitors and cut throats," says the man with the rope, glaring at Alteri and Svarshan and, yes, Kama'o too. She's a bird. She's not human. She's probably here to take their jobs or something. At any rate, these humans and their mob are not exactly happy looking with having been stopped, but its clear they don't exactly want to tangle with Svarshan. He's a well known figure about town -- and Kama'o's talons looks like they'd hurt.

"One of them hanged my brother! It's only fair that we hang her!"

"Yeah!"

"I do not smell the stench of the Conqueror on her." Svarshan lowers the Alteri back to the ground carefully. "If she was like her blood, her soul would stink of rusted iron and molten fire." He releases her shirt, and looks across at them.

Kama'o suddenly begins to swell. No, really. Her feathers stand on end, her tail spreads, she raises herself up to her full height, and suddenly it's a lot more obvious how sharp her bill is. Her feathers sort of...frame it. "Kama'o has taken responsibility for Alteri-iiwa," she says loudly. "Kama'o will not let any of you hurt her." Her eyes darken, and the breeze begins to pick up. Clouds suddenly coalesce above and behind her, making feathers and hair stand on end with static electricity. A small, but powerful, rain shower occurs underneath. It...would obviously not be good to be standing in the middle of it. "Kama'o does not want to hurt anyone," she says. "But Kama'o will, if you give me no choice." This might make them pay more attention to the bird.

GAME: Kama'o rolls intimidate: (19)+0: 19

Alteri heaves a breath. Another. She leans a hand weakly on the Brightscale's arm a moment, "They... They lost much. If my blood will appease them, perhaps it is for the best. At least my name will be of some use to the people we swore to protect." The last she admits bleakly as she views the people, -HER- people, with shuttered eyes. Pushing off Svarshan's solid form, she is about to head over to them when the Elgarin pulls off a big show of intimidation. Gaping, she looks from Bird-kin to the sudden thunderstorm. "No, please, do not hurt them. They are my people, regardless. It is -they- I must protect if need be. There is no honour in hurting... such dear friends." Torn, the Eldanar looks from mob to Paladin and Druid, to mob.

There is a pause. Between Svar's comments, Kama'o's comments and then.. well.. then there is Alteri's. Faces fall.

Let's be honest: It's no fun to get your vengeance when the one you would take it on is being meek and martyrly. There is a lengthy pause before one of them lowers his torch and tosses it into the trough nearby.

"This is bullshit," he mutters.

"Maybe we don't have the right person."

"She doesn't seem very bloodthirsty."

"Maybe it's a trick?"

"If it was, the paladin'd know."

"Feh."

There's a lot of general muttering and discontent about this and a few people begin to peel off the mass of the mob. Than a few more. Finally, only a hard core of angry Sendorans is left, all of whom have lost too much to be dissuaded so easily just yet. They slowly stand aside, but with obvious rage in their eyes.

Svarshan lets go a sound, and then looks up towards the mob. "Saaa. ...this is why you lied." It is not a question, it is a...open statement. That one of them had framed her for the murder--just out of hatred. "Is that what one is hearing?" And he looks at them, then, really /looks./ He catches the eye of the one who had flinched, and /holds/ it.

"Allowing them to kill you will not help them, iiwa, even if it makes them feel better right away," Kama'o says gently, deflating back to her normal grandmotherly self, while still keeping an eye on the worst of the troublemakers. "Later, when they are older, they would regret it. If you would help them, do what you can to make their lives better. Even if they spit on you for it. They cannot spit forever, and even if they do, you will change thier children's minds." Pause. "But, you might want to be with one of us when you try."

GAME: Svarshan rolls sense motive: (1)+18: 19

He doesn't quite meet the paladin's gaze. He's just so -angry-. He looks down, his hands clenching into fists. "... it's all their FAULT!" He roars, finally, bashing his fist into the nearby brick and mortar wall. It doesn't go well for his hand.

Cool blue continues to watch the remaining Sendorans, but her low voice she pitches only for her companions. "It would wash away the stain of failure, Wise One." She seems almost sad to see the mob dispersing. Her head snaps to one Sendoran in particular. In the chaos, she had no realised, but with the Sith'makar's words she sees the one being addressed for the first time. Her eyes widen in recognition, then wince when his fist meets brick. "No wonder..."

"...ssaaa." Svarshan's tail drifts to the earth, and he falls quiet for a while. He watches the man, and doesn't make a move--just lets him rage. And after a while, walks over towards him, and grabs the man's fist. "Hit me," he says. He looks at the man, glances at Kama'o as though to say: it is alright, before she scratches his eyes out, and then back again.

"No, iiwa. It would serve no purpose. Besides. If you truly think you are at fault," Kama'o says quietly, and gently, "Then allowing them to send you to the gods is a coward's decision. Much harder to face it, and try to make amends." And then one of them punches a wall. Kama'o clucks, and starts to shuffle toward him...but Svarshan beats her to it. She gives him a little nod. She would have gone for a hug, but his way is probably better.

Mouth open to argue at first, it snaps back closed again. Head dipping, the Eldanar submits to the greyfeather's wisdom, quietly closing the door to the early death she might have sought. Looking up, she blinks at Svarshan's actions now. Alteri tries to get between the Sith'makar and her accuser. Honestly, this human has no sense sometimes. "I should be the one he hits, Sunblade. His grievance is not with you. House n'Aijma must not suffer further stain of a Servant of Daeus bearing her blame."

Wordlessly, Kama'o reaches out and gently folds her arms around Alteri, attempting to prevent her from interfering in the fight between the Sunblade and the Sendoran. She is not strong, and does not have a death-grip of any sort. However, she is fairly certain that Alteri won't try to force the issue. After all, who would want to hurt harmless old Kama'o? She could fall and break a hip or something.

When Svarshan grabs his fist, he tenses. He looks so angry. And then he hits Svarshan as hard as he can. He really does. It doesn't really do much. There's a lot of scales. Thick scales. And he's not exactly all that strong. "I LOST EVERYTHING," he roars. "BECAUSE OF THEM! BECAUSE OF HER FAMILY! BECAUSE OF THE ONES LIKE THEM! Oh god. They had enough. Why did they have to take what little I *had*?" He slowly drops to his knees and buries his face in his his bloodied hands, bursting into tears.

Svarshan looks down at the man, and grunts, a slow, rough breath tinged in ash and smoke. "...It is what he needed. Saaa. He needs the priests, Alteri, not...martyrdom. You are an...a *focus*. Not a...*cure.*" And after a while, after struggling with words and meanings and translations, he grimaces, his shoulders shifting at some difficult decision. And a low voice, "You never saw this. None of you." And he slowly crouches down by the crying man, leaving Kama'o to take care of the warrior.

Feathers surround her. Soft, fluffy feathers. Startled that her defenses are so shoddy -- the Elgarin had no trouble invading her personal space whatsoever -- Alteri immediately ceases in her attempts to put herself between the paladin and her accuser. She would die before breaking a granny's hip. Such dishonour would be a stench unto her name for seventy-seven generations! If she ever bred children, that is.

As the man begins to cry, a faint crack shows in her stoic demeanor, "Many lost everything." she grates out, "I lost family, holdings..." her throat works as she forces words past the sudden lump in her throat, "The other half my soul. The half I would die a thousand painful deaths to bring back, to change the course of time." her face twists as she fights back the rictus of grief. "I -know- loss, I live it every, single, day. It dogs me like a curse, never lets me forget. I -never- forgot my people, even as they would as soon forget me!"

Kama'o hugs Alteri tighter for a few moments, and then releases her and gives her a gentle nudge toward the crying man. Kiss and make up now, her body language suggests, as if this were just a fight between a couple of children. ...Well. To her, it is. "Can you fix his hands, paladin?" she asks quietly. Otherwise, she seems content to let the scene play out.

He's hopeless at this point, sobbing quite a bit.

The remaining Sendorans are looking away, effected by the emotional display and outbursts.

None of them want to say anything.

Svarshan grunts at the grandmother's words, and looks back at the man then, and, "Let her live, and she will work to right the things her family did." And then he grabs the man's chin and makes the man look at Alteri. "/See/ her." To Alteri: "/Talk/ to him!!" His claws dig in slightly. Not cruelly. ...he's just...

Not. Human.

Alteri is unsteady enough that Kama'o's nudge sends her stumbling to the ground by the sobbing man. Uncertainly, she looks up at the Elgarin, then to Svarshan. She is supposed to do -what- now? Not one for physical displays of affection, she only manages to pat the man on the back, if he would let her. Even so simple a task has her looking vastly awkward. "I am sorry for your loss." she says hesitantly, but sincerely. We were betrayed as surely as the rest of Sendor was." She brushes impatiently at suspiciously bright eyes, "I swore on my blood and the blood of my beloved that I would hunt down the ones who sold us to fire and destruction. That vow, still stands."

Kama'o waits until Alteri begins to speak to the man, and then shuffles slowly over, rounding all three individuals until she is behind the sobbing man. Taking a sprig of holly out of a pouch, she tucks it into his hair and puts a gentle hand over it, not even making contact with her claws. Her eyes darken once more as she begins a slow chant, and soon his hands are...well, they look much better. Suspicious individuals, however, may note a conspicious lack of bad-smelling ointment.

GAME: Kama'o casts Cure Light Wounds.
GAME: Kama'o rolls 1d8+2: (1)+2: 3

He finally looks up. HE finally looks at her and tries to talk. He does. But he simply weeps and begins to babble about 'sorry' and 'so sorry'.

It's human weakness. All too real human weakness and frailty on display.

Kama'o totally goes for a group hug, and doesn't care how much snot gets on her feathers. ...She also slips a coin in the man's pocket.

He finally straightens up and wraps his arms around Alteri.

And then? Then he hugs her. And snots on her. And bawls into her. That's all he can do.

Recent Logs

2011-09-09T07:48:14Z

Alteri:

[[Category:Logs]]
Roleplay is central to Tenebrae, and consists of a mix of scenes, grid, and PrPs. Here you may read some of the logs our players have posted, or wanted to share. This page may also be used to post logs for PrPs, to share an item for staff review, or to tell players about a great scene. Just remember to ask folks in the scene if it's alright before posting (if it's a DM'd scene, ask the DM). Remember too, if you're RPing in a public area, a log may end up on this site.

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* [[Agril, Axe Murderer|Social: Agril, Axe Murderer]]
* [[Dramatic Scene: Is It Lynch Time Yet?]]

[[Category:Admin]]

Agril, Axe Murderer

2011-09-07T19:46:06Z

Alteri:

<pre>
-=--=--=--=--=--=--<* City Docks - Alexandria's Welcome *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

A waterfront district full of sailors in search of entertainment and the
businesses that cater to them, the famed area known as Alexandria's Welcome
can be a rough-and-tumble place. Roughened sailors careen through these
streets in groups of three, four and five, moving from tavern to bordello and
back again in search of a good time. This area most assuredly caters to
the lower classes.

Daring captains tend to wander through here in search of the rowdiest
and the toughest to attempt to sail their ships; fist fights are common, as are
boistrous claims and stories by loud sailors who have no shortage of tall tales
regarding their time at sea to share with anyone willing to listen.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Alteri Tall, female human fighter; dark hair, pale eyes. 0s 10h
Agril A human man in priestly garb. 6s 53m
Halani Shortish, dusky skinned woman with almond shaped eyes 1m 3h
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= Exits -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Ox-Strength Tavern <OX> Dragon's Gate <S> Cliffside <NW>
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

</pre>

A night watchman sounds his gong, marking the final quarter of an hour before midnight. The air is still, save for his measured pacing. Shadows bob and lengthen with his passing, casting odd shapes that the more nervous might jump at. Not helping is the fog, creeping in from the sea and causing sound and echoes to bend oddly. Most of the sane have found their beds, while the less prudent continue swilling and wenching indoors. The most imprudent of all? They loiter the docks, heedless of the rough-hands and confident no one will bother them.

Alteri is one of the latter-most. Her hands are cupped strangely to her face, and if ears are sharp, they will hear a soft melody whistling through her fingers. Upon a closer look, a pair of thin leaves are spotted between her lips, blown to create the simple Sendoran melody. Meandering with no true destination, she saunters past a drunken scuffle already being broken up by the City Watch.

"All is well," mutters Agril as he makes his way down the street. "All is *not* well. I had to delivere twins tonight. *Twins*. How many more times is this going to happen? Daeus, are you trying to send me a message? I bloody well *hope* not.."

His smock, by the way, is covered in blood.

Halani wasn't quite sure what she heard.. it's not that she has sharp ears, but some trick of the alleyways brought the soft sound of Alteri's music to her, drawing her out into the street in search of its source. Almost entranced, the young woman doesn't see Agril until she bumps into him. She lets out a startled "oh!" and starts to apologize.. until she notices blood on her robes. And then notices blood on Agril's smock. And then misinterprets his expression as something else entirely. Her eyes widen, and then she lets out an ear piercing shriek.

Mist swirls, giving way to Alteri's long steps. She has reached the boardwalk itself, her war-like stature and Big Freaking Sword staving off any possible offers for a quick tumble from the dockhands. Most are gathered in small circles, gambling their day's wages away. In the dark waters, quiet splashes are still heard, as the more enterprising or perhaps, the most desperate, search the briny shallows for things to salvage. Boat-borne lanterns bob and sway like a myriad fireflies, while men, affected by the oppressive humidity and fog of the night, quietly grunt and strain to haul their next big find into their crafts.

Alteri's tune reaches a crescendo, and some few she passes by even tap to the rhythm. Halani's piercing shriek shatters that uneasy peace in an instant, and the Eldanar's head whips to look where she -thought- she heard the sound coming from. But then more screams are heard, this time from the dark waters. One of the lanterns is bobbing madly, showing men with arms flailing wildly. A loud splash, as one goes so far as to abandon the boat, trying desperately to make it to shore. Stark terror paints his pale face, the expression melting to one of desperation as he begins to sink. He does not know how to swim. Taking this all this in, Alteri mutters a general prayer to the Holy Order and, quickly stripping off her breastplate and sword, she dives in, strong strokes taking her out to the struggling man.

"It's a body! Gods save us!" Come one of the shouts drifting over the murky waters.

"..."

Agril pauses for a moment. A long moment. He looks at Halani and says, "I'm a priest of *Daeus*, Lady. Calm yourself. Please. Now." And then there's the body call and he just -groans-. As if this day couldn't get any worse.

Halani backpedals, Agril's identification being lost on her. Or maybe she doesn't trust a psychopathic killer to tell the truth. Either way, she doesn't take her eyes off of him until she's out of arm's reach, and then she sprints.. to where a few people are beginning to gather. Safety in numbers and all that. Nevermind that they're gathering because of the shouts from the water and Alteri's heroics.

It is not so much heroics as a pragmatic wish for the docks to not smell any worse than it already does. Corpses, sea-bloated ones especially, smell terrible. Spluttering, the panicked man claws at the first solid thing his hands find, that being Alteri's face. Grunting at the sting of salt water on her cuts, she quietly waits for just the right moment and simply gives his temple a good hard rap. Much better. Holding the now unconscious man's head above the harbour's calm waters, it is a simple task to haul him back to shore.

Not so simple, however, is the attempt to get a handle on just what is going on. Between the scream and all the shouts, people are pouring out of taverns and hovels, milling like an ant mound a petulent child had kicked over.

"Did they say body?"

"WAAAAH! It's my honeybuns! I knew he wouldn't leave me on purpose! WAAAAH! Wait for me, my roasted chestnuts, I'm coming to join you! Give me your knife! Is it sharp??"

"By the gods, would someone shut that twat up?!"

"Madame, kindly take your hands -off- my crotch!"

"You've got to be kidding me," says Agril. He tears the smock off and tosses it aside and then marches to the front, then, calls out, "Calm down, people!" The priest's voice takes on a deeply commanding tone. Because, well.. he *can* be.

Halani gets jostled a bit as people start crowding about, and then.. she sees him! Not to be fooled by his half-hearted attempt to hide his misdeeds, Halani decides to act. She tried the better part of valour.. she tried to just run away and avoid confrontation.. but oooooh no. He had to follow her. So, hopefully before he has a chance to really spot her, Halani ducks under his arm and then.. goes for the knees. Well, the back too. A combination if you will, of pushing at the small of his back and kicking at the back of his knees.

More lanterns bob around the boat that is the source of the -second- panic, as conscientious captains or simply the curious ones, paddle over to see what the fuss is about. One and all go pale under their weather-beaten tans, and a few begin retching into the waters. One of the older salts retains his fortitude and points a finger, gnarled and arthritic by the rigours of his trade, towards the shoreline. "Y'best git it t'land, son." he rasps, "B'ain't fer us ta deal wit' this sort o' badness." Making superstitious warding signs, he is the first to get his boat as far and away as possible. The rest follow suit, unwilling to be tied up in questionings. The remaining hands reluctantly begin paddling towards shore.

For Alteri's part, she is just dragging her rescuee's inert form up the closest shale slope her feet find. "Teach me *ungh* to hang around here." she can be heard grumbling to herself while pulling their waterlogged selves up past the highest tidelines. Of course, the spot where she dumps her burden is just next to where the bloodstained smock is piled. Eyes widening at the rust stains, she looks around, just in time to see a monk she knows, making a move for... a priest she knows. "Huh?" comes her eminently erudite query.

Agril was about to call to Alteri, really. Say something to the shape of the woman dragging the person she's rescuing in. But then he feels hands on his back and a good kick to the back of his legs and he goes tumbling into the water with a SPLOOSH.

"AUGH."

Halani dusts her hands off, allowing herself a moment of self-congratulations before she really takes a look at what's going on. What little she manages to see in what poor lighting there is for her mere human eyes, she still blanches. There is a moment... a mere second, really.. of regret for dumping Agril in there. But then she remembers he's some sort of nasty axe murderer, so she backs away instead. And then spies Alteri, all sodden and burdened with a fellow who looks half her size. Eager to be away from looking at the waters, she trots over to Alteri. "What's going on?"

Thoroughly lost on what is going on herself, Alteri shrugs an eloquent shoulder while watching Agril to check if he can actually swim, "Mistress Halani," she greets, impatiently tossing aside the strand of seaweed that is trying to give her a unibrow look, "I haven't the faintest..." Eyes made colourless in the dim light fall to the deck of the boat now crunching into the sand; an advantage of being able to see past most of those crowding around.

Arms, legs, and a body. Yes, they are all there. Unfortunately, that is all that is there. The grotesquely bloated thing is missing a head, as well and hands and feet. Whether they were cleanly sliced off is difficult to tell, for the fishies have gotten to it. At least the age of the corpse rules out Agril. Maybe. Throat moving as if she is swallowing back bile, she winces as new screams begin sounding. Trying to speak over the noise, she gestures towards where she saw Agril go in, echoing Halani, "What's going on?"

"..gwaah," dammit, Agril isn't a great swimmer, but he begins paddling back to shore, sputtering, to try to haul himself up out of the water. There is HORRIBLE THINGS in the water. The body, for one. Alteri for two. And vomit. And oil. And piss. And everything else.

Halani's eyes widen, and her cheeks puff out as if attempting to control her stomach and not lose her dinner. She puts her hands over her mouth.. and then fails as she has to turn around and retch. The sound of other people doing the same probably doesn't help much. It takes her a little while to finish; when she does, her breathing is hard and her voice is shaky. "I think I know who did it," she manages to claim. "He was following me. I think I was going to be his next victim!" Yes. The world does revolve around Halani.

Alteri does not have Halani's advantage of having seen Agril suspiciously bloodstained. Thus, she steps over to offer him a hand. The pause indicates her attempting to recall his name, "Double-rainbow man." She fails, "Are you all ri- Wait," frowning, she glances from Halani to Agril. Agril, who was shoved into the sea by the monkette. "Him?" In her shock, she might have dropped him back into the sea. And -still- the crowds mill, torn between morbid fascination and a spreading word that someone knows who the killer is.

"Uagh," coughs Agril a few more times as he finally gets back on the land. "That's *it*. In the name of Daeus, you will all *calm down this instant!" And Agril's commanding enough to demand just that. He's got that presence to him, after all, that only high ranking clerics can really muster.

GAME: Agril rolls diplomacy: (1)+29: 30

"It's him!" squeaks Halani, and she immediately falls into a fighting stance, shifting to the balls of her feet as she raises her hands up in front of her. Heedless of the fact that people are stepping away from him, somewhat hushed from his Commanding Presence. "I'm not gonna let you turn me into fish food!"

Thoroughly flummoxed, Alteri's head snaps comically from monk to cleric and back. She is not being paid enough for this, and she mumbles as much.

More screams, prompted by Halani's squeak, and one shriek of outrage, "That the one that killed my hunka lunka owlbear sausage? Let me at him!" A halfing with more make-up than sense shoots out from the crowd's edge, claws outstretched and ready to dig Agril's eyes out. Once she finds a ladder.

Heaving a sigh, Alteri reaches out one sodden paw and slaps it onto the irate female's head, keeping her fearsome claws back. Her heavy 'you better have an explanation' look settles on the dripping priest.

"I'm *not* going to turn ANYONE into fish food unless they throw me in the water again," says Agril, giving Halani this awful glare like she farted in church. Maybe she did. Anyways, he marches forward. "GUARDS," he booms. "Where are the damn guards? STEP FORWARD." He's glancing back and forth still.

"Stay back! I'm warning you!" Halani yelps at Agril, backing up even as he advances. She glances at Alteri. "I bumped into him not far from here! His clothes were all bloody, and he had a mean glint in his eye!" Oh, no. She isn't letting her guard down just because Agril has his innocent face on.

"Way! Make way! By the gods, make way or I'll have you all arrested!" Bellows a gruff voice. The sea of bodies part, admitting a regiment of city guards and one officer whose handlebar mustache bristles in affront at bodies daring to show up when he is trying to sleep. "Eerngh," he scrubs the tiredness from his face, "What have we here then." Belatedly, his eyes fall on the corpse, most reluctantly, and gingerly, being transferred to the ground via the same net that had fished it up. "Join the guards they said, see the world, they said..." Throwing a quelling look at his men to force them NOT to vomit by sheer force of pissed-off will, he stomps over and begins poking fingers into everyone's shoulder. "All right, who did it? You? You?"

It is the word of someone Alteri has fought and bled with, next to the word of someone with interesting ideas of how rainbows save the world. Dabbing at the bleeding scratches crossing her face, the fighter looks dubiously at both, "He uh... was he holding a weapon?" Thankfully, the guards arrive before she can embarrass herself with trying to figure this out on her own. Happily, she steps back, clearing the way for, "Hey! Watch your finger, I just saved a man from drowning." Her eyes drop to the bloated body, "That one I couldn't save."

"HMMM?!" Swivelling to eye the Highborn, the officer's head tilts one side, then the other. His meaty fist thuds into his palm, "Defensive wounds! Take her into custody. And her little accomplice there, too." The guards not incapacitated by the stomach-churning scene immediately step forward to clap irons on Alteri and her 'accomplice'. "Huh? Wait a minute!"

"There's no telling who did it. It doesn't have a head," replies Agril, irritably. He's drenched, a little cold from being in the water and he eyes Halani. "Let me make this simple for you: I am a priest. A healer. I was delivering babies. That a body washed up is total coincidence. Would you like me to grab you by the ear and introduce you to the newborns? Because I will. I *will*. So stand down, girl, before I put you over my knee and deliver the beating your father should've given you ages ago." He's not in a good mood. At all. He then turns towards the highborn and the guards.

As soon as the guard officer starts asking who did it, Halani, of course, starts pointing fingers. Two of them. At Agril. Not that the guard pays her much attention, as focused as he becomes on Alteri. "Noooo! She didn't do it. She saved people!" She tries to put herself between the much taller highborn and the guard, trying to divert his attention to the 'priest.' "It was..." And then, of course, Agril lays into her. Verbally. Her eyes go wide... momentarily, at least, seeing the mistake she might have made. But then he has to go and mention her father. Her face goes stony, her eye twitches.

Zarkhan arrives from the main docks of Alexandria.
Zarkhan has arrived.

Agril glares at Halani before turning his attenton back to Alteri. He says, firmly, "Guardsman. That woman is a member of my church. You will release her into the custody of Sunblade Svarshan when you are done with her. Are we clear?"

He isn't going to interrupt the questioning. He has respect for the lawful duties of the guard, after all.

Falling silent, Alteri could power herself free, but thinks it better to remain peaceful, for now. "Eenie meenie mynie..." Eyes casting towards the star-speckled skies, she seems to be having a silent talk with whichever god is piddling on her head today. Then, chin lifting, she raises her voice to gain Halani's attention, "Mistress, if you could see to my sword and armour, I'd appreciate it muchly."

"No more talk!" The officer shouts, "You're all four coming with us! Cuff them, and call for the city coroner. You three, arrest anyone else that tries to touch it." Aside to Agril, he mutters only loud enough for the priest to hear, "Do us a favour and play along. It's the only way to get out of this crowd. She'll be delivered to the Sunblade, on my wor-OW!" Glaring at the halfer who had assaulted his shins, he growls, "Get her ankles too." To the rest of those gathered, he brandishes his halbred, "Off, off with the lot of you! Back to your wenching!" Mutters and grumbles meet the offer's orders, but people do begin to disperse. A few remain a little longer, saying their own prayers to Vardama before leaving.

Zarkhan is strolling down the street, hands folded behind his back like he doesn't have a care in the world. Nevermind that it's the middle of the night. Commotion and a dispersing crowd is sure to draw his attention though and he drifts closer, against the flow as well as common sense. "Oh my." he remarks, spying Alteri being taken into custody.

"As you wish, guardsman. I will respect your wish." And so play along Agril does. Though he does give Halani another glare. He's soaking wet after all this.

[[Category:Logs]]

Agril, Axe Murderer

2011-09-01T20:36:41Z

Alteri: Created page with "<pre> -=--=--=--=--=--=--<* City Docks - Alexandria's Welcome *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=- A waterfront district full of sailors in search of entertainment and the businesses..."

Recent Logs

2011-09-01T20:30:58Z

Alteri:

[[Category:Logs]]
Roleplay is central to Tenebrae, and consists of a mix of scenes, grid, and PrPs. Here you may read some of the logs our players have posted, or wanted to share. This page may also be used to post logs for PrPs, to share an item for staff review, or to tell players about a great scene. Just remember to ask folks in the scene if it's alright before posting (if it's a DM'd scene, ask the DM). Remember too, if you're RPing in a public area, a log may end up on this site. A public area is anyplace that's on the main grid that isn't a residence, personal room, or Plot Room.

If you're interested in a summary of recent history, see [[Recent History]].

===How to Post Logs===
Please prepend PrPs with PrP: Name of Log. This includes all kinds of PrPs; Standard, Death Consent, and Dramatic (respectively, SPrPs, DCPrPs, and DPrPs). Most recent logs are at the '''bottom.''' Be sure to put all pages into '''<nowiki>[[Category: Logs]]</nowiki>'''. Thank you.

{{TableMain}}
{{T01}}
| colspan="2" | Log Help
{{T02}}
|I Need Help With...
|Look Here
|-
|Posting a log
|[[How to Post a Log]]
|-
|Wiki formatting
|[[Help:Editing#Formatting|Wiki Help]]
|-
|Finding a PrP template
|[[PrP Template]]
|-
|Finding what goes in a PrP log
|[[Submitting PrPs]]
|-
|Finding logs from the old website
|[http://emblemofea.pbworks.com/w/page/12036798/Game-Logs The Old Site]
|}

===Our Logs===

* [[Ancestors Pyre|Dramatic Scene: Ancestor's Pyre]]
* [[Back At The Ranch|Social: Back At The Ranch...]]
* [[Boy Meets Girl|Social: Boy Meets Girl]]
* [[Ashenvale Part 2|PRP: Ashenvale Part 2]]
* [[PrP: The Competition|PRP: The Competition]]

* [[Falcon Point: Teeth of the Deep|PRP: Falcon Point: Teeth of the Deep]]
* [[PrP: Brothers of the Storm Part I]]
* [[PrP: Rats!]]
* [[UglyBats|PRP: Huggin' Ugly Bats]]
* [[GrandParade|DPrP: Machinists Grand Parade]]

* [[PrPALittleBatty|PRP: A Little Batty]]
* [[Dragon in the Garden|Social: Dragon in the Garden]]
* [[Bacon Liberation Team|PrP: Bacon Liberation Team]]
* [[Daggers in the Dark|PrP: Daggers in the Dark]]
* [[PrP: Wolves in the Winter]]

* [[Adventurous Rivalry|PrP: Adventurous Rivalry]]
* [[PrP: That's not Timmy!]]
* [[PrP: Black Ring Rising]]
* [[PrP: Chicken Chasers!]]
* [[PrP: Timmy's Uncle]]

* [[PrP: Teena's Bad Day]]
* [[PrP: Fistful of Chitlins]]
* [[Hell's Medicine Part 1|PRP: Hell's Medicine Part 1]]
* [[Gnap!|PRP: Gnap!]]
* [[PrP: Watt's Mine is Mine]]

* [[PrP: 3375 Cubic Feet of Terror]]
* [[Why Did It Have To Be Rats?|PRP: Why Did It Have To Be Rats?]]
* [[The Poisoning of the Myrrish Ambassador|Social: The Poisoning of the Myrrish Ambassador]]
* [[Necromancer's Folly|PrP: Necromancer's Folly]]
* [[Tears in Dust Part 1|PrP: Tears in Dust Part 1]]

* [[A Veyshanti Sort Of Arrangement|PrP: A Veyshanti Sort Of Arrangement]]
* [[Tears in Dust Part 2|PRP: Tears in Dust Part 2]]
* [[PrP: Earthshaper Part I]]
* [[PrP: Adventure, Inc. - Part 1]]
* [[PrP: Godbusters]]

* [[Heroic by Proxy|PRP: Heroic by Proxy]]
* [[DPRP: Run, Thief, Run!|DPrP: Run, Thief, Run!]]
* [[Hell's Medicine Part 2|PrP: Hell's Medicine Part 2]]
* [[Tooth and Sky|PRP: Tooth and Sky]]
* [[PrP: Codices, Indices, and Odysseys]]

* [[The Hauntening|PRP: The Hauntening]]
* [[PrP: Codex Bifolium]]
* [[Tournament Paramount: Magic Competition Round 1]]
* [[Tidehollow's Challenge|Tournament Paramount: Tidehollow's Challenge]]
* [[Caller in Darkness|PRP: Caller in Darkness]]

* [[Dramatic Scene: Guild of Explorer's Meeting: Dwarven Citadel Expedition]]
* [[Shadowfall is coming|Social: Shadowfall is Coming]]
* [[Hell's Medicine Part 3|PrP: Hell's Medicine Part 3]]
* [[PrP: Beneath the Church]]
* [[PrP: Old Wounds]]

* [[PrP: In The Thick of Things]]
* [[The Young Herbalist|Social: The Young Herbalist]]
* [[Wyvern Hugger|Social: Wyvern Hugger]]
* [[Twins | Social: Twins]]
* [[Silver Wings: Why the Egalrin are the Way They Are|Social: Silver Wings: Why the Egalrin are the Way They Are]]

* [[PrP: Just Lion Around]]
* [[Kill Ted|Scene: Kill Ted]]
* [[PrP-Tutorial: You Dirty Rat!]]
* [[Agril, Axe Murderer|Social: Agril, Axe Murderer]]

[[Category:Admin]]

User:Alteri

2011-08-16T08:28:48Z

Alteri: Blanked the page

User:Alteri

2011-08-16T00:15:55Z

Alteri: Created page with "{{TableMain}} {{T01}} | Class | Spells {{T02}} | colspan="2"| Bard Spells |- |- | 0|| [http://paizo.com/pathfinderRPG/prd/advanced/spells/spark.html#spark- Spark], [http://paizo...."

{{TableMain}}
{{T01}}
| Class
| Spells
{{T02}}
| colspan="2"| Bard Spells
|-
|-
| 0|| [http://paizo.com/pathfinderRPG/prd/advanced/spells/spark.html#spark- Spark], [http://paizo.com/pathfinderRPG/prd/advanced/spells/unwittingAlly.html#unwitting-ally Unwitting Ally]
|-
| 1st|| [http://paizo.com/pathfinderRPG/prd/advanced/spells/beguilingGift.html#beguiling-gift Beguiling Gift], [http://paizo.com/pathfinderRPG/prd/advanced/spells/dancingLantern.html#dancing-lantern- Dancing Lantern], [http://paizo.com/pathfinderRPG/prd/advanced/spells/flareBurst.html#flare-burst Flare Burst], [http://paizo.com/pathfinderRPG/prd/advanced/spells/invigorate.html#invigorate Invigorate], [http://paizo.com/pathfinderRPG/prd/advanced/spells/restfulSleep.html#restful-sleep Restful Sleep], [http://paizo.com/pathfinderRPG/prd/advanced/spells/savingFinale.html#saving-finale Saving Finale], [http://paizo.com/pathfinderRPG/prd/advanced/spells/shareLanguage.html#share-language- Share Language], [http://paizo.com/pathfinderRPG/prd/advanced/spells/solidNote.html#solid-note Solid Note], [http://paizo.com/pathfinderRPG/prd/advanced/spells/timelyInspiration.html#timely-inspiration Timely Inspiration]
|-
| 2nd|| Enter Image, Gallant Inspiration, Ghostbane Dirge, Hidden Speech
|-
| 3rd|| Invigorate, Mass, Jester's Jaunt, Purging Finale, Reviving Finale, Thunderous Drums
|-
| 4th|| Discordant Blast, Ghostbane Dirge, Mass, Wandering Star Motes
|-
| 5th|| Bard's Escape, Deafening Song Bolt, Foe to Friend, Frozen Note, Phantasmal Web
|-
| 6th|| Brilliant Inspiration, Getaway, Pied Piping
{{T02}}
| colspan="2"| Cleric Spells
|-
| 0|| Spark
|-
| 1st|| Ant Haul, Dancing Lantern
|-
| 2nd|| Blessing of Courage and Life, Ghostbane Dirge, Grace, Instant Armor, Share Language, Weapon of Awe
|-
| 3rd|| Enter Image, Guiding Star, Sacred Bond, Wrathful Mantle
|-
| 4th|| Planar Adaptation, Spiritual Ally
|-
| 5th|| Ghostbane Dirge, Mass, Life Bubble, Pillar of Life, Snake Staff
|-
| 6th|| Planar Adaptation, Mass
|-
| 8th|| Stormbolts
|-
| 9th|| Winds of Vengeance
{{T02}}
| colspan="2"| Druid Spells
|-
| 0|| Spark
|-
| 1st|| Ant Haul, Aspect of the Falcon, Call Animal, Cloak of Shade, Detect Aberration, Expeditious Excavation, Flare Burst, Keen Senses, Negate Aroma, Stone Fist, Touch of the Sea
|-
| 2nd|| Accelerate Poison, Aspect of the Bear, Burning Gaze, Eagle Eye, Feast of Ashes, Glide, Pox Pustules, Scent Trail, Share Language, Slipstream, Stone Call
|-
| 3rd|| Aqueous Orb, Cloak of Winds, Cup of Dust, Hide Campsite, Lily Pad Stride, Nature's Exile, Shifting Sand
|-
| 4th|| Aspect of the Stag, Ball Lightning, Geyser, Grove of Respite, Life Bubble, River of Wind, True Form
|-
| 5th|| Aspect of the Wolf, Fire Snake, Snake Staff
|-
| 6th||
|-
| 7th|| Rampart, Vortex
|-
| 8th|| Seamantle, Stormbolts
|-
| 9th|| Clashing Rocks, Tsunami, Winds of Vengeance
{{T02}}
| colspan="2"| Paladin Spells
|-
| 1st|| Challenge Evil, Ghostbane Dirge, Grace, Hero's Defiance, Knight's Calling, Rally Point, Veil of Positive Energy
|-
| 2nd|| Bestow Grace, Blessing of Courage and Life, Instant Armor, Light Lance, Paladin's Sacrifice, Righteous Vigor, Sacred Bond, Saddle Surge, Wake of Light, Weapon of Awe
|-
| 3rd|| Divine Transfer, Fire of Judgment, Ghostbane Dirge, Mass, Holy Whisper, Sanctify Armor, Wrathful Mantle
|-
| 4th|| Blaze of Glory, Fire of Vengeance, King's Castle, Oath of Peace, Resounding Blow, Sacrificial Oath, Stay the Hand
{{T02}}
| colspan="2"| Ranger Spells
|-
| 1st|| Ant Haul, Aspect of the Falcon, Call Animal, Cloak of Shade, Dancing Lantern, Detect Aberration, Glide, Hunter's Howl, Keen Senses, Negate Aroma, Residual Tracking, Tireless Pursuit
|-
| 2nd|| Accelerate Poison, Allfood, Aspect of the Bear, Bloodhound, Chameleon Stride, Eagle Eye, Guiding Star, Hide Campsite, Hunter's Eye, Perceive Cues, Protective Spirit, Slipstream, Stone Call
|-
| 3rd|| Aspect of the Stag, Cloak of Winds, Life Bubble, Tireless Pursuers, Venomous Bolt
|-
| 4th|| Aspect of the Wolf, Bow Spirit, Grove of Respite
{{T02}}
| colspan="2"| Sorcerer/Wizard Spells
|-
| 0|| Spark
|-
| 1st|| Ant Haul, Break, Dancing Lantern, Expeditious Excavation, Flare Burst, Sculpt Corpse, Stone Fist, Touch of the Sea
|-
| 2nd|| Accelerate Poison, Burning Gaze, Fire Breath, Glide, Share Language, Slipstream, Stone Call
|-
| 3rd|| Aqueous Orb, Cloak of Winds, Draconic Reservoir, Enter Image, Shifting Sand
|-
| 4th|| Ball Lightning, Detonate, Dragon's Breath, Firefall, River of Wind, Share Senses, True Form, Wandering Star Motes
|-
| 5th|| Fire Snake, Geyser, Life Bubble, Phantasmal Web, Planar Adaptation
|-
| 6th|| Contagious Flame, Enemy Hammer, Fluid Form, Getaway
|-
| 7th|| Firebrand, Fly, Mass, Planar Adaptation, Mass, Rampart, Vortex
|-
| 8th|| Seamantle, Stormbolts
|-
| 9th|| Clashing Rocks, Fiery Body, Tsunami, Winds of Vengeance
|}