To Find a Mourner (Part 3)
GAME: Telamon casts Overland Flight. Caster Level: 20 DC: 24 GAME: Telamon casts Mind Blank. Caster Level: 20 DC: 27 GAME: Ravenstongue casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 19 DC: 19 GAME: Telamon casts Greater Teleport. Caster Level: 20 DC: 26 GAME: Ravenstongue casts Overland Flight. Caster Level: 19 DC: 24 GAME: Ravenstongue casts Mind Blank. Caster Level: 19 DC: 26 GAME: Ravenstongue casts Veil. Caster Level: 19 DC: 24 GAME: Auranar casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 9 DC: 16 GAME: Harkashan casts Magic Vestment. Caster Level: 13 DC: 20 GAME: Aelwyn rolls perform/dance: (14)+10: 24
Mor kulkodar kala. Caracoroth's Teeth. Charn. Any one of these locations tend to have negative connotations by name alone. In reality, this is... not undeserved, in fact.
The group appears outside of Mor kulkodar kala on the only reasonable surface: one of the many switchbacks on the single road that approaches the fortress. Above them in all directs save south are narrow jagged peaks of the range. Further north, past the peaks, swirl dark storms in the Desolation.
To the south and below them sprawls The Dreadlands: a barren scrubland that flattens from foothills to flat and even to marsh in the distance. There is little to vegetation to speak of as far as one can see: bleak lichens on rocks, a few twisted (possibly dead) scrub bushes. There are no sounds of animals, prey nor predator.
Up the road (or rather up the moutain), parts of the spires of the fortress can be seen. Below, the approach road all but barren. Only a single large and blocky wagon travels slowly in the direction of the fortress.
With the Veil active, Harkashan does not move into any kind of military or tactical position. Instead, he walks right next to Rune. Keeping his eyes peeled for trouble, but adopting a more casual swagger.
It's true, he doesn't really know much about the Charnites beyond the battles he's had with them. But he has to assume that they aren't evil 100 of the time, right? They're not walking around kicking puppies for funsies... they have summoned demons for that kind of hard work.
"Think they'll be expecting us?"
Hopefully, the fortress inhabitants haven't noticed the appearance of a group of very, very irritated adventurers practically on their doorstep -- even if they're disguised. Telamon's eyes flick around cautiously, peering up to pick out the wagon slowly approaching the fortress. "That's got some possibilities," he muses.
He turns to look at Harkashan. "Probably. I was willing to kick off a major diplomatic incident the last time this bitch grabbed Verna. Now I'm even -more- willing to do so." Tel cracks his knuckles. "Honestly, I'm kind of looking forward to it. There's a time when clearly, talking is just not going to work."
Auranar knows that her place might well be in the back of the convoy which is bespelled with magic to appear as a group of harmless servants. She knows this, but she can not stop her steps from carrying her to the forefront. She knows well that she is far from the most powerful of those gathered to rescue her wife. Pothy is settled firmly on her shoulder, offering her a source of comfort and as a reminder to control her temper. However, she knows that reminder or no, if anyone tries to stop them from reaching her wife that there will be no mercy on her part.
Reality shifts and then shifts again, and the Goblin's legs wobble, giving out a moment after. She makes an unhappy sound a couple of times, before staggering to her feet.
"I am really beginning to dislike teleportation as a method of travel.", Simony mutters quietly. Shuffling towards the edge of the road, she crouches, staring off into the distance. "I wonder what this used to look like, before it go made into... this mess." The Goblin wobbles to Telamon's side. "So uhm hey diddle diddle, straight up the middle? Or sneaky-like?"
Pothy is a stalwart Auranar-companion... Even if he has been turned from his beautiful leucistic-feathered self to a house finch. Something easily missed amidst the browns and grays of the Veiled appearances everyone has been given, thanks to Cor'lana's magic.
Cor'lana herself nods to Telamon. "Whatever happens here... We follow Auranar's direction," she says as she walks with the group. "This is her show. This is her wife. I think we can manage here, thanks to magic, to be a bit sneaky, but we stay the course that Auranar's charting. Right, sister?"
It is a bit strange to look to her side and see individuals that aren't recognized. The result of the spell is remarkable in how plain the group looks. Well, that is other than a whisp of shadow that flicks from beneath Rune's cloak before she tugs it forward, hiding the odd interaction from sight. There is a slight, ever-present shudder tremble in her hands, a fear of the Charneth that still peeks out from time to time despite her best efforts.
"I don't know." She whispers in answer, eyes looking up the path as she walks beside the taller 'servant' that is Harkashan. Turning to look in the direction of Simony's voice, "I can go virtually unseen if I want to, but I think speed is our leader's concern right now." Her chin nudges in the direction of the individual who stands out as Auranar, if only by determination and body language at the moment.
It took him a moment to dispel the dizziness from the teleport, but soon Aelwyn had the dreary, fate accepted weight to his step as he carries himself with the firm non-determination of someone who had been carrying way too many boxes by the docks. Because hey - that is what the draconian used to do in his off days. Now he just does it as a hobby.
The short ruddy-sith makar makes a clicking sound as he looks around. "Tch, this is miserable." He comments of the surroundings, shaking his head. Slowly, he raises his glaive over his shoulder and balances his free forearm across its haft, like carrying a heavy farm tool. "If this one had any guess, it shan't be simple as walk in." He replies to Harkashan as he moves to walk past them, then he looks towards Rune. "Speed is a concern," He agrees. "And gives an excuse to set things on fire more rapidly." A flash of his teeth.
And so the valiant 'venturers voyage to verify Verna's vigor and the villainy of the vile Varyssa...
As they ascend the mountain's winding road, the fortress comes into view. Foremost ahead is a heavy drawbridge, lowered, that connects this peak to the craggy neighbor upon which the fortress resides. Beyond that is a gated alcove to serve as a 'lock'; the exterior portcullis is open, but the massive timber and iron gate beyond is closed. A pair of guards are seen at watch outside the alcove.
Below the group, the large wagon continues its climb, gradually closing on both the group and the keep.
GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (12)+33: 45 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception: (2)+24: 26 GAME: Auranar rolls Perception+2: (9)+5+2: 16
As the group slowly approaches the gate, Telamon's sharp eyes flick across the guards, and the open portcullis and closed gate. Quietly, he murmurs to the others, "They don't look like they're on alert. Let me do the talking if they start asking questions; I don't want to ruin the disguises yet." Part of him wants to simply blast his way through, but the further they can get in without discovery, the better. "Just keep your eyes down and act servile. That should keep them from getting too suspicious."
Auranar glances back once at the wagon and quickly signs with her fingers to Cor'lana. *Slaves*. The one motion is all she gives before she ducks her head. The better to hide both the rage and determination on her face. She will tear this place apart brick by brick, but Verna is her main focus. Always.
Already used to going around unnoticed, Simony simply nods at Telamon. With a little bid of fidgeting, her face retreats further into her hood.
Slowly she takes up a spot a bit further behind Telamon, matching his pace and gait as best she can.
For the time being, Rune is simply playing her part, but her ears are trained for any signs of trouble, either from in front or behind. Verna's family is here, and that means they should be the ones taking the lead, and she is more than happy to follow. There is a glance towards Auranar, but then Telamon's whisper catches one pointed but disguised ear. "You're the smooth talker. Makes sense to leave it to you." She whispers in return, a quirk of a smile showing only momentarily.
Harkashan, on the other hand, continues to stoically walk, though it is likely his thoughts are focused on the threat they may soon face.
_Slaves._ The handspeech makes Cor'lana frown. Having kept a keen eye out with Auranar, she confirms it with a quick flick of her eyes and then looks down. The spell will go a long way to make them all look like they're just ordinary servants, but the attitude--the performance--will help sell it.
The bird that Pothy's been transformed into by the spell remains with Auranar for the moment, keeping with her because his sister needs his comfort and aid. They'll do this castle-destroying together.
Aelwyn admittedly didn't notice much of this quiet looking and hand waving going on, content on following on after everyone else with his slow, heavy looking walk that had an odd sway to it. His glaive continued to bop up and down; its blade hidden under the drape of his arm.
"Ah, never anything suspicious about a group of beggars and the needy walking into a city of death, the very few to do so willingly." The draconian rumbles in quiet amusement, before he quiets and moves along with the rest.
The guards inside the portcullis watch the group approach. They are not motivated enough to rush out to greet them, but there are signs of wariness in that their in-hand maces are lowered from resting on shoulders to hanging low in a somewhat more ready position.
"What's this? Visitors?!" one asks the other with some incredulity and bemusement. The other remains more stoic, calling out to the approaching group of ... travelers? servants? along with pointing his mace at them. "Ho! What's yer business here?"
GAME: Telamon rolls spaceBS: aliased to Bluff+3: (4)+30+3: 37
As the group approaches the gate, Telamon adopts a slightly sniveling tone, his eyes firmly focused on the guard's boots. "We were sent, milord, along with the caravan," he nods to the wagon approaching, "to replace some of the servants you'd lost? We came from Lord Calithailin's estate -- he didn't explain anything to us, only that we should go here and do whatever you told us to do."
Auranar doesn't say a word. She just keeps her head politely and cowardly downward-facing. It reminds her a bit actually of being in trouble with her grandmother or at the orphanage when she was young.
The Goblin, in her disguise, attempts to look even smaller and less noticeable, and finds something incredibly interesting on the ground to stare at. She risks a quick peek around, her eyes glancing left and right to see how the others are faring.
Like her sister, Cor'lana puts on the performance of being of no one important to look at nor anything _to_ look at. She'd be invisible if she could.
Pothy maintains a low profile. Pothy-file? Pothy-file. He remains a perfectly ordinary bird.
Of course they would be questioned, but Rune is confident that Telamon has the matter of bullshitting a few guards well in hand. Instead, she focuses on acting the part, all bowed-head and posture servile.
Enough so that despite Harkashan forgetting to lower his head, initially, she manages to obfuscate a nudge to get him back into his role as part of a bow, following Telamon's explanation. Thankfully he bows his head quickly following the reminder.
Even with head bowed, Rune is still clocking their surroundings, though.
Aelwyn takes a step forward and lowers his head; his polearm falls heavily into the ground and he leans against it, as if he were tired from the journey already. But beyond hidden disquieted twists of his face, the draconian remains quiet and still while Telamon does his thing.
The serious guard who had inquired stares a moment before looking at the more amused one. The two lock eyes for a moment and then sudden burst into brief laughter.
"Ha! Strong 'nough te walk, smart 'nough to know yer place!" Serious nods and gestures the group inside the open portcullis, stepping back a pace.
Amused has the last guffaw. "And to know the wagon ain' no better. Smells to the hells, too. Even after it was scrubbed TWICE last run."
Amused then beckons the group to the side where he stands. "To me. Line up for a check up" he motions a line perpendicular to himself. "While we wait for the slop in the cart. No use in makin' two lifts."
Behind him, in a corner of the space between gates, is a large A-frame of stone and massive timbers that bears a large pulley and a rope the girth of perhaps Hakrashan's arm. Connected to it is a block that bears several smaller ropes that connect to a platform easily ten feet on a side. A lift. That lies above a hole somewhat larger than itself.
Telamon nods humbly. "Very good sir." He tugs his forelock, trusting in Lana's veil to ward off any questions from the inspection. Hiding his emotions behind the servile facade, but his mind whirling with plans, branching out in all directions. If, then, if, then. Patient, not panicking, studying what they might need to know when they leave this place.
Assuming, of course, they leave it intact at all.
Auranar can feel the ire of these people burning into her soul. Inspection? That sounds... possibly an issue. She controls her reaction though, reminding herself of the dire consequences. It's worked for her in the past, and it works well enough for her now as well. She keeps her eyes low and her mouth shut. Going where she is directed. For now.
Cor'lana perks her ears a little at the mention of an inspection, but that's just laying the warning of things getting messy early on in her head. There's no need to panic yet. She can hear Telamon's thinking in her head, and his patience is helping her anchor herself to the moment. It is simply about being... flexible.
She follows Auranar. And she hopes that if she has to... Her (apparent) charms translate even through a veil.
The Goblin simply follows the others ahead of her, making sure she keeps her head down. Taking her spot in the line, though the 'elevator' catches her attention briefly. Here without being able to sketch it in her notebook is probably the hardest thing for her out of the entire journey so far.
The commentary from the guards is enough to have Rune's fingers twitch. It's an almost imperceptible sign of the urge to make these men understand the sort of suffering that they stand and laugh at. However, she is also /very/ good at remaining in character. So, she shuffles along with the others to line up, only lifting her head slightly when they are no longer under the guard's scrutiny.
An inspection does raise some questions, but it seems a poor time to ask just how much this particular spell hides. Instead, she stands between Harkashan and Aelwyn, though her eyes are already looking towards the lift.
Aelwyn tilts his head in a slight rolling motion - guards, always the same. Yet there was not much more to it than just going along with it. It wasn't his first time sneaking into places pretending to be a low servant or another, after all.
The draconian doesn't bother to glance at the others as he makes his way along; simply leans heavier on the polearm / farming tool, muttering underneath his breath. "Always the smell..."
Once all are lined up, Serious provides overwatch while Amused does the checking. Said checking of pockets and patting down for contraband is thorough. It could be considered borderline professional, given the circumstances. It is by no means polite, and certainly not gentle, but the contact is not overly... friendly. Even for those with charms translating through the Veil. Maybe it is close to shift change.
After all are done, Amused steps aside and motions them to the lift. "Best get the good spots while ye can." As the wagon rolls in and stops. The sole driver promptly dismounts and steps away to stretch his legs... and get away from the stench that wafts over: unwashed bodies, waste, putrefaction.
Serious gags and pulls a scarf up over his mouth and nose. "Tyrant's word, where'd they find these? Vardama's arsehole?" He reluctantly steps to unlock the gate, and two of the many within promptly fall out: one moaning and moving, the other not.
Telamon takes the patdown without complaint, though his lowered eyes flick to watch the patdown over the others. Fortunately or perhaps unfortunately, the guard does nothing to provoke his ire and thus will live a little longer.
But that resolution is sorely tested as the wagon rolls up and begins to disgorge its cargo of living (maybe) people. Telamon keeps his eyes focused on the lift floor, but behind his blank expression his thoughts are full of absolute, inchoate rage. Only the need to rescue Verna keeps him from simply lashing out, and he makes a silent resolution to save as many souls as he can.
It takes, even with the aid of her sister's spell, all of Auranar's self control to keep her mind off of the whole searching process. The urge to break every bone that touches her is very strong after all. Still, every step closer to Verna is worth leaving these two intact... for now. She comforts herself knowing that this will not last. She will not allow it to stand. Even when her own eyes burn from the sting of tears from the knowledge of what others have endured only to be laughed at... She endures for the sake of her wife.
The pat down may almost be professional, but it is clearly obvious the Goblin is not used to such scrutiny, stiffening up but at least suffering through it in silence. Once on the lift, she relaxes. Simony covers up a giggle with a fit of coughing and gagging, which is not quite faked, given the rolling stench that is the wagon. Her furtive glance at the driver speaks volumes. It'd be nice to take a quick step away from the wagon.
And a bunch more steps til this whole region is out of sight.
Cor'lana's fingers twitch once the search is done. They're her disintegrating fingers, but she would need to bring up the magic and say the words to hurt anyone. Much as it would be tempting to tell these two wonderful specimens to become as nothing...
She looks at Auranar and quietly reaches out to pat Auranar's arm when it's done. They're in this together. They'll burn this whole damn place down together.
There is a stark contrast between how Rune and Harkashan respond to the intrusive pat-down and inspections of their person. The disguised Makari seems to be completely calm throughout the process, allowing it as if he were somehow used to this sort of thing. Rune, on the other hand, goes stiff under such attention. The rogue is obviously not so keen on being touched by people outside of her social circle. Thankfully she isn't alone in this, giving Simony a nod as she tries to relax back into character afterwards.
However, the smell that comes wafting their direction is enough to have her gasp before holding her breath. It isn't possible to do so, forever, and eventually she has to experience the hell for what it is. And that just makes her more angry, hands balling into fists beneath servant's robes.
As for Harkashan, at the mention of Vardama's asshole, he grumbles under his breath, his posture shifting. Perhaps the cleric is not so fond of such commentary about his God and his posture speaks of it. With a tug to his sleeve, Rune pulls the both of them to the lift, though.
Aelwyn struggled very little with the pat down - simply doing as he was told. Momentarily, he worried that his tail would give him away - but whatever the veil magic was, it was very good. A faint sound leaves him when the pat down finishes and he turns towards the wagon, his real source of worry.
The stench. The decay.
Holding back everything not to regurgitate - which he does, anyway - he slowly makes his way with the others. "Tch, can tell plenty of way one handles their property..." He mutters around his hand over his snout-mouth.
Serious ignores those fallen out for the moment in favor of those still in the wagon. "Better out than in. C'mon!" He proceeds to help the remaining out: most appear injured or ill; some look too old, or too young, for labor. The last to exit is perhaps the most fit: a female oruch weakened by numerous barely- or untended wounds, but with enough fire in her remaining eye to climb out and stand tall on her own.
For which she is rewarded with a prod of Serious' mace and pointing at the collapsed one that is still breathing. "Take the live one with ya-" As for the others...
"Rest are yours," he waves over Amused, who grumbles. "Touch the livin, touch the dead. That's the deal," Serious reminds him.
The remaining woman, child, and three thin men all climb aboard the lift. As the oruch drags the collapsed elderly man there to make the lift rather crowded, Amused follows with the dead. They are also brought to the hole, but not the lift. They are given the express lane as they are pushed, pulled, and/or rolled over the side.
Serious then makes a hand signal up to the main gate tower, and the lift begins to lower. Amused wipes his hands off on his jerkin, and makes a little wave showing he missed some. "Watch yer step! Unless ye wanna take the fast way down..."
Telamon has to keep his eyes downcast or he'll give them all away with the cold rage flaring in them. The contemptuous treatment of the dead, the way the living are crammed onto the lift... he wants to kill these men, and snatch these poor souls away from this place.
He closes his eyes, as the lift begins to lower, and he looks at the disguised members of the party. Slowly, his hands unclench, though he doesn't take any breaths. The stink is pretty bad, after all.
It's dangerous to act attached to her sister, so Auranar acknowledges the touch by touching her own arm where she'd felt the contact and subtly signing 'sister' in the process. She moves where she's told to. She does what she's told to. Every moment gets her closer to Verna. Terrible smells. Terrible sights. Terrible people. None will stand in her way long. Auranar takes small shallow breaths to keep from inhaling the terrible scent as much as possible. Though... she notices the injured and she knows that this too is only temporary.
She only needs to be patient.
Visibly shaking, the Goblin mutters something softly under her breath. The untreated wounds have been causing her concern, but it is the treatment of the dead that is causing her distress. Unsaid rites. No decent burial or cremation. No place for family to see and know their loved ones are properly laid to rest.
Not to mention the danger of restless ghosts and wandering undead.
Disgraceful at best, downright blasphemous depending on your religious leaning.
Her eyes flick skyward just once. The Raven lends its strength.
If there's any question about what the fate of this place is going to be lingering in Cor'lana's head, this dispels that portion. She records it all because, like a good follower of Ceinara, she must witness the atrocity so that she can burn this place down to the ground.
The slow descent of the lift reminds Cor'lana of one more thing--the feeling that one has in the stomach with the slow fall. She's learned how to fly. Falling is like the biding of time; it allows her to swoop down only to soar higher into the air. The atrocity, then, is a thing she endures. She must, because she must fly high to help her sister.
As the lift begins to get crowded, Rune makes more room by moving closer to Harkashan and Aelwyn, knowing that neither is going to mind her encroaching on their space, and it leaves extra for those joining them. It's also quite possible that the familiar scents of friends and companions is favorable over those wafting from their lift-mates.
Harkashan, on the other hand, seems to be ramrod straight in his posture. As a cleric of the Deathsinger, his reaction to the way these dead are treated gives him much the same response as Simony.
"Calm." Rune whispers, but her lips are pressed tight together. She should take her own advice. All of this would end sooner rather than later, if they had anything to do with it.
Aelwyn, unlike many of his compatriots perhaps, had less qualms about the way the people were being treated - but he found it very distasteful all the same. It was a waste. A cruel waste. Inhaling sharply as Rune steps closer, he turns his head away whilst trying to do his best to... not breathe. The familiar scents of the party were a welcome reprieve.
"How far?" The draconian manages to croak quietly, unable to really do much but hold his hand over his face and focus on singular spot, whilst keeping his guts in.
The descent into deepening darkness continues, though soon there is feeble flickering light below. After forty or fifty feet (it is difficult to tell against the relatively featureless walls of the main shaft), the lights are abreast rather than below and the lift comes to a halt at the mouth of a side tunnel. It is lit by a pair of torches and has a pair of armed individuals present: one burly oruch or half male and a comparatively slender woman of some syldanari blood. Despite her frame, the contemptuous scowl on her face could well be more menacing than the male's tusks.
She peers over the merchandise presented before reaching out to point at individuals. "Stay. Come. Come. Come. Stay. Stay. You two, come..." Her selection process is hardly difficult to discern: the cleaner and more able-bodied are the selected while the others stay. This includes all of the hidden heroes, excludes the others easily. Only the oruchess gets a longer evaluation before she is told to stay.
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception: (3)+24: 27 GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (11)+33: 44 GAME: Simony rolls perception: (16)+14: 30 GAME: Rune rolls perception: (13)+32: 45 GAME: Auranar rolls Perception: (2)+5: 7 GAME: Aelwyn rolls perception: (1)+1: 2 (EPIC FAIL)
-TBC