PrP: Should you choose to accept it

Log Info

• Title: Should you choose to accept it
• Emitter: Polk
• Characters: Telecorn (Sor2), Setiawan (Rog2), Bitr (Bbn3), Daromu (Clr4), Eden (Clr4)
• Place: North Alexandros
• Time: May 5, 2016
• Summary: A cult has built a tower and is plotting shenanigans. Infiltrate it and get proof of their plans.
• APL: 3
• Encounters: Non-combat trickery and scheming

A call is put out for agents. A meeting room is set aside behind a tavern in Alexandria. It is dark. A large table is set up in the middle, with light pointed at it. The only visible thing. Whatever is on the table is flat and covered by a red cloth. It is morning.

Setiawan sits at the edge of the room, casually sipping a large glass of wine. Despite the early hour, the Jade Islander is feeling good about himself, and, having heard about the call for agents through his horribly wide network of contacts, comes by to check what all the fuss is about. He barely resists the urge to uncover the thing under the cloth.

Daromu wanders over to the table and crashes down on a chair with a loud clang of metal. Wearing full plate and carrying enough weapons to arm a small village tends to be noisy. She looks around and waves for a serving person to bring her stuff. Meanwhile, she pulls a ceramic flask out of her pouch and takes a pull on it. Whatever it is, it's made from apples. Mostly apples. She makes sure none of the fluid gets on anything metal to prevent and endothermic reactions that might destroy the building.

Adventure?
Adventure.
When the call goes out, Bitr almost immediatly ignores it; Mostly because she can't look at a bunch of scribbles on paper and make them into a voice in her head. That's just weird souther madness again. Yet, when someone makes the mistake of reading the posting outloud, she's running to the meeting place; Well, riding, atop Dog the riding canine. The tiniest "giant" is thus in the alehouse, at the table, chewing a lip and drumming calloused fingers against the table as she shifts her hips in discomfort. Chairs. And then her hand begins creeping towards the red handkerchief.

Telecorn barges on into the room. Which apparently isn't that big of a deal after Daromu and Bitr come in. "Why is it so dark?" she asks aloud, coming up. "Oh hi everyone," she laughs. "Didn't see you guys at first. Is the person hiring us through the guild even here?"

Daromu throws a burning rock into the air, which at the height of its arc seems to level out and start orbitting the Dwarf's head. This adds to the light in the room. She looks over at Telecorn "Is this better?"

The halfling barbarian glances up at Telecorn, flashing sharp, pointy teeth before she speaks outloud; Her tradespeak archaic, out of date, and strangely flowery.

"Mine eyes do not find a man with money, ye keen, thou' -" She breaks off as Daromu tosses up a ball of light, blinking owlishly. Then guffaws. "HA! Master Brightpalm is surely thy call!" And then to the Xian. "Ah! Master Tumblesmith. Be there trouble in yon door?" she lowers her voice in conspiracy. "Aye, and be keys still against thy strange souther ways here in Alexandria?"

A man takes his cue. Stepping up to the table. He glares at Bitr's wandering hands, and then clears his throat. "Good morning." Then pulling at the cover, he reveals a marked map. Pointing to a location.

"This is the Pentex Tower in northern Alexandros, an area normally secured by our government. It is controlled by the Cult of The Wyrm, a shadowy organization. The Cult Leader is known only by her title. Nothing else is known. We have only become aware of its existence because initiates venturing into Alexandria have been seen carrying initiates' manuals, giving only the barest information about the group."

He pauses to make sure this all came in. "Your mission, should you decide to accept it, is to infiltrate this dangerous cult, bring out information known to high ranking individuals, and bring it back such that my new newspaper and publish it to compete with the Tribune. Allow me to warn you: should any of your party members be caught, or killed, the publisher will disavow any knowledge of this mission. Good luck. And let me warn you: If they know you have taken one of their manuals, we believe it wll self destruct in 5 seconds."

And then there's a man here with them. Bitr half listens, squinting down at the map in confusion. Before she snaps her head back up at 'self destruct'. Eyes squint in suspicion. ".. Aye, and if we break and sew a cult man's fingers around yon pamplet, still do go to flame?" Well, technically it wouldn't be -her- in possession~

Samlanann looks at the man carefully, understanding the subterfuge. "Of course. What is the title of the Cult Leader, then? Perhaps I will have heard of her."

Daromu takes another pull of the ceremic flask andsays "I don't know how stealthy or tricksy I am, but I'll do what I can to help." She offers the flask to anyone else who might want some. There's an eyewatering smell of apples filling the air and it's probably good there are no open flames nearby.

Inevitably, it's the only person shorter that Daromu who gleefully grabs for the flask. Glug goes Bitr.

The man hiding in the shadows, despite spells to the contrary, answers. "The Cult Leader's title is Leader. And she is probably more powerful than everyone in this room together. I advise against force."

Eden is likely distracted by something shiny, like the rock that orbits the dwarf, or the luminescent mushrooms she idly pokes at that grow over the strange robe she wears, an absent smile on her lips. The mentions of power, the mysterious speech, it all seems to go right over her head, and skews off into the shadows somewhere beyond.

Telecorn looks at the map carefully, then at where the man apparently is. "Hey. If you've seen the Initiates in town. Then what do they look like? Do you have one of their books for us to read? This sounds totally crazy."

"Leader?" Samlannan sighs. "Of course; I know her work well. She is devious, indeed. Very devious. This Pentex Tower shall of course be difficult to enter."

GAME: Samlanann rolls Bluff: (19)+13: 32

Daromu ponders "So we can't fight our way in and we have to deal with psychotic, dangerous cultists to steal their secrets. Any suggestions on how to do this so we don't get sacrificed?"

Apparently tired of tactics, the halfling barbarian squints up at Daromu and snorts. "Aye! We be quiet and swift." She belches, holding the flask for the dwarf to take back before she looks across to Eden. And slowly, slowly grins.

Bitr says "Of the northern heights, Sister?" <in jotun>

The shadowy man starts to answer Telecorn, but then pauses when Samlanann completely impresses him. "I suggest you make him the leader. His knowledge of the group, and its defenses, should guide you well." Daromu also gets the same gesture. "I will leave you to plan then," he adds before walking out.

Eden is pulled from her silent reverie by the tiny jotun-speaking thing. She darts her gaze about the room at eye level first, eyes so vivid they almost seem to glow, before they are cast downward to the noise. "What? O-... oh! Well, look at you!" Her smile turns wide, touching at the corners of her eyes as she stares almost lovingly down at Bitr, still as an oak. "So happens that I am!" She responds in a common tongue, obviously having spent more time around the non-giants as late. "I am Essence Eden, and..." Her words trail off, her stare flicking back toward the others, the light, the table. She squints.

Give her a second. She'll get there.

Her lips press to a thin line as she works on working out what's going on here, and what she was doing, mouth opening and closing a few times, a bit like a goldfish, really. She takes in a breath as though to say something to the group, but then turns her attentions back to Bitr, "And we should look at a map!" She announces triumphantly to Bitr.

Samlanann finds himself accepting the challenge, and once the mysterious man has disappeared, starts making arrangements. "We should meet back here later tonight, to discuss what we need to do. But for now, shall we disperse?"

Daromu scratches her chin and nods slowly "I guess I'll see what I can find from the temples. What they have to say about all this. I'll try and keep it discrete, just in case some of those pesky cultists are wandering about."

Switching from the gutteral Jotun - which sounds weird from her high pitched voice, even if she is a natural speaker - to her archaic tradepseak again as she stands upon the chair. Then puts a bare foot upon the table, pounding her chest with a tiny hard hand. "Thy countenance pleases, Sister! I am Bitr the Mighty; The blood of giants flows in mine veins, stretching to mine father's fathers, back to the beginning. And aye! A map!" Having found a fellow giantborn soul, the two foot nine halfling lowers her gaze to the pictures on the map. And, after a moment, turns it upside down in confusion. Before looking to both the 'Tumblesmith' Samlanann and Daromu.

"Oh? Aye! I'll get the rope! Ne'er was a time when rope did naught but come useful! From scaling the cliffs - mind ye, until mind growth is complete and mine crown scrapes the skies - to tying up a worthy man!" A loud guffaw.

GAME: Samlanann rolls Diplomacy: (2)+13: 15

GAME: Telecorn rolls knowledge/arcana: (11)+8: 19

Telecorn stares at the map a while. "This is totally a mage's tower guys." she says, pointing to the marked location. "I don't know if the cult is mages nor or anything but you know um, the tower could be magical and stuff. Or just tall I don't know."

The Xian wanders away, having made a few loose plans with the others. He hits the local taverns, market places and general places of meeting, sending out tentative tendrils to retrieve information. A couple of hours later, some of his fences and other nefarious contacts get the following information from some marketeers: Lots of cultish garments have been sold. Black-hooded robes, with green trim. That's all he has, but it's a start.

GAME: Bitr rolls perception: (20)+8: 28

GAME: Eden rolls perception: (11)+5: 16

As Bitr and Eden do their thing, having been informed by Samlanann's research, they come across one of those initiates. Dressed exactly as described. Going into a general store.

Nudging her sister in the - uh, knee - Bitr upnods aside as they come across one of the cultists. "Ho, Sister." She begins, in low jotun. "I've spied one of our cultists. Do we follow, as the cold wind chases a naked man, or do we see what they've purchased afterwards?"
Yes, she can speak in Jotun a LOT better than she can in Tradespeak.

"Even cultists need ropes." Eden mentions, helpfully, as she watches the cultist meander into the local store, dressed in what she assumes is ceremonial garb. It's a slow calculation on the part of the cleric, trying to figure out what to do as Bitr puts the question to her as they ever so conspiratorily lurk in the middle of the open. "Uh." Tick, tick, tick. "We ... we should wait! Yes, yes, let's wait, like... a stagnant pond waits for... the... beaver to, um..." Her head turns to glance down at Bitr, chest puffing out as she hides the shame. "Dam it."

GAME: Bitr rolls stealth: (3)+10: 13

GAME: Eden rolls stealth: (1)+-5: -4 (EPIC FAIL)

GAME: Polk rolls 1d20: (11): 11

Bitr pats her sister upon the knee in a jovial manner, and nods aside to an alleyway. There to wait for the cultist to leave, so perhaps they could utterly screw up some diplomacy to see what the cultist is buying! "Truer words, Sister, have rarely been spoken. Come!" To the giantcave! She doesn't say.

Eden stands in the open like a moron, eyes bright, smile wide, gaze utterly vacant. When she's beckoned onward, she lumbers after her tiny new friend, edging her way into the alley only to trip over absolutely everything there is, before stepping on the tail of a dog that was in the wrong place at the right time, sending it yarping and yelping from the alley with all the shrill stillness of a summer storm. There she stands, still smiling broadly, staring down at Bitr. "Now we wait!" She booms.

The initiate that Eden and Bitr wait for, like a pair of beavers watching the river looking for a spot to dam, comes out 20 minutes later, carrying a lumpy bag. The initiate starts to go on with business, but then Eden becomes the enter of attention. Looking over, the initiate stares, then looks at the bag, and just takes off running.

Normally speaking, Bitr is not the brightest torch in the rack. Not the sharpest tool in the shed. Not the shiniest jewel in the chest. Not the biggest brain in the skull. Somewhere, this metaphor gets away from the narrator, but you get the idea. When Eden crashes through, over, into and onto every noise making object in the alley, Bitr cannot help but laugh. LAUGH! Her guffaw briefly breaking into giggles before she remembers herself. "HA! Your steps cause the streets to tremble, sister! Surely, the blood of our ancestors flows strongly within you."
And then the cultist comes out. Bitr looks back at the cultist. Follows his gaze to his bag. Back up again. Then points.
"HA! He runs! Quickly, sister!" She shouts, before she tears off after the fellow; Moving a -lot- faster than most halfings have a right too. Why is she chasing a cultist?
Because he ran. You don't run from biters.

GAME: Bitr rolls athletics: (6)+8: 14

GAME: Bitr rolls constitution: (2)+3: 5

Eden lifts a large hand covered in shimmering spidersilk webbing to give a cheerful wave as the initiate stares at her, teeth bared in her ever-broadening grin. But, then he takes off running. "Oh. He must have somewhere terribly pressing to b--oh! Oh no! We need to, uh, there's... we should..." She starts several thoughts, none of which seem to come to fruition, as she shifts from foot to foot anxiously. "Wait, friend! I ... I want to join your establishment! I BELIEVE! I AM A BELIEVER!" She announces, stealthily, and with the utmost in care before she begins jogging after him and her tiny 'sibling'.

GAME: Eden rolls bluff: (19)+4: 23

Bitr is on short legs and doesn't happen to run well this morning. However the giantborn's shouted words actually make the initiate slow down, and stop. Turning to face Eden, the initiate replies in an androgynous voice "You... believe in the everlasting release of the unmaker?"

GAME: Daromu rolls Diplomacy: (13)+7: 20

Daromu heads out from the meeting place, after making a point of getting her flask back from the little halfling. She heads out to the Temple District. Being a cleric, she makes discrete inquiries about this particular cult from priests she has met before and knows she can trust. She asks what they know of the cult, any practices, signs they might use between each other and if there are any known cultists in the city or ones that have been arrested that could be interrogated.