PrP: Should you choose to accept it

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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?"

The problem isn't BITR's legs! It's everyone elses! She's half the size of the cultist - what he and Eden can bound over, Bitr has to go around. Or under. When the cultist finally slows down, Bitr is bent double with her hands on her knees, sucking in air. Turns out that sitting around getting drunk isn't good for getting the blood pumping! Letting Eden do the speaking. 

"Of COURSE I do! Who wouldn't?!" Eden guffaws, HAW-HAhaha! It's convincing, somehow. She finishes her jogging as the man slows and stops, and she follows suit, before stooping to give Bitr a slap on the back that could well send her crashing to the ground in her bent position. "Well done, sister! Quite the rousing jog. Really makes you appreciate natu--the.. nature... of the unmaker! So," Eden turns her attentions back to the cultist with that winning smile of hers, absent as it is. Almost creepy. She's absolutely a cultist. "So, uh, where are we going? What have you in the bag? Impliments of unmaking?" She points to the bag, "Tools for binding?" She continues, squinting, her chin lifting as she stares down her nose at him. "... Trailmix?"

The initiate pauses, head tilting confused. The androgynous voice of the hooded initiate is uncertain. "The leader... sent me to get supplies today. For everything. Did you not take the rites?"

The halfling does go tumbling, but fortunately it's only her head that hits the pavement. So nothing important injured. She grouses, pulling herself up to her feet. Which get planted shoulder width, fists on her hips. She glances aside to Eden, then moves to act as the 'spotter' - that is, watching out for anyone trying to spy on their suspicious cult-like evil activity! Which means slipping past the cultist to peer around the corner, watching for any Do Gooders who want to stop the Unmaking! OR masking. OR whatever. Point is, she's following Eden's lead on this.
Whatever this is. Mm, trailmix. 

"Uh, actually, I'm new. They haven't gotten around to giving me my robes and stuff, and you look like a person in the know. Thought we could talk about the Unmaker, and compare..." Eden looks down at Bitr, and back up to the initiate. "Notes? I mean, you must have some ide--so, what's the Leader like? And, I mean, I know the manifesto, but... I want to know if you know it, so... hey, what's goin' on, right?" ... :)?

GAME: Polk rolls 1d20+2: (3)+2: 5

The initiate isn't sure. Stepping forward, looking at Eden intently, then looking back at the sneaky Bitr. But, they pass inspection, and so the cultist continues on brightly. "Wonderful! Well, I have to go back, but before I do I can take you to our robes supplier, so you and your friend can at least show your alliegiance to the leader with the proper clothing. I'll vouch for you. Get your robes made, get your affairs in order, and come to the tower. If you know the signs and secrets, the guard will let you right in."

Bitr - smelling faintly of goat - looks back at Eden as she woos and twists this small man's mind with the power of.. of words! It's a new respect shining in the 'little sister's eyes before she looks to the man, and nods gruffily. "Oh, aye! And then the reaping and gnashing of teeth and unmaking!" She begins, dry washing her calloused hands with most evil intent. But otherwise she acts as Eden's underling - an apt position considering her size! 

"Oh, er, like I said, we're new... and, I mean, I know the signs and secrets... or, rather, I -knew- them, but maybe you could give us a refresher? So that we might better serve the Leader, that is. I would hate to have to interrupt anything to get someone else to teach me, and I mean... you are right here, and there's a bit to travel to get to a robe supplier, I can only assume... we can talk on the way!" Eden basically chirps, glancing down at Bitr once more, "Yes, all of the unmaking. We are eager to participate and ready to serve!" Im-ho-tep.

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

GAME: Polk rolls 1d20+2: (10)+2: 12

The initiate does a head shake from under there. "If you don't know the signs and sigils yet, you must not be initiated yet. But we'll get you the robes and you can GET initiated!" The words are said with mounting excitement, and are positively joyful at the end of that statement. The initiate then gives directions to the robe supplier before taking off in that direction, presumably to do said vouching, and then returning to the Tower.

<OOC> Bitr grins. Shall we handwave the bit about robes so you can focus on the dwarf and the fire starter?
<OOC> Polk says, "well what do you do at the robe supplier?"
<OOC> Eden says, "Get robes."
<OOC> Daromu says, "I might have to go AFK for a bit."
<OOC> Bitr says, "Ah! Hm. Get robes, yes; And see about where the initiation takes place!"
<OOC> Polk says, "the robe supplier knows nothing about that. only sells robes and robe accessories."


<OOC> Samlanann would like a robe.
<OOC> Samlanann says, "I can't think of much else that I could do."
<OOC> Polk says, "we can do that. Eden can go back and get a robe your size"
<OOC> Samlanann has an idea. "Can I go to the robe merchant myself?"
<OOC> Polk says, "you can go along sure we can play that if you like"

The robe merchant is actually more of a general supplier of custom fine clothing. Eden being so large, and having been vouched for, is greeted. "I hope the robes fit well," the 60 year old human woman says, dressed very well in a long dress, gray hair in a bun. "Did you need anything else?"

<OOC> Telecorn says, "actually I would ask you to get more than one"
<OOC> Telecorn says, "get one for me too please"

The Xian known as Samlanann shakes his head sadly when he hears what Bitr and Eden have been doing. "To think we almost had unfettered access to an initiate." He looks at the two when they mention the robes, apparently cheering up a little. "I think we should get down there, then. Five robes required, I suppose."
When he gets to the robe merchant, he looks her up and down. "Need anything else?" He says. "I should say so. Ma'am, you're being investigated by the Alexandrian Chamber of Commerce for improper practice."

GAME: Samlanann rolls Bluff: (18)+13: 31

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

Eden looks lost, a brow quirking, "And also, I am in need of more robes of various sizes. Celebrations abound!" Apparently the giantborn is not in on the plan. She does, however, have measurements. She's very helpful to the process.

The little old lady stops, and gasps. "Oh gracious. What have I done?" she asks the man pleadingly, almost a whine. She shuffles over to her pad, and pencil, picking the pencil up and preparing to write. "May I at least continue working while we speak? This customer here needs robes. They are having a party." She then looks to Eden. "Please give me the measurements and I'll get you them as soon as possible. They look so smart on you kids."

Eden blushes faintly, waving her hand in an 'oh, you, get outta here' gesture at the old woman, before providing the measurements of the rest of the party.

Samlanann retrieves a smart little notebook from a pocket, and flicks through some pages. A casual observer notes nothing interesting, but most pages are blank but for a few notes at the top. One particularly full page is marked 'ALDEAN', underlined and emboldened several times. Still, that's for another day. Finally he comes to the last page, which one on his side will note is blank. "Look at this," he tells her. "Receiving payments without receipt. Supply to banned organisations. It goes on." He looks her squarely in the face. "I need to see your ledgers, immediately."

GAME: Samlanann rolls Profession/Bookkepper: (18)+Profession/Bookkepper: 18
<OOC> Samlanann says, "That's annoying. Anyway it should be at +6, so 24 I guess."

The little old lady takes the notes, then nods to Samlanann. "Banned organizations? I wasn't aware. Let me help." She says this with great earnestness, nodding and shuffling right over to her records. Which are actually just, a pile of orders. The sheets are taken from the pad she's writing on, tickets really. They are marked with names, dates, and payments as well as details of what was ordered. The ones you're looking for are in various names, but mostly Leader. Paid in coin on the spot.

Samlanann looks at her sharply. "Very good, and your helpful attitude is noted. Have you made any deliveries to this 'Leader'?"

The lady shakes her head. "Oh no. I don't do deliveries. Well, years ago I used to do deliveries in the neighborhood, but ever since I started getting the rheumatism, I can't anymore. Pick up only." She makes a cutting gesture to emphasize that.

Samlanann adjusts his face to a warm, winning smile. "Very good. I am convinced that you were unaware of the nature of your orders." He looks at his jotun companion. "This fellow is attempting to infiltrate the organisation, and we require the five robes, discretely, as quickly as can be provided, and preferably tomorrow. I shall pick them up personally."

The old lady goes wide-eyed. "Really?" she gasps, her voice going soft, into a stage whisper. "Is it that serious? Do you want both kinds of robes then?"

Eden pauses. "Yes. Yes, that would be most helpful. ... What's, uh, what's the other robe?"

The lady nods and gestures. "It's like the robes you ordered already, but, with the doubled trim. And the leader person never ordered it in front of her friends, but it has softer material, too."

Poker-faced, Samlanann gawps internally at this extra knowledge. "Yes," he says. "Both kinds. I assume you have the correct colours. I shall take one of the other robes too, for a female half-sil one inch shorter than myself."

The old lady takes all these notes down, and starts summing it up. "So I have these instructions for all these sizes. I'll make you one of each robe. Do you have a city account I can charge it to?"

Samlanann shakes his head. "Not for the moment. I shall pay tomorrow, or else provide an account to which to charge. However, I would insist on discretion. After all, your competitors would relish the knowledge that you have been dealing with insidious clients."

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.

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