Family Matters, part 2
Log Info
- Title: Family Matters, part 2
- Emitter: Thurid
- Characters: Aimarra, Ashes, Donna
- Place: A small island in the Jade Isles
- Time: Thursday, March 25, 2021, 3:03 PM, Friday, March 26, 2021, 3:06 PM
- Summary:
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Appearing, in Order =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Aimarra 5'1" 128 Lb Half-Elf Female Brown hair and eyes, breastplate, leathers, pointed ears. Ashes 5'11" 177 Lb Hobgoblin Female A somber arvec in grey clothes with a skull face Donna 5'4" 106 Lb Human Female A black-haired human girl in black robes. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-=-=-= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- As the GM =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Thurid 7'1" 249 Lb Giantborn Female Bright-eyed, muscular, blond Giantborn woman. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-=-=-=
In the Jade Isles'
And so the adventurers have boarded the tiny little fishing boat- barely big enough for them, really, and are on their way towards the little island where their noble-in-exile employer has sent them. The rugged 'fisherman' who directs the boat whistles along as they head in towards the ramshackle and run-down jetty that protrudes from the stony beach at the rear of the island. A number of basic, wood and thatch buildings extend a ways from the shore, butted up close to one another and the winding slopes that lead upwards to the castle at the peak of this island.
As they draw a bit nearer, he stops his whistling, and then looks over to the group. "The maps you'll be wanting are in there." he says, and dips his head towards a small footlocker in the boat. He casts his gaze towards the jetty, and then he lets out a shrill whistle. There's a few moments pause, before a similar whistle answers and a lantern is lit. He begins to steer the boat towards it.
Ashlee sits near the middle of the little boat, having discovered, much to her surprise, that with her armour and gear she's the heaviest of the group. It's a mild shock to her self-image, she's used to thinking of herself as inconsequential, easily blown away. Not one to normally rock the boat, she was startled by how much she did stepping aboard.
She listens to the whistling, watching the water glide by and the small silhouette of the island grow larger and larger. When the location of the maps is announced, she glances at Aimarra and Donna, "Can you navigate?"
"Sure." Aimarra, having climbed into the boat nimbly enough, continues to look forward as it moves towards the jetty on the island, trying not to think too hard about the water below. She does, however, wait until the boat is docked before turning and moving towards the indicated footlocker. "We'll want to plan a path in and probably a path out, and move quick and quiet."
In addition to the hand drawn path of the escape tunnel the Scion suggested they use to access the castle- which appears to enter via the castles stowm drain- there is a plan for the castle itself- the main towers is roughly square in footprint, with four floors. The second floor grants access to the top of the walls, which circle the courtyard, and also connect to the north and south watchtowers- the north one is the one the evil uncle took up residence in before usurping the castle. There is a gatehouse in the wall, which connects to a switchback path down to a second gatehouse and serves as the main entrance to the castle. The switchback path is lined with basic watchtowers, to allow defenders to rain arrows on people attempting to traverse the path.
The rear of the castle is not enclosed within walls, likely on account of the steep cliffs that drop away into the ocean behind it. Their secret entrance point connects to the servants quarters of the castle proper, composed of kitchen, scullery and sleeping space for the servants. This section has access to stairways, conceale behind slide-away sections of wall to allow the servants to stay out of sight, out of mind- which may prove useful for infiltrating adventurers. They connect to the main hall, as well as the guard's quarters on the second floor and the Private chambers on the top two floors. The courtyard is acessed via the main hall, and the ramparts via the guards quarters.
Ashes looks over the castle's rear maps, "A lot of secret doors. Where do you think the spear will be?"
"If I hadda guess," Donna muses, peering over the map, "It'd either be in an armory, by the Guard quarters... Or a vault or shrine o' some type. If it's with the rest of the good stuff, that'll be on th' first floor, 'cos fancy gets heavy real quick. Shrine... Unno. Prolly third floor."
Realizing she's just marked three-quarters of the castle as likely targets, the brawler scowls. "An' we don't wanna quarter the entire place lookin' for the damn thing... But if I were an evil bastard, I'd want a relic like that as far from my business as possible."
"You speak of the family heirloom?" their Pilot says as they draw nearer to the jetty. He stops his rowing, setting down the oar and fetching a coil of rope as the small craft drifts towards its berth. "Used to be there was a shrine for it in the main hall, along with a suit of ceremonial armor. Can't say if the rotten bastard has moved things around, mind. None of them went inside to look around came back out again." he tells the adventurer- an ominous warning to be sure. Now they are near the jetty, he tosses his coil of rope ashore, and a companion waiting for them catches the loose end and begins hauling the vessel in.
"Yes." Ashlee states simply, being as much of a dead weight in the middle of the boat as she can. A shrine, "Ok."
Her head turns, she stares at Aimarra, Donna, looks back at the map, "The main hall isn't the closest, is it?"
"I'll put good coin on it not being out in front of everyone," Aimarra mutters. "It won't hurt to look there first, though. A man with the stones to usurp like that probably doesn't care a fig for what his ancestors think." Something dismissive in her tone suggests familiarity with the sentiment.
At Ashlee's question, she turns. "If it's in the main hall, it'll be out in plain sight. How paranoid is this fellow? Does he think he's safe?"
There are two routes to the Main Hall, through the secret tunnel, then the kitchen, if the map is correct, or storm the front gates. The secret passage plan is definitely the better one.
The ashen Arvec nods, "That back door makes sense." As for the other question, it really depends how much hubris the man has. In more savage lands, hiding something way might be seen as a sign of weakness. "He might not care. It also could have been moved because there's no one living to see it."
Another thought occurs to her, "Does Lord Hiei need the armour as well?" Symbolism is symbolism.
"Expect it'd be a coup to get it, no doubt. Not as storied as the spear, but it's a fine piece regardless." The fisherman says, as he hops off the boat-causing it to sway, and helps with tieing it off. "If you take the trail there, follow the brook through the woods. There's a path, should see you to the escape tunnel. When you get there..." he says, and fishes out a red wax candle from inside of his threadbare shirt, "Light this and set it on the shrine. That'll open your way in." he says, holding the candle out for one of the adventurers to claim. "And, spirits watch over you. You'll be needing it, I reckon." he adds.
"S'pose that's a question for the blade," Donna says, taking the candle with a nod of thanks. "'Preciate the sentiment... Gods willin', we'll have this settled without more fuss than we absolutely can't avoid."
"Won't hurt to give it a go, although we'll have to move that much faster if we can get it." Aimarra instinctively spreads both hands for balance as the boat rocks precipitously, but seems nimble enough, handling the sway without too much trouble, map held firmly in one hand. She clambers out readily enough, map still in one hand, bow across her back, grinning back at the other two. "Thanks," she adds to the fishermen. "Let's hope they can help."
Ashlee nods, with the boat steadied and Aimarra out of it, she carefully steps up onto the dock. It's not the same as getting off a horse, and she hasn't spent a lot of time on boats, but she's agile enough in the motion. It only rocks a little. She stares attentively at the fisherman, through his further instructions and then after. She adjust the strap of her satchel, "Trail, brook, path, tunnel. Shrine, candle. Ok."
She takes her light crossbow out of her bag, holding it low and un-cocked. "I can Detect Secret Doors and See Invisibilty, the Doors doesn't last long. I should wait until we're there for that. Are we sneaking the whole way?"
The man offers the group of them a nod of his head, and then he pulls his hat back up- it'd been hanging across his back on a strap about his neck for the boat ride- back up onto his head and begins to head away from them, his task done, it seems, and no need to draw any additional attention to a group of unknown travelers arriving shortly after sundown.
Small lanterns housing candles hang from the eaves of some of the buildings around here, so there is light enough to see by. The path into the woods branches off the main route shortly before it enters the little village built at the foot of the peak hosting the castle- off in the distance, in the village, guardsmen can be seen. Wearing those similar laquered breastplates the guards in the larger city had worn, though these bear different emblems on the breast, and their helms are bell shaped rather than conical with curved, sloping sides and back to protect the neck and shoulders.
"There's exactly three of us, and we don't have our own transport off the island," Aimarra points out, looking after the fisherman as he goes. "If they give chase, we're probably headed for the Halls." A silent nod to Ashlee's scales. "We've got to do this without being seen."
"Don't stomp on the way up," Donna says quietly, watching the boat make its way back home, "but once we're in... assume we gotta be sneaky the moment the candle gets lit."
The brawler nods in affirmation of Aimarra's summary. "That might not be the way it'll go down, but, assume it will an' try to keep it from happenin'."
The ashen Arvec nods, and heads for the path. It's easy to follow, especially since it's been pointed out. The brook will be harder, if the path doesn't continue along one shore. She's not worried about damp feet, although it will be more punishment to her boots. She moves carefully, looking for side to side, for lights or other things, her crossbow held low and one bolt gripped between two fingers, ready to load it if necessary. Having to do so at this stage, might indicate that failure Aimarra suggests, so, hopefully it won't be necessary.
Not, apparently, feeling the need for more conversation, Aimarra turns her path towards the indicated trail, and the brook. She, too, moves quietly and without comment, not worrying overmuch about the presence or absence of light.
The path grows dark quickly as it moves away from the village and its candle lanterns, the sky is spotted with clouds, though the moon at least is full- its silvery light is dappled by evergreen foliage. Still, it's bright enough to follow the path by, if not bright enough to see very far in without extraordinary nightvision. The woods are quiet, save for the occasional sounds of nocturnal animals emerging from their nests and burrows on the hunt for food this evening. Eventually, the sound of the brook pierces the stillness- indicating they are on the right path at least.
Following the sound of the running water will lead them to a very small brook, no more than an armspan across, running over smooth pebbles. Following it upstream will see it spread out some, and the ground become slightly muddier. It also begins to smell a bit, sour. Rancid, even. Finally, by the time they reach the shrine- a wooden structure just a few feet tall, that looks like a very small, very elaborate house with a curving roof, up on stilts so that it is at about chest height for a human- the water is somewhat cloudy, and the scent is stronger. Like meat left out in the sun.
Donna trails the group in silence, constantly checking over her shoulder to make sure the party isn't being tailed. Navigating the trail seems no difficulty at all for her, and as the ground and air both begin to grow sour, her quiet watchfulness turns into something more... not unsettled, but definitely upset.
She's always described herself as having *breathtaking* anger issues... And it seems the sign of dead, rotting, and probably ambulatory flesh is beginning to tickle them.
Ashes progresses along, as the water gets deeper and deeper until she comes upon the small wooden structure. There, she halts, and stands a moment in thought. Her fingers twitching around the bolt. Load? Don't load? What is that smell? Death, decay, obviously, but of what sort. She stares, blinking her dark adjusted eyes, and crouches to look under the shrine, between the stilts.
It would be a good way to descrate a shrine, also a good place to hide for an ambush. She comes to a decision, her crossbow and the bolt go back into her satchel. Her khopesh and parasol come out, parasol first, which she adjusts into its short, haft, shield-like state. Next, her weapon, resting ready against the opposite shoulder, "Where is that smell coming from?"
Aimarra wrinkles her nose, automatically reaching for the bow over her back, eyes straining to peer into the darkness ahead of her, to determine whether the death and decay is ambulatory or not. She does not yet speak, but her look back is worried enough.
Drawing nearer reveals that the brook seems to be flowing out from the cliff face- an opening that looks as though it might be natural, but which has been barred with definitely man-made iron bars, forming a grate. No tampering with the shrine seems to be evident, and following ones nose leads them towards the grate from whence the brook seems to flow. It is a drain, after all, although they usually have a different character of rancid odor.
With their first milestone reached, Donna blows out a gusty sigh. "...Okay so maybe we don't spend more time in that foul than we gotta," she mutters, slipping forward to set the candle upon the shrine, as instructed. "...Anyone gotta light?"
The whole tunnel follows an upwards slope, and is about five feet deep - though the water level seems to only be about shin deep.
GAME: Ashes casts See Invisibility. Caster Level: 8 DC: 16
Ashlee tucks her khopesh against the strap of her satchel, then moves her hands through some arcane gestures, dark energies trailing after her fingertips. She finishes by brushing her eyebrows, and her eyes begin to glow with a violet light that is difficult to look at, "Feiu of the Tears, let me see invisible things." After which, she grips her weapon once more.
Aimarra fishes around in her pack for a minute or two, in response to Donna's request. "Flint and steel is the best I can do," she offers. "We ought to shield any light we make."
Donna sets the candle and lights it.
Once the candle is lit and placed on the shrine, the cliff wall glows briefly- in the sharp of the stylized flower that the group had seen on Hiei's robes. The glow lasts only a moment, though, before the rock seems to morph into a stout wooden door, secured with a slide bolt, set right into the cliff face alongside the grate- albeit a few feet higher up, level with the solid ground rather than the shallow bed carved out by the brook.
Ashes stepped closer, to shield the light with her body and careful positioning of her parasol. She watches the rock glow, the transformation. It doesn't bring a smile to her face, she rarely smiles, and the skull marking would hide it anyhow. She does perk her head up a little, watching. She steps up to the bolt, feet quietly splashing in the brook and puts her hand on it, ready to open the door. Ashlee glances at the others, "What order, and who is the loudest?"
"Sneakin' I can do," Donna says, against all available evidence to the contrary; she may be the loudest when things start getting stabby, but staying out of peoples' way is an art carefully cultivated over her childhood.
A gusty sigh from Aimarra. "I can also stay quiet. Perhaps Donna leads us and you bring up the rear? That renders us all effective."
"Okay," Ashlee says. She works the deadbolt, opens the door and waits to follow.
The bolt slides with a bit of coaxing, and the door opens without an excess of creaking- but the passage is low, necessitating stooping for the adventurers. Immediately beyond the door is a short platform, carved out of the limestone- and a set of stairs that lead down into the grimy water. This brief side pasage joins the main tunnel again at the bottom of the stairs. The height of the ceiling is variable in the tunnel, seemingly formed naturally- ranging from fifteen to a mere five feet.
Slipping in first, Donna frowns at the natural dips and curves of the ceiling, then opts to eliminate the issue of banging one's head altogether by moving in a smooth half-crouch, crabbing her way against the tunnel wall and doing her best to keep her feet from leaving the surface of the water. Once she's gotten far enough in for the others to join, the brawler beckons with her closer hand; come on in, the water smells like an abbatoir.
Being rather shorter than the other two, Aimarra has fewer problems with the low ceiling, but that doesn't mean none, and she, too, crouches in places. It's the water where she hesitates, but with a disgusted expression, she, too, makes her way into the filthy water.
It smells like work, to the Mourner. Like one of those situations where the body was not retrieved in a timely fashion. Or the other sort of work she does, putting the unquiet dead to rest as swiftly as possible. Ashlee inhales carefully, disliking the scent, ducking as the others have to avoid bumping the ceiling. She shuffles through the water, to avoid splashing, and stares ahead past the other two. Her eyes remain glowing with their faint, dark violet light.
As they round the bend into the main tunnel, no threats present themselves- but the scent here is certainly far worse than it had been outside, where there was fresh air for it to intermingle with. It's enough to turn the stomach for the faint of heart. The water is chill, which might be a blessing, given that it would likely smell worse were it temperate. After the first few feet, the tunnel gets a more significant slope to it, heading up into the mountain. There are places where the walls are water stained, indicating that the level can be higher than it is right now- but for the time being it reaches about halfway up the shins. Enough to slow movement, but not deep enough to present a danger.
There are some raised, dry areas, but the edges are fairly damp. Clambering up would be tricky- but possible - the pit itself will be difficult terrain.
This water is *foul.* But at least it's still mostly water, rather than the awfulness of big-city sewer jobs. Just breathe through your mouth, try not to realize you can still taste the air...
Slow and steady, the brawler navigates her way up the noisome waterway. No matter what, one arm keeps contact with the wall; her hand, if her gauntlet wouldn't make noise, an elbow or shoulder otherwise. It may not be the best lit of tunnels, but, as long as she knows where the wall is, direction is easy enough to suss out.
Even Aimarra's evening vision is of little help in complete darkness, and she, too, uses her hand to feel direction, although without a gauntlet, hers is much quieter. Noise up ahead, noise behind - focus on that, and after a time, even this kind of stench fades from the nose, to something barely-noticeable. If it ever stops, she'll sure notice, but for now, it's background noise. She lets her hand guide her, keeping her ears peeled where sight will not serve.
Ashlee can see easily, and she wonders about being in the back. She watches the other two struggle in the darkness, and moves slowly so she doesn't crowd them. Her parasol and her khopesh are ready at hand. If something comes up from behind, she'll make for a decent rear-guard. She contemplates switching to her crossbow, but it's a little flashy, so she'll stick to her current load out.
The scents are unpleasant and she does her best to ignore them. Her ears twitch, listening, although she's watching for movement.
And whatever is making this smell.
GAME: Donna rolls stealth: (1)+10: 11 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Aimarra rolls stealth: (15)+8: 23 GAME: Ashes rolls stealth+1+3+5: (8)+20+1+3+5: 37
The slope becomes more severe as they press on, making moving quietly or at all for that matter hard work- especially with the stony floor of the tunnel slick with the foul smelling water. The scent grows stronger as they climb, and the water is no longer simply cloudy, but beginning to take on a rusty color as well. Flies call this section of the tunnel home- thankfully neither the biting nor the giant kind, but there are a lot of them.
"There's a secret door near," Ashlee whispers quietly to Aimarra, breathing down her neck, "around the corner, when the grate is in sight."
She keeps moving up with the others, looking ahead and behind. She's very quiet, a part of the shadows, blending the sounds of her movement with the trickling of the water flowing past. The others might not realize, so she whispers a little more, "The water is cloudy and red, we're closer."
Donna may perhaps be the loudest of the group at the moment, a fact that grates on her nerves just a little. If they get discovered now, and it's her fault...
Pushing the thought aside, she continues up the passage, wrinkling her nose at the thickening stench emerging from the water.
As the group round the corner, they spy another staircase that leads up to a thankfully dry section- and what appears to be a section of wooden wall, which is right about where their secret door is supposed to be. According to the map, pressing on it in the right place will cause it to swing open- some clever mechanism or another. But, rather more distressingly, the source of the scent becomes readily apparent. Piled up against the grate are a number of corpses, wearing those same robes they saw the people in town wearing. Men and women both, some of them dismembered, but all of them bloated and rotting.
GAME: Aimarra rolls perception: (20)+12: 32 GAME: Ashes rolls perception: (10)+3: 13 GAME: Donna rolls perception+2: (10)+11+2: 23
Aimarra starts at the voice in her ear, pauses to listen, then nods her head, braids brushing near Ashlee's skull mask. It's only when they get to the source of the stench that anything else comes from her mouth, and it is accompanied by a shudder that ripples through her. "Yeah, this uncle of his needs a good hot spear in the bollocks," she mutters, but freezes abruptly, staring at the corpse pile. "Something's moving in there. It might be living. If something's living, we should free it."
"....But if it ain't alive," Donna murmurs back... and heaves a long sigh, leather creaking as she balls her hands into fists. If it's not alive, then this will be a terrible start to a crucial job.
GAME: Ashes casts Detect Thoughts. Caster Level: 5 DC: 15
Ashlee's mask is some sort of tattoo, or skin bleaching, so Aimarra's braids tickle over her cheeks and nose, which wrinkles a little. She stares at the pile, which she had noticed. Movement, she hadn't. She whispers again, "just a moment."
Stepping back behind the platform, to get out of line of sight, she makes a few gestures and rubs at the holy symbol on the front of her armour. Her voice is quiet, monotone, but is an interruption in this environment. "Feiu of the Tears, let me hear thoughts."
Maybe it won't matter.
She senses the presence thoughts, at first, but after several more moments of concentration realizes she is detecting only her companions.
Whatever is moving the pile is mindless, or unaffected.
The ashen Arvec concentrates. A few moments later, her voice is in Aimarra's ear again, "Nothing. Whatever is in the pile is mindless."
Whatever is in the corpse pile either hasn't noticed or simply hasn't reacted to the adventurers as yet, remaining nestled amongst its grisly nest. The door awaits- which will, at the very least, put them up and out of the water the corpses are slowly rotting away into.
"If it ain't movin', let's don't move it then," Donna whispers. "Let's get outta this muck an' on with our work."
Ashlee contemplates two options. The first, standing in the water and hacking through the grate at the bodies. Disrespectful to the remains, would result in dismembered chunks small enough to eventually fall through, which would then wash past her downstream, eventually out, alerting others that if nothing else, the new Lord's reign came with some transition issues.
The second, is going through the door, and raining fire, magic, and missile weapons down on the pile, hoping to kill whatever is in it. Cleaner, possibly, one would be fighting with a dry footing against a foe that might not be able to climb. Effectively shooting very rotten fish in a somewhat open barrel. It's the better option, in her estimation, if only so she doesn't have to hack at a wall of rotting flesh through some bars.
"We might be able to sneak by. If not, the higher ground would be better." The Mourner suggests.
Aimarra wrinkles her nods, but nods. "Yeah. If it stays put, it stays put. You said there was a secret door?"
Once the door opens, it becomes clear that the sewer is dimly lit- there are numerous lanterns in brackets on the walls, but only a couple of them are clinging to life. Clearly the servants are not getting around to refilling the lamp oil since the regimen change. Then again, that might be because they are the ones rotting in the sewers. The pile of rot doesn't immediately react to the door opening- not until Ashlee moves to step into the room.
One of the bodies- a woman, at a glance, with long raven hair that is splayed out and matted to her colorful- if tattered and stained now- robe- turns to look at Ashes. While her body remains laying face down in the water, the neck twists all the way around. She opens her mouth wide- so wide, in fact, that her cheeks tear and a pair of long pincers emerge from the sides of her mouth. Her body begins twitching and writhing, and then slithering out of the robe- and her skin with a sickening tearing sound, a creature seemingly made of flesh and vertebrae and ribs, though still with the unsettlingly human face, emerges from the pile scuttlin through the shallow liquid like some grotesque mockery of a centipede.
The rest of the corpse pile begins to shudder and squirm, as more human-headed centipedes begin to claw their way out of the mass of rotting flesh.
Combatty
Maps
https://imgur.com/a/3R5nvE1 - In Character
https://www.mipui.net/app/index.html?mid=mxz0767b2y0 - Actual Tactical