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  1. - Top - End - #151
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    PirateGuy

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    Default Re: The Journal of Herlam Corkwill - IC

    The Ashabenford Arms:

    The young Red Wizard is most pliant... shivering to the very core of his being with abject terror. It seems Thayan discipline will work in your favour in this instance...

    The High Councillor, Thraeg and Karpike watch with amusement as Ryn's interrogation is put into effect. Groban is entirely willing to help as directed.

    Noristuor looks the letter over for a moment. He frowns. "Perelia, thank you for this. It will certainly shed more light on the situation... Let's see what I can do here..." With that he places the letter on the table, flattening it very carefully. With the overly curious High Councillor looking over his shoulder, Noristuor removes a small, finely cut gem from his robes, and begins to scan the parchment using the gem as a sort of lense. After a minute or so of this, he replaces the gem and dips his gnarled fingers into his spell component pouch, removing some black chalk and a dried mushroom, which he crumbles together in his hand while muttering something in an old dialect of Draconic. As the powder form his hands begins to spread over the parchment, the letters rearrange themselves to the beat of his arcane intonations. Soon, the letter looks like this:

    Letter to Otythir:
    Spoiler
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    Otythir,

    It is indeed good news! Herlam and his daughter are largely unprotected. Ripe for the picking in a town without walls or towers. Truly, Lolth smiles upon us.

    Though I am not ignorant of the Dalelanders' opinion of Thayans, having you and trusted members of your enclave in Ashabenford before the attack would be preferable to my drow agents, who, as you know, would be overwhelmed and killed on sight. Not only that, but my people will be busy wresting control of House Jaelre's holdings in Cormanthor from them, for use as a base of operations.

    Should we fail to route the Jaelre, it is up to you retrieve the book and the old fool Herlam, and bring them to our agents to the northwest. Should we succeed against House Jaelre, your presence will still be useful. Position yourself near Herlam and his daughter. When we attack, you must disrupt the Mistledarrans' defences and make Herlam available.

    I don't think I need to remind you how delicate our situation is. As far as conspiracies go, this is indeed a rare specimin... not only must you keep our plans safe from your Masters in Thay, but be constantly wary of our other, older foes – the real rivals in this deadly game.

    Though my spies are everywhere, it is always challenging to know what our true enemies are ever planning. Their actions are as inscrutable as the stuff they're made of.

    You mustn't take this as sentiment, Otythir, but I need you to be careful. There's no guarantee that my people will be able to tell Herlam from the other surface-dwellers should you be found out.

    And remember, friend, that once you and I are together and have the Codex and the Key, neither the squabbling of drow Houses nor the scheming of your Thayan masters will be enough stop us. It will already be too late. But remember also what consequences we will reap should They be allowed to snatch the Book and Key out from under us. Now is the time, Otythir, and my city's twin penchants for violence and power will surely work to our advantage.

    My spy is in Ashabenford now, not that I suspect you of treachery. Know that should you fail and wind up dead, I will know about it, and I will come for you, Otythir. I will place you at my right hand when I ascend. I ask that you, at the very least, make some flashy display so my spy knows where to look for the old man.

    I hope you have strong bodyguards. You will need good expendable bodies for the violence to come.

    - G.

    PS: The attached spell might come in handy should our enemies make their presence known in Ashabenford.


    Noristuor seems troubled that the message implies a larger conspiracy... One that implicates two groups as diverse as the Drow of Menzobarranzan, the Red Wizards and a mysterious third group. "Perhaps," he says finally, scratching his wiry beard, "Tomorrow's attack will yield either more information or prisoners who will yield more information. Either way, the letter has a tone most ominous... And who is G.? Powerful, who- or whatever it is..."

    OOC:
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    Feel free to make any knowledge checks you like about specific things mentioned. For ease's sake, let's fast-forward through the sharing of the letter and say that everyone in the party takes a look at it (unless Perelia wants to hide it from anyone in the room for whatever reason).

    Last edited by The Smoking Man; 2012-08-08 at 10:28 PM.

  2. - Top - End - #152
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    Default Re: The Journal of Herlam Corkwill - IC

    Perhaps Ryn would have made a better devotee of Lliira than Roen himself. The young rogue had to admire the man's calm ability to laugh at the situation. His plan, however, was less agreeable than his demeanor. Roen was glad, at least, that he had no intention of actually torturing the Thayans; harming or killing an evil foe in battle was one thing, but an ex-slave from a nation in thrall to Loviatar knew all too well what a terrible deed it was to cause pain to the helpless. A cloud of deceit, however, was practically his home away from home, easily to slip into whenever necessary. He would go through with it.

    As the Gnoll was "executed" for his failure to talk, Roen left his face nonchalant and made his way over to the young wizard. He drew up a chair and straddled it, resting his chin on the back and loosing a great sigh. "Well, it looks like they're down to you; those fellows have gotten a little overzealous. Now, they know that you're the last one, so they won't kill you. No, they need you. But that's not a good thing." The Dambrathan rested his head on one hand, as if deep in thought. He recalled all too easily the tortures inflicted upon his fellow Shebali, but he'd never thought he'd actually put such knowledge to good use.

    "They'll probably start with the fingernails, then break the fingers, smash the kneecaps. They're brutes, you know, and your little skirmish damaged their property. And if, by incredible force of will, you still don't talk, I imagine they'll give you to the Rashemi lass over there. I'm told her people have a bone to pick with yours." Roen leaned in close, his face inches away from the Thayan's, the smell of the youth's cold sweat filling his nostrils. "The fact here is that I'm your only out. There's not a scratch on me from our little fight. I don't care about revenge, and I've nothing against Thay."

    He kept up his stream of words, moving his mouth to whisper into the Red Wizard's right ear. "I can convince them that you're worth keeping alive and in one undamaged piece. Frankly, I want to. You see, I'm from Dambrath. I was a slave there, and after being tortured myself, I don't like to see it happen to anyone. But they barely know me; they won't listen to a moral excuse. I need you to tell me something useful; the more, the better my chance to persuade them. If you do, you've got my word as a man who's been where you are that I'll stop them from hurting you. I couldn't do anything for that Gnoll, but I can save you."

    Roen leaned back, trying not to feel dirty. "So, tell us everything you know. Who is your master's ally, G, who wrote this letter? Who is this rival "They" with whom you are racing? Has the spy made contact, and if so, who is he or she?" The young rogue turned to look around the room, then turned back to stare at the wizard again. "You would be wise to answer these questions, and any that these others may pose."

    Last edited by Dragonsong; 2012-08-08 at 11:59 PM.

  3. - Top - End - #153
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    Default Re: The Journal of Herlam Corkwill - IC

    After pulling away the bindings from the Thayan woman's head, Neth crouches down to the floor nearby, a bit to the side of her. Gyl had flown into the kitchen and returned again to perch on the table nearby after fetching a few olives about the size of eyeballs, and begins to leisurely peck at them while clutching them in his talons. Neth, appearing amused and appreciating this rare opportunity, gives the woman her full attention, and a strange grin that spreads across decades of contempt. It would probably have been enough to stare at her like that for a while. The woman could likely call to mind a great number more wicked things her people had done to the Rashemi than Neth even knew about. But for the sake of speed and entertainment, she begins to speak casually, with mockingly serious inflections and generous dramatic pauses.

    "There is a thing they say in many lands," she begins, easing into a more comfortable seated position. "It is different wherever you go, but it means the same. In my land we say it like this: 'What you do to someone — and what you want them doing to you — should be the same.' So it is very easy for me to know what someone from Thay would like someone from Rashemen to do to them. You have given us many lessons in that, and we have learned.

    "There may be some who would not do this duty for you, and repay you differently. But most druids you meet, I think, will say how important it is to them to help restore the Balance whenever they can. And with you, I will be very glad to do this.

    "You probably are thinking that if you tell me something I wish to learn, I will treat you differently. But these are very little secrets and little bloodspills here. It is my burden to give back what my people have been unable to give all these long years. What can you say tonight that will outweigh this?"

    After a few moments of inspecting the woman's face, she speaks again. "But I think, if it turns out you are not really enough like your people at all, then perhaps you are not one I must repay. So, if you would like to prove this now with your words, you may. Tell us, if you wish, what a Thayan would not want to tell us. And this maybe, will convince us."

    Neth then specifically mentions similar things to what Roen asked the young man, such as who penned the letter, who are the 'older foes', what the woman may know about the spies... as well as where the drow plan to attack from, and with what numbers.

    Spoiler
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    As explained to me by TSM (because I am new and therefore dumb):

    having neutral alignment [] ...
    + reasons to deeply hate race of oppressors [] ...
    = willingness to inflict pain on captive [] ...
    = not actually bluffing...?

    roll for intimidation:
    (1d20+2)[14]
    Last edited by Neth; 2012-08-09 at 06:24 PM. Reason: typos...

  4. - Top - End - #154
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    Default Re: The Journal of Herlam Corkwill - IC

    Doroga watches quietly. There was a lot more in play here than he had understood. An attack from Drow was imminent and they seemed to be after some book of power, one that the wizards present seemed to recognize. The others spoke of tactics and of gathering information in preparation.

    He also had learned that his new Master had a well nurtured dislike for the Thayans...

    Well, I suppose that isn't surprising, from all that I've heard about them...

    He listened a bit longer, than made his way over to Herlam and stood next to him for a quiet moment before leaning over on his guisarme.

    His deep voice rumbles low from his chest, "It would seem like everyone has become quite animated, Mr. Corkwill. All in motion and excited for the action that is to come. I can smell the blood of tomorrows battle in the air... though perhaps it is the Gnoll blood still lingering about. There will be much going on, I suspect. And a lot of chaos accompanies battles such as these. More so with creatures of cloak and dagger like the Drow.

    I believe I will take it upon myself to aid in your protection, and the protection of what you know and what those aligned against us seem to seek. I suspect they (motioning towards the others in the room) will do their best to protect you, but they will be needed to fend against the coming attack. It is my opinion, that when fighting against a group specialized in stealth and subterfuge, ordered plans tend to unravel quickly. I think I would like to be the glue that will hold the strings together where they might fray.
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  5. - Top - End - #155
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    PirateGuy

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    Default Re: The Journal of Herlam Corkwill - IC

    The Ashabenford Arms:

    The young wizard is unable to resist the urge to spill his guts in the face of the fearsome (and apparently ruthless) adventurers that have taken him into their custody. Roen can see that he believes he just watched the Gnoll die, and that he believes everything Roen has told him/threatened.

    "I... I..." he fights back the tremors from his voice (a necessary trick for mages trying to cast spells in combat), and steadies himself enough to say, "I am not... privy to all of Otythir's machinations.... Ilnstreth, she knew; the wizardess..." he glances frightfully in the common room's direction before returning his gaze to Roen, "She knew more. All I know is that we were supposed to wait for the attack. The Knight and her disguised mercenaries were to offer their blades to Daurily and Herlam, and when the attack comes, we were to take advantage of the chaos and... and take them..." he stops again, swallows hard, "I was told nothing more of the plan... I don't even know who our real allies and enemies are in this venture. I was taken on as a last minute favour for my father from Otythir... You... you must believe me!"

    Meanwhile, in the common room, Ilnstreth glares defiantly at Neth. As the druidess says her peace, however, Ilnstreth becomes clearly frightened of what the Rashemi is capable of. Memories of Rashemi border-raids seem to flash behind her eyes, and suddenly her cold features melt into fearful abandon. "It's... It's Herlam we wanted. Herlam and his book. Otythir, the fool, had allied us with someone powerful in Menzoberranzan, the great drow city of the northwest. This individual promised Otythir and I great power over our countrymen and rivals should we deliver to him Herlam and the book. Other than that, I know little. Save one thing: There are others after these things... A powerful force.... Not... of the Realms, entirely. Something dark. Shadows. Shadows and those that revere them." she shivers, less at Neth and the current circumstances than at the things she describes, "Otythir's ally form Menzo... he sent us a spell to aid us should they appear. Other than that..." her face hardens again, "I know the identity of the drow spy in Ashabenford. I wish to negotiate for this last piece of information." with that she stares at Neth, waiting for a response.

    Near the bar, Herlam looks up from his tremors to Doroga. "Young man," he says shakily, clearly drained, "I admire your honour and courage, and should circumstances allow for such, I would be proud if you fought by my side. The gods know, I fear death now more than ever given the nature of this damnable curse..." Herlam's eyes burn with anger now, and Daurily stands him up and they make towards the stairs.

    She looks to Doroga before they leave altogether and says, "Thank you, sir, for all that you have done. Please confer with my father and I again tomorrow morning as to what our part of the defense plan shall be. We will cooperate completely. But now, I fear, my father must take rest once more. Good morrow to you." And with that climbs the stairs with Herlam.

    OOC:
    Spoiler
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    So between the Letter, the two prisoners, the drow threat, and Perelia's knowledge checks (not yet shared), you guys are able to piece things together quite well so-far. One of the only remaining questions is the identity of the spy sent by the drow (see letter) to help should things go wrong for the Red Wizards (already happened).

    Also, excellent interrogation RPing!

    TSM
    Last edited by The Smoking Man; 2012-08-10 at 12:04 PM.

  6. - Top - End - #156
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    PaladinGuy

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    Default Re: The Journal of Herlam Corkwill - IC

    Grinning at the Thayan in the chair, playing with Arhlo's knives, Ryn listened with appreciation to Roen's little speech. Little drops of blood from when he'd slit the gnoll's throat flicked up in the air whenever he tossed a blade. He made sure to fling an occasional drop at the Thayan, subtly. It made for a nice little touch, he thought, though Roen probably could have convinced the lad without any help at all, after a speech like that.

    Standing a few feet away, Groban's glare was perfect. Ryn was quite convinced that the Uthgardt wanted nothing more then to rip the Thayans head off, and he was sure the Thayan had figured that out. What Ryn still hadn't figured out how he was going to explain that they weren't going to do that. Maybe he'd just let Roen do that part...

    After hearing the Thayan spill his guts, he stood up, still grinning. "Well then lad, I'll just go and see if the woman is still alive. Might be that the Rashemi hasn't slit her throat yet, if she's after being in a good mood." With that, he starts to slowly saunter from the room. Stopping at the door, he turns back "Course, if she has, well then you didn't really tell us much of use, now did you? Best be thinking on that lad, cause right now, I'd not be inclined to listen to Roen here if he tries to plead your case. Not after you lot set me on fire like that. Maybe you'd better think of something else you can offer him, make it worth his arguing with me, eh?" For a brief moment, his grin changes, losing none of the humor, but becoming almost feral. Then, he steps into the common room.

    Whistling softly - yet still badly off-key - he walks over to Perellia and Neth, softly telling them what the man had said. Upon hearing what Neth had to say about the wizardess, he ponders for a few seconds before turning back to her. "This ones your fish; land it as you will. If you need me to do anything, just ask. I'll stay out here for a time though. I've a notion that the young wastrel we've got in there would prefer not to see me for a bit."
    Spoiler
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    God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of his own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players (i.e. everyone), to being involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.

    - "Good Omens"

  7. - Top - End - #157
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    Default Re: The Journal of Herlam Corkwill - IC

    "I know the identity of the drow spy in Ashabenford. I wish to negotiate for this last piece of information."

    After having listened intently to every word, and with great attention to the ones she didn't recognize, at this final defiance, Neth chuckles. Before she answers she turns her head to the whistling that approaches from behind, and listens with equal delight to the mischief of the kitchen crew. Giving Ryn all the details the woman had released, and mentioning the one she withheld, she nods to his response, smiling with praise and amusement, and turns again to the woman.

    "I don't know if your asking comes from courage or stupidity. But I know when I have many years, I will not tell my children how the captive Thayan shakes with fear and says all, but how the captive Thayan shakes with fear and says all, and then they want to trade."

    Managing to refrain from laughter, she says with a gesture to the companions nearby, "I and the rest can bring you the same misery we could a moment ago. You have something we want. Why would we trade if we can take it from you? If your plan was to make me laugh and hope for mercy, you have yet ten thousand jokes to tell before you find it. But I am curious, at least. What do you want us to give you?"

  8. - Top - End - #158
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    Default Re: The Journal of Herlam Corkwill - IC

    After Herlam walks away, Doroga returns his attention to his companions. As he does, in one of those odd moments of silence, he overhears the Thayyan sorceress begging for her life and leveraging information in exchange.

    As Neth gestures towards everyone else, Doroga doesn't quite catch what is said, but an idea creeps into his mind. He nods at Neth's gesture as if it was a cue, and picks up his weapon, walking towards the sorceress and Neth.

    "Ahh, has she finally offered her life for information? Likely lies and betrayal. Whatever she has to tell us would likely get us killed sooner than aid us, and anything useful we could probably learn on our own."

    Doroga lowers the edge of his guisarme to her nose, letting the razor sharp edge peel back the barest layer of skin. As her attention is focused on the blade, he looks slyly over to Neth, and winks.

    "I say we just spear her on a pike at the edge of town, to serve as a warning of those that would attack tomorrow."

    Spoiler
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    Using Intimidate to aid Neth's interrogation: (1d20)[4]

    Well, damn it all. The forum roller is taking it out of my hide these past weeks!

    Hopefully I haven't made your task harder. :/
    Avatar by Kymme.

  9. - Top - End - #159
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    Default Re: The Journal of Herlam Corkwill - IC

    Roen clucked his tongue, deep in thought. The young wizard didn't know much; it wasn't surprising, but it was disappointing. He could only hope that the other prisoner would prove to have more information. Regardless, appearances had to be maintained, no matter how dirty it made him feel. "That's not much to go on, but I'll do what I can for you. For your sake, I hope it's enough." He had no intention, of course, of allowing any harm come to the Thayan, but he was reasonably sure that his new companions would agree. Still, what would they do with the two in the end?

    Even knowing as little as they did, it could be dangerous to have them running loose.

    Moving over to the bar, Roen waited patiently for the second interrogation to conclude. It was time to make plans using what little information they had. He could only hope that such plans would prove sufficient; he did not intend the following night to be his last, but knew in his heart that it might well be...

  10. - Top - End - #160
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    PirateGuy

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    Default Re: The Journal of Herlam Corkwill - IC

    The Ashabenford Arms:

    The plot thickens and thickens...

    As does the pot. The pot of tea Arlho put on for the non-drinkers among his patrons before the melee that saw his floors greased and burned, his daughter scared and his local representative screaming at him. As forgotten as the realms of Netheril and Athalantar, the tea would continue to steep into an opaque sludge until the next morning.

    Meanwhile, the drow threat was to be addressed, now that our heroes and the important folk of Ashabenford were all gathered together, as educated as they could be on the murky machinations of their enemies. Ilnstreth the Red Wizardess, in a desperate bargain for her life and limbs, agrees to give up the name of the spy the drow have in Ashabenford (the one that was to take over for the Red Wizards should they fail) to Neth. The name? Fuad the Scar. The description? Unknown (unless you happen to be Ryn or Doroga). In return for Fuad's name, Ilnstreth is promised imprisonment without torture, solitary confinement, chains, or a life sentence. Other than that, it's all up to Captain Thraeg.

    ((INSERT RYN'S DROW DEFENSE PLAN HERE))

    OOC:
    Spoiler
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    Discuss the plan itself in the OOC thread, and we'll move ahead in the IC thread as if everything's been decided upon.


    Partly because of a brilliant suggestion of Roen's, and partly out of the tiefling mage's latent malice gene, Noristuor agrees (with a smile) to take on a second apprentice... the young Red Wizard, whose name is Gilb Grimthon. Schlep seems less than impressed with his master's choice, but relents nonetheless.

    The town's leaders agree to work with the PCs as necessary, and all outstanding introductions are finalized. Arlho and Tsasha show everyone to their rooms on the second and third floors of the Ashabenford Arms. Perelia, Doroga and Roen are given second floor rooms close to double suite being shared by Daurily and Herlam. Ryn, Groban and Neth are each given third floor rooms. All rooms in Arlho's establishment are of exceptional quality, especially those given to the six who just saved his Daughter from witnessing the unjustified murder/kidnapping of an old man.

    Everyone sleeps heavily, weary from the excitement of the previous day. In the early hours during sunrise, Roen wakes up to what sounds like the telltale clatter of a small rock being thrown through glass in a nearby room. The sound is not followed by anything else audible.

    Though oblivious to the sound, Perelia is just getting ready to start the day, having completed her elven night trance and spell preparations, finishing up by repeating the words of Draconic she will need for the castings. Neth, meanwhile, is sitting at her window (on the opposite side of the building from the sound), communing with the sunrise and working the intuitive strands of her nature magic through her soul's depths.

    Everyone else continues to sleep as Arlho dumps the pot of stinky "tea" from the night before into the stock pot on the woodstove, yawns, and shuffles back to his quarters in the dark but spacious and finished wine cellars beneath the tower.

    OOC
    Spoiler
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    Roen: only you hear the sound. You can't tell where it came from exactly, except that it came from the other side of the hall from your room. That side of the hall houses: Daurily and Herlam, Doroga, and Perelia. Doroga is right across the hall, Perelia is to the left and Herlam/Daurily is to the right. It's sunrise.

    Note: If Roen makes a commotion instead of investigating all stealthy-like, everyone can roleplay waking up instantly save for Ryn and Groban, who not only are on another floor, but are hung over as hell.
    Last edited by The Smoking Man; 2012-08-15 at 02:56 AM.

  11. - Top - End - #161
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    For Everyone:
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    I really meant to share this "last night" in game time, but real life intervened. This is information that Perelia would have freely disseminated to those that she trusts (the PC's and Daurily):

    Quote Originally Posted by The Smoking Man
    The Codex is referring to the Karsusian Codex, which you already know a crap-ton about. This roll combined with the knowledge roll for "the Key" lets you know the following: that for the Karsusian Codex to render up its secrets, it requires a Key in the form of some kind of ritual or energy. It is not a physical Key, nor is it a simple spell. Something else unlocks the Codex's powers... though what exactly, you do not know.

    As for the history roll, you glean from that the city referred to must be Menzoberranzan (sic?) the famed drow city in the Underdark to the north west. House Jaelre (referred to in Otythir's letter) is an outcast house that had recently taken up residence in the Cormanthor forests and taken to raiding Mistledale and other Dales. The letter seems to imply that the drow of Menzo are in the process of finishing off House Jaelre and taking over their above-ground base of operations in Cormanthor... apparently for the purpose of better tracking and capturing Herlam Corkwill...
    I apologize for not working that into a more descriptive IC post, but at this point I don't want to hold things up any further, and backtracking would do just that.
    Last edited by RaggedAngel; 2012-08-15 at 10:42 AM.
    Red Hand of Doom in Eberron IC | OOC | Rolls

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  12. - Top - End - #162
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    Default Re: The Journal of Herlam Corkwill - IC

    Greatly pleased with himself in finding a nonviolent solution to the problem of the young Red Wizard, relatively confident in the plan his new companions had drafted, and extremely curious about what a bed felt like, Roen fell asleep almost immediately and slept soundly. Days of walking and camping in the wild were hardly new to him, but the soft folds of a mattress were like nothing he could have imagined; it was as though the exhaustion of an entire life of working himself to the bone and then sleeping on hard-packed earth floors or the secure but unyielding roots of trees had caught up to him.

    Though he might have slept the sleep of the rocks and the dead, old habits died hard with him, and in spite of the feeling that he would be content never to move again he lay with an eye and an ear open. Thus it was that he heard the sound of breaking glass and was awake in a heartbeat, adrenaline instantly driving both sleepiness and any sense of comfort from the bed out of his body. It wasn't in his room, but he wasn't out for himself alone; if Herlam, or any of the others, was kidnapped or murdered, he would never forgive himself. These people had not lived as he had. Only he could be expected to keep watch.

    He cursed himself for removing his mithril shirt, though it would have entirely ruined the feel of the mattress; he had worn it at every moment save when he bathed during his years in the wild, and often such precautions had saved him. A bed was clearly one of Shar's tools, he decided, lulling the weary into vulnerability through comfortable darkness. But not all of his precautionary measures had been cast aside; his loaded crossbow sat within easy reach, and he'd kept his dagger hidden in the folds of his nightshirt. It was well that no grateful and amorous young lass had come to him in the night; he would have spitted her out of reflex alone.

    If there was one thing Roen hated that he often had to do anyway, it was going into a potentially dangerous situation without any foreknowledge of what he might find. Had some sort of projectile been hurled through the window, a vial of alchemist's fire or noxious gas? Or perhaps a small but vicious creature? Or would he merely find a threatening note tied around a rock? Or even a love letter? Whatever it was, he had to find out. Easing himself out of bed without a sound, for he had carefully checked where to put pressure on the wood without causing it to creak, he took up his crossbow and crept out of the room on the balls of his feet, searching for the source of the noise.


  13. - Top - End - #163
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    PirateGuy

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    Default Re: The Journal of Herlam Corkwill - IC

    Chapter Two: Day of the Drow

    Roen: With nary a sound, the door to Roen's room opened. In the hall, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Everyone else's door was closed, and no one walked around. Though some minor creaks in the floorboards above signed that some of Roen's new companions stirred in the third-floor apartments, the rooms in front of him were dead quiet...

  14. - Top - End - #164
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    Doroga lay sprawled out, his night shirt partially open, his bottoms nearly slid below his waist as he moved about in his sleep. Deep long snores reverberate the windows slightly.


    Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz***!!!

    He sat up with a start, coughing and sputtering as a bit of spit flies down the wrong pipe. As the coughing fit dies down, he rubs his eyes and blinks, looking around his room, a bad taste in his mouth from the previous nights drinking. His left eyelids stick slightly as he attempts to blink again, and his hair is sprawled across his head, standing in every direction imaginable.

    *YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWN*

    As he moves about his room, getting himself cleaned up in the bucket of fresh water in his room and putting on his clothes. The ale finally passing through his system as a finely aged gas, Doroga begins to cry out.

    "By the GODS! What was in that Ale!" The gripes and grumbles continue as he dresses himself, and he heads out into the hallway as he finishes packing up.

    Spoiler
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    BTW, I wanted to sell that masterwork shield too, or at least see if I could get a good price for it. How much could I sell that special shield? :o
    Last edited by TheDivineWind; 2012-08-16 at 08:53 PM.
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    "Damn," Roen muttered, staring around at the closed doors. It was never simple, not even once. How was he supposed to know which room the sound had come from? It would take too long to check each room stealthily; the noise might have signaled the beginning of a murder, and he couldn't take that risk. "Is everyone alright," he loudly called down the hallway, feeling extremely foolish as he disturbed the early morning silence in no direction in particular. "Check your windows!"

    He hoped he hadn't bothered everyone for nothing. That would not endear him to anyone.

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    The Ashabenford Arms:

    There is no response from the rooms, other than the emergence of Doroga. The two of you stand in the morning light seeping in from the windows, listening intently. Nothing sounds out of the ordinary, but no one responds to the question from Daurily and Herlam's room...

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    Perelia takes a long, full hour to prepare her spells, as is customary. She focuses on her breathing, keeping her mind and body still and relaxed. The day before had been a rush, violent and full. This next day would be just as harried, and likely more so; though they had a plan, it was sure to not last through the first encounter with their foe. No plan did, and she should know; planning was the hallmark of a successful wizard.

    And so she did what every wizard should do when faced with turmoil; she prepared. She gathered what she knew about her day to come, and then she began to forge in her mind the structure and framework of the spells for the day. First came her cantrips, the small and simple pieces of magic that were the bread and butter of most less experienced mages. Prestidigitation was the first spell she memorized; that page in her spellbook was heavily-thumbed and studied, and the margins were nearly black with her personal notes and thoughts. It was an endlessly versatile spell, and though it had no combat potential its utility was unmatched: cleaning, coloring, scenting, lighting wicks or making windows opaque. She built in her mind the elegent, simple structure of the spell, and she knew that it was firmly entrenched in her thoughts to the degree that she could use it endlessly through the day; such a thing was difficult to achieve, though all wizards picked up the trick sooner or later.

    Next came Detect Magic, which would afford her some ability at seeing illusions and at determining what items were magical or mundane. Then Light, because her foes would be better equipped for darkness than herself, and far more prepared for it than the muddy-eyed humans. And finally, a spell to protect her and one that could help change the flow of battle; Caltrops, a simple but effective conjuration that could hamper or harm heavy-footed foes, like any thugs the drow may have with them.

    With the small, simple mental architecture of her cantrips tucked away in her thoughts, Perelia turned the pages of her spellbook to her first-level spells, which would do much of the heavy lifting throughout the day. Disguise Self, to make herself an image of the old man or his daughter. Grease, because of how effective it had been the day before, and because the drow had no ability to resist conjuration effects. And finally she prepared Protection from Evil and Mage Armor; while she could use her bow or wands for offense, nothing would serve her so well in a long fight as a solid defense, both against blade and against magic.

    Then she turned to less-worn pages, and each spell in this section of her book took two of them. The mental framework she was constructing now was far more delicate, more intricate; for her power to flow through it correctly she needed extremely focus and concentration. She had spend a year or so preparing second level spells, however, and she was beginning to get quite the knack for it; her progress had speed considerably. She prided herself in her magical versatility, but for the day to come she focused on the conjurations that she knew; it was common knowledge that the drow had the ability to resist magic targeted at them directly, and the only indirect combat spells she knew were all conjuration.

    Glitterdust, to blind and foil any illusions or invisible foes. Web, to entangle and entrap, and to allow them to take some enemies alive for questioning and interrogation. Summon Swarm, though it was distasteful, was a brutally efficient combat spell, and it would last as long as she needed it to. She would have to be careful, however; the swarm was uncontrollable, and would kill until she unbound the magic keeping it active.

    And then Perelia did something that would make even experienced wizards turn their head. Something that would make Noristour question her intently, should he find out. She prepared an empty space in her mind, a space ready to be filled with any spell that she knew. She filled it with a pure structure, a mental space that could be collapsed or expanded with infinite flexibility into a spell-frame in seconds. It was the culmination of her life's work, and the true validation of all of her effort into seeking the commonality of magic. It was hers, and she was proud of what she could do with it.

    Perelia was coming out of her trance and preparations when she heard Roen's call. She turned looking to her window, and she quickly began to dress and prepare her body to match her mind. The plan may last a very short time indeed, if the enemy was already at their gates.
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  18. - Top - End - #168
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    Roen paused a moment, but no one came to his aid. He frowned; again, it was up to him. What was more worrisome, however, was the complete lack of sound from Herlam's room. He'd recommended posting a door guard, but it had been foolish of him to forget that the window might just as easily be breached; he himself had certainly used that tactic when possible. Perhaps it was nothing, but circumstances were adding up to give him an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was time to act quickly and decisively. He'd wasted too much time already, and if Daurily skewered him for catching her in her undergarments he would at least die knowing that they were safe.

    Leveling his crossbow, he crossed to Daurily and Herlam's room and kicked the door open.
    Last edited by Dragonsong; 2012-08-20 at 10:34 PM.

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    The Ashabenford Arms:

    Perelia: Glancing out of your window and checking for untoward sounds, you sense nothing out of the ordinary. Other than Roen's call, the Inn seems as silent as any inhabited Inn in the morning. And then a thump and a bang from below, like a door being kicked in. Someone was acting...

    Roen and Doroga: Roen kicks the simple wooden door in without issue. What greets the two men's senses, however, is less mundane by far.

    A near-complete blackness seems to have embedded itself in the room, like a solid ink almost, rather than a simple lack of light. Both Doroga's and Roen's ears hum with the unnatural silence of the emptiness before them. Something - the darkness - is inhibiting all sensory perception in the suite where Herlam and Daurily stay.

    Just as Roen is about to cross the threshold, the inky darkness vomits forth a human form, whispy strands of shadow clutching at the body like frayed string, coiling back into the room as the body falls at Roen's feet.

    It is Daurily, sword in hand, armour apparently kept on from the night before. Her skin is pale and blue veins spider through it. Her hair is streaked in white where yesterday it was dark. She breaths, but is unconcsious.

    Something has found its way inside the Ashabenford Arms...

    OOC:
    Spoiler
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    So, Roen and Doroga are by the door. Anyone who's awake in or about their rooms heard the slam of the door and the slump of Daurily. Ryn can make a listen check for same.
    Last edited by The Smoking Man; 2012-08-21 at 02:25 PM.

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    Perelia busts out of her room, heading towards the sound of the shattered wood just in time to watch the hardened mercenary fall to the group, plummeting out of...

    Shadows. She fell out of a wall of pure darkness, darkness which could only be magical, which could only be malicious. Perelia thinks immediately to the conversations and writings of the previous day, and she understands what is happening. "The drow have allied themselves with creatures of shadow, creatures that were terrible enough to inspire fear in their leader. He was given a scroll to fight them off, should things go awry. I had intended to inscribe it into my spellbook once I had learned enough to cast such magic, but we cannot lose them this way."

    She draws out a long scroll, scribed in a spidery hand on fine vellum, and she walks towards the door, holding the magical parchment out in front of her like a writ of passage. She begins to call out the words of the spell in a ringing, strident voice, her brow furrowed in concentration. She shouts out the final words of the magic as she reaches Daurily's fallen form, and with those words comes a light so powerful and pure that for a moment there is nothing but white light and arcane might, flooding through the inn like a wave, casting no shadows in its wake.

    Spoiler
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    She deals 23 untyped damage to any shadow creatures in 30 feet and dispels any shadow or darkness spells that have a caster level of 9 or less.
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  21. - Top - End - #171
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    The Ashabenford Arms:

    Perelia, Roen, Doroga: The great light issues forth into the blackness, at first creating only a small puncture in the arcane shadows. The three of you have the strange sensation of seeing a three-dimensional hole in darkness, somehow lit slightly from the sunlight spilling hungrily into the room from the hallway. The emanation then begins to eat away at the greater bulk of the stubborn darkness.

    The room is illuminated in an inky blue-grey that begins to clear up into more natural light... you can make out the forms of three undulating, black bodies, vaguely humanoid, all terminating at the same small sphere of utter black on the floor. Around the plum-sized trinket emanating the three shadow creatures, shards of broken window lie, almost invisible in the receding gloom.

    As the spell takes full effect, the creatures squeal, undulating around their source like pain-wracked snakes tied together at the tail. Sheets of shadow-stuff peel from them and flicker into nothing, making them seem less substantial. They turn to the door, screeching rage in hallow tones, tiny eyes of pure white pinched in demonic frenzy. They stretch from their source beneath the broken window toward the door, like raving fingers of sheenless obsidian.

    Herlam lies on a bed in the left third of the room, motionless. Now that the gloom is lifted you can tell that his eyes are open. You cannot say whether he yet lives or is dead. You have bigger things to worry about...

    OOC:
    Perelia, Doroga, Roen: Will roll initiative early-ish tomorrow before I go to work. If you get a chance before then, feel free to roll your own!

    Everyone: Just a note/warning: this combat won't be a protracted, important battle. A couple rounds at most will likely do it. Want to keep things moving. The important bit of this is what happens after the fight with the shadow creatures.

    I know it's bad to metagame for your players, but I did so this time in the interest of assurance that things are moving along.

  22. - Top - End - #172
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    It was some time before Neth understood all was not peace and tranquility this morning. She may have been awake, but being submerged in such a heavy state of morning preparation, she'd actually have been more useful had she merely been aslumber.

    Perhaps in the woods, with less to distract, a significant arcane disturbance might've given a good druid's skin a shiver. But to concentrate divinely, this less-than-good druid had carelessly pushed even audible sounds into a far away dreamy-land-place. Well, why not? With so many others on guard, surely all would be well if she spaced out for an hour. And Gyl was keeping watch, wasn't he? Besides, it was hard enough to concentrate in these congested surroundings. Even when all was silent, the trappings of civilized areas pour forth a clamor all their own. She could hardly be expected to notice a small blip on the arcane radar when the town was already saturated with the dull purr of countless little trinkets, bindings and charms, along with the cold humming drone of metalwork that made itself heard in every little corner of every little room.

    Thus it was that Neth proved useless while the danger made itself known. Gyl seemed to sense something peculiar, but not at all what, so couldn't do much but behave with clear agitation and make a cooing, croaking kerfuffle, which served no purpose but to make the druid assume he was hungry. Or playing one of his "oh there’s something dreadfully amiss, but I can’t for the life of me explain to you what it is" kind of games. It wasn't until the commotion from the other side of the building became suddenly quite loud, and the irritated owl began doing cartwheels across the window sill, that Neth finally snapped to her feet, fumbling for her staff and shield.

    "Vlagugu-tik-tik," she cursed under her breath, (allowing herself the freedom of one of the more potent Rashemi expletives whilst there were no foreigners at hand to laugh at how ridiculous it sounds.) Dazed and stupefied, and entirely at a loss for what kind of danger might be afoot, she flung the window open, and let Gyl leap out to take a look at the other windows of the inn, and whether there was any disagreeable characters lurking outside. She is now poised with her ear at the door, attempting to detect any informative and/or forewarning sound before making another stupid mistake this morning, and bursting out her door into the loving arms of a dire rat army, or some other such unfavorable demise.

    Spoiler
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    Neth listen: (1d20+5)[19]
    Gyl spot: (1d20+6)[11]

    I know this will likely be useless, unless the view from outside Herlam's window reveals something new. Assuming not, I apologize for being unhelpful (again). But this is probably what she'd do, on the other side of the building, and not knowing what's going on, and whether she'd best make her way out the window or what.

    I'm excited for what the mini-battle will reveal, and if Neth hears nothing immediately beyond her door, she may possibly arrive in time to assist. Till then, stab them scary things!
    Last edited by Neth; 2012-08-22 at 06:24 PM. Reason: (added rolls...)

  23. - Top - End - #173
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    Several facts coalesced in Perelia's mind as she stared at the menacing creatures in front of her, and she realized that she was in serious danger for her life; more importantly, if she used too many of her daily resources now, she would be put in a bad place for the evening, when the drow were supposed to attack.

    She took a step back, letting out a shout for help as she did so, and then Perelia did the one thing every wizard does at one point or another in their lives: she drew her wand, leveled it, and then cast Magic Missile at the darkness.

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    She draws the 9-charge wand, deals 7 damage to the center shade, and takes a 5ft step back.
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    "Damn," Roen hissed. What had he gotten himself into? Not even two days in this town and he'd already encountered far, far more sorcery than he cared to. Though he worried for Daurily, and briefly considered dragging her out of harm's way to see if he could revive her, he knew that he would only be leaving Herlam and his new companions to face the vile... whatever they were alone. He sent up a prayer to the goddess as he took aim with his already-raised crossbow and opened fire, taking only a single shot; the things looked elusive, and two missed bolts were no help compared to a single one that struck home.

    Sudden as his entrance had been, he would immediately have sought a weak point on any other target while they were too distracted to guard themselves. But where does one shoot to pierce the vitals of blackest night?

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    Roen, Doroga, Perelia: The central of the three shadow demons absorbs Perelia's bolt of force and seems writhe and shake for a moment, bursting like a mixture of ink and smoke. The two others surge forth, paying no heed to their fallen kin.

    A second one takes Roen's bolt in what passes for its head. It seems to loose structural integrity, and dissipates in the half-physical manner they are wont to. The third streaks forward, looking to Doroga. It's white eyes catch the warrior's, and it almost seems to smile. Doroga gets the distinct feeling that the thing knows he had pledged himself to Herlam.

    It's mouth opens and tongues of inky darkness shoot out at lightning speed in a straight line for Doroga's neck. The streams of shadow take hold, and seem to choke some of the essence from you. You feel cold and weakened, like something's been taken...

    The tongues retract, and the thing makes ready to dodge whatever attack comes next...

    OOC:
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    So, the breath weapon of this scary shadow demon has done 3 temp. con. damage, effectively lessening your current HP by 4 and your Fortitude by 1, etc.

    But, on the plus side, Doroga may now act!

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    Doroga staggers back as he feels his body... change. An old knee injury ached now instead of after 10 minutes of fighting, he labored just a bit harder to breath. As if he had aged and suffered a minor sickness all in the last few seconds.

    He snarls and whips his weapon forward, initially into the gut of the shadow, but then diving down and sweeping outward, hoping that some of the insubstantial thing would catch his weapon.

    Spoiler
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    Touch attack for trip: (1d20+9)[22]
    Opposed Str/Dex check: (1d20+3)[6]

    If successful, then:
    Attack roll: (1d20+9)[17]
    Damage roll: (2d4+4)[8]

    By the gods, to hell with this dice roller!

    Inevitable counter str check: (1d20+3)[19]
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    Ryn stood up from his seat next to the fire, stretching to relax the muscles. He'd spent the night in the inn's common room, after a short nap, working on his equipment. His clothes were mended, his weapons freshly honed and cleaned. All in all, he was ready for another bloody, violent day as an adventurer.

    Sometimes, he wondered why people insisted on trying to solve problems in the dumbest manner possible. Ah well. At least he was better at it when they tried.

    Picking up his mug of strong tea, he decided his companions had been asleep long enough. Whistling softly, so as to not wake anyone, he went up the stairs to the second floor. Turning the corner, he catches sight of most of the others.

    Apparently, there had been trouble. Perelia, Doroga, and Roen now stand outside the door to Herlam and Daurily's room, weapons and wands in hand. Daurily herself lays at their feet, breathing, but otherwise looking... drained, he supposed. From clues in their posture, it's obvious that the threat is gone, but that the small crisis isn't over yet.

    Pausing to think for a moment, Ryn takes a sip of his tea, then calls down to them.

    "I'll just go get Neth then. I gather that she'll be needed here." With that, he turns to the stairs leading up to the third floor.
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    God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of his own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players (i.e. everyone), to being involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.

    - "Good Omens"

  28. - Top - End - #178
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    Perelia quickly kneels beside the wounded woman, holding one slender hand above her mouth, trying to feel for any signs of breath or life. She looks to Herlam, and she calls out, supremely frustrated. "We need a healer! Divine magic, for this is not a mundane injury; I don't think standard healing will even work on them in this state, not after seeing them drain Doroga."

    She then glances to her apprentice, still feeling for signs of life. "Are you alright? Have you grown any weaker or fainter since the initial contact? If you're going to progress to this state, we need to act swiftly to attempt to stop it. We're going to need everyone on their feet tonight, which is likely why this attack occurred."

    Spoiler
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    She gets a Heal result of 15.
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    At the mention of the attack, the adrenalin from the fight wears off and he again feels the weakness the shadow-thing's attack imparted upon him.

    Doroga grunts at Perelia's questions, "I'll be fine. It feels like I aged a couple years, or like what some of the Orc's poisons will do to a man for a short time. I don't think I'm in any immediate danger."

    Staggering for a second, he balances on his weapon and walks across the room to Herlam, kneeling to inspect him for physical wounds.

    Spoiler
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    Heal check on Herlam to figure out what is wrong and if he's still alive: (1d20+7)[8]

    ... You know what, I'm just going to stop freaking rolling for awhile.

    Comedic effect edit:

    I've seen things man. So many things. So many 3's and 4's... even 1's and 2's maaaaan. *rocking back and forth*
    Last edited by TheDivineWind; 2012-08-27 at 06:38 PM.
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    The Ashabenford Arms:

    Having gathered Neth, the intrepid heroes attempt to figure out what's wrong with the Corkwills. Daurily flutters awake, colour returning ever so slowly to her face, though she seems largely out of it. It seems she was thrown from the fight before the shadow demons could do any lasting damage.

    Herlam, however, is a different story.

    Though distracted by his own ephemeral wound, Doroga manages to glean the bare essentials of Herlam's state... It seems the old adventurer is, well... dead. His eyes are open and an indifferent expression covers his face like a mask. He is pale, much more so than the previous night, and Doroga gets a distinct feeling that what happened to him happened to Herlam also.

    Before any of you are able to react to the terrifying revelation of Herlam's death, Arlho, whose presence had gone undetected til now by the distracted adventurers, lets out a high screech. He drops his morning tea. The cup shatters on the worn wood. Everyone follows the man's eyes into the bedroom:

    Behind Doroga's crouched form near Herlam's bed, standing and matching the corpse's indifference is... another Herlam. This one is translucent, difficult to focus on, even more so when shafts of sunlight bleed in through the shattered window.

    The apparition turns to regard the bauble that emanated his assailants. Ghost Herlam seems to grunt, though the sound is barely audible. He turns again, slowly making his way to the trunk at the foot of his corpse's bed. He reaches inside, through the wood and girded metal, and pulls out - as if it too were a ghost - a large, stained, leather-bound journal. The apparition smiles faintly, turning from the room.

    The ghost stops roughly in the middle of the party. It turns slowly to look at each one of them, including Groban, who has since rushed onto the scene (nearly completely naked). The look he gives each of you is intense, as if he were making certain of the sincerity of an oath you had all sworn to him. He holds the journal above his incorporeal head...

    ...and then disappears. The journal of Herlam Corkwill slams onto the floor, roughly between his ailing daughter and Arlho's ailing teacup.

    Arlho faints, falling slack against the wall. Daurily screams a weakened version of what would, at the best of times, be a fearsome, melancholic war-cry. Her eyes flutter closed again, pushing away two small streams of tears that flow down her gaunt, pale cheeks...

    You all know what you must do...

    ***

    The White Hart Inn:

    Despite the shock of Herlam's death, the plan remains largely the same. Ilnstreth, the Red Wizardess prisoner, helpfully informs the PCs that the shadow demons were not sent by the drow, but rather by the Others mentioned in the letter found on Otythir... someone rivaling the drow in their quest for Herlam. This means that the plan will still work, with the help of some death-defying illusions from Noristuor and his apprentice.

    All goes according to plan through the day: The meetings are called; the right words fall into the right ears; the scouts report the expected drow movements close to the town; the sparser side of the river is depopulated; the Rider Barracks and Noristuor's tower are turned into small fortresses; "Herlam", Daurily and their escort are moved into place; night comes; the escort retreats from the soon-to-be-ambush zone; the party takes final positions as the last light of the sun fades...

    The air in the White Hart Inn, though abandoned save for Herlam's Heroes, is electric with anticipation. Soon, the telltale sounds of the drow attack can be heard: soft footsteps between the buildings, followed by flashes of arcane energy and the calls of Rider and mercenary squads charging into the deadly shadows.

    A few minutes into the siege of Ashabenfort, the door to the White Hart bursts open, and in stride a contingent of drow outfitted for war: A priestess of Lolth leads them, followed closely by six drow soldiers who form a wall with the priestess in the middle, obscuring the two mages that come striding in after them...

    OOC:
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    So, here's the first encounter. It's a doozie. The common room of the White Hart is about 60 ft. long and 40 ft. wide.

    Now, I know you all wanna get cracking, but I'd like to extend the following offer: the first one to draw up and post a quick map gets to decide what the battlefield consists of! This accounts for the fact that you guys had all day to plan and prepare. There are any number of tables, chairs, barrels, etc. to work with , as well as any other mundane item one could find in a large town. If you like, you could even have it take place in a room/couple of rooms on the second floor (keeping in mind the dimensions of the building stated above).

    If I don't get anyone interested in setting up the battlefield, I'll draw up something quick myself and post it. Until then, kindly list all the buffs/illusions etc. active at the beginning of the surprise round. Also, since we've got a wee bit before combat proper, kindly roll your initiatives! Anyone who fails to do so before the start of the fight gets rolled by me (Doroga, you might just wanna wait ).

    I know this was all very rushed, but I think some action will help liven things up a little 'round here. Expect some more RP and decision-making after the night of the attack.

    Thanks!

    OH YEAH!: Doroga, you get one Fortitude save each hour to heal the CON damage. You heal it at 1 point per roll. You have 12 rolls (not even you are hated by the dice gods so much as to fail with that many chances ).

    AND: A successful Heal check from Neth will give Daurily the same chances, though she was hit for more CON than Doroga, so she may yet sit out the fight.

    FINALLY: Anyone who wants any special preparations etc. done during the day before the fight, let me know and I'll let you know if you can accomplish them.

    TSM
    Last edited by The Smoking Man; 2012-08-28 at 12:56 AM.

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