Perth II (IC)

[SanguinePenguin]

With no further question, Goodbarrel clasps his hands and proclaims, "you have my gratitude for doing this. I bid you farewell and best of luck."

Once on the street outside of the offices, Draskil says, "alright, it will take about three days to get to the cave. There are some hovels on the road for shelter if weather turns foul. The roads are pretty safe until the mountains, so we shouldn't run into trouble. This cave is about two or three hours from the harbor. Then it would be about two days back if you decide to a long boat - otherwise it would be about three more days on horseback. I need to take care of a few things - procuring feed and all that... let's meet at the stables by the west gate in two hours."

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Alright, if you want to go see Eyadin, let me know. If you want to grab things from your home, let me know. If you want to purchase any things, let me know.

[GoodbyeSoberDay]

Beriadan seems to stare into the distance as he speaks; in truth he's avoiding making any pointed gazes. "I'm going to see Lord Eyadin about his issues with river banditry, then go acquire some trail rations. If anyone needs make more thorough preparations, now would be the time; we'll meet up with Draskil in two hours."

[Strawberries]

Evin considers for a moment. He doesn't have anything particularly relevant to do. "You want company, paladin?"

[Leviathan]

"I think that I shall return to my home and make my preparations to leave. Beriadan, please do keep me appraised of what it is Lord Eyadin wants." She bows to Thaddeus. "Master Goodbarrel."

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Returning to the Hendargren manor, Augusta sets her face in a stoney glower as she enters. My Lord Father is doubtlessly around here somewhere, but I have no desire to see him. Margarte shall take care of him, she concludes with a sniff as she paces through the dark manorhouse.

Climbing a staircase, Augusta comes to a dark wood closet and draws out a key. She places it in the lock and gives it a twist. The doors creak open, and she squints at the black interior. Inside is a long blade, its hilt blackened steel, embossed with the Hendargren family crest. Augusta takes a long look at it, almost a scowl, really. My father's sword. She reaches out, seizes the sword's handle with a firm grip, and draws it out. I demand a real weapon, and by Asmodeus, I shall not let my family name be ground into the dirt...

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So basically this is a lengthy way of saying that I'm buying Augusta a masterwork bastard sword, if that's alright. I thought this was a better way of doing things than just going to a blacksmith, but I've taken the money off my character sheet as if I'd purchased it.

[GoodbyeSoberDay]

"Certainly. Let's continue."

[SanguinePenguin]

Evin and Beriadan lead the way to Eyadin's manor atop the Hill overlooking Perth. As you approach the gate, you note that only one of the twin high orc's is present, he says, "ah, the heroes. Lord Eyadin is taking visitors in his gardens... he is over there. You may see him now." He adds pointing to a where the half fire-elf, the other high orc and Dorin's armored bodyguard, Prau, are standing in the distance.

Eyadin smiles congenially as he notices your approach. The high orc twin looks the dignified butler - barely noticeable, yet close enough to attend to any matter. Prau just looks bored. "Good day to you. I trust your dinner was pleasant. I, for one, was pleased to find the establishment is still there," he jests with a smirk. "What brings you by today?"

After summarizing what Goodbarrel said, Lord Eyadin says, "ah, yes! There have been some bandit raids on the longships. My man, Pareid, has noticed a pattern though. Here he is now."

As if summoned, Kastall Pareid, the mustachioed man with the flashy hat appears behind you and puts two pieces of paper in your hands. He tells you, "the short list are the longships the pattern predicts might be attacked on their journey. The sealed letter will guarantee your passage on one of those trips." Eerily, it seems as if he knows every detail of the discussion you just had.

Dorin nods and says, "thank you, Kastall. Solely for taking the longship back, I will give you each ten gold for the trouble. If you encounter resistance and can bring back at least one of these bandits in alive for questioning - more survivors are of course encouraged, I will give you each an additional sixty gold apiece. Does this sound fair to you?"

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Leviathan: I love the "purchase" of the sword! Great post

[GoodbyeSoberDay]

"I trust that these bandits, if encountered and captured, will be treated with the full respect and civility lawfully granted to the accused in our fair city?" Beriadan expects an eye roll from Evin on the subject of respect under the law, but he focuses his attention on Lord Eyadin.

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I'm going to sense motive whatever Eyadin says.
(1d20+7)[9]

[Strawberries]

Perhaps prevedibly, the bard can't help but react at Beriadan's last words. "Oh, I'm sure our excellent legal system is fully equipped to deal with them fairly and swiftly" he says, with a completely straight face: if somebody didn't knew Evin, they could assume that he was being entirely serious.

[SanguinePenguin]

Without hesitation, Eyadin answers, "we intend to use magical compulsion to gain information from the captured. Perthian citizens are being injured - two have been killed - and Perthian resources are being lost at the hands of these bandits. We want information - why they attack us, foremost, where they are encamped, how many, et cetera. All of this will be invaluable to restoring safe shipping routes for law biding Perthian citizens. After this essential information is gleaned, the prisoners will be jailed and judged as per the dictates of our legal system."

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He doesn't seem to be lying.

[Ajadea]

Vanalya nods. "That works." The west gate... not a place she had occasion to visit often. Thankfully, gates did not tend to be difficult to find. She heads home. With a little bit of luck, she could avoid her father, explain to her grandmother and Idris, and be on her way.

She's never had any motivation to study things that lived underground, having not been anywhere farther underground than a cellar in her life. Right now, she was regretting that. She didn't know what was down there, what could be expected, what might have killed those people. She doesn't know. Her thoughts narrow down to a fraction, a sliver, what is down there, and she nearly trips over a cobblestone. But she does not fall, thankfully.

She could die down there... in which case, it was probably a good idea to tell her family exactly what she would be leaving them. Without even looking, she lifts the latch and opens the door. She grabs a flask off the crammed shelf in her room full of cheap alchemy equipment and herbs, and slides it into her backpack. She leaves the hangover remedies. They weren't likely to be useful on the trip. Abandoning the five small vials seems to take a much greater weight off her shoulders.

Vanalya inhales the scent of herbs and dust. With a sense of grave finality, she removes the eighty platinum pieces from their hiding place between the folded bedrolls. The small bag is very heavy in her hand. Slowly, she lets a breath escape her lips and locks the door behind her. Without hesitation, she goes to her grandmother. "Grandma, I'm leaving for Grimnedeln. Not for long, hopefully. I wanted to keep this. Save it. To help people, as many as I could. But... if something happens... I need you to have this." She places the bag of coins down on the rickety table next to her grandmother. It doesn't go thunk, but it feels like it should. "It's everything I've earned so far, for helping the city. That's not silver either, and don't let anyone tell you it is. Every one of those coins is platinum, Grandma. I know it will help." She stands tall as her height allows in Tarsa's dark leathers and thinks she couldn't have done this before.

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80 pp at home - should have been there already, she's just going to bring it to her grandmother's attention.
Grabbing glowing marker dye, leaving Alchemist's Kindness.
Leaving the key to her alchemy things as well.
I think this might cue some NPC interaction.

Focused Trance Knowledge Local - (1d20+30)[43]. Rumors, myths, legends, stories, anything about creatures in the dark places around Grimnedeln.
Focused Trance Knowledge Nature - (1d20+29)[41] What sort of beasts live in caves and kill people?
Focused Trance Knowledge Arcana - (1d20+29)[36] What sorts of magical creatures live in caves and kill people?

No such thing as too much information.

[SanguinePenguin]

Vanalya's Grandmother stirs and croons in her raspy voice, "platinum!? What have you been doing to earn platinum, girl? And now you're off to Grimnedeln? Careful while there, dearie, most of the fire elf merchants are swindlers. Poor folk have never recovered since the war." Her fingers find there way into the bag of coins feeling for the amount. "You're right that isn't silver. My my... this is a king's ransom! ... you haven't been doing anything... unscrupulous, have you?"

[Ajadea]

Killing monsters and taking their stuff leaps unbidden into her mind - one of the cruder summaries of an adventurer's job she's heard. Though given that it was Miarei who'd said that, tact wasn't on the list of things to expect. "No, Grandmother, but other people have," she responds cautiously. "There is - was - a gang. Killing people, killing their own brothers. We... stopped them. The leadership, at least all that we could find, they're in jail now. I guess the nobility thinks that such a deed is worth a king's ransom."

[SanguinePenguin]

"Well, that's nice, you should be proud to have helped others. Be careful - I wouldn't want you getting hurt. I'm sure you'll be fine, though - you always could take care of yourself. I can guard your treasure until you get back..."

[Ajadea]

"Thanks, Grandma. D-I'll be careful," Vanalya promises. She could hardly ask her grandmother to not worry though, not when she herself was rather nervous. There's nothing else to say, not really, so she cleans herself off as best she can with the time she has left and leaves to meet with the others.

[Leviathan]

Augusta spends a few quiet moments with her father's old blade. She washes the dirt of the Perthian streets from her armour and face, making her way to a full-length mirror, its edges laced with cobwebs, the manor simply too big for a single old halfling servant to keep clean.

She stands there, watching herself with her keen eyes, with a look as if she does not know quite what her opposite will do. Father was a knight, once, she muses. It seems I have taken his place in that as well. She casts a long look over her dark breastplate and sword, then shakes her head. Lingering here is less than useless, she scolds herself uncharitably.

She leaves through the manor's gates just as unnoticed as when she entered, setting a brisk pace for the rendezvous point for the group.

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Ready to go!

[Cardea]

Sulet simply went to his room to prepare. It wasn't that much to do, overall, but he was glad for the reprieve. He put on his sash again, tightening it just right, before looking over possibly the only choice he had before leaving: the Scythe, or his Hunga Mungas? He'd yet to visit her, and he'd yet to leave home without the others. Having both was too heavy, the weight threw him off, and he couldn't afford something like that.

In the end, he put the Hunga Mungas in their slots. He wasn't quite ready to deal with that large... thing... again.

Sulet sighed, and crouched down low to the floor. He reached underneath his dresser, pulling out a small, black wooden box. He opened it, placing his platinum inside, save for one, and shut it again before reading the inscription. He pushed it back underneath the dresser, and lay on the floor for a while, simply staring at the box.

He left the one platinum as payment for the room, for whenever he got back.

[SanguinePenguin]

Eyadin sees someone at the gate and says, "I must ask you to depart. A guest is here. I, and the city of Perth, thank you for your efforts." The half-orc butler promptly escorts you out of the grounds, sparing a polite bow as you leave.

----------------------------------------------------

At the west gate, Draskil stands with a half dozen horses. They horses are sturdy draft horses. While they won't win any races, they are patient, hardy and well-trained. They accept riders without complaint and respond well to both reins and verbal commands. "We should get there midday about three days from now. I know the roads well, please trust my judgement for choice of shelters - I know when nothing better is coming. Only the last day of travel will be rough. The weather," he sniffs the air for a moment, satisfied, he continues, "should be nice. Everyone brought food? Good. I've got a weeks worth of feed for the horses, so we won't need to waste time grazing em'. Let's move out then." He hops up on beast which start to trot unceremoniously down the road.

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Well, you have three days. If you want to talk to Draskil or one another go ahead. If you want the fast forward, I can do that too.

[SanguinePenguin]

The road is long, but Draskil leads the way at a quick pace through long hours. He is a man of few words, the kind capable of saying the precise thing that will end a conversation before it can start. He seems to have more to say to the horses at night than the creatures which speak back.

Near Perth, the road was rife with activity, but once the sprawl of farm land passes and the soil turns rocky, there is neither town nor stranger along the way. During the next day, the party passes a guarded cart carrying longboats upriver. The caravan and its guards give suspicious glares at your passing, but make no effort for conversation.

The roadside shelters are decrepit hovels. They do little to ward off the chill of the nights, providing mostly a sense of enclosure. The second night's stay is less cozy than the last, as the midnight rain finds little resistance from the roof. The third night grants a departure from a man-made structure, as Draskil elects to set camp under an outcropping of rock within some formation that falls short of cave-hood.

Near midday about three days from the start of the journey, Draskil stops abruptly, points to a small shadow in the base a nearby foothill and proclaims, "that's the cave. Right there. How do you want to proceed?"

[Strawberries]

"Go right in and sing whatever's there a song" Evin answers, with a hint of laughter in his voice, turning towards his companions. "I think that's for the more...martial-minded people to answer.". With a mock bow in Augusta's direction, he adds "I will be at your disposal."

[Leviathan]

Augusta draws her new blade with a bored manner to the motion, turning it over in her hand with pursed lips. "There is little to do except proceed inside, I should think," she says. "Were Evin speaking in metaphors, he would be quite correct: we enter, draw the attention of whatever is inside, and then kill it."

[SanguinePenguin]

Following Augusta's lead, the party marches toward the cave. Draskil draws a bow, nocks an arrow and says, "I'll... uh, hang back. If I get a clean shot, I'll take it."

About fifteen feet from the cave mouth, the party pauses to assess. The entrance is about ten feet wide and ten feet high. The cave opens into a larger chamber, but the darkness enshrouds the details. Along the left wall by the entrance, a vein of ore can be seen as a faint glistening response to stray light. Deeper into the cavern isolated sparkles suggest the presence of more ore.

Beriadan:

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Beriadan's sharper high orc eyes can make out more of the details of the cavern – the glistening metal lightly illuminating the cave enough for him to see somewhat. From where he stands, he can see that the cave entrance goes back about ten feet, with only a slight downward slope, before the cavern opens into a chamber. The floor, and what he can see of ceiling, has small stalagmites and stalactites, but nothing that would impede motion. The chamber looks to be roughly twenty feet by twenty feet (with the ceiling rising almost to that height. It is littered with sparkling veins of silvery ore. The left side of the entrance wall appears to open up as well about fifteen feet into the cave.

Vanalya:

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Vanalya can clearly make out the entrance to the cave. She sees that the entrance goes back about ten feet with only a slight downward slope, before it opens up significantly to the right. Near the end of her sight about fifteen feet into the cave, she can see that the left side of the entrance wall appears to open up as well. She can make out what looks to be shallow claw marks - all roughly the same size - on the floors, walls and ceiling of the entrance.

[Ajadea]

"Claw marks on the walls and floor," Vanalya murmurs. She follows them upwards. "And the ceiling as well. Not that deep, but to make any marks at all in the rock..." She takes a few steps farther in, to clarify things a little more. "I think there are two paths in there. And before anyone says anything, we are not splitting up to follow both of them. We'll just need a rear guard - not you, Mr. Draskil. Probably Beriadan or Sulet. And keep your eyes open."

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Perception - (1d20+5)[17] Is there any hint of which pathway might have more claw marks?

[SanguinePenguin]

Vanalya:

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Vanalya steps forward to the mouth of the cave. From here, she can see at the very end of her vision what appears to be the back wall of the cavern.

For the most part, the claw marks seem to subside away from the entrance, as if the creature was more forceful when clawing the entrance for some reason. However, she can see that the silvery ore running along the ground, walls ceilings seems to have also been scratched - the scratches are more frequent heading down the left path inside of the cave.

[Ajadea]

Vanalya crouches down to run her fingers along the gouges in the rock. "These marks are deeper here than they are inside the cave... I'm not sure why. Perhaps it dislikes light?" She stands and looks around again. "Left, I think," she declares after moment. "There's more scratches in the rock that way, so I guess it - whatever it is - goes that way more often. It's... well, less likely at least... to come up on us from behind."

[Strawberries]

"Left it is..." Evin replies in a tone that clearly implies 'I defer to superior judgement'. He takes out his crossbow and keeps it at the ready.

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((Just in case the bard has some interesting tidbit of information, knowledge (nature) (1d20+3)[9]

[SanguinePenguin]

Barring Vanalya and Beriadian, no one can make out much of the cave in the darkness. Unsurprisingly, it is Vanalya who cries out in alarm first, as the blackish-blue spiked-laden head on a long muscular neck darts around the corner. Dual rows of pearly, sharp teeth line the reptilian maw set under its red eyes. The rest of the massive beast rounds the corner promptly, followed by its tail - a structure even longer than the rest of its body. The creature's forearms stretch into broad black wings with nearly a dozen fingers - more than half elongated, framing the wing; the others stout, and dangerously clawed. The legs - its current form of locomotion - propel it forward on muscular clawes talons. Scaled, fleshy, yellow webbing connects a row of spikes running the length of its spine, terminating at a single thorn-like barb at the tip of its tail.

Before the whole party even realizes the creature's sudden appearance, the beast assesses threats: it jabs its barbed stinger at Augusta - whose armor deflects the blow, gnashes its teeth at Beriadan - and tries futilely to clamp unto his arm, and, with the claws on its wings, slashes two well-aimed blows at Vanalya.

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OOC: Sorry for the delay, I thought you guys might try to prepare - as least illuminate the cave or something... its the party's turn

Tail vs Augusta: (1d20+9)[10] Damage: (1d8+2)[7] Fort Save: DC 16 or (1d6)[3] con damage
Bite vs Beriadan: (1d20+9)[19] Damage: (2d6+3)[5] Grab CMB: (1d20+13)[20]-20=0
Wing 1 vs Vanalya: (1d20+4)[15] Damage: (1d4+1)[3]
Wing 2 vs Vanalya: (1d20+4)[21] Damage: (1d4+1)[4]

Grapple on Beriadan unsuccessful. The cave is dark, until it's illuminated, that is a -2 to attack unless possessing low-light vision.

Map:

[Ajadea]

Vanalya screams in pain as the creature's claws dig through leather and find flesh twice over. As it reels back to strike again, she presses herself to the wall, breathing hard. Her hands move shakily, and her words aren't exactly resounding, but the spell takes hold. She shudders as her flesh knits together. "Well... we found it," she says squeakily. As if it wasn't completely obvious already. The light from the entrance is just enough to illuminate the blood on her hands.

She frowns and thinks. Dragon? Maybe? Almost, but... a bit slim, tail so long... "Spire wyvern," she breathes. "Sensitive to bright lights. Of course." She raises her voice to be heard over the din of battle. "We need light! Now!"

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Vanalya's not going to think about illuminating anywhere, due to darkvision and such. My idea of preparation would be 'get someone bulkier in front' in all honesty, but no one posted to do that.

Moving to C6 if at all possible, and casting CLW from my spells per day.
[roll0]

[roll1] What IS that thing? IC, obviously. OOC, I know it's a dragon.

[Leviathan]

Augusta smiles resolutely as the monster's tail is deflected away by her armour. "Someone light a torch, then," she calls. She moves forward, swinging her blade at the thing, shouting as she does so. "Ha!"

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Move to attack, to Vanalya's current spot if she moves. If not, then to C6.

Attack (-2 accounted for): (1d20+6)[26]
Damage: (1d10+7)[17]

[Strawberries]

"Light. On it." Evin brings his hand up, murmuring something between a whisper and a tune. A single globe of light shoots from his fingers. With minute movements of his wrists, the bards moves it, bringing it straight in front of the creature's eyes. It's a simple bard trick, but one that may turn very useful.

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((Dancing light, one light, brightest he can, right up to the wyvern eyes))

[GoodbyeSoberDay]

Beriadan lets out a grunt as he rips his arm away from the draconic beast. Somehow, in the hurried shouts and scraping of scale against steel, the high orc hears an eager whisper, or maybe a chant, that repeats Slay the dragon kin.... With little time to analyze these voices, the young paladin appears to stare at the wyvern momentarily. It radiates with evil, which only makes the chants get louder and louder. Slay the dragon kin... Slay the dragon kin...

Iomedae blesses Beriadan's sword as he brings it to bear against the wyvern, but her fury shares room with... something. Once again, steel clashes with scale.

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I'm going to make the wild assumption that Beriadan had his weapon drawn walking into the monster-infested cave. He's detecting evil as a move action. If it doesn't ping, I'll get rid of the holy smiting text and stuff.

HP 23/28; AC 22 against the wyvern

Smite Evil power attack: (1d20+10)[30] (+3 base, +4 strength, +1 weapon, +3 smite, -1 power attack
Non-lethal damage: (1d6)[1]
Lethal damage: (2d4+13)[18] (+6 strength, +1 weapon, +3 smite, +3 power attack
Crit confrim: (1d20+10)[21]
Crit damage: (2d4+13)[18]

If it isn't a smite, attack rolls and lethal damage rolls are three less, and AC is 19.