Way of the Wicked (Pathfinder IC)

[Morbis Meh]

As the cart approaches the gate Jodiah begins forming their story in the back of her mind. True she looked ridiculous but they were playing themselves of as maneur salesmen from the slums, not fashion divas. Once they were in speaking range Jodiah offered a warm smile "Good evening sirs, how are you on such a fine night? We seek passage through these gates, we have a long day ahead of us and our customers demand promptness."

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Diplomacy (1d20+9)[17] this isn't bluffing yet since they haven't asked anything and what she is saying isn't a lie...

[Angstrom]

Jodiah looks at Sirin in offence "Hey there, I am just as capable at wordsmithing as she is, besides I think it best to stick to the original plan and not bribe... "

"No doubt you are Nana, but common folk tend to be suspicious where gold and leprechauns are concerned. I agree though, we only bribe if needed."


As they approach the gate Bridget tries to look the part of a tired farmhand. Acting as a farmhand would be tricky, but appearing tired was all too easy. "Long day ahead is right. The sooner we can get rid of this manure the better."

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Diplomacy to Aid Another: (1d20+9)[11], and maybe a Perform (act) too: (1d20+9)[20]

[Lost Demiurge]

The guards come over, and nod amiably, stopping by the wagon and wrinkling their noses. "Mitra's teeth, ladies," the older one says to Nana Jodi. "You're getting an early start. You must be going to the FAR hamlets. Still, I guess the nightsoil business is gettin' cutthroat these days and tain't no shortage of crap from the city, 's for sure." The younger one laughs, and keeps his eyes firmly on Bridget's chest area.

The older one sighs, and looks at the cart, with a distinct lack of joy. And the flies buzzing around it. "Normally we're supposed to search through cargos this late at night. Y'ain't carrying nothing illegal in there, are ya?"

SENSE MOTIVE DC 12

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He's not looking for a bribe. He just doesn't want to have to go rummaging through dung.

[Frivolous]

Sirin Starshine


Sirin lets Bridget and Nana do the talking. She just pays attention to the guards for now.

Sense Motive

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Sense Motive: (1d20+2)[9]

[Morbis Meh]

Sense motive

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Who knows.... lol she may make it?
(1d20-1)[0] nope 100% oblivious lol

Jodiah laughs " Only if you count 300lbs of horse and donkey $hit illegal but it will be fine with me if you wanna take a peak... though if you have any cuts on you I don't suggest rummaging through it with your halds, else you'll end up with a nasty surprise in the morning. Like i said before it is the busiest time of the year for us and we need to get out early to make it to the outer farms before the others." Jodiah gingerly walks over to the cart and lifts the tarp slightly up, just allowing enough sight to see the vast amount of poop covering the hidden giant.

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Bluff check (1d20+10)[16] also if for some reason the notice Grumblejack's breathing I will pass it off as maggots hehehe

Blarg some bad rolls lately

[Angstrom]

"I don't blame you for not wanting to look at the manure we've got back there." She smiles before whispering coyly to the young guard, "Certainly not when there are nicer things to look at." and following up with a wink.

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Let's see if Bridget get's lucky Sense Motive: (1d20)[12] and Bluff: (1d20+9)[24]
And she does.

[Lost Demiurge]

The young guard blushes, and the older one laughs, clapping him on the back. "Ah, easy kid. She'd come home smelling like that every night." The young guard drops his spear, clattering, to the ground, as the older one turns and gives an odd, up-and-down wave to the guard tower. The gate starts to clunk open.


"I'd say have a good night, but you've got a smelly, long, tiring walk ahead of ya. So safe journey!"

And that easily, the four prisoners (Plus Grumblejack), depart the city.

[Morbis Meh]

Jodiah replaces the tarp then waves "Thank you and may you have an easy shift... stud" She giggles then offers a wink of her own.

[Lost Demiurge]

And so, the group leads the donkey south, down into the moors outside of Varyston. None of you are particularly familiar with the area... It's an odd mix of tiny farms and sprawling estates... Rich landowners, and the serfs who slave away for them, bound to the soil. It's all old money and plantations, though the crumbling mansions and slowly sinking stone walls here and there show signs of decay, apathy, and decadence.

Finding one mansion among the spread out estates here is a harder task than it sounds.

Eventually Grumblejack can take no more, and heaves himself out of the cart with an explosion of manure. By an odd stroke of luck it turns out that he DOES know the moors, and suggests a few places to check. You abandon the donkey and cart, kicking one until it flees, and pushing the cart into the swamp.

And it's a good thing you DO. A few hours later, the thunder of hoofbeats from back the way you came grows loud, and you abscond into the bogs. Lying down, you see a twenty-man strong guard patrol, all mounted, riding hell for leather down the road. You watch as they stop and check in at the nearest estate, and hurry further into the cold, muddy marsh. Looks like someone's taken notice of your absence...

But Grumblejack DOES know the moors, and between his rough survival skills and your group's relatively good stealth, you manage to evade a few more guard crews and finally locate a red light in the distance. It's the work of half an hour to find a safe path through the alligator-infested, quicksand-hiding wetlands.

After escaping the prison, pushing through the moors, and evading guard patrols, finding the house on the Old Moor Road pales beside your other accomplishments. As promised, a lonely lantern burns in the upper story. The place otherwise shows little sign of habitation. Old but well-appointed, the house is large, imposing and alone on its hill. Painted a dark green and surrounded by barbed wrought iron fencing, nothing about this place seems inviting or a sanctuary. Still, it is your destination. Where will you go if not here? You have an appointment to keep. Best not to keep your nameless benefactor waiting…

[Finkmilkana]

Marthras looks up at the spooky manor.
"Well, here we are it seems. I wonder who our benefactor actually is. Let's go in, shall we? Afterall I doubt it's less inviting than the prison."

[Morbis Meh]

Jodiah smirks "Well that really depends... Would he be willing to wait a few extra moments or would he prefer speaking to us while we reak of horse dung? Judging by the size and condition of the manor, I would vote for the former but then again they may offer us a proper bath... Oh well since it was Sirin who was contacted I do believe she should be the one to knock on the door."

[Angstrom]

"Indeed, Sirin should lead the way. Let's get inside before we're spotted, but this will just take a moment"

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Prestidigitation to clean everyone's clothes, which she likely would have started on herself as soon as they abandoned the cart.

[Frivolous]

Sirin Starshine


The half-elf seems nervous and shy as the party approaches the swamp mansion, and the suggestions of Bridget and of Jodi do not reassure her.

Sirin stammers, "Me? You want me to go first?"

She swallows audibly. "Well, if you insist."

She does seem more sure of herself when Bridget uses magic to clean everyone's clothes, though. She is especially glad that Grumblejack is cleaned.

"Thank you, Bridget. That is so much better."

As Sirin approaches the gate, she glances sideways at the sorceress.

"Funny, but you seem familiar somehow, now that we're out under the night sky."

"Do you by any chance associate with rich elflords? Or perhaps high theater?"

Sirin tries to recall if she has heard of the extraordinarily beautiful human through her father's connections or her mother's.

While thinking, she pulls the bell cord if there is one. Alternately, she calls, "Hello, the house!"

Perception

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Scanning the house for special clues, if any.

Perception: (1d20+11)[31]

[Lost Demiurge]

SIRIN

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This place is built for privacy. The windows are all either hard to see through, or surprisingly opaque. Too, it's off by itself for a few miles, and the trees are between it and its closest neighbor. Though the outer facade looks a little weathered and vine-covered, it's a sham. The vines have been pruned and placed, and the facade has been deliberately weathered. This place is probably as defensible as a fort, and is likely the most structurally sound building you've seen since you left Brandescar.

The group is cleaned... Well, as best as possible. Prestidigitation helps, but it's no universal grooming device. They find the gate unlocked, and move up the immaculately cut lawn, to the wide, columned porch.

Sirin finds a bell-pull by the door, and distant, deep chimes can be heard from inside the looming structure. After a few minutes, the door swings open. An attractive young man in rather expensive butler's clothes stands there, his eyes oddly unfocused. Without making eye contact, he looks over the group, pauses at Grumblejack for a second, then nods.

"You are expected, ladies and sirs." His voice is soft, but not fearful.

"Please follow me to your rooms. Baths and refreshments await. You will be summoned when the Master of the House is ready to see you."

Without a word, he turns and starts walking down the hall.

Inside, the place is even larger than it looked from the outside. black marble floors and red-painted walls rise to high ceilings. Works of art fill the halls and rooms you pass, tasteful yet somehow disturbing. Carpets muffle your steps at times, pure white on the black marble. The few windows down here are quite opaque, smoked glass that would be quite impossible to see through, normally. There are no torches or lanterns here, instead the light comes from glass globes set into the ceiling every now and then. It is weak and pale, as if the magical white glow within was succumbing to the inevitable darkness of the marble below. Shadows are everywhere.

At times you pass other people in servants clothes, all of whom are fairly young and attractive. They always look down, or bow until you have passed, then get back to their tasks.

You are lead up a spiralling double staircase made of rich oak, to the second of three floors. He leads you down several hallways, to a cul-de-sac with six doors. He turns and offers four doors, then looks up at the ogre. "Please come with me, sir." Grumblejack looks to Sirin and Nana Jodi, and raises his hands, in a questioning motion.

[Frivolous]

Sirin Starshine


Sirin looks at the sumptuous decor and the skilled subservient servants with approval and a growing confidence.

She had grown up a child of affluence, and she is used to such things. Just being in this house eases the traumas she experienced in Brandescar.

The ambiance is unusually dark, but Sirin likes that. It reminds her of the Secret Temple.

You are lead up a spiralling double staircase made of rich oak, to the second of three floors. He leads you down several hallways, to a cul-de-sac with six doors. He turns and offers four doors, then looks up at the ogre. "Please come with me, sir." Grumblejack looks to Sirin and Nana Jodi, and raises his hands, in a questioning motion.

Sirin smiles reassuringly at the huge ogre.

"It's all right, Grumblejack. I'm sure they mean well and will take care of you."

She says to the servant, "His name is Grumblejack. He was very helpful to me. Please take excellent care of him."

[Morbis Meh]

Jodiah smiles and gestures her hands in a shooing motion "Off with you Grumbly you cannot bath with the ladies that would be most improper, not to mention I doubt they have a tub that would fit you. Now don't give me taht face young man, it is only a bath and the last time I checked Ogres didn't melt in water. Now be a good boy and follow the man, I will check on you when I am finished her." Once the males leave the area, Jodiah gets in the tub and begins to scrub herself, harshly. She finishes her bath quickly, in a very utilitarian fashion, and exits the tub with her skin bright red. Drying off with one of the provided towels, Jodiah puts on suitable atire, if it is provided or her rags if it isn't, and proceeds to put her hair into a tight and practical bun. After she is satified with her appearance, she partakes in only enough refreshments to sate her appetite then exits the room. Jodiah stands in the hallway waiting for one of the servants to direct her to where Grumblejack was taken, after all she did promise the poor fellow that she would check up on him when she was finished.

[Lost Demiurge]

The four rooms are laid out in a roughly identical fashion, though the contents differ. All are small suites, consisting of vestibule, bathroom, and bedroom. The vestibule contains a small tea-table with chairs, upon which has been placed a hearty steak dinner, sitting upon a salad of fresh vegetables. Piquant sauce coats the ensemble, and a decanter of berry wine is to the side, next to a napkin wrapping a fine set of silverware. A basket of fresh, small loafs of bread accompanies the meal, along with small crocks of butter and jelly. The bathroom's walls are porcelain, and a hot bath is ready in a copper tub. A newfangled, gnomish-made device turns out to be an expensive water toilet, using pipes and pressure to flush waste away. Discrete towels are folded nearby, as are an outfit your size, customized to your clothing preferences.

...Now how was THAT done? The servant had no way of knowing which room you were going to take.

Inside the bedroom, a wide fireplace blazes away, dispelling the chill of the moors. The bed is wide and has a green coverlet. Good lords, that matteress looks deep and warm and soft, and your muscles are reminding you that you've been hiking for miles...

When Nana Jodi leaves her room to find a servant, the human maid she encounters down the hall practically prostrates herself.

"Mistress," she whispers in response to Nana Jodi's questions. "Your minion has been brought to the attention of the Master's Major Domo. She is no doubt accomodating him with the other minions, where I am sure he is quite happy. Please, the Master will probably wish to see you soon. Please, please don't go wandering to find him, please..."

SENSE MOTIVE DC 18

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This maid is TERRIFIED of this major domo person. As in, she'd probably kill herself before displeasing/working against/or otherwise inconveniencing the major domo.

[Morbis Meh]

Sense Motive

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hehehe this isn't likely going to succeed... I hope i roll another 0 and have her completely oblivious to the maid (1d20-1)[3]

Jodiah gives a puzzled look before answering "I am sure that is all well and good but I promised him and Ogre's are somewhat child like so if I don't follow up I may lose his trust. Perhaps we can work out a compromise? Maybe you could personally escort me to where Grumblejack is, that way you can ensure that I do not wander off. As for your master calling well if I know some of my companions, they will take their sweet time with all the luxuries our host has so graciously offered. I on the otherhand prefer to be quick. I promise that I just want to pop in so if it isn't far you can have me back within a few minutes, I am sure Sirin isn't even out of the tub right now."

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Rolling diplomacy in next post, I doubt it will work but hey Nana Jodi will look after her flock and keep her word.

[Morbis Meh]

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Diplomacy roll (1d20+10)[26]

[Frivolous]

Sirin Starshine


Sirin takes off her stolen rags and the sickeningly heavy chain shirt and uses the bathing and rest facilities, scrubbing the grime away. Then she puts on the clothes set out for her and dabs perfume on her skin.

The young half-elven rogue secrets Tiadora's veil on her person, and also a dagger, hiding both away so that no one can easily find them and she can be armed at a moment's notice.

Once dressed, she eats her fill, more than she ever has before, enough to make her grow immensely fat if she eats like this regularly.

If she can, she opens the doors a tiny amount and peeks out and eavesdrops upon the servants or anyone else passing by her suite.

Actions

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Take 10 on Sleight of Hand for both the veil and the dagger.

Perception: (1d20+11)[12]

[Lost Demiurge]

The only people Sirin can hear in the hallway are Nana Jodi and the maid she's currently engaging in conversation.

----

Down the hallway, the maid swallows. "Great Lady, we have been instructed to offer you all hospitality, and that you are not to wander until the Master is ready to recieve you. Please. Please, you are not the first to bring a minion here. I assure you he will be fine. The Master is kind, and has told us that you are to be favored guests, but please, if you leave here and Lady Tia-" She stops, and blinks. "-And the Major Domo summons you, then we will be punished. She is... Not... Gentle... With disobedient servants."

"Please. I am sure your ogre is on his second cow by now. Please, please. Please, is there anything I can get for you while you wait in your room? Anything at all?"

[Morbis Meh]

Jodiah considered the plea for a moment, on one hand it would bring her pleasure to see the maid be punished but at the same time it may displease this Mast Domo and if she was forced into a business relationship with this individual it would be wise to not test him. Though this didn't mean she couldn't be cruel to the girl "Well since you are being so... accommodating I request that a child or the youngest member of the house hold join me in my room for conversation while I wait."

[Lost Demiurge]

Nana Jodi looks up from the cowering servant as a blonde-haired, overly attractive human woman in fine clothes whisks into the hallway. She doesn't even spare the maid a glance, as she sneers at Nana Jodi. The maid hits the floor and stays there in abject subjugation.

"Dearest ones." The woman's eyes find Sirin's prying ones as well.

Sirin recognizes Tiadora.

"You took long enough. We were beginning to wonder if you were going to join us. Well, no matter. The master commands you to appear before him. Come, come."

She knocks at Marthras and Bridget's doors as well, and gathers the four of you.

PERCEPTION DC 25

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Her face is flawless... A little TOO flawless. Her eyes hold nothing but emptiness, a dark amusement, and restrained loathing. She moves in a way that doesn't waste a single bit of energy, yet does nothing without grace that the highest of courtiers would kill to achieve.

This woman is more than she seems.

Along the way, she stops and rousts a brawny half-orc from a side room, and bades him join your company. "Come. These are the ones you shall be assisting."

She leads you across the way, into a beautifully appointed office, richly decorated with dark wood and a brocade tapestry.

Sitting in a leather high-backed chair is a devilishly handsome fellow who smiles as you enter. “I believe you to be the first to ever escape from Branderscar Prison. Well done! Of course, you had help from the outside,” he says with a wicked smile.

“But enough with the pleasantries. You must be curious why I’ve helped you. Rest assured this is no random act of altruism. I have brought you here for a reason. My name is Cardinal Adrastus Thorn. I am the last high priest of Asmodeus left on the island of Talingarde. Once the Prince of Nessus was rightly revered alongside the other great powers. Now, the king of Talingarde has become a puppet to Mitran fanatics who wish to destroy any religion that does not bow to their insipid sun god."

“For their blasphemy, I will see the same people who imprisoned and condemned you suffer. I understand what you went through for I have faced it myself.” With that, he pulls down the sleeve of his robe and reveals his own runic ‘F’ brand. “I am going to burn Talingarde to the ground and from the ashes I will build a new nation that knows its rightful master. I cannot do this alone. I seek servants worthy of our Infernal Father’s majesty. Have I found them in you?” He rises and his eyes flash with hellfire and divine purpose. “Join me! Serve me well in this holy endeavor and I will raise you up in the eyes of gods and men. I will make you princes of the new Talingarde. Today, swear fealty to me and to Asmodeus."

“Put aside forgiveness and I shall give you vengeance. Put aside mercy and be made powerful. Put aside peace and become my harbingers of war. What say you? Will you swear your allegiance or will you burn with the rest of the blind fools?”

Pictures of Cardinal Thorne and Tiadora

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http://forum.rpg.net/showthread.php?...Adventure-Path

[Finkmilkana]

"Blaspheme those who called me blasphemer? Scour the week, the meek and the corrupt from society? Bring down the high and mighty from their throne of self-righteousness? Your proposal sounds to good to be true. But pray tell me, how to you image to break their sway over the land? The church rules supreme, the shining jester's servants command every last civilized settlement while to my knowledge the Prince of Darkness's faith is all but eradicated.
Don't understand me wrong my lord, I'm all willing to follow against Mitran's puppets, but I don't plan to wager my new found freedom in a fools crusade."

[Frivolous]

Sirin Starshine


Sirin curtsies deeply to Tiadora. She holds herself tensely as if awaiting a stinging rebuke.

"We had a few problems. Thanks for your help, Lady."

After a while, the half-elf relaxes as Tiadora does not mention the dead Variel and Silas or blame her for their deaths.


Later, when Sirin is presented to the Cardinal, she again curtsies deeply, smiling, but her smile diminishes as he mentions Asmodeus and swearing fealty to him.

"Thank you for your help, your Eminence. I hope that is the proper title for a personage of your stature."

"I would love to join in your quest to hurt those who have hurt me so unjustly and put this hideous brand on my arm."

Only now does she allow a tiny frown to mar otherwise perfect acquiescence.

"But, with all due respect, does the Infernal Father truly desire my fealty? Because I am already sworn to another."

Perception

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Perception: (1d20+12)[22]

[Lost Demiurge]

Cardinal Thorne smiles. "I would expect nothing less than hard questions from a FORMER inquisitor of stern Mitra."

"You do not have the benefit of seeing the vast machinations that I have been undertaking, the allies I have been brokering, the schemes I have set in motion, the monsters and other minions I have been setting in place, and the manipulations I have worked to get to this point. You are coming in LATE. But you can be a necessary part of my plan, one of several groups who will work to set it in motion. It will be difficult, yes. It will be dangerous, quite. I tell you this..." He leans forward and steeples his fingers, pentacle glinting upon his neck in the firelight. "I did NOT come this far to fail. Some other god's servant, perhaps. But Asmodeus and his most faithful THRIVE upon long-term scheming, and adjusting the odds."

His eyes shift to Sirin.

"Yes, it is necessary. And frankly, you owe my lord a debt. Did servants of YOUR god give you that veil you still hide? No. By the Canticles of Hell, Section VIII, subclause forty-four A, you are authorized to forswear your former allegiance for your new benefactor. If whatever penny-ante god or goddess you worship wishes to contest the issue, they are free to send a champion which I will promptly dismantle, torment, and return to your weak, pitiful god in a small brown sack that was previously used to store chicken dung. I do not have such a sack on hand, but I am quite sure one can be located and acquired. Not that it matters, since your WEAK GOD was not there for you, and will not care enough to send one of the servants he values so much more highly than you. I was there for you. And through me, Asmodeus was as well."

He looks at Nana Jodi.

"And before you say a word, I have studied upon that which you hold holy, the Gate and the Key. You know that he doesn't care who you bow before, taking a viewpoint so long that all will be dust before his inevitable gains come to fruition. While I do not hold his views, I see nothing that will conflict to your swearing allegiance to MY lord."

"But if all my reason, logic, and temptations cannot persuade you, then I quite understand. You will not be a part of my plan, and you will not reap the rewards that will render you princes upon the earth, with wealth unimaginable, sweet vengeance obtained, and power to make all below you tremble and bow at the sight of you."

There's a faint CLICK. Looking back, you find that Tiadora has silently glided over, and closed and locked the office door. The only door out of this windowless room.

"You will also, of course, fail to leave this room with your body and soul still alive."

He smiles, humorlessly. "For I did not get this far, and this powerful, by leaving LOOSE ENDS behind me."

[Morbis Meh]

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perception (1d20+6)[19]

Jodiah regards the rather talkative man coolly with her stern gaze, taking a moment to study him as a man. His threat had little affect on her, for the machinations of her dread lord would eventually come to pass despite the meddling of this man's infernal god. Time was on her side; however, Jodiah was a reasonable gnome, she saw the obvious benefits of allying with this man and his infernal lord but by accepting her help it would eventually be their downfall. The power this opportunity would grant would be power for her Lord and once he was able to enter through the outer reaches, this infernal Lord would cower. Her Lord saw infinity, he is infinity and knows the true names of all beings low and high. With a smile and a polite curtsy Jodiah responds "If you wish it my Lord, I will aid you, as long as I am allowed to keep my own allegiance to my dread lord I see know reason why I cannot serve you and Asmodeus. It will be only a different means to the same end, an end I am sure you know all about... I do owe your Lord a boon for services rendered; however, I do not subscribe to your laws nor the laws of Hell, I am making my own personal choice to honour the debt not because I am bound by a law. In my opinion it is a more meaningful gesture but you may shrug it off as semantics. Though I am of the opinion that serves loyally willingly is more valuable than one serves out of fear." Jodiah fingers her symbol with that same old dreamy expression on her face "But know this, power granted to me is power granted directly to my Lord for I am his conduit on this plane and this is irrevocable. No oath, no spell and no god can undo the bindings that have been placed upon me by my Lord, so as long as Asmodeus doesn't mind this arrangement then you will have a very willing follower. I repeat I am bound to my Lord and nothing short of death will sever the connection, it is not my choice that this be the situation, it is merely the reality."

[Angstrom]

The four rooms are laid out in a roughly identical fashion, though the contents differ. All are small suites, consisting of vestibule, bathroom, and bedroom. The vestibule contains a small tea-table with chairs, upon which has been placed a hearty steak dinner, sitting upon a salad of fresh vegetables. Piquant sauce coats the ensemble, and a decanter of berry wine is to the side, next to a napkin wrapping a fine set of silverware. A basket of fresh, small loafs of bread accompanies the meal, along with small crocks of butter and jelly. The bathroom's walls are porcelain, and a hot bath is ready in a copper tub. A newfangled, gnomish-made device turns out to be an expensive water toilet, using pipes and pressure to flush waste away. Discrete towels are folded nearby, as are an outfit your size, customized to your clothing preferences.

As they are led through the dark mansion, Bridget's eyes dart back and forth seeking clues as to what was going to happen next. Silent throughout, she follows to the chambers and upon choosing a room, closes the door shut behind her.

A small sigh slips out when she spots the feast before her. After three large mouthfuls of steak she pauses as her recent experiences with drug-laden food cause her twinge with momentary concern. Too late now. After every last scrap of food is gone she cleans up and get's dressed, though she does not leave the room. Sitting on the bed, trying to prepare herself for whatever this master could be, she quickly finds herself slipping towards sleep and it is only the knock at the door that keeps her from curling up amidst the pillows.


Save for a quick glance at the half-orc, her eyes never leave Tiadora the group is led through the mansion once more. So this was the one that infiltrated Branderscar and gave Sirin the veil, strange.

Curtseying to Thorn when they are brought before him, she listens intently to the Asmodean. She barely listens to the questions and defences of the others as she comes to grips with what is being demanded of her. Late agents to a holy war, fallen inquisitors, a gate and key? Events were in motion and there would no escaping any of it.

Kneeling before Thorn, voice unwavering she speaks at last. "My allegiance is yours, Cardinal Thorn. It is an honour to be considered worthy of such glory."

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Knowledge (arcana) for talk of Nana Jodi's lord (1d20+5)[20]

[Lost Demiurge]

Cardinal Thorne seems bored as Nana Jodi goes on about her god. "As I said before, I doubt he cares about what will transpire here. A thing that focuses upon the entropy of universes cares little about sub-sections of planets, millenia, or things of flesh."

SIRIN

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The Gate and the Key are a name for a Dark Tapestry entity, something with unseemly power over time and space. Its followers are often afflicted with madness from touching the mind of something incomprehensible, non-euclidian, and uncaring. But that's all you recall offhand, you'd need to do research to learn more.

He gazes at the half-orc. "You were not with this group in Brandescar, but your antics against the mayor, and the near-success of your plot make you worthy to stand with the four other prospects. Will you lend your strength to the betterment of Asmodeus, the forwarding of my machinations, the support of your new comrades in arms, and the development of true power for yourself?"

[Starbin]

Rekker watched as the others protested or prostrated themselves to this self-proclaimed holy-man. Such things were meaningless to him, since no one, god or otherwise, had help the half-orc during his years of growing up at the orphanage, or on the streets. However, the man had gotten him out of a jam - one that may or may not have resulted in his death, if this group's presence was any indicator - and he did owe him.

He watched as each of the others answered, noting the slick (and somewhat simpering) way in which these ladies seemed to respond to the priest. When the man turned his piercing gaze to the half-orc and asked for allegiance, Rekker gave a curt nod. "I owe you a debt. I owe the mewling chattle of this country payback. I'll follow you and your god."

To any that looked him over, Rekker was a tall, hulking, beast of a half-orc, like most of his kind. If the dark grey skin, jutting brow, tufted ears, and yellow eyes didn't give him a monstrous mien, the single jutting tusk would complete the picture. He wore loose pants and an open vest, that showed off his impressive chest. All-in-all, he struck an imposing figure, arms crossed and leaned against the wall - he exuded coiled violence and looked to be as approachable as a charging rhinocerous.