[IC] Wok: Science Ascended

[Quellian-dyrae]

August gave a slow nod, patting his belt pouch absently, before finally taking the coat and accepting some food, going to take a seat. He murmured a brief blessing over the meal before he began eating.

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Casting Purify Food and Drink...just in case

"So what's with the whole 'Circle of Winter' or whatever it is around this place?" he asked the chattier waiter.

[Conor77]

"Oh, I eat meat", she says, grinning. "only I just ate with those morons. If I'd known some interesting people were coming in I'd have waited to eat with them. So, uh, hey, when you're finished there, there's some interesting stuff around here to see, you wanna come exploring with me later? I'll be in my room, over by the east wall" She then gets up and walks away.

[Conor77]

"Wwweeellll sir!" the waiter says as he comes around again. "Its one of those oddities of Lakar that no one really knows about. The place is filled with them. Some say there were people long ago who knew how to make them, and others say they are simply part of the landscape. There are even religions that claim they are the god's chosen places, and that Lakar is holy for being filled with them. Oh, and you know the great desert Barenor? I heard tell the whole thing is actually a giant Eco-disk. That's, uh, what these circles of weather are called." He saunters briskly away.

[Quellian-dyrae]

"Huh," August said, then looking to Hizzelim. "So you're from around here?" he asked, going by his previous comment about going nowhere.

[RunicLGB]

"My region of origin is indeed Lakar, though I can't day I've ever been to this particular palace, nor heard much anything about it. I spent quite some time on roads wandering about aimlessly before I came to the city with that lovely citadel. My old home is likely far from here."

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

Tharan looked at the Aaran for a second, the laughed. "Sure thing. Exploring, yeah," was all he said as he looked at her back as she walked away with a sly smile on his face, then resumed eating. He was about to ask for another glass of wine when he remembered what happened the last time he indulged in too much alcohol, so he put the glass down and contented himself to the sumptuous food.

"Nice place they have here, eh August? But we can't stay here. What are we gonna do now?"

[Quellian-dyrae]

"Wish I knew," he replied, but that line of thinking wasn't going to get them anywhere. He took another bite of food to give him time to get a thought or two together, then suggesting, "I'm thinking we should see what the rest of the refugees are planning. The mages, in particular. They might also be able to accomplish something with the archmage's things. Or at least give us an inkling as to the plan."

[Quellian-dyrae]

With no dissent appearing incoming, August finished his meal and headed over to the mages. "Well met."

[Conor77]

"Aye, an' you as well", says the nearest of the three, a short, bearded man in fine cotton robes underneath the heavy wool one provided. His accent carries the timbre of one from Kilaas. Or perhaps Te'ara?

He looks up and down, taking August in.

"Why, ah, why don't you come with me a bit, lad? I've got something I'd like to show you; something I think might help you on your journey."

He looks to his companions, who both nod, and he gets up from the table. He offers his hand. All of this happened quite quickly.

[Quellian-dyrae]

August hesitates a moment before nodding, giving the mage's hand a firm shake. "Some direction would be welcome," he agreed with a chuckle. "Lead on."

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

"Hey, where you going? You're not leaving without me!" he roared across the tables and hurriedly made his way towards August.

"So, what's going on?"

[Quellian-dyrae]

"Mage has something to show us," August replied with a shrug.

[Conor77]

August and Tharan only:

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He gets up, and takes you up to the gate, where he asks the gatesman to let you outside for a "bit of fresh air". The man simply shakes his head, and motions snarling and makes claws with his hands. The mage furrows his brows but it seems clear enough that the man implies danger outside of some kind. So you walk to the walls of the castle instead, which are quite unlike the walls of Salor. When one walks upon Salor's walls, they are protected from straight-on arrow shots except in 2-foot gaps between 8-foot stretches of blank wall. Here the wall curves down in a smooth bevel, no railing and no guard to the fighting men standing on top of it.

"These walls are built not to protect against men but against the kind of thing that crawls up stone", the bearded man says after staring out into the oddly low forest that lay past the ice dais. "The edge doesn't provide a handhold, and the wall has been smoothed the whole way down. All a man needs to do to defend it is kick. Against arrows, I believe they used to have a system of wicker shields to hide behind, long ago". You notice that his accent is curiously absent, replaced by that of someone who is meticulous in pronunciation, almost like he is reading words carefully from a book.

He stares quite hard at the forest, and suddenly a black dot shoots up out of it and comes darting towards him, with the shrill call of a hawk. And it is a hawk. It comes forward and seems to land by grabbing the man as it flies past, halting only by dragging half his wool cloak off him. It gives another cry, right in his ear. The man spits curses in a strange language that isn't one you know of as he draws his cloak tight again against the wind. But now he turns to you, for perhaps the first time since he got up from the table.

"Do you see my poor hawk tremble? He has seen what lies in that forest, a forest cursed by those who live around it. And I have seen it, through his eyes. Though I wear their robes, I am not a true magus, and neither are any of my companions. We are in great danger here, I do not feign otherwise. I do not know quite what creatures are these, but human they are not. They smell wrong, move wrong, speak wrong. Its convincing enough, for someone with the senses common to man. But for one with the eyes of a hawk, the nose of a hound, and a little bit of insight, it is clear as day. Whatever our disparate groups come from, we must band together to escape this place. Already, I have heard the tale of the rats that live in the larders. Whatever these creatures are-"

He is cut off by the sound of a pained whimper, feet scrabbling over stone. You peer around him and see Alia, mouth a grim line and a knife drawn across the throat of the female mercenary.

[Failed Phantasm]

From the moment they had met the boy and girl, with their strange demeanor, odd behavior, and stilted means of speaking, Xander had been on his guard, his instincts telling him that there was something inexplicably wrong about the entire situation. His hunches alone, however, had never been enough to spur him into action, as the practice of his chosen profession left little room for one to act upon one's suspicions, and so Xander followed the group in silence, though he privately would have preferred to have gone on the other way and left the boy and girl to their bizarre inanity. But he was still willing to allow them the benefit of the doubt, since he knew from his encounters with Lakarans who came to Treth that they were notoriously flightly and their behavior could be downright inscrutable to foreigners. 'They're certainly jumpy enough,' he thought as they followed the pair down the path, surreptitiously keeping watch of the girl as she darted around and inspected the foliage. Neither did their encounter with the pig farmer further down the road inspire confidence or trust, and Xander's feelings shifted towards something more than mild suspicion but not quite outright distrust. 'What are you not telling us, I wonder?' he thought as he assessed the back of Alia's head with a pensive stare, 'What can't you say in front of outsiders?'

Xander continued to spend the rest of the trip in silence, since their guides did not seem as though they wanted to do so much as chat idly, never mind answer direct questions. His quiet, outward stoicism did not falter even at the sight of the second castle he'd seen in one day: his face was impassive and expressionless as he took in the details of its façade. It was possessed of a certain awe-inspiring quality, to be sure, and the massive snowfield that surrounded the structure induced in him the peculiar, yet familiar, tingling sensation that indicated a trace of magic about the phenomenon — though perhaps even that was simply a peculiarity of Lakar itself. He followed the others as together they were ushered in wordlessly, declining to take a wool coat from one of the attendants and sitting at the table near the others in his group, allowing them to speak with the refugees who had been admitted into the dining hall. Every few moments, Xander would appear to take a bite of food or take a drink from his glass without actually doing so; instead, as he leaned back in his chair, he would scan the faces of the people who were seated and eating, as well as paying careful attention to the waiters and other occupants of the castle. The guests were certainly in a good mood, perhaps even relieved to be where they were. His attention only returned to his companions when August stood up and went to speak to one of the other refugees: August and one of the mages conversed briefly before standing up to leave, but Tharan leapt up to join them which left Xander and Hizzelim in the dining room for the moment.

'Where are you two off to?' he wondered silently. He glanced to both his left and his right, looking to see who else was staying. Xander could see that Hizzelim was seated not far from him, and he turned his gaze straight ahead and casually brought his glass up to his lips, pretending to take another sip. 'Ugh. The smell of this wine alone is enough to nauseate me.' Directing his next thought towards his companion, Xander prodded at him telepathically, 'Hizzelim, can you hear me?' This telepathy business was still quite new, but he was starting to feel a bit more comfortable with his newfound power. After all, it certainly did have its practical uses, even if he couldn't manage to project his thoughts very far and even though it required a very conscious effort to do so. 'I don't know about you, but I've got a bad feeling about this place. Do you think we should follow after August and Tharan?'

-----
Actions taken:

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Improvised/ad hoc bluff check to act as though eating and drinking without actually doing so: (1d20+16)[24]
Take 20: Sense Motive check to get a feel for the general atmosphere and get a sense of the refugees and castle occupants in the dining hall: (1d20+5)[25]

[Quellian-dyrae]

DM and Tharan:

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August was nodding at the mage's words. His initial assessment, it seemed, had not been too far from the mark. Before he could respond verbally, however, they were interrupted by Alia.

August just sighed.

"Seriously?" he asked, drawing his flail and readying his shield. "Do yourself a favor and let her go, lass!" he commanded, and he sounded more tired and annoyed than desperate.

[Conor77]

Tharan + August:

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As all three of you turn and look, you notice first that Alia's eyes are...gone, replaced by twin voids, perfectly black and reflecting no light.The second thing you notice is that the Aaran mercenaries' feet do not touch the ground. She is dangling, clutched in some unseen grip while Alia is free to hold the knife to her throat. the second thing you notice is that something about Alia...changed. She seems taller, and skinnier, but she also has some odd aspect to her, as if she was a piece of taffy that was stretched upwards rather than a person grown slightly. The longer you stare at her, the stranger she looks, until your eyes dart somewhere else and back to her, at which point she looks almost normal again. Everything about her screams anathema to the primal part of your brain, which is probably why the nature's-friend man next to you looks almost as if he has his hackles up. The hawk gives a longer scream this time, and flies away from you, off into the icy void.

And then she opens her mouth. What spills out is the most horrifying voice you have ever heard, a mixture of howling wind and deepest rumblings, "No. You will come with me or she will die. If you attempt to save her, you will only force me to kill her, after which I will kill you as well. Come with me instead, and do not try to fight. We also have your allies in the dining hall."

Xander + Hizzelim

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Many of the guests express a desire for rest, and as the light dims outside, fires are lit as some or others depart to their lodgings. One of the waiters offers to you both to your rooms.

Xander only

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This was the talkative waiter. Now he seems oddly morose. That's lie-detecting 101 stuff, whether someone changes their demeanor is how you can spirit out shifty behavior.

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

DM + August:

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"Huh. That ain't no lass, bud. Not one I'm accustomed to seeing anyway," he mentioned to August as he took a guarded stance.

"Guess you were right, mister Not-A-Magus. Any idea what they are?" he asked the man while his attention to Alia and her hostage.

[Quellian-dyrae]

DM + Tharan:

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Yeah, following the hideous monster thing...not sounding like a great idea. "Think it through, ya beasty. There's relatively few places on the human body you can hit with that knife to kill someone instantly. Throat isn't one of them, will just make you bleed out fast. Now yeah, normally, that means you're pretty much done, but you have to account for the situation. Say you make that move. She instantly starts bleeding out. I instantly run over there and heal her. She instantly stops bleeding out. My buddy here instantly charges you. And you instantly learn the difference between a mortal wound and a fatal wound!"

"Play it smart. Let her go."

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Intimidate: (1d20+7)[20].

[RunicLGB]

The sudden telepathic intrusion into Hizzelim's mind is quite unexpected, but not unwelcome. "Whoever would be so Uncouth/Direct/Invasive as to Invade/Disgrace the Personal/Private Sanctum/Sanctuary/Temple of my thoughts/mind I would require/Request/Inquire to your identity lest/or else I would be inspired/inclined/want to abjure/defend against/ward off this unsoliscited/unwaranted/unwanted/undesireable intrusion/penetration of the aforementioned/previously mentioned Sanctum/Sanctuary/Temple.

Upon receiving confirmation that Xander is the Telepath in question, Hizzelim responds to the initial inquiry. Ah then it is (in fact) you/Xander, then I suppose/Guess/assume I have nothing/little to worry about in regards to this interesting/fantastic/unusual communication method/manner. As to our wayward companions/partners/allies I assumed/guessed/presumed that they knew what they were doing/where they were going and that if assistance/aid/help were required/necessary they would not wait/hesitate to summon/call for our aid/assistance/presence. Perhaps to better understand the situation/circumstances you would be better served by using/utilizing your currently/concurrently displayed/used ability/power/trick to contact/communicate/commune with they of which you ask/query? Meanwhile I will continue to enjoy/delight in devouring/eating/consuming the succulent/delicious/wondrous/filling feats to which we have been presented/invited.

[Conor77]

Tharan + August:

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At the words "kill someone instantly", the beast gives some kind of keening screech, which you think may be a laugh. It waits for August to finish his sentence though, before it casually moves its knife up, where the jaw meets the skull, and pulls her hair back so you can see it. Then it moves the knife down until it is facing directly up, underneath the chin, before moving it back to the skull. At which point the mercenary dives right and down, rolling towards you. She seemingly broke free of whatever force held her, invisible though it was. As she slides in between Tharan and the strange man, she whispers thanks to August and asks if anyone has a spare weapon.

The monster drops the knife, and simply reaches out its arms, and Tharan, you feel a tugging from your insides that wants to pull you over the edge of the wall. Make a Fortitude save.

[Conor77]

Tharan + August:

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Tharan, you feel the force grip you more fiercely, from the inside out. It feels somewhat horrifying, like there is something inside you, You feel yourself being tugged, sideways, towards the edge, and you realize what is about to happen a split second before it does, and you are hurled bodily off the wall and into the ice below, by unseen force. A telekinetic, then.

The Alia-thing turns towards August, then, and raises its hand once more.

[ROLL INITIATIVE FOR BATTLE START]

Hizzelim + Xander:

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The waiter grips Xander's shoulder and his shoulder starts to hurt. The waiter is applying more force than it looks like he is. He speaks calmly but forcefully, "Sir, I am going to need to get you to your room now, if you please. We have a lot of cleaning up to be getting along with."

Hizzelim, make a Fortitude save.

[Quellian-dyrae]

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Gonna assume at this point we should just take our turns.

"Tharan!" August called as his companion was knocked from the edge. His first thought was to go check if he was hurt and tend him, but that wouldn't get them far at this point. He needed to neutralize the threat first.

Terms accepted.

He advanced quickly, hoping to close the distance before the telekinetic had a chance to act, and swung hard, getting right up close so that even if it stepped back it would still be within his reach.

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Move Action: Move adjacent to the telekinetic. I have 10' threatening reach, not sure if its TK provokes or not, but it'll still be in reach if it 5' steps.
Standard Action: Attack at (1d20+6)[14] for (1d8+3)[8]

Current Stance: Iron Guard's Glare. Threatened foes take -4 on attacks against anyone but August.

[Conor77]

Hizzelim + Xander:

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Suddenly, the waiter has apparently had enough. He brings his other hand up and over his head, curling into a fist along the way that batters Xander with more force than seems possible for a human to exert, but failing to do damage through your armor. Hizzelim feels unwell and unsteady. No one else is present in the room, stools discarded next to the long, high table.

August:

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Your flail comes around clean and clear and bashes the creature in the face. You are joined by the other man, now snarling and using his jaws to fight the creature, which seems visibly disturbed by the ferocity of the attack. The mercenary is just sort of screaming at you to kill it, not having a weapon herself and all.

Tharan:

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You land with a whump in the snow, taking only 2 damage, nonlethal. No doubt that would have seriously injured a normal man. Hah. Still though, the wind is blowing at this side of the fortress and it is bitter cold. And you don't even have one of those devil-alien-things down here to fight for warmth. Shucks.

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

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Slapping the snow beneath him, Tharan got up and looked up. He wondered how he fell that high without being hurt more than he had been, but more importantly he looked to see if there was any way back up.

None.

Cursing under his breath, he looked around to see where he could get back inside.

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Spot: (1d20+5)[20] if needed to see where he can go back in.

[Conor77]

Tharan:

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To get to the gate you need to go around to the left side, you are fairly certain. The cold is bitter, but bearable if you are about to go inside. You don't want to think about what a night alone out here is like. Looking back at the wall, you see it is not quite as flush as it seems

August:

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The thing raises its hand once more, and you feel a tugging sensation, dragging you towards the edge of the wall. Make a Fortitude save

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

DM

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Tharan looked up at the wall once again, and looking closely, it seemed it would have been possible to go up if he tried. But in his snap judgement he thought it would take too much time, time that was crucial at that point. He decided it would be faster to go back inside and climb up normally.

He turned to the left side of the wall and began to run.

[Failed Phantasm]

Catching him off guard, if only for a moment, Xander found himself overwhelmed by the flood of telepathic garbage that was assaulting his thoughts, able to make out only a handful of words and phrases among the stream of consciousness that was, apparently, Hizzelim's mind. He slid his face into his right palm, using his hand in order to hide the fact that his eyes were shut tight as he tried to concentrate on shutting out the Doruk's mental reply. 'Note to self: never again with Hizzelim, he told himself over the noise. 'Gods, but I thought his talking was hard enough to understand. At least he has to catch his breath when he's using his mouth.' After a moment, Xander finally noticed that Hizzelim was silent, so he took the opportunity to fire back irritatedly, 'NO. No, I cannot use my telepathy to contact August or Tharan, otherwise I would have done it already. I can barely reach people who are sitting on the other side of this table! You can keep stuffing your face, then. As soon as I get over this headache, ('that you just gave me,' he thought to himself) 'I'm going after them.' Not caring what Hizzelim might mentally vomit at him next, Xander retreated inside his own mind again and focused on blocking out any reply the Doruk had. Without shifting position, Xander started to use his fingers and thumb to massage his forehead, as he did indeed have a headache after his telepathic exchange. He was so distracted by the entire affair that he didn't notice one of the waiters approach or speak until he felt pressure on one of his pauldrons, which startled him enough to look up for the cause.

“Sir, I am going to need to get you to your room now, if you please. We have a lot of cleaning up to do.” The waiter's grip was stronger than it appeared, and he was pressing down with enough force to make him uncomfortable beneath his armor. With a quick jerking motion, Xander freed himself of the waiter's grasp and then rolled his shoulder. 'Oh, this is just what I need right now.' Despite the sense that his suspicions were welling up again at the waiter's odd behavior, he buried his irritation at the situation and affected his most indifferent expression and polite tone of voice before replying, “Would you be so kind as to give me a few moments before we go to the rooms? I have a bit of a headache that I'm trying to nurse,” As he turned away from the waiter, he propped his elbows on the table and dropped his face into his palms, his instincts telling him that things were about to go wrong, which was truthfully to be expected as nothing had gone right since he made the journey to Salor. 'Why can I not for once – just once – meet normal people in a normal town? Why do adventures have to be so gods-damned insane?'

Xander had been expecting an assault of some kind, given the waiter's odd change in demeanor, but the force with which he had been punched was startling. His armor had absorbed most of the blow, but he had to move with the momentum of the blow and staggered awkwardly out of his chair. “All right,” he said as he straightened up and faced his attacker, “if that's the way you want it, fine.” With a swift, fluid motion, Xander took a few steps around the chair to position himself at the waiter's side, drawing his sword as he did so. 'I wish I knew what exactly is going on, though, Xander thought grimly as he started to swing his weapon towards the waiter. 'I don't want to kill you, but it looks like I'll have to rough you up before trying to knock you unconscious instead.'

-----
Actions taken:

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Free action: draw bastard sword as part of movement.
Move action: move however many feet (10?) to maneuver to the waiter's side.
Standard action: make a melee attack against the waiter.

Attack: (1d20+5)[17]
Critical confirmation: (1d20+5)[17]
Damage: (2d6)[6][5](11) +3 = [14]
Brutal property: reroll 1s for damage ((2d6)[1][4](5))

[Conor77]

Tharan-Kel:

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You come across...Alia. She is at the gate, apparently trying to break it with her fists. You would laugh at the spectacle, but the gate appears half-broken by her efforts already. All the same, you see her feet are freezing and she is shivering visibly in the cold. Her chest is heaving with the effort of punching the heavy wooden doors over and over again, and her breath comes in wheezes and gasps. She doesn't notice you, but stops to lean on the door for a bit.

August

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You slide backwards, towards the edge, but set your boots against the imperfections of the top of the wall and cease movement. the creature tries to resume its attack but is interrupted by the wolf-type man, who jumps around its backside and clamps jaws on the thing's "leg" In fact, he is directly on the opposite side from you, leaving the thing open for a flank...

Xander

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Your sword comes up, quick as a whip, but somehow, the man in front of you slides and...oozes away from the blade, so that it misses him by a hair. You actually felt the current of wind the sword made deflect off of him. Hizzelim tries to help you, but staggers slightly, gets a confused look on his face, and tumbles over onto the floor. The waiter smiles, but only with his mouth. His eyes are open wide, suddenly transforming into twin orbs of darkness, not reflecting light of any kind or looking like spheres. Other than the wide eyes and the lips-only smile, his face is expressionless, which makes the whole thing more creepy. He jumps, onto the table, onto his hands, and starts trying to kick you by, well, by bringing his feet down on your head. You have no clue how he's doing this, even less knowledge of why he's doing it, and are utterly mystified as to the thought process behind it. Nevertheless, you do your best to dodge the flailing feet. You don't really find it hard. It seems like the thing is trying to do something in particular but it can't.

[Quellian-dyrae]

August cast the...mage? Druid? Wolfy-guy a grin across their opponent, executing a deft series of maneuvers with his flail, aiming to both injure his opponent and drive him back into his ally's jaws. "See if you can get that knife from him!" he called, aiming to get the unarmed mercenary into the mix, keeping up a steady assault in hopes of providing an opening.

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Standard Action: Vanguard Strike at (1d20+8)[12] for (1d8+3)[4]. On a hit, allies gain a +4 bonus on attack rolls against the telekinetic for one round. Attack roll includes +2 from flanking.

Since a disarm is an opposed attack roll, a light weapon would give a -4 penalty to resist, and my Iron Guard's Glare will impose -4 on the AoO, it gives him a good shot to disarm if he wants to try it, especially if I hit, since with flank, vanguard, and light weapon, he'd have an effective +10 advantage.

Maneuvers Available: 1/2.

EDIT: And naturally I roll a mighty 4.

[GuyFawkes]

Tharan-Kel

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"You!!" Tharan shouted at Alia, immediately taking a fighting stance.

"...you?!"

He looked puzzled, and reflexively looked up. He certainly didn't see her - or it -falling after him. And if she/it did, how did she/it reach here before him?

No matter.

"Heh. I owe you a pounding, and it looks like I'll be repaying my debt a little earlier. Come on!"