Death's End IC II

[gallagher]

In between worlds... where do you think we are, child? Obaben grabs the child by the arm and walks her back to the light, so that he can get a better look at her while he talks. Dont worry about me, child, I am quite good at protecting myself. And I need to leave here once the hide and seek contest is over. If you desire to stay here, I can see about making sure that this place stays safe for you. In fact, I have a few ideas on how to make it safer! I just need you to promise me that you will stay hidden here until I can come back.

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Sense motive check on the girl, her comments about these guys are arising my suspicion even more: (1d20+1)[3]

Regardless, bluff check to mollify the urchin, and convince her I have a plan to make her safe: (1d20+5)[24]

[esorscher]

Hmm. Arran looks around the crowd to see if there is anyone looking out of the ordinary, as if they'd just be jostled by an unseen force, or if there's anything that catches his eye. Spot: (1d20-1)[0]

[Togo]

Myr's eyes open wide. Within an instant he is on the move, striding over to the figure who, he sure, just witnessed the same scene that he did.

Excuse me, armoured sir, he starts brightly. But did you just see someone disappear, into thin air? Over there, by the statue?

[Ajadea]

Book? What book? Then Calia remembers why Lirian spent the first night of the festival holed up in the Great Library. The Starstone. She nods. "Dawnharrow was a mess. Much was lost that day." She doesn't need to fake pensiveness at the thought. It's true enough. She can't remember what Rosamund Dawnharrow's face looked like anymore. The thought is a disturbing one. "I'm afraid you were right to not be impressed, at least on my abilities in your field. Abjuration is not my forte," she demurs. The terror in Pro- in... Missus Inkweaver's eyes is all too familiar, and she doesn't know if it would be better if their fears were connected or unrelated.

[esorscher]

"Yeah, I did. Did you know him?" Arran asks.

[3SecondCultist]

Ben: The urchin nods twice. For the past few minutes, her gaze has grown listless. However, upon your proposal of new ways to avoid her tormentors, a gleam of frayed hope enters her eyes.

"Really? You know a way to keep me here? They won't be able to come back? Thank you, little man! Thank you so much!" Before you can as much as protest, the girl's skinny arms are wrapped around your waist. Her dark, matted hair rests against your chest. She smells faintly of rot and mildew and all the ingredients of the urban cesspool. Everything about her has come from a gutter, and yet her smile is pure, unadulterated joy. You know, deep down, that she does not belong down here among the ancient stones.


Calia, Lirian: The aging academic forges a bittersweet smile this time. "'All things must end'. It's a common enough saying, and this life is no exception. The real tragedy is not to die, but to die needlessly." Sylvia's eyes lose a fraction of their edge. And yet they do not stray from the paper as Lirian takes hold of it. She does not dare look around, for fear of meeting the gaze of whatever it is that hunts her. Perhaps she herself cannot see it. With fingers of iron, she reaches over the table and lifts up her glass. She raises the rim in a tribute to the forgotten dead. Within a handful of gulps, the rest of the liquor is gone.

After a few more moments of full silence, Sylvia slowly rises to her feet. In the grim daylight, her robes show more wear and tear than either of you have noticed before. Here and there, you can see the patches where she has tried to mend the fabric, but to no avail. Her magic may have helped her - yet this is not the sort of woman to rely on cantrips when she can perform the same task with her hands. She waits for a beleaguered busboy to come and take away the empty glass before stepping away from the table herself. Her carefree spirit is long gone, replaced by something dark and deep and broken.

"Lirian, Calia, take care. You are students of the word, and a more dangerous weapon has never been devised. When the time comes, I know you will make good use of it."

[gallagher]

Hold on little girl, I need to think... Ben turns about, as if he is pacing and thinking, making attempts to mumble his words softly on a turn that is farther from the girl, so that the girl cant hear, but Arran can through the earring. Arran, Ben mutters into it, I need you to try and listen in on what I and this urchin are saying, and tell it to Calia. Ben turns back towards the girl, mutters to himself as if he is making some plan, then turns back away, I am in a warehouse and something doesnt seem right. I'll explain when I can.

Ben turns back towards the girl - I think I can, but first I need you to tell me some things. They are all very important, so I need you to answer truthfully. How long have you been down here, and what can you tell me about who you are hiding from? Why did you pick this place, and can you tell me more about what these Custodians do? And is there anywhere else you can go to keep you safe while I make sure this place is secure?

Ben has his eyes dart about, looking around the warehouse and looking up and down the urchin. The smell of rot and grime brings up faint memories of death, and he does not like the description of the Custodians one bit. He looks for any signs that the undead might have been present here at all.

Please tell me everything, tell me true, and I can help you. I am a cleric, a good cleric, and have helped a lot of people before

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I just remembered I have track undead as a class feature, which lets me to track undead using knowledge(Religion) instead of survival. I am going to attempt to do that now, because I still think this is fishy -
Spot for finding more signs of undead I may have missed: (1d20+4)[22]
knowledge(religion): (1d20+11)[25]

[Sen isSaqqara]

"Hold on just a second." says Lirian, reaching out for the librarian's sleeve as she stands to go. "You sound like one resigned to your fate. It'd be remiss of me not to offer you a walk to wherever you're going. I for one have nothing better to do than help a friend who needs someone to watch their back. Perhaps we can talk along the way? I'm sure you and Calia have more to catch up over then barely a sentence each."

[esorscher]

While Arran waits for response from the two newcomers, he whispers under his breath to Ben, "What warehouse? Calia and I are separated, I don't know where she is."

[Ajadea]

Calia shakes her head. "Not that much, honestly. At least, not much that isn't horribly embarrassing." Her eyes flick to the window, and she stands up as well. "I actually need to go, I'm afraid. It was nice to see you again, ah-" she trails off, honestly unsure how to address the woman in front of her. "Take care."

She manages to walk calmly out of the Iron Victory Hall and around the corner before leaning against the nearest wall and burying her head in her hands. How in the name of the Twelve had she ended up in this mess? Janos smiles, Mother always said. Whenever things got messy, or complicated like this. He was probably laughing now. The sun shines down overhead, and she doesn't dare wait too long. A few breaths to steady herself, and she walks into the Heroes' Plaza to wait. She stays at the edge, not daring to leave but not wanting to get too close, hiding herself in the crowd.

[Sen isSaqqara]

"Well damn," mutters Lirian, watching as the door swings shut behind Calia, "That was a thing. What'd you do, fail her out of school?" Her tone is laced with sarcasm, but anyone watching her eyes can tell that the catfolk is seriously considering it.
"Nevertheless..." She leans in to whisper to Sylvia now that she doesn't need to be heard by two different people. "You seem rather resigned to your fate. If you're in any kind of danger, I'm not just letting you walk off on your own. You're way too valuable to lose, and besides, you're a friend." She rises, keeping a firm hold on the librarian's cuff. "Let's go get you to safety. We should talk a bit more on the way. Perhaps we could meet up with another of my friends... I'm not much of a fighter myself."

[3SecondCultist]

Arran, Calia, Elara, Myr: In the past few minutes, the crowd around the platform of the pavilion seems to have filled in somewhat. Despite the oncoming rain, the second day of the Festival of Lights has brought many shining faces to Onyx's heart. In the distance, the great doors of the Senate Hall open and a fully-plumed procession of officials moves towards the great platform beneath the statues from behind. You can see the colors of the throng around you, the building noise as the many hundreds await Whitestrake's pronouncement for the activities to come. The line of guards around the base of the steps seems to have almost doubled, proud breastplates standing firm against the unwashed tide. What's more, a few guard squadrons have taken up positions around the edges of Heroes' Plaza, as much to watch events unfold as to actually keep the peace. Commander Vasher and his personal bodyguards are nowhere in sight, however. The committee begins to climb onto the platform and prepare to address the eager people. For a moment, the midday sun gleams through the cloud cover, casting a sharp golden glow over the proceedings. Time seems to slow, as you feel every breath before the thundercloud.

Out of the corner of your eye, you begin to notice movement of an unusual sort. Two figures are moving around the outer perimeters of the plaza. For a moment, they appear as simple guards, but they walk through the crowd without any sort of backup. And the facade does not last very long, as both of them drop whatever illusions were temporarily offering them their form. In the moments that follow, you find yourselves wishing that perhaps they had remained in disguise.

The first figure is massive, to say the least. He stands nearly nine feet tall and covered in full dark grey plate of an incredibly fine quality, from steel-toed boots to stylized gorget. His upper arms alone are wider than an average man's thighs. A truly monstrous sword is strapped to his back, and if you look closely, you can see minute sparks running up and down the blade. You might have mistaken him for a giant, and yet when he turns, you can see that the skin beneath the armor is covered in scales of a deep red. His eyes glow like coals, his nostrils are reptilian, and the faintest trail of smoke follows in his wake. As you look closer, you realize that he is in fact a she. Her face is slightly more angular and her overall build is slightly more diminutive than you might have expected from a male of her size. Furthermore, a set of jet-black dreads hangs loose where a helmet should be.

Everything about the second figure is much more subdued than the first. While you still see the unmistakeable glint of armor, it sits mostly underneath a tattered cloak of no particular color. This figure also has taken care to put up his hood to shroud his face, unlike his more brazen companion. You catch the odd glimpse of a face, pale and gaunt and grinning like a madman. His hands are covered in gloves, and his traveling clothes seem quite well-maintained in contrast to his outerwear. Either he just bought the gear yesterday, or this is someone who does not need a cloak to keep warm. In his right hand, he carries along with him a length of gnarled wood. It is only after a moment of further inspection that you see the skull worked into the top of the staff.

The armored behemoth and the cloaked stranger eventually make their respective ways around the circle to get to you, and yet seem to stop just short of entering your immediate vicinity. Neither makes any hostile action, as though they both seem to be waiting for something.

And then Whitestrake and his followers disappear, to be replaced by a solitary man in a golden mask. Oberon has arrived. Behind him stand two more cloaked figures - Anna's and the unstable changeling. In a flash, the guards beneath the podium have drawn their swords and prepare to move in on the newcomers. Their blades find different targets, however, as they abruptly turn to start skewering each other at point-blank range. The screams of pain come right away, but they quickly turn to anguish as the few remaining guards come to realize what it is that they have done. Most of the crowd is still in shock - still processing the very sudden turn of events - although the horror seems to be sinking in for at least a few. Oberon simply raises his arms, a gesture of triumph and exultation. And when he finally speaks, his musical voice echoes in the darkest part all the nearby minds.

Would all of the contestants kindly step forward.


Ben: The girl seems to inhale sharply when you mention the Custodians on your own. The blazing happiness that you brought forth has gone and hidden itself away once again.

"I-I've been down here for a couple of months, I think. Lost track a while ago. I wanted to hide from my father and brother, but couldn't find my way. So I stayed down here. There's nobody that can hurt me down here." Her words are formless, without substance.

"Except them. I call them the Custodians. They have eyes in the dark. I've heard them moving down here, like rats but only bigger. Once I tried to follow them, and that's when they caught me. They had pale faces, and sharp knives. But I couldn't see them, not really." Her voice has lowered back to the raspy whisper that accosted you when you first arrived here. You look for any more signs around the tunnel entrance and the warehouse storeroom, but there is no real trace of the rot or decay that seems to surround this girl. Like the tunnel itself, the entire area seems to have been carefully cleaned, and then left to accumulate dust with age. If these 'Custodians' really do use the tunnels like this girl claims, they might not have come back here in some time.


Lirian: Sylvia watches Calia go with an unreadable expression. The older woman looks down at her former student's unfinished glass of honeywine, and cannot help but laugh when you ask her about old history. For all that, her joviality remains tinged in sadness. Each side of her seems to accentuate the presence of the other, for both are plainly written on her face.

"There are those for whom knowledge is its own reward. They seek out discoveries, regardless of where it might take them or what it may cost along the way. I have always counted among myself among that number, and I suspect you are not so different. Calia... Calia has always been more fascinated with the old places, the myths and tales told around campfires. She does not search for knowledge so much as a kind of personal truth, I think." She looks up from the still surface of the glass, meeting your eyes again. Her lips curl into a bitter smile. "I'm so sorry, I've been rambling. It might be best if you follow her. I will be quite fine on my own." Her eyes seem to gesture sharply at the pocket containing the paper. Whatever it is, clearly the librarian deems it to be of higher importance than her own safety.

[Sen isSaqqara]

"Nice try, but no. Whatever your... problems are, they've gotta get through me first now. Seriously, though, what are we talking about?" She leans in close for this last bit. "Who's on your back? Are we talking about a few thugs with swords, or something more concerning? I know there's a time for subtlety, but if you're as scared as you looked back there, now is not that time."

[esorscher]

Arran draws his bow as soon as the strange things start happening. He finds himself wishing he had Windfarben here, but in this crowd she wouldn't be half as effective, and at least no harm will come to her. He does not step forward, unwilling to identify himself as a contestant. Every fiber in his being screams at him to run, except the one closest to his core that says, Why? Why had these people come to this place to do this thing? He moves into a position such that Oberon is within 110' as he continues to watch the two other strange folk, as far away and to an exit from the Plaza as he can be.

[gallagher]

Ben stands up straight to get a look about the room, giving the child a little theatrics as if his plan is already in motion, when truly it is about to start, and still missing many pieces. Now is the time to act, Ben thinks, to protect the children. Ben catches himself thinking back to his days as a protector of the villagers back in Arva.

You seem crafty enough on your own, but if you cannot go back home, I do know someone might be able to find a place for you. First, though, I need to make this place safe. I need you to not be here while that happens, so I am sending you to a friend of mine. Say, have you ever met a Catfolk? Ben asks in a sweet tone, trying to persuade the little girl to be excited about going somewhere else. I assure you she is much gentler than most people I know, and she loves books. I am going to send you with a friend of mine who should know where she is.

Ben puts his finger to his ear, mimicking what he expects a child to understand as a signal of magical communication - Arran, can I send a new little friend your way? I need to get her to Lirian

While Ben waits on Arrans answer, he continues with the urchin, trying to think of what Calia would say to calm her down- Do you have a name? And why are you hiding from your family? Back when I was young my family and I protected eachother.

[esorscher]

"Probably safer with you. Some weird **** is going down at Heroes Plaza. Me, Calia and two newcomers. I'll keep you updated." Arran whispers to Ben.

[PersonMan]

Elara's eyes go over the unusual people at the edge of the crowd, brows furrowing as the illusion drops from their frames. Normally, it would be that which drew her gaze from the wonderful scene before her, but the tension in her veins, the anxious fear in her gut, kept the minutes she spent waiting at the plaza from being the enjoyable time spent painting it would otherwise be. The disappearing person from earlier had briefly captured her thoughts, as she considered whether or not they might be the Oberon in the letter she had received, but as the sun emerged the sudden glow had caught her attention. Despite everything, for a moment Elara found peace in the simple beauty it gave the plaza, but before long she was brought from her admiration to watching the new arrivals on the scene. The change stuns her and the mage turns towards them, eyes trapped by the form of the massive draconic woman for several seconds. The man only briefly captures her attention, but her stomach churns as she spots his grin and the skull.

Something makes Elara turn back to the platform of the pavilion, and a moment after she does she is simultaneously glad to have done so and horrified. The figure who appears holds her attention up until the moment in which the first screams of pain reach her ears. Lamed by shock and horror, the mage begins to shake, tears forming in her eyes as she slowly lowers herself, sinking down into the crowd as if the sea of shirts and pants would protect her from reality. As Oberon's voice comes across the crowd, however, she's shaken from her stupor, and takes a deep breath. Before she can think, the mage's fingers begin to draw arcane patterns on the plaza ground, and her voice speaks words of arcane significance. Before a spell could come together from her movements the vagabond stops suddenly, sudden calm rushing through her.

When Elara stands, her unusual eyes are clear again, the voice that always got her into trouble chasing away the shock and horror that had stunned her moments ago. Somewhere, a thought rose, a question about how foolish it was to reveal herself here, but it was washed away by the forceful insistence that this had to happen. After all, given the insanity of the people she was dealing with, Elara had no doubts that they would be willing to turn to horrible things if they didn't see those they had chosen emerge from the crowd. After all, they were already starting a bloodbath without reason. It was best to not give them one to continue it.

Pushing her way forwards through the stunned mass of people, the mage makes her way to a break in the crowd, looking up at the masked face of Oberon, her face a mask of determination.

[Togo]

Myr puts one gloved hand on his face.

Shaking his head, he moved foward through the crowd. As he moves, his glove suddenly develops thick steel bands. Moving with liquid grace, articulated steel spreads downwards from each glove, sheathing his arms in dark metal, and then spreading across his torso. A steel plate spreads across his chest, Metal encases his thighs, knees, legs, and feet, while bands of engraved steel spread upwards, swallowing his face beneath a visored helm, and ending with some kind of battered shapeless crest clinging to the top.

The guisarme slides easily into his gauntleted hands as he walks, the crowd parting, as he tries to make his way onto the stage.

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Calling his suit of plate mail from it's burial site outside of town, and moving towards the stage, and onto it if possible, drawing his guisarme as he goes.

[Ajadea]

Calia wants to run, when she sees the two of them. The hulking woman and the cloaked man. She swallows nervously instead, and commits them to memory. Face, stature, clothes, mannerisms. She'll not be caught off-guard again if she can help it. Then Whitestrake disappears, replaced by a familiar gold mask. Oberon... and that made three. Three known, two unknown, and one dead. The flicker of triumph at that thought is quickly crushed by guilt. If they had not killed Senn, would any of this had happened? The screams of the guards echo around the dead-silent plaza.

Would all of the contestants kindly step forward.

She bites back a curse as foreign thoughts rattle in her mind. You didn't have to do that! she thinks before she can stop herself from thinking all together. Just... surviving. Winning. That was what mattered.

Forcing herself away from the solid wall at her back is the hardest thing she's ever done. She can feel eyes on her as she steps forward, moving quickly, but not quick enough. She's going to be sick. Gruumsh, grant me strength. She'd pray to Sirramar, under most other circumstance, but she can't shake the feeling that she's fighting for evil now, not against it. If anything, she is, or at least was competing to become, the sort of person any devotee of Sirramar would be honor-bound to stop.

Calia makes it to the front of the crowd and past it too fast to think about hesitating, not stopping until she stands slightly in front of the other two. She barely spares them a single glance. If this contest requires death, as all things connected to the Six from Shadow inevitably must, it is best not to even begin putting faces to her foes. Instead, she summons up all her glory and keeps her eyes fixed on Oberon's mask, gritting her teeth to keep her expression hard and unreadable as it must remain.

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Presence Aura, I think. To make an impression.

[3SecondCultist]

Arran, Calia, Elara, Myr: The stunned crowd flows out around you like a wave, as three of you make your way towards the base of the podium. Not too close - the blood around the corpses of the guard patrol still flows like a stream, and the survivors have long since given up any hope of retaliation. Their blades lie forgotten around the bodies of their companions. Beside you, two more figures have emerged from the crowd, but they don't look like members of the Six. If you had to guess, these are the last two candidates put forward for entrance into this carnival of killers. The first is a very large man in simple clothes, a warhammer over his right shoulder. The second is a slimmer looking elf of some pedigree. Her untamed blonde hair sits in stark contrast to the dark brown hides she wears as armor.

A silent moment passes, and then another. The crowd seems to stir from its state of shock, as several more cries fill the early afternoon air and many turn to flee from the plaza. Several call for the guard, and even in the growing dark, you can see the unmistakeable glint of their armor as numerous platoons begin to advance inward, into the verges of the crowd. And yet the Six pay them no heed whatsoever. Both the cloaked man and the hulking dragonkin have approached the base of the platform, so that they stand less than thirty feet away from you. The former is still grinning, while the latter seems incapable of the act. Annas notices Elara's gaze, and tilts her head in her direction as if out of reverence. From the podium, each of you can feel the intense focus of Oberon's stare within the landscapes of your very minds. Through the latent links, you have the vaguest sensation of his own mind overlapping with your own. It is strangely quiet, like a summer night with no moon.

Good afternoon. You have been summoned here because each of us saw something within you. Hard work, natural talent, and an unshakeable will. These are all the qualities that make up the Six from Shadow. We do not persecute based on race or upbringing - all are one in our family.

Each of you will be tested to surpass your limits, but in the end only one will join us. The Six are not willing to open their arms to just any passer by. To earn our respect is to shed blood in our name. Whether that blood is yours or somebody else's... is entirely up to you. Written here are the conditions of our trials, outlined in full. We have also taken the liberty of sending a copy of this to every guard station in the city.

Welcome to the trials.

The masked man casually tosses the scroll from his hand down to your feet, just short of the bloodbath. With the rest of his crew, he patiently waits for you to unravel the scroll.

Spoiler: Terms of Engagement

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To whom this may concern: allow us to assuage any lingering doubts you may have had up until now. We have returned to Onyx. In fact, we plan on staying in the city until our recruitment process is at an end. Each of the five current members, hereafter referred to as ‘testers’, has chosen a suitable candidate as a replacement for recent losses. Attached are sketches and written descriptions of all five candidates for your convenience. The full terms of our engagement with the Onyx officials and all other parties are as follows:

- Seventy-two hours to each member of the Six from Shadow so we can conduct our tests. Tests will be performed one after the other, with five rounds in total.

- A successful test or the elimination of a candidate who has failed a test will earn the tester bonus time. The tester will be given three to twelve hours for a successful test depending on the number of candidates remaining and twenty-four hours for the elimination of any failed candidate.

- Should a tester suffer a sound defeat at the hands of any candidate during their allotted time, they will be penalized twenty-four hours. A sound defeat includes, but is not necessarily limited to, any surrender or retreat from the active test during the allotted time.

- Each tester operates independently, with no hands-on assistance from other members of the Six from Shadow. Assistance may be bought, bartered, or otherwise rendered in a hands-off capacity, possibly including medical assistance, information, provided equipment and tactical suggestions.

- Candidates may receive assistance, hands-on or otherwise, from other candidates only. Should any parties outside the agreement interfere with a candidate, all candidates will lose the protection of any rules, all terms offered here will cease and the threat outlined in point eight will be carried out. This applies only to confrontations with the active tester.

- The Six from Shadow will handle the punishment of any members of their own team in the event of failures, the inability of the tester to perform at least a partial round of testing, or the killing of a candidate without notification.

- Should more than one candidate remain when the fifth round of testing concludes, the Six from Shadow will depart Onyx without incident and refrain from returning for three years at a minimum.

- If the Six from Shadow do eliminate all five candidates, if any candidates leave the city, or if any of the other above terms are explicitly disobeyed, the Six from Shadow are fully prepared to penalize the city for its failure.

Annas will be the first to carry out her test. She has seventy-two hours remaining.

We will be in touch.

The document ends with the five signatures of the remaining members of the Six, along with overly-stylized epithets: Annas the Shade, Theral the Aegis, Malthus the Shaper, Maniakh the Unborn, and Oberon the Whisperer. And true to the latter's word, attached to the scroll are each of your names, along with a small picture and a quick written description. The charcoal sketches are rough, but mostly accurate. If the crowd was nervous before, it is utterly panicked now, most of the remaining citizens all but stepping over each other in a mad rush to get as far away from the Six - from you - as possible.


Ben: "My... my name. My name is Rhea. I came from West Harth when I first got down here. And... my parents..." A glint of iron enters her disposition, only to disappear. You are reminded, not for the first time, that this little girl managed to survive down her more or less on her own for all this time. Whatever her reasons for leaving home, it is clear that her memories of it are not fond. She seems to brighten up at the prospect of meeting a genuine catfolk, although you're not quite sure if she believes you about Lirian. From the earring, all you can hear are screams. Whatever is happening on Arran's end of the connection, it must not be good.


Lirian: "Well you're a persistent one - quite like me in that regard. Fine, have it your way. Follow me." The mask of the introspect is gone, and the pragmatic wizard has returned. For all that, the fear and sorrow are still there. Sylvia hazards a single scan of her surroundings before walking out of the Iron Victory seemingly without a care in the world. She does not wait for you to catch up, walking through the streets of Old Town towards East Harth as though chased by a ghost. In the distance, you can hear a series of faint screams, and a call for the guard results in an entire squadron of fully armed Onyx peacekeepers rushing over the streets in the general direction of Heroes' Plaza.

Sylvia, for her part, looks ashen. "It's already begun. I thought we had more time than this! Come on, we need to be away from here. If you really want to help, then I'll explain everything on the way."

[gallagher]

It is lovely to meet you, Rhea, my name is Ben. I am going to take a moment to get some of my friends this way, and then we can tell stories to pass the time.

Ben tries the earring again, attempting to direct Arran to find Lirian and then come to the warehouse. After giving Arran directions, he tries to get Rhea to converse, hoping to get her to open up.

[esorscher]

Seeing the crowd leaving the plaza and the open space aplenty, Arran chooses after quick and critical consideration to join the crowd leaving and let the guard try and stop the contest. His gut tells him they will fail, but so would he, unless they were somehow able to get the element of surprise. Surprise meant knowing what the enemy are doing and them not knowing you even exist. He moves quickly through the crowd with his plan to slip unnoticed into the tallest of the two buildings that are adjacent to both the south exit and the Plaza and heads straight for the stairs up, taking in the type of building it is as he goes. Upon entering he looks for an empty room on the top floor with a view of the plaza. He enters a clear room, almost completely closes the door behind him and slightly opens the window looking down on the plaza. If there are blinds, he almost completely closes the blinds in front of the window, peeking through the crack between the blinds and the windowframe. Otherwise he crouches down at peeks out of the bottom corner, his back against the wall opposite the door to the room. "Do you know anything about what's going on at Heroes Plaza? Calia's in some serious danger here. I'll monitor the situation and report as it unfolds." He then begins reporting to Ben exactly what is happening in the Heroes Plaza. He has an arrow notched in his composite shortbow as he gazes out across the scene. He commits what he saw of the veteran who'd vanished just before all this started to memory, to tell the others later. "I think a wizard is on the stage, we've got a bad looking MF, 9' at least and red scales, black matted hair, just a real mean looking MF in armor with a giant f***ing sword stage right and another wizard-looking guy but in armor stage left. Pale skin. The Hide and seek contest was a great choice. This looks like a much different sort. Stay where you are, with the child. I'll find Lirian and get there as soon as I can, once we know what's going on with Calia." He continues to report to Ben what he sees, whispering through the earpiece. "The guard's moving in, we'll see what happens now."

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Trying to find a high unobtrusive vantage point that Arran can hide in and observe the scene at Heroes Plaza. He will Run (120' movement) if necessary to move quickly. He will stay where he is and only report unless he notices someone noticing him. It may take multiple turns to get into position, he will keep reporting what he perceives as he moves. Is Oberon's voice in everyone's head or only the contestants?

Checks OOC

[gallagher]

I just heard what sounded like a panicking situation, I am not bringing a child into danger like that. What kind of danger is Calia in?

Ben turns to Rhea. We may be stuck down here for a bit, but at least one of my friends will come here soon enough.

[Sen isSaqqara]

Lirian matches Sylvia's pace, her eyes darting around to take in everything they pass. Her ears pick up the sound of the panic, but she remains calm, if perhaps a bit worried for Calia. She didn't see which way her companion had gone after leaving the bar, but she hopes it wasn't towards the disturbance.
"Fine. Sounds reasonable to me. I'm guessing there's something much bigger than I realized going on here. What's your part in it?"

[PersonMan]

Elara continues forward, kneeling to pick up the scroll and noting how similar it was to last night. Once again, innocents had died for no reason, and she was going to read a message thrown next to the cooling blood of someone they had harmed. At least it wasn't her blood this time. Elara had seen enough of that yesterday to last her the next few few years. Of course, based on what the masked man had said, that wouldn't be the last time she'd need to bleed for this issue to be resolved, whether or not she could bring herself to attack whoever they would put her against.

Reading over the terms, Elara raises an eyebrow at how often the 'testers' are the ones being given rules to follow, but before long that is replaced by the realization that hits her as she reads through the rules again. It seemed that at least some of the tests would involve combat with one of the Six - would it be possible to eliminate one or more of them during this time? That would change things greatly; in that case she wouldn't need to play their sick game to its end and still keep the damage they would do to a minimum.

Having read the scroll, Elara looks back up to the three on the podium, unsure of whether or not the first test would be beginning immediately.

[Ajadea]

Calia peers over the other woman's shoulder to read the scroll. It's not all that difficult - she's already a few inches taller, and the boots add at least another half-inch to that. "Seventy-two hours," she mutters, more to herself than the others around her. She straightens up and crosses her arms, maille sleeves grating against each other. "They said we had to stay in the city. Never said where in the city," she says, shrugging slightly. She turns around and begins to head out of the square. She doesn't want anyone to get hurt - except maybe the Six. So up the North Road it was. No one who knew a sodding thing about Onyx would consider the Necropolis to be outside it. Nor would they ever dare venture there. Unless something worse remained behind. Going all the way was foolhardy, but at the very least they could leave behind the Festival.

She sees Arran out of the corner of her eye, and looks away, not daring to make eye contact. Then she gets an idea. This rule applies only to confrontations with the active tester. Not at the Iron Victory Hall, of course. Somewhere else. Didn't need to be great, just needed to have drinks, and an excuse. Calia takes a few more steps, far enough to leave the others a bit of a distance away, then turns around. "I'm not waiting around here for three days. Let's go. Star Sapphire. They've got good food there," she says, loudly enough for her voice to carry. "I'm buying."

[gallagher]

On second thought, Ben says to Rhea, How would you like if we went to meet my friends? I am sure they would like you very much, and it would be far less dreary than here. And there is bound to be hot food

[3SecondCultist]

Arran, Calia, Elara, Myr: What few brave souls remain to watch the Six quickly step out of Calia's way. Although most do not really know what is going on, the mere fact that she has been marked by these killers is enough for people to keep their distance. The guards have moved further inward now, forming a concentric barrier around the edges of the crowd to hem everyone in. Their pikes are the first to feel the raindrops as the clouds open above you. The gods themselves weep for Onyx.

For their part, the Six are actually rather collected. None of them move to attack you, or make any sort of retaliatory movements against any foolhardy passers-by. The cloaked man - Maniakh - moves over to his draconic companion, who touches his shoulder. Suddenly the two of them are standing behind Oberon, up on the platform. The wind seems to be picking up. The five figures do not speak. They do not need to - Oberon has made their message quite clear. Now is the time for action. Even as the guards approach, they gather around the eerie changeling, forming a semi-circle facing outwards. His hands flutter in the air twice, preparing for some incantation. You hear a faint hum, and then they are simply gone. In their wake is only spilled blood, broken bone, and the promise of more to follow.


Ben: Rhea's face lights up at the prospect of hot food. More than anything, this child is hungry, in her bones. But she hesitates when you mention leaving this place. It is clear from her body language - set shoulders, hunched back, unyielding brows - that she does not want to leave the tunnels, with you or otherwise. Hiding is in her nature.


Lirian: Sylvia lets out a dark chuckle. "Don't be smart with me. I said words are weapons, didn't I?" But then she leans in, quite close and quite suddenly. "Besides, you never know who might be listening. Now be quiet and follow me. Where we are going, the Custodians will not follow." She turns and picks up her pace, taking care not to stop or meet anyone's gaze. She leads you through the warrens of Onyx at an almost breakneck pace, and before long you realize that you aren't headed to East Harth, but gradually moving in a southerly direction. Eventually the lane before you opens up, and you find yourself face to face with a forest. Ivy runs rampant over the stone barriers, and the further you look, the less you can see. Great colorful plants grow on impossible trees, and a pair of glowing lights shine the way into the darkness. Sylvia takes a couple more steps, and stops right where the buildings end.

"Guardians of Arborgate! I am Sylvia Inkweaver, and a friend to your kin! My companion and I seek safe passage."

[Sen isSaqqara]

Lirian stands next to Sylvia, stunned for a moment. She's heard of Arborgate, of course, but it still takes her breath away. Having been raised in the far north, it still brings her a sense of wonder whenever she sees a deciduous forest, and one as majestic as this fills her with that sense of fantasy she once got only from reading novels in the library. Even Frost senses it, pulling his head out of Lirian's backpack to stare into the trees. His eyes sweep over the path, snapping onto some small fuzzy creature.
I do believe that I shall enjoy our stay here.
Not yet, you don't. I'm not letting you out until we have the local guardians' permission. Last thing I want if you getting us in trouble by killing someone's pet mouse by mistake.

[gallagher]

Ben recognizes the hesitance in Rhea, and sympathizes with the little girl. You know, you remind me of what I was like before I became an adventurer. I learned how to use my desire to hide into valuable sneaking skills. Now I serve as a cleric of a god, which has taken me on a journey across this continent. If you come with me to get some hot food, as much as you want to eat, I can tell you stories about some of my adventures, and my Catfolk friend might meet up with us, and we will find you a safe place to stay.