TheKemarden's Bastards of Erebus - I

[TheKemarden]

It was getting late as the citizens of Westcrown began to close up shop and return to their homes. The amber sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows that the Wiscrani did their best to avoid. Some lamps were already being lit, out of habit or fear none could say.

Through the darkening streets forms made their way out of their abodes towards a common goal, though this kindred of destinations was unknown to them. This goal was Vizio's Tavern, a once well-run establishment, but has now since fallen into a state not unlike the city it which it was nestled...run-down.

Spoiler: DC 10 Knowledge Local/Diplomacy

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Vizio's was named after the family that owned it, it was a common gathering place for merchants' guards, but the family fell on hard times and left after the family's patriarch passed away.

A few candles burn through the Tavern's windows on tables inside. If someone were to sneak a peek, a woman could be vaguely seen moving among the tables. Upon entering, the woman could be seen more clearly.

Spoiler: Janiven

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"Oh, you're here." She greets you, "Thank you so much for coming. Please, take a seat, the others should be arriving shortly."

She motions for you to take a seat before returning to preparing a light supper for seven.

Spoiler: @Players

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You can all arrive at once, or in individuals or pairs or however you wish. If you really want to be fancy, you can roll Initiative to see who gets there first.

[LittleCarp04]

Darvin aprroaches Vizio's Tavern cautiously, but confidently. The letter he got as surprising but he wasnt concerned. He knew he could defend himself, and he felt at home in any tavern.

He entered the tavern and immediately scanned the room for anyone threatening and didn't see anything right away, he relaxed a bit and smiled at the lady who greeted him.

"Thanks, milady. I couldn' resist comin' after reading the letter. Don't worry about my drink," he says, rising his own tankard which clangs against his large hammer with a hollow metallic sound, and he then takes a large gulp from it as it filled with frothing ale, "I see to m'own drink!"

Darvin approaches and leans his chair back and rests his hammer against himself as he waits for anyone else.

[Oneris]

An Hour or Two Earlier

Carta glanced over of the spread of nine cards scattered across floorboards, then back at the wrinkled parchment within her hand. Whomever had sent the letter knew far more about her than he, or she, should, yet still not enough to know that Carta almost never got letters through public post. Had the Master not departed on a days-long trip the previous day, there'd be a Hell of a time explaining how her readings got out into the public and why’d they’ve been traced back. She’d half a mind to cast this cursed paper into the fire, were it not for the Harrow cards spread before her. The habitual precaution of the former fortuneteller once again would tell her fate.

The first column read the same as they have done for so many readings before; the ancient evil of the Tangled Briars loomed over The doubting Eclipse frozen with fear, while the indomitable force of The Tyrant watched over all with malevolent eyes. How appropriate, that the past was wrought with Lawful Evil.

Yet hope rose up in the second column from where the changes began. The dim light of the Demon’s Lantern Reversed cast a confident and guiding glow on the events soon to come, blessing the permanent change that the Marriage of minds was to bring. In attendance was the Publican, representing fellowship and camaraderie. The meaning was still clear: who, or what lay at Vizio’s Tavern would bring permanent change to at least Carta’s, if not the Westcrown’s future, and thankfully, she would not face this alone.

The Future, though, cast all the previous cards, and, indeed, the endeavor as a whole into an uncertain light; despite the feud of the Rakshasha, sitting proud atop its fleshwrought throne, and the Midwife, who rose to pull it from its ill-gotten throne and deliver a new life in its place, a card far more ominous rested unperturbed at the end of the array. Four eyes from two bodies stared out as one, holding a mocking glare in each deftly painted orb. The Twins – nay, The Doppelganger was a gravely feared card for all harrowers; its mere presence could throw the whole reading into disarray, reversing or bolstering meanings at random.

What was a darkly hopeful reading fell shadowed in uncertainty. The Demon's Lantern could verily lead into nothing, The Publican's friends could now prove false, freedom from the Rakshasa and the Tyrant Dragon's rule could now instead lead to a slavery even more oppressed.

The grandfather clock chimed slowly in the dying light, hollowly intoning the name of the hour into the darkness to whomever would care to listen. Too long had she wavered on this decision and now the crucial time approached.

Sighing quietly at the foreshadowed risk she was about to take, Carta picked up a pen and hastily scribbled a note to her Master detailing a plausible yet fictitious account of a letter from her vanished father and the urgent need to make a short trip to meet him. The note did not make a mention of when she would return. Gathering up a few treasured belongings and supplies into her bag, Cart wrapped herself in her old dress and a black woolen cloak, and set out towards the tavern, silently hoping she would reach her destination unseen.

Spoiler: To Players

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Carta is not at the tavern yet. She'll observe from a distance until a few more arrive.

[Smileybastard]

Nok'a

Noka' walks quickly down the street, cloak pulled over his features. Only the pale skin of his fingers gives him away. He ducks into the tavern and throws back his hood exposing his effeminate face, porcelain skin, purple hair, red eyes and horns. He looks around the room a bit like a deer looking for the hunter.

[Gwynfrid]

Tirrelius Khollarix

The first thing the young wizard had done with the letter was to throw it into the fire. Who were these people who knew that much about him? Only magic could explain it. Thought reading, or something of that nature. There was this token he had found in the street a couple of years ago. A silver medallion, with a tiny carving of a rose growing through a street's cobblestones. Good-looking, even though it was not great artistry by any means. And, susprisingly, magical! It had taken him quite a bit of time to figure out its power; fairly strong, too, well beyond his own capabilities. He'd recognized the symbol from his readings, although these had more to do with quashing lawlessness than theology. Obviously, the cultists who used this symbol were considered criminals in all of Cheliax. So he'd hidden the thing inside the depths of his spell component pouch, which he kept jealously with him at all times, and unlikely to attract his nosy sisters' interest. He'd hinted that some of the stuff in there was very aggressive for delicate skin, hoping it would suffice to discourage curiosity.

And now, this. Someone accusing him to be a worshipper. "Not blackmail, merely an offer". Ah. That remained to be proved. Still, he hadn't been able to erase the words from his memory. Vizio's tavern before curfew. Hope? Much more likely a trap. Would he be able to escape, if it were? He'd thought about it all day, Master Vellor noting on his unusal distraction. The old scholar wasn't a hard master, just a man doing his job and getting his stipend. On that day, he'd simply made a couple of remarks, given him an extra scroll to work on overnight, and gone home early, leaving him with the problem of what to do.

Doing nothing could lead to worse problems, he'd decided. At least, know what these people want. So he'd left the decaying manor just after dinner, and now found himself in the less than reputable district. He'd passed in front of the tavern twice already. The second time, there was just a woman inside, now there appeared to be two patrons. Decision time. He disappeared in a darker alley, to emerge a minute later, looking rather different. He'd chosen the outfit of a young sailor, strong arms, crooked nose, small golden earring. The gait was somewhat less than assured, but it was nearly nightime, it should be good enough. He entered, quickly closed the door behind him, looked around, addressed the woman who seemed to own the place.

"Good evening. Can I ask your name?" The voice was firm, but one could note the young man stayed close by the door.

Spoiler

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(Cast Disguise Self before entering - duration 10 minutes).

[Oneris]

Carta deliberately slowed her steps even as the last light faded and shadows spilled forth through the narrow alleys. Curfew would be a scant half hour away, marking the end of all mortal habitation of the streets and the beginning of yet another night of fear from night-horrors and fell beasts that prowled in the darkness.

Sure, to tempt fate this way was foolish, but it paled in comparison to what lay in the twinkling lights lights of the tavern ahead. Whomever this Janiven character was, he or she needed to get a good talking-to; surely any rebel with an ounce of common sense in this city would know better than to put such perilous thoughts in writing - unattended writing at that! And to know that this brush from death was not constrained to her, but at least several others. No doubt there was a team of Hellknights now dogging each of their steps. Carta swallowed a bitter laugh. At least at this time of the night, escape from those cursed knights would be as easy as running straight into the jaws of a fell beast.

The sight of the decrepit establishment quieted any stray thoughts. Already, three shapes moved beyond the grimy glass and a fourth was on the way. Good, there were others. At least one part of the reading may yet be true, now to see to the rest. She quickened her step and reached the doorway in time to hear him speak, and waited silently for the answer.

[TheKemarden]

She raised an eyebrow at the mug in the dwarf's hand, but grinned at his response to her summons.

"Of course, where are my manners? My name is Janiven, it was I who sent your letters and called you here tonight."

She takes a glance out the window, as if subconsciously, but quickly returns her attention to her guests.

"Please, even if you have already eaten, sit down, we'll start as soon as the others arrive."

She passes Tirellius and askes: "Lord Kollarix, I presume? If that is you, do not feel ill at ease."

Out loud, she continues, "I mean none of you harm, I merely wish to speak with you. If I made you wary of me, I ask your forgiveness, it seemed like the most effective way of getting your attention."

[Oneris]

At this, Carta could no longer keep silent. She stepped forward, lowering her hood in the process so everyone could see the worry lines that crossed her young face.

"The most effective way of obtaining our interest, yes. But also the most effective for attracting the wrong sort of attention. In your letter, you detailed a clear meeting time in a well-known location with intentions most subversive. There would have been no difficulty in seizing us as we entered. If a single of your letters ended up in the wrong hands, the morning sun would see us all hanged in the square. "

[TheKemarden]

"I see," Worry lines of her own creased Janiven's face. "What you do not understand is that only you could have read the letters. An enchantment laid upon them so that only those to whom the letters were addressed could have seen what was written. You were never in any danger of them 'ending up in the wrong hands'."

[Gwynfrid]

Tirellius turned to the new entrant and nodded approvingly. Some common sense. Wait, did I meet her somewhere before? These eyes...

Before he had time to voice either agreement or recognition, however, the human woman replied. He frowned, eyed her intently.

"A sensible precaution, although not one I would consider definitive. Of course, the use of magic is no surprise, since there was no other way you could know so much. Still, such protective spells can be circumvented. And may I be so bold as to suggest you're using names a little too freely? Up to now, nobody here has any reason to trust anybody else with such, do we?"

Spoiler

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Sense Motive (1d20+3)[5]

[TheKemarden]

Janiven sighs. "Perhaps you are right, but I trusted each of you to come tonight. If it will make you rest easy, I'll be more than willing to share with you my secrets with you all and those others I requested to join us, should they choose to do so."

Spoiler: @Gwynfrid

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Your Sense Motive reveals no ill will from her.

[Gwynfrid]

"All right, Mistress Janiven. Please don't take my reluctance in a bad way. I'm prepared to hear you out, or I wouldn't have come. I'll hear your secrets, and will keep them. I only ask that doing so, you don't let out my own secrets, at least not until I indicate my own willingness to share them." Tirellius' eyes weren't his real color or shape, but there was a youthful earnestness in them as he tried to convince Janiven of his sincerity.

Spoiler

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Diplomacy (1d20+3)[7]

[Mathemagics]

Having made her way through nearly half the city to reach what was, by all appearances, a somewhat derelict district of town, Vilessa was in a less than amicable mood when she finally arrived at Vizio's Tavern. Opening the front door and stepping in out of the gathering gloom she paused for a moment, staring at the other individuals gathered in silent critique. She paused for a moment when she got to the tiefling, her eyes imperceptibly narrowing and her gaze lingering as if engaged in a more complex assessment before at last moving on to the next person. Once finished, she wordlessly turned and moved to sit at one of the empty seats at the table, her expression doing little to communicate her feelings about the situation.

[TheKemarden]

"Of course," She smiles genuinely, "I wouldn't have it any other way. Trust is a valuable thing in this times, a thing I hold very dear."

She offers a glass of wine to her guests as she speaks - save the dwarf, who she saw was prepared. Her glances bounce between the window to her more nervous guests and back again.

Spoiler: DC 15 Sense Motive/Perception check

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Janiven seems nervous, like someone important she is expecting hasn't arrived yet.

As Vilessa enters, Janiven greets her cordially. "Welcome, milady. We are expecting one other before we begin. Is there anything I can get you in the meantime?"

[Smileybastard]

Nok'a

Nok'a sits as soon as requested and looks at the food on the table, all but ignoring the conversation around him and the glances thrown his way.

[LittleCarp04]

Darvin

Darvin nods at each person as they enter the tavern, not changing his position or moving until the food is laid out.

At that point he sits up excitedly and begins to gather a large amount of everything in sight onto a plate in front of him and he forgoes utensils.

"Don't mind me at'll folks, just goin' to tuck in while I c'n," he grabs a nice handful and starts to put it in his mouth then sits up with a look of horror, "Gah where are me manners," he says as he tucks a piece of cloth around his beard carefully to keep it clear of any food. Darvin then shoves a mouthful of food into his mouth and drinks deep from his mug which has yet to go dry.

[Oneris]

Making her way to the corner, Carta sat against the wall, the strong boards pressing against her back doing little to relieve her frayed nerves. Janiven, and perhaps the dwarf aside, most everyone there, including herself, had a mountain of reservations about this venture. Maybe the cards would do well to calm her fears.

In short, it did not, and only served to reinforce that whatever plot she and these others had gotten mired in, there was no escape, for good or for ill.

A sudden slurping and crunching sound startled the half-elf from her annoyance. Looking around, her sight settled on the dwarf, who seemed to be thoroughly engrossed in inhaling his food. The display somewhat resembled a sight seen only on Loyalty Day, when the nobles of the city bestowed upon everyone in Cheliax a decent meal once per year and took their payment in amusement at the menagerie of strange characters that surfaced.

Somewhat reluctantly, Carta tore her gaze from rudely staring at the voracious dwarf, and and back to the young sailor behind whom she had entered. Something didn't seem right, between the rugged appearance and the formal and articulate voice. A faint memory from long ago stirred at the mention of a mismatched face and voice.

Spoiler: Rolls

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Perception: (1d20+6)[9]
Sense Motive: (1d20+1)[19]
Do I add trait bonuses on untrained skill checks? Subtract the +1 from the Sense Motive check if false.

[Ecksdee]

Alright. So Belacia was running a wee bit later than expected. She'd admittedly lost track of time -- and alcohol might have had something to do with it. But no matter! For now she was on her way to the designated meeting spot in the letter. She raised a brow as she dug out the piece of paper and inspected it for what felt like the hundredth time. Someone knew of her business here in Westcrown, which made her uneasy. They'd said there would be no blackmail, which... still made her uneasy. This city was pretty damn shady, making it hard to trust anyone in it. Still, her curiosity was getting the best of her in this situation -- hence why she was going to this little meeting. Her trusty pistol was on her person, of course. Just in case things decided to go sour and she'd need to make a quick escape.

The tavern came into view soon enough. Steeling herself for whatever lay inside, Bela moved towards the front door, grabbed the door, and yanked it open to step inside. She said nothing as she stood there in the doorway, eyes trained on everyone else present. Huh. She still remained quiet as she stepped further into the room, arms crossed as she casually picked out a support beam to lean against. Having no idea as to the identity of the person who sent the letter, she chose to wait for some kind of introduction before saying anything herself...

[TheKemarden]

"Ah, here's our final guest." Janiven smiled in the newcomer's direction before looking one final time out the window before shuttering them and closing the door.

Taking a hesitant breath and looking at all present in the eye, she began.

"Again, thank you for agreeing to meet with me here. I have chosen each of you for a singular reason. Everyone here, myself included, has suffered, whether we realize it or not. I have lived in Westcrown my whole life, and although I love this city, I must admit, as must you, that despite our peace and prosperity, we continue to suffer.

"Fear should not be an expected part of life, and yet each night brings fear to our doorsteps. Yes, Westcrown has been safe from war and famine for nearly seventy years, and yes, our businesses have prospered--but this safety and prosperity has been bought in the coinage of fear and prayers to Hell.

"Other lands live free from tyranny. Other cities do not fear the night. Other governments do not cede the streets to monsters of the infernal shadows. Westcrown was once such a place, and she wants to be so again. Westcrown is not only her buildings and docks and canals and history--she is also her people. Westcrown is our friends and neighbors, our mothers and fathers, our siblings and cousins, our sons and daughters!

"With but a small group of supporters and dedicated brothers and sisters, we can earn the trust and the admiration of those people. A Westcrown free of these shadowy beasts that stalk our streets is one step closer to a Westcrown free of the devil that is the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune!"

Spoiler: @Players

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Please RP reactions to this speech, but avoid dialogue unless it is necessary.

[LittleCarp04]

Darvin

Darvin never stopped chewing while he contemplated the words.

"Aye," he said nodding and drinking deep from his mug, which still after at least three full mugs has not emptied yet.

[Oneris]

At the appearance of what presumably was the last member of their little gathering, Carta silently gathered up her tools and took her place at the table to await the speech.

Janiven's words, though impassioned, scarcely differed from the dozen or so speeches the half-elf had heard in her life, all made by orators just as determined. Their final speeches had been made at their executions, most not half a day later.

Carta didn't even bother consulting fate. The expression on her face of exceptional weariness and resignation spoke all that needed to be said on her opinions of the speech.

[Smileybastard]

Nok'a

Nok'a begins to eat hungerly as Janiven begins to speak, but slows as he listens, nodding. He realizes that while his situation is unique, this city is full of unique stories all as horrific. This was a city of horrors.

[Gwynfrid]

I went this far... Let's assume, for a minute, that this isn't a trap. Tirellius sat down to listen to the speech, first with hope, followed by expectation, and finally, with a growing impatience.

"This is all jolly and good, but so what? Do you mean the few of us around this table are going to rid the city of devils? And how exactly do you plan to do so, pray tell? We show them the door, give them a good talking to, and back to Hell they go with forked tails between their hairy legs?"

Unwittingly, he'd begun to emulate Chenindus's tone and mannerisms. Suddenly, the realization of that fact came, causing him to shut up, with an embarrassed look that didn't quite fit his made-up sailor demeanor.

[Mathemagics]

Vilessa rolled her eyes dramatically and an exasperated expression crept across her features as Janiven spoke. It was painfully clear just what her opinion was of this little speech, but she nonetheless waited until the other woman is finished before adding any further comment. Eventually though she does deign to speak, doing so while massaging her temple irritably.

"How imbecilic."

The words carry a tone that cuts like a knife, made all the more vicious by her complete silence up to this point. A glare is fixed upon the host which serves to further reinforce this scathing critique.

"'Tyranny'? 'Fear'? 'Servitude'? That is a small price to pay for all we have gained."

Vilessa leans back in her seat, though while she may have relaxed somewhat, her gaze remains fixed on Janiven.

"Spare me the 'inspiring' speeches. I am only here for one reason, and that is vengeance against those who have wronged me. Now do you intend to assist in this or merely waste my time?"

[Smileybastard]

Nok'a

Nok'a perks up at Vilessa's comments. Anger spreads across his flawless face. "A small price to pay for all we gained? Until today I have lived the life of a slave. There are many to which tyranny, fear and servitude are all they gain so others can gain. A city, a nation built upon the fear and pain of the many for the benefit of the few is not something to be celebrated, it is something to be torn down."

[Mathemagics]

Vilessa's gaze shifts to the tiefling as he speaks, though it is notably less severe than the one that had been reserved for Janiven. She smiles, an expression containing a mixture of condescension and what seemed to be amusement at Nok'a's angered reaction.

"Tear it down? And then what? Sit back and watch as the world around you is baptized in anarchy and death?"

She continues to stare at the tiefling unblinkingly, as if to bore a hole through him with her gaze.

"You merely trade one Hell for another. Better the devil you know than the one you do not."

[Smileybastard]

Nok'a

Nok'a who has seemed meek so far, seems fearless now staring into Vilessa's eyes. His red eyes seemed to burn with a fire of their own.

"Yes, tear it down. Expose those who would say "'Tyranny'? 'Fear'? 'Servitude'? That is a small price to pay for all we have gained." and let them taste that cost first hand rather than simply though others. From there we have a chance to rebuild, one we didn't have before. Until today I was a slave. I was mostly treated well and had little to risk by remaining a slave other than serving the devil I knew rather than a chance to be not serving that devil."

[TheKemarden]

As tension in the group rises with the argument between the tiefling and the lady Revanelle, a frantic knocking interrupts them. Janiven rushes to a window, peers through it, and then quickly opens the door, letting a heavily panting youth stumble inside.

As soon as he sees Janiven he manages to cry out: ""They've got Arael!" before succumbing to a fit of coughing.

Janiven's face becomes serious as she kneels down to look the boy in the eyes. "Calm down, Morosino. Now, tell me what happened."

Morosino swiftly takes a few shallow gulps of air and stammers, "The dottari nabbed Arael, and the Hellknights of the Rack are trying to get custody of him! There's a bunch of Hellknights coming here now! I only just made it in myself. They've already surrounded us!"

As he says that last sentence, the sounds of ironclad marching coming closer becomes frighteningly apparent.

[LittleCarp04]

Darvin

As he sees the tension rising he finally sits up a bit straighter as if he's about to chime in when the boy runs in and warns them of the Hellknights.

"Ha, playtime then!" sitting up he takes the last bite from his plate and drinks down the rest of his ale before tipping out the last few drops and attaching the mug to his beltloop.

He then picks up his hammer and rests it across his arms as he waits for something exciting to happen.

[Gwynfrid]

Tirellius wasted no time on words, jumping to his feet and starting to chant the words of a spell, sailor disguise be damned. All right, so it wasn't a trap as I had feared... It's just become one!

Spoiler

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Casting Expeditious Retreat.