Crash & Burn IC

[bcool999]

Ethan

After enjoying his ale, and not bothering too much about the food (he was used to army cooking after all), Ethan retires to bed and sleeps soundly.

The next day he feels stronger than the day before, likely sleeping off some of the negative effects of the ghost's attack. He wakes up, washes his face to get the grime off and shaves to hold the ever encroaching stubble at bay for another day. He then goes back into the pantry and backs some cheeses and salted meats for the rail trip or Thrane if the rail served food mid-journey. Slightly distressed that the warforged proprietor would stock Nightwood ale but have not one of the seven different Karrnathi cheeses which complemented it's rich heady flavor was another reason why Ethan was glad to soon be underway.

As he and his companions approach the Lightning Rail, Ethan wears a broad smile on his features. He had always liked the lightning rail compared to other forms of transport available in Khorvaire these days. No saddle sores, no feed, no mess, no chance of being off target with teleportation, or falling to your death with airships. Not to mention the shear amount of troops or supplies that could be carried away on these rails which made them an invaluable asset during the war... when House Orien would let them use it that is.

Once on the train Ethan tells the others that he plans to sleep for the first day of the journey and promptly finds the most comfortable spot possible to sleep off the remaining weariness from the ghost.

Spoiler: OOC

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Going to start that complete bed rest for the first day of the three day trek.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ignatius heads to the seat of the local Host council to purchase his wands from their stores, and takes the opportunity to catch up with some old friends there and assure them that his team is working on getting to the bottom of the attacks. After offering healing and counseling to any who might need it, he returns to the suite to prepare for tomorrow's trip.

Once morning comes and he has finished his daily communion with the Host--a slightly longer one than normal, as he took the extra time to thank them all individually for their aid in yesterday's battle--he joins the rest of the group in making their way to the lightning rail. Once everyone is aboard, he asks everyone to gather around for a brief ceremony, "Including you, Ethan, and I apologize for delaying your nap. I've asked the Host to grant me only healing powers today, to hopefully allow me to wipe away the last vestiges of the ghost's presence. If you all could sit down or kneel down so I can more easily perform a laying on of hands, I would appreciate it." After a brief silent prayer, Ignatius lays his hands on each of the group in turn, asking Arawai to cleanse their body of the undead's taint and speed their recovery.

Once that's done, he pulls Orlov aside and tells him, "The situation with the ghost worked out well enough this time, but in the future we might need to recover from such an event more rapidly. If I supplied some of the divine power I just used as well as the appropriate sacred materials, would you be able to craft it into a wand for me?"

Spoiler

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For this first day of the trip, Ignatius will prepare lesser restoration in all of his non-domain slots of 2nd level or higher, for 10 lesser restorations in all, and pray fervently that if anything bad happens during this day his domain slots will be good enough to handle that.

After last night's rest, everyone who failed their save against the ghost should have 2 Dex and 1 Con damage; I can't find a spot in the threads saying how many of us took that damage, but I believe 9 lesser restorations will cover everyone and leave 1 for the wand crafting process. If not, Ignatius will refrain from healing himself (and Ethan, if necessary, since he's already planning on bed rest) to fix up the others.

[CandyLaser]

"No assistance is needed, good sir. I will require some recompense for my expenses, though - House Cannith frowns on its heirs providing their services for free," he says with a wink. "Providing the materials is more than enough. I'll set my wright to the task immediately."

Spoiler

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Rather than have Ignatius provide the spell, it's actually better for Orlov to emulate it off the paladin spell list. It's a first level spell there, so it can be cast with a lower CL and for less money while still being equally effective. Can't fail the DC 21 UMD check, so there's nothing to worry about there. Orlov will charge 750 gp; it'll cost him 562 gp, 5 sp. He'll take a slight profit, basically as compensation for using 45 xp out of his craft reserve.

[n0ble]

Calandras speaks up, "I must leave briefly as well, to correspond with superiors in Karnath about mine and the Major's status. Does anyone know where the post office is? " he says half-jokingly. Following this declaration, he leaves the room and aimlessly wanders around the city until he is sure no one is following him. He then finds a secluded place, far from prying eyes, and produces a sending stone of his own. Activating the item, he speaks briefly and curtly, his voice becoming ragged and gravely "Aborghast. Task force infiltrated. Require military record of Ana Thorn. Any prominent human men or women who can bind whirlfire elementals? Heading to Flamekeep tomorrow." . Upon receiving his orders from the vampire, he makes his way back to the Bronze Aegis and enjoys a drink amongst the others before getting some rest.
...

Calandras follows behind Ethan as they enter the train car. As he boards the train, the changeling submits to Ignatius' blessings, grateful that Speaker was able to heal him in good order. "Gratituide, Speaker. I feel a donation to the Host's church is in order." he says with a wry, almost genuine, smile. Following this, Calandras situates himself in the coziest looking spot in the cabin car and begins to read a copy of The Grand History of Eberron. Not taking his eyes off the pages, he murmurs loud enough for everyone to hear, "We should probably decide on an infiltration strategy at some point."

[PairO'Dice Lost]

"Of course, I understand," Ignatius replies to Orlov's request for payment. "The Church of the Host has a similar policy regarding our spellcasting services, though I generally choose to waive it." He retrieves some of the platinum dragons given to him by the king from his pack and hands over an appropriate amount to Orlov.

Spoiler

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Good point on using the paladin version of lesser restoration; I'd forgotten it was lower-level for them. So he'll give Orlov 75pp, and that frees up another casting today for anyone who needs it.

That taken care of, Ignatius hops up onto the seat beside Calandras. "An excellent idea," he says, keeping his voice down as well. "I must confess, infiltration is...not my forte. I wasn't ever trained for scouting or intelligence-gathering during my tenure in the military, and in my role as Speaker for the Host I've never needed to--or desired to--conceal my identity." He adds with a small grin, "Not to mention that I've never been a particularly good liar; Dol Arrah would be ashamed of me if I were." The gnome looks around to the others. "Who among us has the most experience with that sort of thing, and what are your suggestions?"

[n0ble]

If only you knew priest. Without looking up from his book, the squire begins to list what he thinks they may encounter. "If we're talking about Flamekeep itself, it wouldn't surprise me if the population of both Thrane and by extension, Flamekeep, had some sort of identification papers, to mark them out as citizens, members of the Faith or outsiders. It would let them better monitor who comes in and who they can allegedly trust. The first thing they'll probably do is ask what our business is, I have an idea in mind for that: Me as a priest and the rest of you as my potential converts and or acolytes." As if on cue the squire's uniform swirls into a plain white priest robe that conforms to his heavy set body. "Beren, if we go through with this, would you be able to fashion me a trinket, a religious symbol of the Flame? It may help prove our case. Ignatius, you might need to educate me in the ways of the Flame. I know some of their history, but little of their religion. I know it's not your religion, but you must know something about them."

"When we do arrive, we'll almost certainly be subjected to a magical effect that will attempt to render our magic gear useless. Then they will scan us to try and figure out our dispositions. If we get really unlucky, or catch them on a bad day, they could place us in a Zone of Truth or simply detain us until we're too late. This is all assuming we go through the front entrance to the city, as opposed to something like the sewers. The problem with the sewers is that while we would avoid the guards at the entrance, we wouldn't have access to any of the identification papers that mark us out as visitors. Assuming such papers were a reality of course. Perhaps someone could enlighten me on that matter. "


"There's one other problem that I can think of. I'm not sure what the Purified's stance on lycanthropes and shifters is now, but history shows that they were... less than kind to them." he pauses briefly to lick his finger and turn a page "Lingering bigotry or not, the presence of a shifter will draw attention too us. I mean no insult when I say this m'lady: I do not trust in your ability to hide your true nature from those zealots. Which means it will take some kind of magical concealment, an alternate way in, or a really good lie to get Autumn through. An alternate way in would only complicate things further, as she would be separate from us. So it would need to be magical concealment, or someone would need to lie. And lie well" He repeats his earlier gesture of turning the page.

[Mechanix]

Autumn raises her head at Calandras's last comment, pausing in her idle work - polishing her magical amulet - and she smiles... strangely. A smile full of fangs. "Do you know how the Church of the Silver Flame calls the day they pulled their armies of rampaging murderers out of the Eldeen Reaches, ending the massacre of my people? 'Victory Day.' They can all go to hell for all I care. They say it's changed - it's been a century since then, and they have shifters in their ranks now, worshippers of the Silver Flame with too short a memory. I've met some in my time, wanted to punch every single one of them. The Church won't do anything like arrest me on sight, and I'll return the favor. But I'll be damn if I hide what I am for the sake of these bastards after all that they've done."

[CandyLaser]

During the early part of the conversation, Orlov was busy instructing his wright what it was to do. The wright, an ugly, misshapen creature formed from clay, took over once it understood the task. Then Orlov busied himself setting up a project of his own - a thin anklet of braided metal that stood ready for enchantment. Before he started that, though, he returned his attention to the conversation. "The easiest way to get across the border will be to seem to have legitimate business there. I propose that Esara, Ignatius, and I pretend to be delegates of our respective houses, coming to wrap up some important business before the borders are closed. The rest of you will be members of our retinues. This also lets us travel under our real names - which is good, because we likely don't have time or the tools needed to produce new identification papers. As for lying, you can leave that to me. I've come prepared. I could probably produce an official-looking document to back our story, as well."

Spoiler

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During the trip, Orlov is going to enchant an anklet of translocation for himself. His wright will make the wand for Ignatius and possibly something else. His quill of scribing will probably scribe a couple of scrolls, but I haven't decided what yet. He'll also forge some documents, on his blank House Sivis notarized pages, if necessary. I'm going to roll the Forgery check now, on the assumption that we try to do something with it, but the content remains to be decided. (1d20+19)[39]. This skill bonus includes a skill enhancement infusion, forger's paper, a forgery kit, and a focusing candle.

[rypt]

Esara

Esara nods in approval of Beren's proposal. "Now that's a plan I could get behind. After all, the Thranes have already shown themselves willing to accommodate the business of the marked houses in permitting the continued operation of the lighting rail. As to what our business might be, well, there is a Cannith estate in Flamekeep is there not? Seems to me like a fine place to negotiate the construction of say, a new fleet of wind galleons? Of course, we would need a Sivis agent to notarize the contract, and given the recent bombings, we wouldn't want to travel without an expanded security detail."

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Leaning on the "Sivis heir" bit again, it seems. Wonderful. Ignatius sighs internally. Apparently neither teleport nor lightning rail can outrace the family legacy.

Externally, he offers a somewhat less-than-enthusiastic smile. "I can certainly play that part. I've spent enough time around a few cousins in the Notaries Guild to be able to dazzle the uninformed with contractual legalese for hours. As long as we don't run into anyone who is actually an expert on the matter, or anyone who knows me personally, we shouldn't have any difficulties."

[3SecondCultist]

After a little while, you feel a grinding jolt beneath your feet as the train begins to depart the station from Wroat. The entire car shudders awake, but as the rail begins to gradually pick up speed, the movements become smoother and smoother until you can barely feel the forward momentum of the car gliding over the lightning stones that lead eastward. Within minutes, the tall buildings become smaller buildings, become single story units, and eventually disappear. Very soon, the city streets and outbuildings of the Brelish capital have turned into the rolling countryside of the late summer. The great fields of Breland, still clinging to their gold character after a day and of much needed rainfall, stretch out around you on all sides. Here and there, the train passes a small thorp or hamlet, but you are informed that the next stop is Nowhere, and you should be arriving in approximately thirty hours.

Your Orien porter on the train is a demure looking woman in a dark cloth brocade, the silvery dragonmark of Passage running up the left side of her neck and grazing her jawline. She brings out a series of menus for breakfast, informing you that whatever food you request will be brought up from the kitchen car within the hour. You can see Dagger crabcakes, freshly loaves from Breland's wheat basket, exotic juices from Zilargo and Valenar, and Aundarian breakfast squash on the list, and you see on the bottom that the menu selections are subject to change depending on the stop locations. Once you cross the border, they will be serving more fare from Thrane.

Finally, the porter mentions the chamber near the front of the car. It has a map and crafting table, and is screened against all forms of scrying for privacy. She explains that it is often used by traveling generals and politicians to plan out their journeys, for a special price that has already been dispensed by the king. She assures you that privacy is a part of the services House Orien is offering for you, and that the bunks are more than comfortable. As an afterthought, she gives you her name: Caerin d'Orien. She points to a bell on the wall nearby, and tells you to ring it if you need her services in any way.

Spoiler

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So this will cover the 31 hour trip to Nowhere. Other than crafting, let me know what you guys are doing on this leg of the journey.

[Rofltrollcopter]

After purchasing supplies from the Kalashtar and making a few additional acquisitions, Joresh makes his way back to the inn. He eventually made his way back to to the inn where used his psionic power that create furniture for his room. Some of his companions may have noticed that his mood was sullen and downcast. He had an unpleasant task ahead of him, one that he had been putting off for the past two weeks. But now his life was about to become very dangerous, and he couldn't afford any distractions. It was time to confront Harath.

Spoiler: OOC: Purchases

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4 power stones amethyst burst
1 cubic foot of iron

Spoiler: later that evening:

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Joresh cleared a space in the middle of the room. He set up a handful of candles that he purchased from the Kalashtar and lit them using his power. The air was filled with a light smell of incense. The scent conjured images of a mountaintop during spring time while the flowers were in full bloom. For Joresh, it reminded him of home. He assumed a lotus position and began to meditate. Joresh concentrated on his breathing as he cleared away all of his conscious thoughts...

Most people knew that the Kalashtar were a deeply spiritual race that greatly valued mental discipline. What they didn't understand was why. They assumed that the Kalashtar valued their ascetic lifestyle for some inherent moral virtue, the same as certain monastic orders among the followers of the Soverign Host or the Silver Flame. These people were completely wrong. Kalashtar were gestalt entities that combined a Human soul with the essence of a Quori spirit in a frail mortal shell. The Kalashtar host was often influenced by the Quori spirit in the form of visions and memories from the Quori's other hosts or from the spirit's own former life in Dal Quor. Joresh received strange visions that showed hordes of Tuscora Quori swarming across plains made of Anger or impossible sights such as clouds made of molten metals. Those were not even the most exotic memories. He also recalled experiencing completely foreign concepts such as the taste of a color or the smell of a sound. Dal Quor was the realm of Dreams and unrestrained imagination. The Impossible was not only possible, but commonplace. The unfortunate consequence of these visions was that the Kalashtar's fragile mortal psyche was not equipped to process these exotic concepts. When one's interactions with the world depended on things making sense, such as the basic concepts of cause and effect, the slow aggregation of Quori visions could be quite damaging to a Kalashtar's worldview. Kalashtar were commonly engaged in a mental battle to keep Mortal and Spirit elements of their minds in balance, lest they risked going mad.

The problem was made worse by the fact they were unable to dream. Joresh only knew of one exception, his brother. Their ancestors survived the bond between themselves and Dal Quor over a millenia ago. They had a good reason to do that, a mortal that dreamed risked entering Dal Quor. If a Kalashtar ever entered Dal Quor, they would be killed instantly by the Quori. Most races didn't understand the benefits of dreaming. It gave them a chance to process subconscious issues. Instead, the Kalashtar were forced to use focused meditation.

Joresh stood up and began to assume the forms of the path of shadows. It was a martial art that served as a form of exercise, meditation, and artistic expression. He moved around the room in a series of graceful, full body motions. His goal was to empty his mind and to make it easier to discern the boundaries between himself and Harath. It was a technique that the Kalashtar practiced to commune with their immortal spirit which allowed them to seek its advice and guidance. As Joresh moved around the room, he subconsciously assumed the form known as facing the shadows. It was used to train for battle. Joresh viewed Harath as a hostile influence, and he suspected that he had been undermining him ever since he handed Nevitash over to the Inspired.

When he was growing up, he had heard cautionary stories of greedy, evil Kalashtar that denied their spiritual heritage. This increased the conflict within their soul, and eventually the miserable wretches were driven insane by the weight of their own guilty conscience. Joresh now suspected that the truth of these stories were quite different. The Kalashtar that defied the standards imposed by the Path of Light were no longer welcome in their communities. Kalashtar were inherently a social race that depended on each other for support. Generations of warfare agianst a genocidal enemy combined with the daily struggle to maintain their mental discipline brought the Kalashtar together in a way that no other race could understand. Leaving Adar had been scary for Joresh, and it wasn't easy to overcome generations of social conditioning. He didn't enjoy being outside of the Kalashtar communities, buy staying in them would mean sacrificing his goals and everything he was working before. That would be dishonoring everyone he had ever killed.


A memory began to rise to the surface. He was brought back to the days of his youth. He sat under a tree with his brother Lanharath while they were being tutoried by Nevitash. The man he betrayed to the Dreaming Dark. His brother repeated one of Nevitash's lessons. Even in the worst of suffering, one can find rest. But for one who inflicts suffering, their mind cannot rest.... ever.


Joresh snapped.

He abandoned the disciplined forms and flew around the room in a blind rage. He barely had enough presence of mind to use the same psionic technique he used while communicating with the King to prevent the sound from leaving his room and disturbing his companions. How dare you use that memory agianst me. He shouted. He lashed out agianst the dresser, bruising his foot as he devolved into a full blown tantrum. You claim the moral high ground? I never asked to be a part of your war. I never wanted to grow up afraid for my own life, always knowing that the Dreaming Dark wanted to kill me and everyone that I cared about. At least most of those bastards stupid enough to fight in the Last War were given a choice. I never had one. My ancestors conscripted me, and every generation of Kalashtar that came after them. You have no right to say that your better then me.

At some point he began to punch the wall. His knuckles were gashed and bleeding but he still continued. The Kalashtar practically worship you! You have the gall to claim that your one of the 'good' Quori and the rest of your race is evil. Your just as manipulative and selfish as them. he spat. They wouldn't have bothered to interfere in the Material Plane if your kin didn't seek refuge here. You're responsible for every crime committed by the Inspired and the Dreaming Dark. At least I can understand their motivation. If the Path of Light succeeds in destroying il-Lashtavar, the current generation of Quori will be destroyed. After coming to terms with the fact that there is a Nation that wants to kill me simply because of my race, it's hard for me not to empathize with something motivated by self-preservation. What pisses me off the most is that you've screwed my race over and claimed to be in the right.

He lashed out with his telekinesis causing the bed to shatter. The air was filled with flying splinters and several embedded themselves into his flesh. Joresh did not care. Fifteen centuries of sitting on your ass, and you've spend all of that time obsessed with your war with the Quori. You know what? I've been to Riedra. It's nowhere near as bad as I've been told it was. It's not pleasant, but they don't have to deal with continent-sized wars every other century. He snarled You've been content to stand by while everything outside Adar burned. I refuse to do the same. I have the chance to do something meaningful. By preventing another war in Khorvaire, I will do more good for the world then your kind have ever done.

Joresh was pulled out of his ravings by the quiet voice of Hero. <I don't think he would have wanted to see you like this...> He stopped. Joresh wondered if he was going insane. After all, wasn't one of the symptoms of insanity the fact that they were unable to recognize their own condition? Was the memory brought up by Harath or himself? He sat down in the midst of the chaos and resumed his meditation. Through strength of will, he peeled back the parts of his own consciousness that interacted with Harath's spirit.

Eventually, he drifted off to sleep.

When he got up that morning, he seemed calm and rested, if not even a little bit cheerful. After making his way to the Lighting Rail, he boarded the train. He spent some time checking the train car to make sure there were no hidden surprises.

Spoiler: OOC:

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Take 20 on search, he also checks using Mindsight.

He refused Ignatius's care and listened in to the conversations going on around him. Nothing personal Calandras but I like Beren's plan more. It's simple, no one has to act out a role they're unfamiliar with, and it justifies all the gear we are taking into the country.

~~~


After enjoying the exotic breakfest and hearing how his companions weren't able to figure out the methods the Thranes were using to control the borders, Joresh decided to do some of his own investigating. He rang the bell to summon Caerin.

[3SecondCultist]

In under a minute, the Orien porter returns to her post, bowing her head in solemn deference.

"What can I do for you, sir?"

[Mechanix]

It was obvious that the train impressed Autumn. Though she had seen many strange wonders in the Reaches, nothing looked anything like this - so distant from the works of druidic magic in her homeland. She stared wide-eyed as she entered the train, then her room - this sense of amazement would not leave her for the rest of the day. And yet, it was progressively replaced by a growing irritation as time went on; she was not used to being forced in tight confines for such extended periods of time.

By breakfast on the next morning, the shifter was roaming the wagons, hands flexing reflexively, grabbing loaves of bread and crabcakes and gulping them down nervously. She would occasionally stop near the rail's window, finding momentary peace in watching the landscape move by. But soon enough even this would start to disturb her - it felt unnatural to go so fast; in fact, it gave her a creeping and irrational feeling of obsolescence, that all her training gave her but a fraction of the speed this rail was able to casually achieve for days on end.

By noon, she was sitting in the private car, cross-legged, open palms laying upwards on her knees, eyes closed. She breathed slowly, in and out, her whole body shiverring slightly as if under an intense tension from the inside, barely controlled. Now and then, faint ripples would run across her skin, and her lips would twitch in a half-snarl - before resetting to a calm, peaceful tranquility. She was meditating.

[CandyLaser]

Orlov secured a corner of the car for himself, setting up a small workspace where he could accomplish his tasks. His wright perched, birdlike, on the edge of a table near him, muttering almost inaudibly over a small ebony wand, tipped with a silver head and inscribed with symbols of the Sovereign Host. This was the wand. Orlov himself, meanwhile, was lost in his own project, a leather ankle-band decorated with several charms in the shape of mystic runes. An animated quill worked near him, scribing scrolls. Every now and then, for a break, he turned to a different project - namely, producing the forged documents that had been discussed earlier.

[n0ble]

Calandras helps himself to the food "No offence taken, Joresh.". He spends the majority of his time emerging himself in The Grand History of Eberron while thoughtfully munching on the food he's taken. The only times he looks up from his book are to briefly gaze at the landscape through the train car's windows, as if lost in thought. His shift weave stays as a priest's uniform, which he takes care not to dirty.

[Rofltrollcopter]

I appreciate your prompt service. Joresh nods at the porter.In light of Thrane stating their intentions to close their borders, is House Orien aware of any new customs procedures they have implemented at the border crossing? Surely this is not the first trip to Flamekeep you have done this month. Joresh took the suggested cover story and ran with it. My Masters' have brought some unique equipment with them for their business with their Houses. We would hate for there to be a misunderstanding at the border. Any unexpected delays would be intolerable for our timetable.

Spoiler

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Bluff: (1d20+13)[16]

~~~~

There was little for Joresh to do while they were on the train. He idly poured over the museum's inventory, although it was done more to alleviate his boredom then any hope of discovering new clues. He occasionally entertained himself by mingling in the other cars and peering into the minds of other passengers. He watched his companions go about their business. He witnessed Autumn's... dynamic form of meditation. It bore more of a resemblance to a small tempest then a relaxation technique. The traditions of Khorvaire were apparently quite different from his own.

He saw Calandara's choice of book and started talking. Joresh was a student of history, and being cooped up with little to do made him more willing to offer his own opinion. The Grand History of Eberron? That's a terrible choice. The author didn't put any original thought into it, and he just plagiarized a dozen other works. It's layout could be charitably described as haphazard, and it repeats itself several times. If you want something good, try The Analects of War by Karrn the Conqueror. It is a primary document, but it still gives quite a good overview of the Pre-Galifar era.


He set himself up at a table, and with an unnecessarily theatrical wave of his hand he created a simple wooden game board with several set pieces. Anyone up for a game of Conquerors? He asked.

Spoiler: OOC:

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If someone accepts the offer to play, I propose we roll 1d20 and the highest roll wins.

[3SecondCultist]

"Certainly, sir. Besides retaining House Deneith's services patrolling the borders, many of Thrane's resident border strongholds - Arythawn Keep, Fort Light, Thaliost and Morningcrest in particular - have beefed up their armed presence considerably. There are rumors of priests of the Silver Flame being tasked to layer as much of their border with divinations as possible, to detect large troop movements. In particular, they seem concerned about the intentions of Aundair and Karrnath." The dragonmarked heir's eyes darken for a moment, although you're not quite sure whether it was a reaction to Joresh's dishonesty or simply a bad memory of one of Khorvaire's nations. Either way, it is most likely given these accommodations that House Orien and its agents know the general purpose of your mission.

At the end of the first leg of your journey, the train begins to slow. Instead of a city or even a settlement, you look out the windows to see the same Brelish wilds that began with the king's wood outside the capital. Up ahead, you can see a solitary structure at what appears to be a crossroads of sorts. A long peaked roof and columns nearly twenty feet high mark out this man-made abode. In the early afternoon light, you are hard pressed to make out the white and gold lights of the everbright lanterns, but they're certainly there. A long wood and rose terrace makes up the entirety of the boarding platform, and as the lightning rail begins to grind to a halt, you can make out people of all sorts coming and going: travellers, dignitaries, even noblemen. A few disembark, likely to get on the other rail line to Hatheril, and Aundair beyond that. You are given a few minutes while people get settled, and the old conductor switches places with a new, fresher one.

Those of you listening to the crowd slowly realize that a great deal of buzz is being devoted to the discussion of an event: the Throneport Summit.

Spoiler: Knowledge (Local) DC 20

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Although it started out as a rumor, the notion that the leaders of old Galifar, along with a few other of Khorvaire's member nations, will be meeting up to discuss the attacks and try to begin an international discussion so as to prevent another Last War. There has been considerable debate as to the terms of such a discussion. This generally wasn't given much weight, but what you're hearing now, Throneport has been listed as the site of these peace talks, which will happen at summer's end, in just over forty days.

Spoiler: Spot DC 25

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Among the crowd, there is one figure in particular who catches your eye. He appears to be a human male, of middling height and build. His hair is a bland, mousy brown as are his eyes. Even his clothes are decidedly nondescript, somewhere between peasant and traveler's gear, complete with a cloak and grey hat to ward off the sun. His features are unmemorable, neither appealing nor ugly. He doesn't look particularly strong, or craven, or smart, or... anything else, really. He doesn't seem to notice any of you, clambering onto one of the cars closer to the end of the rail.

[bcool999]

Ethan

Having spent the first day of the trip resting and snacking on crab-cakes and other gastronomic delights, Ethan awakens on the second day of the journey much refreshed. He talks over the plans of infiltrating Thrane and agrees that having three house representatives arriving to finish business would be a good plan. "After all, while the ranks of Thrane's armies may swell with the righteous, affording to arm and feed those soldiers requires the goods and coin of the houses. That's not something any nation parts with lightly." Ethan says with a wink.

Unable to help with the shifter's unease, and not wanting to get underfoot of his more productive traveling companions, Ethan grins as the Kalashtar brings forth the familiar game set and decides to test his mettle. <No mind reading Joresh. Ruins the spirit of the game.> Ethan sends to his opponent mentally as they start.

In Ethan's approximation, it was a good game. As with all good games, it was indeterminate who would eventually emerge the victor until the very last moves. Traps were set and sprung, and pieces waltz across the board in their ordered dance. In the end though it was Ethan who had to admit defeat, his Warlord tipped over in recognition of his loss. Still, the Major grinned, "Good game, much better than some I have had in recent months," He turns his head slightly to look at Cal as he says that, face still buried in a book as was the norm. Ethan then says, "Still plenty of time for me to even the score before we reach Thrane if you fancy a rematch later Joresh."

[rypt]

Esara

Though she would have preferred to travel by air, after their encounter with the ghost of the museum bombing, Esara is welcoming of any opportunity to rest and regain her strength. When not discussing the plans for their arrival, she spends most of the first day of their journey reclining by a window, dozing in and out of sleep. Having crisscrossed the continent many times over in the course of her service as a storm sentry, she is accustomed to a very different perspective of Khorvaire's wilderness. She entertains herself by attempting to recognize any familiar landmarks she has only ever seen before from above.

By the time they arrive at Nowhere, Esara is feeling rather refreshed. Fiowyn, on the other hand, does not seem to have adjusted well to the confines of their journey. This is the gyrfalcon's first time aboard the lightning rail, and from her ruffled feathers and frequent fidgeting, it is clear that she not particularly care for it. An explanation is hardly needed when Esara and her familiar excuse themselves at the station for some fresh air.

When they return to the car a few minutes later, they appear to be in the midst of a conversation, though it is being conducted in a language no one else can understand. Esara's words -- if they can even be called such -- are as alien to the ear as Fiowyn's chirps and clicks, but from the furrowed expression on the half-elf's face, Esara appears to be somewhat perplexed by, if not doubtful of, whatever it is her companion is saying. Fiowyn, for her part, appears rather insistent, flapping her wings in emphasis of a particularly loud and perhaps frustrated shriek.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

After the group's cover story is finalized, Ignatius doesn't have much to do other than to spend the rest of the trip in quiet meditation. Even aside from the excitement at the museum, he'd had a busy few weeks visiting temples, seminaries, and government officials trying to deal with the attacks and his normal Speaker duties all at once, so it was nice to take a break for a few hours to watch the landscape and herds of animals go by and appreciate the majesty of Arawai's and Boldrei's creations.

As so often happens when priests reach a more advanced age, Ignatius's meditations gradually turn from contemplating the scenery to contemplating the insides of his eyelids. He is eventually roused from his nap by the animal companion's shriek, and he yawns and rubs his eyes before extracting himself from his seat and going over to the car entrance to see what's going on. "Esara, can you calm Fiowyn? I fear she might draw unwelcome attention, which we can ill afford at the moment. What has her all riled up?"

[rypt]

Esara

"I'm not entirely sure, to be honest. Someone she saw out on the platform looked -- well, the term she used would translate roughly to...watered down." Fiowyn chirps up again and Esara raises a hand as if to say "enough." "Human male, average height and build, plain clothes and no distinguishing facial features whatsoever. By the sound of it, he was remarkable only insofar as he was entirely unremarkable, if that makes any sense at all." She sighs as she takes her seat by the window. "Something about him really stuck with her though. He boarded a car towards the rear of the train."

[n0ble]

Those who can't create anything original often critique. In response to Joresh's suggestion, Calandras replies "I read during the war actually, but thank you. Given how this book represents your people, I can understand why you'd dislike it, but I'll agree, it does seem haphazard. Also Major, he had you three moves ago." he smiles for the first time during the trip as he says this, as if recalling a decent memory. His face is still buried in his book.

As the train stops, Calandras waits for Esara to stop talking before piping up, "I saw him too. If you'd prefer I can go and investigate him, if only to put Fiowyn's mind at ease. Honestly, being cooped up in here with nothing to do has left me a bit jittery anyway. Especially with all this talk of Thronehold peace summits coming in from the station outside. It'd be an excellent place for an attack."

[3SecondCultist]

After nearly fifteen minutes at Nowhere, everyone has boarded the rail. There is little to be done here, and the sun continues to lower in the sky. With a lurch, the car begins to move forward again, the same as before. The eastward track beckons, to the ends of Breland and beyond. Caerin informs you that the next several stops will be Starilaskur, Vathirond, and then across the border into Thrane. She also tells you that it will be another two days on the rail, leaving you to whatever business you were doing earlier.

Having heard some your discussion, the Orien porter pauses... and turns to Calandras. "Sir, if you like, I can get a passenger list for you on the last car. At the very least, you'll have some names to investigate."

[n0ble]

"Please, that would be lovely" he replies to the porter, standing up and stretching with an audible popping sound emanating from his neck. For the first time on the journey he snaps his book shut and looks at the Orien, "Oh and Caerin, no need for titles or 'sirs', Calandras will do fine." Upon receiving the manifest of passengers, he leaves for the last train car By the time he's left the first class car, he's partially memorized the list of names presented to him. By the time he's made his way to the last car he's memorized them all.

Upon reaching the last car, his eyes rove around, idly matching names to potential faces and faces to names. Upon spotting the man who boarded he walks over to him in a manner that conveys skittishness. His eyes dart around in mock nervousness. Calandras approaches the man, "I always hate traveling alone, can't really stand these things" he gestures to the whole of the car, "They always feel so... small. Mind if I sit with you?"

[3SecondCultist]

Calandras

The man turns to you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he nods. He says nothing as you take your seat, doesn't offer his hand or any kind of greeting in regard. A moment of awkward silence ensues, before he finally emits: "I'm used to traveling alone." His voice sounds strange, not the register you might expect of a man this size. It's deeper, with a kind of grumbling bass resonance. When his eyes meet yours, you can see something in them this time: some artificial quality, a cast of unreality. After a minute, you realize what's wrong about this man.

He's wearing a person suit, just like you. Or at least, some kind of false visage. "And I'd prefer it that way, if you don't mind. Excuse me." Gathering his belongings, the disguised man begins to move to a different seat in the cramped car.

[Rofltrollcopter]

<I wouldn't dream of it> Joresh told Ethan.

It was a good game. Joresh could not help but admit that Ethan was far more experienced then him and had a better grasp of Conqueror theory. Joresh found himself on the backfoot several times. It was the accumulation of several minor advantages, along with him sacrificing his Archmage at a crucial juncture, that finally allowed him to come out on top.

He bantered a bit with Ethan during the game. <The thing that bothers me the most about this whole affair is that our plan depends on the Conspiracy sticking to a procedure that they've defined. So far the attacks have been consistent enough that you could set your clocks by them; every two weeks a capital gets attacked. A child could recognize that. So why are they sticking to the pattern? This whole thing has a bit of a.. ritualistic feel about it.>

Joresh accepted Ethan's surrender graciously. Indeed. I'll need a bit of a break first. He then frowned in annoyance as Calandars smirked after commenting on Ethan's play. <does he always act this conceited?>

He listened to Esara explain what had been vexing Fiowyn. We can't really go around interrogating every person of interest. He got up and stretched. Still, it doesn't hurt to be careful and you really shouldn't confront someone by yourself. He briefly touched Ignatius on the shoulder. Ignatius heard Joresh's voice in his mind, but it sounded a lot more clearer and less distorted then the telepathy used by Hero. <If I start screaming, wake Autumn up and bring everything we've got.> He Calandras to the other compartment.

OOC:

Spoiler

Show

Joresh manifests Read Thoughts as he is walking towards the car with the everyman, using torc of power preservation and wild surge so it costs 1 pp.

using psionic endowment so its DC 19.
concentration check to regain focus: (1d20+14)[28]

(1d20)[16] (plz no 1)

What is the Everyman's type and Int score?

How many NPCs/Witnesses are there in the other car and what is the highest int score among them?

[3SecondCultist]

Joresh, Calandras

As Hero's telepathic radius moves to envelop the everyman, the psicrystal registers two things: the first, that the man isn't a man at all, but a construct of some kind. At first, the reading is similar to that of a warforged, but it's different somehow. The sense of life is weaker, as though whatever being that lies beneath that flesh mask is less a living being than those created by House Cannith during the war.

When Joresh steps forward to try and hone in on the man's thoughts... the psion finds that he cannot. There is simply a wall of silence around him, as though he had no thoughts in his head. Then again, it's entirely possible that whoever this everyman is, he's carrying a similar magic item to Autumn, that blocks the signal of any attempt to divine or see into someone's soul. Suddenly, you notice him look up and stare at Joresh, then back to Calandras. Forgoing his suitcase, the man begins to walk towards the back of the car calmly. Pushing past the Orien servers, the everyman throws open the back door of the train. Suddenly, the entirety of the car is filled with the rushing of wind, and the crackling and humming of the lightning stones as the rail soars over them. Although you didn't feel the acceleration all that much up front, you can clearly see that the rail is going at near top speed now. Looking back at the two of you for the briefest of moments, the man breaks his composure to smile quite wryly.

And then he jumps out of the moving train.

[n0ble]

<Theres nothing I can do to secure the passenger or pursue him outside the train, I'll retrieve the suitcase, might be a chance he left something important behind.> Calandras darts to the mans seat trusting that the Oriens will be too busy dealing with the open door to see him get the briefcase. <Thats not what he looks like normally> he thinks as calmly as he can to Joresh, trying to drown out the howling of the wind as it whips past the door, <He was disguised magically> he whisks the briefcase up form the seat, moving past Joresh so that he is behind him. Calandras places the suitcase on the ground behind him and nervously moves his hands to the pockets in his clothing, grasping at the knives he has stored there. <If you can get him back in here, I might be able to do something.> As his hands find the daggers, he withdraws one of them and sketches a sigil in the air and places his hand on the faint outline his sketching creates. As his hand makes contact with the symbol an energy fills his body, he finds his body is lighter, his step more nimble.

Spoiler: OCC

Show

Casting Cat's Grace on myself.

[3SecondCultist]

Joresh, Calandras

Unless Joresh follows the stranger outside the train itself, the man quickly disappears into the underbrush. You can see his face still watching the lightning rail as it begins to grow smaller and smaller. Several of the Orien guards - actually Deneith guards, but in this context they're the same thing - frantically shut the door and begin to try and calm the jittery passengers of the rear car. Several of them are giving you hard stares, as though they somehow hold you responsible for the strange man's sudden flight. At least one of them looks at the briefcase, but a few of them seem to recognize you, and none of them actually step forward to try and take it from you.

You are led back to the first class coach, however, where your companions are waiting for you.