Crash & Burn IC

[Mechanix]

Oh my. The train has gotten pretty slow all of a sudden... The shifter opened a lazy eye, drifting out of her trance-slash-dozing-off, and shook her head to wake herself up. Grey metal walls... Nails and rails... The same dreary, oppressive landscape. She sighed, then looked out the window. The bird sitting still on the ledge, chippering. The bird?

Wait. We're not moving. There are even... Roofs?

Autumn's eyes widened in surprise. They were in Nowhere. They were making a stop. There would be a few minutes of going out and... Before even finishing that sentence, she was bolting out of the chamber, auburn hair and cloak unfolding as her boots made her step supernaturally light. I have to make it - even just five minutes outside - even just a moment of breathing the fresh air of...

And there it was, the open doors of the car, the man in a uniform politely smiling, the shining square of sunlight outside... The metal door sliding... Nooooo! And then it the light was cut off abruptly, the door sliding shut in front of her, the employee completely oblivious to her distress as she came to a halt in front of him. Standing before her was a large sheet of cold, unfeeling steel. She felt a tear emerge at the corner of her eye, and sobbed, once. Then she stoically turned away from the door and watched through the window opposite to it, staring as the train shuddered to life and the landscape started moving.

This is, without a doubt, the most tragic and dramatic thing happening to anyone on this train at this precise moment.

[n0ble]

Any apprehension towards combat vanishes as Calandras realizes that the person-whoever he is-is long gone. He allows himself to be led back to the first class coach, carrying the strangers briefcase with him. Upon reaching the coach he forgoes further readings to first inform Esara of what happened, "Our mystery passenger threw himself out of the train upon being confronted by myself and Joresh. But we got his suitcase, doubtful as it may be that he left anything of value behind. Whoever he was, he was wearing some kind of magical disguise" He then proceeds to open the man's suitcase and examine the contents for anything irregular.

[rypt]

Esara

"He did what?!" Momentarily aghast, Esara quickly relays the news to Fiowyn, who now stands a little taller, her concern seemingly vindicated by this latest development. "He must have known something if he felt that was his only recourse. Do you think there's any chance he survived?" She seems to weigh the death of dangerous terrorist against the loss of a potentially valuable source of information. "Might he have been the changeling that Beren detected? The one who lost the vest we found in Wroat?" She pulls her chair over to the table to join Calandras in his examination of the suitcase.

[3SecondCultist]

As you open the suitcase, you are greeted with several sets of what look like different clothes. Shirts, pants, a couple of pairs of shoes. Tucked into the corner, you find a purse with (2d10)[6] platinum pieces inside of it, as well as what look like identification papers. The name on the headline is 'Tyras Steelheart', and according to the papers, he is a Brelish citizen from Sharn, affiliated with Morgrave University. Even under your intense scrutiny and a magical lens, they seem completely genuine. The name is the same as that on the passenger registry. Either this man is who these papers claim he is, or otherwise these are real papers, belonging to somebody else notarized by House Sivis. More scrounging around the suitcase reveals a dagger inlaid into the front cover, nearly imperceptible if you weren't actively looking for it. After a little while, the Orien porter Caerin returns and tells you that House Orien has sent out word to House Deneith and other regional mercenaries to keep a lookout for the man, should he appear in any of the nearby communities. She also informs you that his name is being entered into the house's records, so they will be able to mark him should he ever try to utilize Orien transport again.

She turns to leave, and then pauses. "I apologize for the inconvenience. We don't usually get much suspicious activity on our rails like that. If you need anything else, please let me know."

The next day and a half is largely uneventful. The rail stops in Starilaskur, and then Vathirond. Very gradually, the countryside begins to change shape. The slow wooded hills and vast farmlands of Breland are gradually replaced by ragged copses, and even the undergrowth becomes more... wild, somehow. Eventually, on the morning of the last day of your journey, the rail begins to slow once more. Looking outside, you can see that you're not at an official stop. Ahead of the rail, the ground begins to plunge downwards towards a great gorge, where the white rapids of the Brey River flow. Ahead, the track turns into a massive bridge over the gap, studded with the same resplendent lightning stones you have grown accustomed to on your journey. You can also see an entire armed battalion of armored knights and soldiers guarding the bridge, and a pair of watchtowers on either side of the conductor stones. You can clearly hear shouting noises, the whinnying of horses against the morning mists. It seems that Thrane's defenses are quite thorough, as the Orien and Deneith operatives are forced to open up all of the coaches for inspection.

As they approach, you can see the obvious Flamite sigils on the flags and armor of the border patrol enforcers. Many of them wear impressive looking armor, with great swords and shields for protection. Furthermore, you can see several silver-robed priests counted amongst their number. And it is the priests who approach you first, pulling out plain black wands from their pouches and casting them over the expanse of the coach before sitting down to ask each of you a few questions. The priests explain that the spell will allow you to tell no direct falsehoods, and they will There are more than enough interrogators to pull each of you aside and talk to you one on one, and they seem particularly interested in your group. Perhaps it is because you have taken up the entire first class coach. Or perhaps they have scanned all of you for magical signatures. Either way, they seem to be devoting some time to you, even as more of them have already moved back to begin talking to the other passengers. Most of the Thranes are human, and most of them are men as opposed to women. Their expressions are grave, and brook no levity. Whatever answer you give them will be taken completely at face value.

They begin with easy territory, asking "What is your name? Where are you originally from?" and move right along to "What is your purpose in Thrane? Have you visited Thrane before? What will be the estimated duration of your stay?" and finally "Will you be declaring any weapons at the border?". They seem particularly concerned about Autumn, as several men-at-arms stay within easy sword's reach of the shifter at all times.

Spoiler

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I decided to obviate some skill checks, and just reveal the contents of the suitcase in one post.

As for the spell, a DC 17 Spellcraft check reveals that the spell is indeed zone of truth, and that they're casting several iterations of it so it covers the whole coach. And by the way, you each get a DC 15 Will save to negate the effects of the spell, so I would roll that before trying any Bluff checks.

[Mechanix]

If there were any doubt as to whether the Thranes' concerns regarding Autumn were justified, one look at her would validate them. The shifter did not look so much angry so much as... predatory. Over the last day, there had been a few other stops, and she had finally gotten a chance to get some fresh air and walk outside a bit; this had helped her get over her train-related anxiety to an extent. Yet, even though she did not pace around and scratch at the walls anymore, there was still a great deal of pent-up stress in them, and now it seemed to have found a focus. When the patrol enforcers entered the coach, she was already sitting at one of the convenient tables placed near the windows, and she did not stand up for them; rather she eyed them as they walked, her lips slightly upturned in something half-way between a smile and a snarl. There was a dangerous gleam in her eye, and when she greeted them she was entirely too polite, her voice entirely too sweet. She smiled wider as a man sat in front of her.

"What is your name?"
"I am Autumn," she said simply.
"Where are you originally from?"
"I was born and raised in the Eldeen Reaches."
"What is your purpose in Thrane? Have you visited Thrane before?"
"I have never been to Thrane in my life. I intend to visit places and talk to people, what else would I be here for?"
"What will be the estimated duration of your stay?"
"I have no idea. Can't imagine it'd be more than a couple weeks, though."
"Will you be declaring any weapons at the border?"
At this she smiles, bringing her hand above the table and flexing the fingers - claws slightly expanding.
"Only what nature gave me," she whispers. Then, frowning, as an afterthought: "Oh, and that axe I bought in Wroat. Nothing unusual about it except the price."

[CandyLaser]

Just prior to arriving at the border, Orlov puts his part of the plan in motion. No one else in the group can use his scrolls, so it falls to him to be the one telling lies. As the train starts to slow, he enchants a button with a trio of interleaved enhancements, designed to make him seem more socially adept than he is. He works some more subtle, complicated magic, infusing items with enchantments designed to protect his mind from influence, and on top of that overlays a dweomer that conceals all the others. Thus prepared, he's ready to face the guards.

Spoiler: Actions

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First, casting spell storing item to gain nondetection. That'll require a DC 29 UMD check, so let's see if that works: (1d20+20)[37]. I'm going to throw an action point roll in there, as well, but I'm only going to use one if I fail by 4 or less - (2d6b1)[5]. If the nondetection works, anyone trying to use divination magic on Orlov or his stuff needs to make a DC 23 caster level check to pull it off. Then, using a 1st level, 2nd level, and 3rd level infusion to cast a pair of skill enhancement infusions, giving him a +6 bonus to Bluff and Diplomacy, as well as a resistance item infusion to give him a +3 resistance bonus to saves. That's only +1 over his normal saves, so I'll use a 4th level infusion to cast item alteration and turn his current +2 resistance bonus into a +2 luck bonus. Next up is reading a scroll of glibness - the DC of the UMD check is 27, but conveniently Orlav has +26 UMD modifier for scrolls (+20 normally, +2 for artisan bonus, +2 from 5 ranks in Spellcraft, +2 from 5 ranks in Decipher Script), so that check can't fail. Orlov has a +7 to bluff normally. With all this, he has a +43, and he can lie just fine in the zone of truth, unless the caster can make a DC 22 caster level check. He also gets a Will save, as normal, with a +12 bonus, so let's roll that here: (1d20+12)[26]. And just in case, here's an action point for that: [roll]2d6b1[roll] which I'll use if my total is less than 15. Finally, he'll read one of his fancy new magic circle against evil scrolls, which suppresses compulsion affects around him - such as the effect of zone of truth.

Another IC post follows w/ answers to questions.

[bcool999]

Ethan

When he hears about the train jumper Ethan snorts and says, "Seems to be a forgetful fellow if he forgot his bag here... must have remembered something else he forgot and needed to run and grab it. That or he had a terrible case of nerves at being approach so suddenly."

Ethan puts the mystery passenger out of mind, either he will be back or he won't. Besides, there are plenty of shady types in Khorvaire and he could be completely unrelated to current business. But if he is connected to current business, chances are there will be a chance down to road to put a bolt in him, so it was no cause for worry.

When sat down with the priest, Ethan answers as honestly as possible... but also with as much vagueness as he could manage so to let them draw conclusions themselves.

"What is your name?"
"Ethan Farstriker"
"Where are you originally from?"
"Originally? From betwixt my whore mother's legs, but I assume you mean which country which would be Karrnath."
"What is your purpose in Thrane? Have you visited Thrane before?"
"Hired muscle providing protection. Passed through once or twice before I believe."
"What will be the estimated duration of your stay?"
"Depends on how long business lasts... hopefully not long."

"Will you be declaring any weapons at the border?"
Ethan pulls out his crossbow, unloaded and pointed away from the flamite officials so as to avoid spooking them, "Just the crossbow, I also have a dagger, but that is more for shaving than anything."

[CandyLaser]

Orlov gives brief answers to the questions posed to him, his demeanor calm and collected the whole time. Before the questioning begins, he offers the guards a drink, and when the questioning begins he stands and answers each question directly.

"What is your name?"
"Beren d'Cannith."
"Where are you originally from?"
"Korth, born and raised."
"What is your purpose in Thrane? Have you visited Thrane before?"
"I, and my colleagues from House Sivis and House Lyrandar, am here to finalize some important House business - business that may bear on the security of Thrane as well. I have never before visited your great state."
"What will be the estimated duration of your stay?"
"My colleagues and I will be here for as long as it takes to finish our business. Sadly, I cannot predict how long that will be, but I hope that it will be a brief stay. With tensions being what they are, I'd rather not spend too much time away from home."
"Will you be declaring any weapons at the border?"
"I carry a crossbow and a morningstar, for my personal protection. But in truth I rely more on my retinue for those purposes."

Spoiler

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Bluff: (1d20+43)[57].

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ignatius isn't too upset to hear that his colleagues tailing the mysterious stranger didn't manage to confront him--that would have made too blatant a scene, and he was in no shape to go running through a few cars to meet up with them to help in any case--but he is disappointed that the encounter has left everyone with more questions than answers. He makes a mental note to check in with his cousin at some point in the next few days, if there's any time, to see if he can dig up any information on the stranger's documents from the Sivis side, but for now he puts it out of his mind and relaxes for the rest of the trip.

When they arrive, Ignatius sighs internally at the sight of the Thranish inquisitors. Let the humorless interrogation begin, he thinks resignedly. He values humility and community over ostentatious displays and shows of force, and he's never been a fan of the Silver Flame from a purely aesthetic perspective, either. You don't see all of Khorvaire decked out in blue and gold with striped octograms on every street corner, when the Host is the majority religion, do you? I understand that they like silver and flames, but variety is the spice of life...and I'd bet spices are outlawed in the temples here, come to think about it, since that would make things insufficiently depressing for the initiates, he muses to himself, and has to resist the temptation to roll his eyes at the grand display.

In response to the Thranites' questioning, Ignatius speaks in his most precise and fussy scholarly tone of voice (which is basically an impression of his insufferable middle sister, who had always been very devoted to her House and very proud of her position) and replies as honestly as possible under the circumstances: "I am Ignatius Icorralyn d'Sivis, of the Korranberg Icorralyns, of course. I have recently been assigned to work with representatives of two other Houses, House Cannith and House Lyrandar, on a matter of import to certain interested parties; the exact details are confidential, of course, but it could be described in general terms as a security investigation. I anticipate our stay to last no fewer than two days, but all the variables involved mean I cannot give a concrete number; my best estimate would be two weeks plus or minus eight days. My only weapon is my sword, which is not enchanted and for which I, of course, possess all of the necessary permits on file."

[Rofltrollcopter]

Joresh answers the questions calmly, he looks bored the whole time he answers it.

"What is your name?"
Joresh
"Where are you originally from?"
Sharn (his first lie)
"What is your purpose in Thrane? Have you visited Thrane before?"
I have never been to Thrane before, no. My business is to make sure the Dragonmarked heirs successfully conclude theirs.
"What will be the estimated duration of your stay?"
However long it takes to complete their business. You will have to ask them if you want a better estimate, but it should be about two weeks.
"Will you be declaring any weapons at the border?"
I have no weapons.

Spoiler: Rolls:

Show

Using Dorje of Conceal thoughts for a +10 bonus to bluff before he shows up at the border:

(1d20+23)[35]

[n0ble]

Calandras answers the questions directed at him as honestly as possible in a concise manner. A zone of truth. Oh happy day. he thinks. He feels none of the compulsions towards truth that the others might feel: having frequently used such spells in his interrogations during the war it is a simple manner for him to overcome their effects.

"What is your name?"
My name is Calandras Baal

"Where are you originally from?"
Like Farstriker, I'm from Karnnath, though unlike him I'm originally from Teryk.

"What is your purpose in Thrane? Have you visited Thrane before?"
I'm Ethan's squire, so when he got hired on naturally I came with him. This'll be my first time in Thrane he says with an earnest smile.

"What will be the estimated duration of your stay?"
Like he said, I'm just here until their business concludes. Hopefully it'll take a while, I'd heard wonderful things about Flamekeep.

"Will you be declaring any weapons at the border?"
Yes, for my own personal protection, as well as Master Ethan's, I carry a crossbow and several daggers. he produces the weapons as he says this.

Spoiler: OCC

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Bluff if needed, burning an inspiration point for a total of +26 (changeling and I'm in my Foreign infiltrator disguise): (1d20+26)[45]

[rypt]

Esara

Esara remains comfortably seated as the investigators enter the car. When one of them approaches with the obvious intent of questioning her, she gestures politely to another chair opposite a small table.

"What is your name?"
"My name is Esara d'Lyrandar."

"Where are you originally from?"
"I was born in Stormhome."

"What is your purpose in Thrane? Have you visited Thrane before?"
"I have business to conduct with my Cannith associate." She points out Beren to her interrogator. "Oh, yes, of course, many times," she smiles, "though I've never received quite so warm a welcome as this."

"What will be the estimated duration of your stay?"
"Not too long I should hope. Can't imagine it will be longer than a week or two."

"Will you be declaring any weapons at the border?"
She pulls back the edge of her coat back to better display the ornate scabbard on her hip. "Just the one."

[3SecondCultist]

As each of you answers the questions put in front of you, you notice each of the priests seems to complete a spell of some kind. It's not meant as an interruption, but when their eyes meet yours once again, it is with a clearer gaze. Their faith in the Silver Flame has given them the intuition to cut through most falsehoods. They assess you - your body language, intonations, demeanor - through the eye of the faith, most of them scribbling down details into parchment with a Thrane letterhead. That done, they ask for your respective traveling papers in order to compare it to your verbal answers.

For the most part, they seem willing to believe your cover story. The inquisitors talking to Orlov, Joresh, and Calandras all seem convinced that this is genuinely a joint expedition on the part of the dragonmarked houses to Flamekeep. Although a few of them appear to be somewhat concerned about the 'security' matter in question, none of them are looking to press the issue. Clearly, they've come to the assumption that you will be meeting whoever has appointed you in the capital, and are satisfied enough with that to leave you alone. Surprisingly, the priest questioning Autumn seems to join this group after a moment's consideration, and all four of them pull out stamps emblazoned with the Silver Flame with which to mark your accepted entry into the country. You notice, along the top of the seal, two dates separated by a dash. You realize that one of them is today's date: the 20th of Nymm, and the second is the 6th day of Lharvion. The priests explain that, given your desire to stay for two weeks, that is the amount of time you will be given in Thrane. After that, you will need to either report back to a customs office or otherwise be forced out of the country. Still, it is likely that two weeks will be enough time.

However, the interrogations of Ethan, Esara, and Ignatius all seem to falter, as those asking the questions opt not to give them the benefit of the doubt. Each of the three Flamite clerics reports back to the squadron, and you can see an older looking, grey haired man in another priest robe approaching. He wears a stern expression like a shroud. "You three have been judged, and found untrustworthy. If you consent to your intentions being more closely examined, we may yet allow you to pass into Thrane. This would not be an invasive practice, a simple divination to weigh the moral content of your soul." He ignores those who have already passed their interrogations. "If any among you harbors ill intentions, the Silver Flame will sniff you out. You would be better telling us now, and saving everyone the trouble." Nodding to several of his knights, they step forward, readying themselves to look into your hearts and see the truth.

Spoiler

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If you really want to know what spell the clerics cast in your actual interrogations, that's another Spellcraft (or Psicraft) check to figure out. And the ability the paladins are getting ready to use is, obviously, detect evil. If they don't find you evil, they could still let you pass.

And I assume that people either have legitimate traveling papers which they filled out, or otherwise Orlov forged traveling papers for people with his House Sivis notarized paper. By my reckoning, only Ignatius and Orlov actually have traveling papers, so that would have required 5 forgeries. I'm fine with you using the one natural 20 check, though.

[rypt]

Esara

Knowing herself to be a moral individual, Esara greets the approaching knights with a wide smile. Indeed, it is her nuanced understanding of right and wrong that that allows her to resist the urge to say "I've always wondered what my soul smells like," settling instead on the slightly less antagonizing, "sniff away!"

[bcool999]

Ethan

Ethan grunts and nods for the priests or paladins or whatever to get on with it. Obviously Ethan is not one for bureaucracy or having suspicions laid against him.

[3SecondCultist]

The three knights of Thrane approach the Karrnathi major, the gnomish cleric, and the Lyrandar scion. Together as one, their eyes begin to flow a radiant silver, casting a kind of translucent spirit-light across the proceedings of the coach. Each of them takes a moment, and then another to examine the three of you. The silence seems to stretch on forever.

Finally, one of them breaks their concentration, followed immediately by the other two. They share glances, filled with open concern and worry. One of them openly stares at Joresh, as another shakes his head in the direction of the elder priest. He sighs, and the sound conjures the blades and spells of the entire complement... each and every one of them aimed at the psion.

"You. You have a touch of darkness about you, young man. Your companions are all free to go unhindered, but you are dangerous. There is only one way we will permit you to leave this car alive." The white haired man reaches to his neck and clutches his holy symbol, a silver ingot hammered into a flame. "I will cast a spell on you myself, a mark that will ward off the good people of this country against your touch. For the duration of your group's stay in Thrane, any attempt to harm any innocents will result in the mark activating. If it does, I will know, and I assure you, I will hunt you down. Do you accept these terms?"

As the old man speaks, the other priests begin to stamp the rest of your papers. It seems that, Joresh aside, you are all welcome in Thrane, at least for the next fourteen days.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

When asked to submit to further inspection, Ignatius looks down his nose disapprovingly at his accuser. "Untrustworthy, good sir? I understand that you must be overly thorough to protect your nation's welfare, and will, of course, submit to whatever divinations procedure dictates, but I dislike the implication that a representative of House Sivis is anything but above reproach." He stands with his hands on his hips and a raised eyebrow as the paladins inspect him.

Any offense is forgotten, though, after the paladins finger Joresh as being a danger. The gnome is taken aback at first, but then he thinks back over the past few days...and admits to himself that, yes, while he'd given everyone the benefit of the doubt given that they'd just met and were under some pressure, Joresh had been less than exemplary in his manners and behavior. Once his papers are stamped Ignatius walks over to Joresh, and in a low and solemn voice--but not low enough as to suggest that he's trying to hide his words from the inquisitors--he says, "I suggest, for your sake and the sake of our mission, that you accept his offer. And once we've finished with this process, we will need to sit down and have a talk, you and I."

[Rofltrollcopter]

Joresh stepped back as if he was physically struck. His head was spinning. He knew he wasn't a nice person and he had hurt people who haven't done anything to harm him. Still, to have the entirety of the actions taken in his life judged to be worth less then nothing by some complete stranger... That stung. Especially since it was done by this self-righteous jackass.

He slowly clenched and unclenched his fist. His 'fight or flight' instinct was kicked into full gear. For once, he didn't have anything to say.

When Ignatius walked over and gave him the same look as the paladin... That part actually hurt. The gnome was letting the paladin's word override the experience of the last few days spent with him. Joresh had been feeling lonely since he left Adar. Kalashtar were a social race by nature, and even Joresh didn't possess the willpower to overcome 18 centuries of conditioning. The last few days when he had nothing to do but hang out with these people have been good for him, it helped him be more stable.

He thought back to the moments he shared with the group. To the time he made the cloaks to protect them from the rain, to the time he talked with Autumn after she was possessed by the ghost. He wouldn't lie and say it was entirely motivated by altruism, but there was a part of him that cared, and his words were genuine. Hell, the game he played with Ethan was one of the most fun things he had done in a while.

From now on, everything that he said or done would be viewed in light of this moment. Any time he would try to be sincere or nice to anyone, it would be just seen as an attempt to manipulate the others or hide his so-called true nature. If he ever stepped out of line, it would be seen as a reflection of his personality and they would kill him for it. Where others would be given the benefit of the doubt, that they would be viewed as good people forced into bad situations, he would always be caricatured as the villain.

I accept

[bcool999]

Ethan

Seeing the Psion's reaction to being branded evil, Ethan contacts him mentally over the telepathic network. <Don't let the self-righteous pricks get you down. Being evil isn't the worst thing in the world. These Thrane types themselves are proof that being a 'good guy' doesn't mean you can't also be a thrice damned pain in the ass, and so far, you aren't all that bad in my books so there's that.>

While his mental dialogue goes on, Ethan takes a seat after getting his little flame shaped stamp on his papers and waits for the train to get moving again.

[3SecondCultist]

The senior priest nods at Joresh's demure acceptance, stepping forward. The actual casting of the spell takes about ten minutes, with the man praying fervently to his faith to conjure up the power in order to mark the kalashtar. Soon, his eyes glow silver just like the rest, and his hand is surrounded by a nimbus of light. He moves to touch Joresh on the back of his left hand, a cold-burning sensation just for a moment. When it is done, a glowing silver mark is emblazoned into his fair skin. The other priests and knights-militant stand in solemn silence, staring at the brand. Around the edges, you can see the word 'beware' written in an archaic script. Whoever sees the psion's hand will know of the potential danger.

"It is finished." When the priest looks at Joresh, you can see traces of sympathy. "Maybe we are wrong, and you present no threat. And maybe we're right, and you will turn on your companions given the chance. Either way, you will not be harming anyone while you are here. I'm sorry, but that is the price of entry." He beckons one of the others, who pulls out the stamp and marks Joresh's traveling papers. As the Flamite company moves to depart the coach, the old priest looks at Ignatius for a moment, as if only now registering his words. There is something in his gaze, an almost imperceptible worry. He nods at the other cleric, and then he is gone.

The rail itself begins to move once more perhaps another ten minutes later. It seems that while your own contingent was busy with you, the others were searching and questioning the other passenger coaches. The rail crosses the bridge slowly, picking up speed only once it has reached the other side. A few copses of pine trees and a winding road are all that greet you in Thrane. The rest of the day passes without incident, as the golden ring of Siberys burns away the morning mists and you get your first look at the countryside of Khorvaire's central nation. The villages you pass through are mostly small affairs, although you get your first looks at some of Thrane's larger cities - relatively speaking - in Aruldusk and Sigilstar. The day passes thus. It is late afternoon when Caerin announces to the coach that you are less than an hour out of the capital. From afar, Flamekeep resembles a gigantic fortress enclosed by high walls, its buildings perched atop a rocky plinth surrounded on all sides by a water-filled crevasse. Deep within this crevasse sits the city’s bustling harbor and more crowded districts. The magnificent Cathedral of the Silver Flame, its white alabaster walls agleam, surmounts the rocky plinth - a glorious beacon visible for miles in every direction. West of the Cathedral rise the slender spires of Thalingard, the ancestral home of Thrane’s kings. Unlike the Cathedral, the royal palace is sculpted from gray rock and looks somewhat glum by comparison. The sheer scope and depth of this city seems to put the rest of Thrane to shame, and it seems as though nearly half of the country's population lives within its boundaries. You can see out to Scions Sound as the rail begins to slow for the last time, approaching the end of the line. The lightning rail station itself is situated on the outer edge of the great crevasse, near one of the great bridges that heads into Flamekeep proper.

As you come to a frictionless halt, you can see the interiors of the station around you. At least four times larger than the paltry hall in Nowhere, and certainly more ostentatious than any of the proceedings in other cities, the station is characterized by great columns of sweeping marble and polished stone floors. The general floor plan seems remarkably similar - a deliberate design choice by House Orien, no doubt - but you can see the metallic spearhead and flame of Thrane's national symbol on every white flag. Between the everbright lanterns and great crystal chandeliers above your heads, the entire station is all but awash with light. The area itself is packed with people, either clamoring like you to enter the country... or to leave its borders before they close for good.

Spoiler

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Now we come to the end of the third day. By my calculations, you have five days before the next attack is supposed to take place. Knowledge (Local) checks will reveal things about the area, and might help you in your investigation. I also made a map of the lightning rail station, which is on Roll20 if you want to look at it.

[n0ble]

After the Joresh receives the mark from the priest and the fanatics depart, Calandras returns to his seat in the car and begins to alternate between reading his book and rifling through the constructs brifecase. While doing this, he thinks to Joresh <For what it's worth, I have encountered true monstrosities in my time. You do not strike me as similar to them.> The thoughts of Aborghast and morality cause Calandras to briefly reflect on the morality of his actions up until this point, actions that became increasingly hard to justify in the pursuit of his goals. His eyes briefly rest on the psion before returning to his book. He's not a monster. Just driven to achieve his goals. I am the monster. "Would you care for a game of Conquers, Joresh?" he says in a completely earnest tone, looking up from his book at the shaper with an encouraging face.

Spoiler: OOC

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If Joresh is up for a game: (1d20)[20]

As the train pulls into the station Calandras stretches and looks up from his book at the others "We should establish a base to work from. Some sort of lodgings maybe in order yes? We could all benefit from some famous Thranish hospitality." The last part about hospitality is dripping in sarcasm and almost comes out as a sneer. Almost.

[CandyLaser]

During the last leg of the journey, Orlov was much more convivial than the first leg. His wright finished its task, and while his animate quill scribbled away on one of the desks he didn't do much more than check its progress. At an opportune moment, he sidled up to Joresh and said, "I might be able to help with that mark of yours, although Ignatius would be better at it. It seems to me, though, that having you so marked can only diminish our chances of success in this investigation. If one of the others can't help you, we should speak again."

Spoiler: OOC

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The quill is going to scribe a replacement for the spent magic circle scroll.

[rypt]

Esara

"Hey-- HEY!" Esara's protests become that much more vehement once she realizes that the Flamites have drawn their weapons at Joresh rather than at Ethan, Ignatius or herself. "What in Khyber's darkest depths is this? You asked for our consent, not his!"

When the senior priest expresses his intent to mark Joresh as a threat to the people of Thrane, Esara can only shake her head and exhale a frustrated breath through her teeth, the true irony of the situation utterly lost on the white haired cleric. "I thought your church was supposed guide people to the light, not brand them with it."

The train ride from the border checkpoint to Flamekeep is an awkward one to say the least. Looking for any kind of distraction from the day's earlier events, Esara approaches Beren with the everyman's suitcase. "What do you say you grab those gloves of yours and we have a look at how our mysterious friend came by his luggage?"

As they disembark from the train, she glances at the psion in the hope of getting a sense for how he's dealing with the Flamite's judgement. In particular, she checks to see if he has made any attempt to cover the silver mark on his hand.

"Well, we should cross over to the Lower City," she says with an eye to the north. "We shouldn't have a problem finding suitable accommodations there. In fact, I think I might know just the place..."

Spoiler

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To the Silverman's Shanty!

[Rofltrollcopter]

Ethan's words rallied Joresh. He did not fully recover, but he stood a bit straighter and held his head higher. Joresh realized in that moment that he had stopped thinking of Ethan as the 'major', and instead saw him as his own person.

He stood there stoically while the priest branded his flesh. He didn't react or offer any backtalk, until the priest mentioned that he was a potential threat to his companions. Joresh snapped back Human. You do not know me. You do not know where I came from. You do not know my story. How dare you make that presumption that about me.

Joresh was silent for the remainder of the trip. He fiddled with a glove created by his power, but it was unable to block the light emitted by the mark. He stared out of the window, stewing in his own thoughts. When Calandras started talking to him, he responded, remembering Calandras earlier talk with the psicrystal back at Valthirond. <Oh? I'm not really in the mood for a game right now. Listen, I don't want to sound in-grateful, and you've been decent to me. That being said, sometimes you come off as rather presumptuous. What makes you say that you understand 'true monsters' while thinking I would have no knowledge of them? Until you get to know me, don't condescend and claim that you have some special insight that I would lack. In return I will offer you the same courtesy.>

Spoiler: OOC:

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I don't want to rob you of your nat 20, you can bank it for another moment.

When Beren talked to him, Joresh mused There may be some utility in being able to summon an elite Thranish hit squad to our location if the situation requires it. But you are right, the sooner I am rid of it the better. He frowned. <I don't think Ignatius will co-operate. Can you think of a countermeasure to the light emitted by the mark? Some form of alchemical solution perhaps?>

He joined Esara and Beren as they examined the suitcase. <At the very least, we have a way to smuggle in things we don't want to be detected. Listen Beren, do you know if House Cannith ever constructed special Warforged designed for infiltration? I should have brought this up sooner, but the Everyman's mind felt weird. The closest thing I could compare it to is a Warforged>

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Ignatius stays out of the conversation following Joresh's marking, for the most part; he wants to get a feel for Joresh's mood and reactions before having a conversation with the kalashtar about it, and he worries that anything he says now might trigger a premature conversation with an emotionally-unstable psion, which would likely not end well.

In response to Orlov's comment, the gnome schools his face into a neutral expression and replies in an even tone, "Removing the mark is within my capabilities, yes. Whether doing so would alert the inquisitor who placed it, and whether doing so is advisable right now, remains to be seen."

[CandyLaser]

Orlov had been busy during the chaotic moments leading up to the chase, so he didn't know of its capture until after the fact. Then came the border crossing and the comprehensive preparations that led up to it. In all of that, Orlov had quite forgotten about the case until Esara brought it up. "Good thinking," he replied, before pulling of the gloves of object reading and getting to work.

[3SecondCultist]

Once the seven of you obtain your belongings, you are sent on your way by House Orien. Caerin in particular waves at you as you leave the train, the mass of people slowly swallowing up her silhouette in the first class coach doors. For what might be the last time, you can see the gold plated lettering on the side of the front car: the Royal Galifar Express.

Under Esara's guidance, you begin to head north, and into the city proper. Although you are stopped at the entrance to Flamekeep on the bridge by yet another set of guards, this appears to be much more informal an affair and you are let through without too much difficulty. Several of them seem wary about letting Joresh in, but ultimately none of them stop the psion. The captain, a dark haired man of plain quality, watches you as you leave, his expression studiously blank. Soon, the noise and smells of the city consume you. They are many: merchants closing their shops for the evening and trying to get in one last bargain, pedestrians and horses scurrying from one house to the next in anticipation of the seventh bell at the top of the Cathedral. The stories say that its ring can be heard almost all the way across Scions Sound, and it keeps time for the entire capital. However, there is one other sound that preoccupies you: the incessant marching of boots and the cries of men in the streets. The military uniforms and the opening and closing of doors is proof enough to your ears to confirm what your eyes see. It's a levy. The people of Thrane are preparing for war.

The streets of the Lower City are just as crowded, if not more so than the rest of Flamekeep. Most of the fishermen from the Sound have either just returned or are preparing for an evening shift on the water, and nearly all of the environs smell of burnt metal and the unmistakeable scent of fish. The Lyrandar heir is able to guide the other six of you to the door of your second inn this week: this one appears much more downtrodden than even the Bronze Aegis (for all that they bear similar names). The Shanty appears to have been a warehouse, once. Now, most of the drafts have been bolted shut and a great silver spear skewering a pike hangs over the door. A steady stream of travelers and fishermen - most of them grimy - moves in and out of the great double doors. There are no everbright lanterns here, just torches of oil and grease. The bar has been built out of the keel of what looks to have once been a very fine trawler, and the barrels behind it could only belong on a ship. Looking up and about, you can see some shoddy wooden walls separating the upper warehouse levels into 'rooms' of sorts, for a semblance of privacy. A tall, slender blonde in her prime sits behind the bar, and she flashes you an easy smile as you walk in... revealing that she has lost a few of her teeth.

"Evening! Flame forgive me, you're not our usual fare. What'll it be, then?"

Spoiler: OOC

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A couple of things. First, I'm going to reveal the ownership of the briefcase and the belongings therein. I'm assuming Orlov has had time to examine them before getting off the train.

Owner 1: Warforged Male, Neutral, 6 years old. Was given the briefcase, clothes, and dagger by the second owner, and lost it to Calandras once he fled the Royal Galifar Express.

Owner 2: Human Male, Chaotic Good, 56 years old. Bought all three sets of items from two merchants, and gifted them to the warforged.

Owner 3 (Briefcase / Clothes): Half-Elf Female, Neutral Good, 34 years old. A tailor and leatherworker, she created the suitcase and stiched the clothes by hand (with some magical assistance), selling them to the second owner.

Owner 3 (Dagger): Dwarf Male, Neutral, 87 years old. A master craftsman, he forged the dagger himself, and sold it specially to the second owner.

Also, everyone needs to make a DC 27 Will save upon entering the Silverman's Shanty. You are welcome to use action points, if you think they will help you.

[Mechanix]

The shifter frowns, looking at the establishment around her - she sighs. Too much to expect a Bronze Aegis everywhere, I guess. She pulls down her hood - though she has no means of truly hiding her nature, her cloak does a good enough job of hiding her sideburns and odd eyes to avoid drawing too many wary looks. The rail station was suitably impressive, but the signs of the Church everywhere grated on her increasingly as she walked through the city; everywhere there was this oppressive, forebodding sense of being an intruder, unwanted, a stranger in a hostile land. It made her skin crawl.

Perhaps it was why the inquisitor's reading and branding of Joresh did not bother her so much - she had watched silently, inscrutable, as the events unfolded. To have a man representing an institution you despise (and who despises you right back) declare one of your companions evil and brand him like a common criminal... She knew how the magic worked, roughly. If the paladins said he was evil, he probably was. But what did evil mean? Certainly he had been better to her than they had been.

So she got closer to the psion as they walked, a silent presence, but trying to be... reassuring. To show her solidarity by standing beside him, even if she didn't have much to say.

Autumn cleared her throat, stepping forward and trying to hide her disappointment at the state of the inn. Intimidating amber eyes set on the barwoman. "We'll need lodging for a few days, which will perhaps be extended to a week or two. And while you ready our rooms, I'll have two pints of your best, if you please."

[n0ble]

I once interrogated an ex military man from Karrnath who, after being discharged from the military because he was unstable, flayed a Brelish married couple. Alive. The memory coldly slithers into his mind. Calandras had been brought in to extract the mans confession. No matter what Calandras had said or did, the man had remained smiling, as if he had done his country a service by murdering civilians. The rage he feels at these thoughts threatens to overwhelm Calandras' composure, causing him visible discomfort. He hurriedly quashes the anger as quickly as it arises. Calandras barely bites back the urge to tell the psion the horror story, instead opting for a curt <As you wish>

Leaving the train car helps him focus on the present. He's here for a job. The past was a lifetime ago. He is a wholly different person from the young man who stepped into the interrogation rooms. He's his own man now. His own monster.

As they make their way through the city, Calandras drinks in the atmosphere, eyes darting around but never lingering on one thing for too long. Fanatics or no, he can't help but admire how uniform and precise the marching of the soldiers is as they make their ways about the streets. Plus it helps take his mind off all the talk of monsters in the train car.

As the others enter the inn he waits respectfully to be shown where his room is, saying nothing.

[3SecondCultist]

"Certainly, madam." If the hostess has noticed Autumn's shifter nature, her smile doesn't show it.

She shows you to a suite of three adjoining rooms on the top floor of the Shanty. There appear to be three proper beds, and she sets about making up four cots for you. There isn't much in the way of furnishing, a few chairs and a long table of rough wood. Like the bar downstairs, it looks like it's been taken from the belly of a salvaged ship. She tells you that the ceiling in the far left room leaks somewhat, and that she'll make sure to put out a bucket and some extra blankets. There's no fireplace here, but there is an interesting looking alchemical heat lamp that adds a bit of warmth to the proceedings.

"There's food downstairs if you'll be needing some. My name is Olyvara, and hopefully you enjoy your stay at the Silverman's Shanty!"