(PF) maggie's Rise of the Runelords: Hook Mountain Massacre IC

[jamieth]

"I don't think..." Naya shakes her head, "What was that, one spell? Two at most? No way miss Setsuna would surrender that quickly... Miss Brin, you won't have any magic that will help us underwater, would you?" she asks, sudden;y remembering that the plan was initially made in the absense of the priestess.

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Spoiler

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Setsuna rolls a bunch of 1d20s!
Perception: [7]+5=13
Swim: [18]+5=23
Perception: [2]+5=7
Swim: [8]+5=12
Perception: [17]+5=22
Swim: [6]+5=11
Perception: [19]+5=24
Swim: [5]+5=10
Perception: [17]+5=22
Swim: [17]+5=22

Setsuna (GM-botted)

Kicking herself over to the wreck, Setsuna pauses once more at the jagged weed-festooned hole stove in its side, resting a tentative hand on the splintered planks as she considered the murky gloom of the ruined room within.

She didn't have much of a choice. The only way for her to investigate the wreck more thoroughly was still to untie the rope about her waist - there simply wouldn't be enough length left if she was to go through a door or two inside; and what if the rope was to snag on something? True, she wasn't a strong swimmer. But if she was inside of a sunken boat... well, the Paradise wasn't going anywhere. And the chances of getting swept away inside of it should be low enough to risk it. She'd come all this way, after all. Time was ticking down on that potion's span; they'd spent a favour to take the only potion in the town's vicinity, and it behooved her to make the most of it.

Setsuna reflexively takes a deep breath to steel herself, grimaces at the taste of lakewater, and sets about untying the rope from around her waist. The remnants of that door ought to be sturdy enough for her to tie the rope about...

*****

Nearly an hour later, Setsuna surfaces from the lake, coughing and snorting the lakewater from her lungs. The lake was a lot colder than she'd thought, and tiefling heritage or no, she could feel it slowly leeching the strength from her limbs.

Treading water, she gives an apologetic, but grim report. After removing the safety rope (fortunate indeed, that the rest of the party in the boat had finally elected not to forcefully pull her up), she'd used Maethilur to jimmy open the closed door and had ventured deeper into the remains of the Paradise.

She'd found bodies - oh yes, she'd found bodies, all right - as the tiefling recounts with an involuntary shiver. Two weeks was a mere blink as far as the processes of natural decomposition went. Bloated, blistered green, splayed against the ceiling of the wreck like so many wretched humanoid balloons. Most of them bared grinning teeth at her as she'd pulled herself along the bottom of the wreck, internally wishing her ability to see in the dark wasn't quite so good, half-convinced that they still stared at her through the gaping eye sockets that the lake crayfish had long since plundered.

Setsuna hadn't quite been sure of what to look for, down there in the darkness. Some proof, perhaps, of the lamia Lucrecia's existence - like personal effects, or the sort. What she did have to report though, was a damning absence of any proof at all. Aside from the holes in the boat looking as if they'd been stove out from within, none of the bodies had been wearing what she might have expected a rich floozy to don while entertaining her gambling guests. In fact, there'd been a distinct lack of taffeta or silk or lace. Without exception, as far as the young tiefling could tell, every corpse she had come across had been clad in sodden wool or tattered hemp, some still with the waxed leather moccasins that seemed to be commonplace about the village. The dead were all villagers - there was no sign that Lucrecia had ever been on the boat.

There are about 30 minutes left of the potion's effects.

[jamieth]

"One moment, miss Setsuna!" Naya immediately reaches into her handbag and pulls a cape out of it, pulling it over the tiefling's shoulders, "can't have you getting a cold right now!"

Listening to the tale of Setsuna's foundings, she nods uneaily, "Well, I suppose it was too optimistic to assume Lucretia really died with her ship, was it? I'm afraid it's not our only problem, either... Miss Brin noticed someone signalling with a mirror from the dam over there... I tried to get a better look, but it was too risky to get close..."

Saying that, she turns around to get another glance at the dam...

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Unfortunately for Naya (and the dramatic poignancy of the moment), the odd mirror flashes from the top of the dam seem to have ceased for now. If she squints, she can just about discern what seems to be a few moving specks just above the broad curvature of the fourth skull in the edifice. But even that proves hard to point out to Setsuna; for the afternoon storm clouds seem to be rolling back in, their swollen bulk casting deep blue shadows over most of the Skull River dam.

[Bhaakon]

"Could jush walk there." Brin slurs, squinting up at the dam. Why was it so damnably bright out? No stupid sun to sear her eyes. Really, day time was entirely overrated. Hardly anything fun happened in the harsh light of that big, stupid fireball. Moonlight, a guttering taper, the dull glow of a dying fire. Those were properly romantical or dramatic illumination, not this washed-out, eye-searing, sphere of flaming nonsense. The storm clouds rolling in off the plateau ought to put the overblown will-o'-wisp in its place. That is to say, firmly behind a big cottony curtain of slate-gray thunderheads and...

"Er...medde after the shtorming is through."

[Desril]

Setsuna

Pulling herself up onto the boat, the tiefling gladly takes Naya's cape and pulls it around herself to warm up and dry off a little as she listens to what they'd seen before explaining what she'd found at the bottom of the lake, leaving out some of the more grisly details of the state of the corpses. "I am not sure what we should do now, but...the dam is in the direction of the fort is it not? If there are no clues in the wreck, then we should deal with the ogres and then see what it is you saw up there."

[jamieth]

"Yes... until the point where the path divides, at least, we don't have other option anyway. Honestly... I'm worried. It might be nothing, but... didn't the elder say the potion was for those who can't swim, in case dam breaks? Might just be a silly coincidence, but..."

"Anyway, let's get to the shore, shall we... I don't like these clouds." Naya ceases her fruitless attempts at surveying the dam and shakes her head, "If storm comes, I probably won't be able to tame the wind..."

[Miraqariftsky]

Not quite trusting the wind and the waves with possibly wetting her trusty notebook, Rico leans in, scowling in concentration as she listens to the others.

The halforc constable snorts with a grimace at Naya's words. "Coincidence? The way things've gone this damn while, I ain't trust 'em none."

Knuckles crackling around her oars, she says, "Arright... Y'all reckon we should make full burn today much as we can an' get o'er there, or shall we merely set out tomorrah? Y'ask me, them ogres' been bruised an' bled by us an' they'd be hungry fer payback. An' those Kreegs won't be waitin' on us..."

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Despite Rico and Naya's misgivings, as well as the fresh discovery that Lucrecia wasn't as dead as you'd hoped she was, there is little more for you all to accomplish at the wreck. Not to mention that the portents of the impending afternoon storm do seem to be growing stronger. For those who glance up at the skies, the morning's fog has billowed into a darkening cloud deck that extends as far as the eye can see. Though the sun still bathes the village of Turtleback Ferry in watery shafts of gold, a sudden chill wind is now gusting over the surface of the lake, plucking wildly at your hair and ruffling the waters into glassy wavelets.

It is time to scud back to the jetty - no easy task, given the questionable integrity of the turtleshell boats and the wind - and get back under cover. Look for some victuals. See if Shalelu has returned from wherever she'd run off to. Perhaps that stingy innkeeper, Orlandi, can be guilted into providing some hot water for Setsuna to wash up in...

*****

It is now 1600hrs.

Barely an hour after you'd gotten back to the inn, the rain had come back down with a vengeance. At first, it'd begun as a soft patter, a coy drizzle whisking across Claybottom Lake in thin sheets. Within minutes though, the drizzle had strengthened into a torrent, raindrops the size of grapeshot smashing pitilessly through foliage and rapidly transforming the ground into a quagmire of puddles and boot-sucking mud.

Rico's suggestion to tramp back up the mountain to the Fort today was clearly out of the question. Not with a veritable wall of gushing water obscuring vision beyond twenty feet - you hated to think of what it was doing to the rocky path you'd scrambled up on the way to the Grauls. Though a nervous Orlandi, still eager to make up for over-charging Naya the previous day, had acquiesced to providing a bucket of washing-up water to those who had asked for it, its contents were tepid at best and made for a poor bath. Between the constant hammering of rain on the timbers of the roof threatening to drown out all efforts at conversation, the disquieting gurgle of water surging down the inn's drainpipes, and the pungent damp stink of Orlandi's elderly bullmastiff as it snoozes by the fire, lurking in the dining area of the Turtle's Parlour makes for an exceedingly poor (and smelly) way to spend the afternoon.

Just as some of you might be tiring of prowling about the inn and are considering the merits of heading over to the tavern for what you hope will be a bracingly hot meal, Shalelu trudges back indoors, the elven ranger looking surprisingly chipper despite the gloomy weather in what appears to be an oversized tarred sailcloth cloak, stained brown with plant debris.

"Well, those Kreegs aren't going to stop for the rain. Neither should we," she remarks briskly as she shucks off the cloak, rainwater beading off the tip of her mud-speckled nose. Hooking the sailcloth onto a wooden stand by the door, Shalelu yawns and stretches her arms overhead. "We've managed to fix up that broken palisade as best as we can for now. No use building with wet lumber if we want some sturdy defences. Still, best defence would likely be to bring the fight rather than wait for it come to us. I was wondering - though it might be too soon to ask - if perhaps Master Vale and the... other two..., whether they'd be keen. To help us root out those Kreegs. Or at least tell us how to best strike at the Fort? Seeing as to how it used to be their domain..."

*****

For Avei

Spoiler

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This wasn't just rain; surely, this downpour was some curse sent from the gods. You were pretty sure it wasn't possible to get any wetter than if you'd walked through a waterfall. What was the use of wearing a rain cloak if the rain was just going to get inside of it anyway?

The journey upriver to Turtleback Ferry on that barge had been a treat, what with the vessel's constant creaking as it'd pitched about mid-stream, buffeted by powerful currents. This dismal weather was probably a treat too. So was the mud caking your leggings. And the frog you'd almost stepped on as you'd gotten off the barge. And the subtle ache in your head from the incessant drumming of the rain, the rain, the rain-

The news from the mayor of this dump, Father Maelin Shreed, had done little to lift your spirits. You'd come all this way to claim a debt from the rangers at Fort Rannick - a most hefty sum - your blood had sung at the mere mention of the figure involved. Dwavern-made ballistas weren't cheap, after all. But if the old man's word held true, then it was possible that there might not even be a live client for you to squeeze for that sum. Not with all this word of mad ogres having taken over the Fort and reportedly slain all within.

Still, Father Shreed had offered you shelter for the night at the local inn, while you considered your next move. And he'd also mentioned something about a delegation of skilled fighters from Magnimar that was here to investigate what was going on with the Fort. Perhaps they'd be able to give you a better idea of what was going on around here. And maybe you'd be able to get out of this bloody rain for a bit...

[Ilorin Lorati]

Avei

Spoiler: Stats

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F NG Lavasoul Ifrit Fighter (Dragonheir Scion) 7 / Brawler (Exemplar) 1, Level 8, Init 5, HP 72/72, DR Fire 10, Speed 20
AC 25, Touch 11, Flat-footed 24, CMD 23, Fort 11, Ref 6, Will 1, CMB +12/+7, Base Attack Bonus +8/+3
+1 Trident (SELF) (M) +17/+12 (R) +14/+10 ((1h/R) 1d8+8 (2h) 1d8+10, x2)
+1 Full Plate, Heavy Steel Shield (+10 Armor, +2 Shield, +1 Dex, +2 Deflect)
Abilities Str 18, Dex 12, Con 16, Int 14, Wis 7, Cha 12
Condition Sodding Soaked

For most of the last twenty years she had been centered in the Sky Citadel, plying her craft for one or another regional branch of Abadar's banking system. It was in this manner that she had become known as a shrewd woman with a trademark mix of larger than life reputation and an aura that made that reputation look not only just, but possibly undersold to those who were on the wrong end of her fiery gaze.

But it is the nature of time that all things change - and Avei with it. The last year had seen the woman grow bored of her work. The coin she collected for the church, to put it simply, had become the same. A few dozen, perhaps a hundred, at a time - while it certainly flowed into the coffers and her own coinpurse at a rate that assured she would be more than adequately cared for as long as she chose to do so, they had lost their luster by sheer volume - or lack thereof.

To put it simply, it was no longer enough. When the commission came across her desk to travel outside the bounds of the city and collect from a group of rangers out in the wilds, she dismissed it at first - why leave the city when there was enough to do here?

It was the number at the end that ended with her golden, lizard-like eyes wide. How much?

And just like that, she had turned from the Church's local muscle to something else entirely.

The trip from Janderhoff had been, for the most part, uneventful. Varisia as a whole was largely untamed wilderness interspersed with small settlements - places that Avei could take shelter for the night, spend a day or night and gather the information she needed for the next leg. Today was different, however.

Today it was raining. Oh, she knew how to deal with rain: stay indoors, find shelter, or grit your teeth failing all else, but today was different. Today it had refused to stop, turning from a drizzle to a storm, then teasing her with a brief slowing before the gods themselves seemed to decide to make a joke on her behalf by simply dumping buckets onto her head. She was not only soaked, it was like the very coals of herself threatened to be snuffed out and were only managing to stay lit by sheer force of will.

Unfortunately for those who would quickly learn of her existence, this will was currently driven by little more than tectonic anger akin to the white hot force that formed mountains when the world was still young.

It was this rage, impotent under the grey sky, that the woman bristled with as she walked into the city, eyes glowing from under the hat in a way that made any who crossed her path to quickly uncross and seemed to make the water steam from atop the hat that just barely kept her face from being soaked through as well as everything else. She had kept this rage under control well enough, only asking a few pointed questions to the mayor and excusing herself before she let the news turn her anger towards something more destructive. She even managed to thank him for the lodging, and meant it whole-heartedly to boot.

Anything to get out from under the steel-colored sky.

~~~

Innside

The doorway to the inn opened at a carefully measured pace, the imposing form of the fire-blooded woman darkening except for two twin, golden points underneath the dripping brim of a not-quite-waterproof traveler's hat. One step, then two - she was inside. She didn't manage to quite so well measure the way she closed the door, however: the frame rattled, then the whole wall behind it shuddered, her eyes narrowing in two distinct directions as she turned around to gauge the damage she did.

That she didn't harm anything was a small blessing among many curses.

"I am looking for the Magnimarian adventurers," she said through gritted teeth before she bothered to turn around. Even despite this her voice boomed, echoing and carrying around the room. Seeming to recognize this, she stayed facing the wall for a moment, removing her hat slowly - buying time - before turning around.

With the door closed and the hat dripping in her hands, the full extent of Avei's peculiarities could be seen: towering for a woman of what might have been considered, at least visibly, slight of build, she nevertheless carried herself with the weight of the earth beneath her itself. This, combined with metallic red hair subtly streaked with fiery orange and soft sparkle of eyes that opened into inhuman slits - this was a creature of inhuman origins no matter what the rest of her appearance said.

This imposing form was the only thing keeping the fact that she was soaked to the bone, hair stuck flat against her neck like a lion's mane after a bath and clothes weighty and restrictive to the point that she almost squished with each step, from being comedic.

This truth was not lost on her.

[jamieth]

Hearing the call, Naya turns around from watching the barkeep showing off her skills and looks at the newcomer. The two women cauld hardly be any more different - almost a foot in height, ifrit's powerful, imposing build versus sylph's thin, supple body, heavy plate mail versus thin shirt that took quite an amount of magic to dry to the point it wouldn't cling to the bosy in ways people of this village wouldn't approve of.

"Adventurers... that would be my conpanions and me, I guess", Naya says, approaching the ifrit. "But who are you and why are you looking for us? Hm, before you answer..." Naya twists har hand, closing her fist, as if drying something out, and the front of ifrit's hair gets considerably dryer. She still had the spell active from when she worked on the others, so... why not?

[Bhaakon]

"...not Magnamarian." Brin mutters, after a silent prayer of thanks that the gloom of the storm kept anything more than a dull grey glow from filtering through the door as the drenched taper of a woman accessed the common room. "Just workin' for 'em. Or with 'em. Whichever."

She'd burned through her jug. Which would be unbelievable, except as she'd gotten a start on the days ration late the night before (or was it early the night before? Before sleep, either way). Either way, it was now lamentably devoid of perfectly turned nectar, and the subtle beat of the approaching hangover was just just beginning to thrum across her temples. The only question was whether to tap the barrman's supply or try for an early nap. She'd been leaning towards the later until Shalelu's return. Exhaustion, headache, and nausea be damned, she wasn't going to turn in before the other elf. At least not while the other elf was watching.

[Ilorin Lorati]

Avei

Spoiler: Stats

Show

F NG Lavasoul Ifrit Fighter (Dragonheir Scion) 7 / Brawler (Exemplar) 1, Level 8, Init 5, HP 72/72, DR Fire 10, Speed 20
AC 25, Touch 11, Flat-footed 24, CMD 23, Fort 11, Ref 6, Will 1, CMB +12/+7, Base Attack Bonus +8/+3
+1 Trident (SELF) (M) +17/+12 (R) +14/+10 ((1h/R) 1d8+8 (2h) 1d8+10, x2)
+1 Full Plate, Heavy Steel Shield (+10 Armor, +2 Shield, +1 Dex, +2 Deflect)
Abilities Str 18, Dex 12, Con 16, Int 14, Wis 7, Cha 12
Condition Mildly Soaked

The Ifrit started to reply to the question but was quickly interrupted by a weight draining from her hair, giving her pause and prompting the red-haired warrior to reach up and run her fingers through the locks - now provably metallic in sheet after being dried. She was still soaked to the bones in ways that a mere cantrip could not resolve on such short order, though not having her eyebrows dripping seemed to be a source of relief to Avei. "...I thank you," she managed to get out, her anger at the weather draining out of her fast enough that it winded her.

She looked down, approvingly, at the sylph that gave her aid, then took a breath and collected her thoughts to reply. "Father Shreed informed me that you are going to Fort Rannick and understand there are... difficulties. I have a debt to collect from the rangers there, on the orders of the Bank of Abadar in Janderhoff, and so I would accompany you to see the that the debt is collected, a payment plan is enacted, or the loss is properly catalogued," she eventually reply as plain as she could manage even though she shifted uncomfortably as she did so - she was quite used to making demands of those who deserved her ire, from loan jumpers to illicit sharks, simply asking for help... or to help... was very clearly not in her realm of expertise.

[Miraqariftsky]

Rico stares into the fire of the hearth, its crackling an echo of the battering rain outside. Her half-full notebook props up her forehead.

As Shalelu enters, the halforc constable shudders form her stupor, the wide-brimmed black hat swinging by its strap across her nape. Papers and pencil fly as she half-stands, then slumps back into her seat. Her hand falls to her sword hilt at the first sign of disturbance, then she forces it off.

Sighing, snorting, she nods and says, "Of course they ain't. They're right named after war itself, why would they? Tch. 'Nyhow, glad ta have ye back aboard, ma'am. An' aye, that bit o' help should be good."

Groaning, flushing, she asks, while easing out a dagger onto the table. "Beggin' yer pardon, ma'am, but would ye consent to a blood check? Though heck, pretty sure ye recall this from before..."

"Gorum's gonads, how's it not be eatin' y'all? The uncertainty?" she mutters at her companions, though to nobody in particular. "Anybody or anyyyybody we ain't seen in a while could be one o' them faceless stalker hellwankers. Blood's the surest way ta make sure, but askin' fer a gorram slice an' drop errytime ye meet anybody is arreddy pushin' absurdity, I know... agh..."

When the doors open once again and disgorge a new guest, Rico stands and touches the brim of her hat with one hand and sizes her up. Her squinted amber eyes gauge the other woman... the musculature, the stance, the accountrements... then move up to lock on her eyes.

Her other hand is on the edge of what seems to be a round wooden table, its battered face bearing the foaming tankard sigil of the Lucky Drunk. "We are of that jurisdiction, aye. Who's asking?"

Suddenly she blinks, right ear rising, and asks, "Yer... lemme get this straight, yer JUST collectin' dues?"

[Ilorin Lorati]

Avei

Spoiler: Stats

Show

F NG Lavasoul Ifrit Fighter (Dragonheir Scion) 7 / Brawler (Exemplar) 1, Level 8, Init 5, HP 72/72, DR Fire 10, Speed 20
AC 25, Touch 11, Flat-footed 24, CMD 23, Fort 11, Ref 6, Will 1, CMB +12/+7, Base Attack Bonus +8/+3
+1 Trident (SELF) (M) +17/+12 (R) +14/+10 ((1h/R) 1d8+8 (2h) 1d8+10, x2)
+1 Full Plate, Heavy Steel Shield (+10 Armor, +2 Shield, +1 Dex, +2 Deflect)
Abilities Str 18, Dex 12, Con 16, Int 14, Wis 7, Cha 12
Condition Mildly Soaked

The fire haired woman tilted her head and looked past Naya to the new stranger - she presumed another adventurer. "Of course not," she said with a matter of fact tone that said as much about what she believed was common knowledge as the words themselves. "Though it is true that I am here to assure the proper flow of coin to the church is resumed, how that is done is my discretion. If they are in trouble I will do my utmost to aid them - and if they are in true need of respite I will neither seek their lives nor their livelihoods. The Bank of Abadar is still a church."

It was clearly a practiced speech, and one that she had given in some form or another several times over the last few decades - though in her mind it was quite a true one. If they could not pay immediately they would be granted a reprieve, though failure to pay due to anything other than an act of divinity or death would reflect poorly on them and, thusly, result in not being given one. With how high the loan was on this, she could almost taste the gold that would be flowing into the coffers of her lord if that ended up being the case.

[Bhaakon]

Brin's head tilts to port as she considers the situation. It was just plain...odd. Like one of them Magnamar pomps had cooked up a pretext as thin as a sylph's negligee to have their agent tag along with Groby's new pets. Maybe I should order some kahve. Does this place even have kahve?

"A fort full o' rangers keeping an eye on the wilds don't seem like the sort of place ol' Gold Fist would be calling in markers." She finally says. "Lots o' concern up there, but I'm not sure how much it was going even before it dropped off the map."

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Later, mouths Shalelu to Rico, quirking a slim brow as she angles her head towards the newcomer. Thumbing off the rainwater that has pearled along the shell of her ear, the elf gives a perfunctory cough and eases herself off the stool she had only just occupied.

"I'm afraid you would find it difficult to make good on collecting those dues, lady enforcer. Or even offer help. You mentioned Father Shreed. Then you must know of the terrible slaughter that has befallen the Black Arrows. The last three of the order left now abide in Father Shreed's lodge, only rescued from their tormentors just yesterday." Shalelu speaks calmly, a lilt of command in her husky voice and her head held high despite the day's mud-smears. Her jade-green eyes study Avei's lean form - noting the glint of her hair, the sheen of her armour, then meeting the ifrit's gaze without fear. "I am Shalelu Andosana, appointed.... representative... of the Magnimarian council. Aye, we do intend to travel to the Fort on the morrow, as is our commission. But we go to retake it from the Kreegwood ogres, not to squeeze any survivors for pennies. If you wish to come with us; if the rangers are to have anything left to paw together to make payment, then you must help us."

*****

Red

Abadar... At the mention of the god's name, Red's eyes narrow, glinting with an uncharacteristically cold light. Barely aware of her hands trembling, curling themselves into fists under the table, of her breathing slowing - she cants her head to gaze sightlessly at Rico's elbow, her mind far away and several years in the past.

Her brother's arms around her, shaking with cold. Her right arm dangling useless, bent the wrong way, bone pronging through the broken flesh. The priest in the white cloak - barely visible through the black-flecked haze of pain - the gleaming gold locket in the shape of a key at his neck, the wash of sweet incense as he'd turned away...

"I am so sorry, m'boy. But I cannot draw upon the power of the Golden One without a donation..."

She hadn't forgotten. How could she? How could she?

But it had been so long ago. How old had she been - six? Seven? She fiercely blinks away the sudden dampness in her eyes, the surge of anger receding as quickly as it had come on. Her fingers, unbidden, trace the taut muscle of her upper arm, skirting the unseen edge of the ragged cicatrix beneath her tunic. So long ago. And she had since raised her glass in the worship of a different god, one not fettered to the service of money, who didn't wear a golden noose around his neck...

A heavy sigh escapes Red's lips, her shoulders bowing under the weight of her memories. Shifting her weight on her stool, she remains silent for now, warily watching the woman with the weird eyes explain about coin and church. The past - it was over. (At least, she hoped it was.) What this woman would prove of herself... well, she'd wait and see.

[Ilorin Lorati]

Avei

Spoiler: Stats

Show

F NG Lavasoul Ifrit Fighter (Dragonheir Scion) 7 / Brawler (Exemplar) 1, Level 8, Init 5, HP 72/72, DR Fire 10, Speed 20
AC 25, Touch 11, Flat-footed 24, CMD 23, Fort 11, Ref 6, Will 1, CMB +12/+7, Base Attack Bonus +8/+3
+1 Trident (SELF) (M) +17/+12 (R) +14/+10 ((1h/R) 1d8+8 (2h) 1d8+10, x2)
+1 Full Plate, Heavy Steel Shield (+10 Armor, +2 Shield, +1 Dex, +2 Natural)
Abilities Str 18, Dex 12, Con 16, Int 14, Wis 7, Cha 12
Condition Mildly Soaked

"Fortresses oft need defense, and the coin they borrowed for such is worth a lifetime's wealth for a lesser man," she replied with an edge of annoyance to Brin in the background. The attention didn't remain long, however - not with Shalelu verbally approaching - and her attention turned towards her just as quickly as a blaze turns with the wind. By this point her patience had begin to wear thin, and the look on her face was strained - much more prodding and even she feared she would snap. "Then I'll accompany you and take the price from the current tenants," she spoke through teeth that struggled to not grit against themselves. "You'll find I'm quite proficient in such types of negotiations."

[Miraqariftsky]

Taxes my gorram arse, urgh... Huh. Just a couple months ago, I'd'a been on her side of things, so damn besotted with paperwork an' bureaucracy...

Am I now TOO paranoid that I want to shank this consecrated loanshark already, just to make sure she ain't a demon in disguise? Tcheh!

Nodding at Shalelu with a groan, Rico listens to the spiels, then grimaces. Resting both hands on the ironbound edge of her table-shield, her fingers slowly drum upon the wood. Chain clinks behind the shield as she shifts her weight subtly.

"Once upon a time, I mighta had patience nuff fer this..." she grates out. "Woss Yer Name, Ma'am?"

Glaring, then snorting, she says, while gesturing at her comrades, each in turn, "We need summin' more decent'n just 'Hey you!' ta call iffen we be workin' together, eh? Name's Rico, of the Sandpoint constabulary. This here's Red. Yon be Brin, Naya an' Setsuna."

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

As Rico rumbles out her cursory introduction, innkeeper Orlandi pokes his head through the nearest doorway to see what the recent uptick in conversation is all about. While his meaty face instinctively beams with covetous delight at the sight of a fresh patron, he is unable to quite stifle the (mildly gratifying) squeak of alarm that makes it way out of his throat once he catches sight of Avei's unearthly eyes and the fire blazing within. Smiling weakly at those of you who hear him and turn, he manages to sputter an enthusiastic welcome, all the while backing up into the kitchen.

"I'll just get yer room ready! Young miss- urm, mi-armoured-lady. Yee-es... And something hot off the hob to sip at, hey? And for you too, Miss Elf? Eh heh." Nervously wiping his hands on the dishrag hanging from his belt, Orlandi turns to flee, waddling back from whence he'd emerged as fast as his pudgy legs will take him.

Despite her stern demeanour, Shalelu almost smirks in laughter as she watches the innkeeper beat his retreat. Resuming her perch on her stool, she grins at Avei and nods towards the nearest empty chair. "Have a seat, enforcer. If the ogres scare anything as easily as our friend here, then you'd be a most welcome companion indeed. If he musters up enough courage to return with that tea, then perhaps something to warm you up before we look for proper victuals next door...? Their barkeep is pretty handy - was juggling a flaming bottle of whiskey last night, if I heard right."

*****

Day 59: Neth 20, 4707

0800hrs

Unfortunately for Avei and those of you who were hoping for better weather, the rain continues right through the night. Despite Orlandi's generosity in offering a brass brazier filled with glowing coals for your rooms - you suspect he's still trying to butter you up ever since your incursion with the foul Grauls - most of you awaken the next morning huddled in your blankets, the cold piercing sharp fingers through the rough wool to make you shiver. It's turning out to be a most unseasonably bitter fall indeed. But like it or not, there's a Fort that needs to be harrowed of the ogres occupying its halls, and it's out into that bitter climate you're going.

Morning grants small respite in the form of the rain having weakened to a drizzle. The steaming pot of earthy coffee and the scent of freshly baked bread that wafts from the basket Orlandi has placed on the table suffice to rouse you from sleep torpor, and there are warm smoked trout cakes for those looking to fill their bellies. (Those of you who partake of the trout cakes quickly find yourselves accosted by Orlandi's bullmastiff, who snuffles at your heels before taking up position under the table to snatch up any scraps that might come his way.)

"These aren't half bad. Generous with the red peppers. I should probably pack some for the road," remarks Shalelu gravely, as she cuts into a trout cake with the edge of a wooden spoon. "This coffee is so strong it might risk wake the dead though. No offence, Officer Rico."

As the elf bends to sneak a flake of trout to the waiting dog, the door of the inn swings open at the thump of a gloved fist. Those of you who went to the Graul den instantly recognise the first of the three armoured and cloaked figures outlined in the door - Vale Temros, cutting quite the figure now that he's clad in proper leathers and cleansed of his ordeal. Genteelly wiping the soles of his boots on the rush mat by the door, he waves at you in brief greeting before making way for the other two behind him.

It takes you a few moments more to figure out who the youngest of the three figures is - the last of the Black Arrows you'd rescued from the barn - a lithe young man whose green eyes spark with boyish charm, now that he is awake. Even the herbal poultice still bound to his forehead does little to detract from the dashing smile that he offers to Naya and Setsuna, giving him a rakish, almost mischievous air. Still, it is to Jakardos Sovark that your attention falls, as the older man coughs and knuckles the damp off his eye-patch.

"I heard there was a debt-collector from Janderhoff in these parts. So said my good friend, Maelin Shreed." The eldest ranger's voice, even now, retains its hoarse, gravelly accents. Jakardos looks about the room, squinting at Avei as the only one he hasn't met yet. "It hrm-hm, it behooves me. As the likely last surviving captain of the Black Arrows... to pledge her service that I will do my best to regain Rannick and make good on those magonels we ordered. Pity they didn't seem to do much 'gainst them Kreeg invaders, but that's that. Anyhow."

Captain Sovark sniffs ruefully, avoiding meeting Shalelu's gaze. As he rakes a hand through his black flecked hair, those of you who are more sharp-eyed spot neat bandages still wrapped about his forearms - where his manacles had been. "Vale here comes to me last night, sayin' he heard word that you were heading back up to the Fort today. Well, that Fort's our home. And there's a lot of our sisters and brothers what lost their lives up there last moon. Well - we're coming with you. There's nobody that knows the forest and lay of the Fort better than us. Besides, we owe it to the dead. To family."

Perception DC14

Spoiler

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From the corner of your eyes, you see Shalelu scoff at Jakardos's last words, curling her lip before deliberately turning her attention to her cup of coffee. There's no lost love between her and the old ranger, that much is clear.

[jamieth]

Naya, who never drank anything stronger than tea, would normally be a terrible client for any tavern, but Kiani's shows always enjoyed deft attention - and, more importantly, generous tips - from the sylph, and the general atmosphere was enough to put her into the cheerful and light-hearted mood even while completely sober... not that Naya was ever far from said mood, not ever since she took on the dangerous, but certainly never boring life of an adventurer. It was said mood that, against her better judgement, prompted her to ask... "Miss Rico, I've been wondering... I understand why you insist on blood-checking everyone you meet. shapeshifters are tricky like that, but... What about us? I mean, if I was a malicious shapeshifter... which I'm not, by the way... I would try to impersonate one of us..."
***
Next morning, the sylph stretches and looks outside, where the weather... well, looks fine, honestly... compared to the last night, at least.
The apearance of the Rangers surprises her, but... she's not the one to object - the fort is their home, after all, and they have every right to take part in taking it back...
"A couple extra swordsand bows never hurts", she smiles, "except the enemies, af course, and the knowledge is always useful... perhaps you could tell us what you know of these Kreegs while we're on our way?"
Blinking, she turns to Rico; while she, personally, welcomes any assistance, Naya knows the constable can be rather... wary of strangers, and the lack of trust in the team can be worse than the lack of strength...

[Ilorin Lorati]

Avei

Avei gives the man a grin - toothy but genuine - in response to his hospitality (and possibly his fear). "I thank you, please do not trouble yourself much. As long as it is dry I will be content." Another practiced line, though this one being one that she does not believe - as a telltale spark flickers in her eyes as he whisks himself out of sight. Oh how she wanted to encourage him to give her the best of the rooms!

Once the innkeep is safe from her gaze, the the woman moves over to the offered chair and takes a seat, unshouldering the pack she carries and the weapons she has on her person. "I am Avei," she finally replies to both the direct question and the mention of her as an enforcer. It was true, of course, but no one here was to be enforced upon.

"It would be my pleasure." Now that she was inside and was no longer being rained on, her disposition was rapidly improving - though she could hardly be called friendly yet she was at least happy for some conversation.

~~

Spoiler: OOC Note

Show

With a +14 modifier, it's impossible for me to fail this perception check.

By the time morning came and it became clear that she was no still in danger of getting wet, the woman had stalked to the general store - an innocent gesture that nevertheless seemed to leave a wake of fear behind her - and purchased a poncho to keep herself somewhat dry in the hours to come. And so she wears the waxed wool cloak when Jakardos stares at her, the woman staring back though finding it rather difficult to feel intimidating with everything hidden behind the fabric. "Worry not, captain; we willll be retaking that fort for you. Let it not be said that Abadar does not protect his investments."

With that, she gives a curt nod and turns her attention elsewhere - she hears the scoff and files it away, though it was never in her purview to understand the subtleties of those interactions, and takes a deep, almost fuming breath when she hears Sovark. "I assume you must be the local ranger force," she lets out with a surprisingly calm, pausing slightly in the middle as she intentionally sidestep calling them the "remainder". She doesn't say anything further, looking at Naya - who she assumes must be the leader of these adventurers - for the decision.

[Desril]

Setsuna

The tian tiefling had been absent from the introductions the night previous. Officially, she'd been cold and wet and retired early to her room to warm up and relax after her run in with the gars in the lake, though in truth she spent a fair chunk of time fretting about how to convince a certain barkeep that she'd been honest, pacing around the room nervously, and staring wistfully out the window as the rained poured down on it. Come morning, however, Setsuna seems to be back to her usual self as she made quick work of the breakfast, also trying to sneak a bite to the mastiff when she thought no one was looking, and being very confused by the apparent arrival of another ally. Discussing how to get to and retake the fort with the rangers is hardly the time for introducing herself to Avei, however, and thoughts like those result in her missing Shalelu's scoff in the process.

Setsuna isn't one for letting people, even allegedly battle-hardened ones, get put needlessly at risk, however, and bites her lip as she tries to choose her words carefully. "We...appreciate the help. I am sure you can aid us in getting to the fort, but...you and your men have suffered enough, have you not? You do not have to keep fighting."

[Bhaakon]

Brin's head is too damned full of pounding agony to question the newcomer further, the advancing hangover having stolen a march in her moment of distraction. Hot drinks and hair of the dog only did so much in the face of two-day bender. Only the fitful oblivion of a long night's sleep would put an end to the battle raging in her skull, so she soon retreats to her bed for a baker's dozen snore-laden hours of pillow time.

---------------------------------

Spoiler

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Brin can't fail a DC 14 either

The Enemy hadn't quite abandoned its efforts to batter through Brin's skull by morning, but a long sleep and the calming routine of morning rites ablutions had blunted its offensive considerably. "Coffee." She mutters as she slouches into a chair in the common room. "Coffee..." She mutters to no one in particular as she pours herself a mug. The trout cakes look delicious, but news of pepper flakes has her steering straight for the fresh bread's promise of bland nutrition. On mornings like this, one never knew whether the Enemy would launch a sneak attack on one's stomach. Better to stick to bland fare.

A few sips and considered nibble later, Brin is ready to properly converse. Well, improperly converse. Or, more accurately, spew words while carefully nursing her meal and too-slowly fading headache. "It's your right to come, as you say, but first things first. The fort is bubbling over with a...scum of ogres, lets call it. We ain't going to be knocking on the front door with, what, nine bodies, some of 'em still marked by the Graul's ministrations. If that's the plan, we may as well hop the next ferry downriver."

Brin takes a long, loud sip. "If you want to go with us...no, if you want us to go with you, tell me you know the fort well enough to give us a chance."

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

"Well." Vale rubs his hands against each other, an unmistakable look of glee stealing over his stern face as Brin lays down her challenge. "It just so happens that I do. I was born at the Fort. Spent my childhood playing hidey-seek with the other young'uns, running all over the place. I daresay those Kreegs couldn't have discovered all secret ways in."

"Y'mean the path behind the waterfall?" The youngest Black Arrow pipes up, a slight frown creasing his forehead (and nudging his poultice slightly out of position). "I thought it'd been infested by shocker lizards? And that's why we don't go there?"

Vale shrugs amiably and scratches the back of his neck, unconcerned at the prospect of reptiles. "Ever since old Yorin died and left his pets behind, aye. But shockers aren't aggressive; least, as long as you take care not to disturb their warrens."

Captain Sovark clears his throat, having raised a polite eyebrow at Avei's pointed observation about them being the last of the rangers but otherwise keeping his peace. "Hrm. We also have- no, had... allies about. Bunch of giant eagles, living just above the Fort. I doubt any are still alive - saw some of 'em being axed out of the air by Kreeg hooks. But there's a path from the back of the Fort that led to their aerie. If we could get up there - somehow - it'd be one way of getting in. I guess."

Knowledge (nature) DC 12

Spoiler

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Shocker lizards are one of the larger species of local reptiles, growing up to the size of a small dog. They are shy creatures and apt to release electrical charges from their lithe bodies when frightened or agitated. Though the shock delivered by an individual lizard will merely stun, shocker lizards prefer to live in large colonies, and the combined electrical charges of several lizards at the same time can prove lethal.

[Bhaakon]

"Do lizards even have fingers?" Brin ponders aloud, then catches herself. "Well...sneaking past someone's old pets sounds easier than scaling a wall topped with a clan of giantkin." She looks at Naya, "Unless you think you could fly us all up to that eagles' nest."

[jamieth]

"All of us?" Naya looks around, recounting to make sure she doesn't forget anyone, "I... probably could, actually, but... that would drain me dry. Won't have anything big to hit the Kreegs with after that... and I don't want to split. Not anymore. Not after that time at the Clocktower...

On the other hand, lizards... I think me and Miss Setsuna can go ahead, and see if there's a safe way through? Shocks... we aren't that much afraid of, right, Miss Setsuna?"

[Bhaakon]

"No reason to test that if we don't have to." Brin replies. "They're just beasts. You say this Yorin trained them, right? Maybe we can just buy our way past with some food. A haunch of beef. Or maybe buy a goat or donkey so we don't have to haul a carcass up to the fort. Toss the scalies some fresh chow and waltz right past as they gobble it down."

She draws a long breath to brace herself for what would come next. It would be foolish not to ask Shalelu's opinion, the woman spent most of her time in the wilds, and elves had a lot of time. Yet, preposterous as it was, polite and helpful as Shalelu had been, Brin couldn't shake the feeling that the elf was looking down her nose at her. So she buries her face in her mug when she asks the ranger, "Think that would work? They do eat meat, right?"

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Looking up from contemplating the bottom of her coffee cup, Shalelu purses her lips briefly in thought. "No reason why they wouldn't. Shocker lizards usually eat insects and rodents. Field mice and the like. Still, it's a good idea - though perhaps we might get away with something smaller than a donkey. A fowl, or two." She glances over at the Black Arrows, tapping her fingers lightly against the pitted wood of the tabletop. "These lizards do not trouble you at the Fort, despite living so close by?"

The youngest Black Arrow steps forward and speaks up again, eager to be of help. Placing a hand over his heart, he bobs his head in a mark of respect to the elf. "Oh no, milady. Some of 'em got into the armoury once, but we drove them back out with smoking brands. No trouble at all."

"Yeah, but Kaven. Those were bitterbark brands, we used. From our storage room? You know, the same one which has likely long since been trashed and looted by those ogre bastards?" Vale almost rolls his eyes at his junior's casual optimism, folding his arms, his usually warm voice edged with impatience. "I'd need to be back at the Fort to see what's happened to it since, but I'm sure even if we can't move those lizards, I'd be able to find a way in. We do have midden drains and gutters, after all."

To his left, Captain Sovark gives a harsh chuckle. "Hrm. I wouldn't relish a climb up a privy hole, myself. But Vale has the right of it. We must fight. Our honour demands it. We weren't there to offer our lives when the Fort was taken, so we must lend our swords to your endeavour, even if it means we go to the Lady of Graves a few weeks late."

He directs this last line at Setsuna, lifting his jaw ever so slightly to gaze at her right in the eye.

[Ilorin Lorati]

Avei

Spoiler: Stats

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F NG Lavasoul Ifrit Fighter (Dragonheir Scion) 7 / Brawler (Exemplar) 1, Level 8, Init 5, HP 72/72, DR Fire 10, Speed 20
AC 25, Touch 11, Flat-footed 24, CMD 23, Fort 11, Ref 6, Will 1, CMB +12/+7, Base Attack Bonus +8/+3
+1 Trident (SELF) (M) +17/+12 (R) +14/+10 ((1h/R) 1d8+8 (2h) 1d8+10, x2)
+1 Full Plate, Heavy Steel Shield (+10 Armor, +2 Shield, +1 Dex, +2 Natural)
Abilities Str 18, Dex 12, Con 16, Int 14, Wis 7, Cha 12
Condition Slightly Wet

"I can fly for a short time myself, and can carry one you with me if it would help." The enforcer rolls her shoulders as she speaks. "More if some of you are light enough."

She also gives the captain a harsh look, eyes ablaze through even the armored helm and the goggles she wore underneath it; coals of heat from behind icy grey. "No one is sacrificing themselves today, and the next one of you that speaks like they deserve to die, or needs must meet the lady of graves, is getting nailed to a wall and left until we're done. Do I make myself clear?" As she spoke the woman seemed to grow another few inches, towering over all but the largest of those she was surrounded by. This was not something that was up for debate.

Spoiler: Rolls

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Intimidate Take 10: 27