Steel, Shadow, and Fire

[AlphaLuke]

Pent steps into the night air, inhaling the fresh scent and letting out a long sigh of relief. After days in that nasty old place, fresh air hits him like a lover's kiss. Behind him, the dust cloud from the tunnel collapse puffs outward from the stone archway. Rose stands to the side of the door, brushing out the stone dust from her clothes and smiling.

"Well that was exhilarating! I tell you, nothing gets the blood pumping like a good tunnel collapse." Hilde coughs a bit of dust out of her lungs. "I'd rather go without."

Pent looks back at his friends, and can't help but smile. Rhikiah stepped through the Wolf doorway into another world, telling them that it "called to him". He had known what he was doing, and still chose to leave. That made Pent angry at the time, but has given him a sense of peace since. May you fare well, friend. Wherever you are.

The three begin the short journey back to Almorel.

[Pent]

Pent is all smiles. He flicks pebbles off his shoulders and arms with a faint *pings*.

"Well you know what they say, any tunnel collapse you walk away from is a good tunnel collapse."

Pent hauls the loot bag over his shoulder with just a slight grunt. "What do you think Rose, are the three of us going to retire to someplace warm and sunny after selling this stuff?"

Pent tilted his head to the side as he mutters to himself "Can I still get sunburned?"

[AlphaLuke]

Rose smiles and shakes her head. "Not sure about retiring, Big Guy, but I'm fairly sure that I'll be able to buy the first round tonight."

"And I'll buy the second if we get as far away from this stinking place as we can. I'm done with dungeon delving for a while yet." Hilde looks grateful, but exhausted after dealing with the undead-rife dungeon.

The group makes it back to the Sleeping Serpent without any trouble. The common room is empty, with it being nearly 3AM and the kitchen and bar closed. Making their way upstairs, the group finds that their beds have been turned down and a hunk of break and mug of ale wait on each of their side tables. Rose bids goodnight to both Hilde and Pent and makes her way to bed.

Hilde hugs her uncle and kisses him goodnight on the cheek, she too then goes to bed.

Pent is left alone in his room when, suddenly, he is surprised to hear a voice from the corner. "I was wondering when you'd get back, sugar." The man nearly jumps out of his skin. Slinking out of a shadow that is clearly too small to hide a person, Lily walks over to Pent and plants a passionate kiss on the man. "Glad you didn't die. Now, how about I help you relax? You must be exhausted after that delve."

. . .

The morning arrives far too soon. Pent is greeted by the sun beaming through the slats of his window and the muffled sounds of the market starting up outside. I barely caught a wink last night, he thinks, a devilish grin crossing his face. He rolls over to find Lily has left and, presumably, gone to start work downstairs. He quickly gets dressed and makes his way downstairs to the common area, where he finds Rose and Hilde already digging in to bowls of porridge with honey and cream.

Lilly brings over a bowl for him and smiles. Red calls for her from the kitchen and she saunters back, slowly and deliberately.

“Good morning, Big Guy. Sleep well?” Rose asks with big wide eyes, feigning innocence and ignorance.

[Pent]

Pent can't stop the stupid grin from creeping on his face.

"You know Rose. Sometimes, you just have a perfect night. And its been a long time since I've woken up this refreshed."

He looks down at both Rose and Hilde, both enjoying their breakfast. He smiles at everything being right in the world, for at just this moment, and takes a big spoonful.

"Big day ahead of us?" Pent asks. "Is Eoin at the Wyvern ready to shell out all the gold for us?"

He takes another spoonful. "And then the thing with the boatswain, if I remember right."

[AlphaLuke]

Rose speaks after she swallows a mouthful of porridge, gesturing with her spoon.

“I already sent a note to Eoin. He'd be happy to buy whatever we're looking to sell. As for the Boatswain, he's only in Skyport until tomorrow morning, so we'll need to work tonight.”

Hilde snorts derisively. "Work, right. Killin’ folk for money. That the kind of work we do now?"

Pent can sense that they've been talking about this since before his arrival.

"Anyway," Rose continues, ignoring Hilde, "word is that while we've been in the crypt, Skywarden docked at the House Lyrandar Skyport and the Captain and Boatswain are both staying on the ship every night. That makes them under the guard of House Lyrandar every night, which is . . . problematic. Those half-elves are good. However, being in the Port District, they've been making nightly excursions into the Red Light area. Meda, the old lady with the herbs, has told me that the Boatswain has already gotten a reputation for leaving his "dates" a little roughed up. So, I figure, we find him somewhere between his partying and walking back to Skywarden. He'll be drunk and vulnerable. If we do it quick and quiet in an alley, it'll look like a simple mugging. Your thoughts?”

Red walks over with a bowl of stewed apples and Rose eagerly digs in.

[Pent]

Pent's face darkens as he hears about the battered women.

He sets down his fork.

"Rose, I've been thinking about this a lot. Frankly, my niece is right. I can't just murder someone for money. He may be a scumbag that hurts whores, and I would happily deliver a beating, but I cannot - either directly or by association - kill this man without more solid grounds."

"The closest I've come to an exception is self defense. But, lets face it, I would only be in that alley because you are there to kill him. Maybe if we had more evidence - that his choice of prostitute is despicably young, I could justify dirtying my hands with this."

"So, I can't help you. And I know Hilde won't. But-" he looks at Hilde "we will not get in your way. He's been targeted by your organization. He is going to die. Even if we were to try and stop you tonight, someone else-" he nods at Red "will get him."

A figurative light bulb appears above his head. "However, and I think Hilde will agree with this, it sounds like some customers of this whore house may need some lesson in manners. And I may be too busy doing that tonight to assist you."

[AlphaLuke]

Rose doesn't even hesitate to answer with a mouthful of stewed apples. "Ok. I figured you'd feel that way at first. That's fine." She smiles at the metal man, looking genuinely happy and congenial.

"How about you two head over to Eoin's and trade some of our stuff and I'll head over to Meda and trade that fungus we found. Then, we can meet back here and have a nice round of drinks. Around nightfall, I'll go to work and you two can head wherever you please. I can meet you back here if you like or we can just rendezvous in the morning."

[Pent]

Seeing Rose's smile helps Pent relax. After all, keeping this group working well together should be his first priority.

He takes a bite of apples.

"Hilde, I want to know what you think about this. What would you feel comfortable with tonight?"

[AlphaLuke]

Hilde chews for a long while before speaking.

"I think it's horrible what you do, Rose. You kill people for money. That's wrong. I'm not going to get in your way, but I certainly won't help you kill someone unless they need killing."

Turning to her uncle, Hilde continues "You and I will help whomever we can tonight uncle. Maybe we'll be able to tip the scales towards the light tonight."

The group finishes breakfast in friendship, albeit quiet friendship. They've been through much in their short time together and Rose has save both Hilde and Pent more than once. They just hope her contracts skew toward the greater good.

They eventually make their way to Eoin's shop, the Wyvern's Tale, and begin the process of haggling with the good natured man.

Spoiler

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List what you want sold and any Diplomacy or Appraise checks you want for good prices.

[Pent]

Pent lugs in the bag of loot - as well as a pot with a skull inside - into the Wyvern.

With a grunt he drops the following onto the counters:

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1. 5 gems
2. hunk of melted metal
3. ancient curved swords, covered in grime and rust, are radiating a faint magical aura of Evocation and Transmutation.
4. a shirt of chain links, nearly rusted solid is radiating a faint aura of Abjuration.
5. 3 golden rings, 2 silver rings with small gemstones, and 6 large gemstone earrings
6. axe from trap
7. evil gilt skull
8. +1 Shocking Greataxe
9. Gemstones “Somewhere in the range of 3-4 hundred gold pieces for the lot”
10. Starspore mushrooms (being sold by Rose)
11. Pent's old +1 Shocking Compound Longbow
12. Pent's old Silver longsword

Hilde examines the loot, thinking how much it should be worth.

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Hilde appraise (1d20+1)[4]

Pent greets Eoin with his friendliest smile.

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Pent diplomacy (1d20+7)[9]

[AlphaLuke]

Eion looks extremely pleased at the haul and immediately pulls a large, leather ledger from below the counter. Placing spectacles over his black, pupil-less eyes, he begins to examine the magical items very carefully. After a satisfactory nod, he takes off the glasses and begins to examine the non-magical items, weighing and measuring.

"All together," he finally says, rubbing his soft chin, "I can do 15 thousand gold dragon marks for the lot."

"Well, that just won't do, Eion," Rose says pointedly. "I know for a fact that the bow, swords, and armor alone could fetch that amount. Try again."

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Rose Diplomacy: (1d20+7)[14]
Rose Appraise: (1d20+7)[19]

[AlphaLuke]

Eion grumbles something under his breath in a language that neither Pent nor Hilde understand. Rose, however, raises her eyebrows and begins to argue back with the man in the same language. The tongue is harsh, curt, and distinctly difficult to pronounce. The two argue for a bit before Eion lets a wry smile leave his lips and he switches back into Common.

"I was mistaken. My deepest apologies. For all of this, I would give twenty four thousand golden marks."

Rose looks at Pent and Hilde and nods. "Agreed," Hilde quickly says, shaking the portly man's hand. Eion begins taking the items off the counter and writing the note of transfer for House Thundrask's bankers. Eion then begins brewing tea under Rose's watchful eye to celebrate a deal well struck.

Meanwhile, Pent begins to look around the shop. A few items have changed since he was last here.

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You each now get 8,000gp.
The shop has a lot of items, but the ones that catch your eye are:

• +1 Spell Storing Heavy Mace - 8,900gp asking price
• Mithral Breastplate - 5,000gp asking price
• Shadowcraft Gloves - 8,500gp asking price
• Two (2) Shadowstruct Flasks - 1,000gp each asking price
• Amulet of Flame - 4,500gp asking price
• Golden Grains of the Empyreal Lord - 1,000gp asking price
• Bruiser Belt - 1,000gp asking price
• Pouch of Magic Stones - 1,500gp asking price
• Two (2) jars of Warpaint of Victory - 500gp each asking price

[Pent]

Pent grabs 2 jars of Warpaint of Victory (1k), the Bruiser Belt (1k), and the two Shadowstruct Flasks (2k) and the Mithral Breastplate (5k).

"For these, I'll give you 7,500 gold, and this masterwork chain shirt. Its a nice piece of armor." he says making his friendliest smile."

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Diplomacy (1d20+7)[24]

[AlphaLuke]

Eion hands Pent a cup of tea that steams and smells faintly of jasmine. "A fine trade, young master. A fine trade. I'd be happy with that price."

Pent ends up with a transfer writ of 500gp and a host of new items. His breastplate feels like it's made of aluminum, but he can't dent or scratch it no matter how hard he tries. It's a great find.

Hilde and Rose don't buy anything, but instead decide to save their wealth for another day. The whole tea enjoys the tea before They make their way back to the Serpent.

The rest of the day moves along at a leisurely pace. Pent and Hilde are able to lounge in the common area, being fed a steady stream of cool ale and warm apple cakes from the kitchen. Red seems to have adopted Mibu and she follow him around, snapping up table scraps that fall to the floor and getting a lot of affection from the innkeeper. Pent can see that, if Red has his way, Mibu will be a wolf that acts more like a house dog.

Rose departs relatively early, casing the area around the docks and Skywarden.

As night falls, Hilde looks at her uncle. "You feel like taking to the streets now? We may be able to help someone. At least we can try to cancel out the evil Rose is doing."

[Pent]

Pent wears a sly grin. "Let's go.I wonder how well the slave pens are guarded. Maybe we can break some chains and burn writs of ownership."

[AlphaLuke]

Pent and Hilde suit up and make their way out of the Serpent, heading northeast towards the Fleshworks. As they make their way out of the Bazaar district, the now familiar scents of spices and sweat fade and are replaced by the vile scents of blood, piss, and dung. The Fleshworks is quiet at night, with the dead silence punctuated by the occasional cough or sharp wail of pain. The night air is humid, as it usually is this close to the Lake, and Pent and Hilde see their breath hanging in the air.

The two pass several guards carrying lanterns at the ends of long poles. None of them seem to give them any mind. They’re there to make sure no slaves escape, not to police the streets. They aren’t paid enough to ask why two adventurers are wandering around in the night. Eventually, Pent and Hilde find the large, square buildings that have bars on the high, small windows. Slave quarters. They can hear coughs and snores coming from some of the windows. The sounds of lust come from another, intermixed with some quiet weeping. All the buildings are heavily guarded, with men at the door, walking the roof, and presumably inside.

The guards all have large handbells on their belts, knocked crossbows, and wicked looking cudgels swinging from leather straps around their wrists. They’re outfitted to defend their cargo, but also to alert the local authorities.

Pent and Hilde look for a way in . . .

Meanwhile, in the Port District:

It takes Rose the better part of all day to beg, bribe, and cajole her way into the right bar, but she has finally found it. The Hag’s Eye. Rose finds the establishment just before nightfall. It’s a colorful place. Mostly sailors and skyshipmen, the clientele is a varied mix of humans, elves, half-breeds, and hadozee. The winged apemen are rare anywhere but in their homeland, far to the southwest, but Rose has heard that they make excellent skyshipmen, due to their natural gliding abilities and their prehensile feet. As she walks into the tavern, a group of them look up from their game of dice in the corner of the large common area. They quickly write her off as a bar wench or wife looking for a wandering husband and go back to their game. Rose changed her clothes prior to entering the Port District and now wears what would pass for a fisherman’s wife’s dress with a stained apron and rough cut brown skirt. She approaches the barman, an older human man who has a face that looks like it has been carved from wood, badly. His hatchet nose meets his face at the wrong angle and his chin has a scar so deep that it almost looks like a natural cleft.

“Lookin fo someone, love?” The man asked in a deep Tuigan drawl.

“You, actually.” She replies, dropping into the same drawl and giving the man her cheeriest smile. “I wos lookin fo a job. Servin drinks. I’m a real good sport an don mind some rough talk now an then. You hyrin?”

The man looks Rose up and down appraisingly. Shaking his head he turns to place some mugs back on their hooks. “You don wanna work ‘ere, love. Too messy. Too rough. Woundn sit right wif me ifn you got inta trouble. Go on down the way and look fo tha Crow’s ‘Ed. Right nice establishment, that. Good fo a young girl like yourself.”

Rose looks strong for a moment, then breaks into tears and wracking sobs. The conversation in the room immediately quiets as shocked men stare at the distraught girl in their midst. The barman looks aghast and frantically tries to calm and quiet Rose. Through the sobs, Rose is able to get out a very sad story about how she already tried the Crow’s Head . . . and how they aren’t looking for any more help . . . and how this is the last tavern in the whole district that she can turn to . . . and how her husband, gods rest him, was lost on the Lake last week . . . and now she needs to work to feed her babe . . . and how she knows that his cough is bad . . . and if only she had a little more money for the medicine she’d be able to take him to the temple for healing . . . and she won’t take no handout . . . no sir, she’s no beggar . . . her mother taught her better than that . . . and she just couldn’t live with herself if she resorted to panhandling . . . so, you see, she really needs this job and . . .

“Fine! Fine!” The barman finally says. “You can start ‘ere, tonight, jus . . . jus stop cryin, love. Won do ta have a woman cryin in my bar! Bad fo business.”

Rose thanks him, wiping her tears and letting herself into the back room. The buzz in the common room slowly returns as the men get back to their diversions.

Great! Now that that’s done . . . she begins the casing of the place. The tavern is well stocked, with casks of ale and bottles of wine and spirits lining the shelves in the back. Several loaves of bread and large wheels of cheese occupy a space in the corner of the cool, dry room. Rose finds a spot in the corner and sits on a rustic three-legged stool. She searches through her skirts and finds it, a small brown leather pouch. It clinks with the sound of glass vials and she’s careful as she opens it: Poisons, her specialty. She sifts through the various powders and liquids until she finds the one she’s looking for. Unlabeled (she doesn’t label anything illegal for obvious reasons) the vial looks to be holding a simple clear liquid with a slight purple tinge. But Rose knows this poison is special. Sting Jelly. Typically only useful when introduced directly through the bloodstream via injury, she has specially mixed this batch with a calcium solution to make it absorbable through ingestion. Once her mark drinks this, she’ll have a minute to get him out of sight before the poison takes effect. That’s her window. And so, the “Black Rose” waits.

The evening progresses much as you’d expect. The tavern begins to fill with men of questionable morals and women of ill repute. The ale and wine flow as freely as the curses and lewd comments. Rose isn’t put off by these. She finds it comforting. Familiar. It isn’t long past eleven bells when the man she’s looking for, the man she’s been waiting for, walks through the door. The Boatswain is a bear of a man, with arms the size of small tree trunks and a neck to match. His unsteady gait and unfocused eyes say that this isn’t his first stop of the night.

Rose lets the Boatswain lumber up to the bar and order. Never approach the target directly. Let them come to you. They always do, eventually. Rose can hear her “uncle’s” words echoing in the back of her mind. She saunters past the inebriated sailor and makes her way behind the counter. Pouring six mugs of ale, three to a hand, she pointedly doesn’t look at the Boatswain. As she walks back to the tables, she receives a sharp pinch on her backside. A quick yelp of mock-surprise and a dainty blush seal the deal. She has him.

Later in the evening, she’s sitting on his lap, laughing at his slurred jokes and half-finished stories of valor and heroism. Rose takes his proffered mug of ale and enjoys a long swig. As she does, she unstoppers the vial she has in her cheek and lets it empty into the mug alongside the backwash. Laughing at his next joke provokes a spit take that ejects the vial into the nearby hearth fire, alongside any remaining poison residue in her mouth. The Boatswain, proud that his joke elicited such a hearty response, chugs the rest of his mug. Rose begins counting in her head, mentally ticking down the exposure time delay. 60 . . . 59 . . . Pulling the Boatswain close, she whispers into his ear, punctuating her suggestion with a slight nip on his ear lobe. 43 . . . 42 . . . The two exit the tavern via the back door into a darkened alleyway, Rose laughing and pulling the Boatswain along by the hand. She has mischief in her gaze, he has hunger. 15 . . .14 . . . She kisses him, and he kisses her back, forcefully and messily. She begins to giggle and moan as his hands run up her skirt. 6 . . . 5 . . . His belt clatters to the cobbles beneath his feet and he grabs the back of Rose’s head, fingers weaving into her raven hair. 2 . . . 1 . . . He stops. Rose breathes. She pulls his hand out of her hair and straightens her dress. Almost had to do something unsavory there. Glad the first dose did the trick. She walks to the pile of garbage nearby and draws out a long, thin object. The Boatswain drools on the stones, standing like a horrid statue in the alleyway, hand still raised, pants still on the ground. His eyes, however, dart around, terrified and alert. He looks at Rose, horrified as she unsheathes a long, curved sword.

“You shall reap what you sow. And we shall reap the rest.”

His body still stood there, muscles taut with the venom coursing through their veins, even as his head hit the ground.

. . .

“It looks like it might be a little more than we can handle to pull a jailbreak, Uncle,” Hilde says, frustrated. “As repulsive as it is, these slaves are legal here, and if we tried to get past their watchers, we’d bring the full power of the law down on us. I just don’t see how we can do it without cracking more than a few skulls.”

Pent is frustrated. He wants to help someone. He wants to fight just a little injustice even if . . .

Something knocks over a crate of pottery in an alleyway nearby. Pent and Hilde hear the muffled sounds of feet on dry earth and the distinctly awful sound of bone hitting bone. Pent sees, just barely, a group of street toughs standing over the mass of a body on the ground. A skinny tough jeers at the quivering mound, “You stay down dis time, ya ‘ear? Wees tryin ta tell ya, ya ain't welcome ‘ear, Thayan.” A thicker tough gives a swift kick and Pent hears a rib pop. The kicker has a lower, gravely voice and speaks through gritted teeth. “Not enough, Yash. ‘E needs a right beatin, ‘e does. Ya see ‘is ‘orns? Unnatral, das wot. ‘E needs ta die. T’ain’t nobody gonna mis a Thayan.” Pent sees the kicker draw a dull fishing blade from his belt.

Spoiler

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Pent and Hilde have the opportunity to roll Initiative if they would like to.

[Pent]

Pent hears the unmistakable sounds of a gang beating, and runs toward the action. Although he can barely understand the thick accents, he's pretty sure he doesn't know what a Thayan is.

Regardless, it probably doesn't deserve this fate.

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Pent init (1d20+2)[5]
Hilde init (1d20+1)[6]

[AlphaLuke]

The sound of footsteps momentarily stalls the beating. As Pent and Hilde get closer they can clearly see four thugs standing over an unconcious man. The three of the thugs hesitate, but the beefier one who insisted upon the poor man's death rushes Pent, knife drawn.

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Fight map here.
Attack vs Pent Flat Foot AC19: (1d20+2)[17]
Dmg if hit:(1d4+1)[5]

Other thugs delay action. Hilde's turn.

[AlphaLuke]

The blade clangs uselessly against Pent's iron-hard skin.

[Pent]

"Protect him, Uncle" Hilde says urgently, touching his shoulder, casting Bull's Strength.


Seeing the victim fall unconscious, Pent grits his teeth as he plans his attack.

He feels the boost from Hilde, sets into a stance that lets him hit harder with a cost of accuracy.

Pent aims a low roundhouse kick at the knife-wielder's knee. He wants these thugs to remember the pain of being attacked by an overwhelming force.

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Martial flexibility to get power attack as a Move action, unarmed strike as standard.

BAB: 5
STR: 5+2=7
Power Attack: Atk -2, Dmg+4
Atk = 10

(1d20+10)[13] unarmed strike vs T1 @ AA13
(1d8+11)[14] non-lethal

If this takes him down, I'd like to use my swift action before I end my turn.

[AlphaLuke]

Pent hears a satistying *PoP* as the knee snaps. The thugs instantly hits the ground, knocked unconcious from the pain and shock.

[Pent]

Pent charges toward the punks, throws his small flaming shield at the nearest attacker, aiming for his ankles, and continues his charge, doing a wall run across the wall to his left to avoid an attack.

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Swift action to use Mythic Fleet Charge, after moving 10' (on space AC12),throwing the shield at enemy 10' away, acrobatics in space AE13 to avoid enemy attacks.

BAB: 5
Dex: 2
Fleet Charge: +1
magic weapon: +1
distance: 10'
range increment: 10' (counts as if I had Far Shot) , range penalty =0
Atk = 9


STR: 7
Dmg = 7

(1d20+9)[23] vs #3 @ AE14
physical (1d8+7)[9]

Pent acrobatics on cell AE13(1d20+9)[17]

[AlphaLuke]

Pent charges toward the street thugs, taking his flaming shield and hurling it at the feet of "Yash", the thinner thug. The shield shears through the man's ankles, leaving two bloody stumps. He immediately begins screaming and holding his legs before quickly bleeding out, dead.

Then, running along the wall in an exceptional act of acrobatics, he flips and ends up on the other side of one of the terrified thugs.

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Fixing the damage roll: 1d6(Wnp)+5(Str Mod)+2(Bulls Str Spell)+1(Mag Wpn)
(1d6+8)[11]

[Pent]

Pent blinks in surprise at how quickly the man bled out. He knew getting hit with that shield wouldn't feel great, but to expire so quickly...

He knew that legally, he was in acting in defense. But the laws of this backwards nation didn't concern him as much as his own feelings.

Guilt.

[AlphaLuke]

One thug backs away slowly before taking off down the street. The only remaining ruffian tries to escape past Pent.

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Thug T2 takes a 5ft step before booking it. Thug T4 takes a 5ft step and then tries to move again, but provokes an attack of opportunity from Pent.

[Pent]

Still staring at the footless thug lying in a pool of blood, Pent's fist reaches out in reflex, striking at the back of the running man's neck.

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Unarmed Attack vs Thug4 AC: 5(BAB)+5(Str Mod)+2(Bull's Str Spell)-2(Pwr Atk)= +10(1d20+10)[30]
Non-lethal Damge if hit: 1d8(Wpn)+5(Str Mod)+4(Pwr Atk)=+9(1d8+9)[16]

[Pent]

Pent's reflexive punch connects.

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rolling to confirm crit (1d20+10)[13]

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Oh god I just mushed his spinal cord didn't I? :-( NON LETHAL LUKE

[AlphaLuke]

Pent's reflexive strike hits the rake's neck hard, and his limp form falls to the ground like a puppet whose stings have been cut. Pent sees the man's neck bones skewing his skin at odd angles and his eyes snapped open in fear and pain.

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You dealt enough Non-lethal dmg to kill the thug. Unless you give chase to Thug2, combat is over.

[AlphaLuke]

Letting the lone man left standing run, Hilde rushes up to the fallen victim. Closing her eyes and drawing upon pure divine energy, she heals the fallen man.

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Selective Channel to heal the Thayan, not the Thug: (3d6)[16]
The Thayan returns to conciousness and may post now. Welcome!

[Pent]

Once Pent sees the man awake, he offers a hand to the injured man to help him up.

"I'm Pent, and this is my niece, Hilde. You took quite a beating there, are you okay?"