[D&D 3.5e / IC] Lightning Rails and Whispers of the Vampire's Blade

[Postmodernist]

Anchor observes the fleshlings eating, drinking, and chatting among themselves. Their obvious pleasure, the natural ease with one another, it was all so... organic, and utterly fascinating.

As the bald, dark-bearded humanoid approached, Anchor felt a frisson of anticipation and excitement, like a gear being engaged. He replied as warmly as he could, with a voice that sounded as though it came from the depths.

"You are not disturbing me in the slightest. I was waiting for you, but I did not want to disturb your refueling. My name is Anchor, and I was the one who contacted you. I trust you are Quire, Mamellek, and Donharath? You fit the description I was provided with."

"I understand you may have encountered some of my kind recently, a group of warforged who name themselves after gemstones, servants of the Lord of Blades. They sought to convert me, and attacked some friends of mine. I wish to give them the Devourer's justice they so richly deserve. In exchange for your assistance in this matter, I've been tasked with helping you search for your... pallid friend."

"Forgive me for being direct. I am not well acquainted with how these sorts of things are supposed to transpire."

[esorscher]

"Your bluntness is appreciated," Don says, "By me, at least." Don says, gesturing to the warforged to join them at their table. He fills his mouth again with meat and vegetables, chewing as he rips off a hunk of bread and uses it to scrape up the last of the stew that they'd served him. It was a good stew, and he wanted more of it, but instead he waves the waitress over and asks for some of whatever they have roasting, meat still on the bone. He also orders some more ale, placing a whole gold on the table. He is in no hurry to leave, and while he has no reason to doubt this warforged, he is interested to know who has brought them so fortunately together. "Who gave you our names and descriptions?"

[TaiLiu]

The pitcher ale is quickly refueled, and the bread, too. The barkeep asks if anyone else wants anything before fetching Don a plate of sizzling seven-bone beef roast, its pleasant aroma filling the entire tavern. "You must be hungry," she says, as she collects Don's emptied bowl of stew. "No one else here is eating as much as you!"

The drunk kalashtar couple, eavesdropping, laughs when they hear that. They cheer Don on as he tackles the giant hunk of meat in front of him.

[whoiam]

Mamellek, though quite the eater most of the time (walking around in plate can make you pretty hungry!), seems curiously uninterested in the food on offer.

Well, that's not exactly true. She seems very interested; she's just not having any.

Finally, she managed to drag her mind away from Don's dinner, and a touch closer to his conversation. "You can understand him being a touch paranoid on the subject, I'm sure - the last warforged who managed to track us down were the trio you just described..."

[Postmodernist]

Anchor continued to watch the group eat with fascination, unsure whether he found it grotesque or beautiful. He nodded when Mamellek mentioned the warforged. "A trio, you say? As I understand it, there are many more of them. It has become fashionable among the Lord of Blades' followers to shed their old names in favor of new ones.
The gemstones are supposed to represent something about the warforged "soul," though I'm unsure what. Regardless, I hope you fared well against their incursions."

Anchor glances at the Kalashtar couple, clearly paying attention to the motley group. "I am unschooled in subterfuge, but is it wise to discuss our mutual acquaintances here? I am happy to wait for you to finish your meal, or if you deem it sufficiently safe, then I can shed further light on the subject." Anchor's voiced had dropped to whatever passes among the warforged for a whisper.

[esorscher]

To watch Donharath eat is like poetry in motion, his jaw moving perpetually as his incisors tear and his molars grind everything put within his mouth, and his arm lifts the fork to shovel in bite after bite, barely allowing the shared system to inhale to keep him from fainting. As he finishes his meat plate, he waves over the passing waitress and orders a small salad, "to aid the digestion," which he consumes with similar speed before stacking his empty dishes in an attempt to be helpful. Then he leans back in his chair, and untucks the front of his shirt, allowing his engorged stomach some space to work. "Why don't we get a room? We can discuss in private, and I for one could use a good night's sleep."

[TaiLiu]

The barkeep leads you into a separate meeting room. There is a circular table in the centre, and six seats surround it. Unfortunately, all the furniture is gnome-sized. She apologizes, but there are no other private meeting spots in the inn - unless the party would like to roll in the larger chairs and table they were seated on and around. The Laughing Crane also doesn't house larger-sized creatures, but she recommends that the party reserve rooms at the Cockatrice. It's a high-quality inn designed specifically for taller folk.

If the party doesn't want anything else, she'll just get out of the way and go back to her counter.

[Postmodernist]

Anchor declines to sit at the diminutive table, suspecting that his adamantine frame would crush the furniture. Once everyone has convened, he addresses the group.

"While in Sharn, looking for the warforged we spoke of earlier, I was approached by a man named Viorr Maelak. He said he would help me find my enemies, and that they had run afoul of some adventurers. Namely,
you. He told me you were on a mission for him, on behalf of Breland and the Dark Lanterns. If I aided you in the completion of this mission, I would be granted an opportunity to carry out my revenge, possibly with your aid and the support of the Brelish secret services. And so, here I am." The construct priest paused a moment to allow his words to sink in.

"Viorr told me that they found something else about the traitor spy, this, this Lucan. They found a few more scraps from his room, and they've determined that he was on his way to Karrnath. I don't think they know why,
at least not yet."

Anchor looks to gauge the reactions of the party.

[rax]

"So V sent you, eh? Well, we could certainly use an extra pair of hands right now. We just lost some of our party, called away on House business. I must say, I'm not all that surprised to hear that Lucan would be heading for Karrnath. He's a vampire now, and the Karrnathi ain't squeamish about working with undead abominations - I fought enough of them in the war to know that. Also, V told us that Lucan stole a magic sword that had belonged to a Karrnathi warlord. He's probably planning to use it to buy his way into their favour."

[esorscher]

"Excellent," Don says with a slight smile, his mood greatly improved by the bounteous meal he had enjoyed. "If you're going to be a part of the team, you can help us with our current quandary. We believe he will be at a swiftly approaching party thrown by Neya ir'Krell, Aundairian diplomat--tonight, isn't it?" I suppose that good night's rest will have to wait, he thinks to himself, recalling the lessons of stoicism learned in his life's experience. "I still think we should try and convince her to give us invitations ourselves--or maybe help us catch him, if she's inclined." Then he resumes his silence, until an idea strikes him. "If we know he's going to Karrnath, we should try and get there before him. Whether we can get into the party or not, I suggest we book passage on the fastest way to Karrnath. If that's where he's headed, we should try and get there before him." He does some more thinking, then says, "I'm not good at first impressions, but maybe you are?" he says, looking at Anchor first, then the rest of the group in turn. "Or at least, average?" Don grins nervously, gesturing with hands palm open, "I always say too much, or too little."

[rax]

"I think you might have scoffed down that meal a bit too fast, Don. The party's in two days, so we still have time to work on a plan - and for you to get some rest," Quire replies jokingly.

"I suppose we could try talking to ir'Krell, but if V's intelligence is any good, Lucan thinks she'll help him get to Karrnath, even though she serves Aundair. So my guess is he either has some sort of hold on her, or they're friendly in some fashion. Either way, letting her know we're after him seems dangerous. Though, if we can find something to bargain with, and she's not in fact helping Lucan out as a favour to a friend, then perhaps she could be convinced to let us grab him at the ball."

"As for booking a ride to Karrnath and catching Lucan there... Karrnath is a big place, and we have no idea where he'll be headed. If we at least knew how he'll be travelling, we might try and head him off before he leaves Trolanport, but we would pretty much have to know exactly how and when he'll be leaving. And if we guess wrong, we'll have lost his trail completely."

"Honestly, at this point, I think the most productive use of our time would be to try and learn as much about Neya Ir'Krell and her masquerade ball as possible. I don't know Trolanport well, but we have gold left from the sale of the warforged's loot, and if we spread enough of it around, we'll hopefully get enough useful information to help us decide whether contacting ir'Krell and/or going to her party is a good risk."

OOC: Trying to set up a transition to use Gather Information here.

[Postmodernist]

"I suppose we could try talking to ir'Krell, but if V's intelligence is any good, Lucan thinks she'll help him get to Karrnath, even though she serves Aundair. So my guess is he either has some sort of hold on her, or they're friendly in some fashion. Either way, letting her know we're after him seems dangerous. Though, if we can find something to bargain with, and she's not in fact helping Lucan out as a favour to a friend, then perhaps she could be convinced to let us grab him at the ball."

"I was puzzled by this, as well. Why would Lucan risk exposure, if he's trying to get to Karrnath as quickly as possible. While your theory about them being friendly may be true, perhaps he needs something from ir'Krell?If he's betrayed Breland for the Karrnathi, why not sweeten the deal and steal from Aundair as well? Warning her might give us the upper hand. It's all speculative, though."

Anchor stroked his chin, impersonating the humans he had seen while they were processing their thoughts. "We do have one slight advantage. Lucan hasn't seen me at all. I certainly tend to stand out in a crowd, but if he doesn't recognize who he's looking for, that may give us the upper hand."

[TaiLiu]

Hearsay turns out to be true: the gnomes are incessant gossipers. Within the first hour, the party learns the following facts about ir'Krell: that she's been on the job somewhere between five and twenty years, that she's either childless or has had multiple children out of wedlock, that she's actually a high-ranking spy for Aundair or a low-ranking diplomat who got her job through a personal favour, that she's friendly or she's fierce. The gnomes are remarkably open with this surface information, each freely contradicting one another, and most of them are more than happy to trade gossip with the party regarding ir'Krell, Aundair, or international affairs in general. The only consistent information that the party has received regards the frequency of the Aundairian masquerade balls - they happen only once a year.

Word of the inquisitive outsiders gets around, and another bit of hearsay turns out to be true: the gnomes regard information as tools - and as weapons. During the second and third hours, more and more gnomes respond to the party's question with their own, in manners friendly, curious, or suspicious: "Why do you want to know? Why are you interested in ir'Krell and her ball?" A little bit of coin occasionally opens them up, but rumours and information turn out to be a more reliable form of currency with the gnomish people. The party learns that ir'Krell is very approachable, so long as you have the right contacts, though she's just as wary of sharing personal information as most Zilargoians. One man deems her an honourary gnome. Another, trading rumours with the party, tells you that the masquerade parties are actually a cover-up for discreet transactions to occur. He clams up if the party asks any more questions.

During the fourth hour, a gnome in a yellow sundress slips a folded piece of paper into the pocket of a party member before walking away. It lists the address of a gnomish locksmith who also specializes in covert forgeries, should they be interested in ball invitations of their own. During the fifth hour, another gnome slips a folded piece of paper to the party. It lists another address, this time of a small magic item mart. On it are also these words: Information broker available upon request. Knock on the table and ask to see the boots in the back room.

It is now early evening. What do you do?

[TaiLiu]

Dark green eyes greet you as you enter the store. They belong to a female gnome, red-haired and heavyset. She sits behind a counter to the right on the entrance, watching the party, silent, her eyes wandering wherever the party wanders. It is a small building, and the walls are covered with shelves and shelves of minor magic items - potions, scrolls, necklaces, cloaks, and countless little trinkets - organized in peculiar ways. The shelves cover even the windows, so no sunlight gets in. The room is lit only by an everburning torch, which lays in a corner, half covered by a magic cloak of some kind. Cold magic flames escape from the other half, reaching upward in unstable columns of red, orange, and blue. To those without darkvision, the place looks dusky and eerie.

Her eyes meet Quire's, and then Mamellek's, Don's, and Anchor's. She is still and mute.

[Postmodernist]

Anchor looks into the awkward silence, then down at his adamantine feet. He shuffles forward, methodically raps upon the counter and stammers, "Um, my feet are quite cold. I was told you have some boots. Perhaps there is something in my size in the back? Thank you."

[TaiLiu]

She continues staring, unspeaking, seemingly unmoved, her eyes drilling into Anchor's for what seems like a full minute. Then she gives him the tiniest of nods, and speaks. "Heard about you." Her eyes move to scan the entire party. "Heard about all of you. Tall outsiders asking questions about the Aundair diplomat and her ball. I know about her. About her ball. Everything. But I don't come cheap.

"Tell me what you want to know. Then we'll discuss price."

[rax]

Quire glances over at his companions for any reaction to the gnome's offer. Then, with a shrug, he begins to rattle off questions. "Alright, let's start with something simple. We understand that the ir'Krell ball is a regular occurrence. Who gets invited and why? Is there a specific theme for this year's masquerade and would it be possible to secure legitimate invitations for the four of us?"

[TaiLiu]

The gnome turns her uncomfortably long gaze onto Quire. "This is a trade," she finally says. "What will you give me for that information?"

[rax]

Quire matches the gnome's gaze and scratches his beard thoughtfully before replying. "No idea, to be honest. I don't do much haggling, and when I do, it's usually over gold or goods. So perhaps you'd best tell us what sort of information you're interested in?"

[TaiLiu]

"An answer for an answer," she says. "Three questions. For my three answers, I want three answers back." She drops her mysterious demeanor, leans back with practiced ease, and holds three fingers up. "Who are you? Why are you in Trolanport? And what do you want with ir'Krell?

"You go first."

Spoiler: Mechanics

Show

The information broker is taking ten on her Sense Motive checks. Any Bluff checks made will need to be a 16 or higher, or she will know that you're bluffing.

[whoiam]

"To answer your first, we are a band of mercenaries. To answer your second, we are hunting a criminal. And to answer your third, we've no particular interest in her, specifically; we need access to the ball, not necessarily to it's host."

Sense Motive will reveal that Mamellek is being entirely honest. She's not being terribly helpful, but then this isn't the sort of situation that would encourage her to offer extraneous information...

[TaiLiu]

She nods, expecting a certain amount of question-dodging. "The high-born, the wealthy, and friends of Aundair or ir'Krell," she says, answering Quire's first question. "And those who have something that ir'Krell wants.

"There are never themes for her masquerade balls, and the only requirements are noble clothing and a mask. But if you're not part of her inner circle, and if you don't have anything to offer her, I doubt that you'd receive an invitation off-the-cuff.

"Will that be all?" She looks up expectedly.

[rax]

Quire considers the gnome's answers for a moment, then decides to forge ahead with more questions. "Actually, this game is quite interesting. Let's keep playing. What sort of things is ir'Krell known to want? And how about the staff at the ball - are they all her normal servants or does she hire extra hands for occasions such as this? If so, who provides them?"

Spoiler: Two can play at this game...

Show

Quire will also take 10 on his Sense Motive checks. If the gnome is bluffing, she has to roll 18 or better.

[TaiLiu]

"Who is this criminal you're hunting, what did this criminal do, and why do you need access to the ball?"

If the party honestly answers her questions, or if she can't tell that the party is bluffing, she responds to Quire's questions:

Spoiler

Show

"Whatever serves Aundair: information, secret trade relations, contacts.

"She has extra hands, which are paid for by Aundair and provided by Zilargo. All of the servants are gnomes."

[rax]

Quire grins and replies, now quite enjoying himself. "He used to work for our employers. He stole something from them and murdered several guards in the process. We believe he'll be at the ball."

Spoiler

Show

All true and only slightly evasive on the first question. Good enough?

[TaiLiu]

Two gnomish men sit on wooden stools outside the locksmith's shop, smoking on pipes and conversing in Gnome. One is grey-haired and bespectacled. The other looks younger, though his brown hair too is starting to grey. Both of them look up as the party approaches. The older says something to the younger, and the younger says to the party, "We're closed for the night, I'm afraid. Unless you're here about something other than lock and key?"

[rax]

Quire is about to speak, a carefully rehearsed speech on the tip of his tongue, when the gnomes surprise him with their direct manner. "Umm, well, we were informed that your establishment is an excellent place to pick up party invitations?"

[TaiLiu]

"We've no idea what you're talking about," says the younger gnome. "We're just locksmiths. We sell locks and keys." He props his chin up with his right hand and rolls his eyes up in thought. "Oh, but I suppose we've a few extra invitations to this ball that's happening. That usually doesn't happen. Uncle and I were going to go, but there's a big job we forgot about on the day of the party. Perhaps you and your friends might be interested?"

His uncle leans over and whispers something to the younger gnome. He nods and rises from his seat, takes a key out from his pocket, and unlocks the door. "Come on in," he says, holding the door open for the party. "How much are you willing to pay?"

Spoiler: Mechanics

Show

The younger gnome is lying about (1) not knowing what you're talking about, and (2) that he and his uncle were going to go to the ball. His Bluff check is (1d20+3)[8].

[whoiam]

Spoiler: Mechanics

Show

Taking 10 on Sense Motive (for a 10), Mamellek knows they're lying about the invitations being real.
"Opposed Diplomacy" - (1d20+9)[10]

"Oh, well, if they're just extras you happened to have lying around, we'll take them off your hands... with a nominal fee as a thank-you for the time you saved us..."

[TaiLiu]

"Hey, now." The gnome bites down hard on his cigar stem. "We're not going to just give these invitations away for strangers. How about a hundred gold each? We'll even give you a discount: three hundred and fifty for all four. How about it?"