Lord of the Iron Fortress IC

[PallentisLunam]

"Hmph, what do I look like? Some maiden in distress? I don't need more underlings and I certainly don't need your kind of assistance." The efreeti looks down at Beargrom like something particularly odorous he might have stepped in. "I have the situation well in hand. Now, buy something or leave."

[BelGareth]

Bear turns to the side, arms down as if to say go ahead Reclin

[Postmodernist]

"No one is accusing you of being a maiden, friend. We're simply trying to sort things for our master as quickly as possible. See, Szip here," he gestures at the imp, "has been ordered to find the shipment so that his master, the dread Tho'Daah-Nugh, can equip his armies. Kargarm has the contract to smith the goods, and Szip's slaves here," Reclin nods toward Beargrom and the others, ""have been tasked with assisting in the whole matter. The sooner it's all sorted, the happier our master will be. I bet there'd be even more business in it for you, and he'd undoubtedly recommend such a fine merchant to the rest of his comrades. We only ask that you nudge us in the right direction, so we can sort things in as mutually beneficial a fashion as possible. Isn't that right, master Szip?"

The imp nods, playing along with the pirate.

Spoiler

Show

Rolling Bluff to convince the efreeti that we're agents of evil and can promise him more business (1d20+16)[28]. Aid Another from Szip (1d20+12)[21], if successful add 2 to the above roll.

[PallentisLunam]

Varachus puts on his best shady businessman face and clasps his hands together attempting to look vaguely apologetic, although his proud efreeti features don't wear the expression well. "Forgive Varachus for his rudeness, kind emissaries, but a supplier of rare and expensive goods such as he does not involve his clients in the internal affairs of his business. If he did, what would be the point of paying him to handle the myriad headaches that come with such transactions? Return to your masters and assure them that all will be well soon."

[Postmodernist]

"Terribly sorry for troubling you. While we're here, we might as well take a gander at what goods you've got." Reclin glances over the efreeti's wares, hoping to buy some time while the party determines their next steps.

[PallentisLunam]

"By all means," Varachus says with a half bow from the back of his behir. "The aides can assist you with anything you need." Straightening up Varachus tugs on the wrought iron chain that is attached to his mount's harness and the beast turns and skitters its way back into the bowels of the warehouse with a cacophonous clacking of claws.

[BelGareth]

Bear grunts as the efreeti retreats into his shop, he waits for him to be gone, and then turns to the giant.

"You know something, I'm sure of it, what can we do to loosen your lips?" he asks in all honesty.

[PallentisLunam]

The giant's booming laughter causes a sprinkling of dust to fall from the ceiling. "Surely you jest, knight. I serve a master who by his very whim can shape the world to best befit his desires. What have you to measure against such quality?"

[BelGareth]

Bear frowns, thinking on the words of the giant. They were not untrue words, he mulled them over, only his true intent, his heart could answer such conviction with conviction.

He would give it a shot.

”What you say is true, yet, I would not back away from such a being. I say, what of you that keeps you shackled to such a thing? I would suggest that perhaps your honor, may guide you, as I know that mine surely would. Perhaps your faith would prompt you, as surely as mine would. But I do not know you, nor will I pretend to. If it is within my power to help you, I surely will, that is all I can offer in the face of such a thing as you speak of. Perhaps that is not enough, perhaps it is.”

[PallentisLunam]

"You mistake me, sir. The only honor I seek is that of battle. The only faith I have is that Varachus will settle his debts. I serve him because my home was so incredibly dour. I seek diversion, and diversion in abundance. In this place I can drink and fight and whore with the very best the planes have to offer!" The giant shakes his head and chuckles lightly at Beargrom's propriety. "I need no saving from these things."

[Eric Scott]

With the screeching sound of metal on metal, scratching it's head Titan asks. "Why must we be against? Why can we not work with, making all the more powerful?"

[BelGareth]

Bear sighs inwardly, there was no fighting it, the giant spoke the truth, and he was not about to go against his ways for the likes of Bear, whom he had just met. They would need to go about this another way.

"Very well then, Can you suggest a good bar my friends and I will enjoy?"

If the giant offers one or not, he bids him farewell and moves off, away from earshot so he can speak with everyone.

"Well, we have established that it was stolen, now we need to figure out by whom, or what. Verachus is not going to help us, but perhaps there are other merchants hereabout who will?" he looks to Reclin and the others "There must be some information we can gather as to rumors and the wherabouts of the shipment, and where it came from. As well as what those mechanical beasts Greystone has eyed, perhaps we can set a trap for them, and see whats what?"

[CozJa]

Greystone follows the conversation with interest: it is always curious to see the incredible difference between Beargrom 'stony' approach to things, his mannerism sometimes more akin to a newly created warforged than a human being, and Reclin picaresque jests. It reminds him of the fascination he felt the first time he saw the sheer, ordered, willpower of the Githzerai monks shaping the everchanging chaos of Limbo. Maybe the balance of the multiverse hangs on dichotomies.

As the brutish fire giant speaks about his master's power, Greystone can't help but feel annoyed by his words.
"Perhaps you are right, son of the flame, but world shaping can come from many sources."
As he says this, the warforged points toward an empty crate not far from the giant, and uses his powers to mold it into a different shape: quickly, the material moves and reassembles, as the very root of it's mold seems to stir and take life. When Greystone finish, where once stood a simple crate, now a finely crafted reproduction of the City of Brass, from the Plane of Fire, stand in plain sight.
"That, too, is 'Shaping', son of the flame-"

Without adding other words, the warforged turns to Beargrom and follows him: "I'm quite interested in those creatures, and normally I'd advise against asking around too much, but after our entrance in the city, I highly doubt our presence would be a surprise for anyone."

Spoiler: Rolls

Show

Casting Psionic Fabricate
Craft check to make a very good model: (1d20+31)[38]
Knowledge (The Planes) check to remember the City of Brass details (1d20+22)[23]

[PallentisLunam]

Snurreson seems almost stunned that Titan is capable of speech, let alone following the conversation. However he blinks away his amazement and looks back to Bear. "Ahh... the uhh," a curious glance flashes towards Titan again. Then Greystone performs his shaping and the giant merely stares in wonder between the two warforged and the model City of Brass.

With a rather dumbfounded expression on his face the next words seem to just fall out of Snurreson's mouth, "The Quickest Barricade has the best brew in Rigus. It's on the opposite side of this ring. If you head inward The Iron Curtain has the best company coin can buy."

[Postmodernist]

"Snurreson, mate, if you ever find yourself looking for another line o' work, something tells me you and I would get along smashingly. Drinkin', fightin', and whorin' are some of my finest aptitudes. I typically perform them consecutively, but have pursued them concurrently on more than one occasion. We appreciate your recommendations."

[Dimers]

"Interesting," the Pheasant drawls with thinly veiled annoyance. "The efreeti's so hungry to appear in control that he's willing to let business continue to drift away. And he clearly feels strongly about that."

With a sigh, he adds, "I'm as disappointed as always that people act so against their own interests. But I'm not Varachus's governess any more than he's my little girl."

"Well, we have established that it was stolen, now we need to figure out by whom, or what. Varachus is not going to help us, but perhaps there are other merchants hereabout who will?" he looks to Reclin and the others "There must be some information we can gather as to rumors and the wherabouts of the shipment, and where it came from. As well as what those mechanical beasts Greystone has eyed, perhaps we can set a trap for them, and see whats what?"

"I've no insight to add, sir, but I'll be by your side."

Spoiler: character knowledge?

Show

Anything meaningful to glean from Varachus's phrasing, e.g. the Celestial cussing or the term "dharni"?

[Dimers]

Using the fire giant's suggestion as a focus for now, the adventurers -- 'The Joyful Maggots', as they've been called a time or three -- make their way toward The Quickest Barricade, curving around to avoid the most densely fortified part of Rigus. The Pheasant, Reclin and Beargrom make some quiet inquiries and grease some palms as they go, hoping to learn more about Varachus's recent business but also keeping an ear out open to the hot rumors of the day.

[PallentisLunam]

As the grey light of an Outlands day fades, the party winds its way through the streets of Rigus, past stony eyed Mercykillers and crowds of civilians making their ways to various public houses, pleasure dens, and gambling halls. Varachus' name is well known in the city as the genie you want in your pocket if you're moving anything from raw materials to magical artifacts to illicit substances. Leading questions about his recent troubles mostly draw shrugs or assurances that the asker must be mistaken. There is a great deal of speculation that Varachus' business is being bolstered by the disappearances of various craftspeople. When you can't pay to have something made custom the next best thing is to buy the finished product.

There are also rumors of the brutal death of an inworlder. Word is he was ripped apart by something and half eaten. A drunken Azer, his fires flickering low mumbles something about the cats of Acheron but is obviously too scared to say any more.

Finally, Pheasant finds less than savory character who seems to know something about Varachus' missing shipment. A little bit of coin and a generous application of charm loosen the fixer's tongue. Apparently the genie refused to work with someone named Imperagon and this is his or her way of trying to force Varachus' hand. However, Varachus has done some digging and found that Imperagon is based out of Acheron, on The Lost Cube.

[BelGareth]

Once they found their own table, that was alone, and in a 'just-as-seedy-and-dark' location, Bear turned to the others after scanning the crowd. "Well then, do we travel to this Acheron? To find this Imperagon? I know nothing about The Lost Cube, but I know enough to know that Acheron is not a good place to go. What do we all think?"

[Eric Scott]

"The word "lost" has a few meanings. This cube could be "lost" in the sense that it has fallen to evil, or "lost" as in not found. The former isn't a problem, the latter is." Titan say unmovingly.

[CozJa]

The Warforged ponders all those new informations that were collected, then decides to try and reorder everything for the group. Placing thing in a way that can be understood is the best start of an artist's work, after all.

"Way I see it, we have at least three possibilities, given the things we learnt today:" as he speaks, Greystone raises one of his manufactured hands, and the fingers rise up with a faint *clink*

"First of all, we could go back to Varachus, and propose to work with him to solve his problems, but I have to admit that I don't particularly like the attitude of this merchant; second, we could rush to Acheron as our fearless leader suggests; but even in that case I fear we'd end up circling around some place looking for informations... Or, we have a third option: That Azer words about cats reminds me of the strange metallic creatures I spotted earlier this day, we may ask the city guard about those disappearances and the killing to see if they know more; after all," He says turning to Beargrom "Even if I still don't understand as much as I'd like facial expressions, It looks like you made a pretty good impression on those guards we met earlier."

[BelGareth]

Bear nods as Greystone recounts the facts.

"I like option 3 Greystone, there is logic to that, and perhaps they did my friend, but not nearly as much as you are putting stock into it." he finished, smiling.

[Postmodernist]

"The Mercykillers are a bunch of bowel-less, self-important kobold kings, thinkin' they're better than every berk out there." Reclin pauses a moment, looks at Bear, looks at Greystone, then back at Bear, before bursting out laughing. "Of course they'd take a shine to you, mate!"

Reclin continues to chuckle longer than seems appropriate before restoring himself, smoothing his shirtfront. He quirks an eyebrow. "As any wormy spiv knows, you don't get into anything without gettin' the keeper on your adversary. Not unless you wanna end up in the Dead Book. Fortunately, this little whistler here," he flicked Szip's wing, waking the devil, who had dozed off on his shoulder, ""has a few tricks up his stinger.
Itn't that right, Szippy?"

"No. Uh-uh. Nope. No. I'm not doing that again. Every time I ask something, you end up risking our lives because you think you got a good gate key all of a sudden. Besides, I can feel the Baatori bastards looking back at me, and I feel like they'll send Asmodeus himself to drag me back. I'd rather not go back to punching some Baatezu's clock."

"We're not askin', we're tellin'. Now, who's got a question for Szip?"

[PallentisLunam]

The party goes around the table taking a few moments to carefully compose their list of questions all while Zsip hovers and flutters nearby grumbling and pulling faces at them. When they are ready the imp lands on the table and crosses his legs. "I want to renegotiate my contract, you wanker," he spits with a murderous glare at Reclin.

"Get on with it," the mage says ignoring the comment.

Szip mumbles an incantation under his breath. Suddenly his whole body tenses as a flickering tongue of green flame appear between his horns. His eyes glow bright purple as black ichor begins to leak from his tear ducts. A voice, not his own, seems to tear its way out of his throat and within a few words ichor is running over his teeth and down his chin to burn sizzling holes in the wooden table. "Ahh, the prodigal whelp cries out for answers," the deep, icy voice purrs.

Szip gasps in his own words coughing bile and blood, "You highness-" he begins, terrified.

"Quiet!" the voice snaps. "Mmm, what is this tasty morsel to which you have bound your soul little snip?" it asks as Szip's eyes and head turn grotesquely and painfully towards Reclin. Reclin can feel an invading presence, darker and more malevolent than he ever thought possible, in Szip's essence through the familiar bond he has with the tortured little devil.

Through the small part of his essence that Szip has managed to keep separate from the entity that answered the commune spell the imp cries out in psychic pain and begs Reclin for help to bolster the magic. Szip's physical form convulses and more acidic phlegm and ichor drip from his chin. A few nearby patrons glance over and hurriedly focus on their cups in dismay. Szip's stinger curls over his shoulder and plunges into his neck, but the action seems to stabilize his situation for the moment.

Frost begins to form on the tips of Szips wings as the voice gives a disappointed sigh, "Hmm, well done. Being so far away makes it difficult to have as much fun with such a connection as one might like. Very well. Ask you questions."

"Is Varachus telling the truth?"

"At times."

"Was the Azer telling the truth?"

"He was."

"Is Imperagon responsible for Varachus' (or Kargarm's) lost shipment of adamantine?"

"He is."

"If we speak with the Imperagon's faction, are they likely to lie to us?"

"Quite certainly."

"Did Varachus order or execute the disappearance of craftspeople?"

"Not at all."

"Are the cats of Acheron connected to Varachus?"

"Not to Varachus."

"Are the disappearances of craftspeople connected to Imperagon?"

"They are."

"Are the disappearances of craftspeople connected to the dead inworlder?"

"They are not."

"Should we go to Acheron?"

"If you wish to find answers."

"Is the missing shipment in Acheron?"

"For now."

"Should we hunt the cats of Acheron?"

"Only with great care."

"Will the Mercykillers and/or Andrezhej help us?"

"To a certain extent."

"Is Barney alive?"

"Quite the opposite."

"Is Barney the dead in-worlder?"

"Why yes, he is. And with that your spell is finished. I will be watching with great interest, so do try to be entertaining. It does gets ever so dull in here."

As the flame between Szip's horns dies and his eyes cease to glow he collapses forward onto the pockmarked table and lays there moaning and cursing for several moments as his natural healing abilities kick in to repair the damage dealt by the ordeal.

Spoiler: OoC

Show

I know commune is suppose to be yes/no but this seemed better, so I went with it.

[Dimers]

Not expecting the touch of a witchhunter to be appreciated by a devil, The Pheasant forgoes using his limited healing magics to help Szip recover. But he does lean down and murmur, "Thank you for your sacrifice, unwilling though it may be."

[PallentisLunam]

Szip rolls over on his side, knocking a sheet of ice from his wing in the process, and proceeds to utter a long string of what Pheasant can only assume to be Infernal. From the pained sound of the imp's voice and his contorted expression the witch hunter does not need to speak the language to understand how rude the little devil is being.

[Dimers]

"Yes, yes, darling, I love you as well. --So," Pheasant says as he turns to Beargrom. "We're certainly down one man. We might be able to recover a portion of his body for resurrection. But beyond that we seem to have a direction ... because we do want answers."

The human sighs and cracks his neck. "We should probably rest soon to refresh. I propose we find a hostel or inn, try to gather a trace of our luckless friend, get some sleep, and rise to a Heroes' Feast tomorrow. Thoughts, all?"

[Eric Scott]

"Rest? That seems to be all you beings ever do... A third of your lives on average." Titan says. "Greystone understands... Sort of..."

[CozJa]

"I do sort of understand, my alternative-living friend, but even if I don't need the same resting time of our companions knitted by flesh and blood, some stop to recharge my ecto-psychic generators is always appreciated, unless we want them to overwork and wear out at the most untimely moment, like that time on the ticking fields of Mechanus."

The warforged moves on his chair, then looks into the void, pondering the many answers they got.

"After all, contacting the Mercykiller sounds like a decent idea, I don't like the thought of our lost friend being stripped of his valuables in a foreign city. Even if I doubt he'll want to come back to wherever brightly hope-filled plane he's resting now.

After this, it looks like this Imperagon may be our best target, if we want to discover what is happening. Any thoughts on the matter?"

[BelGareth]

The stalwart bear raised an eyebrow at the whole 'event'. He did not like consorting with demons and devils, and things unsavory, but his friends had proven the information could be trusted...mostly.

Still. He had a hard time reconciling it with his oath, and his religion. To use such information from such a being, constituted what, exactly? Could he act upon it, without breaking any vows? He thought inside while the imp was being tortured through the whole endeavor. Perhaps this was a test sent by the almighty, he doubted that, he was already very highly esteemed, to test him would be like to shatter a wall with a simple spear. No, if he were to be tested, it would be mightier than this.

Frowning slightly, and regarding the little imp with a certain amount of pity, he nodded solemnly.

"I agree. We should travel to this Imperagon. Though, I am unsure how much help the Mercy Killers will be." he said, frowning deeper at the mention of the group, they cared more for law than the intent, the ideal of it, such as they were named.