The Crimson Echo IC

[Darvin]

"Don't fret, Rhetoric. Ned Winril was oblivious as he foolishly walked to his own doom," Dalen smiles as he snaps shut his spellbook, having finished his work "I, on the other hand, am well aware that what I'm doing is foolish,"

Of course, the various possible approaches he had worked out in his head fell flat as he arrived at the theater. With the patrons already bustling and the actors and stagehands already inside with the doors locked, getting in would be unreasonably difficult. And if getting in was that difficult, then getting to Aliani - who was apparently a local celebrity in this place and time - was looking increasingly unlikely. Of course, having eyes and ears open can reveal new opportunities. This after-party was exactly what he was looking for.

The first order of business was to find where the venue of this party was. The second was to get there well before the play concluded and the throngs of people arrived.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Taking 10 on diplomacy to gather information to find where the after-party is located (result =28)

Then proceed there while the play is still ongoing so as to arrive while things are quiet and security is hopefully a bit more lax.

[Steveodore]

Miz really should have expected this. While it grating that Dahl committed her to this job already, at least he's putting his cards on the table now.

"Like I said, I got most of whats in that vial down, everythin' but one part that I couldnt pin. If I had to guess I'd say it could be what killed Niles, might be essential part of the magic in it. Everythin' else was pretty common stuff except for magic reagents, could be Academae work? Naughty students playin' with blood magic? Don't read into this all yet though none of these things are restrictive enough to narrow things down, might as well be taking a crap in the sewer. As for other leads, I've been keepin' mostly to myself these days so you got the advantage here."

With any luck Dahl's optimism would work out, they'd find a stash of the things and wipe their hands of Girrigz. The thought of the Wererat and his gang having this sort of power left Miz with a sour feeling. Well there's always the hope those nuts would kill each other before the week was out.

"I hope you got it right Dahl, got to make a few preparations before we go though."

Time would be a factor here, no doubt someone else will turn over Nile's place before too long. Miz got herself ready, equipping her gear and quickly mixing up a few extracts. Hopefully none of this would be necessary. As an afterthought, she changed back to her more human appearance to draw less attention at least until they got below ground.

Spoiler

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Making three lvl 1 extracts
Cure Light Wounds, Shield, and Heightened Awareness

[Stelio Kontos]

Aliani blushed as Beatrice whispered in his ear, as memories -- yes, he was fairly sure now those at least were memories. "I, um... I..." he stammered, shifting his pants to relieve a bit of sudden discomfort. He lowered his voice so hopefully only she could hear "I, um, I'd never done that before... it was... I... uh... it was really... if you'd like, I'd be willing to try one more time I suppose, I mean, if that's what you want ... we can talk about it after the show okay? What's got Nadi upset?" This really wasn't the time to be thinking about these sorts of matters, truth be told -- any of them -- but we can just get through this one show, and one more night couldn't hurt could it? One more night to waste away before the world burns? Dammit, that's not helping.

[Inspectre]

PiccadillyPi

Trinia continues to track you with the wand as you cross the room, but pulls a chair out from a small writing desk (covered in sketches), and shoves it towards you. There’s a moment where she’s somewhat off-balance from shoving the chair in your direction, and the wand dips away, but you don’t take it – you were here to help the poor girl, after all. As you sit down, Trinia backs up until she nearly bumps over another of her canvas stands, and then stands her ground a little more than 10 feet away from you. At your request to stop pointing a dangerous weapon at you Trinia bites her lip nervously, and after a moment’s hesitation, tucks the wand in the colorful yellow sash she wears at her waist.

”Sorry. A girl can’t be too careful in the Shingles. Why are you here Silas?”

At your suggestion that she couldn’t afford you, Trinia snorts a laugh.

”You’d be surprised at what I can afford now! Err . . . not that I’m interested in you - your job, I mean. Which is not to say I think you’re bad at it – just . . . ah damnit.”

Trinia stammers after she realizes she made it sound like she was interested in hiring you, stumbling over her words as an adorable blush forms on her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose.

”Can we go back to focusing on why you’re here?”

Trinia listens intently to the rest of your tale, although by the end of it her mouth is hanging open a bit as she stares at you like you just grew a new head.

”Hunt . . . me? I’m a PAINTER, for gods’ sake! Well, and a comedian on the side to pay the bills, but I didn’t think my jokes were *that* bad.

Trinia tries to form a thin smile, but fails as her face collapses back into a pensive frown as she shakes her head.

”I don’t know who your source is, Silas, but trust me. I’m not in any danger except from the usual suspects here in the Shingles. I’m a nobody.”

At your mention of Tark’s nickname, Trinia perks up.

”You mean Tark? I think I heard one of his friends call him that one time. I assumed it was some old childish nickname because he got really mad after his friend said it. He looks scary, but he’s actually really sweet. Helped me carry some of my supplies up to my room a couple times. Why are you asking about him?”

Great, so Tark had already gotten the chance to case the apartment and know where everything was. The only other way out of here other than the front door was a small window that opened into the apartment, above the writing desk. It seemed unlikely that anyone would try to come in through that way, but for all you knew Tark already had a key to the front door. Frankly, he could just kick it down in one or two swift hits, so he probably didn’t even bother with that.

Darvin

You ask around with the most well-to-do members of the crowd, and swiftly get an answer. It seems that most of the after-parties hosted by the Aliani Rose production company are always at the same place, at least since making it big – The Crested Falcon. One of the most overpriced and ostentatious taverns in all of Korvosa – and one within only a few minutes’ walk of the Amphitheater. The place’s reputation was well-deserved, as it served food without an explicit price, and the implicit understanding that you’d be able to pay after the meal regardless of what it was. Those who learned to their misfortunate that they could not, in fact, pay were put to work on menial tasks around the tavern in order to work off the debt – with some rumors that they kept an Acadamae enchanter on retainer to provide charms and geas magic as necessary on the more difficult clientele.

It’s likely that they would keep the tavern open to serve food and other refreshments to anyone that was there now, and then close up shortly before midnight when the show should be winding down and the cast would be available to attend the private party. At that point anyone still present having a very late meal would probably be asked to leave (and pay their tab on the way out). You might therefore be able to get inside as a normal customer and then simply hide – or refuse to pay and get yourself recruited to sweep the floors or something. You could also simply hang around outside until it’s close to midnight, and then attempt to bluff your way into the tavern as being on the “list”. They were sure to have a list of some sort – and there were bound to always be people on the list who never bothered to show up, the trick was just picking one of those and not someone who showed up immediately after you.

Finished with your reconnaissance around the amphitheater, you start making your way out from the crowds when an altercation on the outskirts of the crowd catches your attention. A pair of rough looking individuals – likely pickpockets of some sort working the crowd – are being accosted by a pretty, well-dressed she elf.

”You will give me back my ring this instant!”

“Piss off lady! You bumped into me! And if you know what’s good for ya . . . you’ll back off.”

One of the thugs pulls a knife, causing the elf to take a step back, but the expression of fury on her face suggests this was going to become bloody in a few seconds.

Steveodore

The good news is that you have no trouble preparing your extracts in case of trouble, and Dahl has no trouble leading you right to Niles’ almost literal rat nest down in the sewers. You don’t even encounter any potentially hostile sewer denizens looking for a fresh meal. The bad news is that when you reach the sewer junction that Niles’ home was just off of, you find the short tunnel leading to it guarded by a Hellknight. Must just be an armiger, one of the fresh recruits to their ranks, since the young man was clad only in a gleaming chain shirt instead of the usual demonic (or was it diabolic?) decorated breastplate and face-concealing full helm .

“What in the Hells are the Hellknights doing here!?”

Dahl hisses, cowering back in the side tunnel you had just come from. The answer is forthcoming, as you hear a voice you had hoped to never hear again echoing from deeper within the tunnel (presumably within the home itself).

“Nothing? Are you sure you searched everywhere, armiger!? These vermin love their hidden places – it could be anywhere – behind a rock, under that scrap of filth – ANYWHERE!” Ser Lector Stross bellows. Great, as if this day couldn’t get any worse, it just had to crap all over you some more. You could just wait for the Hellknights to leave, but they might find whatever they were looking for first, depriving you of information. The only reason why they could be here was the same reason you were – Niles’ impressive display of magic. But how in the Hells did they hear about that, track down where Niles was living, and show up here already?

They must know some more about what’s going on with this Shudder crap, but learning anything about that would require either talking to them or hoping Stross bellowed something interesting out while you continued to eavesdrop. And just sitting here listening carried the slight risk of being caught, since it’s not exactly like you can just hide or otherwise blend in with the long empty sewer tunnel.

The only advantage that you have is that you don’t think Stross has seen your face. He’s looking for someone named Hudson, and is aware she works with Dahl, but he shouldn’t recognize you on sight – shouldn’t. And for all their contempt of Korvosa’s city guard, the Hellknights were not technically a legal authority within the city. They weren’t allowed to make arrests or conduct investigations within the city’s walls, at least not without getting written permission from the Arbiters – in theory. In practice, the Hellknights tended to do whatever they wanted, and nobody stopped them because they didn’t want to eat a magical Fireball. That being said, there were limits to how far they were willing to push that, a fact which you had exploited more than once to get away from them by making the laws they’d have to flaunt to get you unacceptably high.

So wait for them to leave and come back later, try to hide and listen, or go up and talk to them seemed to be your only options. Well, and forget about this whole thing now that the Hellknights were involved, and take your chances with Girrigz – that was theoretically an option too.

Stelio Kontos

Beautric giggles at your stammering reply, although there doesn’t seem to be any malice in it, just amusement in the knowledge that she was making you uncomfortable.

”You were a really good sport about the whole thing, Aliani. It seems only fair that you get a chance to turn the tables on us . . .”

Beautrice gives you a mischievous smile, although that swiftly fades to a scowl as she looks to Nadine, who gives the bouquet one last stomp before taking a deep calming breath and brushing her loose hair out of her face.

”Oh, that’s just her dismissive, possessive, abusive, ******* excuse for an ex-boyfriend, Kynndor Thok. They *finally* broke up a couple of months ago at my urging, but the thick-headed Shaonti is too stupid to understand it’s over. So he keeps sending her flowers and other gifts, trying to win her back. As if joining some gang of other low-lives is going to magically make him a better person. Probably just wants her back so he can show her off to all his new friends like a damn trophy.”

The bitterness and anger in Beautrice’s voice was almost as shocking as Nadine’s violence towards the flowers – whoever this Kynndor Thok was, he must have been a real piece of work to inspire such emotion from both of the normally easy-going sisters. Beautrice lets out a purging sigh while Nadine starts scooping up the scattered, half-crushed flowers.

”Anyway, I think they’re about ready for us. See you later . . .”

Beautrice walks away, but as she goes she does a little pirouette to look back and blow you a kiss. It seemed your life was only going to grow more complicated from here . . . but it certainly wouldn’t be boring.

[Darvin]

A long wait until before midnight was the game. With the comings and goings of the theater likely to end soon, there wouldn't be much to sleuth, either. Just a matter of waiting and then charming his way in, either by subtly suggesting someone go home or by swaying the bouncer. Or maybe just walking in invisibly. Or maybe just walking in visibly; not being perceived is often more effective than not being perceptible, after all. Keep your options open, no reason to commit quite yet, especially since opportunities can often come knocking.

Dalen is distracted from his thoughts by the commotion. "What a bother. If the guard can't even do its job in a good neighborhood as things stand right now, it's hardly any wonder why things went to hell... will go to hell?... when the king dies," Dalen sighs, stepping into a more subtle vantage before casting a spell of sleep.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Stealth check (1d20+5)[13]

Casting Sleep, DC 18 negates, maximum 4 HD

[PiccadillyPi]

Silas

Damn

Realizing the hole he had just lowered himself into, the slut couldn't help but let out a concerned laugh. As he giggled he lifted whatever heavy furniture was available with the intention to block the door, not stopping at just one desk, chair, or easel. He insisted upon his actions, apologizing with a look. In a quiet way, careful of the door, he spoke.

'If we live through this, you might consider comedy full-time. That "actually really sweet" goon is Tark Vigo. He is not called the fishmonger because he sells fish--not unless you or I can call ourselves Aquan. I was really hoping you knew one another.'

Briefly, Silas poked his head out the window for dangers and possible escape routes before returning to his impromptu barricade. There wouldn't be many options from that point forward, but the tiefling was hoping to avoid roof-hopping. Especially here, with her.

'Do you have anything you consider valuable? Not paints or gold. Spare clothing? I'd suggest packing quickly.'

Spoiler: Rolls

Show

Stealth to move furniture as quietly as possible: (1D20+8)[18]

Perception from the window: (1D20+6)[24]

[Stelio Kontos]

Aliani nodded. "We'll talk about it later." He wasn't ready. He wasn't even close to ready. But that really wasn't up to him, was it?

The physical part had become easy -- the cloak and the sleeves were wonderful things, truly. In a play with seven wardrobe changes for the narrator (seriously, seven wardrobe changes, who writes that in to anything), they meant a few seconds instead of a frantic three minutes backstage each time. That they were tax-deductible as a legitimate business expense was a nice bonus, to be sure!

Mentally, that was another story.

He gave a quick motion with his hands to the comedians wrapping up their act -- the universal signal for "stall for time" -- and scurried back into a nearby broom closet, closing the door firmly behind him. He told his co-workers that he always needed a few seconds alone right before the show, to "prepare himself mentally". They understood -- it's show business, everyone has their own routine.

The cloak was fine for now -- he began the play as himself -- the moment when the devil menaced the lead actress, that was the moment for the cloak -- but it was time for formal wear. The rather frilly crimson tuxedo, with the white cummerbund and the red bow tie held in place by the silver, rose-shaped clasp, was the inevitable choice. There was one other matter to attend to, of course. He placed his hands on his clasp, whispering "Milani, please help me to see those who believe as I believe, that when the time you choose for me comes, that I shall not walk alone."

Showtime.

Aliani half-sprinted on stage with a broad smile on his face, hopping down and, as he often did, continued at a brisk pace up the aisles of the theater seats, glad-handing and high-fiving as many people as wanted a piece of his action -- and of course, they always do.

He wasn't ready. At all. He was distracted, and concerned, and trying to sort out what was real and what wasn't was complicated enough without trying to remember some things that definitely were both real and fake at the same time (that's what theater was, after all).

But really, did any of it matter?

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Immediately before going on stage, Aliani will cast Detect the Faithful. He tries to get through as many people as he can, and will on the off chance he finds any pings, to pinpoint the individuals that register.

During the course of the performance, he'll pretty much blow through all his first level spells except Shield, as well as a rather obscene number of uses of the Light spell.

[Steveodore]

Miz squatted down next to Dahl in the side tunnel, she had come here anticipating something hairy but Hellknights seriously defied all her expectations. She thought she was prepared for the worst but this day kept throwing her in a loop! And of course it couldn't just be any knight could it? Miz supposed it shouldn't be too surprised Stross was involved, The man was like a human ratter, his nose was always poking around the vaults.

Miz peered back and forth along the dim tunnels, as bad as the light was there was nowhere to hide if the knights happened this way. Really the best thing to do in this situation was to make herself scarce but as smart as that would be she didn't want to leave things like this. The hellknights put a new spin on things and if they couldn't sort out their involvement she might be running into them again in far worse circumstances. She didn't really like the options here but taking a risk here might be save her from walking around blind further down the road.

She quietly quaffed one of her extracts and transformed, seizing qualities that enhanced her awareness, exaggerating the form of her eyes and ears. Her senses were keened to the point where it was almost painful and the extract had her nerves riding a wires edge. She listened in for as long as she could hoping Stross would spill something good. When it seemed like they were wrapping up, she carefully palmed her daggers off to Dahl and adjusted her other gear so she didn't look particularly dangerous. She murmured quietly to Dahl as she did so.

"Gonna try to get something out of the nailknights, I'll give you cover if you want to bug out of here. I'll meet you back here once the knights clear out."

With that said she shifted back to her other form, stepped away from the wall and turned the corner and walked slowly over to Nile's hole in the wall, keeping her empty hands in view. Admittedly she felt palpitations of fear in thinking of Stross. Something that set it when she was much younger scurrying around behind Dahl. It was alittle strange to speak to the man, and maybe put a face on one of her old boggeymen.

Spoiler

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First taking her extract of Heightened Awareness Then transforming to gain +4 perception

Rolling perception to overhear Sir Lector Stross (1d20+14)[27]

She transforms back before meeting the knights if it wasn't clear, since I actually don't know the Hellknight stance on beasty races, but I'm assuming its bad.

(don't know if I should roll stealth right now since my idea is to eavesdrop on them and confront them before it becomes necessary. Will roll stealthcheck in OOC if I need to.)

[Inspectre]

Darvin

The knife-wielding thug immediately crumples to the ground, but his burly companion – apparently made of sterner stuff (Nat 19 on the save! >< ) - merely staggers for a moment, shaking his head to clear it. Even so, the thug is not stupid and now aware that magic was about, takes off down the street in a flat-out run leaving his slumbering companion behind. A number of people who had been watching this altercation with interest – as if it was an impromptu street show rather than a potentially fatal confrontation – applaud, hoot, and jeer at the man’s fleeing back. None but those closest to you were aware of your involvement, but the elf looks right at you, smiles, and nods.

She walks over to the fallen man, kneeling down to riffle through his pockets, eventually producing a very fine gold ring with emeralds set into the band – no wonder she was upset at someone trying to steal it. Slipping the ring onto her finger, the elf checks it as if to ensure it hadn’t been damaged, and then walks directly towards you.

“Sir, excuse me. But I believe I have you to thank.”

The elf says with a soft smile, extending her non-ring hand towards you.

“Elliana Guildenstern. I had thought it would be safe enough for me to attend a performance at the Kendall Ampitheater without an escort. Apparently I was wrong.”

Now up-close, you can see that while her clothes are of fine quality, other than her ring Elliana is wearing no jewelry. Even without it or much make-up, Elliana is quite striking, with unblemished alabaster skin, shining eyes the color of her ring’s gemstone, and long tresses of chocolate brown hair pinned up in waves on her head. She was, frankly, probably lucky that the two thugs were only interested in her ring. Her smile is equally dazing as she inclines her head towards the amphitheater.

“So, are you here to see the show? I’m afraid that I don’t have any money on me to reward your kindness, but I do have an extra ticket. My planned escort is . . . indisposed this evening, and I would love some company tonight. I’ve always wanted to attend one of Aliani Rose’s performances – I hear he is one of Korvosa’s greatest performers!”

Great – another fan-girl of Aliani’s. Perhaps you should have studied theater instead of magic – but that probably would have come with its own set of troubles, and left you without the ability to put other people to sleep with your mind.

PiccadillyPi

You do your best to brace the door with what you can find in Trinia’s single-room apartment, but there’s not much sturdy enough to be of much use. The easels are about the only thing easy enough to move, but most of them are rickety pieces of wood haphazardly nailed together – save two that appear to be brand new. Those are the ones you set up in front of the door, and then turn your attention to the one sturdy-ish piece of furniture in the room – Trinia’s writing desk, which also coincidentally would get it out of the way of the window. As you work, you explain Tark’s true nature, causing Trinia to simply stare at you.

“Seriously? Wow . . . well, I guess that explains the knives. But no, we only met a couple weeks ago. The previous tenement in his apartment died of an accident. Nice old man . . . you don’t think?”

Trinia stops her efforts to pry up a floorboard halfway underneath her bed to stare at you, brow winkled up in concern or perhaps as a precursor to tears. But then she shakes her head, and brightens with a smile.

“Hey, did you know that the tenant before that was Aliani Rose? *The* Aliani Rose? I only saw him a couple times before he moved out – didn’t even know who he was at the time!”

Trinia’s work with the floorboard is finally successful as she pulls it up, revealing a small hidden compartment below which she reaches into, to pull out a bulging coin purse – and something tells you it wasn’t packed with coppers. Just who was this woman!?

“Okay! I’m ready to go I guess . . . although I really wish I could take some of these paintings with me. I really wanted to finish that one.”

Trinia says, nodding at a painting resting on the floor up against the wall – on the canvas was a half-finished depiction of a sunset below the sea just off of Old Korvosa’s coastline . . . it was pretty good work. But if you had to go out the window, there was definitely no way you were doing it carrying a painting on your back.

Speaking of getting out of here, the window wasn’t looking like a great way of exit, either. Beyond the window was a narrow ledge where one person could crouch, and from there lower themselves down onto a narrow catwalk that stretched over to the next building. From there you could jump up to catch the lip of the roof, pulling yourself up onto the next building (assume the drop down and jump up are both easy enough to do without a check, but crossing over that narrow catwalk will be an Acrobatics check to keep your balance). It was twenty feet down to street level – a survivable fall perhaps, but a rather painful one.

Then there was the issue of the man you see just sitting on the edge of a roof one building down from yours and the one you could cross over to. He was just sitting there smoking a cigar, but the fact that there were several burnt out cigars scattered around him and he was facing directly at your window suggest this man was another look-out. The butt of the crossbow peeking up from the lip of the roof next to him was also a dead give-away.

You have just started moving the writing desk away from the window when Trinia’s rickety old door comes flying off of its hinges as Tark gives it an impressive, door frame shattering kick. Flanking him is the archer and the grappler. Scarcely has the door been turned to a splintered wreck before the archer takes aim and snaps off a shot at Trinia, the bolt catching her high in the shoulder and spinning her around into the wall. She screams in pain, her eyes suddenly looking unfocused, but somehow manages to keep to her feet. Tark curses.

“Dumbass! We want the girl alive! Don’t care as much about this other guy, but take him too if you can.”

Tark orders, as the grappler carefully picks his way over the wreckage to get at you.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Okay! So first combat, lucky you!

Sadly, your luck sucks.

Tark & Co. rolled quite well on their stealth check, which when combined with the closed apartment door allowed them to sneak up and get a surprise round. A simple door’s break DC is a STR DC 13 check, with your reinforcement it’s more like a 15, maybe even DC 18 (the same for a good quality wooden door) – Tark rolled a total of “20” on his STR check to kick it in. And then the rogue managed to get a nat 20 on his shot against Trinia, nearly critting her for half her life – missed the crit, but it still did a lot of damage. Especially since she failed her save against the poison on the bolt, losing 1 CON (and some more HP with it). If she fails her next save at the end of this first round of combat, she will go unconscious from the follow-up effect (it’s a knock-out poison).

About the only good news is that the crap you stacked in front of the door made that entryway difficult terrain, keeping the grappler from getting all the way to you (he’s 5’ away from you at present).

It’s your move, and then Trinia’s, and then the bad guys get their next round of actions.

Stelio Kontos

(Technically you’re still at rehearsal, but I don’t have anything planned until the actual performance, so let’s just skip to that! )

You spend the next several hours going over your lines and warming up your voice, along with all the other players, despite the fact that you must have gone through the whole thing a hundred times already. But then, the Aliani Rose name was starting to become associated with high quality, which was why you were performing here in the Kendall Ampitheater, instead of the miserable and cramped Marbledome for slave wages. During the rehearsal, there is no time to worry and think about complicated things like coy ballerinas, angry ex-boyfriends, or a city on the brink of collapse.

The one thing that you do keep in your mind, of course, is the real reason you’re doing this, the innermost core of your being that up until this point, you can kept secret from everybody but one other soul – Haeluna. As the sun sets, you offer up one last private prayer to Melani, and then the show begins. Being the last of your performances, the Kendall Ampitheater is packed, with a butt in almost every single seat. Which considering that the Ampitheather can seat several thousand people at once, is quite an impressive feat.

Thus, it is rather impossible for you to run up and down all of the aisles – you’d be completely out of breath before you got even a quarter of the way around. But you do meet as many of your fans at you can while the first warm-up comedy act comes back on-stage to give their full performance in front of a crowd this time. And, of course, the real reason why you travel the aisles to meet with your adoring fans – usually you’d only see one or two of your fellows in a crowd. The people of Korvosa, by and large, liked their oppressive order, much like the empire of Cheliax that spawned them. So most people, if they truly believed in any god at all, worshipped at one of the city’s three main churches – Asmodeus, Abadar, and Pharsma. All three of them cogs in the machinery of oppression, to a greater or lesser extent.

But tonight was different, for even though you scanned only a modest fraction of the crowd, you detected just shy of a dozen of your fellows. One cluster of signals in particular caught your attention, and you look over to see Haeluna seated there, greeting you with a smile and a discrete nod. Sitting near to her, but not close enough for it to be possible to link them all together, were three other believers – a dour-looking elf with a long scar up into his hairline, a female dwarf, and what appeared to be a well-groomed ratfolk (hard to tell the gender of that one). This was very unusual, especially given Haeluna’s occasional admonishments to maintain your cover and not draw attention to yourself.

Unfortunately, there was not any time to ponder this matter further, as the comedy act was wrapping up and it was your turn to climb the stage. The comedy troupe manage to keep the laughs coming until you get back down to the stage, where you appear in a colorful burst of light and flash powder. You open the play with the oft-rehearsed line, delivered so many times you could probably be asleep and still manage it.

“Our story begins with two star-crossed lovers, beneath a clear bright moon!”

Perfect.

(We can play out the rest of the play if you’d like, come up with some conversation back-stage for Aliani to handle in between acts, or we can wrap things up and move on to the after-party if you’re prefer. However you’d like to handle things!)

Steveodore

Dahl shakes his head.

“Meet back at your place in an hour – if you make it, Apprentice. I want *no part* of this particular piece of our investigation. If Stross sees me . . .”

Dahl leaves the threat hanging in the air, before scurrying off back to safety. Coward, although he does have a point that this would get ugly if any of the Hellknights saw him and recognized him. At least your face was unknown to them – you hope. Otherwise Dahl’s concern about you never coming back to your place might become a reality.

Expanding your sentence, you listen carefully as the Hellknights continue trashing Niles’ lair (not that it was particularly well-organized to begin with). Wherever Niles’ stash was, assuming that he had one to begin with, it wasn’t here judging from Stross’s mounting frustration. You do catch something interesting from Stross’s angry tirades, however – apparently they found a bunch of food wrappers from an topside dining establishment known as the Jittery Quill. While Stross was unimpressed with the location – “A coffee house!? Why should I give a damn where this rodent takes his tea!?”, that name has some significance to you.

You haven’t dined there, of course, as it was a posh topside establishment, right outside the Acadamae and thus a common dining spot for students and facility alike. But what Stross might not know is that there was always a Shiver den set up somewhere nearby the Jittery Quill, in one of the other buildings sharing that street with the upscale restaurant. It wasn’t just Shiver that the dealers there peddled, of course – various drugs to entertain bored students or help keep them going through grueling coursework were also available. But it just might also be the place where a drug that could grant magical powers might crop up. The trick would be finding where that black marketplace was set up right now, although just going there and following the students would probably work.

As you got closer, one of the other Armigers also came out to relieve the first of his post guarding the entrance to Niles’s almost literal rathole. The two shared a brief conversation that confirmed Stross was following a series of cases involving people suddenly developing magical powers, to disastrous results. It doesn’t sound like he’s connected the occurrences to a drug yet, hence his dismissal of the Jittery Quill. No doubt once he figures out that these people were taking drugs, it would occur to him to go to the magical drug center of Korvosa.

It was rather chilling to learn that Niles wasn’t the first victim of this new drug, although it made sense. Whoever was making this stuff was refining it, testing it in limited quantities right now to make sure that it worked. As soon as they nailed down the formula, maybe even figure out how to stop those taking it from going on a rampage (assuming that *was* an undesired side-effect), they would flood the streets with the stuff like any other new drug. And then you, Stross, and everybody else in Korvosa for that matter would have a *big* problem on their hands.

The new armiger on guard catches sight of you, raises his weapon and prepares to call out a challenge . . . and then his lip simply curls up in obvious disgust.

“Move along . . . . citizen. This is official Order of the Nail business.”

The Hellknight-in-training spits, the use of the word “citizen” clearly just a euphemism for some other much less pleasant word. On the other hand, unkind words could only hurt your feelings – that sword he was holding or whatever magic he knew how to cast could kill you. And you may have pushed your luck far enough for now – but then, if you were to slow down a little once you were past the guard, maybe you could hear Stross bellow out some other useful piece of information, like where they would be heading next . . . so you could make sure you and Dahl were somewhere else.

[PiccadillyPi]

Silas

Bad day

As the grunts burst through his meager defenses, Silas cursed. He should have left earlier. They probably used that fungal stuff Silas wasn't fond of. It's terribly effective, but Silas had always tried to avoid hurting targets. Not that he didn't mind roughing up a few back in the day. For now, the best reaction he could give was a risky one. Flexing a few fingers to trigger his wrist sheath, a wand sprang into his hand. At the same time, the tiefling stepped in front of Trinia. Pointing the wand at the grappler, Silas muttered a single word to activate the device and prepared himself for whatever stupidity was to follow. Papers from sketches, jokes, and journals flew from their scattered homes to fill the room with a tornado of parchment. Whatever vision his enemies had was lost in flurries of black and white. From beyond the effects of this illusion, Silas motioned Trinia to the window while sliding his wand into his backpack.

'You might be poisoned, but I'm going to need you to stay awake. You have to fight it, Trinia!'

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Swift: spring-loaded wrist sheath wand.
5-foot step toward Trinia.
Standard: Silent image spell. Saving throw is 12, I believe. 10 + spell level + minimum modifier to cast. If the paper thing is a bit much, then I guess whatever I can do to douse their vision. The room covered in drapes and veils?
Move: Put away wand in backpack.

I've rewritten this post about four times trying to figure a way out. I dunno how this is going to go, but I have a back-up character concept in the event that it goes completely sideways.

[Stelio Kontos]

Aliani sleepwalked his way through the rehearsal. As did most of the performers, to be sure -- having a rehearsal right before the last day of a four-week run was probably overkill, but it was useful for the less experienced performers, and at least the safety checks for some of the harnesses for the flying swan were essential. (Seriously, this thing was an exhausting hot mess of a production. It was as though someone had made a bet to cram every fun-sounding stage trick they could into a single play. Damned if the crowds didn't eat it up, but still.)

But for the first time in a while, Aliani really actively didn't want to be there; he needed time to sort things out, and this was juts getting in the way. He picked idly at an apple from the catering table, thoughts in a complete jumble.

By the time it was showtime, he'd managed to resign himself to just powering through this one night, and then there'd be a break, and he could take a little vacation from being a vapid, reclusive, beloved local icon. Those were all carefully cultivated traits; having no visible opinion on anything meant that nobody could come trying to lop your head off for a controversial thought, and reclusive meant that you weren't expected to have any in the first place. Beloved was pretty self-explanatory -- having a crowd on your side was much more beneficial than having the city guard, if it came to it. You can't bribe love. Lust, sure, you can bribe that -- not that he didn't have more than his fill of willing participants available.

Haeluna's attendance was a surprise, and that she had others with her even more so. The broad grin on his face morphed into a clipped smile just for a moment; that would have to do as a greeting. He did need to buy some flowers for Nadi though. He slipped a stagehand a note during one of the intermissions (nine stage changes, good gravy) that read I need two dozen roses for a friend. Can you open after the show tonight?, explaining "My florist is up in Row 31, Seat 9A. Can you see she gets this?"

The performance itself was... well, not great by his standards, but plenty good enough for the paying customers. He nearly flat-out missed a wardrobe change while day-nightmaring about consuming human flesh and what that was a metaphor for,. If it hadn't been the last night, if he'd not said those same words a hundred times before, the fact that he wasn't thinking about what he was saying at all would have been a disaster. As it was, when the curtain fell, he was just glad it was over, but also wondering just what it was the curtain was falling on.

He went backstage, spent a good half hour pretending to care about the people who had bought the VIP experience (now this, THIS is where that acting training was useful!) and how that noble would love him to perform at a private birthday party for their six year old daughter, and if they could perhaps send a letter to Mr. Randell, his personal assistant, if it were at all possible to work it into his extremely busy schedule he was sure he'd give it all consideration. (He'd pre-written a good number of the "Thank you for your kind invitation; I regret that I am otherwise engaged at the requested time. I greatly value your continued patronage, and hope that perhaps we might be able to meet at a future date" letters, with space for personalization. It saved time.) All the while he was thinking about how to get out, get to the flower shop, and dammit they'll be expecting him at the afterparty and *gulp* the after-after party and what does any of it matter?

He slipped into an unoccupied back hallway, gave his cloak and sleeves a quick flourish, and a young-looking half elf made his appearance, dressed in simple stagehand gear. He grabbed a crate of stage props, loaded it onto the waiting wagon, and slipped out into the night, making the walk to the flower shop. This was always the worst, right after the switch -- making sure things were just right, that nobody had seen, that he wasn't being followed...

[Darvin]

Dalen had to fight the urge to just stand there slack-jawed for a moment. It was often impossible to tell the difference between the weave of fate, the schemes of mortals, or sheer coincidence. Certainly all three were commonly misunderstood, misconstrued, and misinterpreted. His instinctive paranoia was creeping up on him again, but even as his mind raced through explanations he was already putting words into motion.

"I'd heard that Aliani Rose was performing tonight, though I've sadly lacked the opportunity to see him. Well, I'm never one to turn down an opportunity. I'll gladly accompany you this fine evening," Dalen takes her hand and graciously introduces himself, "Dalen Rittle, private wizard and purveyor of arcane services, at your service,"

[Steveodore]

It was tempting to linger hope for the hellknights to noisily drop her some more tidbits. On the other hand the way things were going for Stross right now, whenever he exited that hole he might decide to take his mounting frustration out on a certain nearby sewer waif. The best course of action right now seemed to be locating shiver den topside, which was hypothetically the source. While there was a chance this was a false lead, it was better to sniff it out now that she potentially had a head start on it.

Miz bobbed her head to the guard and eased away down another tunnel, looking for a discreet area to climb up to the open city. Before going topside she hunted around for an alcove to squat in and brew up one more extract, making sure no dangers or other watchers were nearby before quickly infusing it. Once done she hoisted herself up to the surface, carefully popping her head out and assessing the area to make sure she was chose a safe spot.

Assuming everything went well she steps out into the main street and glaces over the crowd to see if she can locate any Acadamae ducks or apparent shiver users to guide her to the Denès location.

Spoiler

Show

Will roll in OOC just posting for the moment

[Inspectre]

PiccadillyPi

“I’m – urgh – trying!”

Trinia gasps, clutching a hand around the crossbow bolt still embedded in her shoulder. She tries to pull the bolt out, but clearly thinks better of the idea and instead simply holds it stable in the wound while she hurries over to the window. Giving her cover, you pop a wand into your hand and summon an illusion of a hurricane force wind whipping through the room, sending papers flying about like snow. But of course, it’s just an illusion – you see Trinia’s room in exactly how it was before activating the wand – only Tark’s crew is affected. Caught in the middle of it, the grappler throws his hand up to block something flying at him that he can only see with a scream. It would be comical if these *******s weren’t trying to kill you.

Speaking of comical, reaching the window Trinia stops to catch her breath, glaring at Tark.

“Hey . . . T-Tark . . . r-remember that joke I told you? A-about the half-orc, the orc, and the human that walk into a bar together?”

Trinia wheezes, and you feel some sort of magic flow out of her towards Tark, who suddenly starts laughing hysterically at some private joke only he and Trinia would understand. His laughter grows so great, he actually falls to the floor, convulsing with laughter. A moment later, and Trinia falls him to the floor as her eyes roll up into her head as she faints away. On the plus side, she lands on her side, instead of on the crossbow bolt, so at least she wasn’t injured further.

The last member of the gang, the crossbowman, reloads his weapons but is clearly stymied by the twirling flurry of papers blowing about the room, and his allies suddenly being incapacitated.

“Boss? Boss you alright? What the hell did the girl do to you?”

Tark’s only answer is further mad laughter. But with the way things were going, your luck wasn’t going to hold up for much longer. Time to come up with an exit plan.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Trinia is unconscious for the next 3 hours.
Tark has failed both his saves against Hideous Laughter, and is incapacitated and prone on the floor for the next 5 rounds.
The grappler is horrified by being in the middle of the Silent Image, and failed his Will save despite “interacting” with it.
The rogue has not interacted with the illusion yet, and thus doesn’t get a Will Save, so he can’t see Silas/Trinia. He has reloaded his light crossbow.
The window is still closed at this point, and about 15 feet away from Silas.
The sniper outside is, as yet, oblivious (he’ll get a Perception check when you exit to see if you surprise him or if he gets a round of actions on the bad guy turn that you emerge from the apartment.

Stelio Kontos

Theme Music

The rest of the performance was a whirlwind, and gone about as quickly as one – but hopefully without the destruction in its wake. You had seen Haeluna (your florist friend) get the note and quietly slip out – while not quite a ritual by now, she was used to such requests from you. You had so many beautiful adoring fans, after all. But tonight was a special occasion – you just hope she had enough roses available on such short notice (odds were pretty good for it though).

After the performance came the thankfully short meet-and-greet with the VIPs. No doubt some of them would be at the after-party as well, due to that being open to fans of the production company as well as the cast. Making nice with the nobles and well-to-do members of society was often a chore, but making nice was required in order to keep your production company in the black – and many of your fellow cast mates longed for the chance to rub elbows with those who could set them up for life. Despite your distaste for the so-called upper crust of society, it would be wrong to deny your fellows that chance. So you grinned, and were polite but non-committal to any appearances, and were you usual charming self.

Finally, the last of the social butterflies were escorted out – now you just had the after-party to deal with (and the after-after party after that). As you are getting ready to shift your guise into someone who wouldn’t be noticed departing the Ampitheater with the rest of the crowd (and from there to the florist and then to the Crested Falcon for the party), Bannon shows up and makes a beeline straight for you. Bannon was chief of security at the Ampitheater, so him coming to see you couldn’t be good news.

“Begging your pardon, Mr. Rose sir, but I thought this couldn’t wait. The cashiers are still counting up tonight’s proceeds, including the donations, but . . . towards the climax of the performance, one of my men reported a female elf leaving the amphitheater via the gate he was guarding. She seemed quite distraught, but when he asked if she was alright she merely waved him off. Waved him off and pressed this into his hands, with a request that he see it donated to the production company. My man is an honest one, which is why instead of keeping a big payday for himself, he reported the incident to me and handed off what the she elf gave him as a donation. And now I’m giving it to you, sir.”

Bannon pressed a hard, round object into your hands, and when you open your fingers, you see sitting in the cup of your hand an emerald the size of your thumb sitting there. A gem like this was worth hundreds of gold (825 GP to be precise ), so saying the guard could have had a big payday if he’d just pocketed it was akin to saying a whale was a little fish. You had never heard of *anyone* ever getting a donation quite this generous before! Apparently considering the manner resolved, Bannon then takes his leave, leaving you with one more complication to deal with.

But first, before anything else, you needed to deal with those roses. Changing into your disguise, you hurried over to Haeluna’s, who greeted you with a smile and a bouquet of two dozen of the most exceptional roses. “Normally I’d charge two gold at least for these, but in honor of your last show, tonight they are free.” She says, with an odd note of finality to that "last show" bit. At that moment a shadow in a dark corner of the room chose to move, revealing itself to be the elf with the hair-parting scar.

“Aw, are those for me, kid? You shouldn’t have.”

The elf sneers. Haeluna frowns, but nods at the rude interloper.

“Aliani, this is -"

"Jack. Jack will do for now. I must say . . . your posters make you look taller, kid."

"Jack, be nice. Aliani is just as dedicated to the cause as you are."

"I'll bet he is! But until he's sporting one of these, well . . ."

Jack rubs the tuffs of hair surrounding his cranial scar.

"I just won't be able to take the kid seriously. Do what you want, Haeluna. Just know that I'll be here to clean up your mess as always when the kid brings the guard down on us. Have a nice night . . . kid."

Jack said, nodding at Haeluna at the "nice night" and you at the "kid".
He then saunters out of the flower shop, leaving Haeluna to give a tired sigh.

"I am sorry, Aliani. You will have to forgive Jack - he hasn't been the same since the death of your mother. I had hoped I would be able to convince him of your talent, but it seems he's as pig-headed as ever. In any event, I have something urgent that I must talk with you about, Aliani. Despite Jack's doubts, I believe that you are ready for increased responsibility. I think that you are ready to take your mother's place alongside us, and become a Captain of the Revolution. And while Jack might not agree, the others you saw with me agree. It's time for you to take the next step, and start directing a cell of your own. I wish that I had more time to prepare you for this responsibility, but with the King on his death bed we need to move quickly. Once he passes, this city will be engulfed in chaos, and we will be needed to shepherd the common man - and ensure that Eodred's replacement is not an even worse tyrant."

Haeluna smiles sadly as her glance lingers on the bouquet of roses she just handed you.

"Go. Enjoy your evening, and the company of whoever those roses are for. But tomorrow morning, I need you to come back here. You'll meet the other Captains, and get a better idea of what is expected of you. That is, of course, assuming you are willing to answer Milani's call?"

(Poor Aliani. He has no idea he’s about to get a Dalen-shaped hole punched in his life at the after-party. Also I rolled a Perception check for Ailani to notice the elf – he got an 11. Definitely not good enough. )

Darvin

Theme Music

Elliana favors you with a grateful smile (really, you should be the one grateful to Fate for dropping this into your lap :smallbiggrin) as she reaches into her pocket to produce a ticket. As you accept it, you see a name has been scrawled across the top of the ticket – Rosencrantz Guildenstern – presumably the name of the family member who was going to take Elliana to the play. It’s not clear whether that someone was her brother, father, or husband, but their absence was your good fortune.

It takes some time for the crowd to filter into the ampitheather enough for you to reach the gates, but when you finally arrive you discover that your good fate continues. After presenting your tickets to the guard, he produces a wooden chit which he offers to you. Emblazoned on the face of the chit is what appears to be a falcon with an over-exaggerated crest of feathers that would impress even a quail.

“Here is your entrance token to the after-performance party, Mr. Guildenstern. Please present this at the Crested Falcon tonight after the performance in order to be allowed entrance.”

As you sweep past the guard, Elliana frowns and whispers in your ear.

“My apologies, I don’t know if you even wanted to see the play, and now you’re invited to the after-party as well! I don’t know if I was going to attend that – it was just part of the ticket package - so please do not feel obligated to continue to be my escort after the performance is over. Just having someone beside me to talk to . . . it’s nice.”

And as you sit down to take your seats – not quite in the front-most section but decidedly center and just behind that – Elliana certainly takes advantage of having someone to talk to. About the Kendall Ampitheater, theater in general, Aliani Rose’s production company, this “Draco and Maria” play – from the time you sit down to the start of the first part of the performance – a rather droll comedy and juggling act – Elliana stops talking for a minute only once. And that minute is due to the appearance of Aliani himself several aisles down, causing Elliana to call out to him and wave frantically. Unfortunately, Aliani looks distracted tonight, as he doesn’t even glance your way despite Elliana calling out at the top of her lungs (then again Aliani probably couldn’t hear her anyway over the combined squees of all the fan-girls in between you and him). It was unfortunate that you didn’t have a Message spell ready to slip him a message, but on the other hand that would probably just distract him further and there would be plenty of time to talk to him at the after-party that you just happened to have an official invite to now.

The play itself is quite the flashy performance with frequent use of pyrotechnics, magic-enhanced sound, and even sends one of the lead ballerinas flying through the air above the stage via use of a crane. Sadly, the story itself is one of those trite love stories that have been told a hundred different times with minimal variation – guy meets girl, guy and girl can’t be together because their people are enemies, guy and girl get together anyway, everyone dies as a result of their pelvic treachery.

Theme Music

Yet the performance has a profound impact of Elliana, who sits in rapt attention throughout the play, but grows increasingly agitated. She plays with her ring, stares down at her feet, and even seems to be counting backwards at one point. It’s not until the big climatic number of the performance where the girl belts out her undying love for the guy that you realize Elliana has been trying to maintain her composure, right as her façade crumbles completely. She starts sobbing uncontrollably, alternatively covering her mouth with one hand to muffle the sobs and swiping at the stream of tears pouring out of her eyes.

“I’m sorry – please excuse me!”

She manages to choke out, and then she hops up onto her feet and flees from the amphitheater as fast as her legs can take her back up the steps. And just like that, you’re alone again . . . although at least you still have the token to get you inside the Crested Falcon once the performance’s last number is over?

Steveodore

(Damn you are crushing these Perception rolls! Uhh . . . keep up the good work?)

Deciding you had pushed your luck as far as you cared to with Stross for today, you take the armiger’s “friendly” advice and get the Hells out of there. Once you were far enough down the next (several) tunnels, you paused to prepare another of your extracts just in case you needed a disguise for further undercover work. Nothing disturbs you during this brief stop, nor on the winding way back up to the surface.

Most of the sewers were sealed off to prevent any otyughs from breaking out and going on a rampage topside, not that it stopped the occasional otyugh rampage anyway. It was an open secret in the underworld of Korvosa (both criminal and literal) that various smugglers and other parties such as the wererats either paid the guard off to “forget” to keep certain plugs locked, or broke them open anyway as a “public service”. You kept yourself updated on which plugs were currently in such a state, and thus were aware of one such plug nearby that should put you close to the center of Korvosa’s Midpoint district. That left you with a bit of a walk ahead but it was just as well – it would give you time to air out your clothing. No doubt the well-to-do snot-nosed twiddle-fingers-in-training from the Acadamae would look down on anyone reeking of the sewers, making blending in more difficult no matter how you appeared to them.

Eventually you reach your destination, but rather than head into the currently packed Jittery Quill, which was serving lunch at the moment, you set up shop across the street and watch people come and go. It doesn’t take long – you spot the bloodshot eyes and foul temper of a Pesh head soon enough. Foul-mouthed brat was practically begging for a fight as he crossed the street in his surly mood on his way to get a fresh fix. He goes past the Jittery Quill, not noticing you across the street, and ducks into a narrow alley a couple buildings down, just before he gets to the next intersection. He emerges from the alleyway a few minutes later with another spring in his step – or maybe he’s just eager to get back to somewhere private where he can snort the rest of his day away in peace.

Once you’re sure no other would-be addicts are incoming, you sidle up to the mouth of the alleyway and glance down it. Looks like a dead end, but it’s hard to miss the solid iron door set into the right wall a little over halfway down. Two sliding panels are built into the door, one at eye level and one larger one at about chest-height – one to see who’s knocking, and one to pass through either their drug order or deliver a crossbow bolt to the gut. The door itself looks pretty sturdy, and it’s hard to tell if it leads further into the building it’s set into or if it just leads to a bolt hole for the dealer to set up shop inside.

The building’s front seems to be a magical curio shop, a place for students to purchase the raw material for their first wands, crystal balls, and all that hocus pocus. Could be a literal front for the drug business in the back, but getting deep enough inside to confirm that might be even risker than trying to kick down the iron door. Of course, you could always pretend to be a customer, but you’re not sure the proper lingo for ordering a drug that could give you literal magical powers – at the cost of your life. It probably didn’t help that half of the drugs they were selling back there could probably make you *believe* that you had magical powers now, either.

[Darvin]

"My dear, don't apologize," Dalen chuckles cordially at Elliana, "you're not the only one who appreciates an evening with fine company," Dalen neglects to mention his own ulterior motives. Dalen continues to let her do the majority of the talking, responding politely as appropriate. He sits back and enjoys the play, at least as best he can. While the story itself may be trite, there is some interest in analyzing the theatrical and narrative components that give the performance its obvious appeal to the masses.

Dalen glances with surprise as Elliana suddenly leaves. He makes no attempt to stop or follow her, and turns his attention back to the play. Whether she returns or not doesn't change his plans, which have been simplified immeasurably by her contributions.

[PiccadillyPi]

Silas

Whatever obstacles were in his way at this point, Silas had a choice to make. Prove his personal demons right, abandoning the girl behind him, and save his own skin... or save the girl, and prove to himself that he was not the same man he was a year ago. Silas witnessed the confusion of the criminals, earning some himself as the artist seemed to have cast a spell, and knew he only had a small window of time.

Ah, the window!

The tiger-striped trickster turned to Trinia. With each arm, in as swift a movement as he could muster, he picked up the temporary damsel and heft her onto his shoulder. No position would be comfortable for his next move.

'Sorry, gentlemen. She's already taken.'

Always one for a last word before running away, the tiefling ran at the window, using his momentum to shoulder past the shutters and glass. He had to escape at once as there was no telling just how long his magic would distract the would-be captors. Aiming for the ground rather than the catwalk, he didn't expect a graceful landing. However, that did not prevent him from trying. From there he would do his best to keep moving, avoiding the cigar smoking man and any crooks giving him an evil eye.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

If Silas knew the laughing would go on for 5 rounds, he might've stayed to kill the grappler.

Move action: Pick up Trinia (over shoulder, one hand free)
Move action: Exit the building through the window

If possible, I'd like to have used a swift action (prehensile tail) to grab his impact foam, and throw it down with his open hand while jumping out the window. I didn't write it because I wasn't sure if it'd be allowed given that doing so would be treating it as a 'thrown weapon' requiring a standard action by RAW (I think). I pasted the item description to the bottom of this spoiler.

Jump/acrobatics for the landing to reduce damage or otherwise keep moving: (1d20)[6]

Not sure if I need to make an initial roll to go out the window, so here are two rolls just in case, any bonuses being added later:

Misc: (1d20)[17]
Misc: (1d20)[1]


IMPACT FOAM
This milky white liquid bubbles into a 1-foot-thick semisolid sheet of foam when splashed across the ground. You can spend a minute to apply a flask of impact foam to a 10-foot-radius area, or you can throw the flask as a splash weapon. The foam does not interfere with movement, but reacts strongly to sudden force. A creature that falls onto a sheet of impact foam ignores the first 1d6 points of falling damage and converts the second 1d6 points of falling damage into nonlethal damage. A sheet of impact foam dissolves after 10 minutes or when exposed to at least a gallon of water.

[Stelio Kontos]

Backstage

Aliani looked at the large rock in his hand, and whistled. Not every distraction was a bad one, he supposed. "That's... that's a big rock. I guess it's a good thing you're an honest man too, eh Bannon? Okay, um... I need a few things. It might mean a bit of overtime, if that's all right. First, you take this, put it straight in with the night's take personally, and you personally make sure it all gets where it needs to go. Second, tell me about your man. He deserves some sort of bonus, but cash seems a little crass. I don't know them like I should, you do; what's he need? Third, if we have any way to track down the lady, I'd like to do that and thank her personally." While a little inflected innuendo might have gotten a chuckle, there wasn't a hint of it in Aliani's tone.

All this meant at least two more stops tomorrow, probably. That bit about missing the birthday party was turning out to be quite legitimate after all.

At The Flower Shop

Aliani listened to every word, from both of them, with a blank expression on his face. He hadn't been this Aliani in a long time; shutting off the "always on" personality wasn't easy, and replacing it with the "real" him wasn't happening at full speed. "I figured that's why you came to see me tonight." He was having a tough time keeping himself fully composed; it was one thing to tell yourself that causes were worth dying for, and another thing when it was time to walk the plank. He took a deep breath, not that it was helping at all. "When do you need me? I... I'm not ready, but I'll be here. You know I can't not be here."

He needed something to distract himself; reality was a little too real right now. He took a small card -- the kind that come with gift flowers -- and wrote a quick note, bundling it with one of the two dozen of the roses.

Nadi,

I'm sorry your other flowers broke when you dropped them.

-Aliani

That at least brought a brief smile to his face, though it didn't last. "I... we haven't had a chance to talk, but I've been having strange dreams lately. Dreams, memories, visions, I'm not even sure any more what they are, what's real, what's not. I don't know what any of it means. I half fell like I'm going crazy."

[Steveodore]

With noone watching, Miz quietly transformed to better listen for the Den's proprietors. She crept closer to the door and examined it critically, hoping a flaw or oversight in it's construction might present itself. She wasn't betting alot on that hope though, it seemed doubtful to her she could force her way through a door meant to deter magically inclined addicts. All the same she also looked over sealed panels to determine if an arm or a leg could be fit through there, either hers or if she could pull through someone else's. She leaned closer to the door to catch any hint of who the occupants were, and with any luck talking loudly about their business in incriminating detail.

Regardless of her findings, Miz exits the alley to enter the magic shop, not bothering to transform back. She would shuffle around the shop browsing wares with general interest in what supplies and reagants are available, while lightly glancing over the establishment for any hazards that might prevent her from getting through the back of the shop. If Miz were to be challenged about her business and shooed, she shows her coin purse to prove her honest intention to purchase wares.

Spoiler: Rolls and stuff

Show

Don't really like my post just because it feels empty and mechanical, but aw well.

Transforming to gain +4 to perception.
Rolling stealth to sneak up to the Dope Dealing Den Door (1d20+5)[22]
Rolling perception to listen in on Dastardly Dope Dealers Drawling (1d20+12)[28]

Rolling perception again in the magic shoppe to determine any apparent Dangerous Defences Detering Dogooders (1d20+12)[28]

Also would like to know if Miz can buy anything here.

[Inspectre]

Darvin

The play reached its climax and swift resolution following Elliana’s flight, leaving you alone again. Which is just as well since you would need to leave her side to talk to Aliani at the after-party anyway. You still had the token granting you access to the Crested Falcon, and so there was nothing to worry about as you slowly filtered out with the rest of the audience after the play’s conclusion. It took some time for you to filter your way through the crowd and get outside again, but that was alright as you were sure the cast needed time to change prior to attending the after-party anyway.

At the Crested Falcon, there were no issues with getting inside, as anticipated. The pair of door guards at the entrance accepted your token, checked it over for a moment, and then stepped aside to let you inside. The tavern was just a gaudy in its choice of decorations as its reputation suggested, but most of the tables had been pushed out of the middle to create a large floor space. It was there that most of the people already here were congregating, occasionally moving to the periphery to pick up some finger foods from the outer tables.

You do a quick scan of the room, but don’t see Aliani anywhere despite a majority of the cast members being present. It’s possible he was simply delayed due to being the head of the production company, but surely he was planning on attending this social event!?

“Excuse me, are you looking for someone in particular?”

A quiet voice asks from behind you, and you turn your head to find the female lead of the play standing there. She meets your gaze with a soft smile, and extends her left hand as her right was currently cradling a wineglass.

“Nadine Engel. I hope you enjoyed tonight’s performance, Mister . . .?”

(And very soon now, probably one more set of posts, we’re at the cataclysmic reunion of Dalen and Aliani. )

PiccadillyPi

While Tark is still busy laughing his ass off, and his minions are distracted by your illusion of blowing papers, you get the hell out of there. You rush over to the window, stopping only long enough to grab Trinia and hoist her up onto your shoulder before you slam your other shoulder against the glass. Not designed to keep a charging tiefling in, the window shatters, sending shards of glass tumbling down to the street below. A moment later you and Trinia follow the flying glass out into the open air beyond, although not without injury as a shard of glass still attached to the window frame slices across your left bicep. Trinia is likewise injured, her passage through the window causing a chunk of glass to catch her in the back and leave a long rip in her shirt, but surprisingly no blood, unlike the long scratch another piece leaves in her thigh (8 slashing damage from glass to both you and Trinia).

Then you’re out through the window, out past the window sill, and falling twenty feet to the street below. Acting more on instinct than any practiced training, your tail flicks a small capsule out of your belt and into your free hand, which you throw to the ground now rushing up to meet you. The impact foam activates and spreads out to cushion your fall, as you twist in mid-air to land first, with Trinia on top of you (3 non-lethal to you, nothing to Trinia). The impact is jarring, but the foam manages to take the worst of it so you don’t think anything is broken, just a bit bruised.

As you drag yourself up to your feet, you hear Tark howling out the second-story window to “git after ‘em!” That, combined with your dramatic crash out the window, alerts the sniper perched on the roof across the street, whose freshly lit cigar tumbles out of his hands to the street below as he scrambles for his weapon. Reaching your feet, you toss Trinia over your shoulder again and start running down the street as fast as your legs can carry you. You make no attempt at evasion, preferring distance right now to keep your safe.

Unfortunately, running away in a straight line from a sniper is often a poor idea, and with Trinia’s weight on your shoulder you can’t zig-zag nearly as much as you would like to do. And so, a crossbow bolt finds a new home in your lower back, just to one side of your right kidney, penetrating your armor and thick skin. You feel a numbing sensation as the knockout poison this bolt had been tipped with rushes into your bloodstream, but you manage to push through the spreading numbness and keep right on running. In another few moments you are outside of easy crossbow range, and a few moments after that you turn the corner onto the intersecting main street, and are gone.

You don’t stop running until you get all the way back to your home, at which point your shoulder feels like it’s going to fall off from carrying Trinia the entire way and your lungs are on fire. The spot where you got shot in the back, with the crossbow bolt still lodged there, doesn’t feel too good at this point either, although paradoxically the knockout poison seems to have numbed the pain there – something to be grateful for you suppose.

There’s no sign of Tark’s crew following you, and although a few passerby on the street give you curious looks as you stagger into your domicile, you shouldn’t have anything to worry about. At least not right away – you aren’t sure if Vjala was working with Tark or not, considering she warned you off, but she was clearly aware of what was going on and recognized you. If she was working with Tark, it wouldn’t take long for her to inform him of your identity. That didn’t mean either of them knew where you lived – thinking that way was just going to drag you into an unending hell of paranoia – but they would be looking for you. Keeping Trinia at your place therefore may not be a long-term solution, but right now you needed a place to treat your injuries and hers, and to catch your breath. After that . . . what *were* you going to do now?

Stelio Kontos

Bannon smiles at your praise of his honesty and that of his men. At your questions, he rubs his chin thoughtfully, and then gives you a sheepish grin.

“Well, I can talk to the rest of my men, see if anyone remembers taking her ticket when she entered the amphitheater – that might get us her name at least. As for a non-monetary reward, well . . . his daughter is a fan of yours, and her birthday is coming up next month . . .”

**********

Haeluna gives you a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry Aliani. We could use your silver tongue and leadership skills, but nobody is going to expect you to know how to lead a revolution. Tomorrow is just going to be a chance for you to meet the other cell captains, and vice versa. Just be yourself – oh, and if you could be here at noon sharp, that would also be appreciated, hah!”

At your mention of visions, however, your mentor grows grim.

“It’s possible that with the stressful times we live in, combined with the weight of managing a popular production company, your mind is simply finding an . . . unconventional outlet to express itself. That being said, there are certainly also stories of believers being given visions by the Everbloom, either to warn or inspire. Some even say that such visions are memories from a previous life prior to martyrdom, although I’m not sure how much stock I put in that interpretation. Whatever the source of these visions, however, I do believe that someone is trying to tell you something, even if it’s your own brain through layers of metaphor. Maybe, instead of trying to figure out what they mean, you should focus on what you are feeling as you experience them, and trust your instincts to guide you from there.”

A smile returns to Haeluna’s elderly face.

“I sound like a fortune teller now, don’t I? Well, that’s the only advice I can really offer you now, aside from removing what distractions you can going forward so that you can concentrate on the future. There’s a lot of work lying ahead of us in the near future – I only hope that together we’re all strong enough to endure the coming storm.”

Steveodore

Creeping silently down the alleyway, you examine the door with a critical eye and briefly press your ear up against the wall in an attempt to hear what’s going on the other side of it. The iron door itself looks to be in good repair, despite the patina of rust staining it, and sturdy enough to repel an unprepared attacker like an angry customer. The eye-level slot is only an inch or two high, and thus not large enough to fit anything worthwhile through, but the chest-level one might be more useful. It’s big enough to fit an entire crossbow through, to say nothing of a bag of drugs or coins, and thus you could probably shove an arm through one way or the other. Although faint, you can hear through the wall the sound of someone alternately grumbling to himself and singing some sort of bawdy limerick to himself in an off-key tone. Probably just one bored guard/doorman then, there to deal with any customers and keep an eye on the stash by himself. That doesn’t discount someone inside the magic shop being part of the crew, though, and keeping an eye on things “out front”.

You briefly go into the magic shop to check out the front (possibly literal front for the drug business) of the building. It’s a fairly small one-room affair, perhaps made a little smaller by the glass cases crammed together inside, displaying mostly wands and other magical paraphernalia. At this point, only a bored looking female elf seems to be minding the store, with a boy-girl pair of human teenagers currently browsing the wares and sniggering at possible alternate uses for some items. The teenagers openly stare at you when you come in, as if they’d never seen one of your kind before, while the elf shopkeep merely shoots a bored glance your way before filing you under “unlikely customer” and proceeding to ignore you again.

There doesn’t seem to be a lot of alchemy-related items inside the shop at all, and everything is locked safely behind the glass display cases (most behind *two* separate locks – perhaps an attempt to prevent easy magical access?). You do note that behind a set of beaded curtains at the back of the room, there is a plain wooden door leading into the back. It does have a lock on it, and while the shopkeep is ignoring you for the moment that’s likely to change if you start trying to go somewhere you clearly aren’t allowed as a customer. You do note that she’s got a necklace on, and while the end of it is tucked down into her tunic it’s a safe bet that’s where the key to the locked door into the back is.

(OOC: If you want to do some legit shopping here, this shop does have a few wands and scrolls for sale. There are also a couple spellbooks near the back that you could “rent” to look through for spells to copy into your own book – I *think* alchemists can copy some of their extract formula from wizard spells. And there’s probably a couple minor wondrous items scattered about that I could roll up if you’re really interested in window shopping. No potions or alchemy supplies – there’s a few bags of the enchanting materials necessary for magic item creation as well here . . . or Shudder creation, although the lack of alchemy gear suggests this wouldn’t be the manufacturing location unless they’ve got all that tucked into the back out of sight.)

[Darvin]

"Rittle, Dalen Rittle," Dalen smiles and shakes hand with Nadine, abandoning any pretense of being Rosencranz Guildenstern, "and yes, it was a wonderful performance. I particularly enjoyed the magical choreography, and was hoping to have a chance to talk to the spellcasters involved in the production. Of course, the star of the show was one of them, so we'll see if it's even possible to get a word in edge-wise when he arrives," Dalen jests, letting on as little as possible.

[Stelio Kontos]

Backstage

"Get me his name, the date, and an address please. That's one party I won't mind attending."

At The Flower Shop

"Some of them have to be visions" Aliani agreed. "I, uh, I had dreams about bashing Gaedren Lamm's head in. I mean, that's not strange in itself, I've had those thoughts for years." He broke out into a wan, self-deprecating half-grin. "But... then this showed up in my shirt pocket." He pulled out the harrow card, handing it to Haeluna. "I dreamed it... before I got this. But, I mean come on, I'm not a killer, I could never, that's not the way..."

"But if it's all visions... then run. Run, save yourself, live to fight another day. Please, for me, because it's all... it's no good. You don't want to know. So it can't all be visions. So run, but I need your help... I don't know what to do."

"Can I be here about eleven, you put on some tea, we can try and talk it out, make some sense of it? Please?"

At The Crested Falcon

Aliani had wrapped the couple dozen roses in colored paper, and slipped back onto the street in his miscellaneous half-elf disguise. He made his way for the alley around the corner from the Falcon, ducking behind a corner alley to change, with a quick flash, back into himself -- or as close as he could allow himself to get. Soon, a couple hundred sets of eyes would be on him, wanting their piece, and they were not going to leave until they got it. He took a deep breath, as if plunging into the ocean, and flicked a mental switch.

Showtime.

Aliani Rose came striding up the door to the Crested Falcon. He didn't have a token, but of course he didn't need one.

[Inspectre]

Darvin

“Oh, so you have an interest in the arcane then, Mr. Rittle?”

The ballerina star performer gives you a self-depreciating smile.

“I am afraid that I won’t be able to help you there, but Aliani definitely can. I can introduce you! He should be around here somewhere . . . oh! He just came in. ALIANI!”

The ballerina waves, and you turn to see Aliani entering the tavern, carrying an enormous bouquet of twenty-four perfectly formed roses. Seeing you and Nadine, he makes a beeline right for the two of you, and somehow manages to make it before being intercepted by another well-wisher. For a moment you thought perhaps he had seen you and come walking over to talk with you about what the hell was going on – there was certainly a flash of recognition in his eyes as he joined you and Nadine – but instead his full attention is on Nadine and not you.

“Are . . . are those for me!?”

Nadine asked, immediately getting her answer as Aliani offers them to her. The ballerina accepts the roses with a little girlish shriek of delight, hugging the bouquet with one arm and Aliani with the other. She gives the show producer a quick peck on the cheek for his trouble, and then whispers something in his ear before bouncing backward a few steps with a grin.

“Oh Aliani, I love them! I have to go show Bea – I’ll be right back!”

Nadine promises, hurrying off to find whoever this “Bea” person was. Leaving you alone with Aliani, at least for the next thirty seconds before some idiot wanders by to bother Aliani with congratulations on the wonderful performance.

Stelio Kontos

Bannon nods, and you know from experience that he would do his best to fulfill all of your own requests. Hopefully by tomorrow you would know at least the name of your unusually generous benefactor.

**********

Haeluna favors you with a frown, but it’s not one of disapproval but parental concern. She reaches a hand up to gently cup the right side of your face.

“Of course, my child. I will always be here to offer you what guidance and support I can. I owe your mother that at the very least. Come by before noon and we can talk about these visions of yours – they seem to be most troubling. Whatever they are, whatever they mean – we’ll get through what is to come. Together.”

Removing her hand, she forces a smile and pushes you towards the door.

“But try not to let them concern you tonight. Go! See this lady friend of yours, enjoy the rest of your night! Tomorrow has concerns enough, you don’t need to drag them back into tonight as well.”

*******************
Not a moment after you enter the Crested Falcon do you hear Nadine’s voice rising above the din of conversation, calling to you.

ALIANI!”

You see her standing with another man off to one side of the room, waving you over. Figuring it was best to get this enormous bouquet of flowers out of the way before anyone started badgering you to make an appearance at their social event of choice, you head over to the ballerina and her escort. At Nadine’s call, the man turns, allowing you to see his face . . . and despite never having met him before (you’re quite sure of that), you recognize him. His name is . . . Dalen . . . isn’t it? You aren’t sure how you know that, and that’s rather troubling. But you arrive at the pair anyway, and offer Nadine the bouqet who accepts them with a girly shriek of delight.

“Are . . . are those for me!?”

She cries, snatching them out of your hands to cradle in one arm, while she throws the other (wine glass and all) around your back in a surprisingly fierce hug. She gives you a peck on the cheek as well, and leans down to whisper into your ear.

“I have an extra special reward for you – tonight.”

She then bounces back away from you with an immensely pleased grin.

“Oh Aliani, I love them! I have to go show Bea – I’ll be right back!”

Nadine promises, hurrying off to find Beautrice. Leaving you alone with this . . . Dalen, at least for the next thirty seconds before some fan comes over to offer congratulations on the wonderful performance.

[Steveodore]

Miz browsed the store with increasing disinterest, aside from some spell books there was little here she could make real use of. She queried to the Elf about Alchemy materials, both reagents and equipment, perhaps they were simply not on display? While on the surface it seemed like the shop would be an easy point of entry, daylight robbery, especially in this part of the city was a pretty terrible idea. Even putting that issue aside there was still no guarantee the two locations were connected, Miz was really hoping to get a hint of that. She exited the shop as it seemed to be a dead end for the moment and turned her attention.

Once again in the empty alley she considered herself and what she was doing.Ever since Miz had found the den she was looking for blood, looking to get inside and make the big score. Why was she in such a hurry to break in to this place? She was alone and without tools, weapons or other useful things. She reached for her mutagen, placing her hand on it. She did have the mutagen but what did it give her? Strength? An edge? She could feel it through the vial, her strength, her power, sealed away but so tantalizing close to her.

She forced her hand back down, there was no reason to rush into this, all she had to do right now was get her access to more of the drug to confirm this was one of the sources. She redistributed some of her silver to different parts of her person before stepping back over to the alley door. Without much further ado she knocked on the door to get the guardsman's attention and hopefully buy a unique blend of Shiver.

[Darvin]

"Good evening, Aliani. It was a fine performance. I don't suppose you remember me? We worked together once, in a time and place when you weren't famous," Dalen outstretches his literal hand while tipping his metaphorical one.

[Stelio Kontos]

A brief look of sheer benevolent terror appeared on Aliani's face as the woman whispered in his ear; it took him a few seconds to recover his composure. "Half of them are for you!" Aliani stammered after Nadine.

Now, this fellow. He'd of course heard the "I knew you before you were famous" line a thousand times before. "Knew you before you were famous" usually meant "one time I saw you picking through fruit at Goldmarket", or "don't you remember me, I nearly ran you over when you were walking down the street thinking about something or "I told you there was nothing more we could do about solving your mom's untimely death, sorry". Aliani could count on one hand the number of people who actually knew him well enough before he was famous to say it out loud, but of course he couldn't say that to their face. Still, you never know, maybe they had crossed paths; this was the most important thing that would happen in their life for a long time, as far as they were concerned. No reason to make it unpleasant for them. He'd practiced this interaction as many times as he had any play he'd ever appeared in. It was a fairly common improvisational technique, actually -- let them do all the talking, and by the end they'd have told you everything they needed you to know about them.

Still, this man -- he'd seen him before, he thought, in the giant mind-swirl that had enveloped him these last few days. That was a bit disconcerting.

A waiter passed by with a tray of wine glasses; Aliani grabbed one with one hand, extending his other hand to meet Dalen's with an enthusiastic pump. "Of course I remember you!" he exclaimed, continuing to shake the hand well beyond the normal time. His face couldn't help but betray just a bit that universal ohgodwhoisthisI'msupposedtoknowyoubutIdon'tquite expression; he'd have to work on that.

[Darvin]

Dalen avoids letting on his disappointment, but this reaction (or rather, lack of reaction) was to be expected. If Aliani didn't immediately recognize him, then perhaps something else would trigger a response.

"No need for politeness if you can't recall," Dalen slips his hand into his coat pocket, withdrawing the harrow card and showing it quietly to Aliani, "but perhaps this, or one of its companions, is a bit more fresh in your recollection?"

Dalen waits for some sign of a reaction other than incredulity or straining memory, then leans in and whispers, "I know both too much and too little, but in any case time is running short,"

[Stelio Kontos]

At the sight of the card, Aliani turned white as a sheet — there was no amount of practice to conceal that emotion. ”this... is ... probably ... a, uh, a bad place to talk” he stammered weakly. ”The manager might, er uh, let us use his office.”

What in the hells is going on?

[PiccadillyPi]

Silas

South Shore was expensive to live in, but it was also relatively safe from ruffians. As long as they didn't already know his address, he'd be safe. Approaching his 2-story house, Silas felt some reassured he would be able to rest if only briefly. His street was not terribly busy that day, and most of his neighbours kept to themselves - They avoided him, not each other. With a nervous smile, he waved to the woman drinking wine on a balcony. She could only give a curious look while being reminded of how adventurous she was in her youth. Muttering on his choice of women, she went back to her wine as Silas entered his home.

The door closed behind him, Silas relaxed. All those years in service to his father made him a hard man to track, and working from home was not in the cards. You never know when a client might become too attached. Still carrying an unconcious girl on his back, Silas stepped forward toward the base of his stairwell. Placing his hand on the banister, his adventure began to catch up with him. His breath became heavy, and the wounds he had incurred began to throb. These were some of the worst wounds he had taken for a long time. Concerned he might trip part-way up the steps, and that they both might ruin his sheets, the pin-cusioned host brought his guest to the dining table. Clearing the table with muted violence, he placed her down with a grunt, positioning Trinia to best side as to not disturb any wounds. Given that she was not bleeding, not heavily at least, Silas retrieved a pillow for her head.

After that, Silas took his time. He removed the bolt from his back and tossed it into his fireplace, burying it in the cooled ashes he had put off cleaning since a week ago. There wasn't much to clean in his house, and he spent such little time there that it took time to build into a genuine mess. Looking at the damsel on his table, Silas let out a great sigh.

What next?

Taking a seat on the dining bench, he took stock of his situation. Trinia Sabor was being targeted by unknown forces who were sinister enough to use Tark. Vjala was involved in some way. Silas refused to imagine she would be working with the fishmonger, but that didn't stop such thoughts from lingering in the hallways of his mind. In his experience, if it involved the kidnapping, Gaedren was never far behind. Going after him directly would be tricky, and going alone would be stupid. Inqrigue and inquiry were not his strongest subjects in life, but perhaps he could hire some help.

More importantly, Silas had to come up with an alternative hide out. While he was not publicly renowned, he was one of the more unique looking inhabitants of Korvosa. It might take all day - maybe even a week - but Tark and his gang were going to find him eventually. If they heard the conversation between Silas and Trinia, then his name would be known as well. Vjala's presence bound him to the city, so leaving was not an option. Not for the tiefling...

They'd probably catch her on the way out.

So be it. He had to find alternative accommodations for the pair of them. But with whom could he stay? The address in his pocket was not terribly welcoming, a good plan D, and his prostitute friends were generally untrustworthy. Genevieve, he best friend, might be willing to help if she wasn't busy with a ritual session. Was there anyone else?

Aliani Rose

Not a familiar name, not personally, but Trinia had mentioned that he once lived across the hall. Better as a back up if things go sideways. Of course, for it to be a back up, he'd have to find out where the guy lives. Silas penned a note for Trinia in the event she woke up while he was out, and pinned it to the kitchen ice box. Drinking a small potion to ease his wounds, the tiefling changed his clothes, applied some cologne, and left to find the residence of Mr. back up plan, Aliani Rose. May as well shop too.

Spoiler: Note

Show

Dearest guest,

Cured meat and various cheese and fruits are inside this ice box. Knives are on the counter. In the cabinet to the right you will find plates and a dozen forks. If you are able, take this note and stay upstairs. I shall return, knocking thrice, then twice, and once.

Please mind the windows, and do not turn on the lamps.

Stay safe,

Silas Rata'da

P.S. Sorry about your thigh.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Lots of stuff to do these past few days. Sorry about the wait.

Silas is going to gather information surrounding Aliani Rose in an attempt to find his true address. As well, he is going to restock his impact foam while purchasing an additional 2 CLW potions and a light crossbow with some bolts. I'll wait on your word as to their availability before making any adjustments.

Used: CLW potion
(1d8+1)[8](8)

Gather information
Diplomacy (+2 from cologne): (1d20+10)[6](6)
Time: (1d4)[1](1)

CLW potion x2: 100g
Crossbow, light: 35g
Bolts: 1g
Foam, imact: 25g

Total: 161g

Edit: I've been using "rollv" code for everything. Looking at how my results are counted, I'm starting to think my bad rolls have been due to bonuses not being calculated. I'll be using "roll" code from now on. With that in mind, the cure wounds should be "9" and the gather info should be "16".

[Darvin]

When Dalen and Aliani finally have the opportunity to speak in private, he carefully clasps his hands and smiles as he searches for the right way to explain himself, "You and I are connected by a strand of fate, along with several other individuals. You are the only one of them that I was able to locate on such short notice. Congratulations on your success, by the way. In any case, a fortune teller named Zellaria Esmerelda was able to perform divinations and determine our identities," Dalen reaches into his pocket and once again pulls out the harrow card, "and is seeking to draw us together. Or rather, she has already succeeded in drawing us together and it's happening again,"

Dalen stops and glares at Aliani directly with an unnerving focus, "I wasn't lying, you know. We really did work together. But something happened and undid and subverted much, and I don't know what it was or how it happened, or why I seem to be the only one with a clear recollection of it. However, I do know exactly what I was doing at the very instant when it happened. I was casting a charm spell. On a woman named Trinia Sabor. Who stood accused of the murder of King Eodred. And the king's death is due to occur tomorrow night - at the same time we are meant to kill Gaedren Lamm," Dalen adjusts his stare down to the harrow card in his hand, "It all comes back to this common nexus. I know much more than I should, but it's still not enough, and time is running out to do anything about it,"

[Stelio Kontos]

Aliani listened, turning (if it was even possible) more pallid as Dalen expounded on the content of his dreams. It was all very very familiar, the parts Dalen remembered anyway, and the names. Gaedren Bleeping Lamm, of course. Trinia Sabor -- he hadn't seen or heard that name in a couple of years; he'd always had a huge crush on that gorgeous woman across the hall; it was a pity he hadn't had the courage to knock on her door. These were all his experiences though; that this man (who he'd also had dreams about) was having the same...

"Mister Rittle, right?" Aliani inquired. "I don't even know why I know that."

"You realize they can't be memories" Aliani corrected, a bit of confused tremoring in his voice. "Memories are things that have already happened. And I -- or we, I suppose -- can't have had those thing already happen. I haven't killed anyone, ever, I think I'd know that. The king's quite alive last I checked. But I believe you, or at least I believe you believe them. Because I've had the same... dreams? Ideas? Nightmares? Warnings? And I know they seem very real to you, they do me as well, but they can't be, because here we are. Someone -- maybe it's this Miss Zellara, maybe it's some higher entity -- is trying to tell us something, is what I think. To spur us to do... well, I don't have the faintest idea. But you're here, that's real, I know that now at least. But other than that I don't have the first damn clue any more what's real and what's not."

He slumped forward in the office chair and clasped his hands beneath his chin, propping his elbows on his thighs for some much needed support, talking more to the floor than to the man before him. "I think it's only fair to tell you, since we're talking about this. You say it ended when we were chasing Trinia Sabor. In my dreams it didn't end there for me. It .. ended much worse, for me, you, everyone." He looked up at Dalen, pure sadness and fear in his eyes. I don't want to disturb you, but... please, if things start to go bad, run away, as far and as fast as you can."