Iron Crisis Pt3 IC

[purepolarpanzer]

Caelyn Syol'arael Wood Elf Druid AC: 15 HP: 23/47 PP: 17 PIv: 10 PIs: 17 Conditions: Concentrating on: 5 / 6 d8 HD Spell Slots- 2/4 1st, 2/3 2nd, 1/3 3rd "I am ready to leave. Though I feel I could learn so much here... our path leads onward. To the Gate." Hey eyes followed Seniyad's gaze with a hint of excitement mixed in with her muddled emotions. She felt energy pulsing through her staff. Her staff. Recovered from the Shadow Druids and empowered with her own magics as well as Seniyad's. It felt good in her hand. Caelee then turns and smiles at Senna. "Though I'm not on the front line anywhere near as much as you, sister. Perhaps now that your boots are less hostile I can take my share of the blows. If you need to rest, better to do it here, I think."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

I'm good to keep going, but I wasn't locked it deathbattles with multiple hags.

[Amnestic]

You bid farewell to Seniyad and his companion, leaving the great tree behind you as you head west, judging it to be the fastest route to exit the Cloakwood and get back onto the roads that are hopefully a little less bandit ridden. The forest proves itself an ample supply of food wand water to collect on your way, and you have little issuing supplying yourself. Even making decent time however, you are unable to breach the wood's borders before night is upon you and you settle in for the night.

Safeguarded by her staff's improvements, Caelyn is able to trance without concern, but Senna and Sam bear no such aegis, and find their minds assailed by yet more nightmares.

Spoiler: Senna

Show

Gone from the forest, when you open your eyes, darkness surrounds you. The ground is rough stone, stained by what you can guess are all manner of bodily fluids. A small pile of straw represents the sole 'bed', and a bucket reeking with the scent of dead flesh rests in a corner. Above you a small barred window emits a dull grey light, the only illumination with which you have to see. Three walls are the same stone, but one is thick iron bars.

Beyond the bars is no freedom however. Instead, what lays past your prison cell is another prison cell, adjoined and connected, with no way out. A creature wreathed in shadow paces back and forth on two-jointed legs, though its clear the cell is far too small for its size. Its four arms each end in claws that drip with crimson blood, the only colour to be found in the cells. The creature scrapes the claws against stone, the sound piercing into your mind. As you observe it, it turns to look back at you, matching motion to motion. Its face is elongated and noseless, with blank voids were its eyes should be. It lacks any lips with which to conceal its row upon row of sharpened teeth.

It lurches forward, its massive arm reaching through the bar towards you, and you're forced to press yourself against the back wall as flat as possible, head turned away from the creature. The claw wafts past your face, slicing the air but just barely avoiding your skin, and for a moment it seems like you're safe. Then the metal bars begin to creak and buckle.

A deep resounding laughter follows you as you awaken.

Spoiler: Sam

Show

Images of your conquests and triumphs pass through your mind as darkness takes you - a fortified cam, secluded from the outside world, flush and fat with bandits and brigands that fall before oyu as you move about them. Then you are descending deep within the earth, through the mines and the depths that they held, the vampire overseer falls as the rest of them had. Water flows around you, its rushing tide carrying out south to the great tree, where the hags collapse merely at your passing. You float up, up beyond the tree to float above the forest, surveying all that came before, and to the north all that might come soon.

You turn to look to the south, to Candlekeep, and come face to face with yourself. A likeness in stone exact to the smallest detail. From the stone comes a voice, accusing and yet amused. "Such pride undeserved, great predator, when your whole being is borrowed. Credit where it is due, and dues where payment is demanded."

A dagger of bone rises up between you and your onyx doppleganger, twisting in the air before piercing the stone square in the chest. It cracks slightly, but the pain you feel is as if you are being rent asunder. "You are made as you are," taunts the voice, "and so you can also be broken."

Even when you awake in the morning, your chest still twinges with pain.

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock/Bard | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 55/55 | AC: 13(+3) HP: 23/23 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 --- | --- Spoiler: Dreaming Show It feels distant, wandering through the memories as if lost. Seeing them fall to the ghosts of unseen attacks, falling weightlessly to a ground that feels far and away. Soon, beneath the tree, the ground falls away entirely and becomes far in truth. Drifting above the branches to survey the land. Something compels Sam to turn and look back, to the place that started it all, and it is his own face he sees. Carved in dark stone. Everything becomes clear, and he narrows his eyes. "I did not ask for this. I owe you nothing." As the dagger rises up between them, Sam tries to reach for it, but finds his arms locked and bound. When the dagger jabs through the chest of the effigy, he feels a searing pain and jerks awake. Bolting upright in his bedroll, Sam grabs at his chest and heaves gasping breaths as if the wind were just punched from his lungs. Already awake after taking last watch, Grepha is poised upon a branch above with quills upon her stinger tail bristling. "Another nightmare?" Pulling himself from the sleeping bag, Sam shakes his head and rubs his chest. "First one that came with sensations like that." "And yet Caelyn remains sound as a babe," the imp looks down at Caelyn in her meditative trance, while tamping down the bothersome quills with a claw. "Seems the druid's staff has served its role well, after all." "Lucky Cae," Sam grumbles while packing up his sleeping gear, then he stops and sighs. "Sorry, didn't mean it to come out like that." He looks up into the tree branches. "Did it hit you with anything too?" Grepha shakes her head. "I had hoped our arrangement would take some of father dearest's the attention off of you. Alas, it seems it will take more to ward off his intrusions. Take heart at least in knowing it can be done."

[purepolarpanzer]

Caelyn Syol'arael Wood Elf Druid AC: 15 HP: 54/54 PP: 17 PIv: 10 PIs: 17 Conditions: Concentrating on: 7 / 7 d8 HD Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 3/3 2nd, 3/3 3rd, 1/1 4th Caelyn's eyes open in a flash at Sam's words, and at first there is a relaxed smile on her face. It felt SO GOOD to trance, as she was meant to, instead of her nightmare wracked sleep. But her pleasure was dulled when she realized from her brother's words that his own night was not as peaceful. She looked to Senna, checking her for traces of the bloody imagery that had so plagued Caelyn for so long, before turning to Sam to speak. "If the dreams continue... if they plague you and Senna the way they plagued me... we can take turns with Seniyad's blessings on my staff. That way we are all at least spared some torment. It was after one of those nights when we all dreamed that my repeated nightmares began. Please... if either of you suffer as I was, you must let us know. The thoughts and ideas that assailed me were... dangerous to all of us."

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock/Bard | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 55/55 | AC: 13(+3) HP: 23/23 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 --- | Mage Armor (Armor of Shadows) Offering a forced smile, Sam holds up a hand. "It's alright. I can deal with it, find some way... you shouldn't have to go back to that after finally getting a rest," he softly refuses, picking at some of his trail rations. Above them, Grepha stretches her wings and yawns, flexing a claw and conjuring a spectral suit of black, misty armor around herself. "Speaking of... it seems your power continues to grow," she observes, turning over her arms and examining the protective layer. Shifting into raven form makes it less obvious, but leaves some trails of black smoke drifting behind her as she glides down to rest on Sam's shoulder. "Perhaps your Bahamut can offer some protection," she suggests, thinking idly as the party packs up their campsite. "I will remain outside if we visit any chapels or cathedrals, naturally." Rubbing his chin, Sam ponders to himself. Spoiler: Rolls Show (1d20+7)[12] Sam Religion check to know if Bahamut's church has any installations in the Gate. (1d20+2)[17] Grepha Religion check to know if she can even enter holy ground.

[Spore]

Senna Human Arcana Cleric AC: 19 HP: 61/61 PP: 17 PIv: 12 PIs: 17 Conditions: - Concentration: - Spoiler: Dream Show Senna tossed and turned. Her tried to pray but her voice was silenced. All her ears, all her god could hear was claws scrapping on the floor, metal bars creaking, vile snarls. The beast was after her, maybe consuming her essence. After a few moments, feeling like eons, Senna shoots up. Senna shoots up as well, pulling herself up to a standing to evade a now invisible assaillant. Her cold sweat is caught in the breeze, finally giving her a different sensation to wake her up completely. Really poor metaphors Father uses. she finally cracks a joke. A caged monster clawing at me? A bit heavy handed but it brings the point across. Her humor did not cover up how shaken she was from the experience. As usual, Senna retreats to pray first thing in the morning, ruminating over the Divine Metatext. There must have been more secrets hidden in it. If a mortal had it all, they could understand the Weave, and the universe. Not that it was her thing to usurp gods, but recently it felt it was her duty and only defense to understand divine matters. Refreshed and unusually solemn, she returns to the group. However horrible the night was, it has passed, and I am steeled for a new day. And with new blessings. Senna radiated health like never before. Her skin was clear and her movement unhindered, her step full of purpose. Maybe the lacking illusion of the chaotic boots was part of it, but Senna felt more secure. We have to hurry. Maybe we can satiate our inner bloodlust by getting justice served. Do we want to give the boots to the Djinn by the way? I don't think I could give a trader cursed boots in good conscience.

[purepolarpanzer]

Caelyn Syol'arael Wood Elf Druid AC: 15 HP: 54/54 PP: 17 PIv: 10 PIs: 17 Conditions: Concentrating on: 7 / 7 d8 HD Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 3/3 2nd, 3/3 3rd, 1/1 4th "I would speak against giving the boots to the genie. I can only guess what sort of pranks it could play on people with a cursed pair of boots. I'd be much more in favor of taking them with us. Perhaps we could get the curse fully removed in Baldur's Gate. I know I would be in line to utilize it's protective magic if not for it's dangers." Caelyn watched Senna with worried eyes, and no shortage of guilt that he night was easy compared to her siblings for the first time in a long time.

[Amnestic]

Once you've finished packing up, you continue on your path eastwards. You notice an unusual chill in the air, a stark contrast to the heat of the days before, and some of the leaves are already fully turned. Autumn has arrived, far sooner than you would have expected.

It's day eastwards to exit the forest, and then two days north upon the road in order to reach the city. Observing it as it slowly builds upon your horizon sees a great wealth of buildings that stretch along the river's edge and fill your vision as far as it will go - Baldur's Gate is a sprawling, bustling metropolis, choking with people. At a distance, the narrowed streets and orderly building, crested by a great keep here, a tower there, look beautiful to behold, a true vision of civilisation, though the veneer of glory begins to lose its sheen as you get closer, with the buildings appearing dirtier, the harbour clearly in dire need of repairs, and you feel a general sense of malaise hanging over the city. Great walls that at a distance seemed pinnacles of engineering now loom, encircling the city as a restriction as much of a protection.

The city proper stands across the river, cut off from the south except by way of a great stone bridge easily a mile long, with multiple portcullises at regular intervals along the path to hold back any would be invaders. The gates are open, at least, but a long queue of wagons, animals, and merchants stretching the length of the bridge indicates all is still not well within the city. The queue is being actively policed by Flaming Fist, who patrol up and down its length to keep people from skipping or causing trouble with one another during the long wait. Even just observing it as you make your approach you note that its processions is exceedingly slow, and it could be hours upon hours of waiting if you were to proceed as everyone else is.

[Spore]

Senna Human Arcana Cleric AC: 19 HP: 61/61 PP: 17 PIv: 12 PIs: 17 Conditions: - Concentration: - So close and yet so far. Baldur's Gate was nothing compared to the pristine if aged walls of Candlekeep. The Keep had its walls meticulously maintained, warded from age by work and magic. Beregost was a small but well maintained town, but this reminded Senna of Nashkel. Dirty houses, cramped spaces, but life. So much life. I am starting to see why you druids don't like the city, Cae. In any case, this looks like a stream of fugitives more than a daily amount of merchants. The dangers the bandits and Iron Crisis provide seem to make people anxious. The Gate seems cramped enough as is, and without good reason we will not be let in. And if we claim to be the people who freed a mine, we are either laughed at or questioned, both things I would probably want to avoid. Any ideas? She looks at Sam and Grepha. Those two seemed more "at home" in such a situation. Do you think you can help me get a bit of info from the line of people, scope out the situation from a bird's eye view? She brushes her brother's wings. Well, I think it is clear whose job is whose. Unless you want to create a minor panic because a fierce dragon man attacks.

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock/Bard | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 55/55 | AC: 13(+3) HP: 23/23 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 --- | Mage Armor (Armor of Shadows) Plucking one of the colorful leaves as they draw to the forest's edge, Sam looks it over. On his shoulder, Grepha eyes the leaf intensely and looks back at the canopy. "It is far too soon for autumn," she remarks. "Does that mean something?" peering up at his shoulder, Sam flicks the leaf into the other piles underfoot. "I don't know. But I don't like it." Upon the stone bride, Grepha still seems on edge. She communicates telepathically with Sam, not wanting to spread panic with her suspicions just yet. When you are asking around, ask them what the date is. Month and year. Spreading her wings, she takes off to perch atop one of the tone portcullises and survey the long line in front of them. Scratching his chin, Sam approaches some of the folks waiting ahead of them. He makes some idle conversation about the weather and what's been going on in the city and along the coast lately, explaining that he's been traveling abroad and just returned. "I'm still a little out of sorts," he laughs. "Do you know what the date is? ... Actually, what year is it? It's been a while since I looked at a calendar." Spoiler: Rolls Show Grepha Perception (1d20+3)[14] Sam Persuasion to gather information (1d20+9)[24]

[Amnestic]

Grepha's observations from on high show her little you did not already observe from the ground - a slow moving line of travelers and merchants, carefully patrolled by the Flaming Fist. Occasionally one will get held up and removed for a 'snap inspection' but otherwise most of the delay appears to be a rigorous check at the main gate to the city itself.

Sam's appearance garners some surprise from their fellow travellers, but given how no one else seems to be reacting abnormally they calm down quickly enough, though they still seem somewhat skeptical of the question itself. "Bang your 'ead or sommat? It's 13th Leaffall 1369." A quick mental calculation figures that it's almost two and a half months later than you would expect it to be if time had flowed normally for you.

"I doubt they're playing us. Seems the hags stole some of our time." Vala mutters quietly to the group, keeping her voice low.

[purepolarpanzer]

Caelyn Syol'arael Wood Elf Druid AC: 15 HP: 54/54 PP: 17 PIv: 10 PIs: 17 Conditions: Concentrating on: 7 / 7 d8 HD Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 3/3 2nd, 3/3 3rd, 1/1 4th Caelyn frowned as Sam and Grepha were speaking of the early passing of the season. Lifting her palm, she whispered murmurs of divination, summoning a small symbol to tell the coming weather to confirm that it would be chilly the next day. While she casts her spell, she turns to Senna and says "Rather than claiming we cleared the mine we may wish to remind the Fist at the Gate that we cleared out the bandits in the forest with them. And that our healing saved the lives of several of their members. Less questions, more appreciation, I'm guessing." When Sam confirms that time has leaped forward, Caelee frowns and sags a bit. "Damn hags skipped my birthday..." she says quietly, reaching up to stroke Rosc Roche's neck and face like someone would caress a worry stone.

[Spore]

Senna Human Arcana Cleric AC: 19 HP: 61/61 PP: 17 PIv: 12 PIs: 17 Conditions: - Concentration: - Senna takes a moment to grasp the situation. Seventy days? This is not good. She hears Caelyn's complaint about her birthday. She takes a moment. Well, maybe we could just aim to spend our gold for a birthday party for you, Cae. It is both a valid reason for a short stay and something they would not question further. Plus our alibi would be perfect if we actually had a party for you. Senna smiles genuinely and hugs her sister. She turns to Vala. You're helping me baking a birthday pie for her. We're gonna ruin some poor tavernkeep's kitchen.

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock/Bard | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 55/55 | AC: 13 HP: 23/23 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 --- | Invisible, Spider Form Up above, Grepha deactivates her shadow armor for the time being to avoid drawing attention. Changing shape into a small spider, she makes herself a web parachute and vanishes from sight, gliding down towards the Fist to shadow them and eavesdrop on the types of contraband they're looking for. Spoiler: Rolls Show (1d20+5)[11] Stealth if needed (1d20+5)[8] Invis Adv (1d20+2)[22] Perception to eavesdrop Setting a finger to the side of his head, Sam receives some small updates from her, but nothing noteworthy so far. "Zu probably thinks we died in the woods somewhere... Maybe we should try namedropping the captain of the unit we helped. Does anyone remember his name?" Spoiler: OOC Show (1d20+3)[18] Intelligence to remember if we know the Fist captain's name from the bandit raid. When the subject of Caelyn's birthday comes up, Sam perks up immediately. "Yeah, absolutely!" He grabs Cae in a big hug. "Happy belated birthday! I'll have to go shopping right as soon as we get inside and find you something good!"

[purepolarpanzer]

Caelyn Syol'arael Wood Elf Druid AC: 15 HP: 54/54 PP: 17 PIv: 10 PIs: 17 Conditions: Concentrating on: 7 / 7 d8 HD Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 3/3 2nd, 3/3 3rd, 1/1 4th Caelyn flushed when Sam wrapped her in a hug, grinning weakly at Senna. She suddenly felt younger rather than older, reminding her of birthday parties back home at Candlekeep. Gifts were simple then, usually home made, and certainly not anything like they could afford now. She got a little excited at the prospect. "Don't go too far out of your way. Our funds are better spent on magic equipment for saving our lives than gilded hair ties or whatever this city has in store for us." Caelyn also tried to remember the name of the Fist Captain who they fought beside. Even though it was recent it felt like so long ago. Spoiler: OOC Show Advantage to Sam. Oh, and a small retcon, if possible- Caelyn would have found a quiet spot for a dryad seed in the giant tree's grove.

[Amnestic]

Grepha glides down, invisible to the Fist, yet whether it's the airflow or just a sixth sense they waft a hand at nothing, blowing Grepha on her web parachute off the bridge. Before she slips out of sight and sound, she catches a snippet of them asking (in a rote tone) about "-metals, weapons, magical objects, spice, or-". Whatever else is said is drowned out by the sounds of chattering people above and the river below.

A deep recall of your mind is that the highest ranking officer you interacted with was Corporal King. It seems unlikely that the namedropping the spy, Ender Sai, would be of much use at this point.

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock/Bard | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 55/55 | AC: 13 HP: 23/23 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 --- | Raven Form Blown over the ledge, Grepha shifts into raven form to glide underneath the structure. As she circles around to find somewhere new to perch, she relays to Sam, Looking for metals, weapons, magic, and spices from what I could catch. They do not sound particularly stern or pointed. I expect these are standard customs procedures to report. "Sounds like they're just doing some standard customs checks," he informs his sisters, and after a moment's thought he raises a finger. "Aha. Corporal King was the one we worked with. There's the other guy too, but I'll need to be more careful about contacting him." He makes exaggeratedly pointed side-eye glances, look a too little excited to play at spycraft, without any real clue as to the dangers said career involves. Taking out some papers, Sam looks at Senna. "We should probably go through our stuff and figure out what we have to report, and if any of it is going to get confiscated or expected to take somewhere for some reason." Spoiler: Rolls Show (1d20+5)[24] History to know if any of their magic items would be marked contraband by the laws of the Gate (1d20+5)[23] Adv if Helped

[Amnestic]

Magic items are generally not frowned upon in Baldur's Gate - it's a large city after all, and there are magic shops on street corners - but they may still ask you to declare them and any ones that look concerning might be subject to additional inspection - your Miss Fortune card, for example, bears demonic imagery.

Otherwise, you shouldn't have much to concern yourself with for any bag or contraband checks, assuming they even ask.

[Spore]

Senna Human Arcana Cleric AC: 19 HP: 61/61 PP: 17 PIv: 12 PIs: 17 Conditions: - Concentration: - I am an ordained priest of the Scribe of Oghma, I am pretty sure they should trust me to handle our magic. Chances are still they are either unknowing or unwilling to accept this. At least we are not murder god cultists. Do you think it's a good idea to mention Skie and Lord Silvershield? Or does that put too much attention on us? I guess druidic stuff is fine, and there is no reason to hide what you are, Cae. Just maybe dont summon too much fire. The hag's heartstone and your card deck I would hide, Sam.

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock/Bard | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 55/55 | AC: 13 HP: 23/23 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 --- | Raven Form "We killed a hag," Sam answers the question of the Heartstone with a shrug. "Anyways, hiding stuff is just asking to be asked more questions about it. If they don't like the card I'm fine turning it over to a temple to be exorcised or something." Not terribly worried, Sam wonders if he could pass the time in line by getting people singing.

[Spore]

Senna Human Arcana Cleric AC: 19 HP: 61/61 PP: 17 PIv: 12 PIs: 17 Conditions: - Concentration: - Have you ever BEEN to a city, Sam? Neither was I? For all we know these guards are country bumpkins. They see evil items and take them. But by that logic, they would not even recognize their power. Senna sighs. Her complicated way of thinking was not sound here. I guess you are right. But we have to be wary if the Iron Throne is already powerful enough to warrant a search for us. I doubt we are this important but we did cost them a fortune AND influence with the local lords.

[purepolarpanzer]

Caelyn Syol'arael Wood Elf Druid AC: 15 HP: 54/54 PP: 17 PIv: 10 PIs: 17 Conditions: Concentrating on: 7 / 7 d8 HD Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 3/3 2nd, 3/3 3rd, 1/1 4th Caelee grins at her siblings and wraps an arm around each of their shoulders. "For just a few minutes can we try to enjoy ourselves? I'm as worried as the rest of you about the Iron Throne and their base of operations here. No matter how we talk of birthdays and shopping, we're here for business. But for just a bit can we just focus on the fact that none of us have ever been to a place this big, with this many people, with this many options? I mean, as a druid this is supposedly the opposite of the balance I'm supposed to reinforce, but I'm still terribly excited! Let's try to worry about the danger tomorrow, can we?"

[Amnestic]

As your discussion continues the line moves, ever so slightly forward, and it's not long before Sam - more than anyone else - catches the Flaming Fist's attention. Two soldiers in their by now characteristic plate and wielding their typical halberds approach with a little caution while still clearly trying to give off an air of authority and control. "Inspection." One says, without so much as an introduction. "Identify yourselves, declare your purpose and point of origin, and any sensitive objects or items you may be carrying." What those items are they don't list - yet. A thought strikes Sam that this may be to get people to declare more than they have to.

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock/Bard | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 55/55 | AC: 13 HP: 23/23 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 --- | Raven Form "Hi, my name's Sam," the half-dragon greets the Fist soldiers amicably. "We're adventurers here to do some trading, visit friends, and celebrate a birthday," he pats Caelyn on the back, to indicate her as the birthday girl. "We come from down around Beregost. Do you know Corporal King? We've done some work with him before, it'd be nice to catch up sometime while we're here," he adds by means to name drop their (sort of) friend in the guard. Spoiler: Rolls Show (1d20+9)[27] Persuasion to avoid trouble (1d20+9)[24] Adv if Help is given

[Spore]

Senna Human Arcana Cleric AC: 19 HP: 61/61 PP: 17 PIv: 12 PIs: 17 Conditions: - Concentration: - Senna Candlebright. I am a scholar from the south; and a cleric of Deneir. I have come to see the House of Wonders, where Gond's fabulous works are on display. Maybe even a bit of shopping. She looks around. Ah, ye, my tabard is magic, it aids me in learning about subjects better. Senna is incredibly nervous but tries to play it off as excitement about the Temple of Gond. It is one of Deneir's core tenets to use magic to preserve and improve life, but I have to declare a dagger for defense and a magic armor for the selfsame purpose. Truth be told, we are adventurers, and one needs to protect themselves in these days sadly. Other than that, just a cart full of mixed things and a horse. But that is my sister's, so she should do the honors. Senna was never inspected by a guardsman and is understandably nervous.

[purepolarpanzer]

Caelyn Syol'arael Wood Elf Druid AC: 15 HP: 54/54 PP: 17 PIv: 10 PIs: 17 Conditions: Concentrating on: 7 / 7 d8 HD Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 3/3 2nd, 3/3 3rd, 1/1 4th "Caelyn Syol'arael. My staff, bow, and ring are enchanted for offensive power. Which I am good at controlling, and will not be causing trouble with... sir. Druid's honor." Caelee grinned and tried not to look as anxious as she felt. No one had ever really investigated her weapons, nor had anyone ever had to approve of them for very long. The fact that these soldiers had input was laughable to her after she had been jumped so many times by foes. She'd no longer give up her weapons then she would give up her wand... gods, they wouldn't take her wand, would they? "And my horse. And supplies. And it's my birthday, like my friends said! And we're very excited to be here!" She continued, after a possibly awkward pause.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Advantage to Sam.

[Amnestic]

The Flaming Fist listen to your introductions (including Vala's "Vala, from Cormyr.") and look distinctly pensive when you finish. One leans over to the other, scratching their chin in thought. "Ain't these ones meant to be dead?" To which his companion shrugs, before turning to look down the bridge and making a signal with his arms, one that's echoed in turn by his compatriots, creating a wave of the signal to the far end. "We were expectin' you two months past. What, did you get lost? Over our heads at this point. Bloody adventurers, comin' back from the dead..." He doesn't wait for an answer, his voice switching from casual curiosity back to practiced instructions. "You're going to have to come with us. Keep your weapons and magic stowed, make no sudden moves. Am I clear?"

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock/Bard | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 55/55 | AC: 13 HP: 23/23 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 --- | Raven Form "I'm not sure you would believe us if we told you," Sam comments, with a small laugh. He assumes either these guards are in contact with the Silvershields or with Corporal King, and gladly goes along. Perched high above, Grepha gradually follows the party below as they advance across the bridge ahead of the crowd. Be on watch for anyone suspicious around, Sam sends up telepathically, all the same. Doesn't hurt to be cautious.

[Amnestic]

The Flaming Fist march you up the length of the bridge, past almost uncountable onlookers who regard you with curiosity and a little bit of fear. The city walls grow larger and loom ever higher as you slowly make your way across, for what feels much longer than the 15 or so minutes it actually is.

Rather than head directly through the open portcullis - through which you can see bustling city streets paved with cobblestone and awash with activity - you're lead into a small door off to one side into a tower, through what you might guess is a Flaming Fist office or stopover. A few hammocks line the walls, along with spare weapons and armour. The two who escorted you salute the figure behind a wooden desk. "Sarge, them adventurers who we were expecting from the slaves and King's report are here, fi-" He catches himself from saying 'finally', though not quite fast enough to avoid starting it for all to hear. "Thought you'd want to talk to 'em."

The sergeant is a woman of some thirty, or perhaps forty, years. Her dark hair is kept in a tidy bobcut, and her tanned face is marred with scars across one cheek and sliced through here eybebrow. She nods and dismisses them, leaving you with her and two others who are sat at separate desks poring over reports. All are armed and armoured, though the others beside the sergeant toss you only cursory glances before returning to their work. "I'm Sergeant Schael Corwin. Your reputation precedes you and further introductions aren't needed, even if we did give you up for dead. My commander - Scar - is interested in hiring you for a job, though he won't tell anyone why or what for. Will you hear him out?"

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock/Bard | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 55/55 | AC: 13 HP: 23/23 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 --- | Raven Form With a small laugh, Sam explains laconically, "Sorry we're so late. Unexpected Feywild visit." His posture relaxes once the woman reveals herself to be a friend (or at least work friend) of King. Their commander has a bit of an intimidating name, but judging by the woman's appearance scars aren't too uncommon among the Fist. "I don't know about my sisters, of course, but I'm always happy to help if I can. Where should we go to see 'im?" Meanwhile outside, Grepha remains perched above and watches the exterior for anyone paying a little too much attention to the guard post. Spoiler: Rolls Show (1d20+3)[16] Perception from Grepha