Altogether [IC]

[Ilerien]

- The sergeant knows his drill, - the mage sighed after reading the note and closed his eyes for a couple of moments to catalogue the arcane formulae his memory was holding and translate them into simple words. - A couple of short range transportation spells, let's say, the limitation would be around 750 feet, and I can confidently bring three more people with me, but if I'm to teleport blindly, the space should be scouted first. Arriving inside a solid object would be unpleasant to say the least. I can make someone airborne for roughly 10 minutes, maybe a bit less, and I still have capacity for opening a locked door instantly or conjuring some fairly simple illusion. Other than that, I don't have many useful spells inflitration-wise left that aren't already covered by Hackford's well-timed gifts. Naturally, there's a fireball up my sleeve in case we require a flashy and, forgive the pun, destructive distration.

[Auranghzeb]

Time is of the essence. I'm moving in. I'll trust you for support. If you can sit outside the spot I found for infiltration.


Cervena checks her items, her health restored by the potions. She looks at the other agents, all silent and wordless.

Maybe bring some of them with your teleport. I'm gone.

And she moves stealthily back to the edge of the camp.

[Cygnia]

With some suspicion towards the sergeant's "gift", Tommasia reluctantly pocketed one of each, a potion of Alter Self, Cure Moderate Wounds, and Invisibility. She eyed one of the vials carefully and glanced over to Evindal. "Are these what the sergeant claims they are then?"

(1d20+14)[19] Spellcraft check.

[Ilerien]

- Amrynn, dear, please, follow our friend and don't make yourself known. I need to you to return and desribe the suitable location Cervena hopefully finds in detail, - Evindal said to the apparently empty space above his shoulder.

The mage took the vial from Tommasia and shook it gently looking into the patterns formed by the liquid inside. - See these vaguely hexagonal formations? Looks genuine to me. Testing all other vials would be a waste of time.

Spoiler: OOC

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Spellcraft check: (1d20+21)[25]

[BelGareth]

Weather: Cloudy
Time: Afternoon-Evening

The day becomes overcast as you make your plans, and with it, the biting cold of a autumnul country wind comes cutting through everyone.

Cervena, you make it back to the same spot without any issues, you are close by the wooden palisade wall where the hole was before, it's the negative space where the knot of the wood fell out, not much to work with.

---

Cervena vanishes, and then heads off, much as Amrynn does.

What do you do?

[LairdMaon]

Cur finally takes a seat and gazes at the equipment dropped off to them. It might be wisest for me to travel hidden in our travel gear. I can take on the shape of a small animal to stay out of eyesight. I can tail you within the walls and be ready to revert to my fighting form when needed.

[Cygnia]

The potions were genuine. So why did Tommasia still feel that the sergeant was fishy? That they were being set up to intentionally fail? But, with no concrete evidence (yet), all she could do was focus on the mission.

With that, she had to place her Watch Lamp into her Haversack for the time being. A hobgoblin walking around with one of those would look awfully suspicious.

[LairdMaon]

Cur's eyes follow Tommasia's hands as she put away her lamp.

If you have room in there for a small snake, that could be my way in. And when you need me, I'll be ready.

[BelGareth]

Weather: Cloudy
Time: Late evening

Cervena slips silently into the camp, this time she just moves through the closest gate, invisible and silent as a ghost.

Past the ground guards, Cervena noticed two soldiers engrossed in a name game, their laughter echoing through the night. Ignoring their duties, they huddled together, each attempting to outwit the other with increasingly absurd monikers. "Horgul the Horrendous!" one exclaimed, struggling to contain his amusement. "No, no, how about Snargle the Slothful?" countered the other, their banter punctuated by bouts of raucous laughter. Unaware of the looming threat, they continued their frivolous game, oblivious to the danger lurking just beyond their laughter.

Scuttling across, she finds a small alleyway between tents near the gate, sounds of snoring, silent sleepers abound, a few night activities in a tent every so often, but nothing Cervena couldn't stifle, pause and wait until an opportune moment.

The camp smelled....much better than she thought it would, most of the foot soldiers were just normal non-evil hobgoblins, of course the actual smell was much worse, it was rank, and they could have been utilizing the nearby river this whole time...

Moving on, she slides between bigger tents, these seemed to belong to more important people, as if the outer tents near the walls were the smallest, meaning...yes, the largest tents were in the center....surrounding the log building.

As Cervena stealthily passed a larger tent adorned with intricate banners, she noticed several alcoves illuminated by flickering torchlight. From within emanated the sounds of revelry and merriment, hinting at a gathering of significance. Laughter mingled with the clinking of goblets and the melody of a lute, painting a picture of opulence and indulgence. The air was thick with the scent of exotic spices and rich wines, enticing her senses even from a distance.

Intrigued, Cervena caught glimpses of scantily clad figures moving gracefully between the alcoves, their silhouettes dancing in the warm glow of the torches. Servants bustled about, bearing trays laden with sumptuous delicacies, while musicians filled the air with melodies that stirred the soul.

Despite the festive atmosphere, an undercurrent of tension lingered, palpable beneath the veneer of celebration. The occasional hushed conversation and furtive glances betrayed an air of secrecy, hinting at hidden agendas and clandestine alliances.

Venturing closer to the main building, an overwhelming sense of malevolence enveloped her like a suffocating shroud. It was as if a river of darkness flowed through the very air, tainting everything it touched with its sinister presence. The sensation caused her to falter for a moment, her instincts recoiling at the oppressive aura that surrounded her.

Each subsequent tent she passed emitted a similar foul odor, hinting at the pervasive corruption that permeated the entire camp. The stench grew stronger with each step, seeping into her senses and filling her with a sense of dread.

However, as she approached the imposing structure that served as the heart of the camp, the intensity of the malevolence reached a crescendo. The building loomed before her like a fortress of darkness, its very walls seeming to pulse with an unholy energy. The air around it crackled with an aura of malignancy, causing Cervena to draw back instinctively.

Gathering her resolve, she steeled herself against the overwhelming evil that emanated from the building, her determination unwavering in the face of such darkness. With each breath, she pushed forward, her resolve unyielding as she braced herself for whatever awaited within.

Cervena surveyed the entrances to the foreboding building, she noticed two distinct pathways leading inside, each flanked by an alcove where guards or attendants might wait.

To her left, a narrow passage wound its way into the darkness, the entrance partially obscured by the shadows cast by the surrounding tents. The alcove adjacent to it appeared deserted, its dimly lit interior giving no indication of any occupants.

On the right, another entrance beckoned, its doorway adorned with sinister symbols etched into the stone. The alcove beside it was similarly vacant, though a faint flicker of torchlight danced at its entrance, hinting at the presence of a guard stationed nearby.

Weighing her options, Cervena considered the risks and benefits of each route. The left passage offered a more concealed approach, with less chance of immediate detection. However, its darkness also presented the possibility of unseen obstacles or hidden threats lurking within.

On the other hand, the right entrance appeared more heavily guarded, but its proximity to the torchlight suggested a potential distraction or opportunity for subterfuge. Despite the increased risk of detection, it offered a more direct route into the heart of the building.

[Auranghzeb]

The goal is information
Cervena had to remind herself to prevent her from just lunging to the darkness of the left entrance. She had gathered enough and she had also seen this placed reeked of evil, but the Hobgoblins were mere pawns of something bigger.

She scanned around for a safe location for teleporting the others and then sent a telepathic message to her Psicrystal relating the intelligence gathered for her psicrystal to telepathically communicate it to the wizard.

She then hid.

[Ilerien]

They waited for Cervena's signal, her crystal sitting nearby, presumably, receiving some input from her.

Evindal similarly listened to Amrynn's own emotions, as their newly established link allowed. They weren't immediately translateable, though after some time the wizard has managed to pinpoint cusiosity, confusion and excitement, or at least he thought he had.

He tensed momentarily as thoughts not belonging to him started appearing in his mind. The camp, its streets and denizens, the central abode, the approaches, the overwhelming foul odor of something rotten. How does she even live with it? If I smelled this every time someone evil wandered into proximity...

- It's time. Please, huddle around me, place one of your hands on my shoulder and drink your invisibility potions. I trust it everyone used the time to think up some hobgoblin of roughly the same proportions to turn into with the help of one of these alteration potions. A small snake works as well, - he said with a small smile. - Let's go on the, ahem, adventure and hope our friend hasn't misjudjed the distance, or we're in for some... turbulence.

As everyone prepared themselves, the elf scooped Cervena's psicrystal up, stowed it into his haversask and invoked a familiar arcane formula, himself disappearing from sight.

- Brace for translocation, - said the invisible wizard with somewhat strained voice and recited a complex incantation with different undertones.

Spoiler: OOC

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See invisibility and invisibility on himself, then dimension door targeting everyone around to some point with enough space close to the building Cervena described. If she's sureveyed the area enough to point out some convenient location where us bumping into someone is unlikely, Evindal will try to follow the description closely.

[Cygnia]

Cur-as-snake safely in her haversack? Check.

Hand on Evindal? Check.

Invisibility potion drunk? Check.

Alter Self potion ready on top for quaffing when needed? Check.

Jinx dismissed for the time being? Reluctant check...

[Auranghzeb]

Seeing that the party was once again stalling. Cervena urged the recently teleported crew.

Silently she gestured to the different buildings and lowering herself to a stalking crouch, she moved swiftly towards the building where she had stopped her scouting.

[BelGareth]

Weather: Cloudy
Time: Late evening

As Cervena waits, she knows it's moments before the rest of her team appears to move forward with the mission, finally, you would be near your mark, and hopefully get in and get out, though, without an egress plan, getting out may be a bit trickier than it sounds.

With an audible *pop* of your ears, the rest of the team appears around you, or at least you hope.

The lights under the door are constant, and you do not hear any voices coming from within.

[BelGareth]

In the Trash
Pilrgim

You were literally thrown out in the trash.

But that was the plan.

At least, that's what it was.

But it seemingly is going well, you have cased the joint for a while, having come from the West you avoided the majority of encounters and issues traveling through the already conquered country side. It hadn't been hard at all, the guards, while alert and vigilant...were just guards at the end of the day, anything beyond looking out from their posts was just not in their vocabulary, it wasn't even allowed. So learning the patterns, timings, counting the troops was easy, this you expected.

But getting inside?

That was another matter altogether, the Empire had a pretty solid standing army, and they did one thing very very well, build camps. But you managed it, somehow, you were in the trash heap looking directly at the main buildings door. It taken the better part of a week to get there, but you had managed it, slowly moving from trash pile to trash pile, your innate skill and understanding of metal allowing you to move unseen in the camp. Now was the time you set on your chronometer, waking up, you eye a strange sight.

A single small female human had appeared out of nowhere, but your discerning eyes tell you it's who you were sent to meet. Cracking the wafer you were given to communicate with your fellow Petals, the only method given to you of finding them, your consciousness opens up wide connecting to the other agents in a surprise meet and greet.

You can discern 4 individual minds in the link.

Spoiler

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Pilgrim has activated a wafer of Telepathy, you all gain Telepathy with the group for the next 10 minutes
@Rypta, Petals are agents in the field who get activated, you have been activated and tasked to join up with these agents. Typcially, Petals will identify themselves with a petal motif or something similar, but it was a time crunch, and this was all the good Sergeant Hackford could scrap together. you get the impression he is spread too thin. Things back home must not be going so well.

[rypt]

A rounded metal object slowly rises from the surface of a refuse pile not far from the small human woman. Whether or not she notices it moving is one thing; whether or not she recognizes it as the head of a warforged is another -- for the head of this warforged is nearly featureless, possessing only those most basic elements which are necessary to approximate the form of a humanoid face. A heartbeat's span later, Cervena and the others feel a foreign mind brush against their own.

<"Greetings, agents of the Rose. Sergeant Hackford told me to await your arrival here, and so I have."> Even in this mindspace, there is an odd artificial quality to this new and unfamiliar consciousness. <"I am called Pilgrim, and I am to aid you in your mission.">

Two metal-plated limbs emerge then from the garbage pile. One steel hand reaches out to take hold of a section of nearby piping. The other grips the handle of large black metal warhammer, which it presses downward into the earth. Very slowly, the body of a truly enormous warforged emerges from the pile of garbage, seeming to unfold itself from a position which could only be maintained by a creature which lacks internal organs. Stained with oil and other unpleasant fluids that evidence hours if not days spent hiding in filth, the metal of its body is worn with age and mismatched in places. An equally dirty brown cloak is draped over its broad shoulders, only partially obscuring a number of rune-engraved metal sheets which hang at its waist. Once the living construct has stepped out of the garbage, it crouches low to avoid notice by any patrolling guards.

<"Are you anticipating violence?">