Escape from Castle Amber - IC

[Toliudar]

The five of you have been traveling overland to Glantri City, in pursuit of rumours of new excavations - new sources of wonder and wealth - opened up by a recent earthquake near there.

Leading a pack mule laden with supplies, you have been following a river that a local farmer assured you would lead towards the city. Unfortunately, either the directions he gave you were wrong, or you have taken the wrong river. At any rate, you have good reason to suspect that you are lost, and will have to retrace your route tomorrow.

The sun is setting, and it is time to make camp. The most defensible campsite is on a hill nearby. The night passes safely, although your sleep is plagued with nightmares. When the sun finally rises, you stare out at a world gone mad. Instead of the hill where you made camp last night, your bedrolls now lie in a foyer of an ornate mansion. A freshly swept carpet graces the floor. The walls are decorated with bright colourful tapestries. Brass candelabra line the entranceway. They show signs of having been recently polished, and are filled with candles.

More unsettling than the sudden change from wilderness to mansion is the smoky grey mist whihc surrounds the mansion at a distance of about 30 feet - blocking all sight beyond. The mule, which seems to have accidentally wandered into the mist, has not returned, though the lead rope was still visible at the edge of the mist. When the rope was hauled back in, the dead body of the mule was dragged back into the sunlight. What killed the mule is not clear, but it died with a horrible look of pain on its face. The mist advances on the mansion, even as the five of you watch, but luckily, it does not enter the foyer. The double doors to the interior swing open into the main hallway by themselves.

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Aaaaaall aboard!

[GimliFett]

Oberon

The warlock harumphs lightly. "Well, there's something you don't see everyday. Last time I take directions from a farmer without verifying with someone else, I'll assure you!" Oberon seems miffed, but not really ruffled. He concentrates a moment, then gazes around at the group's surroundings.

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Invoke see the unseen. Gives me see invisibility and darkvision 60'; I already have low-light vision.

[Diarmuid]

Jonah Lommaryn

Jonah is a fairly young man, in his early to mid 20's. He is quite attractive, if only of average height and build...standing a couple inches under six feet, and filling out his clothing well, but not overly so. A silvery blue shirt of chain covers his chest and arms, while a deep blue cloak, edged in gold and silver slides down his back. On his hips are a long sword wrought of cold-iron in a sheath of green leather, and a dagger of bright silver resting in it's rough red sheathe (that he claimed to be dragonhide). A case of crossbow bolts is tied to his thigh below the short sheath of the dagger. A standard adventuring pack rests on his back, a covered torch hanging through two loops on one side, and a light crossbow tied to the other side. While resting, he can often be seen flipping through the various scrolls in a case he usually keeps in his backpack.

A look of shock plays itself across Jonah's face as he takes in the group's new surroundings. As he is rubbing his eyes and pinching himself, he hears Oberon's simple statement and spins to address him,

"We wake up in the middle of some castle, as opposed to the forest where we bedded down, and you're worried about the guy who gave us directions?!!"

A sense of alarm, nearing panic crept into his voice as it raised through an octave and ended up high pitched.

As the rope is hauled in and the mule is found dead, Jonah tries to determine what could have caused its death.

Heal - (1d20)[16]

"I'm not really sure what killed that thing, but I'm not going to risk it possibly being that mist to walk out there. I'm also going to guess we might not want to eat or drink any of the supplies it was carrying."

He gives a start as the doors swing open of their own volition. Cautiously stepping towards them, he stops about 5 feet from the threshold and calls out,

"Hello? Is someone there?"

Listen - (1d20+3)[5]

[GimliFett]

Oberon

Oberon's emerald green eyes blink twice after Jonah's outburst, but his constant smile never wavers. "Of course, Jonah. I hate dealing with untrustworthy souls," he begins. The statement, to those who've known him longest, is somewhat odd or funny, given his own penchant for...hyperbole. "This mess," he waves around the group, "is obviously not something we have control over, at the moment at least. Best to focus first on what one does have control over, non?"

Still smiling, the tall faetouched seems to focus inward once more, then returns his gaze to the mansion and open doors before the group. His impossibly thin limbs seem to flutter as a branch in a light breeze, and his golden-red hair, reminiscent of autumn leaves settles softly onto his shoulders.

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Invoke sylvan step. Just because it increases my base speed +10ft. I don't figure the other parts of the ability will come into play.

[jameswilliamogle]

Erelith

Erelith has red hair, orange-colored clothes, and seems to have soot on his skin everywhere it shows. He's got crazy eyes of blue.

"Hrm, I don't believe I've ever seen that kind of smoke..." he says as he stares out at the mist, slightly distracted by the candles.

Knowledge: Arcana
(1d20+8)[15]

Inevitably, he loses attention, and grabs one of the candles and starts playing with the dripping wax...

[Proven_Paradox]

Duran Stonesheath

Duran has an appearance typical of most dwarves. His large, flat nose is the most prominent feature of his face, and it rests below his small, beady green eyes. His hair is thick, shaggy, and black, and both it and his long beard are usually kept in well-ordered braids. His skin is dark and sooty, as is common for those who spend much time in front of a forge. His arms are incredibly muscular, and his thick fingers demonstrate surprising dexterity with a smith's hammer(though not much else). He wears simple clothing of earthen tones beneath his adamantine armor.

The dwarf seems rather calm about this turn of events, though not nearly as calm as Oberon seems. He speaks with a gruff, dwarven accent ((which I'm totally imagining as being German right now, though I have no idea what a German person sounds like speaking French)) "Panicin' won't do us no good 'ere, aye? Obviously somethin' magical goin' on 'ere. For now, let's just explore about." With that, he approaches the door, standing by Jonah's side and waiting a moment for a response.

[Toliudar]

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Just waiting for North to post, and I'll continue on.

[North]

Tyz

The hell? First a crappy night of sleep and now this. Tyz looks out to the fog. Maybe we are in hell... The halfling is a few inches over three feet tall, lean but honed muscle. Hes got short spiky dark red hair that contrast with his pitch black eyes. His movements are erratic. Slow walking puncuated by a spontaneous rapid run. A sword almost as big as he is rests behind his back and two small hammers hang from his belt.

Tyz plays with a coin though his fingers flips it in the air and looks at it. Yeah sure lets go.

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To throw or not throw (1d2=2)

[Toliudar]

As Jonah and Duran lead the way to the doorway, he sees that, beyond, there is an opulent hallway in good repair. It extends some seventy or eighty feet to tall pair of double doors, similar to the ones that have just swung open to you.

About halfway down the hallway, there is a gilt single door on the right hand side. The door is slightly open. From inside, a cultured male voice wafts:

You know, it's VERY rude to keep your host waiting.

[Proven_Paradox]

Duran frowns at this, and bites back comments about the ethics of magically warping people without their consent, instead choosing to enter the hallway to find the source of the voice. He remains guarded, but does not draw his weapon.

[Toliudar]

The priest clanks his way down the hallway as the voice continues.

Yes, yes. Nothing to worry about.

There is light coming from the slightly open door. Peering in, Duran sees a large room with high ceilings, lit by chandeliers with many flickering lights.

The room is luxuriously furnished with plush chairs, plished wood tables, orante rugs and other fine furniture. All of these have been pushed up against the filigreed walls of the room, and the carpets have been rolled up. In the middle of the floor, an improptu boxing ring has been set up. In one corner of the ring, a man stands as still as a statue, with his fists raised in a guard position. This man is wearing amber short pants. His head is bald, his body muscular and flawless.

Seated near the man in the ring is a man dressed in colourful and flowing silks, fancy lace and rich velvets. He also wears a large brimmed hat flaunting a peacock's feather. A jeweled rapier is slung on his right side on a supple leather baldric. He has wavy black hair and a clisely trimmed beard which comes to a point. Two men in plate armour, holding halberds, stand at attention to either side of the man.

While the chairs have been pushed back towards the edges of the room, they all face the ring. Duran cathes sight of pairs of red lights in many of the chairs - they seem to focus in on him as his face appears in the doorway.

Welcome!, says the bearded man. Please, come in!

[Diarmuid]

Jonah

The bard moves to follow the cleric down the hall and gestures for the others to do the same, saying quietly,

"We should go see what is going on, and I would guess we should maybe not keep whoever has the ability to do...whatever happened to us waiting any longer than necessary."

Moving into the room behind Duran, he scans the room and ponders at the strange layout. Moving further into the room, so he can properly address the seated man, he is careful to avoid getting too close to the ring, or the seated man and his apparent guards. The panic and fear that had gripped him seems to have melted away as he calculates the situation. Sweeping his beautiful cloak back, he executes a perfect respectable and speaks,

"Greetings to you. Far be it from me to seem ungrateful for the hospitality of a host, but it seems you have myself and my companions at a bit of a disadvantage. Would you perhaps be so good as to explain where we are and whence we have come?"

[jameswilliamogle]

Erelith

...follows, cautiously.

[Proven_Paradox]

Duran

Knowing the bard's way with words would serve them better than his own, Duran simply nods to the man speaking to them and allows Jonah to do all the talking. In the meantime, he looks around the room for a moment and tries to identify the red lights in the chairs, suspecting that they are ghosts of some sort.

Rolls:

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Knowledge, Religion: (3d6+4=10)(Oh, yeah, knowledge (religion) doesn't come up that often! There's no need to sink a whole lot of ranks in it; put 'em in craft instead! *grumble*)
Note that just after I posted, I remembered the 3d6 skill checks. I rerolled to correct that.

[GimliFett]

Oberon

The faetouched follows along behind Erelith, sauntering as casually as if walking through a sunlit meadow. On entering the room, he pans around taking in everything, seeking that which seeks to remain unseen. "Nice setup," Oberon comments dryly as he continues to look around.

[North]

Tyz

Tyz walked into the room with the others. Looking at the men in the middle he bites back several curses and remarks involving their parentage and livestock. The halfling settles for a dark scowl on his face.

[Toliudar]

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Now that you're all in the room...spot checks, please! And remember the 3d6 instead of 1d20 houserule.

Dothen isn't familiar with any kinds of undead that appear as just glowing eyes, without a body of any sort around them.

Oberon isn't seeing anything invisible in the room - well, you know what I meant by that rather obvious-sounding statement.

The five of you cluster near the entrance to the room. The pairs of red lights are DEFINITELY turning to watch you.

The man does not rise, but gestures for you to approach.

Welcome, gentlemen. Erm. The little one IS a men, yes? And...advantage? Ah, yes, of course. You are in our home. I am Jean-Louis D'Amberville - or, as we were better known to the world, Amber!

He says the last words with a flourish, as if the name would of course be on everyone's lips.

[North]

Tyz

The look on the halflings face darkens even more. Little one is a men? Rrrrrrrr. With concious effort Tyz moves his hand away from his sword.

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Spot (3d6-1=7)

[Proven_Paradox]

Duran moves further into the room, keeping his eyes open for... well, "anything unusual" would be everything at the moment. He remains silent, letting Jonah do all the talking.

Rolls:

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Spot: (3d6+4=15)

[Diarmuid]

Jonah

Spot - (3d6)[9]

Surveying the room as Jean-Louis speaks, he ponders at the man's words.

Bardic Knowledge - (1d20+13)[27]
Bardic Knowledge - (3d6+13)[22] (not sure if you wanted that d20 or 3d6 so I did both for now)

Uncomfortable with the situation, the bard tries to assuade some of his possible fears by getting the man to talk a little more.

"I hope this question wont seem too strange, but in which world is it specifically that you are known as Amber?"

Disappearing from their campsite and winding up in some strange castle had his paranoia on overdrive and he wanted to make sure they had not somehow triggered one of the rare gateways still rumored to exist from ancient times while maybe searching for the ruins.

[jameswilliamogle]

Erelith

"Why, Amber, of course we've heard of you! The question is, of course, why have you brought us here, and what do you want of us?" ...he's bluffing, of course...

(3d6+2)[6]

[GimliFett]

Oberon

The faetouched leans casually against the wall beside the door, arms crossed over his chest and right ankle crossed over left. He continues to leisurely pan around the room, his face impassive but for a slight smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yes, Amber. Of course. You have fae ties, hm? And have been long from the world, as well," Oberon asks, trying to get a feel for the group's host.

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Spot: (3d6)[10]
Bluff: (3d6+14)[22]
Sense Motive: (3d6+8)[18]
Also, Toli, you mention Dothen isn't familiar with yada, yada. I assume you mean Duran? Poor Duran. Constantly confused with other folks...

[Toliudar]

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First, Gimlifett and PP - I will eventually get this right.

Jonah - most ability checks will be 1d20, but since bard lore so closely mimics a skill, 3d6 does seem most appropriate to me. Results of your check are here:

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You seem to recall the Ambers as an eccentric house in the Averoigne province, noted for the that delightful combination: powerful magic use and eccentricity. While the study of magic is certainly not un-heard-of here, there are certain...areas of magic that are strongly frowned on. Especially that to do with links to other planes. Evidence was brought forward, the family was pronounced enemies of the state and their lands seized. There was a brief war, and it was rumoured that their own estate was destroyed, razed to the ground.

But...this was all some 160 years ago.

Oberon notices:

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As far as he can tell, the man isn't lying, but certainly isn't telling the whole truth either.

Duran notices:

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The flesh of the man in the ring, and the two men holding halberds, has a strange golden sheen to it. They also don't seem to be breathing.

The man seems baffled and a little hurt that his fame is well, limited. Erelith's patent lie is the final blow.

Why, in Glantri, of course! We were the toast of...and the scourge of...well. I can see that fame is indeed fleeting!

He sighs deeply.

Well, life goes on. And on. And so - diversions must be found. Tell me...do any of you box, by any chance?

[North]

Tyz

Whats a box? Is that like basket weaving? Nah, I never trained in that sort of skill. Tyz deadpans to the ringmaster.

[GimliFett]

Oberon

Oberon snickers, then smiles at the halfling. "Some people like to beat fists upon faces and call it sport. I'll pass. It's not in my idiom," the warlock says with a mocking half-bow, though whether he mocks himself or another is unclear.

[North]

Tyz

Ohhhhhhhhh why didnt you just say that. That sounds a lot better Ob. Tyz flicks his coin into the air. Looking down at it he smiles. Yeah l'll do your facefighting. The halfling unsheathes his sword.

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Forgot to link
To Facefight or not (1d2=1)

[Toliudar]

Jean-Louis raises a hand as Tyz unsheathes his sword.

I'm afraid you misunderstand, sir. To box is to fight in the purest form, without recourse to either armour or weapons - with nothing but your fists.

Sizing up the halfling, he adds.

Still, if you were willing to participate, it would be of some interest to see how Magen fares against such a small opponent. And given your size, I might be willing to offer better-than-even odds...

[North]

Tyz

Small opponent eh? Heh. Tyz smile turns smirk as he remembers the human merchant who had mistooken him for a child, and let him get in past his guard to drive the dagger nice n deep. I binged for a week on that purse.

What this? The Halfling gestures to his sword. Its a Cultural weapon. But if he doesnt want to get bloodied up, I also got dese hammers. Tyz shrugs resheathing his sword.

[Proven_Paradox]

Duran Stonesheath

Duran sighs and mutters something about this being a bad idea to himself, but shrugs when Tyz volunteers. "If things go south fer ya lad, I'll be here to patch ya up."

[Toliudar]

The red lights seem to focus in on the halfling. The man in the chair sighs. He speaks slowly and carefully.

No...weapons...or...armour. Do you understand? Just your body, and his body.