When The Voice Whispers IC

[Glawackus]

"I do not know if I would be the best to talk to him. Perhaps serro d'Cannith would be best off in that department...considering that he seems to have been the most passive of the group." Shrike looks around the room and sighs. "Unfortunately, the only sure way I can think of to regain Mistydell's trust would be to tell him the truth about our function here."

[Nycthemeron]

Ailae bites her lip as the beast leaps at her, sheering through her protections her lips and knuckels going white as she avoids looking at her arm. Falling back against the wall of the orphanage she grits her chattering teeth, and stares the chitinous aberration in the eyes. With a word she completes her spell and with a flash of light, the smell of ozone and a sound like the crack of a god's whip echoes through the once tranquil courtyard behind a bolt of lightning aimed through both the monster before her and that standing before Alestair.

Spoiler

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I'm aiming through K10 toward J11, the spell doesn't need an attack roll so I'm guessing I can't miss. This will hit the chapel wall but Other than singing the stone I don't know what will happen. Caster level is actually nine so 9d6 Damage to be done. (9d6)[42]

[Derwood]

Thaddius d'Cannith

Walking into the room and taking a seat at his makeshift workstation, Thaddius rubs his forehead. "Theoretically, anything could happen with that kind of illusion. The screens themselves were built into any number of devices for any number of reasons. There are records of some being installed into places of worship or political importance to allow those who had reason to hide themselves without putting forth the effort to actually work illusions themselves. Sadly, without getting into the carriage to look at the wall itself to check for compartments or observational magic."

Pocketing his spectacles, he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, "Personally, I think it's in our best interest to just put out distance between ourselves and this fellow. People with political and personal power are th kind that we need to avoid at the moment. Our goal is still far out and the less confrontation we encounter, the better off we are going to be, especially seeing that we are three against how many?"

Taking a few more moments of silence, he puts his spectacles back on, "More importantly, if we are going to be communicating in the company of others in the future, I think it would be a good idea for me to craft a device of some sort that will allow us to share thoughts without chancing a repeat of this evening. I believe I have some schematics in my Haversack that would serve the purpose."

[Morituri]

Throwing his hands over his heart in an over-exaggerated display of distress, Alfred whimpers, "My dear Shrike, you wound me!" Dropping his hands and speaking sardonically with a tired edge, "We were the image of gentlemen until that Gnome poked his pointy little fingers into our heads. I'm not sure where this feeling of us wronging some kind of innocent came from; he's a rat through and through, and he tried to mark us. Maybe he had some lead on who we were, maybe he was looking for a backdoor in with the Oriens, maybe he was just curious about who we were, but he tried to mark us. The absolute, repeat, absolute last thing we need is someone like that on our heels when we're on this job. We're gonna have to deal with him."

Alfred sits down hard in a padded chair, slumping forward and letting out a long sigh. From out of his robes comes a thin, slightly curved blackened blade with an edge that makes your eyes sting when you stare at it. He turns it slowly and gently between his dexterous hands, thinking long and hard and welcoming the tactile mental aid. After a moment, he turns his eyes back up to the room, "We're gonna have to deal with him. He involved himself, and earns none of my sympathy through his actions. Now, we've got some options here. We're on the same train for the next three days, not to mention he knows who we are and where we're going, so avoid's kinda out the window. If the two of you are up for it, we can try and work something with him after hours. Specifically, something that involves breaking into his room and figuring out what he's hiding in that nice little trap door of his, maybe using it or something else as leverage to get him off our trail. For the record," eyeballing his companions, "the universe of 'Something Else' does not include 'The Truth'."

Alfred takes a long, long sip of water, then turns plaintive eyes back to his teammates, "If that doesn't work, or if you won't help me, there's the other way." Alfred takes the blade in his hands, lifting it and drawing it before his throat while staring holes into his partners, "Whatever we decide, speed is our friend. Tonight, after drinks. Speaking of which, ought we be getting a start to the Bishop's car soon?"

[Glawackus]

'Indeed," Shrike says. "What you say is very true, all of it. Perhaps we should repair to the Bishop's car, and deal with the gnome later."

[Breten]

Ailae's lightning bolt transfixes two of the monstrosities, and both of them collapse to the ground twitching erratically and keening in their strange language before falling silent. The bolt passes on through the second one and slams into the side of the Cathedral shattering the stain glassed window on that side and scarring the fine stonework.

Wrath lives up to his name and channels his rage and faith into a tremendous blow that severely wounds the aberration before him. His second blow goes off course as the creature darts aside like a hummingbird. Glaring at the creature you notice a softly glowing silver ring encrusted in his soft oozing flesh between chitin plates.

Aleistar unleashes a volley of arrows at the wounded vivisector that is hovering over Wrath, but the quick creature avoids all but the first, which lodges itself in the soft vitals of it abdomen.

Father Tal seeing Ailae wounded calls upon the power of his God to grant her healing with a touch.

CSW:(3d8+6)[28]

The wounded monster faing Wrath shudders a moment from pain from its wounds, and then its wings begin to vibrate at a faster frequency. Suddenly the creature vanishes from sight! You stare in shock at the space it once inhabited, but then you feel the breeze of moving air as blows come raining down on you.

Claw:(1d20+9)[10]
Dam:(1d8+2)[10]
Crit:(1d20+9)[19]

Claw:(1d20+9)[18]
Dam:(1d8+2)[3]
Crit:(1d20+9)[22]

Sting:(1d20+4)[6]
Dam:(1d6+1)[4] Plus Poison (1d6)[5]Str DC 15

Raising his reinforced Mithral arms above his head Wrath fends off the first blow, and deflects a sting attack, but the creatures claws again slice into him, digging furrowns along his face this time.

The final Vivisector ***** his head to the side, as if considering something or listening to something unheard. After a second his wings vibrate faster and he too disappears. Suddenly a bloody hole bursts into Simeon's chest. He gasps in pain as scarlet blood splatters across his white robes, and he collaspses to the ground and start convulsing.

(Ailae's turn)

[Breten]

Rail to Sharn

By the time you have returned to your car in the train evening has fallen. You are met at the door by Nader who is wringing his hands and is visibly upset.

"Sirs, i am glad you are back. I have heard talk from the other servants that the dinner with Mistydell did not go well, and that he threw you out shouting threats. I can't believe it! This is an insult not only to yourselves, but to House Orien as well! Disgusting behavior. And to think his servants walk around with their noses held so high simply because they have favour with House Sivis!"

His cheeks flushed with anger the young servant seems to catch himself, and realizing that he speaking to his betters suddenly shuts his mouth clears his throat.

"Shall I send word to the Bishop that you will not be available tonight? Is there anything that I can do for you? A drink perhaps?"

He pauses for a second, hesitant, then resolutely takes a breath and says

"I should also report an...irregularity. Elden has not shown up for his shift tonight. I was waiting so that I could introduce him to you as promised, but it has been half an hour since I expected him. He has never been late before. I would have gone and looked for him, but did not want you to return and find the car unattended. "

[Nycthemeron]

Her healed flesh well and made as new, Ailae draws a ragged breath, pulling back from the blur assaulting Simeon. A desperate look crosses her face as she pulls a thin length of plain lead with the symbol of House Jorasco worked in silver set into the tip from her belt.

As the young priest's blood splutters from his mouth and chest Ailae grabs his shuddering hand and points the wand at his chest muttering to herself. Ignoring the horror buzzing around them a single thought flies through her head, You cannot die.

Spoiler

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Use Magic Device to use my eternal wand of cure moderate wounds to save the priest's life. Spend an action point to help do this.

(1d20+5)[19]

(1d6)[2]
(1d6)[6]

EDIT: So its 19+6 = 25, then the wand activates, healing 2d8+3 damage; can't roll again in this post, rolls in the OOC thread.

Rolled 10 damage healed.

[Morituri]

Alfred lets out a long internal moan as their servant informs their group of the missing man. Considering for only a moment, he comes to a decision. "You did well. We'll go look for Elden, and while we do, it is imperative that you do not leave this cart for one moment. Now, tell us where he is staying, the last place he was seen by you and others, any places he may have gone to on the train, what he looks like, what he was wearing, every possible detail that may help us find him and recognize him when we do. Quickly now, time is most certainly not on our side tonight."

With some luck (HA!), we'll still have enough time to meet with the Bishop tonight and the Gnome afterwards. If push comes to shove, we'll just have drinks with the man tomorrow and deal with the Gnome tonight, after we figure out if the Gnome has been dealing with our men...

[Derwood]

Thaddius d'Cannith

"Well isn't that just one more ray of sunshine for our night! Nader, if you could have the compartment turned down for us to make it an evening upon our return, it would be much appreciated. But for your own sake- my papers and tools on the tables are to be untouched."

Grabbing all of his gear together, he stands beside Alfred and awaits the groups departure.

[Glawackus]

"I think we should go. Now." Shrike says, pulling his things together. He scowls at the servant and looks at Alfred. "Where to first?"

[Breten]

Wrath glares around, sensing for the evil that he knows the Khyberspawn represent. Guessing the creature has not actually moved, he swings blindly ahead of himself.

Concealment(1d100)[35]hitting high

Hit:(1d20+18)[20]
Dam:(4d6+9)[19]

Hit:(1d20+9)[11]
Dam:(4d6+9)[21]

[Breten]

Train to Sharn
Nader nods.

"Ofcourse I will do as you say. As for where he could be, that I am not sure. I went to our quarters in the servants train, and ofcourse he wasn't there, no is he in the small room in this car reserved for servants use. I talked to some of the others asking if any had seen him. One of the cooks boys said he thought he had seen him going back into the cargo cars, but I can't think of what he could be doing back there, and I didn't dare take the time to investigate without reporting to you. Shall I send word to the Bishop that you will be unavailable this evening? I can send word through a page instead of going myself."

[Derwood]

Thaddius d'Cannith

Turning to the servant, Thaddius nods, "Yes, inform the Bishop that due to circumstances outside of our control, we will be unable to attend him this evening, but that we would be honored to join him for morning service if he would be so inclined as to have us."

"Shrike, I say let's get to the cargo carriage and start our search there."

[Morituri]

Alfred smiles slightly and nods approvingly at his companions newfound sense of paranoia. Turning to Nader, he says, "Open the door for no one but us, and scream and make noise if anything slightly out of the ordinary occurs. Bad things happen when people aren't watching; make people watch." Spinning back to his fellow adventurers, he leans and waves down the corridor, "Let's off to the Cargo car. Shrike, after you."

Marching with purpose, Alfred takes a moment to slide his finest dagger into the palm of his hand, hiding both from sight in an oversized pocket. Considering for a moment, he tilts his head and asks in a casual voice, "I don't suppose either of you have any spare daggers? One can never have too many, and I somehow feel I may have under-packed." Proceeding under the hopefully burning gazes of his partners, Alfred walks with a skip in his step all the way down the train.

[Glawackus]

"I have but what you see," Shrike says, gesturing to his sword and bow. He moves out into the hallway and adjusts his shroud for a moment, and then moves off in the direction of the cargo car.

[Uncle_Putte]

With a glance, Alestair witnesses the worst-case scenario come to pass. A split-second review of what can be done leaves him with little option apart from what was clear already - fight. Moving carefully, he distances himself from the closest opponent and calmly lets loose a trio of cold iron arrows.

attack 1 - (1d20+12)[14]
attack 2 - (1d20+12)[15]
attack 3 - (1d20+7)[25]

critical 1 - (1d20+12)[17]
critical 2 - (1d20+12)[14]
critical 3 - (1d20+7)[17]

damage 1 - (1d8+3)[4] + shock1 - (1d6)[4]
damage 2 - (1d8+3)[5] + shock2 - (1d6)[2]
damage 3 - (1d8+3)[5] + shock3 - (1d6)[1]

[Breten]

Train to Sharn

The cargo cars on the train are at the back, and the trip back to them is like a archaeological dig through the strata of humanity. Exclusive cars reserved for the ultra rich and politically connected give way to lavish first class, and then regular class, and eventually to the huddled masses crammed uncomfortably tight quarters. As you travel through the last few cars the passengers alternate between giving you unfriendly stares, accutely aware of the difference in station between you, and looking away, afraid of the consequences of attracting attention of their betters.

Finally you find yourself passing through cars that are mainly filled with workers and servants. Though outwardly polite and cheerful you can feel their tension at your presence. The going ons of servants outside of the corridors of their masters is a secret sanctuary, and your very presence is to them a threat. After passing kitchens and servants quarters you find your way blocked by two dwarven guards, each armed with a sheathed rapier and truncheon, firmly blocking passage into the cargo section itself. You notice pins marking them as House Kundarak employees. The look at you in a calm, unfriendly way as you approach, and when it becomes obvious that you wish to pass into the Cargo cars one clears his throat and announces

"The Cargo cars are off limits to passengers, except with specific written permission from House Orien. If you wish something of your own which is being stored your man servant can make arrangements through the porters to have it brought to you. But security procedures for the safety of everyone prohibit anyone from passing beyond this points Mi'lords.

After delivering this speach his sets his jaw and glowers at you, as if daring you to push the matter further.

[Morituri]

Hmm, Soldiers. Let's try this way.

Sneering and giving a sidelong look like he'd just scraped him off the bottom of an expensive pair of slippers, Alfred speaks to the Dwarf, an edge of rust in his deliberately patient voice. "Dearest sirs, we are business partners and personal traveling companions of the Lady Ailea d'Orien. We are sleeping in her cart. We have her ear. She is a woman who, I assure you, has full authority on this train and is not one to be bothered. Now. A servant and good friend of the Lady, old man name of Elden, is, we are told, in great distress, and was last seen behind those doors. We. Are here. To help him. And you. Are in. Our way."

Alfred's gaze levels and the patience in his voice begins to evaporate, "What is going to happen now is this. You two will open those doors. You will stand aside and permit our entrance. You will smile and nod as we pass, and not hinder us while we do what we must for as long as it takes. And if this does not happen, you will be thrown from this train, likely while moving, while we wave from the opened doors. We will get into that room; your choices are to cooperate, or risk the wrath of a very, very powerful, very, very rich, very, very easily pissed-off noblewoman."

Alfred's head lowers as he stares at the guards through narrowed black eyes and speaks words of ice. "Stand. Aside."

[Bluff, don't fail me now...: (d20+17)[22]]

[Breten]

As you work your way into a good old fashioned noble rant the effect on the two guards is interesting and opposite. The one who first addressed you glowers at you, obviously becoming angrier by the word, until at the threat of having him thrown from the moving train his hand begins twitching towards his sword.

His companion however becomes more and more alarmed as the conversation continues, and glancing sideways at his fellow dwarf with growing unease, decides to intervene. He steps slightly forward putting his hand on the shoulder of the first guard.

It is true that a servant of Orien named Elden passed this way some time ago, and has not returned though he meant to be in there are short time. You claim to be from house Orien, would you have papers to back up this claim. Please understand that by the laws and codes of House Kundarak we can not allow you through without proof of who you are. YOu may be agents of any number of groups, and may be responsible for Elden's mishap yourself as a way to gain entrance to the car. Threats notwithstanding the agreements of the Treaty of Houses states that a guard of Kundarak may not be punished for properly fulfilling his duties and following procedures, even if doing so results in inconvenience or loss to members of another house. So if you have a charter from House d'Orien we will let you pass. If you do not you will have wait here while myself or my comrade here will go back and look for Elden

[Glawackus]

"Very well, my friend. We cannot be too careful in this world of ours, no?" Shrike says. "I think that we can all find this agreeable. Please hurry. We fear greatly for Elden." He steps back respectfully.

[Morituri]

Alfred gives another sidelong sneer at the guards before stepping back to lean against the nearby wall, glowering all the way. He mutters under his breath, the occasional 'Orien' or 'Nobleman' or 'Reckoning' making itself heard in the muted chatter.

Let's let this play out for a bit, see what happens next...

[Breten]

The first dwarf glares at his more civil companion, who stares back non plussed.

Well, don't just stand there. Go look for the nice peoples servant already.

With muttered curses the dwarf goes stumping back into the cargo section.

After a few moments you hear the dwarfs voice

Hey you! What are you doing in here?

There is a rustle of noise, and then suddenly a shout followed by a wet thump

[Glawackus]

Shrike winds his shroud tighter around his face--only his eyes (and, of course, the symbol of his ancestor) show now. "Master Dwarf," he says, clearly sounding edgy, "I think we need no further evidence that something is wrong in the baggage car."

He steps towards the door and looks back toward the others with a look that clearly reads You either follow, or get out of the way.

[Uncle_Putte]

As Alestair finally realizes his opponents are likely to be still present despite their disappearance, he takes a different approach. With careful movements, he plants a second arrow on the string, above the first, grasping both gently by the tail, while his eyes peel the yard for the slightest of disturbance, slightest ripple in the air. Sweat beads on his forehead, and he struggles to keep his breathing as calm and deep as is required for one who aims with the eye of the mind. His arms burn as he keeps the heavy string pulled. But there's a strange appeal to games of patience for him, and today, stakes are high.

Move action: Spot to scan the area for invisible baddies.

spot - (1d20+17)[28]

5-foot step southwards to gain a better view of the battlefield.

Standard action: Ready Action: Manyshot, for any opponent spotted within range and with a clean line of fire.

manyshot - (1d20+10)[15]

bow damage - (2d8+6)[12]

shock damage - (2d6)[9]

[Morituri]

At the sound of the shouts in the room, Alfred seems to spring from the wall into a low fighting stance, the knife held in a loose reactive grip in his hand as his eyes pan from the door to Shrike and the Guard. Arching an eyebrow, he says sardonically, "After you," and slides in a heartbeat after the others enter the room.

[Breten, if/when it comes to it, feel free to roll my initiative for me, just to save some time.]

[Breten]

Aundair

There is silence for a moment on the battlefield, only disturbed by the snap of flames, and cries of the fearful children inside the orphanage. Everyone stays silent, watching carefully for signs of the returning monsters.

Father Tal, checks over Simeon, who has despite his wounds collapsed to the ground, and seem to be convulsing.

We need to close the portal to Khyber. I have a scroll among the relics of the church which will do it, but I need you to hold the creatures back until I can return. I have done what I can to stablize Simeon, but for now...there is little that can be done. Deal with these creatures, and I will return soon.

With that the priest turns and runs back toward the chapel, with a dark, determined look on his face.

Suddenly the creatures reappear again, in the places where they were before. Aleistar releases a single arrow he had prepared against their return, but it bounces harmlessly off the creatures crystaline exoskeleton.

The flying monstrosities waste no time in attacking. The one in front of Wrath again slashes out:

Spoiler

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Claw:(1d20+9)[29]
Dam:(1d8+2)[8]
Crit:(1d20+9)[11]

Claw:(1d20+9)[10]
Dam:(1d8+2)[10]
Crit:(1d20+9)[22]

Sting:(1d20+4)[18]
Dam:(1d6+1)[7] Plus Poison (1d6)[2] Str DC 15

Digging another gouge across the warforged chest, and stabbing its stinger into the warforged shoulder, pumping ineffective poison into Wrath.

Meanwhile the one who has so recently stung Simeon turns its foul attentions to Ailae.

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Claw:(1d20+9)[29]
Dam:(1d8+2)[7]
Crit:(1d20+9)[26]

Claw:(1d20+9)[27]
Dam:(1d8+2)[9]
Crit:(1d20+9)[23]

Sting:(1d20+4)[24]
Dam:(1d6+1)[3] Plus Poison (1d6)[2] Str DC 15

It's first blow does greivous harm, impaling the sorceress' arm with a blade, and leaving a dire gash. (Crit hit. 21 dam) And though its second attack goes wide it follows up with a stinger which embeds itself in Ailae's shoulder. (roll poison save)

__________

[Miraqariftsky]

Sapphire sparks spew and alchemical fluids gush forth from the warforged's wounds. The floor of the chapel glitters with scrapings of silversteel.

Wrath's vision fizzles slightly as he staggers back from the furious assault. Regaining his balance and ignoring... overriding the klaxons blaring WARNING! WARNING! DANGER. DANGER. CRITICAL HIT. CENTRE TORSO. CRITICAL HIT... in his head, he lunges at the bloody winged fiend.

His ghulra gleams with a silvern light and his eyes flash with righteous rage. The greatsword's broad blade roars down from an overhead slash. Hallowed flames leave motes of white in the weapon's wake as it comes back across, this time ending up held ready at the right.

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[roll]1d20+23[roll] attck roll
[roll]1d20+23[roll] crit threat
[roll]2d6+10[roll] greatsword damage + THW damage + rage
[roll]2d6+7[roll] Smite Evil, plus holy damage, plus enhancement

[roll]1d20+9[roll] attck roll
[roll]1d20+9[roll] crit threat
[roll]2d6+10[roll] greatsword damage + THW damage + rage
[roll]2d6+7[roll] Smite Evil, plus holy damage, plus enhancement

[Miraqariftsky]

((Whaddaheck?! Why didn't they work? Ok, fine, re-rolls ahoy. ))

Spoiler

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(1d20+23)[31] Raging Smite Evil attack roll
(1d20+23)[34] ditto, crit threat
(2d6+10)[16] greatsword damage + TWH + rage
(2d6+7)[16] Smite Evil + holy damage + enchantment damage

(1d20+9)[13] ditto, second attack
(1d20+9)[18]
(2d6+10)[19]
(2d6+1)[12] ditto, w/o the Smite Evil, since that's only for one attack, right?

[Nycthemeron]

Ailae pales as the reappearing monster's blade slices through her arm, her hand relaxing as she shudders and the wand drops to the ground, its lead length thudding dully on the ground. As a prayer inaudibly slips from her lips the monstrosity's stinger thuds into her shoulder and the sorceresses eyes go wide as her body stiffens.

Her gorge rises and she sees the flitting beast, capable of becoming invisible above her. Just let it go, the power inside. Electricity flickers about her fingers. No, more. More. The dragonmarked lady flops her damaged hand into the component handbag with a gasp of pain as her other hand gestures quietly and the storm about her fingers built. Maintaiing her focus she swallows and speaks the arcane words she has long memorised.

From her hand cracks a bolt of lightning like the first, wide and burning through the air above her, stabbing at the beast and launching into the sky beyond it.

Spoiler

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I failed to remember that my Storm Bolt feat gives a +1 caster level bonus electricity spells. Therefore damage from lightning bolt, (10d6)[32]

Poison Save, (1d20+6)[15]