(Solo Game) - Damnatio Memorie

[Galvain7]

You catch the inattentive kobold sentry completely by surprise and dispatch him swiftly, silently and ruthlessly. As the crossbow bolt splinters inside his chest cavity a bit of innards lands on the nose of one of the sleeping kobolds. The sleeper stirs ever so slightly and mutters something about 'flies' and rolls on his side. You gently lower the body of the rapidly dying kobald sentry to the ground, carefully cradling his flopping head in the nook of your arm to prevent his death spasms from waking his fellows. As the first kobold's life leaches out of the hole in his neck, you quickly grab his spear and use it to finish off the nearest sleeper with 2 or 3 rapid thrusts to the throat. You dispatch the second sleeper by crushing his windpipe with a well aimed heel kick.

The gruesome work done, you pause for a moment to wipe your blades clean and catch your breath before rounding the corner to see what the kobold sentry was watching so intently before he died.

The hallway turns 90 degrees directly to a staircase. From the top of the stairs you can see clearly into the next room as the ceiling height increases and the tunnel opens up. Below you is a scene from a nightmare, illumiated by several smoking, sputtering torches held in the wall by scones. To your left a half orc male has been pinned to the wall with long rusty spikes. He is very very dead and his body bears the marks of being repeatedly burned. In front of the half orc corpse is a table on which is laid several bowels for collecting blood. A rusted charcoal brazier is off to one side, with long iron spikes being heated across its pockmarked griddle. Near the center of the room stands a tiefling with short, stumpy, lopsided horns, dressed in rotten leathers that are covered with hundreds of bells. He is holding a limp kobold by the tunic with one hand while beating him with another hand, snarling as he does so, with long ropes of drool hanging from his chin.

There are two large iron doors embedded in the wall opposite from where you are now standing, across the antechamber past the teifling. Two kobalds armed with pickaxes are trying to dislocate the hinges of the door while casting furtive glances over their shoulder at the tiefling beating their fellow kobold.

Suddenly the tiefling screams at the kobold he is holding: "I told you to find the box! Find the key! Kill the goblins! Now half of you little egg begotten spawn are dead and I haven't got the door open! I HAVEN'T GOT THE DOOR OPEN YOU UNDERSTAND?? I AM LITERALLY DYING HERE AND YOU ARE BEING SO STUPID AND SO SELFISH! WHY HAS THERE ALWAYS GOT TO BE A DOOR HUH? WHYYY???" With a grunt of effort the tiefling hurls the kobold onto the ground. While the kobold sputters on the ground, trying to catch is breath, the tiefling clad in bells pulls a long jagged knife from somewhere on his person and falls onto to kobold, screaming and stabbing.

[TheMightyQuinn]

Quinn

*As he dispatches the last of the kobolds, Quinn pulls them away from the fire and into a shadowed recess, lest they be discovered by someone after he goes by. Once he's done that, he moves silently up the stairs, making sure to count the rough hewn steps, and makes note of any patches of broken stone or sand. Twenty seven steps. Average of 135 inches of rise. Eleven feet. Two hundred sixteen inches horizontal. Eighteen feet. Dust to the sides, but clear otherwise. I could clear that in a diving roll if needed for a hasty escape. It wouldn't be pleasant, but survivable.*

*Once he has reached the peak of the stairs, Quinn spends only a moments attention on the dead man, slipping into the shadows created by the low burning brazier, taking in account of the situation for only a moment before coming up with a means of attack. The kobolds could be deal with. The teifling was an unknown, but it would be safe to assume he had power - the kobolds obeyed him, so he likely served some dark patron, or had convinced them that he did. He was unstable, sadistic - from the state of the dead man - and desperate. It was a dangerous combination. But nothing said that Quinn had to fight fair.*

*Slipping a small bit of equipment from his bag, Quinn quickly ties a couple fishhooks to the roll of twine he kept handy, and hooks them on the rusted and pockmarked griddle, making sure they're secure before slinking away into the dark once more, using the metal climbing hooks he packed to scale high up the side of the wall, deep into the darkness of the cavern. It was a painfully slow and tense endeavour, and more than a few times, he found himself at an impasse, having to scale back down the rock face to find a different route, but the long stretches of darkness were his friend and ally, as well as the heavy, repeating thumbs of the picks as the kobolds tried to wreak destruction on the door.*

*His skin slathered in sweat after several minutes of exertion, Quinn finds himself perched in the darkness above the kobolds like a spectre of death, ready to pounce upon the unwary. But more important was the door.*

*Taking the twine he'd kept hold of in hand, he gives it a solid jerk, intending to send the coals of the brazier as well as all the other metal to the ground with a clatter. With any luck, the teifling would investigate, and pay little attention to the door for a moment - it was all he needed.*

*As the ruckus happens, Quinn waits for the first kobold to turn its attention to the noise and drops on the slower of the two, striking them both with as much force as he could, intending to wipe them out before opening the door as quickly as he could, making his way through and locking it from the other side. That would be worth a good laugh, for sure.*

Spoiler

Show

Attack rolls - using Flurry with the Drow Razor to get extra damage
(1d20)[11]+6
(1d20)[14]+6

Damage -
(1d4)[4]+(1d6)[4]+5
(1d4)[4]+(1d6)[3]+5

[Galvain7]

The resounding clatter of the brazier being tipped over startles the kobolds so severely they drop their pickaxes and nearly fall over one another in their haste to turn around. But it was all for naught.

You fall on the kobolds like a silent phantom of death itself and with the smooth motions of an acrobat you slice into them, so completely, so cleanly, that their heads depart their shoulders before their bodies can even register the shock of dying. For a moment the only sounds is the dip-dip of blood on the stone flaggons of the floor, before the soft crash of kobold bodies hitting the floor a second later.

A few short moments later you hear a started chocking sound in the direction of the sadistic bell covered teifling.

"What?"

You fling your fingers into motion, digging the key out from your pockets with such speed as to astound even yourself.

"The KEY!" the Teifling shrieks. You jamb the key into the lock and say a hasty prayer to the skill of the dwarven engineers. You need not have bothered: The door swings open so smoothly a child could have opened it- in spite of what was sure to be a tremendous weight- as long as he had the key of course.

"NONONONO!!!" The teifling moans, hastily disengaging himself from the tangled limbs of the still living kobold he'd been slaughtering moments before. In desperation the teifling tries to find his feet, only to slip on a blood slick of his own making. He crashes to the floor in an ungangly pile of limbs, blood, and bells. You catch a the barest glimmer of a smile and the slightest ghost of a laugh on the face of the tortured kobold as his eyes roll back into his head and he dies.

Well, it is true what they say: he who laughs last laughs best. Thanks to that fall the teifling is in no position to catch up to you now. In a last desperate attempt to stop you the teifling hurls his wicked knife, but you dodge easily.

Wasting no more time you dash through the door and slam it shut, latching it from the inside as you do. A few seconds later you here a desperate pounding on the door.

"Open up the door you despicable little sneak! I'll gut you! I'll gut all your family in front of you! I WILL BUGGER YOUR ENTRAILS IF YOU DO NOT OPEN THIS DOOR!"

Then the voice on the other side of the door takes on a pleading, whining tone: "Oh! Oh please just open this door! Don't be selfish, friend. Don't leave old Krin-Kinkle out here to die all alone! I'm devil kin, don't you know? That makes me your god, basically. But that's okay. I'm not mad, just disappointed. But we can fix that! You just have to open up the door, let ol' Krin-Kinkle inside, and all will be well! YES! All will be forgiven. And I can reward you, yes I can! You want money? I can give you all the money, yes, all of it. How about company? I can send incubi and succubi to you to be your playthings forever!"

The voice takes on a hard edge once again, "Think this door will stop me? Oh no! NONONO! I'll bust it right open! Just as soon as I... Just as soon as I..."

Eventually you ignore the voice and focus on your surroundings. As soon as you crossed the threshold of the iron door dozens of lights sprang on instantly. The whole room is bathed in a smooth green light emanating from dozens of copper and glass lamps mounted on the walls and hanging from the ceiling at exact, regular intervals. You are standing in large workshop. The stone construction is noticeably different from the area outside. All the stone has been smoothed over and reinforced with dressed stone brick. From where you are standing the shop floor slopes gently downward. Left of the slope is a metal-smithing workshop, with a forge with hand bellows, small blast furnace, and a hammer and anvil. Large tools are hung neatly from racks mounted to the wall or from well made hooks overhead. Everything seems to be in its proper place: you even notice bins of charcoal and coal as well as a spigot for water. The only thing remiss about the step is that the tools are huge, much bigger than what a halfling could use and bigger still than something sized for a human.

To the right of the workshop is a wooden staircase leading to a stone ledge that has been retrofitted with wooden walls and a door, forming a sort of loft about 12 feet above the shop floor. The stone wall the loft is cantilevered over has three stone shelves hewn into it: in each of the shelves is a wrought iron lockbox that has been locked and then bolted to the stone.

[TheMightyQuinn]

Quinn

*With the kobolds dispatched, the door swings open and Quinn is inside before the teifling can do so much as get a good look at him. There is a part of him that wanted to laugh and savor the last moment of triumph that the fallen kobold had over the unstable individual, but there was time enough for that once the door had swung shut and the key was safely turned, leaving Krin-Kinkle screaming impotently outside the doors, and Quinn wiping the blood from his blade before spinning it passively in his hand, his eyes scanning the room carefully, taking note of anything of value.*
"Well, well, well. Someone had a fancy setup, eh? And who did you belong to? Orcs? Odd."

*Taking inventory of the massive tools and equipment, Quinn heads to the loft and checks the lockboxes, hoping to find something of value, otherwise he'd have to leave the room the way he came in and deal with the tiefling madman before he could venture out to find another lead. He wasn't about to head back to Fatbarrel empty-handed.*

*Worst case scenario, Quinn took a moment to look at all the oversized tools and sighed. They'd be bothersome to carry back, but if he couldn't find anything else of value, even oversized tools would fetch a better price than nothing.*

[Galvain7]

The loft is locked. Apparently the owner felt the iron outer door would not be enough security. Using your thieves' tools you fiddle with the lock until it is defeated. Inside is a very well appointed alchemical laboratory. Dozens of sparkling clean glass and brass instruments are meticulously arrayed across worktables sized for a human (or humanoid, certainly someone smaller that the smith, judging by the size difference in tools) with more of the strange lamps providing extra illumination. Against one wall are several star charts written in classical Gnomish, with what appear to be footnotes in a weird alchemical script. Against another wall is a long slate board covered in chalk formula labeled 1, 2, and 3. Beneath the chalkboard is a rolltop desk with neat piles of some of the more mundane alchemical items: 2 sunrods, tindertwigs in a small paper box, 2 tanglefoot bags and a half dozen vials of alchemist's acid. There are also 3 unlabeled potions. Against one corner is crammed a cot and a small box of dried food, almost as if by an afterthought.

The lockboxes prove to be far more challenging. Whoever or whatever put these boxes in place did not want them tampered with. Each lockbox is locked 3 times: two large padlocks fasten a pair of wrought iron bars to the chest which is in turn bolted to the wall. The third lock is actually on the lockbox itself: it takes you an hour to pry the first box out of the wall and drag it to the floor so that you can tamper with the lock, which you manage to unlock with more strenous effort.

By now the teifling on the other side of the armored door has yelled himself hoarse. You heave the lid up on the box...

... and find it packed to the brim with silver coins.

The markings on the coins themselves are utterly unlike anything you have seen before. The face on the 'heads' side shows a man in profile with a long goatee and the words "Diabous Rex" printed on blocky letters. The 'tails' side shows a pair crossed of serrated edged knives encircled by shackles.

Just as you finish examining the coin in the murky half light of the forge-room you hear a loud booming sound followed by a panicked scream. A deep, almost hollow sounding voice utterly unlike the pleading devilkin roars behind the metal doorway: "THOGAL! WHERE ARE YOU?"

[TheMightyQuinn]

Quinn

Well. Hoping that the previous owners had been dealt with seems to be entirely out of the question. This must be "G". I'm betting he's not going to be happy that I've been looting.
*Quickly gathering the spoils of his labors, Quinn starts arranging them in the numerous bags and pockets about his person, keeping the alchemical items particularly handy, since they're no good as tools if he can't reach them.*

*Thinking quickly, Quinn heads down to the dwarven-craft doors and slips the key into place, turning it just enough to keep it from being engaged on the other side, if the booming voice had a key of his own.*
"Hello? Whose there? I've been trapped in here by that sadistic maniac! I don't know about your friend Thogal - I haven't seen him, but I'll open the door and let you in if you promise not to hurt me. That... other one. He wanted to hurt me. He hurt the other man, and the kobold... I'll tell you how I found the key, yeah?"

*It didn't sound like whoever was on the other side of the door was going to be in the mood for talking, but it was worth a shot - it was either try to talk it out, make a run for it with the crystal, or take his chances and fight it out. The problem was, he still hadn't gotten the other two lockboxes open, and he wasn't about to leave before making as much as he could - Fatbarrel would be taking a huge cut, and the amount he owed would only grow with time.*

[Galvain7]

You can hear Krin-Kinkle jibbering hysterically on the other side of the door accompanied by the tinkling of his many bells.

"YOU MOTHERLESS ILL-BEGOTTEN MAGGOT-SPAWNED LUMP OF DEVIL DREK! A THOUSAND DEATHS IS TOO GOOD FOR YOU!" The booming voice is replaced by a sound similar to metal plates being ground together. The teifling is still making the same gurbling noises in between pleas of "I didn't mean too," and "It's all a misunderstanding".

You hear a third voice, an organic one, this one marked by a stutter: "B-b-boss! There's s-s-someone inside the forge! The key is miss, err, miss, ah. The key isn't in the usual p-place!"

The booming voice returns: "I CAN HEAR YOU, FORGE-HIDER. AND I AM WILLING TO TALK AND BE PEACEABLE, AT LEAST UNTIL YOU'VE HAD A CHANCE TO EXPLAIN YOURSELF, PROPERLY AND CLEARLY. IF YOU PROMISE TO PLACE YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM AND KEEP YOUR FACE UNCOVERED, I PROMISE THAT NEITHER MYSELF NOR MY SUBORDINATES WILL DRAW WEAPONS ON YOU UNTIL WE HAVE HAD A CHANCE TO TALK PEACEABLY. FAIR?"

Spoiler: OOC:

Show

I'm going to assume that you at least open the door so we can keep the story moving.

You open the door cautiously and step back into the antechamber. The owner of the booming voice is utterly unlike anything you have seen before in your travels. For one, the thing is obviously a construct, and a massive one at that. You would guess it stands about 8 feet tall, and is constructed equally out of wood and metal in the rough shape of a human, albeit with only 3 toes on each column sized leg and two glowing saucer sized set above a mouth made of three parrallel slits shaped like V's. One arm ends in a sort of wooden tenticle, like the root of a large tree, and it is this appendage that is wrapped tightly around Krin-Kinkle. The Construct holding the teifling effortlessly in the air. The other hand is empty.

The second being, whom the construct referred to as its subordinate, is a human of medium height and build, clad in a long armored coat and birds beak mask (similar to what a doctor or professional alchemist would wear) with smoked lenses and a wide brimmed hat with the left side pinned up. He is holding a long steel tube set in a wooden stock reminiscent of a crossbow, except that instead of the bow set perpenticular to the end of the stock the tubes end in holes. A pair of hammers is set at the back of the stock.

The construct speaks: "A HALFLING? I AM CERTAINLY SURPRISED. THESE EYES HAVE NOT SEEN ONE OF YOUR KIND IN QUITE SOME TIME. MY FORGE NAME IS NOT FOR STRANGERS, BUT IN THESE LANDS I AM CALLED SHAPE-HAND, OR PISTON-FIST TO MY FOES. MY SUBORDINATE IS CALLED GLEB. HOW ARE YOU CALLED?"

[TheMightyQuinn]

Quinn

*Holding his hands where they can be easily seen, Quinn smiles and gives a polite nod of his head.*
"Well, a pleasure to make your aquaintance, Piston Fist. I am called many things, some pleasant, many not, though that is usually by folks such as that one.."
*He points to the teifling*
"... who have been twarted by me in one way or another. It happens. If you please, my given name is Quinn."

*holding his left hand out, palm towards the two, he holds a single finger up towards the two, reaching slowly for his pocket.*
"I have something here. A letter, I believe. One second."
*Pulling out the letter that had been with the key, as well as the map, he holds them out to display.*
"I assume you must be the "G" in the letter. Unfortunately, I found this map that led me to the key in the posession of a group of goblins. I had tried to deal with them honestly, even cooked them a fine meal, but when their boss, a massive gob names Twohead awoke, he started slaughtering the whole group, and I was forced to defend myself. Well, when I followed the map, I found myself here, accosted by the kobolds, and when I saw what that one..."

*He points to the teifling again.*
"... had done to the dead one out there, as well as what he was doing to the remaining kobold, I decided it was best to find my way to the other side of these doors and somewhere safe, I had a bit of a look around, thinking that the owners of this place must have surely been slaughtered by these villains, so I was going to help myself to what tools and things of value I could before trying to find or fight my way out. That leads us to where we are now."

*With a deep breath, he shrugs and chuckles, spreading his hands.*
"I am a great many things, but dishonest isn't one I like being accused of. I had every intention of helping myself to treasures that had no owner, but I have no intention of being a flat-out thief from people who have been the victims of assault such as this, and I would gladly return what things I have already pocketed, as well as speak of how I might make amends for the small measure of damage I had caused during my search."

"So, you were cordial enough to listen and keep your word not to draw steel on me, I have been open and honest with my explanation. It is my hope that such actions can at least lead to some measure of understanding and trust between us that I neither mean to harm nor deceive you and yours. I have no intention of surrendering myself to violent intent, however, so if you intend to draw steel on me after hearing my explanation, I would kindly ask that you announce your intentions, and we can settle this as civilized individuals in a proper duel, since we have managed civility up until this point."

[Galvain7]

Reading the expressions of a creature with no face is no mean feat, but you manage to deduce the construct mulling your words over carefully.

"I ACCEPT YOUR EXPLANATION YOUNG QUINN, AND IT PLEASES ME THAT YOU HAVE SO FAR MANAGED TO COME TO NO HARM. DO I HAVE YOUR SOLEMN OATH THEN THAT YOU ARE NOT A CO-CONSPIRITOR WITH THIS ONE?" he says, shaking the captive teifling for emphasis.

The wooden tentacle arm shifts and warps, then abruptly drops off the construct, with the teifling still entangled in its coils. Before your very eyes a new wooden arm sprouts from the construct's shoulder and grows miraculously into a new hand.

"GLEB. DEAL WITH KRIN-KINKLE IN THE USUAL MANNER."

"Yes B-b-boss," the human nods. With one smooth motion he shoulders his musket and draws a small brass syringe from somewhere up a sleeve. Then he sticks the needle into the struggling teifling and begins to drag him, bindings and all, toward the laboratory.

When he reaches you in front of the doors he nods and says, "Um. Excuse m-me."

"YOUNG QUINN, I AM VERY CURIOUS. WHERE ARE YOU FROM AND HOW DID YOU GET TO THIS PLACE? WE ARE MILES FROM THE NEAREST SETTLEMENT."

[TheMightyQuinn]

Quinn

*With a solemn nod, Quinn lowers his hands and relaxes a bit.*
"I swear it upon the honor of my fallen parents, that I have no connection beyond animosity with that one, and we have had no contact beyond his attempts at bribing me to allow him access to your forge, which I obviously did not do."

*Standing aside as the two deal with the tiefling, Quinn doesn't say anything about the treatment or binding of the man, since the psychopath would have surely dealt with him the same way he dealt with the kobolds that had been under his supervision.*

*At the question posed by his host, he simply shrugs, and runs a small hand through his hair, thinking for just a moment before answering. He'd been honest up to this point, so there was no reason to start trying to deceive individuals who could prove to be allies.*
"Well, I'm from another land. World. Perhaps even plane of existence? Where I'm from, we call this place 'the tower'. There's an immense structure that reaches high into the clouds, and when you enter, you find yourself in another place. You're often accosted by monsters and villians, and have to fight your way through, until you find a way to return, but the possibility of great treasure exists, and many fortunes have been made by the brave souls venturing into the tower."

*With a bit of a wry grin, he moves over to one of the nearby shelves and hops up to sit on the top, kicking his legs idly as he shucks his pack, resting it atop the shelf next to him.*
"To be completely honest, I've already obtained the means to return, and could have done so at any time - including after looting everything here, and there's probably not much that could be done to stop me, but I would rather make a proposal, if you're willing to listen. The two of you seem like reasonable folk, and undoubtedly talented as well. Sadly, this is my first foray into the tower, and while my education up to this point has been varied, I feel as though it has been incredibly lacking. I was never allowed to learn the proper methods of forging or alchemy whilst living at any of the abbeys I called home. My caretakers believed that such knowledge would inevitably lead to more trouble than it was worth for them."
*He pauses a moment and shrugs, looking quite mischievous.*
"Well, they were most definitely correct. I had no interest in toeing the line and following their guidelines for mediocrity."

*Hopping down, he quickly starts divesting himself of the acquired alchemical bottles and such, laying them out orderly.*
"So, here is my proposition for you. I remain here for a time, and do odd jobs to assist you, though I will not kill without reason or resort to mindless banditry against the helpless. Whether I can assist by stoking forge-fires, or whatever other work you may have, I would gladly do so. In return, I would like to have the chance to learn the proper means of forging and alchemy, and whatever other skills I may while I'm here. I would like to learn more of this place, and find some way to pay off the debts I have accrued back in my own home."

"What do you say? I have dealt honestly and openly with you up until now - even when I had options to do otherwise. I will admit, it is because I believe that there is more to be gained by those actions than by simply absconding with your possessions. I don't believe it would be fair to hold my actions against me simply because they were largely beneficial to myself as well. We all act in selfishness to one degree or another."

*Stepping over, Quinn holds one hand out towards the massive construct, looking entirely too small and somewhat ridiculous in size by comparison.*
"Do you find the offer to be mutually acceptable? Or should I try my luck elsewhere in this world?"

[Galvain7]

The massive construct makes a gesture with his three fingered hand remincent of a man stroking his chin.

"MY SUBORDINATE ASSURES ME THAT THERE ARE INDEED PLANES BEYOND THE MATERIAL ON WHICH WE NOW RESIDE. INDEED, KRIN-KINKLE'S DIABOLICAL PROGENITORS SUPPOSEDLY CAME FROM ANOTHER PLANE.... AS STRANGE AS IT MANY SOUND TO MY OWN EARS, SEEING AS HOW WE HAVE NOW JUST BECOME AQUANITED, I BELIEVE YOU STALWART QUINN. YOU MAY CONSIDER YOURSELF MY SUBORDINATE HENCEFORTH, UNTIL YOU DECIDE TO DEPART FROM MY SERVICE. FOR THE TIME BEING WE HAVE MUCH WORK TO DO HERE, AND AS SOON AS THE WEATHER CLEARS I WILL DEVISE A SUITABLE TASK FOR YOUR SKILLS TO JUDGE YOUR COMPETENCE, AND TO GIVE YOU A TASTE OF WHAT WE DO HERE, AND OF THE FOES WE FACE. MAKE NO MISTAKE, THE ENEMIES ALIGNED AGAINST US ARE MANY AND OF SUCH TWISTED CONSCIOUS TO QUAKE EVEN THE MOST STEADFAST HEART. FOR THOSE WITH COURAGE OPPORTUNITIES ABOUND HOWEVER."

"IT IS THE DUTY OF THOSE WHO COMMAND TO PROVIDE FOR THOSE WHO OBEY. THUS, AS A TOKEN OF MY COMMITMENT TO YOUR MATERIAL WELLBEING AND AS A SIGN THAT WE ARE NOW IN CONTRACT, AT LEAST UNTIL I HAVE GAINED SOME MEASURE OF YOUR MORALS AND SKILL, I OFFER YOUR THIS GEM. PROSPER WITH IT."

The construct hands you a cut emerald roughly the size of your pinky.

"OUR FIRST TASK IS TO CLEAN THIS PLACE AND PREPARE POOR THOGAL FOR BURIAL. NORMALLY OUR UNIQUE CIRCUMSTANCES REQUIRE A CREMATION, BUT FOR THE LOVE I BORE THOGAL HE SHALL RECEIVE A CAIRN SUITABLE FOR THE STATUS HE CRAVED. HE DIED DEFENDING OUR SECRETS. I WILL GATHER STONES OUTSIDE. THE ACID-RAIN IS UNSUITABLE FOR THOSE MADE OF FLESH. YOU WILL ASSIST GLEB IN CLEANING THIS PLACE AND PREPARING THE BODY FOR BURIAL. I MUST FIRST GATHER SOME THINGS INSIDE AND INFORM GLEB OF OUR CHANGE IN NUMBERS."

A short time later Piston Fist and Gleb come out of the forge. Piston Fist heads outside to begin building the cairn, and Gleb directs you to gather the dead kobolds and their weapons on a canvas sheet while he takes Thogal's body off the the wall.

"S-So. P-Piston Fist tells me you are a p-planewalker in search of wealth and knowledge, and now you are p-part of our l-little crew. Hmm. I d-don't have t-ten centuries of experience j-judging character. It all s-seems so s-sudden. Anyway, I've been ins-s-structed to fill you in on our lovely home. Tell me, what do you think of the light?"

Spoiler: Plot Exposition

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Listen carefully. I find speaking to be difficult and I am loathe to repeat myself. Save your questions for the end. The area we are now standing in is the Plain of Thoo. It's part of a larger region known as The Delta. Everything sort of drains down to here. By tomorrow morning the entire area will be underwater and we will be taking boats most places. I hope you have good balance.

The entire area is cursed, and I don't mean metaphorically. It started maybe a century ago when some mages with poor scruples stumbled on lost gnomish plant arcane sciences. Ever since leaving the plane of Fae the Gnomes wanted to create something that would outlast time itself- they were never quite comfortable with death. Most species cheat death through art or copulation or the like: but the gnomes needed something more... uh, solid, that wasn't outright necromancy. Ask Piston Fist about it: his creators were Gnomes. I personally find their star chart work to be sublime, but that wasn't enough apparently. Go figure.

Anyways, these mages discovered that the Gnomes could grow plants more or less whenever and however they wanted. They liked orchids. No one knows how exactly how this works by the way: we can see the results but the means are not apparent. Something went wrong, and the thing these mages unleashed was a plant mutation that fed on the flesh of higher order beings. Within a few years the jungle was encroaching on all the major ports. Entire towns were swallowed up and the inhabitants absorbed over the course of a single day. In desperation the ruling classes signed pacts with devils to keep the jungle at bay.

But the the rulers miscalculated. The devils had no intention of stopping or the living blood hungry jungle- they wanted to contain it for their own means. It was the devils who locked the time into a perpetual twilight, and it was they that triggered the rain of acid. But the jungle outwitted them too- it is adapting, evolving.

There are three main players vying for this patch of green hell. The first is the Lowland or Sea Coast Planters. They control the land that is used to grow sugar, cotton, tobbacco, rice and the like. It was made the pact with the devils. They also have connections across the sea with the nominal government of this place. They own the ports, the fortresses and the gunworks and the ships. In theory they are governors or Barons of a larger Empire. In practice each house is like a kingdom unto itself, built on the backs of slaves and sustained by the blood of more slaves.

The second group is of course the Devils. They provide the force of arms to keep the slaves in check and the magic to keep the jungle out. But the land is so rich and the misery thick the temptation for temporal power is too much and the devils also vie with one another to advance their respective houses.

The final group is the High Country Planters or Riverway Planters. Originally they were a resistance group devoted to fighting the devils and their allies. But they started growing poppies for opium to fund their efforts, and when they realized how much money they could make, they, well, lost their way. Their more like large theives guilds now. The only difference between the two groups is the type of crops they grow and the attitude toward diabolism and slavery. River Planters usually pay their field hands. Usually. There are other groups of course, boat nomads, kobolds and goblins, dwarves from the mountains looking for new opportunities. Bandits and the like. Druids looking for a fix for this place. Before we continue- do you have any questions? Thogal is ready for his coffin.

And sure enough Thogal has been washed and wrapped.

[TheMightyQuinn]

Quinn

*With a smile, Quinn takes the emerald, rather than the handshake and takes a moment to hold it up to the light, admiring the clear light reflected through its beautifully cut face, before slipping it into one of his many secure pouches - it was likeliy worth more than all the alchemical ungents he had returned, given the size of the thing. If there's this kind of treasure to be found or earned here, then something tells me I made a wise decision.*

"I'm not sure if 'beyond the material where we now reside' is necessarily the way to think of it. I've had a bit of schooling on the matter, and it's more like a series of intersections."
*Lascing his fingers together, he demonstrates the central point where they all meet.*
"It gets a lot more complicated when you take into account that they're not just 'lines' intersecting, but planes of existence, and realities, which twist and warp and interact with one another in seperate places as well as the central nexus. The way it has been explained to me, however, is that the Tower is the central spike - a unifying connection running through them all as they spin and shift and change, which is why you always enter a different place when you enter the tower - even if it is on the same plane."

*Stretching his arms to either side, he gives a slight groan and shakes his head.*
"It's enough to make your head hurt, if you think about it too much. Like a game of pickup sticks, where the sticks are always moving and twisting around each other. It's either chaotic, or organized in such a way that we'll likely never understand it."

"As far as twisted enemies and quaking hearts - I have no doubt that there are atrocities and villians that about. No matter where you go, that seems to be one of the single constants of existence - people reach and stretch for power, and somewhere along the way, they lose sight of who they were. Of their humanity. Fortunately, there are also always those who are willing to fight against them, though sometimes harder to find."

*As the trio sets to work gathering and clearing the fallen, Quinn takes a closer assessment of his new.. superiors? Associates, if he were to choose a word, but if he were to learn from them, some sort of acknowledgement of their prowess and knowledge would be necessary. Teachers, at the very least. Instructors - that word carried the understanding that one would learn and acheive the same level of competence someday. Instructors it was.*

*They were an odd couple, to be sure. The massive living contstruction of stone, steel and wood was impossible for him to get a read on or understanding of. The creatures movements where slow and methodical, but they gave away no hints at his thoughts or motives. His was an existence of being, it would seem. Undoubtedly, thoughts whirled through it's mind - despite its inability to modulate the volume of its voice, it was logical, rational, skilled and discerning. Coupled with immense power and size, it was a combination that had undoubtedly been the reason that Shape-hand had survived as long as he had.*

*Gleb, the human was.... a different matter.*
*As he spoke and explained the situation in this land of Delta, Quinn paid close attention, letting his body move through the physical exertion on its own accord. He was no stranger to hard work and physical labor, so it took minimal thought. Instead, he watched the odd man as he spoke. His body and mind seemed almost to be at odds with one another. Occasional unconcious twitches and spasm moved through the mans limbs, which gave him the impression of someone with far more energy and intent to move than his body would allow. It was as though his mind were trying to move in ten directions at once, and that is was only through his force of will that he was able to maintain a single train of thought and action. *

"What do I think of the light?"
*As the two near the entrance to the underground, hauling one of the tarps, Quinn stops and kneads the small of his back as he catches his breath and looks out at the golden haze of the sky.*
"I thought it was odd, when I first arrived here, but assumed it was a trick of the clouds - like you would..... well, like I would normally see around intense storms, when the wind has kicked the dirt and dust into the sky, and the light seems to be everywhere at once. A golden honey glow that is omnipresent. It happens infrequently where I'm from, and is usually a harbinger of a nasty storm, but isn't ominous beyond that."

*As the two complete the gathering of the bodies, Quinn watches as the cairn is meticulously constructed by Shape Hand, and he wonders if the... man? thing? What was the proper way to address it? Felt grief and loss the way they did. It surely must feel something at the passing of his comrade, else it would never go through the trouble of constructing a cairn for the fallen friend. A fascinating subject, to say the least.*

*Turning, to Gleb, he catches the man touching a small stone to his tongue tentatively, checking the texture of it before making a quick couple of notes on a piece of paper, depositing the stone in a pocket as they wait. A loon and a thousand year old moving statue. I've managed to find myself in quite the company.*

*Reaching into his cloak to check the pocket holding the stone that would return him home, he checked to make sure it was still there, but had no intention of breaking it just yet. There were things to learn, and money to be made. Things would surely get more dangerous the longer he stayed in the realms of the Tower, but he had known that his quest to clear his family name wouldn't be easy. He hadn't expected to find souls willing to help him along the path so soon, but he would learn what he could from them and continue to hone his skills. Without strife and trials, he would never be able to stand up to those who had stricken their name from memory. He would never be able to leverage enough power to demand answers and right the wrong that had been committed.*

[Galvain7]

"The light s-stays at the s-same luminosity c-c-constantly. Direct s-sunlight makes the p-plants grow faster than can be managed. And d-darkness. Well, if it were too dark the money-crops that the planters (and their de. dev. DEVIL-uh m-masters) make their m-money off would not grow, and there are things in that thrive in the d-d-dark. They did try total d-darkness for a week or so. It didn't work. So now the acid rain and our p-perpetual half light."

"I SHUDDER" (you notice he does not actually shudder) "TO THINK WHAT HEINOUS METHODS THE DIABOLICAL HEATHENS USE TO MAINTAIN SUCH A LONG LASTING AND FAR REACHING SPELL."



Gleb coughs. "Blood sacrifices. Always more blood."

******************

Time passes. Day and night have no meaning. You determine time by a mechanical clock or by a counting Shape-Hand maintains from memory. When the storm breaks you bury Thogal in a cairn of stones on top of the old tower. The area that had once been a flat grassland devoid of trees is now a massive lagoon rife with thick vines and warped quasi-trees and grasses scarred by acid. You catch a glimpse of birds darting around the canopy and humped reptilian shapes in the water, but of the goblins and the ruin huts no sign remains.

Your first lessons in metal smithing start shortly thereafter. You begin by naming all the tools and equipment in the forge and learning their proper places on the racks, as well as the names of the more complex smithing machines. Shape-Hand teaches you how to gauge the temperature of metal and its strength by color.

Your first alchemy lesson involved dissecting Krin-Kinkle. You learn to peel back the layer of skin around the shoulder bone to see his clan markings that were cut into the bone while he still lived.

"Devils always double mark their followers and soldiers. The first mark is a brand that usually on the wrist or neck. That doesn't mean anything aside from decoration or maybe pride. The real clan mark is made on the bone of the thrall when they first enter service. The skin is cut away, and the clan marking is chiselled into the bone, then allowed to heal over. Higher order devils can always see a clan mark without needing to peel away the skin...."

Just like Shape-Hand's smithing lessons Gleb starts you off by having you memorize the names of all the tools and devices in the lab, and their various uses.
*****

After some time Shape-Hand calls for a meeting. "I HAVE DECIDED ON A COURSE OF ACTION. WE MUST FIRST DETERMINE IF KRIN-KINKLE ACTED ALONE OR ON SOMEONES ORDERS WHEN HE FOLLOWED THOGAL BACK TO THIS PLACE. HE WAS SOMEONE'S SUBORDINATE, AFTER ALL. IF HE ACTED ON ORDERS THEN WE MUST HOLD THE MASTER ACCOUNTABLE FOR THOGAL'S DEATH. IF HE ACTED ALONE THEN HIS MASTER IS STILL LIABLE: THE ACTIONS OF THE SUBORDINATE ALWAYS REFLECT ON TO THE MASTER. TO THAT END, STALWART QUINN, YOU WILL GO TO THE VILLAGE SAMDOCK AND ASK AROUND AFTER KRIN-KINKLE. IF THERE IS A REWARD FOR HIS CAPTURE OR DEATH THEN I WOULD LIKE YOU TO CLAIM IT USING HIS BELLS AS EVIDENCE. UPON HEARING OF HIS DEATH HIS MASTERS SHOULD COME LOOKING FOR AN EXPLINATION. THIS WILL OF COURSE PUT YOU AT SOME RISK, SO I WILL NOT ASK YOU TO GO IF YOU ARE UNWILLING."

[TheMightyQuinn]

Quinn

"Blood sacrifices? You really think such things are done? I mean....."
*He looks utterly horrified at the prospect, but as they stand next to the body of Thogal, Quinn remembers the horrors inflicted upon the man before his death, and a bit of the color drains from his face. Of course such things are done. If they were willing to do such nightmarish things to one man simply to gain access to a forge, what would such diabolical forces be willing to do to acheive power and authority over so much more. Blood sacrifices and worse, without a dout.*

"I'm sorry they did this to him. I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner, that I might have helped him."
*It played through his mind that Quinn had been here early enough, that if he'd made his way inside, he would have encountered the man alive, but there's nothing to do for changing the past. He'd made the best decisions he could at the time, and the fault fell not on him, but those who had committed the crime.*

=====

*The routine that Quinn finds himself in is one that is actuallly quite pleasant. Despite the hard labor, tasking memorization and challeng of learning new skills, he finds himself quite pleased by the progress he's making, so when Shape-hand finally announced his decision on their course of action, Quinn was pleasantly surprised.*
"Despite the fact that there will be some danger involved, I'm more than willing to venture to town and see what I can find out.
We've found his clan mark, after all, so that's something to work off of, and he wasn't exactly a non-descript individual. I'm sure someone, somewhere, will have an interest in his situation."

*Pausing a moment, Quinn thinks and pulls a small bit of his rations from his bag, letting his brain work as he chews.*
"Listen, if there's someone out there showing an interest in what happened to this sad lot, would it be prudent for me to try and lead them here myself? I may be able to learn something about them, and if you know when they're coming, it would be a significant advantage - it could turn the tables on them, in fact. It's only a thought, but it isn't outside the realm of possibility."

[Galvain7]

"INDEFATIGABLE QUINN. I WOULD LIKE TO SEE HOW YOU HANDLE THIS FORAY ON YOUR OWN WITS. I NEED A STALWART MAN WHO IS ALSO CLEVER. FIND THE RECENTLY DEPARTED KRIN-KINKLE'S BOSSES AND ASCERTAIN WHAT THEY KNOW OF OUR OPERATIONS. THAT IS ALL. AS TO THE MATTER OF SEEKING RECOMPENSE FOR THOGALS DEATH. WE SHALL SEE WHAT UNFOLDS. GLEB! YOU WILL TRANSPORT OUR NEW AGENT TO THE DOCKS."

"Aye S-S-Sir!"

"Pack your th-th-things Quinn. We will depart as s-soon as you are ready."

Spoiler: Experience Points!

Show

So its a bit of a rough calculation but I award you 2000xp. This combines all the battles, traps defeated and role playing experiance. As to your wealth, you will have to get that emerald appraised professionally. If that number seems high remember you 'defeated' 5 goblins, 5 or 6 kobolds, at least two traps and generally all good role play.

*******

As soon as you pack your things Gleb asks for your help loading a small pole boat with a few provisions and a frankly alarming amount of coffee. "R-Right. Sleeping is d-dangerous on the open water, even with t-two of us, so you'll n-need to stay awake the entire t-time. N-No, I'm not j-joking. I never joke about coffee. Never. This is going to take some t-time."

Spoiler: Fortitude Saves!

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Please make 3 fortitude saves.

Once again the perpetual haze-light makes it hard to determine exactly how much time has passed since you set out, but the stiffness in your limbs marks it as about 3 days, give or take. Gleb mentions that this section of water is relatively quiet, and you aside from a few scaled humps languidly rolling in the water and a few birds you see no sign of animal life. The plant life however is vivid and very much alive. Seedlings drop from groaning trees to plop into the muddy soil along the lake shore. These same seedlings grow to be vines the thickness of your torso and then wither and die before your very eyes. Apart from repeated admonishments not to eat anything that falls or even so much as think of stepping foot on the shore Gleb stays relatively quiet.

You notice that Gleb does not remove his mask to drink coffee, instead sucking the hot beverage through a long straw into tiny holes cut in the beak of the mask. He never stops to relive himself or eat, and when the time comes to smoke tobacco he simply places the lit cigar into the airholes of the mask.


********

Calling Samdock a village would be a gross misnomer. True to name however a collection of clapboard shacks are leaning precariously on a collection of wood and rope docks The center of this damp hovel is a large lopsided stone that cleaves the water and forms the basis of the dock town.

[TheMightyQuinn]

Quinn

*Listening while he gathers his various equipment, Quinn gives a lopsided grin, his eyes twinkling with mischievousness, despite the heavy pack settling on his shoulders and the imminent danger.*
"A clever and stalwart agent? You don't say? I've heard tell of a roguishly handsome individual who has been seen in these parts who may just fit that billing!"

*He laughs and steps lightly despite all his worldly possessions strapped across his shoulders, and stays close behind Gleb as they make their way out of the safety of the underground and across the open plain to the river. He'd gotten accustomed to the other mans odd behavior and peculiar movements over the time he'd been studying. It was impossible to tell how long he'd been here, to be honest, but it mattered less to him than he'd thought it would. Progress may be slow, but it was progress all the same, and his new assortment of knowledge and tricks were a testament to that, and he felt better about his odds now than he did before.*

Spoiler

Show

Fortitude Saves - I'm not overly hopeful, but you never know, they could roll well! lol
(1d20+3)[7] (1d20+3)[17] (1d20+3)[9]

*As the two men made their way over the slow and meandering waters, Quinn did his best to stay awake, with mixed success, until the two reached the floating dock town, where Quinn paused a moment to look at the odd man.*
"So, will you be waiting for a while, or will you be leaving? I'm not sure how long it will take me to learn anything of value, but I don't think I want to go hiking through that underbrush to make my way back."