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The Summary of this PbP session can be found on the campaign wiki. Part 1 & Part 2
A chill rain pours over Fallcrest. It is early spring, but the last tendrils of winter still grasp the small city.
You find yourself on the eastern edge of town, where the Rex family manor sits on a hill overlooking the city. The family's rise to power is recent enough for most Elves and Eladrin to remember what the hill used to look like, but for the majority of the citizens of Fallcrest, the grand manor is the defining landmark of the city.
You find yourself seated in a small study just inside the compound. The gate guards (both humans. The Rexes wouldn't assign one of their own family to the mundane task of guard-duty) seemed surprised when you handed him the letter you received only the night before, but quickly showed you in. As you glance around the room, it seems that you are not the only one summoned with the mysterious letter.
"Dear sir" (or madam, as the case may be).
"Your services are requested. Please be at the manor house tomorrow afternoon one hour after midday. Details will be provided."
- Tacitus Rex.
Simple and direct. Polite, yet firm. An apt description of both the letter and the Rex family patriarch who signed it.
The study, while small and simple, is finely decorated. A large, round wooden table sits in the middle of the room, with heavily padded chairs all around. A few paintings adorn the western wall, while the eastern wall opens up onto a small balcony overlooking the city. Below the paintings, a fire crackles, fighting off the cold air seeping in through the windows.
A brief knock on the door is followed quickly by a small Kobald, who glances around the room, and nods to himself. "Thank you for waiting. My master will attend to you shortly," he murmurs; surprisingly elegant for a Kobald. "If you require anything, please knock." He quickly ducks back out the door, leaving the six strangers in silence.
This is just a quick chance for everyone to introduce themselves in character. Feel free to discribe yourself, recount how you arrived (either at the manor, or in the city), or talk amongst yourselves.
The young duridess always found the rain refreshing even as it chilled her. Unlike others who chose to wear hoods and seek shelter from it, the young woman allowed the water to pelt her lightly tanned skin. Her normally straight brown hair was soaking wet and clinging to her head. The tan hide armor she wore was equally as wet but she had weathered such storms with it on more than one occasion. It was old and slightly discolored by dirt but durable.
As she strolled leisurely through Fallcrest, Dorenie recalled how ragged the messenger looked. Unlike most people, Dorenie did not have an actual house to deliver mail to. She did not live in Fallcrest and the idea of doing so did not sit well with her. Her domain was the forest and a special grove northwest of town. Only a select few people would have even known where to look for it. The Rex family were added to that list but she felt sorry for the messenger they hired to send the letter out into the middle of nowhere. The young delivery man had practically shouted that she was too hard to find before passing out from exhaustion. To apologize, Dorenie walked with him to Fallcrest. It was obvious to both of them that he got lost a few times before stumbling upon Dorenie's grove. As much as she hated the idea, it might be necessary to place a message box somewhere in town.
When the woman reached the Rex Manor, the guards had at first took her as a beggar. They started to shoo her away until she pulled out the letter from inside a fold in her armor. It was probably the only semi-dry thing on her body at this point. Once they confirmed the legitimacy of the letter, they reluctantly let her in. She was guided to the study and told to wait there.
As much as Dorenie enjoyed rain, she knew there was only so much her body could take of it. When she was left alone, she concentrated on her natural energy and slowly her body began to change. Chunks of black fur grew out of her armor and skin. Rapidly, her face started to take on feline features such as whiskers and cat-like ears. The entire transformation lasted only a few seconds. When it was done, the soaking wet 5'10" slenderly built woman had become a soaking wet black leopard. Dorenie moved over to the fireplace and paced around it for a few moments before laying down in front of it. She felt comfortable changing within the Rex's manor mostly because it was no secret among the family that she could change. Of course, she would change back so that she could actually speak once the meeting was underway, but she felt no need to do that right now.
Dorenie had barely gotten dry when she heard the door open once more and another stranger was asked to wait. Her eyes finally took notice of the numerous chairs and wondered just how many people would be coming. A part of her wanted to remain in her current form. She was warm and comfortable now. Why shift back for the sake of strangers. Still, she had a feeling that she would be asked to changed back once this meeting began. Furthermore, when the escort for the second guest wondered allowed where Dorenie had gone and who let the giant cat in, she relented in her desires to remain a beast.
Dorenie got up on all fours and stretched her forepaws out. She made a yawning sound that started beastial but quickly turned very human like. Her fur receeded and her face reverted to its normal shape. The claws and tail were replaced with hands and feet. With a small sigh, Dorenie stood up from her spot by the fire, "I apologize if I startled you. I wished to warm myself a bit before sitting at the table. My name is Dorenie if you are interested." The brown haired woman walked over to an empty chair and took her seat. There she waited patiently to see who else would be joining them.
As more people joined, Dorenie found herself curious about what the Rex's had in mind for them. Still, she kept her curiosity to herself. If the others wished to converse before the meeting, she was willing to join in. However, if they did not, she had no qualms about being silent. Either way, she was not going to take the initiative.
"Everyone has a photographic memory, its just that some people forget to load the film." ~ Anonymous
Last edited by Demonicheart : 02-09-2010 at 09:02 AM.
Eltain walked quietly through the rain, resisting the urge to pull back the hood of his cloak and let it soak him. He settled on pausing for a moment to look skyward, letting the cold drops fall on him, reveling in the sensation. The coming of spring was his favourite time of the year, with the bare ends of the winter still hanging on. He said a quick prayer of thanks to Corellon for the beauty of the moment and resumed his journey.
He hadn't been in town long, but the sender of the letter he'd received had apparently known of him and thought his skills would be of use anyway. And so here he was, traveling towards the manor house. It was tacky to his sensibilities, used to the marble and ivory towers of eladrin cities in the feywild still, but he reminded himself that beauty was not the same to all people, and gave thanks to Corellon for the diversity of the worlds, and the beauty inherent in that diversity.
The guards had let him in without too much trouble once he'd produced the letter, though they kept glancing at his eyes uneasily. Eltain was used to that, many people found his eyes strange. Half-human and half-eladrin, his eyes, while having a white and a pupil, had irises that were a pale, glowing blue. His hair colour, a metallic platinum, didn't help much either, nor did his pale, blue-tinged skin. The armor and clothing he wore helped more, marking him as a paladin of Corellon.
He raised an eyebrow at Dorenie's transformation.
"Not really startled, no, but a rather interesting trick. I take it from your appearance that you work primarily with the primal spirits?" Eltain asked idly as he walked towards the fire and leaned near it. He wiped the worst of the rain from his armor with his cloak and hung it near the fire to dry. His movements were rather graceful for a man wearing plate mail, and his voice was soft and gentle. He was young and fairly attractive, if somewhat odd-looking.
"As you might guess, I am a paladin in the service of Corellon, god of magic and beauty. I'm also something of a bard, though I only dabble a bit in the art. My name is Eltain." He bows slightly.
When Lucan walks into the room, he finds a human, and more interestingly, another half-elf, waiting there. Lucan's never met another of his own kind. Prior to leaving his tribe, he'd never met anyone besides elves. He has since encountered members of all the races he used to hear only stories about, but this is the first half-elf he's seen. And definitely the first one wearing such heavy armor--he didn't think anyone but dwarves and humans would willingly encase themselves in metal like that. He forces himself not to stare, and instead turns to the woman.
Aside from being human, and taller than he is by two inches, there's nothing about her that would really stand out among his tribe, which makes her an oddity among humans. He wonders if she follows the primal spirits, as so many among his tribe do.
He realizes he's been staring at them both, and smiles at them. "A pleasant morning to you," he says, and though he speaks softly, there is something compelling about his voice. "My name is Lucan. I am a hunter." Indeed, he is dressed as a hunter, and his clothing and weapons--two longswords, some daggers, and a longbow--are all in the elvish style. The only oddity is his armor, chainmail which looks elvish, but an eladrin would instantly recognize as being his people's work. It is also far finer and quieter than normal chainmail would be. It would be easy to mistake him for an elf, if not for his rounder ears, lighter hair, and two days growth of beard.
I decided not to assume that Lucan knew Eltain after all.
Last edited by DSCrankshaw : 02-09-2010 at 12:19 PM.
The light of the fireplace plays funny tricks. The flicker of the flames paint strange shadow shapes across the walls and furniture of the room, and grants the still room a sort of tranquility. So much so that the fire's movement draws attention away from certain points of the room, certain points that aren't exactly what they appear to be. The oddly poor-workmanship statue in the back of the room seems a sort of eye-sore at first glance, so rough and poorly hewn. Why any nobleman would spend his coin on something so...primitive is beyond any guess. Perhaps they are simply humoring the local talent, though it pains them to do so. Or perhaps the family's son or daughter is a would-be sculptor, and this back study serves the purpose of praising the poorly-skilled child while at the same time not displaying such awful talent for respectable eyes to see. Such thoughts come easily to mind, it is quite a horrid piece, and just as it seems a trifle matter not worth any further recognition, the strangest thing occurs.
The laughable piece of artwork moves its hand.
Up rises the stony hand to scratch at the shoddily crafted stone beard on its chin. The rocky fingers stroke the beard, and the stone hair reacts as if it were actual hair. The fingers move between the strands of the dark gray fiber, visibly scratching at the stony chin underneath it. The statue turns its great head, the eyes within its sockets glinting in the firelight like polished stones; it opens its mouth. A great, yet gentle, exhale like a faint wind escapes its lips. The breath takes on audible quality, a sort of rocky rumbling noise, a deep gravely "Hrrrruummm..." The statue continues to scratch away at its chin, stroking either side with its fore-finger and thumb. The lips of the statues purse, and relax, then purse again; the jaw moves as if chewing. A weight settles in the air of the study before it speaks.
Last edited by Haberdashery : 02-13-2010 at 05:19 PM.
Aramil strode in gallantly, his blond hair and confident smile bringing an aura to the room that might make grouchy snarkers quip that his theft of the sun is the reason why the cold rain is holding its sway.
"Well met, all." He then makes a sweeping bow towards Dorenie. "Especially you, fair druidess." Straightening up again, he resumes. "I am Aramil, swordsman of the Feywild and practitioner of its magic. I assume that each of you have been called here by our draconic patron as well?"
Dorenie had to admit that she was not expecting quite so many unique individuals when she was summoned here. The druidess was relieved to see that at the very least Eltain was not put off by her display. I suppose it could simply be the fact that many with elven blood are more in tune with the natural world than humans...but advantage or not, race matters little. Anyone can hear the spirits of the wilds if they listen. That is probably the more disconcerting thing...most choose not to listen. Dorenie returned the paladin's warm greeting, "Yes, I feel a strong bond with the primal energies of nature. It is good to meet you, Eltain."
When the second half elf appeared, she paid close attention to his mannerism and dress. It was his introduction as a hunter that brought on the mild scrutiny. For Dorenie, there were always two types of hunters. The first type were those who understood the forest as well if not better than herself. They respected its power and beauty while only ever taking what they needed to survive. She never begrudged these hunters and fully understood that this was a way of life for them. The second type were the ones who hunted for sport. They cared little about what they killed so long as they killed something. Even if they sometimes introduced themselves as 'hunters', the druidess saw them as simple butchers. She was fairly certain Lucan was a member of the former and not the later. The brown haired woman eased her expression into an apologetic look, "...I am sorry if I seemed rude staring like that, Lucan. I have met those who would claim to be hunters but lack any respect for the wilds. I feel that you are genuine."
The brown eyed woman couldn't help but blink as she saw the Goliath moving in the corner. Since he was not moving earlier, she had mistaken him as part of the furniture. At the time, Dorenie was more concerned with her own comfort and the appearance of others to give him much heed. The yawn had already suggested that he was perfectly fine with that. At least he was able to rest a little before this gathering. She responded pleasantly in a calm tone, "Hello." He was a daunting figure even in the fireplace lighting but Dorenie was not afraid of him, If he had meant any harm, he had ample time for it. Besides, the Rex family would not let him rest here if he were going to cause trouble.
Her eyes were soon directed to the Eladrin who made an impressive entrance. She found herself a little charmed by the fact that he singled her out for a special greeting. There was no doubt in her mind that if anyone was willing to stir up a conversation, it was Aramil. Feeling more at ease around these strangers, Dorenie nodded a bit, "Yes. My name is Dorenie Melin and I was asked to come as well...though I have not a clue what this is all about. We seem to have a very diverse calling of skills present."
"Everyone has a photographic memory, its just that some people forget to load the film." ~ Anonymous
"I don't know about them, but I recieved a letter from Lord Rex." A small voice comes from somewhere behind Aramil.
A split second later a small humanoid, just a touch under 3 and a half feet tall and very slender, steps out from behind the swordsman. He has brass-colored orange/blonde hair that is swept up from both sides of his head forming a ridge along the peak of his scalp. His eyes are two dark orbs that twinkle in the light of the fire. He is dressed in a robe made of fine green cloth embroidered in gold thread. Unlike everyone else in the room he is not soaking wet (having used prestidigitation to clean and dry himself).
He moves around the room, quickly offering each person his small hand. "Pavick Roslow, gnomish wizard extraordinaire, at your service. Well, actually at Lord Rex's service, but you get the idea," he says with a smile.
"Indeed we do have an odd assortment of skills. I can only assume he means to hire us to embark on some sort of adventure, as one would hardly ever call on such an array in such short notice for more mundane matters."
"My tribe has the utmost respect for the wild," he says to Dorenie. "The songs of my people have taught me well."
As the others arrive, he introduces himself to them as well. It is an odd assortment, and includes races he has never met before. The goliath and the gnome, on opposite ends of the spectrum, are both oddities to him, and he has to fight the urge to stare.
Last edited by DSCrankshaw : 02-09-2010 at 04:31 PM.
A light creaking sound alerts you to the door opening behind you. Silhouetted for just a moment before striding into the room is the famous Tacitus Rex. As he walks, he flips through a few sheets of parchment before handing them back to the small Kobald who followed him in. "Yes, these will be fine. Leave us."
The Kobald gives a slight bow, and scurries out the door. The door shuts half-way, but then opens again as a tall Eladrin in robes stumbles through the door, his arms full of paper, books, and what appears to be a flask of some green bubbling liquid. He adjusts his pointed, conical hat, and quickly moves to stand behind Tacitus, who is quietly examining the group before him.
Tacitus Rex, once a famous adventurer in his own right, towers over everyone else in the room (save the Goliath, of course). He wears a simple suit of chainmail, and a sword at his hip (which is clearly not used regularly, but is rather a force of habit from his younger days). A long, deep blue cloak drapes down his back, and the second finger of his left hand clearly displays the Rex family signet ring. He motions you all to the table. "Please, be seated." he says with a smile, but in a tone that borders on command as much as request.
"My apologies for summoning you here in this manner. These are dangerous times, and I learned long ago not to give out any more information or warning than is absolutely necessary." He pauses, eying each of you up and down. "You're most likely wondering why I've asked you here. I'll be direct. I have a task that I wish you to perform, and I'm finding myself short of reliable people. Normally, I would assign a task like this to one of my sons, but they are all…preoccupied with other tasks of their own." A brief frown flickers across his face, but he quickly recovers into his previous stoic demeanor. "The reason I selected you is twofold: First, you are, aside from Roslow, outsiders, and are unlikely to have other allegiances in Fallcrest. I cannot always say the same for some of my personal retainers. Secondly, I have reason to believe that you are all trustworthy, whether that be due to past services" his glance shifts to Dorenie; "local reputation," a quick look at the goliath; "references from allies in the feywild," the Eladrin in the conical hat gives a half smile as Tacitus looks at the half-eladrin and Aramil; "or simply as a favor to an old friend." Tacitus' gaze falls on the gnome. He makes no mention of Lucan.
"This," the dragonborn says, turning around to face the Eladrin behind him, "is Berrian, our house wizard. He'll give you more details about the services we've requested you for."
The Eladrin steps forward, re-adjusting his long blue robes and strange hat, licks his lips nervously, and murmurs "Er…yes. Well.." he clears his throat, and places all of his papers on the table, quickly catching the glass vial before it rolls off onto the floor. "As Lord Tacitus said, we've called you in for a very delicate issue. This." He says, holding up the vial "is the issue. As you may or may not know, all alchemy shops within the city are owned and managed by the Rex family , but this." he sets the glass potion back on the table. "is a mystery. Now, back alley shops and a small black market are impossible to eliminate completely, but the recent surge in illegal alchemical items in the town is beyond anything we've seen before. Just the supplies needed to create some of the items we've confiscated are…" he trails off as he looks down at some of the parchment in front of him and shakes his head in disbelief. "We're seeing everything from healing potions to poisons and everything in between. Some are just mild opiates for the downtrodden while others are of a much more…er…to put it delicately…malicious nature." Berrian gives a small shudder.
"It also appears that whoever is selling these items seems to be targeting the Rex family in particular. So far, we've seen a dozen different robberies of Rex merchants. In almost every case, the assailants have appeared to be little more than common thugs, but they appear phenomenally well equipped. Twice they've struck using invisibility potions. A vault was broken into using a potent acid, and nearly 5 merchants have been found poisoned." Berrian plops in the chair, and looks a bit green at the thought of someone poisoned. Tacitus steps forward and leans on the table.
"The day before yesterday, We were able to stop one of these robberies in progress and caught 5 thieves all in possession of illegal alchemical potions. Unfortunately, we discovered that two of the thieves were in the employ of my household, and one was a city guard." His fists tighten, and deep claw marks dig into the table before he can compose himself. "Naturally, I'm sure you can understand why we felt like we should turn to outsiders."
He pauses, and looks at you. "So…are you interested?"
"You must tell me about your people sometime, Lucan," Eltain says, smiling. "I must admit that I still know little of the elves of this world." He nods to Aramil.
"It's good to see another of Eladrin blood in this world. I've found so few since I left the Feywild. And a gnome as well, welcome, Pavick. I feel almost at home again, hah, being amongst fellow fey again. Surely Corellon smiles upon us this day." He ponders the goliath curiously.
"I haven't seen one of your kind before, I'm afraid. Do forgive my curiosity."
(OOC: Derp. Posted while I was writing, pardon double post.)
Eltain ponders the references comment suspiciously, absently stroking his beard, as he had never had any indication that anyone in the Feywild knew anything of his location and certain that none of the people had once known would think of him as trustworthy, but leaves it be for now.
"Those who seek to spread ugliness in the world by causing harm to others are an affront to Corellon and must be stopped," he says gravely, "I will do what I can."
A small frown formed on Dorenie's face as she overheard the troubling news. The young druidess never had much of an interest with the commerce business. She could recall that her father had a knack for it but she didn't inherit that drive. If this had simply been a case of watching out for new competition to the Rex family, she would have had half a mind to respectfully decline. However, Dorenie knew that if it was that simple, Tacitus Rex would have taken care of the matter himself. Whomever was behind this did not want to just take over the alchemy business in Fallcrest. The culprits desired the complete annihilation of the Rex Family and were willing to go to any extreme to do it. She let out a sigh and commented, "The 'urban wilds' never cease to amaze and confound me." She often wondered why people had such a hard time believing that she intentionally chose to distance herself from civilization.
It was clear as day that the situation did not sit well with her. Even if she refused to help, she would not do anything to hinder the quest. She owed the Rex's that much and was a woman of her word. However, Dorenie made her decision known after a few moments of thought, "Although I am uncertain how helpful my skills will be for this task, I will assist to the best of my ability." The indecision in her eyes faded as she committed herself to the task. She even thought of motivational reasons for accepting the task, If the culprits are this desperate, imagine what will happen if they succeed at destroying the Rex Family. They will send their thugs into the woods to uproot every useful plant they can to 'boost production'. She mentally admitted it was a flimsy reason but it wasn't her only one, The Rex family ensured my survival. I can do no less for them now that the situation is reversed...in a sense.
While awaiting response from the others, she posed a question of her own, "Have those five you captured mentioned anything useful?" She figured that question might be the best place to start looking for clues.
"Everyone has a photographic memory, its just that some people forget to load the film." ~ Anonymous
Last edited by Demonicheart : 02-09-2010 at 06:44 PM.
Pavick climbed, rather awkwardly into one of the chairs at the table. He sat at the front edge of the seat, his legs swinging around wildy as he listened to Tacitus' situation.
"Well, well, well. It sounds like you are in a spot of trouble. It is no wonder that you turned to a man with as much talent as me." He tugs at his robes to straighten them. "I suppose I could help you out. Yes, yes, I think we'll be more than capable of solving your problems, but I believe a bit of remuneration might be called for."
The giant figure of the goliath looms behind those seated at the table, his head just about grazing the ceiling. The shadow he casts over the table is rather impressive, and engulfs those he stands directly in back of. The rumbling noise from deep with in his chest has resumed, and his rock-like brow has slouched forwards over the bridge of his nose, giving him a distinct pensive expression.
The goliath resumes his silence, tapping a finger against his chin. When he finally speaks again, it is in his deep, gentle voice.
"I think I can understand. Should someone poison my goats, I would seek the culprit."
His brow quivers, as if digesting a particularly troublesome thought.
"I am...sympathetic to your plight," A sort of soft upward curve establishes itself on his haggard lips, "Sometimes one must leave the herd...but who would care for my flock?
Last edited by Haberdashery : 02-13-2010 at 05:20 PM.
Lucan was going to politely decline before Eltain invoked Corellon. While his tribe revered Sehanine above any others of the gods, he always felt closer to Corellon, the patron of music. But he lacked formal instruction in Corellon's teachings, so he has always been at a loss in how to show him homage. The fact that Eltain, who appears to be a trained follower of Corellon, says that this is what the god would want holds a great deal of sway. He bows his head. "If this is what Corellon desires, then I shall do it."
Tacitus' face remains blank as he gauges the various reactions. After nodding, respectfully to Eltain and Lucan at the mention of Corellon, he turns to Dorenie.
"Unfortunately, we haven't received as much information from them as we would have liked. The prisoner who was also a city guard was found murdered in his cell that night, we assume by one of the other guards who has allied himself with these...mystery saboteurs." His voice takes on a lower, gravelly tone "And the two who were members of my own household decided that ending their own lives was preferable to being questioned." Behind Tacitus, Berrian swallows nervously, and the look in his eyes seem to indicate that he doesn't entirely disagree with the choice.
"The other two told us a little. Wherever the items are being created, it is somewhere outside the city, we think to the north, or the east, based on the gates that were being used. One of the thieves let it slip that he was contacted about the job at a tavern down by the docks called "The Lucky Gnome Taphouse." This is also where we've recovered a significant amount of the items that are more narcotic in nature. The other thief was hired at a place called "The Elven Winches," a ... how did you phrase it, Berrian?" he turns back and looks at the Eladrin with a half-smile on his face "'House of Ill Repute' is the phrase you used I believe" He gives a small chuckle as Berrian turns a light shade of crimson. "It's located about a quarter mile outside of town to the east. We've also had reports of two different merchants selling the contraband. A Halfling by the name of Stephen Brownfoot, and an elven woman named Kala Leroux. We've tried apprehending both of them, but somehow they found out about it beforehand and have vanished. They regularly set up booths in the weekly bazaar, and did more of the day-to-day business near the Wizard's gate on the Eastern side of the city. We're not sure where they are now, but you might want to ask around and see if anyone can give you an idea as to where they went."
"As for your "remuneration"" Tacitus continues, turning to gnome, "If you can find and dispatch these rogue alchemists, you will be paid 750 gold apiece." He raises an eye, almost daring you to challenge that amount. "You may also keep whatever you recover from the brigands on the way. However, I would ask that all of the alchemical supplies, as well as any information about suppliers be returned to me." He chuckles, "This way we might be able to recoup at least some of the losses." He stops, giving a small glance in the paladin's direction. "Feel free, however, to destroy any opiates or alchemical items that you deem to be...illicit, in nature."
"For your sheep" he says, turning to the Goliath, "we've contacted.." Tacitus pauses and flips through some of the pages on table until he finds the name he searches "A man named Jonn Strobel, whom I believe you know" he glances up at Shepherd for confirmation but continues regardless. "His oldest son Thom was planning on leaving home to start his own flock, but I've convinced him to wait for another year, and to watch your flock for you while you're gone. Also," he meets the large creature's eyes, "You have my word that if any harm comes to your flock while you're gone, the family will make restitutions.
"Now, are there any other questions, I have much still to do today?"
Berrian rolls his eyes a bit at the discussion of sheep, but makes his way around the table to whisper in Aramil's ear while Tacitus speaks to the rest of the party.
"A word for your ear, cousin." Berrian murmurs, leaning in close to the other Eladrin. "A number of the alchemical reagents we've recovered seem to have their origins in..." he drops his voice, and glances over at Tacitus to make sure he isn't listening "The Underdark. I'm sure you realize what this must imply about some of the...sources, of these usurpers." He gives a small gulp, and glances again worriedly at Tacitus. "I know you've been requested to bring back all the information as to their suppliers, however I would ask that you be...discerning, if you come across that information."
OOC: (If you want to make a perception check to listen in, the DC is 16)
The rocky fingers find their way back into the tangled beard on his chin once more. The thrum in the great goliath's chest has taken on a sort of elated quality, as if the pitch has gone up an octave.
"Little Strobel would watch my flock?"
Where a pauses seems imminent, a beat is all that manifests. The goliath's eyes brim with satisfaction.
"Thank you. My worry is at ease."
The goliath raises his hand and stretches it across the table towards Tacitus Rex awkwardly. Attempting to provoke a handshake, but somewhat unsure if it is the proper custom to do so. The rules of society are so...vexing...sometimes.
Last edited by Haberdashery : 02-13-2010 at 05:20 PM.
Lucan shrugs. The investigation seems straightforward enough. He glances in Berrian's direction as he talks to Aramil. He doesn't quite have elven hearing, but it's very close. Still, the eladrin must have realized he needed to be careful, and Lucan barely makes out what he says.
Perception - (1d20+10)
Last edited by DSCrankshaw : 02-10-2010 at 12:50 PM.
Eltain unobtrusively tries to listen in to the whispering as he digests the information from Rex.
"I actually only truly object to the most vile of substances. Many things that are used for evil can also be put towards the work of beauty and renewal," Eltain says, shrugging a bit. "Indeed, the others may object more."
"I would say that you are getting my considerable talents at an absolute steal," Pavick says with a smile and a wink. "But, since your cause seems good, I'll help."
He looks around the table, "Well, I'd say we've got a very motley group here. A dashing swordsman, a woman of the wilds, a couple of half-elves who revere the god of beauty, a rock who seems preoccupied with his flock," he giggles a little at his own rhyme, "and of course a famed wizard. We should be well prepared for this task, I would say. The leads you've already found should prove quite helpful as well. I thank you."
Tacitus accepts Shepherd's hand, and shakes it firmly. "Thank you. If you need anything else, Berrian should be able to answer any of your questions. Now, I still have much to do today. Dorenie, could you come with me?" He stands, gives one last glance over the odd assortment of characters before him, and (barring any last questions), strides out the door with Dorenie. You never see her again.
Berrian walks over to the door, and motions to the Kobald standing outside. "Er...could you bring some wine or something like that?" The Kobald gives Berry a flat look, but scampers off to do as he is told. Moments later, he returns with a tray of glasses, and a tall bottle of wine that he pours for each who will accept it. Berry quickly drains his glass, refills it, and begins working on his second before turning to you "So...is, er...there anything I can help you with"
EDIT 4/1 - OOC: Dorenie dropped out of the game at this point, and it doesn't look like she'll be back
Pavick pulls a coin from his pouch, he rolls it between his fingers as he contemplates Berrian's question. Eventually he pauses. "Yes, I believe I do have a few questions. First, you seem to be quite nervous with this whole situation. I understand Rex's House has been targetted, but you seem even more shaken than Lord Rex. Why is that?"
Last edited by dariathalon : 02-11-2010 at 06:43 PM.
Berrian, mid-drink at Pavick's question, bursts into a coughing fit as he chokes on his wine. It takes him a moment to recover, but when he does, he looks down at Pavrick "Why, er, what would make you say such a ridiculous thing as that? My Lord Rex is simply a man of a more militaristic background, and is used to keeping a cool head in dire situations. I myself am merely a .... um.... more jumpy individual, that's all. What a silly notion that I should be more concerned than the Lord." Berry gives a short, loud laugh.
Insight DC 14
By the way Berrian's eye's keep flickering to the left, and his right hand fingers that keep twitching, you think that Berrian might know more than he's letting on. The overly loud laugh at the end definately suggests as much, although getting him to admit it will take a bit of clever talking.
OOC: You'll need to make a diplomacy check to get Berry to talk.
Pavick smiles, feeling reassured that his reading of the man's quick downing of wine was not astray. "Come now sir, I'll admit that Lord Rex may be more hardened than most, but he wouldn't have hired you unless you could face difficult situations as well. You may be a naturally jumpy person, but even jumpy people usually don't jump without reason. And you, my friend, are jumping."
He pauses to sip the wine that he was offered earlier. "Now, we are all working towards the same goals here. There is no reason not to share whatever information we might have. You share a little with us, we'll share with you what we find in return."
Last edited by dariathalon : 02-11-2010 at 08:02 PM.
Aramil takes the offered wine graciously, drinking it delicately like a "true gentleman" like himself would. Contrary to popular Dwarf opinion, those of elf-blood, including Eladrin, can be quite capable of holding their liquor, but that is no reason to appear boorish in front of his kinsmen and the attendant to his employer... and especially not a reason to drink heavily in the presence of a woman. Yes, he does feel a touch of shame for Berrian's proclivity towards drinking in front of employees, but he also knows when to hold from voicing his disapproval.