Ongoing Games (In-Character)Play-by-post games are going on in this forum as we speak (well, read). All threads on this board are actual games, so please, only post on a thread if you are a player of that game.
One by one the group arrives at "By the Book", the tavern owned by the Captain of the Moonstars. The barkeep is the same old man that was there 3 years ago, and he greets each member as they enter, having the comely barmaid hand each their favorite drink.
The bar is approximately half full, with mostly laborers filling the seats. There is one table that seems to have adventurers as well, as they seem to be the best armed and ordering the finest drinks. The mood is lively, and entertainment is just arriving.
There is one day left until the 3 year anniversary, and the only member missing of the Moonstars is the Captain himself.
There is a day left until the Captain is supposed to arrive. Each of you may do as you will, or merely wait out the time. The inn is located in the Merchant District of Mysticae so many shops and the like are in close proximity.
Grinning, Wilarmis takes a seat at the table, an inkpen behind his pointy right ear. "It's been a long time," he says, with a voice much more open and certain than one he would use with a stranger. Indeed, Wilarmis is quite shy, but in the face of danger or his friends, he is able to more openly show his emotions.
Wilarmis: the definition of not an athlete. Skinny he is. Wilarmis: the definition of a nerd. Literally a databank of knowledge, any basic question asked to him can be answered in a matter of seconds. Solve an equation? Done! Give me this famous figure's biography? Done! What are some common prayer methods? Done! And most of all, how does this magical symbol affect the outcome of this type of spell? Done!
You could say Wilarmis is half-crazy. Though he really is not, he somehow likes creeping people out and making the think he's insane through his foolish smiling, clueless blinking, and random remarks in third-person that are not on topic. Unless, of course, he knows them well. And you know what he always calls himself?
The Harpist is not in the common room. He is not in the inn at all, as far as anyone knows. The only clue that he might be around here at all is that one of the doors to a private room upstairs is locked, and the innkeeper knows that someone left a few coins on the bench and took the key to that room while his back was turned.
More often than Wilarmis would call himself the Wizard, the Harpist calls himself the Harpist. He is known by no other name, and there isn't much aside from that alias that even his companions would know about him. Sometimes, especially when it is most convenient or when other people are watching, the Harpist is blind. It's extremely difficult to tell whether or not he really is blind, because of the extraordinarily good act that he puts up.
What is known about the Harpist, is that he is rather good at playing the harp. So good, perhaps that he can seemingly turn the music into deadly blasts of energy that takes up various shapes and uses. What is also known, is that the Harpist always maintains a business-like personality. If he was told to show up at By The Book tomorrow, then he will reveal himself at the moment of dawn tomorrow. The Harpist seems to treat every interaction like a business deal, from "I kill this guy, you give me money," to "You mind your own business, and I won't permanently deny you the functionality of your heart."
Maybe it's this impersonal attitude that makes the Harpist so reliable. Or unreliable, depending on the deal.
Common Morning Routine as follows: Invoke Beguiling Influence. The Harpist is always assumed to have this 24-hour-long invocation active, providing +6 to his Bluff, Diplomacy, and Intimidate.
Bwa-ha-ha, Untrained diplomacy of +20.
That is all.
Elzaon smiles at the bartender and winks at the bar maid as she hands him his aged DLB. He sips it and smiles, the drink a remembrance of the old days. He sets it down on the table across from Wilarmis. He does not say a word, but simply sits down. His face is tanned, even for a drow, and his hair is long and unkempt. His armor fits him like a second skin and shows the toned muscles he spent 3 years earning. He lets a half-smile dance across his face as he addresses Wilarmis.
Greetings, old friend. It's been far too long. I trust you are well?
Pelemaeus strolls into "By the Book" and approaches the party. He appears slightly flustered, but he walks over to the party and nods to Wilarmis and Elzaon. You can see the slight shimmer of some sort of chainmail under his woodsman's tunic, and you can tell that Supernal Clarity has been used quite a lot since the three years apart.
"Well, the Captain will be back soon, I wonder what we'll do once he's back?"
Pelemaeus signals the bartender, intending to order some sort of drink.
Pelemaeus is greeted by the Bartender, and his favorite drink is served to him.
Most of the day goes by uneventfully, with different people drinking and eating throughout the day. The only group that remains consistent is the adventurers, bored as they seem. As the day drags on they seem to drink more and more, and are apparently getting a bit rowdy.
The evening meal comes and goes, and the inn surprisingly gets LESS crowded when night falls. There are few commoners about, and it seems all is settling into a peaceful evening.
Until, that is, a drunken human from the adventurers' table feels like shouting out. They had been hooting and hollering all night, but this is the first time he directs something towards our fearless group...
He shouts out, directly at Pelemaeus.
*So I didn't know we were letting Elf wannabes in here. I've heard some stories told, but in person you look sillier than scary. Hell, let's turn out the lights. I'd love to see your teeth glow!*
The rest of them laugh and laugh, although what was said wasn't really funny. Seems as though they are a bit drunk.
The table consists of 3 people, the human who just spoke up who wears two short swords at his sides, as well as some light armor; a halfling that seems to be quite jovial, yet wears some sort of symbol around his neck with a mace at his side; as well as an elf, who like many elves carries a staff and seems to fit in perfectly in this environment. It is he who speaks next.
You sir, are no elf. You have the frame of one of my kind, but the rest of you does not match one such as I. And if you are pretending to be an elf, you should know that we are certainly not ones to be trifled with ourselves!
"A foolish thing for one such as you to say," mumbles Wilarmis. "I bet that any of we could take you all out without getting a scratch on any of us. Then again, I'd rather not kill you, so, meh." His voice is riddled with anger, his hatred of discrimination of his own kind let loose. In the sinister language of the Demons, he says, "You should be smart enough not to mess with us." Slowly, he takes out a single coin from his pocket, and mumbles some magical words1. He aims the coin at the human, listening intently to what he has to say, both verbally and in his mind.
Elzaon's face shows a bitter smile as he addresses the elf.
Not one of your kind? No. I am above you. I am a Drow. A type of elf that was around long ago. Your "kind" killed mine over 1000 years ago because you were afraid of us. Of what we could do. Of how in the future we could destroy you. So before we had time to become a great race, you destroyed us. I'm a cleric, so I'll give a few seconds to pray to whatever god you worship before I kill you.
The other party members will notice that Elzaon is in "that mood". The pure, raging evil.
With the mentioning of killing, a few of the patrons that were left seem to leave some coins on the table and take their leave. With the speaking of the demon tongue, which all have either heard a Wizard speak or in passing, a few more walk out the door. The rest leave when the words of the arcane are loosed. Many if not all of them do not know what it means, but living in a city full of the Arcane makes you weary.
The human peers up, seemingly aware of an intrusion in his mind but unable to control it. The halfling next to him notices the casting, and casts a spell of his own onto the human.
The elf, on the other hand, seems to take utmost offense at the casting. He speaks, and actually stands out of his chair to do so.
*You pretenders DARE to assault my friend's dignity with such an intrusion! I will show you the wrath of a TRUE Elf!*
The elf then begins to cast his own spell, and after a few short seconds disappears.
The old man behind the bar merely sighs, and goes into the back room. The troublemakers of the Moonstars (which include almost everyone) realize he is going to go get something to protect the inn, though every time he goes back there he returns with something different.
Detect Thoughts result
The human is obviously drunk, as his thoughts are rather random. He begins thinking of skewering Palemeaus, then about taking the beautiful barmaid upstairs (she's quite on the ugly side, actually), then on how elves are so lithe, and wished he had a female one to play with. It seems at any moment he could pull a weapon or merely sit back down and drink some more.
Spells that were cast
Anyone with a Spellcraft of 16 knows which two spells were cast. The halfling cast Protection from Evil and the Elf cast invisibility.
With the casting of invisibility purge, everyone present catches the Elvin Wizard attempting to sneak out the front door. Apparently he almost made it without being seen, as he is just steps from the portal.
After being purged of his invisibility, the Wizard certainly seems deflated and offers one last piece of advice for his comrades before fleeing in cowardice.
*Everyone for themselves!*, and he runs out the door.
With this, the halfling at the table smacks his forehead, and wonders not for the first time what he is doing with this troupe. The human however, seems to have a different idea.
With the mace being drawn, the human reacts quite quickly, standing from his chair and drawing both of his short swords simultaneously. In a seemingly very sober manner, he attains a fighting stance.
*How unfair of you to draw a weapon in a bar fight. Shame shame. Maybe I will teach you and your friends a lesson after all.*
With the possibility of a fight at hand, the thoughts of this human turn coldly calculating, and apparently devoid of any alcohol influence. It seems to be his intent to knock the Lesser Drow down, and stab him where it hurts.
"Here we go again." Pelemaeus sighs and draws his rapier. "I may not look like an elf of these sorts, but I come from a city of giants and dragons, I have no fear of petty humans such as you. Especially when they're drunk, and cannot decide whether to hit like a man, or snuggle up with that not so cute barmaid.
Death in the Dark Maneuver Attack: (1d10+20) Edit: -5 for the Second Attack. So 22.
Death in the Dark Maneuver Damage: (1d6+3)
--Target must now make a will save of DC 20.
----If the target fails the will save, he takes another (15d6) Damage.
----If the target makes the save, he takes another (5d6) Damage instead.
Pelemaeus will attack with Supernal Clarity using first the Shadow Hand Maneuver 'Ghost Blade' and if he hits, he will cause the targeted human who happens to be next to Elzaon to be flat footed. Since the opponent is flat footed, Pelemaeus will follow through with the Shadow Hand Maneuver 'Death in the Dark' just for kicks .
"I really do hate cracking skulls. Why can't we all just get along anyway? Oh wait, the guy's drunk. Excuse me."
As for my Attack of Opportunity, I don't believe I am granted one, since I didn't have my weapon drawn, and I don't have Quick Draw.
The human, after trying to skewer one of his new foes, gets skewered himself. Acting with lightning quick speed, Pel lights up the ill-fated human. He digs Supernal Clarity deep into the rogue's thigh, although he seems to shake off the after effects.
Shortly after this however, Elzaon walks up and dooms the poor man with the power of death itself, sapping all the life energies from him. As the poor man slouches to the floor, Pel takes the opportunity to finish him off, lightly punching Clarity through the mans throat, spewing blood everywhere.
At this point, the halfling at the table laughs uncontrollably, unable to maintain concentration on anything.
A few short moments later the bartender comes through the doors into the main room, holding a very strange device. He doesn't use it, at least not now, with a look of shock upon his tired face.
*You all have become a bit more prolific in dealing death since last I saw you. I indeed hope you remember that the guards around here are fairly prompt if a problem is reported. If you could, for me, clean this mess up a bit.*
He then turns around, and seems to place the device nearer to him by the bar, in a small jewelry box and mutters to himself how things will just never change.
His evil rage ended, Elzaon looks almost embarressed standing over the dead human. He quietly bends down and mutters a sendoff into the afterlife. He then begins looting the human. When he's done he takes the human by the chest and looks to the innkeep with a "Where do you want him?" look.
"Oh my, what a waste of a person... well, we might as well dispose of him, if we're to avoid the wrath of the police. I mean we may not be entirely altruistic, although I have no intention of going all out with a platoon of guards..."
After this statement, Pelemaeus picks up the dead body and drags him out the door, to dump him in the waste heap. As he leaves, he calls out to one of his fellow party members, "Hey, I'll take care of the body, and you get rid of the bloodstains."
The halfling finally stops laughing as the blood is being swept up. At about the same time, he takes a pouch off his hip, tests its weight by tossing it slightly, and sets it on the table. He then simply walks out, still chuckling to himself.
((This assumes no one stops him. If that is the case, do let me know.))
The body is easily disposed of, though some amount of patience is needed because no one wants to be carrying a dead body with people around.
Old man bartender seems to be happy enough that the mess is being taken care of, and sends the barmaid to gather the pouch left by the halfling.
Each party member is afforded their own room, and each presumedly spent the night there. The next morning is much like any day, and the inn seems to be bustling with activity with merchants, laborers, and their ilk, all wanting a good hearty meal before the days work. Last night's bloody business apparently has been kept quiet, as there isn't even a rumor floating around inside the inn.
During breakfast, a small...man it could be, walks in and looks around. Apparently not seeing what he wanted to see, approaches the barkeep.
He hands the barkeep a rolled up parchment of some type, and tells him to give that to Captain Myus when he arrives, although this man apparently expected him to be here already. The strange figure then turns around and walks right out of the inn.