Radcliffe wishes you well as you leave The Crying Lady and head off into the town looking for the man who should be hiring guards for the upcoming parade and public funeral.

You remember the half-elven bard's description of that man:  "Look for a tall man with a drooping moustache of grey named Harann.  He sometimes wears a suit of chainmail and a vest of scarlet over it.

He's in charge of any day-hires who help in the town, be they guardsmen, hole fillers, or what-have-you.

He's honest, does not expect you to grease his palm, and has the funds upon you to pay right away once the job is done."

You recall passing the town's sole cemetary as you made your way to The Crying Lady tavern, so the going is easy and quick.

As you near the cemetary, you see that about 100 or so of the townsfolk have already gathered for the funeral, and more are coming from all directions.  Soon the small cemetary will be nearly overrun with people.

The man who will be burned on a large pyre, a killer from a foreign land named "The Shadow Slayer" is known to have killed 7 merchants from Ilipur (the town you are now in).   Before that, he is said to have killed merchants and others in Westgate and Sembia.  He has slain over 100 people in all!

It is said by several people in the cemetary that hired mercenaries from Westgate brought The Shadow Slayer down.

It is feared that someone will try to steal the killer's body to try to raise him, ressurect him, or somehow turn him into some form of evil undead.

A soul so black, a person so evil, would surely make a powerful undead monster!

The plan is to take the body from the entrance of the town to the cemetary, then burn the body in a huge pyre, then to spread the askes far and wide.

=========================================================================

Ilipur:







.............................................

North is "up" on the map.

The Crying Lady tavern is the small white building down by the docks to the center right of the map.

The cemetary is north and east of it.  It looks like a fairly empty brown patch of land.

The parade route will go from the town's entrance to the north east of the map, down through a main road to the cemetary.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:34, Thu 01 June 2006.

Shouldn't be too hard to spot this 'Harann' person Denira thinks to herself, looking for a shock of scarlet amongst the more plainly dressed townsfolk before the throng grows any larger.

OOC:

Spot check: 8

Walking amongst everyone Bethany searches for the red vest and from time to time even glances back behind her to see if the man they look for will actually spring forth into her eyes.

Bethany sees the man directing others to move away from the huge pyre that has been constructed.

Harann has a commanding presence, and everyone follows his orders.

As the group moves along the cemetary's trail to meet with Harann, townsfolk start to form into groups of about 4-8 people in each.

The group has to wait for several minutes to talk to Harann, but he notices them as they await their turn to speak with him.  He keeps his eye on them, and when most of the people he was directing have left for their tasks, he moves his head in a "follow me" motion.

He leads you behind a crypt building.

I am Harann, and I assume you know that I hire help in Ilipur at the authority of the mayor.

From the looks of you, you have some experience at arms and such.  That's good.

I can offer you 70 golds - legal tender all around the Coast - if you keep rabble away from the body that's being brought here.

Stand guard right here near the pyre, then, as the body is take from the wagon that will be bringing it, watch it close.  Attack anything that makes a move for it.

Stay with the pyre, even as it burns.  Stand safe away so as not to get burned, of course.  But stick as close as you can.  Watch the body burn until it is naught but ash.

A priest of Lathander named Garrik will be in charge of getting the ashes.  He's taller than I am and has a long red beard.  Once he issues his prayer and seals the container of the ashes, all is done and I'll pay you.

Understand?

Harann expects he is understood, but waits for questions.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:37, Mon 05 June 2006.

Drake again, considers this job a 'useless' one, but still has nothing better. Since it looks like the rest of his travel-mates are interested in taking it he will stay with them to help.  Drake does little more than nod in acknowledgement of the directions.

Denira never likes taking orders from men but this is a completely different culture here. Magic-adept children aren't removed from their parents at an early age, it's not just women who patrol the streets to keep order and the men aren't all drunken, smelly louts!

Still, it was unusual for men to be giving orders to her and she wasn't used to it yet.

"Of course, sir." she says, trying to hide the slight scowl she has on her face, only to remember that she is still wearing her mask.

OOC: Awaiting the arrival of one new PC to the group, then we'll move on to the pyre area.

Elodeir rushed through the streets of Ilipur, hoping to find this Harann he'd been told of soon.  The half-elf brushed his long, dark hair away from his eyes as he started to get closer to where Harann was supposed to be.  He hadn't had much to do since he got to the town, and he wouldd jumped right at the chance of guarding the funeral pyre.  As he finally spotted someone who resembled the description he'd gotten, talking to some group of people.  He quickly moved over there, but didn't speak up yet, letting the man finish his busines with the others first.

Thinking the dark-haired half-elf was with the party, Harann huff out You're late, but go up with your friends and get into position.

The moustached man then goes off, bellowing orders to his three or four assistants here.

It seems like Harann will be heading to the town's entrance and riding along with the casket.

--------------------------------

The group looks to each other and back to the half-elven newcomer as they make their way toward the pyre.

One old woman wobbles up to Drake and hands him a single red rose.  Thank you, brave soul, she says, smiling.

Some men nod as the party passes.  They are too humble to say "thank you" aloud, but honorable enough to know they would not be caught dead doing the hard work of adventuring for a living.

An older man in battered scale mail stands near the pyre.  His face is like stone, and when you appoach, his eyes dart nervously from face to face, stopping long on Denira's strange mask.

Harann, he would not listen to me, but old Horst has some strength left in his arms, and his sword is still sharp.  He stands proudly, ready to join you, and not moving away from his spot at the head of the pyre.

----------------------------

OOC: The group stands around the pyre, spread out around the tall pile of sticks and wood.

A large torch soaks in a kettle of oil and three tindertwigs are on a small stone at the foot of the kettle.

You know that either Harann, the mayor, or a cleric will light the pyre.

Feeling antsi for combat Bethany draws her blades and sets her self moving from foot to foot in a slow calculated manor.  Eyes dart from every person in the mass and to the new groupie.  You are not known to me right off hand friend.  Who may you be so we may be properly introduced if we are to work together?  My name is Bethany, I am hunter by trade but am skilled with the blades so i help my friends with tracking when the time comes.

Bethany smiles and a twinkle can be seen in her eyes as she is ready for a job.  Though this may be boring at first, with a city full of humans and dead man that more then one person wants she thinks she will be enjoying herself should  fight break out.

Quietly, Denira sidles up to Drake.
"Paranoia may serve us well. Trust noone & be careful with that rose. You might 'prick your finger'."
She looks over the man in the scale mail with the same amount of suspicion she had just given the old lady. Denira was an experienced guard and when given duties she often went into a paranoid state of mind, becoming edgy. She had always been taught that the machinations of Thay never slept and to always look out for any possible thing that might indicate that they were up to their old tricks. She employed the same teaching in this state of mind.
"So, mister...Horst? How do you know Harann? You must understand that I cannot trust you. I am just doing my job."
Bethany could likely handle the elf and the others should be keeping their eyes peeled so Denira was fairly confident she could interview the old man.

The tall old man bows to Denira.

Everyone in Ilipur knows Harann, for better or for worst.

There is a tinge of malace in Horst's voice as he speaks.

He...he thinks he runs the place, and true, he manages things very well and has a good mind for math and measuring things.  But his personality, his demeanor...

I do NOT bow to any man, and I expect none to bow to me.  I ask only for respect and I give it back in return.

For a man who measures money so well with scales that a sage would envy, you'd think he'd understand that sort of thing.


He squints as he looks at your mask, not sure what to make of it.

It is clear Horst is a seasoned warrior, but he probably did not travel much out of the immediate area.

"Indeed, well, you sound as if you have a grudge against our employer. I shan't ask you what it is but unless you give me adequate reason I shall have to ask you to move on. With all due respect, I cannot risk you being at our backs. Rumours tell that an attack is likely and I for one refuse to take any risks by trusting strangers.

Now please, I don't want to have to ask you again."

Denira leaves it at that, hoping Horst will leave and goes back to patrolling, alternating her stares to the surrounding area & the conversation Bethany is having with the elf.

Horst huffs and his face goes red, his eyes go wide.

What the HELL?  How DARE you!  YOU!  Some out-of-towner, from...Gods knows where!  Tell ME, a life-long citizen of Ilipur what to do?

Girl - and I assume you are young, from your brashness - show respect for your elders, and for a man who defended this town from attacks of aquatic trolls and a dragon turtle!

I shall NOT "move on" just on your say so, and if you want to sully this day, then take arms, but I shall not be the one to attack first.

He purses his lips and stands tall, but from the darkness on his face and the way his hands shake, you can tell he is riled up.

Denira swoops back around onto the man, her robe flowing elegantly.

"I asked thee 'nicely'. We have been given a job and I intend to do it with the least risk possible. Now please, move along. You are distracting me from my duties. Do whatever else you wish but you must leave the immediate area.

I cannot trust what you say on "your say so" either but if there is even the slightest chance of any of my party being hurt due to your presence then by The Hidden One I shall call the proper authorities and strike you down if I must. Now, if you truly intend for your city to be as safe as possible you will do what I ask."

As opposed to Horst, Denira just barely managed to keep her temper in check. She had been given orders by one man today and that was bad enough but by another? That was pushing it. She was an officer of the law, born and bred and it was her duty to carry it out.

Horst stands his ground for a solid minute, his jaw moving to the left, then the right, as he is clearly grinding his teeth.

Finally he moves close to Denira and hisses in her face Harann may be an oaf, but he is not an insensitive little whore who can't show her face in public.

Once this is over, he'll hear of this!

The man starts to walk away and some of the townsfolk point at you and murmur, clearly not pleased you've apparently forced Horst to move on.

There there, Horst.  We know you're a hero true, even if this lot doesn't.

I remember how you saved my pa, and for that, I am ever grateful.  You'll do better away from that rabble anyhow, Horst.  Maybe there at the front gate?

Horst smiles and waves at the locals who call out to him.

And a chilly wind breezes through the cemetary.

--------------------------------

OOC: 50 XPs for RPing, Denira.

"I am Elodeir, and I weild magic as my weapons," Elodeir answered, before taking forth his sturdy crossbow, holding it with one hand.  It was still not loaded, so it presented no immediate danger to anyone.  "As well as this, I suppose, if my magics should run out.  A pleasure to meet you, Bethany," he said, and a cheerful smile crossed his face.

...

As the older man and the masked woman exchanged words, Elodeir silently listened, starting to worry about the man, and he reckoned the woman had been right in sending him away.

That encounter had left an ashen taste in Denira's mouth. Still, she had been called worse in her past, although usually by barbarians drunk on Jhuild. That man seemed lucid enough, if a bit full of himself. She bacame all the more determined to carry this mission through now. She started a patrol route, nearly stomping along it in frustration.
She didn't doubt her actions at all, she was just glad that Horst had left without a fight.
Her eyes scanned the area again but she didn't want another confrontation, so she left the elf to Bethany.

The locals huddle around in groups of 4 to 8 and await the arrival of the funeral wagon.

Some of the townspeople give the party dirty looks and a few point as they whisper to each other.

Horst can be seen milling about the crowd.  Some of the people pat him on the back in greeting and most seem to humor the older man.

Some of the locals swill wine and other drinks, and an enterprising tavernkeep has brought a wagon led by a donkey that has a keg of ale on it and a casque of wine.

He's doing a brisk trade.

========================================

Minutes later, a boy about 10 years old runs into the graveyard.  Oy, the wagon's startin' down the street!  Be here in about 10 minutes!

=========================================

A fat woman and her two children move through the crowd selling bits of cloth seeped in blood.

Get'cher killer's blood!  Got it fresh from the scene o' his death.  A silver each!  Get 'em while they's wet!

A minute or so later two young men move through the crowd offering the same thing for sale at 2 silvers each.

The killer must have bled more than a stuck pig!

And the worst is yet to come:

About five minutes after the little boy yelled his announcement, a fat man with a blood-stained apron waddles through the crowd with a wicker tray of various pieces of what look like meat.

Got parts of the Shadow Slayer's brain here, and a thumb and part of his heart.  Got one of his kidneys too!   Come and get the parts nice an' fresh.

A little woman with a black shawl looks over the meats and starts to laugh.  The fat man shoos her off and shouts out about his strange wares again.

Bethany and Drake can see that as he shoos her away, she pockets something small from his tray.

She moves off, letting some children look over the bloody items.

Denira twitches.

"Stay sharp and stay near the body." she calls to the party. She storms over to the man selling the meat, aware that she is leaving a hole in their defences. She doesn't bother going over to the blood seller. As soon as she reaches the fat man in the apron, she examines the meat and once satisfied it isn't human she walks back to her post. If, on the off chance she thinks it is human she will attempt to confiscate the meat.

OOC: Heal check to identify meat = 26

The meats seem to come from a variety of creatures such as a cow, goat, and...maybe a large fish.

You don't see this "thumb" he claimed to have, though.

Denira gets back into position and scours the crouds for anyone acting or looking suspicious. That "thumb" was likely stolen for a reason & Denira couldn't take any chances.

OOC: Spot check = 14

==========================================

FROM DM:

The townsfolk eye masked Denira suspiciously, but if she makes eye contact, they look away immediately.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:42, Sun 11 June 2006.

Drake shows little or no emotion as the job begins, but does nod to the women who offered the rose, politely acknowledging her gift.  He slide the flower into his belt with his free hand, for his other keeps his shield ready.

As Denira spars with town hero, Drake merely watches, not taking sides. He does not want to insult a man who the town respects, but he also respects the level of duty Denira is taking for her job.  Drake has been done many duties such as this and in many towns as he traveled.  He likes to keep a low profile and not show disrespect for those who are of the town.

Taking his patrol with shield only, he begins to see the odd behavior of the townspeople, selling blood and meat. Drake wonders if this is a local custom or if this is a "special" occasion. Either way, it makes his a little uneasy.  He sees a women take something from the meat-seller, and tries to eye what it is, but the other people interested made it hard to get a good look.

As Denira moves to inspect the Meatman, Drake moves away from the crowd, not wanting to get too distracted by it.  Also, Drake catches some of Bethany's conversation with the half-elf.

A big group of people come into the cemetary and people make way for them.

Soon they make their way close to the pyre.

One of the men seems to attract most of the attention from the others in the cemetary.

This man is dressed in a white shirt with dark brown pants and a black vest.  He is a bit overweight, but in no way fat.  He seems rugged, perhaps having seen some adventure a decade or so ago.

Radcliffe is with the group of people, and he nods and smiles at the members of the party he spoke to before.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:47, Sun 11 June 2006.

Looking to the crowd and the reaction of the "special items" being sold just enrages Bethany.  Another reason she thinks to her self why she dislikes the way humans act.  Gripping her blades tighter she inadvertly ignores anything the half elf has to say to her and starts to dart her eyes back and forth.  The old lady who pockets something shiney is a disturbing thing to Bethany as well.

Before she can yell a warning to the vendor the group of people she is supposed to wait for start to come up the path towards the pyre.  Moving so if the time came she could run towards the dead body Bethany awaits.  Whispering to her self ^{I hope some fool runs towards the body, give me a true reason to hurt one of these humans today.}

Bethany still has the image of the old lady in her mind and wonders what in the nine hells did she pocket.

OOC: Bethany and Drake: if you want to search for the old lady, you can still do so and stand near the pyre.

I need a Search skill check at -4 to the result if you stay near the pyre or without the negative modifier if you move around through the cemetary.

Drake watches as the group moves near. It does not pass his eye that many of the people seem to be attracted to one man in particular.  Drake sees no need to leave his position at the pyre, but glances around to see if he can trake the lady that caught his eye at the meat-seller.  The crowd has mixed much though and he did not really get a great look at the women to be able to distiquish her from any other townfolk.

Drake continues to watch for signs of trouble, but honestly feels that too much is being made of this funeral.

Someone shouts from atop a roof about 2 blocks from the cemetery Here comes the wagon!  Wait..

There's TWO of 'em!

Murmurs go up around the gathered groups of people.

Two wagons?

Someone else die?

I heard the mayor's wife is sick.  That's why she ain't here with him.

Sick ain't dead, Mertyle.

Mebee 'tis a fake, ta throw folks off.  Ya know, like "Ohh, which wagon has the body" type thing?

You listen to too many bard's tales, Mona!

----------------------------------------

A few minutes later, a man dressed in leather armor with a bronze chestplate on rushes up to you after having talked with the group the mayor and Radcliffe are in.  (That group stands next-nearest the pyre from you.  The rest of the townsfolk are kept back about 30 feet from the pyre by men dressed like the one approaching you.)

Mayor just told us, one of the wagons is a fake.  I mean, the wagon isn't fake - that's real, of course.  The body inside is fake.  Not even a body, but a wood sculpture wrapped in a shroud.

The real wagon...I mean, the one with the <i>real<i> body inside it is driven by a man with a white flower in his hat.

The other rider has a red flower.

Both wagons'r gonna apporach the pyre, one to each side.

Stick with the wagon driven by the man with the white flower.

Got it?


The guard awaits your reply.

Drake nods in acknowledgement, but quickly turns and whispers as he passes Denira.  "We had better watch both wagons".

Drake doesn't have a good feeling about this.

Denira nods as well, both to the armoured man & to Drake all at once.

If we stay with the one wagon that'll present it as the target Denira thinks to herself Or maybe that is the intention? she thinks it better not to ponder on this further and decides to guard the white flower-hatted driver's wagon.

OOC: I think we should call the wagon driven by the man wearing the white flower in his hat the 'white wagon' and the other the 'red wagon' to avoid confusion and obtuseness.

Satisfied with your replies, the guard nods once and hustles back to the mayor's party.

When he reaches the group, he speaks to the mayor and the mayor smiles and waves to you.

Randcliffe also waves, and his smile, though less apparant, speaks a bit more too you.

(If anyone wants to try to decipher it, a Sense Motive skill check, DC 13 would tell you.)

Elodeir stayed around the others, intending to do as directed, standing guard by the wagon they were told to guard, while keeping an eye on the other as well, not at all convinced it was the wagon being guarded that would contain the actual corpse.  That did sound awfully blatant, after all.

Drake does not trust the situation and fears that they are being set up.  All is not well and then he sees the Bard trying to talk to them from the distance. Is he trying to warn us?" Drake wonders.

As the wagons approach, Drake positions himself close to the Pyre and towards the front side of the wagons.  He will make sure that he is in between both frontends of the wagons vs. being between the pyre and the "white" wagon.  That way he will be able to react to both sides of the crowd or to either wagon. He still does not draw a sword, but keeps his shield ready.

The crowds try to get closer to either the front gates of the cemetery, on top of some crypts, barrows, and mausoleums for better looks, or in front and around the pyre.

Two people get past the mayor's guards and try to grab at the lit flame, but you manage to stop them.

They are dragged off by the guards.  It's obvious they're drunk - this early in the day.

People grow more and more excited as the wagons draw close.

They are now a block away.

Some little children dance in a circle with a cabbage in the center of the circle.  Each gives it a kick at the end of a line of the morbid song they sing.

Aye, aye, the killer's dead.

They'll poke out his eyes

They'll chop off his head.

Aye, aye, the killer's dead.

His body'll be cut

His blood will run red.

A young woman with jet black hair and a wide brimmed hat moved slowly through the crowd watching the commotion with an amused expression. She wore a plain back shirt and a well made skirt of a utilitarian nature. Now and then the girl would stop and pickup conversation with the people in the crowd, smiling and nodding and occasionally laughing with whomever it was.

As the news spread among the crowd that there were two wagons she did as everyone else and stood on tip-toes to try and see what was going on.

Folks start to crowd the pyre and the mayor holds his hands up high and says in a loud but jocular voice.

All right, all right.  Give some room for the wagon to come with the body, or they'll be no show, eh?

Give some room for air to get to the fire, too, all.

Keep it orderly and we'll all have a good time.

Some of the crowd calm down a bit and the mayor whispers to the bard Radcliffe.

The elf nods and strums on his ebonwood lute.

The tune he plays is calming, and most of the folk who hear it stop jostling each other and pay attention to the music.

The wagon will be in the cemetery gates soon.

OOC: Meaning tomorrow when I post.  Just giving you some last few hours to prep, RP, plan, etc.

PM

PM

Glancing from one person to another does nothing to settle her nerves for the carnage she is sure will happen.  Looking back to her companions she does not feel at ease even with the skill she knows they hold.  But in any case she wishes this to be over or for something to happen besides the bards song calming the week willed humans that flood this area like rats to a wheel of cheese.  Not wanting to disrespect her employer but the sight of all these humans is making her ansti to say the least.

OOC: Drake's actions are pretty much already in place. My last post anticipated the wagons to get to the pyre much quicker than they did.  Just wanted to remind DM of my intentions.

OOC: Look for the wagons to arrive tomorrow!

PM

PM

PM

The crowd moves and people start to shout that the wagons are coming.

Some people are surprised to see two wagons, but all of them move to allow for them to pass.

Each comes around to one side of the pyre.

The party spots the flowers on the riders' hats easily.

The "white" wagon is on the right of the pyre, the "red" wagon is on the left. Harann (the man who hired you) is near the two wagons and nods as he joins you to help with crowd control.  He remains on his horse.

People try to crowd around, and the group has its work cut out for it, forcing them back without doing any harm to the locals.

The mayor's group edges closer, and most of his guards are busy keeping the people out of the way of the mayor's view, but two of them also help repel the citizens.

Some of the local folks are not paying attention to the wagons, though.

Their attention is on the ground.  They are picking up silver and gold coins, scurrying around almost like rats.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:17, Tue 20 June 2006.

Drake remains at the front of the wagon's keeping the crowd back with his shield and trying to keep a calm voice. "Keep back. You will get to see this killer burned soon enough" and "Keep back, you don't want to get burnt when the pyre goes up".

Trying to keep and eye on the crowd and the wagons is proving to be very challenging. Drake truly cares about neither at this point, but will try to do what he is being paid for while waiting to satisfy his own curiousity about the wagons.  He catches a glimpse of metal on the ground and realizes another odd element to this event, coins on the ground.  Are they to keep the crowd at bay, to distract, or to insite more problems?  Drake glances around to see if he can gain a clue as to where they are coming from


======================================

PM from DM:
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:07, Wed 21 June 2006.

A good tactic to alter the attentions of the crowd. Was this the mayor's doing, or was it to keep people's eyes away from the goings on nearer the wagons? Denira's eyes darted around, looking for anything suspicious once more.

==============================

FROM DM:

Make a Spot check to see what you...see.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:14, Wed 21 June 2006.

PM

Elodeir kept close to the others, keeping a hand on the crossbow at his hip.  He didn't know what was up with the coins suddenly scattered on the ground, but he hoped they had been spread there to keep the crowd away from the wagons.

The crowd swells near the wagons, and it becomes hard for the party members to movew freely.

In some places the crowd becomes a living wall of flesh.

Elodeir sees an old woman with black circles under her eyes and black hair move toward the mayor's group and the pyre.

Near her is a big man with red hair and a thick beard.  Her eyes are intently on the man, while them man is looking at the wagon closest to him - the "red" wagon - the one with the killer's body on it.

The mayor nods to the two guards closest to him, and they help boost him up onto the "white" wagon.

He holds his hands up high and shouts out Friends, friends, please!

I know this is more a cause for celebration than a somber occasion, but the priest of Tyr wants to say his prayers and he asks for silence.

You'll all get a good look at things before we light the pyre.

But please, step back a bit.  Step back.

A few people listen and back up, but most folk do not move.

A man of nearly 60 winters wearing gleaming plate armor fights his way through the crowd.

Let me through, let me through!  In the name of Tyr, let me through!!

He gets to the front of the pyre and raises his holy symbol.

He seems confused by seeing two wagons and he looks from one to the other.

What...?

Harann steps over and whispers to the Tyran and the older man nods.

Harann nods to the driver of the "red" wagon and he and one of the mayor's guards go to the back of the wagon while two other men stand at the ready to help with the pine coffin.

There is a shout from near the "white" wagon and your attention is drawn there.

A woman screams The body!  It's...ALIVE!!

The wooden man - sculpted to take the place of the dead killer and fool those following the parade - has come..."alive" and has come out of the wagon.

It shoves into people in the crowd, knocking them back, hurting some of them.

Its funeral shroud falls away, revealing what looks like small moats of magic on its body.

Two of the mayor's guards swing their short swords at it, and one manages to hit the strange thing.  The blade becomes stuck for a few seconds in the thing's chest, and it takes all the guard's strength to yank his weapon back out.



----------------------------------------

It takes the party the round the wooden man attacks the crowd to move close enough to get to it.

The party members can now attack, but using missile weapons or spells with areas of effect that could hit people close to the wooden man may end up hurting members of the crowd.

I can try to get a map up late tomorrow if you like before deciding what to do.

In effect, you can attack before the wooden man can attack again, but be careful with missile weapons and certain spells.

Drake's actions are not towards the wooden man. He instead heads to climb up the "red" wagon. Noticing that the man dropping the coins has a red beard, he wonders if he is the priest of Lathander named Garrik.

To check he calls out the name "Garrik". If the red-bearded man does not respond he will try to keep an eye on him and the women beside him.  Drake was hired to guard the body of the dead killer, and also attack all who near it.  Right now the wooden man is not in the job description, but may soon be. Still Drake does not have his sword pulled.

At Drake's shouting the name "Garrik", the old armored priest of Tyr looks up from the crowd he tries to shove through to keep them away from the pyre and shouts back Do you know where Father Garrik is?  He was supposed to be here long ago.

Before Drake can answer, he is surprised when someone comes out the back of the wagon he stands upon.  As Drake responds to that, he feels the weight of the wagon shift again and someone comes onto the other side of the coach and shoves Drake hard from behind.

OOC: In play-by-post it is a bit harder to convey the senese of timeflow and the crush of people and action in this scene.

Drake hears the old priest, and instantly sees the person coming out the back of the wagon and less than a second later feels the wagon shift, then the shove.  It all happens in the span of 1, 2 seconds.

Drake:  To stay on the wagon, you need to roll a Reflex save, DC 14.  If you save, you can spin and attack whatever shoved you.

If you fail, you fall and take a point of damage from the fall.

Elodeir and Denira may have a chance to see the man coming out of the wagon and whatever shoved Drake.

A Spot check, DC 12 is needed to see who/what shoved Drake.  If your check is 15 or better you can see the man coming out the back.

------------------------------------------

There is a shrill shriek coming from near the center of the cemetery.  A...zombie!!

People start to shove harder and shouts, screams, and calls for help from the gods fill the air.

The mayor and his group are jostled around and Harann tries to call for order, but even his stern voice can not calm the people.

You see people start to fall at the hands of the undead thing and are repulsed when you see the thing's bloated body.



-------------------------

OOC: The zombie is about 50 feet from any of you.

Having never seen a zombie before, Elodeir was shocked, and more than a bit scared, and he wasn't sure of what to do.  Either take down the zombie, or that wooden man - and trying to decide which, made him unable to pay proper attention to the other things going on.  Eventually, he decided to wait and see what the others would do, to better make a choice himself.


OOC: Spot: 11

Denira sees the zombie & instinctively reaches for her holy symbol.
"The Hidden One strike you down fiend!"

OOC: Turn a max 5 HD undead.

Spot check: crappy

Drake knew something was wrong, and when someone came from the back of the wagon, he's suspicions were confirmed. Just when he was ready to act, he felt the wagon shift, as he tried to gain his balance someone/thing brushed him from behind, sending Drake to the ground.

Falling Drake tries to twist to see what hit him from behind, then he feels the winds shoot from his lungs as he hits the ground. Drake needs to get to his feet and will try to stand up, not only to do his job, but to avoid being trampled, by the crowd.


07:54, Today: Drake Debonn rolled 19 using 1d20+3. spot. (if allowed)
07:51, Today: Drake Debonn rolled 9 using 1d20+4. reflex save.

===================================

FROM DM:

OOC: Duh...it makes sense Drake could turn over and see who shoved him.  Sorry I did not state that in the post.

Drake looks up to see a tall man dressed in a dark cloak with a shadowy mask over his face take the reigns of the wagon.  He snaps them tight and yells for the horses to run.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:25, Sat 24 June 2006.

PM
This message was last edited by the player at 18:38, Fri 23 June 2006.

Reply in Drake's post above, but so far only HE sees the man who shoved him and the fact that the wagon with the killer's body in it will soon be moving.

The bloated zombie crumbles into a pile of bones and rotted flesh as Denira's mystical power touches it.

OOC:

Waiting for Bethany's post.  Will move on later in the weekend if she does not post.

ooc: Sorry guys went to see my kids this weekend and long hours at work...

Seeing the wagon withOUT the wooden man start to move Bethany shoved people out of her way and pushed forward.  For the ones that would push back she bares the blades and her evil eye look letting them know she dont mind using the weapons.  Yelling at the top of her lungs in a shrill voice.  MOVE PEOPLE OR I WILL KILL YOU MY SELF, LET ME TO THE WAGONS NOW!!!

Glancing back into the crowd where the zombie is she just smiles as the humans are killed by it.  Thoughts of her doing that in her own way makes the evil creature her friend.  But the creature being of evil is never a good thing.  Her job for the wagons is more important then an undead warrior that the people could handle if they formed some sort of organization.

OOC2: 11:45, Today: Bethany rolled 25 using 1d20+8. spot for openings in crowd to wagon

===========================

FROM DM:

Bethany sees a winding route between three groups of people that will get her near or perhaps to the wagon as the horses get to full-out running.  Her heart races as she takes the sight in.

OOC: You'll need to make a straight Dex. check, DC 15 to get through the crowd and to the wagon.  If you make DC 12, you get near the wagon but can not get to it (without a Jump check - which we can get into after the Dex check).
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:28, Mon 26 June 2006.

Drake pops up as quickly from the ground as possible, tucking his shield away. He is glad he did not have a sword in his hand when he fell. Hoping the mass of people will slow the wagon's movement, Drake eyes the back of the wagon, hoping to be able to pull himself up and then he will see if the driver is more interested in his own life or the steering the wagon.

Reply in Bethany's post above.

Drake sees that the driver of the wagon seems none-too concerned with the safety of the people in front of the wagon and he urges the horses on wildly.

-------------

The zombie has been reduced to a sick pile of once-human waste by Denira, the animated wooden man is being attacked by townsfolk who are, for the most part, able to get out of its way - its movements are slow and awkward.

Elodeir Nightjewel was looking at both the wooden thing and the zombie.  Relieved the zombie is no longer a threat, the elf-blooded seems to come to a decision when his attention is shattered by the panting voice of a strange woman with stingly black hair and dark circles under her eyes.

She points to a large man with a thick red beard and hair that, uncombed, would look like flames.  “The Zhent ‘r ‘ere! Over there!  Th’ man in th red hairs an ‘is crew ‘r Zhent spies!”

---------------

Denira turns in time to see the half-elven bard Radcliffe cast a spell at the man atop the wagon.  He wavers in his seat, but seems to shake off the effect of the spell.  The bard shouts out in a clear ringing voice That's no common driver!  He's been hired from the outside, I think!

The driver shouts a curse and tugs at the reigns of the horses, making them bolt forward, knocking over two of the mayor's guards and an old man who stood helping them try to quiet the horses.  It looks like Horst, the old warrior who wanted to help you before.

The horses trample over Horst and blood shoots from his mouth as his body is crushed.

-----------------------------------------------------

The wagon is now only about 20 feet from where it was at the pyre.  The driver will have to turn it sharply to the left or right to get it on a path out of the cemetery - unless he plans to somehow have it fly over the cemetery's wall!

------------------------------------------------------

The party can now act/attack.  All of you are between 15 and 40 feet from the wagon.

I'd say:

Drake 15'

Bethany 30' (assuming she is trying to chase after it, from her post above - this reflects some, not all of her attempt to get near or to the wagon)

Denira, Amylarn, and Elodir about 35 or so feet from it.

I won't quibble over 5 or 10 feet if it will mean the difference of an action you want to try.

Seeing the opening and the opportunity that it exposed Bethany takes off in the fastest movement she could.  Just befor she is able to get to the blasted cart someone cuts her off.  Keeping her momentum going she does the unthinkable and jumps.  Going no where and jumping into the person who steped in her way during this grand chaotic mob.  AAAARRRRRGGGH!!!!! MOVE IT YOU SCUM OR DIE BY SWORD!!!!

Looking to the cart as it starts to move away from her she cant help but feel pure anger towards this person who inadvertly steped into her way.

OOC: 19:40, Today: Bethany rolled 6 using 1d20+1. Jump?.
19:40, Today: Bethany rolled 14 using 1d20+2. Dex DC 15.

The people in the crowd near her try to get out of Bethany's way, but there are too many of them jostling each other for them to give her a clear path to the wagon as it starts to make its fast way away from the pyre.

She makes a desperate lunge for the wagon, but can not get close enough to grab onto it.

Drake being closest to the wagon gets up, already tucking away his shield and leaps towards the back of it.

13:52, Today: Drake Debonn rolled 15 using 1d20+5. jump....should be a 16, since my shield is not there.

PM

Drake leaps onto the wagon and has to hang on as it starts to buckle and lurch through the throngs of people and the rough ground of the cemetery.\\

OOC: Those in the party who have not posted can act.

Denira is conflicted. She knows that the wagons are her objective but at the same time, there is a huge wooden golem killing civillians. It was time to rely on some divine help.
She called for The Hidden One to grant her a ray of blinding light & hoped to make one of the horses rear. That would slow the wagon down, if not stop it altogether for a while so her allies could get on & intercept the driver. All she had to do was hit the horse. Holding out her palm at the end of her incantations directly at the horse the ray erupted from her hand.

OOC: Ranged Touch attack: 14, damage: 9

=====================================

FROM DM:

The grey horse on the left of the wagon team is struck and lets out a scream and rears up, slowing the wagon's movement for a few seconds.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:35, Thu 29 June 2006.

Elodeir made his way towards the wagon as it moved away, and raised his crossbow as he did, hoping to line up a shot at whomever was driving it.


========================

FROM DM:

Elodeir winces, trying to aim so as not to hit Drake, who stands close to the driver.

The jerky motion of the horse that Denira hit does not make the job any easier.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:40, Thu 29 June 2006.

The old woman with the broad brim hat and dark shirt still runs toward Elodeir and is nearly next to him when she yells more insistently, ”Didn’cha hear me? Aah said there’s Zhent spies here! Roit there!” She points again but realizes as she does so that there is a lot of other commotion and the elf is faced away and aiming at a wagon driver. ”Flame and ashes!” she swears! Amylarn changes directions and runs toward the mayor and his entourage with the same warning, ”There’s Zhent spies ‘ere! Th’ man in th red ‘airs roit over there!”

If he had even heard the old woman rambling on about Zhent spies, Elodeir did not show it.

Replies in some posts above.

-------------------------

As the old woman shouts about spies of the Zhentarim being in the crowd, some people join in with things like I knew those Cyric lovers would be in the thick of things! and Damn Zhents!  Worse than cockroaches!  See one, there are at least 12 others!.

Those shouts are soon drowned out with screams of terror as a horde of rats races through the crowd.

RATS!

Gods, they're biting me!!

---------------------------------------------------

The wooden man is still toppling over townsfolk as it bashes through them near the front gates of the cemetery now, the carpet of rats is running toward the back of the wagon, and the wagon's driver is getting both is horses under control again and is trying to turn the wagon around, heedless of the townspeople he is knocking into.

------------------------------------------------------

OOC: Elodeir still has to post his attack, then the NPCs and creatures will attack, the wagon's motion will be determined, etc.

Elodeir quickly raised his crossbow, and launched a bolt through the crowds, seeking out the man driving the wagon away.

The bolt flies true and slices through the driver's left shoulder, drawing some blood and a shout of pain from the man.

The carpet of rats races through the crowd, casuing panic as they do.

The wooden golem-like thing continues to pound its way through the crowd.

The locals scream and rush about, jostling each other and causing all manners of havoc.

And the driver - now wounded - has a very hard time controlling the wagon he is driving.

The grey horse who was hit by Denira's magical ray is still hard to control and the work of turning the wagon in a tight semi-circle proves to be too difficult for him.  He finishes his turn and now faces the the open cemetery gate.

But the driver can not control the horses and wagon enough to make any ground toward the open gate.

The mayor's party, his guards, and the half-elven bard Radcliffe are doing all they can to control the people around them, but with little success.

----------------------------------------

OOC: The party is up again.

Right now the ranges of the party members to the wagon are still as stated above.  You can take a move action to get closer to it if you like.

Deciding against tempting fate with another shot through the crowd, Elodeir instead pointed his finger towards the driver, and after speaking a quick word, two bolts of force streaked from them and into the driver, slamming into his back.

After first trying to warn the pyre guards (PCs) and then the mayor himself, Amylarn finds only frustration that no one will listen to her. I guess rats and wooden men are more important. And seeing the way the golem pounds into the people she doesn't really blame them. Amy decides it's time look after number one. She looks around and through the commotion for a safe place to hide, or at least get out of the way, until the chaos passes. As soon as she spots one Amylarn makes a run for it dodging around anyone in the way.

13:54, Today: Amylarn rolled 22 using 1d20+3. Spot a hiding place.

Elodeir's magical bolts hit home, and the driver jolts up in the bench of the wagon.  He wobbles, then sits down again, urging the horses forward with weak threats.

He then gets to within 10 or so feet of the wagon and can see the man is breathing heavily.

He can also see that there are shapes moving inside the wagon.


Meanwhile, the old woman who'd been trying to speak with him darts somewhere and is out of sight.

===================

OOC: The other PCs can post/act.

The person stepped in front of Bethany soon found out it was a mistake as the butt of her sword comes crashing down ontop of thier leg.  The ball of the sword hits hard and true and with some luck she is able to drop them to one leg.  Stepping up onto the crouched persons back Bethany uses them as a spring board of sorts and tries to jump into the now cleared path the wounded driver is making with the caraige.

Bethany hisses a curse as the humans just keep getting in her way!

The one she belted shouts out in pain.  It's gots me!  Magics a'gots me!  Halp!!  He looks around, not realizing the source of his leg's sudden weakness is the attractive ranger near him.

She tries to leap toward the wagon, but a stout man in a bloody apron with the thick smell of fish upon him blocks her way.  Now that ain't right!  Someone's tryin' ta steal the body!  Where's them what's hired to stop this sort of thing when ya need 'em?!

Shoving the fat smelling fish monger Bethany growls so that everyone knows she means business.  We who were hired are being held up by you stupid people, how about helping us out so that we may do our job and STAY OUT OF OUR WAYS!!!!

The fishmonger's eye go wide.

D'oh!  Well...I...

And he waddles out of the way as best he can.

Keeping herself hidden for the moment, Amylarn does poke her head out now and then to keep an eye on the red haired Zhent and to make sure he was not headed her way.

================================

PM from the DM:
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:04, Tue 04 July 2006.

Drakes orders where to strike down anyone who tried to get close to the wagon.  Holding on with one hand, Drake's sword quickly is drawn and arcing towards the driver.

Drake's sword slices deeply across the driver's right shoulder and a nasty wound opens up.

The man lets go the reigns, and the horses, feeling the freedom, start to bolt.

----------------------------------

OOC: Drake:  Give me a Reflex save, DC 14 as the horses and wagon lurch forward.

PM

The driver nearly falls from the wagon as the horses trample an old woman who could not get out of its way.

Radcliffe is trying to sooth the horses with a song, but that's not having any effect you can see, and the mayor's guards seem more concerned with getting His Honor out of the cemetery than anything else.

One of them has stayed behind and has drawn his sword, apparently ready to strike at one of the horses.

PM?

PM

Drake's years of training is showing as he remains steady with the wagon lurking about.

08:56, Today: Drake Debonn rolled 18 using 1d20+4. reflex roll.

OOC: Denira can act, then the NPCs, monsters, etc. post/act.

Combat and actions are fast and confusing in this encounter to better give the feel of the rush and panic of the situation.  Least that's how I envisioned running this encounter.

But I need to maintain some order here and there.

So once Denira posts, I'll move on.

OOC: See the OOC thread concerning a short (a few days) break in the region.

With over half the group gone, I don't want to move on without them.

So keep checking back, and once at least 2 of the missing 3 PCs/players return, we'll get rolling again.  I'd expect that to happen around Sunday or Monday at the latest.

Denira is lost in the throng of panicked people running for their lives. Her hands are too busy stopping people from crushing her under their collected weight, leaving her unable to cast any spells and the tide of bodies is too thick to move anywhere for the moment. She patiently braces herself against the mass of people & looks for an opening in the crowd so she can move again.

Well THAT came out smaller than I thought it would!

If you can read it:

The grey area to the north-east is the pyre.

D = Denira

R = Drake (on the wagon)

A = Amylarn

E = Elodeir Nightjewel

B = Bethany

The white squares are gravestones.

The big statue is - a statue.

The skeleton is the destroyed zombie

The dark body on grey titles is the wagon and the crosses in front of it are the horses.  The lighter one is wounded.

The wood-colored tile is the mayor.

The other tiles with people on them are townsfolk.

================================================

The ridger atop the wagon is forcing the wagon through the crowd as best he can, heedless of the harm he does as he runs into and tramples people.

Someone (Elodeir, I think) saw movement from inside the wagon.

The horde of rats races among you now, biting and ripping at your feet and ankles.

Each PC (except Drake) takes a point of damage from the many rats.

The wagon is now fully turned around and the rider shouts, snapping the reins to make the horses run as fast as they can along the trail and out the cemetery.

=================================
The party can act again.

In 2 rounds, the wagon will be gone.

I don't think I can do another map.  Took me about an hour to muster up this one.
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 07:00, Sat 22 July 2006.

PM

With the wagon lurching around, Drake's next strike in not as good as the first. The Fighter feels the groups only hope is to take down the driver and stop the wagon himself.


09:35, Today: Drake Debonn rolled 14 using 1d20+8. attack.
09:36, Today: Drake Debonn rolled 8 using 1d8+3. damage.

==================================

FROM DM:

Drake feels his sword break bone and the driver looks up, blood gurgling from his slack mouth.

He sputters out something that only Drake can make out.

Blood splatters, hitting Drake on his chest.


The driver drops the reins and the horses keep charging wildly forward.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:59, Sat 22 July 2006.

Deciding against using his crossbow for a more effective way of striking the driver, Elodeir again pointed a finger towards him, barked out a quick word of power, and two bolts of force slammed into him.



14:10, Today: Elodeir Nightjewel rolled 8 using 2d4+2. Magic Missile.

Reply in Drake's post above.

Elodeir Nightjewel sees the driver droop to one side, blood coming from his mouth, and lets the magic from his spell rest in his hand for several seconds.

And a good thing, too!

For a dark figure moves out of the back of the wagon and raises two daggers, ready to stab into Drake's back.

The magic missiles slam into the dark figure, and Drake is now aware of him.

The mss of people run in fear away from the dangers of the area. Denira sees her chance and finds a spot with less people. The dark one with the daggers catches her eye as she lost the "Zhent" everyone was screaming about in the confusion.
She kicked a few rats out of the way and began to cast a spell. She gets out her holy symbol and performs the necessary prayer, trying to paralyze this new threat.

OOC: Casting Hold Person, DC 16 Will save to negate

================================

FROM DM:

The small dark figure rises a dagger to strike at Drake's back but stops cold.  Its eyes are wide and that is all you can make out, as its face is half-covered with a black patch of cloth.

As the wagon bumps along, the figure falls flat on its back, one of its daggers thunking firmly into the wood of the wagon.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:49, Sun 23 July 2006.

Not caring about the rats or the people around the area Bethany moves to the path and runs to the horses.  Moving next to the creatures she does her best to reach out and grab the reins of the now fallen.  The mount she is near or hopes to be near she does not see any injuries on she does her best to calmit before going further into danger by the cart.

Reply in Denira's post above.

=========================

Bethany has no luck calming the horses.

Radcliffe, the half-elven bard, steps forward as if sensing Bethany's intentions and casts a spell, pointing his hands at the horses as golden light twinkles from his fingertips to the horses' ears.

There is no need to run!  You're safe, and these people will not harm you!  Try to stay calm!

One of the horses seems to hear and understand the bard and stops.

The other horse wants to keep running, so the wagon takes a harsh twist, knocking Drake over.

The horse that stopped actually seems to answer the half-elf!  It shakes its head, stamps a hoof, and makes snorting noises that Readcliffe takes in as if understanding what the horse is saying.


=========================================

The rats surge through the graveyard, and about a quarter of the townsfolk have managed to flee through its gates.

All characters except Drake take another point of damage from the rats' bites.

=============================================

OOC: For the next round, the wagon is stopped and each PC can act again.

Don't forget to take damage from the rats (2 points per all except Drake by now).

OOC:Mike, the wagon that everyone is focusing on is the "red" wagon, right? Where is the "white" wagon at this point? I re-read the thread but I didn't see where it went.

Elodeir rushed towards the wagon, trying to get onto it (and therefore also away from the rats).

Drake is spins as the figure behind him is struck by magic missiles. He raises his sword in preparation, before the small foe freezes, most likely from more magic from his friends.  Just as Drake begins to struggle about taking down the held opponent the wagon lurches and Drake finds himself tumbling.


=====================================

PM from the DM
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:39, Mon 24 July 2006.

======================

OOC:

It is near the pyre, its horses being held by some of the mayor's guards.

Yes, the red wagon is the one with the body in it. The white was the decoy.

As Elodeir gets onto the wagon he sees a raven fly into the open back of it!

He also sees that the black-clad figure is held utterly motionless as if by some sort of enchantment, and that Drake is able to stand up, righting himself as Radcliffe seems to quiet one of the horses.

The other one, which has been injured, is still panicked and not listening to what the half-elf may have to say to it.

The wagon is pitching and heaving as the injured horse tries to break into a run.

Amylarn’s blonde head peeked up from one of the tombstones she was hiding between. The red headed Zhent had eluded her for the moment but there was still plenty of opportunity to capitalize on the information she had put together and squeeze some coins out of someone’s pockets. The Zhent had been focused on that wagon over there so the odds were good that the driver was in on the secret plan. If he was still alive to talk to that is. At the very least it looked like a good place to get clear of the horde of rodents! The rats running by occasionally bit or scratched her ankles and it was very distracting. The girl took off at a run toward the “red” wagon with the intent to climb on.

Drake quickly gains his footing again on the wagon, and brings his sword up to the held opponent's neck. He is well covered should he quickly overcome the spell.

OOC:

Awaiting Bethany and Denira's actions.

The wagon was well defended now. Drake & the sorcerer were onboard and their seemingly main threat had been held by her spell for a short while. The rats were still an annoying problem, but most of the citizenry had fled.

That statue seemed to be gone & so did that Zhent who supposedly started all the fuss. She got closer to the wagon, pulling herself up onto the side of it to keep away from the rodents.

Grabbing the reigns Bethany quickly puts her hand up and starts to gently rub the horses to show them she is a friend.  Pulling the reigns a bit she does her best to make them stop and stay calm while the rats run over her feet and scratch at her legs.  They may be part of the wild but man they are smelly little agrivations much like the humans who are running around and out of the gravyards gates and around the tombstones.

The rats continue to race all over the pyre area and those PCs still standing on the ground take 2 points of damage as the grey and black vermin concentrate on your feet and ankles.

Radcliffe warns Bethany The horses are terrified and these rats are not helping matters in the lease.  I'd let go if I were you.  Or try to disconnect the horses from the wagon, if you think that is wise.

Amylarn is close enough to hear the bard's suggestion.

There are still screams from townsfolk who did not manage to leave the cemetery, and a number of farmers and other men from the town are returning with stout sticks and tools to smash at the wooden man, the rats, and other possible threats near the cemetery gates.

Drake sees that the small dark man he stands over is utterly still.  Drake thinks it is a halfling, but can not be sure until the cloth on its face is removed.

Out of the corner of her masked eye, Denira sees something dark move away from the wagon, up into the air, but she can not be sure what it was.

Meanwhile Elodeir is sure it is a raven, and it looks to be carrying something in its claws.

OOC: Only Elodeir sees the raven clearly and can get a missile attack off on it with no penalities.  The raven is about 20 feet away at present.

Denira could attack it, but her attack roll would be at -2.

Drake, Bethany, and Amylarn do not see the raven.

The party is up again.

"Is the raven carrying something?" Elodeir mumbled to himself, and looked up at it.  While he was no more than average at best with his crossbow, he raised it for a shot - perhaps he could somehow make it drop whatever it carried - it might turn out to be important, after all, he decided.  After a moment to steady himself, he let a bolt fly, seeking out the bird in flight.



OOC:
14:29, Today: Elodeir Nightjewel rolled 17 using 1d20+5. Attack.
14:29, Today: Elodeir Nightjewel rolled 5 using 1d8. Damage.

========================================

FROM DM:

Elodeir's bolt catches the bird in its mid-section, and it goes stiff from the attack.

It drops something about the size of a man's finger from its talons and lets out a shriek as it falls to the ground.

Elodeir swears he hears another shriek from somewhre outside the cemetery as the bird falls to the ground about 10 yards from where the item it was carrying fell.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:16, Fri 04 Aug 2006.

There is little compasion for the would-be assassin. Drake was given orders to protect the wagon and that is what he does. Someone has gone through great lengths to plan this disruption and the less distractions the better. With his sword already to the masked-man's throat, Drake slices.


==================================

FROM DM:

Drake slices deep across the stiff figure's throat and a gush of crimson blood washes up onto Drake's legs and chest.

The cloth covering the figure's face falls away and Drake can see it was a halfling female, wrapped head-to-toe in leather strap-like armor and black silk.

Horrified eyes look up at Drake as the little halfling dies.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:24, Fri 04 Aug 2006.

Just in case Elodeir fails to down the 'raven' as he calls it (Denira couldn't tell any better) she takes a risk and incants a spell, ending it with an overpowering command to drop whatever it was carrying. It was a risk as it would only work if the bird was a wizard's familiar, and even then it may not affect it.
It was, however, the only thing she could possibly do as she had no ranged weapon.

OOC: Casting Command on the raven to make it drop what it's carrying. DC 14 Will save to resist unless it doesn't speak common. Then it has no effect.

===============================

FROM DM:

As she gets ready to cast her spell, the woman from Rashemen sees Elodeir strike the raven, killing it.

OOC: So she does not cast and waste her spell.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:33, Fri 04 Aug 2006.

Amylarn only wanted two things at this point; to talk to the wagon driver and to get away from those cursed rats. Her ankles and calves were bleeding and in the back of her mind the girl worried that she might catch some awful disease from them. Radcliffe’s suggestion sounded like a good idea to Amy. She made an effort to climb up on the wagon and begin releasing the hooks or chains that kept the horses attached to the it. If they were only leather she could more easily draw a dagger hidden in her skirt and cut them loose. Amylarn called to Bethany, ”You there, lady-elf, I will help you loose these horses.”

Taking her sword Bethany slashes at the reins and does her absolute best to not nick or hurt the horses.  Cutting at the main rope/leather strap Bethany tries hard to slash down and maintain her hold on the reins untill her job is done while taking the vermins bites and scratches to her legs.

OOC what is up with our page?  Or am I the only one seeing our portraits in the center and our words filling the page.

==================================

FROM DM:

Working quickly together, the two women manage to loosen the horses from the wagon.

One of them breaks free and runs to the middle of the cemetery where several large black rats crawl up it, digging in deep with their sharp teeth.

The other - the one Radcliffe holds and still talks to - is still.  The bard says He is frightened, but he'll be fine.  The other is probably a lost cause, I fear.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:39, Fri 04 Aug 2006.

OOC: Well, I'm good so it must be you.

OOC: I've got the same problem, yeah.

OOC: Nothing wrong on my end.

Maybe there is a notice or message about this in the RPoL messages?  I'll go look.

OOC:  Nothing there.

I'll post in the game later on tonight.

Replies in posts above.

Current situation:

The raven that was carrying something about the size of a man's finger has been shot down and is dead.  Whatever it was carrying fell about 10 yards from where it fell.

Drake killed the halfling who attacked him.

The horses from the wagon have been set free, and one of them is being attacked by rats while the other is with the wagon, but not connected to it.

Rats still run about the place, but they seem more interested in the horse and rushing to devour the raven and whatever it held in its talons than in your boots for now.

Drake is briefly taken back that the halfling is a female, but that doesn't make her any less of a threat. He wipes his blade with her own clothes and steps into the back of the wagon to inspect the situation and to see if he could tell what she had been doing as the wagon sped off.

Drake looks to the others by and on the wagon, "Search these two" pointing to the driver and the halfling, "They may have something on them to let the mayor know who did this"

=======================================

FROM DM:

The only member of the mayor's guards who is still near where the wagon was nods once, and looks through the bodies of the driver and the halfling.


He tosses down the following from the body of the halfling:  Two silvered daggers and their sheaths, a silver ring with a garnet in it, a light crossbow with 8 bolts, a leather pouch with some coins in it (5 GPs and 18 SPs) and two small vials.  One's empty.  Has the stopper off it.  Some sort of oil was in it, I think.  The other has a light blue liquid in it which is as thin as water.

From the body of the driver, the tall man tosses down the following:  A golden ring (probably a wedding ring), a short sword, a dagger, and a leather pouch with the following in it (a small ruby worth 50 GPs, 3 GPs, and 16 SPs).
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:53, Sun 06 Aug 2006.

As he noticed the rats swarming towards the raven, and the thing it had dropped, Elodeir silently cursed.  If it should turn out to be important, he could hardly let the rats just eat it, after all.  So, he leaped off the wagon and ran as quickly as he could through the rats, hoping to get to the downed bird before the rats did.

Since she's right there on the wagon, Amylarn follows the directions of the young man in black. She begins with the wagon driver and then the halfling woman.

10:40, Today: Amylarn rolled 16 using 1d20+7. Search the halfling.
10:40, Today: Amylarn rolled 21 using 1d20+7. Search the wagon driver.

OOC: D'oh!  Should have read all the posts before I posted!  See my reply in Drake's post above.

Amylarn helps the guard to make sure he finds everything.

She turns both bodies over to see, and discovers a third dagger tucked in the back of the halfling's leather straps.  This one is idential to the other two.

She also notices that halfling has a tattoo on her back on her left shoulder blade.

Wishing she could help out more with the animals Bethany runs over and does her best to slash and kick at the rodents to create a small path for her to get to the horse.  When she is near she will gently slap the mount on the hind side in hopes that it will take off charging before she goes back to tend to helping out her co-workers.

OOC: Will try her best to get the horse out of the rats that are after it.  Slapping it on its rump should startle it enough to bolt faster then the rats I hope, then i will try my best to rejoin the others near the wagons.

Bethany helps the horse a great deal, and the animal races out of the cemetery with only 2 or so rats on it by the time it leaves.  It should be able to shake them off.

Bethany angers the rats (or it seems that way to her), and some of them leap up and bite her.  Others swarm around her feet and legs, nipping as they do.

Bethany: Take 3 points of damage.

Elodeir runs and sees the rats ripping into the body of the raven, spreading its blood all over themselves.

He can not yet see whatever the bird dropped from its talons, though.

Elodeir Nightjewel:  Give me a Search check, DC 14.  You can opt to "take 10" on the chance, but doing so will cause the rats to climb up your feet and ankles and you will take 1 point of damage.

You can also "take 20", making the check easily, and taking 3 points of damage from the rats.

03:55, Today: Elodeir Nightjewel rolled 6 using 1d20+1. Search.

So much for hoping to get it done without taking damage.  :P  Is it too late to take 20 and the 3 damage?

OOC: Yup, too late.  You have to declare taking 10 or 20 at the start of the attempt, not after flubbing it.

=============================================

The rats rush about, now mostly running in no real pattern.  Some of them head out of the cemetery, some congregate on tombstones, some rush into crypts, and a few scamper into the pyre.

You see a grisly sight: the body of the old guard who wanted to stand with you (and command you) has been chewed over mercilessly by many of the rats.  His eyes, nose, lips, and ears have all been eaten away.

Harann and Father Garrik stand at the wagon and look over the bodies of the driver and the halfling.

Harann grunts Humph.  Nilos Thungren.  He's got a wife and two kids.  Now what the hells could have caused him to go all batty?

Never seen that halfling wench before, though.  From out of town.

Pulling at his drooping moustache, he spies the tattoo and shows it to Garrik.

The silver-haired priest of Lathander looks around the back of the wagon.

The body!  GONE!  I...I can't imagaine how...

Harann grunts again and points to the tattoo.  Garrik, I know the Silent Slayer had a lot of marking on his body.  And I'd bet a steak dinner he had that one on his shoulder just as this halfling does, too.

Still frazzled by the loss of the body, the priest looks at the tattoo and nods, but says nothing.

Radcliffe comes to stand next to Harann and assures him that you all did your best to protect the body, to which the tall man grunts a third time, but he says nothing.

The dark expression on his face speaks well enough of what he thinks of the job you did.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:40, Tue 08 Aug 2006.

OOC: Combat is over, so to allow for better RPing, well say the party members gather around the wagon, Harann, and Father Garrik.

Harann:

Father Garrik of Lathander:

"Part of the body, a finger or somesuch has been eaten by the rats. It will require powerful magic to raise this killer. Who would have that kind of power?" Denira asks

Drake assumes the "dead" killer and the little halfling were in the same guild or like group.  He moves over to the possessions and sheaths his sword, but then pulls out a sabre and moves closer, ignoring the others. He does realize that those in charge are not happy, but hopes some payment is coming for their efforts.

Father Garrik, still bothered by the loss of the Silent Slayer's body, answers Denira's question softly.  Only me, so far as I know.  That is, in this town.

Harann grunts and interjects What about that cult?  I know they're just a rumor, but you never know, eh Padre?

Garrik shakes his head slowly.  I...I don't know.  I wouldn't think they're real.  More like tavern tales.

Radcliffe says with a somber tone Gentlemen, all tavern tales have some shred of truth at their middle, even if it a small one.  And in this case, I feel the shred is a bit more than that.

I have heard from several people I trust that they fear the cult is very real.

Harann stands in front of the bard, his head held high, looking down his nose at the shorter half-elf, his anger rising in his voice.

Well Gods, man!  Why did you not come to me or the captain of the mayor's guards with these stories.

Radcliffe sniffs <aqua>I did.  You tut-tutted me away.  The captain was a bit too drunk when I told him, and I fear he forgot.

The grunt from Harann is his loudest so far.

Denira completely phased out when she noticed Horsts mangled corpse nearby and felt more than a little guilty about sending him on his way although she was still sure it was the correct action at the time.
To take her mind off of the disturbing thought she drew out her wand and expended a charge, looking for magic items among the fallen and concentrating to attune herself to their auras should any be found.

OOC: Using wand of Detect Magic. If I detect any magical auras tell me how many Spellcraft checks I have to make to determine their type.

===================================

PM from the DM:
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:18, Fri 11 Aug 2006.

Amylarn had grown quiet as she stood nearby. Close enough to hear and see what was going on but far enough not to get in the way. The blonde girl was not officially supposed to be there so better if she is not noticed for the moment. She had been sorely tempted to take that third silver dagger with her when she found it but those gathered near might have seen that and seeing as how she has not official reason for being there that could have had ill consequences.

So Amylarn just listens and watches everyone in the area trying to spy out any recognizable faces.

Things quiet down, and it is established that the Silent Slayer's body is gone.

The cemetery clears out and while it is too much to say things return to normal, there is no more danger in the cemetery.

Harann looks gravely at all of you, then nods.

You all did good work in light of things.

I don't know that I can pay you the full price offered, but I can offer this:

He gives each of you 35 gold pieces and wishes you well.

OOC:

Amylarn needs to join the group officially, and then we'll move on to the next stage of the adventure.

Drake finally comes back to join the conversation before everyone goes their own way. He goes up to Harann and the others,

Before the driver died he told me that he was "proud to die for Jerg....". He obviously didn't finish, but I did not know if that meant something to you.

Drake is happy to hear he will get some payment.  The price may seem small to most adventurers, but he has not had that kind of gold in his pocket for months.

Elodeir accepted his sum of gold, and while he wasn't exactly smiling, he was happy about it still - he wasn't used to those amounts of gold, after all.  Thinking that he should spend them well, he still wished he could have done more.  "Jerg?  That doesn't sound like a normal name...  Wait...  Jerg... Jergal?  Could that have been it?  He's that god of death, right?" he offered, being far from learned on religion, though he still recognized the name of one such as he.

Picking the bag from the man who hired her and the traveling companions she places it in her pack and shrugs.  What was there a reward for she thought to herself.  Looking to the strange person that didnt start the tour with her and her friends she taps a few of the others on the side or shoulder or what ever she can reach and points over to the girl.  Who is that, she was here and if memory serves me, she did help us a bit.

Bending over one of the dead bodies she attempts to give it a proper burial and kicks a few clumps of fecal covered dirt onto the body and sheaths her sword.

At the mention of "Jergal" by Elodeir, Father Garrik's brow furrows.

He turns to Elodeir and says quietly Yes, Jergal...Lord of the end of everything, the one with no pity.  An evil god, lesser than some of the other evil ones, but still, one with a following, so one that needs to be watched.

Most of his worshipers are scribes, and I can't imagine at all this fellow was a serious worshipper.  But then again, stranger things have been seen on Toril.

The jingle of gold coins brought a smile to Amylarn's lips and she stepped forward at the first lull in the conversation, "Aye that, priest. Strange things indeed, not the least of which would be a band of outlaws causing most of the commotion today." She nods in agreement with herself and actually sounds cheery about the whole thing. "Mmmhmm. Outlaws. At least a dozen of them. There and there and over there and all over. I recognized them and so obviously I went to try and notify the proper authorities. Yes I did. But alas, a plain looking young woman such as myself could only hope to try and avoid her own impending death. Making notice to persons of importance was simply beyond my abilities."

The chatty girl sighs and shakes her head. "So I found myself standing nearby the brave and strong guardsmen of the villain's dead body, that would be your four, and got caught up in the imperative instructions of the graceful man in black," She points at Drake with a smile, "and did as he told me to search the evil halfing girl and her companion. And when I found that third silver dagger and then that wicked tattoo on her I knew I was in the presence of important people and so clearly I must stay nearby to offer my meager assistance because what sort of citizen would I be if I simply disappeared into the crowd with that kind of knowledge?" Amy finally took a breath and it appeared she was done.

"Oh and the brave thing you did for that poor poor horse." Amylarn turned to Bethany and started in again, "Wherever did you learn such compassion and command? And, if I may say so, this outfit you wear is so wonderfully organic and natural. I imagine you must spend a great deal of time in the wilds of the land. Oh it must be glorious an relaxing out there. Is it not? I am more of a city girl myself and so I wear lots of different fashions of the times and urbanites because those are my customers of course so it follows that I would try to show them off and as it turns out I know every third person you'll meet between the Dragonmere and the Giant's Run Mountains. And-HEY! She interrupts herself, "I bet the four of you need someone who knows their way around the city and the people here. And of course I will be deeply honored to volunteer my assistance to you." Amylarn looks to each of the hero's faces with a meaningful and optimistic expression. "Which one of you is in charge?"

OOC: We'll say Amylarn's introduction goes well and she is welcome to join the group.

----------------------------------------------------------

As the cemetery clears out, the group heads back to The Crying Lady Tavern.

Radcliffe follows a bit behind, talking here and there with townsfolk who were in the cemetery to get their perspective on what happened.


OOC: Posting about tavern, to remind you about The Crying Lady.


Nestled between two busy warehouses on the docks of Ilipur about two blocks south of the cemetery, The Crying Lady is a favorite of traveling adventurers, sailors, women of fallen virtues, and merchants who can not afford the higher-priced taverns in the richer section of the city.








The Crying Lady is that little grey/white square building on the docks, on the "south" side of the map.  The cemetery is about 2 blocks to the northeast of The Crying Lady.

The map is flipped, however, and the water should be to the "north".

The owner of the Crying Lady is no lady at all, but a massive half orc named Timmon.  He employs only half orcs or half elves, and each of them wear clothing that is two colored, each color split down the middle.

Today, for instance, Timmon wears a shirt that is red on one side, a deep purple on the other.

Timmon claims that only those who are half-breed can fully understand each other, and his staff (an ugly half-elven ex-pirate named Gilgrey who is the cook, a half orc cleaner and bouncer named Vurgrund, and two serving girls, Hildy and Simone, for first a half-orc with flowing dark hair and the latter a half elven lass of mystery with short raven-black hair) seem to agree.

Timmon:


Gilgrey:


Vurgrund:


Hildy:


Simone:


Hildy, the half-orc, greets you as you enter, shaking her head.


Nasty business there at the cemetery I heard.

And some folk came in needing drinks, saying how brave they thought you were.

First drink's on the house today.

We still have that squash stew, late season snapper in a tangy sauce, bass with a side of spiced potatoes, or chicken stuffed with bread pudding and gravy.

You remember that each meal costs 5 silver and comes with a glass of wine, mug of ale, or goats's milk.

She points to the round table near the lighted fireplace near a small stage where you say before.

Radcliffe, the tall half elven bard, comes in about 10 minutes after you do.

He walks to the bar, sits down heavily, as if bothered by something, and orders an ale.

Despite the mess in the cemetery, his skin is still perfectly clean and pristine, as if he has never set foot among the common people.

Radcliffe:

Two of the mayor's guards come into The Crying Lady about 15 minutes after the party arrives.

They look a bit uncomfortable, but they sit at the bar and order stout ales and some bread and cheese as a snack.

They look to the PCs and raise their mugs in a silent toast, but they do not smile.

They then turn and speak quietly to themselves.

Amylarn takes the opportunity for a free drink to order a glass of Elven wine and thanks Hildy for the compliment. The blonde refrains from ordering any food yet. There seems to follow an awkward silence and she has the urge to fill it. ”So...well met each of you. Hildy is right you know. Twas a brave thing you attempted to do. A terrible shame twas all for naught.” Amy sounds genuinely disappointed but hopes that bringing the situation into the open like this will get the others talking. She needed to know some things. ”I did not hear of any additional job offering to follow up the first. Do you suppose that good-man Harann has lost faith in your abilities?”
This message was last edited by the player at 14:42, Thu 17 Aug 2006.

Drake, for the first time in a while, is able to feel comfortable about ordering a meal. He orders some chicken and wine, while accepting the free offer as well.  Radcliffe's entry and mood does not escape the fighter, but he is quickly side-tracked by Amylarn's inquirery.

He does not acknowledge the comment about the job today. Something about the driver bothered Drake, but a job was a job. He was ordered to take down anyone who attempted to take the body of the assassion, something Drake was skilled at.

Instead Drake returns the concern about Harann's faith in them, "I do not doubt the Harann trusts our skills. It is more likely that he and many others, including Radcliffe," Drake looks towards the bar "have deeper concerns for their town. Do not be surprised if they look to us for an answer"

Drake has been in this situation many times, hired to do a job that was larger than initially let on, or was meant to be.  When adventurers, such as this group, are around they are the natural choices to solve problems.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:46, Thu 17 Aug 2006.

Elodeir followed the others to the tavern, needing a drink now to calm himself - he had seen lots of things before, but what had happened today had topped them all.  The others didn't seem to mind him tagging along, so he dropped down by the table with them, settling for an ale for his free first drink.

"I almost hope they do...  I feel responsible, in a way, for what happened there...," he added to Drake's words, and looked down into the table.

"In my homeland, an undead assassin would be something that the hardy barbarians and wychlaran alike would rightly fear. In this place, the people must be petrified!" Denira says, ordering one of the stronger drinks. She needed one after what had happened today.

”Elodeir, what makes you feel responsible. You could not control that situation anymore than Denira or Drake or even the mayor and his guards.” Amylarn sipped her wine and rolled a copper around in her fingers. ”Do you feel there was something else that should have been done Elodeir? Does anyone of you?” She tried to put them at ease over the failed assignment. ”I was there and I saw what you did. I saw it with my own two eyes. You each chose the best possible actions with the information you had to work with. I applaud you all for that.”

Drake is not remorseful as Elodeir is.  He did what he could do, as Amylarn suggested. In fact he questions whether the assassin's body was really there at all. How could there have been time to remove a whole body, even with the distractions

"We don't even know the body was truely in the wagon, when it arrived to us. We assume it was, but we have no proof. This plan to steal the body could have happen well before we were involved and might include someone of stature in this town" Drake says, but in a softer tone, since the guards are here, as well as Radcliffe.

"I feel that even with the distractions, between all of our positions, we would have seen a body being removed.  I kept my focus on the wagon before everything happened and noticed nothing"

Lowering her voice as Drake did, Amy presses for more information, "Drake, what makes you think there might be city officials involved? Who do you think is likely to do such a thing? I know a few important people about town and there are some who already appear as if they were walking dead." She chuckled but quickly grew serious again. "I am certain you are right Drake, with so many of you watching the wagon closely it would take extraordinary skill and possibly magic to get the corpse away where no one noticed." Amy sipped some more wine. "If you truly think the mayor or someone else will hire you again it may be wise to begin investigating what happened to the body and the wagon before it arrived at the cemetery. I should like very much to join you if I may."

"I agree, and I should like a chance at clearing up what really happened, as well," Elodeir agreed, and shrugged.  "What's the worst thing that could happen, after all?" he added, and a smile which was probably meant to be cheerful crossed his face, though he did not really acchieve that.  Undead, assassins - all of that were more than what he'd ever dealt with before, he realized, and he hoped he would be able to help some, at least.

Entering the tavern after all the others Bethany sits down and listens intently on the words being tossed around.  Waiting for the young lady to finish her small speach, that she always had from what Bethany had seen, she pipes in a bit.  "We have no idea where the wagons were to start, and who was with the wagons before they were recieved at the cemetary.  Perhaps it is foul play, but I would much rather investigate myself the areas the wagons were and with the guards help or anyone you might know of Amylarn.  Block off some of the path that was taken."

Motioning for the barmaid to come over Bethany opts for free food over drink and a pitcher of water.  Slapping the wenches plump behind she winks to the girl and awaits her food.  "Can you provide that or at least help with that Amy?"

Hildy laughs when Bethany slaps her rump, but the laugh is somehow hollow and lacking real humor, as if she is used to such touches, even from other women.

She winks once, more to the assembled at the table than to Bethany alone.

I'll rustle up some free food for you all.  It will be a slow night, what with all the commotion that went on.

Most folk, even the sort who come here, will want to be home with those they care for.

She returns with a large tray of steamed fish filets with melted butter and slices of lemon atop them, thick slices of peppered ham, an assortment of fresh or steamed vegetables, warm bread, and small pies with apple slices or cherries inside them.

--------------------------

The group eats and talks a bit more.

The guardsmen are soon joined by a few rough looking men, and they all talk a bit loudly, shaking their heads as they think aloud.

Dunno what happened, but I was sure watching my wagon close.

Aye, as was I.  That damn raven, though.  Stuck with the one with the body in it all the way from the gate to the damn pyre.  I don't know what happened to it, but it sure as Umberlee's heart is cold wasn't no normal bird.  Wouldn't've followed the wagon so close for so long.

And that wooden dummy we put into the fake wagon.  it acted like a golem, but at the same time not like one.  Something different, like it got animated after the fact.

Ooh!  Listen to Elminster his-self here at our table.  "Animated"..."Something different"

The men continue to talk and rib each other, but one of the guards is silent throughout.

He rises and takes his leave quietly.

Oy, Arlo, don't let it get to you, okay?  Go have a snuggle with the wife.

Or Birk's wife, if you want something a bit better.  Just see the cleric in the morning or the rash'll get ya!

The man who made fun of "Elminster" hits the last speaker hard on the arm and the other men (except for Arlo, who is leaving) laugh loudly.

Denira can't help but smirk after listening to the mens jibing. Still, she had her feelings about that raven and that discussion led further credence to her theories.

She also thought it quite odd that Bethany had slapped the maids behind. Such a thing in Rashemen would be nearly unheard of. It was the realm of the men only to do that kind of thing. Still, she was intruiged by this alien behaviour all the same.

She did wonder, however why the one man was so completely silent.

PM

===========================================

PM reply:
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:46, Sun 27 Aug 2006.

Amylarn cocks an ear to the raucous guardsmen as she also chats. She thinks she would do well to ally herself to these Adventurers. Everyone knows that they always seem to searching for piles of treasure. "Aye that Bethany. Twill be my pleasure to speak with the people who were there." The blonde human eyes follow Arlo out of the room. "And I do believe I will begin right away. Will you each please excuse me?" She waits just a moment for any objections. If there are none Amylarn will subtly follow Arlo.

======================================

FROM DM:

A few seconds after Bethany leaves for the bathroom, Amylarn heads out into the night behind Arlo the guardsman.

What do the rest of you do?
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:49, Sun 27 Aug 2006.

PM replies in posts above.

PM

More PM.

OOC:  DAMMIT!!!

I had this whole post typed out and my 'net service went down!!!

SO...here is an abreviated version - free of the magic of RPing, since it is so late and I have to get up for work by 6:30am.

Radcliff shares concerns and suspicions he has with Drake at the bar.

 + The raven that came out of the wagon was no normal animal, but was indeed a familiar; it acted too intelligently as it followed the wagon, then got inside it when the chaos broke out.

 + There are only two people in the area he knows of who have raven familiars: Brandlon the Bold, a fat old mage from the Spine of the World area who has an old tower to the west of town.  Brandlon is not home right now, but his apprentice Winfried is.  Winny, as she is called, is a shy mousy woman.

The other would be a young student of necromancy named Constance Ilithrane.  The Ilithranes are a powerful and rich family in the Dragon Coast area and they have estates all through the region.  Constance was last seen yesterday eve walking the route of the procession, her raven on her shoulder.

Both the Ilithrane estate and the tower of The Bold are well-guarded by forces seen and unseen.

 + There may be ways to get information on Brandlon and Constance without braving their homes: Brandlon often teaches townsfolk herbal skills and Constance likes the company of Durken Shark, one of the four Shark brothers who run the town's rendering house down on the docks.

--------------------------------------

OOC: Man, the original post was SO good, with a lot of flavor, RPing, etc.  Dang dial-up!!!

More MORE PM:

As the others moved out, Elodeir stayed by the table, reaching into his backpack to pull out a sheet of paper, as well as some ink and a pen for it.  "Might as well get something done while everyone are busy," he mumbled to himself, and slowly began writing something, his free hand covering the paper from those who would glance casually at it.

Drake returns to the table to inform the others, still there, what he had learned from Radcliff.

"My would look into Constance. From my experience, the young have more to gain from such involvement. He could be looking for strong allies and quick power." Drake suggests and then looks around to see what the others think.

"A necromancer, eh? Could explain the zombie I destroyed. I agree with Drake, we should look for Constance" Deniras mind was on other things so she kept it short and sweet.

OOC: Getting the group back together so we can move on.

Bethany and Amylarn talk and compare notes and then go back to the Crying Lady to meet up with the others in their group.

The party decides to look for Constance Ilithrane.  They easily find the location of the family's estate in the northern part of the town and head there for a look-see.

The look-see tells them that the estate is well-guarded and it would be difficult to get in without a good reason or an invitation.

The Ilithanes have four well-armed guards patrolling the grounds of the walled estate.  Two of them stand right inside the front gate while the other two walk the grounds.

PM

Amylarn considered the invitation that would be necessary to gain entrance to the Ilithrane estate. It would be easier to get Constance out instead. ”I wonder if the good lady Ilithrane has any interest in fashion. I am somewhat talented with a needle and fabric. Perhaps I know someone who could convince Constance Ilithrane to visit my master’s shop for a private fitting.” The master she referred to is the man she worked for who trained her in tailoring and dressmaking. Amy didn’t need to explain how vulnerable the necromancer would be in a situation where she was taking off her clothes. A plan was only just forming in Amylarn’s mind but it had great potential she thought. ”Or better still, we will not use my master’s shop but a false one. We might rent a small empty storefront and set it up as a dress shop for the sole purpose of luring her in and asking a few questions.” The blonde girl chose her words carefully. ”If it turns out that we must be...insistent that she answer the questions our names will be safe. Questions will not lead back to any of us when the job is over and the dress shop disappears.” The grin on Amy’s face told how thrilling this idea was to her. She looked to the others for their comments.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:25, Wed 06 Sept 2006.

A curious look comes over Amylarn's features after a moment. ”On second thought, that might prove to be too much trouble for one necromancer in training. Maybe it would be simpler to ask around and find someone who knows her personally.”

Drake listens to the Amy's complicated plan and guesses that the girl's mind always works in this fashion.

I am not one for tricks. I am a little more straight forward in my approach, so others may have a better idea than mine. Drake pauses and continues "Of walking up and asking to talk to Constance. Since some of us, if not all might be recognized as the ones protecting the wagons."

The party hears the chime of a small bell and the two guards look through an opening in some shrubs on the estate.  One of the men goes to the back of the estate.  The other guard takes up a place near that open spot in the shrubs.

Amylarn and Drake are quick-witted and keen-eyed enough to glimpse what attracted the guard's attention: a tall blonde man in a royal blue cloak is waiting at the back gate, his hand still on the chain to the summoning bell.

The guard greets the man, and Drake can make out the name "Master Shark" in the greeting.  The man seems not to respond and is in a hurry to get into the estate.

A minute or so later the guard returns to his post, shrugging to the other one who stayed out front.

Drake relays what he made out from the guards, but the name means little to him.

"It appears that there is more traffic from the rear of the residence. Would some of you like to make your way back there to see what you see?" Drake inquires and then tries to not make it look so obvious that he is here to stare at the estate.

After taking a moment to consider what she has seen, Amylarn points out, ”One of the Shark brothers have come ashore. That would make him a land shark I suppose.” She smirked at her own pun. ”Any guesses what his relationship is to the would-be-necromancer? Business or pleasure?” Drake’s idea sparks her imagination. ”Mayhap I can find out some information with a bit of a ruse. I might pose myself as a seamstress come to fit the lady for a gown. Of course the man at the door will stop me and explain that the Lady Constance is preoccupied. And I, being the friendly and charming young woman that I am, will persuade the man at the door to offer me the gossip on the lady of the house." Drake's earlier guess was correct; Amylarn's mind does generally work this way. "Who thinks we can make use of this idea?"

OOC: I'm going to set things in "by the nose/fast forward" mode for a bit, so we can get moving in the region.  My fault for not having the time to get on until tonight, I know, but I don't want things to get totally stagnant.  Bear with me, all.

---------------------------------

It is agreed that Amylarn's idea was a good one - not too risky, and the benefit of finding out more information would be worth any risk.

She produces a bag that contains bits of hair, make-up, scraps of cloth, wax, and other items and as she hums to herself quietly, her face and form undergo subtle changes until finally before you stands a woman who looks a good 20 years older than Amylarn who has a bit of a hump on her back and greying brown hair, not the rich blonde hair of the young rogue.

She winks and heads for the back gate.

You hear the soft ringing of the bell and the guard who answered the gate for the Shark brother goes to answer it now.

You can spy through the shrubs that he shrugs and indicates for Amylarn to wait.  He closes the gate, leaving her on the outside, and goes into the house.

He returns a few minutes later with a cloth sack and he plops it down into Amylarn's arms unceremoniously.

Amylarn comes back with the sack.

The man told her that Miss Ilithane expects the closes to be darned and washed by mid-week.

So much for intelligence gathering!

------------------------------------------------------

About 10 minutes later, the guards hail a cab and a small two-seater pulled by a young mare pulls up at the back gate.  The man in the blue cloak gets in and as he does, you spy him looking up to a second-story window.  He gives a nod the window and has a somewhat whistful look on his handsome face.  Then the wagon pulls away.

It's "follow that cab" time, and you hire a large cab of you own and follow the two-seater down into the docks to a rough section.

The driver says "Ah, the fishmonger, gutter, and rending district!  Highlight of anyone's day".

You get out and see the three large buildings on the block, "Aris Fish" "Filets and Other Cuts" and an unmarked building that has a painting of a giant shark over its door.  The jaws of a huge shark are mounted inside the painting of the shark.

The Shark brother went into...the building with the shark on it.

And from the smell of the smoke coming from the building you can tell it is a rending plant.  No doubt there is a gruesome sight somewhere in that building, for a render often does slaughtering in a town of this size.

The building has a brick and mortar first floor and a wood second floor.  Some windows are shuttered and closed, but a few, mostly on the second floor, are wide open.

It is now about 5pm and the sun is setting.

What do you do?
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:41, Sun 17 Sept 2006.

"So... want to check out this shark-place?" Elodeir suggested, and shrugged, ready to follow the others if they were to go anywhere.

Amylarn reminds herself that their objective is to find out what the necromancer Constance and her black crow were doing at the funeral. What specifically, aside from making a tragic mess of the whole thing. “I would wager none of you know anything about this rendering business yes? No? I know nothing myself but we ought find out. I cannot say if mister Shark was involved in the problems at the funeral but he gives me a bad feeling.” As usual, the roguish blonde looks around for a way to find out what she wants to know without a direct confrontation. Or at least under some guise other than her own. "Who thinks they can get up to those second floor windows in a quiet manner?"

---

OOC: DM, what can we see without getting too close? Is it busy?

PCs, Does anyone think we should just break the door down with blades swinging and threaten everyone if they don’t tell us what’s going on in there?

========================================

FROM DM:

OOC: What you see as described above is seen from the street.  You really can't get much closer without going right next to or into the building.

The street around the buildings here is not crowded in any way, but there are people here and there who go about their way.  You draw no real attention from any of them.  None of them go into the Shark Rendering House.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:56, Tue 26 Sept 2006.

Drake listens to Amylarn's suggestion and feels a need to do something.
"I am willing to go through the front door, but it would be great if we had some advantage of surprise.  Like Amy has asked, maybe a couple of you might be able to sneak in.  You could provide support if needed, or look around, while the others inside are preoccupied with myself and whoever else would like to join me"

Drake is sure he can defend himself if needed, but may not have to
"I can inquire to see if someone might need a hired sword."

”Hiding and sneaking might be a option. I could probably never climb to that second story without a ladder. But I have done a bit more than my fair share of moving about unnoticed.” The possibility of breaking into the warehouse, especially by herself, doesn’t thrill the talkative blonde. ”Although if we plan to go in though the front door I must say I myself would feel more comfortable with a bit of interception and misdirection. Find ourselves some reason to actually be there in case someone decides to ask what we’re about.” Amylarn looks to the others for input. Whatever they decide to do she doesn’t want to go it alone and she can’t very well force the others to follow her ideas. ”Come now, speak up then. I easily admit I am but a simple tailor’s assistant. Who has a better thought than mine?

"I'm afraid I'm no good at hiding, sneaking, or climbing - I am but a lowly sorcerer, and most of my magics seems to be battle-magics, and other than that, my only skills worth noticing are my trusty crossbow and my talent as a poet - neither of those are likely to help us here, I reckon.  Well, and I run pretty fast, too, I guess.  Still, that won't help us either, will it?" Elodeir said, and shrugged - his strengths were limited, very much so, he admitted as much.

Reply in Amylarn's first post after mine above.

====================================

The front door of the rendering house opens and a handsome and slender man with bright blue eyes and long blonde hair comes out, wrapping an expensive-looking red cape about him.  He sees you and bows.

Well met.  Are you awaiting an order or simply lost down here in the docks?
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:04, Tue 26 Sept 2006.

Denira is glad for her mask as she screws up her face. What was a rendering house and why did it smell so bad? It was like a butchers, only much stronger smelling.

Drake steps forward and separates himself from the others, "I was told at one of the inns that this is a good place to come, if one needed some work" and Drake casually, but obviously moves his hand down to his sword and gives it a tap.

Drake inwardly kicks himself. He hates it when he is put in this kind of quick thicking situation, because his heart usually overrides his head.  Hopefully he will get inside and the others will either join him or he will be able to provide some distraction as they gather any information they may need


OOC:
Sorry for not settling on a plan in OOC. I don't normally like to plan outside the game, what a group should do.  It takes a little away from the game for me

The handome man shakes his head.

My brothers and I run the place.  I mean, if you want to sweep out some of the sluice, sure.  But we normally get a rummy in here, and all he wants is a bottle of rotgut.

If you have some hides you want to sell, or something a bit more exotic than rothe to sell us, we're interested.  But work itself...?  No, not us.

He smiles, bows a bit, then makes ready to head up the street.  He turns again and smiles.  Weren't you the ones at the graveyard trying to protect the body of that Silent Slayer fellow?  You, the caster from the east.  You were the only one there with such garb, such a mast on...

His smile freezes, but does not leave his face.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:45, Mon 02 Oct 2006.

Amylarn has come to realize that she is probably better spoken than the rest of this group and so she speaks up for them. "Right you are good-sir. And a fine eye you have to take such notice." The man recognized them so there was hardly a need for Amy to be subtle. "These brave souls put their lives on the line for the protection of this good city and its citizens, such as yourself. Only the interference of evil magic prevented them from their assigned task. And so they have taken it upon themselves to seek out the source of that evil. Naturally they were concerned when your employer was seen in the company of a person under suspicion. Protecting the law-abiding citizens is as important as apprehending those who are not. We have come to ask his assistance in this matter and you would have our thanks if you will lead us to them" Amylarn works to convince the man of what a good thing he would be doing to help the heroes.

---

OOC: DM Mike, would this be a Diplomacy check or Intimidate?

OOC: No roll is needed.  When a player (through her PC) says certain things that would automatically create some effect from an NPC, as has just happened, I go with it, sans rolls.

=================================

The smile disappears from the man's face and he draws five steps closer to the group, eyes darting to each of them, then settling on Amylarn.

I know not of what you speak, for it is folly.

We have no "employer".  We own this shop ourselves and run it ourselves.  I manage the business affairs and book-keeping myself.

His tone gets heavier, deeper.

If you mean to insult me, you have done so.

If you have something else to say beyond this foolishness, say it and begone.

We have many friends in the city's guard and at a signal from me, a force of them would be upon you in seconds should they think I, my brothers, or our business were in any danger.

=========================================

OOC: Okay, his mood went from so-so to nasty.

You may be able to adjust that with Diplomacy or alter the situation altogether with a good Bluff check.

Drake is sure that Amy has struck a nerve. The man feels threatened, but is bold enough to challenge a group of obvious adventurers that he may or may not know was hired by the city to do what they did.

Drake waits for Amy's response, or another's.  He has nothing to contribute, but stands ready to defend, though shows no sign of it, his hands away from his blade now.

The man looks grimly at you all, his eyes darting from masked Denira to Amylarn mainly.

The friendly smile on Amy's face never waivers nor did her optimism. She chose her words carefully to color her speech in a positive light. "I have no intent to insult you good-sir. A fine citizen with a solid business does not deserve that sort of treatment." The girl doesn't even pause to take a breath. "You have friends in the city's guard? That is most excellent. These heroes with me have friends in the city guard as well. Perhaps a mutual friend. It is good that you can call them to your aid in case the evil I spoke of ever wishes to do you harm. Though I tell you true these men and women with me are seeking the protection of this entire city by seeking out those criminals and being rid of them. And that, as I mentioned, is the reason for our visit today. Would you kindly show us where to find Durken Shark? We are in hopes that he may help us in this cause with a little information, for the safety of the city and its people of course."

The blonde man smirks.

Well, friends one night may not be friends the next, you know?  Maybe we have mutual friends, maybe not.

And Durken is my older brother.  I'm not his keeper.  I know not where he is, except that he is not here.

And where you'd get the idea that he'd know about this "crime" you're talking about is beyond me.

So far as I know, the killer was to be buried, there was a commotion at the graveyard, and the body went "poof", gone under your noses.

Now what my brother would have to do with that, I can't say.  He was here rending an ox.  Farmer Shmalz brought it is yesterday, got some coin for it, and we're rending it for meat, fur, and bone gruel.  Takes a better part of a day to do an ox, and Durken, fast as he is, can only do so much himself.

The man nods his good-bye and makes his way up the street, turning the corner toward the town.

After watching the Shark head toward the city center, Amylarn turned to her companions. ”Heees lyyyiiinnng.” She made the statement in a sing-song voice and chuckled to herself. ”Why do they do that? Why do they lie? We saw Durken Shark go into that building just a little bit ago.” Casting a glance back toward the town center she asked them, ”Should one of us follow him? Or shall we all stick with Durken? Night is falling and making our way into the rendering building to poke around will be much easier. But if one of us wishes to follow the other brother into town we had best be quick about it.” Once again, Amy doesn’t assume she knows what the others wish to do. She still feels like something of a tag-along at the moment.

"I would be in favor of going in. If we are going to make some enemies, why wait." Drake says.  He is not looking completely for a conflict, but if he is going to be involved, he personally needs to find out something of substance.

"We do know people of power in this town, so hopefully the corruption does not run too high" Drake adds, thinking of what might cascade from tonight's meeting.

Elodeir watched the exchange in silence, not able to improvise anything just yet, and so he merely watched, and waited. . .

"I agree - we might as well go in," he added in agreement to Drake's suggestion - at least if they did make enemies, he might be useful, he thought, and grinned.

OOC: I'll wait a day or so to see if other PCs/Players post.  If not, I'll move on as the team sneaks into the rendering plant.

"I do hope none of you expect me to sneak effectively. This armour may protect me from harm, but it is not the quietest thing to move around in."

Denira is worried she might jeopardize the mission if stealth was required.

I am no worried about stealth at this point Drake ensures Denira and draws attention that he too is not built for it.

With a shrug and a nod, Amylarn accepts that the group will probably be making a show of force within the next hour. "Very well. It makes good sense to avoid attempting silence when one's wardrobe itself acts against such actions. As I say I have done my fair share of sneaking about and perhaps a little more but I will not admit to being any such an expert as perhaps a cat might be. So let us wait until nightfall at least whereby there are fewer people about to hear our unsilent entrance and let us pray that the brothers Shark do not keep their friends in the city guard close by." When the sun disappears below the horizon Amylarn moves toward the building, keeping herself behind Drake and Denira. As usual, Amy's eyes look all about both to see who is around and to try and spot other dangers as well as possible escape routes in case their endeavor goes terribly wrong.

---

OOC: How long will waiting until sunset delay us? Do any of the PCs want to not wait?

OOC: It is about an hour to sunset, an hour and a half to total darkness.

So far as any of you know, the rending plant is open to the public.  It did not look like the man you spoke to locked the door.  He simply pulled it closed behind him.

In fact...

A fat man with a much-stained apron and roll-up sleeves moves past you on the wooden sidewalk with some grumbled " 'scuse me." and odd looks, especially at maked Denira.

He knockes hard twice on the front door of the rending plant and enters. closing the door behind him.  As the door closes you heard him call out loudly Durken?  Marl?  Any you guys here?

There is an answer from deeper inside the building, but you can not make out any words.

Braving yourselves, you follow the fat man's lead, but instead of knocking on the door, you simply open it as softly as you can, making very little noise as you do so.

You see the fat man is talking to a stout blonde man with thinning hair who wears a leather apron and blood-soaked gloves.  He has a green vest on under the apron.

Tomorrow's fine, Marl, but I need some sort of meat for tonight.  Hear a bard might stop in, and if so, maybe he'll want something a bit more than turnip soup and chicken.

The stocky man nods and leaves for a minute, coming back with a slab of meat that has seen better days.

On the house.  For services rendered, goodman Gart.

The man bows low like at court and the fat man bows, too.  When they both rise they laugh a bit at their jest.

Hell, the coin paid after the mess at the cemetery was nice enough.  I appreciate this...whatever it is.

Lamb, I think.  Wouldn't serve it to your little ones, mind you.

Hell, I wouldn't let them eat nothin' from my place!  Let their momma do the cookin' for a reason, you know!

The men shake hands and the fat man turns to leave.

You do your best to duck out of sight, but both Gart (the fat man) and Marl (the Shark brother in the green vest and leather apron) see you.

Gart's mouth opens in surprise, but Marl is not surprised.

Can I help you folk?  We have some cuts of meat left over from a lamb that was never claimed and some ox that was left over.  Dried fish, too, but you can get them almost anywhere around town.  But ours has some good smoke added for flavor that others don't use.

Gart says Well, I've gotta get this back in time for supper.  See ya, Marl.

He siddles past you and leaves the sloppy store.

Hooks for meat line the walls, and you see the fish in barrels as well as slabs of dried meats that Marl did not offer you for sale.

There are also hides all over the places, most in good condition, but one that is orange/yellow with odd black stripes on the wall is in ratty shape.  It looks big enough to be from a heavy war horse.

===================================

OOC: Post away.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:57, Tue 17 Oct 2006.

This concept of working as part of a team is causing all sorts of frustration to Amylarn who has been functioning on her own for awhile now. By herself the roguish blonde could come up with a dozen ways to explain her presence in a situation like this. Even explain herself and one or two other people. But this group of five is much more difficult. And Denira’s mask doesn’t make it any easier. Amy hesitates while she formulates a reply that won’t cause an outright attack on her new friends. The silence grows as no one responds right away.

They know this man is Marl Shark. They know Durken came in here not too long ago and the third Shark brother left for town. Amy’s chat just outside the building had made no accusations and in fact she tried to give the man the chance to say he could never be involved in any evil. Instead the man went on the defensive and claimed to be insulted. She decided to try a different approach this time.

”Marl Shark, the meat we seek is live, not dead.” Her smile and tone and taken a grim turn and she held her face partly away from the light to cast her features in unusual shadows. ”Your friends in the City Guard said we should find you here. They said you will have plenty tell us.” The terse short statements are much different than the long speeches her companions have seen up to now. She may be slight in stature but this voice is meant to carry the weight and influence of someone with a great deal of power at their disposal. It would be interesting to see how Marl would interpret her statement.

Amylarn made a mental note to keep her disguises on more often. Lately she has had less chance to prepare them ahead of time. She also decided to ask the others if she could do her information gathering activities with fewer people.

Drake was hoping Amy would talk first. There is no doubt that she has a better chance of persuading another than he does......if it has to be done by words.

Drake also likes the tone and direction she takes in her efforts. There is no need to pretend that these men are innocent.  They are hiding something.  The fighter looks around, noticing that even if they appear alone, they may not be and that there is also a chance that the man who just left may be on his way to get some backup.

At Amy's words, Drake stands up a little straighter and posisions himself in such a way he can see as much as possible. His eyes stare at the man infront of him, but then carefully dart around the room, trying to see behind all the hanging meat in the room.

Marl smiles oddly at Amylarn, then eyes the rest of you.

Not sure which guild you mean, missy, since I don't belong to any myself.

Not sure what you mean by your statement, either, so if you want to drop the riddles and speak plain, I think we can understand each other better.

Otherwise be off, eh?  I have to catch up on some work that's gotta get done, and I'm the only one here tonight.

-----------------------------------

OOC: Investigation/RPing may run slowly, and for that I apologize. It IS a vital part of the game, though, and you are making good headway, I assure you.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:02, Sun 22 Oct 2006.

”You do not hear so well do you? I said you have friends in the City Guard not guild.” Amylarn went on in the same commanding tone but added a sharper edge to the words. ”Drake, Bethany, please help mister Shark’s hearing. Open one of his ears so he can answer our questions.” The girl picked out the two in the group that seemed most capable of physically handling Marl. She just hoped they would take her meaning and play along. Amy knows it’s not her place to give orders but if she is going to be the one doing the talking then Marl must believe the blonde has the authority to carry out her thinly veiled threats.

As Drake passed by she whispered, ”Cut off his ear of you have to make a point.” If Drake managed to catch her eye as he passed he would see how serious she is.

”Come now Marl. Tell us something interesting about the events of the day. Certainly a well connected businessman like yourself knows plenty of interesting things.” Amy was still against asking any specific questions yet. She wanted to get him talking on his own if she could.

==================================

FROM DM:

OOC: I misread the word "guard" for some reason.  I need trifogles, I guess!

Marl says pretty much this:

I know several of the fella on the guard, myself.  We go out drinkin' sometimes.  Do you know Kylun or Torres?  Nice blokes, they are.

He seems unimpressed by your supposed "connections" with the guards.

Let's say Amylarn says pretty much the same as in the post above.

We'll pick it up with the last paragraph about his having connections in business.

.....................

The stocky blonde man sniffs and rubs the back ofhis hand across his nose, looking at whatever he has trailed on his hand as he speaks.

Look, miss, if you want to talk business, best talk to Durken or Silrus, who just left a few minutes ago.  They do the books, keep the ledgers, make the sales.  Me and my younger brother Padwin, we just cut the meat, tan the hides, haul stuff, clean.  Manual labor, you know?

You want to talk about what happened out there at that graveyard?  Magic, pure and simple, from the sound of things.

I wasn't up there.  Paddy and me had to cleant he place up and make some room for a delivery that never came.  Silrus and Durken were out there, I think.  Durken said somethin' 'bout having to be there for some reason...taking a girl out to see the who affiar, maybe?  He's quite the ladies' man.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:05, Mon 30 Oct 2006.

It appears that Amylarn has a little mean streak in her. Drake does not mind. He has no objections to how she is handling the situation.  It is obvious that the Sharks are hiding something and they are quite smug about it.  Drake has no soft spot for such people.  He passes Amylarn on the way to make good her "orders" and catches her words to him and smiles.

Drake choses to be slightly more dramatic with his choice of rendering tool, and instead of his usual lightning-quick weapon draw he slowing reaches to his belt and pulls out a well-hidden punching dagger with his left hand.  Drake holds it up to the light. He rarely uses it, but keeps it very sharp and well maintained.

He makes his way to Mr.Shark, as instructed, still very cautious of both, Marl and the surroundings.

As Drake advanced on the Shark, Elodeir did his part by placing one hand on his wand fastened at his belt, ready to draw it at a moment's notice.  He would, of course, prefer handling this in a non-violent solution, but he wasn't opposed to beating some answers out of these men, either. . .

See Amylarn's post for a reply from the Shark brother.

----------------------

Big Marl Shark takes a step back, fear and surprise running across his ruddy face.

Look, if you want to tumble the place, you'll not find a lot.  Durken takes most of the money with him in the morning, then again at night.  He holds it safe in a few places.  He was by before and took most of what we have.

You want the 10 gold he left, take it.

Pressing him for more information, using shows of force and skill, the man swallows hard and continues to step back into the sloppy rendering plant.

When he passes a cupboard, his right hand flashes up, then out.  In it is a nasty-looking knife used in stripping flesh from hides.  It is not the best weapon, but in a pinch, it will do.

Look, I told you what I know, okay?

You think there's shady dealings going on, that'd be Silrus or Durken's affiar, not mine or Paddy's.  We pretty much do the grunt work here, that's all.  They're our older brothers, and they pay us good for what we do here.  Without them,, we'd have no place to stay, no jobs...

I won't betray them, no matter what mess they may have gotten themselves into.

I will tell you this: Durken's been spending less and less time here and more and more time with that witch of his, Constance Ilithrane.  She was in here 'til late the night before the funeral of that killer, drawing things on the walls and moving things about.  And Durken...he just followed her back and forth like a puppy dog.

Bah!  Anyone's done something wrong, it's that _itch!

He...He ain't been the same since they got cozy a month or so back.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:19, Mon 30 Oct 2006.

OOC:

To move things along a bit, we'll say that a mix of intimidation and guile makes Marl listen to your reasoning and you request to see the area where Constance Ilithrane drew on the walls and moved things about before the funeral was to be held.

===========================

Marl looks forlorn as he leads you down a set of sturdy wood stairs to a basement somewhat larger than the building above it.

Grates in the floor let sluice and waste run out into the sea and racks of blades and sides of meat hang from the damp walls.

There is a long table in the middle of the room and you can see that other smaller tables and some chairs have been pushed to the sides of the room.

Written in what looks like chalk and bone ash are magical symbols that Elodier recognize to be necromantic in nature.  The elf looks at them closely and a shiver runs down his spine.

He realizes that these writings - one on each wall - comprise a series of spells which will rise the dead to a state of powerful undeath.  Thw mad writings serve like spell scrolls and they are imbued with magical energy!

Paddy and I were told by Durken and Cnstance not to come down here, not to touch nothing...let the place be.

We had to do work, but we were told to keep it upstairs, not down here where a lot of work normally gets done.  The sloppier work, you know?

Now please...go.  Don't let me get found with you down here.  Paddy'll be back soon with supper and if he finds me here with you, he'll tattle.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:26, Mon 30 Oct 2006.

Once Marl starts talking Amylarn nods in a satisfied way that their effort is finally producing some results. She listens carefully and critically, searching his face and his tone for any hint of deception. If there was any lying going on here, she wanted to be the only one doing it.

05:06, Today: Amylarn rolled 29 using 1d20+9. Sense Motive on Marl.

==================================

FROM DM:

Amy realizes that Marl is a few things at once:

1.) none-too-bright

2.) getting a bit frustrated with the PCs and their questioning and perhaps their very presence here

3.) telling them what he knows.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:23, Mon 06 Nov 2006.

It looks like its Durken we want, Drake guesses from the conversation.  The group needs Marl to keep his mouth shut to this brothers about the group's inquirery.  Maybe Amy will be able to convince Marl it is against his best interests to become conspiritors with his older brothers.

See Amylarn's post for a reply.

Marl shrugs and gestures toward town with his head.

If he ain't here, he's with that spooky dame of his.  Or drinking in The Blue Drake, his favorite bar.  Not that nice a place, but he likes it, for some reason.

Amylarn knows that The Blue Drake is known for three things:  Being rough, having women for hire who frequent it, and being a gambling den.

She also knows its location, not too far from where you are now.

==========================================

OC:

As I see it, you have two choices at this point:  Force your way into the rending plant and search it, or go to The Blue Drake.

I can't decide for you, and I hope all players will come on and help decide your course of action.

I will try to get on at least by Wed. to move on in the direction most votes indicate.

XPs have been posted for this month.

When she realizes that Marl is being on the level with them she softens a little. ”Thank you for your help mister Shark.” Amylarn takes a moment to pull a gold coin from her pocket and tosses it to Marl where it is easy to catch. ”Let me give you some advice Marl: Be wary of Durken’s “spooky dame”. In fact be wary of Durken. He may be your brother but that doesn’t mean he has your best interests in mind.” She turned back toward the stairs to go. ”I  see no purpose to tearing apart your establishment to see what else Durken may be hiding.” Amy had stated her opinion. Of course if anyone else had other ideas or some reason they should continue the search they would speak up.

Elodeir watched Amylarn carefully, and let out a sigh of relief as he realized that it would not come to battle there.  Slowly, his hand moved away from his wand, and he visibly relaxed.  "Indeed," he added in agreement, and looked around the street for a brief moment. . .  "I think I'm getting a bit thirsty, though - how about we go have ourselves a drink, now?" he suggested, hoping the others would realize what he really meant - checking out the bar that Durken frequented. . .

Drake slides his blade away, that was still in his hand and joins the others.  It is good to see they have all come to the same conclusion as he has.  Marl is not a threat, but his brother is.

So Drake adds some more advice before exiting. "Durken would not like what you told us, but we are grateful. It would be wise to remember that. If you have any more to share, find Radcliffe, the Bard, he will get us the message." With that Drake smiles sincerely. He does not want to see an innocent be harmed, if there is no need.

Catching Elodeir's inuendo, Drake nods in agreement.

OOC: Good work, all!  XPs for RPing and investigation in this encounter will be added soon!

===========================

Amylarn leads the way down the docks and then up a sharp hill.  Atop the hill, separated from a home on one side and a dry goods shop on the other by a low stone wall, sits The Blue Drake.

Loud cheers can be heard from within and the smell of a dozen different types of sweat and pipe smoke fills the air outside the rough tavern.

A sign, well-faded from the salt air and sun, announces the name of the tavern and has a blue dragon resting atop a hill of coins, a smile on its face.

The doors to the tavern burst open and a fat dwarf stumbles out, drunker than he is hairy - and that is saying a lot.

He squints up to look at the party, stopping on Elodeir.

...urrrp...  Hey elf, you ain't seen...seen a green leather....leather pouch, have ya?  A r'ward's offer'd if...ya...did...

He stumbles a bit, then bangs his head on the side of a cart parked near the tavern's door.  He starts to snore loudly but Amylarn is surprised not so much by his loud snoring and how drunk he is, but by the oozing blood comiing out from under his shirt and leather vest.

Carefully lifting the shirt tail to look, she sees a wound made by a dagger's tip.  A yellow liquid can be seen around part of the wound.

Poison!

OOC:  PS: Poison use is illegal in Iliptur except to kill vermin.  Dwarves are not considered vermin.

Now, "illegal" in a rough and tumble port like this is sort of like "fair" in the first World Series game this year where the pitcher used pine tar to help hold the ball...

If you don't squawk about it, and loudly, no one will pay attention.  And sometimes when you DO squawk, no one important really bothers to care.

Lifting the shirt a little more to show the others Amylarn says the words out loud to ensure there is no mistaking the gravity of the situation. ”I remember now why I decided not to stop in the last time I came this way. This man has been stabbed by a poisoned blade. And given his intoxicated state I wonder what he could have done to earn such a mark. He did not seem to be any sort of threat to anyone except himself. Maybe he is, or was, important enough for someone to want him dead.” Amy briefly studied the dwarf’s face to see he looked familiar as well as checking his person for anything to identify him. ”No doubt someone will want to know what has happened to him.”


11:24, Today: Amylarn rolled 8 using 1d20+7. Search the dwarf.
OOC: Botched roll! Apparently Amylarn suddenly goes blind and can’t even find the dwarf. DM Mike, can I try again and maybe Take 10 the next time?

=====================================

FROM DM:

Amylarn realizes soon that someone already "tumbled" the dwarf.  He has nothing of worth in his pockets or on his person.  She has never seen this dwarf before, and for all purposes, he looks a bit "normal" for a dwarf living in a human city.

=====================================

Once she has finished trying to identify the dwarf the girl turns to the rest of them. ”You can see this is not a nice place.” The roguish girl did not even entertain the idea of not going in. ”Once we get inside I doubt I will be able to talk our way out of any trouble we find. I will try of course but the blades they carry here are faster than my tongue. I might be able to slow them down a little bit with a more distracting look. Give me just a moment will you?”

Amylarn gave the group a wink and pulled her pack off her shoulders. She went around the other side of the cart. ”No peeking,” she called out. Apparently she went to put on another disguise.


====================================

PM from the DM:
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:24, Mon 13 Nov 2006.

Drake looks down, indifferent to the poisoning of the dwarf.  If you are going to poison someone, it's not a dwarf that you would want to do it to.  Even intoxicated, the fellow will probably shake off any ill-effects the poison may add, when he awakes.

The situation of the dwarf also does not change Drake's mind to go get a drink. He has dealt with all kinds of people, assassin to saint.  He lets Amylarn finish her change and awaits to see if any of the others are troubled by  the dwarf.

OOC: Since they have not posted, I guess they are not bothered about the poisoning.

Replies in Amylarn's post above.

And I will move along with the encounter, hoping you will forgive me for leading this by the nose, but I can only get on and post once or twice a week now, so each post has to really move the game forward.

========================

Amylarn comes out from behind the wagon and looks...much different.

It is hard to believe that this young woman, who you first met as an old woman, is now the same woman who is now the woman of ill repute that stands before you.

Three big men, one with almost no clothes on, one with hardened learher armor on, and the third with what looks like scratches from a woman on his right cheek, come out of the tavern. Each is sweaty and smell of that sweat and the ale that has been drizzled down their necks.

The one with the scratches sees Amylarn and makes a protective sign over his chest.  Gods, not another one.  Alla them's in a bad mood t'day!

The one with armor on laughs but stops short as he sees the rest of the group standing near the poisoned dwarf.  He lowers his gaze and puts his hands on the hilts of his swords, but does not draw them.

And what be your business with that scum, people?  He sang the blues about losing all his coin?  Well tough!  He lost it to gambling fair and square!

Yup, just like I lost me vest, shirt, and pants in there! the other man chuckles, pointing to the bar with his thumb.

The one with poor gambling skills and a few scraps of clothes on sidles up to Amylarn and puts his meaty arm around her.

But that don't mean I don't got a few more coin ta spend tonight.  Got it hid good, I do.

=================================

Hope the other players post this week.

I will try to get on by at least mid-week.
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 05:05, Tue 21 Nov 2006.

Now, this was, without a doubt, the Dragon Coast which Elodeir was born and raised on - a poisoned dwarf was given no thought at all, unless he happened to be wealthy (and then, he would have been robbed blind before Elodeir could have blinked an eye, he was sure).  He didn't like it very much, but it was home, and this was as far from his home in Westgate as he had ever gotten - probably as far as he ever would go, too. . .

As the barely clothed man laid an arm around Amylarn, Elodeir reached for his wand slowly, wanting to be ready - just in case anything would happen.

When Amylarn had come out from behind the cart none of her new friends would have recognized her, which of course was the point. She had teased her hair into sultry waves and <ahem> added some padding to her shirt. She put on too much makeup and draws in exotic curls on the corners of her eyes. The long skirt had been swapped out for a much shorter one. The addition of an air headed giggle completes the new look.

The way she looks and plans to act will definitely draw attention away from her friends. At least she hopes it will. It works almost at once as some rowdy men come out into the night. Clearly they see the heroes and they see that the party is armed but none of them make a move to fight. One comes right up to Amy where he would be easily cut down by Drake or Bethany.

The half naked one gets all friendly with the blonde girl and she gets all friendly right back. Amylarn puts both hands flat on his bare chest and rubs while watching his eyes. She ignores the smell. "Got it hid good huh? Weeelll now aah doubt you got 'nuff pockets left to hid the coin it'd take to spend on me." Amylarn winks in an obvious way at him. "You come back with fifty gold lions and we will talk s'more." By naming such a high price she hoped to douse the man's hopes without flaming his anger. But even if he moved to strike her, Amylarn knew she was in the company of heroes. She had seen them fight. She blew a kiss at the man and moved away from him heading for the tavern door.

Just a little away from going in the imitation hooker stopped to speak to the group. "This is my idea. You all find Durken or Constance and try to get them to go outside where we can ask them some questions...or tie 'em up if it comes to that. I will ask around if anyone knows what evil business they are about. If it looks like there is about to be a fight I will...make a distraction for you. Use it to take the advantage or to make an escape, whichever seems more successful. What say you all to this idea?" Amy really doesn't want to tell everyone what to do but she would sooner give the smelly drunk a romp in the hay than go into the Blue Drake without a plan. "If anyone has a better idea I am glad to hear it."

Drake wonders if he knows who the real Amylarn is.  When he thinks she is not disguised, she could be so.  He will begin to make a mental note of here costumes and personalities for future reference.

To Drake the armored man is hiding something, and from his actions, it has to do with the poisoning of the dwarf.  Not being a particularly lawful-type, Drake does not call him on it, but will try to remember him, as well, just in case they should run up against him while in town.  Drake, as usual, does not worry about the stranger's hand going to his hilt.  Very few in the land can draw their sword faster than he.

Drake would just like to go in and see if Durken is inside, but he walks slowly to ensure that Amylarn isn't accousted any further from the drunk. While passing he asks, in a friendly manner, "Durken Shark inside?".  It won't hurt to know before they enter, should these men even know.

The man snorts laughter until his face is red as Armylarn's price.

What, you want me to bring you some hair from Elminster's beard, too!  No offense hon, but I'd give you five in a shot, ten if I was more drunk than I am.  But no woman in Iliptur is worth 50 golds!

As Drake walks by and asks if Durken Shark is inside, the men respond "yes".  One goes so far as to say He's on a roll tonight, too.  Gamblin' drinkin', sayin' things were gonna be goin' his way for a while.  And it sure looks like Tymora kissed his blonde head, too.

Most I seen him smile in a long time.

The three set off for other pursuits, and you enter the rough bar, looking for Durken.

Denira decides to stay and minister to the dwarf, as she knows that her masked face will cause too much fuss and attention inside.


Thick smoke fills the room and for a minute your eyes are darkened, but when they adjust, you can make out several callgirls plying their trade (a few of whom give Amylarn sour looks), men throwing dice or flipping cards or tossing darts, and a tall half-orc with one eye serving drinks at the bar.

He nods as you enter, indicating he will take your order and your coin when you are ready.  In the meantime he goes to speak with a robed man at the far end of the bar.  The robed man has a hood over his head, so you can not make out any features.  He is big, though, bigger than the half-orc by at least a head.

Durken Shark is playing cards with a halfling woman with long red hair and bright green eyes and a thin and pale man with very little hair and a crooked nose.  He wears three thick gold rings on each hand and he has brass bracers with silver inlays in the form of skeletons on them.  It is clear that while he does not pay much for his clothing, he spends his money on jewlery, someo f it possibly magical.

Well Ardo, are you going to bet or fall asleep behind your cards? Durken teases.  The halfling lass giggles and the thin man sucks at his big teeth, ignoring the taunt.

After a solid minute he tosses in three gold coins and sits back.

The lass tosses in three coins and then follows with a platinum piece.  Ardo curses and thows down his cards.

Durken laughs and squints at the halfling.

Well, if I knew you were playing with your own money and not your father's, I'd figure you had any hand beat the way you tossed in that platinum.

So I think you're full of Otyugh spit.

He meets her bet and raises it by three more platinums.  He leans back on his chair and smiles, the cat catching the canary.

The woman shakes her head and shows her cards.  Three green dragons.

But Durken has better: three wands and two wizards.

She groans and starts to shuffle the cards.

Ardo counts his small pile of coins and grumbles in a reedy voice that the next game will be his last unless he wins something back from "The Shark".

Durken sees you looking at the game and waves.

Come join the fun. I may be called "The Shark", but I don't bite.

The halfling maiden hisses with laughter and says NOW who's full of otyugh spit!?

There are three free seats at the table.

Durken looks at Amylarn for a bit, but then pays attention to his large pile of coins.  He starts sectioning them off : golds in one pile, platinums in another, silvers in another.

There are no coppers on the table, and a few small gems are in Durken's pile, too. They have probably come from the halfling.  She has three small garnets in front of her along with some golds and silvers left.

============================

<green>OOC: Oh boy, a fantasy poker game!

After watching the last round of betting, Drake wonders if he has the funds to join such a game. He just got paid for the last job he did and was rather looking fond to eating.  But Durken is the reason they are here and he just invited Drake to sit next to him. This is the best chance to gain some information. Hopefully Durken does not recognize Drake as a guard from the funnel, especially since he might be drunk.

Drake nods in acceptance an sits down and keeps things light "I don't have that much to take." and he pulls out a stack of 40 gp.

Durken eyes the gold coins Drake sets on the table and grins.  You've got enough for at least a few hands of fun, sir.

The big man reaches over the table and offers a handshake.

Durken Shark, and you....?

OOC: Not to squash RPing, but I want to get the game going, so...

Introductions are made and those who wish to sit and gamble can do so.


OOC: There is room for any who want to join in.

The one-eyed half-orc at the ban points with his thumb over to the table, and a slender woman with tanned skin and raven black hair nods.

She goes to the table and asks if anyone wants a drink or food.

Durken orders another "Dark Amber" ale, and the halfling woman orders some more "fish fingers".

In front of her is a dish of crumbs and a single golden finger-shaped piece of fried fish.  She gulps it down and gives the serving girl the dish.  And bring more katsauce, too, Myrana.

The woman nods and looks to Drake for his order as the tall bald man shakes his head.

Licking the fingers on one hand and deftly dealing cards with the other hand, the halfling says Umm...what the hey, dragons are wild and can be any suit.  A gold is all it takes to join this game.

Durken groans and mutters Why not just make this a game for kiddies?

====================================

OOC: Whoever is in, take a gold off your PC's sheet and let me know you're gaming.  I'll deal your hands next!

And don't worry.  While some of my NPCs may well cheat, <b>I</i> don't!

I'll walk you though this if you need.

=====================================

As the cards are dealt, Amylarn notices that two men are eying her from either side of the room.  One is a burly man with dark hair and a long moustache and chisled features.  He wears clothing that reminds her more of a woodsman than a city dweller.

The other man is a thin fellow with baldling grey hair and a thin beard.  He wears simple garb and has ink stains on his right hand.  He sits at a table with scrolls and parchment and several ink pots on it.  A pen rests in one of the pots.

Several other rough-looking men are in the bar, but their attention seems to be on matters in front of them: games of chance or conversations between each other.

The only women in the bar are Amylarn, Myrana (the black-haired serving girl), and the halfling woman playing cards with the Shark brother.

OOC: We'll say Bethany is outside with Denira.

And soon both may be out of the region unless they post soon.

Posters who are even slower than I am...now THAT's bad!
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:06, Sun 26 Nov 2006.

Drake tosses his gold on the table, I'm in

He waves away the serving girl, he has no money to waste

OOC:  Now that I know which of the party members I can count on for backup, I can make a decision on what to do.

Amylarn surveyed the room and people within. The eyes she felt on her were to be expected. The large figure in the dark robes was not terribly surprising. But what grabbed her attention and held her spellbound were the card game and the empty seat that was waiting for her. There was no way to know if the chair had been arranged by Tymora or Beshaba but Amy would take the seat either way. She knew she was about to abandon the plan she had made before walking into the Blue Drake but it couldn't be helped. Besides, with only Drake and Elodir around, if things got rough she would want to be close to them.

Playing cards capitalized on several of the blonde's favorite subjects and finest skills. Amylarn's foremost interest was learning secrets and each time a hand was dealt, every player at the table had a brand new secret for her to try and learn. Sure, they were small, short lived secrets but they could be quite profitable. And judging from the shiny valuables in play this game had the potential to be very profitable.

Remembering to stay in character, Amy giggles in a way to suggest that might be her most common method of communicating. "I gotta few coins. Got 'em from a trader from the ports I did. Says he was off back to meet some people in Arabull. Is this nuff to play?" Reaching into the coin purse hooked on her belt, she produced five platinum tricrowns and ten golden lions, all coins with the stamp of Cormyr on them. Seeing no one object, Amylarn took a seat and flipped her hair from in a flirtatious way. "So what game is this?"

Durken smiles and nods Oh, you have more than enough to play, my dear.

The halfling rolls her eyes and says Your eyes fall out of their sockets one more time and Constance will think you're a zombie and -

The gaunt man clears his throat loudly and gives the short lady a cross look.

She shrugs and looks around for the barmaid.

slow'n a snail in the snow...I could starve and they'd never know it over here...

===========================

OOC: I'm getting the game set up and should have it done for later on Sunday.  We'll play it in a seperate thread.  I'll let you know when to post there.

The poker game thread is set up.  Those in the game, take a gold off your sheet and post there once.

I will post for the NPCs.

As I read back over the game thread here, I see that some of what I posted is not really reflective of poker, but was done on the fly.

The REAL rules we will follow are in the poker game thread.

"Well. . .  I suppose I could give this a shot, then. . .  Never played before, but perhaps Tymora shines upon me tonight?" Elodeir said after a moment of contemplation - he didn't really have very much gold, certainly not compared to the Shark, and it truly was his first time playing this game.  Still, it seemed like fun, and maybe, just maybe he could earn some gold, as well?

With that, he took a seat, placed a golden coin in the ante, and placed fifty more on the table - almost everything he had.

A young elven woman walks into the Blue Dragon Tavern with a soft smile and a bag of jingling coins in her hand.  Spying the group playing cards she walked over to them and politely asked, "May I join once this hand is over?"

==================================

FROM DM:

Durken Shark, the burly blonde man who seems to practically lord over this small smokey tavern, smiles wide and pulls a chair over, moving a bit to give room at the table.

Sure.  If you count your coin fast enough, you can even get in on this hand.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:56, Sun 03 Dec 2006.

Placing a gold in the ante and fifty more on the table, Elodeir waited for cards to be dealt to him, whispering a silent prayer to Tymora for his cards to be high.

Drake slids his his gold into the pot.  He has played cards many times and learned early from his father. Maybe he will be able to gain some of those gems for himself.

Nov 28  Drake sees he is up first, He taps the table, relinquishing the opportunity to lead the betting and passinging it to Amylarn to deside. ("checking" - if that is allowed)

Amylarn made a show of looking around at everyone else to see what she should do. She knew very well how card games are run but had no intention of letting anyone, especially The Shark, know that. As each of the others had done she took a gold coin and lightly tossed it into the ante pile. "Oh! Lotsa money all around! This'll be fun." She flipped her hair back and grinned a broad grin at anyone who would meet her gaze. "Can I gitta card with a picher on it too?"

Not wanting to overstep her bounds with the group of strangers, Amylarn doesn't presume to answer Shaeria's question.

OOC: 08:37, Today: Amylarn rolled 8 using 1d20+7. Appraise gems on the table.
Okay, so obviously I'm SO in tune with my current disguise, I can't even think straight enough for a simple appraise check.

DM Mike: Do I need to roll a seperate appraise check for every gem or for each person's gems or what?

========================

FROM DM:

Durken raises his right eyebrow and smiles at Amylarn.  My!  What a pair!

The halfling lass smacks at her teeth and rolls her eyes, looking over the cards in her hand.

OOC: One check per person's gems, we'll aay.

"Of course you may, fair lady.  May Tymora shine upon you tonight," Elodeir answered the newcomer at the table, and offered her a smile before he received his cards.  "Ooh!  A pair!  Now, let's see if I've got any other sevens hidden under here, huh?" he said to no-one in particular, and took a look at his hidden cards.  "Hm...  Not bad at all," he mumbled, and grinned.


=====================

FROM DM:

Durken looks over at Elodeir's cards and nods.

Hate to say it, but your pair's got her's beat.

Cramming another fish finger dipped in katsauce into her toothy mouth, the halfling with the cards looks around the table.

Wanna let the new gal in the hand, or get bettin' and playin'?

Sitting gracefully, Shaeria smiles her thanks and replies, "I've got 50 here in my coin purse."  While waiting for cards she takes them out and sets them in even stacks on the table before her.

The halfling smiles, flipping through her cards and looks around at you all one last time.

Okay boys and ghouls - h'yuk h'yuk - dragons are wild and can be any suit.  That'll make some of us here very happy and others....well...?

She shrugs and looks to Drake (who is sitting first to her left).

It's your turn, handsome.  Toss out a bet.

Playing her part, Amylarn looks down at her chest and then over at Elodeir with a curious expression. Then, as if noticing the half-elf’s cards for the first time she giggles. ”OH! A pair a cards! Aah see. Sevens bettern twos right?” She leans down to put her eyes close to the surface of the table and then lifts the edge of her cards to see the ones that are face down. To any curious looks she explains, ”If I pick ‘em up somebody might see ‘em.” and then she leans down and checks the cards again as if to make sure they were still the same as a moment ago.

---

OOC: Are we able to make sense motive checks on EACH of the other players as they make their bets? Six sense motive checks in a row? Are we trying to sense whether or not the person is bluffing with their cards? Or are we trying to get a general sense of how good they think their hand is?

The bet passed to him, Ardo purses his lips, looks at his cards, licks his thin lips, then throws a gold coin into the pot.

In for a pound...

It does not take much observation to tell that the thin man is not too pleased with his hand, but he at least thinks he has something in it worth sticking in the game for.

He looks over to Amylarn, awaiting her bet.

=============================

OOC: So others know you have edited your poker game post, please post action/reaction type posts here.

The ditzy blonde checks her hidden cards still on the table once more and then fiddles with her hair for a moment while she thinks. "Hmmmkay. Aah'm gonna put in fer two okay? That'll be one fer his," Amylarn slides in one coin,  "and one more fer me to bet okay?" and then slides one more coin into the pot with a big grin.

OOC: 12/03/06 - Updated Poker Hand thread

With a slight shrug and a wide smile on his handsome face, Durken flips a gold coin onto the table's center.

OOC: Edit to his post in the poker thread.

Shaeria is next.

This message was last edited by the player at 22:23, Sun 03 Dec 2006.

OOC:

Huh?!?

The new PC, Shaeria has to place a bet next, not one of my NPCs.

Not sure why the game has stalled, since a player has to act.

Maybe she is not here to post?

I will send her a PM.

The newcomer folds, wishing to see a hand of the game played before joining in.

She smiles, and no one seems to take offense to her bowing out.

Durken nods to Elodier, indicating it is his turn to play.

"Two gold, is it?  Sure, I'll play," Elodeir said, and placed his coins in with the rest. . .

OOC: to keep things going
Drake tosses in his cards, not comfortable with them vs. the bet.

OOC: I think it would be good to post little RP type comments here, so we can keep the game "active".

<rd>'tis a smart man who knows when he has been beaten so he can come back anew to try again at another time.</red>

The dealer folds and looks around the table at those still in the game.

Okay, who wants cards?

OOC: Matter of fact, to move things along, EDIT over in the poker game thread, but also post your bets, etc. here.

The thin man looks at his cards once, then slides on face down to the dealer.

One should suffice.

Krissa nods and deals him one card.

As he picks it up, you can not tell if the card helped Ardo's hand or not.  The man's eyes are cold as snows on dead grass and his lips barely move, even when he speaks.

Looking to Amylarn, the halfling chirps You're next, toots.

How many ya want?

After checking her cards yet again, Amy pulls two of her hidden cards from her hand and slides them toward the halfling. ”Aah’ll take two please.” She goes back to fiddling with her hair.

Two it is...
This message was last edited by the player at 03:12, Wed 27 Dec 2006.

Durken Shark looks at his cards for only a second and slides one to Nissa,  She slides him a replacement card, and he smiles slightly as he adds it to his hand.

Ardo groans quietly.

The halfling looks to Elodier and gives him a nod.

"Two cards, I think is all I need. . .," Elodeir mumbled after checking out his cards for a moment or three, before handing in two of his old ones.

OOC: See the OCC thread for am important message about the "poker game experiment".  I am very sorry it did not work out as I had hoped.  Maybe one day...

-------------------------------

You while away about an hour playing several hands of the card game.  Some thuggish-looking men stray near the table and watch the game.  No one seems to mind (despite their strong breath and stronger body odor) until one of them whispers loudly enough for some of you to hear that "Durken got his last name for his cheating at cards".

The blond man moves fast as lightning and rises from the table, grabs the man by his throat with his left hand and pulls a wicked dagger to the man's throat with his right one in a single fluid motion.

Oh, really?  I hear I got it for other reasons.  His smile is fierce and his grip is so hard the man's face turns red.

I...gahk...I meant nothin'...Dur...Durken....ahhk!

Ah, let 'im go, Mr. Shark.  Lodru's just drunk-talkin' is all...

Durken looks to the other roughs as they plead with him and runs his dagger acrss the man's throat lightly, without even looking at his work.  Blood trickles from the squirming man's light wound and Durken lets the man fall back onto a the next table.

The Shark borther looks with disdain at the man as the rough stumbles, gripping his neck.

Ah, that will heal in a day or so.  Let it remind you not to be so loose with your words, Lodru.

Durken sit at the table, picking up his cards with blood still on his hand.

Now, where were we?  Ah yes. Ardo waws about to show us his cards, weren't you?
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:39, Sat 13 Jan 2007.

The thin and pale man turned a bit paler, but not from the sudden show of anger and violence.

Instead he looks to his dwindling pot, the cards in his hand, and then at Durken.

He spreads his cards out and it is clear Ardo was trying to win by having three 8's.  But at least one of you has a better hand than that, and Durken's never lost to so weak a hand once since you've joined the game.

I....I don't win, do I?

Durken laughs and shakes his head.

Licking his thin lips, Ardo slowly pushes his few remaining coins to the center of the table.

Well, there goes my monthly dues...

With cold eyes, the handsom Durken looks to Ardo.

You should have thought of that before you bet so high.  Now....

Durken shrugs and looks to Drake, who also loses this hand.

Well, Tymora is fickle, huh?

But she is not mean to the smart.  At least some of you will walk away with money this night.

He then turns to the thugs who are helping their friend up.

Or their lives...

Hey, hey, the game ain't over yet, is it?

Kirssa shows her hand - 4 10's.

Durken shakes his head and lets out a low chuckle.

Beats my 4 6's, at least.

Anyone else?

No one has better than Krissa's hand, so all the coins in the last pot go to her.

She scoops them up and tosses two 5-gold trade coins to Ardo.

Here; pay your damn dues and make sure you pay me back before the next full moon, mageling.

Once again Durnken's eyes go cold as a grave.  He smiles, but it is so forced is looks ugly.

He looks into Ardo's eyes but speaks to the rest of you.

It was grand to meet you all, and I hope we can play at cards again one night.

But leave us, please, for we have other affairs to speak of now.

Ardo tries to hand over the 2 large coins to Durnken, and the big blond man shakes his head hard once.  Ardo puts the coins down onto the table and steps away from them.

Durken waits for you to leave the table before speaking again.