First Guest Room
Matwau and Gethin are here, but there is only one bed.

There is a desk with one drawer.  On the desk is a bell identical to the one on the lobby counter.

A framed picture of gorgonzola decorates the wall.

Second Guest Room
Faedran is here.

This room is identical to the first, except that the wall has a picture of blue cheese instead of gorgonzola.

Third Guest Room
After signing the ledger on the line after Faedran's entry, Antillios tromps up the stairs and snags key #3 from his bud, Matwau.  His room is identical to the others, save the wall has a picture of pepper jack cheese.  Mmmm, pepper jack.

Antillios feels sleepy after his meal of cottage cheese and dwarven peppers but not too sleepy to poke about the room.  He opens the drawer and finds naught but dust, not even the Avandra Bible.  Oh, well.

Irritated, he realizes that he didn't grab any linens or magic fingers from the employee workroom, so he remedies that oversight.

Then, with nothing left to do, he studies his kinsman's research notes for all of five minutes before he's snoring on the one bed.

Fourth Guest Room
This room is currently unoccupied.

Fifth Guest Room
This room is currently unoccupied.

Sixth Guest Room
This room is currently unoccupied.

~~~
Score 18/30  You're almost better than Consecrated Cottage Cheese.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:27, Wed 08 Apr 2009.

The feral Half-Elf needs no linens, or even a bed to sleep.  In fact, he prefers the floor, as long as it's relatively clean.  Considering his last meal, a bed pan was probably prudent.

Faedran heads back downstairs to settle his account, and, assuming Ravex has not torn the conceirge in half, hands over the gold with a deep sigh and shake of his head (as well as a long glare at Chester, as if to say, 'This had better work!'), and asks for a chamber pot.

Magic fingers will have to await a future guest of room #2.

Then, back upstairs, he shuts the door, locks it, makes a neat pile of his chainmail on the bed, and lays down on the utilitarian floor, Pealmaker close at hand.

Just in case something frightening came out of an interconnecting door, you see.

5 gp deducted
This message was last edited by the player at 19:54, Wed 08 Apr 2009.

By the time Gethin makes his way upstairs, Matwau is already hacking up the bed for firewood.

When he gets a strange look from the cityman he pauses a moment... "What? Oh, this is your room. Sorry... I will go and give the gold coins and have my own room."

He leaves Gethin to the splinters of his bed and heads down to the lobby, approaching the desk warily and keeping one eye on the sinister writing in the ledger. Cautiously he reaches across the words to hand over five gold coins.

"...If I have to, then..."

Swiftly he takes up the pen, and scrawls an image of a hopping bird in the ledger. When his doodle is complete he fearfully shoves it away before the evil writing can... do whatever it is the elder said writing does.

Guest Room #4
After determining that rooms one through three are occupied, Matwau lands in guest room #4 which is identical to the others.  It even has a framed picture of cheddar (sharp) cheese.

However, the desk drawer is not fully closed.

Matwau is here, reassured that the adjoining door leads to his bud, Antillios, in case he needs to talk it out again in the middle of the night.

~~~
Score 19/30  You're almost better than Consecrated Cottage Cheese.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:56, Thu 09 Apr 2009.

Matwau looks at the open desk drawer and frowns. Then he looks at the picture of cheese and frowns even harder. His room is different from Gethin's... in more ways than just the bed being in tact.

He opens the door adjoining to Antillios to talk it out. "The cheese paintings are different." he declares, then points to the next adjoining door. "Pass it on, like ants kissing to tell others the way to the honey."

His message passed on, Matwau now felt more dispensable. He draws the axe and cautiously approaches the open drawer, ready for anything that might lie within (even books).

Indeed, a book lurks within the drawer -- like the trapdoor spider within its pit.  Matwau shudders appropriately.  But it's just the traveler's edition of the Avandra Bible, commonly found in inns across the land.  This one, though, conspicuously, contains a bookmark, a slip of paper that extends well beyond the boundaries of words.

Care to examine it?

"If they're bound to this place by a geas, it wouldn't really make sense for the geas to end if they did their job, otherwise the the spell would be fairly pointless.  If the geas is used to bind someone to a task the caster wants repeated, then the key to breaking it lies in finding the loophole or destroying the focus."

Considering incinerating the sign-in book, Quinn decides to keep investigating.  "Hold him still for me please Ravex."  His face dispassionate, the mage starts to search Chester down to the skin, searching for a sigil inscribed on him, a focus or magical residue of the binding spell.

Ravex, being equally as unconvinced as Quinn, continues to hold Chester.

Matwau slides out the whole drawer, taking the book through Antillios' room to share with the others. "What is it? What does it say?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:48, Fri 10 Apr 2009.

Gethin's slack-jawed dismay perhaps doesn't register as Matwau leaves for his own room.  He debates whether he should just pull the mattress to the floor, or report the property damage immediately.  Noticing the little bell on the desk makes the decision easier.

Bad news never gets better with age, Brother Andrew always said.

Gethin gives the bell two sharp smacks, then begins pulling the mattress to the floor anyway.  Undoubtedly they'd have to pay to replace the hacked-up bed frame, but he doubted the inn had another one waiting in a closet somewhere.

The keening of Bell #1 doesn't summon Chester.  Whether that's due to his current state of constraint or some other cause, Gethin can't ken. 

~~~

A dwarf does not normally take kindly to the disruption of his slmuber, but the happily bounding feet of his friend rouse him gently from his nascent sleep.  Sitting up in bed, he receives the proffered Avandra Bible with amusement at Matwau's ignorance.  Normally, the bible's divine discourse on commerce wouldn't concern him (standard businessman fare), but in this establishment, everything warrants a close inspection (even the concierge, evidently).  He thumbs through the bible, his eyes tracing the standard hymns to trade routes and profit margins.  It's the slip of paper that commands his attention, though; a bill of sale, it would appear, how curious.

The invoice is from a company called the

The Emperor of Curd
Purveyors of Fine Curd, Whey, and sometimes Cheese  

Looks like it's for the sum of 30 gold pieces and it's dated some six or so months in the past.  Good bet that it went unpaid.

Antillios assures Matwau that the book has fed recently and won't be devouring any more souls for at least a fortnight.  They should all go back to sleep.

~~~

With Ravex maintaining his vice-like grip on the head concierge, Quinn pats him down.  Turns out to have been a smart move.  He discovers a pack of playing cards, excessively loved but still serviceable.  They're the lesser deities and demigods edition, with emphasis on the sexy elven numbers such as Sehanine.  Sweet.

Quinn sorts through the cards, checking for any traces of magic, then shrugs at Ravex.  "He doesn't seem to have anything else on him."

Arcana check: 24

In due time, Antillios (who previously signed the ledger, consuming three lines of it with the names of his last few ancestors, and deposited ten gold pieces on the counter for himself and Matwau), Matwau, and Faedran nod off to dreams of amorous asphidistra, skittering stoats, frozen cadavers, and a lost kinsman.

As Quinn sorts through the cards, lingering on the Hanali Celanil series which begins with her bathing in a crystal fountain (and progresses from there), his fingers slip and the prurient playing cards flutter to the floor.  Blushing, the young wizard stoops to collect them.  Above him, Ravex snorts, "52 Pick Up."  Ha ha, very funny.

In due time, Ravex releases Chester so as to restrain the bartender, but Quinn discovers nothing but a filthy rag, a bottle opener, and a few corks.  For a moment, bizarre schemes flash, presenting impossible inventions that lead to Quinn and Ravex escaping the Emperor of Curd, but they vanish before he can grasp them.  Disheartened, he leaves the lounge to check out guest rooms five and six, but, besides having different paintings of cheese (Muenster and Beaufort), they're identical to the first.

Thus, Quinn and Ravex resigns themselves to the carpentry of nihilism.  Having chosen the back wall of guest room #6, they blast and batter the wall.  It doesn't do much good, but they don't give up and the rising sun sees them steady in their effort.

That's not all the rising sun sees.  Some time later, Matwau blinks awake, and knowing he needs a chamber pot but not quite sure why, he bounds downstairs to inquire after one.  At the bottom of the stairs, he stops dead in his tracks.  The lobby is full, full of revelers spilling in from street, the shield dances at last complete.  And the lobby?  It's not any lobby that he recognizes.  A walkway with palms in full health leads from the massive mahogany front doors--above which beviled glass reads: The Emperor's Crown Inn.  Behind the counter, not one, not two, but three concierges bustle about, checking guests in and assigning them rooms--all of them under the watchful eye of Chester whose bellboy's hat bears the gold filigree accorded to the Head Concierge.  If Matwau had peeked into the lounge, he would have seen similar marvels but these transformations were more than he could take.  He bounds back up the stairs and straight to Antillios's room.  He's going to have to talk this out.

The way is clear, but four of you are a bit more rested than the other two.

~~~
*10 gold deducted from Antillios's sheet.
~~~
Final Score 25/30  You're a Wheel of Cheddar.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:57, Mon 13 Apr 2009.

Dreams, nay, nightmares of being trapped in the Emperor of Curd for all eternity, morphed into the shape of a pudgy bellhop named Son of Chester, haunted Faedran that night.

Thankfully, with the coming of the light of morning was also a dawning that the spell, or curse, or whatever it was, had been lifted.  Typical townies, a little bit of gold and their problems are solved.

The Half-Elf waves Chester over.  "I suppose this is where you thank us?"

Racex wakes up, dons his armor, and immediately leaves the building. "I'll wait outside." Is his morning greeting.

When Faedran approaches the counter, Chester himself greets him.  The head concierge of the Emperor's Crown Inn allows himself a brief smile before thanking Faedran.

"Your name and that of three others were in the ledger.  Your actions, while not the stuff of typical heroism, were nonetheless heroic, and you shall be accorded the hero's reception whenever you chance to visit this inn."

His smile brightens, and he says, "You and a guest may always stay here as honored guests with all services, too numerous too mention, at your beck and call. Always."  He gives you a miniature golden crown with the name of the inn inscribed on it.

In the lounge, a petty lord sips his morning ale.  At another table, an emissary from a nearby town looks anxiously about as he sips his.

~~~
*All who signed the ledger (+1 guest) may stay at the Emperor's Crown Inn for free.

"I really have no need of this, but I will take it anyway, to show my respect for your thanks," he replies, pocketing the token after looking it over.

"Please tell my companions that I will be at the the Silvanus temple grounds.  Oh, and Chester," here Faedran looks the man full in the eyes.

"Do be more careful with your debts in the future."

With that Faedran hefts his maul and gets the heck out, vowing never to set foot into that place again, no matter what.

A fine morning for a leisurely stroll back to Brother Griffin's demesne - which seems positively normal in comparison.  He looks forward to getting off the filthy, people-infested streets and beginning quiet meditations among the hyacinths, with nary a magic finger in sight.

Along the way, passing a one-legged beggar, he idly flips the miniature golden crown in his battered tin alm cup.

With no money to spend and anti-urban in nature, Faedran will await the others in preparation for their delve into the Greenhouse
This message was last edited by the player at 15:55, Mon 13 Apr 2009.

Antillios grumble something as he crosses from the stairs to the front door.  He pulls a small flask from his pocket, takes a swig, and clears his through.  Goodmorning and goodbye he says to Chester on his way out.

He meets Ravex outside, gives his companion a sidelong glance, but doesn't say anything.

Having found the walls oddly resistant to repeated magical blasts, and Ravex's shoulder, Quinn spent the remainder of the night in one of the upstairs rooms, standing watch with Ravex.

Feeling irritable and tired, the mage barely glances at the restored inn as he makes a beeline for the exit.  Once outside he takes a deep breath of fresh air, without the taste of lingering arcane magic that had coated the back of his throat throughout the night.  From his fulminating silence you can tell that the young scholar hasn't regained his sense of humour, possibly due to the heavy bags under his eyes.  Ignoring the detritus from the celebration that litters the street, Quinn heads for a good inn, that isn't the Emperor, and orders a lavish breakfast.

Sick and tired of travel rations, Quinn digs in with obvious hunger.  With the first edge taken off his hunger, the mage starts to scan through the research notes for anything that makes sense to him.

Ravex nods at Antillios as the dwarf exits the inn of insanity. He sniffs around a bit, looking down on all those walking the streets as though he were a constable on patrol. Without a word, he wanders away from the inn toward the towns merchants.

Rolled a 94 on the shopping check.

Gethin wakes after a surprisingly restful night, given the strange environs and the fact that his mattress is on the floor next to his hacked-up bed.

After reciting his morning prayers and washing fastidiously, he dons his armor, buckles on his weapons, and heads downstairs.

As he enters the busy common room, he stops.  Blinks twice.  With a slow shake of his head, he treats this strange new reality with the same bland acceptance he accords every situation.  This is things as they are.  Little sense in questioning it or fighting it.

So he orders and thoroughly enjoys a hearty breakfast.

Once breakfast is done, Gethin takes his leave of Chester, accepting the crown token with a simple nod of thanks.  He heads out into the street, figuring he'll swing by the shops on the way from the mad inn to the mad greenhouse.

ooc:

Gethin is looking for magic armor (Dwarven Plate +1 would be nice).
22:45, Today: Gethin Ballider rolled 80 using 1d100+5. looking for magic armor.

I have 50 GP party money right now.  It doesn't split even 6 ways, so I could just hang on to it until we amass some more group wealth.

Matwau looks at the token in his hand. It will make a good trade, because he probably won't be coming back here unless they install a skylight or let him hack the roof off one of the rooms.

"Chester. The Purveyors who did this geas..." Purveyors, a new word, meaning powerful and undoubtedly evil sorcerer "they are in this city? What happens now? Will the town Elder make a punishment for them?"

Chester allows himself a maniacal laugh before answering Matwau. "Honored guest, those who have the title of elder are not always those who are, indeed, the elders," he replies. "The Emperor of Curd has its ladle in every pot in Loudwater."

Seeing Matau's bafflement, Chester explains in his language that they are the sun, the moon, and the skies.  They are all.  In a brief ecstasy of cards, he, Chester neglected that truth.

"Eat their curd, their whey, and sometimes their cheese," he advises.  "And love it."

~~~

When the crown lands in the beggar's cup with a its own quiet clang, the mendicant's eyes grow as big as the plates of pancakes he imagines himself downing in mere moments courtesy of the golden ticket, amber syrup dripping from his lips, mouth, and fingers.  Who needs two legs when you have the Emperor's Crown?

~~~

*Those of you who didn't dine at the Emperor's Crown should deduct 5 sp for your breakfast from your sheets.
*I'll resolve the shopping stuff when I have my books tonight.

The warlocks slant on the magical notes make it a little hard to wrap his mind around them, but he continues scanning through and putting aside those journals which look like they might contain something interesting.

After he's got the general gist of the notes, Quinn repacks the journals then heads into town to give his mind some time to digest what he's learnt.  He wanders through the market square, looking for a seller of arcane components.

OoC: Arcana check to get the gist of the notes (17).
Shopping: 58.  Looking 20gp of arcane components