The serving girl's face fell and she merely nodded before setting the small pile of clothing, with the parchment still on top, on the floor at her feet. "If that's what you want," she replied meekly as she rose and immediately made her way to the door. Pausing at said door, before she opened it, with her back toward the others in the room, she dared to speak again. "For what it's worth, I really am sorry... for everything." Then she opened the door, made her way out into the hallway, and closed the door softly behind her.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 06:28, Sat 27 May 2017.

Orophear looked surprised for a moment as his eyes locked with the woman. For a stunned moment the elf wasn't sure if he should strike the woman down but when Tseran seemed to recognize the woman Orophear removed his sword and placed it back in the sheath on his side.

When the woman left the room the elf turned back to the mage and asked, "Someone you know I assume? "
This message was last edited by the player at 19:31, Thu 01 June 2017.

 "When I arrived here, it was via portal in the middle of a swamp. I had minimal warning and neither map nor guide. Under most circumstances, I would quite certainly have died there although a combination of anger, applied pyromancy and quite remarkable fortune saw me to Calaunt, although I will grant that as a destination, Calaunt has little to recommend it over a crocodiles stomach having not entirely dissimilar levels of stench, bile and hunger." Tseran answers, his eyes slowly tracking the figure as they depart without moving an inch from where he stands "I cannot be certain, but few here know my name. Fewer still my nature. Clumsily attempting an ill-considered meeting from the concealment of illusion and disguise in order to retain the upper hand is very much the preferred style of the one who pushed me through that portal. Prior to their doing so I had simply assumed them mischievous rather than actually murderous."

The bundle of clothing remained on the floor; there was a note folded on top. So did the tray and smashed wine glasses.

Shortly after this commotion, the inner door opened suddenly and Lady Maelarra bustled out, straightening her skirts. 'What in the world is going on out here?' she asked urgently, fearing an attack. Tamae had her purse, and produced a gleaming nunchaku, but the priestess declined the weapon when it was clear there were no robbers.

After she heard whatever explanation was given, Mae sniffed and said 'Well, in any case, let us begin the briefing.' The noble priestess sat at the table and placed her gloved hands upon the surface. She spoke softly, as if wary of being overheard. 'Now, as you may have noticed, Calaunt is an utter dungheap.' she announced without any delicacy. 'It has always been so, a free port that would take any ship or trade, no matter wretched, lax on laws and good taste. The scholars speak seriously of fell magic in the area, but what that means is hard to say. It may even be cursed. But the tanneries certainly do not help the atmosphere, as you've smelt.'

'First, a history lesson. Forty years ago, the town was in the grip of the so-called Five Vultures, robber-barons who terrorised the northern Vast, raiding and taking what they wanted. The town did grow on what trickled down, but it grew lean and hungry.'

'Finally, as often happens, a group of adventurers arose to confront the Five Vultures. Bellas's Band were brave, daring, and lucky, and in their campaign they finally overthrew the Five Vultures, liberating Calaunt from their tyranny. And then, as often happens, they took power themselves. They call themselves the Merchant Dukes, under their leader, Supreme Scepter Bellas Thanatar.'

'At first, they were good for Calaunt, developing the city, bringing in legitimate trade, instituting a few laws, and giving it a veneer of civilisation. It prospered and flourished – it might not look like it, but Calaunt is the second richest city in the Vast – behind Procampur, of course.' the Procampan noted smugly. 'But it wasn't long before the Merchant Dukes went the way of the Five Vultures themselves. They rule as brutal dictators and kleptocrats. All that wealth is in their hands or in those of their supporters, while the people fight for scraps. They confiscate any and all magic they deem necessary "for the benefit of the city", or rather, their own. No wizard of middling power lasts long in this city.' She laid golden-hued eyes on Tseran, adding with a humourless smile 'So I don't advise you settle.'
This message was last edited by the player at 10:32, Sat 03 June 2017.

Angel went back downstairs to the common room of the Redfires Inn, but was immediately confronted by the jowly innkeeper and a pair of heavies, bouncers there to protect both patrons and working girls. 'You, girl, what was that noise? If you've breaking glasses...' he began to warn, trailing off, thinking an unspoken threat more effective than a spoken one.
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:33, Sat 03 June 2017.

Lost in her own dark thoughts...

Blasted stubborn mule of a mage! Doesn't he know a sincere apology when he hears one?! And the gall to refuse my gift too?! She fumed. But the worst was what she'd heard Tseran say when she'd listened briefly at the other side of the door, hoping to hear the sound of someone coming to stop her departure. Murderous am I?! She seethed, her eyes unconsciously narrowing dangerously as her hands involuntarily clenched into fists. What was that human saying? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned?

... Angel, disguised as the serving girl, Gavrila, was taken by surprise at the sudden confrontation by the innkeeper and his cronies. But the she-elf was too quick-witted to waste such a prime opportunity to incite a little chaos... especially in her present mood. What was it her grandmother had always said? Oh yes -- the very best lies are so close to being the truth.

"Oh sir!" Gavrila wailed, wringing her hands in anguish. "It was terrible! Those elves! They're crazy! They knocked the wine glasses from my hands, and they drew steel on me and tossed me out of the room when I tried to clean it up and make amends! They're dangerous, sir! I was afraid for my very life!"


[Private to GM: Taking ten on a Bluff check for "25" total. ]
This message was last edited by the player at 12:16, Tue 06 June 2017.

Maelarra had paused for questions or interjections, and when it seemed there weren't to be any, she looked a trifle disappointed, and went on. 'Now, for those of us in the Vast hoping for reform and civil rule in Calaunt, the Merchant Dukes, even their sons and daughters, are generally regarded as a lost cause. However, there is another – the next generation, their grandchildren. The scions are still young, wealthy, restless, and have damn near nothing to occupy themselves with until their grandparents finally relinquish their grips on power. They are also, of course, imminently malleable...'

'Thus, it was decided to attract them into a time-honoured profession for spoilt, wealthy noble brats like us,' Maelarra smiled, 'Adventuring.'

'To lead and guide them, the services of one Dorn Hammerhand were engaged – an adventurer and mercenary of Clan Hammerhand, a dwarf of good repute and impeccable character, and a skilled ranger and renowned orc-slayer. Dorn's task is to lead them through a series of challenges appropriate to their capabilities, to shepherd their moral development, and to help them build character. He is discreetly introducing them to the dangers of the world, from orcs to the Moonsea powers, to the corruption of their home city, and the tyranny and crimes of their forebears; and teaching them to work together, how to observe, think, care, and feel. And perhaps, in the coming decades, they will make for better rulers than their parents and grandparents. Procampur and the dwarves can afford to play a long game, gentlemen.'

'And you will breathe not a word of this to anyone.'

Hearing the wild story, the innkeeper grew red-faced and furious, and, to his credit, very concerned. 'What? Oh no, if Angel got the wrong room again... Bloody elves! Out of the way, Gavvie!' he directed, the guards trying to move past her and reach the room.

Then there was a shocked squeal, cutting through the hustle and bustle and low-level pleasuring of the common room. 'Face thief! Double-ganger!' accused a shocked-looking maid hurrying through the crowd, one who looked an awful lot like "Gavrila".

'By the Moonmaiden! What's going on here?' The guards separated moved to apprehend both "Gavrilas". The first was close enough grab Angel already.

'That cheap skank tricked me! I told her to see Madam Chaevala for a contract, but I knew she was too low-class for the likes of the Redfires. Then the witch doused me with pixie dust! I only just woke up in Mistress Melyssa's dungeon, and came straight here. And seen she's copied my face! That's against house rules!'

 Not, strictly speaking being a part of the lady Priestesses party, it doesn't seem as though Tseran feels he has a right to insert himself into her deliberations - although the comment 'You give it too much credit' is inserted sotto voice into the expected spot after her assessment of Calaunt and a rather more humble 'As you do me.' when she attempts to dress him down - with some degree of virtue on her side - for his lack of apparent arcane might.

 When the scheme of Waukeen's people is lain out for him however, his eyes spark in appropriate admiration - admiration that he voices with a simple "Worthy and thrice worthy. To civilise by moving with the tide of history, rather than against it... Positively elven. I had originally intended to parlay my assistance at the docks into a means to depart this fetid burg, but despite my distaste for the adventuring life... I find myself wondering if this endeavour might have call for the services of a diviner of the Ladies college?"

 Of course, he has no idea that his well-chosen words are having quite the effect downstairs that they are - his original expectation that well of course Angel was eavesdropping and deserved to be chided somewhat for doing so having stopped some way short of anticipating an incipient riot.

Angel, disguised as the maid Gavrila, smiled in spite of herself at the developing chaos. Acting quickly, she reached out with her mind to distract the guard reaching for her, sending a voice into his head that sounded something like the innkeeper's own.

Not that one, you fool! The other one!

Then concealing her actions she secretly cast a spell and promptly vanished from sight. Spinning and twisting, ducking and weaving, she quietly moved away from her previous location and put herself in an out-of-the-way location to secretly watch the unfolding fun.


[Private to GM: OOC: Sending telepathic message, (free). Casting Invisibility spell, (standard). Using Conceal Spellcasting trick with casting action. Taking ten on Sleight of Hand skill check for a total of 21. Quietly move to an out-of-way location (move). Taking ten on Move Silently skill check for a total of 19.

I'll pause here to allow NPC action before I continue. :)  ]

Orophear stood silently off to the side, taking in the information as it came. Once Mae seemed done the elf said,"I have no intention of spilling any secrets but what is our part to play in this situation? "

Kaijn had relocated to one of the comfy chairs sending a longing look to the broken glasses and bottle of wine on the floor. A glass of wine would have been appropriate right now just as the cleric of Waukeen entered the room. He greeted the cleric with a smile and awaited what she had to say. Of course he wasnt at all surprised of hearing the purpose  of the trip or that she had volunteered for it. After all this dump could be a powerful ally if the future rulers were indoctrinated the proper way. He grinned and winked to Lady Mae as she finished and was about to ask what their role was before Orophear beat him to the punch.

Maelarra leaned in, scrutinising the elf with golden eyes over a knowing smile. 'Indeed it might, Master Tal'chiar. Lord Hasken and your former companions at Haskenvale recommended you...' At his reaction, she cut him off and explained 'I contacted my colleagues in Procampur, they sent a message, and I received the reply while I was in there casting protective wards... What did you men think I was doing, powdering my nose? This is why I've chosen to trust you. And, I must say, negotiating peace with the skum creatures and helping them find a trade was very well done, so my compliments to you. The Merchant's Friend smiles upon you.' She inclined her head in respect.

'But where is the one called Angel? I understand she disappeared with you?'



'As we all well know, the adventuring trade is not without its risks.' Maelarra began, 'And most especially this one.'

'Dorn Hammerhand and the young scions of Calaunt have disappeared.'

She let that awkward truth sink in without comment. Since her city had, at quite some distance, played a part in engineering the disappearance of the heirs of a rival city, it was understandably a matter of utmost sensitivity.

'They haven't been seen in several days. For security's sake, Dorn maintained minimal contact or record of his plans; his few messages were made through Clan Hammerhand mercenaries. They haven't reported anything yet. So we don't know where they went or why. While it may be that they are simply late back from an expedition, it is possible they ran into something beyond their capabilities.'

'In any case, the disappearance has enhanced rivalries and suspicions between the ruling families. You may have noticed the excessive exploration of the Nimble Naiad by customs officials, the squads of thugs roaming the streets, the more-suspicious-than-usual attitudes. The families' overzealous private forces have been turning the city upside down and searching all going in or out, as if they might find a princeling stashed inside a crate of leather goods or sack of grain. It may not be long before the Teeth of Calaunt turn this into an excuse to search surrounding villages and towns, and not leave.'

'Given this tense situation, one of the better Merchant Dukes, Haldyn Stormkin, has appealed to the other cities for aid, no doubt seeking someone unbiased and politically impartial. Instead, Procampur has accepted. We have a clear responsibility to resolve the situation peacefully.' Whereas other powers might have cut ties, covered their hides, and washed their hands of any involvement in such an affair, Procampur was dedicated to duty, honour, and responsibility. Since it had clocked 1500 years of uninterrupted civilisation, it seemed to be doing something right.

'Thus, our mission here is to investigate the disappearances, locate the missing scions, and if necessary repeat their adventure. All while trying to avoid getting caught up in cut-throat Calauntan politics.'
This message was last edited by the player at 14:21, Thu 15 June 2017.

Deceived by the thrown voice, the first bouncer momentarily turned away, lumbering at Gavrila. 'Not me! Her! Look, now she's disappeared!' she pointed accusingly at where Angel had just been. Innkeeper and bouncers were left floundering about looking for her – turning invisible was a sure sign of guilt.

From a safe spot out of the way of the general mayhem her sudden disappearance had caused, the now-invisible Angel put into play the second part of her impromptu plan of having fun at the expense of others. Summoning her natural magic, she invisibly assumed the form a nimble, bipedal reptilian creature which some folk called a troglodyte -- her equipment magically molding itself around her new form. The sudden weight on her backside with the appearance of the creature's tail reminded Angel of just how much she missed having one. She turned to look behind her, momentarily forgetting that while invisible she couldn't see herself either. Still, she gave the appendage a couple experimental flicks, and smiled at the old familiar feeling before her thoughts were drawn back to the chaos she'd created. She spared a moment's thought on how best to further poke the old proverbial bear, and then grinning devilishly she reached out with her mind in something akin to a telepathic shout.

FOOLS! YOU HAVE DARED TO INTERFERE WITH MOMMY FORTUNA'S PLANS?! A POX ON YOU!

She thundered into the minds of everyone in range. And then summoning forth a troglodyte's most infamous ability with suitably enraging thoughts of Tseran and his rejection, Angel-the-invisible-troglodyte unleashed a horrible stench into the Inn's common/reception room. When the stink reached her own nostrils she had to suppress the instinct to recoil in disgust, though the form she now wore protected her from the worst of the nauseating odor. Dear Gods! That reeks! She thought to herself, feeling momentary dual twinges of sympathy and guilt. But those annoying thoughts soon passed as she witnessed the people's reactions to the stench... and she had to clasp both of her now-lizardlike hands over her snout to keep from breaking out in laughter!

[Private to GM: Telepathy range is 100ft and the stench range is 30ft... FYI. ]

 Tserans reaction is initially to raise an eyebrow it has to be admitted, but unlike Angel he has - as yet - no reason to twit the good lady priestess and so listens to the remainder of her explanation with a mannerly air, remarking "It seems inappropriate to speculate upon what any lady may wish to do in the privacy of her own chambers, although I respect the effort you extended to confirm my good name." with a small dip of the head before flushing very slightly and bowing a touch further, "It has been my experience that fair form does not always cover an honest heart, nor ugliness ill intent. The Skum were ill-used by the circumstances of their birth and to find them better than fate would otherwise have dealt them was a small thing I was glad to be able to undertake."

 The matter of 'Angel' on the other hand, brings a slightly darker complexion to his features that contains nothing of embarrassment and rather more of irritation "My last assured encounter with her was her boot upon my backside thrusting me through a one-way portal into the swamplands some way outside the city. I have no certain sighting of her since, although I suspect that she is both present and interfering with our affairs, as is her wont - self-control not being one of her strengths."

 After that, he simply settles in to listen until the point where the Inn outside starts to become loud and troublesome, whereupon he sighs audibly as though intuiting something of the likely source.

Maelarra pursed her lips in consideration of Tseran's appraisal. 'Hmm... Be that as it may, she has some amount of credit afforded to her for events in Haskenvale. Her powers may yet be useful in Calaunt, and I've been commanded to keep an open invitation or two for any helpers we may pick up along the way.'

Laughter would not come to troglodyte lips.

At the bizarre curse, patrons and prostitutes glanced about in puzzlement, as if expecting a speaker, because telepathy was rarely one's first thought. 'Eh? Who's playing about?' the innkeeper demanded.

Then a bearded wizard stood up from between a pair of beauties. He wore the grey-and-brown robes of an old-fashioned illusionist, with a glowing gem (it probably did no more than glow) dangling from his neck. Despite the not-so-mysterious disappearance of powerful magic items, and their owners, it was a daring local fashion to show off one's meagre power and wealth to flash such insignificant baubles instead. Such as to the girls here. 'Fear not, it is but beguilement and illusion magic.' he assured, hands raised both placatingly and for ready casting. Calaunt was, after all, the centre of illusion magic north of the Inner Sea, with battle-illusionists serving its armies. There'd bound to be one idling here. 'I'll soon sniff them out.' he determined, beginning to cast a spell – a simple detect magic.

Then the foul nauseating stink spread through the common room... and elicited only a few mild groans and disgustedly wrinkled noses. After all, this was Calaunt, also the smelliest city in Faerûn – a noxious stink was as common as weather. It was doubtful if half of these people still had a sense of smell left. The wizard scarcely slowed his spellcasting.

'She's gone out the window! This way!' the innkeeper concluded the likely source of the smell, leading the bouncers to a back room and the alley behind the inn.

Angel pouted - or would have, had troglodyte lips allowed such a gesture - at witnessing the failure of her joke to garner more than a few tiresome groans. Gods damn it! She cursed to herself, disappointment piling on top of the anger she already felt toward Tseran and threatening to ferment into full-blown depression. Giving up, she assumed her normal form (still invisible) and slumped back against the wall behind her in defeat...

... and then the local wizard spoke up in an attempt to intervene. Her interest piqued, Angel intensely watched the man's actions, immediately recognizing the spell he was attempting to cast. Unsure if he would actually be able to detect her while invisible but not willing to take any chances, she quietly moved herself out of range of the wizard's divination.

[Private to GM: Aware that Detect Magic is a 60 ft cone, Angel moves out of the suspected area of effect based on the direction the wizard is facing. Taking ten on a Move Silently check for a total of 19.  ]
This message was last edited by the player at 08:29, Fri 16 June 2017.

Slove had said or done little.  It seem best that way.
Turning to Maelarra Hlartrym he does answer her.

Maelarra I am here because I am here.  The politics of my own people did not interest me even before curse I carry.  That of humans interest me less.  As for gaining more than I can carry.  I cannot see point.  Farther time will take back what he given.  Even gods of time will face this one day.
However looking out and helping friend.  That want I here to do.

A evil smile comes to his face.

And for your sins, that is what you are.
You can never be accused of being ideal.  Even if you where pounding your noise.  There would be very good reason for it.  One that other should be careful of.

So I will wait until you need my help and point me in direction me and our friends must go.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:24, Sat 17 June 2017.

Maelarra regarded with the customary puzzlement, a little surprised that Slove considered her a friend. 'Ah, yes, thank you.' she said, a little taken aback. Composing herself, she looked around the group, asking 'Do you have any questions, or wish to refresh yourselves in the bathroom back there, or shall we be off? We have an audience with Duke Haldyn Stormkin,' and she added with a knowing smile, 'And perhaps a meeting with a friend of yours.'

Angel could move utterly unheard around the common room, her footfalls lost in the shuffling crowd, concerned whispers, and embarrassed coughs. She could also dance around the wizard for ages and never be in one place long enough for him to focus on her. 'It's just some mageling fool's jape.' the wizard pronounced, covering for his own inability to find her. 'She's probably already fled.'

The crowd began to relax, conversation resumed, and servants came out with large fans to beat the stink out of the room again.

Atop a horse the stench was at least bearable, the lady-knight thought, hoping to convince herself of the truthfulness of that statement. She looked down at the white dappled stallion underneath her, Albion, glad that she had invested the coins in one of the cloths which were enchanted to keep some of the stench away. The trusty warhorse was growing old but his rider made sure he always got the best fodder and treatment, thus keeping him in good shape still. Aerin patted his neck and muttered "Soon we will arrive, I bet they have protected the stables from this stench." she was also hoping the residence would have a similar repellent against the ugly smell.

"Let's hope the duke has a sensitive nose." she figured, finally putting dwelling on this particularely ugly property of Calaunt aside and her mind back on the mission. Thultyrl Rendeth had insisted she should go and investigate, even if 'Velvet' was still on the loose. The warrior sighed, she considered the black dragon and his half-dragon minions still a bigger threat but it wasn't wise to antagonize the ruler of this ancient kingdom - even if you had saved him from the clutches of a mad necromancer - and so she had met with the Procampan agent of the area who filled her in on the details.

The agent had warned her about the city, not just the stench but also the thieves and cut-throats that were common like rats. Aerin had reassured him that anyone trying to steal from her had to be either extremely good or extremely desperate or else they would end up extremely dead. Giving her a second look the man had to agree with her assessment, adding that the warning came as part of the standard briefing given to all non-Calauntians. He had also provided her with the Procampan seal, which helped her passing the gates without any officials sticking their noses into her saddlebags or pouches.

Truth be told, she was looking forward to meeting Orophear and Kaijn again. During their short, but intense, adventuring together they had proven to be loyal, reliable and even trustworthy. Something that she would only say of Arrazin before.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:01, Mon 07 Aug 2017.

Orophear shook his hear when asked the questions.
"This all seems quite straight forward and a bit time sensitive so I am ready to move forward immediately." the normally quiet elf said as he gathered up his pack. It had been too long since the Duskblade put his skills to use and Orophear was ready.

 The soft, subtle groan that issues from Tseran at Maelarra's remarks can only be described as one acknowledging an entirely unmagical prediction coming true but the cadaverous Diviner bows before inevitability and dips his head before allowing "If you can find a means by which to harness her... enthusiasms... Then she may not be completely without use."

 Slove's speech does get something of a puzzled look from Tseran to, but since no-one else is remarking on it he keeps his thoughts to himself, instead simply remarking "There is no time like the present I suppose." in answer to the proposal to move out, dipping his head politely towards Maelarra and indicating his readiness to depart.