CHAPTER 08
Aboard the Cecelia, gods know where, heading toward Imbrear
Early December

The good ship Cecelia, helmed by the courageous Captain Jonathon Lucas Pri'chard, who was hired by Boreas "Garfunkel" Highwind and his allies under the supervision of Darris's associate, A'tril, still sails the stormy seas.

The stars suggest the ship to have been blown three days off-course, and in those three days, little of interest has occurred. A half day, at best, remains before the captain expects to reach the port of Imbrear, which is nestled in northern Drynn.

The absence of the ship's stores of meat has been noticeable, and the bland meals that followed your encounter with Boil the Hardened taste watered down. Still, food is food, and the end of the journey seems near at hand.

That is, if the winds continue to cooperate.

[Crossroads]
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:49, Tue 25 Feb 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 1):

Maeve spends the next few days at sea much as she did the first part of the journey.  That is to say:

• speaking with Kurr
• reporting anything of interest she learns from Kurr to Boreas, that he may better keep up his cover as "Garfunkel."
• being amused by A'tril vomiting over the side of the ship.
• climbing the rigging as far as she can to gaze out to sea.
• perfecting the ideal cup of coffee with Zuriel.
• avoiding Lyriel and Zuriel's cabin like the plague.

If she has the opportunity, she'll also Send to her father letting him know that she and her companions have since moved on to Drynn.

Boreas will use the hat once during the remaining journey to Send to Darris, informing him of the encounter and updating him on the ship's progress.

He will periodically check Filbert's notebook for word from Baldwin, as well.

Zuriel keeps to his cover, and doesn't speak much. He spends the rest of the voyage

-Perfecting chalice-generated coffee with Maeve
-Discreetly learning how to activate magic devices from Boreas
-Asking questions of the Book of Answers
-Playing chess with Lyriel

*****

Zuriel finds Boreas in the mess hall the day after their encounter with Boil. He looks around to ensure they were not overheard. Still, he keeps to their cover. "Garfunkle, I'd like to learn how to use magical implements. Do you think you can teach me?"

Making a show in case anyone is watching, "Garfunkel" responds.

And what prompted this sudden interest in the arcane, Al?  I suppose I could take some time to show you what I know.  Always useful to have someone else around who can invoke a little power.

He begins teaching Zuriel the basics of how to "trick" magic items into working for you.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 5):

Keef resumes his usual ship-underway procedure:

-Studying and experimenting with his books and, when he cannot sit still,
-Running around the ship like a maniac singing songs and looking for Mermaids, decks in need of swabbing, yardarms and trying to 'scuttle' things (though since he has no idea what that means, it mostly means more running about and asking questions).

"It's just...Mistress Leanna has several arcane trinkets in her possession. If she were to be unable to activate them herself, I don't want to be helpless to assist." He sits down next to Boreas, shifting his weight so that his pendent glints conspicuously in the lantern light of the cabin. He shoots Boreas a meaningful look.

Zuriel pays rapt attention at Boreas' lesson, and finds that what he lacks in know-how and academic knowledge, he makes up for in force of personality.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:09, Tue 25 Feb 2014.

There you are, Alphonse. I've been looking for you. Lyriel walks into the mess hall, finding Boreas and Zuriel hunched over few trinkets. She nods imperceptibly to the two in approval. It will be good to have another person capable of activating magical items. Still, as important as their work was, there were appearances to keep up.

She beckons imperiously to Zuriel. Come, Alphonse. I'm utterly bored out of my mind, and I believe it's your move. I don't know how you think you can possibly salvage victory with both your bishops and one of your rooks gone, but I do so enjoy seeing you struggle against fate. She lifts her chin, walking back down to their cabin. Do not keep me waiting, or I shall be most displeased, she calls over her shoulder.

[OOC: Keeping Water Walking and Underwater Breathing prepared for the rest of the voyage. Preparing 3x Sendings a day. If anybody wants to Send something that allows a response, let me know.]

Zuriel nods his thanks to Boreas, collecting some minor device on which to practice before following Lyriel down the corridor. Work work work.

[OOC going to try to study my pendent, if possible, in a way that doesn't risk activating it.]

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 9):

(AUTOFOLLOW)

Sazed continues to do the sorts of things one might expect from an Arcane Shaman and planar traveler, including chatting with the crew, looking at whales, and helping Keef with his research.

Unautofollow

Harassing Zuriel about his burgeoning romance, but in an endearing, paternal way
Singing sea Shanties with Keef
Harassing any and all members of the crew and chewing their ears off about the dragon turtle
This message was last edited by the player at 18:35, Wed 26 Feb 2014.

In reply to Sazed (msg # 10):

Imbraer is soon within sight, a faint promise of land that slowly grows from a gray splotch on the horizon to a mighty city that looks to rival even Ikuabai.

The city nestled among the jagged cliffs of the Sea of Tears, which surround the peninsula on which Imbraer stands on its northern and western sides.  To the east, the cliffs gradually shrink to a more manageable beachhead. There are no sands for the waves to lap against by the eastern shoreline, but rather an endless smattering of dark pebbles.

It is here, on the eastern edge, that the harbor has been built. Five hundred slips made of blackened wood and stone jut out from the shore, defended by a pair of mighty jetties on either side of the harbor area.  Twin towers stand at the edge of each jetty, lit by a beacon that glows like a second sun.  Warehouses line the harbor, as they did in Ikuabai, but here the similarities end.

The harbor does not adjoin the city of Imbrear directly, but is instead located beyond a tall wall of onyx.  This wall surrounds Ikuabai's eastern and southern approaches, with no wall needed to bolster the natural defenses of the northern and western edges, which abut against the high cliffs. Both walls possess a gate, though the eastern one -- which separates the harbor from the city itself -- appears to be more of an archway, the portcullis raised so high you can't be sure it exists at all.

A keep, tall and proud, rests in the northwestern corner, taking advantage of the cliffs to provide an ideal high ground. It's a standard enough affair, consisting of its own walls, a squat main building, and a taller tower rising above the rest.

The banner flying in the vigorous breeze proudly displays a coiled serpent, the insignia of Kazul. More than half of the ships docked here bear similar colors and devices upon their sails, though there are a fair number of Gaelian ships, as well.  A score of warships fly the iron fist of the Dominion as well, but always below the serpent.

Captain Pri'chard directs the good ship Cecilia toward a trio of open slips, settling it into the central one to create a little elbow room -- there are no ships to either immediate side.

What crew are not involved in the docking procedure are conscripted by A'tril to help move the cargo to the top of the deck, though Geof is left to supervise the task.

Soon enough, the gangplank is lowered to admit a squat, sour-smelling man with a wiry black beard and a black, weather-stained cloak several inches too long for him. He holds a ledger in his meaty fingers, and he speaks without looking up from it.

"Name, origin, cargo, and business?" he barks, his quill hovering over the ledger as he waits for a response.

"The Cecilia, of Ikuabai. Construction materials, delivery," A'tril says silkily.  The man scribbles a few words down and speaks again.

"Slip 47's warehouse is available for $50 a day. The slip itself is $50 a day. The harbormaster will be making the rounds shortly."

The man scribbles a few more figures down, rips the parchment in half, and hands the bottom half to A'tril.

"You'll need to produce this to the harbormaster when asked.  Consider it a deed to your ship; if you lose one, you lose the other. Welcome to Imbraer."

The man hurries away to the next ship, which is docking a few slips down, leaving the P.A.R.T.Y. to itself.

"Keep moving the cargo above the decks," A'tril advises, tucking the paper into his tunic.  "I'll speak to the harbormaster when he arrives."

In reply to DM (msg # 11):

The harbormaster's arrival does not take long -- perhaps 30 minutes -- but A'tril hovers at the top of the gangplank like a hawk until the man is before him.

"Docking ticket," the man demands, sticking out a leathery hand when he reaches the top of the plank. It is not a question.

A'tril produces it promptly, and the man glances at it for only a moment before returning it to the dark elf's waiting hands.

"$50, up front, for today's docking, plus $25 for the crown. You want the warehouse, that's another $50."

A'tril nods, and motions for Boreas to step forward.

"Our charterer will pay you your $125," the dark elf oozes when Boreas gets close enough to speak without raising his voice. "And how's Ptolmy these days?"

The harbormaster blinks, then glances up at the Cecilia's sails.

"Bloody handsome, as always, and strong as an ox," he murmurs, turning toward Boreas expectantly, hand outstretched for the promised money.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:28, Wed 26 Feb 2014.

Boreas steps up and hands the Harbormaster his money.

"Garfunkel" approaches A'tril.  So we're here.  What's the next step, and who do we settle up with?  Time to collect our payment, both in coin and in information.  And the 125 gold I just had to pay, that we didn't negotiate in the earlier agreement.

He turns to the PARTY.

Help get the cargo unloaded, then meet me on the docks after you're finished.

Lyriel discreetly taps the party with a wand of conceal alignment. Just in case.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 13):

Maeve rolls her eyes as Boreas orders his "associates" to unload the cargo, but does as instructed.

Who's Ptolmy? she asks to the assembled group at large, which presumably also includes Kurr.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 13):

After the harbormaster leaves, A'tril smiles.

"Ptolmy's smoke and mirrors, nothing more, but still knows more than such things should. In his name, I have learned that our contact is holed up at the Handsome Ox, an inn I happen to know well.  Mind you, it's nothing like what you're used to -- instead of a common room, tavern, or restaurant, the rooms rest above an active smithy. The rooms above contain beds, but you'd be a fool to sleep there.  Fortunately, they also contain tables and chairs, and thus are used mostly as meeting space.  The racket of the hammers and the forge makes it quite difficult for anyone to overhear what is said."

He folds his hands, content, and breathes deeply of the salty air tinged with fish and pitch.

"Once the warehouse is loaded and the crew has been paid, I'll take you and your lackeys there. You don't have to come, of course, but my contact has your money, not me. In all likelihood there will be additional work for us, as well. Are we agreed?"

"Garfunkel" nods.  I'll gather my crew and meet you there.

He finds Captain Pri'chard.  Well done, Captain.  We wouldn't have made it without you.  Meet us on the docks and we'll pass along the pay for you and the crew.  I trust you can distribute it.

Boreas heads to the docks to meet with the rest of the crew and to see who's receiving all this cargo.

[OOC]Before arriving, we clicked each member of the PARTY with the wand of Undetectable Alignment.[/OOC]

Zuriel looks upon the city with a vague sense of foreboding. This isn't at all what I expected. On the surface, it just looks like any other city. Still, something about it...the air here sets me on edge.

He follows the party, looking around at passers by to see if he can detect an unusually high proportion of evil denizens of the city, or anything else distinguishing this port from any other port in the world.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 18):

Just another city, but a NEW city.  Zuriel and Maeve are careful to keep on either side of Keef as they travel lest he vanish into a nearby warehouse, aboard a ship, or into a random tavern.

In reply to Keef (msg # 19):

The goods are slowly but steadily unloaded into the warehouse assigned to serve the slip, after which Captain Pri'chard produces a bill for their services.



"It's been a pleasure doing business with you," the captain says.  "We'll likely be here for a few days, until a ship bound for Gaelia requires a crew, at least. Unless you'd like to retain us for a return voyage?"

Boreas collects the funds from the PARTY and pays the captain the required sum.

Not sure when we're heading back, Captain, but if you're still in town when we do, we'll be sure to hire you.  Until then, live long, and prosper.

[OOC]Once we get our money, it's not a huge deal who the funds came from, but until then I suppose it matters who forks over the cash.  Also, Zuriel and Lyriel are footing the bill for the medic.[/OOC]

Boreas and the rest of the PARTY head to the inn that A'tril mentioned, if there are no objections.

Lyriel follows Boreas, tugging Zuriel along behind her.

[OOC alright with moving on]

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 22):

Keef looks down and notes that, for some reason, his hand is locked in a strange position with pinkie/ring and index/middle fingers pressed together.  He shrugs and dismisses it.

In reply to Keef (msg # 19):

Maeve decides that Imbraer is very much like Ikuabai. . . if Ikuabai lacked all warmth and charm, color, and had a decidedly seedy feel about it.

She and Zuriel walk in a well-honed formation, one on either side of Keef.  If the lad begins to veer off to the left or right, one of them gently nudges him back into line. Maeve finds that her guisarme doubles nicely as a shepherd's hook in this regard.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 24):

Ever the explorer, it is Sazed, and not Keef, who wanders to and fro, fascinated by the baubles, sights, smells, and sounds of Drynn.

"Nothing like a change of scenery and a new set of smells."

Seeing the strange and disapproving looks from the group, Sazed rejoins the lockstep toward the inn.

No one on this plane ever appreciates how good it smells.

In reply to Sazed (msg # 25):

The P.A.R.T.Y. makes its way to the Handsome Ox along with A'tril, Geof, and Kuff. They make for a large group, but imposing enough that everyone you pass seems intensely focused on minding their own business.

You quickly learn this to be an oddity of Imbrear -- or perhaps of Drynn, in general: mind your own business, or prepare for confrontation.

The smithy and inn looks much as it was described: the ground floor is dedicated to the pounding of hammers and the tempering of steel into daggers, helmets, chains, horseshoes, and the like.  It's a sprawling expanse, with four different fires lit at once and near a dozen smithies hammering, tempering, smelting, and forging their wares.

A single door protects the staircase, lost amid the whirl of activity to any not actively looking for it. A'tril walks directly up to it, swings it open, and holds the door until everyone has filed in.  The door closes behind him as the group ascends a surprisingly sturdy flight of stairs, which skips the second floor entirely and opens into a lobby on the third.

A plain-spoken woman sits behind a counter, and after a few words from A'tril, the dark elf receives an iron key.  This opens one of the rooms further down the hall, and in short order the P.A.R.T.Y. finds itself seated in a cramped, sparsely apportioned chamber that one might, if forced, define as a bedroom.

A'tril and Geof help themselves to the side of the bed, using it like a couch, while Kurr stands silently in front of the room's only door.  There are no windows, and the table that sits across from the bed is graced with only two chairs.  One of these is occupied by a squat, balding dwarf with a platinum-blonde beard and stubby limbs that seem as wide as they are long.

"Garfunkel," he exclaims as the group files in, motioning toward the only free chair in the room -- located across the table from himself.  "Glad you could make it. Please, sit, and tell me of your journey."

Zuriel positions himself next to Kurr, protectively behind Lyriel. Being in such close quarters with people he distrusted set him on edge. To say nothing of the smell of bodies who did not put nearly the same level of emphasis on hygienic care during a long sea voyage as the highborn.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 27):

Keef near spins in place looking quickly around.  First he is taking in the 'sights' offered by the sparse room, next he looks to see who 'Garfunkle' is.  When he notices that everyone is looking at Boreas he clamps his mouth shut and points to him, just in case the Dwarf also forgot who is who.

Well met... once I get your name.  The journey was successful, though we were hit by a fierce storm around the Hook.  A dragon turtle approached us at one point, as well, but with a few choice words and a few choice cuts of meat, we sent him off.  Essentially, the cargo arrived safely.

Now, I believe there was some compensation due to us...

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 29):

"There always is," the dwarf says, nonplussed.  "Call me Ptolmy. Y'got the slip?"

A'tril nods, handing the docking paperwork over to him.

"Good, good," Ptolmy says, glancing it over for a moment before tucking it away in his tunic.  "That's the last load, then. We can break ground before it freezes over. My boys will take it from here."

The dwarf drums his fat, sausage-like fingers on the tabletop for a moment, sizing Boreas up.

"You and your lot don't look the type for manual labor, and it's construction what happens next. The Underhand have further orders for you?"

A'tril takes it upon himself to answer.

"No. He would take the idiot priest's place at the table, and has thus far seemed able enough. Something more militant might be appropriate, though he'll want to be paid first."

"No kidding," the dwarf snorts.  "I've got a situation down near Ogdoven that could use a little muscle, along with some more clandestine work right here in Imbrear.  Gotta preference?"

Ptolmy fishes a tiny key of brass out of his pocket and tosses it to Boreas.

"Think it over. Your money's being kept in the Central Vault, number's 347. If you want another job, I'll be here for another day -- no later. That'll be all."

Kurr turns to open the door, but Ptolmy stops him.

"Not you lot, just Garfunkel's men," the dwarf says, glancing at A'tril.  "The Underhand has new orders for you three."

A'tril, Geof, and Kurr stand aside, leaving the doorway clear should the P.A.R.T.Y. wish to depart.

In reply to DM (msg # 30):

Muscle?  Clandestine work?  I hope Boreas knows what the fuck he's doing. . . .

Maeve uneasily follows the rest of the P.A.R.T.Y out of the room.

[Assuming the P.A.R.T.Y wants to leave the room.  If not, she stands there equally uneasily.]
This message was last edited by the player at 16:38, Thu 27 Feb 2014.

In that case, well met Ptolmy.  Boreas snatches the key from the air.  The money is good, sure but the real payment I was promised for this job was information.  I understand if the Underhand didn't communicate to you in that level of detail, but A'tril can attest to his words.

I have earned this payment, so I want to know.  What are we building, and why?

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 32):

Ptolmy glances at A'tril, who shrugs, then clears his throat.

"Information we have, but not in spades. We're building towers, Garfunkel.  Eight so far, I'm told, and this'll be both the ninth and the last. Tall spires made from a specific blend of elements, ores, and metals, constructed in a specific way."

He waves his hand in the air dismissively.

"Damned if I know what they're for -- the Underhand is tight-lipped about it, says something about them being 'necessary for our work to continue' or some such. But the coin's good, the work's been steady enough, and they're quite a sight to behold once they're finished."

In reply to DM (msg # 33):

9 towers? 9 Gods? This has to be linked. Lord if we don't just keep stumbling backward into the right direction.

Sazed looks deep in thought, and does his best to maintain a straight face as the P.A.R.T.Y. begins its apparent descent into the criminal underworld.

Very well, I'll see what I can get from the Underhand then.  My crew and I will go confer and give you our decision tomorrow.

Boreas turns and walks out, headed for the vault.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 35):

The money is reclaimed from the vault without incident, leaving the P.A.R.T.Y. free to explore Imbraer and discuss their options.

"We should find an inn for the night, before we split up and explore the city." Zuriel murmurs. "Preferably one nicer than the Handsome Ox."

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 37):

A good idea, Maeve agrees.  Though if we're exploring the city we should at least go in pairs.  Imbraer's unfamiliar and I don't much care for the look of it.  It's dangerous to go alone.

Lyriel nods in agreement. And then I want to find the market. I bet there's all kinds of interesting goods we don't see in the West... She looks around, trying to gauge the prevailing fashions of the city. Perhaps it's just the part the PARTY is currently in, but most of the citizens seem rather dull and drab.

Disappointing... I hope things are more vibrant elsewhere.

She nods at Maeve. Pairs are a good idea. Alphonse can come with me to carry my bags, of course.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 37):

Keef's mind somehow redacts the statement except "split up and explore the city".

Maeve's good reflexes allow her to grab hold of the boy's collar before he disappears under a tent flap.

Pairs?  Does Chubbs count?  Longshank?  Keef looks around hopefully.  Sazed?

In reply to Keef (msg # 40):

I don't know that either Chubbs or Longshank qualifies as a partner, but Sazed, sure, Maeve says.  But--

Before she can get out her qualifier, Keef and Sazed are skipping--literally skipping--off to explore the unknown city.

DON'T STAY OUT SO LONG THIS TIME!  BE BACK BY NIGHTFALL! she hollers after them, with absolutely no indication that her call has been heeded.

Looks like that leaves us then. Boreas says to Maeve.  Couldn't hurt to see what's around in the market before we turn in.  Could be interesting to explore a new city.  We seem to be doing a lot of that lately.  He smirks.

Anyway, meet back here an hour before sunset.  Everyone find an inn and we'll all go to the best one.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:34, Thu 27 Feb 2014.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 42):

Oh, that's easy.  We should stay a the Pampered Lion.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 42):

And so it came to pass that the P.A.R.T.Y. chose the unfamiliar city of Imbrear, nestled in the harsh, dangerous land of Drynn, as the perfect place to split into pairs.

The Mages

Having contributed to the discussion by tossing out the Pampered Lion as a suggested place of lodging, Keef, Sazed, Chubbs, and Longshank set off toward whatever wonders might await them in the mean city streets. The buildings are drab and largely unadorned, as are the people who occupy them. A vast class difference seems to exist, with the very poor dressed in rags and the very rich dressed in silks -- and none of the latter go anywhere without at least one armed guard.

The pair eventually comes to a four-way crossroads in the city's grid, with a signpost scrawled with the following:


The Insufferable Couple

The highborn amble off toward the nearest marketplace, stopping to ask directions from the least-icky-looking person they come across. Before long, they stand before the doorway of a ramshackle apothecary, above which are inscribed the words: Newton's Herbs & Discount Carpentry.  The door is slightly ajar, though the smokey windows make it difficult to peer within.

The Sufferable Couple

Boreas and Maeve  strike out shortly thereafter, and soon find themselves standing before the same signpost Keef and Sazed encountered above. The mages, however, are no longer there, having made up their mind and pressed onward well before the others arrived.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:27, Thu 27 Feb 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 44):

There's an entire district for the gallows?

Maeve and Boreas look at one another, shrug, and make for the market district to look for an inn and to see what exotic wares Imbraer has to offer.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:34, Thu 27 Feb 2014.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 45):

The Sufferable Couple

Boreas and Maeve wander to the merchant quarter, keeping their eye out for shops that seem interesting. The variety is not quite what it was in Ikuabai, but there seems to be at least one shop dedicated to most wares and services you could hope for. The area seems busy enough for early afternoon, and very few people give you any mind whatsoever.

In reply to DM (msg # 46):

Keef drags Sazed in the direction of the gallows, pointing out that they might get the chance to see a head or a dragon or a 'Greatsman' like in the story of Sir Greenheart.

Boreas and Maeve explore the various shops, searching for anything out of the ordinary or particularly interesting.  Then, they set off to look for a suitable inn.

In reply to Keef (msg # 47):

I can think of better places for you to spend your time, but that said, I love your sense of curiosity.

Let's go see the gallows. I bet they'll be all sorts of flies and maggots for Chubbs to glower disapprovingly at.


Babysitting and maggot hunting. Still not a prison cell Sazed. Still not a prison cell.

Zuriel enters the apothecary shop with Lyriel. Lyriel wanders off to look around the shop, and Zuriel finds the selection of teas. Finding one that smells light and floral, he takes it to the shopkeeper, paying for it in the coin of the Sultanate. He and Lyriel then depart the shop, heading out into the market to find a respectable looking inn.

I wonder if the Pampered Lion is an actual inn. And if it is, how Keef knows about it.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:16, Thu 27 Feb 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 50):

Sazed wanders to and fro while heading toward the gallows, clearly distracted by the sights and sounds of the city.

His inability to focus and move toward the gallows draws even Keef's ire, ultimately resulting in much pulling on Sazed's literal coattails.

Sorry Keef. It's been quite some time since I've been in a human city. In one week, I've spent more time among civilization and people than I had in the last 30. I'm still..getting used to all this.

I never thought I'd say it, but I'm finding that I was more at home among the fire pits than I am in common society.

It's a frightening thing to feel like a stranger in your home. Wherever your pursuits of the arcane take you, don't let them take you too far from here.

I was not expecting the Pampered Lion to be near the gallows. People in Drynn are into some sick shit.

Lyriel puts her purchases in her pouch and follows Zuriel out into the street. Tea would be nice...goddess knows the fashion here doesn't look promising.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 52):

Keef settles somewhat.

You've been away from home a long time then I.... know what that's like.  Sometimes you don't want to go home, you KNOW you shouldn't but you can't help miss it.

Keef thinks for a moment, only slightly distracted by a game of three-card-Montey being played by two grubby men and a surprisingly lethal-looking woman.

It's worth it though?  Being back on this plane?

Keef snaps back to his task and tugs at Sazed again.

Oh, I don't know if THAT's where the Pampered Lion is, but I've never SEEN a gallows before!

In reply to Keef (msg # 53):

The Mages

Keef and Sazed make their way down the surprisingly well-kept streets without encountering any resistance, eventually stumbling upon an area called Executioner's Square. A large stone platform takes up a quarter of the area, with the rest covered in short, scrub-like grass -- perfect for spectating.

Three wooden gallows stand above the stone platform, though in front of them is an ornate headsman's block.  The rusty red tinge surrounding it suggests it is well used.

An announcement board has been posted nearby, listing out the month's schedule of executions. None of the names stand out, but each day has at least one person assigned to it -- and some as many as five.

Today's execution appears to be scheduled for an hour from now: Tal Cremin, charged with treason, to be publicly beheaded. A very small crowd has started to gather in the grassy spectating area, and a dark elf looks over at the two mages with a grin.

"A fine day to still a traitorous tongue, am I right?"

The Insufferable Pair

Lyriel and Zuriel weave in and out of the crowds of the merchant's quarter until their eye catches on a potentially promising inn named, simply, Tinderbox. It looks to be pleasant enough, well-populated and free from the flea-bitten riffraff that have been lounging about the other establishments you've seen.

The Sufferable Pair

Boreas and Maeve spend some time people-watching, but for the most part things aren't much different than you'd expect in any other city.

Perhaps the lone exception comes from the Dominion troops, who police the city with a sort of zealous vigor that seems to care less about whether people are doing something wrong than about providing the appearance of order.

The result has left the populace more cowed than you're accustomed to, generally unwilling to go out of their way to speak with strangers or deviate from their day's plans.

Eventually, the two come across a likely looking inn: the Hooded Serpent.  Despite the venomous name, the signpost depicts a comical caricature of a drunken cobra in a cowl, and the place is alive with music, talk, and the sounds of feasting.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:33, Fri 28 Feb 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 54):

Maeve and Boreas look at one another, shrug, and decide to check out the inside of the Hooded Serpent.

Having located an inn with plenty of time to spare before sundown, Zuriel and Lyriel head back out to browse the market. When not being insuffereble, Zuriel takes the opportunity to scan the crowd, wanting to get a sense if the proportion of evil citizens is higher here than any other large city he's been in. He also keeps an eye out for the racial makeup of the population, wondering which races made their home in Imbraer.

Lyriel likewise scrutinizes the city's population, but in her case, with an eye to the prevailing fashion of the society.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 57):

The Hooded Serpent

The building is as boisterous on the inside as it sounded from without, with people of all shapes and sizes milling around a crowded dance floor, eating in the dining area, or sitting at the bar to drink.

A serving girl wearing a black outfit that leaves little to the imagination scurries over to you almost immediately.

"What's your pleasure?" she asks, looking up at Boreas and Maeve in turn with playful blue eyes. "We have ales, wines, breads, stews, and cheeses today, and rooms to spare. For the night, or for... less," she giggles, glancing at Boreas and Maeve meaningfully. "If you fancy a little privacy, that would be easy to arrange."

The Insufferable Pair

The citizens of Imbrear are dressed simply, for the most part, in plain-colored clothing designed to draw absolutely no attention to themselves.  Guards dress in dark armor and cloaks, similarly nondescript, except for the golden image of an iron fist emblazoned on their shields and breastplates. Many wear some symbol of the serpent upon their person, as well.

[Private to Zuriel Silendril: There are more evil people here than you've seen in other areas, but by no means does this make up the entirety of the population.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:27, Fri 28 Feb 2014.

Just an ale for me.  The room can wait.  We've got other friends coming along later.  Boreas smiles disarmingly.  And what are the going rates?  ... for the rooms, of course.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 59):

The Hooded Serpent

"$5 per hour per bed, caps at $30," the girl says.  "I'll fetch your ales."

Soon, Boreas and Maeve are holding large mugs of refreshing ale, with no one paying them much attention aside from their dutiful waitress.

In reply to DM (msg # 60):

Maeve looks quite ill-at-ease, the Hooded Serpent bringing back unpleasant recollections of her (extremely) brief stint as a prostitute at the Screaming Wench. She sips at her ale uncomfortably, gold eyes darting from side to side.

I'm thinking that maybe we should stay elsewhere.

Hope the others have found something... more suitable - oh, thank you.  Boreas smiles at the serving wench, offering a generous tip and taking his ale.

He drinks it slowly but steadily, then rises.

Let's be off then.

Having taken in the sights as much as they care to, Zuriel and Lyriel return to the inn to check prices and atmosphere.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 62):

Very well, if you're sure you're quite finished consorting with the young lady's chest, Maeve says with a wry smile, watching as Boreas' good eye keeps drifting slowly yet determinedly in that direction.

Ales consumed, they head back in the direction of the rendezvous point.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 64):

Really?  Is it the weather or the date?  What did he do?

In reply to Keef (msg # 65):

(Prior to arriving in the square)

The worthiness of being here remains to be determined. For now, I am happy to no longer be imprisoned, to have made new friends, and to have seemingly found my calling amongst your group. Surely, you don't think it's a coincidence that as you investigate the realms above and below, and the gods who inhabit them, that a traveler of the worlds has fallen into your lap?

Coincidence is merely the hubris of fate, and is never to be trusted.

(arriving in the square)

One man's traitor is another man's revolutionary or hero. The context of all things is in the ye of the beholder and those writing the history books. Never forget that Keef. Tell us truly, what is the man's traitorous crime?

In reply to Sazed (msg # 66):

The Mages

"What else?" the dark elf smirks, grinning insolently.  "Blasphemy."

In reply to DM (msg # 67):

We're somewhat new to town. Which Gods do we hate here? I'd just like to get my bearings in order, lest I find myself on a similar end of the axe as this poor soul will soon be.

Death for words. Could a concept be anymore appalling. I'd been gone for so long, I'd have thought, hoped, that we'd moved past such petty grievances. The relentless pursuit of perfection remains a winding road for this iteration of civilization. But no fire pits and burning flesh smell. So they've got that!

In reply to Sazed (msg # 68):

The Mages

"The traitor dared speak out against the Voice of God," the dark elf says, looking at Sazed as if he must be particularly stupid.  "I even heard he him mention the Exiled One, who must not be acknowledged."

In reply to DM (msg # 69):

Ha!  You just acknowledged him!

In reply to Keef (msg # 70):

Semantics don't seem like they're likely to be appreciated here Keef, but well put.

Have you seen enough of the death square, or would you like to stay for the main event? I personally think it's something you should not in any way see, and is completely inappropriate.

Which is why I'm definitely recommending we stay.

Where's the fun in following the rules?

A wicked grin overcomes Sazed's face.

I have to be an influence on the boy, but it doesn't always have to be a good one. Not My. Style.

In reply to Sazed (msg # 71):

The Mages

The speaker turns white as a sheet and looks around to ensure no one else heard him.

"I... that is to say... good day," they stammer, shrinking away into the crowd.

More people are showing up now than before, nearly all of whom are prominently displaying the symbol of a serpent somewhere on their drab regalia.  A smattering of Dominion troops are present as well, marching into the square with a wagon in tow.

Within the wagon huddles a man in chains. He is wearing nothing but a ragged pair of breeches, and his filthy hair is matted.  Flies buzz around him, though he does not seem to notice them. The man's eyes are closed, and he is muttering constantly under his breath.

Lyriel follows Zuriel into the market quarter inn, looking around curiously.

In reply to DM (msg # 72):

Keef weaves through the growing crowds, just as interested in who comes to watch the beheading as who is being beheaded.  If possible, he will get near to the prisoner to see him better.  He also keeps a lookout for the Pampered Lion.

In reply to Keef (msg # 74):

Following the boy's lead and keeping a protective eye out, Sazed weaves through the crowd toward "center stage"

There's no row like front row..

Lyriel and Zuriel determine that the inn charges a fee of 5 gold per night, per room. She looks around the interior. Nothing exciting, but it looks clean. And safe. It will do.

She takes links her arm with Zuriel and they depart, heading back towards the agreed-upon meeting spot. On the way back they take care to ensure that they do something insufferable and couple-like.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 76):

Maeve and Boreas, who have been standing about bored, greet the two highborn as they join them at the rendezvous point, looking especially insufferable.

Here's hoping you had better luck. Did you two happen to find an inn that was NOT also a brothel?

Lyriel raises a delicate eyebrow at Maeve's question. A...brothel? No, the inn we found was quite...clean. Five gold a night per room. I figure we'll only need three rooms, so...

The priestess smiles brightly, remembering something. Oh! We found new tea! She rummages in a pouch from the herbalist's store before extracting a fragrant tin, which she holds out to Maeve for inspection.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 78):

Maeve quirks a half-smile at this interesting change in the sleeping arrangements.

Three?  Interesting.  And who, pray tell, will be bunking with whom? she says quietly, mentally challenging herself to see how red she can make the cleric turn.  The answer?  Very.

Maeve takes a pinch of the tea leaves, sniffs, and smiles approvingly.

Very nice, flowery.  We'll have to try some later.

Boreas uses the hat to Send to Sazed the name of their selected inn, and the pairs, both sufferable and in-, set off in that direction.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:57, Fri 28 Feb 2014.

Lyriel flushes scarlet but manages to keep herself composed as they walk. Why Mae-riah...just what are you implying? she answers with a smirk. She lowers her voice. We've already established our cover story...it could attract undue attention if we were to change the sleeping arrangements now we're on the continent. You wouldn't want us to jeopardize the mission, would you?

She surreptitiously tucks the tea back into the apothecary bag with the muffled clank of tin on wood before stowing it back in her pouch.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 77):

The Mages

The cart comes to a stop behind the stone dais, and two grim-looking soldiers open the door in order to lead the stumbling prisoner forward.  The man is bound with manacles around his wrists and ankles, and the guards lead him by the shoulders to the front of the stone platform.

They are not gentle.

A third man emerges from behind the dais, leaping onto the stone platform with relish.  A black hood and mask cover his face, though he wears the normal Dominion solider uniform aside from that. He carries a large battleaxe easily in his hands, and a burlap sack has been tucked into his belt.

The crash of a gong reverberates throughout the square, and the two soldiers force the condemned man to his knees.  He bears the look of a man beaten, his eyes possessing the far-away character of a mind lost in a world much different from the one it currently inhabits.

One of the soldiers near the prisoner begins to speak.

"The prisoner is has been tried, condemned, and found guilty of the crime of Blasphemy in the First Degree: Renouncing the Voice of God. He has also been tried, condemned, and found guilty of High Treason: For Reasons Unmentionable. The punishment is death by beheading, to be carried out by today's headsman: Grant."

The masked man waves as the crowd cheers, a cruel grin dancing across his features.

"If there are any opposed to the Tyrant's justice," the man continues, "speak now, and feel free to share the sentence."

Upon reaching the Tinderbox, Maeve leaves Lyriel to go about acquiring the rooms, since she seems to have planned it all out.  She, for her part, goes about acquiring a table in the common room around which they can discuss what they wish to do regarding Ptolmy's offer.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 82):

The Tinderbox

Rooms are swiftly acquired at the agreed-upon price, and a table to found off to one side. It's not exactly private, but it does have enough chairs for everyone -- so, a step up from the common benches that take up the bulk of the room.

A lad of about 12 summers wanders up to the table as Maeve seats herself, and appraises her coolly for a moment.

"Gaelian, eh? I suppose you have coin enough for a meal. What'll it be?"

Lyriel considers for a moment, then secures 5 rooms for the PARTY. If people want to condense tomorrow to save costs, that's their business. For now, I figure a bit of personal space might be appreciated.

She directs 'Alphonse' to take her effects to the room on the end of the block as she joins Maeve and Boreas at the table.

We'll see the menu, if you please.

Zuriel takes their personal luggage to the room Lyriel pointed out. He tosses their belongings onto the floor next to the reasonably comfortable-looking bed. Pausing for a moment to rummage in around in his own luggage, he extracts the portable chess set from the Cecilia, setting it up on the room's one table.

Perfect.

He then locks up behind him and rejoins the PARTY at the table as Lyriel is asking for the menu.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 84):

The Tinderbox

The boy blinks at Lyriel for a moment, then squints his eyes and cocks his head to one side. Eventually, he just shakes his head.

"Meat. Stew. Bread. Beer," he rattles off a little tersely.  "Menus... what do we look like, the Lion?"

"I will have an order of each of those things then," Zuriel says, stomach growling. "Incidentally, what is the Lion?"
This message was last edited by the player at 23:11, Fri 28 Feb 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 87):

The Tinderbox

"Competition," the boy snaps, walking away to fetch the ordered food.

"Service with a smile," he mutters quietly as the boy walks away. "What a welcoming city."

"That sounds excellent, we'll have the same," Maeve says, indicating herself and the other two.  She then pulls some pieces of straw thatching out of the chair and breaks the straw into three equal pieces and one short one.  Gathering the pieces in her hand, she draws one, whispers something to Boreas and waits as he draws one, and then draws two more times, muttering "Keef" and "Sazed" under her breath.

Maeve looks at the results of her drawing.

"Poor Keef," she says sadly, but with an expression of relief.  Then, she goes to put her belongings in one of the rooms farthest away from the one Zuriel and Lyriel have claimed.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:23, Fri 28 Feb 2014.

Boreas looks at his straw with marked relief, tucking it away as proof.  He orders one of each from the menu and sits, eagerly awaiting his meal.

Lyriel narrows her green eyes at the straws suspiciously. What are those for?

Nothing at all, Boreas replies.  Just toothpicks for later.

His face betrays no hint of untruth.

[Bluff 22]

Lyriel nods. Well, don't use them at the table. It's gross.

[Sense Motive: 21]

[OOC you got lucky...]

Boreas winks.  That's why I'm saving it for later.

He tucks the straw back in his cloak.

"Naturally, later.  Of course," Maeve says in agreement.

She and Boreas exchange high fives under the table.

[OOC: low fives, technically]
This message was last edited by the player at 23:49, Fri 28 Feb 2014.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 96):

Recommend we keep our displeasure with the situation about to unfold on the downlow Keef. While we are most certainly an army unto ourselves, we aren't an army fit to fight a mob.

Still, I'd like to know more about what can sentence a man to death which is so unseemly it cannot be said. Humans- always taking a good idea and building beliefs around it. Ideas can change. But beliefs? People fight and die for beliefs, and there just aren't that many beliefs worth dying for.

Later, in his room, Boreas writes Baldwin in the notebook, asking his advice and describing the current situation.

Are you safe?  Is the cloud ink being watched?

If no:

What are the names of the members of the PARTY?

If correct:

Arrived in Imbraer safely.  It is clear now that they are building some kind of towers or spires, and we think it has something to do with the gods.  One on each plane.  This one is the last, but construction is yet to begin.

We've been offered another job, either in Ogdoven or here in Drynn.  What do you think?  What should we do about the tower, if anything?
This message was last edited by the player at 05:12, Sat 01 Mar 2014.

So then, Maeve says, once meals have been ordered, what are our thoughts on what we should do regarding this offer for additional work?  Take it?  Turn it down to focus on collecting more symbols?

Zuriel consider's Maeve's words. "It depends," he says slowly. "What exactly is our goal with this group? Are trying to sabotage them from the inside? Or are we merely attempting to ascertain their goals and methods? I worry that if we remain too long in their employ, we will end up doing something terrible that we will all regret."

We must also carefully consider how much we're actually helping these people achieve their goals. I have no doubt they'll manage without us, but if our assistance expedites their progress... Lyriel frowns. I suppose I'm just saying we need to be always weighing how much we're actually helping them against how much closer it will put us to stopping them.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 100):

At the Inn

Boreas's conversation turns up that Baldwin is fine and unwatched, though he has no specific recommendations beyond "One per plane, one per god. What's it all mean? Try to learn more. I'll do the same. "

The food comes out rather quickly, as does the ale, and both are quite delicious.

At the Gallows

The condemned man is forced to his knees, and his head clamped into the executioner's block above the harsh stone. Grant walks up and stretches idly, waiting to see if anyone will object.

When no one does, he shrugs and covers the man's face with the burlap sack at his belt.  He then grips the axe with both hands, and brings it down without mercy.

*CHUNK*

He holds up the bag, now detached from the rest of Tal's body and slick with blood, and the crowd cheers.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:40, Sat 01 Mar 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 102):

[OOC: I guess the book exchange was meant to take place later that night, but it makes more sense for continuity's sake if it happens at the table.  And so I have deemed it.]

Damnation, Maeve says, reading Baldwin's reply.  I was hoping we'd be able to take our leave of this lot, that what we'd learned so far was sufficient. It was hard enough to get what they were building out of them.  It's going to take some real effort to dig up anything further.

Besides, I'm tired of the skulduggery.  If I had my way we would either sabotage their building progress or quietly take out leave of the group and go seek out more holy symbols in Drynn.  Possibly both.  But Baldwin seems to want us to continue our fact finding.  Not to mention the fact that "Garfunkel" has already indicated that he has an eye to climbing the ladder of authority in their little organization.  So it might look suspicious if he suddenly decided otherwise.

Zuriel takes a moment to savor the food. Simple, but hearty and delicious, the paladin found himself enjoying the fare much more than he thought he would. The stew had some spice blend he wasn't accustomed to, and he made a note to ask about it later.

He considers Maeve's words as he chews. Swallowing and taking a sip of the dark ale, he answers. "As I said before, we may come across the symbols simply through our continued work for these people. We know they're manipulating divine energy; it seems as good a place to start as any short of charging the nearest temple and waylaying their priests."

He glances out the window at the passers by. "Something tells me that approach would be harmful to our long-term health here."

Zuriel takes another sip of the ale. "So, if we do decide to take Ptolmy's offer...which assignment do we accept? The subterfuge, or the muscle? I'm tempted to say that our party is much more suited for the latter than the former, with the exception of Garfunkle here..."

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 104):

I don't like the implications of "muscle."  Sounds like we're going to be called upon to rough up some people.

Maeve surveys the group: armored shiny paladin, blonde fetching cleric, young Gaelian woman with a giant pointy weapon, and of course Boreas with his emerald eye.

Not to mention Keef and Sazed.

But then, we're not really good at being clandestine.

Seems we're better suited to providing "muscle," and a trip to Ogdoven will give us more latitude to search for symbols in the meantime.  I don't like the idea of hurting innocents, though.  We'll have to see what the specifics are and, if needed, circumvent them.

Boreas strokes his beard thoughtfully.

But we need to find a way to sabotage that tower eventually.

Later, Boreas responds to Baldwin.

But what of the towers?  It sounds like they are nearing completion.  Do we need to act before that happens?

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 106):

Well, that was all the senseless capital violence I can take today. Keef, we most DEFINITELY need to find the pampered lion now. I'm going to need the comfort of some wine and some wenches to forget that horrific site.

Gods, what was I thinking letting the boy drag me to a public execution? I'm going to be sick.

In reply to Sazed (msg # 107):

Yes, I agree. Keef seems to be thinking of something distant and faded.

I was just... curious if it would be like... I'd never seen a prop per execution so I wanted to know if it would be like... other things I've seen.

Keef returns to the present and perks up.

C'mon, let us find the Pampered Lion, someone here must know where it is.

Keef begins to question likely candidates in the dispersing crowd.  Most ignore him but he keeps at it.

Maeve uses her heel of bread to sop up the last of the delicious stew.

I don't care what Lyriel says.  Menu or not, after three days of eating salt fish. . . .this is just what I wanted.

As she chews the food, she looks with consternation at the two empty seats at their table.

"I hate to be the one to bring it up, but. . . .shouldn't Keef and Sazed made it back by now?"

You'd think.

Boreas contemplates for a moment, taking another bite of "meat."

Knowing them, they got sidetracked.  Didn't Keef say something about a 'Pampered Lion?'

Zuriel nods. "He did. Our waiter referenced the Lion...I'm betting it's the same place. I wonder how Keef knows about it, though."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:18, Sun 02 Mar 2014.

Lyriel shrugs. Probably from one of Sir Greenheart's stories, if I had to guess. Maybe he can tell us more when they get back.

We have *got* to stop letting Keef and Sazed wander off unchaperoned. At least when time is a factor.

After regarding her stew suspiciously, she takes a tentative bite. Not terrible, she admits.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:49, Sun 02 Mar 2014.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 112):

The Inn

Baldwin's answer comes more quickly this time: "They don't sound like anything good could come of them, but it may be difficult to disrupt construction quietly. Learn more either way."

The Mages

Keef's persistence pays off, and he's eventually told that the Pampered Lion is nestled in the upper-class housing district to the northwest.

In reply to DM (msg # 113):

Come. Let's make our way there and see what the softer side of Drynn looks like. I'm of a mind that you're ready for 2 firsts in one day.

It's beginning to grow dusky outside and still the mages have not arrived. Maeve waves over the surly serving boy.

"First, may I extend my compliments to your cook.  This is wonderful," she says.  "But more importantly, we seem to have misplaced two members of our traveling group: an older fellow in a long coat and a lad about your age.  We think that they may have gone to see this Pampered Lion--the youngster seemed quite keen on it.  Please, could you tell us what sort of an establishment it is and in what area of the city we may find it?  If they haven't returned soon, we may have to go looking for them."

She slips the boy a gold coin for his pains.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:39, Sun 02 Mar 2014.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 115):

The Inn

The boy stammers, looking at the gold coin as if he can scarcely believe it.

"It's in the northwestern quadrant, miss.  I can show you myself!"

"Well, we've already secured rooms here...so we'll have to come back either way. But it can't hurt to go take a look." Zuriel finishes the last of his ale and stands.

Lyriel rises as well, leaving less of her stew behind than she thought she would. If it will keep our two mages on task, then I'm for it.

And if the Pampered Lion is nicer, we may want to upgrade...

"All right lad, you've convinced us," Maeve says, rising from her seat as well.  "If your master can spare you, we'd be glad of a guide through the city streets.  Let's go round up our truant mages."

As they walk, Maeve takes her straw and begins using it to pick her teeth, just to annoy Lyriel.

"Well, you did say not at the table," she says with a grin at the aghast cleric.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:15, Mon 03 Mar 2014.

Lyriel arches an eyebrow at Maeve. Are you sure you want to go down this road with me, Mariah? I *guarantee* I can make you much more uncomfortable than you can make me...

To emphasize her point, she eyes Zuriel speculatively, trailing a fingernail lightly up the side of his breastplate.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:47, Mon 03 Mar 2014.

Boreas finishes off his ale and sets down the tankard. Let's just go then.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 121):

The Pampered Lion

Despite the copious head start, the mages' meandering path puts them before the Pampered Lion only a few minutes before the P.A.R.T.Y., guided by a seasoned local, manages to reach it themselves.

First impression? This is easily the nicest civilian building you've seen in Imbraer.

This structure is a handsome mixture of maple, onyx, and stone, and rises perhaps five stories tall. There is an open patio/courtyard area beyond the tidy wall of hedges that fences the building off from the rest of the world, and the only way to reach the front door to the building appears to be by going through the courtyard.  A tall, well-dressed man stands at the gap in the hedges, blocking the only obvious entrance to the facility.

Wow, this is...nice! exclaims Lyriel, genuinely impressed. Looks like we should have taken your advice to begin with, Keef. Let's check this place out.

Lyriel approaches the doorman, hailing him politely.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 123):

"Good afternoon," the man says politely.  "How can I help you?"

In reply to DM (msg # 124):

Wow.... I've never SEEN something so nice... not a building anyway, I mean, not an INN anyway... there are LOTS of buildings and some are probably more expensive anyway but... wow!

Chubbs rolls his eyes and stares at a rubbish bin a block away to demonstrate that he holds the Pampered Lion at the same level of esteem.

"This place is NOT within our budget," Maeve mutters under her breath where she stands next to the others.  "But I have a bad feeling that we're going to have to pry Lyriel away from it with a crowbar."

Still, she observes the Lion with interest, curious to know what sort of establishment it might be.

Boreas looks to the others, then turns to the doorman.

We've heard a great deal about your establishment.  We've come for a drink.

Lyriel nods eagerly. I can't wait to see the interior, I bet it's gorgeous...

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 128):

The man glances at Lyriel, and then at the rest of the P.A.R.T.Y., and though his smile doesn't waver, neither does he move.

"I'm very sorry, sirs and madams, but I'm afraid I must insist everyone wishing to enter observe our humble rules. If you'd like to return after changing into something more appropriate, I'd be most welcome to grand you entrance to our fine establishment."

He motions to a bronzed plaque embedded into a post near the hedge.

Maeve wracks her brain to try and recall when the last time she carried a handbag was.  She decides that it was very likely at a birthday ball for the Sultan's eldest daughter, Amina, when she came of age.  Given Amina's age--slightly younger than Maeve--that was probably several years ago.

She gives a snort of laughter which she manages to mask with a cough.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:24, Mon 03 Mar 2014.

Boreas looks to the others, his face a mixture of amusement and disgust.

I, for one, don't have time for this.  I'm heading back to the Tinderbox.  Please, feel free to join me.

He turns back to the doorman.

Thank you, but I'm afraid I will have to return another day.

Despite being turned away, Lyriel can barely contain her excitement. Oh, we most *certainly* will be coming back, properly attired. You have no idea how refreshing it is to find an establishment with a proper dress code. She flashes the doorman with a brilliant smile and turns on her heels. Come, we'll make an evening of this later.

Lyriel hooks an arm with Zuriel and heads back towards their inn on the market quarter. [Private to Zuriel Silendril: Lyriel leans in to whisper in your ear. "We really do need to get you a proper suit, anyway. Your formal doublet is just dreadfully plain."]

Maeve looks at Lyriel incredulously and shakes her head slowly.

"You're welcome to.  I believe I'll pass."

Zuriel allows himself to be led by the arm back to the Tinderbox. "I hardly think a tailored suit is a wise use of our limited funds, Lyriel," he says in response to a whispered word from the priestess. "Unless we have reason to mingle with the upper crust to further our own goals."

Though it would, admittedly, but nice to stay at higher-end inn for a change...

Lyriel sniffs and pouts, but says nothing further. She does not, however, give up on her dreams of a lovely evening of splendor, to say nothing of getting Zuriel into a dapper suit. She considers Zuriel's words carefully. Unless we have reason to mingle with the upper crust to further our goals...

Wheels in her head begin to turn as she analyzes the situation at hand.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:42, Mon 03 Mar 2014.

On the way back, Zuriel takes the opportunity to quietly fill in Sazed and Keef on their previous discussion regarding what to do next. "We didn't want to make a decision until you two have had the chance to weigh in."

Lyriel speaks as an unrelated thought occurs to her. Incidentally Keef, where did you hear about the Pampered Lion?

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 137):

Keef reads the rules through several times, each time with more sadness and disappointment in his eyes than the last time.

He looks down at his muddy and bloody pants, at Flame tongue and at Chubbs.

Well, maybe we can come back some other day... I just really wanted to see it.

Keef looks almost confused when Lyriel asks how he knew about the Lion.

Well, it's THE Pampered Lion, I thought everyone knew about it.  Lots of famous and rich people have been.

He turns to walk away slowly, casting longing glances over his shoulder.

Lyriel looks almost distressed that she was not aware of such an apparently highly-regarded locale. She pats Keef's shoulder consolingly. Don't worry Keef. I'm sure we'll have the chance to go there at some point.

We certainly will if I have anything to say about it...
This message was last edited by the player at 18:41, Mon 03 Mar 2014.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 139):

Keef nods but keeps his head on his feet as they walk away.  He matches pace with Lyriel and marches beside her silently.

Chubbs, however, hops alongside and in front of Zuriel.  It's hard to be sure but the palladin is fairly certain that the toad is taking every opportunity to splash mud on his boots.

"And of the choice offered to us?" he asks Keef and Sazed. "What are your thoughts on how we proceed from here?"

If Zuriel notices Chubb's, he doesn't appear to acknowledge it. The mud in the part of the city is hardly proper mud at all. More like very watery dirt. Zuriel has slogged through much worse.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 141):

The trip back to the Tinderbox is uneventful, perfect for conversations within and outside the building about what should happen next.

Seriously: I have nothing for you until tomorrow, when you'll ostensibly tell Ptolmy you want to stay in Imbraer, go to Ogdoven, or take a hike and sail back/somewhere else, unfettered by ties to his organization.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:21, Mon 03 Mar 2014.

Maeve, perfectly happy to have avoided a trip to the Pampered Lion, borrows Zuriel's chess set and plays a solo game against herself.  Chubbs sits and watches her moves with disapproval, as well he should for she is not very good at chess.  Or she cleans her weapon.  Or she orders a hot cider to take off the chill of the night.  Possibly a combination of all of the above.  Whatever one does at an inn when they have no real intention of heading back out that night.

She also is sure to tell Keef that he, Chubbs, Longshank, and Flametongue will be staying in the room next to Zuriel and Lyriel's.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:46, Mon 03 Mar 2014.

Having already eaten dinner, Lyriel searches for something to do for the evening. She orders a few drinks from bar at the Tinderbox, trying to get a sense of the quality of Drynn's wineries. This quickly loses its allure, however, and with all the PARTY members engaged in different activities, she finds herself growing bored.

She turns to Zuriel, sitting next to her at the bar and halfway through a dark ale. Fancy a game of chess? she asks off-handedly while she examines her nails.

Once everyone is settled in their rooms, Boreas gathers them together to make a decision.

I'm in favor of Ogdoven, assuming the assignment isn't too... questionable.  Gives us more of a chance to find some of these evil holy symbols on the way, too.  Any objections?

"None from me."

It is only after Zuriel and Lyriel retreat to their room that Maeve wonders how exactly they intend to play chess, given that she currently has the board.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:52, Mon 03 Mar 2014.

Zuriel fixes the priestess with a calculating gaze over the rim of his tankard. Setting the ale down, he nods. Zuriel allows himself to be led back to their room for a game of chess. As he passes Boreas he absently replies "sounds good to me, Garfunkle."

Oddly enough, neither Zuriel nor Lyriel seem to notice that Maeve has absconded with the chess set and is currently playing against herself in the corner of the bar.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:03, Mon 03 Mar 2014.

With the course set, Boreas heads to his room to arrange his belongings.  After a brief but refreshing bath, he turns in for the night.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 148):

The evening passes uneventfully, and soon it is morning. The P.A.R.T.Y. gathers over a delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, and melonade to discuss any final preparations they may need before meeting up with Ptolmy as indicated.

Boreas savors his breakfast without saying much.

We had best not dither any further.  Let's go meet Ptolmy.

He heads off to inform his "employer" of the group's decision.

"Be sure to take "Theodore" with you; seeing as he is your bodyguard and all," Maeve advises Boreas as he leaves the inn.  For her part, she enjoys her breakfast at a more leisurely pace.

When Keef joins them, the lad is bleary-eyed and sluggish.  Maeve gives him a concerned look.

"Keef, you look all done in.  You're not coming down with something are you?" She puts the back of her hand to the boy's forehead to gauge the heat of his skin, a comforting gesture she recalls her father doing when she suffered through a bout of cockatrice pox as a small child.

"You don't feel warm. . . she says speculatively. "Did you not sleep well last night?"

Oh. . . .right.  I don't suppose I would have either.

[OOC: Boreas indicated that he wanted to speak to Ptolmy on his own.  Maeve is fine with that, as it doesn't really make sense for "Garfunkel" to drag his entire staff with him wherever he goes.  But if the rest of the PARTY wants to go with, she will too but will wait outside while the "bosses" talk.]
This message was last edited by the player at 01:20, Tue 04 Mar 2014.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 150):

Where I come from, it's not nearly this hard to take a boy to a henhouse. What a strange city this is, with foxes guarding the hens for sale and telling me how to look at them.

I once went to a literal henhouse in the Dryad capital of Kelethin. The dryads can shapeshift you see, and ..

Sazed realizes that Lyriel and Zuriel have begun to turn colors only reserved for their games of chess, and relents in his description.

I'm sorry we dawdled, but the boy managed to find his way to an execution, and I thought he could use to see a little life after such gruesome death. Lord knows I could.

Tell me, what of our options? Has the group formed an opinion? I can't say I'm wild about the idea of being muscle for hire, especially if I'm going to continue to get names like Theodore..

Don't worry, Theodore.  I intend to get the details on this muscle gig before accepting.  Not planning on doing anything immoral here.  But Ogdoven gives us a chance to explore Drynn a bit while we're here, and maybe find some unholy symbols while we're at it.  Got to collect them somehow.  Inside the meeting, let me do the talking.  Got to keep up appearances.

Boreas and Sazed continue down the road, winding through the city streets toward the rendezvous point.

[OOC]Boreas wants everyone else nearby, but it wouldn't make sense for everyone to be involved in accepting the job when "Garfunkel" is the leader.[/OOC]

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 153):

Boreas and Sazed finish up their breakfast and return to the Handsome Ox, with the rest of the P.A.R.T.Y. waiting in Madame Petite's Curiosity Shoppe across the street as inconspicuously as only a boy, his frog, a paladin, a cleric, and an armored warrior can be.

The Handsome Ox

The woman behind the third-floor counter directs Boreas and Sazed to the same room as before, inside of which you encounter a gaunt, spindly man with sleek, oily hair, a nose like a vulture's beak, and an unreadable expression that borders of boredom.

"Welcome back," the man says, motioning for Boreas to take the chair across from him, as the dwarf had done yesterday. "Please, have a seat. Your associate will be comfortable enough on the bedside, I should think."

He smiles slightly.

"I'm flattered, but you didn't need to bring your bodyguard. Did you decide on a course of action best suited for your rag-tag team?"

The Curiosity Shoppe

This cluttered building is packed with trinkets, clothing, odds, and ends. It's essentially an upscale thrift shop, but that doesn't mean there aren't interesting things to be found.

OOC: Roll a Perception check and a D100 if you want to try your luck among the shelves.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:15, Tue 04 Mar 2014.

Zuriel takes a quick sip from the chalice before beginning his investigation of the shops, passing it to whomever else wants a wisdom-enhancing drink.

[Perception: 24]

[D%: 58]

We have an idea of what we want to do.  The problem is, you've told us precious little about either job.  If we were to go to Ogdoven, what would we be doing, and what would be our reward?  It's foolish to take a job when you don't know the task or the payment.

Lyriel accepts the drink gratefully, thrilled to find coffee filling the chalice. Mmm, this tastes just like Ka'Ribu's shop!

[Perception: 18, D100: 65]

Maeve follows suit: sip, browse the shop.  She then passes the chalice to Keef, who still looks knackered.  She thinks that the beverage will do him good.

[Perception: 19, D100: 69]
This message was last edited by the player at 02:31, Tue 04 Mar 2014.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 157):

The Handsome Ox

The man nods, smiling even wider.

"Too true, too true," he responds.  "Have you ever been to Ogdoven? Wretched place nestled in the heart of the swamplands, but pleasant enough if you don't mind the stench and the dampness. Winter's coming, which should help with the latter -- the whole place frosts up something fierce."

He cracks his knuckles absently, then continues.

"The city of Ogdoven is largely inhabited by swamp giants. They bend their knees to the Dominion and send troops when she calls, but they haven't paid taxes in years. And lately, there's been a growing misunderstanding as to who's running things: the Scion in Nekria, or the Glass Tyrant in Lo'driel."

The man grimaces at the latter's name.

"This misunderstanding has caused them to start making travel through the swamps harder than it needs to be. They need to be reminded who they serve, and that's where you come in."

He tosses a bag of coins on the table.

"$5,000, for your trouble, and another $20,000 when the job is done. You and your team will travel to Ogdoven under the Dominion's banner -- better that than Kazul's serpent, I should think, seeing as they don't worship a proper god -- and you will deliver this message."

The man adds a sealed scroll to the table, as well.

"It's a simple conscription and tax edict, same as those received from the other cities in the Dominion. If they don't take kindly to it, remind them that by refusing, they lose the protection afforded them by the charter, and we'll be forced to consider them in the same light as we do Lo'driel."

"You won't be going alone, of course. A handful of Dominion officers will ride with you. If the giants are agreeable, however, your second -- and more important -- task begins.  Recruit a few score giants to come with you to the rendezvous point near the Mt. Salt.  We could use them for construction."

The Shoppe

Lyriel finds a lovely pair of shoes with a tag that says "chromatic". It seems they can change color once per day, and they are aggressively priced at $100.

Maeve finds a coral comb with a tag that reads "D'Twizt".  It is said to immediately untangle any knots or tangles immediately when being pulled through hair, and is priced at $79.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:37, Tue 04 Mar 2014.

Maeve examines the comb with lukewarm interest, then tosses it to Lyriel.

"Interested?"

Boreas considers for a few moments, stroking his beard.  All right.  We'll do it.  He reaches out and picks up the bag of gold.

Deliver the message and recruit any that'll come, right?  What else can you tell me about the giants?  Best to know what I'm getting into before we set off.

Lyriel squeals with delight when she finds the magical shoes. She kicks off her traveling boots with disdain, slipping her feet into the chromatic heels to find that they fit perfectly. She prances around, doing a graceful pirouette before taking them off again reluctantly. I suppose I should purchase them first...

She manages to react to Maeve chucking a comb at her head, snatching the brush before it can clatter to the floor. She examines it with interest. I usually don't have trouble with tangles, but...this will come in handy the next time I'm fixing Maeve's hair... She nods with her decision, taking her two purchases to the counter. She passes Zuriel scrutinizing the stacks, as if looking for something in particular.

Find anything, Alphonse?

Sazed cracks his neck on both sides without moving a single other part of his body.

From the look on "Garfunkel's" face, this is as close as Theodore gets to agreement.

Muscle for hire and accepting money for extortion? I know I play it fast and loose with the shades of grey, but this is getting tough to understand. I thought I shared the same compass as these people. Perhaps I've been too quick to trust.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:31, Tue 04 Mar 2014.

In reply to Sazed (msg # 163):

The Handsome Ox

"Excellent," the man says, rubbing his hands together gleefully.  "The giants have a somewhat tribal culture, with a nominal king rather than a chieftain, but otherwise their society and their city functions much the same as ours. The expedition sets off tomorrow morning. Meet at the southern gate just after dawn; you can't fail to notice the wagons. Tell the man in charge that Ptolmy sent you, and all will be well. I look forward to seeing you at the Mt. Salt construction site by the end of the year."

With that, the man bids you good day.  Soon enough, Sazed and Boreas find themselves in the Curiosity Shoppe, discussing things with their allies.

In reply to DM (msg # 164):

"Ah,  meeting done then?" Maeve asks as Boreas and Sazed meet them in the store.  The two notice her amused/exasperated expression, and she tilts her head in Lyriel's direction.

"Magic shoes.  She found magic shoes to go with the magic dress.  Gods help us all."

Maeve listens carefully to the recounting of the meeting.

"Giants?. . . . my initial thought on the matter is that we *do* recruit the giants, but for an entirely different purpose.  If they can build colossal structures. . . .then they can tear them down just as easily."

Zuriel nods. "My thoughts exactly." He rubs his chin, lost in thought. "I don't feel comfortable forcing the giants to obey us either way. But if we could convince them to help us willingly...perhaps that gold would give us the king's ear...they could be powerful allies when the time comes to stop these people. And if we help them break free from their chains of allegiance to the dominion, so much the better." He speaks quietly, once they're sure they aren't overheard. With Lyriel gushing over the shoes at the counter, he thinks it pretty safe.

He looks up at Boreas. "At any rate, can you take a look at this, Garfunkle? I think it might be magic." He holds out a gilded ivory horn fashioned into a shield spike.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:50, Tue 04 Mar 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 164):

Keef pokes around the store.

(Perception 18, 2%)

We'd be enforcing the law of the land.  Not that I especially like it either, but I would think you'd be all for holding someone to their end of a bargain.  In any case, I'll hang on to the gold for now, and if we need it to get the giants on our side, we'll have it.  Otherwise, we'll split it up after the mission.

Boreas flips up his eyepatch clandestinely and sweeps a green beam over the spike.

[Casting Detect Magic]

Zuriel scowls. "I have no interest in enforcing a bargain that was likely brought about under the same auspices we're ostensibly traveling under. Namely, extortion. Take care that the glitter of gold doesn't distract you from why we're really here. And who we really are. Subterfuge is all well and good, but I'll not have us become thugs simply to ingratiate ourselves with these people."

Boreas replies in a forced whisper.  You don't think me as simple as that by now, do you?  The glitter of gold?  We're doing this task toward a larger aim.  We're going to enforce the law of the land, and I'm sure we'll hear plenty about it from both sides before the time comes to do so.  Was the treaty signed under duress?  Maybe.  I'm sure we'll find out.  I'm also sure a few Imperial citizens feel the same way about their taxes, but you've no problem with those.

We'll hold the money separate until we get there.  If the time is right and the giants can help us, we may be able to secure their help with the gold.  We only get one chance to surprise these people.  Let's make it count.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:43, Tue 04 Mar 2014.

Gods, it's like watching two stallions during rut.  I'm surprised they aren't snorting and pawing the ground.

Maeve hastens forward and insinuates herself between her two angry colleagues, shepherding them over to a corner of the shop where they can talk in comparative privacy.

"Stop it.  Stop it right NOW," she hisses furiously at the two men.

To Zuriel:

"It was unworthy of you to make a slight at Boreas' integrity.  He's proven himself a good man many times over.  He did explicitly state that the gold was to be kept in reserve as a gift to win over the giants.  The same giants which, as you may recall, we are trying to recruit to *sabotage* this plan, not further it.  IF they don't want the gold, well, I don't know about you but I could use a new pair of gloves.  That's not evil.  That's imminently practical."

To Boreas:

"And YOU.  You're digging us in ever deeper.  I just hope that you have an exit strategy in mind."

Maeve steps back, satisfied with her work.

"Now apologize to each other.  We can't be fighting ourselves as well as everything else."

I know I am new to this collaboration, but my main concern is that we are continuing to be a functional resource for the group that seems largely behind the distress that is our ultimate quest.

If the Gods are "dying", and something or someone is harnessing their power, and we have stumbled onto some sort of divine  cult which is building spires seemingly linked to this purpose, why do we continue to assist them? It's likely they would find functional resources outside our band of merry men and dashing damsels, but don't we owe it to our quest and ourselves to force them to try?

In the grand scheme of thwarting this group's plot, it seems you've removed a low end middle manager, successfully ensured the transport of goods meant for ill intent, and now we're facilitating the transport of the goods and their construction by negotiating with what are sure to be hostile giants.

I will follow where you lead, but I must ask:

To what end? If our goal is truly to convert the giants to sabotage, couldn't we more easily do this by simply steering the caravan off course, arresting/incapacitating the other travelers, and burying the goods at the bottom of the lake? Why the subterfuge?

..Sorry, I've just never been much for subtlety when a simple and elegant application of brute force will suffice.

In reply to Sazed (msg # 172):

Maybe we should be looking for these towers...

In reply to Sazed (msg # 172):

After speaking, Keef returns to rummaging through the shelves while the older P.A.R.T.Y. members work to determine their overall destination, fate, and allegiances, finds a tin of shoe polish.  The tag reads $70, and contains the following note: "Spiff up your boots with this, and the next time you run (full move action), you'll move twice as far. Contains enough polish for two uses."

Incidentally, the horn Boreas examined for Zuriel is magical.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:19, Tue 04 Mar 2014.

Zuriel takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry Boreas, I just hate feeling like I'm helping the enemy. Sazed has a valid point. Unless we have a distinct plan going forward, I'd just as soon sabotage this and cut ties. Maeve's idea though, has merit. If we were to recruit the giants as allies, rather than just delaying a shipment of replaceable supplies we could potentially damage the structure itself."

He runs a hand through his hair. "Mostly, I don't want to get pulled any deeper unless we have a concrete plan for how we are going to foul up their plan in a manner far outweighing the aid we're providing."

Zuriel turns back to purchase the shield spike, but pauses, remembering something from earlier. "Oh, incidentally. Ptolmy was Simon's master, with whom we were communicating. Apparently he has many faces."

The paladin then heads up to the counter to purchase and install his shield spike.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:34, Tue 04 Mar 2014.

Consider your apology accepted and returned.  I don't like being a part of this any more than you do.  We have one chance to spring from the brush and take this group by surprise.  I just don't want to squander it.  But I'm fairly sure we can't let them finish this tower either.  Let's find out what the giants have to say.

Boreas then takes a moment to browse the shelves.

[Perception 22, 83%]

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 176):

Boreas finds a crystalline monocle, with a tag that reads: "While held against your eye, you can see more clearly. (+2 to all Perception checks)".  Price: $500
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:48, Tue 04 Mar 2014.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 176):

Keef pays the man for the boot polish and stows it in his bag for the moment.

We're going to see giants?

Boreas pays the vendor for the monocle and pops it in.

<i>What in the hells is a 'perception check?'

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 179):

It's been so long since I've even thought of shopping for whimsy and pleasure.

[Perception 16, d100 43]

What's this, then?

In reply to Sazed (msg # 180):

Sazed peruses the Shoppe languidly, eventually coming across a horse-hair mustache attached to bits of string.  The tag says: "Tie this on, and no one will be the wiser. (+5 to Disguise (self) checks). Price: $200."

As Zuriel attaches the ivory horn spike to his shield, the generic motif featuring an eagle transforms to a magnificent stallion, shown rearing. Where the head of the stallion rests on the center of the shield, the spike extends as a horn. He surveys the results, pleased.

"Keef, tomorrow would you please prepare an identify spell for me? I'll pay for the reagents, of course, but there's more to this shield spike than is readily apparent, I think."

He quietly addresses the PARTY in general. "So it sounds like our next move is to accompany this caravan, and look for an opportunity to convert the giants to help us halt or significantly delay construction. I'm fine with this, as long as we are confident that we aren't ultimately helping these people more than we hinder them. So I suppose that gives us another day in the city before we head out?"

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 182):

Sure, Keef agrees, though there is a twang of frustration in his voice.

We can explore the city more, then?

"Yes, at least that's how I understand the situation," Maeve says in agreement.  "If we're successful, our bringing the giants to our side will hinder their progress significantly."

"That said, I don't know much about giants other than that they're fearsome fighters. Would we even be able to speak with them?"

Maeve favors Keef with a smile.

"Of course we can, Keef.  But no more running off on your own with Sazed, at least for now!  You ended up at a public execution yesterday; gods know where you'd find yourselves today."

Lyriel returns to the PARTY and the conversation. I don't like working for these people either, but...we've come this far. I think we need to figure out the opportune moment to strike them where they are weakest. She narrows her green eyes dangerously and a cloud settles over normally radiant features. And make them *pay* for Vendrinor...

The dark look fades and her countenance returns to it's normal cheerful state as she regards Keef. Of course! In fact, I have some errands I'd like to look into. If you want to visit the Pampered Lion at some point, we need to get you some nicer clothes. Let's go find a tailor. You too, Alphonse... she says, hooking the paladin by his elbow.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:39, Tue 04 Mar 2014.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 185):

Having more or less settled on a course of action -- or settled enough, at least, to progress with the day's tasks until dinner, where it can be discussed again and finalized -- the P.A.R.T.Y. takes to Imbraer's city streets to explore, shop, sight-see, and play.

Asking around, it seems Ogdoven is a journey of about a week -- faster if you fly, but the swamps slow down horses and carts significantly.

(OOC: Nothing specific for you until tomorrow morning at the southern gate, unless you end up not wanting to go in that direction. If you want to do anything specific before then, now's a good time. Once the Xroads is complete, I'll hand-wave a bit. If you're planning on doing anything BESIDES amble along the road until you get to Ogdoven, provided you decide to go there at all, please mention that, too.)

[Crossroads]
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:48, Tue 04 Mar 2014.

"If you're quite sure that's the most appropriate use for your funds," Maeve says doubtfully.  "Tailored suits aren't going to be much help slogging through frozen swamps."

She has no real agenda for their remaining day in Imbraer but will probably end up hanging out with Boreas by default, assuming that Zuriel, Lyriel, and Keef are indeed serious about preparing for a night at the Pampered Lion.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:59, Tue 04 Mar 2014.

Boreas spends the day exploring Imbraer with no real goal in mind, apart from making sure Keef and Sazed don't wander off on their own again.  He's ready to move on.

Zuriel suppresses a grimace. "I think we're just window shopping."

I hope

In reply to DM (msg # 181):

SHUT UP AND TAKE MY MONEY!

Sazed immediately dons his new moustache, and its as though it has been on his face his whole life.

http://assets3.thrillist.com/v...34/size/tl-inset_web
This message was last edited by the player at 17:33, Tue 04 Mar 2014.

Lyriel puts on an expression of patient suffering. Obviously we wouldn't be wearing them in the swamp. But it can't hurt to have a set of nicer clothes to fit into more formal engagement if we need to.

She sets off in the general direction of the part of the market closer to the upscale housing quarter, dragging Zuriel (and Keef, if he consents to come) along behind her in her wake.

She pauses a moment, struck by a sudden though. She turns back to Boreas, speaking quietly. Can you ask Baldwin for a list of the unholy symbols he still needs, ranked by estimated rarity? If he can provide descriptions of what they look like, I have magic that can help us locate them.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:04, Tue 04 Mar 2014.

Maeve watches as Lyriel and Zuriel (and I guess Keef?) disappear in a wave of lavender and sandalwood.

"Well, looks like it's you and me.  Again," she says to Boreas.  "Sure you don't want to go shopping in preparation for a night among the uppercrust?"

She almost says it with a straight face.  Almost.

"Nice 'stache, Sazed," she says as an afterthought.  The mage seems quite taken with his new accessory.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:07, Tue 04 Mar 2014.

Boreas cracks a smile.  Of course I want to spend hundreds of gold on foppish finery before trudging off into the swamp.  I wasn't born in a barn, after all.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 193):

Keef seems overjoyed to be dragged along by Lyriel.

Chubbs looks bored but follows along.

"You looked frustrated earlier," Zuriel says quietly to Keef as they trail Lyriel. "Is everything alright?"

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 195):

I did?  How?  Keef stares at Zuriel for a minute, as if searching for clues.

"Earlier, when we were talking about what to do next, and I asked if you could identify the spike for me tomorrow. I just wanted to make sure you had a chance to say everything you wanted to."

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 197):

Keef looks very confused.  Everything I wanted to say?  Well... there's SO MUCH to say, I mean, and usually I say it, or some of it, or most of it, sometimes all of it, but not usually, sometimes I can't talk fast enough, and maybe... but that's a good question.... EVERYTHING... I guess I'll have to think about more stuff to say... I mean, giants, that will be fun, right?  I've never seen a giant or even heard one before!  I hope they're friendly enough, seems we've found loads of people who aren't friendly, but I liked Captain Pri'chard, he was friendly and he liked singing I think.  I really do think we should find those towers, I want to know how they work, and maybe that will tell us about the Gods and all.  Maybe the giants know where they are, but I doubt it, so maybe they'll help us like Boreas said, if we need we can have them break the towers, they're REALLY strong.  Just seems like, we're seeing all of these amazing places but we're not really helping anyone... I mean, we're protected enough for now, but there's lots of people here who aren't...Maybe THAT'S 'everything' but maybe not... I'll have to think because a lot of it is about the city and the Pampered Lion.

Keef smiles and skips to catch up with Lyrial, falling into step with her.

Again, it's hard to be certain, but it seems very much like Chubbs is actively getting underfoot to trip the palladin as he hustles to catch up with the Priestess and Mage.

Zuriel reaches down and scoops up Chubbs, placing him in a position of honor riding on his armored shoulder. However, he performs this action entirely nonchalantly, ignoring Chubbs entirely almost as if he were scooping something from the ground to place on his shoulder regardless, and Chubbs just happened to be in the way.

He catches up with Keef and Lyriel, troubled by the boy's words. Despite the stream-of-consciouness narrative, the young mage echoed the paladin's own concerns and worries. He sees much, despite his exuberance. And he's quite right. We haven't helped anybody yet...so far, we haven't accomplished anything other than helping our enemies.

The trio stride on to find a suitable tailor, and afterwards, to prepare for an evening at the Pampered Lion.

[OOC we can resolve this out of thread so as not to slow down the actual story.]

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 199):

The P.A.R.T.Y. reconvenes at the Tinderbox before bed, finalizing any plans they might have before falling into a blissful slumber.  Dawn creeps upon them sooner than any would like, and before they know it, breakfast has come and gone, and it's time to head down to the southern gate in preparation of their journey.

OOC: If you wanted to do anything else before this point, just let me know and we can probably retroactively make it happen.

***

The streets are dark and quiet in the emaciated light of another early winter morn, and every breath is accompanied by a puff of visible air. The chill swirls through your lungs, crisp and cool and invigorating.

A small gathering has amassed near the southern gate, consisting of four armored Dominion soldiers on horseback and three covered wagons pulled by two horses each.  A driver sits in the forward seat of each wagon, dressed similarly to the Dominion soldiers.

They appear to be chatting among themselves and with the gate guards, waiting for something.

Before leaving the inn, the PARTY takes the necessary steps to disguise our alignment.

Boreas approaches the soldiers.

Greetings.  My name is Garfunkel and these are my associates.  Ptolmy sent us to accompany you to Ogdoven.  With whom will we have the pleasure of traveling?

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 201):

One of the mounted soldiers rides forward and looks Boreas and his companions up and down with an appraising eye.

"I suppose you'll do," he says, motioning to the riders around him. "I'm Lt. Stanza, and these are Sgt. Metz, Cpl. Vincent, and Cpl. Pike. The drivers are Leopold, Jerry, and Biggs."

"Stow your things in there," Stanza continues, pointing at the nearest wagon.  "Then climb in for the ride. We'll leave as soon as you're settled. You do have the missive with you, don't you?"

Boreas produces the document and shows Stanza the seal.

Look to be in order?

Once everything checks out, he packs up to leave.

Military men.  That I can deal with.

Maeve has no real possessions that need stowing; just about everything she has of value fits neatly into her bag of holding and she has no intention of surrendering the guisarme to go with the other luggage.  She clambers into the back of Leopold's wagon.

In for a penny, in for a pound.  Let's get on our way.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 204):

"Very good," Stanza nods.  "Let's get to it."

Each wagon only has room for four people, leaving the P.A.R.T.Y. somewhat divided.  Leopold's wagon was entirely empty, with plenty of space for passengers and luggage, but Jerry's wagon is filled to capacity.

Biggs's wagon has a few supplies in it, and only three open seats -- the fourth is occupied by a dark elven man that whoever steps foot within the wagon first immediately recognizes as A'tril. When that happens, he'll merely smile and wave.

"Adventures like these make for strange bedfellows," he says to whoever his wagonmates end up being.  "Hopefully the giants will be as peaceable as that dragon was."

OOC: Departure is imminent. Last call!
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:08, Tue 04 Mar 2014.

Lyriel notices A'tril, and decides to join Leopold's wagon, beckoning for Zuriel to follow.

Zuriel scans their fellow traveling companions for evil, climbing up into Leopold's wagon behind Lyriel with a clank.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 207):

Keef makes to follow Lyriel, but after Zuriel climbs in after her, he instead chooses the next carriage.

In reply to Keef (msg # 208):

Sazed returns from his increasingly familiar unannounced bouts of solitude with several small boxes in tow.

To the party exclusively, before resuming the regrettable character of Theodore,

"Slingshots and rocks, in the event we need to remind Goliath of David. ..You've all heard that story, haven't you?

That's the hardest part of all this, you know. The idioms and the fables. It's impossible to keep straight what goes where. One man's fire demon parable is another man's..actually. That one is probably pretty specific to the fire people. Bad example."

[Private to DM: I'll work the gifts out over the next few days, but I'd like to give something small re: dice to everyone. For Maeve- I'd like to find some sort of whetstone that imbues some sort of magical power (however shortlived or transient, i.e.- X swings of keen). For Keef- The biggest book of regional tall tales I can find. For Boreas- Fuck if I know. Something. For Lyriel- Makeup.]

Boreas climbs into the cart with Keef and A'tril.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 210):

Boreas, A'tril, and Keef are now in cart #2, while Lyriel, Zuriel, and Maeve are in cart #1. Sazed is left with his choice of carts.

In reply to DM (msg # 211):

The decision is made, and the group heads off toward Ogdoven.  The journey is a long one -- 6 days on the road -- and much could happen during that time.

It doesn't, but it could.

Before long, you have passed through five oddly chilly nights in the wet, humid swamps. The combination creates a near-constant mist and haze to surround the countryside, but your guides know the road well.

In no time at all, you are just a half-day's journey to Ogdoven, and you can see the enormous wooden palisade walls sprawling in the distance even now.

Boreas writes to Ptolmy using the Cloud Ink parchment:

Nearly arrived in Ogdoven.  Journey uneventful.

A bit later, he writes to Baldwin in Filbert's journal:

Nearly in Ogdoven.  Apparently supposed to get some giants to pay taxes.  Then recruit them to build this last tower.  Some in PARTY have suggested getting them to sabotage it instead.  Thoughts?

Sabotage sounds like a good idea, but is now the time to strike?  If we support the giants, we show our hand.  If we don't, we leave them to die...

Maeve spends the journey to Ogdoven bouncing back and forth from carts, moving over to Biggs' cart when riding with Lyriel and Zuriel becomes too insufferable and back over to Leopold's when riding under A'tril's scrutiny becomes too unbearable.  In this way she passes the time until the merry band arrives at the gates of Ogdoven.  Maeve gratefully climbs out of the cart, breathing in the the fresh, albeit cold and misty, air of the swamp.

"So this is the city of giants," she says to nobody in particular.  "I wonder what they're like."

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 214):

Keef spends the journey to Ogdoven bouncing in and on carts.

Also outside of carts whenever they stop for any reason.

In his free time, he talks about Sir Greenheart and the Pampered Lion.

If Maeve is willing, he will continue to practice swordplay.

When nobody listens to him any more or gets worn out from hitting him with a waster, he retires to his growing pile of books to study and continue his research.

In reply to Keef (msg # 215):

Ptolmy does not respond, but Filbert's journal does provide a few lines of interest from Baldwin: "If you're sure it's the right thing to do, go ahead and sabotage the tower. Though how long will it take them to build another? If you break your cover too early, you'll have learned so little we will be unable to take actions against the organization from outside of it. Things to think about."

In reply to DM (msg # 216):

Note: During the journey, A'tril makes it clear, quietly, to whoever is in his cart that the mission's secret parameters -- recruiting a construction team -- needs to be kept secret from the Dominion officers.

The group makes its way to the gates by early afternoon. They are enormous, but uncomplicated -- a simple wooden palisade with a single gap which serves as the "gate".

Two enormous men stand near the opening, dressed in hides and furs. They each stand at least ten feet tall, and are armed with rather stereotypical greatclubs.

"Name and reason for your visit?" one demands, once the P.A.R.T.Y.'s convoy has come to a stop outside the opening.

"We're here on government business," Lieutenant Stanza says briskly. "Dominion officers and agent, with gifts and an urgent need to seek an audience with the king."

The giant raises an eyebrow.

"What sort of business?"

The other one approaches as well, curious.

"And what sort of gifts?"

The Lieutenant smiles disarmingly, replying, "Government business. And royal gifts."

Sgt. Metz motions to Cpls. Vincent and Pike. The two grunts lurch into action, heading over to the supply wagon, selecting a crate, and dutifully lugging it over to the Lieutenant.

"Though... come to think it, I don't think King Prak will miss one little crate of spiced pepperbrisket, do you?"

The guards look at each other, then at the crate, then shake their heads.

***

The city of Ogdoven is more like a sprawling collection of villages than anything else, with pockets of self-sufficient areas popping up throughout the rolling swampland that continues even within the palisade's walls. A rough road runs throughout the compound, created by large, rough-hewn stones that fit together so poorly that the carts' wheels creak with protest.

There are giants everywhere, with only a smattering of human-sized men and women milling around -- mostly in subservient roles.

In the center of the city is a second wooden palisade, within which is located the king's fortress. By any normal standard, it would barely deserve the title, but in Ogdoven -- with it's masterfully thatched roof free from holes and all four walls completely intact -- it's a little slice of paradise.

There are no guards at the entrance to the king's palisade, for the giants believe that any king who requires a guard is not worthy of the title.

Lt. Stanza stops the group just outside this second palisade and dismounts.

"Here's where we part ways a bit," he says, rubbing his neck to loosen his tense muscles.  "I'm heading in with Jerry and his wagon of goodies. Garfunkel, you and your team are coming with me. Sgt. Metz, stay here with the corporals and the other two wagons, and do whatever A'tril tells you."

He narrows his eyes at the dark elf slightly.

"Within reason, of course. He's no officer."

If there are no objections, Lt. Stanza leaps onto Jerry's cart and takes a seat next to the driver. Once the P.A.R.T.Y. has fallen in around the cart, he gives the signal to move forward.

[Crossroads]
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:18, Wed 05 Mar 2014.

Boreas has seen a few things in his time, but never so many giants in one place.  He cranes his neck to take it all in.

I wish we had a better idea of the plan going in.  Is it worth breaking cover yet?

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 218):

Maeve, as if magically able to read Boreas' thoughts, falls in step next to him so that they can speak in an undertone.

"So what is the plan here?" she asks. "If we're going to break cover and break away from this group, now seems a likely time to do it.  From what I can tell of these people, they respect strength and martial ability. They may be more likely to lend us a ready ear if they know my true identity as the daughter of a famed warrior."

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 219):

Keef spins in an endless circle looking at first this then that.

[Assuming this occurs at one of those opportunities where the PARTY can converse in private and everybody is there.]

Zuriel nods in agreement at Maeve's assessment. "I've been asking the Book of Answers about giant culture. Maeve is right; they respect strength and reckless courage above all else. That's the reason they are leaning towards supporting Choso and Lo'driel over the Dominion; they respect his strength and courage in challenging the Dominion. Well, that and he won't levy taxes on them."

He takes a breath, deep in thought. "So, my plan hinges on us being able to talk to their King without being overheard. Either privately, or without any of our companions who speak Giant present. I know some of them do, but I'll need another day to figure out exactly which people speak giant. So that's step one: use tongues to speak giant, and/or find a private audience."

Zuriel begins ticking off points on his fingers. "Secondly, we will need to convince the King that we are worthy of respect. Bribery probably won't work. I think we'll need to challenge him to a fight. So Lyriel, we'll need your enhancement magic, as well as Tongues. Once we have his ear, we can tell him our plan. One so stupid, and so recklessly courageous, that he'll have to approve." He smiles self-deprecatingly. "We get him ostensibly showing allegiance to the Dominion, and sending workers to help with construction on the tower. At least one of those workers will be a Lieutenant whom he trusts. When we give the word - probably through a Sending - they will wreak carnage and mayhem on the construction site. This signal could be days, weeks, or months from now, depending on how deeply undercover we want to go and when we want to reveal our hand. We might be present to help with the revolt, or we might be elsewhere using the distraction to our advantage. The bottom line is; we'd have control of when to break cover and strike."

He summarizes. "In essence, a show of dumb foolhardy strength, but timed for the most opportune moment to strike. A plan that does not extort the giants, but relies on mutual respect - albeit hard won. One that does not force us to cleave to a particular timetable, but gives us the flexibility to make the call as the situation here develops."

Zuriel looks around at the PARTY. "Thoughts?"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:12, Wed 05 Mar 2014.

I agree.  We'll need to be ready for whatever 'show of strength' is required.  My only hangup is how reliable the Book of Answers will be in identifying who does and doesn't speak the giant tongue.  We can stall today and put our plan into motion tomorrow.

"Strength we have.  Foolhardy courage too.  How can we possibly fail?"

Teasing aside, she says to Zuriel:

"You keep saying "we."  Best to leave the talking to Boreas.  He is ostensibly our leader and he doesn't mince words.  Given our impression of the giants, I doubt they'll be impressed by long speeches and handsome words."

Lyriel shrugs. I wish we could just finish up here and go home. But we've come this far already...I suppose it doesn't make sense to give up before we accomplish anything meaningful. But I will feel better once we actually have a plan in place to interfere with their plans rather than just following orders in the hopes of learning more, never knowing if we'll have the chance to undo all the harm we've done aiding them.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:34, Wed 05 Mar 2014.

Zuriel shrugs in response to Maeve. "I wasn't planning on saying anything if I didn't have to. Boreas is better at dealing with these...types...of people anyway."

And that attitude is precisely why...

"Well, take back what I said about handsome words, at least in part.  Giants value warriors.  It seems like a perfect opportunity for a warrior boast."

Seeing that nobody seems to comprehend what she's trying to convey, Maeve says

"For instance, I might present myself to the giant king as such: "I am Major Maev'Rah Hassan, daughter of General Arnaud Hassan the Lion of Gaelia, and Lioness In Her Own Right, Wielder of the Spear That Thirsts For Blood, Traveler from Far Desert Lands, Commander of Soldiers, The One Who Casts Her Foes Down, and Slayer of the Werewolves Three."

She shrugs.

"Except, you know, more tailored to each individual. . . . ."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:00, Wed 05 Mar 2014.

"Well, we'd definitely want to make sure we weren't overheard before we started dropping those boasts..."

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 229):

And what of the place of gender in this culture? For all the obvious strength and dignity of Maeve, it is not immediately clear to me how the boasts of a woman would be received in the patriarchal courts of giants.

Sazed stammers, quickly adding

No offense intended.

Remember, strength is not just that of the individual, but in the allies he boasts. All of us throwing our "might" behind an individual, be it our enchantments, good will, or otherwise, is the true testament of strength. Generals rarely win battles in one on one combat- an army is generally required.

Zuriel listens to Sazed, considering his words on the nature of the giant's patriarchy. "I think what it comes down to is determining what Grak will view as the ultimate expression of strength, and then tailoring our response accordingly. Let's try to stall for the day, or if we do have an audience, try not to conclude things until tomorrow when we're better prepared.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 231):

Keef pulls out a book and flips through some pages, scattering loose leaves of notes here and there which he quickly drops to the ground and crawls about to collect.

If it's strength you need, Sazed and I can help...

Boreas approaches Lt. Stanza.

Lieutenant, I've been thinking.  It might be wise to send us in to speak with King Prak.  From what I understand, the giants don't have the best view toward the Dominion.  If we go in on our own, they might not see us as opponents.  Hopefully, we can get this all done cleanly and get everyone back home, out of this damn swamp.

What do you think?

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 233):

"This city and its people are a part of the Dominion whether they like it or not," the lieutenant smirks.  "They'd better get used to the idea. The enlisted grunts can wait outside, but a Dominion officer will be present when these terms are given to the king."

He gives the reins of the gift cart a shake.

"Now, if you're quite finished trying to steal the glory of this mission for yourself, let's get this over with."
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:09, Thu 06 Mar 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 234):

Just trying to avoid bloodshed.  If good men are going to die, it's not going to be over this.  But that's fine.  Who will be accompanying us?

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 235):

The Lieutenant gives Boreas a look that suggests he thinks his mount might be the smarter of the two.

"Well, since I ordered the sergeant and the corporals to hang back with the dark elf and the other wagons, it looks like your group, me, this cart of gifts, and Jerry here, doesn't it?"

The man's condescending tone is unapologetic.

In reply to DM (msg # 236):

Boreas glares back before cracking a slight smile.  Looks like it.

He turns to the PARTY.  We're heading in.  Get ready.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 237):

Born ready.

Also, am I the only one excited for what I assume will be a giant sized buffet of meats? I'm so hungry I could eat a horse, and I fully anticipate being given the opportunity.

What? I think with my stomach. Sue me.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 237):

The P.A.R.T.Y. follows Lieutenant Stanza, Jerry, and the cart of gifts into the area beyond the second palisade, unchallenged during their approach along the "road" toward the largest building in sight: a great hall of slightly better construction that the rest of the structures you've seen.

The entrance is large enough to admit the cart, horse and all, and soon the P.A.R.T.Y. finds itself within the king's hall.

It looks like an enormous log hunting cabin, though it has no door, and the ground is entirely coated with dirty wooden planks spattered with mud and mire -- creating the first "floor" you've seen. Sputtering torches line the central approach, filling the room with more smoke than light while simultaneously creating a horrible fire hazard.

The aisle leading to the far end of the hall is flanked on either side by large feasting tables, though they are currently bare and unattended.  The area 50 feet from the raised platform on which the throne sits is completely free of any ornament -- it looks like a miniature rectangular arena.

The king's chair is vacant, but the arena space is not: two enormous brutes are hacking at each other with greatclubs made of wood and stone. As you watch, one of them ducks a savage blow, points at the other, and laughs.  Moments later, his laughter is silenced by a swift kick to the nether regions, which is followed up by a blow across the head with the club that does not miss.

The damaged giant stumbles around in pain, then holds up a hand in supplication.

"I yield," he says, blood streaming from his nose and an angry welt bulging from his left temple.  "By mud and thunder, I hereby agree that those goats were never mine, and have always belonged to Horan. Thank you for your counsel."

After the victor nods in agreement, the speaker shoulders his club and meanders down the aisle and out the door -- ignoring the P.A.R.T.Y.'s presence entirely while whistling a jaunty tune. Strangely, he looks far from peeved.

The victor leaps onto the dais from the arena, sets his club aside, and takes a seat in the throne.

"King Prak recognizes men both little and big," he booms, nodding at the P.A.R.T.Y. and beckoning them to come closer.  "What do these little men want with King Prak?"

The lieutenant stands from the driver's seat in the cart.

"We have traveled from Imraer to bring you greetings from the Oynx Throne," he says.  "I am Curtis Stanza, a lieutenant in the service of the Dominion, and my companions here are civilian operatives of the state. Each of us would speak business with you, and then leave you in peace."

Then king says nothing, but nods for him to continue.

"The Dominion is pleased to offer you this cart of exotic goods," Stanza says.  "As a reminder of the good things that come to our loyal vassals. We will also waive your taxes, in exchange for Ogdoven resuming to honor its annual quota of conscripts."

He clears his throat before speaking further.

"This is the third year in which no giants have been sent to Nekria for training, and people are beginning to talk..."

"Little man worries too much," King Prak says, waving a hand dismissively. "Talk is all they do in the stonecity, but no one listens. You'll get soldiers when we get roads and a metal gate and farmland. You promised."

The lieutenant nods, as if he expected a similar response.

"And we'll make good on our commitments when you make good on yours. A team of road builders is heading here even now, and we have sent inquiries to the Order about creating the farmland you wanted."

King Prak smiles at this.

"In return," Stanza continues, "I will need to leave here with threescore giants -- strong, healthy males -- so that when I return to Nekria, I can honestly vouch for the fidelity of Ogdoven and its wise, generous king."

"Threescore?!" the king bellows, standing up from his chair. "Was to be this many every year." He holds up all of his fingers. "Ten."

"And it will be, next year," Stanza says.  "But with threescore now, we can justify the expense of hiring the Order -- and even then, it'll be a tough sell. People aren't happy about the past three years, your worship."

The king grumbles, but sits back down.

"Thought that might get attention," he says, almost sulkily. "But if we get farmland, was worth it. You know glassman offered farmland? But we had to pack up town, move north, to get it. Too hard. Would rather stay here."

If this news surprises the lieutent, he disguises it well.

"The Dominion would prefer that, as well," Stanza smiles. "How did the glassman contact you?"

"Lights and sound," the king says, looking slightly fearful. "For my mind."

"Disappointing," Stanza sighs, "But it was too much to hope for an informant, I suppose. I'll collect the threescore at the main gate in the morning. Have them ready for the march to Nekria -- food, supplies, weapons, everything. You can keep the cart of gifts. The road builders and farmland makers should arrive in another week or two. By mud and thunder?"

The king frowns for a moment, but eventually nods.

"We are agreed.  By mud and thunder."

He turns to Boreas, who has been waiting more or less patiently throughout the audience.

"All right, Garfunkel," Stanza nods.  "Deliver your missive and conduct your business. I believe mine to be satisfactorily completed."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:06, Thu 06 Mar 2014.

As they PARTY approaches the central building, Lyriel incants a few words under her breath and touches a hand to Boreas' brow.

[Casting: Tongues]

She then makes a similar, but shorter incantation, focused this time on Zuriel.

[Casting: Comprehend Language]

Finished with her casting, she leans in and whispers to Keef. Do you have the magic prepared to enlarge Zuriel or Maeve?

Maeve watches the giants and their combat with fascination and interest.

Well, I suppose that's one way to settle a dispute, she thinks, not entirely with disapproval.

She turns expectantly toward Boreas as he is summoned forward to converse with the king.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 240):

Keef shakes his head 'secretively' which is to say 'wildly'.

Got some other good tricks, though.

Boreas approaches the giant king.

He extends a hand, presenting the missive, and opens his mouth to speak.  Though the words he mouths are in Common, the enchantment on them causes them to emerge in Giant.

SoH Dan va ta' loD, garfunkel, 'e' je jabbI'ID vo' ptolmy. nuq 'oH ngaS vISovbe' 'ach wIghaj Ha' qaSpu'DI' 'oH laD SoH.


[Private to DM; Zuriel Silendril: O King of the Giants, I, Garfunkel, present you with this letter on behalf of Ptolmy.  I do not know what it contains, but we have a proposition for you after you read it.]

Zuriel takes a discreet sip from the chalice as they enter the lodge. As Boreas introduces himself to Grak, Zuriel pays more attention to Lt. Stanza, hoping to assess whether or not he comprehends giant.

[Sense Motive: 23]

Maeve spies Zuriel scanning the room with a thoughtful expression on his face and steps to his side that she might better hear any information he has to convey.  She consider's Sazed's point and also looks around the room herself to see if there are any female giants to be seen.

[OOC: Have a 2:15 flight to Atlanta, followed by a ride on MARTA to get home--expecting to be there around 5 or so.  Sorry to miss out on giant funtimes for the afternoon!]

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 243):


The king laughs joyfully.

"loQ loD tIn nuj. cha' tlhIH lumerlaw'lu'bogh 'ej bel. Ha' yIbej ghaj."

[Private to Boreas Highwind; Zuriel Silendril: A little man with a big mouth. I am both surprised and pleased.  Let's have a look.]

Lt. Stanza narrows his eyes in confusion as Boreas delivers the sealed missive to the king's waiting hands, and everyone waits in silence while the scroll is read. Finally, the king speaks again.

"jIlegh. Qap yIDIl nuvpu' sorely in need of vay' ghaH DoH Seng yab 'ej wab nuq rur QaQ vIneH. twoscore loD SoH ghaH je construction, garfunkel, wa' je QaH ngeH vIneH: $ 20,000 DIl maH Seng jatlh jabbI'ID. Dochmey 'e' lay' Suq jIHvaD qay' vIghaj. vIneH Ha' tlhop."

[Private to Boreas Highwind; Zuriel Silendril: I see. Paid work for a people sorely in need of something to take their mind off their troubles, and for what sounds like a good cause. I will sent twoscore men with you to help with the construction, Garfunkel, on one condition: the letter says we will be paid $20,000 for our trouble. I've had problems getting things that were promised to me.  I want it up front.]

He smiles at Boreas.

"petung'egh pegh pol."

[Private to Boreas Highwind; Zuriel Silendril: Keep the specifics a secret between us.]

The king clears his throat and slips the missive into his pocket.

"Little man speaks well and strong, with words and writing. Is contract job, and we accept if price is right."

Sanza looks mollified at this announcement, and busies himself getting the cart of presents unloaded on a nearby table while the conversation continues.

Boreas looks to Zuriel, then to each of the Dominion officers in the room, waiting for a signal from the paladin.  A coordinated communication, it takes only a few seconds.

Zuriel blinks once to Boreas, shifting his weight to his left foot, signalling that neither appears to comprehend Giant.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 248):

Boreas smiles back at the King.

nuj tInqu' ghaj, Ha' mamobtaHvIS, vaj ja'chuq maH tlhoy 'e' vIneH. jImonqa' nIteb SuyItHa' maHvaD?

[Private to DM; Zuriel Silendril: Your Magnitude, we should discuss the deal in private, if that is your wish.  Would you grant us a private audience?]

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 249):

Keef stands still and makes quiet popping noises with his lips.

Maeve makes a small noise of frustration as Boreas continues to speak with the giant king in his own language.

"What did he just say to the king?" she whispers to Zuriel.

King Prak seems like a jolly enough sort, though with the potential to be devastatingly fearsome if provoked.  In that way, he reminds her a good deal of her father.

I think that I would like to have the chance to speak with this King Prak later on.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 251):

"Since when did the littleman care about that? Will be happy to show you joys of composting out back!" the king says, turning to Stanza for a moment. "Coming?"

The lieutenant blinks, then shakes his head.

"I have no interest in agricultural matters. Jerry and I will leave you to it. Garfunkel, we're making camp near the southern... well, only gate. Meet us there when you're done."

King Prak shrugs.

"Your loss. Will see you tomorrow at gate with threescore men. Looking forward to roads and farmland."

With that, Stanza and Jerry begin to work their way out of the building while the king beckons those who remain to follow him out the back.

Boreas smiles at the Giant King's cunning, then follows.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 253):

Keef does his best to match the King's gait, but having nothing near the proper length of stride, ends up hopping after him.

In reply to Keef (msg # 254):

Gods above I pray for subterfuge. I do not think I can withstand the notion of a first hand tour of giant poop. Here's to hoping that's the exact reaction Boreas wanted from the Lieutenant. Here's to hoping indeed..

Maeve smiles to herself, impressed with the giant king's quick thinking and convinced of her initial assessment that he would be a valuable ally to have.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 256):

King Prak leads the P.A.R.T.Y. out back to an area that does indeed smell much like a cesspit.  The giant does not appear to mind, and soon turns his attention back toward Boreas.

"An odd request, littleman, but next appointment is not here yet. What do you want, besides paid giant labor? And why need for secrecy?"

ta' nIv 'oH 'Iv Ha' pegh pol chup

[Private to DM; Zuriel Silendril: Great King, it was you who suggested keeping the details private.]

Boreas smiles again.

Dajatlh'a' mang wa' "loD HIvje'." pong SoH lut vIQoypu'. 'ach chay' yIn SoH je loD bopummeH che'?

[Private to DM; Zuriel Silendril: You spoke to the soldiers of the one you call "Glassman."  I have heard his story, but how did you and your men fare under his rule?]

The paladin follows the giant outside, not yet breaking his role as supposed bodyguard. He manages to keep his face calm and composed, despite the horrendous smell from the compost. What was it the book said about what the giants held dearest? King, God, and Land...Grak does seem to care a great deal about agriculture. He's doubling his expected conscription in exchange for farmland...something to keep in mind.

He holds his tongue, however, letting Boreas speak. His ears perk up at the mention of the Glassman. I wonder 'Glassman' refers to Tyrant Choso?

The compost heap smells less than delightful this close up but with a little imagination, Maeve is able to make believe that the odor is just a strong, earthy smell.  Now is not, after all, the time to show squeamishness.  She continues to stand tall and resolute, doing her best to appear warrior-like.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 258):

The king converses in giant, but because I'm getting growing numbers of players telling me they have no idea what's going on, I'm going to write it in common and assume it was translated.

"I asked to keep it private because I don't want to send fivescore men to Nekria," the king says. "No other reason than that. But I'll still need to see that they are paid up front for their efforts. It's hard to spend coins you've only received in good faith."

He clears his throat as he processes Boreas's question.


"How you not know this, littleman? You work for Dominion -- should read your history books. I'll fix, real quick: When glassman became Tyrant, he made everyone citizens, not just littlemen -- humans and elves. He said we could take down the snake banners, if we didn't want them. He also reduced military spending, and focused on merchant ships and city improvements and roads and such. Even moved capital from Nekria battletown to Imbraer tradeport."

The king smiles slightly.

"He paid for all that with military money and with taxes on the nobility. He made a lot of poor people happy, and a lot of rich people angry. But worst thing he did was tax the churches."

He sighs, exasperated.

"You know how it goes with the littleman gods. All thunder, no mud. Priests of the nothing said world would end. Priests of the bloodclown laughed and laughed and laughed -- and killed any tax collectors they saw. But worst reaction was from the snakepriests."

Seeing the blank stares of the P.A.R.T.Y., he frowns.

"How you not know this? Snakepriests like money and power and little else, and they have always been close to the Tyrant. More snakepriest faithful than any other, in Drynn. Suits most: money and power? Sound good. Because of this, high snakepriest is revered like a god himself, and has always sat at right hand of the Tyrant..."

Here, King Prak smiles wickedly.

"But he argued with glassman on everything. No taxes on nobility, no taxes on churches, more soliders, more wars... so glassman sent him home. Dismissed from Dominion service, and removed all snakemen from council. First time that ever happened."

"High snakepriest went back to Nekria battletown and told everyone glassman was a god-forsaken traitor. He named himself Tyrant and told all snakemen that the snakegod said they should support him. Glassman lost most of his army overnight, and all cities except Imbraer tradeport. Snakepriest too strong to oppose, they said. Not healthy."

King Prak beams with pride.

"Cowards. Giants don't care about snakemen or snakegods or even the glassman. We want roads, farms, goats, and war. But smart war, not forever. Snakeman wants endless war, always, until the badmen in the north are all gone and all things belong to snakegod."

"There are a lot of badmen, in north and even here. I don't think they'll ever be gone. Glassman agrees, so he's smarter than the snakemen. But he ran away and joined the northmen, so glassman is a craven. Not sure how to feel about that."

The king shakes his head slowly.

"Answer is simple: Ogdoven was better off under glassman, but that's not possible. We now must learn to live with snakemen, or abandon home. Hard choices, but kings do what's best for everyone. Moving too hard, too uncertain. Many would die, and some would rather stay. Ogdoven stronger where it is."

He realizes he's been rambling, and chuckles.

"But I bore you with things you already know. When can you pay me for my workers? Giants do good work, and tower sounds important. Mt. Salt isn't too far, would be good exercise."
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:29, Fri 07 Mar 2014.

Boreas continues in Giant:

And what would you consider a 'good war,' Your Immensity?

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 262):

The king raises a hand to his chin, scratching at his stubby absently for a moment.

"Hitting back first? Also, to get back stolen land and goats and such. Or maybe to get new land and goats, if what you have is not enough and there is no other way to get more."

He narrows his eyes slightly.

"Also, if needed to maintain order. Show of strength can be important."

I have a way you can 'hit back.'  War is coming, and not from where you think.  The man who sent us is building these towers.  Not just here, but on other worlds too.  We think they are using them to gather the power of the gods.  Not just the Snake god and the Bloodclown, but all of them.  It would be like the Snakemen, only worse.  But we have a plan to stop them, if you are interested.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 264):

Appeal to his pride. Tell them we recognize the need for their strength. They are not dumb, but they are certainly vain when it comes to their own prowess..

In reply to Sazed (msg # 265):

*pop
This message was last edited by the player at 02:18, Mon 10 Mar 2014.

In reply to Keef (msg # 266):

"Why would I care about that?" the king asks, amused. "We don't care about snakemen or bloodclowns here. Their wars are not our wars. Building towers for coin, though... that seems good to me."

Their war will be your war.  The towers are a step toward that.  It's not about the Snakemen or the Bloodclowns.  It's about the power they will have over you once they finish this.  Best to stop them now, when you and your mighty giants still can.

And we can pay you.  How is this for a start?

Boreas takes out the bag of 5000 gold that Ptolmy gave him.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 268):

"Feh," the king replies, though he looks at the bag of gold with interest. "We do not fear war with the snakemen, no matter how many towers they build. Why would snakemen getting stronger make them more likely to want war with Ogdoven? Especially since we still serve the Dominion?"

He glances at the money again.

"What are you hoping to hire me to do? The gold is nice, but it's much less than I was promised for doing the construction project."

The gold is on top of whatever you would get for the project.  We want your men to go work on it as planned.  Take whatever they will pay you.  Put one of your trusted lieutenants in charge.  When we send them the signal, he will have your men destroy the tower.

Ptolmy did not send us with enough to pay you in advance.  The money I am offering you here is ours.  We have more coming when we meet him.  10,000 more gold is yours once we get it.  And we will help your giants negotiate payment in advance from Ptolmy's men if possible.  That way, you get paid from both of us, and you stop the Dominion from strengthening its hold.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 270):

The king considers the proposal, but doesn't look convinced.

"What happens after that, littleman? Let us say it goes perfectly, and we end up with $20,000 for the construction and $15,000 from you. Unless we kill everyone there, someone will know what happened. That my giants tore the Dominion's tower down. They will probably even know that we took payment to do it."

He shakes his head.

"That would be treason. There would be soldiers and serpentmen and more here within the week, and Ogdoven and all her goats and women and swampland would burn until the ground became as hard as glass.""

Zuriel clears his throat and steps forward. He bows politely before King Prak. "Your point is well taken, Your Majesty. And you're absolutely correct. If you were to attack on your own, it would be glorious, but ultimately futile, even with your immense might."


He holds up a hand. "However, that's not what we're suggesting. You said that you'd rather the Glassman be in charge than the snakemen? I'd much rather that too. If we were to strike at another one of their towers, their attention would be elsewhere. And if the Glassman were to attack at the same time, their attention would be divided yet again. Suddenly, you're no longer along against the snakemen."

If the Glassman returned from the northlands, things would be very different. [Diplomacy Aid: Success]

Zuriel pauses for emphasis. "Instead, you've struck the first blow in a glorious war to ensure lands and goats for your kind in an empire where you are citizens, and equals, rather than mere servants to be taxed when convenient."

The paladin smiles at King Grak, painting a picture of blood and glory. "It would be foolish. It would be brave. It would be Legen..." wait for it... "...dary."

[Diplomacy: Natural 20 +2 +16 = 38]
This message was last edited by the player at 22:15, Fri 07 Mar 2014.

Maeve stares at Zuriel with something approaching amazement as he masterfully weaves together his speech, smiling with just the right amount of charm.  Even his cloak seems to billow with increased jauntiness.

Wow.  Gregariousness aside, he *is* good with his tongue.  I guess I understand what Lyriel sees in him.

A corner of his cloak smacks her in the face on an especially enthusiastic billow, and she quickly discards that thought.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 273):

"What makes you think glassman would return? Not smart. There a lot of snakemen."

He frowns.

"Is tempting, true, but I still think, in end, Ogdoven would burn and King Prak would die. Would need some promise of glassman action."

The paladin steeples his hands together at his waist, happy to be able to drop the ruse of silent protector, if only for a little while.

"Seems wise. That kind of mobilization would take some time to get into position, and we can't make any guarantees." Zuriel says candidly. And I wouldn't even know where to start...but if Choso has been in contact with Prak, clearly he has some plan in mind. Otherwise, why would he bother?

"So I propose this. You send your giants to work on the construction. Put somebody you trust in charge. Let him know what you might ask of him and those he commands. If the Glassman cannot or will not move against the continent, you need take no further action. You'll have received your payment from those constructing the tower, and this conversation never took place."

"But," Zuriel continues, slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "If the conditions are met, and the Glassman returns to take what is his...would you and your people find such a battle against the snakemen and their allies worthy?"

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 275):

"King Prak is not opposed to that plan. Seems good, wait-and-see approach."

He cracks his knuckles absently.

"Not angry at snakemen, but want farms, goats, roads, we were promised. Glassman easier to work with, and underdog, too. Would be a fun fight."

The giant raises his hands in warning.

"But not if it would be a rout. Will wait, see, debate options. What do you get out of it? You work for glassman? Does the lawman, too? If not, I'm sending giants to fight against myself..."

Boreas wears an earnest expression.

loS 'ej rup, 'ach chaq jIQochbe' choso nab, 'e' QaH SoH qaSnISbej DISov qarbej. 'oHbe' chut loD jISaHchugh qaStaHvIS. vaj vegh nab, loD vaj pong wItI'nISmo' SoH. vaj DaneHchugh laH ghuHmoH chaH maH. , jIQochbe' qaStaHvIS?

[Private to DM; Zuriel Silendril: Wait and see is fine, but if Choso agrees to our plan, we must know for sure that you will help.  The law man is not with us in this.  If the plan goes through, you should recall your men.  We can warn them for you if you wish.  Are we agreed in this?]

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 277):

*pop

Zuriel decides to answer Prak's question more directly. He shakes his head. "No, we don't work directly for the Glassman. But I personally much rather he was back in his true country. Most importantly, we share common enemy with snakemen. They are up to some mischief with these towers, and we mean to stop it."

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 279):

"If the glassman decides to come back, with enough reasonable strength to make a good fight of it, King Prak would help him. By mud and thunder, that's the best I can do with what you've told me."

He lowers his voice.

"And even saying that is a risk. If you are really snakemen, and tricked me into saying that, I will have to smash you."

King Prak grins wickedly.

"No hard feelings."

Zuriel grins back at the giant, and chuckles. "Worry not, King Prak. We aren't snakemen tricking you. I think that would have been too subtle for them. Dark elves, maybe. But the snakemen would have probably...I don't know, used poison or sacrificed a litter of kittens for power or something." He shrugs.

"So we are agreed then? You will give secret orders to your lieutenant in charge of the giants you're sending to the construction site? And if the Glassman returns, you will strike? In the meantime, we will contact Ptolmy and see about getting you your payment for the construction up front."

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 281):

The king looks slightly annoyed.

"I said would, didn't I? Mud and thunder, even. Do you question my word?"

Zuriel shakes his head. "Of course not, King Prak. I was just translating a summary for my companions here who don't understand Giant. I apologize if I offended you."

He looks to the rest of the PARTY. "Well then. We should be off. The sooner we can get Ptolmy to provide their payment up front, the better."

Turning back to the giant, he bows again. "It's been a pleasure. I only hope fate will allow us the opportunity to fight at each other's side someday."

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 283):

The conversation concluded, the P.A.R.T.Y. takes its leave of King Prak. Upon returning back outside, it becomes clear that A'tril, Stanza, and the others are gone -- presumably to set up camp near the gate, as previously indicated.

It is currently around 4 p.m.

"What just happened back there?" Maeve asks eagerly, tetchy at being left out of the loop. "I got *his* side of things, more or less,"she says, jerking a thumb at Zuriel, "but not what happened before he started talking."

Zuriel quietly summarizes the both sides of the conversation for Maeve. He then turns to Boreas. "We should contact Ptolmy. See if he will give the payment upfront. If not, we might have to get creative. Either way, afterwards, I think we ought to check out Mt. Salt. It's going to take some time to get all the pieces into play. We need to somehow convince Choso to invade while also locating and assaulting another tower on another plane. We need to get an idea of how much time we have before the tower is completed."

Business aside, Zuriel is content to wander Ogdoven with whomever else cares to join him, seeing whatever sights there are to see before returning to camp.