The Dreaming Calf, situated with its back to the True Sea and its outbuilding forming two arms to wrap around an open space larger than some village squares, was full on the fifteenth day of Winter's Rest. The weather in Sarambar never got cold during winter, but the rainy season was slowly turning to the hot season. But still the night wind brings a coolness to the evening that leaves most natives of Sarambar shivering.

The winehouse was busy, noisy, and bright. But outside in the dark alleys of Sarambar it was deathly quiet. Behind the Dreaming Calf the road ran alongside the sea shore through a rocky shoal. Three figures were struggling, two trying to drag the third toward the sea. The middle figure was gagged and the other two were trying to keep it that way.

The struggle would inevitably end with one death and two undiscovered killers. If not for the odd fortune of six strangers hearing the noise. Two wandered in from the Southern side of the Calf, two from the Northern, and two from the other side of the Calf in the main yard.

Finally, the middle figure broke an arm free enough to pull the gag off. A high-pitched voice shrieked out, "Help!"

A woman sauntered into their path with a dreamy-eyed stare and a sinuous sway of hips. A wine-colored shawl covered a jewel-toned blouse and complementary skirt. Basilisa The Bold softly hummed an old folk song of the wandering tribe of troubadours & troublemakers she’d accompanied the last dozen moons. Her tambourine rattled with a gentle tap. She seemed unaware of them as she danced to her own private song, until she swayed to a stop within nine paces of the trio.

Basilisa stopped and swayed slightly, as if she moved as much to her wine as to her own song. “Oh!” She smiled, a parting of lush lips that teased of deeper pleasures than song alone. “This looks like a fun game!” The dark-haired woman chuckled in a purring alto that sounded worldlier than her seeming years. “<Hic> I like games, but I would enjoy them more if Winter’s Rest didn’t dry up my business!”

Eyes of pale aquamarine hue fixed the men flanking the hostage. Basilisa spoke in a feigned slur of one still on the girlishly charming side of “Drunk”. “Might I interest you in a bawd befut...befitting the kinky games you obviously like to stray...play?”


OOC:

I tried to convince them she’s a fun drunk to distrust them.

17:28, Today: Basilisa rolled 7 using 1d20+4.  Deception: Play drunk and distract the thugs.

Welp.

 

Thalla hated the heat in Sarambar, how it seemed to stick to her shirt and get under her armor. Apparently, this wasn't even as hot as it was going to get, and the prospect of a scorching summer spent in this strange city waiting for some divine sign made her sour.

So her evenings spent in overcrowded, overheated festhalls were often cut short and she'd often wander by the sea, let the breeze cool her off as she drank their strange wine and wish once more for something stronger. She was far from home, directionless, and running out of coin... But at least she wasn't dead. Again.

Except tonight wasn't going to be another night of sweaty brooding it seemed. A piercing cry snapped her head north. The tall woman slipped the maul off her back and propped it onto one shoulder. She watched a pretty woman swayed her way towards the kidnappers, drunkenly approaching them. She raised an eyebrow and stepped forward to help out.

She raised her chin and grinned at them, eyes twinkling with the prospect of violence. She was a tall woman in scale armor under her long thin maroon coat, the glint of a handaxe on her hip under her coat. "I don't think your friend particularly enjoys this game. Why don't you let her go so we can play another. Something rougher, perhaps?" she called out, resting her head against the heavy hammer on her shoulder.

She may not have the charm of the other would-be hero, but she had trained herself to read her opponent for their next move, and that's just what she did now... But the wine seemed to be a little stronger than she remembered.

OOC: Use Insight to predict if they will get violent
Thalla rolled 3 using 1d20+2
Off to a great start!

A pull leading him to this location, or fate guiding his footsteps? Was such a thing worth looking into, or should he continue to focus on manipulating the very fabric that bound this world together? Questions and answers to those questions were important, to be sure and such questions often got in the way of thinking about other things. Such as whatever that woman at the tavern meant by... actually what did she even say? Probably not important, but there was something in the way she had said-

His thoughts were interrupted by the cry for help from the woman being dragged to the sea. The lanky, weather beaten elf couldn't just stand at the side from such an obvious abuse of power and strength as the cries of the lady between the two thugs brought him out of his mind. Glancing around, he reached down for his wand, not wanting to escalate things, but also not wanting to simply stand beside as things got out of hand. However, more... charismatic voices were speaking leading him to remain silent for the time being, lest his voice simply add to the cacophony. At the same time, he needed to prepare to intervene.

Wondering idly to himself, for the thousandth time and tying his own head up in knots of verse and possible lines of reasoning, why exactly he'd been sent at this particular time, to sit and wait on the corner of this particular inn, in this particular city. No-one had said he had to sit in plain view, so he hadn't. He muttered as he mused from the comfort of a pile of broken pallets and barrels; it wasn't a pretty throne, but it was quite comfortable after a bit of wiggling.

It was just as he was starting in on "wondering; one thousand and one" when he saw the commotion and heard the call for aid. It seemed a little too serendipitous to really be the answer to his ponderings, but he knew better than to start second guessing chance encounters. Either way, before he could act he saw others moving in, almost like actors cue'd in a play. So he hunkered down into his hidey spot, willing to watch and see how this scene evolved before intervening himself. After all, no use risking his own skin if others were happy to put themselves in the line of fire. Besides, this situation bore some observation to see what was really going on.

OOC:
15:03, Today: Raelan rolled 15,7,12 using 1d20+4,1d20+4,1d20+4.  Stealth, Insight, Perception.

Rethsiren had been enjoying himself in the Calf for a while. He might have come here for a reason, but there was no reason he couldn't take a bit of a break. And there was no better way to get to know a new city than a good drink or a good brawl at the local winehouse. He'd had the first, but the place seemed quite well-behaved tonight. The blue-scaled dragonborn was whistling a sailing tune as he emerged into the main courtyard, only to wheel about and charged around the building at the cry for help. He reached for the warhammerat his belt as he ran- it paid to be prepared for trouble.

Unlike the other strangers happening upon the scene, Rethsiren didn't waste time with words of persuasion or distraction. It seemed simple enough to him: someone had called for help and those accosting them needed shown the error of their ways.It perhaps didn't help the thugs' cause once he saw where they were dragging their victim. It hadn't been that long ago since the dragonborn's own experience with being tossed into the waves and made him angry to see now. He roared and charged at the group, intent on tearing the agressors away from their victim.

OOC: Not sure if he'll even reach them this round, but if he does Rethsiren will shove to the ground or grapple the nearest thug. He doesn't especially care which so long as they get off of the person.

18:27, Today: Rethsiren rolled 17 using 1d20+5 ((12)).

One of the two figures slapped their hand over the mouth of the one in the middle as first Basilisa and then the others approached. The other turned toward her drunken display and snarled a quick "Head off, bitch!" before turning back to help his comrade.

In the half moon shed enough light to reveal that the two would-be murderers were men - tall, rough, and definitely local to Sarambar with their dark features - and that the third was small, lean, but with a wood pulled low over their face to hide their features.

As Thalla, Lathalan, and Rethsiren came into view, the man who had spoken let out a curse and the two tried to haul the three toward the rocky fall that much faster. They seemed single-minded.

Please roll initiative, since I believe that's what Reth rolled for.

Watching the events unfold and the inevitability of an imminent death, Raelen made up his mind. This would be worth the look on the thugs' face, if nothing else. Chuckling evilly to himself, he instigated the change, felt his bones crack and shift, his flesh turning inside out as he moved for the cliff...

OOC:
20:50, Today: Raelan rolled 20 using 1d20+2.  Initiative.

Action: Wild Shape
Move: Heading for the cliff and over it, if possible, under cover of dark/whatever cover might keep me out of view.

21:04, Today: Raelan rolled 22 using 1d20+7. Stealth.

"Not interested in talking? Good," Thalla said with that same smile, though her eyes weren't smiling. They were sizing up the two men, and seeing which would pause the biggest threat. She saw the Dragonborn move in from the other side and nodded in approval. Good to see there was someone else not afraid to step into danger.

She charged one of the men, lowering her shoulder and aiming to knock him on his arse and away from their captive. "Let go!" she growled the moment she reach him.

Attempt to shove prone the kidnapper Rethsiren isn't attacking.
Shove: Thalla rolled 11 using 1d20+5.
Initiative: Thalla rolled 5 using 1d20+2

Basilisa sobered up and stood straight when the Amazonian woman and Dragonborn joined them. She clucked her tongue at the thug who’d dared called her “Bitch”. “Tt-tt. How rude!” The chuckle that accompanied her remark said that she found the man’s attempt more amusing than insulting.

“No, I will NOT head off.” Basilisa jingled her tambourine with a crisp peal. “Not without a proper farewell, at least!” With a grin, she plucked a small bit of fleece from a skirt pocket. Clapping the tambourine, she uttered a word in Elvish and laughed at the pair.

OOC:

17:21, Today: Basilisa rolled 3 using 1d20+2.  Initiative.

Casting Phantasmal Force on the one who called her a “Bitch”.

Intelligence Save vs. DC 14.



This message was last edited by the player at 22:27, Mon 28 Sept 2020.

Stepping closer to the men, Lathalan reached out to the very ground behind them. Waving his wand and muttering the incantation that had become second nature to him, he created a deep trough about four foot across and 1 foot deep behind them, as if made in a single smooth motion with the earth and dirt piled behind that trough creating a small berm in their way. "Stop. We'll make you if we have to." He kept his words simple at the moment, since there were more verbose people around to handle that side of things.

---

14:58, Today: Lathalan rolled 14 using 1d20+2.  Initiative.
Action: Cast Mold Earth to move a large portion of the ground behind one of the men, creating a small foot deep trough behind him.
Move: Move closer to the pair to keep them in the range of his spells.

Rethsiren grinned fiercely at the human woman rushing in to attack as he heard others murmuring in the familiar rhythm of casting nearby. Good. It was well to know that there were others good-hearted enough(or at least angry enough at a common enemy) to step in should he fail. He briefly considered reaching for his own magics, but these men had not yet shown that they were worth wasting the power that Holmgar had blessed him with. His own strength would suffice for now.

And perhaps he simply wanted to pound in the faces of men like this himself, instead of leaving it to the Drowned King. Men who would abduct and terrify a poor soul, who would speak so crudely to a lady, even one in her cups. Physicality was easier to control, too, if they needed one alive.

He lowered his shoulder as he charged forward, in the same style as his newly found battle-friend. If his target could be knocked away form the kidnapee, good. If the man fell into the newly-dug ditch that had mysteriously appeared behind the thug, even better.

"Run!" He growled in the captive's direction. The sooner the (presumably) innocent cleared the battlefield, the more room the erstwhile rescuers would have to work.



OOC: Nope, was just rolling an attack in case he would actually make it to the men and it was needed.

19:59, Today: Rethsiren rolled 9 using 1d20-1.  Initiative.

20:22, Today: Rethsiren rolled 18 using 1d20+5.  Shove prone the one Thalla didn't target.

This message was last edited by the player at 00:27, Tue 29 Sept 2020.

Raelen's form changed as he moved in the shadows and disappeared over the edge of the cliff leading down to the rocky sea.

Rethsiren barreled into one of the men, knocking him into the shallow trench that was even now appearing as Lathalan weaved his spell. The man let out a grunt as he fell, his grip on their captive released.

The other man held the struggling captive, even as the smaller figure fought to get free. But it kept the man's attention well enough.

Thalla rammed into the man, knocking him sprawling into Lathalan's trench. His grip was released from the captive. Now released, the smaller figure stood still, quavering slightly, like they did not know what to do. But at Rethsiren's directions, they took off sprinting, headed for the cover of the Dreaming Calf's walls.

As Basilisa's spell took effect, the man in the trench stared in horror for a moment at a point in space, and then shook his head vigorously and turned his attention back to the fight.

Initiative Order
Raelan 20
Rethsiren 17
Lathalan 14

Them 8

Thalla 5
Basilisa 3

One chitinous leg after the other, Raelen crawled up and back over the precipice behind the thugs, revealing his arachnid visage, his many eyes glistening in the light from the inn. He paused, rearing slightly atop the mound created by Lathalan, allowing his victims time to witness the horror descending upon them; a grotesquely sized spider, as long as a man is tall, before lunging down upon them with gaping maw...

OOC:

Move: Back over cliff edge and adjacent to thugs
Action: Attack thug (Bite)

15:22, Today: Raelan rolled 12,2,9 using 1d20+3,1d6+1,2d6.  Attack, Damage, Poison damage (Con DC:11 for half).
15:24, Today: Raelan rolled 22 using 1d20+3.  Attack Advantage (if applicable; I wasn't sure if one or either were prone).

Rethsiren yelled as the giant spider came flowing up the cliff and lunged for one of the would-be murderers, drawing his warhammer as he backed away from it and them. He held the weapon ready for defense against any or all of them, but made no move to attack. Quick glances revealed that objective had been achieved and the captive fleeing for the safety of the winehouse, and he felt no particular urge to intervene unless the spider began seeking non-criminal prey or something lunged for him again.

"Surrender if you wish to live!" He bellowed. "Or I'll leave you to the spider!" The dragonborn might not understand the spider's appearance, but he wasn't above using it.

18:54, Today: Rethsiren rolled 19 using 1d20.  Intimidation.

Thalla watched with satisfaction as the man tumbled into the trench... Which appeared out of nowhere... And now there was a spider... In the heat of the battle, she was having trouble keeping track of who was doing what. She would usually just swing her maul until things sorted themselves out, but this was not war, so her maul stayed on her back for now. She was curious about the attempted kidnapping, and dead men did not talk. Or at least, not as clearly as the living.

So instead, she tried to grab hold of either of the men still alive, her powerful grip to yank them up into a bearhug, arm muscles clenching like a vice around them. "Stay still or I snap your bloody neck!" she whispered and attempted to pull her would-be captive away from the fight.

Action: Athletics (Grappling) Thalla rolled 13 using 1d20+5
Move Action: Drag captive 15 feet away from fight

The appearance of another figure on the field of combat was unexpected and brought a new element to bare, one that would need to be treated with the exact same effect as is a wild animal had decided upon joining in a fight. Still, this was highly suspicious behavior, especially since it had voluntarily engaged a group with superior numbers, suggesting that it was not a mere beast, but had a different intelligence behind it. Sort of like Thia, his familiar. Nevertheless, it would have to be treated as such until such a time as it proved otherwise, and he intended to give it that time.

However, not wanting to be caught unaware, he lifted his wand once more, trailing it down his throat as he let out a gout of flames into the sky. After letting the flames escape his open mouth harmlessly upward, he nodded to the others engaged in the fight. Sometimes, a display of power could aid others, especially since magic itself came with unknown elements that they could fabricate whole-cloth if need be. "Please. Surrender, peacefully."

---

Bonus action: cast Dragon Breath choosing fire
Action: release cone of flames straight up for thematic effect for the others
Holding movement to about 30ft of the group struggling in the trench I dug with magic.

Basilisa watched the disparate group unite against a threat to a seeming innocent with a curious smile. Her smile turned into a bemused grin at the Barbarian woman manhandling a thug who’d only moments before demeaned and threatened women. She appreciated the irony. Her feet shuffled in a series of quick steps as she danced toward the gathering. The tambourine beat with each step as she swayed toward them.

When the Elvish man belched fire, Basilisa gasped in awe and accentuated his display with a harsh beat. Their heroism inspired a quick ditty, which she sang in a smooth alto:

”If you treat a maiden gently
And raise not or lay harsh hand
Your life will be quite lengthy
And honored in our land.”

Basilisa stopped just out of arm’s reach. With fetching smile, she shook the tambourine up and down  in a clockwise circle.

”Lay down your weapon
Let violence now end.
Let Peace there be between us
And call each other Friend.”


With the she sang, Basilisa wove enchantment into her lyrics, hoping to charm the man held by the warrior woman.



OOC:

Charm cast against the thug held by Thalia.

As a Bonus Action, I’ll use Bardic Inspiration and give Thalia a 1d6.


 

Raelan's appearance startled the two men. Both lay in the trench and shielded their faces as the huge spider lunged down. The first man screamed as the spider's fangs buried in his shoulder. But the scream died as the venom ran through his veins.

Rethsiren's roaring command was made all the more effective by the ease with which the spider had offed the first man. The second dropped his weapon and threw up his hands in surrender.

It was simple enough for Thalla to grab the surrendering man and get his arms behind his back. The other seemed to be alive, still. But comatose due to blood loss or venom.

Basilisa, do you still want to Charm the man? If yes, I'll roll the save.

Lathalan, I assume you will skip on the using the spell? If not, let me know.

We're out of initiative since there are no more enemies.

With the offenders down or handled, Raelan turned about and fled with startling speed back over the cliff and into the darkness. His work here was done, it seemed.

Doubling back on himself and safely out of sight, the gigantic spider folded in upon itself, chitin rearranging back into the bone and flesh of the ragged gnome he truly was. Taking a moment to readjust his senses and balance from eight to two, Raelen shook his head like a dog to set things straight and scooted back at double speed to spy on how the strangers had handled the situation, paying particular mind to where the "victim" had fled to.

OOC: I'll be sitting out a spell to accomodate the time taken to return to Gnome form and to the scene...I'll be coming in as if new to it.

Thalla heard the songstress' song as she grabbed the man by the arm. She never had a song honoring such a minor deed, but there was magic in those words, so she smiled at Basilisa and nodded in thanks. But the battle ended before it had even started, with one foe on the ground, the other twisted in her arms and that monstrous spider scurrying away.

It was all very confusing, and sharper minds could sort it out. "Don't squirm if you want to keep your arm attached to your body," she whispered to her captive, her other hand grabbing him by the hair and lifting his head up so that he could look at the rest of the group.

"Well met. Thalla of Procois," she said to the others from behind her captive's head, giving them a cocksure smile. "Now could someone please tell me what just happened... Or get him to talk." She shoved him forward, keeping her crushing grip on his twisted arm to make sure he didn't run.

What should have been a battle for the song scrolls ended just as Basilisa sang her second refrain. The injustice, the indignity! She rolled her eyes with a sigh at the ignominious end. Thalia’s greeting and thanks headed off the snit, though.

“Greetings, Thalia of Procois!” Basilisa dipped in a quick half-curtsy. With a grin and friendly laugh, she added, “Perhaps from this night to be known as ‘Thalia The Steel-Limbed’?” She paused to read the Warrior Woman’s face. “Too corny? I can work on it! Still, an honor to meet one who represents our sex so valiantly!

I am Basilisa The Beauteous, Mistress of Minstrelsy, your fellow Avenger of Social Injustice, at your service!” With a toss of her fabulous black hair, she added, “Available for weddings, Heroes’ Feasts, Harvest Festivals, May Fires, and birthdays!”

Once she’d introduced herself, the Bard approached Thalia’s hostage. Eyeing him up and down, she resumed her song.

“Our battle has reached a hasty end
Let us call a truce
Call each other Friend!”

OOC:

Dungeon Master, I’ll use that Charm Spell now!

He’ll roll an Intelligence Save vs. DC 14.

Thalla's captive squealed - a high-pitched noise of pain - as she twisted his arm and pulled his head up. But his eyes were full of anger and resentment and he kept his mouth shut otherwise. Even Basilisa's song seemed to have no effect on him.

Rethsiren watched the spider scurry off before turning his attention to their captive. "You may call me Rethsiren, dear ladies of song and battle. I have the honor being a servant of Holmgar. Might I suggest that we simply render our new friend unconscious, and turn he and the other over to the city guard? Perhaps their victim may be more willing to offer answers- I saw the poor soul flee toward the winehouse." The Dragonborn held up a balled-up fist in offer, gesturing toward the man's skull as he spoke.

As the others tried to strong-arm the conscious aggressor into talking, Raelan skulked up to the edge of the light and watched for a moment. He picked his nose and observed the mixed crew while they made their introductions.

With his nasal cavity thoroughly clean, he finally made himself known and stepped out of the shadows. His gait was slow and rhythmic; there was a skip in his step, but it was more like a funeral march. As he headed toward the inn, following in the steps of the one that had cried for help, his skull-topped fetish-staff clacked on the cobbles, the wood, bone and feather tokens rattling with his every step. As he was almost past, over one shoulder he cocked an eye at the group standing over the fallen men.
"Trouble is for those that seek,
and succour comes but to the weak.
I'd look to bind your man right there,
'fore he he plucks up all his dare."
His voice was high and cracked and, his piece said, he turned back toward the inn, cackling like a moon-mad beggar as he skipped off toward the welcoming light in search of the victim they'd aided.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:00, Sat 10 Oct 2020.

The would-be victim was not hard to find. He cowered in the shadows behind the inn, an untrimmed mop of straw-colored hair revealed with his hood pulled down. He was a kid, maybe 16 or 17 years old, and he was terrified.
As Raelan approached, the kid drew back slightly, "Did you see that spider? Where did it go?"
An edge of panic tinged his voice.

Thalla laughed when she heard her new title, a raucous, very un-ladylike laugh. "Aye, the steel-limbed. Able to crush men's bones into powder in her embrace," she nodded, color in her cheek despite the dangerous situation. "Though perhaps Thalla the Bashful Maiden would better. Confuse my many enemies," she mused, and then marched her captive forward.

Thalla considered Rethsiren's offer, and then shook her head. "I've got him tamed. The way he and his comrade fought, I don't think they're much of a threat to any capable warrior. We should bring the other one too. Find some guards to take these fools off our hands... And yes, we should find their victim ran off too. I am not familiar with local customs, but I believe drowning is frowned upon in the South as well."

Waiting until the situation was well in hand, Lathalan nodded and stepped forward to clean up the mess he had made. Once the men were removed from the trench he had dug, he waved his hand back, smoothing the ground back over to what it was before. Soft spoken and very quiet compared to the others, he nodded to the ladies near him. "Until we find the crime, I don't know the penalty. Let the village decide, else we give out wrong justice."

Tucking his wand back into his belt, he looked around at the rest of the group. "Lathalan. Student of natural forces. And magic. Not very subtle."

Hacking up a gob of phlegm and spitting it to one side, Raelan looked up at the youth, eyeballing him critically.
"Aye, a-rachnid we did see,
but seems it went, turned tail to flee."
The strange little gnome chuckled to himself; a slightly disturbing sound when accompanied by the rattle of his fetish-pole. Then swift as a pistol-shrimp, he turned a fierce and expressive eyeball back on the young man, his eyebrow raised inquisitively.
"A question, a query, we ask thee a riddle;
Twixt blaggard and thug, thy cry out for help,
how did thee come to be in the middle?"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:00, Sat 10 Oct 2020.

Rethsiren shrugged and reached down for the other assailant, slinging the man over his shoulder. "After you." He nodded at Thalla and Lathalan. "I think we had better catch up before that strange little man finds our erstwhile victim first. Can't be easy on the nerves after a night like they've had."

“Aiya, Lathalan.” Basilisa gave a quick half-wave, taking in the growing numbers when the Dragonborn interjected. She looked him up and down. “‘Little man’? I thought he was a giant rat! It would hardly surprise, given the size of that eight-legged horror that skittered in and out of here.”

Basilisa grinned and shrugged. “Why not, hey? It was a slow night and I need another flagon of mead anyway!” She sashayed alongside Thalia and Lathalan, flashing a quick smile at the elf every now and then. To Thalia, she added, “In truth, you’d never sell ‘Bashful’. Not an Amazonian Bad Ass like you!“

The kid looked at Raelan, confused, Uh... I don't know. They just grabbed me while I was walking toward the Calf. I thought maybe they wanted Gregg, but I tried to tell them that I didn't know where he was and they just hit me."
He lifted his bangs to reveal a purplish bruise, quickly swelling up.

Rethsiren easily hefted the unconscious man. The other glowered, but moved as he was directed. His eyes darted around, looking for a way out and finding none.

As the first man was raised to shoulder height, a small, rolled piece of parchment sealed with wax fell from his clothes and landed on the ground. It was no more than six inches long. Looking at it in the moonlight, they could see the seal was a twisted tentacle - the sign of Holmgar.

Rethsiren saw something fall as he lifted the other man and stooped to scoop it up. Upon seeing Holmgar's tentacle, he scowled thunderously at the conscious captive as he offered the parchment to Lathalan or Basilia to crack open and read. He and Thalla already had their hands full. "Can we kill him now?" He demanded irritably. "I do not approve of those who would send thinking, living beings to Holmgar's embrace and call it a fit sacrifice." One was supposed to sacrifice things that meant something, would be a true loss in even some small way. Had they even known their would-be victim at all?

"And you-" still glowering at Thalla's man, "If you act in His name, how dare you not answer one of His priests?"
This message was last edited by the player at 16:20, Sat 10 Oct 2020.

He shrugged as he grabbed the parchment to look over it. Whistling a low tone, his familiar came from the woods silently gliding. Thia, a barn owl, alighted on his shoulder while he looked over the outside of the roll of parchment, trying to focus on that instead of the glances and smile being sent his way. It was easier to figure out this problem, hopefully. He thought out loud for a moment, talking to himself or his familiar even though everyone would hear this. "Scroll? Potentially. Trigger from reading? Unlikely. More likely, orders from another member of this faction. Read it? Sure. Let's see what it says."

Scratching at his thin and patchy beard, Raelan closed his eyes and nodded sagely.
"Questions twice to reveal the truth;
this Gregg you mention is another youth?
Scant information offered so bold,
is worth a copper, for a head of gold."
At the mention of copper, the Gnome opened his eyes and, having palmed a copper piece, he flicked it aloft; near enough to the boy that he might catch it if he were quick. The coin glittered as it spun in the air.

“He eats his enemies, you know,” Basilisa said with a half-shrug. The racist taunt didn’t sit well with her, though, and even she winced. “Sorry,” Basilisa said with a sheepish look at Rethsiren. She wasn’t in the mood to even try mind-games, since Fate seemed opposed to that stratagem so far.

Instead, she tried persuading the msn with brutal honesty. “Look, you could sit your ass in a cell and await a (reasonably) fair trial, or you could keep playing the tough guy and suffer the fate of a mightily pissed off Dragonborn & Barbarian. Look at all of us.” She gestured at their small group with a flourish. “Do you think that Lathalan and I could stop them from killing you in a gruesome and deservedly painful matter, even if we wanted to?”

Basilisa gestured at the poisoned man that Rethsiren hauled on his shoulder. “Your friend will likely die soon anyway. Save yourself and tell us why you tried to kill that kid.”

OOC:

15:10, Today: Basilisa rolled 17 using 1d20+4.  Persuasion .
15:07, Today: Basilisa rolled 5 using 1d20+4.  Deception on Thalia’s thug...or IS it?

 
This message was last edited by the player at 19:23, Sat 10 Oct 2020.

Thalla held the man by the arm as the others tried to interrogate the assailant. She smiled at Basilisa when she stumbled on the threat and then leaned forward to whisper: "I'm a bit of a man eater myself, but not in the way you'd enjoy."

Her smile turned to a scowl when she heard that they were following Holmgar. She always associated the God with passion and thunder, and the whole sacrifice aspects as a little strange. But she'd never heard of human sacrifice before. "Read it, I'd love to know what it says," Thalla said to the Elf, anger turning to curiosity. But just as a precaution, she positioned the captive between her and the scroll.

The lad glanced at Raelan's coin with little interest, "No, Gregg is an old guy. He's just a friend of mine, ya know? I haven't seen him for a few days. I wonder what happened to him..."
His voice trailed off as he glanced toward the cliff, but his attention was caught by the interrogation in progress about thirty feet away, "I wonder if they'll find out why those guys tried to... uhm, kill me."

The thug spat at Rethsiren's feet, "Take it back to yer slimy god and ask him to shove it so far up yer-"
He was cut off as Thalla moved him around to shield herself from whatever the scroll contained.

Lathalan broke the wax seal of Holmgar and unrolled the simple scroll. It was not large, containing only one line of script. The writing was in the common tongue, but in a fanciful, elegant script often used in temples and by paid scribes.
It said: "A life taken, unmarred. As so much has been taken before. To be embraced in the deep."

Raelan caught the copper and pocketed it with a shrug, wondering to himself at the kind of lad that wouldn't take freely offered coin. It didn't occur to the Gnome that, given his own visage, he probably looked like he needed the money more than most.
A Queen might ask the fate of friend,
but favours come with price to pay.
Surmise! Assume! Turn wheel of mind!
I'd guess yon Gregg met watery end.
As he spoke, a dull glowing orb appeared above Raelans open palm, which dimmed as it seemed to disappear into his hand, like a setting sun. As it fully winked out as he finished speaking, the distinct scent of salt-sea air rattled his fetishes in a gentle, melancholic breeze.
Dwell not, gold head, on dark thought so,
for comrade rare would want hero,
to risk limb and life in search so vain,
to seek for him as an end to pain.
Instead, seek aid and open mind,
come, let's see what they might find."
Grinning and with a backward nod at the group the boy was looking at, Raelen turned and scuttled over to listen in to the conversation.

OOC: Using a bit of Druidcraft and perhaps a Minor Illusion there.

Reading it out loud, Lathalan cocked his head at the line. "Sacrifice? Child sacrifice, apparently. Not good, not good. Oh dear. Perhaps you would like to see and read for yourself. We should bring these men before the village, but... are the villagers prominent worshipers to the Drowned King?"

"Any way, forward to put this man on display for his crimes. Or attempted crime. Or, men, as the case is right now. Perhaps they will draw out the others as well." He held out the scroll for anyone else to view if they so choose, but what did happen to the youth that ran off?

“Nothing kills a festive mood like child sacrifice.” Basilisa stared at the scroll in Lathalan’s hand. “Unless the festival in question centers on child sacrifice.” She shuddered and shook her head,

“The ‘Drowned King’...sounds like the makings of a great dirge.” Basilisa rolled the name around in her head, trying to remember any lore she may have heard while staying in the village, it didn’t seem to be the will of the gods, though, who seemed set against all her endeavors that night. That mood could have just been the alcohol, though.

“Maybe I could try talking with the kid while you lot sort out the scroll?”

OOC:

15:15, Today: Basilisa rolled 7 using 1d20+1.  Religion.


 
This message was last edited by the player at 19:24, Sun 11 Oct 2020.

Rethsiren took the scroll in his free hand and scowled down at it- at least in part to keep himself from following through on his earlier threat and knocking the rude creature out. "If not acting from belief, I would think, if I were you, on whether I wanted to take the fall for this, or perhaps name someone else to assume the blame. Where did you get this from? At whose behest did you act?"


Does that phrase ring any particular bells for me, meaning-wise?

22:38, Today: Rethsiren rolled 17 using 1d20-1.  Religion.

The lad nodded along with Raelan, seeming to pick up some of his meaning at least. His eyes widened at the illusions and he seemed enchanted. He followed the strange gnome over toward the rest of them.

The man looked up at them, his eyes sullen and his expression angry. Finally, he spoke, "I won't tell you nothin'. You can do what you want, I'm loyal till death if need be."

"Loyal to the death? Easy words to say, but unless you've died once or twice, no way of knowing if they're true," Thalla said with a roll of her eyes. "I'd love to put your words to the test, but it would be a waste of time. Shall we summon a guard and get all this sorted? This whole business is leaving a nasty taste in my mouth, one I'd like to drown with some ale."

The thug’s boast made Basilisa chuckle softly. Thalia answered him effectively, but she wanted another shot before they involved the city watch. “Luth gweg,” the Bard whispered with a discreet flourish at the thug. If it worked, her spell would charm the truth out of him.

Basilisa smiled winsomely at the ersatz assassin. “Are you really, though? Loyal to the death?” With a kind smile, she feigned concern. “What have they done to earn your loyalty?” Although Basilisa acted with ulterior motives, mostly just out of nosiness on a slow night, she still posed a reasonable question.

OOC:

Trying Charm Person Out Of Combat  to make him more agreeable.

DC 14.

 

"This.. is troubling." Rethsiren waved the scroll slightly to indicate he meant that, not the charming waste of time Basilisa was still trying to get something useful from. "I have heard rumors of live sacrifice to the Drowned King, in days gone by. Though if such a thing ever was, it is certainly not something my order condones now." He looked around the gathered party, clearly troubled. "I believe I, at least, need to have a word with the local temple of Holmgar.If there is a... cult operating according to that belief in this city, they need to know about the danger. Or, worse, I worry they do know, and I will have to see to some cleansing of it as best I may. That hand that wrote that note looks temple-trained." He hoped it, at worst, was a shadow within a temple whose members still mostly strode in the light.

If not, lightning could cleanse as easily as any purifying flame.

The thug looked at Basilisa. His mind was strong and the magic did not work, but her question still seemed reasonable enough to warrant a response.
"She showed me the light! The right way, the truth behind all the lies! I know what you cannot understand!"
His few, short sentences rose in volume quickly, ending in a shriek that echoed around the coastline of Sarambar.

Basilisa learned early in life to “Take your coin when the purse was open.” She gently touched the man’s shoulder. “What is this Truth that she showed you? Perhaps our sorry world would be better if more saw her light.”
This message was last edited by the player at 22:07, Mon 12 Oct 2020.

Lathalan huffed at this man's continues screaming, "More like her version of the truth, whoever this 'she' is. A vision easily manipulated by someone in power. There is a vast difference between 'The Truth' and truth in general. I would love to here this version at the least. The real truth is always somewhere in the middle, unless dealing with absolutes."

Help Action to give advantage on her roll? Should one be required anyways.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:53, Mon 12 Oct 2020.

Raelan appeared go ignore the conversation, pottering and skirting around behind the group, to inspect the unconscious thug still (presumably) hanging over one of the Dragonborns' broad shoulders. He peered up at the poisoned ruffian critically and apparently satisfied, circled back around to where he'd left the youth. He mused to himself and half aside to the young man;
"A King that's drowned would need a light,
if drowned he weren't, indeed.
I doubt they'd need to indulge spite,
if truth he seek in need.
If subject needed beneath the wave,
why not she who youths ruin crave?"
The gnome grinned and tapped his temple knowingly.

As the kid approached the group, he slowed a little as he took in the eclectic collection of figures. He stopped a dozen feet away and spoke up, "Thank you all for helping me. I am in your debt, I guess."
He saw the man on the ground and his eyes went wide, his mouth clamping shut.

The thug, for his part, kept talking. He began muttering and talking - mostly to himself, it seemed - about the Light, an Awakening, and the Truth. "She" proved to have a name - Belsara - though no other details were forthcoming. As they listened and asked probing questions he worked himself into a froth, finally launching upward toward Basilisa, hands outstretched.

“Gah!” Basilisa tried leapi-frogging over the man before he got on his feet. Whether the mead or people clustered around her affected that was anyone’s guess...


OOC:

21:23, Today: Basilisa rolled 9 using 1d20+4.  Acrobatics: Leapfrog over crazy thug .

Ugh. Fucking Dice Roller.

 

Thalla swore when the madman leaped away from her towards Basilisa. A zealot with a death wish, perhaps. She was all too happy to grant him his wish. He had tried to murder an innocent, to drown him, and even when granted mercy, still wished to harm.

This moral deliberation took half a second, and her hands were already moving to the giant hammer at her back with the ease that came from swinging that oversized hammer. A lot. "Look away, kid," she said to the boy who had appeared, but her eyes were on the man in front of her. She swung it as the man raced forward with wild abandon, aiming the blunt weapon at his ribs with both hands.

Action: Reckless attack with maul- rolled 18,11 using 1d20+5,1d20+5
Damage: Rolled 7 using 2d6+3
Opponents have advantage on attacks for rest of the round

As the man lunged for Basilisa, managing to wrest himself from Thalla's grip, the woman tried to leap over him. It was a bold attempt, but foiled by the man suddenly raising his arms as if to catch her.
This left him open to a heavy blow to the ribs from Thalla. The sound of breaking bone filled the air and the man dropped to the ground after a short cry of pain. Blood leaked from his mouth to pool in the dirt.

“Hands off, creep!” Basilisa wriggled our of his hands, now free to clutch newly broken ribs. “Thanks, Thalia,” she said breathily. “That one likes the grabbing, huh?”

Basilisa kicked a little dirt toward the man. “Bet THAT hurts, huh? Maybe we should toss you over the cliff and put you out of your misery, huh? Send you to your goddess or whatever. Hmph, I bet it’s just a Sea Hag!”

Raelan bent down and peered hard at the fallen man. He reached out to check for a pulse and held his hand near his mouth to check for breath. As Basilisa ranted at the comatose figure, Raelan looked up at her and frowned.
"We're sure he cares not what you've said,
We're thinking this one might be dead."
His medical duties apparently satisfied, the gnome turned his attention to Thalla.
"Blunt solutions are effective,
but might we be somewhat suggestive,
next time try to pull thy blow,
and talktive yet will be thy foe."

OOC:
Note that I'll be proclaiming death, regardless of whether my investigations confirm or deny it.

20:21, Today: Raelan rolled 14 using 1d20+2.  Medicine: "What's his condition, Bones?".

Basilisa reached into her money bag. When she withdrew her hand, she dropped a copper at the dirty gnome’s feet. “Here. You don’t need to recite bad poetry for your supper. Treat yourself to a bowl of stew.”
This message was last edited by the player at 20:07, Thu 15 Oct 2020.

Raelan bent and pocketed the coin before it had bounced twice. It was obviously a familar reflex. He grinned at Basilisa.
"A poet I'm not, that much is true,
but sense I have far greater than you.
Our wits extend to sense the truth,
that out cold be this abductor of youth."
He chuckled and rattled his staff.
"He's dead, no breath, no life to see,
yet from thy tone, I see weird glee.
Pehaps instead, you question another,
who seems, perhaps, recognised a brother."

Fist raised to backhand the raving man, Reth looked disappointed when Thalla -hah!- stole his thunder. The dragonborn shrugged philosophically and looked down at the gnome. "I quite like it. Such quick wit is rare in this world."

He looked over at the young man who'd wandered back over. "Friend, do you want come with us to drop off the trash, or is there somewhere else we can walk you to? I'd hate to see further misfortune befall you while traveling alone."

The gnome seemed so impressed with himself that Basilisa chirped back her own prose.

“The common sense of peerless kind
Exists only in your own mind
Chide not one for feeling glee
Tis only relief he did not strangle me.“

As for any diagnosis of death, she added, “Is he dead? Do we have any qualified opinions besides the rants of a hedge wizard?”
This message was last edited by the player at 20:59, Thu 15 Oct 2020.

The man was dead. He movements stopped and blood ran from his mouth and a place in his side where one rib had punctured through the skin. The other still lived - still unconscious.

The lad stepped up a little at Rethsiren's words, "I should probably get back home. I've been gone since sunup and they might be looking for me. But thanks for your help. All of you!"

Now that things were beginning to calm down, each of the Children of the Fifteenth Day realized something. The strange pull that had brought them to Sarambar, that had led them to the Dreaming Calf on the night of their birth, was still there. Only it seemed close and indistinct. As if they were being so subtly pulled in several directions at once. Toward these others who had intervened in the attack.

Thalla raised her chin and gave the Gnome a withering glare. The time for talk had ended the moment he tried to stranger her new friend. She was no poet, was in fact, completely inept at any sort of wordplay, yet her irritation inspired her to create her own poem. "A murderous fool should learn some manners... 'Less he feels the kiss of my hammer," Thalla said dryly, and then spat on the corpse.

She hoisted her maul over one shoulder and stood there, free hand on her hip, looking from person to person. With them gathered so close, she could not deny the strange pull was both stronger and more scattered. The spirits had brought her here, and if she were to trust her instincts, to some of the people here. "Strange," she muttered under her breath.

"I'm on the fence wether to call his poetry quick wit, cursed cadence, or showing off for an air of superiority. All seem as likely as the other, but I supose time will tell if the gnome is doing this from force of habit, a curse, or is consciously choosing to mask the meaning of his words in fanciful ways. Until simple and direct speech is required, I don't see a conflict." He was rather tired of hearing it, but then again, this was not born from a hatred or anything towards the raving gnome. It was more a reminder that poetry, really any kind of cadence for that matter, was a reminder of life he had left behind. Things like social niceties tended to get in the way of viewing the natural world, hence his personal removal from what could be called 'proper' society. If this was the gnome's attempt to remove himself from similar things, he could tolerate this. For a while.

Still, the cultist, for that is how he saw this dead man, provided no answers or clues anymore. Dead men make terrible witnesses, but chance were good that they would only have wasted resources on a raving lunatic or heretic. Where the man was on those issues could no longer be answered, but given that the dragonborn in their midst appeared, at least on the surface, to be such a follower, he would listen. However, he could not help but interject at a comment he heard. "Qualified opinions? I sincerely hope we don't only investigate based solely on qualifications. Bring forth any observations and let's hear them. We'll all come to our own opinions anyway, and we should not simply discount someone for a lack of qualifications." Besides, personal bias would already skew the lenses through which they each saw the evidence. Why throw opinions on qualifications into the mix? That could limit what information they could get in the first place, and could even start arguments over who had better qualifications in the first place. That would draw this out even longer. If these men were just the first of a subversive cult trying to twist the teaching of the Drowned King into something of their own, or through liking of this so called 'Truth' from their Lady, the investigation would need more not less speech.

However, was something greater truly at work here. This cult's appearance seemed to coincide perfectly with his arrival to this village or town. How long had this been going on? Was it their presence that had drawn him in his wanderings and investigations to this place, or something else?

Thalia’s rhyme actually got an agreeable chuckle from Basilisa. “Don’t sell your instincts short. That’s actually—catchy. Short, savage, sophisticated in its simplicity.  It makes one hell of a warning to the ne’er-do-wells of the Coast!”

She crouched on her knees beside the dead cultist. Lathalan’s question about the gnome got a wry guffaw. She didn’t miss his own gentle rebuke toward her, either. “Fair enough. You’re warning both of us to behave and focus on the mystery at hand.”

At that last word, Basilisa motioned Lathalan to move a few steps over. “Can you just lecture me from...right there?” Immediately after that request, she beckoned Thalia with a swift nod. “And if you could step there? Thanks.”

As they could accommodate her need, Basilisa ran her fingers over and under the dead man’s clothes, wind-swift and feather-light. If her new friends cooperated, she could discreetly cover her movements from the rest of the bar. Fingers that might have picked his pockets when alive attempted to find what he might have carried in them after his death. Maybe a medallion or symbol of his bloodthirsty goddess, or even a gem...


OOC:

22:04, Today: Basilisa rolled 24 using 1d20+6.  Sleight of Hand: Pick Dead Boy’s pockets.

 

"It's not a lecture, but a means to avoid logical pitfalls. Qualifications define authorities, but if two people don't believe in the same authority, what is qualified to one is unqualified by another. Perhaps a better way is to just ask anyone that finds anything odd or interesting to come forward and tell us what they find, yes? Spread the net wide at first. Narrow down the details later." It would appear that he still doesn't know how to properly communicate his ideas, or is it just that he doesn't know how to effectively speak to people. Maybe he is just enamored by the women here. Too many thoughts going through his mind and now is not a good time to sift through to find out which thoughts are good. He gave his familiar a gentle rub behind her head as he moved for Basilisa, "I'll leave you to your work, then. Thia... if you would be so kind as to keep watch on us while we work, I'd be very appreciative." Lifting his hand from the barn owl's head, he let her hop to his arm before taking off to circle above, wing beats silent except for her ascent. Nodding in appreciation, turned his attention back to wait for what, if anything, Basilisa would find.

A crease of true concern furrowed Raelans brow; the first in a long time. He didn't seem to pay much mind to Basilisa "attending" to the corpse and he ground his molars loudly as he turned the whole situation over in his mind.
"Our mode of address, like dance of a hive,
is merely our nature, our language, our tribe."
He trailed off absently, his thoughts clearly on other matters. He wasn't even looking at anyone in particular.


Shaking his head to loosen his reverie, Raelan brought himself to. He quickly quirked an eyebrow at Lathalan, his expression serious, then addressed the group at large.
"For fear of rejection,
I hesitate to question,
but does anyone here
feel some connection?"

Thalla chuckled and nodded, stepping to the right to hide Basilisa as she searched the bodies. She kept watch as asked, though one hand wiped the blood off her maul with an already darkened, dirty cloth, trying to calm herself down after another bout of violence.

She felt fidgety, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, trying to shake that strange feeling gripping her. So when the strange Gnome spoke up, she nodded a bit too quickly. "Aye, I've felt... Something, for a long time, pulling me south. And now, here... It's strongest..." she stammered and then shrugged. "I'm sure someone smarter or more eloquent could describe it better than I can. But yes, I feel it as well."

“I followed the call of the Road and Song. The Rings live through song, dance, even that one’s rhyming, and I heed their call as I hear it in my daily life.” Basilisa jerked a thumb in Raelen’s direction with her off hand. Her dominant hand emerged from the dead man’s jacket with a small bag*. After a quick peek inside, she dug out 5 gold coins and 2 silver pieces. “Finder’s Fee,” she said to Thalia with a playful laugh.

Basilisa stood and handed the bag to Thalia The Fierce. “Here.” To the question posed to the group, the Bard finished her thought with a shrug.“Other than my urge to travel, I can’t say if it was any force other than my Destiny which was already writ.” With a thoughtful look in her sea-colored eyes, she added, “I’ve always believed that we should write our own destinies as best we can.”

OOC:

DM messaged me that I found the money. Thalia, you now have 8gp and 4sp.

Though they were the first to respond, it seemed that the small group were not the only ones to hear the cries for help. Some moments after the swift battle ended, a group of regulars from the Dreaming Calf wandered out and around the corner carrying weapons in casual grips. They stared at the small group gathered around the body on the ground. One opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. They just stared.

The lad looked back and forth between his saviors and the group of regulars, "Well, I had better go. Thanks again..."
He began walking toward the center of town, moving slowly and uncertainly.

Basilisa stood quickly when the crowd trickled into the street. She called after the boy, who seemed ambivalent about leaving. “Hey, kid! You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” With a reassuring smile, she waved him back over.

In reply to Basilisa (msg # 68):

"I used to think the same... And then my destiny was decided for me," Thalla answered cryptically, her eyes going a little hazy. But the gold snapped her out of it She smiled and caught the bag, weighing it in her hand. "I think my destiny for the evening is celebrating this small victory. Drinks on me!" she said boisterously.

It was then that she noticed the crowd had gathered in front of them. Not one for subtlety or tact, she pointed her hammer down at the bodies and said "they followed Belsara." She looked at the crowd to see if that name sparked any sort of reaction.

The lad responded to Basilisa half-heartedly, "I really should go... But my dad is gonna be pretty mad. He didn't want me hanging around with Gregg anyway. Now that he's missing and this happens I'm gonna get a lecture like no other."

The small crowd from the tavern began sheathing their weapons. There was little reaction other than slight confusion as Thalla addressed them. Though the warrior did notice a thin elf on the edge of the crowd try to stifle an expression of surprise.

Shaking his head as he returned to focus on the task at hand, Lathalan did little more than wait for the remaining people to come and confirm these stories. However, no one appeared to be interested in this danger, nor on coming up with a course of action to rectify this apparent attack on the young boy. "Nothing is set in stone at the moment. Forces pull on every aspect of the heart and mind. When one wanders, perhaps they simply follow that course out of instinct. Who else can say. Now then, we need more information on this cult and this... Belsara lady before they stack again."

Basilisa put her arm around the kid. “Would your dad go a little easier on you if we told him it wasn’t your fault?” A pretty woman’s smile often softened tempers. “I’ll vouch for you. Especially since you could have gone missing like Gregg.” She paused. “I’m sorry about what happened to your friend,” she offered, hoping he would expand on that story.

Rethsiren sighed as others finally began to show up and unceremoniously dumped the body he still held on the ground- he might be strong, but even his stamina had limits and they didn't appear to be going anywhere now. "You!" He picked the first adult he saw who didn't look more likely to stagger than crawl to the nearest guard barracks. "Make yourself useful and go find a guard to take charge of this one." He nudged the thug idly with his foot. "There's a drink in it for you when you get back."

Thalla smirked when her dropping that name didn't seem to affect the crowd, but at least they were putting away their weapons. But wait, there was the small Elf over there, looking very surprised. Smiling, she lifted her maul and pointed it the Elf's way. "You. You know the name," she said. "Now tell us what you know."

The lad nodded, "He might. If you let him know it wasn't my fault? Gregg was gonna get it sooner or later. I just hoped it would be later, I guess."

The crowd stared, murmuring back and forth as they looked on. The one that Rethsiren pointed at was slow to move until a drink was promised, then he shrugged and started walking away. The elf that Thalla pointed at, however, panicked and ran. He darted South, along the coast, and then turned right into the city.

Basilisa frowned at the boy’s remark about Gregg’s inevitable fate. “Why would Gregg ‘get it’ at all?” Her eyes briefly followed the departing Thalia.

She marked the warrior woman’s direction as best she could as she turned her attention back to the lad. “Just so we get our story straight with your Papa. To that end, what is your name? I am Basilisa.” She offered a friendly handshake with an equally friendly grin.

At the prospect of a chase, Rethsiren promptly forgot about both body and promised drink and took off after the elf Thalla had pointed at. He grinned in exultation at the chase and settled into a ground-eating jog as he tried to run his prey to ground.

Whistling, he sent a mental command to Thia to give chase to the elf. He was relying a bit too much on his familiar, but there was no way he would be able to keep up with someone who was running away. At the very least, he could help track this man down. He cursed under his breath that he had not prepared the correct spell for this situation, and he knew the perfect spell too.

Raelan muttered, musing as the chase was afoot.
"When there's unknown destination,
shorter legs should keep their station.
Though longer limbs might turn out dandy,
knowledge, cunning, they be more handy."
He took the opportunity to plonk himself down, sitting on the unconscious thugs chest. He gave the mans face a gentle slap with a grubby hand and shrugged, satisfied he wasn't waking up just yet.

Singing a tuneless ditty to himself from his perch, interspersed with a dirty chuckle, Raelen held forth a hand. One by one, a variety of berries seemed to materialise in his palm. Anyone looking askance, out of the corner of their eye, or studying the gnome closely, might swear to themselves that the berries were being delivered by tiny, spectral insects before their miraculous appearance. But then again, maybe not. Maybe it was just some of his crazy rubbing off.

Raelen carefully selected and ate a berry with a content "Hm!" and as he pocketed the remainig berries, listened in to Belsara's interrogation of his yellow-haired friend.

OOC:

Cast Goodberry using Pact Magic.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:49, Fri 30 Oct 2020.

The lad smiled at Basilisa, "I'm Iosef. I, uh, I bought dragonsmoke from Gregg. It doesn't hurt anything, but he did business with some bad folk. I figured he would get done in by one of them eventually. But I don't know who woulda done it, or what to do if I did know."

Rethsiren and Thia took off. Rethsiren quickly found himself lost in the twists and turns of Sarambar. But a quick glance at the dim sky overhead showed a flash of Thia's wing gave him an idea of where to go.

It wasn't long before the elf was cornered down a blind alley between a butcher and a candlemaker. Rethsiren stood at the mouth and the elf had his back against the wall at the end.

OOC: Anyone following Rethsiren will be there with him. As a note, dragonsmoke is an opioid favored by the rich in Sarambar, and sometimes cut with other substances to cheapen it enough for the local populace to kill themselves slowly.

"Now..." Rethsiren rumbled, taking a step forward. "Belsara. You recognized the name. I need to know everything you know about it." He mourned the fact that he hadn't the means to *make* the man speak. Not until he could beseech the Drowned King again.

"I'm going to assume you're either a loyal fanatic like the other poor bastard, or she's threatened your life if you talk." He continued conversationally. The harsh look in his eyes, however, spoiled the effect of any casual approach. Whoever this group was had brought shame to his god and Rethsiren very much didn't like it. "So I will tell you now that you can either take the easy way -talk to me of your own will and make me believe the truth of your words, and then you can run as best you may- or the hard way. That means I and mine will drag you to some abandoned shack and sit on you until morning when I can beseech my god to make you. And though I cannot speak for my new friends, I promise you that the more you try my patience, the less comfortable the wait will be." Reth didn't generally condone torture, but... there were other options. And if it was for the greater good...well.


OOC:Someday the dice roller will get over its love affair with Reth and I will cry. But this is not that day.

08:31, Today: Rethsiren rolled 19 using 1d20.  Persuasion/Intimidation.

The elf was trapped, and he knew it. He was fat for an elf, with none of the characteristic grace and beauty of his kind. Instead a large scar ran across his face, mingling with dark tattoos. He was full of nervous energy and his eyes darted from Rethsiren to the alleyway behind the dragonborn.

"You shouldn't be asking about her", he licked his lips a few times as his voice rose, "You really shouldn't. She wouldn't like it. And if she doesn't like you then you might end up dead!"

“That sounds rough, Iosef. Do you remember who Gregg sold the dragonsmoke to...?” Basilisa actually felt a little sorry for his friend, and for the tragedy that nearly befell Iosef. Kids screwed up, she certainly had only a handful of years ago. She wanted to share this information with her new friends, but had apparently lost sight of them.

“Guys...?”

From atop his comatose perch, Raelan indulged himself with a dirty little chuckle at Basilisa's exclamation.
"Look down, fair maid, mayhap ye'll see,
no-body's alone in the tribe of we.
This query, this riddle, this mystery in hiding,
where smoke there is fire, a dragon abiding.

If victim a-seeking, for watery grave,
I'd look for one fuzzled by a sweet haze.
But dragon we seek like as not won't be found,
by following spoor left clear on the ground.

The smoke of our fire, the clue to the beast,
is either in flight from our dragons might,
or lower than I, right under my rump!"

 Raelan smiled and hummed to himself idly.

"I am touched by your concern." Rethsiren told the elf dryly. "But I believe I can handle myself quite adequately. And I should hate to miss the opportunity to meet such an... interesting lady and see her for myself. Surely she must have a method for meeting new recruits- perhaps you could at least tell me how that works."


23:04, Today: Rethsiren rolled 11 using 1d20.  Persuasion.

Iosef shrugged, "I didn't ask. He had a lot of people but last week he started talking about some new customer. He kept hinting that he was gonna strike it rich. I didn't think anything of it. Gregg's people weren't rich. We were never gonna buy a lot, but he was happy to keep selling bits and pieces here and there. But he was talking like his new customer was buying by the pound."

In the alleyway, the elf glared at Rethsiren, "New recruits? Like your kind could even understand what we're doing here. What has come before."
His voice was still loud, ringing around the alleyway. He could probably be heard out in the street but he didn't seem to care. Rethsiren could see one hand inching toward his waist where a long-bladed knife was sheathed.

Basilisa shooed the know-it-all gnome away. Iosef wasn’t so  irrelevant when they thwarted his near-killing, so she couldn’t dismiss what he told her so cavalierly. “Did Gregg tell you the customer’s name?”

Thalla watched the Elf race away, the Dragonborn in pursuit. As much as she liked her new companions and free drinks, comforting a child was not her forte. But chasing down possible cultists and shaking information out of them was very much so.

"I'll be back!" she called out, taking after the Elf and the Dragonborn, following a few steps behind, trying to be as quiet as she could manage. She stopped behind Rethsiren, letting a smoother tongue do the interrogating, but paced behind him, to let the Elf know that when the talking was done, it was her turn to pry secrets out of him.

So when she saw the Elf reach for his blade, she charged past Rethsiren. "Knife!" she yelled and aimed a shoulder at the Elf's soft gut to hopefully knock him on his arse and cause him to reconsider the knife.

OOC: Move up to the Elf and shove him to the ground (Athletics (Shove): rolled 19 using 1d20+5)

"Yeah, I think so. Something Durgal? Don? Dave? Davis! Davis Durgal. Gregg said he had money and wanted a lot of smoke. Said he was gonna make Gregg rich. But now that Gregg's gone..."
His voice trailed off and the lad hung his head.


In the alley, Thalla impacted the elf in the stomach just as he drew his knife. The blade went flying, clattering against the wall some four or five feet away. The elf put up a brief struggle as he cried out in rage and pain.

Thalla, please make an opposed Athletics or Acrobatics roll as he tries to grapple you.

Thalla rolled to her feet after shoulder-tackling the Elf, hearing the blade clatter away. She gave out a satisfied growl, flashing her teeth at him, and reached down and pulled out a handaxe of her own. The other hand reached out to try and wrap her arm around the Elf's neck and hold him place, the muscles in her arm flexing with the expected effort... But perhaps the Elf was more slippery than she imagined.

"You're making it very hard for me not to kill you," she growled in frustration.

OOC: Free action to take out handaxe.
Attempt to grapple Elf: rolled 11 using 1d20+5

Thalla's muscles tensed around the elf's throat and his brief struggles quickly died as he gave in. Spittle flecked the corner of his mouth and his breaths came in heavy gasps. He glared at Rethsiren from where he was held, but couldn't turn to see Thalla.

“Davis Durgal”. A name in case the dragonsmoke peddling was important. There would always be a new crisis in the world. “I could always follow up on the dealer. If it leads nowhere, at least it leads me back to what matters: bringing Art to the people and the world.”

Basilisa glanced at the unconscious thug. “Where’s that constable, anyway?” She was ready to find Thalia again.

"You're making it very hard for me not to kill you," she growled in frustration.

"And quite easy for me to do this." Rethsiren bounded energetically up to the struggling elf, assessed the situation with a glance, and calmly reached out a clawed hand to calmly bounce the man's head off the ground. Being able to knock someone out without killing them was quite a useful skill for a sailor once the alcohol started flowing and the Dragonborn was rather proud of it.

"Thank you, my lady warrior. That was well done, indeed. Now, I haven't the skill at present, but I believe if I ask my lord in the morning this fellow might be persuaded to be more cooperative- or perhaps one of our new fellows might have better luck."


18:52, Today: Rethsiren rolled 19 using 1d20+4.  Medicine check for knockout.

In reply to Basilisa (msg # 94):

Lathalan nodded to her, "Ready to move? I had my familiar follow them through the town. I should be able to help get us all back together."

Thalla nodded approvingly at that skull-thumping. It was always good to measure out physical force, and odds are that in her current irritated state, she would have crushed his skull.

"Ah yes, what they call the softer touch," she answered back with a grin, and hoisted the Elf onto her shoulder. She walked back the way they came, until she could find her new companions.

"Wouldn't cooperate," she explained with a shrug, giving the unconscious Elf a shake and then lowering him down to the floor. "He seems to know the villain. Maybe you can charm the secrets out of him," she said to Basilisa with a wink.

Thalla and Rethsiren returned to the shore where Basilisa, Lathalan, and Raelan were and dumped their unconscious elf next to the motionless thug. The crowd from the tavern was beginning to thin as the calls for the city guard rose.

Finally, two guardsmen came jogging around the corner. The coat of arms of Sarambar - a breaching swordfish in front of a rising sun - emblazoned in detailed threadwork on their tunics. One of the guards stepped toward the two men lying on the ground and the small group standing over them.

"What's going on here? What happened?", his tone was authoritative but not accusing.

Basilisa attempted to pick the unconscious elf’s pockets for any further clues about his mission or cult. Too many knees and feet nudged her, though. She attempted to play it off as checking him for wounds. “There, there. You weren’t hit quite that hard.”

OOC:

00:10, Today: Basilisa rolled 12 using 1d20+4.  Deception .
00:09, Today: Basilisa rolled 10 using 1d20+6.  Sleight of Hand

"Ah, good guardsmen," Rethsiren boomed in greeting. "Two of these gentlemen were engaged in nefarious activity -namely, trying to throw a man off a cliff- when we heard their victim's cries and intervened. They ranted a bit about a cult led by a Belsara, and when we asked around about her that one," A point at their newest body, "took off running. He was most stubborn about explaining himself. Do you have any means to compel truth? As one sworn to the Drowned King, I do have a particular interest in those who would falsely sacrifice others in his name."