"A week or so" stretched into nearly three weeks before Baz showed his face at the safe house again. Amara, his fire genasi lieutenant, had left and returned several times and must have been briefing him, because he was already speculating aloud when he and his bodyguards, a leonin and an aarakocra, entered the Lower Slopes shanty.

"Right. Good work, all of you. I come bearing gits."

The aarakocra unfurled his feathered arms and deposited an assortment of glass bottles containing brightly colored liquids on the room's only, wobbly table.

"If Crock Cognelius is taking this Luminescent Athenaeum business seriously, then so are we. There's something in there the old bastard doesn't want us to know about, and that's enough to make it valuable to us. He who controls the past controls the future." Baz's face broke out into a grin, as if he'd just thought of that line himself. "We've got to disrupt the Cogneliuses's narrative. Show the people a different world as possible. Show them how much has been hidden from them."

He paced as he spoke, the churning of his tiny legs matching the rapid pace of his speech, his good hand emphasizing each point with a chop into the stump of his other arm. "And we've got to get there before the Descendants. I don't trust them any more than I do the Cogneliuses. Figure out where they're planning to hit and get there before them."

"Baz..." Amara interjected.

Even when her boss paused to listen, you could tell he wanted to remain in potion. His eyes looked through his lieutenant rather than at her, and the effort required to hold his body still was evident in the tight muscles of his face.

"The Descendants don't know where the Athenaeum is. If they did, they'd have raided it already. They're shooting in the dark. And if we do the same, then we're going to tip our hand. This one here-" The genasi gestured at Kreo. "Knows the orc who's been asking around on Crock's behalf. Let's pay them a visit first. Find out what they know."

"It could be gone by then!" Baz resumed his pacing, which now had an irritated edge to it.

Baz gifts you the following:

6x Healing Potion
6x Potion of Climbing
6x Potion of Water Breathing
1x Potion of Animal Friendship
1x Potion of Growth
1x Potion of Invulnerability
1x Potion of Speed

Frack opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. While he admired the boundless energy and conviction of the gnome, it also made him nervous. He walked over to Procz and muttered into his ear. "If this luminous aluminum (or whatever it's called) is as special as he makes it out to be, then it's probably for the best that the Descendants don't get it. On the other hand, He paused to physically look at his other hand. "It's not like these are law-abiding citizens standing around the table here. Who says what they'll do if they get whatever that stuff is that they're trying to get?"

He shifted his eyes back to his original hand. "But I guess this Baz is all about bringing the people together. That seems like a good thing. At least he isn't kidnapping anyone." 

Adjusting his oversized helmet, the goblin wrinkled his nose in thought. He wished his mentor Rom was still alive. He'd know what to do. Hopefully Procz would, too. "Tears of the hammer! This is all too complicated."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:38, Tue 15 Aug 2023.

"Cheating?  I'm offended by the very accusation!  If I were cheating you'd all be too poor to pay attention."  Veracity definitely was cheating at the card game, but if nobody could figure how then it was basically legal, so far as she was concerned!  She paused in the midst of dealing the next hand, looking up to see Baz arriving with the full entourage in tow, Amara included.  The tiefling deftly scooped the cards back into a stack and rose to her feet to greet them with a courtly bow.  "Welcome and salutations, Boss, and thanks for buying the round!  Ghost, brightening everyone's day as always."

After overhearing the tail-end of the conversation, Veracity chimed in to delicately correct Amara, "The Descendants don't know exactly where the Athenaeum is, but we have it on good authority that they've narrowed it down to a handful of likely possibilities.  They won't sit on their leads forever, so I'd wager they hit one of those in the next few days.  They could be on the wrong track, but we'd better beat them to it in case they're not."  Veracity did like the idea to pay Crock's secretary a visit, though.  "We've learned that Crock's man, Mister Scalebane, has been hiring orphans for the search.  My guess is that Crock has a description of something that would lead to the Athenaeum.  Whatever it is must be deep in the Slopes where street kiddos have a better chance to find it than Crock's goons."

Veracity shrugged nonchalantly and said, "I'm all for wringing out whatever Scalebane knows, but if we'd rather put pressure on the Descendants first, I know a guy that can get us to their island.  It'll cost, but discretion is worth its weight in platinum!"

Procz wasn't happy about laying low, frustrated that the law couldn't protect them. Elements like the Steel Resolve had no place in a lawful community (not that they were anyplace near to having one). The Resolve were the jackboots of tyrrany and oppression, and had to be removed. Things would have to change.

After their excursion to speak with the Constabulary and the Shield, Procz had spent a lot of time thinking. He missed patrolling the streets, and the confinement in the safe house reminded him of his childhood and adolescence, mostly spent in bed. He had heard the children playing outside his window, but couldn't join them. His companions had been his foster parents' books. Besides, had he been outside, Procz would surely have been bullied by future Steel Resolve thugs.

After Baz Cinderhorn returned, Procz stood upright, trying to look more well than he was. He leaned into Frack as the paladin whispered, giving a subtle nod. The kobold whispered back. "I would emplore you not to brood over those concerns, my friend. I believe the Athenaeum contains something that will bring the end of all subjugation and financial exploitation."

Walking over to the potions and exlirs, supported by his cane, Procz spoke aloud, his voice not croaking and cracking in coughs for once. "I do think we should make a move against the Descendants. While we cannot expect direct support from the Constabulary, my superiors condone this line of investigation in light of their previous unlawful activities." He looked at all the vials, giving a series of impressed nods. Baz Cinderhorn had resources for sure. Was Procz and Frack now one of them?

Baern had just finished filling his teacup when Baz breezed into the shanty, a whirl of frenetic energy. He listened to the competing pitches over the top of his piping hot mug, but there was really no contest to his way of thinking. He trusted Baz. The gnome's gut had carried him this far. He respected Amara, but he didn't trust her. And from his little jaunt the other day, it was clear Amara didn't trust him. Smart woman.

"I'm all for hitting them where it hurts," he said, taking a sip from his cup.

Kreo sat writing in a journal while Baz spoke, letters and notes for what was to come later (constantly submitted to Vera or some other authority to ensure he wasn't endangering the secrets), and so when he was pointed out he startled slightly, removing his little glasses and cleaning them nervously

"Well, I agree with Veracity! We should, excuse me, we could speak with my acquaintance. But it seems the sense here is to strike while the furnace is lit, and I can't really argue with that. Perhaps I could reach out through associates to arrange a meeting for when we return from this island?"

Vecaal stood off to the side, staying as unobtrusive as a six foot three dragonborn could.  He had his own opinion but had no interest in coming between Baz and Amara.  There was no future in that.  So he stayed quiet until the rest had spoken, until it seemed like the prevailing tide was falling Baz' way.

"I'll watch over them, and we'll get to both places fast enough," he promised sibilantly, confirming he was on board.  He trusted Vera and Baern, and the others were competent enough if the factory was any indication.  They would manage, no matter in which order they tackled this.

Crossing Coglinton inconspicuously was no great challenge as long as one timed one's travels with the changing of the shifts at the great caldera factories. The trickling of workers up the slopes toward the transvolcanic tram began roughly an hour before each shift, and once the migration was under way, it was a simple thing to blend in with the throngs.

The trams ran every few minutes but were packed to bursting nevertheless, so that a few late runners who could not afford to await the next one risked dangling precariously from the side as the train clattered through its underground tunnel. Though such dangerous accommodations were officially disallowed, the decorations on the cars' exteriors, which looked suspiciously like handholds, told a different story. Of all the rules one could break in Coglinton, those dealing with tardiness were least forgiving.

From The Spark safehouse the party had to circle the Lower Slopes around to Crock's side of the mountain, where a funicular hauled them up to the tram station. By the time they arrived, a line of bleary-eyed workers stretched out of the station and coiled around it through a maze of iron railings installed for just this purpose.

Dozens of beggars, vendors, and entertainers walked the line, some with outstretched hands, others selling hot drinks and meals (breakfast for those on their way to work, supper for those departing) to warm against the alpine chill. A bugbear stood behind an overturned barrel, passing three cards between his furry hands. "Find the dragon, win her hoard," he offered, flashing the emerald ring on his finger.

"Doctor Rutabaga's Fantabulous Contraption plays five games of chess at once!" announced a harengon in a top hate and a cape of purple satin. He stood atop the box seat of a painted carriage from whose covered bed emerged five mechanical arms, each hovering over a chess board. "Six copper a move," he informed the workers as they passed, several of whom studied the board before moving a piece, then nodding approvingly as the machine made the countermove they deemed appropriate. The games carried on in this fashion, with the passing laborers pooling their efforts to defeat the fantabulous contraption.

These entrepreneurs operated shamelessly despite the constables milling about. They occasionally ran off a beggar or a particularly shady looking vendor, suggesting those who went unharassed had some arrangement with the officers.

Judging by the length of the line, it would be easily half an hour before the party could board a tram.

Kreo, if you'd like to try to get a message surreptitiously to someone in Crock's operation, to arrange a meeting with Scalebane and/or have someone keep an ear out for anything he might learn about Athenaeum, please let me know. You'll succeed regardless, but I'll make a Stealth check for you in secret to see whether you were able to pull it off without calling attention to yourself.

Kreo thanked his good fortune that he had furry parts to guard against such a chill, and smiled toothsomely when the line's length became apparent

"Oh dear, we shall have to entertain ourselves."

Squatting down and arranging his coat, he peered at the three card shuffle, adjusting his little spectacles and smiling at the bugbear

"I'd like to take a chance please."

OOC: yes I'd like to try to get a message out, go ahead with that stealth check. Not proficient in Insight, Sleight of Hand, Deception or Perception . . . but my ability score mods are dexterity and wisdom +2, charisma +3, for what it's worth.

While circling the lower slopes, Frack kept his eyes peeled for trash that might be resold to the Buyer at some point. Although the title of Shield of Crimson Dale was one of Coglinton's highest honors*, there wasn't exactly a mass of riches that went along with the position. As a result, Frack's livelihood required him to distinguish between junk that could be sold for a few coins and just pure junk. And along those lines, he made notes of 1.) a large metal something-or-other crumpled in a pile of boulders (would probably be spotted by others before I got back), 2.) a collection of rusty wheels near the bridge over Donovan's Abyss (which is a long way from the Buyer but at least I could roll them), and 3.) a glimmer down on the acid planes at the base of Gully's Cliff (which is a long way down and if the acid doesn't get you, then Malfarg the Terrible probably will) .

As they finally reached the queue for the tram, Frack wrinkled his nose in dismay. Judging from the length of the line, justice would have to wait for a least a half-hour. He tried to blend in, keeping his friends in sight, but staying slightly separated from them. When Kreo volunteered against the three-carded bugbear, however, he was drawn to the overturned barrel to see what happened.



*OOC: This is Frack's opinion. Most others aren't nearly so impressed.

The bugbear gathered up his cards in the palm of one large hand as Kreo approached."Ooooh, I don't know. You look like you've got a sharp eye on you." He sighed.

"Hey, fella, that ain't right!" a man called out from two rows over in the snaking line. "You set up a game, you should take all comers. Ain't fair to pick and choose."

"All right, all right," the bugbear relented, casting Kreo a pleading look. "Just don't rob me blind, all right? You can play for a silver. Just for fun." His hands began shuffling the cards again as he waited for Kreo to produce the coin. "Round and round the dragon flies. Can you spot where his treasure lies?"

Kreo, you have some difficulty following the dragon card as he shuffles, but your best guess is it's in the middle. It'll cost you a silver piece to find out, though. You've gotten your message out to Scalebane.

Kreo produced a silver and placed it down on the closest spot to put it, lacing his fingers as a bed for his chin, watching as he points at the middle card, eager and excited to take his guess

The bugbear turned the card over, groaning loudly as it revealed itself to be a dragon. "I knew it!" he barked, wagging a furry finger at the satyr. "I knew you had a keen eye on you. I should never have let you play. Well, you've got to give me a chance to win my money back, now don't you? Let's go again, for a gold this time." Without waiting for an answer, he began to shuffle the cards.

Baern had paid the furry charlatan little heed until Kreo plunked his silver down, then suddenly he found himself fully invested in the little drama playing out before them. "Good eye," he complimented the Satyr when his card turned up a winner. "Now don't let him fleece you."

The only difference between pickpockets and this particular breed of street performers in Baern's estimation, was that the gamesmen made you feel like it had been your choice to hand them over your coin purse while the cutpurses didn't bother asking. At the end of the day though it was Kreo's money; Baern had no skin in this game unless the bugbear tried to get rough.

Tucking his own coin purse in a little tighter amidst the crowd, Baern turned his attention to the throng of pedestrians waiting on the next tram. It looked like it was going to be a while before their turn came around. "Glad I don't have to do this every day," he muttered.

"You've got it right there," Vecaal sneered, nodding his head at Baern.  The tall dragonborn felt especially cramped in the crowd, which seemed to have little respect for his intimidating bulk or fearsome face.  Apparently that was nothing compared to the threat of clocking in late.  Even being able to see over many of the heads in line was cold comfort.  It just meant Vecaal knew how depressingly far they still had to go.

He hadn't paid much attention to the dealer, even when Kreo put down a silver and picked the right card.  It was just business, no matter which way it went.  But his ears pricked up when the bugbear immediately doubled down for a gold piece, smelling something more pungent than the stink of unwashed bodies layered over the sulfurous tinge that always hung in the air.  The dragonborn turned his eyes to the match this time, golden irises glinting with interest as he followed the cards.

Veracity slapped the safehouse table and leaped to her feet with an enthusiastic proclamation, "Back in action, boys!  Let's be about it."  Considering that they were due to travel by boat, Veracity decided to disguise herself as a caldera steamship sailor.  Jaunty tricorn hat shaped around her curled horns, ruffled bodice under a roguish long-coat, pantaloons tucked into tall boots...  The ensemble might have a tad more swashbuckling flair than was strictly necessary, but Vera wouldn't pass up the opportunity to make sailing look good!

As the crowded funicular rumbled and screeched up toward the tram station, Veracity remarked to Frack, "I daresay I've never seen your new armor's like, Sir Frack!  Was it special-made?  You cut a fine figure."  There was a playful tone to the compliment, but not a hint of derision.  A warrior might scoff at the clearly impractical chicken-wire armor, but as a performer Vera thought it suited the gallant goblin quite perfectly.

A seemingly endless line of shift-workers overflowed the tram station, and Veracity sighed.  Crowds did present a prime swindling opportunity, and a few shameless entrepreneurs were already plying con games.  She chuckled at the bugbear working the classic shell game, complete with an accomplice chiming in from the sidelines.  Baern's insistence at Kreo to 'not let him fleece you' brought a chuckle to Vera's lips, and she remarked quietly so the dealer nor his partner can hear, "Too late, I'm afraid.  If you think you've a chance to find the card, you've already been fleeced."

Vera wasn't about to spoil a fellow charlatan's con, but rather than watching the game she watched for pickpockets or other forms of thievery afoot whilst the crowd was distracted.

"I must decline. But I applaud the hustle.  Get yourself an ale good sir."

Scooping his winnings Kreo tossed the big ear four coppers and rose to join the others, pausing to remark to Baern with a smile

"I wasn't born yesterday, they have games of confidence in the fey realms too."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:03, Fri 25 Aug 2023.

Frack blushed (again), although this time he couldn't help but puff out his little goblin chest as much as he could. "It is. And thank you. The armorer had this stuff in his shop, but I think I'm the first to use it." He dusted it off with a broad smile that would have been charming if not for the yellow-brown hue of his teeth. "Can you believe that? He also said it was quite good against chickens."

For a moment, he wrung his hands in silence before gulping aloud and continuing. "You are also are a fine cut... I mean, you cut from a fine..." His nose wrinkled as his tongue wrapped around itself in hopes of remembering how she had said it. Unsuccessful, he cut his losses. "I like your hat!"

"I've been had!" the enterprising bugbear lamented. "Took you for an honest fellow, but I see now you're an angler. Didn't even put up your coin until after the cards were spread. Took full advantage, you did. Oh, I should have trusted me instincts. Made you for a hustler the moment I laid eyes upon you, I did. But I said no, Ghargorr, you give that fellow the benefit of the doubt. Mustn't go assuming the worst, as me dear Esmerelda be always reminding me. And then the worst comes and wallops me upside the head. Like a thief in the night! Taking food right out the mouth of dear Esmerelda, and of our children besides."

His histrionics subsided as his eyes fell upon the goblin wrapped up in chicken wire. "Say, now you look like an honest fellow. Perhaps you'll treat me better than this old goat. Fancy a game?" The emerald on his ring sparkled as he shuffled anew.

Frack turned toward the bugbear, surprised that he would be picked from the crowd. And while he recognized that most players of 3-card were shucksters, the goblin sensed something above board with this one. Not to mention he recognized Frack as an honest fellow. And also not to mention he was still blushing from his talk with the swashbuckling Vera and welcomed the distraction. And finally not to mention the emerald ring on his hand was tracing a hypnotic pattern in front of Frack's eyes.

He cleared his throat and stood as proudly as his continuously slumped shoulders would allow. "Why yes. I am an honest citizen. I have pledged myself to the Path."

He dug through his backpack and eventually pulled out a silver coin. "I will try your game, but be warned: I have a very quick eye."

The bugbear laughed good-naturedly. "Oh ho, I shall keep my wits about me, then, good sir! And honest as well, paying up front. Such traits are rare these days," he said with a pointed look at Kreo. "OK now, let's see what's quicker, your eye or my hands. Round and round the dragon flies. Can you guess where her treasure lies?"

Frack, you believe you were able to keep a close eye on the dragon card the entire time and are quite confident it's the leftmost of the three.

Vecaal, you had a harder time following everything the bugbear was doing, but even with the help of your psionic ability, you did not detect any trickery afoot.

Frack had to stand on a small step stool to see the top of the barrel. Fortunately, one had been placed there as if just for him... or possibly one of the hundreds of gnomes milling about the area at all times. He adjusted his helmet as the bugbear began to slide the cards back and forth in front of him. It was all he could do to not be distracted by the emerald ring as it flashed over the cards during the process. His tongue slid out the side of his mouth in concentration.

When Ghargorr stopped, Frack pointed quickly at the leftmost card. "That one!" he announced. Immediately afterward, however, he worried that he may be showing up the poor bugbear. He hoped he wouldn't be too embarrassed.

The bugbear's eager smile turned to a sympathetic frown. "I am afraid not, good sir." His left hand pocketed the goblin's silver coin as his right revealed Frack's chosen card, which bore the image of a ferocious-looking automaton.

"But worry not! I believe in second chances. I'm not one to take a man's money and not give him a fair shake at getting it back." He shot another evil look at Kreo. "How about a gold this time? Win your money back and then some?" He began shuffling and rearranging the cards as he waited for Frack to produce the coin.

The train was arriving; the line would move soon. There was just time enough for one final game, if Frack (or anyone else) was so inclined.

Frack stood dumbfounded, his eyes chasing back and forth between the card and the bugbear. His mouth opened, but he said nothing, silenced by a combination of confusion and embarrassment. Without a word, he shook his head against the bugbear's offer and stepped down from the stool. He considered how much trash he'd need to sell to the Buyer to earn a silver piece. It meant a good day's work. But for now, more pressing matters were at hand.

Procz stood behind and to the side of Frack as he played, then moving aside and giving an appreciative nod when the goblin stepped back. "Probably an erudite decision, my friend. It is apparent that the dealer uses misdirection, quick hand movements, and psychological manipulation to make it difficult to follow the actual location of the target card."

The kobold gave a small cough. "Since the dealer controls the shuffle, they can manipulate the outcome. The observer would understand that even if they think they've tracked the target card, the practiced dealer can easily switch it at the last moment before the reveal."

"In fact," Procz gave a half-smile. "By eliminating the card you would think it was by observation (which it surely isn't), you will have increased your chances from a third to a half. You should then put your finger on one of the other two at random, to ensure it can't be switched."

He took a deep breath and leaned on his cane. "Of course, considering possible magical manipulation, the chances of winning diminish substantially. We have confiscated decks with shifting surfaces. Anyway, our lesson in life is clear: Always be the dealer, if you can. Not the player."

"Too bad, friend. Perhaps tomorrow." The bugbear looked relieved to have won his silver back before the line moved, delivering a fresh round of customers to his booth.

The train through the mountain could be a jarring experience for the uninitiated. A strip of steel ran the length of the ceiling of each car, glowing the with the magic of a Light spell. This illuminated the interior, making it difficult to see out through the glass windows into the tunnel beyond. Which was presumably be design, because the thought of so much rock above one's head - and so little supporting it - could unsettle the boldest hero should they think on it for too long. Even though the party had recently explored such tunnels on foot, the added artifice of (and noise) of the train rattling along its rails enhanced the surreality and the lack of control. Most of the passengers were experienced commuters, but a few tapped feet, wiggled fingers, and glanced around anxiously, eager to emerge from the tunnel.

When at last they did emerge, it was into the stifling caldera, where the air was, though not as bad as the Owl's End factory, noticeably hotter, louder, more humid, and more acrid than the Slopes. The sounds of machinery were diminished only slightly at night, and the atmosphere was made more hectic by the rush of workers off the train, some hurrying not to be late for a shift, others shuffling with the  weary resolution of the damned. Those latter were either early who had lost the will to care whether they lost their jobs.

Once again the party was able to hide themselves in the sea of humanoidanity, breaking off from the ever-dwindling swarm only at the end of the road, where Veracity led the way through some brush to a secluded spot on the banks of the lake. There was no immediate sign of a boat, nor of the genasi who was to meet them here.

The smuggler, a fire genasi like Amara, had given their name as Flicker, though the use of aliases for such business was to be expected. Their instruction had been to meet them at this precise time and place; of that, Veracity had no doubt.

Vera: What did you offer Flicker in exchange for use of their boat? And did you pay up front?

Frack listened intently to Procz's lecture on the inner workings of the game he just lost. He nodded repeatedly, although a great deal of the kobold's explanation sailed far overhead. Still, he liked the idea that he and Procz were having an intellectual conversation, even if he didn't understand most of it. It helped ease the pain of that lost silver piece.

By the time they reached the caldera, the lost coin had slipped his mind entirely, leaving space for questions like what's that awful smell? and isn't there supposed to be a boat?
This message was last edited by the player at 23:18, Thu 31 Aug 2023.

Veracity crooned delightedly, "An innovation not only of style, but also in the art of fowl-proofing defenses.  Magnificent, and perfectly befitting Sir Frack."  The tiefling couldn't help but recognize the little hero's bashful demeanor when speaking with her, and had a fair notion as to the cause.  She listened with amiable patience as Frack struggled to formulate a compliment in return, and the effort was terribly endearing.  Once he managed it Vera smiled brightly, "Thanks!"  She then slipped seamlessly into the jaunty brogue heard crying across the caldera waterfronts and ship-decks, "'Tis a bespoke tricorn, matey, fitted to the particular curl o' me horns!"  She tipped the brim and took a showy bow, then broke character for a raucous chuckle.

The rigged three-card game proceeded entirely as expected, and Veracity listened to Procz's detailed analysis of the con.  With a smirk, she said, "You're a sharp one, Constable, no denying it.  If the Bureau gave the respect you deserve the business of scoundreling in the Slopes would surely be in shambles."

At last the transvolcanic train arrived, and Veracity bustled aboard with the crew and the crowds for a treacherous subterranean journey that was routine for Coglinton's working class.  Upon arrival they left the stifling heat and noise of a crowded train car into the yet more hot and noisy caldera.  She beckoned the crew to join the flow of workers down toward the end of the road before slipping off the well-trod route onto a secluded path to the lake shore.  "Everybody still with us?  Very good.  Right this way!"  This little voyage had been no simple thing to arrange, and Amara just about had her head when brought in to sign on the negotiated terms.  An exclusive contract for the Spark's next five smuggling operations, with a cut of profits on the back end.  Guaranteed work was a prize in itself in this economy, and a transporter taking a percentage was all but unheard of.  This particular job was paid all up front, and it cost a pretty pile of gold!

Vera paused near the shore of the steaming, polluted caldera lake and scanned the surroundings with a flinty amethyst gaze.  She assured the others, "He's here, not to worry."  The tiefling then brought fingers to her lips and produced a long, warbling trill that carried across the shore.  It was the evening call of the sulfur pseudodragon, a pest that nested in the eaves of buildings within a flight's distance of the water.  She repeated the call twice more, which was the agreed upon signal to Flicker that all was well and it was time to move.

---

Persuasion for the prior negotiation with Flicker:

• 15:22, Today: Veracity rolled 22 using 1d20+8.  Persuasion.

Kreo produced a silver as they boarded the train, reaching over to offer it to Frack in an upheld palm.

"I'd be more concerned about that bugbear marking us for far less savoury purposes. Such games in my home were used as ways to observe, to ambush. The goblinfolk of the autumn courts play pranks and take things. Then again, we did it to them too!"

The satyr produced a small palette and checked his reflection in the light-washed windows, touching up his lip and brows for this meeting with the three criminals' contact. Noticing a smudge in his eyeshadow from Bryseis' less than careful hand, he produced a matching smudge on the other side to even out his appearance.

At Veracity's whistle, a figure appeared as if stepping through a rip in the air itself. It was hard to imagine how they could have hidden in plain sight, because while their body was largely wrapped in dark cloth, any skin that was not covered glowed like the embers of dormant flame. Now that the party could see their contact, it was hard to look anywhere else.

"Everything is ready for you," The genasi said without a smile. Their dark eyes assessed the five others beside the tiefling and apparently found them acceptable. "Best not to dawdle."

The means by which they had concealed themselves became apparent as they drew back a fabric whose surface matched exactly the texture of the dark, smoky night sky and, where necessary, the lake beneath it. When the cloth was removed, a small ship, bobbing with the slight current, stood tethered to a stake in the rocky ground. It had a single mast, sails furled, and four oars stationed beside two bench seats.

The genasi slid open a panel near the bow of the ship to reveal a small cargo hold - this was a smuggler's ship. "Two of you will have to sit in here," they explained. "Hope you weren't planning on bringing anything back with you."

The implication was clear: Veracity had not offered Flicker a cut of any smuggled items, and so no items would be smuggled.

Does anyone have proficiency with sea vehicles? Or, failing that, with land vehicles?

Vecaal wasn't used to being crammed into a crowd.  His size and appearance usually created a cushion of space around him, lending him some greater sense of freedom even when walking the busy streets and alleyways of the slopes.  But there was no such luxury on the tram, much to his discomfort and those reluctantly forced to stand right next to him.  The Dragonborn kept one clawed hand braced against the wall and his eyes focused on a particular rust patch at the far end of the car, to distract himself from all the other unpleasantries.

When the rattly bucket of bolts finally came to a halt he muscled his way out quickly and stretch his arms out while taking a deep breath.  He regained his composure and let his tongue taste the reassuring sulfurous taint in the air of the caldera.  That's better, he thought.  Smells like...dragons.

Waiting at the shore with the rest, Vecaal hissed in annoyance when the smuggler suddenly appeared right before them.  He wasn't pleased with himself, letting someone sneak up so closely without noticing, but he supposed that bode well for the genasi's talents.  Better on their side than not, he figured.  He approached the ship and stared at the cargo hold dubiously.  "You won't get me in there," he said, not only referring to his size.  He'd just escaped one tight fit, he wasn't interested in another just yet. "Maybe our two upstanding citizens would be a better fit?"

Whatever the case may be for the big folk felt upon the tram, it was indisputably worse and more congested at knee height. For a city divided and governed by gnomes, there was precious little accommodation for the working wee folk. Baern spent much of the journey forcibly reminding people of his presence by 'accidently' treading upon their toes and driving his elbows into their shins until the general mood of the compartment turned surly and he'd built something of a comfortable buffer about himself - a buffer he tacitly allowed Frack and Procz inside by virtue of shared privation.

He eyed the watercraft dubiously and wordlessly grunted at Vecaal's suggestion. Even where there were navigable bodies of water in the deep mines the routes were plied by pole barges and the occasional steam engine. There was no wind to speak of.

Baern has proficiency with land vehicles.

Frack instinctively reached out for the silver piece as Kreo presented it. He stopped just before grabbing it, however, telling himself that the noble thing to do would be to politely decline. Rom would never accept something like this. He would say, 'Tyr smiles upon your generous offer, but the Path I follow is paved with no charity.' Then he would bow slightly and turn away.

By the time he was done considering this, he had already picked the silver piece from satyr's hand and was clutching it in his own. Afraid to appear disrespectful by returning it, the goblin crinkled his face in an apologetic smile and slipped the coin into his pouch.

Once Flicker showed them the boat and the tiny storage compartment in its bow, Frack graciously volunteered to crawl in. He was no friend of the seas and hoped that being unable to see them might make the trek a little easier.

The air over the lake was cooler and clearer than that which hovered over the factory district. You could close your eyes and imagine yourself on The Slopes, where only the occasional whiff of sulfur reminded you what the city was for and why you were allowed to live in it - or on its outskirts, anyway.

The lake did not have much tide or current to it, so the ship was easy to steer, and with eight strong arms rowing, there was no need to attract undue attention by raising the sail. Baern's steady hand, made more skillful by Veracity's magic, guided the little boat without incident to the island Ilga had indicated.

Abandoned factories in various states of decay stood on many of the lake's little islands, relics of Sprazzle Cognelius's initial optimism about the caldera's potential for total industrialization. In the end, the logistics of shipping workers and goods out to the islands and finished products back to the mainland proved too costly and the elder gnome took a rare loss on an investment.

His loss had apparently been the Descendants' gain, for an abandoned factory made an excellent hideout for a conniving cult. Bushes, weeds, and fragile trees choked the island, affording only glimpses of the building's remains. There was ample space to stow ships away from prying eyes, though Ilga had suggested one rocky bay in particular for the party to seek out. And if the half-orc was to be believed, the interior of the crumbling factory was vast enough to hide a mechanical dragon.

The party left the boat moored to a tree and bobbing in the shallow water lest they need to beat a hasty retreat. Moving inland, they spotted several similar vessels that had been dragged ashore, suggested a busy meeting at the cult's headquarters. There did not appear to be anyone actively guarding these ships.

Nor was anyone actively guarding the factory's main entrance, a grand archway once filled with imposing iron doors. Only one door still stood, hanging at a slight angle that suggested a failing hinge. The other door was unaccounted for, leaving the factory's dark interior open to the elements.

Just as Ilga had indicated, there were many other ways to enter the faculty: holes all around its perimeter, broken out windows, and an all-but-collapsed roof.

Pausing here, while you're still two hundred feet or so from the factory. If you want to get a closer look at anything, please include a Stealth check along with your Perception check (if you're trying to be stealthy).

The skiff cut across the glassy water like a ploughshare, sending ripples out in its wake. Baern kept a steady hand on the till and a sharp watch on the rocks, but after a brief spell of nerves he relaxed into the role with suitable aplomb. A snatch of music even rose from his miner's heart unbidden to his tongue, first as a wordless hum and then a soft chorus setting the tempo.

...come get your chits in order 'cause the shift is nearly over,
swing away, me ladies, swing away.
Come get your chits in order, then we drink until tomorro'
swing away, me ladies, all swing away....

As he eased into the cove and tied off in shallow water, Baern leapt the gunwale and splashed down onto the beach. "Not bad, that. Might've made a decent skipper."

Bending low he scooped a handful of black volcanic sand from the beach and let it run between his fingers, feeling the grain between fingers and thumb. As the sand fell back to the earth, any hint of color upon Baern's garments seemed to leach away with it.

"Could do with them whispers again, Vecaal," he said quietly.

Svirfneblin Camouflage. Baern has advantage on his next stealth check.

14:16, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 23 using 2d20+4, dropping the lowest dice only.  Stealth.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:18, Thu 14 Sept 2023.

When the boat finally landed on shore, Frack crawled out from the bow of the ship even greener skinned than usual. Even with the fairly calm approach, the goblin had been unnerved by the bobbing of the boat on their journey.

With a sigh of relief to be back on solid ground, he surveyed the ruins before them. "I could sneak in for a closer look," he suggested. "I'm a lot quieter with my new armor!"

OOC: Frack no longer rolls with disadvantage now that he abandoned his chain mail. With that said, his perception isn't great. In fact, it's less than average. So he might not see much, but at least he probably wouldn't get caught not seeing much.

Kreo hummed along with Baern's song and tapped his fingers as they moved across the distance, disembarking and stopping to the help the others out of the craft

"That sounds like a brilliant idea Sir. A brilliant one. Perhaps a little help for anyone who feels unsure?"

OOC: Stealth 18, Perception 10, guidance up for grabs to the first person what claims it

As they crouched in the brush and scouted for entrances tot he run-down factory, Vecaal ruled out the front door (too obvious) and the roof (too risky).  That left a few broken sections of wall that would serve, if they could sneak up effectively.  He wasn't worried about himself, but felt less confident about the newcomers.  At least they were small enough to better use the brush for cover.

He nodded to Baern.  "Right, same as before," he said, including Vera.  After managing that he spoke aloud again, pointing to a spot that looked big enough to let them all access the interior.

"What about over there, that break in the wall?"

OOC:
Whispers established with Baern and Vera for 3 hours.  Sorry to the rest, but two others is my maximum for now.

When the party disembarked from the smuggler's boat, Veracity tipped her tricorn to the captain, "Always a joy to bask in your glowing personality, my friend.  We'll be back in a jiffy."  Flicker was a dour sort, but he got the job done no questions asked, and that's what's important in this business.

Vera eyed the desolate island with suspicious curiosity as they crept through the brush toward the factory ruins.  Quietly, she remarked, "Old Sprazzle's ill-advised venture, now a tumbledown home to dragon-worshipping crackpots.  There's poetry in that."  Vera was concerned by the multiple vessels dragged ashore without a single guard or lookout anywhere.  Incompetence could explain it, but she didn't any of the other possibilities that came to mind.

Peering out of the underbrush, Vera agreed with Vecaal, "Right.  The hole in the wall strikes me as the most sensible path for sneaking."  Glancing down at the chicken-wired goblin, the tiefling encouraged, "Show us how it's done, Sir Frack!  We'll be right along behind."

Keeping low, Veracity slunk toward the broken wall in a low stance and took cover on one side of the crack, then took a peek at what lay within.  If all seemed clear, she'd venture onward toward the next piece of cover until they'd either spotted somebody or reached a decision point.

---

00:27, Today: Veracity rolled 16 using 1d20+5.  Stealth.

Peering through one of the many holes in the factory wall, the party saw that the inside of the factory was as Ilga had described it: The ceiling had largely collapsed, and what remained of the machinery was rusted and overgrown. The clockwork dragon loomed over the factory floor, so large that its head nearly protruded through the crumbling ceiling.

Faint voices could be heard from, presumably, the engine room below. The half-orc said there could be as many as thirty cultists gathered there, though the boats they'd seen on the way in suggested it was closer to twenty. The dragon appeared to be powered down, and no one moved on the darkened factory floor, which seemed at first to be empty.

But as their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they noticed two bodies lying on the ground near the main entrance. Neither moved. From this distance, it could not be seen whether they were sleeping or unconscious or dead.

With Vera's encouraging words puffing the sails of his confidence, Frack stepped deftly toward the building, stirring nary a stone. Once there his jaw dropped at the sight of the enormous (and thankfully dormant) dragon.

Upon seeing the prone figures,  he gasped. "Look there," he whispered."Are those two sleeping... or..." He cut his question short, unnerved by the possibilities. Then, after a moment's thought, he started for the first of the hopefully sleeping pair.

22:54, Today: Frack rolled 22 using 1d20+6.  Stealthily stealthing toward the hole in the wall.

Frack intends to check on the well being of the figures unless somebody tells him to hold up.

Kreo mumbled a prayer, touching his shield as a small light glowed on his hand

OOC: if we're within 30ft, spare the dying on the leftest of the two. Yay ranged grave cleric

Dead would be better, thought Vecaal.  But no job went easy the whole way.  There were always challenges.

Like the one Frack just initiated!  Rightfully or wrongly, Vecaal inherently assumed Frack was going to mess this up.  The little goblin was too righteous and too trusting for his own good, and theirs.  Cursing his rotten luck in the harsh tongue of dragons, Vecaal set out after the intrepid little warrior with the intent of protecting him and their mission both.

His exasperation and focus on Frack betrayed him though.  As soon as he stepped through the gap in the wall his foot came down on a loose piece of rubble, something that had seemed solid under the goblin's meagre weight but shifted immediately when confronted with Vecaal's bulk.  He stumbled, arms suddenly swinging wildly to maintain his balance, and staggered a few steps before finally regaining control.  He paused, his eyes darting around their surroundings, wondering if his shenanigans had attracted any attention.  With one last grumble he set off again after Frack.

OOC:
So much for my portrayal of a shadowy, competent bounty hunter!  The dice just aren't my friend in this game  :)
Rolled a total of 11 on Stealth, with an effective +8-13.  Sheesh.
14:28, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 8 using 1d20+7.  Stealth.
14:28, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 3 using 1d6.  Psi-bolstered Knack.

Baern stepped through the gap behind Vecaal but proceeded no further, waiting to see the results of Frack's investigation before following.

Reposting stealth check from before
14:16, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 23 using 2d20+4, dropping the lowest dice only.  Stealth.

Frack hustled toward the first of the bodies, stowing his sword in anticipation of needing both hands to lend aid. "Tears of the hammer. I hope they're all right."

Frack is not trying be stealthy, but I rolled in case it is of interest.
23:39, Today: Frack rolled 20 using 1d20+6.  Stealth, if needed.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:41, Wed 20 Sept 2023.

Inside the ruined manufactory was the infamous clockwork dragon, as well as voices from somewhere within and a pair of bodies.  Dead or alive was hard to tell at this distance, but Vera wouldn't bet on their breathing.  Frack showed much concern for the fallen and was on his way over quickly.  Would the owners of those voices see him?  That wouldn't be good.

Veracity decided she'd give them something else to look at.  She remarked quietly to her nearby companions,
"Sneak around or do what you're gonna do, boys.  I'll go be a distraction.  If they decide they'd like to kill me, I'd appreciate assistance."  Without further discussion, Veracity sauntered toward the voices.  Before moving to break cover, she transformed.  Between two strides the slender tiefling swashbuckler became a hulking blue-skinned firbolg man, and a familiar one at that.

After circling around to approach from a different angle from the group, Crajeon rounded the corner to happen upon the voices.  He paused, made a show of glancing toward the corpses, and in a pitch-perfect impression of the firbolg Descendent's voice as heard in Owl's End, he rumbled, "What's going on here?"  It was a general enough question to be open to the listener's interpretation, and their reaction to Crajeon would be instructive no matter how it went.  Would they cower, salute, argue, pal around, flee?  Maybe Crajeon himself was in attendance, in which case there'd be confusion.  She could work with that, too.

Veracity had no plan but to react to however this approach was received, and play the scene accordingly.  This was improv at its finest!

---

Disguise Self to take on illusory appearance of Crajeon, lasts 1 hour.  Performance with advantage to impersonate Crajeon and mimic his voice, via Actor:

• 02:02, Today: Veracity rolled 16 using 2d20+6, dropping the lowest dice only with rolls of 10,1.  Performance (actor advantage).

As Veracity began walking toward the stairs which led to the basement from which the voices emanated, Kreo worked his magic, causing one of the slain figures - from where the tiefling-turned-firbolg now stood, she could see they'd both been run through with blades and left to bleed out - sputtered and sat up. His disorientation at being wrenched back from the brink of death only deepened when he found himself staring at a mirror image of himself.

"It's true what they say, then," Crajeon said with a peaceful smile. "Those who are true to Tiamat spend eternity with the most beautiful people in the world."

The body next to him, naturally, belonged to his erstwhile companion, Syntus. The yuan-ti had succumbed more quickly to his stabbing and was well and truly dead.

The voices are coming from downstairs. You can still go down there if you want, but I figured I'd pause at this significant development!

Baern sniggered and stepped clear of the shadows, Bessie resting easily across his shoulders. "If eternity looks like the inside of a Cognelius factory, and a crumbling one at that, I'd say you'd been cheated. Looks like they were none too pleased with you and Syntus, hey Crajeon?"

Frack stopped quickly when the first of the fallen bodies started to rise. He wasn't sure how this happened, but concluded they were sleeping, for some reason in a wide open area on a particularly hard floor. Further thoughts about that mystery were stifled when he recognized the body as the kidnapper-firbolg from last week. With surprised eyebrows disappearing under the rim of his helmet, he turned to his companions for a hint of what to do next, only to find the same kidnapper-firbolg was approaching from behind.

Completely befuddled by the scene surrounding him, Frack put both hands on his ill-fitting helmet and wiggled it around on his head, hoping to massage a good idea into it. It wasn't working.

Verajeon paused on the way toward the voices and turned to regard the real Crajeon, now sat up with a smile on his broad blue face as he delivered what was honestly a damnably good line.  In his own rumbling voice, the illusory firbolg replied, "Then Tiamat must be displeased with us, because we're both looking at an ugly blue arsehole."  This guy tried to kidnap the Spark's new tinker and nearly barbecued the lot of them.  How dare he have good lines?!

Lumbering over to the recently-risen firbolg, Verajeon tweaked the illusion to mirror the stab wounds, then crossed big arms to face down the doppelgänger.  "First that debacle at Owl's End, and now this.  How about we talk on how we got here?  Maybe that'll help us see where to go next."  Pointing at the still-bleeding Syntus, Verajeon asked himself, "Should we bother saving him?  He never did appreciate us."

Upon realizing the two bodies were that of Crajeon and Syntas, a mixture of disappointment and annoyance washed over Vecaal.  He had wanted to gain revenge for himself on these two, especially the sorcerer, after their transgressions against him at Owl's End.  And now here they were, already dispatched.

Except Crajeon sat up rather unexpectedly.  And then even more unexpectedly, the firbolg was confronted by...himself?  If it weren't for the Whispers Vecaal would have taken longer to suss out what was going on.  As it was, he manage to keep his annoyed face in place, an easy feat when looking at the dead yuan-ti halfblood.

As he watched and waited for the drama to play out between the two Crajeons another thought came to him.  The dragonborn looked up at the giant mechanical dragon, a sudden possessive envy in his eyes.  If Syntas controlled the mechanical dragon, but there was no more Syntas, then wouldn't it be free for the taking?  What an intriguing idea!

Crajeon cast a disinterested glance at the yuan-ti, then looked back at his twin. "Daresay he's past saving. Though he always was a tricky one..."

The firbolg poked his companion with a furry blue finger to confirm he was dead. "Pity. The two of you would have got on grandly."

He expanded his gaze to encompass the rest of the group, looking disappointed when he did not spot Ilga among them. "I don't suppose you all would care to accompany me downstairs and assure the Dragonfather Syntus and I put up a respectable fight? He was none too pleased to hear you made off with the half-orc."

Catching Vecaal admiring the dragon, he remarked, "Beauty, isn't she? Imagine the skies full of them. The past is not lost, brother. It is not even past. For as long as we honor the strength of the dragons, we keep their legacy alive. As she wills it."
This message was last updated by the player at 23:35, Sat 23 Sept 2023.

Verajeon reckoned Crajeon wasn't convinced that he was hallucinating himself, but she decided to keep up the act because it amused her proportionally to how much it confused everybody else.  Syntus's death merited little more than a shrug of brawny shoulders.  Keeping up the pitch-perfect mimickry of the firbolg's deep voice, the doppelgänger said, "Remind me how it is that you're owed any favors?  Lies don't get much more brazen than you and fork-tongue being competent, so telling that would be a BIG favor."  Gesturing to the stab wounds and the dead yuan-ti, Verajeon added, "If this was the Dragonfather's work, then it seems late to convince him, anyhow."


The mechanical dragon was indeed magnificent and Verajeon wouldn't mind acquiring such a fine artifice, but the dragon-worshiping rhetoric grated.  The illusory blue brute growled, "Let's leave the pious past behind us and start talking about now.  What's the occasion for this little gathering?  Turned up any leads on the Luminescent Athenaeum?  Start talking, and maybe we can be pals after all."

---

Persuasion to convince Crajeon to spill the beans on what's going on here and what the Descendants are up to:

• 20:59, Today: Veracity rolled 27 using 1d20+8.  Persuasion.

"Didn't think so." Crajeon liked this doppelganger, whoever they were. They were clever. And fit. He caressed his own bicep appreciatively as he admired its twin on the body across from him.



"Someone did. That's what they're discussing now. But they decided not to cut us in. Cut us loose, more like."

He looked again at the gathered intruders. "I was going to offer to fight alongside you, if you were here to raid us. Them. But if this is all the people you've brought... I'll take my chances swimming, thank you very much."

"'Someone' found a lead?  Did you hear any more before they cut you out by cutting you up?"  Crajeon seemed to admire his own muscles and that admiration got him talking, so Verajeon made a show of popping illusory pecs for his enjoyment.  It wasn't the worst she'd done in service to a role!

The doppelgänger scoffed at Crajeon's preference to swim rather than fight with these odds.  "Raid?  Nah.  We're the catering.  How many are we serving, anyhow?"  Verajeon then went on, "There any other ways in or out of where the Dragonfather and his party are?  The more we know about this heap of an island, the better to even the odds."

Verajeon glanced up, then added with a wry grin, "Speaking of evening the odds... How do we get her running?"  The firbolg imposter pointed a blue sausage-finger up at the inert clockwork dragon looming large overhead.

Vecaal's perusal of the mechanical drake was rudely interrupted.  "You are no brother of mine," he spat out with disdain.  "And this is no dragon at all.  You don't have the faintest idea."

He nodded to Verajeon.  "Doesn't mean it can't be a useful tool though," he agreed, then looking the firbolg in anticipation of some operating instructions.

Frack looked back and forth between the two firbolgs as they talked, still confused by there being two of them. He walked over to Procz in hopes of an explanation because the constable was very smart about confusing matters like this. "Are those two twins? If they are, they sure don't seem to like each other. That must be disappointing for their mother."

As for the conversation itself, the prospect of the skies full of mechanical dragons like the one parked before them wasn't particularly appealing to the goblin Shield. While impressive, the idea of more than one gave him a shiver. He didn't know much about the age of dragons, but he knew enough to know it wouldn't be all silver, gold, and springberry pancakes for him if those days returned.

"That many of them, then?" Baern said, arms folded across his chest. "Maybe we drill some holes in their boats and let them all take their chances swimming," he mused. "We just need to figure out what this lead might be, and leave before they're done talking."

Crajeon looked Baern up and down, taking the measure of this gnome whose strength had proved a match for his own back at Owl's End. Lily-livered scheme notwithstanding, he liked what he saw. Then again, he himself had been the one to suggest swimming over confronting his former allies.

He preferred the thinking of the svirfneblin's taller and even more muscle-bound companion, however, and flashed a row of strong white teeth to express as much. "The dragon was Syntus's department. The controls are in its head. There's a compartment at the base of its skull. Can't say I know how to activate it. One of you might have better luck. There's also some... what did he call them? Sssssigilssss. Magical traps, like. To prevent, well, just such a situation as this. So we'd need to disable those as well."

Mechanically, this will require:

• DC 15 Arcana check to disable the warding sigils. Failure will trigger them.
• DC 12 Climb check or some other means of accessing the panel on the dragon's skull. Failure will result in falling damage.
• Tinkerer's tools check to activate the dragon. The roll will determine how well you can control it:
         1-10 you activate it but have no control over it.
         11-14 you fail to activate it
         15 you activate it with minimal control over it
         and then it will scale up from there.

As the need for Stealth in this particular area had lessened, Procz rode up on Zúm. He remained quiet, both listening to the conversation with Crajeon and studying the mechanical dragon. The kobobld constable was as interested in permanently disabling it, as wrestling it under their control. If he had to destroy the contraption to keep it out of criminal hands, then that was what he would do.

When Frack came up, he gave the goblin knight a nod. "The two are only twins in our perception, Mr. Frack; illusionary magic. Our associate Miss Veracity is a master of arcane disguises, and currently displaying the skin of the firbolg Crajeon. Paired with exceptional acting and humanoid psychological insight; she passes almost perfectly."

He spoke up, but not too loud, knowing there were many more of these people around, including this Dragonfather. "I can probably disable the warding sigils, but I do not have the tools to rewire the activation mechanism." Procz shook his head. "Maybe we should destroy it."

He turned to the firbolg. "What can you tell us about this Dragonfather? Who is he? What is he?"

Frack's eyes glazed over at the word perception and he missed most of what the constable said after that. The phrase humanoid psychological insight was nearly too much for the poor goblin. He staggered a half step backward at that point. Never one to offend, however, he nodded encouragingly to Procz, hoping to relay a message something like that makes sense. In fact, the open-jawed look on his face could better be described as saying something more along the lines of I have absolutely no idea what you just said!

When Procz eventually turned to question one of the Crajeons, Frack heaved a sigh. Pretending like you knew something was exhausting!

"Let's not be too hasty," Vecaal gently chided Procz, when the constable suggested they might need to destroy the clockwork dragon.  "You can handle the sigils, you say.  I don't know a better tinkerer than our friend right here," the Dragonborn gestured with a clawed hand to Baern.  "And I can get up there and lay a line down to you, if need be."

"Sure would be a pretty sight turning this beastie on our enemies," Vecaal mused, his vacant grin full of sharp teeth.

Procz's probing followup with Crajeon snapped Vecaal from his pleasant dreams though.  The constable had a good head on his shoulders, narrow though they were.  He listened expectantly for the answer, knowing the information could prove invaluable even beyond today.

Baern nodded. It was a funny thing, really. It wasn't very long ago that Baern had scarcely spared a thought for the many mechanical wonders of Coglington. They were ornaments. Tools. Conveniences. Rock gnomes concerned themselves with cogs and springs. Deep gnomes mined the fruits of the earth.

But Ilga had lit a spark in him. Now - now he couldn't help but wonder how it all worked. And he was eager to put his newfound skills to the test.

"Put me in that brain box and I'll get it cranking," he assured.

Kreo trailed behind Zum and Procz, approaching Baern right as the gnome was deciding to try

"A moment. Perhaps a little inspiration would not be spurned? May I?"

Moving his hand in a sign and then touching Baern (assuming he consented) as he spoke the divine words of forge and kiln and gear and worker, a small warmth passed from Kreo to Baern that settled in his hands

OOC: guidance
This message was last edited by the player at 02:09, Thu 05 Oct 2023.

Verajeon gazed up at the clockwork dragon as Crajeon helpfully explained how to hijack it, pushing out the firbolg's blue belly in an unflattering way.  It wasn't easy though, because she had to admit that the dragon-lover had some spectacular abs.  She nodded his big head appreciatively.  "Much obliged, me.  Does she have any other tricks besides flight and the fire breath?  Those two are great, don't get me wrong, but if there's more we'll want to know."

Insight to see if Craj is trying to mislead us or leave anything out of his directions for working the dragon:

• 00:40, Today: Veracity rolled 16 using 1d20.  Insight.

Overhearing Procz giving Frack a clinical explanation of her Cunning illusory impersonations rankled Vera, although the compliment to her acting prowess helped.  Turning to look at the two, Verajeon remarked, "Come now, Constable.  Theater is best when room is left for mystery and suspense of disbelief!"  That was definitely out of character, because Crajeon would never say something so wise.

Verajeon shared Vecaal's shock at the suggestion the dragon be destroyed, and the doppelgänger's objection came out, "How could we let such a beauty go to waste?  Destroying it would likely be harder than it looks, and it doesn't look easy."  Giving a nod to Crajeon the original, Verajeon joined the others in considering the practical challenges to claiming a new mechanical pet.  Looking between Procz and Baern, Verajeon rumbled, "Constable tackles the sigils first, then Baern gets up there to get her running.  Sounds like a plan.  You both can do it."  Something in those simple words of encouragement made them realize that they could indeed do it!

Granting a d6 Bardic Inspiration for both Procz and Baern: "Once within the next 10 minutes, the creature can roll the die and add the number rolled to one ability check, attack roll, or saving throw it makes."

If Procz should manage to disable the sigils guarding the dragon, Verajeon would assist the tinkering effort by bringing out a hempen rope.  "Here, this oughtta make it easy to get up there."  The firbolg doppelgänger unfurled the rope and raised one end overhead... but the rope kept rising!  A closer inspection revealed that the rising end was held by a spectral violet woman's hand.  The hand drew the rope high enough to loop it over the dragon's metallic neck, then secure it with a simple but effective knot.

Mage Hand to bring the rope up, and Sleight of Hand to tie a knot suitable for climbing:

• 01:22, Today: Veracity rolled 25 using 1d20+5.  Sleight of Hand.

Baern nodded, but it was up to Procz to clear the sigil first. After that it would be a simple matter of scampering up the rope Veracity had conveniently provided...

14:53, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 15 using 2d20+6, dropping the lowest dice only.  Athletics (Climb).

Tinkering check for when appropriate: 15, 18 with guidance. I don't think I can hold onto this the way I can with Bardic inspiration. @DM is there any incremental advantage to pushing my score higher still?

14:54, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 15 using 2d20+1, dropping the lowest dice only.  Tinkering .

14:55, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 3 using 1d4.  Guidance.

Procz wasn't sure about disabling the magical protection. Could he trust these people not to abuse this weapon? Well, even if they wanted to destroy the thing, they needed to safely remove these sigils first.

He moved in a circle around the mechanical dragon; limping as usual now that he wasn't riding Zúm; who was in-fact also a mechanical contraption, albeit fueled by something different. Zúm had a living spirit inside him.

The constable spoke some magical incantations "Aczhtrazhhaz-et-naztrazhkaz" and raised his wand (walking stick) a couple of times.

He finally gave the others a look and a shrug. "Should be ready for the next phase of our intervention."

Arcana 16.

A skilled worker and his tools develop a special, spiritual bond over time. Baern had experienced this during his time in the mines. You could always tell a novice by the way they swung their pick, deliberately, like they were thinking about where exactly they wanted the blow to land and how to swing it to accomplish their intended purpose.

A miner who knew his tools was barely conscious of using them. He thought only of what he wanted to accomplish, not of how he intended to accomplish it. His body and his tools did the rest without his explicit direction. The miners often said that such a man "knew his pick". But it would be just as accurate to say the pick knew him.

Such a bond usually took years to develop. But between Kreo's blessing and Ilga's engineering, Baern felt it immediately as the clockwork dragon roared to life. He felt the whir of the gears grinding away in its belly. He understood intuitively how its neck would unfurl as it woke and shifted his weight so he would not be thrown. He understood as well that it understood him, to the limited degree it could. If he thought about what he wanted to accomplish, the dragon would understand and do its best to achieve that goal.

"He's just the Dragonfather," Crajeon explained in answer to Procz's question while Baern was at work. "Never saw him without the mask and robes, and we weren't exactly encouraged to ask questions. Which I can understand. There's a certain amount of persecution that comes with being merely a member of the Descendants. The leader... well, I'd want to keep a low profile as well.

As for the dragon, it fights and it flies and breaths fire. What more could you want from a dragon?"

The automaton's rumble was not only in its rider's head. The entire factory thrummed, causing the walls to shake and debris to fall from what remained of the ceiling.

Commotion could be heard from downstairs, the cultists no doubt realizing something had happened and running to investigate.

Baern, you can give the dragon a simple instruction like, "Kill those cultists" or "Destroy that wall" and it will do what it can to comply. Once you give it its initial instruction, you can take your turns as usual. If you want to give it a new command, you can use a Bonus Action to do that.

It seems likely the cultists will soon be emerging from the stairs. You've got a few rounds before they do, so if you want to position yourself in any sort of way or cast buffs or anything, you have time to do that. Or if you want to flee, you can get a head start on them.

Everyone please give me an initiative roll along with a general description of where you'd like to be if you choose to stay and fight. Do you want to be near the stairs so you're immediately in melee range or a certain distance from them? If you're looking for cover or something else specific, please include a Survival check. You can take more than one rounds' worth of actions right now during this preliminary period. Let's keep the planning in character though.

"Tears of the hammer!" Frack nearly tripped over his own feet as he backpedaled away from the unfurling clockwork dragon. He ducked behind his shield, peeking over to see if Baern, someone as small as himself, could really control such a behemoth.

The workings of the mechanical beast were mesmerizing to the goblin Shield, but his trance was snapped by sounds coming from the stairs behind him. He realized the descendants were coming up and would probably not take kindly to their presence. "Uhhh, I think we're going to have company." With eyes now fixed on the stairwell, he found that he had turned his back on the dragon and was now backing toward it. For just a moment, he considered how little he knew about Baern, specifically his ability to control clockwork dragons, but he figured the approaching descendants were his immediate concern. With that in mind, he drew his scimitar and uttered a prayer under his breath. The blade began to emit a blue-white glow in response. A quick glance across the room suggested no obvious cover, so he continued to move toward the dragon. Hopefully Procz will still be there. Surely he will know what to do!


23:15, Today: Frack rolled 22 using 1d20+4.  Initiative.
23:18, Today: Frack rolled 4 using 1d20-1.  Survival - find cover.

Channel Divinity: Sacred Weapon - As an action you can imbue a weapon with positive energy. For 1 minute, the weapon is considered magical, you add +3 to attack rolls, it emits bright light for 20 ft. and dim light for 20 ft beyond that. You can end the effect as part of any other action, if you are no longer holding the weapon, or if you fall unconscious.

"There's a good girl," Baern exclaimed, running his hand down the length of the automaton's armored neck as though he were petting a living thing. "Let's have a go, luv."

The dragon unfurled its wings and leapt to the floor with the agility of a cat but enough force to make the already patchwork factory floor groan.

"You see those stairs there, yeah? Lets burn anything that sticks its head out."

12:20, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 9 using 1d20+2.  Initiative.

Procz stood admiring the dragon. It was an impressive work of engineering, but it was not the real thing; worthy of admiration, but not awe. At the commotion, Procz sighed. It was not unexpected, but unwelcome nonetheless.

"Baern, if you can position this construction so that it blocks traversal in this area and that direction, we can fire ranged attacks without having close-quarter combatants engaging us right away." The gnome seemed to already have something like that in mind.

He spotted Frack, looking a little bewildered, but the kobold didn't do much better in finding cover. He hunkered down with Zúm as best he could, at a ranged position some distance from the stairs.

He gave Frack a knowing nod. They'd look out for each other.

Looking for cover, Survival 13.

At the sounds of commotion just as Baern got the dragon working, Kreo moved to secure his shield and advanced trying to find cover but not seeing anything even with keen fey eyes.

A wisp of flame circled his hand as he started to chant the spell, aiming for Procz's suggested spot to funnel them into

"A good idea Baern, allow me to contribute some."

OOC: the beauty of fire bolt and a pistol is you never really know which to choose. If fire's around though, might be worth firebolting

Survival 8

Initiative 17

A series of huffing hisses escaped Vecaal's toothy snout, the Dragonborn's approximation of joyous laughter, as Baern successfully coaxed the metallic creature to life.  His recent memories of the factory where they tangled with Crajeon and the yuan-ti sorcerer fuelled his imagination, now that the power of the construct was in their hands.  Buoyed by those visions of destruction, Vecaal smoothly slipped away across the broken floor to find a good hiding place from which he could attack any of the cultists brave enough to survive the dragon fire awaiting them.

Crouching into place amongst the shadows, he clamped down on his anticipation and watched the stairwell with hooded eyes of molten gold.

OOC:
15:14, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 18 using 1d20+2.  Survival.  Find some cover, from which he will plan ranged sneak attacks on anyone making it up the stairs.
15:13, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 28 using 1d20+8.  Initiative.

Verajeon looked on in wonderment as Procz disabled the sigils protecting the clockwork dragon, then Baern somehow managed to hotwire the mechanical monstrosity.  As the dragon rumbled loudly to life, the firbolg doppelgänger elbowed Crajeon and remarked with a deep chuckle, "You'd think it'd be more difficult to commandeer a clockwork dragon.  We should give her a name!"

Seeing Baern command the dragon to turn the stairwell into a furnace, Verajeon elected to back away to a reasonable distance from the danger zone.  Upon taking cover, the impostor inquired of Crajeon, "Two questions: First, is this stair the only way out of there?  Second, is there anybody down there worth keeping alive?  If both are a 'no' then this'll be real simple."

Verajeon made to draw something from the belt region, but came up seemingly empty-handed, but with index and and thumb extended in pantomime of holding a pistol.  Crajeon was rather bulkier and had longer reach than the tiefling under the illusory disguise, which conveniently hid the small pistol now in her hand!

---

• 20 Initiative
• 12 Survival to find cover off to the side of the entrance and out of the dragonfire zone
• Equip Palm Pistol (from the Steampunk guide I lost the link to, but the stats are on the inventory item in my Beyond Sheet)

Reminder that Procz still has a d6 Bardic Inspiration die for 10 mins minus however much time has elapsed since the dragon awakening!  "...the creature can roll the die and add the number rolled to one ability check, attack roll, or saving throw it makes."

16:08, Today: Veracity rolled 12 using 1d20.  Survival.
16:07, Today: Veracity rolled 20 using 1d20+4.  Initiative.

Crajeon shrugged. "Pretty much. The engine room entrance is flooded. Could maybe swim out that way, but you'd have to be a hell of a swimmer. A few of them can fly, so I suppose they could fly up out of any of these holes in the floor."

He hesitated at the second question, then set his jaw. A hardened look came over his eyes. "No. Burn them all." He hefted the axe from beside the body of his deceased comrade and took up position near the stairs.

"Don't worry about me," he assured the others. "I can take a little heat."

You would remember from your previous encounter that Crajeon is resistant to fire damage when he's raging.

Everyone who rolled 12 or higher on Survival has partial cover. Those with 15 or higher have full cover.

I want to give Baern the opportunity to position himself in light of my answer to his question OOC, then I'll update again.

Baern slid down the neck of the mechanical dragon and landed lightly on his feet. Seizing hold of Bessie in both hands, he fell in between the dragons legs and waited for the enemy to show itself.

Wasn't sure what was more appropriate to take shelter behind the dragon, stealth or survival, but Baern wasn't feeling either at this particular moment.

Raging at earliest opportunity

20:57, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 8 using 1d20+4.  Stealth.
20:55, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 11 using 1d20+3.  Survival.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:00, Sun 15 Oct 2023.

Seeing Baern take command of the dragon and then aim it at the stairway, Frack was simultaneously amazed and terrified. With sword now aglow by Tyr's blessing, he shuffled backward even faster to get out of the line of (literal) fire. As he did this, his goblin ears overheard Crajeon explaining the possibility of swimming to escape, an option which sounded no better to Frack than standing directly in front of the mouth of the clockwork dragon.

He really hoped he wouldn't have to do either.

The cultists, a collection of hooded humanoids in all shapes and sizes, swarmed up the stairs, shouting in astonishment and fury. Six emerged from the stairwell immediately, with some two dozen more clambering up behind them. Their cries turned to indignation as they recognized their former brother among the saboteurs.

Crajeon, still badly wounded, got off just one swing before the cultists dropped him. It was enough to take one of them down with him, however.

Baern being the next most obvious target, they focused their (literal) fire on him.

Baern: Three DC 12 Dex saves please. You'll take 5 fire damage for each one you fail.

Six cultists have emerged from below and are in full view. Crajeon dropped one of them already. More are on the stairs below but you can't currently see/target them (though they could still potentially be affected by an AoE spell or something). Anyone with full cover gets advantage on ranged/spell attacks, as you're effectively attacking from hiding.

From his covered position between the dragon's legs, Baern managed to evade the worst of the enemy's rebuttal suffering only minor burns.

"You think that's a fire?" Baern taunted. "This is a FIRE!"

The automaton drew breath above him like the bellows of a forge. He could hear the gentle hiss of the pilot light in its gullet and then the roar of flames as it expelled its volatile charge in a blazing plume, bathing the stairs in aerosolized kerosene.

Baern saves twice (advantage due to danger sense). 5 damage recorded.

21:05, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 4 using 2d20+2, dropping the lowest dice only.  Dex save (Danger sense).
21:05, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 15 using 2d20+2, dropping the lowest dice only.  Dex save (Danger sense).
21:05, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 12 using 2d20+2, dropping the lowest dice only.  Dex save (Danger sense).

Procz found a small place where he and Zúm could duck down, to at least get some cover from any ranged attacks coming their way. The kobold constable aimed his cane at one of the topmost cultists at the top of the stairs and shot a bolt of fire against them. This wasn't exactly procedure, but he figured this wasn't the moment to be a stickler for protocol. Cultists rarely listened to reason.

Procz hits one target at AC 20 for 6 fire damage.

Vecaal was pleased with he hiding spot he'd chosen and let out a soft hiss of satisfaction when Crajeon futilely engaged the cultists and drew their attention away from any but Baern and the dragon construct.  Summoning his energies, the Dragonborn picked an exposed flank and let two daggers fly, each a smoky blur with flecks of gold.  Despite his excellent positioning only one of the conjured blades seemed to penetrate, causing an angry crease to form across Vecaal's snout.

OOC:
Attach with Psychic Blades (attack and bonus actions).  One hit, total 14 dmg.

08:12, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 11 using 2d20+5, dropping the lowest dice only.  Attack (advantage).  Assume miss >:(
08:13, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 24 using 2d20+5, dropping the lowest dice only.  Attack (advantage).
08:15, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 6 using 1d4+3.  Damage.
08:15, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 8 using 2d6.  Sneak Attack dmg.

"Gentlefolk."

Kreo's hand ignited as he tipped his horned head and threw his own fire bolt to follow Procz's.

OOC: attack roll 25, crit for 8 damage total

He then tried to move out of the way of any of his more close at hand allies.

A whole lot of cultists rushed up from below, only to run headlong into a whole lot of fire.  She had to admire Crajeon's grit jumping into the fray with those injuries, felling one before being felled himself.  He'd been quite forthcoming with information on this cult and on how to commandeer the clockwork dragon as well...  She hated to admit it, but he was alright.  Verajeon grumbled to herself in her own voice, "Flaming pits... Fine."

From behind the cover of some rusted-out machinery, Verajeon bellowed in the firbolg's voice, "Look at these twits attacking my mirror image!  You lads have at him while I'm back here laughing.  HA HA HA!"  That was probably a tad theatrical for the firbolg, but the words carried magic both to revive Crajeon and instill doubt in the cultists.  If they believed the ruse and decided it wasn't worth targeting the angry blue warrior carving them up, all the better!

---

• Bonus action Healing Word on Crajeon, healing 6 HP
• Cast Vicious Mockery on a cultist who seems likely to survive to take a swing, or if all are dead ready for the next one to appear.  DC 14 Wis save or take 2 psychic damage and disadvantage on next attack roll before end of its next turn

Active Effects

• d6 Bardic Inspiration on Procz (<10 mins remaining) "...the creature can roll the die and add the number rolled to one ability check, attack roll, or saving throw it makes."
• Disguise Self to look like Crajeon (<1 hour remaining)
• Partial cover from previous 12 Survival check

17:07, Today: Veracity rolled 2 using 1d4.  Vicious Mockery.
17:07, Today: Veracity rolled 6 using 1d4+4.  Healing Word.

The factory floor still radiated back the heat of the blast in waves as Baern burst free of the dragon's legs and rushed the head of the stairs with Bessie at the ready. Reaching the unfortunate vanguard he swung the pipewrench with enough force to shatter a femur.

Effects: Rage (round 1), Reckless, Divine Fury
Bonus: Rage
Move to engage (35' walking speed)
Attack: Critical hit for 26 damage

quote:

Divine Fury
While you’re raging, the first creature you hit on each of your turns with a weapon attack takes 1d6 +2 radiant damage.

09:33, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 26 using 2d10+4+2+2d6+2.  Damage.

09:32, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 26 using 2d20+6, dropping the lowest dice only.  Attack (reckless).

Witnessing the angry mob take down their new ally Crajeon "Is he really an ally? Probably best not to dwell on that right now.", Frack realized things were going to get ugly. He charged into action. Light swelled from his scimitar as he swung wildly (and fruitlessly) into those surrounding the fallen firbolg.

22:41, Today: Frack rolled 11 using 1d20+9.  Scimitar (currently sacred) vs. cultist.

The dragon's flames ripped through the swarming cultists, and though some seemed more susceptible to it than others, none were left unscathed. By the time the party finished firing and swinging on them, three had been cut down and three still stood, four more emerging from the stairs to join them.

Veracity's magic got Crajeon back on his feet for him to get one good swing in before his former fellow cultists burned him down again. He did, at least, serve to distract them from attacking any of the others.

Then a more intimidating figure emerged, floating up through a hole in the floor toward the center of the factory. Judging by his mask, which featured the interlocked heads of five chromatic dragons, and generally intimidating aura, there was little doubt this was the Dragonfather.

"Such arrogance, to meddle in the affairs of dragons." As he laughed, levitating, the head of the red dragon on his mask twisted and writhed, emitting three quick bursts of fire from its open mouth.

Then the black head turned to face the clockwork dragon, and Baern felt a tug as the Dragonfather attempted to seize control of it.

Veracity: Crit for 14 fire damage
Frack: 21 to hit for 6 fire damage
Vecaal: Miss

Baern: DC 11 Tinkering(Cha) check to maintain control of the dragon. You can add your Tinker's Tools proficiency and your Cha modifier to the roll.

Apologies, I misremembered the rules for cover earlier. Those who rolled an 18 or better have 3/4 cover, not full cover. You can still be targeted by attacks. Wasn't relevant here, as the attack missed Vecaal anyway, but wanted to clarify that.

Crajeon is down again.

There are seven regular cultists on the factory floor right now, three injured and four not. Frack and Baern are in melee range of them. They can all be hit by an AoE effect, but it would hit Frack, Baern, and Crajeon as well.

The Dragonfather is levitating in the center of the factory, out of range of melee attacks but still targetable by any ranged attacks.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:13, Sat 21 Oct 2023.

"Ain't no dragons here, mate," Baern quipped. "Let me show you..."

"Gut the flying one, luv!" he ordered the automaton, indicating the levitating Dragonfather with the length of his wrench. As soon as it seemed the construct understood, Baern turned and leveled another crushing blow of his bludgeon against the belligerent knees edging in around him from all sides.

Tinkering check 18 to maintain control

Effects: Rage (round 2), Reckless, Divine Fury
Bonus: New command -> attack Dragonfather
Attack: Hits AC 23 for 14 damage targeting a cultist

12:00, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 14 using 1d10+4+2+1d6+2.  Damage.
12:00, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 23 using 2d20+6, dropping the lowest dice only.  Attack.
11:58, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 18 using 2d20+2, dropping the lowest dice only.  Tinkering (Charisma), Gearlord's Blessing.

Kreo threw a firebolt at the cultist who'd downed Crajeon and then tapped his shield, a holy word leaving his lips as he prayed, investing their new friend with the strength of the people.

OOC: attack roll 11, damage 10, healing word automatically does max on a downed target so 11hp back

Vecaal barked a laugh at the purported Dragonfather.  "You took the words right out of my mouth," he shot back, sneering at the pretender floating above them.

As soon as Baern directed the construct to attack the loudmouthed leader, Vecaal joined in with his conjured blades.  Two more of the smoky daggers flew out from his vantage, but his aim was only true on the first, which struck the Dragonfather solidly in the torso.

OOC:
Attack and bonus action for psychic blades.  Sneak attack applies with clockwork dragon threatening (per Baern's command).  One hit for 13 dmg total.

13:37, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 19 using 1d20+5.  Attack. Hit.
13:37, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 7 using 1d20+5.  Attack. Miss.
13:38, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 8 using 1d6+3.  Damage.
13:38, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 5 using 2d6.  Sneak Attack dmg.

They'd just given the cultists quite a bad time trying to get up those stairs, but in proper fanatical form they just kept coming.  After the first wave there emerged an imposing figure in a colorful dragon mask, levitating up out of a hole in the ground.  Verajeon watched the figure ascend, then called out in Crajeon's voice, "Arrogance?  You're the one so pretentious as to call yourself the Dragonfather."

She then added in a voice laced with compulsive magic, "How about you Descend."

---

• 14 fire damage resisted down to 7
• Bonus action Unsettling Words to expend a Bardic Inspiration to make Dragonfather subtract a d6 from his next saving throw
  • 11:27, Today: Veracity rolled 5 using 1d6.  Unsettling Words.
• Cast Command: DESCEND on the Dragonfather!  DC 14 Wisdom save (his roll penalized by 5) or on his next turn he moves down to the ground and ends his turn

Active Effects

• d6 Bardic Inspiration on Procz (<10 mins remaining) "...the creature can roll the die and add the number rolled to one ability check, attack roll, or saving throw it makes."
• Disguise Self to look like Crajeon (<1 hour remaining)
• Three-quarters cover from previous 12 Survival check

Seeing one of the Crajeons rise and then fall again, Frack worried that he may need help. And he wasn't sure, but that might be the Crajeon who really isn't Crajeon, but the nice tiefling who sometimes says nice things about me. Whoever it was, Frack was determined to lend aid and this time, his radiant scimitar did just that.

OOC: Assuming Frack isn't within 5 feet of Crajeon, he will move over there, utilizing the goblin's ability to nimble escape as a bonus action.

Bonus action: nimble escape (disengage from current melee).
Move: to within 5 feet of Crajeon.
Action: attack nearest cultist (hits AC26 for 8 slashing damage).
Reaction: Intercept attack on Crajeon for -8 damage (if necessary).

22:39, Today: Frack rolled 26 using 1d20+9.  Scimitar (currently sacred) vs. cultist.
22:40, Today: Frack rolled 8 using 1d6+4.  Slashing damage.
22:41, Today: Frack rolled 8 using 1d10+2.  Intercept attack on Crajeon if necessary.

Procz could feel (and hear) his heart pounding in his chest. Fortunately, the coughing fits did not seize him at the moment. He watched the Dragonfather appear, and figured it was prudent to focus his efforts on that target.

Following a quick incantation, an orb appeared in his hand, which he hurled at the figure. It promptly exploded in a big splash of acid.

Hits Dragonfather at AC 23 with Chromatic Orb for 20 acid damage.

Baern bludgeoned the nearest cultist, who collapsed.

Kreo's attack missed its mark, but her more important healing magic got Crajeon back on his feet, where he immediately resumed his rampage against the former allies who'd left him for dead.

Frack's attack finished what Crajeon started.

The remaining cultists largely focused their assault on Crajeon, who evaded the worst of it with his resistance to fire damage and so stayed on his feet. Only one chose to fire on Baern instead. Two more emerged from the stairwell, ready to join the fight.

Meanwhile, Vecaal's psychic blades and Procz's acidic orb assailed the floating Dragonfather, who a moment later was no longer floating as Veracity's silver tongue beckoned him to the ground.

"A dragon fears nothing," he proclaimed, as if descending had been his own idea all along. "You are but a biting fly before the grand plans of Tiamat. You shall be swatted away as easily."

Fire flew from the mouth of the red dragon on his mask, threatening to engulf Veracity and Vecaal.

Veracity and Vecaal: You take 14 fire damage. A DC 15 Dex save will halve that. Remember that your cover may grant you +2 (half cover) or +5 (3/4 cover) to the save.

Baern: DC 12 Dex save or you take 5 fire damage.

Dragonfather is now on the ground so can be attacked by melee, but that will require moving to reach him so could provoke OAs if you're currently engaged with the cultists.

There is one wounded cultist and six fresh ones on the factory floor, with more still pouring up the stairs.

Baern wound up and blasted another cultist with a punishing swing of his pipewrench. Having received no new instructions the dragon construct continued to lash and bite at the Dragonfather, now well in reach of the rest of the party on the factory floor.

Dex save 6 (failed)
Rage (round 3), Reckless
Attack hits AC 20 for 18 damage

Construct continues to attack Dragonfather (no new command)

13:22, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 18 using 1d10+4+2+1d6+2.  Damage.

13:22, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 20 using 2d20+6, dropping the lowest dice only.  Attack.

13:21, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 6 using 2d20+2, dropping the lowest dice only.  Dex save.

Pointing at the dragonfather, Kreo smiled

"Fear this then."

A swirl of starlight formed across his hand and then burst towards the dragonfather, striking at him

OOC: attack roll 21, damage 22 radiant, attacks against him have advantage until my next turn

Watching the destruction around him, Kreo said a small prayer for any fallen and motioned in their direction

OOC: bonus action spare the dying on a dying person within 30ft if any exist, keep the enemies alive if I can but things happen

"I might worry, if you were a dragon," Vecaal continued the repartee, ducking the worst of the fire that billowed toward him.  The flames still licked at one shoulder, and he felt the stinging burn along his dingy golden scales. Not a dragon, but still with enough tricks to warrant concern.

The dragonborn's eyes lit up when Kreo cast the starlight spell, and he quickly followed up with two more smoky daggers that hurtled toward the cult leader.  Again the leader's defences partially stymied Vecaal's efforts, even with Kreo's magic in place.  If the Dragonborn weren't so self-confident he might begin to believe some of their enemy's boasts.

OOC:
20:57, Yesterday: Vecaal Alifras rolled 29 using 1d20+10.  DEX Save.  Take 7 dmg.

Attack and bonus action for psychic blades.  Sneak attack applies with clockwork dragon threatening (per Baern's command).  One hit for 13 dmg total.

21:12, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 10 using 2d20+5, dropping the lowest dice only.  Attack (advantage).  Presume miss.
21:12, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 17 using 2d20+5, dropping the lowest dice only.  Attack (advantage). Presume hit.
21:14, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 6 using 1d4+3.  Damage.
21:13, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 7 using 2d6.  Sneak attack dmg.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:59, Thu 26 Oct 2023.

The Dragonfather's flames washed over the hulking, rusted-out machinery and barely singed Verajeon hiding behind it.  The self-important cult leader's taunt got a rumbling laugh from the false firbolg, who bellowed back, "If your plan attracts flies, Dragon-dad, take that as a sure sign that the plan is shite!"

Having noted that the fancy five-dragon mask seemed to be the source of the Dragonfather's flaming barrage, Veracity got a brilliant idea.  Verajeon called out a magical compulsion, "Hey, Dragon-dad!  How about you Unmask."

---

Reminder that Command forces the target to spend their full turn doing the thing, meaning they don't get to do anything else!

• Dex save succeeds with a 26!  14 fire halved to 7 then resisted to 3
  • 13:57, Today: Veracity rolled 26 using 1d20+6.  Dex save.
• Cast Command: UNMASK on the Dragonfather.  DC 14 Wisdom save or on his next turn he follows the command (unless it's directly harmful to him) and ends his turn

Active Effects

• d6 Bardic Inspiration on Procz (<10 mins remaining) "...the creature can roll the die and add the number rolled to one ability check, attack roll, or saving throw it makes."
• Disguise Self to look like Crajeon (<1 hour remaining)
• Three-quarters cover from previous 12 Survival check

Frack continued to fight alongside Crajeon, using his shield to defend the firbolg as well as himself. Had he not been fending off multiple cultists, Frack would've pondered the wisdom of defending someone who a few weeks ago tried killing him. As it was, he had enough to worry about.


OOC: Frack will stay in place and try to hold the onrush of cultists at bay while the rest of you hopefully shut up the flapping gums of the DragonDad!

Action: Scimitar vs. cultist (+3 due to sacred weapon): Hit AC19 for 10 slashing damage.
Reaction: Intercept attack against Crajeon (or Baern if he's also within 5 feet) for -4 damage.

21:58, Today: Frack rolled 19 using 1d20+9.  Scimitar (currently sacred) vs. cultist.
21:59, Today: Frack rolled 10 using 1d6+4.  Damage.
22:00, Today: Frack rolled 4 using 1d10+2.  Intercept attack on Crajeon (if needed).

Crajeon wounded one cultist, while the combined efforts of Baern and Frack cut down another, but two more emerged to take his place. Without the dragon's breath, it would be difficult to stem the tide of cultists.

Kreo stabilized one of the dying cultists. Perhaps they would prove useful, later.

Teetch, claws, blades, magic, and magical blades continued tearing into the Dragonfather, shaking his once-confident demeanor. "Tiamat will not forsake her chosen son!" he declared, seeking to convince himself as much as anyone.

Shaking off Veracity's command, he rose into the air. The green head on his mask turned to face the tiefling-turned-firbolg, and its eyes glowed yellow.

A figure appeared before her, tall and lanky, with a long grey overcoat, a black tophat, and a face of tarnished brass. "Up you go," it declared as its metallic hands sought to seize her shoulders. (No one else actually sees this, just including the description for the players' sake).

"Come now," the Dragonfather ordered the clockwork dragon as the eyes on black head of his mask bore into the construct. "You serve Tiamat, not these weaklings."

"The gnome!" he instructed his followers as he retreated. "Stop the gnome!"

Dragonfather is now 60' off the ground, so ranged attacks only on him. He seems ready to fly up out of the collapsed ceiling of the factory and hoping to take the dragon with him.

Baern: DC 22 Tinker's Tools (Cha) check to maintain control of the dragon. I accounted for the dragon's attack last round (it crit!) and also this round. If you make the check, it will also get an Opportunity Attack on the retreating Dragonfather.

Also, the cultists are focusing fire on you. You'll need to make eight DC 12 Dex saves, taking 1d6 damage for each failure. You can reduce the total by 4 thanks to Frack.

Veracity: DC 15 Int save or you take 1 psychic damage and are convinced the illusion is real.

Dragonfather made the save on Command this round. Sorry I messed it up again last round. FWIW he would have used a legendary resistance if I'd remembered the full effect of the spell. I also forgot to have him contest Baern's control of the dragon, so he did lose arguably the most important part of this turn, albeit for unrelated reasons (or maybe I was subconsciously repenting!).

Procz: I didn't want to burn a spell slot on your behalf, but I also didn't want to waste your turn on a cantrip if you would have done something different. So, you can take two actions this round.

"Which gnome?" Baern called back cheekily. "Oh you mean me! Hard luck, old man! She don't take orders from you no more!"

The cultists edged him in on most sides now and it was everything Baern could do to keep out of the way of their spitting flames. Baern thought he'd managed to evade the worst of it when he turned just in time to singe off his eyebrows - least he would have if he had any hair to speak of, and if Frack hadn't got his shield up just in the nick of time!

"Thanks, mate," Baern acknowledged in relief, before grabbing the plucky goblin by the collar. "Time to haul ass. Keep your head down and run!"

Crajeon would have to figure things out for himself. He had said not to worry.

"Come on, luv!" he shouted for the dragon's attention, as soon as they were clear of the throng. "Light 'em up!"

Tinker Check 25 spending Vera's last bardic die!
The dragon will take an attack of opportunity, although I presume you roll that.

Rage round 3
Action: Disengage, dragging Frack away if possible
Bonus: Redirect dragon construct to breath fire on the cultists at the top of the stairs

Baern succeeds on 7 out of 8 dex saves, and Frack spares him the last damage die.

20:54, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 5 using 1d6.  Bardic Die.
11:50, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 2 using 1d6.  Damage.
11:49, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 18,16,22,18,14,7,13,15 using 2d20+2,2d20+2,2d20+2,2d20+2,2d20+2,2d20+2,2d20+2,2d20+2, dropping the lowest dice only.  Dex save (Danger sense) x8.
11:19, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 20 using 2d20+2, dropping the lowest dice only.  Tinkering (Charisma), Gearlord's Blessing.

Frack held his ground for a moment longer after Baern made his plead to retreat. The goblin was determined to help Crajeon (or was it Crajeon's twin brother? or Vera?) for as long as possible.
With one eye on the mechanical dragon, Frack made a futile swing before at the cultist before him. "Time to go," he called to the Firbolg as he slipped out of combat and retreated as fast as his legs would carry him.

OOC: Not sure how events are exactly ordered, but if possible, Frack would like to attack another cultist and stay by Crajeon long enough to intercept one more attack before running for it. As a goblin, he can disengage as a bonus action, so depending on order of events (if Bessie goes before the cultists, then Frack won't be able to intercept anything prior to the whole area going up in flames, anyway). If it looks like flames are coming, he will disengage and retreat if he can, but I understand if it's not possible to split those hairs and he has to take fire damage (does chicken wire melt?)!

Action: Final attack against cultist.
Reaction: Intercept 6 pts of damage vs. Crajeon (if he's within 5').
Bonus Action: Nimble escape (disengage).
Move: Retreat toward dragon (hopefully under the line of fire).

22:10, Today: Frack rolled 11 using 1d20+9.  Scimitar (currently sacred) vs. cultist... only if time permits!
22:11, Today: Frack rolled 6 using 1d10+2.  Intercept attack on Crajeon (if needed...and only if time permits).).

Procz hesitated for a moment, then fired a spell at the Dragonfather from behind his little cover. The cold ray exploded in a layer of frost, but the kobold wasn't sure he hit the figure well, if at all.

Ray of Frost hits AC 16 for 2 damage. Spent the Bardic Inspiration from Vera.

There were so many cultists and it seemed Baern was struggling to control the contraption. Retreat did indeed seem advisable. Procz rode out of his cover and layered a breath of poison over the cultists, like the dragons of old.

Cast Dragon's Breath over as many cultists as possible for 15 Poison damage. Dex save DC 14 for half.

He then spurred Zúm to haul ass as Baern put it.

Zúm Dashes. I'll use some of that movement to get closer before retreating, if that means I can catch more cultists in my Breath spell.

Kreo moved back, another tendril of magic trying to save a fallen person (be they friend or foe) before he gathered another radiant bolt and flung it, wider, at the dragon father.

OOC: spare the dying with my bonus action on someone in 30ft then guiding bolt (attack roll 7 with 19 damage) and move back 35ft
This message was last edited by the player at 01:58, Thu 02 Nov 2023.

Vecaal was still crouched amongst the equipment and broken stone that gave him cover, outside the area where the dragon had previously incinerated the overly eager cultists that had first surged up the stairs.  So he felt secure enough to stay put despite the change in tactics by the others.  Besides, the Dragonborn was still focused on the cult leader.  Vecaal wanted to shut him up, for good.

To that end he continued to rely on his conjured daggers, tossing the shadowy blades after the Dragonfather as he rose toward the ceiling.  Perhaps it was the repetitions, but he finally was getting the range with his throws and a slithery smile crawled across Vecaal's face.

OOC:
If dragon still threatens the Dragonfather (granting sneak attack), then attack action and bonus action to hurl psychic blades.
If dragon is not threatening, then use bonus action for Steady Aim to grant advantage and thus sneak attack.
Stay put in cover.

Total is 11 dmg if bonus action required for Steady Aim, or 16 dmg if both attacks are made.

10:30, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 24 using 1d20+5.  Attack.
10:31, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 7 using 1d6+3.  Damage.
10:31, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 4 using 2d6.  Sneak Attack dmg.

10:32, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 18 using 1d20+5.  Attack.
10:32, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 5 using 1d4+3.  Damage.

The yellow-glowing eyes of Dragonfather's mask seemed to see straight through Veracity's illusory disguise, boring into her mind...

Then, she was back on the streets of the Slopes, gazing up at the towering shadow in a top hat and the smokestacks looming behind.  She was small again, shoeless and garbed rags, covered in scrapes, bruises, and soot.  The command came in a metallic voice that haunted her nightmares, "Up you go."  Terror seized her, tears carving paths down soot-smudged cheeks.  Memories of being trapped in cramped, smoky flues as hot as ovens.  So hard to breath, but no escape until the work was finished.

Onlookers saw the illusory disguise fall away from Veracity, who stood frozen with a stricken expression, staring at nothing.  Tears gathered in amethyst eyes as she rasped in a low voice, "No..."  The top-hatted shadow tilted his head and hissed dangerously, "What did you say?"  Veracity flinched, fists clenched tight and quavering with fear.

"NO!  Never again!"  Her scream banished the false vision and returned her to reality, here and now in the abandoned island factory and the battle against the Descendants.  Veracity fixed a hateful glare on the Dragonfather and shouted, "I'll have your scaly berries for that, you absolute bastard!"  Her voice carried subliminal notes of fear and distress that threatened to overwhelm the Dragonfather's mind!

---

• Int save succeeds with a 17!
  • 13:45, Today: Veracity rolled 17 using 1d20+3.  Int save.
• Drop Disguise Self illusion
• Cast Dissonant Whispers (1/day cast via feat) on the Dragonfather.  DC 14 Wisdom save or take 12 psychic damage and must use his reaction to move as far as his speed allows away from me.  Half damage and no forced movement on a save.

Active Effects

• Disguise Self to look like Crajeon (<1 hour remaining)
• Three-quarters cover from previous 12 Survival check

This message was last edited by the player at 00:19, Fri 03 Nov 2023.

Procz's dragon breath dropped the wounded cultist and put a hurting on the others. Six more emerged from the stairwell just in time to see their leader's demise.

It had seemed, for a moment, the Dragonfather might succeed. He was locked in a contest off wills with both Baern and Veracity, one for control of the clockwork dragon, one for control of her mind itself. But in the end, the tiefling threw him off, and as she struck back at him, he lost what brief control he'd held over the construct. At Baern's command, it snatched him out of the air and swallowed the cult leader into its mechanical stomach.

The dragon flooded them with fire, and while they were not all equally vulnerable to it, none enjoyed the sensation of being burned alive. In a last-ditch effort to free the beast, they once again threw all their effort into felling the gnome who commanded it.

Baern: We'll need eleven DC 12 Dex saves this time, taking 1d6 damage for each failure. You can reduce the total by 6 thanks to Frack.

The dragonfather is no more, so I redirected attacks to the cultists.

Baern hit the floor in an effort to evade the return volley. The majority of the bolts passed harmlessly over his head, but a few, either poorly aimed to begin with or anticipating his ploy caught him on the way down.

"Kill the bastards!" he shouted, hauling himself back up and glaring at the mob of cultists atop the stairs.
 
Bonus: Direct construct to engage cultist at the top of the stairs.

Baern fails 3 of 11 saves, taking 6 damage total after Frack's mitigation. Current hp total 29/45.

11:58, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 6 using 3d6-6.  Damage.

11:57, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 19,16,6,22,22,22,9,21,11,12,19 using 2d20+2,2d20+2,2d20+2,2d20+2,2d20+2,2d20+2,2d20+2,2d20+2,2d20+2,2d20+2,2d20+2, dropping the lowest dice only.  Dex save (Danger sense) x11.

Procz was greatly impressed with how tough Baern was. They were really polar opposites, although there were some overlapping sets of skills. The others were quite impressive as well. The kobold wondered what they could have accomplished on the right side of the law. Maybe their current common purpose was the next best thing.

As the Dragonfather fell, Procz halted his retreat. He remained at the rear of their company, where he launched a fiery spell with great range at one of the remaining cultists.

Firebolt hits AC 13 for 10 fire damage.

Scrambling to his feet, Baern's seized what appeared to be an assembly of equal length pipe segments from off his belt. The contraption was a Baz Cinderhorn special. With the touch of a latch and a flick of his wrist the segments came aligned and locked in place. Though it lacked durability, for a single toss it was an effective missile and was readily overlooked by the constabulary. It certainly didn't 'look' like a weapon until it was primed.

"You want me?" he taunted the assembled cultists atop the stairs. Baern heaved the javelin and watched with satisfaction as it buried itself in one of the cultist's chests. Then he took off along the factory floor, dodging in between the derelict machinery.

"Come and find me!"

Attack with Javlin, hitting AC 16 for 7 damage.
23 survival to take cover (natural 20).

20:40, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 7 using 1d6+4.  Damage.
20:40, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 16 using 1d20+6.  Attack.
20:39, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 23 using 1d20+3.  Survival.

Frack ducked as flames from the clockwork dragon engulfed the area where he stood only moments before. Baern, still the focus of the enemy attacks, had run in a different direction and there was no sign of either of the Crajeons amid the smoke, so the goblin fell back on his default plan: find Procz and stand by him!

He rushed over to the constable and readied his shield against the cultists, but at the same time, keeping one eye on Zum, who he still figured might butt him in the rear if he wasn't watching. "What do we do now? Those cultists keep coming and coming!"

Move alongside Procz.
Reaction: Intercept attack against Procz (9hp).
22:06, Today: Frack rolled 9 using 1d10+2.  Intercept attack on Procz (if necessary).

Kreo aimed for one of the cultists with fire welling up in his hand, throwing the bolt at their enemy to try to thin the crowd a bit

OOC: just a 12 to hit, 4 fire damage

Veracity's glower at the Dragonfather changed to a look of surprise when the mechanical dragon suddenly snapped him up in its metallic maw and swallowed him whole!  This raised a number of questions about clockwork dragon digestion, but those would have to wait.  The salient point at this moment was that the Dragonfather was quite dead, and that was a win.  She remarked, "What a deliciously ironic death."

Baern was more tenacious than she'd have given him credit for, as she watched him withstand a veritable barrage of fire from the cultists still swarming up from below.  Frack the Little Hero was doing his part in this miraculous stand, deflecting flames with his shield.  Meanwhile the others were dropping cultists like so many gnats.  This was going rather better than it had any right to, considering how outnumbered they'd been.

Veracity waited for the others to lay into the cultists, then addressed the survivors in a voice that sapped their will to fight, "Your chosen son is gone, and his schemes are just as ruined as this factory.  Face it, boys.  You're finished."

---

• Ready an action to trigger after the rest of the crew has acted:
  • Cast Bane with a 2nd level slot on the 4 closest cultists that survive this round.  DC 14 Charisma save or they must subtract 1d4 from all attacks and saves for 1 minute (concentration)

Active Effects

• Concentrating on Bane (1 min remaining)
• Three-quarters cover from previous 12 Survival check

"Apparently a dragon should fear its own," Vecaal snickered to himself after the Dragonfather was swallowed whole by the metallic construct.  He was pleased the blowhard had finally been shut up, allowing the rest of them to get on with business.  The business of finishing off this little cult.

Having given up the secrecy of his vantage already, Vecaal spied a new hiding place from which to ply his smoky blades.  He quickly slithered through the ruined machinery and damaged steel superstructure until he reached the spot, which offered a different angle at the cultists while still avoiding the splash of the dragon's breath.

From there he sent two more daggers slicing toward a cultist near Crajeon, looking to cull their numbers one at a time.

OOC:
Move to new 3/4 cover
14:25, Yesterday: Vecaal Alifras rolled 20 using 1d20+2.  Survival (for cover).

Attack and Bonus actions for psychic blade attacks.  Hit once for 34 dmg!
11:18, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 25 using 1d20+5.  Attack.  Crit!
11:20, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 15 using 2d6+3.  Crit Damage.
11:24, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 19 using 4d6.  Crit Sneak Attack Damage.
11:24, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 10 using 1d20+5.  Attack. Miss.

Another wave of flame washed over the cultists, followed by magic and blades from the strangers who'd disrupted their meeting, commandeered their dragon, and killed their leader. As their companions fell dead around them, those who still stood began to question whether they still enjoyed Tiamat's blessing. Did not the intruders now command the dragon? Were they themselves not in danger of incineration from its kerosene breath? Perhaps the time to repent was at hand.

The six who still stood exchanged looks, then fell to their knees. "Spare us, Dark Lady!" they beseeched. "If the dragon has chosen a new master, then so shall we."

Those who remained in the basement had not seen the devastation first hand and so were not so compliant. They ceased spilling from the stairwell and presumably made to hide below. If Crajeon was to be believed, there was no way out save swimming or flying.

The raging firbolg snorted and raised his axe. "You lot showed me no such mercy."

Six cultists are surrendering. Some unknown number remain below. Of the fallen cultists, Kreo has stabilized three.

Baern poked his head out from behind a bulkhead.

"What, that's it then?" he asked. "Fun's over?"

He stepped forward to where he could comfortably lay a hand on the metallic scales of the clockwork dragon, and ran his fingers along the length of its tail.

[What do you say, Vera?] he asked, falling back on Vecaal's whispers. [Take the win?]

Across the psychic whispers, Veracity cooed, [The win is ours already, darling.  We'll surely take it.  Have our new clockwork companion cover the stairs while I chat them up.]

Veracity spoke up, "The only Dark Lady you lot have to worry about right now, is me."  She sauntered out from behind the rusted hulk of machinery, donning a minor illusion to deepen the shadows around her.  Her face was shrouded beneath the brim of her tricorn hat, giving a sinister impression as she deftly twirled a twin-barrel flintlock palm pistol.  She paced in front of the kneeling cultists, regarding them with imperious disdain.  Vera stopped before them and caught the spinning pistol, aiming it casually upward near a shoulder as she addressed the surrendering cultists, "So, who among you would like to please your new masters by telling us exactly what occasion brought you to this dismal isle?  What was the DragonFeeder planning, hmm?"

She made a show of loudly cocking the dual hammers of the flintlock pistol, then added casually, "Out with it, now.  If you're informative then perhaps I'll talk this big fellow out of making cultist cutlets."  Veracity turned Crajeon a wink paired with a wry smirk.

---

Intimidation!:

• 02:58, Today: Veracity rolled 13 using 1d20+5.  Intimidation.

One of the kneeling cultists raised his head and lowered his hood, revealing the haggard features of an aged dwarf. "Cutlets!" he exclaimed with an exaggerated laugh. "That's a good one." When the shadows on Veracity's face refused to laugh, he adjusted his tone.

"Right. The plan. There are some... some relics, like. From the days of the dragons. The Dragonfeeder..." He tried again to score sympathy by leaning into the tiefling's joke, growing more nervous after he failed a second time. "He wanted to plunder it. Said we had to strike fast. Crock Cognelius was onto it as well, and we had to get to it first, 'fore all the good stuff ended up in the old man's library.

We was supposed to take this dragon here to the Lower Slopes. No one guarding it but a couple o' scavengers. Dragonfather said they didn't even know what they had.

I- we!" he looked to his fellow cultists for support, but they all had their eyes on the ground and hoods pulled up over their heads to hide their shame. "We could come with you. 'case you need back up, like. Not that you don't seem capable. Just... if we could be useful... well, I anyway... I am at your service, my Lady."

Anyone who would like to can roll a History check to see whether they recognize this dwarf. Coglinton is not a small place, but you've all been a part of its fabric your entire lives, so there's always a chance you'll recognize someone.

The dragon approached on sinuous metal legs, talons tapping rhythmically against the hard surface of the factory floor until it came to a rest alongside Vera and sat back on its haunches expectantly.

12:32, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 5 using 1d20-1.  History.

Doesn't seem like you need it but consider taking advantage on any future intimidation check.

Baern doesn't have a clue who the dwarf is.

Vecaal remained in his new hidey-hole, alert to any of those still below trying to use the 'surrender' of some of their fellow cultists as a distraction.  He tasted the air regularly, but only the sweat and fear of the captured rose above the general stench of the rusted out islet.

His lips drew back as Vera went to work, Vecaal admiring her effectiveness in converting those on their knees.  Not that the dragonborn would trust them even as far as he could throw them.  A body that turned on one leader after a show of strength would just as easily turn on another.  Didn't mean they couldn't be useful though.  He tried to place the dwarf doing all the talking and though he seemed vaguely familiar, details wouldn't come.  Probably as unreliable as the rest, he imagined.

OOC:
13:55, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 12 using 1d20.  History.  Guessing not enough.

Frack shivered at the sight of Vera's shadowy face. He hadn't previously noticed how sinister she looked, although he wondered now how he could've possibly missed it. He was glad Procz was there. It reassured him that his choice of allies was acceptable, even if a bit short of law-abiding. I mean, if I can't trust Procz's judgement, then who can I trust?

The dwarf who spoke to Vera was familiar to Frack, but he couldn't think of how. Maybe a junk dealer down on the slopes or another salvager. He wondered if the dwarf would recognize him.


OOC: Frack rolled so low on history that he's convinced himself that he knows this dwarf, but in reality they've never met.
02:37, Today: Frack rolled 6 using 1d20-1.  HIstory. Who's that dwarf?

Procz mind was far too occupied with what was being said to pay attention to the dwarf's face and any connections it might bring to past events. He rode up to Veracity's side and listened; concentrating on not going into a coughing fit; which might ruin her intimidating presence.

"I some preliminary questions." said Procz. "Firstly, can you identify the man behind the mask? What was the Dragonfather's real name? Furthermore, did he get orders from someone? Did you get the impression the Dragonfather was atop the food chain, so to speak?" Procz suspected it could be hard to identify the charred remains in the construct dragon's belly.

Procz has Keen Mind and +6 History, so my natural 1 brings me up to 7...

"Well, isn't that positively fascinating.  If it's a race to the prize, one wonders why you lot took the time to putter a miserly flotilla out to this old island?  Surely you didn't need everybody to fetch this beauty."  She hooked a thumb at the clockwork dragon looming menacingly behind her, awaiting Baern's next command.  "How'd you plan to outrace Crock, putting yourselves behind like that?"


"Lower Slopes, good good.  Pray tell, where specifically in the Slopes is this treasury hidden?  Who are the scavengers?"  Veracity suspected that it must in J.P.'s turf, because that seemed the only explanation why Crock hadn't moved yet.  As she listened to this answer, Vera conspired across the psychic link to Baern and Vecaal, [Heads up that I'm playing these shitheels for info and to see how they might be useful to us.  Take none of what comes next at face value.  Let our new pals know.]

Continuing her pacing, the shadow-shrouded tiefling asked, "I'm curious... What part was the dragon meant to play in the plundering plan?  Were you expecting to square off against Crock in the Slopes, and demonstrate Tiamat's power?  This beauty wasn't made for subtle work, am I right?"  She gave a comradely chuckle, as if it were a grand idea to conduct a pitched battle in the streets the Sparks called home and leave it a burnt-out ruin.  She stopped to regard the dwarf and put on a show of giving serious consideration to his offer of alliance.

Veracity's purple lips curved into a smile and she said, "Hmm.  Now that you mention it, perhaps we could be of use to one another.  Do you speak for what remains of the Descendents, friend?  Here and shoreside?  What could your people bring to this party?"

---

History to see if I recognize this dwarf:

• 17:34, Today: Veracity rolled 18 using 1d20+3.  History.

Deception to play like we're on their side:

• 17:35, Today: Veracity rolled 19 using 1d20+8.  Deception.

Also Insight to gauge whether dwarf-pal is pulling our leg or leaving out anything important (OOF):

• 17:35, Today: Veracity rolled 4 using 1d20.  Insight.

Kreo backed up Veracity's pistol cocking with his own, tilting his horned head this way and that to consider the dwarf and try to see what he could discern

OOC: History 12, Insight 10, so not a lot

Pausing, he scanned over the cultists to see if any were in danger of expiring

OOC: a 10 on Medicine too! Now that hurts, that's a skill I'm actually proficient in!

Frack adjusted his helmet in thought, staring at the dwarf. Linys. That's his name. Linys from the salvage yard. I sold him a giant rat's foot for five coppers. He said he knew a wizard who could use such things. I probably should've held out for a silver, but he seemed pretty fixed on price... Wait a second. Wasn't Linys missing a tooth? This dwarf's got all his. Maybe it isn't Linys. Hmmmm. Yeah. Definitely not Linys. But I wonder how much he would pay for a giant rat's foot.

"Sure... he got orders from Tiamat. Other than that? No way. You'd have to be top of the food chain to earn a mask like that one, wouldn't you?

Speaking of, I'm afraid I can't give you a name or face. That's the point of the masks and hoods. It's all anonymous. Or, used to be," the dwarf added as fiddled sadly with his own fallen hood.

The dwarf again laughed a little too enthusiastically at Veracity's joke. "I can't rightly say. Wasn't my plan. Need to know basis, and all that. Seemed like maybe Crock's people weren't ready to move just yet. Was just the vibe I got. Dragonfather was maybe a little eager to use the dragon, since we got her up and running. Maybe wasn't strictly speaking necessary.

I speak for..." he looked again to the others, who were making a point of not looking back. "Well, myself. Can't say what the others will do. But I'm a loyal soldier. If you have Tiamat's favor now, who am I to gainsay the Dark Lady?"

Vecaal hissed mentally to Vera and Baern through the Whispers, frustrated.  The dwarf was a toady, saying whatever was needed to save his own skin.

[If he doesn't know the 'where', who would?  The Dragonfodder (Vecaal took great humour from Vera's pun) can't be the only person who knew where to go.  I don't believe it.]

The shadowed pirate Veracity crossed her arms as the dwarven cultist rambled.  She idly tapped the twin-barrel flintlock pistol against an elbow, counting off each equivocation, excuse, and confession of ignorance.  It was difficult to tell the difference between lies and the blather of a useless toady.

The tiefling turned a sidelong glance toward Vecaal and psychically whispered, [Dragonfodder!  Bravo, but I resent being out-punned.  At least my audience didn't hear.  I don't believe it either.]  Veracity turned back to the cult spokesman, let out a long-suffering sigh, then said, "Shiver me timbers!  You, my friend, are either admirably tight-lipped or even less competent than I gave you credit for.  Pity."  She paced another few steps, then stopped and asked the cultists as a whole, "Sure that's how you all want to play this?  You lot are already a liability, and now you're giving me not a single, solitary use for you."

Veracity deftly twirled the flintlock around her finger three times, then caught it and announced, "My patience runs thin, so here's how this is gonna go.  I'll ask one question, and the first one to tell me what I want to know gets to go home.  The rest get to burn for Tiamat.  B, if you'd bring our new clockwork companion in closer?"  She called toward Baern, then beckoned the dragon to loom ever closer to ensure the cultists got a good look.  "Last chance.  Ready?"  During the very deliberate pause that followed, a magical whisper reached Procz's ear alone (Message cantrip), *If you'd like to offer an alternative outcome, Constable, feel free to interject.  All I'm after is answers, and don't mind being talked out of a pretense to get them.*

At last, Veracity barked with hard-edged command, "WHERE ARE THE BLOODY RELICS?!"

---

Intimidation with advantage from Baern dragon-assist:

• 21:24, Today: Veracity rolled 24 using 2d20+5, dropping the lowest dice only with rolls of 19,14.  Intimidation (dragonvantage).

This message was last edited by the player at 14:24, Thu 23 Nov 2023.

Veracity's threat cowed the cultists into silence, with even the previously talkative dwarf hanging his head. At last one of them stood, and even before he lowered his hood to reveal an angular face marked by red and gold tattoos, he was recognizable from his size as a goliath. "None of us know. That much should be obvious. The only one who did is in the belly of the dragon now. Though I imagine if you keep threatening, you will eventually convince one of these cowards to serve you up a lie that will stave off his death."

The goliath thumped his chest. "I will not be that coward. But you ask what use are we, so I will give you my thoughts, which are all I have to offer.

Dragonfather wanted to act quickly because he believed Crock Cognelius had a line on the Athenaeum as well. So it seems to me that is where you could find the information you seek."

Kreo: You've stabilized three of the fallen cultists.

Baern watched the exchange, tight lipped and wary.

[Don't think we're getting a better answer than that. They don't know nothin'. Only one who did is inside the dragon. Speak'n of...]

Baern patted the dragon's belly and pointed to a bare spot on the floor. "Cough it up," he demanded.

Bidding the dragon to regurgitate

Baern watched the automaton wretch for a moment before turning to Crajeon. "What's your say in this?" he asked. "They didn't show you no mercy, but you ain't them. What do you want?"

Frack watched nervously as the pirate threatened to shoot whomever didn't answer. This didn't seem to be following the Path to the humble goblin, and he prepared to step in when the goliath thankfully replied, hopefully cooling the pirate from her bloodthirsty threat. As the conversation continued, he noted that Kreo was aiding some of the fallen cultists. Frack decided that was more along the Path than shooting captives, so he joined the satyr with that. Looking for any cultists that might still be alive, he knelt beside them to administer what relief Tyr may bestow upon them.

Frack will Lay on Hands 3 hp to any cultist that may still be breathing. No, he won't be smart enough to disarm them first.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:29, Sun 26 Nov 2023.

Kreo prayed out loud for a moment, focusing his intention as Baern ordered the mechanical dragon to cough up the swallowed foe

OOC: cast guidance on myself, then use Medicine (roll of 18) to help if the coughed up person is in need of saving/can be saved

The firbolg, his rage fading, looked at his former friends with a mixture of pity and contempt. "Too many to kill 'em all," he grumbled. "And, I suppose they weren't all bad. Would have been nice to say something when the Dragonfather made to kill me, but, well, I can't say I would have done any different in their shoes. They're a pious bunch, and I respect that."

Baern nodded as though that settled the matter and turned his back on the cultists to inspect the dragon once again.

"Can't do it, can you girl?" he said with a sigh. "Can't imagine this is the first bloke that got stuck in your gullet though. Ilga must have planned for a way to get them out..."

He started to circle the construct, tapping at likely junctions with the back of his knuckles.

Tinkering check 17 to identify an access panel on the dragon; 20 if Kreo's guidance can be redirected to Baern since 'coughing up' appears to not be an option.

12:04, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 17 using 2d20+1, dropping the lowest dice only.  Tinkering.

Baern, you can identify that there's nothing as simple as an access panel. There's a port into a tank into which kerosene can be poured, but nothing nearly large enough to permit access to a body inside. Two options:

1. You could quickly break the dragon open, in a way that would make putting it back together again a rather expensive and time-consuming proposition;

2. It would take you at least an hour to disassemble it properly and at least another hour (and a fresh Tinker's Tools check) to reassemble.

Still lending what aid he could to fallen descendants, Frack couldn't help but peek at Baern as he rounded the clockwork dragon. He considered how much the mechanical wonder would fetch from the Buyer. He didn't really didn't understand anything bigger than a hundred, but he suspected the dragon's worth as more than that. Perhaps even two one hundreds. Or something that he heard of once when he was young: a thoundsind! Whatever that was, it was a lot.

Baern sighed and pressed his palm against the construct's long, sinuous neck.

"I'm sorry, girl. I don't see how I can take you with us."

Breaking the construct open felt akin to throwing a rock at a stained glass window, but there didn't seem to be anything for it. Leaving the dragon intact in the possession of the cult was not an option, and flying it out of the city was an equally dangerous proposition.

"Gearlord help me," Baern muttered. "Lets get this over with."

Opening up the construct. Baern will also take possession of any critical components to make it harder to repair without the group's involvement.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:19, Mon 04 Dec 2023.

Kreo stayed close by to channel guidance into Baern should he need it, glad he was choosing to wreck something rather than leave a weapon in the Descendants hands

OOC: guidance!

Baern began disassembling the dragon, pocketing several critical - and complicated - components of its engine that stood between him and the contents of his stomach.

Vecaal was the first to notice the glances passing between the remaining cultists. This dragon was the closest thing they had to an avatar of their god upon the Mortal Plane. They had submitted when it appeared that avatar had chosen the interlopers, but now that those interlopers were defiling said avatar - the avatar which had won the interlopers the first round of the battle - they were ready to go out in a blaze of glory to defend their deity.

We're back in combat - or at least, you're about to be on the receiving end of combat.

There's no time for negotiating here. You all notice this a split second before the cultists start casting, just in time to strike first against them, if you so choose. There are six up here (not counting Crajeon, who has so far been loyal to you) and more unaccounted for in the basement.

Everyone gets an action before the cultists launch their attack. The dragon, now disabled, is not available to assist you.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:01, Tue 05 Dec 2023.

The emblem on Kreo's shield glowed as he moved his spellcasting hand, trails of energy forming like rivulets which arced and then burst out

"Let's all pull together here."

Vecaal, Frack and Baern felt the power resting on their shoulders, a guiding hand of the worker which wanted to help them succeed

OOC: Bless on the above. Spell is concentration, up to a minute, as long as I have it going you guys add d4 to saves and attacks

"Oh we're doin' this again, are we?" Baern growled, stepping out from under the bulk of the disabled construct with Bessie gripped tightly in his hands. "Fancy yer'selves luckier this time around? Well lets have a go then..."

For a little man, Baern could move surprisingly quickly and he was upon the nearest cultist before the man could fully get his bearings.

"It didn't have to be this way you daft bellend."

When Bessie left her mark on you, you felt it.

Bonus: Rage
Move to engage
Attack hits AC 25 for 19 damage (before bless)

11:29, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 19 using 1d10+4+2+1d6+2.  Damage.
11:27, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 25 using 2d20+6, dropping the lowest dice only.  Attack.

Vecaal shook his head slightly as the signs began to show in the faces of the cultists they'd interrogated, warning them with sharp teeth and a tongue that dipped in and out to taste their intentions on the air.  But he was no deterrent in the face of their avatar being ravaged.  That was something he had not considered, that a mechanical construct could so ensnare their devotion.  A real dragon he could understand, but this?  This was just...sad.

"No, you stupid, uhhh," he sighed, while not shying away from teaching them the lesson they seemed desperate to ignore.  When Baern surged into the group Vecaal picked one beside the fractious gnome and directed his smoky blades there, hoping to protect Baern from being surrounded.

OOC:
As we had them lined up for questioning, envisioning them still being gathered together roughly.  Attack from distance cultist within 5 feet of Baern, but not the one he is attacking.

Attack action - psychic blade
Bonus action - 2nd psychic blade
Move - resume cover from before
One hit for 12 dmg.

17:10, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 20 using 1d20+5.  Attack. Hit
17:12, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 9 using 1d20+5.  Attack.  Miss
17:12, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 1 using 1d4.  Bless.

17:11, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 6 using 1d6+3.  Damage.
17:11, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 6 using 2d6.  Sneak attack damage.

Die roller remains more fractious than Baern! :)

Frack hadn't the brains of Sprazzle Cognelius, but he didn't need them to recognize a second uprising from the cultists. And all this after he and the Satyr actually helped them! Some thanks for Tyr's blessing!

Frack drew his jagged scimitar and followed the wrench-wielding gnome into the fracas, readying his shield to protect them both. It didn't really look like he needed much protection, but things had a way of changing quickly. That, he knew from experience.

Move adjacent to Baern.
Action: Attack with scimitar - hit AC22 for 6 slashing damage.
Reaction: Intercept attack vs. Bearn if needed.

23:26, Today: Frack rolled 18 using 1d20+6.  Scimitar vs. cultist.
23:26, Today: Frack rolled 4 using 1d4.  Bless.
23:27, Today: Frack rolled 6 using 1d6+4.  Slashing damage.
23:45, Today: Frack rolled 11 using 1d10+2.  Intercept attack on Baern (if necessary).

Procz had been deep in thought contemplating these complicated affairs. He had nodded when it came to the subject of destroying the dragon construct. Although a part of him cherished the ingenuity of it, it was far too dangerous to fall back into nefarious hands. Besides, it did not contain a living spirit, such as his own companion Zúm. And it was not a real dragon. It could have had the same properties and abilities while shaped entirely different.

When the cultists started stirring, the kobold constable realized they were in for another fight. Did they not realize Procz was more of a dragon than this collection of metal and fire? To prove the point, he roared and spewed ice and frost over their attackers like the dragons of old (albeit a very small one).

Move: Close
Bonus: Draconic Cry: Until the start of your next turn, you and your allies have advantage on attack rolls against the enemies that could hear you.
Action: Cast Dragon'S Breath for 13 cold damage on as many cultists as possible without hitting companions. Dex 14 save for half.

A goliath cultist was the only one to answer Veracity's threat to reveal annoying humility that none of them knew the Athenaeum's location.  The tiefling groaned loudly and threw up her hands in exasperation, then resumed pacing.  She grumbled, "So few bones among you lot that I can scarcely justify the kerosene it would take to barbecue."

Veracity looked on as Baern attempted to convince the dragon to spit up the Dragonfather, and was dismayed to hear that it wouldn't be possible.  "We're not leaving without that mask, so do whatever you need, B."  Even more dismaying, they'd need to break the dragon open to get it!  This did provide a solution to the unfortunate reality that they couldn't realistically bring the dragon back to the Slopes without drawing excessive heat, and they couldn't leave it for the cultists.  When they returned she intended to look into dragon hangars so they might return with Ilga to repair the beast and then properly claim her.

It turned out that disassembling the dragon was a blasphemy too far for the pitiful cultists, who made to defend their idol.  Incredulous, she asked the hostile zealots, "Truly?  This is what you mean to die over?  I suppose you do have some bones, then, but still lacking for brains."  The pirate-garbed tiefling stepped back and fixed a severe gaze upon one of the attackers and barked, "Run along, wyrm-wannabe!"  Her voice filled her victim with existential fear and an overwhelming need to flee for dear life!

---

• Move back to put fighty teammates between self and the cultists
• Cast Dissonant Whispers on a cultist that's standing by allies.  DC 14 Wisdom save or take 6 psychic damage and must use reaction to move as far as their speed allows away from me.  Half damage and no forced movement on a save.
  • If the cultist is made to move, it'll provoke opportunity attacks from allies!

19:13, Today: Veracity rolled 6 using 3d6.  Dissonant Whispers.

"Live by the wyrm, die by the wyrm," Crajeon quipped as his murderers fell to Procz's frosty breath. Those who survived the initial burst were quickly cut down by scimitar blade and psychic knife. Two still lived thanks to Kreo's intervention, but they remained unconscious, breathing shallowly on the factory floor.

Baern returned to the work of dismantling the dragon's stomach. With a few pistons cracked and gears bent out of alignment, he was able to reach in and drag out what remained of the Dragonfather. The cult leader was a large man, and only after much grunting and groaning on the gnome's part did he deposit the lifeless body on the floor.

The five chromatic dragons adorning the mask still writhed, their heads twisting to take in the faces of those who had slain the Dark Queen's champion. Anyone wishing to see the Dragonfather's own face would need to lay hands on the mask, which was an intimidating proposition, given the writhing heads.

Baern reached for the mask and tried to slip it off without getting bitten in turn.

"One moment please, Baern." said Procz. "Let me try that with a little arcane trick." He climbed off Zúm and limped closer.

Procz made some quick motions with his hands and started trying to remove that mask off without touching it. "If this doesn't work, I highly recommend using one of your tools. Better not touch the object before we know what it is."

Casting (invisible) Mage Hand.

Baern sat back on his haunches and nodded. ”You do your thing, constable.”

Standing among the bevy of fallen foes, Frack slid his helmet, which had inched forward enough to partially cover his eyes, back into place. He wasn't sure he understood why the cultists gave up their lives on behalf of a mechanical thing, but they did. It bothered him to consider it.

His attention turned to Baern operating on the dragon. Eventually, the Dragonfather, at least what was left of him, was removed from the When he noticed the mask was still moving, in spite of its wearer's death, the hair on the back of his neck stood straight. "Careful," he needlessly warned Procz as he approached. "That mask still looks like a problem."

Procz felt the presence of the Dark Lady only through his mage hand, but he felt it nevertheless. It was awesome in the most literal sense of the word, inspiring both terror at the existence of a Being so much greater than himself but also something like relief. For better or worse, the fate of the city was not in his hands. His own meager contributions to maintaining law and order in Coglinton would, at best, affect a few individuals for a few years. Tiamat existed on a different scale, one where years and individuals were as inconsequential as seconds and gnats to the kobold constable.

She offered him a vision of order that did not rely upon brainless automatons and greedy, corruptible mortals. In this vision, the peoples of Coglinton commuted on trains that were never crowded and always on time, chatting amicably with their neighbors as they made their way to the factories. The constables who walked the streets did so without bluster, smiling to the hard-working people they passed and greeting them by name.

There were no shakedowns or roughings up; their authority was enforced not by back-alley cudgeling but by the beating of wings in the sky, wings of all colors: the black and red and green and white and blue of Tiamat, yes, but also the silver and gold and copper of legend. Procz felt the pull of ancestral kinship with those great creatures, felt a bit of their magnificence stirring in his own tiny heart.

As the vision faded, he was left with a lingering sense of injustice. Nothing he'd been told about dragons of yore was false: they were harsh overlords, capable of great spite and violence. But he'd not been told everything that was true, either. There were truths that had been withheld from him, truths tantalizingly close to being brought to light, just as soon as he discovered the Luminescent Athenaeum.

---

While Procz was consumed by the Dark Lady's vision, the others got their first look at the Dragonfather's face. There was nothing remarkable about it. He was a human man, middle-aged and flabby-faced, with a bushy mustache and eyes that would have been glassy even in life. He looked less like a cult leader than a bureaucrat, which was exactly what he was.

Kreo alone recognized the man as Klaus Jacop, a manager at one of Crock Cognelius's factories. She had butted heads with him before, almost literally, for he had been notorious for giving no quarter to the unions. Any of his workers so much as seen speaking with an organizer had been fired on the spot, and more than one agitator had found themselves victims of the sort of unfortunate accident that occurred in all factories but seemed especially common in his.

While Procz busied himself with the mask, Baern went through Jacop's robes...

Anything besides the mask on Mr. Jacop?

Vecaal was mesmerized by the mask, completely caught off guard when he saw it still writhed with power and intent despite the host's death.  He had assumed it some sort of device that was controlled by the wearer, almost like a puppetry mask but with power that could be invoked.  Now though, it seemed like the dragonborn had misidentified who, or rather what, was actually in control.

Agreeing that Procz was better suited to handling the 'live' artifact, he spared a quick glance for the nondescript Dragonfather and huffed.  Neither the scent nor the face were familiar, and even when Kreo was able to identify the man the name meant very little to Vecaal.  Just another bureaucrat who'd seized power and left the rest behind.  Hardly someone worth dying for, he thought with a snort.

He turned his attention back to the constable, eying the proceedings warily. "Just watch where you point that thing, eh?"

"Klaus Jacop, one of Crock's managers. Union-buster."

Kreo's hand rose reflexively to cast his cantrip, but the words caught in his throat

"He was a hard man, a greedy man. He served Crock for pay and the chance to vent his rage on the world. He wasn't the one who broke my horn, but I imagine the sight of my injury brought him no small amount of pleasure."

The satyr wiped his right eye with his fingers and cleared his throat

"He hurt a lot of friends, a lot of comrades. And more than a few of the men and women I used to work with. If you find a . . . "

He rubbed his good horn, thinking

". . . a little ring, costume jewelry, nothing really valuable. It'd be a paste stone, green in colour, on a tin ring. He took it, and the owner can't get it back, but her next of kin might want it."

Baern found a gold signet ring on one of the man's pudgy fingers and a tin ring set with a cheap green stone on another, just as Kreo had described. Klaus also carried a long dagger with a cross-guard fashioned in the form of folded black dragon's wings.

"I recognize that," Creojan quipped, laying a hand upon one of the many spots he'd been stabbed.

Finally, there were some credits for Crock's company store and a bit of scrap wood with some odd shapes scratched into it. A map was the most likely explanation, but making sense of the crude drawings would be no trivial task.

Everyone can choose to make either an Investigation or a History check on the map. Between the six of you, you'll need to pass both to make sense of it.

Baern held up the tin ring between pinched thumb and forefinger. "This here?" he said, looking to Kreo for confirmation. "It's all yours, mate."

"Hope it brings them a bit of peace."

09:54, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 16 using 1d20-1.  History.

Worth casting detect magic on the signet or dagger? Does anyone have the spell?

The dragonborn watched Baern unearth the goodies carried by the Dragonfather, alternately hissing in or out depending on his approval of the particular item. Treasure seemed to be a favourite part of the game for him.  After the cheap ring had been handed over to Kreo and Baern began examining the odd piece of scrap wood, Vecaal stepped close and looked over the gnome's shoulder, not a hard thing to do when one was almost twice the height.

"Whatcha got there?" he asked with genuine curiosity, examining the scratchings on the wood with a practiced eye.

OOC:
11:20, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 19 using 1d20+4.  Investigation (map).  Can add 1d6 with psi-bolstered knack if necessary to pass check.

"Dunno'," Baern confessed, scratching his bald head. "Looks like a map to me." He handed the scrap up to Vecaal for a closer look.

"It should, thank you."

Kreo pocketed the ring and began the motions of a divination he'd used from time to time to find worthwhile finds in rubbish piles

OOC: detect magic

"We should be cautious, there is often more to these than meets the eye."

OOC: rolled an 11 on either Investigation or History as they're the same bonus

Neither of the rings is magical. The dagger radiates evocation magic.

The kobold constable stood still for several long moments as he experienced the vision. Finally, a couple of tears trickled down his cheeks, which he quickly wiped away with the back of his hand. The moment of vulnerability was pushed away by resolve, possibly feigned, and poorly masked with a sniff and a quick cough.

He let the mask levitate in the air while he gave the others a quick glance, including the dead Dragonfather, immediately concluding that it was not a known criminal, but happy to hear that Kreo could identify him.

Procz then gave the map a look. Such things were in his area of expertise, although possibly not the only one in the company. Several of them had proven to have many resources, including potentially powerful magic. He then proceeded to find cloth or canvas on the dead cultists to wrap around the mask.

I'll add my History and Investigation, in case they might help. That's History 25 and Investigation 13.

Frack moved toward Procz as the constable worked his magic, just in case his shield might be needed to lend some extra protection. Fortunately, it wasn't.

As he stood alongside the kobold, he saw a tear rolling down his face. He worried that something might be affecting his friend that was beyond the protection of his simple shield. "Procz, are you all right?" he asked, not sure if the constable could even hear him.

His attention eventually moved to the former dragonfather. Removal of the mask had revealed a fairly boring countenance behind it, but somehow, the flabby face looked familiar. Like someone he had seen before. "Wait," he exclaimed excitedly. "I think I know him. The name is on the tip of my tongue." He snapped his fingers three times, hoping it would somehow help his memory.

"Hmmm. I guess I don't know him then." He shrugged.


OOC: Frack, not surprisingly, has nothing to offer in the way of interpreting the map. He's heard of maps, and he knew a dwarf once named Mappy (or was it Pappy), but that's about it.
19:36, Today: Frack rolled 10 using 1d20-1.  Investigation - map.
19:32, Today: Frack rolled 10 using 1d20-1.  History.

The map was not a scaled representation of the Lower Slopes. Rather, it appeared to represent a series of landmarks one would expect to fly over were one planning an aerial assault.

The first was easily recognizable as The Ledge, a particularly steep drop off favored for dumping by factories on Crock's side of town. As a result, a large shanty town at the foot of The Ledge housed a scrappy group of survivalists known as The Remnants.

The next symbol depicted a large pile of bones. It was not immediately obvious to anyone in the party what this might represent, but it seemed like the sort of thing you might know it when you saw it. Or that one of The Remnants might know, if they could be convinced to share some local knowledge. Although, getting The Remnants to disclose anything about a favorite scavenging ground was notoriously difficult...

Just beyond and slightly above the pile of bones, a small X was carved into the wood.

Further beyond that, a collection of triangles stood in a circular formation. This, too, was not a landmark known to any in the party, which was strange, because it seemed like something that would have been distinctive.

"Yes, my friend." Procz gave the goblin knight a nod and a brave smile. "I'm well. I was just thinking of something. It doesn't matter really. And you? What do you make of this?"

While looking at the map with the others, Procz was happy to realize he had come out of the fight pretty much uninjured. He had learned his lesson about advancing to quickly without enough companions the other day. This group were odd allies, but allies nonetheless. They made him feel safer.

"I'm afraid I have no means to examine the area from an airborne perspective. That would have been beneficial, but the magic is still beyond my current skill set." The kobold patted his construct dog familiar on the head. Perhaps some day he'd make Zúm fly.

"Time to go," Baern said, pocketing a couple of the more essential looking components of the dragon and rising to his feet.

"Come on, Crajeon."

I think we're done here?

Frack studied the strange map for a moment, adjusting his helmet in deep thought. "That first squiggly line must be the Ledge. It's a hot spot for scavengers. Well, at least the bottom of it is. I've never been on the top side." He studied a moment longer. "And I don't know what that pile of bones is supposed to be. Hopefully we don't have to find out."

As they prepared to depart, Frack watched Bearn bring along a few useful components from the dragon. Following that lead, the paladin scavenged the shiniest piece he could find: a hinge pin that had wiggled its way out of position and onto the floor. Functionally, the pin was irrelevant to the dragon's operation, but Frack didn't understand that. And he liked the way it looked.

"I might be able to do something there, depending on the scale," Vecaal hissed, responding to Procz and an aerial assessment.  "Would need to get to the The Ledge first, to gauge it all."

The dragonborn agreed with Baern as far as 'what next?'.  There was little more they could accomplish here, he suspected.  "All right.  Back to the skiff?"

Baern nodded. "Back to the skiff." He dusted off his hands on his pant legs and turned to leave, presuming the others would follow.

"How do we want to approach the Ledge? I might have some pull with workers in his territory I can try to get a few things in place for us. Gentle our approach a bit."

Kreo turned with the others to head for the skiff

When discussion of next steps started, Frack's eyes lit up. "I know one of the Remnants!" he announced enthusiastically. "She may be able to help us if we can get to the Ledge. Of course that's if..." The goblin bit his lip in thought before continuing with noticeably less enthusiasm. "Well, she'll probably help us... I mean I think maybe she probably would."

The journey back to the mainland was another difficult one for Frack. He crawled into the bow as he had done on the ride over, then winced with every pitch of the small craft on the return trip. Attempts to look unaffected after their arrival on solid ground were betrayed by his greener-than-usual hue.