A biting chill hangs over the air as the four of you trudge through the slushy streets of Gate Pass. It's a little before midnight, and what little warmth the sun had brought this day has long since gone. It was a frantic day for you, as you suddenly found yourself thrust into makeshift alliance with people you've never met before. Your superiors assured you however, their goals are the same as yours: to protect the city at all costs.
After you'd gathered, rugged man who never mentioned his name gave you the details of the job you're to do. A battle hardened cleric by the name of Torrent is in the city - her mission for the resistance is a secret, and you've been told to assist her with whatever she needs.
Normally the streets would be packed with people and festivities to bring in the New Year, but not this time...An army sits on Gate Pass's doorstep, and most of its citizens cower within their homes, letting you travel through the city unmolested. You've traveled to a poorer district little over a mile from the western city wall, filled with slush covered cobblestone streets and snow-filled alleyways. You eventually come across the pub you were told to meet this cleric at, the Poison Apple. The door and windows are boarded up, and a notice has been posted to the door:
Trehan Finner, owner of the Poison Apple Pub, has been taken into temporary custody under the protection of the city guard, until such time that he can be questioned by representatives of the Ragesian Empire, and found innocent of hostile collusion.
The Poison Apple Pub is hereby closed until further notice.
You go to the alleyway between the pub and another building, knocking on the side entrance you were told about. The door opens a crack and a dark brown eye peeks out for a moment. It swings open the rest of the way, and dark-skinned half-elf ushers you in with a hushed voice. "Come come, quickly." She gestures casually towards a table where she's set up a lamp, a map, several mugs, and a small keg. "I assume you haven't been told much. Take a seat and grab a drink if you like, just 'cause the world is about to go to shit doesn't mean we can't celebrate the new year."
She fills one of the mugs and takes a long drink herself before plopping down into one of the chairs, kicking up her feet on the table. "So, got names?"
The first to step through is a tall elven man in gossamer chain mail. His face betrays an acquaintance with typical mirth and merriment, though for the task at hand he has replaced this with a dour grimace. With a surprisingly raspy voice, he speaks only a single name: "Bekaan."
(Deception: 23)
His eyes sweep the dimly lit parlor before settling on a seat by the bar. He moves parallel to his debonair hostess, opting to lean on the bar itself.
"Respectfully, I don't drink what I can't confirm the contents of."
Following is a copper-skinned half elf. He's dressed in common clothes, not fancy but not patched up either, and takes off the outer layer after getting in from the cold. "She took a nice drink herself, Bekaan. I think we can trust her on this." He turns to the woman and says, "A drink is certainly nice in this weather to warm oneself up. So I hope one of those cups has the name Tendilius on it." He walks over to the table and pours a drink for himself. "Speaking of names, what's yours?"
Dark brown eyes linger on the notice posted to the tavern's main door for a moment. Harry feels his face growing hot with anger. Tearing his gaze away he follows the others into the alleyway, stepping into the run down pub next. Most of his outfit is made from black thread, simple in design, save for the red robe that marks him as one of Gabal's students. Quietly he moves towards the table, grabbing himself a mug, though he doesn't drink yet.
"Harry Percy, at your service I suppose."
He says, pulling out a chair and taking a seat for himself. "Did you know the owner of this place?"
"You can call me Tyrin." The tiefling spoke up, slipping into the pub. He wore a black jacket over a lighter colored tunic, and a dagger hung in a stealth on his side.
He'd spent most of the trek to this pub analyzing the rest of his teammates. Just because he was expected to work together with them didn't mean he trusted them instantly... especially when he knew nothing about them yet. Who were they? And what made them join the resistance?
But as their host spoke up, he turned his attention towards her. "Sorry, madam, but considering the importance of this conversation, I'd rather keep my wits about me. If it were water, I'd take it, but that wouldn't be much of a celebration, would it?" He smiled apologetically as he stationed himself behind Harry's seat.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Just an author at the end of the day...
Forever healer syndrome. Affected characters: Lutz Winsor (changeling shepherd druid), in the Turn of the Fortune's Wheel Tyrin Othenos Aubrey (tiefling scout), in the War of the Burning Sky Trill "Tritone" Aeolian Aberystwyth (v. human wild magic sorcerer/bard), in Camp Half-Blood
The darkened pub is mostly empty now, its many tables and chairs pushed up to the walls and covered with sheets besides the one Torrent has setup for you. At the back corner of the beside the bar, a staircase leads upstairs. The windows and doors facing the street are closed, and you know they're boarded up on the other side. On the wall behind the bar hangs a bronze bust of the former emperor of Ragesia, Drakus Coaltongue, a regal, aged half-orc with a scar cutting diagonally across his face. "Suit yourselves if you don't want a drink, I won't force you." The warrior cleric says with a shrug, taking another drink from her mug. "You can call me Torrent, and I am most definitely grateful for your service."
To Harry's question, she shakes her head. "I didn't know Trehan. I'm not from here, I hail from Seaquen. Came to know his wife Viv after he was taken though. Woman was adamant about doing what she could to help, offered to let us use the place for meetings like that."
Again, the half-elf shrugs, waving off the tiefling's apology. "No skin off my back."
"You could say something like that," the tiefling replied offhandedly, "But what does that have to do with anything?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Just an author at the end of the day...
Forever healer syndrome. Affected characters: Lutz Winsor (changeling shepherd druid), in the Turn of the Fortune's Wheel Tyrin Othenos Aubrey (tiefling scout), in the War of the Burning Sky Trill "Tritone" Aeolian Aberystwyth (v. human wild magic sorcerer/bard), in Camp Half-Blood
"Only home I've ever known." Harry said, curious about the line of questioning. "Gable didn't mention much to me about this...mission? What is it you need us for exactly?"
The half-elf nods approvingly towards Tendilius, "your man here is onto the right idea. Things have happened very quickly and unexpectedly - we do need people who know the ins and outs of this city." She pauses, tilting her to the side. Just barely, you can hear distant bells chiming throughout the city to celebrate the turning of the New Year. Torrent herself grimaces, straightening in her chair. "Another year gone, guess it's time to get down to business."
"Gate Pass isn't the only place ready to rebel against Ragesia. A call has gone out from Lyceum, a magic academy similar to your school here, a statement of defiance and a promise of refuge for anyone fleeing the Ragesian army. This is where I come from. We've been working hand-in-hand with your Resistance here in Gate Pass."
"Now your idiot council-members want to try and negotiate with the Ragesians. They've sealed off the city so no one can get out, and they plan on inviting in some inquisitors to look for 'magic-users that are hostile to the empire.' There's some very important information we need to get to Lyceum, and up until this morning we had a way out of the city." The cleric takes a last drink from her mug before continuing.
"Our mission tonight comes in three parts:
Meet a gnome by the name of Rivereye Badgerface in about half an hour. He has some stolen intelligence that he managed to nick right out of the heart of the empire.
Get the hell out of this city. The Ragesian army will be here by tomorrow, and we need to be dust in the wind by then. This is where you come in, I'm sure between your combined experiences in the city, we can find a way out.
Get to Seaquen, where the Lyceum academy is. Once we're out of Gate Pass, I can lead the way from there. You'll be along as an escort."
She pauses again, opening the table up for questions or comments. "With me so far?"
Tendilius feels a cold sweat as Torrent mentions Inquisitors being let into the city by the council. "Traitors!" he mutters in Orcish. He turns to Harry and swaps back into Common, "I must the name Lyceum escapes me at the moment. But if it's similar to Gabal's school," he gestures towards Harry's red robe, "would you have heard of it before?"
Turning back to Torrent he adds, "Is Rivereye coming here? Or is there a designating meeting spot?"
A frown formed on the tiefling's face as the half-elf started her explanation. He'd heard the rumors, but it was another thing to hear it be confirmed. "If that's all there is to it, you have my support," he nods to Torrent.
"The festivities is exactly why there won't be many prying eyes," he mused, "Everyone would be too focused to pay us any attention... isn't that right?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Just an author at the end of the day...
Forever healer syndrome. Affected characters: Lutz Winsor (changeling shepherd druid), in the Turn of the Fortune's Wheel Tyrin Othenos Aubrey (tiefling scout), in the War of the Burning Sky Trill "Tritone" Aeolian Aberystwyth (v. human wild magic sorcerer/bard), in Camp Half-Blood
Tendilius considers both Bekaan and Tyrin's words. "The festivities do complicate the matter don't they. Though now that the bells have rung, how many others will remain on the streets?" He takes another drink of beer and savors it before continuing, "At least we've all got good night eyes [dark vision]. No need having a lantern drawing attention to us tonight."
"And we need to find a way out of the city..."Harry says, staring at the table as he mulls over the problem. "I suppose we should probably have that plan laid out before we go meet this gnome?"
(Would I know a way out that doesn't include scaling cliffs?)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Just an author at the end of the day...
Forever healer syndrome. Affected characters: Lutz Winsor (changeling shepherd druid), in the Turn of the Fortune's Wheel Tyrin Othenos Aubrey (tiefling scout), in the War of the Burning Sky Trill "Tritone" Aeolian Aberystwyth (v. human wild magic sorcerer/bard), in Camp Half-Blood
OoC: Harry, Arcana or History. Beekan, yes. Tyrin, offhand? Nothing specific, but maybe you know someone who can help? Roll an Insight check.
"We'll be going to him, he's under heavy guard at the moment." Torrent says, nodding her head slowly. "Ragesian agents have been in the city for a while now, can't risk him moving out in the open this close to the end."
"And yes, a large reason for gathering you four in particular is your native familiarity. If it comes down to it we can try brute forcing our way through the gates...But that's likely to end up in us dying. If you have any ideas now, I'm all ears."
A biting chill hangs over the air as the four of you trudge through the slushy streets of Gate Pass. It's a little before midnight, and what little warmth the sun had brought this day has long since gone. It was a frantic day for you, as you suddenly found yourself thrust into makeshift alliance with people you've never met before. Your superiors assured you however, their goals are the same as yours: to protect the city at all costs.
After you'd gathered, rugged man who never mentioned his name gave you the details of the job you're to do. A battle hardened cleric by the name of Torrent is in the city - her mission for the resistance is a secret, and you've been told to assist her with whatever she needs.
Normally the streets would be packed with people and festivities to bring in the New Year, but not this time...An army sits on Gate Pass's doorstep, and most of its citizens cower within their homes, letting you travel through the city unmolested. You've traveled to a poorer district little over a mile from the western city wall, filled with slush covered cobblestone streets and snow-filled alleyways. You eventually come across the pub you were told to meet this cleric at, the Poison Apple. The door and windows are boarded up, and a notice has been posted to the door:
Trehan Finner, owner of the Poison Apple Pub, has
been taken into temporary custody under the
protection of the city guard, until such time that he
can be questioned by representatives of the
Ragesian Empire, and found innocent of hostile
collusion.
The Poison Apple Pub is hereby closed until further
notice.
You go to the alleyway between the pub and another building, knocking on the side entrance you were told about. The door opens a crack and a dark brown eye peeks out for a moment. It swings open the rest of the way, and dark-skinned half-elf ushers you in with a hushed voice. "Come come, quickly." She gestures casually towards a table where she's set up a lamp, a map, several mugs, and a small keg. "I assume you haven't been told much. Take a seat and grab a drink if you like, just 'cause the world is about to go to shit doesn't mean we can't celebrate the new year."
She fills one of the mugs and takes a long drink herself before plopping down into one of the chairs, kicking up her feet on the table. "So, got names?"
The first to step through is a tall elven man in gossamer chain mail. His face betrays an acquaintance with typical mirth and merriment, though for the task at hand he has replaced this with a dour grimace. With a surprisingly raspy voice, he speaks only a single name: "Bekaan."
(Deception: 23)
His eyes sweep the dimly lit parlor before settling on a seat by the bar. He moves parallel to his debonair hostess, opting to lean on the bar itself.
"Respectfully, I don't drink what I can't confirm the contents of."
Following is a copper-skinned half elf. He's dressed in common clothes, not fancy but not patched up either, and takes off the outer layer after getting in from the cold. "She took a nice drink herself, Bekaan. I think we can trust her on this." He turns to the woman and says, "A drink is certainly nice in this weather to warm oneself up. So I hope one of those cups has the name Tendilius on it." He walks over to the table and pours a drink for himself. "Speaking of names, what's yours?"
This is a signature. It was a simple signature. But it has been upgraded.
Bel, Aarakocra Hunter Ranger, Friend Campaign
Screechirk, Aarakocra Light Cleric, Wages of Vice
Darath, Goliath Battlemaster, Into the Overlap
Draíocht, Wood Elf Moon Druid, Kholias
Eggo Lass, Drow GOOlock, 100 Dungeons
Drako, Dragonborn Tempest Cleric, Dragon of Icespire Peak
Phait, Mountain Dwarf Wild Magic Sorcerer, Shadowglass
Get rickrolled here. Listen to awesome music here. (selection 27, 4/23/24, One Voice)
Dark brown eyes linger on the notice posted to the tavern's main door for a moment. Harry feels his face growing hot with anger. Tearing his gaze away he follows the others into the alleyway, stepping into the run down pub next. Most of his outfit is made from black thread, simple in design, save for the red robe that marks him as one of Gabal's students. Quietly he moves towards the table, grabbing himself a mug, though he doesn't drink yet.
"Harry Percy, at your service I suppose."
He says, pulling out a chair and taking a seat for himself. "Did you know the owner of this place?"
"You can call me Tyrin." The tiefling spoke up, slipping into the pub. He wore a black jacket over a lighter colored tunic, and a dagger hung in a stealth on his side.
He'd spent most of the trek to this pub analyzing the rest of his teammates. Just because he was expected to work together with them didn't mean he trusted them instantly... especially when he knew nothing about them yet. Who were they? And what made them join the resistance?
But as their host spoke up, he turned his attention towards her. "Sorry, madam, but considering the importance of this conversation, I'd rather keep my wits about me. If it were water, I'd take it, but that wouldn't be much of a celebration, would it?" He smiled apologetically as he stationed himself behind Harry's seat.
Just an author at the end of the day...
Forever healer syndrome. Affected characters:
Lutz Winsor (changeling shepherd druid), in the Turn of the Fortune's Wheel
Tyrin Othenos Aubrey (tiefling scout), in the War of the Burning Sky
Trill "Tritone" Aeolian Aberystwyth (v. human wild magic sorcerer/bard), in Camp Half-Blood
The darkened pub is mostly empty now, its many tables and chairs pushed up to the walls and covered with sheets besides the one Torrent has setup for you. At the back corner of the beside the bar, a staircase leads upstairs. The windows and doors facing the street are closed, and you know they're boarded up on the other side. On the wall behind the bar hangs a bronze bust of the former emperor of Ragesia, Drakus Coaltongue, a regal, aged half-orc with a scar cutting diagonally across his face. "Suit yourselves if you don't want a drink, I won't force you." The warrior cleric says with a shrug, taking another drink from her mug. "You can call me Torrent, and I am most definitely grateful for your service."
To Harry's question, she shakes her head. "I didn't know Trehan. I'm not from here, I hail from Seaquen. Came to know his wife Viv after he was taken though. Woman was adamant about doing what she could to help, offered to let us use the place for meetings like that."
Again, the half-elf shrugs, waving off the tiefling's apology. "No skin off my back."
"You're all city natives aren't you?"
"Once, then. Now again," replies the elf in mail.
"You could say something like that," the tiefling replied offhandedly, "But what does that have to do with anything?"
Just an author at the end of the day...
Forever healer syndrome. Affected characters:
Lutz Winsor (changeling shepherd druid), in the Turn of the Fortune's Wheel
Tyrin Othenos Aubrey (tiefling scout), in the War of the Burning Sky
Trill "Tritone" Aeolian Aberystwyth (v. human wild magic sorcerer/bard), in Camp Half-Blood
"Born and raised." says Tendilius with a slight feeling of pride. "You need people that know the land for something?"
This is a signature. It was a simple signature. But it has been upgraded.
Bel, Aarakocra Hunter Ranger, Friend Campaign
Screechirk, Aarakocra Light Cleric, Wages of Vice
Darath, Goliath Battlemaster, Into the Overlap
Draíocht, Wood Elf Moon Druid, Kholias
Eggo Lass, Drow GOOlock, 100 Dungeons
Drako, Dragonborn Tempest Cleric, Dragon of Icespire Peak
Phait, Mountain Dwarf Wild Magic Sorcerer, Shadowglass
Get rickrolled here. Listen to awesome music here. (selection 27, 4/23/24, One Voice)
"Only home I've ever known." Harry said, curious about the line of questioning. "Gable didn't mention much to me about this...mission? What is it you need us for exactly?"
The half-elf nods approvingly towards Tendilius, "your man here is onto the right idea. Things have happened very quickly and unexpectedly - we do need people who know the ins and outs of this city." She pauses, tilting her to the side. Just barely, you can hear distant bells chiming throughout the city to celebrate the turning of the New Year. Torrent herself grimaces, straightening in her chair. "Another year gone, guess it's time to get down to business."
"Gate Pass isn't the only place ready to rebel against Ragesia. A call has gone out from Lyceum, a magic academy similar to your school here, a statement of defiance and a promise of refuge for anyone fleeing the Ragesian army. This is where I come from. We've been working hand-in-hand with your Resistance here in Gate Pass."
"Now your idiot council-members want to try and negotiate with the Ragesians. They've sealed off the city so no one can get out, and they plan on inviting in some inquisitors to look for 'magic-users that are hostile to the empire.' There's some very important information we need to get to Lyceum, and up until this morning we had a way out of the city." The cleric takes a last drink from her mug before continuing.
"Our mission tonight comes in three parts:
She pauses again, opening the table up for questions or comments. "With me so far?"
The graven elf simply nods once in quiet assent.
Tendilius feels a cold sweat as Torrent mentions Inquisitors being let into the city by the council. "Traitors!" he mutters in Orcish. He turns to Harry and swaps back into Common, "I must the name Lyceum escapes me at the moment. But if it's similar to Gabal's school," he gestures towards Harry's red robe, "would you have heard of it before?"
Turning back to Torrent he adds, "Is Rivereye coming here? Or is there a designating meeting spot?"
This is a signature. It was a simple signature. But it has been upgraded.
Bel, Aarakocra Hunter Ranger, Friend Campaign
Screechirk, Aarakocra Light Cleric, Wages of Vice
Darath, Goliath Battlemaster, Into the Overlap
Draíocht, Wood Elf Moon Druid, Kholias
Eggo Lass, Drow GOOlock, 100 Dungeons
Drako, Dragonborn Tempest Cleric, Dragon of Icespire Peak
Phait, Mountain Dwarf Wild Magic Sorcerer, Shadowglass
Get rickrolled here. Listen to awesome music here. (selection 27, 4/23/24, One Voice)
"I would doubt he'd come here. Too many prying eyes, what with the festivities."
A frown formed on the tiefling's face as the half-elf started her explanation. He'd heard the rumors, but it was another thing to hear it be confirmed. "If that's all there is to it, you have my support," he nods to Torrent.
"The festivities is exactly why there won't be many prying eyes," he mused, "Everyone would be too focused to pay us any attention... isn't that right?"
Just an author at the end of the day...
Forever healer syndrome. Affected characters:
Lutz Winsor (changeling shepherd druid), in the Turn of the Fortune's Wheel
Tyrin Othenos Aubrey (tiefling scout), in the War of the Burning Sky
Trill "Tritone" Aeolian Aberystwyth (v. human wild magic sorcerer/bard), in Camp Half-Blood
Tendilius considers both Bekaan and Tyrin's words. "The festivities do complicate the matter don't they. Though now that the bells have rung, how many others will remain on the streets?" He takes another drink of beer and savors it before continuing, "At least we've all got good night eyes [dark vision]. No need having a lantern drawing attention to us tonight."
This is a signature. It was a simple signature. But it has been upgraded.
Bel, Aarakocra Hunter Ranger, Friend Campaign
Screechirk, Aarakocra Light Cleric, Wages of Vice
Darath, Goliath Battlemaster, Into the Overlap
Draíocht, Wood Elf Moon Druid, Kholias
Eggo Lass, Drow GOOlock, 100 Dungeons
Drako, Dragonborn Tempest Cleric, Dragon of Icespire Peak
Phait, Mountain Dwarf Wild Magic Sorcerer, Shadowglass
Get rickrolled here. Listen to awesome music here. (selection 27, 4/23/24, One Voice)
((Does Harry know anything about Lyceum, DM?))
"And we need to find a way out of the city..." Harry says, staring at the table as he mulls over the problem. "I suppose we should probably have that plan laid out before we go meet this gnome?"
[@DM Am I allowed to suggest detouring to my Councilor contact for ways out of the city?]
(Would I know a way out that doesn't include scaling cliffs?)
Just an author at the end of the day...
Forever healer syndrome. Affected characters:
Lutz Winsor (changeling shepherd druid), in the Turn of the Fortune's Wheel
Tyrin Othenos Aubrey (tiefling scout), in the War of the Burning Sky
Trill "Tritone" Aeolian Aberystwyth (v. human wild magic sorcerer/bard), in Camp Half-Blood
OoC: Harry, Arcana or History. Beekan, yes. Tyrin, offhand? Nothing specific, but maybe you know someone who can help? Roll an Insight check.
"We'll be going to him, he's under heavy guard at the moment." Torrent says, nodding her head slowly. "Ragesian agents have been in the city for a while now, can't risk him moving out in the open this close to the end."
"And yes, a large reason for gathering you four in particular is your native familiarity. If it comes down to it we can try brute forcing our way through the gates...But that's likely to end up in us dying. If you have any ideas now, I'm all ears."