[OOG: unless either character was specifically watching Guan Hao prior to his action, they could only use their passive perception scores. As such, Balasar's perception is 13 and Gong's is 12. George, it's up to you to tell us how sneaky Guan Hao was being (or not being).]
Startled by Wendell's abrupt change in position, a newly awakened otter face pops up from beneath his cloak as the wizard rushes to his older sister. The familiar peers curiously at the kleptomaniac Goliath and the various party members. It then hops down, pads over to the table, hops up, and begins helping Guan Hao finish Wendell's plate.
Startled by Wendell's abrupt change in position, a newly awakened otter face pops up from beneath his cloak as the wizard rushes to his older sister. The familiar peers curiously at the kleptomaniac Goliath and the various party members. It then hops down, pads over to the table, hops up, and begins helping Guan Hao finish Wendell's plate.
Guan Hao rewards his accomplice with his pick of the fish.
Gong is not going to start a commotion in someone else's house, especially during a touching reunion, but he is going to direct a stern look of disapproval at Guan Hao.
Balasar continues eating his own food, though a keen observer might detect a brief flicker of amusement on his scaly features at the antics of Guan Hao and the otter.
Sighing, Bruna mutters to herself, “Must you always make a dramatic entrance?” She continues at her prior volume, “Heroes of Adaern, I would like to make you known to our sister, Mady Rolfe, sometimes called the Mad Woman of the Wood.”
As she extricates herself from Wendell’s hug, Mady, smiling daggers at Bruna, adds, “For the record, it’s usually only bandits and raiders who call me that because of my… interactions with them.” At the word ‘interactions’ she begins absentmindedly caressing what are plainly humanoid fingerbones which have been woven into a necklace of sorts. Returning her gaze to the party, an edged smile still on her face, she adds, “I don’t particularly like people who terrorize farms.”
Bruna puts in, “Why don’t you have a seat, Wendell, and I’ll let Mady take over the story from here.”
All traces of dark humor dissipate from Mady’s demeanor, her posture straightens, and her tone becomes brusque and business-like, more as though she were delivering a report to a military commander rather than a group of family and friends gathered around the dinner table.
“I won’t bore you all with the details of how I acquired most of this information – suffice it to say that my crew and I are very good at eavesdropping and…” she wipes some of the blood from her cheek, “less subtle methods of communication with bandits and their ilk. The mercenaries arrived just under three months ago and set up a camp outside of town. Initially, I ignored them – they weren’t on any local farms and they weren’t hurting anyone. That said, they caught my attention when they began to dig near my parent’s old homestead; I decided to keep an eye them. Several weeks went by and I learned three things: one, they found a large underground complex; two, they were hired by someone they call “The Red Man”; and three, since their dig proved fruitful, they all go around armed at all times – it seems they take their privacy and security very seriously.”
At her brief pause, Elaric interjects, “’The Red Man’? Have you any notion of why they call their employer by such a moniker?”
The corner of Mady’s lips twitch in a small smile and her voice takes on a slightly incredulous note, “Based on what I overheard at the time, it sounded like they actually believed him to have red skin. A few even claimed he was some kind of demon or devil who came up from the lower planes, but I actually had the opportunity to clarify the point with a new… friend… just this evening.” Mady’s voice takes on a masculine quality and slurs as if drunk – or, given the fresh blood spatters on her gloved knuckles, maybe the slur is more like that of a broken jaw. “Th’ Red M’n? We call ‘im tha’… ‘cause th’ c’mander says ‘e’s alls a’red.”
Mady shrugs and, with her voice returning to its normal pitch and pattern, she goes on, “Apparently, the commander told the rest of the company some tale about the employer being “all red” like a devil – probably to keep them from having thoughts about crossing the contract. These mercenaries aren’t the most disciplined lot I’ve ever come across, so fear is probably a common weapon for maintaining order in their hierarchy.”
Bruna puts in, “Can we get back to the ankhegs and what you learned about them?”
Without sparring a glance for her sister, Mady continues, “Bruna informed me of the ankheg problem and asked me and my crew to look into it while she wrote to you, Wendell. Several of my scouts brought interesting reports back yesterday: there are ankheg swarms moving out in all directions throughout the area, not just in Pyrringham. However, when the reports were compiled and mapped, we found that all of the ankhegs seems to be swarming away from a central location which has been free of ANY ankheg sightings. This central exclusion zone includes both the mercenaries’ dig site and my parent’s old farm. In other words, it probably maps out a rough outline of whatever is buried down there. I dispatched several groups to explore the area and, last night, they hit gold – they found part of a structure, half-buried, which leads beneath the surface. Following it through a maze of corridors, they discovered several groups of mercenaries patrolling within.”
Again, Elaric took advantage of Mady’s pause for breath to ask, “Did your scouts find any evidence to suggest what the mercenaries are doing in these ruins?”
Shaking her head, Mady sighs, “They didn’t stay long; the risk of being caught and cornered was too high and they weren’t equipped for a prolonged fight. Also, their priority was to report their findings.”
Pulling a small satchel from her back, Mady continues speaking as she undoes the straps holding the satchel closed. “While my scouts were out, I had a different mission which, it turns out, was actually related to the mercenaries and your question, elf.” She pulls a thick tome from the satchel. “Since you all were helping with the local goblin problem, Bruna informed me of the bandit raid on the traveling merchants. I took a team to deal with the miscreants and made several interesting discoveries. The so-called bandits were actually a few of the mercenaries who were even less scrupulous than the rest of the company. I listened to two of them talking and it seems that they had stolen not only from the merchants, but from the dig site. The cave they were in was their secret stash. They had this tome and a few other items – mostly junk – which they had planned to sell in Adaern after the contract was up.”
As Mady holds up the tome, Elaric lets out a small, sharp exclamation. In a voice gone suddenly hoarse, he almost demands, “May I see that, please!”
Handing over the tome, Mady watches as Elaric begins paging through it. He suddenly stops, going pale. Looking up at the group, he licks lips gone dry before speaking, a slight quaver not concealing the steely resolve in his voice, “We need to investigate these ruins. We need to find out what the mercenaries are doing.” His face turns back down to the book and his eyes take on a glazed, far-off quality.
Mady puts in before anyone else can speak, “If you are going into those ruins, you’ll need my help – those mercenaries aren’t playing around. Every one of them is armed and experienced in combat. You’ll need someone who can be stealthy.”
"Nonsense," grunts Guan Hao. "We are renowned for our caution, discretion, and cunning subtlety. Our enemies shall die without hearing so much as the whisper of our blades."
He scrapes his spoon across his plate, guzzles down the gravy, slurps from his cup, wrenches a haunch off whatever meat remains at the table, and lets out a thunderous belch.
The tome before Elaric seems to have riveted his attention; bound in ash plates and inlaid with electrum, the center of the cover is set with a small, teardrop shaped red gem. After several moments, Elaric appears to process Wendell's question. His gaze shifts up and around at his expectant companions. "This book -" He pauses to clear his throat, his words having come out low and gravely, "This book is known as Lophisim's Codex of Glyphs and Runes. It is a somewhat cryptic compendium but has long been considered one of the greatest works on ancient symbols. The fact that it is written in Deep Speech, however, discourages most scholars from making use of it. As such, very few copies were ever made.”
Elaric pauses and a slight, ironic smile tugs at his mouth. “It was my frequent need to consult this book for research which led me to study with the wizard who would become my mentor, master Kalmar – he owned one of the few copies in existence and was considered something of an expert on the subject matter contained within. In fact, in an indirect way, it was because of this book that I came to learn Deep Speech. Early in our studies, master Kalmar grew so frustrated with my near constant requests for translations that he finally refused to speak in anything but Deep Speech until I attained fluency in the language and stopped interrupting him. At his advice, I used to make marks in the margins of his copy to help me recall difficult grammatical structures…”
Opening the book, the elf turns it such that the party can see two pages of elegantly flowing, complex, and vaguely menacing script surrounding several indecipherable diagrams. “…these markings, for example,” Elaric continues as he points to a margin along which are a series of small writings in common. “are mine. These are a few of many such notes I made, which means this is master Kalmar’s copy of the book.”
Elaric turns to Wendell. “You asked what has me troubled; it is the fact that master Kalmar took this book with him on his final expedition off the coast of Chult ten years ago. He needed it to help him decode some unusual runes which were somehow defying magical translation – much like the runes in the tome I carry.” Taking in the rest of the group, Elaric remarks, “I’ve told some of you about this, but for those I haven’t,” he nods to Mady and Bruna, “master Kalmar died on that expedition. He was deep in the ruins trying to translate an odd series of runes when he triggered a trap and quite literally vaporized half the complex along with himself and, as I later came to learn from other members of his expedition, this book.” With slow, deliberate emphasis on each word, he goes on firmly, “This book should not exist.”
Elaric’s tone suddenly darkens, taking on a menacing note teaming with barely suppressed rage as he continues through gritted teeth, “What troubles me is how in the nine HELLS my dead friend’s destroyed book wound up, in pristine condition, in ruins buried thousands of leagues away from the site of his death! It shouldn’t be possible. That is why I say we have to investigate.” Breathing heavily, Elaric slowly sits back in the chair from which he had half risen in agitation. As he regains control of himself, he adds, in a voice barely above a whisper, “If his book is here, intact, then maybe – maybe he, too…” Elaric trails off and shakes his head slightly. After a moment, he looks about at his gathered companions. “If not for this mystery,” he lays a hand gently upon the book, “we must at least investigate for the sake of Pyrringham. The timing of events plaguing the town can’t be mere coincidence. Somewhere down in those ruins, we will find answers... of one sort or another.”
Though undoubtedly surprised by such an emotional outburst from an elf, the only outward sign of Mady's thoughts on racial norms comes as a slight widening of her eyes and a quizical lift to one eyebrown. After a brief but uncomfortable silence, she clears her throat and continues addressing the group:
"Whatever the reason we go in, we should not go unprepared. The mercenaries rotate guard duty every four days, ensuring that none are underground for too long. In my experience, it is easier to infiltrate a position during such transitions - many people are moving off their normal patrol routes and new faces are going by; in short, getting spotted from a distance doesn't raise much suspicion - especially if you dress the part. The next such scheduled rotation will happen in two days' time, giving us a chance to plan, equip, and prepare. What say you, heroes?"
Guan Hao rises, kicking his chair out from under him and brushing a flurry of crumbs and stray bones onto the floor with a flourish.
"I say that leaves us scant time for drinking! Best to get started at once. You, farm woman!" he turns to Bruna. "Summon your scullion or potboy and have them lead me to the nearest alehouse. Contemplating deeds of valor gives me a mighty thirst."
He seizes a jug of wine from the middle of the table, sloshing some onto his neighbor's plate, and drains it at one draught.
A horrified Wendell turns to Bruna, "I am SO sorry."
As he turns, he notices that his plate has been demolished. And Fluss the Otter is sitting on it. He glares reprovingly at the familiar. Fluss, in turn, looks around at Guan Hao and Gong before his gaze lights on Balazar. He points an accusing paw at the Dragonborn.
Wendell glares reprovingly at Balazar.
"I can't take you people anywhere nice," the wizard mutters.
Wendell stares at the newcomer, eyes narrowed. They widen as the words sink in.
"...Mady?"
He stands, and rushes over to his sister, "Mady!" and wraps her in a bear hug, "What are you doing here? And loaded for war, no less!"
Guan Hao takes advantage of the distraction to start calmly taking food from Wendell's plate.
Perception check to see if Balasar notices Guan Hao's removal of Wendell's food: 14
Same Perception check for Gong: 13
[OOG: unless either character was specifically watching Guan Hao prior to his action, they could only use their passive perception scores. As such, Balasar's perception is 13 and Gong's is 12. George, it's up to you to tell us how sneaky Guan Hao was being (or not being).]
Oh, Guan Hao is not being stealthy. Zero attempt at sleight-of-hand. He just keeps eating.
Balasar, Gong, and Elaric all see Guan Hao's action. Wendell's back is to his seat and, as such, he does not notice.
Startled by Wendell's abrupt change in position, a newly awakened otter face pops up from beneath his cloak as the wizard rushes to his older sister. The familiar peers curiously at the kleptomaniac Goliath and the various party members. It then hops down, pads over to the table, hops up, and begins helping Guan Hao finish Wendell's plate.
Guan Hao rewards his accomplice with his pick of the fish.
Gong is not going to start a commotion in someone else's house, especially during a touching reunion, but he is going to direct a stern look of disapproval at Guan Hao.
>:(
Balasar continues eating his own food, though a keen observer might detect a brief flicker of amusement on his scaly features at the antics of Guan Hao and the otter.
Sighing, Bruna mutters to herself, “Must you always make a dramatic entrance?” She continues at her prior volume, “Heroes of Adaern, I would like to make you known to our sister, Mady Rolfe, sometimes called the Mad Woman of the Wood.”
As she extricates herself from Wendell’s hug, Mady, smiling daggers at Bruna, adds, “For the record, it’s usually only bandits and raiders who call me that because of my… interactions with them.” At the word ‘interactions’ she begins absentmindedly caressing what are plainly humanoid fingerbones which have been woven into a necklace of sorts. Returning her gaze to the party, an edged smile still on her face, she adds, “I don’t particularly like people who terrorize farms.”
Bruna puts in, “Why don’t you have a seat, Wendell, and I’ll let Mady take over the story from here.”
All traces of dark humor dissipate from Mady’s demeanor, her posture straightens, and her tone becomes brusque and business-like, more as though she were delivering a report to a military commander rather than a group of family and friends gathered around the dinner table.
“I won’t bore you all with the details of how I acquired most of this information – suffice it to say that my crew and I are very good at eavesdropping and…” she wipes some of the blood from her cheek, “less subtle methods of communication with bandits and their ilk. The mercenaries arrived just under three months ago and set up a camp outside of town. Initially, I ignored them – they weren’t on any local farms and they weren’t hurting anyone. That said, they caught my attention when they began to dig near my parent’s old homestead; I decided to keep an eye them. Several weeks went by and I learned three things: one, they found a large underground complex; two, they were hired by someone they call “The Red Man”; and three, since their dig proved fruitful, they all go around armed at all times – it seems they take their privacy and security very seriously.”
At her brief pause, Elaric interjects, “’The Red Man’? Have you any notion of why they call their employer by such a moniker?”
The corner of Mady’s lips twitch in a small smile and her voice takes on a slightly incredulous note, “Based on what I overheard at the time, it sounded like they actually believed him to have red skin. A few even claimed he was some kind of demon or devil who came up from the lower planes, but I actually had the opportunity to clarify the point with a new… friend… just this evening.” Mady’s voice takes on a masculine quality and slurs as if drunk – or, given the fresh blood spatters on her gloved knuckles, maybe the slur is more like that of a broken jaw. “Th’ Red M’n? We call ‘im tha’… ‘cause th’ c’mander says ‘e’s alls a’red.”
Mady shrugs and, with her voice returning to its normal pitch and pattern, she goes on, “Apparently, the commander told the rest of the company some tale about the employer being “all red” like a devil – probably to keep them from having thoughts about crossing the contract. These mercenaries aren’t the most disciplined lot I’ve ever come across, so fear is probably a common weapon for maintaining order in their hierarchy.”
Bruna puts in, “Can we get back to the ankhegs and what you learned about them?”
Without sparring a glance for her sister, Mady continues, “Bruna informed me of the ankheg problem and asked me and my crew to look into it while she wrote to you, Wendell. Several of my scouts brought interesting reports back yesterday: there are ankheg swarms moving out in all directions throughout the area, not just in Pyrringham. However, when the reports were compiled and mapped, we found that all of the ankhegs seems to be swarming away from a central location which has been free of ANY ankheg sightings. This central exclusion zone includes both the mercenaries’ dig site and my parent’s old farm. In other words, it probably maps out a rough outline of whatever is buried down there. I dispatched several groups to explore the area and, last night, they hit gold – they found part of a structure, half-buried, which leads beneath the surface. Following it through a maze of corridors, they discovered several groups of mercenaries patrolling within.”
Again, Elaric took advantage of Mady’s pause for breath to ask, “Did your scouts find any evidence to suggest what the mercenaries are doing in these ruins?”
Shaking her head, Mady sighs, “They didn’t stay long; the risk of being caught and cornered was too high and they weren’t equipped for a prolonged fight. Also, their priority was to report their findings.”
Pulling a small satchel from her back, Mady continues speaking as she undoes the straps holding the satchel closed. “While my scouts were out, I had a different mission which, it turns out, was actually related to the mercenaries and your question, elf.” She pulls a thick tome from the satchel. “Since you all were helping with the local goblin problem, Bruna informed me of the bandit raid on the traveling merchants. I took a team to deal with the miscreants and made several interesting discoveries. The so-called bandits were actually a few of the mercenaries who were even less scrupulous than the rest of the company. I listened to two of them talking and it seems that they had stolen not only from the merchants, but from the dig site. The cave they were in was their secret stash. They had this tome and a few other items – mostly junk – which they had planned to sell in Adaern after the contract was up.”
As Mady holds up the tome, Elaric lets out a small, sharp exclamation. In a voice gone suddenly hoarse, he almost demands, “May I see that, please!”
Handing over the tome, Mady watches as Elaric begins paging through it. He suddenly stops, going pale. Looking up at the group, he licks lips gone dry before speaking, a slight quaver not concealing the steely resolve in his voice, “We need to investigate these ruins. We need to find out what the mercenaries are doing.” His face turns back down to the book and his eyes take on a glazed, far-off quality.
Mady puts in before anyone else can speak, “If you are going into those ruins, you’ll need my help – those mercenaries aren’t playing around. Every one of them is armed and experienced in combat. You’ll need someone who can be stealthy.”
"Nonsense," grunts Guan Hao. "We are renowned for our caution, discretion, and cunning subtlety. Our enemies shall die without hearing so much as the whisper of our blades."
He scrapes his spoon across his plate, guzzles down the gravy, slurps from his cup, wrenches a haunch off whatever meat remains at the table, and lets out a thunderous belch.
Still standing with his back to Guan Hao and the otter, Wendell raises an eyebrow at that.
To Mady, "Infiltration isn't exactly a specialty for us. We'll be happy to have you along."
Turning to Elaric, "What has you troubled?"
The tome before Elaric seems to have riveted his attention; bound in ash plates and inlaid with electrum, the center of the cover is set with a small, teardrop shaped red gem. After several moments, Elaric appears to process Wendell's question. His gaze shifts up and around at his expectant companions. "This book -" He pauses to clear his throat, his words having come out low and gravely, "This book is known as Lophisim's Codex of Glyphs and Runes. It is a somewhat cryptic compendium but has long been considered one of the greatest works on ancient symbols. The fact that it is written in Deep Speech, however, discourages most scholars from making use of it. As such, very few copies were ever made.”
Elaric pauses and a slight, ironic smile tugs at his mouth. “It was my frequent need to consult this book for research which led me to study with the wizard who would become my mentor, master Kalmar – he owned one of the few copies in existence and was considered something of an expert on the subject matter contained within. In fact, in an indirect way, it was because of this book that I came to learn Deep Speech. Early in our studies, master Kalmar grew so frustrated with my near constant requests for translations that he finally refused to speak in anything but Deep Speech until I attained fluency in the language and stopped interrupting him. At his advice, I used to make marks in the margins of his copy to help me recall difficult grammatical structures…”
Opening the book, the elf turns it such that the party can see two pages of elegantly flowing, complex, and vaguely menacing script surrounding several indecipherable diagrams. “…these markings, for example,” Elaric continues as he points to a margin along which are a series of small writings in common. “are mine. These are a few of many such notes I made, which means this is master Kalmar’s copy of the book.”
Elaric turns to Wendell. “You asked what has me troubled; it is the fact that master Kalmar took this book with him on his final expedition off the coast of Chult ten years ago. He needed it to help him decode some unusual runes which were somehow defying magical translation – much like the runes in the tome I carry.” Taking in the rest of the group, Elaric remarks, “I’ve told some of you about this, but for those I haven’t,” he nods to Mady and Bruna, “master Kalmar died on that expedition. He was deep in the ruins trying to translate an odd series of runes when he triggered a trap and quite literally vaporized half the complex along with himself and, as I later came to learn from other members of his expedition, this book.” With slow, deliberate emphasis on each word, he goes on firmly, “This book should not exist.”
Elaric’s tone suddenly darkens, taking on a menacing note teaming with barely suppressed rage as he continues through gritted teeth, “What troubles me is how in the nine HELLS my dead friend’s destroyed book wound up, in pristine condition, in ruins buried thousands of leagues away from the site of his death! It shouldn’t be possible. That is why I say we have to investigate.” Breathing heavily, Elaric slowly sits back in the chair from which he had half risen in agitation. As he regains control of himself, he adds, in a voice barely above a whisper, “If his book is here, intact, then maybe – maybe he, too…” Elaric trails off and shakes his head slightly. After a moment, he looks about at his gathered companions. “If not for this mystery,” he lays a hand gently upon the book, “we must at least investigate for the sake of Pyrringham. The timing of events plaguing the town can’t be mere coincidence. Somewhere down in those ruins, we will find answers... of one sort or another.”
[OOC: Amount of time to plan and prepare before we head out?]
Though undoubtedly surprised by such an emotional outburst from an elf, the only outward sign of Mady's thoughts on racial norms comes as a slight widening of her eyes and a quizical lift to one eyebrown. After a brief but uncomfortable silence, she clears her throat and continues addressing the group:
"Whatever the reason we go in, we should not go unprepared. The mercenaries rotate guard duty every four days, ensuring that none are underground for too long. In my experience, it is easier to infiltrate a position during such transitions - many people are moving off their normal patrol routes and new faces are going by; in short, getting spotted from a distance doesn't raise much suspicion - especially if you dress the part. The next such scheduled rotation will happen in two days' time, giving us a chance to plan, equip, and prepare. What say you, heroes?"
Guan Hao rises, kicking his chair out from under him and brushing a flurry of crumbs and stray bones onto the floor with a flourish.
"I say that leaves us scant time for drinking! Best to get started at once. You, farm woman!" he turns to Bruna. "Summon your scullion or potboy and have them lead me to the nearest alehouse. Contemplating deeds of valor gives me a mighty thirst."
He seizes a jug of wine from the middle of the table, sloshing some onto his neighbor's plate, and drains it at one draught.
A horrified Wendell turns to Bruna, "I am SO sorry."
As he turns, he notices that his plate has been demolished. And Fluss the Otter is sitting on it. He glares reprovingly at the familiar. Fluss, in turn, looks around at Guan Hao and Gong before his gaze lights on Balazar. He points an accusing paw at the Dragonborn.
Wendell glares reprovingly at Balazar.
"I can't take you people anywhere nice," the wizard mutters.