The Cloak cultist catches the half-orc off guard, striking twice, then leaps onto his feet. He leaps into a dead run, but not before you get to make an opportunity attack, Arutha.
"Yes, friend," Durambor says. He quickly catches on. "Ahh. The rod." He nods. "Took me two weeks to attune to the darned device the first time around." He lets a thought settle into his mind. "Sure why not. You have the marshal's trust. Cath," he says. "Why don't you bring that security device over here and lend us a hand with all these fine people waiting to get into the city."
Cath looks at the man a slightly quizzical look on his face. "Eh? No, that's not what I had in mind. I don't have time to help at the gate. What I need is your help. Zavakk gave me this wand to help me find someone who may be in trouble. I need your help to use the wand to help in that search. I can't get its magics to work for me. But if you are still attuned to it you could use it for me. Time is of the essence and I need to get moving. What do you say? Your companion has things well in hand here. This will be better than working the gate I am sure."
"Beggin' your pardon. I see, friend. I thought—Never mind. May I?" he asks. He takes the rod. A look of alarm crosses his face. "The rod is set to track." He looks up. "Picture the item or person clearly in your mind."
He assumes you haven't tried that, Cath.
From the urgent look on your face, he realizes he's four steps behind. He takes a deep breath. "Reveal."
A cone of light bursts from the diamond gem onto the ground. In its disc-shaped base, you see an image of Traever emerge over the span of a few seconds. He's standing there a tense, nervous wreck. You see the polymorph potion fail under the rod's scrutiny. Traever winces, as the potion's property dissolves. He sheds his disguise, starting with top of his head. His hair slowly changes. It turns bleach white. His eyes turn lavender. His skin returns to its natural charcoal color.
You see Kouronath mouth the word, "Drow." Flaming Fist soldiers instantly appear.
Durambor appears shocked. "No wonder the marshal didn't debrief us. A terrible crime. Terrible," he says. "Resorting to magic to disguise her child. She must fear for them."
He straightens. He shakes off the concern. "Show me."
He hands the rod back to you. "Good luck, friend." As you take the item from the Fist soldier, you see the ray of light catch an imprint in the ground. It wasn't there before.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
As the cultist begins to run Arutha takes warrior, the sword he had been pretending to play with, and swings it at the back of the legs of the fleeing figure hoping to slice his tendons and keep him from running. Attack: 22 Damage: 6
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Lord Arunduil will bring death to us all"
Arutha Lvl.2 Human Fighter: Arsenal of the Orc Lord
Milamber Lvl.1 Human Sorcerer: Curse of Strahd
Masque: Lvl.5 Gith Cleric: Age of Death
DM: League of Improbable Adventurers: Chapter 1 of Arunduil's Bane
Cath takes the wand back from Kouronath. "Thanks."
He then looks at the imprint on the ground. He waves the wand around, slowly moving it in a circle around where he stands seeing if the imprint is leading him or stays where it is. He walks around a bit to see if the imprint is something he can follow.
"Kouronath, am I doing this right? Is this what I need to do to track the child? "
Norvalor will cast eldritch blast at Traever's grapple rune. Then cast sacred flame on his bindings. If he is successful he will say the Traever "You'll be alright, but i need you to stay sharp. There's undead everywhere this is gonna be hard and i'll need your help."
The Cloak cultist howls in pain as you slice through his tendon, Arutha. He falls hard onto the street, scraping his hands and face. He struggles to stand, but his leg buckles. You have immobilized him. Prone, he looks over his shoulder. "You have no idea what you're up against. We own the city!"
Durambor says, "Yes, friend. It will show you the way. The deeper the connection you have to the target, the brighter and longer-lasting the prints remain. Your connection keeps the prints awake. If that makes sense." You haven't heard of a divination spell perform like this before, Cath. Then again, your experience with spells may be limited.
Just as Durambor says, Traever's footprints come to life in the light of the device. Indeed, the rod can detect many things, it seems, even a lost child. The prints lead back into the city, back to the Purple Wyrm. They veer away from he inn and head toward the cemetery.
Traever's bindings melt under your spell, Norvalor. Divine light pours through the ceiling. You notice the limbs of the undead flinch as the source of your magic lends you aid. They pull away and disappear into the earth above you.
"Thank you," the dark elf boy says. Gone now are his tears, replaced with conviction, and a degree of kinship with you, now that you have set him free. You have stood by him, and he intends to stand by you. "We need weapons," he says.
Cath concentrates on the boy as he follows the tracks towards the cemetery. As he realizes that the cemetery appears to be his destination he stops for a moment.
Hoping this doesn't ruin the magic or even if this works he thinks towards Zavakk. Zavakk, it looks like he went to the cemetery.
Cath then pictures Traevor in his mind again hoping he hasn't broken the magic of the wand and continues towards the cemetery.
Zavakk does not return a reply, Cath. Whatever prompted him to conjure the dimension door and hurry through to Kouronath House keeps his attention firmly fixed on what he discovered there.
When you approach the cemetery, the grounds are not what you remember them to be. A tall rod iron fence surrounds the hallowed earth. A path winds through shallow hills, slopes, and wild grass. In the center, a large statute of Myrkul dominates the scenery. The god of death rises from the earth, swinging his scythe, harvesting souls, represented by the numerous statues that flee him. Humans from every continent, elves from every nation, dwarves from every clan, dragons from every territory, all manner of creatures scramble from Myrkul's reach.
The cemetery's front gates are not locked; in fact, they are open, gently welcoming, given the somber atmosphere.
Traever's prints come to a sudden stop a few yards from the entrance gates, Cath. In fact, what you see doesn't quite make sense. It's as though the boy suddenly dropped something valuable and began a frantic search for it. His prints are erratic. Some even look… spliced?
The gems around the dial begin to glow.
Please make a Charisma save, with advantage, because you have been using the rod for about 30 minutes, standard amount of time one needs to attune with a magic item.
"The orc lord," she starts up again, suddenly wincing from discomfort. She blinks. She clenches her teeth, and pushes though the pain, a facet of her life she cannot ignore. Neither is she willing to submit to its demands. Pain is a part of life. And so is disappointment. And yet, here she is, a powerful presence. You are right, Gramdal. She does seem to hold everyone's attention rather easily. You sense no spell at work. "Gravva wishes to invite all of you into his plan. You don't have to leave Baldur's Gate. He insists. Stay. Home." She winces again. "Stay here. Distract the Flaming Fist," she adds, turning her attention to Kelten, and then to you, Gramdal.
Jhaval smiles wickedly. He's given Kelten up. The filthy pig.
Gramdal will turn his attention to Kelten as well to serve a couple of purposes. Maybe he can buy time to find a way out of this:
What is Kelten's reaction?
Maybe Gramdal can stall for time to think. Maybe they will think he's not in league with Kelten...if but for a moment
In case a check is needed to read Kelten Insight18
Arutha growls at the cultist in response. "Actually, you don't know what you are up against. I said I would let you go and you decided to attack again so your life is on your head." He then grips his hair and pulls his head back then taking warrior places it to his throat and draw it across it in a swift execution.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Lord Arunduil will bring death to us all"
Arutha Lvl.2 Human Fighter: Arsenal of the Orc Lord
Milamber Lvl.1 Human Sorcerer: Curse of Strahd
Masque: Lvl.5 Gith Cleric: Age of Death
DM: League of Improbable Adventurers: Chapter 1 of Arunduil's Bane
The cultist's lifeless body slumps at your feet, Arutha.
"That's that," Skorbor says, wiping his hands of the entire affair.
A difficult choice, Arutha,Warrior says in your mind, but nevertheless a justifiable course of action. You are a worthy opponent. I am humbled to serve you.
Kelten, you notice, Gramdal, is doing his best to remain neutral. He wears many hats, remember. Jhaval just outed him as a Flaming Fist informant, purposely. For what gain? Certainly the dwarf's allies know of Kelten and his abilities. He is no more loyal to the Fist than he is to any other faction who pays for his meals.
Your eyes catch the Silver Queen. She dips to one side, disguising a finger twiddle intended for you. Her signal is brief. She pretends to be reaching for an item in a bag one other halfling attendants guards. Her gesture is careful. Many eyes are moving. Too many might stop to decipher her message.
When the female orc concludes her presentation, meet me in my quarters. Bring you friend with you. There is much to discuss.
The Cloak cultist rolls: 13 for his initiative.
Skorbor performs a Perception check: 21 to determine if he notices the cultist's movement.
The half-orc does not notice the sleight of hand. And the cultist is higher in the initiative count.
He senses his opportunity, and strikes. He spins on his knee as he draws his weapon, slashing with his dagger once: Attack: 7 Damage: 10
He slashes again: Attack: 21 Damage: 8
The Cloak cultist catches the half-orc off guard, striking twice, then leaps onto his feet. He leaps into a dead run, but not before you get to make an opportunity attack, Arutha.
Cath looks at the man a slightly quizzical look on his face. "Eh? No, that's not what I had in mind. I don't have time to help at the gate. What I need is your help. Zavakk gave me this wand to help me find someone who may be in trouble. I need your help to use the wand to help in that search. I can't get its magics to work for me. But if you are still attuned to it you could use it for me. Time is of the essence and I need to get moving. What do you say? Your companion has things well in hand here. This will be better than working the gate I am sure."
Persuasion if needed 10
"Beggin' your pardon. I see, friend. I thought—Never mind. May I?" he asks. He takes the rod. A look of alarm crosses his face. "The rod is set to track." He looks up. "Picture the item or person clearly in your mind."
He assumes you haven't tried that, Cath.
From the urgent look on your face, he realizes he's four steps behind. He takes a deep breath. "Reveal."
A cone of light bursts from the diamond gem onto the ground. In its disc-shaped base, you see an image of Traever emerge over the span of a few seconds. He's standing there a tense, nervous wreck. You see the polymorph potion fail under the rod's scrutiny. Traever winces, as the potion's property dissolves. He sheds his disguise, starting with top of his head. His hair slowly changes. It turns bleach white. His eyes turn lavender. His skin returns to its natural charcoal color.
You see Kouronath mouth the word, "Drow." Flaming Fist soldiers instantly appear.
Durambor appears shocked. "No wonder the marshal didn't debrief us. A terrible crime. Terrible," he says. "Resorting to magic to disguise her child. She must fear for them."
He straightens. He shakes off the concern. "Show me."
He hands the rod back to you. "Good luck, friend." As you take the item from the Fist soldier, you see the ray of light catch an imprint in the ground. It wasn't there before.
As the cultist begins to run Arutha takes warrior, the sword he had been pretending to play with, and swings it at the back of the legs of the fleeing figure hoping to slice his tendons and keep him from running. Attack: 22 Damage: 6
"Lord Arunduil will bring death to us all"
Arutha Lvl.2 Human Fighter: Arsenal of the Orc Lord
Milamber Lvl.1 Human Sorcerer: Curse of Strahd
Masque: Lvl.5 Gith Cleric: Age of Death
DM: League of Improbable Adventurers: Chapter 1 of Arunduil's Bane
Cath takes the wand back from Kouronath. "Thanks."
He then looks at the imprint on the ground. He waves the wand around, slowly moving it in a circle around where he stands seeing if the imprint is leading him or stays where it is. He walks around a bit to see if the imprint is something he can follow.
"Kouronath, am I doing this right? Is this what I need to do to track the child? "
Norvalor will cast eldritch blast at Traever's grapple rune. Then cast sacred flame on his bindings. If he is successful he will say the Traever "You'll be alright, but i need you to stay sharp. There's undead everywhere this is gonna be hard and i'll need your help."
The Cloak cultist howls in pain as you slice through his tendon, Arutha. He falls hard onto the street, scraping his hands and face. He struggles to stand, but his leg buckles. You have immobilized him. Prone, he looks over his shoulder. "You have no idea what you're up against. We own the city!"
Durambor says, "Yes, friend. It will show you the way. The deeper the connection you have to the target, the brighter and longer-lasting the prints remain. Your connection keeps the prints awake. If that makes sense." You haven't heard of a divination spell perform like this before, Cath. Then again, your experience with spells may be limited.
Just as Durambor says, Traever's footprints come to life in the light of the device. Indeed, the rod can detect many things, it seems, even a lost child. The prints lead back into the city, back to the Purple Wyrm. They veer away from he inn and head toward the cemetery.
Traever's bindings melt under your spell, Norvalor. Divine light pours through the ceiling. You notice the limbs of the undead flinch as the source of your magic lends you aid. They pull away and disappear into the earth above you.
"Thank you," the dark elf boy says. Gone now are his tears, replaced with conviction, and a degree of kinship with you, now that you have set him free. You have stood by him, and he intends to stand by you. "We need weapons," he says.
Cath concentrates on the boy as he follows the tracks towards the cemetery. As he realizes that the cemetery appears to be his destination he stops for a moment.
Hoping this doesn't ruin the magic or even if this works he thinks towards Zavakk. Zavakk, it looks like he went to the cemetery.
Cath then pictures Traevor in his mind again hoping he hasn't broken the magic of the wand and continues towards the cemetery.
Zavakk does not return a reply, Cath. Whatever prompted him to conjure the dimension door and hurry through to Kouronath House keeps his attention firmly fixed on what he discovered there.
When you approach the cemetery, the grounds are not what you remember them to be. A tall rod iron fence surrounds the hallowed earth. A path winds through shallow hills, slopes, and wild grass. In the center, a large statute of Myrkul dominates the scenery. The god of death rises from the earth, swinging his scythe, harvesting souls, represented by the numerous statues that flee him. Humans from every continent, elves from every nation, dwarves from every clan, dragons from every territory, all manner of creatures scramble from Myrkul's reach.
The cemetery's front gates are not locked; in fact, they are open, gently welcoming, given the somber atmosphere.
Cath looks around as he stands at the gates of the cemetery. "What brought you here child? " he whispers out loud.
With that he starts into the cemetery continuing to follow the footsteps that the wand reveals to him
Traever's prints come to a sudden stop a few yards from the entrance gates, Cath. In fact, what you see doesn't quite make sense. It's as though the boy suddenly dropped something valuable and began a frantic search for it. His prints are erratic. Some even look… spliced?
The gems around the dial begin to glow.
Please make a Charisma save, with advantage, because you have been using the rod for about 30 minutes, standard amount of time one needs to attune with a magic item.
Charisma 6
Wow!
Gramdal will turn his attention to Kelten as well to serve a couple of purposes. Maybe he can buy time to find a way out of this:
Arutha growls at the cultist in response. "Actually, you don't know what you are up against. I said I would let you go and you decided to attack again so your life is on your head." He then grips his hair and pulls his head back then taking warrior places it to his throat and draw it across it in a swift execution.
"Lord Arunduil will bring death to us all"
Arutha Lvl.2 Human Fighter: Arsenal of the Orc Lord
Milamber Lvl.1 Human Sorcerer: Curse of Strahd
Masque: Lvl.5 Gith Cleric: Age of Death
DM: League of Improbable Adventurers: Chapter 1 of Arunduil's Bane
The cultist's lifeless body slumps at your feet, Arutha.
"That's that," Skorbor says, wiping his hands of the entire affair.
A difficult choice, Arutha, Warrior says in your mind, but nevertheless a justifiable course of action. You are a worthy opponent. I am humbled to serve you.
Kelten, you notice, Gramdal, is doing his best to remain neutral. He wears many hats, remember. Jhaval just outed him as a Flaming Fist informant, purposely. For what gain? Certainly the dwarf's allies know of Kelten and his abilities. He is no more loyal to the Fist than he is to any other faction who pays for his meals.
Your eyes catch the Silver Queen. She dips to one side, disguising a finger twiddle intended for you. Her signal is brief. She pretends to be reaching for an item in a bag one other halfling attendants guards. Her gesture is careful. Many eyes are moving. Too many might stop to decipher her message.
When the female orc concludes her presentation, meet me in my quarters. Bring you friend with you. There is much to discuss.
The Flaming Fist named Durambor, remember, Cath, said it took him weeks to attune with the rod of many detections—unapologetic, stubborn magic item!
The device still shines a path. What do you do? Knowing Traever's prints swirl around the same spot?