With some gentle coaxing, the housekeeper cautiously removes herself from behind the large armoire. She seems visibly disturbed at Buoyside's nigh-incoherent rambling, his apparent madness only augmented by his disheveled appearance and bloodshot eyes. She seems similarly relieved when he storms out of the room.
At your request, she shyly turns her head and folds her hands nervously. "Oh, gentle sir, it would be most unbecoming to let a guest perform such a lowly chore. You are our patrons - you needn't concern yourselves with such base tasks!"
However, when her words fail to dissuade you - and on glimpsing the sight of a dagger in Ryloos' hands - she demurs, agreeing to let you finish cleaning the room as she steps out. Barking orders, Lofty directs the remainder of your party to begin to thoroughly search the room. Piecing together the broken shards of glass, HELIOS reassembles a vase that seems to have been purely decorative. You scour the room with immense scrutiny; it appears that the room's prior occupant parted in extreme haste, having left behind a stunningly ornate longsword (1d10 with +1 to attack and damage) and several pieces of well-maintained mail as well as finely polished leather boots. As you continue your search, your meticulousness is rewarded with the discovery of several drops of blood on the bedsheets mixed with a faint dusting of sulfurous soot on the carpet and drapes. Finally, having crawled under the bed, Ryloos finds a small pentagram surrounding by a number of arcane runes carved into the undercarriage of the four-poster bed's frame.
At that moment, the housekeeper returns with several other members of the inn's staff who, realizing that you have more or less turned the room inside out instead of cleaning, politely but firmly insist that you join the other guests in the great hall below for breakfast so that they may clean. Despite your protestations and veiled threats, you are shooed from the room, the door slamming heavily behind you.
As an aside, I realize that I never really explained what the dagger "Drift" does (currently in Ryloos' possession). Essentially it's going the same base damage as your shortsword, but three times a day you are able to throw the dagger and teleport to it anywhere along its trajectory. You do have to roll 1d20 + dexterity modifier on throwing the dagger, with your accuracy depending on your roll. The teleportation is silent, making it ideal for backstabbing enemies. HOWEVER, you must commit to teleporting before your roll; a bad throw might have disastrous consequences.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
I'm assuming we took all the stuff you mentioned before being shooed out of the room?
"Well, good to see you all again," Xantlin says, giving a slow demeaning up-and-down look towards Buoyside, "I hope you've had a good night."
Xantlin explains what he had explained to Lofty to the entire group while they return down to the Great Hall of the Inn.
"There are a lot of strange things happening here, it seems too coincidental for there to be no connection. Ryloos, let me take a look at that pentagram."
Religion check - 19 - looking for any information about the pentagram, especially any correlations between what I've learned about the Achaeans and our wildly named friends
With the realization that there would be no more sleep this night, Lofty sighs and gets down to business.
"We're fighting blind here. We could burn the distillery and skip town, but something tells me the rot goes deeper than that. We need intel. If we move without knowing who's involved innocents will be caught in the conflict. If we move without knowing why this is being done we may misplace our aggression and leave the true evil unaffected. We need some way to draw them out of hiding, get some answers. Any ideas?"
You study the pentagram carefully with equal feelings fascination and repulsion. The symbols are clearly infernal in nature, with runes of invocation, transference, and materialization. The magic is simple but powerful. After referencing one of your tomes, you conclude that the inscribed runes would allow some sort of demonic entity to materialize on the material plane nearby. You cannot recall any specific association with the Achaeans or their religious beliefs.
Out of the upturned room and back in the streets, Buoyside can finally breath in the crisp dawn air. The fresh air does him well, though there's a certain gripping, unsettling fear in his guts. Or was it the vodka? Or the blood in the vodka. He turns his back to the others, shielding himself and speaking in a whisper. "Why, now of all times, do you decide we're on speaking terms again?" He asks his sword. "My friends are all angry with me, we're in some idealic landscape tainted by...I don't know, ghouls? Vampires? The hell of war is one thing, we can rely on the courage of our squad and the ever watching light of the Lord to guide us...but to be caught off guard in some deceitful paradise? To be drunk on spirits in the very shadow of evil?"
He realizes he's rambling, takes another deep breathe before nearly shouting. "I've got a lot on my plate, Tony! This isn't the time to work things out between us and it's certainly not the time to remind me that I am losing it."
He stomps his foot, spits and turns back to the others, running a hand through his dirty beard. "I'll do whatever the WUSS wants to do, but make a decision before we're all ****ed, friends."
Xantlin explains all he's learned about the pentagram to the crew.
"There seems to be a lot going on here, but the first thing I'm interested in is where our 'friend' has run off to. This remnant from whoever was in that room is extremely dangerous, and it'd be too much of a coincidence for Alkinbablisjdfkles to have gone missing at the same time as the next room over being ransacked. There has to be a connection, maybe we ask around at the Inn and see if anyone saw anything?"
You stand, huddled in your room, and commiserate, evaluating the mounting evidence you've collected that suggests something a bit yucky might be occurring in this idyllic town. Suddenly, your door shudders under an immense blow, the wood buckling and splintering. After a moment of silence, the door slowly swings open, partially knocked off of its hinges. You briefly catch a glimpse of a masked figure dressed in long, white robes sprinting down the hallway before disappearing behind a bend in the hallway.
Embedded in your door, you find an animal skull covered in etched runes; in its mouth lies a potato pierced with sigils very similar to the one previously discovered by Ryloos, a long, cruel ceremonial dagger pinning it to the wood of your door. You each recognize it as a nithing, a cursed effigy, recalling various moments from your past.
Xantlin, in his extensive scholastic pursuits, has read of the extensive use of nithings in the court of Isidore toward the end of his reign - just before the start of the War in the Mist. By invoking infernal magic, courtiers would enact cruel curses on their rivals as they vied for power. The use of such objects was also reportedly common in the Old Continent of Man, before the Godfall and the Great Diaspora, long before man ever came to Pater Perditas. Ever the impartial scholar, Xantlin can admit to himself that the veracity of these accounts (now over 5,000 years old) is somewhat suspect.
Similarly, Ryloos can remember the very public acts of petty vengeance and squabbling between members of the upper class whilst growing up in Cionn tSáile. She remembers the death of the gallant Duke of Offaly, eaten alive by a swarm of possessed locusts in a public square after insulting the rather corpulent wife of Count Birr. His screams continued long after his skin and lips had been stripped away, far longer than you had imagined possible.
HELIOS and Buoyside may not know the exact nature of the object, but each can feel its maleficent energy deep in their bones. Whatever this object might be, it positively drips infernal magic.
Sergeant Lofty shudders. He remembers visiting a small village early in the campaign wherein a young woman was burned at the stake for use of a nithing. Jealous of her female lover's infidelity, she had cursed the woman for being heartless. Her lover was subsequently found dead, her heart literally forced through her chest wall from the inside. Turgid Dirk, your erstwhile lieutenant, had personally overseen the execution after viewing the body, his eyes hard and haunted.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"Curses on curses. What's the point of all this armor if none of my enemies are honest enough to stab me?"
My Arcana and Religion are both +5, whichever seems more appropriate 20 That sucked, so if we're not in a hurry I'd like to take 10 on the roll. I want to know how curses work mechanically. The stories usually involve someone who has done something wrong. Can a curse be laid on someone who is innocent? Is a curse more powerful when laid on someone who has acted wrongly? Can it be broken by writing that wrong? Can the caster of a curse break it?
"I was hoping to be subtle about this, but our hand has been forced." Lofty straightens up and speaks with authority now, giving orders he no longer has any real ability to enforce. "Bouyside, take Helios and go have a chat with the innkeeper. If there's trouble, do not engage, this is a fact finding mission. Have Helios send up a flare and we'll all come running." He turns to face Ryloos and Xantlin. "You two are with me, we're going to find where these vipers nest and gather what intel we can." Lofty is unsure about splitting the party, but he doesn't let it show. The curse could manifest at any time, in any way. They needed to know more, and fast. "Once we have a better idea of our situation, we'll meet back up and put an end to this." He pauses for a moment, giving the squad a chance to voice any concerns about the plan before ordering them into action.
Curses are as curses do. They're pretty nebulous - spells of variably intense malice placed on another person, often in revenge. Nithings, though...them's something special, a very specific instance of a curse. A nithing is a specific pact entered into with a malevolent entity, the terms of which are very clearly defined. Employ an evil power to enact a certain injury or illness onto a specific person or group of people. Nithings are especially popular amongst nonmagical folk with black hearts, as they require relatively mundane ingredients in addition to the words to a summoning invocation and the name of the infernal force they wish to employ.
But one who uses a nithing must be careful. A devil or demon will look for just about any way to exploit a loophole in the verbiage, often turning the ritual on the summoner.
On occasion, nithings may contain specific stipulations that must be met or fail to be met before they will be enacted. Moreover, the summoner may delineate a specific time frame. The more stipulations, however, the greater the chance for some lexical misstep spelling doom for the author.
Based on the runes carved into your nithing's skull-potato, you have until sunset to leave the city borders - and, by implicit extension, Alkibiades - before something basal and profane will be drawn to your location
You feel the grains of sand falling as the first rays of sunlight spill into your dusty inn room.
Ryloos stands up a little too quickly and the room spins a bit. Steadying herself on the nearby wall, "Where do we start boss? Perhaps we start with the following the trail of that white cloaked fellow? Or we just leave Alki-bad-relationship-with-his-mom behind and forget about this awful town." She stares at Alkibiades for a moment after she says that. Rude as it might be to say that, Ryloos has very little sympathy for their new companion, and the thought wasting more time in this town for his sake bothers her. However, she despises this town and some part of her wants to exact her revenge on it and its occupants. "Maybe I can steal something of value to make this expedition worthwhile," she mumbles as wraps her cloak around her.
Buoyside breaths heavily out of his nose in a sort of "pfft" to the captain. Talk to the inkeeper? The slob that pours drinks to other slobs? where is the danger in that? what kind of trouble could possibly occur that would be too great for the magnificent Buoyside to overcome? Alas, he is still a soldier and he'll follow the order. He looks to the mechanical monk, giving a half nod before making his way back into the inn. He finds him behind the bar. The smug ghoul, this secret vampire, this merchant of blood. He stumbles his way up to the bar, setting his blade down heavily on the counter, though it's length far extends the bar top and sticks out a couple feet to the side.
"Lemme' ask you somethin'," He slurs as a drunkard would. "Wer' you get this stuff? Me n' my mates, w've bin' all ov-er the realms n' we ain't had nothin' like it..." He leans in, "wut's the secret?"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Lofty leads the others outside and begins to look around for clues. It would be hard to hide a normal still. It needs to be near a source of water and fuel, and would likely be giving off a foul odor. However, when brewing with flesh, Lofty wasn't sure if the process would be the same.
Investigation to figure out if/where they're making this stuff21I have my divine sense going if they're close enough for me to detect their evil.
The bartender smiles graciously at you as he polishes a glass. "Why, that's simple, you shining scintilla of superlative sagacity and singular sobriety! All of the delicious, refreshing Sky vodka, with its unique blue coloration and fashionable bottling, is distilled in a warehouse right over yonder!"
He points out the window. You see a large, featureless wooden building on the edge of the town, near the river.
"'Course, guided tours are available upon request! Would you perchance be interested?"
LOFTY
You detect no obvious misconstrual or illusory magic. The barkeeper appears genuine and neutral in alignment. You almost slap a hand against your face at the nigh stupifying lack of subtlety of the townspeople. They are damnably helpful for all of the weird stuff that their town seems to attract.
You look around. Other adventurers are beginning to filter into the bar to begin a day of hard drinking; you recognize several from the evening before. They return your gaze with cold, blank stares. Beginning as little more than a subconscious rumbling, a nagging voice in the back of your mind wonders why none of the townspeople drink in the tavern...
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THE GANG, IN TOTAL
With some gentle coaxing, the housekeeper cautiously removes herself from behind the large armoire. She seems visibly disturbed at Buoyside's nigh-incoherent rambling, his apparent madness only augmented by his disheveled appearance and bloodshot eyes. She seems similarly relieved when he storms out of the room.
At your request, she shyly turns her head and folds her hands nervously. "Oh, gentle sir, it would be most unbecoming to let a guest perform such a lowly chore. You are our patrons - you needn't concern yourselves with such base tasks!"
However, when her words fail to dissuade you - and on glimpsing the sight of a dagger in Ryloos' hands - she demurs, agreeing to let you finish cleaning the room as she steps out. Barking orders, Lofty directs the remainder of your party to begin to thoroughly search the room. Piecing together the broken shards of glass, HELIOS reassembles a vase that seems to have been purely decorative. You scour the room with immense scrutiny; it appears that the room's prior occupant parted in extreme haste, having left behind a stunningly ornate longsword (1d10 with +1 to attack and damage) and several pieces of well-maintained mail as well as finely polished leather boots. As you continue your search, your meticulousness is rewarded with the discovery of several drops of blood on the bedsheets mixed with a faint dusting of sulfurous soot on the carpet and drapes. Finally, having crawled under the bed, Ryloos finds a small pentagram surrounding by a number of arcane runes carved into the undercarriage of the four-poster bed's frame.
At that moment, the housekeeper returns with several other members of the inn's staff who, realizing that you have more or less turned the room inside out instead of cleaning, politely but firmly insist that you join the other guests in the great hall below for breakfast so that they may clean. Despite your protestations and veiled threats, you are shooed from the room, the door slamming heavily behind you.
As an aside, I realize that I never really explained what the dagger "Drift" does (currently in Ryloos' possession). Essentially it's going the same base damage as your shortsword, but three times a day you are able to throw the dagger and teleport to it anywhere along its trajectory. You do have to roll 1d20 + dexterity modifier on throwing the dagger, with your accuracy depending on your roll. The teleportation is silent, making it ideal for backstabbing enemies. HOWEVER, you must commit to teleporting before your roll; a bad throw might have disastrous consequences.
I'm assuming we took all the stuff you mentioned before being shooed out of the room?
"Well, good to see you all again," Xantlin says, giving a slow demeaning up-and-down look towards Buoyside, "I hope you've had a good night."
Xantlin explains what he had explained to Lofty to the entire group while they return down to the Great Hall of the Inn.
"There are a lot of strange things happening here, it seems too coincidental for there to be no connection. Ryloos, let me take a look at that pentagram."
Religion check - 19 - looking for any information about the pentagram, especially any correlations between what I've learned about the Achaeans and our wildly named friends
Xantlin Pegason (imgur)
33/33 HP
4/4 level 1 spells, 3/3 level 2 spells, 2/2 level 3 spells
AC = 15, Spell attack bonus = 7, spell save DC = 15
With the realization that there would be no more sleep this night, Lofty sighs and gets down to business.
"We're fighting blind here. We could burn the distillery and skip town, but something tells me the rot goes deeper than that. We need intel. If we move without knowing who's involved innocents will be caught in the conflict. If we move without knowing why this is being done we may misplace our aggression and leave the true evil unaffected. We need some way to draw them out of hiding, get some answers. Any ideas?"
Character Sheets: Page1 Page2 Page3
HP: 35 AC: 20 Saves: Str+2 Dex+0 Con+4 Int+2 Wis+2 Cha+6
XANTLIN
You study the pentagram carefully with equal feelings fascination and repulsion. The symbols are clearly infernal in nature, with runes of invocation, transference, and materialization. The magic is simple but powerful. After referencing one of your tomes, you conclude that the inscribed runes would allow some sort of demonic entity to materialize on the material plane nearby. You cannot recall any specific association with the Achaeans or their religious beliefs.
Out of the upturned room and back in the streets, Buoyside can finally breath in the crisp dawn air. The fresh air does him well, though there's a certain gripping, unsettling fear in his guts. Or was it the vodka? Or the blood in the vodka. He turns his back to the others, shielding himself and speaking in a whisper. "Why, now of all times, do you decide we're on speaking terms again?" He asks his sword. "My friends are all angry with me, we're in some idealic landscape tainted by...I don't know, ghouls? Vampires? The hell of war is one thing, we can rely on the courage of our squad and the ever watching light of the Lord to guide us...but to be caught off guard in some deceitful paradise? To be drunk on spirits in the very shadow of evil?"
He realizes he's rambling, takes another deep breathe before nearly shouting. "I've got a lot on my plate, Tony! This isn't the time to work things out between us and it's certainly not the time to remind me that I am losing it."
He stomps his foot, spits and turns back to the others, running a hand through his dirty beard. "I'll do whatever the WUSS wants to do, but make a decision before we're all ****ed, friends."
Character Sheet
AC: 16
Xantlin explains all he's learned about the pentagram to the crew.
"There seems to be a lot going on here, but the first thing I'm interested in is where our 'friend' has run off to. This remnant from whoever was in that room is extremely dangerous, and it'd be too much of a coincidence for Alkinbablisjdfkles to have gone missing at the same time as the next room over being ransacked. There has to be a connection, maybe we ask around at the Inn and see if anyone saw anything?"
Xantlin Pegason (imgur)
33/33 HP
4/4 level 1 spells, 3/3 level 2 spells, 2/2 level 3 spells
AC = 15, Spell attack bonus = 7, spell save DC = 15
THE GANG
You stand, huddled in your room, and commiserate, evaluating the mounting evidence you've collected that suggests something a bit yucky might be occurring in this idyllic town. Suddenly, your door shudders under an immense blow, the wood buckling and splintering. After a moment of silence, the door slowly swings open, partially knocked off of its hinges. You briefly catch a glimpse of a masked figure dressed in long, white robes sprinting down the hallway before disappearing behind a bend in the hallway.
Embedded in your door, you find an animal skull covered in etched runes; in its mouth lies a potato pierced with sigils very similar to the one previously discovered by Ryloos, a long, cruel ceremonial dagger pinning it to the wood of your door. You each recognize it as a nithing, a cursed effigy, recalling various moments from your past.
Xantlin, in his extensive scholastic pursuits, has read of the extensive use of nithings in the court of Isidore toward the end of his reign - just before the start of the War in the Mist. By invoking infernal magic, courtiers would enact cruel curses on their rivals as they vied for power. The use of such objects was also reportedly common in the Old Continent of Man, before the Godfall and the Great Diaspora, long before man ever came to Pater Perditas. Ever the impartial scholar, Xantlin can admit to himself that the veracity of these accounts (now over 5,000 years old) is somewhat suspect.
Similarly, Ryloos can remember the very public acts of petty vengeance and squabbling between members of the upper class whilst growing up in Cionn tSáile. She remembers the death of the gallant Duke of Offaly, eaten alive by a swarm of possessed locusts in a public square after insulting the rather corpulent wife of Count Birr. His screams continued long after his skin and lips had been stripped away, far longer than you had imagined possible.
HELIOS and Buoyside may not know the exact nature of the object, but each can feel its maleficent energy deep in their bones. Whatever this object might be, it positively drips infernal magic.
Sergeant Lofty shudders. He remembers visiting a small village early in the campaign wherein a young woman was burned at the stake for use of a nithing. Jealous of her female lover's infidelity, she had cursed the woman for being heartless. Her lover was subsequently found dead, her heart literally forced through her chest wall from the inside. Turgid Dirk, your erstwhile lieutenant, had personally overseen the execution after viewing the body, his eyes hard and haunted.
You collectively feel a shiver down your spine.
"Curses on curses. What's the point of all this armor if none of my enemies are honest enough to stab me?"
My Arcana and Religion are both +5, whichever seems more appropriate 20 That sucked, so if we're not in a hurry I'd like to take 10 on the roll. I want to know how curses work mechanically. The stories usually involve someone who has done something wrong. Can a curse be laid on someone who is innocent? Is a curse more powerful when laid on someone who has acted wrongly? Can it be broken by writing that wrong? Can the caster of a curse break it?
"I was hoping to be subtle about this, but our hand has been forced." Lofty straightens up and speaks with authority now, giving orders he no longer has any real ability to enforce. "Bouyside, take Helios and go have a chat with the innkeeper. If there's trouble, do not engage, this is a fact finding mission. Have Helios send up a flare and we'll all come running." He turns to face Ryloos and Xantlin. "You two are with me, we're going to find where these vipers nest and gather what intel we can." Lofty is unsure about splitting the party, but he doesn't let it show. The curse could manifest at any time, in any way. They needed to know more, and fast. "Once we have a better idea of our situation, we'll meet back up and put an end to this." He pauses for a moment, giving the squad a chance to voice any concerns about the plan before ordering them into action.
Character Sheets: Page1 Page2 Page3
HP: 35 AC: 20 Saves: Str+2 Dex+0 Con+4 Int+2 Wis+2 Cha+6
Curses are as curses do. They're pretty nebulous - spells of variably intense malice placed on another person, often in revenge. Nithings, though...them's something special, a very specific instance of a curse. A nithing is a specific pact entered into with a malevolent entity, the terms of which are very clearly defined. Employ an evil power to enact a certain injury or illness onto a specific person or group of people. Nithings are especially popular amongst nonmagical folk with black hearts, as they require relatively mundane ingredients in addition to the words to a summoning invocation and the name of the infernal force they wish to employ.
But one who uses a nithing must be careful. A devil or demon will look for just about any way to exploit a loophole in the verbiage, often turning the ritual on the summoner.
On occasion, nithings may contain specific stipulations that must be met or fail to be met before they will be enacted. Moreover, the summoner may delineate a specific time frame. The more stipulations, however, the greater the chance for some lexical misstep spelling doom for the author.
Based on the runes carved into your nithing's skull-potato, you have until sunset to leave the city borders - and, by implicit extension, Alkibiades - before something basal and profane will be drawn to your location
You feel the grains of sand falling as the first rays of sunlight spill into your dusty inn room.
Ryloos stands up a little too quickly and the room spins a bit. Steadying herself on the nearby wall, "Where do we start boss? Perhaps we start with the following the trail of that white cloaked fellow? Or we just leave Alki-bad-relationship-with-his-mom behind and forget about this awful town." She stares at Alkibiades for a moment after she says that. Rude as it might be to say that, Ryloos has very little sympathy for their new companion, and the thought wasting more time in this town for his sake bothers her. However, she despises this town and some part of her wants to exact her revenge on it and its occupants. "Maybe I can steal something of value to make this expedition worthwhile," she mumbles as wraps her cloak around her.
Buoyside breaths heavily out of his nose in a sort of "pfft" to the captain. Talk to the inkeeper? The slob that pours drinks to other slobs? where is the danger in that? what kind of trouble could possibly occur that would be too great for the magnificent Buoyside to overcome? Alas, he is still a soldier and he'll follow the order. He looks to the mechanical monk, giving a half nod before making his way back into the inn. He finds him behind the bar. The smug ghoul, this secret vampire, this merchant of blood. He stumbles his way up to the bar, setting his blade down heavily on the counter, though it's length far extends the bar top and sticks out a couple feet to the side.
"Lemme' ask you somethin'," He slurs as a drunkard would. "Wer' you get this stuff? Me n' my mates, w've bin' all ov-er the realms n' we ain't had nothin' like it..." He leans in, "wut's the secret?"
Deception Check: 21
Character Sheet
AC: 16
Lofty leads the others outside and begins to look around for clues. It would be hard to hide a normal still. It needs to be near a source of water and fuel, and would likely be giving off a foul odor. However, when brewing with flesh, Lofty wasn't sure if the process would be the same.
Investigation to figure out if/where they're making this stuff 21 I have my divine sense going if they're close enough for me to detect their evil.
Character Sheets: Page1 Page2 Page3
HP: 35 AC: 20 Saves: Str+2 Dex+0 Con+4 Int+2 Wis+2 Cha+6
BUOYSIDE
The bartender smiles graciously at you as he polishes a glass. "Why, that's simple, you shining scintilla of superlative sagacity and singular sobriety! All of the delicious, refreshing Sky vodka, with its unique blue coloration and fashionable bottling, is distilled in a warehouse right over yonder!"
He points out the window. You see a large, featureless wooden building on the edge of the town, near the river.
"'Course, guided tours are available upon request! Would you perchance be interested?"
LOFTY
You detect no obvious misconstrual or illusory magic. The barkeeper appears genuine and neutral in alignment. You almost slap a hand against your face at the nigh stupifying lack of subtlety of the townspeople. They are damnably helpful for all of the weird stuff that their town seems to attract.
You look around. Other adventurers are beginning to filter into the bar to begin a day of hard drinking; you recognize several from the evening before. They return your gaze with cold, blank stares. Beginning as little more than a subconscious rumbling, a nagging voice in the back of your mind wonders why none of the townspeople drink in the tavern...