Wander listen to them as he waits, wondering what they should do himself. "If you wish to lie to them about her then you better make sure that you are very skilled at lying to people. Otherwise it would be the wisest course to leave or tell the guards the truth and hope that they will beleive that we merely came upon her like this. Whichever we chose it should be done so we can return in time to help the others."
The gnome's features grow more and more contorted with time. "But they saw us come in here! And we've been so long! And if we pretend it never happened, and they find out we knew, then WE might end up like the orcs. And I can't lie to save my life! And if I try, I might end up like the orcs! And guards are on their way back to The Hot Chip! And we need to help the others, or THEY will end up like the orcs." He raises his hooked index finger to his mouth, bites it, and closes his eyes. Then he lets out a nervous wail as he stamps his feet in place, spinning in a circle.
Suddenly his eyes snap open. The rosy color drains from the youthful gnome's face. His finger lowers from his mouth as he stares coldly at the corpse on the desk. He whispers quietly, to himself, "We are already like the orcs. Every last one of us. We were the very second we believed the handbills, signed up for the trip, and stepped through that accursed Rift."
His eyes narrow in epiphany, and his revelation is punctuated by a single word. "****." This time there's no move to stop it; the word spills out slowly, like a dark, frigid waterfall, from the gnome's lip.
"Oh, Addison," he murmurs to himself, "I wish you were here. I could sorely use your forked tongue right about now."
He snaps out of his reverie, and looks to the others, pulling his hat onto his head with both hands. His rapid manner of speech has returned, though his sentences quick and to-the-point. "My gear is back at the Chip. Keep an eye out for a musical instrument, especially a flute or a dulcimer." He looks around at the cold office that reeks of administration. "Nevermind that. A nick of fleece and a tiny bit of copper wire will do."
He looks to the others. "This is going to be like a play. We all have to know our lines and be on the same page, or the audience--those six men outside the door--will never buy it. First things first. We need to set the stage. How shall we do this?"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Violent:
While he's waiting, Jebben will be looking for anything from which he can salvage fleece and copper wire from (in that order of importance) be it in the office, or on the wardrobes of any persons present (including Trask's).
Ellayne watches her companions and listens to their words. Different opinions and different minds... Her mismatched gaze shifts back to the dead Minister Trask, frowning in her thought about what she found as an evidence. Her eyes stare at Jebben when he suggests doing play on the stage. Lying to the guards... She doesn't feel right about this.
”I actually agree with Wander. Lying to the guards may be easy but it never comes out right. We did not harm Minister Trask but, if we are hiding her death, then we can be the target for these guards instead of the real murderer. I suggest we tell the guards and let them find the real culprit. We did not do anything wrong.” Ellayne suggests cautiously. ”We could just leave it but I am thinking it would be better for us to inform them.”
Then she looks back at Vostaria. ”I found an evidence also. It seems like someone assassinated Minister Trask with a pointed weapon, almost like a needle. Someone has been planned this for a long time.”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Reverie Forestgleam—Human Paladin Level 5 in Frontier City of Nunkreet Extremely busy and busy as ever recently, but I will trying to catch up as much as I can
The rosy color is returning to Jebben’s face, and he’s settling back into his hasty, loquacious personality. He looks at Ellayne. “In basic theory, Ms. Ellayne, I wholeheartedly agree with you, and in fact my first primeval reaction was to alert the nearby authorities so they could adjudicate this matter with their professional experience and jurisdiction.”
The gnome’s gaze falls back to the body at the desk. “But as I put more thought into the matter, I can’t help but remember everything we’ve experienced in The New World, and it’s all coming together in a twisted, horrible collage of calamity. Firstly, there is our imprisoned status with which we were first greeted—albeit with good food and drink, or shall we call it bread and circuses?—and if you couple that with seeing those two individuals murdered in their cells without any due process whatsoever (if you recall, only two of the three were fighting—the third was a mere bystander!) then our subsequent and surprising assignment to some quarry for peacekeeping (and trust you me, if The New World “keeps” the peace the way it was kept in the prison cell with those orcs today, I want no part in it!) then, in the middle of a terrorist attack which we helped defend against, our weapons were sneaked away (leaving my pack and pipes, mind you; a very deliberate choice of things to “pack into a wagon” for a journey), and then there were the happenings at The Hot Chip, and the fact that the law seems to be on the side of brutish, ill-tempered ruffians.”
Jebben pauses for breath, and faces the group. “We’ve been told numerous times in this one day that we are out of place with our reasonable thinking, that The New World is different.” He looks up at Ellayne. “Tell me, given all the things we have seen, heard, and encountered in the past 48 hours: do you expect those six men outside the door to act reasonably? I, myself, at this particular juncture, just as easily see them stepping into that doorway, brandishing their spears, and slaying all four of us on the spot once they see the minister dead."
He stares blankly at the desk. “I think Ms. Vostaria has the right idea. We put Minister Trask back the way we found her. From there, we have two choices: invite the guards in, let them discover her the way we did, and hope they react reasonably (while we stand a bit more safely out in the hallway, just in case), or we simply tell them we shall come back later, when she’s not asleep at her desk, and we go find our two friends, which will most likely make us suspects at the least and fugitives at the most, but which also may prevent us from becoming instant emigrant-kebob the way those orcs were.”
A look of worry clouds the gnome's face. "Oh, I'm afraid there's nothing we can do for Barnum and Dorstair, now, for there is certainly not time enough to protect our own interests along with theirs; I do hope they're all right, and that Barnum cares after my belongings!"
As soon as she hears her name from Jebben, her mismatched gaze shifts back at him from Vostaria. Ellayne's eyes go wide by the unexpected speech from the gnomish bard. It is true that everything seems very twisted as soon as their arrival to this New World. Listening to the overview of this whole situation they had faced together, Ellayne sighs and then shakes her head slightly, moves her gaze away from him, as if she tried to get rid of the memory of the Orcs' death. Then the Bard asks her to tell him the things, which her mismatched eyes shift back at him. This time, her eyes show the uncertainty since his words are very reasonable.
She hates to lie to the people because she never was good at lying, and yet, it seems Jebben and Vostaria's reasons and words would work at this point. Another deep sigh escapes from her lips before she walks away from Minister Trask. "I would suggest doing the first option than the second. The second option that you offered could make them targeting us easily," Ellayne mutters as she walks back to the drawer where she found a scroll in a secret place. The "Tabatha's Terrific Tailor" button has been putting in her pocket. Now, (if she could) she might need to take that scroll that Minister Trask has been hiding. Her hands reach inside of a drawer and take a hastily-wrapped-scroll.
"Let us pray that Barnum and Dorstair could handle the situation until we could return to them. However, for now, let us hope that we can get out of this event." Now, she starts to get worried about the other two companions at the Hot Chips.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Reverie Forestgleam—Human Paladin Level 5 in Frontier City of Nunkreet Extremely busy and busy as ever recently, but I will trying to catch up as much as I can
Jebben nods enthusiastically at Ellayne. "Yes, yes, fair enough, fair enough; I like that idea, for it's a happy compromise, that we offer mostly the objective truth with only the slightest, inconsequential fib for our own security. We're simply letting the guards discover organically what we already learned here--that the minister is deceased--and we are only having to pretend not to know for a moment, until they realize, and then our emotions will be synchronized with theirs--surprise, shock, and horror, that is, of course."
Jebben pauses in thought. "However (and this is the crucial element of this plan) what do we do if they suspect us or try to detain us? The other solutions to the other scenarios are simple, relatively speaking. If they attack us we run away, and if they dismiss us we're out of this potential mess."
"But what if they want to detain us? Do we allow it, or do we flee?" The bard points to the door. "We know how they treat their esteemed emigrant guests. I can't imagine a prisoner's life here. And, if we're to believe Gold and Silver's last words before leaving The Hot Chip, we know how fickle the law can be in The New World."
Jebben steps next to Vostaria, and looks down at the body. "While we discuss and decide, we had best get to work setting everything back to how it was. Ms. Vostaria, let me know how I can assist you with Ms, erm, the late Ms. Trask."
Jebben will be helping Vostaria try to put Trask back into the position in which we found her.
Ellayne takes the scroll that was hidden in a compartment in the drawer. As she does, the laughter outside dies down and you hear the rattling of keys approaching the door. You feel remarkably cold, as if you'd forgotten that you are moving deeper into the chill of the night.
Barnum / Dorstaer (Barnum will have to catch up)
You grab your friends belongings and dive into the hatch. The air is musty down here, and only large enough for you to crawl through. The barman shuts it behind him and pulls a lever. You hear a grinding of wood on wood and he winks at you, holding a candle in one hand. You crawl through the tunnel for a good five or so minutes before you reach the hatch on the far side. It opens just outside the Fishmongers, a sign above reads "Fabulous Fish Fantastic".
The barman follows you out, and Annie runs over to him, hugging him. "Ok, fella's. Lets get to Rift-Hall, I know the way."
Wander hears the guards and readies himself for whatever is going to happen, looking to the others with a quick glance. "In the future we would do well to remember that the scene of a murder is not the best place to hold long and thoughtful discussions. If they come in here I am sure that it will not take long at all for them to decide our guilt. At the very best we could hipe for them questioing why we are in her office announced, but that is only if they are fookish enough to not see her all but face down on her desk."
Jebben whispers, "That's our call, people!" He cringes as he grabs one side of Trask, opposite Vostaria, and works to arrange the head and arms into a fell-asleep-at-the-desk position with the back of the neck facing away, out of sight. "Everyone grab a seat," whispers the gnome, "and be quiet and respectful. Remember, she is sleeping until they try to wake her. Then we are horrified--again! Break a leg!" As soon as the scene is hastily set in what little time is available, Jebben darts to a seat, himself.
Jebben attempts to place the body into position, with Vostaria close at hand. As Jebben places his hand on Trask's head, he doesn't expect the chilling touch and flinches, knocking over a candlestick on the desk which clatters to the floor with a bang.
Vostaria quickly picks Trask up and puts her in the correct position.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Three guards walk through the main hallway from the entrance. They pass the Rift on their right toward the waiting area and variety of desks strewn about this area of the main hall. The Rift makes a soft humming sound that only now you notice. The Guards are talking amongst themselves, their spears clatter against their armour, their footsteps falling heavy on the wooden floor.
They reach you, and one of them spots you sitting, waiting. "Is everything alright? It's a bit late to be here don't you think? Maybe you should come back in the morning."
Jebben looks up from his seat, seemingly surprised. "Oh, yes, yes," he whispers politely. "We didn't want to disturb her sleep with trivial questions about tomorrow's assignment. We thought we would wait until she rouses from her nap. But perhaps we should be getting some sleep as well. It's been a long day for everyone, I think."
He stands and affects a long, weary yawn while stretching his arms.
The gnome is already moving casually towards the door, all the while smiling in a friendly manner. "They stayed at the tavern to rest up a bit," he whispers to the guard. "Today's battle in the hall was a bit more taxing for them, I think. You do remember the valiant dwarf, don't you? He was in the infirmary for his brave deeds." Jebben motions towards Wander. "The Rustless Wonder, here, is made of sterner stuff--quite literally, I think. He insisted on coming along in spite of his injuries. He tells us his kind doesn't need sleep the way you and I do."
Wander listen to them as he waits, wondering what they should do himself. "If you wish to lie to them about her then you better make sure that you are very skilled at lying to people. Otherwise it would be the wisest course to leave or tell the guards the truth and hope that they will beleive that we merely came upon her like this. Whichever we chose it should be done so we can return in time to help the others."
The gnome's features grow more and more contorted with time. "But they saw us come in here! And we've been so long! And if we pretend it never happened, and they find out we knew, then WE might end up like the orcs. And I can't lie to save my life! And if I try, I might end up like the orcs! And guards are on their way back to The Hot Chip! And we need to help the others, or THEY will end up like the orcs." He raises his hooked index finger to his mouth, bites it, and closes his eyes. Then he lets out a nervous wail as he stamps his feet in place, spinning in a circle.
Suddenly his eyes snap open. The rosy color drains from the youthful gnome's face. His finger lowers from his mouth as he stares coldly at the corpse on the desk. He whispers quietly, to himself, "We are already like the orcs. Every last one of us. We were the very second we believed the handbills, signed up for the trip, and stepped through that accursed Rift."
His eyes narrow in epiphany, and his revelation is punctuated by a single word. "****." This time there's no move to stop it; the word spills out slowly, like a dark, frigid waterfall, from the gnome's lip.
"Oh, Addison," he murmurs to himself, "I wish you were here. I could sorely use your forked tongue right about now."
He snaps out of his reverie, and looks to the others, pulling his hat onto his head with both hands. His rapid manner of speech has returned, though his sentences quick and to-the-point. "My gear is back at the Chip. Keep an eye out for a musical instrument, especially a flute or a dulcimer." He looks around at the cold office that reeks of administration. "Nevermind that. A nick of fleece and a tiny bit of copper wire will do."
He looks to the others. "This is going to be like a play. We all have to know our lines and be on the same page, or the audience--those six men outside the door--will never buy it. First things first. We need to set the stage. How shall we do this?"
Current Roles:
GM - Fata Morgana: The Ghosts of Saltmarsh
Violent:
While he's waiting, Jebben will be looking for anything from which he can salvage fleece and copper wire from (in that order of importance) be it in the office, or on the wardrobes of any persons present (including Trask's).
Perception: 5
Current Roles:
GM - Fata Morgana: The Ghosts of Saltmarsh
Ellayne watches her companions and listens to their words. Different opinions and different minds... Her mismatched gaze shifts back to the dead Minister Trask, frowning in her thought about what she found as an evidence. Her eyes stare at Jebben when he suggests doing play on the stage. Lying to the guards... She doesn't feel right about this.
”I actually agree with Wander. Lying to the guards may be easy but it never comes out right. We did not harm Minister Trask but, if we are hiding her death, then we can be the target for these guards instead of the real murderer. I suggest we tell the guards and let them find the real culprit. We did not do anything wrong.” Ellayne suggests cautiously. ”We could just leave it but I am thinking it would be better for us to inform them.”
Then she looks back at Vostaria. ”I found an evidence also. It seems like someone assassinated Minister Trask with a pointed weapon, almost like a needle. Someone has been planned this for a long time.”
Reverie Forestgleam—Human Paladin Level 5 in Frontier City of Nunkreet
Extremely busy and busy as ever recently, but I will trying to catch up as much as I can
The rosy color is returning to Jebben’s face, and he’s settling back into his hasty, loquacious personality. He looks at Ellayne. “In basic theory, Ms. Ellayne, I wholeheartedly agree with you, and in fact my first primeval reaction was to alert the nearby authorities so they could adjudicate this matter with their professional experience and jurisdiction.”
The gnome’s gaze falls back to the body at the desk. “But as I put more thought into the matter, I can’t help but remember everything we’ve experienced in The New World, and it’s all coming together in a twisted, horrible collage of calamity. Firstly, there is our imprisoned status with which we were first greeted—albeit with good food and drink, or shall we call it bread and circuses?—and if you couple that with seeing those two individuals murdered in their cells without any due process whatsoever (if you recall, only two of the three were fighting—the third was a mere bystander!) then our subsequent and surprising assignment to some quarry for peacekeeping (and trust you me, if The New World “keeps” the peace the way it was kept in the prison cell with those orcs today, I want no part in it!) then, in the middle of a terrorist attack which we helped defend against, our weapons were sneaked away (leaving my pack and pipes, mind you; a very deliberate choice of things to “pack into a wagon” for a journey), and then there were the happenings at The Hot Chip, and the fact that the law seems to be on the side of brutish, ill-tempered ruffians.”
Jebben pauses for breath, and faces the group. “We’ve been told numerous times in this one day that we are out of place with our reasonable thinking, that The New World is different.” He looks up at Ellayne. “Tell me, given all the things we have seen, heard, and encountered in the past 48 hours: do you expect those six men outside the door to act reasonably? I, myself, at this particular juncture, just as easily see them stepping into that doorway, brandishing their spears, and slaying all four of us on the spot once they see the minister dead."
He stares blankly at the desk. “I think Ms. Vostaria has the right idea. We put Minister Trask back the way we found her. From there, we have two choices: invite the guards in, let them discover her the way we did, and hope they react reasonably (while we stand a bit more safely out in the hallway, just in case), or we simply tell them we shall come back later, when she’s not asleep at her desk, and we go find our two friends, which will most likely make us suspects at the least and fugitives at the most, but which also may prevent us from becoming instant emigrant-kebob the way those orcs were.”
A look of worry clouds the gnome's face. "Oh, I'm afraid there's nothing we can do for Barnum and Dorstair, now, for there is certainly not time enough to protect our own interests along with theirs; I do hope they're all right, and that Barnum cares after my belongings!"
Current Roles:
GM - Fata Morgana: The Ghosts of Saltmarsh
As soon as she hears her name from Jebben, her mismatched gaze shifts back at him from Vostaria. Ellayne's eyes go wide by the unexpected speech from the gnomish bard. It is true that everything seems very twisted as soon as their arrival to this New World. Listening to the overview of this whole situation they had faced together, Ellayne sighs and then shakes her head slightly, moves her gaze away from him, as if she tried to get rid of the memory of the Orcs' death. Then the Bard asks her to tell him the things, which her mismatched eyes shift back at him. This time, her eyes show the uncertainty since his words are very reasonable.
She hates to lie to the people because she never was good at lying, and yet, it seems Jebben and Vostaria's reasons and words would work at this point. Another deep sigh escapes from her lips before she walks away from Minister Trask. "I would suggest doing the first option than the second. The second option that you offered could make them targeting us easily," Ellayne mutters as she walks back to the drawer where she found a scroll in a secret place. The "Tabatha's Terrific Tailor" button has been putting in her pocket. Now, (if she could) she might need to take that scroll that Minister Trask has been hiding. Her hands reach inside of a drawer and take a hastily-wrapped-scroll.
"Let us pray that Barnum and Dorstair could handle the situation until we could return to them. However, for now, let us hope that we can get out of this event." Now, she starts to get worried about the other two companions at the Hot Chips.
Reverie Forestgleam—Human Paladin Level 5 in Frontier City of Nunkreet
Extremely busy and busy as ever recently, but I will trying to catch up as much as I can
Jebben nods enthusiastically at Ellayne. "Yes, yes, fair enough, fair enough; I like that idea, for it's a happy compromise, that we offer mostly the objective truth with only the slightest, inconsequential fib for our own security. We're simply letting the guards discover organically what we already learned here--that the minister is deceased--and we are only having to pretend not to know for a moment, until they realize, and then our emotions will be synchronized with theirs--surprise, shock, and horror, that is, of course."
Jebben pauses in thought. "However (and this is the crucial element of this plan) what do we do if they suspect us or try to detain us? The other solutions to the other scenarios are simple, relatively speaking. If they attack us we run away, and if they dismiss us we're out of this potential mess."
"But what if they want to detain us? Do we allow it, or do we flee?" The bard points to the door. "We know how they treat their esteemed emigrant guests. I can't imagine a prisoner's life here. And, if we're to believe Gold and Silver's last words before leaving The Hot Chip, we know how fickle the law can be in The New World."
Jebben steps next to Vostaria, and looks down at the body. "While we discuss and decide, we had best get to work setting everything back to how it was. Ms. Vostaria, let me know how I can assist you with Ms, erm, the late Ms. Trask."
Jebben will be helping Vostaria try to put Trask back into the position in which we found her.
Current Roles:
GM - Fata Morgana: The Ghosts of Saltmarsh
Wander / Vostaria / Jebben / Ellayne
Ellayne takes the scroll that was hidden in a compartment in the drawer. As she does, the laughter outside dies down and you hear the rattling of keys approaching the door. You feel remarkably cold, as if you'd forgotten that you are moving deeper into the chill of the night.
Barnum / Dorstaer (Barnum will have to catch up)
You grab your friends belongings and dive into the hatch. The air is musty down here, and only large enough for you to crawl through. The barman shuts it behind him and pulls a lever. You hear a grinding of wood on wood and he winks at you, holding a candle in one hand. You crawl through the tunnel for a good five or so minutes before you reach the hatch on the far side. It opens just outside the Fishmongers, a sign above reads "Fabulous Fish Fantastic".
The barman follows you out, and Annie runs over to him, hugging him. "Ok, fella's. Lets get to Rift-Hall, I know the way."
Wander hears the guards and readies himself for whatever is going to happen, looking to the others with a quick glance. "In the future we would do well to remember that the scene of a murder is not the best place to hold long and thoughtful discussions. If they come in here I am sure that it will not take long at all for them to decide our guilt. At the very best we could hipe for them questioing why we are in her office announced, but that is only if they are fookish enough to not see her all but face down on her desk."
Jebben whispers, "That's our call, people!" He cringes as he grabs one side of Trask, opposite Vostaria, and works to arrange the head and arms into a fell-asleep-at-the-desk position with the back of the neck facing away, out of sight. "Everyone grab a seat," whispers the gnome, "and be quiet and respectful. Remember, she is sleeping until they try to wake her. Then we are horrified--again! Break a leg!" As soon as the scene is hastily set in what little time is available, Jebben darts to a seat, himself.
Current Roles:
GM - Fata Morgana: The Ghosts of Saltmarsh
Vostaria and Jebben
Can you make a group Wisdom check? (Both roll, i'll take the highest).
Vostaria WIS check: 15
Jebben Wisdom Check: 3
LOL Midnight and I are rolling HOT this campaign!
Current Roles:
GM - Fata Morgana: The Ghosts of Saltmarsh
Jebben attempts to place the body into position, with Vostaria close at hand. As Jebben places his hand on Trask's head, he doesn't expect the chilling touch and flinches, knocking over a candlestick on the desk which clatters to the floor with a bang.
Vostaria quickly picks Trask up and puts her in the correct position.
Vostaria sits down, primly placing her hands in her lap and affects a bored expression.
Three guards walk through the main hallway from the entrance. They pass the Rift on their right toward the waiting area and variety of desks strewn about this area of the main hall. The Rift makes a soft humming sound that only now you notice. The Guards are talking amongst themselves, their spears clatter against their armour, their footsteps falling heavy on the wooden floor.
They reach you, and one of them spots you sitting, waiting. "Is everything alright? It's a bit late to be here don't you think? Maybe you should come back in the morning."
DM Shield
Perception - -5
Jebben looks up from his seat, seemingly surprised. "Oh, yes, yes," he whispers politely. "We didn't want to disturb her sleep with trivial questions about tomorrow's assignment. We thought we would wait until she rouses from her nap. But perhaps we should be getting some sleep as well. It's been a long day for everyone, I think."
He stands and affects a long, weary yawn while stretching his arms.
Current Roles:
GM - Fata Morgana: The Ghosts of Saltmarsh
The other two Guards carry on walking, toward the Infirmary you visited earlier this afternoon.
"What about the rest of you? You all together? I remember you, wasn't there another two?"
The gnome is already moving casually towards the door, all the while smiling in a friendly manner. "They stayed at the tavern to rest up a bit," he whispers to the guard. "Today's battle in the hall was a bit more taxing for them, I think. You do remember the valiant dwarf, don't you? He was in the infirmary for his brave deeds." Jebben motions towards Wander. "The Rustless Wonder, here, is made of sterner stuff--quite literally, I think. He insisted on coming along in spite of his injuries. He tells us his kind doesn't need sleep the way you and I do."
Current Roles:
GM - Fata Morgana: The Ghosts of Saltmarsh
(Equivocation can be fun!) :)
Current Roles:
GM - Fata Morgana: The Ghosts of Saltmarsh