"Enemies, yes, Master Haman. I fear so," Ella stands, switching between pacing the length of the inn and standing stock still, gripping the tabletop, rigid, unable to let herself fall into the comfort of a chair or accept the warmth of Elin's tea."I believe we are in a more complex situation than we originally anticipated. In summary, the Leaning has been taken over by a faction of Purifiers, priests of the Pure Lord."To her friends, she explains,"The Pure Lord's worshippers were warriors, involved in the work of cleansing Delves of marauders, back when that was such as risk. They were once a violent religious faction, their beliefs warped - but clearly more so now. Led by a Father Shiroq Lumi, they have taken control of the Leaning, covered it in guards - and have driven, as far as I can tell, the inhabitants to slaughter their own children. Mika saw the deaths of those three children you sent us to find, torn apart by the Purifiers while their parents watched on, unmoving. When we asked Father Lumi about the children, he claimed the parents had been sent their hearts, carved from their chests, and blamed Mika - but the child is terrified, was manipulated by some evil force embedded in the trees in the park where they played, a force she thought might protect her until it tried to possess her. She fought back... we took over... and here we are."
She glances nervously to the others. "Please do correct me if I've erred in any way, but I believe that's an accurate summary?" The statement ends with a question.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Horrence takes a cup of tea, walks to the seat at the table where he sat during their initial meeting (I'm hoping there is at least a table in between him and Joviar). He takes off his glasses and begins to rub the lenses with his cloth. He lets out a heavy sigh and says:
"I'm afraid that what young Ella says does appear to be the case old friend. A truly barbaric act, even in these troubled times."
He takes another sip of tea and mutters "needs brandy" to no one in particular. Looking to Joviar he says:
"It seems clear that what ever is going on at the leaning tenement has been underway for some time. I fear it may fall to us to investigate further. What worries me most is how such a takeover could have happened right under our noses. I must ask- who first told you of the youngster's disappearance? I cannot help but wonder if we are failing to see the full extent of what is happening."
DM: As Joviar speaks I want to insight check him. 13
Also, if possible I want to be keeping an eye on how long Griga is gone.
Joviar seems to sink into his chair as Ella's tale unfolds, visibly deflating as the full horror is unveiled. He squeezes his eyes shut repeatedly as if wishing for the full clarity of thoughts that elude him, slippery as eels. Still, his face is determined and it is only resignation and self-recrimination you (Horrence) detect in his tone, not falsehood.
I should have known something was amiss, but with problems assailing this District on every side I was... Bah. I was drunk and I was incurious, prepared to accept the world as it were presented to me and not scratch beneath the surface.
He raises a hand, ending in the signature draconic talons of his race, as if for emphasis.
Children go missing in the District from time to time, and I am never short of worried parents knocking at my door late at night. Inevitably they are found a day, perhaps two later. I brought this issue to you only because three days had passed and I had not received word...
He growls angrily.
I should have grasped... I should have realized. It is always, always the parents who come to me. Yet not in this case. A messenger who came to us, more to notify than to seek assistance. Not a parent, not even an uncle. Simply a dirty faced man of middling years, muttering about missing children and a witch. I hadn't even thought to report the latter, it is typical of the superstitious nonsense spouted in these parts.
Fodd, from where you're sitting by the door you believe you hear a faint noise, muffled by the thick oak coming from without. It is there for a moment, soft, as if coming from a significant distance or close by and very quiet.
"It is not your fault Master Haman," Ella says, voice quiet but determined, ignoring Fodd's skittering and clanking at the door."This is bigger than any one person's shoulders. We cannot save them all when the threats are so great, and the forces that are greater than any mortal, the forces that should save them seem unjustly weak, uncaring, distant. We ourselves spent half an hour earlier this very evening in debate because it is impossible to choose between whether to focus on missing children, poisoned water or failing food supplies - and what kind of choice is that to be driven to."
She pulls her hair back from her face, tying it into a bun to keep her anxiously active hands busy. "I do not think there is anything more to be done this evening. The one girl we could save is safe. For now. And Ragnor and I must meditate and rest to be ready to purify the wells come morning."
The elder dragonkin seems somewhat mollified by your words, Ella, though it is clear the burdens of leadership at a time of snowballing calamity still hangs heavy on his shoulders. His gaze travels to where Mika disappeared up the stairs and he nods, vaguely.
Yes, I suppose all that can be done tonight has been and the morning may yield clearer eyes and, as you say, much needed new options.
Fodd, you position your somewhat bulky frame so that none of it can be seen even through the cracks between the door and the frame, and peer through the keyhole. You are able to discern no details, but a wall of raised torches appears to be approaching the inn down the street. Dozens of burning brands held at various heights by what must be at least twenty, but likely many more individuals marching in a disorderly mass.
Ragnor, unconciously straining your senses, you once again pick up that strange owl-cry, this time coming from at least two directions around the tavern.
A squeak of alarm escapes Fodd's lips before he gathers himself and straightens, approaching the rest of the group. "Comrades! I fear foul business may be afoot" he hisses. "My father always said: one torch is a useful tool, three can provide enough light for a room, but twenty usually means a mob!" - He speaks earnestly and with what he hopes is gravitas, but the quote always sounded more profound in his head. He draws his sword. "Mob justice is no justice!" With that he turns a tramps towards the door, limbering up his stiff arms.
Ragnor startles and rushes over to the group. Speaking in a somewhat hushed but hurried tone
My friends, something very serious is amiss right now. The owls... they should not be making those sounds... Something has disrupted them... or, I can't be sure. The way they are hooting is... not right. They are smart beasts and must know that something foul is happening to the nature around us. There is dark magic in the air and I fear that we our new friend is either the cause or the target. We must act at once or we will be too late to stop this blight from consuming everything.
Upon heading Fodd's warning Horrence hurriedly puts away his lens cloth and gathers up the various screws and assorted items that he had strewn about the table.
"A mob you say young Fodd? Oh dear oh dear Joviar, it seems the time for reflecting on our missteps may have to wait, as too must your rest my dear Ella."
He turns to Ragnor and says "may I suggest you call our friends Mika and Griga down here? I'm afraid we may be about to find out whether this girl is indeed the hammer or the nail for whatever you are sensing. Either way, I do not suppose they are as safe away from our group as we might have hoped."
With that he will take another part of glasses out of his coat pocket, plus a screw driver. He will fiddle with the glasses briefly and cast infuse item to turn the glasses into Goggles Of Night. He will then use the glasses to peer out of any window looking out onto the street. Perception check: 12
((If you'll allow me to do this)) Ragnor spots Horrence preparing his glasses and lays his hand on Horrence's shoulder, casting guidance.
"I will head upstairs to see what I can find. Block the windows and force them to enter through the door. Joviar, are there any other entrances?"
If there are, I want to run over quickly and cast another snare before heading upstairs to check on Mika and Griga. As I'm heading up there I'm trying to notice what I can: Perception 17
“Elin, where’s Fridi?” Ella asks, ducking her head into the kitchen behind the bar to speak to the elf and look for the gnome. “There’s trouble, and whether you hide or stand with us, no one should be by themselves.”
With the threat of violence brewing, Fodd decides that the just thing would to be try to avert the violence: these people must be our neighbours, our towns-folk; not some monstrous spiders or demonic trees. Taking a deep breath, he sheaths his sword, steps carefully around Ragnor's snare and opens the door; his bulky frame neatly filling the doorway, his hands raised in an appeasing gesture of peace, to confront the torch-wielding crowd...
Horrence, peering through the tavern's narrow window, you see the world through a purple overlay which seems to define every line and contour of the street. Drawing close is a group of at least thirty-five men and women, human but of ages varying from the very late teens through to the early fifties. They are dressed in a mix of homespun and the workware of minor artisans, builders or craftsfolk with thick leather aprons and laborers vests much in evidence. More than half carry improvised torches, burning brands of varying efficacy sending flickering, overlapping shadows around them. With Ragnor's assistance, your keen eyes pick out improvised and not-so-improvised weapons hanging in belts but generally concealed by clothing.
At their head, wearing an expression of mild-regret, walks the familiar figure of Father Lumin. At his shoulder marches a significantly taller woman, almost a match for Fodd in breadth and height. She is heavily armored in shining plate, over which flutters a tabard of purest white with the symbol of a red flame below a shining eye.
Ella, at your question Elin steps up to stand beside you.
"The Tavern staff have returned home, madam and the proprieter has... methods, of ensuring his safety."
Elin rings a small bell, and from above you see Grigi and a frightened looking Mika appear at the top of the stairs, rapidly descending.
Fodd, as you step into the doorway and hail the crowd, you can see glances exchanged between some of them but the group doesn't stop until they are less than fifteen feet away from the doors. Father Shiroq steps forward, his voice silken soft but clear as he addresses you.
Brave knight, I fear a terrible misunderstanding has taken place. You have inadvertently taken into the midst of your lodging a woman whose crimes demand redress, and justice. She is a witch of fearsome and subtle power, and both for her crimes and for your safety she must be handed over to face justice.
At this, you see several of the people behind him scowl and tighten grips on torches and weapons.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Fodd concentrates on making sure his voice doesn't squeak or tremble as he matches Father Shiroq's soft but clear tone; addressing not him but the mass of locals behind him. "Friends! I think there has been a misunderstanding indeed. The only woman we have taken into our midst is a wounded and frightened youngster; a victim of dark forces. I promise you all that justice will be served and any crimes will be answered for. But hatred, anger and violence have no part in justice, and our poor District has seen enough of all these things of late." He doesn't draw his sword, but firms up his stance, blocking the door completely and making it clear he won't be moved. "Some of you know me, and all of surely knew of my father. Trust that a Gilmary will see true justice done and peace return to our land, even if it costs his life!" On the final syllable does his voice finally break; but his resolves remains strong.
(I guess I should roll a persuasion check here... 7)
Glimpsing the array of flames visible above Fodd's head, Ella finds her breath catching in her throat, and she falters. Drawing back instinctively towards the promise of protection from the much older elf, doing what she can to step to where furniture is between her and the doors. "Get yourself hidden Mika," she manages, struggling to keep her voice even, fighting to take anything deeper than the shallowest breaths in her panic.
To the surprise of everyone, probably including Fodd himself, the young paladin's words appear to strike a chord with some of the people standing behind Father Shiroq. Though not precisely eloquent, the sheer conviction in his voice, as well as his reputation in the district are apparently sufficient to give more than a few of the torch wielding mob pause. Glances are exchanged and some of the fists moving toward the handles of weapons return to the sides of nervous and still angry District dwellers.
An ugly expression of purest hatred flashes across Father Shiroq's face, almost too quickly to register and hidden from his own supporters. It's gone in a heartbeat, and when he speaks his voice is again the silken tone of a wise but weary elder addressing a well meaning but misguided flock.
None here questions your courage, or your dedication young knight. Yet as you said yourself, the woman in your care has been consorting with forces most dark. Would you, in your tender years, purport to have the wisdom to separate truth from deception in such matter?
He turns and indicates the armored woman standing by his side.
Lady Lifin here is known as the Whiteblade, and has overseen the purging of a dozen witches, warlocks and foul criminals whose evil threatened human lives.
Whiteblade Lifin steps forward, locking her full face helm into place and unlimbering her longblade and shield. She growls over her shoulder and several of the rougher looking men and women in the crowd step forward to either side of her, their equipment and size setting them apart from the rest of the mob. Many in the crowd seem uneasy at this show of force, glancing back and forth between Fodd, Father Shiroq and Lifin in obvious discomfort.
Ella, behind you, you hear Elin and Griga hold a frantic whispered conference. Moments later, the two are shoving Joviar's traditional armchair near the fire sideways, and flipping the carpet beneath it aside to reveal a heavy oaken trapdoor set in the floor of the tavern.
Joviar steps forward, addressing Horrence, Ella, Corryn, and Ragnor as Fodd continues to hold the door.
This tavern sits above an entrance into a disused section of the sewers. I can stall the Purifiers outside, but you will never survive out in the streets. If you can give them the impression you have fled via a window or the backdoor, they will never think of seeking you down below.
Fodd holds his ground, despite the sweat seeping from him, his armour feeling hot and twice it's normal weight. "I don't claim much wisdom, but I trust Mr Joviar and so should you. He's looked out for this District and all who live in it for as long as I've been alive. I trust him to make the right decision and until he does, I won't allow any violence to be done to any who might still be innocent." His own voice sounds thin and unsure in his ears, so hefts his shield and draws his battered sword, letting them make his point clear for him. "Please. Go home. And let's talk with clear, calm heads in the morning" He offers a silent prayer to his father, hoping he is watching over him, and feeling proud. Hoping he's making the right choice. (Fodd uses Channel Divinity to imbue his sword with power i.e. Sacred Weapon)
Ragnor moves towards the window and calls out towards the crowd
I know you are scared but we can not let you harm this girl. The father is using you and you do not want to be a part of this. There are some choices you can't unmake and some bells you can't unring. Turn back now before you make a choice that you will have to live with for the rest of your years. Would any righteous father have you harm a poor child? Turn back, we will not let you hurt her.
Ragnor focuses on the ground between the father and the entry, casting spike growth.
WE WILL NOT LET YOU HURT HER. TURN BACK NOW.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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Fodd pulls up a comfy chair and places it next to the door before slumping into it, and trying to look alert.
(Depending on how long he sits there, I guess that could count as a short rest?)
"Enemies, yes, Master Haman. I fear so," Ella stands, switching between pacing the length of the inn and standing stock still, gripping the tabletop, rigid, unable to let herself fall into the comfort of a chair or accept the warmth of Elin's tea. "I believe we are in a more complex situation than we originally anticipated. In summary, the Leaning has been taken over by a faction of Purifiers, priests of the Pure Lord." To her friends, she explains, "The Pure Lord's worshippers were warriors, involved in the work of cleansing Delves of marauders, back when that was such as risk. They were once a violent religious faction, their beliefs warped - but clearly more so now. Led by a Father Shiroq Lumi, they have taken control of the Leaning, covered it in guards - and have driven, as far as I can tell, the inhabitants to slaughter their own children. Mika saw the deaths of those three children you sent us to find, torn apart by the Purifiers while their parents watched on, unmoving. When we asked Father Lumi about the children, he claimed the parents had been sent their hearts, carved from their chests, and blamed Mika - but the child is terrified, was manipulated by some evil force embedded in the trees in the park where they played, a force she thought might protect her until it tried to possess her. She fought back... we took over... and here we are."
She glances nervously to the others. "Please do correct me if I've erred in any way, but I believe that's an accurate summary?" The statement ends with a question.
Horrence takes a cup of tea, walks to the seat at the table where he sat during their initial meeting (I'm hoping there is at least a table in between him and Joviar). He takes off his glasses and begins to rub the lenses with his cloth. He lets out a heavy sigh and says:
"I'm afraid that what young Ella says does appear to be the case old friend. A truly barbaric act, even in these troubled times."
He takes another sip of tea and mutters "needs brandy" to no one in particular. Looking to Joviar he says:
"It seems clear that what ever is going on at the leaning tenement has been underway for some time. I fear it may fall to us to investigate further. What worries me most is how such a takeover could have happened right under our noses. I must ask- who first told you of the youngster's disappearance? I cannot help but wonder if we are failing to see the full extent of what is happening."
DM: As Joviar speaks I want to insight check him. 13
Also, if possible I want to be keeping an eye on how long Griga is gone.
Joviar seems to sink into his chair as Ella's tale unfolds, visibly deflating as the full horror is unveiled. He squeezes his eyes shut repeatedly as if wishing for the full clarity of thoughts that elude him, slippery as eels. Still, his face is determined and it is only resignation and self-recrimination you (Horrence) detect in his tone, not falsehood.
He raises a hand, ending in the signature draconic talons of his race, as if for emphasis.
He growls angrily.
Fodd, from where you're sitting by the door you believe you hear a faint noise, muffled by the thick oak coming from without. It is there for a moment, soft, as if coming from a significant distance or close by and very quiet.
Fodd leaps to his feet as quietly as he can and thrusts his pudgy face towards the key hole, straining to see the source of the noise
(stealth check: 12 perception check: 1)
"It is not your fault Master Haman," Ella says, voice quiet but determined, ignoring Fodd's skittering and clanking at the door. "This is bigger than any one person's shoulders. We cannot save them all when the threats are so great, and the forces that are greater than any mortal, the forces that should save them seem unjustly weak, uncaring, distant. We ourselves spent half an hour earlier this very evening in debate because it is impossible to choose between whether to focus on missing children, poisoned water or failing food supplies - and what kind of choice is that to be driven to."
She pulls her hair back from her face, tying it into a bun to keep her anxiously active hands busy. "I do not think there is anything more to be done this evening. The one girl we could save is safe. For now. And Ragnor and I must meditate and rest to be ready to purify the wells come morning."
The elder dragonkin seems somewhat mollified by your words, Ella, though it is clear the burdens of leadership at a time of snowballing calamity still hangs heavy on his shoulders. His gaze travels to where Mika disappeared up the stairs and he nods, vaguely.
Fodd, you position your somewhat bulky frame so that none of it can be seen even through the cracks between the door and the frame, and peer through the keyhole. You are able to discern no details, but a wall of raised torches appears to be approaching the inn down the street. Dozens of burning brands held at various heights by what must be at least twenty, but likely many more individuals marching in a disorderly mass.
Ragnor, unconciously straining your senses, you once again pick up that strange owl-cry, this time coming from at least two directions around the tavern.
A squeak of alarm escapes Fodd's lips before he gathers himself and straightens, approaching the rest of the group. "Comrades! I fear foul business may be afoot" he hisses. "My father always said: one torch is a useful tool, three can provide enough light for a room, but twenty usually means a mob!" - He speaks earnestly and with what he hopes is gravitas, but the quote always sounded more profound in his head. He draws his sword. "Mob justice is no justice!" With that he turns a tramps towards the door, limbering up his stiff arms.
Ragnor startles and rushes over to the group. Speaking in a somewhat hushed but hurried tone
Upon heading Fodd's warning Horrence hurriedly puts away his lens cloth and gathers up the various screws and assorted items that he had strewn about the table.
"A mob you say young Fodd? Oh dear oh dear Joviar, it seems the time for reflecting on our missteps may have to wait, as too must your rest my dear Ella."
He turns to Ragnor and says "may I suggest you call our friends Mika and Griga down here? I'm afraid we may be about to find out whether this girl is indeed the hammer or the nail for whatever you are sensing. Either way, I do not suppose they are as safe away from our group as we might have hoped."
With that he will take another part of glasses out of his coat pocket, plus a screw driver. He will fiddle with the glasses briefly and cast infuse item to turn the glasses into Goggles Of Night. He will then use the glasses to peer out of any window looking out onto the street. Perception check: 12
((If you'll allow me to do this)) Ragnor spots Horrence preparing his glasses and lays his hand on Horrence's shoulder, casting guidance.
"I will head upstairs to see what I can find. Block the windows and force them to enter through the door. Joviar, are there any other entrances?"
If there are, I want to run over quickly and cast another snare before heading upstairs to check on Mika and Griga. As I'm heading up there I'm trying to notice what I can: Perception 17
If you allow the guidance adding 1 to that 12...
“Elin, where’s Fridi?” Ella asks, ducking her head into the kitchen behind the bar to speak to the elf and look for the gnome. “There’s trouble, and whether you hide or stand with us, no one should be by themselves.”
With the threat of violence brewing, Fodd decides that the just thing would to be try to avert the violence: these people must be our neighbours, our towns-folk; not some monstrous spiders or demonic trees. Taking a deep breath, he sheaths his sword, steps carefully around Ragnor's snare and opens the door; his bulky frame neatly filling the doorway, his hands raised in an appeasing gesture of peace, to confront the torch-wielding crowd...
Horrence, peering through the tavern's narrow window, you see the world through a purple overlay which seems to define every line and contour of the street. Drawing close is a group of at least thirty-five men and women, human but of ages varying from the very late teens through to the early fifties. They are dressed in a mix of homespun and the workware of minor artisans, builders or craftsfolk with thick leather aprons and laborers vests much in evidence. More than half carry improvised torches, burning brands of varying efficacy sending flickering, overlapping shadows around them. With Ragnor's assistance, your keen eyes pick out improvised and not-so-improvised weapons hanging in belts but generally concealed by clothing.
At their head, wearing an expression of mild-regret, walks the familiar figure of Father Lumin. At his shoulder marches a significantly taller woman, almost a match for Fodd in breadth and height. She is heavily armored in shining plate, over which flutters a tabard of purest white with the symbol of a red flame below a shining eye.
Ella, at your question Elin steps up to stand beside you.
Elin rings a small bell, and from above you see Grigi and a frightened looking Mika appear at the top of the stairs, rapidly descending.
Fodd, as you step into the doorway and hail the crowd, you can see glances exchanged between some of them but the group doesn't stop until they are less than fifteen feet away from the doors. Father Shiroq steps forward, his voice silken soft but clear as he addresses you.
At this, you see several of the people behind him scowl and tighten grips on torches and weapons.
Fodd concentrates on making sure his voice doesn't squeak or tremble as he matches Father Shiroq's soft but clear tone; addressing not him but the mass of locals behind him. "Friends! I think there has been a misunderstanding indeed. The only woman we have taken into our midst is a wounded and frightened youngster; a victim of dark forces. I promise you all that justice will be served and any crimes will be answered for. But hatred, anger and violence have no part in justice, and our poor District has seen enough of all these things of late." He doesn't draw his sword, but firms up his stance, blocking the door completely and making it clear he won't be moved. "Some of you know me, and all of surely knew of my father. Trust that a Gilmary will see true justice done and peace return to our land, even if it costs his life!" On the final syllable does his voice finally break; but his resolves remains strong.
(I guess I should roll a persuasion check here... 7)
Glimpsing the array of flames visible above Fodd's head, Ella finds her breath catching in her throat, and she falters. Drawing back instinctively towards the promise of protection from the much older elf, doing what she can to step to where furniture is between her and the doors. "Get yourself hidden Mika," she manages, struggling to keep her voice even, fighting to take anything deeper than the shallowest breaths in her panic.
To the surprise of everyone, probably including Fodd himself, the young paladin's words appear to strike a chord with some of the people standing behind Father Shiroq. Though not precisely eloquent, the sheer conviction in his voice, as well as his reputation in the district are apparently sufficient to give more than a few of the torch wielding mob pause. Glances are exchanged and some of the fists moving toward the handles of weapons return to the sides of nervous and still angry District dwellers.
An ugly expression of purest hatred flashes across Father Shiroq's face, almost too quickly to register and hidden from his own supporters. It's gone in a heartbeat, and when he speaks his voice is again the silken tone of a wise but weary elder addressing a well meaning but misguided flock.
He turns and indicates the armored woman standing by his side.
Whiteblade Lifin steps forward, locking her full face helm into place and unlimbering her longblade and shield. She growls over her shoulder and several of the rougher looking men and women in the crowd step forward to either side of her, their equipment and size setting them apart from the rest of the mob. Many in the crowd seem uneasy at this show of force, glancing back and forth between Fodd, Father Shiroq and Lifin in obvious discomfort.
Ella, behind you, you hear Elin and Griga hold a frantic whispered conference. Moments later, the two are shoving Joviar's traditional armchair near the fire sideways, and flipping the carpet beneath it aside to reveal a heavy oaken trapdoor set in the floor of the tavern.
Joviar steps forward, addressing Horrence, Ella, Corryn, and Ragnor as Fodd continues to hold the door.
Fodd holds his ground, despite the sweat seeping from him, his armour feeling hot and twice it's normal weight. "I don't claim much wisdom, but I trust Mr Joviar and so should you. He's looked out for this District and all who live in it for as long as I've been alive. I trust him to make the right decision and until he does, I won't allow any violence to be done to any who might still be innocent." His own voice sounds thin and unsure in his ears, so hefts his shield and draws his battered sword, letting them make his point clear for him. "Please. Go home. And let's talk with clear, calm heads in the morning" He offers a silent prayer to his father, hoping he is watching over him, and feeling proud. Hoping he's making the right choice. (Fodd uses Channel Divinity to imbue his sword with power i.e. Sacred Weapon)
Ragnor moves towards the window and calls out towards the crowd
Ragnor focuses on the ground between the father and the entry, casting spike growth.