Our story begins in Longacre, a Chelish town on the edge of the Whisperwood where people go to forget and to be forgotten. You have recently found yourself in town, with the promise of gold in your pockets for accomplishing a simple task. Your contact, Cimri Staelish, an attractive young woman with short, black hair and brown eyes, meets you at The Last Stand Tavern, and escorts you to the site of the job.
A few lights shine in the streets and windows, and the occasional snippet of conversation or laughter issues from open doors, but on the outskirts of town, the night is quiet and dark. Sparse clouds scud across the sky, momentarily obscuring the dim light from the moon overhead. Across a scrubby field, barely distinguishable under the starry sky, a darkened, fortlike compound hunches in the distance.
Cimri points toward the dim structure.
“That’s it--Louslik Tannery. Here’s the job: We break in, sack ol’ Louslik’s office, take whatever’s shiny, and get out before the sheriff shows up. If we get separated, meet back at the Ash House by dawn.”
Dull moonlight glints across her dagger as she flicks it in emphasis. “If you get pinched, remember: you’re mute. Keep your mouth shut, and I’ll handle things. I got assurances that we won’t take any blame if things go south. But get chatty and I’ll let you rot.” A beat passes and her usual crooked smirk appears. “If you don’t screw things up, we’ll all be drinking on Razelago’s coin come dawn. Let’s do this.”
Take this opportunity to describe yourself; at the very least, what others can make out in the dim moonlight.
Vanna is small, as her people go, and lightly built. She's spoken little on the trip, but verifies directions back to the Ash House. One might forget her presence if focused on other matters. One might even forget she's a drow in doing so, despite the smooth ashen skin and silver hair. That her eyes remain closed all the time, and her movements are those practiced, cautious movements by which a blind person navigates, increases the aura of vulnerability.
Her clothing though is expensive, a silken white loincloth dress, embroidered in violate with a knot work pattern around the fringe, matching her slippers. The thin material is sparse, making her, at the same time, overdressed for the setting and under dressed for the weather. She appears non-cognizant of both.
Ilshin, moves his 5'10", lean frame quickly through the darkness with Cimri. The patches of moonlight reveal icy white hair with what looks to be silver streaks, and dark, obsidian-like, skin and the features of a dark elf. When they come to a stop he smooths out his crisp and incredibly clean, and obviously expensive clothing. His very pale eyes barely eyes watch everyone with amusement.
"My dear Cimri," Ilshin begins. "The promise of more of your delightful company is almost worth more than all the gold we may find. Almost."
He rests a free hand on an ornate rapier hanging from this belt, the other hand adjusting a travelers back.
"Now, if there was more than drink on the table, the balance might shift."
He then looks back at the others, his eyes fixing on Vanna as he listens to her confirming the directions and her comments on being on watch.
"Dearest sister, your practical, organized mind is a gift."
Looking back at the Tannery he cocks his head to one side and smiles again.
Branna hefts her warhammer onto her shoulder with a dissatisfied grunt. Deep scars crisscross the stout dwarven woman's dusky skin, and her long white hair is pulled back into a messy half-ponytail with runic clips and beads strung through the strands at irregular intervals. Large, fierce-looking piercings line each ear, and there's a deadly glint to her cold brown eyes that tells you she won't broker any nonsense.
"I'll not be able to turn a blind eye to your boasts if you continue to claim this activity is wholly illegal," she says sternly to Cimri. "Your loose lips are going to land you in the slammer one day, chit. Now if you would simply accurately describe the situation, we wouldn't have an issues," she grumbles.
She turns a flinty gaze to the Tannery, a grim smirk on her lips. "We all know that Louslik has grown feeble-minded as he advances towards senility. He fails to submit his paperwork in an orderly manner, and his payment on taxes is less enthusiastic than preferred. Sometimes, wayward citizens of the empire need a small reminder of why it is their duty to serve. Of course, I'm happy to lend my strength to such an effort to wake the poor sod out of his lazy stupor, regardless of your promises of reward. After all, we're only preventing him from facing greater challenges down the road. The true force of the law won't be so forgiving as I am tonight." She turns a narrowed gaze back on Cimri. "But remember too, that the breaking of a contract, verbal or otherwise, is an offense that House Thrune will see fit to punish should you fail to uphold your end of the deal."
Zaradius stands over 6ft and heavily armored, a scowl seemingly permanent on his scarred face. He has stark white hair that is cut short with a scruffy goatee of the same color. His eyes are seemingly almost pure black except the pupils which are two dots of crimson that match the color of blood. Other then the scars his face is rather handsome and looks to be in his early to mid twenties. On his back is a large and jagged Greatsword, the handle barely visible. On his hip is a longsword that appears to be rather new.
"If you wanted someone that could sneak you shouldn't have gotten me. I think any of you can tell I prefer a more direct approach..." As he speaks his tail twitches, flicking out to show his annoyance. "But if the coin is good I'll go along with you for now..."
"Quite right," Ilshin says to Branna. "Your sense of duty will keep us on the path of righteousness in our evenings endeavors. I, for one, am quite pleased that you are here to lend this adventure the touch of lawfulness it requires."
He then turns to Zaradius and looks the tiefling up and down.
"A saw a hammer does not make," Ilshin says. "When you need a hammer, you need a hammer. I suspect your direct approach will be invaluable before the night is out."
Ilshin pauses for a moment and looks up at the moon poking out from behind the clouds.
"Now let us begin lest the insufferable sun returns before we're finished. Do you need a hand dearest Vanna, or can you manage the field?"
The journey to the tannery has taken you a mile west of Longacre, and it's no wonder why it was built so far from civilization; the air reeks with the scent of chemicals and dung, an unfortunate necessity of the leather-making process.
Cimri gives Branna her signature smirk. "I like you," she says. "Yes, Louslik has been a bit relaxed with the timeliness of his tax payments, and he needs a little reminder who is in charge. House Thrune will surely be thankful for our service."
"The tannery is closed for business for the day. Which means we'll need to find another way in. There's a gap on the northern wall where we might be able to squeeze through, or we could always try climbing the wall. I'm open to suggestions."
Here is a map of the tannery. You are currently meeting at the southern wall.
Ilshin holds a gloved hand over his nose and mouth in a futile attempt to keep the smell out. He then looks up at the wall, turning his head from side to side.
"Alas, I must admit that I do not find climbing very enjoyable. It lacks a certain finesse," Ilshin says. "An opening in the wall sounds much less troublesome."
He then looks from Cimri to Branna and back again.
"We can slip through unannounced to any guards patrolling, though I assume we expect none. Otherwise lawful upholders of the law like ourselves would surely just knock on the front door."
He waves his fingers in the air, idly moving them in a small pattern.
"If indeed there are guards, I may have something that would work as a lovely distraction. The dim are often mesmerized by pretty lights."
"I'm not one for being subtle... I'd rather just knock on the door and tell them I'm here for an inspection of their tanning pots. But it's the wrong hour for that sort of thing, so we'd best do it the hard way," Brana grumbles. "Through the roof is something I'd rather do than have to wander a courtyard. But can we even get up there from outside the walls, I wonder?"
(Is the office in A3 or A4? If so I support climbing to the roof of the building and breaking in from on top XD)
"Who says it's the wrong hour for a surprise inspection? They should never feel like they're immune to an unannounced drop-in. One or two of us acting as inspectors is a good idea."
Zaradius nods as he crosses his arms slowly ad they discuss a way to enter into the place. He looks over the wall slowly, moving to peel through the gap they may be entering through. He scans the area he can see to check for any guards or the like.
"I don't do good or bad cop," Brana says brusquely. "I tell people what to do and they listen, or they suffer." She grins at Vanna, eyes glinting coldly.
As the two approach the gate, Brana steps up to it and raises a fist. Pounding on the door, she snarls, using thaumaturgy to make her voice boom three times as loud as it normally does.
"In the name of Asmodeus and the House Thrune, open the gates! Any delay will be taken as an act of insubordination and dealt with accordingly."
Settling down to a normal tone, she grips her holy symbol and casts guidance upon herself as she waits for a response: "Oh Lord of Darkness, grant me the power to reveal to these fools the error of their slothful ways."
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Our story begins in Longacre, a Chelish town on the edge of the Whisperwood where people go to forget and to be forgotten. You have recently found yourself in town, with the promise of gold in your pockets for accomplishing a simple task. Your contact, Cimri Staelish, an attractive young woman with short, black hair and brown eyes, meets you at The Last Stand Tavern, and escorts you to the site of the job.
A few lights shine in the streets and windows, and the occasional snippet of conversation or laughter issues from open doors, but on the outskirts of town, the night is quiet and dark. Sparse clouds scud across the sky, momentarily obscuring the dim light from the moon overhead. Across a scrubby field, barely distinguishable under the starry sky, a darkened, fortlike compound hunches in the distance.
Cimri points toward the dim structure.
“That’s it--Louslik Tannery. Here’s the job: We break in, sack ol’ Louslik’s office, take whatever’s shiny, and get out before the sheriff shows up. If we get separated, meet back at the Ash House by dawn.”
Dull moonlight glints across her dagger as she flicks it in emphasis. “If you get pinched, remember: you’re mute. Keep your mouth shut, and I’ll handle things. I got assurances that we won’t take any blame if things go south. But get chatty and I’ll let you rot.” A beat passes and her usual crooked smirk appears. “If you don’t screw things up, we’ll all be drinking on Razelago’s coin come dawn. Let’s do this.”
Take this opportunity to describe yourself; at the very least, what others can make out in the dim moonlight.
DM:
Reign of Winter I Curse of the Crimson Throne
Hell's Vengeance | Giantslayer
Varisian Hexalogy: Rise of the Runelords
Player:
Lucille Underfoot, lv. 1 Halfling Storm Sorcerer | Janna Farooq, lv. 1 Human Celestial Warlock
I strive to post at least once per day on all my PbPs. I ask my players to do the same.
More active on weekdays than weekends.
Assume all of my characters are gay.
Vanna is small, as her people go, and lightly built. She's spoken little on the trip, but verifies directions back to the Ash House. One might forget her presence if focused on other matters. One might even forget she's a drow in doing so, despite the smooth ashen skin and silver hair. That her eyes remain closed all the time, and her movements are those practiced, cautious movements by which a blind person navigates, increases the aura of vulnerability.
Her clothing though is expensive, a silken white loincloth dress, embroidered in violate with a knot work pattern around the fringe, matching her slippers. The thin material is sparse, making her, at the same time, overdressed for the setting and under dressed for the weather. She appears non-cognizant of both.
Ilshin, moves his 5'10", lean frame quickly through the darkness with Cimri. The patches of moonlight reveal icy white hair with what looks to be silver streaks, and dark, obsidian-like, skin and the features of a dark elf. When they come to a stop he smooths out his crisp and incredibly clean, and obviously expensive clothing. His very pale eyes barely eyes watch everyone with amusement.
"My dear Cimri," Ilshin begins. "The promise of more of your delightful company is almost worth more than all the gold we may find. Almost."
He rests a free hand on an ornate rapier hanging from this belt, the other hand adjusting a travelers back.
"Now, if there was more than drink on the table, the balance might shift."
He then looks back at the others, his eyes fixing on Vanna as he listens to her confirming the directions and her comments on being on watch.
"Dearest sister, your practical, organized mind is a gift."
Looking back at the Tannery he cocks his head to one side and smiles again.
"Shall we?"
Branna hefts her warhammer onto her shoulder with a dissatisfied grunt. Deep scars crisscross the stout dwarven woman's dusky skin, and her long white hair is pulled back into a messy half-ponytail with runic clips and beads strung through the strands at irregular intervals. Large, fierce-looking piercings line each ear, and there's a deadly glint to her cold brown eyes that tells you she won't broker any nonsense.
"I'll not be able to turn a blind eye to your boasts if you continue to claim this activity is wholly illegal," she says sternly to Cimri. "Your loose lips are going to land you in the slammer one day, chit. Now if you would simply accurately describe the situation, we wouldn't have an issues," she grumbles.
She turns a flinty gaze to the Tannery, a grim smirk on her lips. "We all know that Louslik has grown feeble-minded as he advances towards senility. He fails to submit his paperwork in an orderly manner, and his payment on taxes is less enthusiastic than preferred. Sometimes, wayward citizens of the empire need a small reminder of why it is their duty to serve. Of course, I'm happy to lend my strength to such an effort to wake the poor sod out of his lazy stupor, regardless of your promises of reward. After all, we're only preventing him from facing greater challenges down the road. The true force of the law won't be so forgiving as I am tonight." She turns a narrowed gaze back on Cimri. "But remember too, that the breaking of a contract, verbal or otherwise, is an offense that House Thrune will see fit to punish should you fail to uphold your end of the deal."
Zaradius stands over 6ft and heavily armored, a scowl seemingly permanent on his scarred face. He has stark white hair that is cut short with a scruffy goatee of the same color. His eyes are seemingly almost pure black except the pupils which are two dots of crimson that match the color of blood. Other then the scars his face is rather handsome and looks to be in his early to mid twenties. On his back is a large and jagged Greatsword, the handle barely visible. On his hip is a longsword that appears to be rather new.
"If you wanted someone that could sneak you shouldn't have gotten me. I think any of you can tell I prefer a more direct approach..." As he speaks his tail twitches, flicking out to show his annoyance. "But if the coin is good I'll go along with you for now..."
Ilshin nods and gives Branna slight bow.
"Quite right," Ilshin says to Branna. "Your sense of duty will keep us on the path of righteousness in our evenings endeavors. I, for one, am quite pleased that you are here to lend this adventure the touch of lawfulness it requires."
He then turns to Zaradius and looks the tiefling up and down.
"A saw a hammer does not make," Ilshin says. "When you need a hammer, you need a hammer. I suspect your direct approach will be invaluable before the night is out."
Ilshin pauses for a moment and looks up at the moon poking out from behind the clouds.
"Now let us begin lest the insufferable sun returns before we're finished. Do you need a hand dearest Vanna, or can you manage the field?"
"I will manage brother. I don't need to be led." Her footfalls are light and quick, perhaps more so than needed.
"...Is the tannery open or closed?"
The journey to the tannery has taken you a mile west of Longacre, and it's no wonder why it was built so far from civilization; the air reeks with the scent of chemicals and dung, an unfortunate necessity of the leather-making process.
Cimri gives Branna her signature smirk. "I like you," she says. "Yes, Louslik has been a bit relaxed with the timeliness of his tax payments, and he needs a little reminder who is in charge. House Thrune will surely be thankful for our service."
"The tannery is closed for business for the day. Which means we'll need to find another way in. There's a gap on the northern wall where we might be able to squeeze through, or we could always try climbing the wall. I'm open to suggestions."
Here is a map of the tannery. You are currently meeting at the southern wall.
DM:
Reign of Winter I Curse of the Crimson Throne
Hell's Vengeance | Giantslayer
Varisian Hexalogy: Rise of the Runelords
Player:
Lucille Underfoot, lv. 1 Halfling Storm Sorcerer | Janna Farooq, lv. 1 Human Celestial Warlock
I strive to post at least once per day on all my PbPs. I ask my players to do the same.
More active on weekdays than weekends.
Assume all of my characters are gay.
Ilshin holds a gloved hand over his nose and mouth in a futile attempt to keep the smell out. He then looks up at the wall, turning his head from side to side.
"Alas, I must admit that I do not find climbing very enjoyable. It lacks a certain finesse," Ilshin says. "An opening in the wall sounds much less troublesome."
He then looks from Cimri to Branna and back again.
"We can slip through unannounced to any guards patrolling, though I assume we expect none. Otherwise lawful upholders of the law like ourselves would surely just knock on the front door."
He waves his fingers in the air, idly moving them in a small pattern.
"If indeed there are guards, I may have something that would work as a lovely distraction. The dim are often mesmerized by pretty lights."
"I'm not one for being subtle... I'd rather just knock on the door and tell them I'm here for an inspection of their tanning pots. But it's the wrong hour for that sort of thing, so we'd best do it the hard way," Brana grumbles. "Through the roof is something I'd rather do than have to wander a courtyard. But can we even get up there from outside the walls, I wonder?"
(Is the office in A3 or A4? If so I support climbing to the roof of the building and breaking in from on top XD)
"Who says it's the wrong hour for a surprise inspection? They should never feel like they're immune to an unannounced drop-in. One or two of us acting as inspectors is a good idea."
Zaradius nods as he crosses his arms slowly ad they discuss a way to enter into the place. He looks over the wall slowly, moving to peel through the gap they may be entering through. He scans the area he can see to check for any guards or the like.
Ilshin moves around the compound to the north side, following Zaradius, trying to gauge the height of the wall and the width of the opening.
(OOC How tall is the wall and how wide is the opening?)
Walks near the front entrance.
Brana nods and goes around to the front as well, fully aiming to provide a distraction.
The wall is 10 feet tall and the opening is about 2 feet wide. The office is A4.
Sounds like the plan is for two to act as a distraction while the rest go after the office? If so, go ahead and knock on the door!
DM:
Reign of Winter I Curse of the Crimson Throne
Hell's Vengeance | Giantslayer
Varisian Hexalogy: Rise of the Runelords
Player:
Lucille Underfoot, lv. 1 Halfling Storm Sorcerer | Janna Farooq, lv. 1 Human Celestial Warlock
I strive to post at least once per day on all my PbPs. I ask my players to do the same.
More active on weekdays than weekends.
Assume all of my characters are gay.
Also, anybody checking for guards or traps roll me a Perception check.
DM:
Reign of Winter I Curse of the Crimson Throne
Hell's Vengeance | Giantslayer
Varisian Hexalogy: Rise of the Runelords
Player:
Lucille Underfoot, lv. 1 Halfling Storm Sorcerer | Janna Farooq, lv. 1 Human Celestial Warlock
I strive to post at least once per day on all my PbPs. I ask my players to do the same.
More active on weekdays than weekends.
Assume all of my characters are gay.
Walking near Brana, Vanna asks, "What attitude do you want to adopt? Bearing down, good cop / bad cop, or something else?"
Ilshin sticks his head part way through the opening on the north wall to see if there are any guards about.
Perception: 22
"I don't do good or bad cop," Brana says brusquely. "I tell people what to do and they listen, or they suffer." She grins at Vanna, eyes glinting coldly.
As the two approach the gate, Brana steps up to it and raises a fist. Pounding on the door, she snarls, using thaumaturgy to make her voice boom three times as loud as it normally does.
"In the name of Asmodeus and the House Thrune, open the gates! Any delay will be taken as an act of insubordination and dealt with accordingly."
Settling down to a normal tone, she grips her holy symbol and casts guidance upon herself as she waits for a response: "Oh Lord of Darkness, grant me the power to reveal to these fools the error of their slothful ways."