PrP: Should you choose to accept it

Log Info

• Title: Should you choose to accept it
• Emitter: Polk
• Characters: Telecorn (Sor2), Setiawan (Rog2), Bitr (Bbn3), Daromu (Clr4)
• Place: North Alexandros
• Time: May 5, 2016
• Summary: A cult has built a tower and is plotting shenanigans. Infiltrate it and get proof of their plans.
• APL: 3
• Encounters: Non-combat trickery and scheming

A call is put out for agents. A meeting room is set aside behind a tavern in Alexandria. It is dark. A large table is set up in the middle, with light pointed at it. The only visible thing. Whatever is on the table is flat and covered by a red cloth. It is morning.

Setiawan sits at the edge of the room, casually sipping a large glass of wine. Despite the early hour, the Jade Islander is feeling good about himself, and, having heard about the call for agents through his horribly wide network of contacts, comes by to check what all the fuss is about. He barely resists the urge to uncover the thing under the cloth.

Daromu wanders over to the table and crashes down on a chair with a loud clang of metal. Wearing full plate and carrying enough weapons to arm a small village tends to be noisy. She looks around and waves for a serving person to bring her stuff. Meanwhile, she pulls a ceramic flask out of her pouch and takes a pull on it. Whatever it is, it's made from apples. Mostly apples. She makes sure none of the fluid gets on anything metal to prevent and endothermic reactions that might destroy the building.

Adventure?
Adventure.
When the call goes out, Bitr almost immediatly ignores it; Mostly because she can't look at a bunch of scribbles on paper and make them into a voice in her head. That's just weird souther madness again. Yet, when someone makes the mistake of reading the posting outloud, she's running to the meeting place; Well, riding, atop Dog the riding canine. The tiniest "giant" is thus in the alehouse, at the table, chewing a lip and drumming calloused fingers against the table as she shifts her hips in discomfort. Chairs. And then her hand begins creeping towards the red handkerchief.

Telecorn barges on into the room. Which apparently isn't that big of a deal after Daromu and Bitr come in. "Why is it so dark?" she asks aloud, coming up. "Oh hi everyone," she laughs. "Didn't see you guys at first. Is the person hiring us through the guild even here?"

Daromu throws a burning rock into the air, which at the height of its arc seems to level out and start orbitting the Dwarf's head. This adds to the light in the room. She looks over at Telecorn "Is this better?"

The halfling barbarian glances up at Telecorn, flashing sharp, pointy teeth before she speaks outloud; Her tradespeak archaic, out of date, and strangely flowery.

"Mine eyes do not find a man with money, ye keen, thou' -" She breaks off as Daromu tosses up a ball of light, blinking owlishly. Then guffaws. "HA! Master Brightpalm is surely thy call!" And then to the Xian. "Ah! Master Tumblesmith. Be there trouble in yon door?" she lowers her voice in conspiracy. "Aye, and be keys still against thy strange souther ways here in Alexandria?"

A man takes his cue. Stepping up to the table. He glares at Bitr's wandering hands, and then clears his throat. "Good morning." Then pulling at the cover, he reveals a marked map. Pointing to a location.

"This is the Pentex Tower in northern Alexandros, an area normally secured by our government. It is controlled by the Cult of The Wyrm, a shadowy organization. The Cult Leader is known only by her title. Nothing else is known. We have only become aware of its existence because initiates venturing into Alexandria have been seen carrying initiates' manuals, giving only the barest information about the group."

He pauses to make sure this all came in. "Your mission, should you decide to accept it, is to infiltrate this dangerous cult, bring out information known to high ranking individuals, and bring it back such that my new newspaper and publish it to compete with the Tribune. Allow me to warn you: should any of your party members be caught, or killed, the publisher will disavow any knowledge of this mission. Good luck. And let me warn you: If they know you have taken one of their manuals, we believe it wll self destruct in 5 seconds."

And then there's a man here with them. Bitr half listens, squinting down at the map in confusion. Before she snaps her head back up at 'self destruct'. Eyes squint in suspicion. ".. Aye, and if we break and sew a cult man's fingers around yon pamplet, still do go to flame?" Well, technically it wouldn't be -her- in possession~

Samlanann looks at the man carefully, understanding the subterfuge. "Of course. What is the title of the Cult Leader, then? Perhaps I will have heard of her."

Daromu takes another pull of the ceremic flask andsays "I don't know how stealthy or tricksy I am, but I'll do what I can to help." She offers the flask to anyone else who might want some. There's an eyewatering smell of apples filling the air and it's probably good there are no open flames nearby.

Inevitably, it's the only person shorter that Daromu who gleefully grabs for the flask. Glug goes Bitr.

The man hiding in the shadows, despite spells to the contrary, answers. "The Cult Leader's title is Leader. And she is probably more powerful than everyone in this room together. I advise against force."

Eden is likely distracted by something shiny, like the rock that orbits the dwarf, or the luminescent mushrooms she idly pokes at that grow over the strange robe she wears, an absent smile on her lips. The mentions of power, the mysterious speech, it all seems to go right over her head, and skews off into the shadows somewhere beyond.

Telecorn looks at the map carefully, then at where the man apparently is. "Hey. If you've seen the Initiates in town. Then what do they look like? Do you have one of their books for us to read? This sounds totally crazy."

"Leader?" Samlannan sighs. "Of course; I know her work well. She is devious, indeed. Very devious. This Pentex Tower shall of course be difficult to enter."

Daromu ponders "So we can't fight our way in and we have to deal with psychotic, dangerous cultists to steal their secrets. Any suggestions on how to do this so we don't get sacrificed?"

Apparently tired of tactics, the halfling barbarian squints up at Daromu and snorts. "Aye! We be quiet and swift." She belches, holding the flask for the dwarf to take back before she looks across to Eden. And slowly, slowly grins.

Bitr says "Of the northern heights, Sister?" <in jotun>

The shadowy man starts to answer Telecorn, but then pauses when Samlanann completely impresses him. "I suggest you make him the leader. His knowledge of the group, and its defenses, should guide you well." Daromu also gets the same gesture. "I will leave you to plan then," he adds before walking out.