Temple Ward: Goldbell's Toll
Log Info
- Title: Temple Ward: Goldbell's Toll
- Emitter: Jinks
- Characters: Lysos, Ravenstongue
- Place: Explorers' Guild / Alexandria Docks
- Summary: Ravenstongue and Lysos accept a job from the strange Nantuilith to deliver materials ordered from a merchant to the explorer's guild in order to support the temples' ongoing efforts. One problem with that, however: the merchant has already sold the goods to some mercenaries who were intent on delivering it elsewhere. Apparently the merchant and his buyer have reached an understanding, but the mercenaries want their money. A harrowing battle at the docks ensues, and while the merchant Goldbell appears to have suffered fatal wounds from the fearsome fight and vicious, uncaring mercenaries, the two sorcerers manage to eek out a victory by bringing back the chest full of their precious minerals to the guild.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Dramatis Personae =--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Lysos Dark eyed tsuran girl. Ravenstongue Short half-elf girl with violet eyes and black hair. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-=-= Game Master -=-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Jinks A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
It's cold tonight. Cold and a bit windy-- but at least it's not raining!
The explorer's guild is strangely quiet tonight. The contracts master looking professionally bored as he catches up on some of the endless bureaucracy-made-manifest stacked around him on his high desk.
A dark-skinned Khazad in polished scale dozes with her arms crossed, leaning into a hairless Sylvanori in elaborate leaf-motif leathers who's busy snoring with his hands folded in his lap. Their third, a wargolem of a copper-colored metal is next to the bench, is seated on the floor with its knees drawn up, head folded down, and arms looped before its greaves. A little lumpy, inert cube. Maybe they're waiting for a payout. Or a contract more suited to their talents. Either way they don't seem to have anything to do with why you're here.
It's a bit last minute.
And it's certainly not glamorous.
But at least it's not the sewers? You hope it's not the sewers, at least.
Agents of the Great Work have identified another reagent and seek errand-persons to retrieve it. Circumstances are a bit odd, though, and for details you're directed to one of the handful of briefing rooms in the guildhall.
The door to the room sits ajar and the flicking light of a candle plays in the cracked space between door and frame. It's rather dim inside. On the far side of the room its a robed figure slouched in a chair, their hood pulled up.
Ravenstongue walks into the explorer's guild dressed for the cold tonight, although the pale raven on her shoulders has no change in his brilliant alabaster attire. He feasts from her gloved hand, appearing to be full of dried berries, which is certainly par for the course.
She takes the direction to the briefing room and walks inside, wrinkling her nose at the darkness. And what often goes with the dim shadow and anonymous figure is silence...
Until Pothy pipes up, that is. "Light a match, wouldya?" he says, mimicking some irritated-sounding man with a cigar dangling from his lips and yet no matches of his own to light it.
Lysos arrives moments after the half-sil, slightly out of breath.. and she quickly shuts the door behind her and leans against it, ear pressed against the wood with her breath held as she listens. She waits, and waits.. then, seeming satisfied, pushes herself away from the door as she exhales. The snoozing trio get a curious look, especially the warforged.. but experience has taught her to be careful about prying, so she leaves them be. Then she looks at a crumpled note she draws forth from a pocket, considers it.. then looks to the open door spilling forth candlelight, nods, and makes her way into that room.
As your eyes adjust to the gloom you can make out additional details in the room. The figure wears the fine robes of a wealthy (or sponsored) academic; crimson and red trimmed in a gold. The low cowl is an odd touch but the man clearly possesses a larger head; perhaps he's shy or ashamed? The upward-turned mouth and chin of a porcelain mask peaks out from beneath, polished and shining in the candle's glow.
The chair rests on two large wheels and is quite obviously well cared for or newly-constructed. The fellow's hands rest on the arms and he leans slightly forwards and to the left. Fine boots rest on a platform just above the wooden planks of the room's floor. There's no sign of an assistant in the room currently.
"Come in! Come in, please!" Greets a rather friendly, excitable voice from beneath the hood and behind the mask. The speaker has an accent and there's an oddly-distant quality to his speech. "Please, please forgive me for not standing. I'm suffering from a rather embarassing malady and find myself about as spry as a forsaken stump in a logger's field."
When Pothy cries for a match there's some embarassed sputtering. "Have I broken wind?! My goodness this affliction has robbed me of all dignity. I do apologize profusely-- Endlessly! Were I able I would throw myself prostrate to the ground thoroughly shamed and humbled!"
"My goodness me... Oh, whatever would grandpapa say..."
<OOC> Jinks says, "Perception checks, please!" <OOC> Jinks says, "Also Kn.Local if you've gots it." GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception: (19)+4: 23 <OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Forgot to add +2 on account of Alertness from Pothy." <OOC> Ravenstongue says, "So 25 total." GAME: Lysos rolls perception: (9)+9: 18 GAME: Lysos rolls knowledge/local: (15)+4: 19
The figure in the chair isn't moving. At all. His chest doesn't rise and fall when he breathes. When he speaks his head is perfectly still. He doesn't shift even the tiniest fraction of an inch as you enter the room.
Ravenstongue raises a brow as she looks at the unmoving figure. "No, no, umm, you didn't break wind at all. That was my familiar, Pothy. He's a raven who mimics things people say--it's also, well, dark in here, so that's why he asked for a match."
"Snacks," Pothy croaks, to affirm that he does, indeed, talk. He earns a little scritch on the head from Ravenstongue, who peers at the figure's fingertips for a moment.
"I don't want to come off as rude, but I'm curious--I have been investigating matters on my own involving... well, you could say magic curses. Is your malady something like that?" Ravenstongue asks, looking back to what's visible of the mask.
"I think his malady is that he's dead," Lysos whispers, a little too harshly to be considered under her breath. Her eyes are wide, and she's pointing at the figure. Dead yet still talking, that's a trick.. but Lysos has been around long enough to see some weird things now. Then, a little more loudly, "Uh. So. Is there.. anything we can.. uh.. help you with?"
"Oh my, yes! You are a clever girl. Certainly the pride of your tutors or whatever academy or institution you hold membership with." The figure replies, laughing, surprised and impressed. "My former master was an arcanist of formidable ability and when I refused to assist him further in his research into Kulthian horrors he struck me blind and paralyzed. So... here I sit. Thankfully I still possess my mind! ... and I can speak, obviously."
"I am Nanthuilith. Formerly of House an'Heldredth. Mine has-- up until recently-- been a tale of compounding woes... but now I'm in your wonderful city and things have taken an upswing! No reason to dwell on previous frustrations and setbacks, I say!"
Then Lysos speaks and the fellow goes quiet for awhile. It's almost like he's left the room entirely; without the voice there's no indication that the figure in the wheeled chair is present. After some time, though, there's the sound of a throat clearing.
"Um, well, anyhow." (not all peoples share the same mastery of niceties, Nan... carry on, now) he mutters before speaking up again. "While your wonderful clerics of this fantastic city seek a way to break this curse I have offered my intellect as payment for their efforts! And, well, we have 'struck gold!'-- as the Khazadi would say."
"A mineral they seek is nearly impossible to find outside of the Sky Curtain Mountains. HOWEVER! My time pouring through tomes of geologies and rockonomies allows me occasional fantastical insights. There is a substitute that meets all relevant properties for their purposes IN THIS VERY CITY!"
He is quite pleased with himself.
Though... well, it's just weird to HEAR someone this excited when they just sit there like a puppet with their strings cut.
"So, yes, the temples would like it very much if you could retrieve it. But the items have already been sold. The merchant has agreed to sell the items to the temple at a higher price but he needs the shipment retrieved from another group of mercenaries that has already collected the payload with the intent of delivering it..."
If nothing else, this fellow really enjoys the sound of his own voice.
Ravenstongue presses her lips together into a thin line as she follows the implication of the request. "Wait. So someone else has bought the items--do they intend to deliver them to the temple? I would assume not if that's why we're being asked to do something about them. I don't like the idea of hurting other people if they're ultimately working for the same cause."
Lysos is still looking at the chaired figure slightly askance, as if she's ready to have one foot out the door already... perhaps forgetting her earlier eagerness to be inside the building. "Retrieve," she repeats with emphasis. The tone suggesting it might not be the most applicable word here. "We're not supposed to steal it from the mercenaries, are we?"
"Oh, graces no. The mercenaries simply need be informed that their contract is void and the goods need be returned." Tone and inflection make it so you're waiting for a wave of the hand or some other dismissive gesture... but it never comes. "The merchant was just... put off by the gentleman he interacted with and would rather not be the one to tell them that their job has been called off; he'd just like his goods back so he can sell them to the temple."
"Now I'm not entirely versed in the local law-- yet!-- but I was advised this might fall into a 'grey area' of sorts. So you might need to be persuasive. But as charming and intelligent as you two sound I doubt you will need to resort to any sort of fisticuffs or bladeworks."
"Persuasion? I can probably handle that," Ravenstongue says with a little smile. "Do you know anything about these mercenaries? How many, what they look like, names, current whereabouts?"
Meanwhile, Pothy contents himself with burrowing his head into Ravenstongue's hair, ruffling her black braid a bit. Ravens doesn't seem to mind.
Lysos doesn't seem that readily convinced... but nods slowly nonetheless. "I suppose we'll need the mercant's name, too.. and who they were supposed to be delivering this mineral to. We'll need credentials."
"Of course, of course. My memory-- I offer with all due humility-- is second-to-none." The quite-stationary fellow hums to himself and relates the following names in a sort of sing-song; as if he'd used music to help commit it all to memory.
"The merchant's name is Grinder Goldbell, who the mercenaries was afraid to tell. Originally to sell to Ghis the Arvek who's in another neck (of the woods)..."
There's a pause and a clucking of a tongue and then another lyrical relating of information. "Andretti Kriegler is not a singler but likes a flower named... Marigold Mikt who's never picked... and Pinwon Dast is the name of the last! Ha-HA!"
(well done, Nan, you remain as bright as ever, my fellow)
Ravenstongue nods her head along ever so slightly to the slight sing-song recitation of names, not even particularly realizing it until Pothy squawks, breaking the 'spell'. She shakes her head and says, "So three mercenaries, one merchant, and one buyer?" she asks, clarifying the information received from the strange and certainly very humble masked man.
"And this Ghis knows that the previous arrangement is over?" Clearly the tusran is imagining all sorts of ways this situation could go badly if even one fact is misrepresented. She looks at the half-sil with her, half an eye on the woman's raven. "Are you okay with this?"
"Grinder has said Ghis won't be an issue; they have a working relationship that spans some great era or another." The immovable academic advises. He clears his throat, adding at a bit of an uptempo "... and also mentioned that Ghis is in Blar and has no immediate means of expressing his displeasure if he does."
"Kriegler is possessed of a ship and is likely loading the goods from the pier in the warehouse districts. At Goldbell's hold. Fourth row, seventh building I'm told."
Ravenstongue looks back to the tsuran and smiles. Even Pothy seems to smile--no, wait, he's just happy because Ravenstongue is holding out a hand full of dried berries to him. He inhales the dried fruit.
"Well, what they're doing at the temples is important. Every reagent they request is for an important reason. So... I'm willing to 'risk it for the biscuit,' as they say," Ravenstongue says.
"Snack?" Pothy asks, looking back up at Ravenstongue with wide blue eyes at the mention of biscuits from the half-sil's now-empty hand. Ravenstongue rolls her eyes and Pothy looks positively deflated. No biscuits for Pothy.
Lysos hesitates a little bit longer, hearing the dark haired woman's response then turning back to look at the, still to her eyes at least, talking dead man. "Well. Alright. Sounds like it should be pretty easy, if everything's on the up and up, right? So I guess we'll go let these folks know the plan has changed."
"Most fantastic! I wish you three the best of luck." There's a brief pause and, again, the sound of someone clearing their throat. Still, the robe doesn't move. "Once my attendant has returned from the privy I will be taken back to my host family's estate in the plaza of Sage Orum. The master of the guild has all details and will pay you out accordingly upon completion of the mission."
Another pause. "Oh. Yes, of course; the good mister Goldbell has asked that you see the goods back to this hall. That way proper conveyance can be arranged to see them to the temples. I wish you all luck, brave and noble souls!"
"Merp," Pothy croaks, rather happy-sounding to have been acknowledged as an entity in addition to the tsuran and his own half-sil mistress--although he acts more like a bratty little brother to her than anything.
Ravenstongue nods to their strange 'host', although she makes a face at the mention of the privy. "That's clear enough. Shall we get going to the docks, then?"
Lysos nods her agreement to Ravenstongue, already backing out of the briefing room and into the hall outside, not taking her eyes off of the man in the wheeled chair until he is blocked from sight. "Easy money," she then says, though it sounds doubtful. "Something's going to go wrong," she says afterwards. "That... man... sounded like he's from Charn. Creepy place. Lots of undead."
The docks are less-busy at this time of night but still far from quiet. Ships drift up and down the Tornmawr with lanterns lit and sailors at the rail to make sure nothing is missed in the darkness. Lamps glow, warm and bright along the streets and down the piers to aid in the loading and unloading of goods form the ships to the warehouses.
The cross street you've taken from the Guild of Explorer's splits the rows with holds one-through-five to the north and six-through-ten to the south. The fourth row is choice, abutting the river and adjacent to the loading piers. Your reach the top of the street without incident and look south to find the casual work of goods being transfered from warehouse to ship.
The sloop is anchored and its tan sails furled. Two figures stand on the ship and observe while two others in heavy robes haul a heavy chest between them. A final pair stands near the open double-doors of the seventh hold; a rotund, nervous halfling and an armored human with a long black cloak.
Something could go wrong indeed. Ravenstongue keeps her cohort's words in mind as they make their way to the docks and locate the ship indicated to them. She has her hood up, but Pothy on her shoulder is an easy tell for anyone who's spent time in the markets and has seen the white raven merrily accepting free samples from adoring vendors with Ravenstongue fretting after him.
"First things first, just in case things go wrong," Ravenstongue says, casting a spell that casts a sheen of magic over her that fades away to mundane eyes. A simple armoring spell. She looks to Lysos and smiles. "My specialization is in charming magic--but I try to use that as a fail-safe if my conversational abilities fall through. I can handle the bulk of the talking unless you'd like to do it."
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 3 DC: 15
Lysos manages a lopsided grin before responding, pulling a scarf from one of her pockets to wind about her hair and secure it once they've arrived. "I have no specialilty... other than trying to keep them from putting holes in me," she admits. "And tend to be rather unlucky.. so... I'll follow your lead."
"Onward ho!" Pothy announces before preening his very pretty pale feathers.
At the consensus given to her by both Lysos and Pothy, Ravenstongue nods and begins to approach the anchored ship, holding a rather practiced authoritative expression on her face as they go.
As noted, the Lucht seems exceptionally nervous. He keeps looking back over his shoulder or craning his neck to look down the street further south. Brackish clouds of pipe smoke spill from his mouth only to be snatched immediately by the winds and scattered. His clothes were once fine but they've been patched and his hair is a dull, brown crown encircling a liver-spotted pate.
The armored man next to him stands confident and still, arms crossed and shielded against the elements by that black cloak. A open-faced helmet hangs from his belt and a spear crosses his back.
The two loaders move awkwardly. There's a certain deliberate sluggishness to their movement as they step down to the pier and cross to ascend the gangplank.
The two on the boat are a bit more interesting in dress. At the railing by the other end of the gangplank is a massive woman with scarred skin like chiseled onyx. Her hair is a tight puff of yellow-blonde hair. She wears a fine, layered set of hide armor and idly swings a baton from a leather strap around her wrist. Atop the poop, a hooded man in black-and-white clothes leans against a longspear held in both hands. His skin is pale but his entire face has been tattooed a solid black.
The halfling turns at the sound of your dialogue and brightens immediately. He stands on tip-toe and (very unsubtly) cants his head to invite you closer.
<OOC> Jinks says, "map for reference: https://www.mipui.net/app/index.html?mid=m0hsudkvrp3"
Ravenstongue approaches the halfling and gives him an authoritative nod rather than a friendly wave to better sell the presentation. Even Pothy looks at the halfling with a slightly intimidating blue eye. The ever-hungry void of a bird can look unsettling to people who have no clue what a soft creature more interested in snacks than blood Pothy can be.
"We're here to speak with your boss," Ravenstongue says. "We're messengers regarding the Goldbell-Ghis deal."
Lysos lightly chews on her lower lip as she makes a note of each of the figures while keeping up with Ravenstongue. Then she nods to confirm the half-sil's hail and claims while trying to look as harmless as possible. "Shouldn't take long, just a few things to clear up."
"U-um, yes, th-th-that's--" The Lucht stammers around the neck of his pipe. He nods his head at your but keeps looking up at the armored man standing-- no, LOOMING next to him. "You're from the g-g-g-guild?"
The armored man tilts his head deliberately to one side, neck issuing a loud pop as it cracks. He takes his eyes off the two laborers long enough to glance back at you both. "Fuck off." He sneers, looking down at the Lucht. "I don't know what you're trying to pull, Goldbell, but the deal is fucking done. Ghis wants his goods and I'm not missing his end of the payment."
The Lucht pulls his lips back, teeth clenched on his pipe as he looks to you, wide-eyed, for help.
<OOC> Ravenstongue says, "I would like to cast Charm Person on the armored man." <OOC> Jinks says, "Cast it fo' shizzle." GAME: Ravenstongue casts Charm Person. Caster Level: 3 DC: 16 <OOC> Ravenstongue says, "+1 from Spell Focus: Enchantment, so 17 DC total" GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+9: (15)+9: 24 <OOC> Jinks says, "Er, fudge. That should be +7, not 9, but still good." <OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Blagh. Oh well."
Did Ravenstongue say that she saved charm magic for a last resort? Well... Judging by how violently this man appears to not want to give up the goods, Ravenstongue presses her lips together into a fine line and weaves, as subtly as possible, a charming spell. "Surely we can come to an agreement, sir," Ravenstongue says, as cloyingly as possible. Even Pothy nods to this notion.
<OOC> Jinks says, "Alright. So the laborers and the crew don't notice what's going on. So surprise round. Lysos is first." <OOC> Jinks says, "One standard action of your choice." <OOC> Lysos will shield up! GAME: Lysos casts Shield. Caster Level: 8 DC: 17
Lysos's eyes widen a touch more. She was already on edge a little bit.. the armoured man's attitude didn't make it any better. And then Ravenstongue is casting she doesn't know what.. "Well, the best defence is a good defence!" she mutters. As she does, she gathers power, then thrusts her hand forward, palm outwards, fingers splayed. "Defendarus!" she says, putting that power into her word.. and a transluscent shield forms for a moment in front of her, semi-spherical, before fading into invisibility.
The fat halfling in the ratty finery squeaks in alarm when spells begin to fly. The pipe falls to the ground when the tall, armored man tenses against the onslaught of enchantment but growls through it. His barefeet slap against the cobblestone road as he scampers to hide behind Lysos and Ravenstongue.
<OOC> Jinks says, "Raven, it'll be you again. Standard action!" <OOC> Jinks says, "The halfling (Goldbell) is running to hide behind the two of you)" <OOC> Jinks says, "He's a non-com but I'll have him on init 10 in case it matters." <OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Boy, I'm tempted to cast Charm Person again but I don't think that'll work. XD" <OOC> Jinks says, "At this point I would give him the bonus for being threatened. But it's up to you!" <OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Magic missile then." <OOC> Jinks says, "OK!" GAME: Ravenstongue casts Magic Missile. Caster Level: 3 DC: 15 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 1d4+1: (2)+1: 3 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 1d4+1: (3)+1: 4
Well, shit. Perhaps opting for the nuclear option first wasn't the brightest idea in the toolshed. Hindsight is 20/20, however. Ravenstongue presses her teeth together for a moment before she unleashes some magic missiles into the armored man. "Okay, hard way it is," she murmurs afterwards.
<OOC> Jinks says, "He'll talk a bit and then channel energy. Let me get will saves from you folks." GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Will: (15)+5: 20 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+3: (19)+3: 22 <OOC> Jinks says, "Go go Goldbell" GAME: Jinks rolls 3d6: (14): 14 GAME: Lysos rolls will: (17)+7: 24
The armored man turns slowly, narrowing his eyes as his shoulders relax-- previously tensed when he resisted the enchantment. "We. Have. A. Contract." He raises his arms and his right hand grasps at a shattered blast disk welded onto the back of his left gauntlet. The wind cancels out as a hot, black energy bursts out from his intimidating presence.
Dust on the ground kicks up and out. The smell of brimstone fills the air. You feel your heart skip a beat. The halfling chokes and falls heavily to the ground, unconscious.
<OOC> Jinks says, "Anyone with Kn.Religion?" <OOC> Lysos says, "Maybe.." GAME: Lysos rolls knowledge/religion: (8)+4: 12 <OOC> Jinks says, "Oh, give me one more Kn.Religion check, Lysos, before you tell me what you wanna do." GAME: Lysos rolls knowledge/religion: (3)+4: 7 <OOC> Jinks says, "Alright. No more info. What's the plan?" <OOC> Lysos shouldn't have skipped that day at sunday school. <OOC> Jinks says, "You thought the laborers were moving oddly but it's just in your head. In your he-ee-ee-ead." <OOC> Lysos says, "Okay. I will cast gusting sphere." <OOC> Jinks says, "Donde?" <OOC> Lysos says, "On the armoured man." GAME: Lysos casts Gusting Sphere. Caster Level: 8 DC: 18 <OOC> Lysos says, "He gets a reflex save to avoid 1d6 non-lethal damage, I think, and I do a bull rush. I think?" <OOC> Lysos says, "For the bull rush, I think I have to actually move it into his square, so I'll do it next to him, and move it into him, trying to push him towards the water." <OOC> Jinks says, "I think he gets a Reflex to avoid it all." <OOC> Jinks says, "If he fails the bullrush you do the 1d6 and get to attempt the Bull Rush." <OOC> Jinks says, "I THINK." <OOC> Jinks says, "*fails the reflex" GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+3: (5)+3: 8 <OOC> Jinks says, "So roll the 1d6 and Bull Rush" <OOC> Lysos says, "You are probably correct" GAME: Lysos rolls 1d6: (5): 5 GAME: Lysos rolls 1d20+8+2: (9)+8+2: 19 <OOC> Jinks says, "CMD if 15 so you move him 5' but no more." <OOC> Jinks says, "You want him one south?" <OOC> Jinks says, "Or off the ledge and down onto the docks east?" <OOC> Lysos says, "east." <OOC> Jinks says, "gimme another d6 for falling damage" GAME: Lysos rolls 1d6: (5): 5 <OOC> Jinks says, "Alright, the crewman on the poop deck casts a spell. Spellcraft from you two if you wanna identify." GAME: Lysos rolls spellcraft: (18)+8: 26 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Spellcraft: (10)+7: 17 <OOC> Jinks says, "Both of you recognize him casting Shield of Faith. He also drinks a potion and blinks out of sight."
Lysos groans as the channelled energies from the armoured man wash over her, growing a shade paler as she staggers. Then she bites down on the sudden urge to run, going so far as to take a half step foward. "Guess.. talking's out of the question now," she manages, even as she summons more power from the Sea, arms stretched out wide. "Fwooosh!" she says, then blows towards the man as she releases the power, creating a small, swirling vortex of wind that batters him with debris and knocks him back onto the docks.
<OOC> Jinks says, "Mari is gonna lob an Alchemist Fire at Lysos." GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+6-4: (16)+6+-4: 18 <OOC> Jinks says, "I imagine that hits touch AC?" GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6: (6): 6 <OOC> Lysos says, "Yep"
The man with the tattooed face mutters something unintelligble due to the distance. He touches his fingertips to his face and lightning-black arcs outline his form. He snags a potion from his belt and quaffs it quickly-- disappearing soundlessly from the poop deck.
One of the laborers responds to the combat, considering the fray dully before it drops its side of the crate. It lurches towards the stairs, stumbling up from the pier onto the street... and right into the vortex of wind. It sways dangerously-- ready to topple-- and its hood flips back to reveal the half-rotten face of the undead. Its nose is missing as well as one eye. Bits of its skull peeks through peeling skin.
The large woman with the dark skin leans against the railing of the ship and looks down to make sure the armored man hasn't fallen into the water. She shouts something unkind in an infernal tongue and swings a bottle from the end of a rope. The glass bulb slams against the Tsura and cracks open, alighting with a WHOOSH when the contents are exposed to the chill night are. Both the halfling and half-Sil get singed by the sudden burst of heat.
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Magic Missile. Caster Level: 3 DC: 15 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 1d4+1: (2)+1: 3 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 1d4+1: (3)+1: 4
Ravenstongue hisses as she's hit by both the words of the armored man and the alchemical fire. But she's cheered a little as she watches Lysos work. "Maybe one day I'll be able to do things like that," she murmurs, before she sends more magic missiles that always find their mark towards the armored man.
"Yeah! Fuck off!" Pothy croaks at the armored man, mimicking some bratty teenager who has somehow found a bit of liquid courage to tell off some poor soul.
The armored man rolls over and pushes himself to his feet, armor clattering. He slides the helmet on and growls something up to the ship and his crew, then waves a hand from the laborers towards the two women assaulting him. He reaches under his cloak as he goes and draws out an absurdly wide, jagger sword. Rounding at the top of the gangplank he raises the backside of his gauntlet in warning.
The shattered black disk is ready.
The second laborer drops its end of the chest and shuffles north along the pier, stumbling on two feet and a hand as it nears the top of the stairs and streetlevel. Lysos can see its rotten teeth under the hood.
<OOC> Lysos says, "Hydraulic push on the labourer to the east of me, and my move action to move the gusting sphere left and right to try and push the other labourer eastwards as well." GAME: Lysos casts Hydraulic Push. Caster Level: 8 DC: 17 GAME: Lysos rolls 1d20+8+6: (17)+8+6: 31 <OOC> Lysos says, "and then the guy gets a reflex save for the gusting sphere. if he's undead, he probably doesn't take any non-lethal damage." <OOC> Jinks says, "CMD is 14. So 5', +5 (19), +5 (24), +5 (29) = 20' push" <OOC> Jinks says, "Into the drink!" GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+0: (12)+0: 12 <OOC> Jinks says, "Roll your bull rush" GAME: Lysos rolls 1d20+8+2: (1)+8+2: 11 (EPIC FAIL) <OOC> Lysos says, "NAWP"
"Soakus!" Lysos's right arm extends eastwards, finger pointing.. and a blast of water carries one of the shambling labourers straight off of the stones and into the water. Her other hand gestures towards her miniature windstorm, moving it as well, but the second shambler seems to have little trouble muscling through it.
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+6: (8)+6: 14 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+3: (2)+3: 5
The spearman remains invisible but there's a good chance he's working about the deck of the ship. There's the sound of loud clattering as a winch is turned on the deck of the ship and the rope for the anchor winds up out of the water. The ship begins to drift away from the pier and the gangplank twists awkwardly before falling into the water.
The 'laborer' manages to push through the gusting wind and tries to bat at Lysos, falling into all fours at her feet. She can see through the hole at the back of his head; thick, mucous-y soup that used to be brains writhes with small vermin.
The hide-armored woman slides a bow off her back. She nocks and arrow and grunts as she draws the bone-and-horn composite weapon deliberately. She aims it at Ravenstongue for a moment before turning and sending the arrow into the downed halfling. The missile pierces the chubby merchant's flank and disappears entirely before the head pokes out the opposite side of his vest. A sad, wet cough and Goldbell is no more.
"Honour your deals, small man," she taunts before spitting over the railing.
<OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Magic missiling that MF and commenting on possibly booking it." GAME: Ravenstongue casts Magic Missile. Caster Level: 3 DC: 15 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 1d4+1: (4)+1: 5 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 1d4+1: (4)+1: 5
Ravenstongue gasps as she sees Goldbell's corpse hit the ground. "Shit," she murmurs, her eyes widening as she's realizing exactly what's happening: they are outnumbered. They are outmatched. And they're not getting what they came here for.
She sends magic missiles to the disgusting thing right next to Lysos and is satisfied when she sees it fall, but this is only a bit of respite. "I don't think we can win this. Let's run!" she calls out to Lysos as she begins to run.
<OOC> Jinks says, "Will save, Lysos!" <OOC> Jinks says, "Enchantment/Compulsion if you have any mods." GAME: Lysos rolls will: (13)+7: 20 <OOC> Lysos has no mods to that. <OOC> Jinks says, "Alright. You feel a dark grip take hold of you but you force it away."
The dark cleric-- for that's surely what he is-- brandishes the broken black disk towards Lysos and curls both hands into tight fists. His oath echoes in that same infernal tongue and the Tsura can feel a massive, otherworldly force try to hold her in place. She manages to fight through the effect and remain unrestrained by sheer force of will.
<OOC> Lysos says, "Is going to try and knock the priest into the water with another blast, then fall back towards Ravenstongue." GAME: Lysos casts Hydraulic Push. Caster Level: 8 DC: 17 GAME: Lysos rolls 1d20+8+6: (11)+8+6: 25
Lysos is caught crosswise between terror and anger... much directed at herself. A glance wasn't enough to tell her if the halfling was still alive or not, though the sound was not encouraging. And being faced with death again.. why does she keep putting herself in these situations? Another "soakus!" as a line of water lances forth, knocking the armoured man off of the boat, and then she's stumbling away from the prone labourer Ravenstongue put down with her magic. "Stupid, stupid, stupid.."
There's the sound of heavy-cloth falling, flapping, and going taught as the sails unfurl and catch the wind. Wood and ropes creak as the invisible crewman works the rigging with unobserved aplomb.
The woman turns, issuing a bark of alarm as the torrent of water pushes past and knocks the blustering captain over the opposite railing and into the river. She takes a bundle from her belt as she moves, a net unfurling before she casts it down into the water and out of your line of sight.
Ravenstongue presses close to the walls in her current spot, shrinking so that nobody on board can target her. "They're... not taking the chest?" Ravenstongue says, a bit of hope in her voice--but mostly disbelief. "If they go and they're not taking it, let's take it and run."
<OOC> Lysos says, "Alright. Scorching ray on the sails." GAME: Lysos casts Scorching Ray. Caster Level: 8 DC: 18 GAME: Lysos rolls 1d20+4+3: (12)+4+3: 19 GAME: Lysos rolls 1d20+4+3: (13)+4+3: 20 GAME: Lysos rolls 4d6: (16): 16 GAME: Lysos rolls 4d6: (10): 10
Lysos grits her teeth. "Not before we give them something to think about," she says. "They seem to like fire.." she adds, gesturing at her singed dress and burned skin. "Flambo!" Twin lines of white fire lance towards the boat and through its sails.. and then she's crouching, to try and avoid any retalliation.
The ship pulls away, north along the river. It passes under the bridge just as the tattooed man winks back into being visible, splashing water from a pale up towards the burning sails.
The archer takes the poop deck and leans back over the high railing to look in the water behind the ship. She holds a dripping net high, spinning it lazily but can't find anything in the water to throw it to. Lips pulled back into a snarl she looks up from the river and back towards the two of you near the pier. She lifts a fist with her thumb extended and draws it across her neck in slow promise.
As they pull further away you brave the walk south, descending down to the planking of the loading docks to collect the abandoned chest. There's the burbled rush of air popping to the surface of the river and then the black cloak reaches the surface. It floats a forgotten shadow on the choppy water's surface.
"Huh--what's that?" Ravenstongue asks as she looks out at the cloak in the water.
"Treasure!" Pothy answers, flapping out to the cloak in the surface and pulling it out of the water.
GAME: Lysos casts Floating Disk. Caster Level: 8 DC: 17
Lysos lets out a slow, shaking breath. Having recognized the magic the priest was trying to put on her, and remembering the last time such a magical binding was upon her... she very deliberately does not look at the water where he fell in, or the bubbling, or the surfacing cloak. Or comment on them. Instead, she slowly rises, watching the boat get further, and further out of the way.. then summons up a floating disk of force so that they can carry Master Goldbell and his cargo back to the Guild.