018: Our only plan is to improvise

[Sierra]

<El-Cideon> "Oh, and now there are demons afoot plying their mischievous tricks on hapless citizens, on top of the slavers and the wrecked buildings," a disturbed Rosemund exclaims out in the street after the meeting. "Do you think all these bad things are happening all the time everywhere, or that we have exceptional timing?"
<Julia> "Well, I think maybe some of it is down to us..." Julia allows with a little smile.
<El-Cideon> "Well I should hope not! I am trying to solve people's problems, not provoke more of them."
<Steph> "My, er, intuition says we don't really need to worry too much about the demons. He seemed like a bit of a ham," notes Stephanie. "We should worry about what we came for more."
<El-Cideon> Rosemund seems less than convinced that there's no cause for alarm, but there certainly are more obvious city denizens to worry about--such as the ones you're headed to see right now. The dao trading outpost is positioned on the far western edge of the city, behind a ten-foot stone wall and with a wide berth between it and its nearest neighbors. The building behind the wall is a two-story manse of gleaming white stone. The city-side gate of the wall is closed when you arrive, and guarded. There are two humans here, each flanked by a hulking earth elemental. One of the human guards is a woman in jet black plate mail, with a long tumble of equally dark hair and a cloak of black wolf's fur resting on her shoulders. Her rugged face is rendered more menacing by the addition of deep claw marks down the right side, and an eye patch over her right eye. Her companion is a dashing, handsome man with long blond hair and an easy smile, dressed stylishly with a rapier at his side. The two of them are engaged in conversation with a young man who has the look of a local when you arrive. Probably just out of his teens, with a scraggly attempt at a beard and some lingering acne scars.
<Steph> Stephanie scrutinizes the guards, jotting down every feature they possess into her memory. She isn't too shy about listening in on the conversation, either.
* Franceska approaches the man with the easy smile.
<El-Cideon> It's hard not to hear it, with the young man being very animated in an attempt to convince the guards about something. "It's plain to see that the two of them would be in collusion!" he's saying when you arrive. "Everyone knows what she is!" The woman sounds unimpressed: "If everyone knows that already, I don't see why we should pay you for anything."
<El-Cideon> The handsome man does his best to ignore his comrade's conversation and nods to Franceska: "Good morning, miss. Do you have business with the trading outpost this fine day?"
<Franceska> "I do." She gives the loud-mouthed man a sideways glance. "Should I just wait?"
<El-Cideon> He smiles at his partner. "Oh, I don't imagine he'll be here long," he says smoothly.
<Franceska> "That makes sense, I suppose," Franceska agrees. "I'm afraid I couldn't help overhearing, and it does sound like a poorly-considered scam of some sort."
<El-Cideon> "Look, we need a witness account, maybe something in writing, otherwise we can't move on anyone," she's saying. "Common gossip ain't getting you anywhere."
<El-Cideon> "But I DID see the two of them together!" he insists. "When I was there, ah, investigating. Now if you could just admit me to the trademaster--" She cuts him off with a raised hand. "Yeah, I doubt that. You wouldn't have the coin, walking around with a rusty old sword like that? You know, I bet what we got here is someone got himself laughed out of the Red Rose for having an itty bitty prick and figures he'll get some payback. My sword's a lot bigger than yours, junior. Buzz off before I have to soil it with your blood." Rattling her greatsword in its scabbard proves enough to scare the youth off, with one furious backwards glance.
<El-Cideon> "You should've listened to me!" he shouts, running off down the street. "You'll all be sorry later!"
<Julia> Julia frowns after the boy, wondering if he was trying to sic the Dao onto Mercedes.
<Steph> Ooh, what a burn! It's just interesting enough that Stephanie feels compelled to trail him...
<Franceska> "It does seem to be a very big sword," Franceska says with some appreciation, before returning her attention to the other guard. "Ah, yes. Regarding my business. Please excuse me if I misunderstood something, but the owners of the trading outpost are interested in having the recent, unfortunate incidents that took place here investigated?"
<Franceska> Darrin, meanwhile, follows her signal to trail the fleeing man inconspicuously.
<El-Cideon> He's not hard to follow. He barrels down a couple streets and then stops down an alleyway to catch his breath, pounding the wall with one fist and swearing between breaths.
<El-Cideon> "'Investigated' is a lofty term for opening up a bounty on the miscreants in question, but yes," the handsome man confirms.
<Steph> "Yo! Could I interest you in a bigger sword?" asks Stephanie, leaning against the side of the alleyway with a grin.
<El-Cideon> He jumps nearly a foot in surprise, settles down with wide eyes and one hand over his heart. "Wha--you startled me, sorry. You--you, ah, didn't see that whole thing, did you?" he says, sounding embarrassed.
<Franceska> "I am certain that they merely wish to see justice carried out properly and promptly," Franceska muses. "Would it be possible to learn more about the incidents in question?"
<Steph> "I kind of did," admits Stephanie. "Not to be shameful. Getting outta there was the smartest thing you coulda done," she continues, easily. "But, lesse... we've got some business with the trademaster, so might be that we could tell him something if he's gotta hear it. What's the go?"
<El-Cideon> "No doubt," the handsome man says with a smirk. "We've a broadsheet prepared for those interested in directly aiding the pursuit of said justice, but inquire as you will if you require further information." He retrieves a scroll from a basket of such riding at his hip and hands it over.
<El-Cideon> "Oh," the young man says, "you're here for the bounty too? Yeah, he's calling for anyone with a good sword arm to track down those bandits hit the casino...though me, I figured I'd just tell him who brought them here."
* Julia peers over to look at the paper. "That's more people than I heard were at the casino attack," she observes.
* Franceska can't resist a slight snort at the level of detail. A balding man? They did well to find it out if he's keeping cloaked. "It is quite informative," she finally tells the guard after perusing it. "However, as someone new to town... would you be able to enlighten me as to why the leader is known as Duchess Ismaela?"
<El-Cideon> "The surviving casino employees have been exhaustively questioned," the dapper guard says. "We believe this is a definitive list." His companion laughs. "Yeah, poor buggers. Demon knocks the place over with them inside, then they gotta spend all day in interrogation. And I bet they thought their jobs'd be easy. Hah!"
<Steph> "But he ain't interested in your tales, huh?" Stephanie presses her fingers together. "But I am," she advises. "Very, very interested! What if we came to an arrangement, hmm?"
<El-Cideon> "Oh, if they wouldn't listen to me, I don't see why they'd listen to you!" the young man despairs. "But, well, what kind of arrangement were you thinking of?"
<El-Cideon> The handsome guard continues, "One would have to inquire with the 'Duchess' herself to know the origin of her title. The casino employees recall the demon's underlings referring to her in this manner."
<Steph> "Well, I'm one of those swordarms they might be hiring," reasons Stephanie. "I could let you in on a cut of the bounty when we get it! Is it a long story?"
<El-Cideon> "No, no it isn't!" he beams. "You swear? That's a lot of gold. We could...split if fifty-fifty?"
<Franceska> "Ah, is that so? It sounded as if there were more attacks than just the one."
<El-Cideon> "So far," the one-eyed guard says. "Oh, you mean that house what fell over on the other side of town? Nah, only one attack we're paid to care about."
<Franceska> "Just a coincidence, then." Franceska frowns slightly, before voicing, "I believe that there is a drow community nearby. Do they keep any sort of representation in the town itself?"
<Steph> "Fifty-fifty? No, my comrades would most certainly have my hide if I agreed to such a sum. I think an equal share will be appropriate, given that we are only asking for what you know. We certainly don't want to put your handsome neck to risk!"
<El-Cideon> The youth scratches his head a moment. "Well, yeah, okay. Anyway, it's really simple, isn't it?" he continues, getting animated again. "I mean, it's so obvious, the trademaster has to be an idiot not to have seen it already. He thinks someone in the city invited these bandits, well, it's plain to see who woulda done it. I mean, they're both demons, right?"
<Steph> "Who are?"
<El-Cideon> The handsome guard shakes his head, with a spill of fine golden hair. "They do not. They do business with my employers here, and sometimes purchase supplies at shops around town. But they do not linger, and they do not mingle. Curious bunch. Of course, if you have ever met one, the easy explanation is that they simply haven't time to waste on us lesser beings." He grins rakishly.
<Franceska> "Ah, yes. They are still elves, after all," Franceska muses. "Would any happen to be here for business right now? It would be best to establish whether they know anything about the rogue drow, I feel."
<El-Cideon> "Oh, you must be new here, I figured you'd know," the young man says. "That brothel owner, Miss Mercedes? She's got horns and everything! And the word is these bandits were following a demon so, well...it makes sense they'd be working together. It's just elementary!" he adds, using a big word to make his point.
<Steph> Stephanie frowns. "You're not very bright, are you?"
<El-Cideon> "Not to my knowledge," the guard says. "But I am hardly their minder."
<El-Cideon> The youth blinks. "What?"
* Franceska tilts her head. "Is it possible to come in and take a look, you think? Or must I be intending to trade to enter?"
<Steph> "Is this just, y'know, your brain working by itself, or d'ya have a fact or two to back it up?"
<El-Cideon> "Trademaster Pomerand has instructed us to admit parties interested in discussing the bounty in greater detail," the guard says. "Is it just the three of you?"
* Franceska glances at Rosemund, itching to say yes.
<El-Cideon> "No...no, I saw them together!" the young man insists. "I was there to investigate just, you know, for justice and all that, and I got a peek inside the owner's office, and they were both right there. I swear!"
<El-Cideon> Rosemund looks around. "Apparently?"
<Julia> Although worried they might end up getting enslaved, Julia nods her agreement.
<Steph> "They, being one of the crew who took on the casino? Did you hear what they were discussing?"
<El-Cideon> The guard nods. "Grinda, if you'd please?" he says in his quiet, fluid voice. His companion cups her hands over her mouth and hollers across the wall: "Applicants incoming! Open up for business!" There's a sound of heavy locks sliding out of place, then the scrape of stone against stone as they doors draw inward. "Follow me," the woman says. "No wandering about inside."
<Franceska> "Certainly," Franceska responds, quite businesslike.
<El-Cideon> "Oh, yeah!" the young man continues. "She was--that's Mercedes, I mean--she was going on about how without the casino her place would be the only entertainment in town. And there was a lot of cackling."
<Steph> "Was this before or after the casino was attacked?"
<El-Cideon> Grinda leads you through the mansion's front doors into an establishment that could fairly entertain a prince without offending royal sensibilities. Everything is fine veined marble and silk curtains, and after walking past two sets of closed doors, you stop in a lavishly-appointed waiting room. "Looks like he's in an audience right now," she says, nodding to a set of hardwood doors. "Just a minute." She knocks, quietly announces your presence when the door's opened a crack, then closed again.
<El-Cideon> "Oh, after, after," the young man says. "See I rushed over there as soon as I heard the stories about how the bandit leader was this big demon lady? I knew they'd be working together, you see!"
<Steph> roll 1d20+11 this sounds like such bull, but let's sense it anyway
* Hatbot --> "Steph rolls 1d20+11 this sounds like such bull, but let's sense it anyway and gets 25."12 [1d20=14]
* Franceska nods to herself in appreciation. "Times like these make me think about refurbishing my home," she muses. "What do you think, Rosemund? Should I do it, or just build a new manor?"
<El-Cideon> OOC: perception for anyone inside
<Franceska> roll 1d20+19
* Hatbot --> "Franceska rolls 1d20+19 and gets 35."12 [1d20=16]
<Julia> roll 1d20+2 Julia
* Hatbot --> "Julia rolls 1d20+2 Julia and gets 15."12 [1d20=13]
<El-Cideon> OOC: what languages does Darrin know? (assuming he's the one making the roll as usual?)
<Franceska> OOC: No, that's me. Darrin is looking after Steph and not understanding a word.
<El-Cideon> "One house should be sufficient, should it not?" Rosemund says. "Oh, if you are finished with the old one, perhaps we can make it a hospital?"
<El-Cideon> OOC: okay, what languages do you know?
<Franceska> OOC: I speak common, druidic, elven and infernal
<Franceska> "No."
<Julia> OOC: Common, Celestial, Abyssal
<El-Cideon> Franceska can occasionally hear raised voices on the other side of the door--they're trying to keep it quiet and not entirely succeeding, you can tell. Someone's upset about something, but the language isn't one Franceska knows. It's all guttural grinding noises to you.
<Franceska> A quarrel? She shrugs. Perhaps it would be a good idea to learn more languages in the near future.
<El-Cideon> "But what need could you have of two houses?" Rosemund presses. She tries another approach: "Think what it would do for your public profile!"
<Steph> "I see... what's your name?" asks Stephanie, brightly.
<El-Cideon> "Aric," the young man says. "Like, ah the king back home. Or you know, that's what the old-timers call it, 'back home.' I was born here, though."
<Franceska> "There is my ancestral home, of course. And then there would be one I build for myself, and a summer home, and maybe a villa away from the city but one so well stocked that I would not need to step outside," Franceska muses. "Naturally, I would need servants to take care of all of them, so aside from taxes for the land and property I would contribute to the economy properly."
<El-Cideon> Rosemund looks imploringly to Julia for support.
<Franceska> "A butler and a maid are a must. The bare necessity, you might say. Then, one would also need security, and a cook and gardener. Perhaps a majordomo with enough staff on board? And a private secretary to take some load off Darrin and allow him to focus on his academic pursuits."
<Steph> "Ah, Solata! I'm from there, you know! It really is a wonderful place... I think it's a terrible shame that you've probably never seen the real sun," babbles Stephanie. "Now, um, I just wanna check, but this isn't a story you heard from someone, right? Heard from someone and decided to pass on? Because it's serious business, accusing someone of collusion like this!"
<Julia> Julia just shrugs. "I'd quite like a nice big house out in the countryside myself."
<El-Cideon> Eventually the trademaster's office door opens up and a man stalks out: taller than the average human, with skin the color and texture of dried mud, swathed in ivory robes shot through with thread of gold, baldheaded with a bushy mustache. He wears a worried scowl and spares you only the briefest glance before bearing along the hallway you'd taken here.
<El-Cideon> "No, no!" Aric insists. "I'm serious! And hey, there's good money to be made here for honest folk, and it's not like anyone'll miss her. She's a demon, right? It was demons that chased us away way back when, I hear."
<Franceska> How rude! Franceska refuses to descend to his level, and simply waits for them to be invited in.
<Steph> "No, no, the proper term is 'tiefling'," explains Stephanie. "See, when a demon loves a human girl very much, sometimes he rapes her. And sometimes, that results in people like Mercedes! And their children, and their children, and their children all end up having little demonic traits. Like horns. Or red skin. Or a way of attracting torch-wielding mobs who can't really tell a demon from
<Steph> their own asshole, but hey, she's got horns so it's okay, right?!"
<El-Cideon> "Your turn, folks," Grinda says, gesturing you into the office. Within, sitting behind a polished black desk, flanked by a multitude of shelves and cabinets, sits Trademaster Pomerand. Seven feet tall, dusky brown skin with a somewhat stony complexion, the broad and open face of the effortlessly affluent. His dark hair has been curiously shaved to leave just three wavy avenues of hair across his scalp. Behind him, poised as a bodyguard, is a human man of mountainous height. Deeply weathered skin, coarse black hair shot through with gray, neatly-trimmed mustache, and a heavy axe strapped across his back. In each of the far corners of the room is a stone golem on watch for mischief.
<El-Cideon> "Ah, welcome, I am told you are here for the bounty?" the trademaster gushes with a flourish of fingers glittering with gems. "Good, good! Sit down, please." He gestures to a row of chairs across from him.
* Franceska takes the central seat right opposite him.
* Julia primly sits on Franceska's right.
<El-Cideon> "Well," Aric responds, a little unsettled. "Well, I heard there were people called up the demons of their own will!" he manages to counter.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund promptly sits to Franceska's left. The bodyguard's attention seems to fixate on her instantly. It is not difficult to discern that she is unhappy with her present company. The trademaster continues with his spiel anyway: "Well then, tell me what you know already, hm?"
<Franceska> "There were two attacks quite similar in nature, but you do not believe there is any connection between them," Franceska responds. "Perhaps it would make sense to locals, but not to someone out of town. Would you mind settling this for us, first?"
<Julia> "Also, questioning those at the casino we learned of the Duchess, the frost mage, the orc, the harpy, and the drow. The rest listed on your broadsheet didn't come up, though, so I'm curious what their roles were," Julia adds.
<Steph> "Certainly. And those demons were unleashed on the unsuspecting. I'm from Solata, you see. I know. There are many, many tieflings there trying to make a life for themselves... only to have them be ruined by some stuck-up inquisitor who needs to round up a few vagrants to meet his quota, so hey- why not settle on the people with horns or a tail? I hate those people. They're ruining lives-
<Steph> ordinary lives with unfortunate beginnings- long after the demons have vanished. Do you understand this? Do you understand what effect your ridiculous rumors might have?"
<El-Cideon> "To put it most simply, I cannot perceive any connection between these two attacks because there is simply no connection between US," he says, sounding surprised at the question. "Miss Granville has from the outset adopted an adversarial pose towards our enterprise. I may tell you plainly that I do not mourn her disappearance." To Julia: "Ah, you have made some inquiries of your own? Well! I may assure you that ours were most thorough--oh, no question was spared! You may feel confident they did not rest until we had extracted every minor detail of our foes' composition. No doubt your queries provoked recollection of only the most obviously destructive participants."
<El-Cideon> "Uh." Aric appears engaged in an unsuccessful attempt to merge into the wall. "Well, look, do you have any better ideas?" he challenges.
<Franceska> "Would it be possible to know what exactly the outlaws made off with?" Franceska asks. "Or what went missing after the attack, perhaps?"
<Julia> "So the less destructive ones, what was their involvement? Did it provide any insight into their capabilities and tactics?"
<Steph> "Oh, don't you worry. I'll find the truth from the criminals," replies Stephanie, with a sadistic grin. "Take care you don't become one as well. Libel is a crime, you know!"
<El-Cideon> "Every speck of gold in the casino treasury," Pomerand says to Franceska with a mournful air. "Oh, it must have been a month's take at the least! Such a tragedy. I did warn Algus to diversify his interests," he adds. To Julia: "This man with the holy emblems on his gear, and the scarred woman, seemed to be on call for support roles. Bestowing boons, mending wounds, that sort of thing. The cloaked man was tasked with bypassing vault security."
<Julia> "And the stone woman?"
<El-Cideon> "My understanding is she pummeled two of the guards to death, after they'd surrendered." He sounds aghast at this event, though it is difficult to say at precisely which detail.
<El-Cideon> "O-okay, I get it!" Aric stammers. "Hey, you can't blame a man for trying to get by, right?"
<Steph> "Of course I can! And do." Stephanie shrugs, and starts to leave the alleyway. "Take care, now."
<El-Cideon> "Yeah, sure." The lad scurries off as soon he sees a chance to run.
* Franceska frowns. "I sympathize with the loss of so much gold, of course. But you are certain there was nothing beyond it? Anything unique that might be tracked easier, or could offer another reason for the attack?"
<Julia> All in all they sound a formidable group, and now one that significantly outnumbers them. Julia doesn't find herself enthused with facing them.
<Steph> Stephanie sighs, and starts slinking back to the trading post.
<El-Cideon> "Ah, very perceptive of you!" Pomerand beams. "Yes, yes--I do believe this was more than a mere robbery, of course. There is a minority among Peridot citizens--a vocal one, mind you--that finds our work unwholesome. Dare I say, immoral?" He clicks his tongue, sounding sullied by the word. "It is well known that we and Ol' Breck's were friendly in the commercial sense. We have pored over every aspect of this attack, and I tell you it was too well-timed, organized, and informed to be the work of opportunistic bandits. I believe they were hired, to communicate a sinister political message. As for tracking them, we have some idea where they fled. Once the guard was mobilized, the miscreants fled west with great haste and little subtlety."
<El-Cideon> Stephanie finds the two human guards standing at attention again, the gate closed.
<Franceska> "Considering how many of them seem to be involved, it may well take the entire guard," Franceska muses.
<El-Cideon> "Yes," Pomerand agrees. "Would it be so, but the guard does not range beyond the cavern within which Peridot resides. Hence, our need for outside contractors, and them somewhat scarcer then we'd have liked with Miss Bello forbidding any of her guild employees from participation. So we encourage applicants to take a careful and measured approach to the contract. Track them quietly, observe from a distance if possible, wait for opportunities to accost them individually or in smaller groups."
<Franceska> "Miss Bello?"
<El-Cideon> "I cannot lie to you, the risk is great," he admits. "But the profits commensurably great! And fruitful with the possibilities of future collaboration." To Franceska's question: "One of the city jewelers," he waves a hand dismissively. "Established an 'Adventurer's Guild' some years back to organize the city's caravan guards. A vainglorious name for common work."
<Franceska> "Ah." Maybe some of her employees fit any of the outlaws. Something to look into? "What of the drow?" she decides to inquire. "It seems that your relationship with them is a good one. Have you gotten a chance to ask them about that drow outlaw?"
<El-Cideon> He frowns. "Mistress Thela's charges have always been very well-behaved in our presence, and our business relationship has been a pleasant one. We will, of course, make inquiries about this man when next we meet nevertheless."
<Franceska> "Of course." Not having any other questions, Franceska decides to avoid having Rosemund speak if at all possible, and glances over at Julia.
* Julia seems happy with the questions she's already asked.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund doesn't seem eager to speak, either. Her fists are clasped in her lap and she is almost visibly refraining from fidgeting.
<Franceska> "This should be enough for now," Franceska says, standing up. "Thank you for your time."
<El-Cideon> "Of course." He stands up and offers Franceska a meaty hand to shake in parting. "And of course we remind all our applicants that, should the martial act look insurmountable, there is still great profit to be had from careful observation. I am, as I said, quite certain these outlaws acted with inside support. We would greatly appreciate knowing the identity of these subversives. Until next time, good hunting!"
* Franceska has no trouble shaking it, giving the man a polite smile. "Certainly, I shall keep it in mind."
<El-Cideon> Pomerand nods to his hulking bodyguard. "Branson, see them out, please?" A rumbled, "This way," and the big man leads you back to the front gate.
<Franceska> "We should look into finding a guide," Franceska is saying, "and then try to follow this group. There are times when being direct is best."
<El-Cideon> Once you're all back out in the street, and safely out of earshot, Rosemund breaks her long silence. "Oh, I wanted to punch him right in his fat face! He sells people, and then he chides others for calling it 'immoral.' It just makes me so--grrr!"
<Julia> "I suppose..." Julia allows, waiting until they're outside and out of earshot, "What exactly is our plan here?"
<Franceska> "To be perfectly fair," Franceska chides Rosemund, "he is right about that. That he is immoral hardly stops other people from murdering guards and other unrelated people from being immoral as well."
<Steph> Stephanie slips out from whatever barrel she was hiding in and soon joins the group. "This conversation sounds fun!"
<Franceska> To Julia, she says, "How about we pursue this lead and then, if confronted, try discussing this?"
<El-Cideon> "Yes, well." She looks uncomfortable. "But what if that stops even more awful things from happening--oh, Stephanie! Where were you?"
<Julia> "I'm uncertain about discussing anything with such violent sounding people," Julia admits. "Even if we can be violent ourselves, I don't like our odds if they're disinclined to listen."
<Franceska> "You are the one who was at the scene, with the dead and wounded," Franceska says quite reasonably. "Do you approve of their methods of stopping these awful things? And have they, in fact, stopped them?"
<Franceska> Frowning, she adds, "It is doubtful we will encounter all of them at once if we are careful, and should some of them prove hostile I suppose we will have no choice but to defend ourselves and leave."
<El-Cideon> "They did not seem to care who they killed," Rosemund says, going on to admit, "I do not see how a person can accomplish anything laudable with that attitude!"
* Franceska mulls over this for a bit, before suggesting, "How about this? We do have that note which we believe to be related. If we present ourselves as people more inclined to cooperate...."
<Steph> "I was looking into what that kid had to say, but he turned out full of it," replies Stephanie, sadly. "We're talking 'bout the Furies, huh? Going to go meet up with those crazies?"
<Franceska> "Yes. This is our best option, I'm afraid. Even if all we have is information, we could use that to convert our monetary reward into information we need in turn, or even for someone's freedom."
<El-Cideon> "Unless someone has a better plan," Rosemund says dubiously.
<Steph> "Think of it like this, Rosie," says Stephanie. "If we play it right, we can set bad guys to fighting bad guys and keep the good guys out of the way!"
<El-Cideon> "That is a better plan," she agrees.
<El-Cideon> After a brief trip back to the Broken Oar to retrieve Rosemund's armor, just in case, the group sets out from the western edge of Peridot into the unknown (amidst much quiet grumbling about the weight of Rosemund's armor). From nearby the trading outpost, there's a well-worn path leading across the cavern's dirt floor which you can follow without much trouble if so inclined.
<Steph> "I guess we'll tell 'em we're out for revenge on the Dao ourselves?" muses Stephanie. "We all got a beef with slavers and want to join in..."
<Julia> "Assuming they weren't motivated purely by profit, mind you."
<Steph> "Oh, I'm pretty sure the mercs themselves are," replies Stephanie. "No serious opponent of slavery is going to be that murderous. But the guy hiring them might be. And at that, he might be the type to want to foolhardy dupes, too."
<Franceska> "We pretend we are just like Miss Granville, except greedier." Franceska gives Stephanie a long look. "You can convince them."
<El-Cideon> After some minutes of walking through silent darkness (Rosey lights up her weapon to illuminate the path, as usual) the track leads to a break in the cavern wall. There's a tunnel opening here some forty feet wide. The worn track continues on the right side of the tunnel, up an ascending slope, and this branch is reinforced with stone arches. The left branch of the tunnel coils down and out of sight, narrower and not artificially maintained.
<Steph> "I'm sure you'd do just as well!"
<Julia> Julia looks rather clueless as she considers the different branches. "Which way should we go?"
<Steph> "One's as good as the other," replies Stephanie, starting down the left.
<El-Cideon> "Oh, I do not know," Rosemund speculates, following Stephanie with a shrug. "The other road looks safer, but are they running for somewhere safe or somewhere they know? Do they know these caves?" She shrugs again. "All we know is they like to kill people."
<El-Cideon> The left path winds down in a serpentine path, a great confused tangle as though some drunken worm had bored its way through the earth. After a couple hours of circuitous meandering, it opens into a cavern some twenty feet wide. A flat, level path continues ahead of you through slate gray stone streaked with red. On the left of the cavern is another descending path through dirt-composited walls.
<Steph> Stephanie peers at the red streaks, wondering if it's- gasp- blood!
<El-Cideon> Doesn't look that way. Some kind of rock vein.
<El-Cideon> "Well, shall we continue to rely on Stephanie's expert navigational sense?" Rosemund offers.
<Julia> "It's taken us this far," Julia says, whether that's good or bad remaining to be seen.
<Steph> "I'm just gonna go left every time," opines Stephanie, heading in that direction!
* Franceska sticks close to Rosemund, otherwise looking suitably gloomy.
<Julia> Julia looks dubious about this wisdom, but isn't exactly familiar with subterranean navigation herself.
<El-Cideon> The path slopes down at an uncomfortable, but just about manageable, angle. For long minutes your legs strain against gravity to avoid sliding right down, and the tunnel narrows to the degree that two people can barely walk along side by side. The roof presses in to just above the tops of your heads, but it never quite becomes unnavigable. After a couple more hours of relative discomfort, the slope levels out again, and soon after Stephanie finds the monotony of the journey broken by the presence of a corpse--it's a human woman, thin but muscular, blonde hair matted with red, face thoroughly smashed in. If she wore anything more than her underwear prior to death, she's since been stripped of it all.
<Steph> "Ach, there are even vultures down here, eh? Ey, Julia, can you chat her up?"
<El-Cideon> "Oh, what a dreary place to rest for eternity," Rosemund says in sympathy.
<Julia> A pity humans make such poor zombies and skeletons, now she has that black onyx. "Oh, chat? Yes, I can do that," she smiles and crouches over the cadaver, casting Speak With Dead.
<Julia> OOC: DC 18 will save if she wasn't neutral
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+3
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+3 and gets 23."12 [1d20=20]
* Franceska rubs her forehead, looking away.
<Julia> "No, Julia pouts and stands up. "Not very talkative I'm afraid."
<Julia> Still, perhaps she can gauge how long it's been dead for?
<Julia> roll 1d20+11 heal to determine time of death?
* Hatbot --> "Julia rolls 1d20+11 heal to determine time of death? and gets 13."12 [1d20=2]
<El-Cideon> It's not obviously rotting yet, but otherwise Julia's confidence must just be too shaken for her to focus properly.
<Julia> "I can't even tell how long ago she died," she confesses.
<Steph> "I guess it must be hard to talk without a face. And it had to be recent, yeah?" says Stephanie. "This place seems kinda dangerous. I'm gonna stay ahead a bit and let you know if any bad guys up ahead," she adds, slipping into the shadows and heading forward.
<Steph> roll 1d20+18 sneaks?
* Hatbot --> "Steph rolls 1d20+18 sneaks? and gets 30."12 [1d20=12]
<Franceska> "Please scream loudly and dramatically!"
<El-Cideon> It's only a couple minutes before Stephanie finds company for the dead woman. There's a narrow tunnel breaking off of yours here, so close that you could only walk down it single file, and just outside of it two bodies lie slumped against the wall, similarly stripped of anything valuable. They were probably human men, but it's hard to say much more than that--the bodies are withered as if overexposed to some biting cold. Somewhat further on is an elven woman still dressed in robes, albeit thoroughly ruined by an array of bloody stab wounds. Within the narrow tunnel, just at the edge of vision, is another, squatter corpse.
<Steph> Stephanie winces. Their predecessors, caught while on the hunt? They must be on the right track, then, though it doesn't seem that promising. She opts to keep going the way she's going for a little longer.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund bites her lip, observing all the carnage. "I wonder if...maybe they at least managed to thin the rogues' numbers for us?" she says optimistically, apparently reaching the same conclusion as Stephanie after glancing at the flash-frozen men.
<Julia> "I thought we were wanting to befriend them?"
<El-Cideon> "They are more likely to listen to us if we are not so badly outnumbered!"
<El-Cideon> Rosemund pauses for Julia to perform more interrogations, if so inclined. Stephanie finds after a couple minutes' walk that the tunnel splits into ascending and descending branches. The descending path is marred by a circular greasy stain a couple feet wide.
<Julia> "I could reanimate these then," Julia offers, gesturing at the corpses. "Undead can't be harmed by the cold."
<Franceska> "Or willing to recruit more," Franceska muses.
* Julia prefers to save her magic, in case they end up in a fight. Speaking of, she does cast false life!
<Julia> roll 1d10+9
* Hatbot --> "Julia rolls 1d10+9 and gets 13."12 [1d10=4]
<El-Cideon> "Well...well, yes, you could," Rosemund admits.
<Julia> "They'd die quick if someone prodded them, though," she sighs after warding herself. "An undead dragon would be better..."
<Steph> Stephanie soon jogs back to the group. "Guess you found 'em? Looks like we're in the right direction for someone. Anyone know how to throw up those wards against cold?"
<El-Cideon> Rosemund nods. "It will not last all day long, however. Are we certain that we are close?"
<Steph> "Well, no... we still have to be a ways off from them," replies Stephanie. "'cos they would've kept moving after taking out these guys. I'm guessing we're within a day at most?"
<El-Cideon> Another nod. "Then I shall conserve my magic until your considered guidance tells me otherwise," she says, leaving it up to the apparent expert in these matters.
<Steph> "Just remember to chuck it up right quick if we get a sniff of them, 'kay? Anyway, there's another fork down the road," explains Stephanie. "Let's head?"
<El-Cideon> Rosemund nods, walks on, stops at the fork. "Up or down?"
<Steph> Stephanie walks towards the one on the left!
<El-Cideon> Down the corkscrew path it is, then!
<El-Cideon> ~