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[4e PbP] The Vathirond King IC
susan
Registered User regular
Registered User regular
Professor "Valenar" Qorresk, Changeling Rogue (Mike Danger)
Cruxil, Tiefling Swordmage (SnowSquall)
Sariel, Eladrin Sorceress (SimpsonsParadox)
Idrian the Toymaker, Human Artificer (Hermenegilde)
Kabren, Dwarf Wrathful Invoker of the Blood of Vol (deadonthestreet) (sheet)
Rakash the Wanderer, Longtooth Shifter Fighter (Rius)
"Martial, Mystical and Arcane escorts needed for Academic caravan to distant lands. All specialties requested, pay commeasurable to level of danger inherent in the journey. Come to the third floor of Newmoon Inn tonight, one hour past sunset, prepared to depart."
Those were the words posted about on white squares of parchment throughout the taverns and inns of Starilaskur. Simple enough. Also quite vague. And, for some reason you couldn't put your finger on, intriguing and completely irresistible. You needed the work, you knew you were good enough to handle any trouble some four-eyed Professor could get himself into, and a word like 'commeasurable' on the posters meant you'd at least be travelling with people who knew how to read. So you packed your supplies, oiled your gear, and headed on over to the Newmoon at the proper time.
The late Summer evening is breezy and pleasant as you walk to the Inn and climb the wooden stairs to its upper levels. Inside you find a half-open door with the poster upon it, and through the door you find yourself in a room with almost a half-dozen other adventuresome types standing awkwardly about as a weathered man with thin greying hair and moustache over incredibly sharp feathres stares at you across the room in flickering candle light. You know instantly something is wrong: The posture. The muscle tone. The matte green traveling cloak. The unwavering eyes. You're not quite sure what this man is, but you're damn sure he's no Professor.
Quiet moments pass and the man glances through a window to the darkening horizon. Satisfied, he rises and nods to each of you in turn. "My name is Captain Bryan Arturo, and I am a Dark Lantern Agent of the King's Citadel. I am afraid I have lied to you, but only a little, and with good reason. Close the door, we have business to discuss. Coffee's on the corner table, and trust me, you will need some."
Captain Arturo busies himself with maps and a notebook as you stand about, some choosing to take his advice and partake in coffee, some choosing otherwise. His head still deep within charts, he begins speaking without looking up. "Now, if you've never heard of the Dark Lanterns, you're not alone, and if you have you've likely just heard whispers and rumors, most of which we fabricated ourselves. I am authorized to tell you this much: We are the intelligence branch of the King's Citadel. We work behind the scenes, out of the public eye. We have many agents in many places all across the continent, most of which do not wear uniforms. And finally, we solve problems for the King. When we can, we solve these problems while they are still small and easy, but if we must we take on problems that are big and sticky. The Kingdom has a problem, small but growing, and to help me solve it I am hiring you."
Finding the map he wanted, the Captain unrolls it on the table, weighing it down with a pair of candle holders. It is a map of the Eastern part of Breland, with the city of Starilaskur on one far edge and the city of Vathirond in the top corner. He plants a calloused finger on the heart of this last city, turning his head up and looking you each in the eye. "Vathirond. Used to be quite a nice place, 'til the war turned it into a glorified refugee camp over the last few decades, not to mention being right on the border of the Mournland. Still though, it's got a lot of good people who are trying to make a real go of it, and the Kings sending a lot of men and coin their way to rebuild and turn it into an actual city. Things were actually going pretty well for it, too, at least up until people started disappearing a few months ago when people started disappearing."
He takes a deep sip of coffee, leting the steam slowly pour out his nose and savoring its rich blackness a moment before continuing. "It's not just people, either. Food, money, materials, weapons, magic and alchemy, everything's just up and vanishing. Now, I know what you're thinking. 'Well, it's right next to the Mournland, not to mention Thrane and Karrnath, of course people are gonna disappear.' That's what we thought too. You're probably also thinking, 'And if that's the case, why don't they just send a nice garrison of Citadel troops to keep the peace and patrol the Border, aren't we paying enough taxes for that?' And fancy that, we thought the same thing too! So we did. Sent in a whole company, almost 200 men into the city to try and see what's up and stop it. That's when things got a little... strange."
Captain Arturo pulls up a new piece of parchment; a portrait of a balding heavyset man with a handlebar moustache and a big smile wearing a Breland Army Uniform. "This is Captain Marcus Conrad, man in charge of the soldiers we sent a month and a half ago. Don't let the smile fool ya, he's soldier through and through and one of the smartest and hardest men I've ever served with. That's why I recommended him for the job; something like this, he'd solve it in no time, no problem. His first weekly report even said he was onto something already, that he found a few thieves stealing grain that said they were working for 'The King' and that he'd locked 'em up to grill 'em for more info. His second weekly report said that he found more thieves, and that his men had killed some and taken casualties, but he was on the verge of solving the case. His third weekly report, though, said that he was on the wrong track all along, that the thieves had escaped, and that he didn't need any additional backup. There was no fourth report."
He sipped another long one before continuing. "I've known Marcus for a good 30 years now, and that is not him in the slightest. If I hadn't seen that third letter with his handwriting with my own eyes, I'd have never believed it. He does not follow false leads, he does not let prisoners escape, he does not miss reports, and when he's in trouble, he does not hesitate to call for backup. Now, just through word of mouth, we know that the King's Citadel troops are still in the area and still patroling, but beyond that I haven't the slightest clue what's happened to them. That's where you come in."
He reaches into his satchel and pulls out various travel papers and train tickets, handing them to each of you in turn. "I'm sending you to Vathirond to do some digging on my behalf. Not a one of you is Citadel, so as far as anyone's concerned you'll just be regular citizens doing honest work. Your cover is that you've been hired as escorts for an Academic Expedition into the Mournland, and that you're waiting around town for the Professor and his Students to arrive in Gods knows how long. While you're there, I want to find out what's been happening to our soldiers, I want you to find out who's making things and people disappear and to where, and I want you to find this 'King' and deal with him whoever he is. I'm not gonna lie; this 'King' may be dangerous, a kind of dangerous I don't know about which makes it even more dangerous. But I need it done, and I'm gonna pay you well to do it. 250 gold up front for each of you, another 750 gold upon completion, and I'll reimburse legit expenditures in a timely fashion."
The Captain sits back in his chair, rocking slightly and arching an eyebrow. "I'm gonna guess you've got some questions for me?"
Cruxil, Tiefling Swordmage (SnowSquall)
Sariel, Eladrin Sorceress (SimpsonsParadox)
Idrian the Toymaker, Human Artificer (Hermenegilde)
Kabren, Dwarf Wrathful Invoker of the Blood of Vol (deadonthestreet) (sheet)
Rakash the Wanderer, Longtooth Shifter Fighter (Rius)
"Martial, Mystical and Arcane escorts needed for Academic caravan to distant lands. All specialties requested, pay commeasurable to level of danger inherent in the journey. Come to the third floor of Newmoon Inn tonight, one hour past sunset, prepared to depart."
Those were the words posted about on white squares of parchment throughout the taverns and inns of Starilaskur. Simple enough. Also quite vague. And, for some reason you couldn't put your finger on, intriguing and completely irresistible. You needed the work, you knew you were good enough to handle any trouble some four-eyed Professor could get himself into, and a word like 'commeasurable' on the posters meant you'd at least be travelling with people who knew how to read. So you packed your supplies, oiled your gear, and headed on over to the Newmoon at the proper time.
The late Summer evening is breezy and pleasant as you walk to the Inn and climb the wooden stairs to its upper levels. Inside you find a half-open door with the poster upon it, and through the door you find yourself in a room with almost a half-dozen other adventuresome types standing awkwardly about as a weathered man with thin greying hair and moustache over incredibly sharp feathres stares at you across the room in flickering candle light. You know instantly something is wrong: The posture. The muscle tone. The matte green traveling cloak. The unwavering eyes. You're not quite sure what this man is, but you're damn sure he's no Professor.
Quiet moments pass and the man glances through a window to the darkening horizon. Satisfied, he rises and nods to each of you in turn. "My name is Captain Bryan Arturo, and I am a Dark Lantern Agent of the King's Citadel. I am afraid I have lied to you, but only a little, and with good reason. Close the door, we have business to discuss. Coffee's on the corner table, and trust me, you will need some."
Captain Arturo busies himself with maps and a notebook as you stand about, some choosing to take his advice and partake in coffee, some choosing otherwise. His head still deep within charts, he begins speaking without looking up. "Now, if you've never heard of the Dark Lanterns, you're not alone, and if you have you've likely just heard whispers and rumors, most of which we fabricated ourselves. I am authorized to tell you this much: We are the intelligence branch of the King's Citadel. We work behind the scenes, out of the public eye. We have many agents in many places all across the continent, most of which do not wear uniforms. And finally, we solve problems for the King. When we can, we solve these problems while they are still small and easy, but if we must we take on problems that are big and sticky. The Kingdom has a problem, small but growing, and to help me solve it I am hiring you."
Finding the map he wanted, the Captain unrolls it on the table, weighing it down with a pair of candle holders. It is a map of the Eastern part of Breland, with the city of Starilaskur on one far edge and the city of Vathirond in the top corner. He plants a calloused finger on the heart of this last city, turning his head up and looking you each in the eye. "Vathirond. Used to be quite a nice place, 'til the war turned it into a glorified refugee camp over the last few decades, not to mention being right on the border of the Mournland. Still though, it's got a lot of good people who are trying to make a real go of it, and the Kings sending a lot of men and coin their way to rebuild and turn it into an actual city. Things were actually going pretty well for it, too, at least up until people started disappearing a few months ago when people started disappearing."
He takes a deep sip of coffee, leting the steam slowly pour out his nose and savoring its rich blackness a moment before continuing. "It's not just people, either. Food, money, materials, weapons, magic and alchemy, everything's just up and vanishing. Now, I know what you're thinking. 'Well, it's right next to the Mournland, not to mention Thrane and Karrnath, of course people are gonna disappear.' That's what we thought too. You're probably also thinking, 'And if that's the case, why don't they just send a nice garrison of Citadel troops to keep the peace and patrol the Border, aren't we paying enough taxes for that?' And fancy that, we thought the same thing too! So we did. Sent in a whole company, almost 200 men into the city to try and see what's up and stop it. That's when things got a little... strange."
Captain Arturo pulls up a new piece of parchment; a portrait of a balding heavyset man with a handlebar moustache and a big smile wearing a Breland Army Uniform. "This is Captain Marcus Conrad, man in charge of the soldiers we sent a month and a half ago. Don't let the smile fool ya, he's soldier through and through and one of the smartest and hardest men I've ever served with. That's why I recommended him for the job; something like this, he'd solve it in no time, no problem. His first weekly report even said he was onto something already, that he found a few thieves stealing grain that said they were working for 'The King' and that he'd locked 'em up to grill 'em for more info. His second weekly report said that he found more thieves, and that his men had killed some and taken casualties, but he was on the verge of solving the case. His third weekly report, though, said that he was on the wrong track all along, that the thieves had escaped, and that he didn't need any additional backup. There was no fourth report."
He sipped another long one before continuing. "I've known Marcus for a good 30 years now, and that is not him in the slightest. If I hadn't seen that third letter with his handwriting with my own eyes, I'd have never believed it. He does not follow false leads, he does not let prisoners escape, he does not miss reports, and when he's in trouble, he does not hesitate to call for backup. Now, just through word of mouth, we know that the King's Citadel troops are still in the area and still patroling, but beyond that I haven't the slightest clue what's happened to them. That's where you come in."
He reaches into his satchel and pulls out various travel papers and train tickets, handing them to each of you in turn. "I'm sending you to Vathirond to do some digging on my behalf. Not a one of you is Citadel, so as far as anyone's concerned you'll just be regular citizens doing honest work. Your cover is that you've been hired as escorts for an Academic Expedition into the Mournland, and that you're waiting around town for the Professor and his Students to arrive in Gods knows how long. While you're there, I want to find out what's been happening to our soldiers, I want you to find out who's making things and people disappear and to where, and I want you to find this 'King' and deal with him whoever he is. I'm not gonna lie; this 'King' may be dangerous, a kind of dangerous I don't know about which makes it even more dangerous. But I need it done, and I'm gonna pay you well to do it. 250 gold up front for each of you, another 750 gold upon completion, and I'll reimburse legit expenditures in a timely fashion."
The Captain sits back in his chair, rocking slightly and arching an eyebrow. "I'm gonna guess you've got some questions for me?"
2010 PAX DM Challenge Grand Champion
2011 PAX Warmachine/Hordes Champion
2011 PAX Warmachine/Hordes Champion
susan on
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"I do have one question...you talked about Captain Conrad and his soldiers. Is there anyone else in this company we can trust or try to link up to once we get to Vathirond? Or are we to keep this..." Sariel waves her hand "expedition's purpose a secret to everyone except ourselves?"
"Captain Arturo, it certainly sounds from the sequence of letters that this Captain Marcus has been co-opted in some way. You've known him for a long time; should we by chance meet him, is there any subtle means by which we could determine his... mental state?"
As he asks the question and immediately afterward, Rakash watches the Captain's reactions carefully.
Insight Check! (1d20+5=12) Precedent fulfilled!
Inquisitor77: Rius, you are Sisyphus and melee Wizard is your boulder
Tube: This must be what it felt like to be an Iraqi when Saddam was killed
Bookish Stickers - Mrs. Rius' Etsy shop with bumper stickers and vinyl decals.
Figures, he thinks to himself. I come into this to try and gain some points for the school, and it's all just a front for the Crown to get someone to do their dirty work. Better than grading papers, though.
"Plus," he thinks to himself, "so close to the Mournland, glorious bastion of undeath in the world. Yes, this is perfect indeed, perhaps we will even have to go there, and I can learn more about my search for divinity and immortality."
Turning to Sariel and Rakash, he says, "Marcus is the only man I know personally in the area, and the only name I have to give you. You'll have to figure out who you can trust when you get there among the soldiers and the population; until you can find someone, I'd suggest keeping this close to you unless you want to get 'Co-Opted' too. You know the drill. Go to a bar, listen in on conversations, hear what people whisper about when they have a couple beers in them and then move forward from there."
To Rakash, "Marcus is... a difficult man to read in the best of circumstances. He prides himself on his immaculate Dragon Ante blank stare." The Captain considers this for a moment and seems to remember something, "Actually, that might be a way in. Marcus loves playing games. 3 Dragon Ante, Go, Karnish Checkers, all of 'em. When he gets off work, a couple times a week, he likes to make his way to a tavern and play with some patrons and chat about the city he's in; says it helps him get a feel for the area. He'll be watching you as much as you're watching him, but at least it's a way to talk to him without setting up an appointment."
Raising one finger to stop Val's question, the Captain digs around in his satchel and removes two journals, which he opens to dual blank first pages. He then pulls out a pen and some ink, along with six small leather pouches. He dips the pen in the ink, turns to one of the journals, and quickly scrawls out today's date in crisp handwriting. He then wordlessly hands the second journal to Val just as his words slowly etch their way onto the page in identical script. "Two-way journals. Write what you find in yours and it will appear in mine, and then I'll write back any instructions or updates. It should go without saying, but these are very, very expensive; try not to lose yours. Oh," he picks up the pouches and gently tosses you each one, "and here's your down payment of 250."
He leans back in his chair and glances out a window and down two blocks to the Lightning Rail station where a short passenger train sits silent and dark. "Your train's going to be leaving in just under half an hour. Any last details you need from me, or shall we say our goodbyes and good lucks?"
[Anyone with an insight check of over 20]
2011 PAX Warmachine/Hordes Champion
Do'oh, insight 17.
Oh, and preemtive !ready
Cruxil almost forgot about the payment. He accepted his bag of gold holding the down payment and it quickly disappeared into some unknown fold of his clothing. This made for another layer to add to this development. Overall, he was quite pleased at the prospects, although a few things bugged him.
"Well," Cruxil piped in, for the first time, "If we do find something, or we get in over our heads. Is there going to be anyone or anything to help us? And what would be the timeframe on that help? Assuming, of course, that we can't find any local aid and we can get a communication off. Hmm, I guess that's assuming a rather unique situation..." Cruxil trailed, quietly mumbling off that last sentence. He had gone off a bit of tangent thought there like usual.
"I'm not one to nitpick, but I haven't lived this long by being reckless. You are asking us the snoop after all. Apart from the one being snooped, who might take exception to this little endeavor. Also, what tells us you are really an agent of the King, or that the King actually endorses this ? For all, I know, this could very well be an illegal investigation, conducted against a lawful army of the realm... I wouldn't really mind, but appropriate measures could be taken to ensure the success of the operation, and the price would go up, of course, gotta give things their actual value, after all."
Now that the good roll is out of the way...
Raising an eyebrow to Cruxil, the Captain first smiles, saying, "I'm glad you like the coffee. I have a cousin who farms the beans; he sends me fresh grounds every Summer." Turning more serious he continues, "Vathirond is a bit isolated in and of itself. True, there are garrisons at the Lurching Tower or here in Starilaskur that can be called on with emergency beacons, but if something goes wrong they're going to feel very far away indeed. I would personally make it a priority to try and figure out who among the city guards and the Citadel troops can be trusted and turn to them if need be."
To Idrian, the Captain tilts his head, thinks for a moment, and smiles, "I'd imagine the Vathirond King will take exception to the spying, along with his lackeys and anyone else who might be on his payroll, and that could be a very long list. The Citadel troops are used to being watched, it just comes with the uniform, and they won't particularly mind unless they fall into the previously mentioned 'Payroll' category, in which case they'll mind a great deal. As for proving my identity," he leans forward and digs under his robes for a moment, pulling out a necklace emblem in the shape of the King's Citadel insignia, "I have this. It is an identifier given to all officers in all branches of the Citadel, only this one's slightly different." The Captain rocks back in his chair and holds the necklace up in the moonlight. After a moment, you can see a faint glowing symbol of a hooded lantern appear on the back of the emblem, giving off a faint blue light. The Captain comes forward once more and holds out his left hand. "You can also see my signet ring, used for all exceptional official Breland business and correspondence, and then there's this." He pulls up his sleeve up to his bicep and you can see in fading blue, green and black ink the logo of the Breland Royal 3rd Cavalry, one of the most decorated and celebrated units of the War. He pulls his sleeve down once more, saying pleasantly, "Now I suppose any or all of those could have been faked, but I hope you'll agree the evidence is at least trending in my direction."
"To your second point. I can't say that the King or anyone outside of this room endorses this mission, or even knows about it. This is a mission I am commissioning personally of my own accord, which as an officer of the Dark Lanterns is my right. I am not following standard methods and am keeping this mission quiet because I suspect, as you might, that Captain Conrad has been compromised, and if the Citadel were to share this suspicion, certain protocols would be followed, certain precautions would be taken, and he would likely be killed. My first hope is that I am wrong and this is just a misunderstanding, but I'm not wrong very often. My second hope then is that you will be able to figure out what's happened to my friend and to free him of the control. My fear is that you'll fail, and that I will be forced to call in the Kings Shadows to the city. Where the Shadows go, many people die. If you can save Marcus' life I'll make it worth your while. 500 on top of the 750 when you get back; a cool 15 platinum for being in the service of the King."
The Captain collects his things and nods to you once more, "If you need to talk to me I'm staying in room 2B down one flight of stairs, otherwise you have a while to chat before your train leaves. Good luck." He calmly marches out into the hallway, closing the door behind him with a click.
[I knew one of you'd get the check eventually :P .]
2011 PAX Warmachine/Hordes Champion
Sariel gives a short, single wave in everyone's direction. A tiny lizard pokes its head out of one of her belt pouches and hisses, apparently its version of a greeting.
"Since it seems we'll be working together, does anyone have any experience in this sort of thing?"
Cruxil snapped out of his thoughts when the Eladrin in the room introduced herself. Cruxil got off of the wall that he was leaning against, and put down his empty cup of coffee on a neaby table.
"My name's Cruxil. Can't say I have much experience in this kind of endeavor in particular. I suppose that might be part of the idea anyways. Some of us are less likely to look like the espionage sort, and might thereby help with the overall cover," He finished by running a hand through his short hair, past the pair of horns growing from his brow.
"My name is Rakash. I'm new to this sort of business, but I expect what I do know will come in handy."
Inquisitor77: Rius, you are Sisyphus and melee Wizard is your boulder
Tube: This must be what it felt like to be an Iraqi when Saddam was killed
Bookish Stickers - Mrs. Rius' Etsy shop with bumper stickers and vinyl decals.
"As for my use to you? I use the divine power contained within my own blood, and the secret ancient language of the gods to throw aside those that stand in my way. I believe you will find a use for me."
The artificer pauses for a moment, pondering his own words.
"Except nobles. Nobles suck and I hate them. Mostly... Well, we should probably get underway if we don't want to miss our train."
They look capable...
Looks can be decieving. Looks can also tell you exactly what is there. Judge based on what they do, not on how they look.
Sariel nods, mostly to herself, then takes another drink of wonderful caffine. Her mind, however, isn't drawn totally away and she starts to mull over the events that will start to happen.
So...we leave the inn and head onto a train...I doubt we're going to have any trouble leaving the inn, but what about on the train? What if this inn is being watched? A group of heavily armed adventurers is sure to attract notice....
Walking over to a window, Sariel pulls out her train ticket and turns it over in her hands before looking outside.
Well, at least it's going to be interesting...
Perception v Train Ticket: Is there any special accomidations for us? Does it look forged? Would the train time be out of the ordinary?
Nature, Perception vs Outside: Does it look like anyone is watching the inn? Is there any way we can get to the station without being seen?
Perception v Train Ticket. (1d20+2=11)
Nature and Perception vs Outside (1d20+2=9, 1d20+2=18)
Perception v Ticket: 11
Nature v Outside: 9
Perception v Outside: 18
The train tickets seem absolutely normal, just like every ticket you've ever had. Cheap business-class seats, Vathirond destination, departure time in about 20 minutes.
Outside seems pretty clear of loiterers or other potential ambushers en route to the train station a couple blocks down. You can actually see the boarding ramp and your train parked there right now taking on a passenger every couple minutes or so. As far as the train itself goes, you notice that it's a short commuter line: There are only 3 cars, one Locomotive, one that seems to be filling up with various freight, and one reserved for passengers. At the rate people are boarding it, you think you'll have a pretty empty car all to yourselves with maybe a dozen other passengers, which isn't terribly surprising considering the time and destination.
2011 PAX Warmachine/Hordes Champion
She turns over the ticket a few more times, then finally pockets it and nods. "Probably three groups of two. I guess this means that I volunteer to go first. Anyone else for heading first out the door with me?"
A frown crosses her face as she waits for an answer. "We should probably leave in 2 minute intervals. That way we'll all get to the train on time. Once we're on the train we should be okay. Should. Anyway, we should have some one watch the first and second group as they leave, then have someone who's on the train watch them leave the inn. Better chance of making sure that we all get to the train that way."
Gathering up his things, he shoulders his quarterstaff and opens the door with one arm extended.
"After you, my lady."
Inquisitor77: Rius, you are Sisyphus and melee Wizard is your boulder
Tube: This must be what it felt like to be an Iraqi when Saddam was killed
Bookish Stickers - Mrs. Rius' Etsy shop with bumper stickers and vinyl decals.
Cruxil took a few moments to stretch out his arms and hands while waiting for his time to head to the train. Although he didn't completely agree on there was some unknown enmity out there in the street, all this talk couldn't help but make him feel a little more on edge.
Idrian heads out of the room, and down to the common room.
"Sorry for acting a bit paranoid. This whole thing about getting us to come in under false pretenses and then sending us off against someone we only have a nick name on has me on edge."
She lets out another breath and shakes her head. "Hopefully things will brighten up once we get to Vathirond and we're able to get a better idea of what we just got ourselves into."
The car is exactly what you would expect from a commuter train; a cookie-cutter nondescript entity with instructions painted in various languages across the walls between posters of Sharn restaurants or 'Weekly Messages from the King'. This car was designed to hold upwards of 100 passengers; not including you there are 10 other passengers including two attendants all sitting towards the front of the cab and then another three crew members in the locomotive section. Most seem to be trying to nap though you can see a couple business-types ahead of you reading or writing in ledgers in the dimmed arcane light of the hanging lanterns. The journey there should take about 8 hours, and get you there right before dawn...
2011 PAX Warmachine/Hordes Champion
"Has anyone ever been to Vathirond? If not, we may want to ask someone who works on the train where the inns and taverns most frequented by soldiers are at."
2011 PAX Warmachine/Hordes Champion
"Can't say I've ever been to Vathirond..." Cruxil said, trailing off on the name of the city. He tried to quickly scrapped together anything he might have heard or read about the city.
1d20+9 = (29)
Apparantly Cruxil wrote a thesis on the place. Unless of course we're fastforwarding, in which case there might be another time to make a History check on Vathirond at some point
Still though, enough improvements over the past few years have made Vathirond livable in and of itself. It is a natural jumping off point for all adventurers and academics to enter the Mournland, and businesses ranging from taverns to inns to magical suppliers have sprung up throughout the city to cater to this group of clientele. You think you've heard of a combination bar, inn, casino and brothel called the Demon's Mouth that's supposed to cater to the adventuring type and those looking for work, rest, and information. You've also heard there's a thriving Black Market in the city loaded down with equipment from all sides during the Last War and willing to sell to anybody who has gold in his pocket.
2011 PAX Warmachine/Hordes Champion
"The journals that were published were great reads, and were a lot better than reading some abstract arcane theory," He responded to the question that would probably be coming up. "Plus there's mention of a good place for some information, called the Demon's Mouth. It might be worth looking into."
Sariel pulls out her ticket and once again turns it over in her hands, seemingly lost in thought.
I don't think I need to roll perception, but at about what time will the train reach Vathirond at?
2011 PAX Warmachine/Hordes Champion
The train moves on, keeping a steady even pace and heading into the dark farmland and untamed forests that dot the Breland countryside. The hours roll and pass; some of you sleep, some of you plan, some of you were smart enough to bring along some Dragon Ante cards for the trip. Regardless, the trip is wholly uneventful and normal... until just about an hour until dawn, when the Lightning Rail crashes.
Preceded by the scream of both copilots that you can hear through two rail car's worth of metal walls, an uprooted tree laid across the conductor stones and set ablaze by the electricity slams full-force into the locomotive, showering the ground outside and the roof of the other two cars with steel bolts and shattered blood-soaked glass as the entire train roughly slides to a sparking halt. You and all the rest of the passengers, all very much awake right now, are thrown from your seats and into the aisles, and a kind of calm falls over the scene as no one speaks and everybody stares, waiting in the smoky interior for the other shoe to drop [I'm going to assume you take advantage of this pause to draw your weapons
In a rich booming voice, the Warforged Captain announces, "Let it be said from this day forward; for every follower of the Lord of Blades slain, one hundred men of flesh shall pay the price of revenge. Prepare to be an example to your kind in death. Soldiers, KILL THEM ALL."
COMBAT MAP
You get one surprise action (they're not expecting more than tired businessmen), then Initiative in order [post your actions and any reactions you may take; I'll post the results]:
Warforged - 23
Rakash - 14
Kabren - 13
Idrian - 6
Sariel - 7
Cruxil - 17
Val - 14
Passengers - 10 (Not in Surprise Round)
[The CB Summaries seem to not have Initiative; let me know if I did yours wrong and add/subtract as appropriate.]
EDIT: Added Passengers and added +1 to Rakash. Also, the benches do provide cover (+2), they count as difficult terrain to move directly through, and you can stealth behind them. I really need to stop posting at 2am...
2011 PAX Warmachine/Hordes Champion
Cruxil stepped out of his seat and moved down the middle aisle closer to the Warforged. He ended up stopping near another passenger and whispered to them;
"Head to the back of the train, things here are about to get...complicated,"
Move Action: Move 6 Squares down the middle aisle
Additionally, and I know this isn't the best timing, but from tomorrow afternoon I'll be driving as part of the CCST from Chicago to Seattle for PAX. I'll probably have limited internet access along the way, so I might even be able to post while I'm not driving and while I'm there; if not, please feel free to take my turn for me.
Inquisitor77: Rius, you are Sisyphus and melee Wizard is your boulder
Tube: This must be what it felt like to be an Iraqi when Saddam was killed
Bookish Stickers - Mrs. Rius' Etsy shop with bumper stickers and vinyl decals.