Tarkus congratulates Quin on making it to the semi-finals and offers him a drink in celebration. "Made it very far, much respect. Strategies very clever." He asks about the tactics used against Grozoth and laughs, recounting how the stands cheered in surprise and many betting slips were torn up in rage as Quin upset the favorite of the tourney. He also admits he was equally shocked to witness the ferocity and strength of the Cleric in battle. "Sometime enemy can be what you least expect." He nods sagely, certain in his understanding of this wisdom if not the experience of it.
Showing up for the Open Tournament he stands ready when his name is called forward. To whatever end, there shall be battles to remember. His eyes set and confident, stance battle ready, heart burning and axeblade gleaming Tarkus is all but prepared to charge when he is stopped short in his tracks...by the unlikeliest of foes. Irony being the cruel mistress she is, his own words ring mockingly in his ears when he hears the name called alongside him.
As the paladin approaches Tarkus he manages to choke out "Lady Suvne...?" before she smiles and asks him not to hold back, bowing before him. Swallowing in an attempt to recover, he returns her smile with a grin. "Seen you crush opponent with impunity. And survive gargantuan dire croc chomp. This will be good battle." Bowing himself, he takes a few steps back and waits for the signal to start.
Initiative: 1d20 [rolled 11] + 6 = 17
As the shot rings out Tarkus rushes forward. Using the extent of his weekly endurance training to stay light on his feet despite his armor and his honed combat reflexes he is able to catch the jump on the paladin. He swings with his greataxe in a powerful strike, testing the might of Suvne's shield-arm and strength in a pressured opening blow.
((Only the first of Tarkus's hits counts. When you charge or move forward, you only get one attack. The full-attack option is only available when you don't take a Move action that same turn.
Also, when you do make multiple attacks in a round, each one is at an increasing -5 penalty. That doesn't matter here because the second attack couldn't happen, but it will matter for next time))
---
"Professor Ridley turned in his letter of resignation the other day," the lady at the help desk replies to Val's request for directions. "He no longer works for the university. He didn't even deliver the letter himself; I just found it on my desk one day, and passed it along to Human Resources. They had already received their own copy, though."
She does provide directions to where Ridley's office was, and upon arrival Val finds it plain, empty, and barren, with no sign of its former occupant.
Suvne, with little time to spare, instintively reaches up to block the massive strike with her shield, but the force behind Tarkus' power is so great that the blade cuts through with ease and makes a huge gash in her shield arm.
She strikes back at Tarkus, giving it her own best as she responds with multiple sword swings.
Suvne, with little time to spare, instintively reaches up to block the massive strike with her shield, but the force behind Tarkus' power is so great that the blade cuts through with ease and makes a huge gash in her shield arm.
She strikes back at Tarkus, giving it her own best as she responds with multiple sword swings.
Pivoting back to recover after his strike cleaves through the paladin's shield, Tarkus is caught off-balance as Suvne deftly slips into the blind spots of his stance. Having underestimated her dexterity he is unable to recover fully from his strike before the paladin responds in kind. He grunts in pain as he feels her sword cut into the weak points in his armor, slashing his thigh and forearm.
As his blood drips off her sword he looks at their independent pools mingling into the dust of the arena, the din of the crowd barely audible through the blood beating in his ears. He watches Suvne's movements carefully and determines on a full assault, his intent to end the fight quickly without much pain to his companion. He tightens his grip and attacks again, this time in a combination of strikes aimed once more for the paladin's midsection
Despite such a successful attack, her mistake was dedicating her entire body movement to her assault, her last strike putting her on poor imbalanced footing. Tarkus more than easily creates a tear in her armor past her stomach, drawing blood even through the thick metal she wears.
She rears back with a stumble, and just *barely* manages to avoid the second hit, the whoosh of the whirling blade blurring past her.
Knowing that she most likely would not be able to disarm Tarkus due to his great strength and having both hands gripped well on the axe, she decides to give one last push to make the fight great.
Tarkus grits his teeth as Suvne's blade slashes his shoulder, slackening his stance momentarily. Blowing his bloody sweat from his brow, he grunts and leans into her second attack. The sword strikes his armor with a loud clang as he manages to push into her strike, her sword glancing off his plate. Letting out a fierce growl, he attacks once more, to wear down the paladin before she can mount another attack. He aims his greataxe in another powerful swing, this time swept to aim at her legs.
((Is there anything I can do to lessen the attack? I don't actually want to do any harm. That being said, Tark is quite beastly with the Greataxe +3, we should be tearing shit up in the team tourny!))
Powerful safety enchantment systems are in place, to keep anyone from getting seriously hurt; any magic weapon with an enchantment less than +10 will automatically deal non lethal damage, as well as any spell of a level lower than 9. Clerics are on hand in case any sort of unforeseen injury slips through the cracks. When a fighter is unconscious or helpless (or the entire team, in the case of the final tournament), the match is over and the opponent wins.
The lady paladin's body loses function on the first blow, the shock leaving her stunned and motionless in place. Tarkus' final hit flings her back, rendering her completely unconscious.
((you can actually take a -4 on your attacks to do non-lethal damage, but not really needed here))
Quintus shakes his head and wonder's why Suvne didn't use any of her gods fancy powers... He doesn't know nearly as much about divine magic, but he thinks he could probably give here a few decent tips to up her game. Thinks all this blissfully unaware of what has happened to his poor Professor.
Val appears by Quintus' side in the stands as the crowd erupts into raucous cheers as some half-orc down in the arena knocks the daylights out of some poor girl.
"Quintus," he says ashen faced, "some shit is going down in a very immediate fashion. Ridley has pulled a ghost act, and it has all the hallmarks of either not being voluntary or something put the fear of gods into him."
Val waves his arm in an arc over the cheering stadium and combatants. "I think we've fucked up. Vecna's fan club has probably diverted the brightest of their bunch to collect this relic, and for once they're exercising a modicum of secrecy in their operations. This whole bloody affair is being used as cover. Ridley found out, and they either silenced him or he's gone to the deepest ground possible. Shit, they may already have it, whatever 'it' may be..."
The atmosphere is loud, raucous, and the air smells of sweat and blood. Tarkus revels in the cheers celebrating his victory, but they are short-lived, as he is reminded that it is only the first round of the tournament, and there are quite a few other bouts for this arena to host.
((Tarkus, you're going to do much the same thing that Quintus did, only you will be using Attack Rolls instead of Arcana Checks to meet your DCs. Make up to five rolls - the first is DC 15, the second is DC 20, the third is DC 25, the fourth is DC 30, and the fifth is DC 35. If you fail any of them, stop, and that will be the round during which you lose.
You will be using your full Base Attack Bonus, Strength modifier, and weapon bonus (so, you'll be at a +18 to your roll, if the battle against Suvne is any indication). Just like Quintus's post, feel free to use dramatic license and make up the opponents you face.))
Suvne is treated to a few low-level healing spells, which restore her to full health quite easily, thanks to the magically-induced nonlethality of the beating she just took. After briefly dusting herself off, she finds Val, Quintus, and Sarm in the stands and joins them there, to partake in the discussion of the uncertain fate of Quintus's mentor, and also to cheer on Tarkus during the remainder of the tournament.
"...Alright, I'll check his home(assuming he didn't live in his office or something. also if need be, I'll rolled w/e to try and find his home, assuming Quintus doesn't know) and look for any clues or just something so I can try to scry him later." Quintus then exits the arena to begin his search, "Let Tarkus know I'm sorry I missed his matches."
Quintus knows exactly where his old mentor lived - in a modest apartment outside of campus and in Emerald Bay proper.
Upon exiting campus, however, he notices that there is a small and bewildered crowd gathering around the two giant statues flanking the entrance. Quintus looks up and finds that the minotaur statue is no longer holding its axe, and the statue of the woman is no longer holding her shield (though they are standing in the same positions, as though they still had their implements in hand).
When Quintus decides to move on and get to Ridley's house, he finds it completely empty. The doors are locked, and there is a "For Rent" sign on the outside; peering into the windows finds it lacking in any and all furnishings or decorations. There is evidence that it has been vacated recently, but the evacuation of its contents seems to have been quite thorough.
The atmosphere is loud, raucous, and the air smells of sweat and blood. Tarkus revels in the cheers celebrating his victory, but they are short-lived, as he is reminded that it is only the first round of the tournament, and there are quite a few other bouts for this arena to host.
Getting his wounds stitched up and cleaned by the medical crew, Tarkus closes his eyes. Emotionless and silent, his breathing evokes a deep concentration. Patience and discipline. These were just a start. He turns his neck voluntarily as he feels the attending medic sear his shoulder wound with magical healing energies. Mercenary or servant, glory or defeat, they will chant my name. His eyes flash open, breaking his meditative state when they call his name for the next round.
Walking back out underneath the gates of the dusty arena he looks up and is pleased to see Suvne take a seat in the stands, smiling and no worse for the wear. He greets his next opponent with a nod. He recognizes him as an light-skinned Orc from the training grounds. Taller but more lean than Tarkus, he would leave as soon as Tarkus arrived or brush past him when hailed on every occasion. Bare-chested and wearing a red bandanna, the Orc’s countenance is stern and unflinching, presumably unimpressed or intent on remaining distant should just such an occasion occur where they crossed blades. Wielding two battle axes and attacking with the blinding fury famous of the berserkers, the announcer names him as Belgar.
Sure as the discipline of a mountain weathers the fury of a storm, Tarkus names him as his second victory.
Battle 1:
DC15: 1d20 [9] + 18 = 27
---
Though the last round was easily won with endurance and patience, his few well-timed strikes crushing the wild swings of the Orc's whirlwind attacks, Tarkus is certain the true test of his strength is yet to come. Stepping into the ring opposite him is a tall blonde man wearing a leather cuirass and green cape, adorned with an emerald necklace. He appears taller than the average human and sports many Elvish features. At his inquisitive stare the man states "I too am a half breed, though my ancestors are certainly of the more useful variety." He bows elegantly before Tarkus, his eyes mocking and his lips curled by a wry smile. Tarkus only nods in return.
At the signal to start, the fair-haired ranger flips back and begins to dash in the opposite direction, drawing a foreign looking bow from his back. Unsurprised at his agility given his heritage, Tarkus rushes forward to prevent him from gaining any distance. He is able to easily deflecting the first volley but the second catches him in the shoulder and chest. Nonetheless, he begins to close the distance and at his actions the ranger begins to laugh and taps the emerald on his neck. At this action, thick green vines burst out from the ground and attempt to tangle themselves around Tarkus feet.
Unfortunately no one told the half-elven ranger Tarkus' boots grant him freedom of movement. As he pretends to stumble to the ground and struggle with the plants, he quickly pulls a throwing knife from his boot. The beaming face of the ranger quickly drops to dismay as Tarkus rolls beneath his kill shot and he finds a knife embedded in his leg. The ensuing battle is quickly concluded as Tarkus catches up to the panicking ranger. Standing above him, Tarkus tears the arrows from his body and before them to the ground. In a monotone voice he says "Elf blood not immune to arrogance…useful to know" before bringing down the full weight of his greataxe and dispatching his wide-eyed and squirming opponent in a single strike.
Battle 2:
DC20: 1d20 [18] + 18 = 36
---
For his third fight, a knight in magnificent silver armor with an emblazoned purple dragon on its chest challenges him to a special duel for their match. He accepts and is surprised to learn the mysterious knight wishes to joust. So impressed with his ability to dismount him again and again, the knight concedes the battle voluntarily and leaves the arena. Tarkus can only scratch his head in curiosity as he prepares for the next battle.
Battle 3:
DC25: 1d20 [14] + 18 = 32
---
During a furious exchange with his next opponent (a female spellsword with a katana glowing with white fire) he is temporarily blinded by a flash of green light. Roaring in confusion, he jumps back to avoid a followup slash of her blade as has been the pattern when he feels an immense and searing pain shoot up his arm and worm its way into his chest. Feeling himself begin to pass out, he blinks his eyes and suddenly comes to. The spellsword swims into focus, her body bloody and broken lying beneath his feet. Realizing the rest of the match he had blacked out, Tarkus is both curious and fearful of what occurred. As the attending medic mentions something about arcane burns and inter-planar magicks he is mostly relieved he was able to win the fight and ascend to the next round.
The air is thick with excited conversation and animated movement as Tarkus walks for the fourth time out into the arena. The nervous and bloodthirsty energy of the crowd has begun to reach a fever pitch as the semi-finals of the competition draw near, all the remaining fighters recognized and deadly in their countenance and execution. The appearance of his opponent sucks this energy from the arena, a hushed silence falling over the crowd.
His back is hunched over and he walks into the stadium very slowly. His hands are pale and stretched like old parchment, gripping a gnarled staff. Loose strands of gray hair poke from inside the cover of his hood, his body covered by a dark robe that appears two sizes too large and dragging behind him as he approaches with shuffling footsteps. He pauses the requisite distance before him and reaching into the folds of his cloak pulling a out a black and gold tome.
Before the battle has even begun, a foul mist appears to creep its way into the arena. As the signal to start finally comes, he cannot see an inch in front of his face. Trying to fight his way through the mist he is unable to track the old man save for fleeting glimpses and shuffled movements. In his stead are a host of summoned creatures, black lizards and gargantuan spiders...festering dire rats and creatures with unnaturally many eyes Tarkus has never seen before. His energy is all but spent hacking away at all the various monstrosities, each one more gruesome and awful than the next. Even worse, he feels a growing horror as each of the beasts falls. Instead of disappearing in a puff of smoke or whatever the half-orc assumed happens with magickal beasts, they stay where they are. Dead corpses, spilt guts and blood littering the ground. Before long he begins to hear the crunch of bones and flesh as if something were feeding. And one by one each corpse begins to disappear. As if something were feasting upon each small victory he attains...
And then suddenly, just as soon as it came, the menagerie of horrors ends. No more creatures assault him, and no more sound reaches his ears but that of his own footsteps. As he wanders around in utter darkness, Tarkus begins to question how much time has passed. Stumbling upon a rock, he falls to the ground and before he can stand he feels sees a black shadow sweep over his leg. Feeling a foul presence gripping him, he struggles to remain standing. And yet somehow...he feels the shadow pull him towards the center of the arena. A voice almost audible in his head urging him forward. Shuffling in that direction he sees the summoner kneeled on the ground, his spell book glowing purple and hovering before him. Striking out with his weapon, his axe descends upon the man’s cloak. The man lets out a terrible and high pitched scream before scrambling away, his movements disturbing and inhumane as he…or it…retreats back into the mist. His spell book remains there and before Tarkus can react he feels the shadow pulse in his body once more and his leg muscles suddenly go rigid causing him to collapse to the ground. As the dark shadow creeps his way up his body, the only part left in his control are his eyes. He has just enough time to hear a cackling laugh before he passes out. This time he doesn’t wake up.
((Excellent battle write-ups, guys. Had I known we'd be doing that, I'd probably have found cause for Val to get over his PTSD from almost dying and entered))
Quintus returns to the arena and informs the group of what he has found. "You know, I actually considered the possibility it might be the statues, but that seemed too obvious... And I figured with an entire half of an academy full of mages hanging around someone would have noticed the statues were carrying ancient magical items. Damn it, this is not good. Well, since I only prepared for the fights today((the team battle is suppose to happen today right?)), I don't have any spells to track them down with, assuming they aren't using magic to hide their tracks, so I'll have to pick up a few scrolls." he then ponders to himself for a moment "...I still think it seems off and perhaps a little to easy for it to have been the statues, maybe they are trying to throw us off the trail? I'll see what I can find out."
Quintus congratulates Tarkus on his near win and looks to see if there are any magic shops(that sell scrolls) still opened during the tourney.
Sarm stands up while Tarkus is continuing his battles to rendezvous with Suvne and meet the other two. He occasionally looks back while moving to a new seat next to Val & Quintis to check on Tarkus' second battle as it progresses. He tells Suvne to take solace in the fact that he is their ally.
Quintis would already be leaving once the two get to Val. Sarm takes the seat he abandoned and presumably learns what is going on from Val. He doesn't appear surprised, but is definitely frustrated and tired of the cult always being a step ahead.
He watches Tarkus' fighting, but finds his curiosity piqued for the fifth battle... a man whose body is withered with age, but has enough brilliance to master dark arts which relieve him the need of it. Sarm is tense, wishing he could help Tarkus. He also knows that someone of his notoriety would not be ignored by the cultists, and is sure that they would attempt to recruit him. Not wanting to come off as overly assuming, he simply comments respectfully, "He has mastered death. He would be fearsome to have to combat for real."
When Quintis comes back, Sarm agrees with a defeated sigh, "I thought they were just decorations..."
What Tarkus may or may not realize in his state of hyper-alert battle readiness is that, right around the time that Noble Sir Loras concedes the joust against Tarkus as a matter of honor, the crowd begins to pay serious attention to him. As he strikes down his foes one after another ((for dramatic effect, the tournament was actually more than 6 rounds; Jackben only covered the highlights)), the crowd begins to root for him, cheering his name louder and louder after every victory.
As the tournament culminates to the finals, between the dastardly necromancer Qyburn and the Little Half-Orc that Could, the crowd makes plain their extreme dislike for the haggard old man, booing him incessantly throughout the match. The old man shrugs it off well enough, his heart long ago having hardened away any vulnerability to shame or embarrassment, and handily claims victory by the rules of the tournament... but in the hearts of the people, Tarkus is the true victor of the Open Division.
Val does note, in his observations of the Headmaster through his spyglass, that Headmaster Nash seems pleased as Tarkus falls to the Necromancer - a stark departure from his until-now-strict propensity to align his reactions with the rest of the crowd's.
Tarkus gains 25,000 gold total - 20k of it as tournament winnings, and the rest is the sum total of the money that his fans in the stands threw down to him in gratitude for putting on a good show.
When the final match is over, the day is growing long; the sun has already begun its downward trajectory, though darkness has not yet overtaken the city. The announcer explains that due to the unaccounted for length of the Open Division, as well as the mysterious disappearance of Erythnul's axe and Mayaheine's shield from the commemorative statues at the campus's entrance, the Team Tournament will be delayed until noon of the following day.
Quintus is easily able to find any number of shops that sell magical scrolls - and he is even able to find one where he receives a 10% discount for being a former student.
Quintus picks up two Scrolls of Scrying, one scroll of Locate Creature, Locate Object and Message. Only 2036.25 with the discount. Yeah. He figures they all meet up at his home to plan their next step, in both the event Quintus' magic is success, or it is not, as Quintus prepares to cast Scrying in an attempt to find his old mentor.
Regrouping at Quintus' home, Val is visibly agitated by recent events. "I don't suppose any of you were watching Headmaster Nash during Tarkus' last bout? The man was positively gleeful when our man went down, and I can't think of a reason why he would be so unless he knows who Tarkus is. Combine that with the missing weapons from the statue and Quintus' suddenly absent mentor, and I have a very bad feeling about this tournament tomorrow. Wouldn't be surprised if the headmaster's address tomorrow were used to announce that the Arm of Vecna has seized control and that the safeguards of the arena have been nullified right before an army pours through the opposite gate to kill us."
He meets the eye of each member in turn. "We need to tread extremely carefully here. Assume that all our matches tomorrow are without the benefit of healers and spells beyond our own, how prepared are we?"
Rupert and Dahlia are not present at Quintus's house when the party arrives, which is a bit unusual, since as far as they can remember, the pair hasn't left the house since the festivities in town started last week.
Perception DC 20; Quintus gets +5 to this, since it's his house
Someone has been here, and has been searching through the house. They did a good job of returning things to their rightful places, and nothing seems to be missing, but things are just off-kilter enough for it to be noticeable. Quintus's room in particular seems to have been gone over with a fine-toothed comb.
Quintus's Scry does not yield good news. After the requisite hour of patiently waiting for the magicks to reach out and find their target, the barely-visible image of Ridley's dead corpse appears in the mirror. He is in a dark room, but Tarkus is able to see that it is very small, like some kind of nondescript storage locker. Tarkus can also make out a tiny stab wound in the professor's back with prodigious amounts of dried blood surrounding it, no doubt puncturing some vital organ and leading to a very quick death.
Edit: Just in case it wasn't clear, the mirror displayed the same image to the whole party, so everyone can see it without Quintus needing to describe it first
Once home, Quintus notices something is a bit off, "...Someones been messing with my stuff! And I get the feeling they left with my parents. Yeah, we are gonna have to pass on the tourney, I've let it distract me far to much and I think that may have been the point."
After the initial Scrying, Quintus speaks up again "Okay... I was planning on looking for the Axe or Shield next, but perhaps we should attempt to find the Headmaster... though I'm worried we will just find another dead body. Given that he may have been using illusions to appear at the tourney, I suspect it's possible he has actually been replaced. Any other suggestions?"
Sarm nods at the both of them in agreement, "I see no reason to participate again. It would only slow us of potential pursuit regardless of whether it's a trap."
When Quintis gathers everyone for his scrying, Sarm becomes tense in the display of murder, knowing that this is a loss for Quintis. In response to his question, he says, "Undoubtedly. Do you know anyone that would know the headmaster well, or any students that would wish to help us?"
"Very few of my old friends are still around, and quite frankly, dragging more people into this is probably not a good idea, given what has happened to everyone else I know..."
Val turns away from the scrying mirror showing Ridley's corpse with a loud expletive passing through his lips. He's seen his share of corpses, but most not such as this. The clinical efficiency of the stab wounds, the disposal of the body, and the cover story crafted to explain the disappearance... Ridley wasn't just murdered, he was assassinated.
Running the fingers of both hands through his hair, he beats back a rising sense of panic and clears his mind. Now is not the time to let emotion cloud his judgement... "Tactically speaking, Quintus' parents are worth more to them alive than dead. Whoever is in charge of their outfit is definitely no fool, and doubtlessly realizes that they can be used as a bargaining chip to get us to surrender the relics we possess."
Starting at the front entry, Val attempts to trace the search efforts of the intruders. "They were thorough... I don't know if the kidnapping was a secondary target, or if the cultists decided to check to see if we were idiotic enough to leave a handful of shards of the souls of gods lying about while they were here..."
He pauses to consider possible next steps. "The headmaster's quartets are unassailable," he begins slowly, "but I'm willing to bet the security on his private box at the arena might not be so robust. We may be able to get in there, but then to what end? Leave a note with a time and location to show up with Quintus' parents? At least we'd be exercising some measure of control over the situation in that instance..."
As the party discusses their next move, they are caught by surprise when the front door opens... and Quintus's parents step through it, carrying bundles of bags full of groceries and other supplies. "Evening, lads," Rupert says cheerfully. "The streets are a great deal more tolerable when they're not filled to the brim with people; all the same, I'll be glad when the servants return from their vacation. I'd just as soon not deal with it myself."
"Isn't it dreadful what those vandals did to the statues?" Dahlia says as she passes by with far more bags than her small frame should be able to carry. "Two hundred years of history, defaced in the blink of an eye. Whoever did that, ought to be strung up, if you ask me." She gives a silent but seductive smile of acknowledgement to both Val and Sarm before passing through to the pantry area.
Evaneth, however, never shows up that evening. Every day until now, he's at least returned to sleep in his room; now, he's nowhere to be found.
Tarkus swell of pride from the roar and chant of the tournament crowd burns away any lingering fear from his last match. The winnings are but a physical manifestation of his valor and he is most pleased that his strength has grown tenfold since beginning this journey. And yet still the shadow gives him pause. Shaking his head to banish the images of the match, he considers it merely reason to not treat lightly future darkness.
Arriving back in the company of the relic heroes, he announces Evaneth's disappearance. "Evan distant since arrival. Constantly talk of dark eye watching." At first Tarkus' thoughts are simple. "Maybe monk hide away." But his eyes grow wide at the swirling image Quintus conjures in the magick mirror.
His brow furrowing and forehead creased in worry, he cringes at the horror of Ridley's dead and hidden body and the accumulating ferocity of the cult movements. The fact that all this occurred in such a short time greatly disturbs him. "Not only relics stolen under our nose, Evan disappeared and now Quin professor cold murdered..." he pounds his fist on the table in frustrated outburst "All while we play at games!" His words are full of rage and regret at his role in participating in the tournament and forgetting their Quest, even if momentary.
Tarkus grips his axe tightly at the sound of someone entering. Seeing Quintus' family return he relaxes and is relieved to know Val's advice concerning hostages will not be needed. "No involving anyone else. Must keep Quintus family safe while confronting Headmaster. Val's watching will help us get to him when vulnerable. Green cloaks must answer for their crimes in blood."
((I'm guessing it's, official, he's no longer with us?))
Sarm remembers the concern his god had, and is starting to see a fellow companion start to feel the same way, "We need to find Evaneth if all possible.. I hate to say this, but I worry what he may be doing if he had suddenly disappeared."
He nods at everyone's responses to his question. They are right not to involve anyone unnecessarily.
((Looks like Ganhyun hasn't been on since the 15th. Hope everything's all right with the guy))
Val is furiously scribbling out the most threatening note he can compose to leave in the private box of the Headmaster demanding the return of Quintus' parents, when they should happen to breeze in through the door as though nothing were the matter and render the whole endeavor moot. He blinks stupidly at them for a moment before his brain changes gears with the revelation that they are not in any immediate peril that he can discern.
"Speaking of vacations," he says not without a detectable note of relief underlying his tone as he takes Dhalia's hand into his own, "have you ever been to Alydar? Oh, you simply must go! It is simply splendid this time of year, easily the best kept secret in the entire kingdom. Quite the up and coming location, all of the most fashionable people have long since booked their reservations. But it just so happens that we are all good, close, personal acquaintances of the mayor. With but the barest pull on the strings, we could get you set up in the finest accommodations that the town has to offer. Why, your son here could take you there post haste, he's quite handy with that teleportation magic of his. You should leave as soon possible. Immediately even!"
((Looks like Ganhyun hasn't been on since the 15th. Hope everything's all right with the guy))
Val is furiously scribbling out the most threatening note he can compose to leave in the private box of the Headmaster demanding the return of Quintus' parents, when they should happen to breeze in through the door as though nothing were the matter and render the whole endeavor moot. He blinks stupidly at them for a moment before his brain changes gears with the revelation that they are not in any immediate peril that he can discern.
"Speaking of vacations," he says not without a detectable note of relief underlying his tone as he takes Dhalia's hand into his own, "have you ever been to Alydar? Oh, you simply must go! It is simply splendid this time of year, easily the best kept secret in the entire kingdom. Quite the up and coming location, all of the most fashionable people have long since booked their reservations. But it just so happens that we are all good, close, personal acquaintances of the mayor. With but the barest pull on the strings, we could get you set up in the finest accommodations that the town has to offer. Why, your son here could take you there post haste, he's quite handy with that teleportation magic of his. You should leave as soon possible. Immediately even!"
((...I was actually just about say the same thing))
"Yes! That is a great idea. You'll love it there, just tell them Quintus sent you and they will care of you. You won't even miss your servants. In fact..." Quintus begins digging through his bag of gold and pulls out 1k GP(or just 10 platinum coins) and hands it to his father "Its on me. Go prepare whatever you need and I'll send you there in the morning."
Once he gets a chance, he tells the others "We are gonna have to set up a watch tonight... As for Evaneth, I could attempt to scry for him. It's possible his sudden disappearance is related."
The Mallorys at first seem hesitant at the idea of a vacation (the Missus doubly so after realizing that Val will not be there himself), but the moment that Quintus offers to pay for it himself, Rupert swells with pride and changes his tune. "Son," he puts his hands on Quintus's shoulders and looks him in the eye, "I am proud of you. I remember how scared you were to leave the house and go off to college five years ago, and now look how you've grown - offering to send you parents on vacation! We will gladly accept your generosity! I just wish you'd come up with this offer last week, when the town filled up!" He gives Quintus a light punch and takes on a jocular tone during that last bit; he does seem genuinely proud and grateful. "Come, Dahlia; we shall start packing at once!"
((I am going to allow you a Scry to be prepared as though you'd prepared it this morning, and assume that you cast it right now. It's only a 3rd level spell after all. So you can keep your other scroll))
As Quintus completes his second casting of Scry for the day, the mirror turns pitch black. For a moment Quintus believes that the attempt failed for some reason, but Tarkus is just barely able to make out the outline of a figure in the center of the mirror, thanks to Darkvision.
The figure has a build very similar to Evaneth's, and he seems to be carrying a very large axe, and he seems to be on the move. It's impossible to tell where he is; he seems to be shrouded in a magical blackness that is traveling with him.
When Tarkus points out the details that he sees, Sarm asks, "Could he be shrouding himself because he took the axe? That may mean that the cultists are already after him."
((Not sure if you guys wanted to do anything else tonight in town, so I will wait until tomorrow morning-ish in real life for you to do stuff and/or discuss, and then I'll fast-forward to Quintus teleporting his parents to Alydar the next day))
Quintus's attempt to augment his magical vision to extend through the Scrying spell is inadvertently flubbed, and the scene in the mirror continues to remain completely shrouded in darkness.
Tarkus growls in frustration, one hand balled in a fist the other gripping his brow in concentration. After describing what he sees during the scrying and subsequent magickal augments he shakes his head, eyes narrowed. "Not like Evaneth we know to act alone..." He can't shake the feeling something is majorly, obviously wrong but is just outside his conscious grasp. "Something hides from us, sneaking outside our vision. How to strike what you cannot see?" Were there gears in his head they would groan and turn slowly as if fighting a pervasive rust. Tarkus would rather smash them and start over than tinker with subtlety of thought like this.
"Even for cult of secrecy and lies...someone have to know something." Turning to Quintus and Val for advice, he squares his shoulders and calls upon their given knowledge observing and knowing the nature of the Headmaster. "You have seen headmaster as not what he seems. We now know tournament as tricks to distract from theft of artifacts..." letting out a deep breath, Tarkus slumps a bit, eyes downcast. "But how to confront and expose without innocents retaliation?"
"Well, upon due consideration, Evaneth is a follower of a god of absolute neutrality. It's not entirely unsurprising that he would act counter to our own goals when you think about it. It is supremely disappointing though, Vecna's worshippers were enough to contend with. We scarcely need a third player in this game."
Dropping into an overstuffed arm chair, Val steepled his index fingers against his lips and as he contemplates the situation. "Actually, we may be able to play this to our advantage. The cult's contingent here in Emerald Bay is no rabble of press-ganged orcs, they're a calculating and precise lot. Take it from me, nothing so grievously upsets a schemer as the appearance of unforeseen circumstances, the disappearance of the axe is liable to have them in a state of panic at this point."
A mischievous grin spreads across his face. "We don't know where Evaneth and the axe are, but in all probability they don't know that we don't know. Vecna is the god of secrets, and secrets are bedfellows with paranoia. If we paint a vague enough picture, they may fill in the gaps on their own volition and tip their hand in the process."
As talk of deception and intrigue is bandied about the Mallory household, the hour grows late, and with a seedling of a plan borne of their plotting, most of the party drifts off for the evening. Tarkus's Ring of Sustenance has kicked in by now, which means he can stand watch for almost the entire night; the final two hours are picked up by Suvne. There are no incidents.
The next morning, Quintus's parents exit their bedroom with all of their luggage already packed; each is lugging with them at least three full suitcases, but somehow they are managing to hold their own. The duo is wearing festive, colorful clothing befitting a vacation. "Good morning, all!" Rupert says happily, and he spots Quintus in the dining area, eating a breakfast of maple-tinged oatmeal and toast spread with butter and goat cheese. "Son, we are ready to go. All of our things are packed. Now it's up to you and your fancy wizarding magic to do the rest. Oh, take your time with your breakfast, no rush!"
The two of them proceed to stand there and stare eagerly at Quintus, waiting for him to finish eating (Dahlia steals a few glances at the other male humans of the party in between).
When he is ready to go, Quintus gets up and stands between his parents, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. He closes his eyes and speaks the necessary phrases to teleport the three of them to Alydar.
The moment he finishes, he senses that something is wrong. The spell is not acting like it's supposed to. An unexpected surge of magical energy wells up around Quintus and arcs around the household to Val, Suvne, Tarkus, and Sarm. There is no pain in the conventional sense, but an uncomfortable lurching overtakes them, and suddenly the five of them are gone, leaving a wide-eyed and panicked Rupert and Dahlia alone in the kitchen, wondering what in the Nine Hells just happened.
------
The first thing you realize is that you can't move. Your entire body is paralyzed, frozen in a standing (or sitting) position - the same position you were in when the teleport went wrong. You can't even blink your eyes or move your eyeballs; talking is entirely out of the question. In your periphery you can see a teammate or two, suggesting that all five of you were transported here, though not all of them are in your line of sight like this.
Standing perhaps fifteen feet in front of you and very much in control of his faculties is an older man. His skin is pale and he has a wispy white beard down to the middle of his chest; his clothes are black and gray robes, of a design you have never seen before. Slightly behind him is a hole in the air, as though someone had torn through the very fabric of reality to create it. Your eyes can scarcely perceive the energies floating about within.
The six of you are standing on a lonely, desolate sandbar, which appears to be in the middle of the ocean, far removed from any proper shoreline.
"So it appears that Evaneth drifted out of range," the man says in a deep, powerful voice that stands in contrast to his relatively slight frame. His accent is very foreign, but you can understand his words. "I was hoping I could at least do you the courtesy of retrieving him, but it appears you'll have to track him down yourself."
He turns his head directly to Sarm, though he addresses all of you with the following. "I want to apologize. I know that you are very busy trying to outwit the Headmaster, and you feel like you don't have time to listen to the ramblings of an old man. I would not have enacted such desperate measures if my situation were not most dire.
"You are standing in a stasis field of my own design. This field will remain intact for the next hour, and then you will have full control of yourselves with no lasting effects. Tarkus, I'm sure you're wishing you could tear me limb from limb right now, and the fact that you cannot move at all is making it all the worse. I apologize for that.
"Behind me is a portal that I am about to use to cross into my own plane of existence. The fabric of this particular plane is particularly difficult to work with - I had a hell of a time getting here -, and I will not be able to close the portal after I cross over. This means that you will be able to follow me. I feel it is my duty to warn you that you should not do so, though from observing you over the past weeks I am sure that this warning will fall on deaf ears."
The man steps closer to Sarm and raises his hand. The Rod of Pelor extracts itself from within Sarm's robes and makes a beeline for the man's hand; he closes his fingers around it and stows it in his own set of robes.
While focusing on the man's hand, Sarm notices a mark on the back of his palm - a tattoo, or perhaps a brand, which looks very familiar. He recalls that it is the same mark that was on the hand of the man who attempted to steal the Rod from him, so many weeks ago in Alydar, while Sarm was curing the citizens of the zombie plague.
"My people are being oppressed - have been oppressed for centuries, by the Vampires who currently lord over my country. As you can imagine, an artifact of the Sun God will be an invaluable tool to correct the atrocities that we humans have suffered at their hands."
He hesitates for an awkward moment. "I suppose that's all there is to say. I hope I don't see you soon, but given your mission, I expect that I will. Whatever you do, I wish you safe travels."
The old man steps through the portal and vanishes from this plane of reality, leaving the five of you alone on the sandbar with the portal to a destination unknown. An hour passes, and the stasis field dissipates; you can all move again, though your muscles are quite stiff, and probably will remain that way for a little while.
Sarm feels a profound sense of loneliness and loss; the strong connection he has shared with Pelor since obtaining the Rod has been suddenly and jarringly severed.
((This reminds me of when I used to watch Yu-Gi-Oh, and just when they were finally about to have the final match of a tournament that seemingly dragged on for eternity, they got hijacked on the way to the final battle and plugged into a VR world for an entire season.))
Val spends the duration of the spell's effects growing increasingly tired of falling into paralysis traps and mentally willing a curious crab to not figure out how to get around his glasses as he lies in the sand.
Then, just like that, his body snaps back into control of his brain. Standing up, he scans the horizon in search of land in vain before turning to consider the gaping hole in reality. "What kind of daft old fool takes such pains to take us alive and warns us not to follow him, yet neglects to leave any other option? Are we supposed to sit here until we starve -- more likely drown when the tide comes in? Fuck that! So sorry to hear about your vampire problem, but we're trying to save the multiverse here!"
((Actually I guess Quintus could just teleport us back, but let's just say that crab eying his eyeballs rattled him.))
Sarm is perplexed at what happened during Quintis' teleport. At first he thinks it might be a natural glitch in his magic due to his lack of comfort knowing about Arcane magic, but as he feels his paralysis he comes to realize that it can't just be that, and the location they are in is too specific, too much of a trap.
The figure is only familiar by the symbol he bears, which only serves to remind him that somebody is out for the Rod of Pelor. Sarm can only think, not express under his paralysis as he is helpless to the whims of the third party. When the Rod of Pelor is slid from under his wrappings, all he can think is how disappointed everyone at the Seminary, and Pelor himself must be to have lost such an important item like a careless child. The disconnect only serves to enforce that feeling.
When he hears of the story of vampires, he wishes to say something, but cannot. All Sarm would say is you could have just asked, he would have found it reasonable to help someone else fight evil and help others, but the man won't even give him a chance to inform him that some of the Rod's powers are only available to a follower.
Once the field dissapates, Sarm collapses to the sand, his brain forgetting what kind of balance he was supposed to have. He looks up to everyone, and since he's had an hour to collect his thoughts, he says, "This is bleak... But... Not completely hopeless. I can prepare a spell that will let us travel to other planes." ((At least... I hope Plane Shift will work out that way. I have never used the spell before.)) He begins to draw in the sand with his finger what he remembers the symbol looking like, "When we return back to civilization, we'll need to research the brand he had." Despite the feeling of loneliness he has drawn over him, he realizes that he can't just let this become about him, "And what of Evaneth...? We still have to find him..."
Quintus falls to the ground once the paralysis effect wears off, for no good reason. "Well Val, I could just teleport us back home, but to be honest, I'm not sure if someone else is gonna end up high jacking my spell..."
Eventually he stands back up, "So back to the Bay, or do we track down this old man? Personally, I'm all for paying my old headmaster a little visit right now."
The portal on the sandbar appears to be quite stable, and doesn't seem to be going anywhere (and upon reflection, you'd guess that this is why the old man chose to create it in such an isolated location - to keep anything from wandering into it). Although you guys have no idea where you are geographically, Quintus is confident that he could bring everyone back here with a Teleport easily (assuming the spell doesn't get messed with again).
((A little behind-the-scenes here for anyone who wants to highlight
I realize that the timing on this was very weird, but the trigger for this event in my plot outline was 'Quintus casts Teleport'. I wasn't expecting that to happen before everything in Emerald Bay was completed, and when it did I was like "Well... hmm. Do I stay consistent with my outline, or do I change my outline to keep things more compartmentalized?" It wasn't an immediate decision, but in the end I decided to stay consistent))
((Oh and I'll allow you all to return with a single casting of teleport. We will just say that the extra person can be counted as carry-on baggage))
Val mutters something obscene about needing to accommodate four players as he kicks sand into the presumed sea in impotent fury. "Seems our job would be a whole lot fucking easier if the fucking relics would fucking stop walking away on their fucking own!" he shouts in increasing volume across the undulating blue expanse surrounding him, arms spread wide.
Regaining some measure of composure, he drops his arms and turns back to face the group. "Right then. If we have the means, we need to return to Emerald Bay post haste, stick a rapier blade through the headmaster's eye socket, and retrieve the shield. Then Ruby Keep will have to wait, because apparently some other plane of existence has a vampire problem we need to solve."
Meeting Sarm's eyes, he inquires, "The rod was a powerful weapon in your hands, we've lost it at a time we can ill afford it. Do you have any replacement, inadequate as it may be?"
((I just DLed Dawnguard during the year end XBL sale too. LOL.))
((Do you guys reckon he's from Ravenloft? Where do you think he's from?))
Leaning against thin air for the better part of an hour, Tarkus yells and falls back, tumbling to the ground like a sack of potatoes once the paralysis spell wears off. Thrashing about before sitting up and spitting sand from his face, he brushes himself off in an agitated manner. "Just what needed...more dirty tricks!" He charges towards the portal before he is stopped by the sound of the others becoming unfrozen. He stabs his axe into the sand angrily, causing a group of crabs to scuttle off into the water.
Tarkus nods at Val and wonders himself what their next course of action should be. Hearing the sadness is Sarm's voice and having witnessed the man take the staff of Pelor, Tarkus kicks the ground angrily. "Crazy man say it's for healing his people. Maybe true. But to take rod from disciple of Pelor...deserves beating." He agrees with Val that they should return to the Bay before venturing forth, but he cannot help but express curiosity at the destination of the crazy thief. "What is realm he speaks of?"
((Seems to be a consensus on the next step, so I will move it along))
Quintus teleports the party back to his parents' house, and this time he does not feel anyone monitoring or otherwise attempting to tamper with the spell in any way. When they reappear in the dining room, Rupert and Dahlia are speaking frantically to a member of the city watch, who is in the middle of taking a statement and seems to be somewhat flustered. They cry out in audible relief when they see Quintus there, and cease to acknowledge the guardsman at all. If he continues to be ignored by everyone, he just gives up and leaves.
After that whole business is straightened out, everyone walks to the Colosseum on campus, and finds that the teams are all in position down below; this competition seems to be some kind of battle royale-style tournament. Headmaster Nash is already in the middle of a speech.
The content of the speech is useless and boring fanfare, trumpeting the honor and prestige of the University, and the two hundred year legacy, and there is also a plea tacked on, for any information surrounding the theft of the shield and the axe.
The important thing to note about the speech is that Nash seems to be using some kind of magic which makes it very hard NOT to see him - as though he is a crystal clear picture in a sea of blur. This type of magic strikes Quintus as familiar, and he realizes that it is the same type of magic that Ivor once described to him as being used to obscure the appearance of a mysterious wizard, who had been giving orders to Davos in the cave hideout, on the party's first real mission together.
Now that he recalls it, the new Headmaster seems to fit the vague description that Ivor had given, too.
The speech ends, Nash takes his seat, the crowd cheers, and the fighters below prepare for the battle to begin.
Sarm takes a moment before Quintis' teleport to address everyone's questions, first meeting Val's gaze, "My spells will be a bit weaker, but I can rely on them still. I may need to buy a magical mace and then.." he almost says 'if', but corrects himself mid-sentence, "When we recover the Rod, I can pass it down to Suvne."
He looks to Tarkus, "Indeed. His methods are mad and desperate. They would need followers such as myself as much as they would need the Rod." When the question of the realm comes up, Sarm shakes his head, "I wasn't sure where the symbol on the hand came from when one of its bearers tried to steal the Rod from me before. I do believe it may be a hint as to what plane they come from."
---
At the colosseum, he would be able to confirm what Quintis says, being the only other one present that has went on that particular mission. He mentions in a low voice that the cult has been using their secrecy to keep their connection to hired men as distant and disconnected as possible, and hopes that this means that they're close to coming to the source.
Val's quite surprised to learn that the headmaster is the same man the party had observed during the rescue of Clementine prior to his own joining with the company. "I was always under the impression that the man in the cave was perhaps in charge of this whole operation. Wouldn't it be splendid if we could just decapitate the group... Or at least put out an eye or cut off an ear..."
Contemplating the duplicitous headmaster in his viewing box -- hard not to, since he's employing some effect to make him difficult to miss -- Val poses a question to Quintus. "Loves to be the center of attention now, doesn't he? This... Thing he's doing now to make himself more visible, does that mean he's physically up there right this moment? He can't do this remotely?"
((We lost Jackben again, was there a Mavis Beacon thread somewhere?))
Val's quite surprised to learn that the headmaster is the same man the party had observed during the rescue of Clementine prior to his own joining with the company. "I was always under the impression that the man in the cave was perhaps in charge of this whole operation. Wouldn't it be splendid if we could just decapitate the group... Or at least put out an eye or cut off an ear..."
Contemplating the duplicitous headmaster in his viewing box -- hard not to, since he's employing some effect to make him difficult to miss -- Val poses a question to Quintus. "Loves to be the center of attention now, doesn't he? This... Thing he's doing now to make himself more visible, does that mean he's physically up there right this moment? He can't do this remotely?"
((We lost Jackben again, was there a Mavis Beacon thread somewhere?))
((We can keep going until there's a combat, at which point you guys will want Tarkus on your side. He may have sent me his email address through PM at some point; I'll have to start digging through them and hopefully find out what happened. KittenMaster, didn't you correspond with him through email at some point?))
Quintus decides that it's extremely likely that the Headmaster is actually in the box, given the trick he's just employed. He seems to be very engaged in watching the combat in the arena.
The security around the Headmaster's box is relatively light (only two guardsmen are visible, and they are paying heavy attention to the contest as well), and the energy of the crowd is providing a hefty amount of distraction. Pushing into the box ought to be easy; after that, it's hard to say how anyone will respond.
((Jackben gets banned for the strangest things. He got done in by posting a Frogman .gif this time. We used PSN to communicate, so I may have to hop on there if he didn't give you your e-mail.))
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