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Quest for the Holy Relics: A NeoGAF DnD Play by Post Campaign
- Thread starter ThLunarian
- Start date
((No reason we can't just continue on with our chosen classes. I've been thinking about prestige classes for a while, but nothing seems particularly great to me, either from a character development point of view, or mechanically. It's been a far from comprehensive look though, I may have overlooked something.))
ThLunarian
Member
Prestige classes are variable; some of them can be entered as early as Level 6 (and in some cases even earlier if you know the rules well enough to abuse them). Usually it works best if you start your character off by knowing what Prestige Class you're aiming toward, since most have some pretty strict requirements that have to be planned for. Of course there's nothing wrong with just sticking it out with your original class.
If you do come across a class that you'd like to switch to, but you're missing a particular feat or you're a few ranks off from a skill you need built up, let me know and we can probably just retrain one of the feats you may have taken that you don't think you need anymore, or otherwise "go back in time" to ensure you're able to fulfill the requirements. Oh and just as before, I don't really care about alignment requirements, since almost any class can usually be approached with an heroic bent (there could potentially be exceptions to this, but not many).
If you do come across a class that you'd like to switch to, but you're missing a particular feat or you're a few ranks off from a skill you need built up, let me know and we can probably just retrain one of the feats you may have taken that you don't think you need anymore, or otherwise "go back in time" to ensure you're able to fulfill the requirements. Oh and just as before, I don't really care about alignment requirements, since almost any class can usually be approached with an heroic bent (there could potentially be exceptions to this, but not many).
Jackben
bitch I'm taking calls.
Tarkus spends the night meditating on what he's learned. His magical ring granting him more than enough rest after just a few hours has left him with a lot more time to think and contemplate things he never pondered before. As slowly as his thoughts come and as ponderously he is to analyse them, the long hours of these sleepless nights are often just enough for him to find clarity.
Taking a deep breath before kneeling, he concentrates on what's transpired so far.
- - -
He's never been a half-orc to settle in one place for too long. Born a slave, living as a nomad since his escape has been the only life he's known. Starting a new life in this land to escape his chaotic departure from the far away mercenary legion of Storm Crows only proved slightly less chaotic following the sacking of the Tarley Farmstead. Whether by providence of the gods or by taking fate into his own hands he has found providence in the company of his fellow comrades and relic hunters. Despite losses and disappearances the core group has remained steadfast. He would trust any of them with his well-being entirely.
Pleased by his progress in Alydar and battles waged against the wretched green-cloaked cult he is nonetheless disturbed at the hollow victories recently experienced. He believes collecting the relics is the way to stop the cult and heal Quintus. And so he reasons it is into the unknown he must venture, only this time it's not merely across the sea or to another land, but an entire new dimension altogether. Torn on where he is headed, he contemplates what direction he travel in growing to be a stronger warrior. He feels thus far his journey with the group of relic hunters has not led him astray and he must remain on the path of strength, discipline and loyalty.
- - -
As dawn approaches Tarkus rises and wakes his dormant muscles with quick exercise before heading to the market early. He makes a point to stock up on potions and utility items for their impending trek into the unknown. Of particular note, he asks a wily old man with a neatly combed gray beard about potions that bestow serious curing. Looking through his stock he takes advice on what to buy, out of his element in recognizing which mixtures do what. He picks up a batch of a pungent concoction he is told will cure diseases.
After handing over the gold for the purchase he gets an idea and describes Quintus condition to the alchemist. "Friend cursed...undead but...smart." Unfortunately the neat man can only shake his head apologetically, explaining in terms Tarkus does not fully understand that there is nothing he can do. Nodding reluctantly, he stuffs each of the materials in his newly bought handy haversack and turns to regroup with the others.
Taking a deep breath before kneeling, he concentrates on what's transpired so far.
- - -
He's never been a half-orc to settle in one place for too long. Born a slave, living as a nomad since his escape has been the only life he's known. Starting a new life in this land to escape his chaotic departure from the far away mercenary legion of Storm Crows only proved slightly less chaotic following the sacking of the Tarley Farmstead. Whether by providence of the gods or by taking fate into his own hands he has found providence in the company of his fellow comrades and relic hunters. Despite losses and disappearances the core group has remained steadfast. He would trust any of them with his well-being entirely.
Pleased by his progress in Alydar and battles waged against the wretched green-cloaked cult he is nonetheless disturbed at the hollow victories recently experienced. He believes collecting the relics is the way to stop the cult and heal Quintus. And so he reasons it is into the unknown he must venture, only this time it's not merely across the sea or to another land, but an entire new dimension altogether. Torn on where he is headed, he contemplates what direction he travel in growing to be a stronger warrior. He feels thus far his journey with the group of relic hunters has not led him astray and he must remain on the path of strength, discipline and loyalty.
- - -
As dawn approaches Tarkus rises and wakes his dormant muscles with quick exercise before heading to the market early. He makes a point to stock up on potions and utility items for their impending trek into the unknown. Of particular note, he asks a wily old man with a neatly combed gray beard about potions that bestow serious curing. Looking through his stock he takes advice on what to buy, out of his element in recognizing which mixtures do what. He picks up a batch of a pungent concoction he is told will cure diseases.
After handing over the gold for the purchase he gets an idea and describes Quintus condition to the alchemist. "Friend cursed...undead but...smart." Unfortunately the neat man can only shake his head apologetically, explaining in terms Tarkus does not fully understand that there is nothing he can do. Nodding reluctantly, he stuffs each of the materials in his newly bought handy haversack and turns to regroup with the others.
KittenMaster
Member
((Gonna wait until my purchase is confirmed before I roleplay it out. It'll be 18,000 + some hundreds from the weapon, right?))
ThLunarian
Member
((Sorry Sarm, I didn't realize you were waiting for confirmation from me. Yeah, either a +3 Morningstar or a +2 with Shock will cost you 18,008 GP to be exact, unless you wanted it to be a special material, such as Cold Iron, Adamantium, Crystal, etc. You are welcome to roleplay the purchase in the first part of your next post, but I'm going to go ahead narrate the next part of the story.
Some other notes: Again for Sarm, you may want to consider preparing some Inflict Wounds spells, so you can heal Quintus; remember that Cure Wounds spells actually hurt undead creatures, and Good Clerics can't spontaneously cast Inflict spells.
And Quintus, you didn't specify whether or not you are putting the Hand of Vecna back on or whether you were just carrying it with you. Please make note of that in your next post))
On the way out of campus, the party notices nearly everyone gawking at them. Some seem fearful; others appear to be admirers; most are just rubbernecking. Quintus in particular, however, quickly becomes self-conscious at the occasional expressions of horror that are directed his way; it seems like his transformation into an undead did not go unnoticed by the populace.
Not one to allow his parents to worry about him, Quintus consults Val about how to mitigate the unfortunate effect of this metamorphosis on his appearance, and with the help of the swashbuckler and the makeup from his handy-dandy disguise kit, Quintus at least becomes passable as a normal human being.
Dahlia and Rupert appear to be blissfully unaware of what transpired at the arena. After regrouping and deciding with unanimity that the next order of business is to retrieve the Rod of Pelor from some unknown dimension, the party temporarily splits up and makes their purchases.
That evening, Quintus finds that he cannot sleep. This is not just standard, run-of-the-mill insomnia; as far as he can discern, Quintus no longer possesses the physical ability to sleep. Fortunately, he also never seems to tire - either physically or mentally - so perhaps this won't be so bad. He spends the evening copying over his spells to his fancy new spellbook and reflecting on his new state of being.
----
"You're leaving?!" Dahlia exclaims with exaggerated distress the next morning, after hearing the news from Quintus.
"Not with one of those Teleportation spells, I hope," Rupert says worriedly. "We all remember what happened the last time you tried that, Son."
Regardless of how Quintus responds to that, his parents insist on cooking them a grand meal before they take off. The two are surprisingly adept chefs, considering that they normally have a squadron of servants to prepare food for them. A veritable feast of bacon, sausage, fresh fruits, quayle eggs, oatmeal, and hotcakes with real maple syrup and freshly-prepared butter is whipped up, and the party dines like kings (and a queen) on their last morning in Emerald Bay.
When breakfast is over, Rupert shakes the hands of the party one at a time, stopping to speak to Tarkus. "Thank you for taking care of my boy," he says, looking the half-orc square in the eye. In his eyes is an apology that the man is perhaps too proud to say out loud.
Dahlia is a bit more hands-on with her goodbyes, giving everyone an overly-friendly hug (Val in particular feels just short of violated by the placement of Mrs Mallory's hands as she embraces him) and kissing each of them on the cheek.
----
One casting of Teleport later, and everyone finds themselves standing on the same sandy outcropping as the day before. Its shape has changed slightly by the constant, gentle lapping of waves against the not-quite-island, but as of now it is still firmly intact - and so is the portal.
Pausing for just a moment to take in the sun and the cool breeze, and breathing the familiar air that they're all used to, the party takes the plunge into the portal.
----
It's like walking through a viscous membrane, perhaps a foot and a half wide. On the other side, your foot finds no purchase, and before your senses can fully process what's happening around you, the alarming sensation of free-fall overtakes you.
Fortunately, the ground rises to meet you sooner rather than later, and after a fifteen-foot drop you unceremoniously crash onto the hard cobblestones of a street.
Instinctively looking up, you see an open window at the precise location from which you began to fall - but there is no portal to another dimension; there is only that very mundane-looking window. The building is a two-story wooden house of sturdy design - exotic compared to the architecture you're used to, but no different from any of the other numerous buildings lining the street.
While looking up at the mostly-unremarkable building, another key detail becomes apparent to you.
The sky is red.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c8G4tENMWS4
Although not entirely homogeneous, the various dark-bright hues of red, crimson, and deep orange amalgamate into a mostly-uniform glow that pervades the entire skyline. No sun - or any other celestial body - can be seen; the subdued illumination seems to come evenly from all corners of the sky. Occasionally, creatures of multitude sizes fly overhead at various altitudes, some winged and others not. The air is breathable, if somewhat thicker here; the atmosphere is somewhere between cool and warm.
After only a short time wandering about, it quickly becomes obvious that you landed in an alley. You emerge around a corner onto an enormous street, packed with people of all shapes and sizes. They are comprised of countless races and species, most of which are entirely unfamiliar to you. Among them are tieflings, orcs, demons, celestials, devils, vampires, archons, gnomes, giants, halflings, Drow, minotaurs, centaurs, and dragonborn; after that, you lose count. There is a distinct lack of humans in this place, and suddenly Val, Sarm, and Suvne find themselves to be noticeably out of place.
It does not take long to discover that this city you've landed in is immeasurably vast. Buildings of all shapes and sizes extend as far as the eye can see, well over the horizon. One hundred Ruby Keeps could easily fit here.
"You must be new arrivals." A curb merchant of an unfamiliar race, but with the facial features of a cat, speaks up in Common tongue with a heavy accent as the party passes. "Welcome," he says, "To Sigil, the City of Doors."
Knowledge Planes (just make one check and highlight accordingly):
DC 15
DC 20
DC 25
Some other notes: Again for Sarm, you may want to consider preparing some Inflict Wounds spells, so you can heal Quintus; remember that Cure Wounds spells actually hurt undead creatures, and Good Clerics can't spontaneously cast Inflict spells.
And Quintus, you didn't specify whether or not you are putting the Hand of Vecna back on or whether you were just carrying it with you. Please make note of that in your next post))
On the way out of campus, the party notices nearly everyone gawking at them. Some seem fearful; others appear to be admirers; most are just rubbernecking. Quintus in particular, however, quickly becomes self-conscious at the occasional expressions of horror that are directed his way; it seems like his transformation into an undead did not go unnoticed by the populace.
Not one to allow his parents to worry about him, Quintus consults Val about how to mitigate the unfortunate effect of this metamorphosis on his appearance, and with the help of the swashbuckler and the makeup from his handy-dandy disguise kit, Quintus at least becomes passable as a normal human being.
Dahlia and Rupert appear to be blissfully unaware of what transpired at the arena. After regrouping and deciding with unanimity that the next order of business is to retrieve the Rod of Pelor from some unknown dimension, the party temporarily splits up and makes their purchases.
That evening, Quintus finds that he cannot sleep. This is not just standard, run-of-the-mill insomnia; as far as he can discern, Quintus no longer possesses the physical ability to sleep. Fortunately, he also never seems to tire - either physically or mentally - so perhaps this won't be so bad. He spends the evening copying over his spells to his fancy new spellbook and reflecting on his new state of being.
----
"You're leaving?!" Dahlia exclaims with exaggerated distress the next morning, after hearing the news from Quintus.
"Not with one of those Teleportation spells, I hope," Rupert says worriedly. "We all remember what happened the last time you tried that, Son."
Regardless of how Quintus responds to that, his parents insist on cooking them a grand meal before they take off. The two are surprisingly adept chefs, considering that they normally have a squadron of servants to prepare food for them. A veritable feast of bacon, sausage, fresh fruits, quayle eggs, oatmeal, and hotcakes with real maple syrup and freshly-prepared butter is whipped up, and the party dines like kings (and a queen) on their last morning in Emerald Bay.
When breakfast is over, Rupert shakes the hands of the party one at a time, stopping to speak to Tarkus. "Thank you for taking care of my boy," he says, looking the half-orc square in the eye. In his eyes is an apology that the man is perhaps too proud to say out loud.
Dahlia is a bit more hands-on with her goodbyes, giving everyone an overly-friendly hug (Val in particular feels just short of violated by the placement of Mrs Mallory's hands as she embraces him) and kissing each of them on the cheek.
----
One casting of Teleport later, and everyone finds themselves standing on the same sandy outcropping as the day before. Its shape has changed slightly by the constant, gentle lapping of waves against the not-quite-island, but as of now it is still firmly intact - and so is the portal.
Pausing for just a moment to take in the sun and the cool breeze, and breathing the familiar air that they're all used to, the party takes the plunge into the portal.
----
It's like walking through a viscous membrane, perhaps a foot and a half wide. On the other side, your foot finds no purchase, and before your senses can fully process what's happening around you, the alarming sensation of free-fall overtakes you.
Fortunately, the ground rises to meet you sooner rather than later, and after a fifteen-foot drop you unceremoniously crash onto the hard cobblestones of a street.
Instinctively looking up, you see an open window at the precise location from which you began to fall - but there is no portal to another dimension; there is only that very mundane-looking window. The building is a two-story wooden house of sturdy design - exotic compared to the architecture you're used to, but no different from any of the other numerous buildings lining the street.
While looking up at the mostly-unremarkable building, another key detail becomes apparent to you.
The sky is red.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c8G4tENMWS4
Although not entirely homogeneous, the various dark-bright hues of red, crimson, and deep orange amalgamate into a mostly-uniform glow that pervades the entire skyline. No sun - or any other celestial body - can be seen; the subdued illumination seems to come evenly from all corners of the sky. Occasionally, creatures of multitude sizes fly overhead at various altitudes, some winged and others not. The air is breathable, if somewhat thicker here; the atmosphere is somewhere between cool and warm.
After only a short time wandering about, it quickly becomes obvious that you landed in an alley. You emerge around a corner onto an enormous street, packed with people of all shapes and sizes. They are comprised of countless races and species, most of which are entirely unfamiliar to you. Among them are tieflings, orcs, demons, celestials, devils, vampires, archons, gnomes, giants, halflings, Drow, minotaurs, centaurs, and dragonborn; after that, you lose count. There is a distinct lack of humans in this place, and suddenly Val, Sarm, and Suvne find themselves to be noticeably out of place.
It does not take long to discover that this city you've landed in is immeasurably vast. Buildings of all shapes and sizes extend as far as the eye can see, well over the horizon. One hundred Ruby Keeps could easily fit here.
"You must be new arrivals." A curb merchant of an unfamiliar race, but with the facial features of a cat, speaks up in Common tongue with a heavy accent as the party passes. "Welcome," he says, "To Sigil, the City of Doors."
Knowledge Planes (just make one check and highlight accordingly):
DC 15
You've heard of Sigil before. It's some kind of gateway between dimensions, but that's all you know.
DC 20
Every bounded opening in Sigil (doors, windows, picture frames, barrel hoops, etc) has the potential to be an opening to another plane, or to another point in Sigil itself. Some are labeled, some are not; some require "keys", some do not; some are one-way, some are not. Sigil is said to exist at the center of all dimensions, though geographically this should technically be impossible. It has no real "sky", and only simulates night and day by regularly increasing and decreasing the surrounding illumination.
DC 25
Sigil is ruled by the Lady of Pain, a mysterious entity who is not quite a god, but in her own domain she is the absolute authority and is more powerful than any of them. She is on an eternal procession through the city, bestowing judgment on the deserving as she passes by instantly stripping the flesh from their bones with a mere thought.
DeadPhoenix
Member
((You know, as I was reading, I starting thinking to myself "this is planescape, isn't it?" then the guy said we were in Sigil and I just said "Oh fuck..."))
Planes (1d20+17=34)
Quintus, once realizing where they are, speaks to the other party members, "Okay whatever you do, we have to stay together. One wrong step and you can end up in another plane. Also, do NOT fuck with the Lady of Pain. If what I've read is true, here she is more powerful then any god."
Quintus then finally stops holding it off and puts on the Hand of Vecna, so safety or something.
Planes (1d20+17=34)
Quintus, once realizing where they are, speaks to the other party members, "Okay whatever you do, we have to stay together. One wrong step and you can end up in another plane. Also, do NOT fuck with the Lady of Pain. If what I've read is true, here she is more powerful then any god."
Quintus then finally stops holding it off and puts on the Hand of Vecna, so safety or something.
Jackben
bitch I'm taking calls.
Tarkus nods to Quintus father, silently understanding his position and grateful for his acknowledgement. Despite his ring of sustenance providing most of his nourishment Tarkus wouldn't forgo such a delicious meal to satisfy his taste buds. Drinking in the juicy flavor of the fresh fruit and almost inhaling the fragrant and delicious oatmeal, Tarkus saves the best for last by finishing off with a hearty helping of sausages and bacon strips covered in maple syrup. A decadent and satisfying break of his fast that is hopefully not his last as the group is to venture into a new plane.
--- Into Sigil ---
As they pass into the portal Tarkus feels as if he is covered in mud, sluggishly floating forward with a sensation that reminds him of the swamp. Just as he thinks to open his eyes he feels wind rushing past him as the group falls to the ground. Splinters of wood fly as Tarkus crashes into the alley, the remnants of a barrel breaking his fall. Brushing himself off and looking around, he is stopped dead in his tracks, his breath catching as he breathes in the foreign air.
His eyes widen at their exotic surroundings. "Blood red sky...but no sun." He directs the last bit to Sarm and Suvne, looking for wisdom in their reactions. As the group emerges from the alley, for the first time ever Tarkus feels out of place not for being a halfbreed but for being overly normal. "So many creatures..." At least Quintus will not have to hide his curse here.
So stunned by their bizarre surroundings, Tarkus is almost startled by the cat-like merchant speaking up. "Sigil...?" As Quintus quickly summarizes what he knows, he takes heed to stand closer to the group and remain vigilant.
--- Into Sigil ---
As they pass into the portal Tarkus feels as if he is covered in mud, sluggishly floating forward with a sensation that reminds him of the swamp. Just as he thinks to open his eyes he feels wind rushing past him as the group falls to the ground. Splinters of wood fly as Tarkus crashes into the alley, the remnants of a barrel breaking his fall. Brushing himself off and looking around, he is stopped dead in his tracks, his breath catching as he breathes in the foreign air.
His eyes widen at their exotic surroundings. "Blood red sky...but no sun." He directs the last bit to Sarm and Suvne, looking for wisdom in their reactions. As the group emerges from the alley, for the first time ever Tarkus feels out of place not for being a halfbreed but for being overly normal. "So many creatures..." At least Quintus will not have to hide his curse here.
So stunned by their bizarre surroundings, Tarkus is almost startled by the cat-like merchant speaking up. "Sigil...?" As Quintus quickly summarizes what he knows, he takes heed to stand closer to the group and remain vigilant.
Val bravely leaps through the open portal, and with a surprised "Oh SHIT!" promptly plummets from second story altittude. Fortunately he's able to roll into the fall and avoid serious injury, but it's still a bruiser of a fall. Picking himself up, his attention is drawn to the unnatural hue of the sky above them, followed in short order by the realization that the city seems never ending in its expansiveness, spreading from horizon to horizon in every direction. Even being the urban creature that he is, it's impossible to not be impressed by the scope of this megalopolis.
"Well this is certainly... different..." he muses aloud. The alieness of the city only increases as the group discovers that humans are in a distinct minority in this place. Self concious about how much his studied ability to blend in is suddenly standing out, Val pulls the hood of his cloak ((of charisma +6 unless anyone else wanted it)) over his head as far as it will go. "Well, at least I won't have to worry about powdering Quintus' nose while we're here..."
Fortunately Quintus seems to have a solid grasp of what's going on. "Well on the plus side, our pilfering friend with Sarm's property would stand out in a crowd as much as we do in this place. Hopefully he'll prove easy to track, though if every opening is a portal to some other plane, we may lose his trail quickly..."
"Well this is certainly... different..." he muses aloud. The alieness of the city only increases as the group discovers that humans are in a distinct minority in this place. Self concious about how much his studied ability to blend in is suddenly standing out, Val pulls the hood of his cloak ((of charisma +6 unless anyone else wanted it)) over his head as far as it will go. "Well, at least I won't have to worry about powdering Quintus' nose while we're here..."
Fortunately Quintus seems to have a solid grasp of what's going on. "Well on the plus side, our pilfering friend with Sarm's property would stand out in a crowd as much as we do in this place. Hopefully he'll prove easy to track, though if every opening is a portal to some other plane, we may lose his trail quickly..."
ThLunarian
Member
The cat-man clears his throat from behind his booth full of wares. "I know not where you come from, but surely you have manners there, yes? Do you not respond to a kind greeting? Please, if I am wrong, tell me your custom." He pauses to make sure he has the party's attention, then contines. "You are new here, and most of you are human so you will be easy targets. I can help." He pulls a map from a shelf and spreads it out on the counter. "You two. I see the emblem of the Sun God on your armor. Here is the nearest temple of Pelor.
"You, wizard: I am familiar with a popular alchemy emporium where necromancers and death-mages tend to frequent; that would be right up your alley, I am thinking?
"And you... An Orc you are, yes? There is a very popular bar owned and operated by orcs just a few blocks this way." As he lists each location, he makes a circle on a map with an inked quill.
He takes a moment to study Val, then says, "And you who seeks to remain hidden. Magical cloak sticks out like sore thumb to those who can see such things naturally. You maybe want invisibility magicks? I am knowing of a fantastic dealer of adornments of stealth that will render you invisible to all but the savviest creatures of the multiverse." He makes one more circle, then rolls the map up and smiles deviously. "Yours, for low price of 500 gold!"
"You, wizard: I am familiar with a popular alchemy emporium where necromancers and death-mages tend to frequent; that would be right up your alley, I am thinking?
"And you... An Orc you are, yes? There is a very popular bar owned and operated by orcs just a few blocks this way." As he lists each location, he makes a circle on a map with an inked quill.
He takes a moment to study Val, then says, "And you who seeks to remain hidden. Magical cloak sticks out like sore thumb to those who can see such things naturally. You maybe want invisibility magicks? I am knowing of a fantastic dealer of adornments of stealth that will render you invisible to all but the savviest creatures of the multiverse." He makes one more circle, then rolls the map up and smiles deviously. "Yours, for low price of 500 gold!"
Jackben
bitch I'm taking calls.
As the merchant points out several locations for the party to pursue, not wishing to be discourteous Tarkus speaks up. "No, just getting used to strange sky...thank you for help. Tarkus only half an Orc, but friendly Orc bar sound like a good place! May ask what creature you are?" Turning to the group he would voice his concerns privately "Not sure what to think. Seem better than nothing. Start with temple?"
ThLunarian
Member
"Half-Orc?" A queer look of uncertainty flickers in the cat-man's eyes. "Maybe not this bar then. Forgive; I know much about many things, but expert only at selling. Here." He crosses out a circle and draws another one. "This place better. Many Orc come, but maybe more accepting of the halves.
"As for me, I am from race called Khajit. Have enhanced senses, such as magical visions, and can smell undeath. I go by name J'baana, at your service. For you who are so kind to me, I give you discount. 475 gold for map."
"As for me, I am from race called Khajit. Have enhanced senses, such as magical visions, and can smell undeath. I go by name J'baana, at your service. For you who are so kind to me, I give you discount. 475 gold for map."
KittenMaster
Member
Sarm wakes up a bit uneasily, rubbing the away the strain his eyes have. After a yawn, he doesn't hesitate to start putting on his armor with a worker's haste knowing that there is much to accomplish today.
He first visits Val, who is probably still in his bed due to the heavy laden limbs he now has. He casts Restoration to give him back his speed. He then turns to seek where Quintis might be, and, in a very uncharacteristic move, casts Inflict Light Wounds to heal him of wounds he's taken in last night. ((EDIT: I might have to heal Suvne too, I'll work that out in a bit.))
He leaves with Tarkus to the shops, but soon breaks off to go a different direction to seek a particular kind of store. He stops a student as he walks to ask where one might sell magical weapons, and he's directed towards a side street near the campus, and is told that it is a very quaint, well kept house converted to a shop. Sarm thanks the student, and doesn't ask for anymore info than that.
Sarm doesn't realize how important the details are until he actually sees the building. It appears better equipped for a colder climate than what Emerald Bay is known for. He fathoms that it may be the design preference of the persons residing there.
The Cleric approaches the shop, glancing as he walks by over a large wooden sign that features a burned in logo of a sword set aflame, and below it similar care given to the shop's title, "The Martial Mystics." Making loud hollow steps onto the patio of the front door, Sarm pauses before opening to read a parchment stuck to the door's window by clay: "We have no alcohol here! Bother a nun for all that I care." Paying it no mind, he sees that the sign is turned open, and walks inside.
He finds himself walking into very warm reddish and brown colors, and a lobby meant to feel comfortable. He sees a chair behind a desk turn towards him, revealing a robed man holding a smoking pipe. With a genuinely surprised beaming grin, the man releases a breath of green mist in front of him, a very strange concoction not typical of any he's seen. Sarm's best guess would be access to an alchemist's creation. The man's voice is rather sharp and direct as he addresses Sarm the guest, "I wasn't expecting a visitor to arrive today, especially so early in the morning." The man has a stocky build whose shape is much hidden within the draping he wears, and his hair is pulled completely back, completely straight and lengthy. He glances over Sarm to take in his appearance, "And a Cleric at that. Please turn your shoulder for me.." he notices the symbol Sarm has on his armor, "Pelor, correct? A Cleric of Pelor in a city that features two completely unrelated gods and a populace that worships neither. I take it you're an adventurer?"
"Well..." Sarm begins, never having thought of himself as an adventurer, "Yes. I suppose you could call me that. I was hoping for a new weapon to continue my journey with."
The man nods, "Yes, yes," and begins to get up from his seat, and approaches Sarm, the smoke from the pipe becoming noticeable in its stench, its smell unpleasant and very chemical. Sarm can also see that the man is attempting to hide his age through some sort of face application, "You've come to the right place.." he pauses for emphasis, then continues, "At the wrong time.. I am open for business, but the tournament brings much business to my table and many our works are sold to competitors. My brother is out now to order shipments of materials while I look after shop."
Sarm is a bit discouraged, but decides since he only needs a quick upgrade to help him recover the Rod of Pelor, he looks back towards the shopkeeper, "I only need a simple enchanted Morning Star."
A thoughtful gaze to the side as a slow puff of the pipe happens, before the shopkeeper, still looking away with occupation of his stock motions Sarm over, "Very well. Come this way to the back where we keep our designs." He leads Sarm to a windowless room kept alit by candles, where there are various glass displays to show off the weapons, the weapons themselves sparsely filling the displays at this point. The shopkeeper speaks while touring Sarm though his stock, "Morning stars always were a very common weapon for Clerics. I do not get many Clerics in here, so I don't design many of them. I blacksmith the weapons and my brother imbues the magic in them, by the way. With so many clerics wanting a mace or a morning star, I predict that one of these days when the gods run out of things to disagree on, they'll start giving their warriors a different favored weapon just to try to be unique." He looks to Sarm and glances over him, "You, for example, would look fantastic with a Scimitar at your side."
The blacksmith of the two brothers asks Sarm how much he is willing to pay, then leads him through some of the cheaper magical maces. None in particular stand out and don't seem to be a huge improvement. The blacksmith is ready to give up on his selection before finally seeing a particular morning star, and moves to pick it up, "This... This should do you well for your modest purposes of just an upgrade." He opens the back door of the display case and pulls it out, reaching over the top of the counter and placing it on a red matting in the candle light.
"This is a Morning Star with two levels of magical strength and an electrical enchantment named Yasar." He darts a glare towards Sarm as he explains the weapon while holding it up, not giving Sarm a chance to interject, "It can be commanded to be electrified. As you can see by my unprotected hand, the magic will not hurt the one that commands it, but will add to how much your foe will hurt." He gives another voiced command, which renders the weapon normal again.
Sarm is skeptical, and asks, "You name your weapons? I don't know if lightning is-" "Your style?" the blacksmith asks, interrupting Sarm, "Style doesn't win battles. And yes, I do name my works. I would very much like to sell Yasar to you, as this is the strongest morning star we currently have in your price range."
Sarm takes the weapon and looks over it, "I suppose this.. Yasar should be fine for now." He isn't sure he wants to continue calling it by its supposed name.
Back in the front of the store, Sarm pays the store front with platinum he had converted to small ingots for easier managing, and some coins to pay for the type of weapon. The shopkeeper comes back with a glass for Sarm, "I figure you must be a Flan as well, correct? I figure you might appreciate a drink from your home lands."
((Yay, that took long. Back to adventure. I'm not even sure why I RP'd all of that.))
---
Knowledge: Planes: 1d20+6=20
Fast forward back to arriving in Sigil, Sarm feels under much pressure being a human Cleric from the material plane among a populace that surely would not find him welcome. In response to Val's assessment of the man that stole the Rod, Sarm responds, "If that is his true appearance, anyway..." Looking around and hearing the name of Sigil, Sarm immediately grasps his head in active recollection, "Sigil... Sigil..." He looks about and says to the others warns everyone about their search for the culprit, "The portal we went through isn't the only one.."
He first visits Val, who is probably still in his bed due to the heavy laden limbs he now has. He casts Restoration to give him back his speed. He then turns to seek where Quintis might be, and, in a very uncharacteristic move, casts Inflict Light Wounds to heal him of wounds he's taken in last night. ((EDIT: I might have to heal Suvne too, I'll work that out in a bit.))
He leaves with Tarkus to the shops, but soon breaks off to go a different direction to seek a particular kind of store. He stops a student as he walks to ask where one might sell magical weapons, and he's directed towards a side street near the campus, and is told that it is a very quaint, well kept house converted to a shop. Sarm thanks the student, and doesn't ask for anymore info than that.
Sarm doesn't realize how important the details are until he actually sees the building. It appears better equipped for a colder climate than what Emerald Bay is known for. He fathoms that it may be the design preference of the persons residing there.
The Cleric approaches the shop, glancing as he walks by over a large wooden sign that features a burned in logo of a sword set aflame, and below it similar care given to the shop's title, "The Martial Mystics." Making loud hollow steps onto the patio of the front door, Sarm pauses before opening to read a parchment stuck to the door's window by clay: "We have no alcohol here! Bother a nun for all that I care." Paying it no mind, he sees that the sign is turned open, and walks inside.
He finds himself walking into very warm reddish and brown colors, and a lobby meant to feel comfortable. He sees a chair behind a desk turn towards him, revealing a robed man holding a smoking pipe. With a genuinely surprised beaming grin, the man releases a breath of green mist in front of him, a very strange concoction not typical of any he's seen. Sarm's best guess would be access to an alchemist's creation. The man's voice is rather sharp and direct as he addresses Sarm the guest, "I wasn't expecting a visitor to arrive today, especially so early in the morning." The man has a stocky build whose shape is much hidden within the draping he wears, and his hair is pulled completely back, completely straight and lengthy. He glances over Sarm to take in his appearance, "And a Cleric at that. Please turn your shoulder for me.." he notices the symbol Sarm has on his armor, "Pelor, correct? A Cleric of Pelor in a city that features two completely unrelated gods and a populace that worships neither. I take it you're an adventurer?"
"Well..." Sarm begins, never having thought of himself as an adventurer, "Yes. I suppose you could call me that. I was hoping for a new weapon to continue my journey with."
The man nods, "Yes, yes," and begins to get up from his seat, and approaches Sarm, the smoke from the pipe becoming noticeable in its stench, its smell unpleasant and very chemical. Sarm can also see that the man is attempting to hide his age through some sort of face application, "You've come to the right place.." he pauses for emphasis, then continues, "At the wrong time.. I am open for business, but the tournament brings much business to my table and many our works are sold to competitors. My brother is out now to order shipments of materials while I look after shop."
Sarm is a bit discouraged, but decides since he only needs a quick upgrade to help him recover the Rod of Pelor, he looks back towards the shopkeeper, "I only need a simple enchanted Morning Star."
A thoughtful gaze to the side as a slow puff of the pipe happens, before the shopkeeper, still looking away with occupation of his stock motions Sarm over, "Very well. Come this way to the back where we keep our designs." He leads Sarm to a windowless room kept alit by candles, where there are various glass displays to show off the weapons, the weapons themselves sparsely filling the displays at this point. The shopkeeper speaks while touring Sarm though his stock, "Morning stars always were a very common weapon for Clerics. I do not get many Clerics in here, so I don't design many of them. I blacksmith the weapons and my brother imbues the magic in them, by the way. With so many clerics wanting a mace or a morning star, I predict that one of these days when the gods run out of things to disagree on, they'll start giving their warriors a different favored weapon just to try to be unique." He looks to Sarm and glances over him, "You, for example, would look fantastic with a Scimitar at your side."
The blacksmith of the two brothers asks Sarm how much he is willing to pay, then leads him through some of the cheaper magical maces. None in particular stand out and don't seem to be a huge improvement. The blacksmith is ready to give up on his selection before finally seeing a particular morning star, and moves to pick it up, "This... This should do you well for your modest purposes of just an upgrade." He opens the back door of the display case and pulls it out, reaching over the top of the counter and placing it on a red matting in the candle light.
"This is a Morning Star with two levels of magical strength and an electrical enchantment named Yasar." He darts a glare towards Sarm as he explains the weapon while holding it up, not giving Sarm a chance to interject, "It can be commanded to be electrified. As you can see by my unprotected hand, the magic will not hurt the one that commands it, but will add to how much your foe will hurt." He gives another voiced command, which renders the weapon normal again.
Sarm is skeptical, and asks, "You name your weapons? I don't know if lightning is-" "Your style?" the blacksmith asks, interrupting Sarm, "Style doesn't win battles. And yes, I do name my works. I would very much like to sell Yasar to you, as this is the strongest morning star we currently have in your price range."
Sarm takes the weapon and looks over it, "I suppose this.. Yasar should be fine for now." He isn't sure he wants to continue calling it by its supposed name.
Back in the front of the store, Sarm pays the store front with platinum he had converted to small ingots for easier managing, and some coins to pay for the type of weapon. The shopkeeper comes back with a glass for Sarm, "I figure you must be a Flan as well, correct? I figure you might appreciate a drink from your home lands."
((Yay, that took long. Back to adventure. I'm not even sure why I RP'd all of that.))
---
Knowledge: Planes: 1d20+6=20
Fast forward back to arriving in Sigil, Sarm feels under much pressure being a human Cleric from the material plane among a populace that surely would not find him welcome. In response to Val's assessment of the man that stole the Rod, Sarm responds, "If that is his true appearance, anyway..." Looking around and hearing the name of Sigil, Sarm immediately grasps his head in active recollection, "Sigil... Sigil..." He looks about and says to the others warns everyone about their search for the culprit, "The portal we went through isn't the only one.."
Jackben
bitch I'm taking calls.
((No way, man. That was a pleasure to read.))
Tarkus furrows his brow and scratches his chin inquisitively. "Very well, thank you for generosity, Jaybayna." Hoping he has not butchered the merchant's name too badly, he hands over a small bag of gold and accepts the rolled up parchment. Unrolling it and holding it before Sarm and Quintus, he glances sideways at the parchment and asks "Map won't teleport us by trap...right?"
KittenMaster
Member
((Can I just assume Sarm healed the non-Quintis lot before everyone went to bed at his parents' house, btw?))
Sarm stands back with the rest of the group, and glances over at the cat person from where he stands, commenting idly while Tarkus makes the basic exchange, "I find it odd, that persons outside of our home plane can look like feral creatures that reside there. Perhaps he became lost here at some point?" He would look at the map when it is presented to him.
Sarm stands back with the rest of the group, and glances over at the cat person from where he stands, commenting idly while Tarkus makes the basic exchange, "I find it odd, that persons outside of our home plane can look like feral creatures that reside there. Perhaps he became lost here at some point?" He would look at the map when it is presented to him.
ThLunarian
Member
((Yeah that's fine))
The map seems to be entirely ordinary and non-magical, and not incredibly detailed, but it is at least adequately marked so that it will be possible to reach any of the circled destinations without much trouble. There is a "You are here" marker in the center, and the map covers a ten mile by ten mile square section of the city.
You notice that J'baana has a variety of maps in his booth, of different shapes and sizes; he has just struck up a conversation with a passing tiefling and is not currently paying attention to you.
The map seems to be entirely ordinary and non-magical, and not incredibly detailed, but it is at least adequately marked so that it will be possible to reach any of the circled destinations without much trouble. There is a "You are here" marker in the center, and the map covers a ten mile by ten mile square section of the city.
You notice that J'baana has a variety of maps in his booth, of different shapes and sizes; he has just struck up a conversation with a passing tiefling and is not currently paying attention to you.
((My Skyrim character is a Khajit. I maxed out his pickpocketing skill tree and now steal the clothes that women are wearing out of boredom...))
Val inwardly scoffs at the notion that he would need magical implements of stealth. "Stealth is for those that can't hide out in plain sight," he mutters with the indignation of an artist explaining that a critic just doesn't understand his work, "It's best not to use a crutch, lest you become wholly reliant on it and fall down when you need it most for lack of practice."
Gazing over the map, Val's face screws up in mild frustration. "It's really not a lot to go on, but it's the only lead we've got. Someone at the temple of Pelor might be able to... I don't know, sense where the rod is or something? Surely if a chunk of their god's soul pass through recently they'd have noted it, yes? The thief also spoke of a plague of vampires, perhaps this den of necromancers would have a better idea of what plane that might be and where we can find it."
Val inwardly scoffs at the notion that he would need magical implements of stealth. "Stealth is for those that can't hide out in plain sight," he mutters with the indignation of an artist explaining that a critic just doesn't understand his work, "It's best not to use a crutch, lest you become wholly reliant on it and fall down when you need it most for lack of practice."
Gazing over the map, Val's face screws up in mild frustration. "It's really not a lot to go on, but it's the only lead we've got. Someone at the temple of Pelor might be able to... I don't know, sense where the rod is or something? Surely if a chunk of their god's soul pass through recently they'd have noted it, yes? The thief also spoke of a plague of vampires, perhaps this den of necromancers would have a better idea of what plane that might be and where we can find it."
ThLunarian
Member
The khajit looks Val up and down and seems to suppress a scoff. "Then perhaps, my friend, you should work on your technique. As I say, your sore thumb is sticking out."
As it happens, the temple of Pelor is the closest of the circled locations on the map, so the stroll through town begins in earnest. It becomes clear fairly quickly that this is an anything-goes sort of town; there does not seem to be any sort of law enforcement around, and the weak tend to be picked on by the strong.
Despite the lawlessness of it all, though, there is an inherent stability here in Sigil, such that the threat of anarchy is virtually nonexistent. Fights do tend to break out between members of diametrically-opposed factions (off on that side street over there, a chain devil can be spotted facing down a team of cherubs), but other passers-by stay out of it, by and large. It's hard to say whether this is due to some unknown forces at play, or whether the predisposition toward chaos is an exclusively human characteristic, and is therefore lacking here in Sigil.
After a short, but harrowing, detour onto an unusually wide avenue that seems to be designed exclusively for giants and other giant-sized creatures, the party manages to reach the temple without getting crushed beneath the foot of a titan.
The building is perhaps the size of the Mayor's recently-destroyed Manse back in Alydar - bigger than average here in Sigil, but still dwarfed by some of the formidable towers that pepper the landscape. Atop the pointed roof is a shining beacon of light, clearly meant to emulate the Sun which is so blatantly lacking here; statues of clerics and paladins line the sidewalk running across the front of the building. Its design is sound, and it is well-built out of carved stone and marble.
The front door opens into a large worship area, lined with pews. There don't seem to be any visitors here; the only beings present are obviously members of the clergy, and they seem to be tidying up. Consistent with the rest of the city, there are no humans here; the four visible clerics are two Devas, an Angel with an impressive set of wings, and a fire elemental that seems to be wearing a special set of robes which resist the heat being radiated.
The angel takes immediate notice when the party steps in, and seems to have a mixed reaction after recognizing the presence of Sarm and Suvne on one hand, and a clearly-undead creature on the other. "Welc- ahhh... yes, can I help you with something?"
As it happens, the temple of Pelor is the closest of the circled locations on the map, so the stroll through town begins in earnest. It becomes clear fairly quickly that this is an anything-goes sort of town; there does not seem to be any sort of law enforcement around, and the weak tend to be picked on by the strong.
Despite the lawlessness of it all, though, there is an inherent stability here in Sigil, such that the threat of anarchy is virtually nonexistent. Fights do tend to break out between members of diametrically-opposed factions (off on that side street over there, a chain devil can be spotted facing down a team of cherubs), but other passers-by stay out of it, by and large. It's hard to say whether this is due to some unknown forces at play, or whether the predisposition toward chaos is an exclusively human characteristic, and is therefore lacking here in Sigil.
After a short, but harrowing, detour onto an unusually wide avenue that seems to be designed exclusively for giants and other giant-sized creatures, the party manages to reach the temple without getting crushed beneath the foot of a titan.
The building is perhaps the size of the Mayor's recently-destroyed Manse back in Alydar - bigger than average here in Sigil, but still dwarfed by some of the formidable towers that pepper the landscape. Atop the pointed roof is a shining beacon of light, clearly meant to emulate the Sun which is so blatantly lacking here; statues of clerics and paladins line the sidewalk running across the front of the building. Its design is sound, and it is well-built out of carved stone and marble.
The front door opens into a large worship area, lined with pews. There don't seem to be any visitors here; the only beings present are obviously members of the clergy, and they seem to be tidying up. Consistent with the rest of the city, there are no humans here; the four visible clerics are two Devas, an Angel with an impressive set of wings, and a fire elemental that seems to be wearing a special set of robes which resist the heat being radiated.
The angel takes immediate notice when the party steps in, and seems to have a mixed reaction after recognizing the presence of Sarm and Suvne on one hand, and a clearly-undead creature on the other. "Welc- ahhh... yes, can I help you with something?"
KittenMaster
Member
Sarm responds to Val, informingly, "I feel the presence of my god weaken the moment the Rod leaves my hand, so I don't know.. If everyone still wishes to visit the Temple, I am curious as to how it fares in this sunless plane."
Sarm looks about in the Temple, able to see that today is not a day of worship. Catching the appearance of the angel, he suddenly feels intimidated and impressed from seeing one for the first time in his life. Stepping forward, Sarm does his best to keep confident, "Yes, we are currently on a quest to help retrieve something of Pelor's that was stolen from my guardianship. Do not worry about the undead with us, he is a friend and our quest will result in him returning normal."
Sarm looks about in the Temple, able to see that today is not a day of worship. Catching the appearance of the angel, he suddenly feels intimidated and impressed from seeing one for the first time in his life. Stepping forward, Sarm does his best to keep confident, "Yes, we are currently on a quest to help retrieve something of Pelor's that was stolen from my guardianship. Do not worry about the undead with us, he is a friend and our quest will result in him returning normal."
ThLunarian
Member
((Quintus, I keep forgetting to say this in my posts, but when you put the Hand of Vecna on you feel a very slow, steady stream of negative energy feeding into you. It was mild enough to shrug off and disregard as a human, but now as an undead, you find that it's actually nourishing you. As long as you're undead and wearing it, you have Fast Healing 1.))
As Sarm attempts to explain himself, the angel notices Quintus's gauntlet and disregards Sarm, drawing a glowing longsword from his scabbard and taking a defensive stance. "That wretched piece of profanity has no place in this sacred temple. Forgive me, brother in Pelor's light, but I must ask you and yours to leave here immediately, and don't return. This is your only warning." Suddenly it becomes very apparent that the angel is wearing a suit of armor under the robes, and he is wearing glistening metal gauntlets and enchanted boots.
The two devas and the fire elemental (none of which are wearing armor the way the angel is) grow visibly alarmed, and look ready to draw their weapons, though for now they aren't moving any closer.
As Sarm attempts to explain himself, the angel notices Quintus's gauntlet and disregards Sarm, drawing a glowing longsword from his scabbard and taking a defensive stance. "That wretched piece of profanity has no place in this sacred temple. Forgive me, brother in Pelor's light, but I must ask you and yours to leave here immediately, and don't return. This is your only warning." Suddenly it becomes very apparent that the angel is wearing a suit of armor under the robes, and he is wearing glistening metal gauntlets and enchanted boots.
The two devas and the fire elemental (none of which are wearing armor the way the angel is) grow visibly alarmed, and look ready to draw their weapons, though for now they aren't moving any closer.
DeadPhoenix
Member
Quintus backs away slowly, "Suddenly speaking to the necromancers is sounding like a good idea..."
Val should know better. Val does know better. But this talking catman is pushing all his buttons as a grand pianist coaxes a symphony from their instrument of choice. "I'm not exactly trying right now, damn it! It takes time to work my art! Finesse! All I've done is pull a hood upon my head, and you think you can critique my ability of subterfuge and give pointers? Well, let me tell you--"
The rest of the part drags Val away in the general direction of the temple of Pelor from the unflappable map vendor as he continues waxing philosophic about his "art," a final cry of "and another thing!" scarcely audible as they round the corner out of sight.
---
By the time they've reached the temple, he's cooled his temper a bit, though perhaps muttering thinly veiled comments about being a dog person. In any other place in the world Val knew, this temple would be a marvel known round the globe, but compared to the rest of Sigil, which is shaping up to consist of almost nothing but wonders compared to his home plane, it seems to rank at "oh. That's nice." at best. The beacon is a nice touch, and Val can't help but think of it as a lighthouse in a sea of city buildings.
Which is probably the intent.
Inside Val is initially shocked at the variety of worshipers of Pelor, but would later reflect that it only makes sense that there would be such variation in a place that seems relatively bereft of humans. Still, there's no time for sight seeing, as the angel has made his hostile intentions against Quintus clear. Inserting himself between the winged creature and Quintus, he starts hustling Quintus out the door while making a show of looking at his time piece. "Oh, would you look at the time? We were supposed to meet... that guy... and go... do that thing on that... other... plane... It was nice to meet you all, you have a lovely temple. Ta ta!"
Outside the temple, Val massages his temples with his fingers with his eyes closed. "We certainly should have seen that coming. I haven't felt this off my game since I was a street urchin running from the Ruby Keep Guard after getting caught with my hand in the purse of an inconveniently alert merchant."
The rest of the part drags Val away in the general direction of the temple of Pelor from the unflappable map vendor as he continues waxing philosophic about his "art," a final cry of "and another thing!" scarcely audible as they round the corner out of sight.
---
By the time they've reached the temple, he's cooled his temper a bit, though perhaps muttering thinly veiled comments about being a dog person. In any other place in the world Val knew, this temple would be a marvel known round the globe, but compared to the rest of Sigil, which is shaping up to consist of almost nothing but wonders compared to his home plane, it seems to rank at "oh. That's nice." at best. The beacon is a nice touch, and Val can't help but think of it as a lighthouse in a sea of city buildings.
Which is probably the intent.
Inside Val is initially shocked at the variety of worshipers of Pelor, but would later reflect that it only makes sense that there would be such variation in a place that seems relatively bereft of humans. Still, there's no time for sight seeing, as the angel has made his hostile intentions against Quintus clear. Inserting himself between the winged creature and Quintus, he starts hustling Quintus out the door while making a show of looking at his time piece. "Oh, would you look at the time? We were supposed to meet... that guy... and go... do that thing on that... other... plane... It was nice to meet you all, you have a lovely temple. Ta ta!"
Outside the temple, Val massages his temples with his fingers with his eyes closed. "We certainly should have seen that coming. I haven't felt this off my game since I was a street urchin running from the Ruby Keep Guard after getting caught with my hand in the purse of an inconveniently alert merchant."
Jackben
bitch I'm taking calls.
Tarkus fights the urge to reflexively reach for the greataxe strapped to his back and instead backs away slowly from the Angel. "Maybe Sarm and Suvne come alone next time..." Outside he sighs and frowns at Quintus suggestion of meeting with necromancers. "If we have to, so be it. But for me, do not trust or like corpse raisers."
KittenMaster
Member
Sarm is forced to nod and concede, especially at the defeated reactions of everyone else, "You are right. I hope we can be more welcome when our quest is complete and our plight is properly fixed." He turns and guides everyone out of the temple gracefully. Once everyone is out he says to everyone, seeming embarrassed at how poorly he managed the situation, "Forgive me, I should have thought to ask Quintis to stay outside. To be honest, he most likely wouldn't be welcome even as a living being as long as he holds the Hand."
"The necromancers... I do not wish to use their services.. The only thing I could ask of such kind are information about the Vampire Lord."
((EDIT: I was just introduced to Gizoogle from another thread and holy cow this thread when run through it.))
"The necromancers... I do not wish to use their services.. The only thing I could ask of such kind are information about the Vampire Lord."
((EDIT: I was just introduced to Gizoogle from another thread and holy cow this thread when run through it.))
ThLunarian
Member
Suvne is visibly pale and shaken from her encounter with the angel, and remains very quiet as the party navigates through the busy city streets.
If anyone was expecting the necromancers' den to be hidden in some dark basement in a bereft corner of town, they are sorely mistaken; Lazav's Alchemical Marketplace is prominently displayed on the corner of two streets. The building is enormous - far bigger than the temple, though the design is much simpler and blockier - and the sign can be seen from blocks away. The journey to get here took approximately two hours of walking.
The inside of the building is actually somewhat cavernous, with a very high ceiling reminiscent of a warehouse. Instead of a single uniform shop, this seems to be more akin to an indoor marketplace; there are various booths and stands scattered about, each selling a slightly different assortment of magical and alchemical reagents. If Ivor were here, he'd likely have a field day.
The great majority of these shops seem to specialize in the type of ingredients one might need to perform dark magicks, though, and the customer base is correspondingly unsavory (and there is a much greater concentration of humans here than anywhere else in the city so far). The party draws significant attention as it wanders around; some seem to be salivating over the Hand of Vecna, while others plainly give Sarm and Suvne the stink-eye, though no one is forthright with their hostility.
Near the center of the marketplace is a bar where a number of patrons are relaxing and socializing. Behind the bar is a bipedal creature that looks to be part devil and part humanoid. He is eyeing the party curiously, but with less interest than many of the customers.
Suvne is incredibly uncomfortable in this place.
If anyone was expecting the necromancers' den to be hidden in some dark basement in a bereft corner of town, they are sorely mistaken; Lazav's Alchemical Marketplace is prominently displayed on the corner of two streets. The building is enormous - far bigger than the temple, though the design is much simpler and blockier - and the sign can be seen from blocks away. The journey to get here took approximately two hours of walking.
The inside of the building is actually somewhat cavernous, with a very high ceiling reminiscent of a warehouse. Instead of a single uniform shop, this seems to be more akin to an indoor marketplace; there are various booths and stands scattered about, each selling a slightly different assortment of magical and alchemical reagents. If Ivor were here, he'd likely have a field day.
The great majority of these shops seem to specialize in the type of ingredients one might need to perform dark magicks, though, and the customer base is correspondingly unsavory (and there is a much greater concentration of humans here than anywhere else in the city so far). The party draws significant attention as it wanders around; some seem to be salivating over the Hand of Vecna, while others plainly give Sarm and Suvne the stink-eye, though no one is forthright with their hostility.
Near the center of the marketplace is a bar where a number of patrons are relaxing and socializing. Behind the bar is a bipedal creature that looks to be part devil and part humanoid. He is eyeing the party curiously, but with less interest than many of the customers.
Suvne is incredibly uncomfortable in this place.
DeadPhoenix
Member
Once inside the market place, Quintus remarks, "It now occurs to me I probably could have just shown them the Treaty... Oh well."
After reaching the bar, Quintus places 10 god pieces on the counter and says "Me and my friends could use a drink, and some information, we come to the right place?"
After reaching the bar, Quintus places 10 god pieces on the counter and says "Me and my friends could use a drink, and some information, we come to the right place?"
KittenMaster
Member
((We keep on thinking of stuff that would've improved our strategy post-mortem.))
As they walk through the streets, and says to Suvne with a lowered voice muffled by the musings of the crowds, "Look brave. We need your confidence more than ever." When Quintis decides to start for the bar, Sarm warns with the same level of hushness, "Be careful, you're being watched."
As they walk through the streets, and says to Suvne with a lowered voice muffled by the musings of the crowds, "Look brave. We need your confidence more than ever." When Quintis decides to start for the bar, Sarm warns with the same level of hushness, "Be careful, you're being watched."
Jackben
bitch I'm taking calls.
Tarkus whispers to Sarm "Good maybe to take script scroll to temple with Suvne later" in reference to Quintus quip about the Treaty. As the group goes into darker territory, Tarkus attempts to remain stoic and aloof. Similarly concerned that they will not be successful here but for the light rather than the dark, he puts on a scowl and walks up to the bar next to where Quintus has ordered a drink. He remains close to the undead wizard and returns any look that lingers too long with a warning glare.
ThLunarian
Member
"M'Lord," Suvne whispers in reply to Sarm, "I am not afraid; I am only dismayed that a den of villainy like this is allowed to prosper, so out in the open like this."
The barkeep takes the 10 gold, examines it for a second to verify its authenticity, and then shoves it into a pocket of his cloak. His sharp features twist into some semblance of a smile. "Money talks. What do you want to know?" He begins work on five drinks, with Quintus's being the first. "That is some remarkable work," he comments as he pours. "Rare is the wizard who can transform himself so completely without losing his mind in the process. I don't even see any scars on your hands, which means you must've used a ritual I'm unfamiliar with. If you're willing to share your technique, some folks around here would pay a pretty penny for it." He finishes his first concoction, which has a dirty-green, soupy quality to it. "Trust me, it doesn't look appetizing, but you're going to love it. Do NOT let your friends drink it though; it would be deadly to them." He proceeds to make four concoctions with more familiar ingredients: the standard gin-and-tonics get passed around, and the barkeep waits to hear what exactly the party is looking for.
The barkeep takes the 10 gold, examines it for a second to verify its authenticity, and then shoves it into a pocket of his cloak. His sharp features twist into some semblance of a smile. "Money talks. What do you want to know?" He begins work on five drinks, with Quintus's being the first. "That is some remarkable work," he comments as he pours. "Rare is the wizard who can transform himself so completely without losing his mind in the process. I don't even see any scars on your hands, which means you must've used a ritual I'm unfamiliar with. If you're willing to share your technique, some folks around here would pay a pretty penny for it." He finishes his first concoction, which has a dirty-green, soupy quality to it. "Trust me, it doesn't look appetizing, but you're going to love it. Do NOT let your friends drink it though; it would be deadly to them." He proceeds to make four concoctions with more familiar ingredients: the standard gin-and-tonics get passed around, and the barkeep waits to hear what exactly the party is looking for.
DeadPhoenix
Member
Quintus downs some of the 'concoction' and says "Unfortunately, before I can reveal the secret of my success, we need to find someone who stole an important item belonging to my friend here" he motions towards Sarm "An old man stole a rod, a powerful one blessed my Pelor himself, or so they say. We need to find him and fast, but all we know is that his home apparently has a serious vampire problem. Any chance you know where that might be, or at least could point us in the right direction to find it?" then grabs a few more gold pieces.
ThLunarian
Member
"Might want to keep your voice down when speaking ill of the undead, friend," the barkeep says with no apparent malice. "Some of our patrons may not take kindly to hearing you speak of a vampire 'problem'.
"That said... I don't know a thing about this thieving old man, and the mention of the sun-god's name makes my skin crawl. Generally speaking, though.... vampires are the sort to keep to themselves and work alone. Conditions would have to be just right for them to be able and willing to cause trouble in large numbers. We're likely looking at a plane with no natural sun and moderate temperatures, with a robust supply of mortals - most likely humans, possibly elves. Anything bigger or stronger than them are strong enough to defend themselves, generally speaking." He gestures at Tarkus as an example of the sort of creature he's talking about.
The bartender rubs his asymmetrical chin as he thinks aloud. "If I had to guess, I'd say you're looking to go to Ravenloft. That's bad news for you, since that's one of the hardest planes to travel to and fro. All's not lost, though; I may know a guy or two. Come back tomorrow at around this time, and I'll have something for you." He deftly plucks the additional gold pieces from Quintus's grasp, smiles again, and leaves the party to their drinks.
((You guys have the rest of the day to explore and/or wander around town, and find a suitable inn (and there are many, many varied choices, ranging from woodland-themed indoor forests to camp in, to hedonistic brothels, to your average run of the mill inn, to opulent monuments of luxury, to fantasy-fulfilling dens of illusion - think Holodecks, but run by magic.). Due to the nature of this place, you'll be able to find basically any type of business you want without a whole lot of trouble and without going very far))
"That said... I don't know a thing about this thieving old man, and the mention of the sun-god's name makes my skin crawl. Generally speaking, though.... vampires are the sort to keep to themselves and work alone. Conditions would have to be just right for them to be able and willing to cause trouble in large numbers. We're likely looking at a plane with no natural sun and moderate temperatures, with a robust supply of mortals - most likely humans, possibly elves. Anything bigger or stronger than them are strong enough to defend themselves, generally speaking." He gestures at Tarkus as an example of the sort of creature he's talking about.
The bartender rubs his asymmetrical chin as he thinks aloud. "If I had to guess, I'd say you're looking to go to Ravenloft. That's bad news for you, since that's one of the hardest planes to travel to and fro. All's not lost, though; I may know a guy or two. Come back tomorrow at around this time, and I'll have something for you." He deftly plucks the additional gold pieces from Quintus's grasp, smiles again, and leaves the party to their drinks.
((You guys have the rest of the day to explore and/or wander around town, and find a suitable inn (and there are many, many varied choices, ranging from woodland-themed indoor forests to camp in, to hedonistic brothels, to your average run of the mill inn, to opulent monuments of luxury, to fantasy-fulfilling dens of illusion - think Holodecks, but run by magic.). Due to the nature of this place, you'll be able to find basically any type of business you want without a whole lot of trouble and without going very far))
Jackben
bitch I'm taking calls.
Tarkus drains his cup and grunts, leaving a gold piece on the counter. Business having concluded, he gives a gruff nod to the barkeep and marches the group out of the den in a measured haste. Once they are suitably distanced from the nefarious quarter, Tarkus idly scratches his cheek while the crew plan their next move. "Prepare for trap in arranged meeting. Likely plan to swipe glove rather than help find portal for Raven world."
"Quintus artifact turn many dark eye. Juicy bait for evil. Too much attention. Maybe Val speak and try to charm tomorrow at meeting." Coming out of strategy mode, he remembers the debacle at the temple. Turning to the adepts of Pelor he asks quietly "Sarm...Suvne...think angel would forgive if explain?" He suggests that in the event that they would be allowed to approach alone, they should carry the Treaty in order to explain themselves. "Maybe still get aid or advice we trust." Tarkus offers to accompany them if they want to go but out of respect will wait outside the temple so that they may be received solely as disciples.
- - -
As the group finds themselves back out on the main streets of Sigil Tarkus is once again struck by the massive size of this city of doors. Completely out of depth for finding lodgings in terms of the sheer magically, ethically and exotically enabled choice, the unimaginable varieties seem to span on and on forever to the Half-Orc.
Walking about, he finds what appears to be a tunnel carved into the ground surrounded by elaborate glowing swirls which several small halflings immediately jump onto and are whisked into the tunnel by some kind of magic that makes Tarkus ears pop. A few blocks down is a giant mansion that appears to be surrounded by a sold wall of golden bricks, unblemished except for a giant copper gear attached to a thick cord that suddenly whirs into motion as Tarkus approaches. Stopping to watch, he sees a shimmering silver cage that appears to carry passengers wearing masks up and over the wall, before sliding open, allowing its cargo to depart.
A bit intimidated and hoping to find something modest, he finally sees two buildings reminiscent of the groups home plane. The first is what appears to be a brothel house advertising the pleasures of food, drink and women. The outside is polished marble adorned with red, heart shaped candles and a sign that depicts an overflowing mug of beer next to a leg of a mutton. It appears to have caught Val's attention.
Next door is a simple wooden building with a green sign that reads 'The Canopy Inn'. Confused by the name but nonetheless relieved to see something normal looking for a change Tarkus decides to give it a look. Walking towards the building, Tarkus is expecting modest accommodations and almost begins to wonder how it can do any business being such a plain-looking and relatively small place in a city surrounded by so much variety. As he attempts to pull open the door, the entire wall of the building appears to shimmer and a larger door appears in its place, somehow perfectly sized to his height. Shrugging to himself, he assumes this the extent of the magical trickery...until he finally steps inside.
The Canopy Music
((Pretend he's not holding a gun in that picture. Also this is the look on his face when he walks in.))
Once entered, a short and wood paneled hallway leads out like a dock onto the top of a tree...a tree that looks out onto a massively sized jungle, complete with giant flowers and overgrown plants of every color and variety. The lighting is dim inside and a dark swirl of pungent fog lingers near the floor that brings with it an exotic smell. Roped bridges and vines span across each treetop, leading to different areas of the jungle that Tarkus cannot even see. Pulled out of his stunned state by the sound of a hiss, he looks over to what appears to be the innkeeper, smiling from behind a log desk dotted with mushrooms. Nodding at Tarkus query, the Innkeep's tongue darts out from behind a row of razor-sharp teeth and leads Tarkus onward. "Another world in here..." the Half-Orc whispers to himself.
As the scaly innkeep shows him around, Tarkus is about to ask his name when the answer seems to float into his mind of its own accord: Ssarvartha.
Shivering a bit, Tarkus follows the innkeepers lead as he shows him how each room is it's own canopy atop a tree and when occupied covers itself with thick foliage that only parts to those with the 'key'...a unique flower pinned to the chest of the occupant. Each room is padded with a soft carpet of grass and contains natural amenities, drops of dew flowing into a leaf shaped like the basin of a sink, a hammock of woven vines and a giant mushroom that innkeep Ssarvartha inssisstss he lay on, patting it with his webbed hand. As Tarkus approaches, the mushroom appears to morph in size to accommodate him.
His curiosity and wonderment having caught the better of him, Tarkus hands over the requisite gold and receives a small blue flower in return that will control the room he is in. As he turns to ask Ssarvartha one more question, the words "mounam sarvartha satakam" appear in Tarkus head and he instead decides to remain quiet, deciding to wash up and let the group know where he has decided to lodge for the night.
((Thanks, thlunarian. Also I just imagined the lizard guy as being telepathic.))
"Quintus artifact turn many dark eye. Juicy bait for evil. Too much attention. Maybe Val speak and try to charm tomorrow at meeting." Coming out of strategy mode, he remembers the debacle at the temple. Turning to the adepts of Pelor he asks quietly "Sarm...Suvne...think angel would forgive if explain?" He suggests that in the event that they would be allowed to approach alone, they should carry the Treaty in order to explain themselves. "Maybe still get aid or advice we trust." Tarkus offers to accompany them if they want to go but out of respect will wait outside the temple so that they may be received solely as disciples.
- - -
As the group finds themselves back out on the main streets of Sigil Tarkus is once again struck by the massive size of this city of doors. Completely out of depth for finding lodgings in terms of the sheer magically, ethically and exotically enabled choice, the unimaginable varieties seem to span on and on forever to the Half-Orc.
Walking about, he finds what appears to be a tunnel carved into the ground surrounded by elaborate glowing swirls which several small halflings immediately jump onto and are whisked into the tunnel by some kind of magic that makes Tarkus ears pop. A few blocks down is a giant mansion that appears to be surrounded by a sold wall of golden bricks, unblemished except for a giant copper gear attached to a thick cord that suddenly whirs into motion as Tarkus approaches. Stopping to watch, he sees a shimmering silver cage that appears to carry passengers wearing masks up and over the wall, before sliding open, allowing its cargo to depart.
A bit intimidated and hoping to find something modest, he finally sees two buildings reminiscent of the groups home plane. The first is what appears to be a brothel house advertising the pleasures of food, drink and women. The outside is polished marble adorned with red, heart shaped candles and a sign that depicts an overflowing mug of beer next to a leg of a mutton. It appears to have caught Val's attention.
Next door is a simple wooden building with a green sign that reads 'The Canopy Inn'. Confused by the name but nonetheless relieved to see something normal looking for a change Tarkus decides to give it a look. Walking towards the building, Tarkus is expecting modest accommodations and almost begins to wonder how it can do any business being such a plain-looking and relatively small place in a city surrounded by so much variety. As he attempts to pull open the door, the entire wall of the building appears to shimmer and a larger door appears in its place, somehow perfectly sized to his height. Shrugging to himself, he assumes this the extent of the magical trickery...until he finally steps inside.
The Canopy Music
((Pretend he's not holding a gun in that picture. Also this is the look on his face when he walks in.))
Once entered, a short and wood paneled hallway leads out like a dock onto the top of a tree...a tree that looks out onto a massively sized jungle, complete with giant flowers and overgrown plants of every color and variety. The lighting is dim inside and a dark swirl of pungent fog lingers near the floor that brings with it an exotic smell. Roped bridges and vines span across each treetop, leading to different areas of the jungle that Tarkus cannot even see. Pulled out of his stunned state by the sound of a hiss, he looks over to what appears to be the innkeeper, smiling from behind a log desk dotted with mushrooms. Nodding at Tarkus query, the Innkeep's tongue darts out from behind a row of razor-sharp teeth and leads Tarkus onward. "Another world in here..." the Half-Orc whispers to himself.
As the scaly innkeep shows him around, Tarkus is about to ask his name when the answer seems to float into his mind of its own accord: Ssarvartha.
Shivering a bit, Tarkus follows the innkeepers lead as he shows him how each room is it's own canopy atop a tree and when occupied covers itself with thick foliage that only parts to those with the 'key'...a unique flower pinned to the chest of the occupant. Each room is padded with a soft carpet of grass and contains natural amenities, drops of dew flowing into a leaf shaped like the basin of a sink, a hammock of woven vines and a giant mushroom that innkeep Ssarvartha inssisstss he lay on, patting it with his webbed hand. As Tarkus approaches, the mushroom appears to morph in size to accommodate him.
His curiosity and wonderment having caught the better of him, Tarkus hands over the requisite gold and receives a small blue flower in return that will control the room he is in. As he turns to ask Ssarvartha one more question, the words "mounam sarvartha satakam" appear in Tarkus head and he instead decides to remain quiet, deciding to wash up and let the group know where he has decided to lodge for the night.
((Thanks, thlunarian. Also I just imagined the lizard guy as being telepathic.))
ThLunarian
Member
((Just wanted to say Bravo for that diatribe, Jackben. It was enthralling, even if I don't quite understand that last part about the words appearing in Tarkus's head))
Val is all too happy to quit the marketplace as soon as their business is concluded. The idea that practitioners of dark and forbidden arts would congregate so freely and in such large numbers was unthinkable back home, but he was quickly learning that as the intersection of every plane ever, Sigil was a place of mass cultural relativism.
"We should take pains to not to all return here, if we can help it," he remarks once they're back out out on the streets amidst the thronging hordes of inhumanity (why oh why did the dread place they just leave have the greatest concentrations of humans? What does that say about the species?). "Tarkus is right, Quintus and the Hand are a tempting target to that lot, and Sarm and Suvne are far from well loved to boot. Maybe just myself and Tarkus? If it is a trap, they'll probably follow us back... Not great, but better to have it out on our terms than wandering into yet another ambush."
Tarkus brings up a point about the treaty, and Val can't help but admire a sound tactical mind. "I don't know if the Treaty will hold much weight in this place, but it couldn't hurt to see is Suvne and Sarm can't smooth things over with them. No one is so zealously devoted as the true believer, and if they were to come around to the idea that we are doing Pelor's work, they could be invaluable allies. Especially if the necromantic types in there are plotting our demise to get the Hand. No one ever died from an overabundance of caution."
---
The city of Sigil runs over with astonishing and bewildering sights. It's enough so that one almost becomes bored with the constant onslaught of stimulation. Always with an eye to extralegal monetary opportunity, Val finds himself instinctively casing each building as they pass in turn. Organized crime sprouts in any city of reasonable size as flowers follow rain, so it stands to reason there must be outfits like his own in operation. What are the logistics involved in that?, he wonders. Imagine the resources needed to plot a heist in a world where every door or window is a potential gateway to another world entirely. Where the interior of any given building may have a different environment or laws of physics than the exterior. Given the fathomless scope of the city, a veritable army of Vals could spend a lifetime of lifetimes planning and executing schemes and never grow weary.
If there is an afterlife, Val would hope it's something like that.
While almost everything a man or other sapient being could want is for sale, Val hasn't the funds for anything he truly desires ((plus I still owe a bunch of cash)). Or at least so he thinks so, until the party passes a building with the universal symbols of comfort on display outside its polished marble entrance.
All types of comfort.
"You know, suddenly I have developed a fierce appetite. This place looks close enough to home for my tastes. I'll see you all in the... Whatever passes for morning around these parts." Wide grin on his face, Val throws open the exquisitely carved wooden doors to the establishment, framed in a doorway of golden light from within as it spills onto the street before the doors swing shut once more.
Inside the inn, you almost would mistake it for any well-to-do establishment in the Ruby Kingdom, with the exception of the fact that humans are still in the distinct minority. Regardless of being outnumbered, the atmosphere is raucous enough that everyone within can't help but have a good time. Taking a seat at a large table, Val sees a sizable hookah in the middle that the other occupants are partaking of, contributing to a haze of vivid purple smoke in the air. Partaking of the smoke when offered to him, Val is surprised to find it doesn't taste like smoke at all, but rather... He can't quite place it. Something long ago forgotten and buried in his childhood. Like if nostalgia had a flavor.
The effects of the smoke seem to be more than just to invoke a sense of fond remembrance, and in short order Val is as giddy as though he was well into a keg of ale, but without the loss of coordination. No, the actual ale does that part, and he is kept well supplied in the stuff by the buxom waitress who seems to appear whenever his plate is empty or flagon runs dry to dish up more savory meat and cold drink with a soft smile on her lips.
In short order, the lanterns are dimmed as the curtains on a stage at the forefront of the common room are pulled back. A performing troupe of human women prance out onto the platform in various states of undress and give a rousing burlesque show to the rowdy and receptive audience, who appear to be enthusiastically enjoying the show regardless of species. The show comes to an eventual ending, much to the groans of dismay of the audience, as the lights come back up. The eating, drinking, singing, and boasting continue unabated, much the same as when Val first arrived, though he is picking out far more human women working the crowd than he had noticed before.
Pleasantly full of good food and drink, and more than a little under the influence of a couple substances, Val heads to a large flight of red carpeted stairs leading to the upper levels. A silver haired woman of ample endowments who has clearly aged most graciously stands behind a podium at the foot of the grand staircase, and wordless hands a single golden key with a number on it to Val. Val, returns her smile, tips an invisible hat, and ascends the staircase.
The stairway leads to a dimly lit hallway, the rich carpeting doing much to reduce the din of the revelers down below. The air is heavy with the mysterious scent of the purple smoke, though the air appears free of haze up here. Inebriated though he is, he finds the room number to match the one on his key with little difficulty. Knocking to announce his presence, he slips the key into the receptive hole (after a couple false attempts), turns the tumblers, and enters.
His eyebrows rise at the sight of the room. Though it's extremely comfortable looking, it's not at all what he would have expected. Richly furnished and decorated, but with cold stone stone walls. Actually, Val quite likes it, it's exactly like his home back in Ruby Keep before all the... Unpleasantness. Now that he thinks about it, this room is an exact copy of--
"Valerie?" Val asks of the red haired female figure sitting at a vanity with her back to him, his voice wavering with confusion and intoxication. She turns to face him, smile broad on her face so familiar that no amount of disguise or prosthetics could hide her identity from him.
"Valgar!" she exclaims gladly, standing to meet him, silky night clothes flowing and cascading over her figure. "I'm so happy you've come!"
Val stands ramrod still as Valerie intertwines her arms around him and kisses him. All the headiness he's been experiencing until this point has evaporated. "What is this?" he chokes out when his sister's doppleganger pauses for breath.
"Well that's a silly question," Valerie answers as she peppers his neck with kisses and deftly unties the bindings on his green armor. "This is just what you want. Just how you remember it."
Val doesn't assist in "Valerie's" efforts, but he doesn't exactly resist. "This isn't how I remember it. This... This never happened between us... We..." his voice trails off as he loses track of what he was even going to say.
"Memory is notoriously unreliable, love. How many times have you taken advantage of that? Besides," she added as his trousers hit the floor, "this is better than you remember it." As though in a dream, Val takes her hand and follows her to the bed in the room that is in every way an exact replica of Valerie's, right down to details unknown to all but the two of them.
And eventually, it was morning.
((Just to reiterate because otherwise I'd feel REALLY dirty, Val and Valerie aren't blood relation.))
"We should take pains to not to all return here, if we can help it," he remarks once they're back out out on the streets amidst the thronging hordes of inhumanity (why oh why did the dread place they just leave have the greatest concentrations of humans? What does that say about the species?). "Tarkus is right, Quintus and the Hand are a tempting target to that lot, and Sarm and Suvne are far from well loved to boot. Maybe just myself and Tarkus? If it is a trap, they'll probably follow us back... Not great, but better to have it out on our terms than wandering into yet another ambush."
Tarkus brings up a point about the treaty, and Val can't help but admire a sound tactical mind. "I don't know if the Treaty will hold much weight in this place, but it couldn't hurt to see is Suvne and Sarm can't smooth things over with them. No one is so zealously devoted as the true believer, and if they were to come around to the idea that we are doing Pelor's work, they could be invaluable allies. Especially if the necromantic types in there are plotting our demise to get the Hand. No one ever died from an overabundance of caution."
---
The city of Sigil runs over with astonishing and bewildering sights. It's enough so that one almost becomes bored with the constant onslaught of stimulation. Always with an eye to extralegal monetary opportunity, Val finds himself instinctively casing each building as they pass in turn. Organized crime sprouts in any city of reasonable size as flowers follow rain, so it stands to reason there must be outfits like his own in operation. What are the logistics involved in that?, he wonders. Imagine the resources needed to plot a heist in a world where every door or window is a potential gateway to another world entirely. Where the interior of any given building may have a different environment or laws of physics than the exterior. Given the fathomless scope of the city, a veritable army of Vals could spend a lifetime of lifetimes planning and executing schemes and never grow weary.
If there is an afterlife, Val would hope it's something like that.
While almost everything a man or other sapient being could want is for sale, Val hasn't the funds for anything he truly desires ((plus I still owe a bunch of cash)). Or at least so he thinks so, until the party passes a building with the universal symbols of comfort on display outside its polished marble entrance.
All types of comfort.
"You know, suddenly I have developed a fierce appetite. This place looks close enough to home for my tastes. I'll see you all in the... Whatever passes for morning around these parts." Wide grin on his face, Val throws open the exquisitely carved wooden doors to the establishment, framed in a doorway of golden light from within as it spills onto the street before the doors swing shut once more.
Inside the inn, you almost would mistake it for any well-to-do establishment in the Ruby Kingdom, with the exception of the fact that humans are still in the distinct minority. Regardless of being outnumbered, the atmosphere is raucous enough that everyone within can't help but have a good time. Taking a seat at a large table, Val sees a sizable hookah in the middle that the other occupants are partaking of, contributing to a haze of vivid purple smoke in the air. Partaking of the smoke when offered to him, Val is surprised to find it doesn't taste like smoke at all, but rather... He can't quite place it. Something long ago forgotten and buried in his childhood. Like if nostalgia had a flavor.
The effects of the smoke seem to be more than just to invoke a sense of fond remembrance, and in short order Val is as giddy as though he was well into a keg of ale, but without the loss of coordination. No, the actual ale does that part, and he is kept well supplied in the stuff by the buxom waitress who seems to appear whenever his plate is empty or flagon runs dry to dish up more savory meat and cold drink with a soft smile on her lips.
In short order, the lanterns are dimmed as the curtains on a stage at the forefront of the common room are pulled back. A performing troupe of human women prance out onto the platform in various states of undress and give a rousing burlesque show to the rowdy and receptive audience, who appear to be enthusiastically enjoying the show regardless of species. The show comes to an eventual ending, much to the groans of dismay of the audience, as the lights come back up. The eating, drinking, singing, and boasting continue unabated, much the same as when Val first arrived, though he is picking out far more human women working the crowd than he had noticed before.
Pleasantly full of good food and drink, and more than a little under the influence of a couple substances, Val heads to a large flight of red carpeted stairs leading to the upper levels. A silver haired woman of ample endowments who has clearly aged most graciously stands behind a podium at the foot of the grand staircase, and wordless hands a single golden key with a number on it to Val. Val, returns her smile, tips an invisible hat, and ascends the staircase.
The stairway leads to a dimly lit hallway, the rich carpeting doing much to reduce the din of the revelers down below. The air is heavy with the mysterious scent of the purple smoke, though the air appears free of haze up here. Inebriated though he is, he finds the room number to match the one on his key with little difficulty. Knocking to announce his presence, he slips the key into the receptive hole (after a couple false attempts), turns the tumblers, and enters.
His eyebrows rise at the sight of the room. Though it's extremely comfortable looking, it's not at all what he would have expected. Richly furnished and decorated, but with cold stone stone walls. Actually, Val quite likes it, it's exactly like his home back in Ruby Keep before all the... Unpleasantness. Now that he thinks about it, this room is an exact copy of--
"Valerie?" Val asks of the red haired female figure sitting at a vanity with her back to him, his voice wavering with confusion and intoxication. She turns to face him, smile broad on her face so familiar that no amount of disguise or prosthetics could hide her identity from him.
"Valgar!" she exclaims gladly, standing to meet him, silky night clothes flowing and cascading over her figure. "I'm so happy you've come!"
Val stands ramrod still as Valerie intertwines her arms around him and kisses him. All the headiness he's been experiencing until this point has evaporated. "What is this?" he chokes out when his sister's doppleganger pauses for breath.
"Well that's a silly question," Valerie answers as she peppers his neck with kisses and deftly unties the bindings on his green armor. "This is just what you want. Just how you remember it."
Val doesn't assist in "Valerie's" efforts, but he doesn't exactly resist. "This isn't how I remember it. This... This never happened between us... We..." his voice trails off as he loses track of what he was even going to say.
"Memory is notoriously unreliable, love. How many times have you taken advantage of that? Besides," she added as his trousers hit the floor, "this is better than you remember it." As though in a dream, Val takes her hand and follows her to the bed in the room that is in every way an exact replica of Valerie's, right down to details unknown to all but the two of them.
And eventually, it was morning.
((Just to reiterate because otherwise I'd feel REALLY dirty, Val and Valerie aren't blood relation.))
KittenMaster
Member
Sarm nods to Suvne, "I agree." Turning to Tarkus, he responds, "Yes. I will attempt to make things right with the worshippers of Pelor." He also hopes that an angel being an ethereal creature would allow it to easily recognize the writing of the gods, even if it still cannot read it.
((It'll probably be some time before I can think of what to write up for the holodeck inn.))
((It'll probably be some time before I can think of what to write up for the holodeck inn.))
((Don't worry I won't spend several 100pp pages giving you a hard time about it.))
DeadPhoenix
Member
Not all that surprise the party is splitting after suggested not doing that, he has a quick talk with Sarm before he leaves with Suvne to to do w/e it is they do, "Assuming this whole thing actually pans out and we can find that old mans home plane, you both will probably want to be prepared for battle against vampires. No doubt your sun god will be able to help you with that. As for me, I will see if I can find a few spells for that as well and see if I can do some research on Ravenloft so we can be better prepared for what we might find there, perhaps even a way to reach there in case they are in fact planning an ambush." Quintus then offers up the Treaty of Worms in case Sarm wants to try temple of Pelor again, either way he sets off to find the library and a magical scroll store.
KittenMaster
Member
((I might not go into a fantasy fufilling inn afterall, if this treaty thing works out.))
Taking the Treaty and slipping it carefully under his cloak, saying to Quintis, "If we are able to convince the worshippers of Pelor that we are to be trusted, then we'll likely ask for refuge there for the night."
Taking the Treaty and slipping it carefully under his cloak, saying to Quintis, "If we are able to convince the worshippers of Pelor that we are to be trusted, then we'll likely ask for refuge there for the night."
ThLunarian
Member
With Tarkus and Val indisposed in their own respective lands of wonders, Suvne, Quintus, and Val get down to business. After a bit of asking around, Quintus finds a well-sized library, and is suddenly struck by the notion that EVERY SINGLE BOOK on the shelves is full of completely new information - a treasure trove of learning like he's never imagined. The temptation to simply grab a book and start reading is great, but he is able to set his mind to task, and after taking some time to work out the filing system, he finds an entry about Ravenloft fairly easily.
Forsaken by the Good-aligned gods, Ravenloft has no sun, and its sky is said to be completely black. There are three major population segments; Vampires rule one continent, and devils the other. Both freely and openly subjugate the third segment - human beings -, using them as slave labor, food supply, and generally in whatever way suits their fancy.
The very fabric of Ravenloft itself is chock full of negative energy, which tends to channel itself into the fears of any mortal visitors, and even Paladins - who are normally immune to magical fear effects - find no quarter against the horrors, both real and imagined, lurking in Ravenloft.
Apart from the cities, which tend to stay reasonably static, the geography of Ravenloft is ever-changing, and therefore no reliable maps can be found. Although Ravenloft can theoretically be accessed from almost any plane in the Multiverse, it is extremely difficult to willingly travel to and fro; generally-speaking, Ravenloft finds you, you don't find it - and escape is almost impossible.
----
Sarm and Suvne return to the Temple of Pelor, this time with the Treaty of Worms in hand, and enter with respectful caution.
"You," the Angel says alertly. He peers around to check for Quintus, and relaxes only slightly upon failing to find him. "I thought I told you not to return here. We want no part of a group that includes one who has taken up with the Hidden One, even - especially - a group that includes ostensible followers of Pelor. What's this you have here..?" The angel takes the Treaty in hand and looks it over curiously.
"I... I can't read this," he says astoundedly, as if he's never come across a language he couldn't instantaneously decipher. "That can only mean that... Oh my. Excuse me a moment. Azule, Falam, please keep an eye on our guests. This shouldn't take long." The angel, treaty in hand, disappears - but, rather than keeping with the angel, the treaty instead reappears in Sarm's hand.
Ten minutes pass; during that time, the two bald-headed, purple-skinned devas stand nearby in an awkward silence. Finally, the angel reappears without fanfare. "Lord Sarm and Lady Suvne," the angel bows on one knee, "Forgive me for my behavior earlier. I knew not of your quest, divined by Our Holy Master Pelor himself, and was blinded by my own biases. Please accept our apologies and our hospitality, and allow us to provide any assistance within our power that you may require. I only ask, respectfully, that if your companion Quintus chooses to return here, would he please conceal the Hand of Vecna from sight. I would hope to avoid upsetting any clergy members."
Suvne looks at Sarm, stunned and at a loss for words. Her mind seems unable to process the fact that a holy angel is bowing to her and offering its servitude.
Forsaken by the Good-aligned gods, Ravenloft has no sun, and its sky is said to be completely black. There are three major population segments; Vampires rule one continent, and devils the other. Both freely and openly subjugate the third segment - human beings -, using them as slave labor, food supply, and generally in whatever way suits their fancy.
The very fabric of Ravenloft itself is chock full of negative energy, which tends to channel itself into the fears of any mortal visitors, and even Paladins - who are normally immune to magical fear effects - find no quarter against the horrors, both real and imagined, lurking in Ravenloft.
Apart from the cities, which tend to stay reasonably static, the geography of Ravenloft is ever-changing, and therefore no reliable maps can be found. Although Ravenloft can theoretically be accessed from almost any plane in the Multiverse, it is extremely difficult to willingly travel to and fro; generally-speaking, Ravenloft finds you, you don't find it - and escape is almost impossible.
----
Sarm and Suvne return to the Temple of Pelor, this time with the Treaty of Worms in hand, and enter with respectful caution.
"You," the Angel says alertly. He peers around to check for Quintus, and relaxes only slightly upon failing to find him. "I thought I told you not to return here. We want no part of a group that includes one who has taken up with the Hidden One, even - especially - a group that includes ostensible followers of Pelor. What's this you have here..?" The angel takes the Treaty in hand and looks it over curiously.
"I... I can't read this," he says astoundedly, as if he's never come across a language he couldn't instantaneously decipher. "That can only mean that... Oh my. Excuse me a moment. Azule, Falam, please keep an eye on our guests. This shouldn't take long." The angel, treaty in hand, disappears - but, rather than keeping with the angel, the treaty instead reappears in Sarm's hand.
Ten minutes pass; during that time, the two bald-headed, purple-skinned devas stand nearby in an awkward silence. Finally, the angel reappears without fanfare. "Lord Sarm and Lady Suvne," the angel bows on one knee, "Forgive me for my behavior earlier. I knew not of your quest, divined by Our Holy Master Pelor himself, and was blinded by my own biases. Please accept our apologies and our hospitality, and allow us to provide any assistance within our power that you may require. I only ask, respectfully, that if your companion Quintus chooses to return here, would he please conceal the Hand of Vecna from sight. I would hope to avoid upsetting any clergy members."
Suvne looks at Sarm, stunned and at a loss for words. Her mind seems unable to process the fact that a holy angel is bowing to her and offering its servitude.
KittenMaster
Member
((Our Game Genie cheat code saves the day again.))
Sarm considers the fantastic locales of residence that house great worlds of pleasure and fantasy. As he gazes on at the worlds he grows less and less impressed, his thoughts only filled with how inadequate of a replacement they would be for where he really wants to be: back at home with his people. Real people, with real challenges in interaction and real appreciation for his duty and returning alive. With that, he heads for the Temple of Pelor, the closest thing he has to a home, and it is filled with beings that unwelcome him.
When Sarm is chafed at his dare to present himself in front of the angelic follower of Pelor, he gives a critical look, knowing that even just stepping back in is crossing the line of danger at this point, "I would not return here if I was not prepared to show you how complex my quest actually is that I am forced to compromise myself. We should have shown you this to begin with." He pulls his cloak, to show the parchment slipped behind the weapon named Yasir, and carefully slides it from its location to hand it to the angelic being.
The Cleric as a person of interest holds out his palm to allow the parchment to fall back into his hand when it reappears, and waits patiently under the guard of the tinted creatures, the angel's reaction having given him much confidence that he no longer needs to guise his expression.
Once the wait is over, Sarm would not be able to express how greatly relieved he is that the Treaty could explain him better with unreadable language than he could with even his best choice of words in common. Seeing the angel bow on one knee, Sarm would attempt to halt the gesture with his modesty, "Please, we are equals that both worship the same god. There is no need to show me this level of respect. You are right to be concerned, and it is I that should ask forgiveness for alarming everyone." He would agree to the condition given, especially since he already predicted that the Hand would make Quintis unwelcome even as a living being.
Whenever he has the chance to make dialogue, Sarm explains, "The help I seek is in recovering a relic that belongs to Pelor that was stolen from my guardianship. I first ask if there was a person.. a creature similarly shaped like myself, but with pale, dull skin and hair that grows from his chin that would have had to come here to learn more about Pelor's powers."
Sarm considers the fantastic locales of residence that house great worlds of pleasure and fantasy. As he gazes on at the worlds he grows less and less impressed, his thoughts only filled with how inadequate of a replacement they would be for where he really wants to be: back at home with his people. Real people, with real challenges in interaction and real appreciation for his duty and returning alive. With that, he heads for the Temple of Pelor, the closest thing he has to a home, and it is filled with beings that unwelcome him.
When Sarm is chafed at his dare to present himself in front of the angelic follower of Pelor, he gives a critical look, knowing that even just stepping back in is crossing the line of danger at this point, "I would not return here if I was not prepared to show you how complex my quest actually is that I am forced to compromise myself. We should have shown you this to begin with." He pulls his cloak, to show the parchment slipped behind the weapon named Yasir, and carefully slides it from its location to hand it to the angelic being.
The Cleric as a person of interest holds out his palm to allow the parchment to fall back into his hand when it reappears, and waits patiently under the guard of the tinted creatures, the angel's reaction having given him much confidence that he no longer needs to guise his expression.
Once the wait is over, Sarm would not be able to express how greatly relieved he is that the Treaty could explain him better with unreadable language than he could with even his best choice of words in common. Seeing the angel bow on one knee, Sarm would attempt to halt the gesture with his modesty, "Please, we are equals that both worship the same god. There is no need to show me this level of respect. You are right to be concerned, and it is I that should ask forgiveness for alarming everyone." He would agree to the condition given, especially since he already predicted that the Hand would make Quintis unwelcome even as a living being.
Whenever he has the chance to make dialogue, Sarm explains, "The help I seek is in recovering a relic that belongs to Pelor that was stolen from my guardianship. I first ask if there was a person.. a creature similarly shaped like myself, but with pale, dull skin and hair that grows from his chin that would have had to come here to learn more about Pelor's powers."
ThLunarian
Member
The angel rises to standing position and nods as he listens to Sarm. "Yes, I spoke to His Holiness and was briefed as much as possible on your situation. Pelor is aware of the predicament with the Sacred Rod, but is unable to give me its whereabouts due to some binding agreement - likely the one in your hands."
"And unfortunately, I know nothing of the bearded man you spoke of. However, I am able to provide sanctuary and room and board for you and yours, and if you require any assistance apart from discerning the Rod's location, please do not hesitate to come to me. My name is Amriel; these are Azule and Falam, both unflinchingly loyal servants to Pelor. At least one of us will be available here at all times; you are always welcome to perform a Sending if you need to contact us from afar. Now, the hour grows late; if you require lodging this evening, I will have rooms prepared immediately. If not, I can supply you with provisions before you go on your way."
"And unfortunately, I know nothing of the bearded man you spoke of. However, I am able to provide sanctuary and room and board for you and yours, and if you require any assistance apart from discerning the Rod's location, please do not hesitate to come to me. My name is Amriel; these are Azule and Falam, both unflinchingly loyal servants to Pelor. At least one of us will be available here at all times; you are always welcome to perform a Sending if you need to contact us from afar. Now, the hour grows late; if you require lodging this evening, I will have rooms prepared immediately. If not, I can supply you with provisions before you go on your way."
KittenMaster
Member
Sarm smiles and thanks Amriel, "The sanctuary is most welcome, Sir Amriel. There is nowhere else I would rather be on this plane. I do have one more question before we retire, the man in question intends to use the Rod to fight vampires in a dark plane. Do you know anything about the conflict against the vampires there, and how we may enter the plane?" He knows that the others intend to ask in... other places, but perhaps in the morning he can relay what he finds out before a mistake is made.
After that, the two would find a place to sleep in the Temple, and Sarm begins to prepare new spells based on what he expects.
((Is there a knowledge roll that can be made about Vampires?))
After that, the two would find a place to sleep in the Temple, and Sarm begins to prepare new spells based on what he expects.
((Is there a knowledge roll that can be made about Vampires?))
ThLunarian
Member
((Knowledge Religion would give you general knowledge about vampires; to see how much you know about this specific group, you'd need to roll Knowledge Planes.))
Amriel doesn't speak for a moment, and his eyes move around randomly; it looks like he's trying to process some information. "Vampires on a dark plane? My first instinct is to suggest Ravenloft, but if that is where the Rod has been taken, then I am afraid the situation is dire. In all the millennia I have spent here, tending this temple, I have never so much as heard a whisper about a gate leading to Ravenloft.
"That does not mean none exist; those who would enter a temple of Pelor rarely have cause to journey to such a place, so that sort of information would simply not cross my path. My best advice is to continue asking around. Surely there are many who know this city far better than I do."
Amriel doesn't speak for a moment, and his eyes move around randomly; it looks like he's trying to process some information. "Vampires on a dark plane? My first instinct is to suggest Ravenloft, but if that is where the Rod has been taken, then I am afraid the situation is dire. In all the millennia I have spent here, tending this temple, I have never so much as heard a whisper about a gate leading to Ravenloft.
"That does not mean none exist; those who would enter a temple of Pelor rarely have cause to journey to such a place, so that sort of information would simply not cross my path. My best advice is to continue asking around. Surely there are many who know this city far better than I do."
Jackben
bitch I'm taking calls.
Bright and colorful vision-like dreams course through Tarkus mind as he sleeps that night. When he wakes he feels nonetheless refreshed and spends the morning stretching his legs as he explores the inn. Finally checking out, he nods a wordless thanks to Ssarvartha and steps back onto the streets of Sigil. Back into unnatural world... he thinks, nonplussed at the irony that much of what he experienced in The Canopy was likely magick born.
Pausing to check out the pleasure palace across the street for sign of Val, he waits for him before embarking next towards the Temple of Pelor to enact the next step of their plan. "Yield no safety for meeting..." he whispers, steeling himself for the re-encounter with the evil denizens of the dark quarter.
Pausing to check out the pleasure palace across the street for sign of Val, he waits for him before embarking next towards the Temple of Pelor to enact the next step of their plan. "Yield no safety for meeting..." he whispers, steeling himself for the re-encounter with the evil denizens of the dark quarter.
Val awakes the next morning in confusion. He had drifted off to sleep in Valerie's chambers, impossibly transported to this plane of existence, but awoke in a relatively small, unadorned room with wooden walls. His belongings were neatly stacked by the one door, (which comfortingly enough matched the door he had entered the night previously), so at least he wasn't a victim of robbery.
Once dressed, he steps out into the hall, but finds it scarcely more familiar than the room he left. The dimensions are the same as the hall he remembered from last night, but it had been mysteriously stripped of all its opulence, leaving nothing but bare wooden floors and walls. The clinging, nostalgic scent of the purple smoke is gone as well.
The rest of the inn is in much a similar shape as he departs; the same size and layout as the night before, but devoid of defining characteristics. On the podium at the base of the now quite plain staircase, a folded note is addressed to him. It is of course the bill, with instructions to deposit his coinage in a small slot in the podium itself.
He does so, and the double doors ahead of him swing open of their own accord, letting in the sights and sounds of Sigil as a new "day" dawns in the turbulent red bowl of a sky above the city. Val exits, having not seen a solitary soul since waking up, wondering just what everyone else in attendance last night had witnessed themselves.
---
Once on the street, he quickly picks out Tarkus standing amongst the ceaselessly churning crowd. Struggling to express his experience, eventually he simply states, "I had the strangest night..."
On their way to rendezvous with the rest at Pelor's temple, he nods in agreement with Tarkus's threat assessment. "Let us hope that Sarm and Suvne made amends with the clerics and priests at the temple. If we're going to be having dealings with such dark elements, it's best to bring a little light to shine upon them."
Once dressed, he steps out into the hall, but finds it scarcely more familiar than the room he left. The dimensions are the same as the hall he remembered from last night, but it had been mysteriously stripped of all its opulence, leaving nothing but bare wooden floors and walls. The clinging, nostalgic scent of the purple smoke is gone as well.
The rest of the inn is in much a similar shape as he departs; the same size and layout as the night before, but devoid of defining characteristics. On the podium at the base of the now quite plain staircase, a folded note is addressed to him. It is of course the bill, with instructions to deposit his coinage in a small slot in the podium itself.
He does so, and the double doors ahead of him swing open of their own accord, letting in the sights and sounds of Sigil as a new "day" dawns in the turbulent red bowl of a sky above the city. Val exits, having not seen a solitary soul since waking up, wondering just what everyone else in attendance last night had witnessed themselves.
---
Once on the street, he quickly picks out Tarkus standing amongst the ceaselessly churning crowd. Struggling to express his experience, eventually he simply states, "I had the strangest night..."
On their way to rendezvous with the rest at Pelor's temple, he nods in agreement with Tarkus's threat assessment. "Let us hope that Sarm and Suvne made amends with the clerics and priests at the temple. If we're going to be having dealings with such dark elements, it's best to bring a little light to shine upon them."
KittenMaster
Member
((I think Sarm's already acted enough like he doesn't know much about Ravenloft so I'll just row Religion))
Knowledge: Religion: 1d20+14=27
Sarm wakes no with no disillusion that he was in anywhere other than a strange plane. He says his goodbyes to the inhabitants of the Temple and soon finds himself stepping outside to see Val and Tarkus, and Quintis if Quintis follows as well. He informs them of the good news, but was not able to find out any new information. He also warns that he had to agree that the Hand cannot be near the presence of the Temple.
Knowledge: Religion: 1d20+14=27
Sarm wakes no with no disillusion that he was in anywhere other than a strange plane. He says his goodbyes to the inhabitants of the Temple and soon finds himself stepping outside to see Val and Tarkus, and Quintis if Quintis follows as well. He informs them of the good news, but was not able to find out any new information. He also warns that he had to agree that the Hand cannot be near the presence of the Temple.
ThLunarian
Member
Sarm knows that vampires are undead, and can only be killed either by exposure to natural sunlight, or by a wooden stake through the heart. As intelligent undead, they have innate resistance to Turning and Rebuking (though they aren't immune to it). The vast majority of them are evil, but they do not tend in either direction on the Law-Chaos axis.
Vampires are immortal, though they grow weak and hungry without nourishment. They can only consume the blood of living creatures. They find the taste of humanoid blood most appetizing. They dislike garlic and holy water, but cannot be killed by them.
Vampires are usually fairly rare, and as such, they normally live isolated existences as lone hunters. However, it seems very plausible that, should large numbers of them gather together, they could form a working society.
Vampires are immortal, though they grow weak and hungry without nourishment. They can only consume the blood of living creatures. They find the taste of humanoid blood most appetizing. They dislike garlic and holy water, but cannot be killed by them.
Vampires are usually fairly rare, and as such, they normally live isolated existences as lone hunters. However, it seems very plausible that, should large numbers of them gather together, they could form a working society.
KittenMaster
Member
Once he can strategize with everyone including Quintis, he'll say, "Based on what I vaguely know, stories have it that vampires have a dislike of holy water I can make, but can only be killed by a stake as long as we are in a plane with no natural sunlight.."
((Holy Water is only 2d4 damage, so I'm not counting on them as a viable strat, but I am gonna make some anyway just in case. One casting of Create Water should make more than enough water to use three castings of Bless Water to get three vials.))
((Holy Water is only 2d4 damage, so I'm not counting on them as a viable strat, but I am gonna make some anyway just in case. One casting of Create Water should make more than enough water to use three castings of Bless Water to get three vials.))
DeadPhoenix
Member
After finding out what he can of Ravenloft, Quintus decides to look up some info an vampires, particularly the ones that live in Ravenloft, if possible(and there is anything specific about them).
Knowledge Religion: (1d20+12=29)
After a night of studying(sleep is apparently no longer a thing for Quintus...) he meets up with the others. "Sounds useful, I'd like to avoid getting to close to them if at all possible... well its probably not a big deal for me right now, but you guys should probably be careful."
Knowledge Religion: (1d20+12=29)
After a night of studying(sleep is apparently no longer a thing for Quintus...) he meets up with the others. "Sounds useful, I'd like to avoid getting to close to them if at all possible... well its probably not a big deal for me right now, but you guys should probably be careful."
ThLunarian
Member
As far as Quintus can tell, the vampires of Ravenloft are, biologically, identical to those of any other given plane. Their society on that plane is hierarchical, and they tend to stay in their cities; they are not crazy about traveling in the wilds of Ravenloft unless absolutely necessary, given the volatile spirits inhabiting the plane.