Save the Boy

You have made your way to Charn by boat. All of you smuggled in on a cargo ship. All of you save Randolf and Valadiel who wait for you in a room in the city of Charn itself. The request was unclear, but then... requests from the Adventurer's guild are not always. You know this is a rescue mission. And that it's covert.

You make your way to where Randolf and Valadiel are waiting for you, and find that there's a gnome woman with them, pacing back and forth through the room. She looks up as you enter and hurries you in. She explains the situation.

She's a diplomat come to Charn to convince them to give up a boy that they abducted from a small island nation back to that nation. The boy seems to be of great importance to them, and is destined due to prophecy to be their next king. It seems that he himself is also a prophet. In any case the Charnese are not handing him over, and every diplomatic trick in the book hasn't convinced them to do so.

She's tried.

She didn't want to resort to kidnapping the boy from the Charnese, can't be _seen_ doing so. So she's called you in. She can disavow you if you're caught. The charnese _hate_ adventurers as it is, so there'll be little mercy for you if you're caught. But there's a little boy to save. A child upon which so much hangs. She's got tears in her eyes by the end of her story. Thinking about the boy who's being held captive as a levering chip.

She knows where. A tower just outside the city. They've got guards. They've got _cultists_. They've got surprises up their sleeves that there's no way of knowing, but she prays you'll figure out a way. "Please." She begs you. "Help him. Help Hotaru."

Telamon was cursing quietly even before the explanations were done. He had expected there'd still be room for diplomacy. To try and work something out. But if the Charnese were that hellbent on holding onto the boy... "Disguises? Can we infiltrate with some of their uniforms? If they hold this boy in such high regard they may desire to keep him alive, but I'm not sure a frontal assault's the best option."

Randolf leans up against the windowsil, steadily puffing at his pipe with a dour scowl as he listens to the tale. It's one he's heard before, but it never fails to get the burly dwarf's dander up. "Guards," he grunts around a billow of sweet vanilla-honey pipe smoke. "-And- cultists. Well then. This should be a fun romp, shouldn't it?" He pushes off from where he leans, lumbering over to where the rest of the group has gathered. He looks over at Telamon, tugging thoughtfully at his beard. "Nae a bad notion, laddie," he says. "I've got me some sleeves o' many garments, so I can change up me wardrobe on the fly. I've got invisibility spells too. I've prepared a Locate Creature spell tae help us find the lad. An' if needs must, I can Dimension Door the hell out o' trouble."

So The Guild has seen fit to send a Tower of their own! One with arms and legs! One that..probably is fairly distinct and will make attempts at disguise and subterfuge rather difficult. Indeed..Arngrim's heart simply sinks as he hears the story and gets a better grip on the situation,..and it's not sinking strictly over the plight of the child..

"I have a bad feeling about this.." he rumbles while pursing his lips in visible aprehension and disdain for the premise of scuttling about in uniforms and trying to remain hidden. Still..the futility of an all out attack seems clear.

"A frontal assault is unwise until more is known about what lies ahead.." he offers as he hears Telamon though he inclines his head and nods as he hears Randolf.

Valadhiel smiles gratefully when the others from Alexandria arrive, and let the gnome explain. Then she nods over at Telamon, "Indeed. We should be circumspect if possible. If there's a way to slip in and out without raising too many alarms, that would be the best approach." She hrms quietly, looking at the rest of the group.

Aryia was used to being smuggled around, doubly so on a ship. Unlike the last time she went to this land, panicked and afraid, she's got a resolve to her features. And she's picked up enough pieces from being around that she had an inkling of what they were going to go do.

A mul'neissa woman is amongst them, a black mask covering her nose and mouth with a gray hood pulled over and a similarly colored cloak framing her. Weaved black leather strips adorn her torso and legs, and her sleeved arms are crossed.

Her glowing gaze narrows. "These cultists deserve no mercy," she motions slowly with gloved hands. "I can move really fast and be quiet if I have to."

She's trembling. <Handspeech>

Verna listens to the description of the situation attentively if somewhat impassively, if the dim within her hood and the flat lips beyond are any indication. The talk of a taken boy as the focus causes her expression to tighten. Mention of a tower, then cultist converts it to a frown. By the time the child's name is spoken, she might well have shown surprise if another name were mentioned.

"The cultists are typically wholly covered in robes," she notes. "We may be able to acquire such apparel from them to enter inconspicuously. I agree that a direct assault is unwise. As well, I would not rely too heavily upon magical concealment. They may be able to see through such effects.""

Seyardu looks over to Aryia when the name is mentioned, and there is only a raised brow just slightly, not wishing to bring it up further in Verna's presence. But she just sighs, and shakes her head. "It sounds like we will have our hands full. And, yes. We will need to get in as carefully as we can. But, we need to find where they are kept, and how to reach them, first." Seyardu agrees.

Valadhiel nods, "And the interior might well be warded against rapid egress, such as dimension door magic." She glances over at Randolf, "It's a good idea, but it might not be wise to rely solely on that. But obtaining some cultist robes and infiltrating that way seems the best approach."

"Indeed." The gnome woman acknowledges. Though to whom it is difficult to say. She steps forward and rolls out a parchment. On it is a detailed example of a tower surrounded by forest and plains. It shows a few dots labeled 'guard' and she moves a few coins onto the table. "Cultists go in and out at irregular intervals. Moving slaves in that never come out. We don't know where in the tower the boy is, or what the layout looks like."

She looks at the group of you. "You could easily pass as cultists, they wear black robes with white dots on them. From head to toe. So copying their clothes won't be difficult." She looks at Seyardu and then Randolf. "Though some of you would be... a bit circumspect as cultists I'm afraid."

Randolf looks up and around, nodding his head to each of his comrades in turn. His shaggy red brows furrow in consternation as he looks up--and up, and up--at Arngrim. "Aye, you stick out like a sore thumb, don't ye lad?" he says. "Hrrm..." Puff puff. He looks over at Verna, nodding his head. "Ye make a fair point, Missus Verna," he says. "We've nae notion o' what magicks they're capable of. If they see through -one- of us, they'll see through -all- of us, an' then the shit will -really- have flown in the forge." He tugs at his beard, tapping his foot as he considers. "If I can get -close- tae the Tower, I -should- be able tae find Hotaru. Unless they've got the place warded against divinations. If that's the case... we'll have tae search floor by floor." He looks back to the diplomat with a soft sigh. "Suppose there's nae many dwarves in Charn," he says. "Hardly surprisin', though. Just bein' in this shithole's makin' me skin crawl."

Telamon looks puzzled. "Black robes with... white dots? Like a starry sky?" He looks slightly disturbed at the notion. "If we can get a few of us inside initially, then we might be able to force entry for the rest of the group." He grins wickedly at Aryia, and suddenly signs to her in Handspeech, <<And wouldn't it be a shame if we could coordinate ambushes like this?>>

GAME: Randolf rolls Knowledge/Military Theory: (3)+6: 9
GAME: Verna rolls knowledge/military theory: (1): 1

Aryia frowns behind her mask, it reaching her eyes. Ugh, cult robes. She never wanted to wear those again.

The movements off to the side catch her attention, and her eyes widen as she sees Telamon sign to her.

"Yes, I agree, it would be quite useful," she signs back. She's happy about that, but the circumstances quickly put a damper on being able to speak with the man.

A glance to the gnome woman, then Seyardu before addressing the issue. "I've seen them brainwashing Sith'makar at their recruitment centers in Charn, it may be easy to convince them the oddities are in on it. Cult robes may be the best way in. Regretfully." <Handspeech>

"Hmm.." muses Arngrim, considering matters before the inkling of an idea arises in him. It's not often this happens so take it while it's good.

"It is doubtful there are robes that will fit me. I suppose I can pose as a particularly well paid bodyguard for a cultist member of some standing. Hiring the Dranei as muscle is not uncommon and a Dranei Giantborn would be a particularly large mark of status if one has the wealth.."

He pauses for a moment and then adds, "..Just stating the facts. We don't' come cheap. And I have no iconography on me that would imply I was in service of a force contrary to them. Even if I did it'd merely be that of The Iron Mountain and that is not uncommon among my kind."

"Yes, I imagine I would make a poor cultist." Seyardu sighs. "But, perhaps I could pass for an enthralled asistant, or one of the slaves being brought in."

"It is, not a pleasant proposition, but it is only a lie to get us in, and rescue those inside. But it is manageable, I will be fine."

Valadhiel hrms, "There's enough elves around that blending in shouldn't be a problem for me. Though I'd need the uniform. If nothing else, the robes should be fairly concealing." She nods over at Angrim, "Indeed. Good thinking."

The gnomish woman considers Telamon's words and then nods. "Yes. Like a starry night." She considers a moment longer and then walks over to a trunk in the corner and pulls out a few robes. "These were as close as could be made. We weren't sure how many of you there'd be." There are three robes in all. And certainly none that'll fit Arngrim.

"You might pass yourself off as a guard yes. If one of you doesn't playing a Charnese noble who thinks themselves in need of one." She nods to Aryia also. "You're quite right. And Sith bodyguards who've been brainwashed from a young age are in high demand these days as well. Really I don't have a very good plan for you, but I had hoped that you all might have something in store for them."

She smiles a bit bitterly. "I'm sure that what you've got will work." She lays out the robes on the table for your perusal. "We can always make more of those. It wouldn't take much time."

GAME: Valadhiel rolls knowledge/religion: (18)+11: 29
GAME: Aryia rolls knowledge/religion: (2)+5: 7
GAME: Randolf rolls Knowledge/Religion: (10)+6: 16
GAME: Seyardu rolls knowledge/religion: (20)+9: 29
GAME: Verna rolls knowledge/religion: (15)+22: 37

Randolf perks as those robes are brought out. He leans over to study them, tugging at his beard. After a moment, his shaggy brows knot together. "The workmanship is well enough," he says. "But..." He looks over to Seyardu. "Is this the correct pattern? It seems a wee bit off tae me, but I'm nae theologian."

Telamon looks thoughtful. "I could probably fake being a Charnese noble. So long as nobody asks me too many questions about current events..." He rubs his chin. "The more I think about it, the more I think having an initial team infiltrate, and let the others in, might work best. I'm not married to the idea though, if someone else has another idea."

Aryia thinks she has seen these robes before, but she squints and scratches her head over the hood. She shrugs a bit while sighing. It was the best way forward. "Yes, but a they did say a group of cultists. So... being in one group with maybe one or two... er... captured might be best. And I really don't want to be a noble. But I can... do it if need be. But, uh, I can't talk. Literally." She gives an apologetic look to Seyardu.<Handspeech>

"With the intrigue and backstabbing that is part of this nations character..a Charnese noble feeling jittery enough to not hold back on a bodyguard should be acceptable. If any want to ask questions..well..that's what your bodyguard is for" muses Arngrim as he looks the map over.

"I believe splitting the group would be an unwise move. As it is, we may be somewhat separated once we enter and we'd need to be able to swiftly act without waiting for an outside group to get in."

"That leaves not enough room for communication, especially if we are separated. And if things go wrong, we will need to make a quick retreat." Seyardu offers with a shake of her head. "Are you sure these robes are correct, though? The dots are not like cockatrice robes, but Taaran cultists. I do not know exactly who we are supposed to be dealing with, but we can not risk them detecting us right from the start."

Verna doffs the hood of her own robes and steps forward to get a better vantage of the robes. "The are robes of the Cult of the Cockatrice, as expected... or nearly so." A nod to Randolf and Seyardu. "Indeed, the pattern is not entirely the same as I recall. Whether they are near enough to fool the cultists, I cannot be certain." To the gnome, she adds, "The work is close, and a credit to those who fashioned them."

She now looks to the others. "I agree that we should not overly separate. Within the tower we entered, previously, we were immediately ushered on to join the other cultists. There may not be ready opportunity to allow others in without raising suspicion or outright alarm." Her eyes pan around to others at the various concerns of comparative mass and scales. "A bodyguard and a captive or indoctrinated seem feasible enough. Even if it is only enough to avoid the external guards, it is a boon. I expect that we shall raise suspicions upon searching for the boy, if not certainly upon freeing him, regardless."

The gnomish woman looks a little embarrassed. "Not really no. I copied it as best I could. If you think it needs to be altered... Well I trust your instincts more than I trust my ability to get something accurate from a hazy image at night drawn on scratch paper." She moves the robes off to the side. "I think you have a ready plan - if you are ready to enact it."

GAME: Aryia rolls craft/tailoring+2: (9)+12+2: 23

Aryia blinks, her looking at the robes and twisting her lips off to the side under the mask. She steps forward, reaching behind herself to dig around in her bag as she pulls out.

... a fully stocked sewing kit? "If someone can tell me what they're supposed to look like, I can adjust these and make more," she motions, he face coloring just a tinge. <Handspeech>

"Allow me to aid your mind's eye to recall them as I do," Verna offers to Aryia. Given that this is not the first time the two have utilized such, the implication should be clear. "I have no doubts of your abilities as a clothier." Verna has witness the true robes firsthand, and shall share that with the fullblood.

GAME: Verna casts Share Memory. Caster Level: 19 DC: 19

It takes a few hours to make the robes, a few hours to disguise yourselves as your enemies and make your way out into the edge of the city where the tower waits for you. A few of you have seen towers like this one before. Or this one just look eerily similar. It's a short tower, with oddly shaped figures flying above it. It's late. Grindingly late in the evening, and the guards you approach look... bored. Tired. Yet they perk up slightly as your group approaches.

"Evening." Says one of the guards, looking over your group without suspicion. The second looks slightly suspicious. Mostly he's eyeing Argrim in a familiar-to-Argrim kind of way. It's that look that says 'if we fought could I take him'?

GAME: Arngrim rolls intimidate: (2)+17: 19

Arngrim returns the look with one of his own but seems to have forgotten all the practicing he did in the mirrors on the ship over here because..let's face it..it's not his best growly look. He manages to not say anything but it's possibly because he forgot his lines.

Aryia is present, in one of the robes, it tied closed with her head dipped low to see mostly the lower half of folks. At the greeting, she merely raises a hand in return to say hello, and hopes the more... suave folks can mosey their way in.

Verna, for her part, keeps her verbiage to a minimum. She is simply one more religious follower enshrouded in robes, somberly tending to her duties. This is, incidentally, not terribly dissimilar to her standard daily routine; the primary difference is the pattern on her current robes. A dip of her hood in acknowledgement and agreement to the guard. "It is."

GAME: Telamon rolls bluff: (5)+13: 18

"Yes, yes, it's an honor and a privilege to serve," Telamon is playing up the role of dilettante noble, standing next to Arngrim. "Arn, really, don't make that face. Our illustrious patrons require sacrifice every day. I say, sir, do open the door, there is business to be done and time is quite short." Dammit, he's babbling, and he knows it.

The guard that was eyeing Arngrim looks at Telamon firmly. "You're supposed to say the password." The other guard looks a little confused that the password wasn't given. Then Randolf trundles up and the two guards gape at one another.

"IS THAT A DWARF?"

The first guard covers his face briefly. "Surely you've seen a dwarf before." The second guard looks embarrassed and the first guard glares at Arngrim, then Telamon. "You're not getting through without the password."

GAME: Randolf rolls Intimidate: (9)+1: 10
GAME: Telamon rolls bluff: (1)+13: 14 (EPIC FAIL)

Randolf narrows his eyes. He strides forward, whipping his wand off his belt and snapping it under the guard's nose. "-Here's- the password, ye scrawny dolt," he snarls. "Let us be about our holy work, or it'll be -yer- guts feedin' His Dark Majesty! NOW STAND ASIDE, CRETIN!" Oh, if only he had Arngrim's stature to go with his fierce dwarven nature.

"No, no, no!" Telamon says, already feeling a trickle of flop sweat down his back. Where the hell was his knack? He focuses. "The password is only on Kesendays and Taridays, you know that right? Didn't they brief you? And besides, there's a problem. Very dangerous alchemical leak. You should probably run, right now." Yeah, if they bought that he's giving up adventuring for good.

The first guard unlimbers his sword. The second looks at Randolf with a growing bloom of ire on his face for having a wand thrust at him. "Don't you mean... HER Dark Majesty?" Asks the guard carefully, eyeing the lot of you now _very_ suspiciously.

It in fact looks very grim for you when a third cultist appears from behind and smacks both guards over the head and points to Aryia. This cultist is wearing a mask made from the skull of a deer and you can't see her features, but she speaks with great athority. "Do you not recognize her? She IS our Lady! Who else would come to our door in a mask? They were clearly testing you and you fools."

She bows and motions with her hands to Aryia an apology. "Come in. They will not bother you further."

GAME: Aryia rolls sense motive: (12)+21: 33
GAME: Verna rolls sense motive: (1)+15: 16 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Randolf rolls Sense Motive: (17)+4: 21
GAME: Seyardu rolls sense motive: (12)+18: 30
GAME: Telamon rolls sense motive+3: (18)+3+3: 24
GAME: Arngrim rolls sense motive: (12)+0: 12

Cultist Aryia flinches at the sudden outburst from their dwarf, and Telamon's fumbling. She sighs heavily, nodding along as if that would help in any capacit-

Then she's singled out.

A cold chill shoots up her spine as she stands straight up. Uhhh. Uhhhh. Uhhh!

The masked mul'neissa puts on the old ex-noble snuff and tilts her chin up and tuts. She squints a bit, biting her lip behind her mask but beckons for the others to 'come on'.

Anxiety builds in her gut. Memories try to pull into place, but turn up empty.

Telamon isn't an idiot. Alright, he's not at his best -- this whole business has had him off kilter from the start -- but even he can tell this looks sketchy like the kobold attempting to sell 'fine Kulthian timepieces' to him a while back. Casually, he makes sure he's in Aryia's line of sight, and nods blandly to her. Hoping she's as suspicious as he is.

Verna recently learned that the noble houses were heavily aiding the late archfiend, thus, by extension, would be aiding the cults. Verna knows that Aryia is a Charneth noble. Ergo, it stands to reason that the arriving masked woman recognizes such in Aryia's stance and what is not covered by the mask. Alternatively, they might well have happened upon an infiltrator or double-agent. Any of these seem more statistically feasible than the fact that Aryia is also wearing a mask.

Regardless of the source, it is a boon. Her hood dips twice: once to the correcting and inviting woman and a second time, more deeply, to Our Lady Aryia of the Unspoken Word. She then moves to follow Aryia's direction.

Seyardu did not need to unsheathe her weapon, already having it out, and now pointed slightly towards the guards in question, and relaxed as the cultist points out Aryia. The silver makari chuffs and readies to continue on her way with the others.

Well he's been in situations that have started out more dire then this.

But not many. Is it a trap? It's probably a trap. Arngrim eyes the new cultist and then looks skyward and hoods his eyes, flaring his nostrils bullishly in a half hearted attempt at relaxing his nerves and makes ready to follow after the others alongside Telamon.

Randolf's knuckles whiten around his wand, and his beard bristles from where it's trapped in his voluminous robe. He looks about ready to fire back at the guard, when suddenly, there's salvation. Or... -is- it? His gaze looks to the new arrival, eyes narrowed. But he doesn't speak any further. That would just make things so much worse. He straightens his spine, harrumphing softly as he holsters his wand. He makes ready to follow along, but now his every nerve is on edge.

The woman leads you down a staircase that starts almost immediately inside the door. Ignoring one that leads upwards. She passes a room full of voices and a closed door that leads to it. Leads you down. And down. And down. Until you reach a doorway and she leads you through this at last. The room is clearly a dungeon. Implements of torture and jail cells wait along the edges of the room. The woman turns as you follow behind her and there's a sharp SNICK as a portcullis drops behind you. Sealing you in the room with her.

She motions grandly toward the jail cells. "I think you'll find our accommodations to your liking. Pick a room!"

GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+4: (7)+4: 11
GAME: Telamon casts Scorching Ray. Caster Level: 4 DC: 18

"Well," Telamon drawls. "That's a mighty fine offer. Allow me to make a counterargument." Suddenly, his hand moves in a very specific way as he backpedals, and he snarls, "Ganzer agida!" A searing lance of flame licks out of his hand, but spatters off the woman as Telamon snarls, "Plan B, people: stomp them flat!"

GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d20+9+6: (12)+9+6: 27
GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d20+4+6+2: (8)+4+6+2: 20
GAME: Aryia spends ONE use of STUNNING FIST.
GAME: Aryia rolls punch: aliased to weapon0+2: (19)+18+2: 39
GAME: Aryia rolls punch: aliased to weapon0+2: (7)+18+2: 27
GAME: Aryia rolls punch: aliased to weapon0+2: (5)+18+2: 25
GAME: Aryia rolls punch-5: aliased to weapon0+2-5: (19)+18+2+-5: 34
GAME: Aryia rolls punch-10: aliased to weapon0+2-10: (7)+18+2+-10: 17
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+22: (19)+22: 41
GAME: Aryia rolls crunch: aliased to 2d8+strength+2: (10)+3+2: 15
GAME: Aryia rolls crunch: aliased to 2d8+strength+2: (7)+3+2: 12
GAME: Randolf rolls Perception: (2)+8: 10
GAME: Randolf rolls 1d20+: (11)+5: 16
GAME: Randolf rolls 3d4+3: (7)+3: 10

Randolf all but melts at Telamon's declaration. "Oh, praise -Reos-!" he snarls. He whips his wand off his belt, snapping it out at the cultist. "HAH!" A trio of blue orbs burst from the tip, wheeling towards the cultist and strobing against her. PA-PA-PAH! They slam into her, dealing a most palpable hit! He jukes off to the side, poking his head into one of the cells briefly to see what can be seen, while holding his wand steady on their foe.

Well, that was obvious enough that they were found out now. So, there was no reason not to at least attempt to knock out the cultist. Seyardu takes the polearm she had been carrying with her, and brings the weapon down on the cultist, only for neither strike to connect. "We will be no prisoners of yours." The sith-makar growls, despite not being able to back up the claim.

Cultist Aryia slows to a stop as they get into the dungeon, the torture implements strewn about and fresh. And Seyardu makes the call. She takes a deep breath In.

"Search the cells! Now!" she fires off to the others before launching herself at the woman. Her foot shines a moonlit hue as it hones in, and whips across the cultist's face, causing a microburst of bright silver light. She twists and turns, slugging up at them with everything she's got. If this is who she thinks it is...

... she has to give it everything she's got.

She breathes Out. <Handspeech>

GAME: Verna casts Blessing of Fervor. Caster Level: 18 DC: 21
GAME: Verna rolls perception: (15)+28: 43

Instinct urges him to jump into the fray but that looks like a crowded mess. Arngrim's hand circles about the haft of his Earthbreaker but he then turns towards where Randolf stands and first slips over towards him as the others seem to have matters under control.

"Move." he rumbles to Randolf, still partially facing the melee but lifting his free hand up as he speaks. His muscles and sinew seem to bulk up and swell, piling mass on top of mass as he readies his ridiculous strength..and then his turns, twisting his body and slamming arm and then the rest of his physique into the door in a thunderous strike that undoubtedly shakes the very walls.

GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+24: (6)+24: 30
GAME: Aftershock rolls 2d10+7: (18)+7: 25

"May Her discerning sight grant all boons," Verna beseeches the Gray Harpist to grant all protection, alacrity, or other benefits, of their choosing. She then moves to a cell opposite Randolph and Arngrim to split the search. No prisoner is found, yet.. she picks up a small piece of parchment. A pause and blink. How could he leave a note if he did not know- well, admittedly, the diplomat did mention that he was believed a prophet. "He is not h-urk!"

This last bit of noise comes as the woman disappears from being surrounded by Aryia and Seyardu only to reappear by Verna and slam her face into the bars of the cell she'd been searching. The mask she wears falls off her face revealing her as an unfamiliar woman. A mul'neissan one, but not one familiar to anyone... save Verna.

GAME: Telamon casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 4 DC: 17

Telamon watches in a bit of awe as his companions start dogpiling on the woman. Even her disappearing act won't slow someone like Aryia down; Telamon once saw Aryia chase a demon up the side of a building. So instead, he gestures, murmuring, "Akar irhandi," as shimmering fields of starlight wrap around his body and limbs. He pauses to peer into a cell...

GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (20)+8: 28
GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d20+9+6+2-3: (20)+9+6+2+-3: 34
GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d20+9+6+2-3: (15)+9+6+2+-3: 29
GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d20+9+6+2-3: (9)+9+6+2+-3: 23
GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d20+4+6+2-3: (2)+4+6+2+-3: 11
GAME: Seyardu rolls 3d8+27+9+6: (9)+27+9+6: 51
GAME: Aryia rolls punch+2: aliased to weapon0+2+2: (18)+18+2+2: 40
GAME: Aryia rolls punch+2: aliased to weapon0+2+2: (8)+18+2+2: 30
GAME: Aryia rolls punch+2: aliased to weapon0+2+2: (13)+18+2+2: 35
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+22: (19)+22: 41
GAME: Aryia rolls punch+2-5: aliased to weapon0+2+2-5: (20)+18+2+2+-5: 37 (THREAT)
GAME: Aryia rolls punch+2-5: aliased to weapon0+2+2-5: (4)+18+2+2+-5: 21
GAME: Aryia rolls punch+2-10: aliased to weapon0+2+2-10: (12)+18+2+2+-10: 24
GAME: Aryia spends ONE point of KI POOL.
GAME: Aryia rolls punch+2: aliased to weapon0+2+2: (16)+18+2+2: 38
GAME: {*} Aryia rolls crunch+crunch+crunch+crunch: aliased to 2d8+strength+2+2d8+strength+2+2d8+strength+2+2d8+strength+2: (14)+3+2+(9)+3+2+(9)+3+2+(15)+3+2: 67
GAME: Randolf rolls Perception: (19)+8: 27
GAME: Randolf rolls 1d20+5: (10)+5: 15
GAME: Randolf rolls 3d4+3: (6)+3: 9
GAME: Randolf used a Wand of Magic Missile.
GAME: Randolf used a Wand of Magic Missile.

With the mul'niessa moving to strike Verna, Seyardu stops to follow suit and chase after them, and hopefully give Verna some cover. The billhook is pointed down and sent straight through, thankfully not into Verna on the other side, though there is the sound of scraping metal as the adamantine weapon almost cuts through the metal on the other side before being wrenched out. The follow ups are not as coordinated though, and fail to connect. GAME: Carver has connected.

Aryia winces as she sees Verna's face crunched against the bars. But she doubles down, gaining confidence as Seyardu makes a decisive strike and sprints in, tearing through as a streak of silvery light. She's screaming in her mind: Me! Pay attention to me!

Though, it just comes out as garbled hisses and clicks. An array of moonlit microbursts flash across the cultist's frame, seeking to harry them as much as possible.

This wasn't Her. Did this woman fight like Her? She couldn't remember. She couldn't. The mute pugilist can't let up, not now. There could be no quarter when the information was null and void.

So the little moonlight punches on, trying to make an opening for Verna to slip out.

Randolf is only too happy to oblige Arngrim, scooting his tubby ass to the side as the giantborn busts the door down. He turns back to the fight just in time to see Verna's face connect with the stone. His eyes blaze with fury, and he snaps his wand out again. "GET OFF HER!" he snarls, firing another trio of orbs to slam into the cultist. The mystic darts strobe off her form, building upon the progress the others have made on taking the cultist down. It's just enough to tip the balance--the cultist crumbles into a whirl of sooty black snow. His jaw drops and his eyes boggle. "Beards o' me fathers," he says, looking at his wand in stunned shock. "Never had it do -that- afore..." He makes his way over to Verna, hunkering down on his haunches. "You a'right, Missus Verna?" he asks. But before she can answer, his gaze gets drawn to the note she found. He peers at it, then boggles once more. If he keeps it up, his poor eyes may well roll out of his head. "What the -hell-...?" He goes to offer Verna help in straightening back up, looking up and around at the others. "It says 'I'm nae here, I'm in the room ye passed'. Did we -pass- a room?"

The flesh of the woman disintegrates into snow. There's a motion of its hand from its face. Two fingers outstretched. Thumb and index. Falling to thumb and index. Sister. A wordless word as it flumps to the ground unceremoniously. Forgotten quickly by the others. The snow shimmers oddly with its wrong color.

Telamon also blinks, stunned. What in the... "Randolf, put that thing away before... well, never mind, you know what you're doing. I hope." He'd seen the note too, evidently. "Well, only way to find out is to backtrack. Let's get that portcullis up, and quick; I don't want some curious cultist wandering down here to find out what all the noise was."

"Hn.." Arngrim's grunt says more about his displeasure then any lengthy rant could manage. He shakes his head and re holsters his weapon, freeing both of his arms now as he begins to approach the portcullis.

"Obviously.." he answers Randolf and then nods to Telamon, "Agreed.." He takes a moment to study the gate before laying hands on it, "..Is it trapped?"

Verna is blinking with blood running from her nose as the figure crumbles. While this is not the first time that she has had her face smashed into a solid object, such is not exactly an experience to which one grows resistance to over repeated exposure. As well, it is not the first time that she has witnessed the the ... thing nor watched it crumble. "I did not expect another, so quickly..."

The single gesture made by it is noted, but she chooses not to comment upon it. Insted, she offers to the others as she regains her feet. "That is what I attempted to note. We passed at least one room, filled with cultists judging by the numerous voices within."

Aryia grits her teeth ready for an onslaught to brave to get-

Arcane buffeting. Spray of black snow. A handshape falling onto another handshape. Then nothing.

The mute is still, eyes locked on where the figure was. It was a fake, a copy. A fraud. Not the real thing. But still, the body-

"R-m-mb-rs m-... sh-... sh- r-m-mb-rs m-..." Aryia hisses out, her mask sopping up the tears that fall.

Then, people movements, words, plans. She wipes her tears and slaps her face a few times. Right, right, right! We're here, deep in Charn. Focus Zilly!

Answers don't seem to be forthcoming so ...if something happens to him.. he'll just charge them for it.

Grunting, once again non committal sounding, he turns and lays both hands on the gate and after waiting a moment to see if he's going to be shocked or poisoned to death.. he pulls back and strains, once more summoning the depths of his giantish strength to begin a sudden, quick and brutal wrenching of the thing free from its moorings.

Seyardu was ready to move to attack it again, but only finds herself face to face with a pile of snow. "Do not let it get to you Aryia. We will move forward." She says, stepping aside as the others were working. "Well. It seems they have not caught on to us yet. I hope that remains, and we can use this moment to continue on with them thinking we should be here."

It's a quick, and determined jaunt up the stairs then. Leaving the blackened snow behind and all that it entails. You make your way to the room that holds the cultists, and find them surrounding a cage with a boy in it. He's gaunt, he's small, and his helplessness makes your teeth ache. You know from that moment that there's no walking out of here without a fight. But looking at him? You don't care.

The cultists aren't particularly skilled in the art of combat, and it doesn't take you long to get Arngrim to where he can rip the doors off the cage. One heave and the boy is hugging the massive man's much larger frame. Tears in his eyes. Thanking you.

You leave with Hotaru intact. The tower... well not so much. It's a good feeling.

It would feel a little bit better if you knew where Aya was...

-End