Café de Nuit

ewancummins wrote:THE BURGLARS

IN SHADOW


The wall hole shuts.
Starless night above with a great glinting onyx moon shedding green black rays.
No city, only a section of tumbled wall at their backs and enforce them leafless trees draped in cobwebs, spreading across a darkling plain.
Twilight hovers over and behind the skeletal branches of the trees.

Termelan looks around surprised. After a moment he says "Sir Filbert... where are we?" He doesn't seem afraid; he figured that if the diminutive lord uses this exceptional magic to escape it's mostly safe.
In fact, he seems to be taking in the place, even touches some of the dirt to make sure it's real. "Oh, the story we could tell about this desolate place Lord Filbert..." he says at last.

SEARCHERS

Cormac grabs the shoulders of anyone near the door and prods them to move back. He pulls a roll of parchment from his pack and, eyes rolling shut, he intones in a deep voice to the door the ancient words, calling to the dormant spirit of the wood to twist and crack open.

Cranstel leaves the guards' office, having dropped off several vials of antitoxin. He turns to the Priestess.

"If you'd care to accompany me," he says, "I know some reagents that would be...rather hard to acquire which would be needed for the poison. Perhaps we could look into some dealers to see if anyone has acquired them recently?"

Adam wrote:SEARCHERS

Cormac grabs the shoulders of anyone near the door and prods them to move back. He pulls a roll of parchment from his pack and, eyes rolling shut, he intones in a deep voice to the door the ancient words, calling to the dormant spirit of the wood to twist and crack open.

THE DOUBLE DOOR shakes.
The wood splinters along the line where the two door panels meet in the center above the lock-plate.
A gap opens, wide enough for a man's arm to pass through.
A portion of the lock plate has been exposed. It may be possible to wrench it loose or break the mechanism with a heavy blow.
Anyone peering through over the lock will see the upper surface of a heavy metal bolt, drawn across the inner side of the thick doors. Lifting that would require someone to reach into the dark room.
Or maybe it could be done with a lever.

Cormac looks annoyed that the door didn't open. He fishes in his belt, pulling out a hatchet and trying to use the handle as a lever to wedge the bar up.

Adam wrote:Cormac looks annoyed that the door didn't open. He fishes in his belt, pulling out a hatchet and trying to use the handle as a lever to wedge the bar up.

It isn't easy, but Cormac manages to pry the bolt loose.
The heavy bolt halls to the floor on the other side, sending a thudding sound echoing through the darkened chamber beyond the warped doors.

Only the lock holds the two door panels partly closed now, and it has been shifted out of place a few inches by the warping of the wood.

Boarhort, somewhat recovered from his attempt to pry the lock plate loose, now steps up and hits the lock with his hammer.
The lock breaks loose and falls to the floor.

The warped, splintered double doors swing inward a few inches and then bump to a halt on the fallen doorbolt that lays a very short distance within the room.

The party can thrust torches towards the gap--now wide enough for a child to slip through-- and look into the room.

It's big. Shadowy.
They see several pieces of grotesquely carved, massive furniture and a row of pinkish leathery wall hangings in the far end of the chamber.
Chains with hooks dangle from the high ceiling, stopping about twelve feet from the floor.

Adam wrote:Cranstel leaves the guards' office, having dropped off several vials of antitoxin. He turns to the Priestess.

"If you'd care to accompany me," he says, "I know some reagents that would be...rather hard to acquire which would be needed for the poison. Perhaps we could look into some dealers to see if anyone has acquired them recently?"

CRANSTEL

''That seems like a good idea. I will go with you.''

...

ewancummins wrote:

Adam wrote:Cormac looks annoyed that the door didn't open. He fishes in his belt, pulling out a hatchet and trying to use the handle as a lever to wedge the bar up.

It isn't easy, but Cormac manages to pry the bolt loose.
The heavy bolt halls to the floor on the other side, sending a thudding sound echoing through the darkened chamber beyond the warped doors.

Only the lock holds the two door panels partly closed now, and it has been shifted out of place a few inches by the warping of the wood.

Boarhort, somewhat recovered from his attempt to pry the lock plate loose, now steps up and hits the lock with his hammer.
The lock breaks loose and falls to the floor.

The warped, splintered double doors swing inward a few inches and then bump to a halt on the fallen doorbolt that lays a very short distance within the room.

The party can thrust torches towards the gap--now wide enough for a child to slip through-- and look into the room.

It's big. Shadowy.
They see several pieces of grotesquely carved, massive furniture and a row of pinkish leathery wall hangings in the far end of the chamber.
Chains with hooks dangle from the high ceiling, stopping about twelve feet from the floor.

"Looks like a nice place," Cormac mutters, "At least we're pretty sure nobody's nearby, or they'd have heard the noise."

He creeps ahead of the group, arrow notched, searching the room. He gives the "pink decorations" a look, an uncomfortable feeling spreading that he knows their origin already.

SAFANA

Caine settles into his upholstered chair.
"Rhoubhe Manslayer. Your Duke and his realm have moved up in the scale of power, to judge by the change in who his biggest enemies are... "
He smiles." I suppose being half human and working for peace is enough to put His Grace on Rhoubhe's list of people to kill sooner, rather than later."

"They say in my land that you can judge a man best by the quality of his enemies. However I fear His Grace is less than flattered. I myself know little of this enemy, but from what I do know I am certain my feeble flounderings on the outer shores of the Art are no match for his power. You, on the other hand, are said to be the foremost practitioner of the Highest Arts in these realms. His grace was hoping you might have some advice or even aid to give?"

She samples the drink appreciatively, but is concentrating most on trying to hit the right note of respect. Her speech sounds very abrupt in her own ears, but she has learnt these northern barbarians are very short in their speech, and can only hope she has found the right tone...

In shadow

Filbert looks around, he has been a few times in shadowworld already but everytime it's different and rather impressive. He gets his sword out and says:

"We are in Shadow world, at least this is how I call it. We can travel faster that way and be at the inn without this beast or the guards get us. But be careful reality here isn't how you know it, time and distance are different as is almost everything actuall. Watch your steps, don't eat, drink or go away from me. If you have a weapon better have it ready and if I tell you run by all means do so! But I repeat don't get away from me because you will risk to remain trapped here. This isn't good place, I think you can figure that out by looking around. But I do hope we won't encounter any shadow creatures and be at the inn in no time. If you wonder why we didn't run, well I'm not tall and cannot outrun a dog...plus a patrol may come. The falcon had a nasty trap, difficult to find and more difficult to remove, especially with poor light. I can narrate you many stories about the shadow world but I'm sure you can make many good ones by yourself as well."

Filbert looks around one more time and starts walking towards where he believes its the inn.

kintire wrote:SAFANA

Caine settles into his upholstered chair.
"Rhoubhe Manslayer. Your Duke and his realm have moved up in the scale of power, to judge by the change in who his biggest enemies are... "
He smiles." I suppose being half human and working for peace is enough to put His Grace on Rhoubhe's list of people to kill sooner, rather than later."

"They say in my land that you can judge a man best by the quality of his enemies. However I fear His Grace is less than flattered. I myself know little of this enemy, but from what I do know I am certain my feeble flounderings on the outer shores of the Art are no match for his power. You, on the other hand, are said to be the foremost practitioner of the Highest Arts in these realms. His grace was hoping you might have some advice or even aid to give?"

She samples the drink appreciatively, but is concentrating most on trying to hit the right note of respect. Her speech sounds very abrupt in her own ears, but she has learnt these northern barbarians are very short in their speech, and can only hope she has found the right tone...

"Foremost? No. Rhoubhe is more powerful. He was a champion of Azrai, fighting with sword and spell at Diesmaar. For over over fifteen centuries he has grown stronger in black magic, empowered by the blood of his dead patron that twists his mind and body. He isn't even truly an elf anymore, not for centuries. But we can be thankful he isn't yet a godling."

Caine frowns.

"He means to kill all of us, you know. Humanity. But as I said, he is not quite a godling. He can bleed, I know that. And I believe that he can be killed."

The wizard drains the last of his liquor and holds the glass up to peer at SAFANA through the thick bottom.
His right eye swims before her behind the glass bottom, amber tinged, goggled like a fish's orb.

"The mark of the Shadowlands shows plainly on your brow."

He sets the glass down on the desk.

"Witch, if you want to help the Duke against the Manslayer, and you want my help in that, then call your master. I would speak with it."

CRANSTEL...


Spends all day and most of the night asking questions of herbalists, gardeners, importers, and so on.

His efforts turn up little evidence that the potion was manufactured with locally bought components.
But some of his shadier contacts seem to be lying low just now...
It is possible he has missed something important.

Seacher

"Yeah, we find all kinds of interesting places," Roald says. "I think I'll write a travel books about it after we get back to Haes. Make some extra coin."

Varrus the Ethical wrote:Seacher

"Yeah, we find all kinds of interesting places," Roald says. "I think I'll write a travel books about it after we get back to Haes. Make some extra coin."

Nevil the Scout laughs.

"Are we going in, my lords? I can go first."

Seachers

Roald waves the scout through.

"By all means."