ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Link to related OOC thread 
 OOC 
 


In the ravaged island nation of New Ganthar, the last glimmers of daylight are swallowed up by the encroaching night.

Hurrying home, their haste betraying their unease, men and women bearing the signs of a day's hard labour beneath the hot sun studiously avoid looking into the shadows - or up to the half-healed wound in the sky.  It is never truly dark here; but the viridian light of the rift to whatever hell the demons call home gives no comfort, serving almost to accentuate the shadows rather than dispelling them.

Here and there, scattered souls continue their work.  The taverns and brothels blaze with light and disturb the night with the noise of revelry; but there is something forced and desperate in it all, the sounds of those abandoning themselves to whatever amusements will stave off their despair for one more night.

On the dockside, a few workmen continue their labour, more afraid of their supervisors than of the nameless peril that drives their peers indoors.  The torches burn fiercely, and there are many sentries on hand - men in the pay of the ship owners, not watchmen, brought in to make men feel safe when the truth may be far different.

Elsewhere in the city, the few temples that still stand are fiercely guarded and filled with sounds of worship and petition.  In this forsaken land, the hunger for the gods to intercede is acute - among the remaining faithful.  Prominent and recent graffiti, scrawled on the walls of the temple of Relath, shows that the feeling is far from universal.  Not our war.  Not our gods.  To hell with all clothies. 

In the heart of governance, what was the King's Palace but is now called the Ministry, many windows are still lit from within and messengers bustle to and fro, staying within the grounds.

The mages' towers still glimmer with eldritch light, pristine and if anything more ornate than ever.  Wards against all manner of evil can be seen at regular intervals in the surrounding streets, and the cobbled paths are noticeably busier than the rest of the city.  Frequently, a hand brushes against a stone pillar inscribed with one of these wards, seeming to give reassurance to passers by that all is well.  When a man bearing a black staff topped with a silver raven walks past, men and women on all sides pause to remove their hats and call a greeting, or a word of appreciation.

Finally there are those in every part of the city who make their living in the shadows.  If the gods are looking down on this nation, they will see furtive thieves and bold brigands everywhere, scurrying busily like ants whose nest is disturbed.

It is into this benighted backwater that you now find yourself venturing, brought here by purposes as diverse as you are yourselves.  As to what the future may hold in such a land, only time can tell; but that the path ahead of you will be perilous and grim seems all but certain.
esorscher
Bellerophon had never longed for anything as much as he'd longed for dry land. The last few weeks on the Blackforge ship had left him constantly on the verge of upheaval--and many times past it.   None of the stories mentioned that  , he thought. How the poets had waxed on about the dark and stormy sea, painting a picture of adventure and courage, without any mention of the effects the waves had on the digestion. The smell of the salt got plenty of ink, but not the smell of the sailors, or the cabins after a week aboard. Oh, and the elf. His much vaunted dwarven constitution wasn't nearly up to the task, but hers had seemed to handle the voyage without the slightest trouble. Indeed, while he'd spend most of the days stooped over the rails, and most of the nights gripping a bucket, she'd hardly seemed bothered at all.

"  Thank you,  " Bellerophon said to the captain as he disembarked. "  May the ancestors guide you safely on your return.  " With a wave of his hand and a magic word, his robes were cleaned and smoothed free of wrinkles, ready to make a good impression on the island city. He turned to Dora. "  I'm headed to find the Fellowship,  " he says.   Better to introduce myself before they discover a rogue caster in their midst,   he thought. "  You're free to accompany me.  "

With her along or not, Bellerophon heads off to find where the Fellowship are headquartered, and from there, begin his research into the portal, as well as his search for his cousin. As he walks, he takes note of the state of the city. Hardly what he was expecting. The fear that permeates the city begins to seep into his beleaguered bones as well. Had he made a mistake coming here? Only time would tell.
dantiesilva
Ever since setting sail upon the Blackforge clan’s ship heading towards New Ganther Baldar had remained mostly to himself. A life at sea was not his specialty, and getting in the way would only hamper the crews’ efforts. Where he could he aided the crew, including a dwarf on the voyage with him to New Ganther that suffered from seasickness. He didn’t offer magical aid to the figure, as that would have placed the other dwarf in a debt he did not want to force on another, however he did offer the fellow an herb to alleviate some of the sickness. It struck Baldar as odd that the figure had acquainted themselves with an bloody pointy eared spy, but then again he was being sent to New Ganther to figure out a way to close the bloody holes in the sky that the humans had managed to cause by not listening to the warnings that had been given to leave the island. Now he, and others from Kharheim were going their once more to keep up diplomatic peace, or so his superiors had told him. Making it clear he should seek out the temple of Charis and keep an eye on it as it was from that flock the trouble in the sky seemed to have come from. Add in a new god had been made on this island, to many dangerous things out of the control of Kharheim for their liking for people living on what had once been their land.

Looking up to the sky, from the ship deck at the viridian light of the rift he wondered how much work would have to go into sealing such a large tear in the realms, and while his ancestors still spoke to him here and there, they had mostly remained silent along the voyage, reminding him of the treacherous ways of elves and to not force a debt on another that did not require it. But most importantly, to stay useful and to pull his own weight while aboard the ship. He believed he had done such as he made his way over to the captain and waited until he was acknowledged before bowing slightly,  “I thank you and your Clan for the safe passage you have provided me. As promised, the other half of the payment for the safe travels.”  Baldar says as he reaches into his pack and pulls out a sack of gold that had already been counted and readied for delivery upon their safe arrival in the town.

  “They look scared, more so then I would expect. Do they not have warriors to protect them?”   he notes to himself as he looks at the human dockworkers and notices the people who seemed to be holding weapons and armor stationed around them. He could almost smell the fear mixed in with the salt of the sea here and wondered what could have caused such a thing. However he was a guest here still, and as such would remain silent until he arrived at his destination of the embassy of Kharheim unless spoken to by local law enforcement.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Using Detect magic to look at the tear in the sky as he has only heard of the thing and never seen it so up close, he hopes being this close he may learn more.
 
Timble
Thespia was beaming as the ship came in to the final destination of her pilgrimage. Finally she had made it to the place where her goddess had ascended. Unlike most, the sight of the demon rift gave her a sense of hope and duty. 20 years ago her goddess had fought against the worst of it, and to this day her forces stood ready beneath the rifts.
Though, Thespia wasn't here for the rifts. Her role in this city was to care for its people and aid the church of Yara in its community services.

For her pilgrimage, she had adjusted her appearance to be suitable for a travelling priestess. Her robes had changed from the style suited for the formal rites of her home isles to a plain white formless robe. She had kept some decoration in the form of golden patterns along the edges, strange symbols depicting old feronaxian myths and concepts. In the center of her chest was her holy symbol, a clawed hand gently holding a heart. Her psionic shapechanging abilities allowed her to alter her face, adding and altering traits to make her look friendlier.

She had been reading the Guide to Yarian Outreach, a book written by the New Gantharian Church of Yara, along the journey and shoved it into her bag as the ship began to dock. Hopefully its teachings would aid her in this strange city. Apparently she wasn't to have an official opinion on Charis/The Daughter, even though this new/reformed goddess only appeared in the planes due to the actions of Yara. Not being able to actively defend this emerging faith seemed unjust, even if she was authorised to secretly provide aid.

The guide included some written directions to reach the temple that she would be staying at. Waving goodbye to the crew as she left the ship, she began making her way to the temple, taking time to explore a bit off the main path. If she was to work here, she would have to understand how the city worked. Perhaps she would get to meet people.
gallagher
Dora looked up to the big colorful rift in the sky, and back to Bellephoron.  I do think I'll come with you. I knew this place was going to be the worst den of rats, but until I get the lay, I think it is best to keep safety in numbers. 

Dora looked around to see if anyone wields their weapon in the open to be ready at a moment's notice. She will take her cue from her surroundings, but as Dora had learned over time, she makes for a big target. If things became dicey, she would need to react quickly and establish herself as someone to not be trifled with.

 So what do you expect to see and hear from this Fellowship? I would at least like to find a city map of sorts, to help us establish bearings. Afterwards, I would say we need to find a hot meal. 
esorscher
"  It's more of a courtesy than anything,  " Bellerophon replies, stepping over a mud puddle as he walks. "  A governmental agency that regulates the use of magic within its borders will discover I'm operating here soon enough. No need to try and hide what I'm doing. And, once I've introduced myself, I'll see if I can find out who else has been studying the rift, and what they've learned. Not a bad idea to get a sense of what research has already been done.  " He listens as she continues. "  I thought elves don't need to eat?  "
gallagher
 Nay, friend, you are thinking sleep. And even so, that's only half of me.  Dora thought the other part bitterly, the half she didnt know, some human father who took no more interest in her mother than what her body could provide for a night.

 Though even if I needn't eat, it is still pleasing, and the first thing I would do once I left dwarven lands is get a good meal. Bread and Beer, you dwarves are all aces. But the second you ask for something with herbs and spices, your type lose their taste buds. There is more to flavor than pepper.
 
Dora looked again  to the sky before scanning around to see if they were being watched or followed. Old habits, but ones that save a life.  I would rather we know what is going on with the rifts than not. I am here for a purpose, but that purpose isnt to die at a demon's blade.  Dora was reminded of the devil's spear she wore on her back now. She felt the evil in it, though it did her no harm it did give her a creeping feeling that she was always being watched. So much the better in this town to have a large and obvious weapon, though, so anyone with unwise ideas can see that she is not the right target.  Let us say we walk right in and they welcome us like lost kin. Do you suppose we will be able to get resources, or help from them? Are wizards the charitable type? 
 
 Spoiler 
  (1d20)[ 3 ]  for listen and  (1d20)[ 2 ]  for spot
 
dantiesilva
As the elf speaks up and mentions the rifts in a casual conversation with the dwarf of the Ironshield clan Baldar speaks up, turning as he does so to look at the two of them, his hammer on his belt still.  "Forgive me Ironshield for overhearing your conversation, however you were speaking plainly, and out loud."  Baldar says, his red, braided beard moving up and down as he does so. His green eyes seem to dart this way and that as if he is watching a bunch of other things going on at the same time, as a hand goes up to his ear once seeming to be asking for silence.  "Your traveling companion, the elf, mentioned they are here for the rift. It is also why I am here, however my responsibility first require me to check in with our embassy here before doing anything else. If perhaps when we are both done we could meet up together at an inn somewhere near this dock? We share a common interest after all as I plan on trying to close it."  he says, though only loud enough for them to hear it.
gallagher
"your traveling companion, the elf"

Dora cuts in, curtly.  Half . In a tone of correction. Her mixed heritage had been used against her so much, and people mistaking her heritage seemed to give her the same reaction.

Dora scoffed at the idea of someone coming right off a boat and fixing the monstrosity above them, but there was no harm in sharing information if there was something to be done.  And where is your embassy? Would you not be staying there, instead of the docks? 
dantiesilva
[COLOR="#F "My apologies, I meant no offense."  Baldar says to the half elf waiting to see if she accepted before going on.  "I know what I have been told, but being told where something is and having been there before is often different. It's like forging a suit of armor compared to being told how to do so. It's somewhere between here and the temple district however to answer your question."  He says looking to his side a moment and saying please allow me to speak ancestor in dwarven, before continuing.  "As for staying at the embassy I am unsure if they would allow you in if you wish me to be honest and as such I offered a neutral grounds for us all to meet. 
esorscher
" [b]I wouldn't expect any charity from them, " Bellerophon says to Dora. "  They are human, after all. No offense meant to half your parentage, but I've never known them to be overly munificent.  "

"  That suits me fine, Oathkeeper,  " Bellerophon responds to Baldar. "  You can call me Bellerophon, if you wish. I'd be happy to meet with you at some inn, but in truth I don't know the city well enough yet to know of one to meet at. Why don't we meet back here around dinner time, and we can find a place to talk?  "
dantiesilva
 "And you may call me Baldar, though I am no longer of the Oathkeeper clan I am one of the runewarden's of our homeland."  Baldar says plainly, keeping pride out of his voice as he does so, as to not insinuate anything by it. After all for all Baldar knew this would be one of the only other dwarves so far from home that shared a common goal as he, best not to offend him. Add in being so deep inside the human lands, it was good to have a back to fight with if needed.

 "I can see the logic in that course of action, as the docks should be the easiest place for the three of us to find, after all it is on the water so all we need to do if lost is look for where we see no land."  Baldar says slightly uncomfortably, he didn't mind sailing, its just he liked solid earth beneath his feet, he liked it even more if there was a hot forge before him, but that would be greedy to expect here in this place.  "Be safe in your journeys then and may the ancestors bless your steps so that we may meet again."  Baldar says respectfully before turning to the elf, half-elf and kinda fumbling around for words before adding.  "And may your enemies blades never pierce your armor."  he said, settling on a common enough saying for his own people who were expert craftsmen when it came to arms and armor.
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Baldar 
The rift is too high for your spell to reach.  Perhaps if you had the means to fly up to it, or could build a sufficiently tall structure, you might learn something by this method.  Or perhaps not.
 


As you wonder how to find your destinations in this alien city, the door to a nearby building with peeling paint and a broken sign - the remnants of which read "harb mas off" - swings open and a scowling human with a paunch and a rapidly vanishing hairline bustles out to meet you.  He has a stack of papers and a clipboard in his hand, and his expression is one of long-suffering self-importance.

 "Welcome to New Ganthar,"  he says curtly in a tone that is anything but welcoming.   "Anyone who already has their papers, you should produce them now.  Everyone else, identify yourselves and explain the reason for your visit.  If you have legitimate business in New Ganthar, I will then prepare your papers and take the standard 50gp fee." 
dantiesilva
Scrunching his brow as he is to far away to be able to detect any magic from the rift the dwarf curses thinking about the few different ways he could try to get closer, and the many things that could go wrong trying to do so. Flying to close to it could accidentally activate it and either  pull him through, or let the things on the other side in for instance. And building something that tall, would require a large work force and an even stronger defense force to make sure no one purposely didn't try to use the structure to activate it. Neither option seemed viable for him regardless at this time.

As the human leaves his rundown building Baldar wonders how one could allow their home or establishment to look as such. To show a dirty appearance in ones home or place of business often meant one was not reputable, or cared little. And as the figure spoke he was sure of one of them without a doubt. "Baldar of Kharheim, I am here as an envoy for Kharheim in preserving our nations peace with one another. My embassy should have already sent over the papers."  Baldar says plainly, not reaching to hand the man any gold at this time as he waits to see if anything he says rings a bell with the man that had come out of the Harbor masters office. After all charging people gold to simply come to your land seemed outrageous to him and it took great willpower to not be offended by such a remark, after all where were the people to great him and the other people who had left Kharheim for similar reasons? He didn't know why the half-elf was here, but it could be diplomatic he supposed.
esorscher
  Fifty gold? Outrageous!   Bellerophon thought to himself. He did some quick calculations--this "harbormaster" would be bringing in enough gold just from the three of them to feed a man for a year. While Baldar talks to the harbormaster, Bellerophon waits to see how the situation unfolds. Even though he had the gold, he wasn't willing to hand it over quite yet.
gallagher
  Fifty gold??   Dora thought. She should be getting paid to be in this filth.

Dora waits her turn, and considers the most reasonable reason she could give for being there. When it is her turn, she states plainly.  I am a Dora, an orphan with no real home, looking to make a new one. I am looking for work, intend to stay until I am no longer welcome, and have no papers. If you will show me where I can fill out official paperwork, I will gladly do so and be on my way.  She conspicuously offers no gold, and instead sees how the harbormaster will react.

 
 Spoiler 
Dora has no ranks in sense motive, and a negative wisdom, but her base sense in a new place is to be incredibly suspicious and guarded. She is literate and would prefer to fill out her own paperwork, and be in control of her own information to the greatest degree possible. With that context, here is a sense motive roll.
 (1d20-1)[ 18 ] 
 
Timble
Thespia had her papers ready to go, her pilgrimage prepared by the church of Yara. However two of the three ahead of her did not seem as prepared. Perhaps she would be able to help out.
However, she didn't know the laws of this land beyond those in her book. 50 Gold was an excessive amount of money for the typical traveler. Was this the standard rate or was the harbour master trying to make some money on the side?

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Sense Motive, expending focus to use the Inquisitor feat for Sense Motive Bonus vs a Bluff Check
(As such waiting for the guy to respond to Bellerophon and Dora for the following check)
 (1d20+17)[ 32 ] 

And preparing to step in to mediate things if they go badly, probably offering to pay if things go that way.
 
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Sense Motive DC 15 
This man has clearly taken one look at you and decided to fleece you.  You believe him when he says you need papers to move freely in New Ganthar; and doubtless there is a fee involved, but not at the level he is proposing to charge you.
 

 
 Spoiler: Sense Motive DC 20 
You suspect the true fee is under 10gp.
 


 
 Originally Posted by dantiesilva 
  "Baldar of Kharheim, I am here as an envoy for Kharheim in preserving our nations peace with one another. My embassy should have already sent over the papers."  
 

The man sneers at that, although he starts flicking through the sheaf of paperwork while he does so.

 "An envoy, you say?  A likely story.  Why, if I had a gold piece for everyone who's ever  claimed to be on a diplomatic mission to get out of paying the immigration fee, I'd..." 

He stops, eyes moving silently as he reads the page he has just found.  With an uncomfortable cough, he sketches a bow that might - with a charitable squint - resemble the bow given in Kharheim to acknowledge that one has unintentionally given offence.
 
"It seems I was in error, Baldar of Kharheim.  I have your name and likeness here.  If you will wait a moment while I deal with these others, I'll see you are shown to the embassy.  The Ambassador can supply everything you need." 

 
 Originally Posted by gallagher 
  I am a Dora, an orphan with no real home, looking to make a new one. I am looking for work, intend to stay until I am no longer welcome, and have no papers. If you will show me where I can fill out official paperwork, I will gladly do so and be on my way.   
 

Still shaken from his blunder with Baldar, the sweating official turns his gaze to Dora.
 
"There's not many make their home here by choice, these days.  It's enough to make a man suspicious.

"Still, there's no shortage of work needs doing.  Fill out form 62b, in triplicate,"  he hands you a lengthy set of forms,  "and pay the fee, and we'll sort you out with a month's permit. Prove you can get a job, and we'll see about extending that." 

He looks to see who will come forward next.
esorscher
"  Bellerophon Ironshield,  " Bellerophon says, moving past the man. He trusts that the same diplomatic protection that was extended to Baldar would be also extended to him, given the nature of his mission for the Runewardens. He waits a bit beyond this gatekeeper to see how Dora responds, but if she intends to stay here and fill out paperwork, he will head to the Fellowship as he'd previously shared with her.

"  Humans,  " he says quietly, disappointedly, to Baldar.
Timble
 "Thespia, priestess of Yara"  Thespia says, holding out her papers.

She also reaches for her pouch and pulls out 10 gold coins.
 "Dora, if you will accept this I will pay in your place. 10 gold harbour master, still likely more than you can legitimately charge." 

Such corruption would never be allowed on the isles. She would have to report him after she reached the temple. But still, she had barely arrived and was already able to help people. Hopefully this was a good sign of things to come.
dantiesilva
Baldar had very little interactions with humans however for his studies had been given a crash course on how to tell they were lying and as he looked at the Harbor master trying to take them for fools he began to glare down upon the man.  "A wise man would not offer insult to one claiming to be a diplomat in my country even if they were not until proven they weren't Harbor Master. Nor would one try to take more then they were owed, weighing the debt so heavy on their own soul for such a thing as personal wealth over the wealth of their kin and clan."  Baldar says plainly making it clear he knew the man was trying to take well more then he was owed.

 "Their country is young and in dire trouble from the looks of their sky, we shall permit this one offense so long as it is not repeated."  Baldar replies to Bellerophon making it clear to the Harbor Master that he had indeed offered insult, as well as trying to dissuade Bellerophon from letting their pride get the best of them just yet while still making it clear he didn't disagree with his fellow dwarf.

Watching the strange human woman deal with the Harbor Master he nods his head in approval to her as he speaks up.  "It is no doubt what he would get paid for a large group that knew the true price Priestess, however it is your gold and I doubt you wish to cause trouble for your Kin."  he says respectfully, recognizing her diplomatic approach to the harbor master and her willingness to help Dora. So long as she didn't outweigh the scales it was an honorable act to help another so long as it was something you knew they could easily repay.
gallagher
 I have the money for fees . Dora says curtly, though directed at the harbormaster and not the traveler that Dora had begun to know briefly.  What I do not have is coin to line the pockets of unscrupulous paper-pushers.  Dora takes the forms and looks down them, searching for any listing of the appropriate fee for her arrival. If she sees an actual listed cost, she will announce it as loud as possible to prevent this man from taking further advantage of anyone around her.

When that is sorted out, and payment made appropriately, Dora will follow Bellephoron while ready for trouble.
ilinares
The man looks quietly furious at discovering that, of his four main prospects, two have diplomatic credentials and the third has their papers already in order.

He turns his glare on Dora, quietly completing the lengthy form.  The colour drains from his face however, and the bluster from his posture, as Dora finds a note of the 5gp processing fee in the small print towards the end and starts loudly announcing it to all and sundry.
 
"What?  Well, clearly the scribe made a mistake... missed off a digit, easily done... ah, well, no, I suppose I can't charge more than the amount on the form..." 

In the end, he is so eager to get you out of the way that he waives the fee entirely.  So it is that you find yourselves on the other side of this shambolic customs process - in Dora's case, holding a small leather-covered booklet with her name, description, and a notation giving the date when her permit to seek work expires.

True to his word, the official arranges a guide to show you the way to Kharheim's embassy.  A young, gangly man with a blotchy complexion and greasy blond hair, he is grinning broadly from ear to ear by the time he meets you.
 
"Well, it warms my heart to see that old snake put in his place, and no mistake,"  he drawls, offering his hand to shake in the human fashion.   "Name's Brent.  Looks like I'll be your guide tonight.  Streets aren't that safe at night, but you follow me, I'll see you right." 
gallagher
 Who makes these streets unsafe?  Dora asks in a low growl, not of intimidation but in a way that implies that she is used to being in command. Dora has long learned that she cannot read anyone's mind, and the best way to keep people with unwise ideas at a distance is to take command of any situation early.  And what do they do that one guide can prevent? 

Dora allows Brent to lead them along their way, however, and takes note of anything he points out. Dora asks of the purpose of any building that is noticeably austere or ostentatious, and of important people that she might learn of at those places. She also asks where the best bread is baked in town.
dantiesilva
  What was it they said about humans and their hands?   Baldar thinks to himself for a moment before looking to Dora and the human in their group to see how they would interact with their guide and his outstretched hand. Looking over the child he looked very unclean and malnourished, was this a clan less, had they dare show such disgrace to them so quickly! Baldar begins to think in his head his anger rising as the all around him those standing near him can even hear random words being spoken in dwarven from all of the ancestors that surround him, the most common outcry however is clanless.

Baldar makes no form of introduction as he fails to see Dora take the "guides" hand he does not either, the fact he had to even acknowledge a clan less was unforgivable, to give the person his name would give it ideas, and with those ideas sully his own name and that of his clan and kin. Something he could not allow. Instead he remains silent, listening to what is said, while keeping his hand firmly on his family's hammer. Let trouble find them, he would bash their skulls open to deal with some of his anger.
Timble
 "Thespia,"  she says, returning the handshake.  "I'm looking for the temple of Yara, are these directions accurate?" 
She presents the page of her book where the directions were written.
 "If it's not along your way, I'll be able to get there myself. Surely there won't be anyone willing to threaten a priestess." 
esorscher
"  Bellerophon,  " the wizard says by way of introduction, shaking hands with the guide as modeled by Thespia. "  I'm looking for the Fellowship, can you point me in the right direction?  "
ilinares
Brent shakes hands with Thespia and Bellerophon, then offers it to Baldar.  A few seconds of awkwardness follow before the human withdraws it, clearly unsure what to make of this dwarf's behaviour.

He reacts to Thespia's identification as a priestess with a grimace.   "A clothie, are you?  Well, don't think that makes you any safer than the rest of us.  Far from it.

"As for your map, you can't rely on a safe route more than a week old.  Sometimes not even that.  Come on, I'll see you most of the way there. You too, Bellerophon." 

Wincing at Dora's tone, Brent answers with spread hands.

 "Plenty, stranger.  Being robbed is one danger; but if you know where the borders of the gangs' territories are, and which can be paid off, you can avoid those.

"Then there's the Temples."   He spits on the floor, as though the word left a sour taste in his mouth.   "You let one of the clothies find you on a dark night, chances are you'll never see the sunrise."   He glances at Thespia, but says nothing to moderate the harshness of the statement.

 "And you've got some really scary things that walk the night.  Monsters, the walking dead.  Some demons, it's said, that came through before the Order closed the tear in the sky." 

He shudders at that, genuine fear in his eyes.  Shaking himself free of the thoughts, he makes his way to a road with a marker post on it, a glowing purple symbol gently illuminating the space around it.  He seems to draw reassurance from the symbol's proximity, and starts to lead you through the city.  The markers are repeated at regular intervals; Brett seems to linger as he passes one, and to rush more if they're too long out of sight.

The journey takes you past a large building with distinctive banners, showing a kneeling figure raising a sword in salute.  At Dora's prompting, Brent explains:  "There's some group that meets there.  Warrior types.  I don't know much about them, but they're supposed to hunt demons and other things." 

Finally he stops you at a crossroads.  Pointing to the left, he explains:   "Temple District's down that way.  It's a safe road for now - if you call walking into a warzone safe."   Pointing the other way, he continues:   "Mages' District is down there.  No one messes with them, and they keep the area well warded and patrolled. But you want to take sides between the Fellowship and the Order, you're asking for trouble too." 

With a wary look at Baldar, still uncertain, he adds,  "Well, I guess it's onward to the Government District. I'm meant to show you to the embassy, after all." 
esorscher
"  Many thanks. Before I go, you mentioned the Fellowship and the Order. I'm familiar with the first, but not the second. What is the Order? And what is the nature of the conflict between the two?"   Bellerophon asks.
dantiesilva
Baldar watches as Thespia shakes Brent's hand and looks at them confused. Why were they touching, and so openly? He could only guess that this is how humans would great each other as Thespia introduced herself while shaking his hand. But still it showed no respect for ones personal space. Then he watches as Bellerophon Ironshield also shakes the clanless's hand and becomes even more confused by the actions.

Baldar spends most of his time listening as Brent talks to the others, paying attention to how the guide reacts to the gods as a whole, not unlike his own people regard them, though a bit more disrespectful as no dwarf would outwardly attack a priest or spit on the ground talking about them in public at least. After he mentions the demons, monsters, and walking dead Baldar speaks up, though it is clear he is uncomfortable.  "Brent of New Ganther, why does your government allow all of this to go on if it is harming the people? Do they not protect clan and kin? And if these temples are making people disappear why are they not stripped down stone by stone, stormed by those in power to protect their charges? This makes no sense to me and seems very alien in nature to allow ones kin to be harmed in such ways without repercussions."  he says choosing his words carefully to make sure he didn't say the churches were doing anything, nor that the government was ignoring them doing nothing, but instead if it was happening why would it be allowed. He knew better then to state something he did not know to be true, and without facts at that no matter the company.

As they travel Baldar notices the glowing purple symbol and tries to determine what it is as he watches their guide take comfort from seeing them, and discomfort when he hasn't.

 
 Spoiler: Spell 
Detect Magic on the symbol to see if its just an arcane mark or something
 

 "Yes indeed Brent of New Ganther. It appears I am the last on the route, tell me what you can of the problems with the temples. My people rarely worship the gods ourselves due to their fickle natures and I wish to be aware of any problems that may occur while a guest in New Ganther. And from how you speak the most likely threats will come from those who follow one of the gods."  he says, wishing to know more about the dangers he was walking into. After all he was told to close the rifts fully, knowing if the temples were going to be a problem was important. He could always speak to Bellerophon later about the mages to see if they were like their own runewardens and thus wouldn't be an issue or if they could be a problem for them.
gallagher
Dora makes special note; after she and Bellerophon attend to his mage's business, she was going to go see to this building of warriors. After that, though... this idea of temples at war made her skin crawl. Men and women, given the duty by their gods, making it their business to harm commoners was not something that sat well with her. She whispers to her dwarven companion   I have the distinct urge to go see these temples, stand between them, and see which tries to disappear me first.  
esorscher
"  Perhaps we might be better served by splitting up,  " Bellerophon suggests to Dora. "  You can find out what you need to from the Temple District, and I can learn what I can from the Fellowship, and then we can compare notes tonight. Not that I mind your company, of course. A strong arm is more than welcome at my side in this strange, and from the sound of it, unsafe territory.  "
gallagher
 Nay, not for now. If one of us gets disappeared, the other can see it happen. It sounds like this city is about as safe for travelers as it is for their residents.  Dora said wryly.
Timble
Brent's statement on the 'clothies' was troubling. What was going on with the other faiths in this city?
Thespia nods at Baldur's statement.  "Yes. What do you mean by that Brent? What priests would harm people on the street without fear of retribution?" 
ilinares
 
 Originally Posted by esorscher 
 "  Many thanks. Before I go, you mentioned the Fellowship and the Order. I'm familiar with the first, but not the second. What is the Order? And what is the nature of the conflict between the two?"   Bellerophon asks. 
 

Brent grimaces.  "Well, you've got the Arcane Fellowship.  In my pa's day, they were the big boys on the playground.  They got to say who could be a wizard and who couldn't, what a spellslinger was allowed to do - all of that.  But along comes the Order - that's the Order of Mattheus, I guess.  They don't play by the Fellowship's rules, don't hold with being told what to do - well, not by the Fellowship at least.  And it was the Order that actually helped keep people safe from the demons, them that fixed the holes in the sky.  So they get a lot of leeway.  I guess the Fellowship don't like that much.  They're not blowing chunks out of each other in the street or anything, but it's pretty frosty when they get together." 

 
 Originally Posted by dantiesilva 
   "Brent of New Ganther, why does your government allow all of this to go on if it is harming the people? Do they not protect clan and kin? And if these temples are making people disappear why are they not stripped down stone by stone, stormed by those in power to protect their charges? This makes no sense to me and seems very alien in nature to allow ones kin to be harmed in such ways without repercussions."  
 


 
 Originally Posted by Timble 
 Thespia nods at Baldur's statement.  "Yes. What do you mean by that Brent? What priests would harm people on the street without fear of retribution?"  
 

Brent's answer to that is to spread his hands.   "I guess you'd have to ask them, stranger.  I know the guard cracked a few heads some years back, told them to play nice.  Maybe it helped; I don't know.  I just know that you're a fool if you trust the clothies.  Even the ones that make the right noises have a knife behind their backs.

"As for the rest of it?  Not enough guards to keep up with everything.  Seems most everyone who cared about doing the right thing and had the spine to back it up followed His Majesty on that stupid Crusade and never came back.  Of those left, there's probably a fair few in the pay of the gangs, but you didn't hear it from me." 

 As they travel Baldar notices the glowing purple symbol and tries to determine what it is as he watches their guide take comfort from seeing them, and discomfort when he hasn't.

 
 Spoiler: Spell 
Detect Magic on the symbol to see if its just an arcane mark or something
 
 

 
 Spoiler: Baldar only - Detect Magic result 
There is a moderate aura of magic emanating from the symbol.
 

 
 Spoiler: Baldar (after the others leave) 
 "Yes indeed Brent of New Ganther. It appears I am the last on the route, tell me what you can of the problems with the temples. My people rarely worship the gods ourselves due to their fickle natures and I wish to be aware of any problems that may occur while a guest in New Ganther. And from how you speak the most likely threats will come from those who follow one of the gods."  he says, wishing to know more about the dangers he was walking into. After all he was told to close the rifts fully, knowing if the temples were going to be a problem was important. He could always speak to Bellerophon later about the mages to see if they were like their own runewardens and thus wouldn't be an issue or if they could be a problem for them.[/QUOTE]

Brent leads you through increasingly well-maintained streets, past buildings that start to show more expensive styles of construction and, particularly, elven influences.

 "Well, the way I hear it, this guy called Roost started a cult.  Whole bunch of the clothies who followed Charis went and joined up.  The rest tried to stamp it out, quick-sharp.  Then it all gets messy.  Every man and his dog starts taking sides.  And it spreads.  You talk to someone on one side and they think you're in bed with the other, and suddenly they're all 'cleanse the sinner! Slash, slash, chop, gurgle, thunk!' " 

He seems to realise belatedly he's let himself get carried away.  Coughing, his cheeks reddening, he nods at a well-appointed building of unmistakably dwarven craftsmanship ahead of you, sturdy and refreshing in the midst of so much that looks like it might collapse in mere decades.  A sentry in chain mail, his attire proclaiming loudly to your trained eyes that he is pledged to the Council of Clans, regards you impassively as you draw near.

 "I guess we're here.  Embassy of Kharheim, just like I promised.  Safe and sound." 

He looks at you expectantly.
 
dantiesilva
As Brent pointed out that even the good clergy has a knife behind their back he restrained himself from pointing out that most people knowing they were hated would have some kind of weapon on them for defense, and a knife for eating food, but didn't think the boy would agree with that logic and so choose to remain silent. "So what I am hearing is that this city is run by the criminal element at this point and that the "Government is little more than an illusion the gangs use to keep trade open."  Baldar questions trying to see if he understood their guide correctly. After all if the guards only defended those who could pay well or where the gangs paid them to go that meant that he couldn't trust anyone but his own people here, and these strangers he had traveled with were not connected to the gangs yet making them the only other options if he wished to complete his task in New Ganther and make sure no more demons came through the breech and properly seal it. It sounded like this Order did a good job at closing it, however it was a weak seal, no doubt because they didn't have the runes that the dwarves did for such tasks. No matter though, he would find a way to close the breech and keep an eye on the temples to see if they would become a threat to his people, though by the sounds of it they were on a self destructive path that would lead the people here to take on a similar ideal as his own people to just get rid of all priests.

 
 Spoiler: Detect magic 
Focusing a bit longer on it
 


As Brent leads Baldar through the streets he notices the quality of buildings improves greatly as they continue to walk, even if they were of elven design, no doubt built atop the ruins of old, they were much more appealing then the dishevel things the humans had constructed elsewhere. If they were lucky most of these buildings would last less then a century at best. If they were not, he didn't want to be in one when it fell down.

 "So this Roost person had a different ideal of what Charis was supposed to be, people agreed with him, and the main branch tried to destroy them causing those that agree with Roost's idea to take his side, while the others were aided by those who followed the main branch? Kin is Kin, why would one strike down their own kin because one says the sky is up while the other says the ground is down? This makes little sense to me."  Baldar states, using a metaphor as he didn't know what the argument was about but in the end they all were supposed to be one people, to fight amongst each other meant the other clans would see you as weak and easy to destroy. The fact the church of Charis was still around was indeed a surprise to him with that in mind.

As the two arrive at the embassy of Kharheim Baldar cannot help but look at the building with fondness as it was the only one he had seen so far that was sound of building and would survive most storms. Nodding his head to the sentry he is about to announce himself when Brent doesn't seem to leave, as if he is expecting something.   It is clear humans still have not learned much.   he says shaking his head before reaching into his pouch and giving Brent a silver piece before turning back to the sentry.  "Runewarden Baldar, here on behest of Kharheim may I enter.  he says waiting the proper amount of time, before proceeding in if nothing is said, or replying if he is asked questions.
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Bellerophon and Dora 
As you follow the path indicated, the marker posts grow more frequent.  The rather disjointed mix of buildings gives way to a series of towers, each bearing its own glowing symbol over the door in an array of colours.  You suspect someone familiar with them could use these symbols to identify the tower they are after; but, not knowing enough to choose between them, they do you little good.

Finally, a woman catches your eye.  She wears a chain shirt and a long crimson cloak, carrying a halberd casually in one hand. There is a small pouch at her belt, and a series of scroll cases. Her features are narrow, aquiline; her face lined with years and care.  Iron grey hair, tied back in a severe bun, adds to the severe effect; and there is something haunted in her dark eyes, eyes that have seen too much.

 "Your face is new to me,"  she says in a dry voice.   "Can i help you?" 
 
esorscher
"  I hope so,  " Bellerophon says. "  My name is Bellerophon, a wizard from Kharheim. I wish to extend the courtesy of identifying myself to the Fellowship.  "
gallagher
Dora keeps her silence, but otherwise keeps her eyes looking not at the person's scrolls, but their halberd. Strange to see someone so casually and comfortably carrying both in a stronghold dedicated to magic. To have both at the ready indicates that there could be a threat at any moment, and so she spent her time trying to observe her surroundings while the wizards talked.
Timble
 "Troubling,"  Thespia says, falling silent in contemplation. But she quickly perks up again.  "Thank you for your guidance, Brent. If you need help in the future, remember the temple of Yara helps all." 

She waves goodbye as she strolls up the road, aiming to find her new home and temple.
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Thespia 
Taking your leave of Brent, you follow the appointed path along cobbled streets into the Temple District.

As you walk, the feel of your surroundings changes.  More and more buildings seem to have been abandoned, as though people once anxious to live close to the sacred heart of the city are now just as keen to stay away.  Graffiti and vandalism seem commonplace.

Your path takes you to a large central plaza.  The flagstones are scattered with weeds; tall iron poles are spaced regularly around the square, and two of them radiate what appears to be magical light, but the rest are conspicuously dark.  Three have been knocked down, which must have taken significant force.  Statues are interspersed around this area, the people they depict presumably significant, but many have been defaced beyond recognition.

There are six buildings around that central square that carry the hallmarks of places of worship.  Half are abandoned.  Two of those that remain stand close to one another, both having more in common with a fortress to your eyes than a sacred site.  Of those two, one has statues of armed and armoured celestials upon it, and two figures in gleaming plate armour with white and gold tabards standing sternly to attention in the doorway; the second has prominent banners of some dark colour - possibly navy blue, although the night makes it difficult to be sure - on which a silver emblem of a downward-pointing sword beneath an eye boldly proclaims the allegiance of those within.  This two is guarded by two armed and armoured individuals, their armour darker in hue, their tabards matching the banners above.  The body language of each set of guards suggests their focus is mainly on one another.

Your business, however, is with the last of the six buildings.  While those two stand belligerently close together, this last is on the far side of the square. Simple, clean lines mark its construction, with no statuary or loud banners.  There is a simple wooden symbol above the door: a smaller hand held in a larger one, reminiscent of a child and their parent, a simple but striking image of trust and provision.

Unlike the other two manned temples, there are no guards, and the door is open, spilling light out into the square.  Sounds of conversation can be heard within, and there is the aroma of food as well.

Stepping inside, you quickly find yourself greeted by a dark skinned human woman of middle years, her face framed by thick curls of black hair down to her shoulders, wearing a pink and white dress.  She gives you a radiant smile, her face and eyes the first truly joyful sight you've seen in this city, as she comes towards you with arms wide in welcome.
 
"It's late to be out on the streets, girl!  Why don't you come in and make yourself at home?  There's food to be had and rest for weary feet.  Everyone's welcome in our Lady's house." 
 

 
 Spoiler: Bellerophon and Dora 
The woman nods thoughtfully.   "Bellerophon? Good to meet you.  I'm Lydia, an officer of the Vanguard.  We serve the Council of the Fellowship, as protectors and enforcers.  Although less of the latter, of late.

"It's refreshing to meet a mage who comes to us, rather than the other way around.  Should speed things up.  I'll take you to our offices, sort out licences and bring you up to speed on the main regulations, that sort of thing.

"And your friend is…?" 
 

 
 Spoiler: Baldar 

 
 Spoiler: Detect Magic outcome 
The arcane symbols etched into the posts radiate a spell of the Enchantment school.  The effect does not match a spell known to you; it appears to be a bespoke spell effect that makes chaotic-aligned creatures uncomfortable in proximity to it.  It may have the opposite effect on some lawful-aligned creatures - perhaps explaining Brent's behaviour.

You surmise that the marker posts collectively create pockets of the city where one is less likely to encounter demons and similar beings, by subconsciously encouraging them to go elsewhere.  In one sense it is less effective than a magic circle against evil or the like - it does not create a barrier as such - but it may have other advantages.
 


 
 Originally Posted by dantiesilva 
  "So what I am hearing is that this city is run by the criminal element at this point and that the Government is little more than an illusion the gangs use to keep trade open."  Baldar questions trying to see if he understood their guide correctly. 
 

Brent grimaces.   "I don't know that I'd go  that  far.  There's a few good folks in power, and they try to fight back.  I guess there are better days and worse days, even if it doesn't always feel like that.  But it seems like the gangs are winning most of the time.  Regular folks like us, the best we can do is keep our heads down and hope no one steps on us." 

  "So this Roost person had a different ideal of what Charis was supposed to be, people agreed with him, and the main branch tried to destroy them causing those that agree with Roost's idea to take his side, while the others were aided by those who followed the main branch? Kin is Kin, why would one strike down their own kin because one says the sky is up while the other says the ground is down? This makes little sense to me."  

 "Yeah, well, it doesn't make much sense to me either.  But I guess it makes sense to them?  I don't know." 

  "Runewarden Baldar, here on behest of Kharheim may I enter.  he says waiting the proper amount of time, before proceeding in if nothing is said, or replying if he is asked questions. 

The dwarf glances at Brent, who is walking away with your silver in his pocket, before returning his attention to you.  He gives a bow of respect, perfect to the millimetre.
 
"All honour to you, Runewarden.  In the name of the Ambassador I bid you welcome.  Enter in peace." 

With those words, he steps aside.  Unconsciously you relax; the ritual words make you a guest in the embassy, under the Ambassador's protection - and subject of course to duties of respect and proper behaviour in return.  While you know you need others' protection less than most, there is a sense of entering safe harbour after traveling dangerous waters as you pass the threshold.

There are a number of side rooms along the corridor, but a nod of the sentry's head directs you to the main door at the far side. A dwarf in clothes that denote a position of service opens the door, bows, and announces you by name and title.

The room beyond is dominated by a stone table, being used as a desk by a dwarf of advanced years, his long braided hair and beard white as snow.  He regards you from a craggy face, eyes blue and sharp with years and experience, his expression respectful but with a hint of curiosity about your presence.

Rising, the man comes around the table to greet you with the bow of a host honouring a socially superior guest.

 "All honour to you, Runewarden.  I am Cragor Stormhelm.  It is my present duty to serve the Council of Clans as Ambassador to the nation of New Ganthar.  Please, take a seat." 

He indicates one of two chairs on the near side of his desk, comfortable and well made without any unnecessary decoration.  While he does so he glances to the servant at the door; no words pass between them, but the servant bows and departs.  The door remains open; no confidential business will take place until the servant returns with the necessities for hospitality.

Cragor walks back to his seat.  There is a hint of stiffness in his gait, perhaps a degree of arthritis.  He says nothing of it, merely sitting back down and studying you.  He asks politely after your journey, listening attentively to your answers.

It is only a few minutes before the servant returns, setting on the table before you a choice of drinks and a selection of light delicacies - primarily spiced meats and pastries, as well as a selection of biscuits and fruit.  It is a table such as might greet a guest in the wealthy homes of Kharheim; to find it here, outside your homeland, is a pleasant surprise.  Cragor leaves you to choose your selection first, before following suit, taking a bite of food and a sip of ale before you do.  Such is the host's right and duty.

Once you are alone, the door shut, Cragor leans forward.    "I had word of your coming, of course, but the details were sparse.  How can I serve the Runewardens this day?" 
 
gallagher
 Dora . She states emotionless. It was good to see that a woman of status would be acting so capably in this moment. A veritable breath of fresh air compared to the rest of this nation so far.

 I guess I am to this one, as you are to the Fellowship. We both had a common interest that led us to Ganthar, and we decided that we would be safer if we watched out for each other.

You mention regulations. I was under the impression that laws were poorly enforced here. Our guide had to keep to a specific path to ensure our safety to your doorstep, and told us to watch out for priests who disappear people while crossing the street. What body exists here that can enforce any law? 
esorscher
Bellerophon is silent, waiting to hear the answer to Dora's question. Hopefully, it is answered as they walk to the offices.
dantiesilva
As Baldar determines the source of the spell he is surprised by the school of magic it comes from. It was similar in some aspects to that of a protection spell however it was not of the respected school but instead of enchantment. It seemed like a good way to ward off enemies like demons, however also a good way to round up all the lawful creatures as he watched Brents reaction each time he was near one of these runes compared to when he was far away from one. It was an easily exploited trap if you were to ask him, made to give a false sense of safety.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
He will focus for the last round
 


 Brent grimaces. "I don't know that I'd go that far. There's a few good folks in power, and they try to fight back. I guess there are better days and worse days, even if it doesn't always feel like that. But it seems like the gangs are winning most of the time. Regular folks like us, the best we can do is keep our heads down and hope no one steps on us." 

Baldar makes a point not to respond to Brent's statement, having clearly drawn his own conclusion from what had been just said, however not wanting to offer insult to their host when acting in the honor of his ancestors,country, and kin.

 "I thank you warrior of the council. May your blade never dull, and your shield never fail you."  Baldar says respectfully to the dwarf who had chose service to the council, a high honor indeed, over a peaceful life with his own clan. These were proper, civilized people at last he thought as he entered the home of the ambassador, for the first time since leaving the boat, nay maybe even before then, truly being able to relax. Baldar notices the other rooms, however when the sentry directs him with a simple gesture even a child would understand, he follows it to where he was silently instructed. He gives a slight bow, one of respect to the servant who opens the door and announces him.

Entering the room and looking upon the Ambassador with respect he waits for the host to finish before responding with the proper bow.  "And all honor to you and your ancestors Ambassador Cragor Stormhelm."  he says before reaching into his bag and producing a wrapped object that he places upon the table.  "As is our custom, I present to you a waraxe crafted by my own hands from Oathkeeper steel. May its blade serve you and yours well."  he says unwrapping it before taking a step back so that the servant may take it and bring it to the ambassador.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
I am using some of my gold (as I didn't think about the Host gift till just now...600gp for dwarvencraft which is stronger than masterwork 60gp for it to be a cold iron Dwarven Waraxe so I have 678gp remaining
 


Once the gift has been moved he takes a seat as offered by the host. As they wait for the servant to return Baldar answers to the best of his abilities any questions asked.  "The trip was different than I expected, though not unpleasant. One who has only traveled on a river cannot fathom the depths of difference from the ocean just as a child wielding a wooden weapon cannot fathom the pain a metal one may cause."  he says trying to find a proper way of explaining how he had felt. It was different to him, not bad, just different and something he was not wholly ready for when he had first set out. He explains how the captain and crew did their job perfectly and were excellent hosts while he had been aboard.

As the drink and food is brought out, Baldar waits until the table is set, amazed out how so much of their culture could be found in New Ganther still as he picks a honeyed mead as well as some spiced meat, waiting for the host to of course do their part before he in turn takes a drink of the cup to steady himself in this alien place. Taking comfort from what he can he waits until the door is shut, eatting at the spiced meat. Once it is done however he shifts slightly to a more formal posture.  "We are worried that the seals in the sky are not strong enough as the humans were never gifted the runes we were centuries ago. That over time the demons will break through as they have in the past. Just now with the large hole in the sky it will be a lot worse then when they broke through the small cracks they found in our own runes after centuries of use. I have been sent to investigate what the humans have done to seal these breaches, and to keep an eye on the temples of Charis. Just on my way here I have heard dangerous things about temples hauling people away in the middle of the night and those that are, never being seen again.  If  this is true it is my duty to protect our people here and make sure you may all return to Kharheim safely. But I am a guest here in your home and will not interfere with what you have going on here. However many things are strange to me here, and I am uncertain how to proceed, for excample their is a corrupt harbor master who has offered multiple insults, however due to having just landed upon this island and not wanting to cause a scene I allowed them, something I would not have done back home. Can you offer me any insight into how to deal with these people so that I may complete my task without incident? Also there is a Bellerophon Ironshield who has also taken the ship with me here, at the moment they are going to speak with the humans version of our runewardens if I am not mistaken to announce himself to them. Later we are to meet to see what he has learned, should I have him return here, he travels with a...half elf."  Baldar says carefully.
Timble
Thespia tried not to let the sights of the temple district get to her. She had seen nothing but problems since her arrival in the city. Sure, it meant that she could make a real difference here continuing her goddess's work in this troubled city. Still, it was depressing.

However, arriving at the temple filled her with cheer again.

 "Thank you, Sister. I am Thespia of the Isles. I believe I should be expected. I am here to work in service to Yara and New Ganthar during my pilgrimage." 
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Bellerophon and Dora 

 
 Originally Posted by gallagher 
  You mention regulations. I was under the impression that laws were poorly enforced here. Our guide had to keep to a specific path to ensure our safety to your doorstep, and told us to watch out for priests who disappear people while crossing the street. What body exists here that can enforce any law?  
 

Lydia grimaces at that, but does not reply immediately.  Beckoning, she leads the way through the streets.

After gathering her thoughts, she starts to answer your question.
 
"There have been many compromises over the years,"  she says quietly, her voice simmering with anger and frustration.   "Too few guards to patrol the whole city?  Pull them back from the areas the electorate cares least about. Can't man 24-hour shifts?  Just patrol during the day, to keep businesses running, and tell people to stay home at night.  Can't deal with all the crime in the city?  Choose which crimes to investigate and which to let slide.  And there's a lot that is allowed to slide.

"The Vanguard… we lost many when the demons first invaded.  With our numbers so diminished, we couldn't effectively carry out our duties.  Rogues mages running unchecked, demons spilling into this plane, the undead… we just couldn't keep up.  The Crusade made things even worse; many of our best officers chose to follow King Amdel on his campaign rather than continue fighting a losing battle here.  Those of us who remained felt like we were bailing out a sinking ship with a leaky bucket.

"When we started hearing rumours of a new band of rogue wizards, calling themselves the Order of Mattheus, we treated it like we would any rogue.  Investigated, captured a few, but the main body remained illusive.  Then they somehow closed the rifts.  They became overnight celebrities; the Ministry wanted to know why we were persecuting them; I barely kept my job, lost all my seniority. Today they're basically untouchable, at least as long as they don't do anything to lose their political clout.  Oh, they follow the laws we could really nail them for: they don't kill anyone or control people's minds, for example.  But the regulations about who can use magic and what forms of magic are permitted, about the creation and distribution of magical items - we can't go after them for any of that.  So if we start going after an unlicensed mage, it just pushes them to join the Order.

"As for the temples, there is no shortage of rumours about them.  They've become an object of fear and loathing for the populace.  But by and large they only really pose a danger to each other.  For the rest of us, they've become increasingly irrelevant.  Theo would be turning in his grave.  Rosalind too."   She sighs at that.

Looking up, she finds you have reached a squat, blocky building, nestled into the ground and with its entrance below street level.  As she approaches, the door slides upwards of its own accord; and she leads you into a processing room scattered with chairs, a desk at the far side manned by a young halfling in a cloak matching Lydia's.  It is otherwise deserted.

Exchanging a nod of greeting with the desk officer, Lydia pulls out three objects from the desk: a small book; a document with the appearance of a contract; and a card perhaps six centimetres by three.

 "A copy of the laws and regulations for mages in this city.  A licensing agreement, confirming that as a visiting spellcaster duly licensed in his own country you will be permitted to cast while in our territory provided that you abide by those laws and regulations.  And a licence you can produce if challenged, which Wheatsheaf here will complete for you when you've signed."   The desk officer - Wheatsheaf, presumably - looks bored; but you can tell Lydia takes this seriously.
 

 
 Spoiler: Baldar 

 
 Originally Posted by dantiesilva 
  "As is our custom, I present to you a waraxe crafted by my own hands from Oathkeeper steel. May its blade serve you and yours well."  he says unwrapping it before taking a step back so that the servant may take it and bring it to the ambassador. 
 

The Ambassador receives the gift gravely.    "A fitting gift indeed, Runewarden.  And a high honour you pay me, when you and yours are not bound by that tradition.  But you do not find me unprepared." 

Reaching into a drawer of his desk, he removes a package wrapped in dark green cloth, placing it carefully on the table in front of you.


  "The trip was different than I expected, though not unpleasant. One who has only traveled on a river cannot fathom the depths of difference from the ocean just as a child wielding a wooden weapon cannot fathom the pain a metal one may cause."  he says trying to find a proper way of explaining how he had felt. 

Cragor smiles faintly.   "Then you are a more natural seafarer than I.  It has been a long time since my first sea voyage, but I remember it well.  We dwarves are at home in earth and stone, I think; in that which is stable, lasting, and strong.  To travel the ocean, which flows and changes constantly, its surface always in motion… it goes against all our instincts.  Glad was I when we reached land again." 

 Once it is done however he shifts slightly to a more formal posture.  "We are worried that the seals in the sky are not strong enough as the humans were never gifted the runes we were centuries ago. That over time the demons will break through as they have in the past. Just now with the large hole in the sky it will be a lot worse then when they broke through the small cracks they found in our own runes after centuries of use. I have been sent to investigate what the humans have done to seal these breaches, and to keep an eye on the temples of Charis. Just on my way here I have heard dangerous things about temples hauling people away in the middle of the night and those that are, never being seen again.  If  this is true it is my duty to protect our people here and make sure you may all return to Kharheim safely. But I am a guest here in your home and will not interfere with what you have going on here. However many things are strange to me here, and I am uncertain how to proceed, for example there is a corrupt harbor master who has offered multiple insults, however due to having just landed upon this island and not wanting to cause a scene I allowed them, something I would not have done back home. Can you offer me any insight into how to deal with these people so that I may complete my task without incident? Also there is a Bellerophon Ironshield who has also taken the ship with me here, at the moment they are going to speak with the humans version of our runewardens if I am not mistaken to announce himself to them. Later we are to meet to see what he has learned, should I have him return here, he travels with a...half elf."  Baldar says carefully. 

Cragor listens without interruption.  You suspect the skill of listening well is as important to his role as eloquence in speaking.  Once you have finished, he sips his mead pensively before beginning to speak.
 
"Bellerophon is mentioned in the letters I have received, and there are diplomatic papers for you both I will provide before you leave.  As for the half elf, the first lesson a diplomat must learn is to leave behind preconceptions of other races and cultures.  A hard lesson, but I commend it to you.

"The rifts are worry enough, that's the ancestors' truth.  Doubtless Drakeslayer had sound reasons to leave the humans to deal with it; but I confess I would rest easier knowing a Runewarden had checked their work.

"I have tried to avoid the temples as much as I can.  They give me a headache. And their influence with this new government is much diminished, so I cross paths with them less often in the course of my duties.

"You will have heard of the feuding between the temples over some point of religious doctrine.  It is clearly a matter that speaks as deeply to their sensibilities as a matter of the gravest dishonour would to ours.  Blood must flow, and frequently does.

"But what can I tell you that isn't just hearsay, I wonder?"   He reflects for a minute, his expression troubled.   "I have spoken with the current leader of the temple of Charis.  High Inquisitor Niall.  I have found him to be a forthright, honourable man and impeccably courteous.  You might start your investigations by meeting him.

"The dissident sect hides in shadows.  I cannot tell you where to find them or their leaders.  But it is known that the Temple of Relath has ways to contact them.  Meeting with their Arbiter might prove fruitful.

"As to the other temples, they have faded from public view.  Many of their congregations grew disaffected over the infighting; and they lost a good many clerics.  They have also been beset by financial problems, forcing them to abandon the larger temples they once maintained.  They may still meet, in homes or hired spaces, but I could not easily direct you to one of their leaders.

"And you asked about a corrupt harbourmaster? Such things are all too commonplace, and a complaint is unlikely to get you far.  It seems like this nation has lost its moral leadership, and without it, the rot spreads unchecked.

"I know there are some in the political sphere who tire of the growing corruption; they are due to hold an election soon, by which a new government might be chosen, and much of the campaigning in certain quarters is pointing to this and similar problems.  Perhaps by such means a culture might be changed."   He looks pessimistic as he says it, however.

 "Insight into these people… Well, honour means little to most of them.  Many see themselves as a clan of one; and a clan moreover that is blind to any obligation due or owing.  They give insult as though it were nothing - even deadly insults - and regard the one who is offended as being at fault.  They pursue whatever self-serving desire moves them, be it for wealth or status or pleasures of the flesh, without any discernable sense of shame or thought of consequence.

"But there are exceptions.  Men and women who have some semblance of honour, of courtesy, and of duty.  Find those if you can; they are like precious gems.

"As to the rest, I have found there is only one way to remain sane amid the madness: to treat them all as infants.  They lack the maturity to understand what they ought to do, or not do; and their words are the babble of the unschooled.  Take no notice of the insults, the impropriety; it is beneath you to respond and inappropriate to treat them as you would an adult.  If a human seems honourable, you can start to treat him as an older child, ready to be taught our ways and have his mistakes corrected - but gently, with great patience.

"If you are offered violence, respond proportionately as you would a fellow dwarf; but do not answer words with anything but words.  The humans condemn those who strike first, whatever the provocation." 
 

 
 Spoiler: Thespia 
The woman grins broadly.   "Sure, I know who you are!  But let's get you fed and rested up, before we get into it.  There's work enough to be done, and ain't never enough folks to do it; but the worker deserves her pay." 

Not taking no for an answer, she bustles you into what proves to be a sizeable soup kitchen.  There is a long table down the side of the room, with weary but smiling men and women of all races serving a steady stream of hungry, desperate-looking people.  You join the queue, and in short order you and the woman who greeted you are sat facing one another over a bowl of some form of broth, vegetables and a nameless meat combining in a remarkably pleasant-smelling dish.

Taking a spoonful herself, the woman gives a loud hum of appreciation.  Watching you expectantly, she asks,  "So what sort of work d'you think you're called to, Thespia? Joining the good folks here to feed the hungry?  Speaking the good word in the streets?  Or somethin' a mite less humble, I'd wager?"   There is a knowing and slightly teasing expression on her face as she studies you.
 
esorscher
"  Thank you for your insight,  " Bellerophon says to Lydia. Then he turns to Wheatsheaf. "  Bellerophon Ironshield,  " he says by introduction before beginning to fill out the paperwork. As he writes, he asks Lydia, "  So do the Fellowship and this Order have any contact, formal or informal? I'm quite curious about these rifts. Is anyone from the Fellowship investigating them?  "
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Bellerophon and Dora 

 
 Originally Posted by esorscher 
 "  Thank you for your insight,  " Bellerophon says to Lydia. Then he turns to Wheatsheaf. "  Bellerophon Ironshield,  " he says by introduction before beginning to fill out the paperwork. As he writes, he asks Lydia, "  So do the Fellowship and this Order have any contact, formal or informal? I'm quite curious about these rifts. Is anyone from the Fellowship investigating them?  " 
 

Lydia gives a mirthless laugh at that.   "The Fellowship does everything it can to stay out of the Order's way.  Which isn't easy when they set up their 'academy' right on our doorstep, and fill every major street corner with their wardposts.  And of course, we only have to look at the sky to see the evidence of their handiwork, taunting us.

"Some of the Fellowship did make it their mission to investigate the rifts, but many of those defected to the Order when it became clear they were leaps and bounds ahead of us there.  Of those who stayed loyal, probably Velhim is the one to talk to.  He's written essays on the subject and will talk about it to anyone who listens.  If you can stay awake while he explains it to you, he might have some insights for you.

"Here."  Taking a piece of paper, she draws a design onto it - a facsimile of one of the arcane symbols from the towers in this area.   "You'll find his tower about five minutes' walk to the north.  This is his sign.  Just drink a strong coffee or something before you go!" 

Taking the completed papers from you, the halfling fills out your licence and, with a brief act of magic, adds a detailed image of your face to it.  He hands it over wordlessly, together with the book.
 
esorscher
"  Many thanks,  " Bellerophon says to Lydia, with a nod to Wheatsheaf. He stows the license in a pouch at his belt, and says to Dora. "  I'm going to head to this Velhim, and find out what he knows. Care to join me?  "

Once that is decided, he will seek out Velhim.
dantiesilva
 "Forgive me Ambassador, sometimes clan teachings are hard to forget, especially in the matter of gifts."  Baldar says honestly, admitting that he had a hard time giving up his clans ways at times for those of the Runewardens, even more so when ones ancestors seemed to constantly be speaking to you.

Opening the host gift with the proper respect and care it deserves he makes sure to not damage the wrappings at all, thanking Ambassador Cragor for such a marvelous gift.

Baldar listens to the tale of the Ambassador's first time at sea with a patient and understanding smile.  "One aboard our ship was as such. However after having to go through some of the trials of a Runewarden the ocean seemed, easier on the stomach."  he said at last remembering the first time he had been moved with magic and tossing his lunch like a child its liquor. He had been embarrassed for weeks after the incident.  "In truth my skills have always laid at the forge. Hammer in hand, good dwarven steel being forged into the tools our clans and kin have needed over the years. Had my gifts for magic gone unnoticed I no doubt would have become a simple smith."  he admits to the Ambassador plainly trying to show that he was in his eyes no better than any other dwarf.

When Calgor speaks once more, Baldar remains silent, noting what he says and writing it down in dwarven runes so that he will remember what he has been told. Showing Calgor the written work before closing it so the Ambassador knows that Baldar did not use names, and only wrote what was important. Striking out anything that Calgor fines unfit to be written down.

"Leave behind preconceptions of other races and cultures.
 The temples have less influence over the government than they once did.
 High Inquisitor Niall of the Temple of Charis is a forthright, honorable man and impeccably courteous from what has been observed.
 The Temple of Realth has ways to contact the dissident sect
 The political arena here is shaky at best, with those who are trying to help looking to make a change.
 Treat others you meet as you would an infant this way your honor not be insulted.
 If offered violence respond as if they were a dwarf, but meet words with words or better yet not at all."

 "I thank you for these warnings Ambassador Calgor and hope to have the matter of the rift looked into and fully resolved within my lifetime with luck. After all the great seals took many greater then I to create and even they had their flaws."  Baldar says as he rises from his seat and bows once more to the Ambassador that deserving of his station.  "With the papers, and your leave I will return to whence myself and Bellerophon arrived, for it is where we are to meet back up before finding an inn and seeing what he has learned about the rifts thus far. After all I think it best to approach a temple in the light of day when my intentions will not be questioned instead of such a late hour."  he says respectfully.
Timble
 "My work is quite humble,"  Thespia says. With a slight giggle she continues,  "I am, perhaps, the humblest person in the Isles. Back home I worked as a community leader and healer. Whatever work needs doing is what I am here for. If it comes down to it, I'm not much in a fight but durable enough to protect others. 

She straightens up and puts on a more serious expression.
 "Can you tell me what it is like here? From the reports I read I knew that New Ganthar has been in a bad shape for quite some time but experiencing it in person is still shocking. What troubles does the church face?" 
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Bellerophon (and Dora) 
Travelling north as directed, you scan the distinctive symbols on each of the tower for the one belonging to Velhim. Along the way you pass a large building, taller than any of the surrounding towers and many times wider; its polished white stone surfaces seem to gleam in the moonlight, divided by evenly spaced columns blazing with arcane symbols akin to those on the wardposts.  A large arched sign over the doorway declares the building's identity for all to see:  Mattheus Academy .

Your destination lies just beyond this edifice.  It is a poorly maintained tower, with several cracked windows and a roof that is visibly missing a number of tiles, even looking from ground level in the dark.  What levels of disrepair daylight might betray, you can only speculate.

When you knock, it is several minutes before a man in his late eighties answers the door.  He is dressed in faded and much-repaired clothing that would have been smart when new, and lifts an outdated hat as he gives you a vague smile.
 
"Goodness!  A visitor?  What can I do for you, young man?" 
 

 
 Spoiler: Thespia 
The woman grins broadly at your words.   "The humblest person in the Isles, hmm?  For sure, there can't be anyone humbler than you!"  There is a teasing look in her eyes, and she shakes her head in amusement.
 
"Well, I can get behind a girl who'll get stuck in with whatever needs doing.  That's a lesson a good few folks around here could stand to learn." 

Considering your question, her face grows more serious.
 
"What's it like here?  It's no bed of roses.  I tell you, it seems like the city's lost its soul.  Folks live in fear all the damn time, and that fear makes them mean.  People do whatever they think will drown out the fear; often that's making themselves feel good by making someone else feel worse, like there's only so much self-worth to go around so they need to grab someone else's.  Or they fill their days with drink and sin, thinking that's the real thing when it's only a lie they tell themselves.

"Thespia, they've turned their backs on the gods, 'cause they think the gods turned their back on them.  They've given up hope in forever and, with it, hope for today.

"So we do what we can.  We try to show people that our Lady cares about them, that She knows what they're going through and how to get through it.  It's a quiet fight, girl, this fight for the soul of a country.  But we fight it with everything we have." 

She looks into your eyes for a long moment, seeming to judge whether her words have made an impact.  A slight smile returns to her face, and she nods to you.
 
"But, hey, you don't need to hear me preach on.  You've heard it all your life.  And I guess you need to hear something practical you can do.  Well, I get that.

"There's a few things need doing right now that might be more your speed than serving soup.

"Things between us and the other temples have been mighty frosty lately.  Now, we need to be careful not to be seen to take sides in the Schism - we decided a long time ago that the people wouldn't trust us if we did, and we need their trust more than anything.  But we got a message from a cleric of Berun to say he needed some help - not sure with what, mind, but it might mend some bridges.  We don't have a lot of muscle, and you look like you can handle yourself.  Maybe you could look into it.  Name's Kennet.  Staying at the White Stag, I'm told.

"Or maybe, as an outsider, you could look into something a bit delicate."   She lowers her voice and leans closer.   "One of our fellers, Eoan, he takes food and the good word to the girls on street corners.  A good man, I always thought, and he's helped a lot of those girls who wanted to find another way to make ends meet.  But there's been a nasty rumour going round that - well, you can guess the sort of thing.  I want someone to get to the truth of the matter." 

Sitting back, she tucks back into her meal before pausing.
 
"Oh, one more thing you could do.  Keep your ears open.  Too much has happened over the years - too many temples failing, people vanishing, too much that's been lost and no one's done a thing to stop it.  We need a way to turn the tide.  To find hope.  Maybe fresh eyes will see something that will make the difference." 
 
esorscher
Bellerophon logs the location of the Mattheus Academy for a future visit, but seeing as the hour is already growing late and they had agreed to meet back with Baldar to discuss their findings, it will have to wait for another day.

"  Greetings,  " Bellerophon says. "  My name is Bellerophon Ironshield, from Kharheim. I understand you've been studying the rifts. Would you be willing to share your research with a fellow inquisitive?  "
gallagher
Dora pauses at the door with Bellerophon, and knocks a second time as it takes several minutes for a response. When an elderly man of questionable attire answered the door, she kept her tongue and stood patiently behind her companion. It came time to introduce herself;  And I am Dora. You would likely not have found reason to hear of my village, but I am a traveling companion of Bellerophon. . She says courteously, wishing she had not hurried the elder to his doorstep.
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Baldar 
Opening the cloth wrappings carefully, you uncover a weighty tome bound with dark green leather.  It shows signs of age, but is well preserved.

Lifting the front cover, you read the title:

 Reflections on the planes of existence
By Thuril Drakeslayer 
 "This is one of only five copies ever made,"  the Ambassador explains softly.   "Thuril has a well deserved reputation as an adventurer; his credentials as a scholar are less respected, and as far as I know this is the only book he has written. I can't pretend to understand the subject matter well enough to judge it; but it may be of some interest to you.  Perhaps most interesting is that Thuril took the trouble to scribe half a dozen spells at the end of the book, to assist planar travellers.  A wizard looking to investigate the rifts may find them helpful." 

When you tell him you intend to return to your meeting with Bellerophon, he summons his servant to provide you with the paperwork these humans insist upon and gives you a final bow.
 
"If I can aid you further, Master Baldar, you have but to ask.  If my duties have called me away, I will leave instructions with my staff to assist you as I would have done.  May you find honour and success." 
 

 
 Spoiler: Bellerophon and Dora 
The man's expression brightens when he learns why you are here, and he shuffles into the building, signalling to you to follow him.

He slowly leads you into a ground floor room outfitted with a table, stove, armchair, and bed.  Piles of books and paper cover every surface, and assorted paraphernalia clutters the room still further.  The wood paneled walls are cluttered with pictures and curiosities; and the door on the far side, which you suspect leads to the stairs, is so dusty and cobweb-ridden you doubt it has been opened in years.

Velhim sets about heating a pot of tea, finding mismatched and questionably clean cups for the three of you.  As he works, he speaks continually, as though every thought that enters his mind immediately passes to his tongue.
 
"A long time since I've entertained visitors; and a visiting scholar, no less!  Dear me.  Where did I put that tea?  Yes, the rifts - well, people call them that of course, but they're not, you know, not in the sense people might mean.  Ah, here it is!

"Do either of you take milk?"   He picks up a glass jar half filled with a white, viscous liquid.  As the jar tilts, its contents hold their shape in defiance of gravity for several seconds before slowly oozing back to a level surface.  Velhim catches your expression and seems to take it as an answer to his question, mercifully putting the milk down.   "No?  Black tea.  Good.

"Now, where was I?  Yes, the rifts.  Well, it all started twenty years ago.  The dwarves nearly invaded; the dragon-folk went all the way.  Then there was demons, and zombies, and rituals, and before you could say prestidigitation, Maltur himself is there!  God of war.  King of the demons.  Big, noisy, scary bad guy.

"Of course, back then, I was doing my best to stay out of it.  I know a spell or two, don't get me wrong, but I've always been more about the theory than the practice of magic.  But something bugged me about it all. So I stopped writing my essay on the alchemical merits of quicksilver and set to studying these so-called rifts.

"But you must be hungry!  I think I have some bread around here somewhere, and some cheese…" 

He lapses into inaudible muttering, searching mostly empty cupboards for something to offer you.
 
gallagher
 Black tea, plain.  Dora says without emotion. She keeps her eyes leveled at the old mage so he felt that she was paying careful attention, but his mutterings would have her lose focus quickly. This was of course aided by the number of oddments scattered about the room and decorating the walls. The eclectic type, for sure. Dora kept her ears at attention, and when the wizard mentioned the events surrounding the opening of the rifts, and the appearance of Maltur, her attention resumed sharply. This was closely tied to that legend, Theo, and it was her mission to discover more.

 Oh yes, cheese, please. Now, you mentioned that you tried to stay out of some of the events, but where were you during this time? Did you see this Maltur appear? Is it he who opened the rift? And what is this ritual you mention? From my little village, that all sounded like the kind of tall tale that travelling men invent to try and impress a barmaid for the night before moving on. 
esorscher
"  Thank you,  " Bellerophon says, accepting the tea graciously. He takes a sip, then places it down. "  A dwarf is always hungry, and you could soon be eaten out of house and home trying to satiate one. Please, don't put yourself to any trouble. What do you mean, these rifts aren't 'rifts'?  "
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Bellerophon and Dora 

 
 Originally Posted by gallagher 
  Oh yes, cheese, please. Now, you mentioned that you tried to stay out of some of the events, but where were you during this time? Did you see this Maltur appear? Is it he who opened the rift? And what is this ritual you mention? From my little village, that all sounded like the kind of tall tale that travelling men invent to try and impress a barmaid for the night before moving on.  
 

Velhim looks slightly thrown by the question, as though he is not used to people taking an interest in what he is saying.

 "Oh, it was real enough, my girl.  I didn't see him personally - I was doing what anyone in their right mind would do and hiding - but in my research I spoke to a great many people who did.

"I don't know as I can remember all the details now.  There was some business about an imprisoned demigod, and the essence of Dalvar; and I think Vlarath as well.  Two dead gods and one given a good solid kicking; then another one that's suddenly gone crazy, like it's two different people.  It was a mess and no mistake.

"As for whether Maltur caused the rift, that's complicated." 

He settles himself gingerly into his chair, seeming to forget about the offer of food.


 
 Originally Posted by esorscher 
 "  What do you mean, these rifts aren't 'rifts'?  " 
 

Marshaling his thoughts, he squints at you both before answering.

 "The prevailing theory is that the rifts are a spatial manifestation of a conjuration effect - akin to a gate spell, if on a grander scale.

"But my research suggests that something else is going on here: that the visual phenomena are symptomatic of a planar convergence, closely tied to the emotional and moral tenor of our reality.

"Let me take my analogy from the field of geology.  The ground beneath our feet appears stable; but in reality, we perch precariously on vast chunks of rock swimming on an ocean of magma.  There are places where two such chunks will meet, and as they press against one another, the resulting pressures lead to earthquakes.  Over time, the forces where they grind together change the shape of our world - forming mountains, canyons, volcanoes… you get the idea.

"Now, we know that there are many planes of reality beyond our own where the gods, celestials, demons, and all sorts of other beings exist.  Traditionally they are seen as static, accessible only by magic or by the Ways Between Worlds.  My theory is that the apparent stasis is illusory - that in some sense the planes move relative to one another, and relative to our reality.

"I believe that what happened two decades ago was that our plane and the plane the demons inhabit converged.  They pressed together, like two fragments of our world's surface colliding.  What you see in the sky can be best described as… as stress lines in the fabric of reality.  It was that convergence which enabled demons to enter our reality so freely - and, yes, Maltur himself.

"But what happened after that, hmm?  Do you see?  Whatever forces were driving the two planes together, they didn't stop.  Our reality continued to change - but slowly, so very slowly - influenced by the demonic plane colliding with it.  And you see the results, not just in the demon attacks, but in the behaviour of every man, woman and child who lives here.  Because the planes are as much spiritual phenomena as they are physical; their effect, consequently, is measured in conscience and character." 

He shakes his head, seemingly becoming agitated, and wags a finger at you.

 "But do you see?  Do you see?  If I'm right, what the Order of Mattheus claim to have done is impossible!  Impossible!  To solve such a problem by… what?  Stitching the sky with a pretty spell, like you were sewing up a torn garment?  No!  Rubbish!  We are talking about fundamental forces of the multiverse, about pressures upon the very fabric of existence.  You might as well try and stomp a mountain back into the ground with your boot alone." 

He sinks back into his chair, like a balloon deflating.
 
"But the damnable thing is, where are all the demons?  If it didn't work, if it couldn't possibly work, why did the attacks stop?  And you'll say what my peers have been saying for years: my theory must be wrong.  If you come across facts that contradict your theory, they say, the theory needs to adapt.  But I say, maybe the facts aren't what we think they are, hmm?" 
 
esorscher
"  Fascinating,  " Bellerophon says earnestly. "  Truly, fascinating. I wonder--do you have a copy of your research? Or, would it be too much to ask that I make one myself? I would relish the opportunity to review it in detail, and offer you my thoughts, should you be interested.  "   This Order of Mattheus, are they wizards, charlatans, or some combination?   Bellerophon wonders silently.
gallagher
Dora could have jumped out of her seat, as this old man must have a list somewhere that would help her hunt down the raw truth of the Theo Myth, and she could return home much faster than anticipated. But the conversation moved on to the magic of the rifts before she could press further. She had to think of a way to tie this demon prince back into the story, and possibly use the wizard for a new lead.  Well, weak thread can hold a patch in a sail for so long before the wind tears it back open, and twenty years from our perspective is a moment compared to the time it takes for a mountain to rise.  Dora said thoughtfully, glad that she had some practical, real world experience that to offer as a comment of positivity towards his theory.  I am no mage, I cannot comment how magic works or how planes move, mayhaps I forget my place. 

Dora sipped at her tea and looked down at it, appearing more meek.  I do wonder, though... My mind continues to go to what you said about Maltur appearing. If the great forces at work were able to produce that sort of thing, maybe it takes a deity to stir the rift back open... who, I wonder, did you interview to discover the truth of this? I have heard priests lie about what their gods would cure, and this is the first I have ever heard of one appearing as real as any man. Maybe my mind strays here, because I am so ignorant about the magic at work that my imagination allows me to presume that a deity lay at fault for it all. I have a hard time imagining a person mighty enough to repel such a foe, especially in an island in this condition.
 
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Bellerophon and Dora 
Velhim beams at being asked for a copy of his research.  Rising, he totters over to a stack of papers seemingly indistinguishable from any other; pushing the top bundle aside, he grabs a thick sheaf of loose pages and starts flicking through them.

 "I copied these essays for the royal library.  Thought they'd appreciate some real scholarship.  Then, of course, they went and closed it down.  Damned fools, the lot of them, wanting to get rid of a perfectly good library just because it was tied to the King.

"I was going to get them bound, but never got round to it.  Still, it's the work that matters, not the presentation." 

Seemingly satisfied, he thrusts the bundle towards Bellerophon before turning to Dora.
 
"You might not have studied magic, dear, but you have a scholar's instincts,"  he says with approval.   "Always check the sources!    Hmm.  I don't know where I put my notes on that.  They'll be around here somewhere.  But... ah!  I know!" 

Once again, he makes his way to a part of the clutter that must be meaningful to him, but which you could never have picked out from the rest. Near the bottom of a stack of small notebooks, he seems to find what he is looking for; a battered brown thing, dogeared and torn, which he opens to reveal densely packed lines of handwritten notes in a neat script.

After a minute's perusal, he finds what he is looking for.  Tearing a blank page from the back of the notebook, he mutters a spell and the page he is looking at is rapidly duplicated on the blank sheet.

 "There we are!  This was the list I kept when someone suggested a witness to me.  The ones I've crossed off wouldn't or couldn't assist.  The ones I ticked actually spoke to me.  Although I don't know if all of them saw Maltur…"   He frowns, searching his memory.  Taking a pen and ink, he starts making names.  When he hands it to you, the names he has marked are:

 Lord Thomas of Knightsfane
Pran Deathwalker
Arbiter Lothrain
High Inquisitor Niall 
 "These four certainly spoke about seeing Maltur.  They were the kind of men you don't forget.  But take care if you want go speak with them.  They are dangerous.  And all but one are clerics: make of that what you will.  I remember Deathwalker scared the living daylights out of me!" 
 
Timble
 "I think I should be capable of looking into both of those,"  Thespia says.  "I'll see Kennet tomorrow. As for Eoan, I still don't know my way around. Which streets does he work and when. And I, uh, need a bit more information on those rumours. Violence, coercion, taking advantage?" 

Berun was a healing god, Thespia thought. She didn't know much on the other religions of the world. She was a healer herself, but if the clerics of Berun were having issues it probably was not about healing. Still, a mystery for another day. Helping another faith seemed odd, but the church of Yara should always be about doing what is practical to do what is right. And to do that the church would need allies.
As for Eoan, she didn't know the man. If the church had a bad apple, he'd need to be removed. And if he was innocent, she'd have to learn why he was targeted. Arriving in the holy city to immediately be sent after possible corruption within the church didn't feel like a good sign. But after all, 'You can't build a house with termite infested supports'. Better sort things out at the beginning of her journey and make sure the church really was a place that people can trust.
gallagher
 Three are clerics on this list, going purely on their names, I presume that this Lord Thomas of Knightsfane is the odd man out? What can you tell me about him? Do we need to beg for an audience? A preacher is easy enough to find, they tend to be in their halls talking about the glory they give to the god that blesses them.
 
Dora listens patiently to the wizard describing the man that he interviewed, pausing only to take notes on the piece of paper the man copied for her. Maybe it was the drops of elven blood in her veins, but keeping a record will at least help shorten the time that she must be on this forsaken island.
 
The other three are clerics, you said. And at least one is fearsome. If you were to advise me on which to talk to first, which of these clerics is the least threatening to you? Which of them seemed closest to the situation at hand? Were any of them actual eye witnesses to the... situation we are investigating? 
dantiesilva
 "A marvelous gift indeed this is Ambassador Calgor, I will make sure when I return home it is in a proper place of honor among my belongings. I think for now it would be best if I keep it on my person though."  he says graciously as he opens it momentarily and reads a brief passage before closing it back up, wrapping it delicately back in its cloth wrappings, before placing it at the top of his sack so that nothing heavy would crush or bend it.  "And I feel anyone with the reputation to match Thuril Drakeslayer should have their work looked at more carefully. It is wise to learn from those who have come before us." 

As the proper bows and pleasantries are exchanged between Calgor and Baldar, and the papers safely in his cloaks inner pocket he bids the ambassador farewell, thanking him for all of the help he has offered Baldar, and that he will try to check in once a week to keep the Ambassador updated on his progress. If nothing else stops him he will then make his departure, trying to make his way back to the docks.
esorscher
Bellerophon accepts the papers with a grateful nod. He listens to the response to Dora's question.
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Bellerophon and Dora 

 
 Originally Posted by gallagher 
  Three are clerics on this list, going purely on their names, I presume that this Lord Thomas of Knightsfane is the odd man out? What can you tell me about him? Do we need to beg for an audience? A preacher is easy enough to find, they tend to be in their halls talking about the glory they give to the god that blesses them.
  
 

Velhim squints as he searches his memory.   "Lord Thomas is a man of remarkable reputation, one of the few to make the jump from poverty and obscurity to the ranks of the nobility.  A lawyer by profession, he accompanied a delegation to Kharheim as their legal advisor and helped avert a war, as I understand it.  Certainly I remember he had a dwarf as a loyal bodyguard and retainer by the time I met him.

"He is a philanthropist and a tireless campaigner for the poor quarter.  He is a major donor to the Republican party, and indeed served in Parliament for a time.

"But his involvement in these events with Maltur was more personal.  As well as his more staid occupation, he was something of an adventurer - and he was there, at the heart of it all.  He and his allies fought Maltur.  And won." 

  
The other three are clerics, you said. And at least one is fearsome. If you were to advise me on which to talk to first, which of these clerics is the least threatening to you? Which of them seemed closest to the situation at hand? Were any of them actual eye witnesses to the... situation we are investigating?  

 "Least threatening?"  Velhim repeats, looking bemused.   "They're clerics.  They're all dangerous.

"Of Lothrain and Niall, I suppose Niall was the more willing to speak with me.  He was charming, hospitable, and gave a clear account of what transpired.  Lothrain was… a larger than life character, and he made no secret of the fact he didn't much want to talk to a scholar.  When I did get to speak to him, he told colourful stories about the battles he was in, but they lacked the clarity of Niall's testimony - and he kept throwing religious dogma into the mix.

"Oh, and I did hear Lothrain retired from public office.  He might not be so easy to track down.  Niall is still very much active in the Temple of Charis." 
 

 
 Spoiler: Thespia 
The woman grimaces, but nods her understanding.
 
"To some folk, the idea of doing somethin' 'cause it gets you laid is easier to believe than that you might really care about helping others.  That's what they're saying happened: he used his position to get freebies from the street girls.  Or worse, that he tricked them into trusting him and then forced himself on them.

"Eoan is stayin' with family while this gets cleaned up.  92 Rosalind Street, room 12.  As for where he was serving, most recently he was at place called the Seven Sinful Stars.

"Now, there's a room here for the night if you want it.  I can show you on your map where these places are.  You need anything, you ask for me - my name's Beatrice." 
 
esorscher
  A dwarven bodyguard?   Bellerophon thinks to himself.   I should like to speak with this Lord Thomas.   He looks over to Dora, then back to Velhim. "  Thank you. I think we've taken up enough of your time. If there's nothing else...  " He lets his voice trail off as he looks again to Dora, to see if she has any other questions to discuss.

Once their business is concluded, Bellerophon will head for the docks, to confer with Baldar.
gallagher
 That will do I think.  Dora thought to herself that this Lothrain, if he could be found, might be the easiest to grant an audience. A Lord would have a retinue and body guards, and while the clerics didnt scare Dora, the prospect of active leaders of temples meant that they would be harder to get an audience. Lothrain may not have warmed up to the intellectual type, but Dora was a fighter. Might be that they would have more in common, and the first place she would look is at the Temple of Relath.

 I do think I will meet this Lord Thomas, at least before I try to meet someone named Deathwalker. If you know how I can get him to want to speak with someone as common as me, even if he is interested in little people, I would gladly take your advice. Mayhaps we find something new that you did not hear, or did not properly consider, and would then return to help share what we have learned. Do keep an eye and ear out for us, we may come calling again. 
Timble
 "Thank you, Beatrice"  Thespia says with a smile.  "I think I'll turn in for the night, its been a long journey. I'll start looking into those issues first thing tomorrow." 
She helps tidy up after the meal. After she is shown to her room, she settles into meditation and prayer before drifting off to sleep.

 
 Spoiler: Presuming no interruptions: 
Thespia wakes up early in the morning. Quickly getting dressed, she seeks out Beatrice to help with any morning duties.
 
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Bellerophon and Dora 
Velhim shakes his head when you ask about Lord Thomas.
 
"As I hear it, he is a busy man.  You are more likely to get seen by his servants and employees than by the man himself.  Still, he does sometimes meet people in person - if they capture his interest.  You might ask around, see what sorts of thing might intrigue him." 

As you prepare to leave, Velhim rises unsteadily to his feet, gripping tightly to the arm of his chair to support him as he does so.
 
"Leaving already?  That's a shame.  Well, I wish you luck in your endeavours.  And if you do learn more about the dimensional convergence, do come share it with an old scholar, hmm?" 

Bidding him farewell, you head outside to make your way to your next destination.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Pausing there because I'm not sure if Dora is going to the docks with Bellerophon or heading to the temple district.
 

 

 
 Spoiler: Baldar 
The return journey to the docks begins uneventfully, as you retrace your steps through the city.

Night has now fallen in earnest, and yet you cannot truly call it dark.  The eerie luminescence of the rift colours everything, causing weird shadows to dance and giving an otherworldly feel to everywhere you go.  Lamps or candles burn in most windows, flickering attempts to establish islands of security in an ocean of fear.

Twice, you catch sight of people watching you with abnormal interest.  The first time, it is a small group of swarthy men in weatherbeaten clothing; the second time, a well dressed couple who look like they are returning home from an evening's entertainment, both slightly intoxicated.  On each occasion, they turn away before their attention reaches the point it must be acknowledged; if their intentions were malign, they have perhaps decided to seek easier prey elsewhere.

You are nearly back at the docks before a shout draws your attention to a narrow alleyway.  The shadows proving no obstacle to your dwarven eyesight, you spot two men in workmen's clothing accosting a young woman: one has her pinned to the wall by one arm, a knife in his hand; while the other is holding up a purse to the light, examining its contents.  The men have their backs to you, but the woman catches your eye, a desperate expression on her face.
 
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Thespia 
   Day One   

You wake to sunshine through the narrow window, the room you have been allotted sparse and undecorated - but comfortable enough.

Going in search of Beatrice, you find her in the doorway, looking concerned.  Following her gaze, you see a disturbing tableau.

On the ground in the middle of the square, a man lies dead in a pool of congealed blood.

Around him stands a small crowd, all of them arguing heatedly.  Some wear the uniforms of one or other of the temples; others have nothing about their appearance to suggest any affiliation, and may simply have been passing by.  One particularly harassed-looking man - perhaps in his thirties, with wavy brown hair touched with grey and blue eyes, weak-chinned and beardless, wearing studded leather armour and a grey tabard and carrying a spear - seems to be trying to keep the peace, but he is having little success.

Beatrice sees your approach and gives a half-hearted smile.   "Good to see you up, sleepy-head!  But you might wish you'd stayed in bed.  Another killing, it seems.  I keep telling them we don't want to be drawn into their war, but you can bet your last copper that watchman will want to ask us some questions.  My, how I wish people would learn not to go out at night in this city." 
 

 
 Spoiler: Dora 
Taking your leave of your dwarf companion, you head back to the crossroads where Brent left you and set your face towards the Temple District.

It is difficult to identify the source of your unease as you walk the same road Thespia took earlier.  Certainly your surroundings become more run-down, marred by vandalism and simple neglect.  You pass buildings that, judging by their decorations, must once have been places of worship - now vacant and, in some cases, in serious disrepair.

Your path takes you to a central square, marked by various statues - although these too have often been spoilt, whoever they originally depicted now impossible to identify.  A plaque beneath one heavily damaged effigy catches your eye:

 Theodore Roost
Champion of Charis
Redeemer 

Someone has defaced the plaque with one scrawled word:

 Heretic! 

Standing in front of this statue, you can see three manned temples.  Two are built like fortresses: one with prominent blue-and-silver banners depicting a watchful eye and downward-pointing sword, another marked with statues of celestials armed and armoured for war.  Both temples are guarded.

The last active temple is less overtly militaristic, unguarded and with warm light spilling from its open doorway.  A symbol of two hands, the larger reaching down to grasp the smaller, is the only decoration on display.
 
esorscher
Bellerophon notices Baldar first, and as he heads for his fellow dwarf, sees what has Baldar's attention--the incipient mugging, or worse. Still, he does not act yet, waiting to see how Baldar responds, seeing an opportunity to gauge his traveling companion's attitude toward the petty crime. Is it worth drawing the attention of some minor thug, at the potential expense of their purpose here?  Will intervening cause more good than harm, or the reverse?
dantiesilva
As Baldar retraces his steps, looking for the sigils of magic he had seen before as a guide when he is unsure of where to go, he often finds himself looking up to the rift and watching the shadows it creates with its light. Had it not been so dangerous he would perhaps call it a marvelous sight, like stained glass being lit through by a bright light painting the world in different colors. However this was no safe place, this was not his home, and that was not stained glass making the colors, but a tear in the sky to other realms of existence allowing demons through. What he found odd however was that he had not heard of devils passing through. The two as far as he had been told existed and warred on the same plane, for a portal like this, even badly sealed, to only have demons crossing through it seemed odd at best.

Baldar takes notice of the two groups that seem to pay him notice, and his hand can often be seen relaxed near his weapon in case it was needed, however each time he was happy to see he would not have to defend himself. It did bring up the question of why these people were so rude. Staring at someone just because they were different from what they normally would see. At least they had not spoken to him or bothered him, then he would have had to reply, and that would have taken more time than he cared to share at this moment with children, for he was advised to look at them as such, when he was to meet back up with those from the boat.

 "Finally, almost back, hopefully the others have not been waiting to long I am parched."  Baldar says before a scream stops him in his tracks. Looking for the source of the cry he found it down an alley, where two men in workers clothes seemed to be assaulting a young woman. Remembering the words of Ambassador Calgor he relaxes his grip on his weapon and instead places himself firmly in the alley, unaware of Bellerophon and calls out loud and clear.  "Release the girl and her belongings boys and we can all still have a rather pleasant night. As you can see by your knife she is not willing."  Baldar says, keeping his hands near his weapon, however not yet reaching for it. After all he did not want to be accused of raising a weapon to officers of the law or anything else.

 
 Spoiler: Diplomacy/intimidate? 
  (1d20-1)[ 7 ]  Either way it is the same, just unsure how that would be taken as it is meant as an intimidate, however not very intimidating, well besides his armor and such.
 
gallagher
Finding herself at the base of the statue to a man she held in contempt, Dora pauses to reflect. She doesnt do so for long, however, and kicks loose gravel from beside her at the statue. Dora found herself hoping that this Theo never found his goddess in the afterlife, hoping that his wandering spirit could see her in this moment where she shared her disdain outwardly.

She soon found her composure, an looked to the temples that were still in use in some respect. She did not tarry long to conssider the options - if she wanted to hunt down this Lothrain, she should start with the faithful of Relath, and walked in the direction of the temple adorned with statues of celestials.
esorscher
Once Baldar initiates conversation with the assailants, Bellerophon steps up next to him, offering silent support but ready should the need arise.

 
 Spoiler 
will cast Nerveskitter on Baldar as an immediate action should combat arise
 
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Dora 
There are two guards at the door to the temple, both wearing white and gold tabards over highly polished breastplates.  They have shields bearing the emblem of their faith - a tower being shattered by a lightning bolt - but their swords are sheathed at their sides.  Both are human, probably in their early twenties: a dark-haired man with a toothy grin, and a woman with shoulder-length black hair and warm brown eyes who studies you seriously as you approach.  You feel a prickle of something otherworldly on your flesh as you approach, lasting only a moment but enough to suggest magic is in use.

It is the man who speaks first.
 
"This place is a stronghold of Relath the Crusader.  If you have need of Him, and harbour no darkness in your heart, you are welcome." 

The woman frowns slightly at that.   "Welcome, indeed - unless you have allied yourself with the Inquisitors.  Tell me, what brings you to our doorstep at this late hour?" 
 

 
 Spoiler: Baldar and Bellerophon 
The thugs laugh at your threat.  Releasing the girl, they come towards you with knives in hand.

The arrival of a second dwarf gives them a moment's pause - but they exchange a brief glance and one of them spits at your feet.
 
"I guess you don't know how it is round here, shorty.  You mess with us, you mess with the Red Cobras.  And believe you me, you don't want to do that.

"Now, since you're so eager to get involved, how about you hand over your coin and we let you go without breaking your legs?  Or would you rather we take it from you, hmm?" 

He gives a sudden lunge, a step closer but still out of reach; an act of intimidation, followed by a shrill laugh.  You begin to suspect he is intoxicated.
 
dantiesilva
As the thugs release the girl Baldar nudges his head in the opposite direction, indicating for the woman to leave with her stuff while they were distracted. Taking a deep calming breath as the thug spits at his feet he reminds himself to treat them as if they were children and not retaliate with violence, and as they get closer and speak he can smell the liquid courage upon their breath and shakes his head in disdain.  "One who cannot hold their liquor should remember to sheath their weapons so the do not hurt themselves."  he says plainly, shaking his head at Bellerophon as he keeps his hand open, away from his hammer, hoping his dwarven ally would pick up to not strike first he continues.  "We both know your blades will not do good against an armored foe, especially one who is expecting you to attack. Once again I offer you the chance to leave."  Baldar says calmly, making a point to not strike out or show fear, he does place himself slightly in front of Bellerophon though, incase the thugs thought he would be an easier target and tried to attack him first, they would have to go through him.
gallagher
Dora responded honestly, not with timidity, but with a tone of uncertainty that came natural to this situation. She also intentionally spoke a little too loudly for anyone that would not want to hear someone speak of the heretical Theo Roost. I didn't know where else to start.  I am from out of town, a small village, and I came here to seek the truth of all the stories of Theodore Roost. I saw the graffitied statue, and after I disembarked my ship, I heard that there were dangerous Inquisitioners who would seek to harm anyone who uttered anything that rhymed with  Theo . Please, I have prayed at times to Relath for my own strength and protection, and I had heard in the stories that Theodore Roost was welcome here. Would someone like me be welcome in your halls, if even briefly, while I find out what to do next? 
esorscher
Bellerophon remains silent, letting Baldar take the lead.
Timble
Thespia was quite mortified to find out the day had already started. Usually she'd be one of the earliest up. But the journey had been tiring, so that was probably the cause. She resolved to do better next time and do what she could now.
Or at least she did until she found Beatrice.

 "Thats horrible,"  Thespia gasps.  "Do you know what happened?" 
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Dora 
The woman's suspicious expression eases, and she gives you a slight smile.   "The name of Thedore Roost is honoured here,"  she says softly.   "And if you give glory to Relath, you may enter." 

She turns and salutes her companion, who responds in kind.  Opening the door, she leads you inside.

The temple of Relath is dark at this hour, with enough candles at intervals to light your way but little more than that.  The floors are tiled, the walls dark wooden paneling; you regularly pass small statuettes of angelic figures or what you presume to be heroes of the faith, as well as displays of arms and armour.  The whole feel of the place mixes the sacred and the militaristic, somehow managing to find a harmonious balance between those arguably conflicting ideas.

As you walk, your companion speaks softly to you, not constantly but enough to prevent the silence from becoming awkward.
 
"Much of what you see here was brought by our predecessors when they fled Old Ganthar; art and relics that have been handed down from antiquity.  That's not to say there's nothing new in our temple; using art as a form of worship is a respected part of our traditions.  It's just that you would tend to find the more recent pieces in the gallery or the prayer rooms.

"Down this way, please.

"The person I'm taking you to see is Executor Denar.  He's on duty tonight; we always have one of the senior Crusaders on duty in case of need.  He's a good man - although I didn't always think so when I was an Aspirant!  He expects a lot from those he trains.  But he's the sort of man who makes you want to live up to his expectations - you know what I mean?" 
 

 
 Spoiler: Bellerophon and Baldar 
The more talkative of the two men sneers at your words.   "Armour.  Ha!  You know how often I've killed watchmen who thought their armour would keep 'em safe?  You just have to know where to stab.

"Looks like you've chosen the hard way, lads.  Can't say I won't enjoy this." 

So saying, he rushes forward, the knife raised and showing every sign he means to go for Baldar's face.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Roll initiative.  If you beat a 4 you can act immediately.
 

 
esorscher
With an arcane gesture and a whispered word, coppery sparks spring from Bellerophon's palm, filling the ground beneath the lead mugger's feet with  caltrops . At the same time, a cloud of  sickening smoke  rises from the caltrops, sickening the overconfident human.

 
 Spoiler 
Caltrops attack:  (1d20)[ 3 ]  -- shield, armor, and deflection bonuses do not count, but a target wearing shoes or other footwear gains +2 armor bonus to AC.

Success: 1 point of damage, land speed reduced by half.
 
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Thespia 
Beatrice sighs.   "Seems like most nights, someone turns up dead.  Sounds like this time it wasn't someone either the Inquisitors or the Crusaders knew - usually if it's an argument between them that turned bloody, someone will recognise the body.

"So far there's been a lot of noise and not a lot that's much use.  The Crusaders have done a lot of shouting that it must have been an Inquisitor, that the man must be someone they branded as a heretic and lynched.  Yara knows that could be true.

"The Inquisitors are saying pretty much the opposite - that some Redeemer or even one of the Crusaders decided this poor man was an irredeemable sinner and had to be cleansed.  Sadly, that could be true as well.

"See the guy with the spear?  His name's Siden.  Watch officer.  In a minute he's gonna shout at everyone, tell them to go back inside and off his crime scene and give him time to investigate.  Ah, there he goes." 

As predicted, Siden starts shouting to be heard over the arguments, doing his best to herd the factions back to their own temples before the harsh words descend into further bloodshed.
 
"Then he's gonna peer at the body for a bit, then stomp over here in the hope that, this time, someone here will have seen something.  And I'll tell him what I tell him every time this happens." 

Sure enough, Siden is soon marching wearily up to the Temple of Yara.  Before he can even speak, Beatrice holds up a hand.
 
"No, we didn't see anything until I heard the hollering and came out.  And I've worked too hard to keep us from being dragged into their war to get involved now.  They're the ones who post sentries on their doors at night - get them to tell you what they saw, if you can trust a word any of them say!" 

Siden holds up both hands, as though surrendering; then he catches sight of you.   "Now, here's a face I haven't seen before.  What do you have to say about this, ma'am?  Think you might be any more helpful than the Servant here?" 

Beatrice - Servant Beatrice, you suppose; you seem to remember the priesthood of Yara here is non-heirarchical and all use that simple title - looks at you and gives a slight shrug, as though to leave it up to you whether or not to get involved.
 
gallagher
Dora looked about, drinking in the prestige of the art surrounding her earnestly. The contrast of such beauty, on the other side of the door from incredible filth, within a decaying city, was a welcome shock. She felt more at peace amongst the old armor and artworks, grateful to be among these artifacts of a bygone era. As her guide picks up conversation, Dora replies with the patience and learning of someone twice her age.

 I am sorry, but I am familiar with the man, and have yet to meet someone who inspired me to live as they wished for me. This might be the consequence of having elven heritage and being raised in a village of humans. But I know that you are speaking the truth; through our leaders, many find the path to devotion, giving them a chance to live a more righteous life. I am glad that Executor Denar filled this role for you. 

She continues in this way, letting her intellect mask her youth, as she allows herself to be led to meet with Denar.
dantiesilva
Baldar seeing that words would not prevail watches the slow actions of the thug who no doubt thought he was safe and set his feet firmly, adopting a defensive stance, his body turned to the side making him a smaller target as his arms were ready to catch and deflect the incoming knife attack.

 
 Spoiler: actions 
total defense for a +2 to his ac for this turn. His ac until his next turn is now 23, thought it was +4 that's why I had to edit
 
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Dora 
Coming to a stout door, your guide knocks firmly.  After a moment, a deep, authoritative voice says,  "Come." 

The woman opens the door, revealing a brightly lit room that makes you blink after candlelit corridors.  It is not a large room, but its owner seems to have been determined to make good use of it.  A writing desk is against the wall to your left, with a chair against it - not a desk you could sit either side of, but taking up less floorspace.  Most of the walls on that side are covered with shelves, lined with books, folders, and the like.  Straight ahead of you, a pair of armchairs sit facing one another against the room's only window, the curtains drawn, a small drinks cabinet between them and beneath the window.

The wall to your right has several paintings hanging on it.  There seems to be little commonality between them: here a landscape; there portrait of a child; here a scene from a battlefield, the subject facing away, head bowed in grief; there, a painting of a flower.  The quality is fair, but hardly professional.  A blank canvas is leaning in the corner, together with a collapsed easel and a small chest.

The room's sole occupant stands slightly to the right of centre, in a clear area of the room.  He is topless, a slight sheen of sweat on his powerfully muscled body, chest rising and falling slightly from exertion; a towel hangs around his broad shoulders, which he is using to dry his face.  He looks to be in his thirties; he has a shaven head and expressive brown eyes that are watching you both with curiosity.
 
"Executor,"  the woman with you greets him, respect in her tone as she salutes.   "We have disturbed your exercises.  I apologise." 

Denar - as presumably this is - waves her words away with a broad, boyish smile.   "I am on duty, Ella.  You have every right to interrupt me.  And I presume the lady with you is the reason?" 

The Crusader nods, and turns to you, waiting for you to introduce yourself rather than speaking for you.
 
gallagher
Dora was rather fond of the simple arrangement of the small room Denar occupied. That he kept himself in peak condition while having a moment also granted Dora room to respect the Executor for his dedication to his duty. She does not wish to waste his time, though, and decided that she would be as direct with her reason to disturb him as she could afford. When this Ella who had guided her through these halls gave her room to introduce herself, Dora took the opportunity.

 I am Dora, Sir, and I am a traveler. I came to Ganthar with the desire to seek important truths at the root of tales - tales that have warped with distance and time - that have reached my home village. But when I landed, I learned that this is a more dangerous place than any forewarned. I learned that there are priests who steal people from the streets instead of guarding their flock. Please, Sir, I am no practitioner of your Faith, but I pray to Relath when my arm needs to be strongest, and when life depends on my courage. I only seek refuge and community while I am here. If my safety is at risk while I am on a mission, I need to make friends that will know if I have gone missing, and I need to know where I can sleep soundly without getting kidnapped or worse for simply looking at the statue of Theodore Roost - of whom I have so many questions - just outside of this temple. Can the Faithful of Relath help one more traveler? 
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Baldar and Bellerophon 
Coughing from the smoke, the knife-wielding thug comes for Baldar with surprising speed and ability.  Turning his body and bringing up his hands to deflect the attack, Baldar still barely keeps the steel from his face, the point passing within a centimetre of his eye.

The second man seems less eager to close with you.  Backing up, he draws a throwing knife from his belt and hurls it at you - and it vanishes into the night, completely missing you both.

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Round 2 - over to you.
 

 

 
 Spoiler: Dora 
The Executor studies you closely, finding a plain white shirt as he does so.
 
"A traveller you may be; but you have the look of a warrior.  I'd imagine you know how to defend yourself at need.  Still, it's true enough that this is a dangerous land, these days.  We will not turn away one who seeks shelter in our Lord's stronghold." 

Dressing swiftly, he walks to the shelves by his desk and locates a particular folder.  As he skims through it, he speaks to some of your concerns.
 
"It is true enough that not all priests in this city will protect you.  The Inquisitors are almost rabid these days in their zeal to find any whom they might call heretics.  If they heard you speak of Theodore Roost, they would have you in for questioning; if they thought you shared his beliefs, they might make sure you conveniently disappeared." 

There is real anger in his voice as he says that; anger and no little frustration.

Tapping his page, he looks to Ella.   "Room B12 is free.  See to it our guest is fed and watered, then show her there." 

He makes a note in the folder, presumably marking the room as occupied, then looks back at you.

 "I'd like to discuss matters further with you in the morning, Dora, when you are rested.  This night you will have our protection; but we do not have the resources to open our temple to everyone.  Perhaps we can help you find secure lodgings, and introduce you to those who can help you in your task.  And perhaps you may learn a little more of the god you pray to, but do not yet serve." 
 
dantiesilva
Baldar was a bit surprised by his enemies attack, however he had been told people were afraid/didn't like members of the cloth, it was time to test that theory.  "Great Ancestors head my call, let the strength of the earth flow into your children and strengthen our bodies."  he calls out in dwarven as he draws runes in the sky. Seconds later the earth below himself and Bellerophon seems to rise up slightly to cover the two of them in loose stones from the ground below as a slight greenish brown aura surrounds the two. Baldar would rather prefer not to have to deal with the law less then an hour after having just spoken to the ambassador and thus was trying to avoid bloodshed and killing if possible, however he would defend himself and Bellerophon if the two attacked again.

 
 Spoiler: Actions 
Move action taking a 5ft step back
Standard action Casting the spell  foundation of stone  on myself and Bellerophon.

Also looking up the rules for total defense I was right it was +4 I just looked in the wrong spot as I was rushing. Fighting defensively is +2
 
gallagher
 A warrior, sure. And what is one warrior surrounded by cutthroats, with nobody to turn to? I have a spear longer than twice a man is tall, and I would still feel safer if at least there were people I could regularly check in with. If a routine is disrupted, maybe someone would be able to look for me. These are small safety measures that I hope you understand would make me feel more secure during my stay in Ganthar. 

Dora studies the Executor's response, considers it carefully, and accepts his direction to room B12.

 Thank you. And, if I could, I would do well with an inkwell, pen and paper. I have started my research today, it seems, and I want to keep careful notes to refer to.  

Dora accepts the hospitality that the temple provides for the night, keeps pleasant conversation to those who seek it, but otherwise keeps to herself.
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Dora 
The Executor looks over your shoulder at the long handle of your spear, eyebrows rising.
 
"Indeed.  An unusual weapon - but there is something familiar about it… I imagine there is a story behind it.  One more thing to share in the morning." 

He nods to Ella, who recognises a dismissal when she sees one.  Saluting once more, she leads you out and to what proves to be a kitchen.  Looking through the cupboards, she finds bread, cheese, and an apple; plain fare but sustaining.

From there, she leads you up to the first floor, and a door with "B12" marked on it in small, neat letters.  Opening it, she reveals a narrow room dominated by a single bed, a chest at its foot, and a desk with a single chair.  Ink, parchment and a pen are waiting on the desk; presumably a standard part of the setup for these rooms, since no one was here ahead of you to make it ready.

Ella leaves you in peace.  There is a bolt on the inside of the door to ensure your privacy; and the room is warm and comfortable, if hardly luxurious.

Sleep, when you seek it, comes swiftly; but your dreams are troubled.  Images of the desperation you have seen, the decay and the anger, churn through your imagination; and you seem to catch glimpses of something else, something just out of your line of sight, that you are seeking without knowing what it is - and that in some strange way is seeking you in turn.

[Center][b] Day One ]/b][center]

You wake with the first light of day, your body feeling heavy with the weight of fatigue.  It is a sensation you quickly shrug off, as you prepare yourself as you think best for the day.

A short time later, there comes a knock on the door.  You expect to see Ella again, or perhaps a junior priest sent to guide you to breakfast; instead, it is Executor Denar himself.  He is dressed now in pale brown trousers and a white and gold tunic, the holy symbol of Relath embroidered in gold thread on his chest.  Flashing you that youthful smile again, he steps aside and makes an after-you gesture with his arm.
 
"If you're ready for breakfast, Dora, I'm just heading for a bite to eat myself.  It's the end of my shift and I'll be turning in soon, but I'd like to find out a bit more about you before I do." 
 
gallagher
Dora normally accepted fruit for her breakfast - nothing that two apples wouldn't satisfy - with a hot cup of tea. She needed to find some sales house for tea supplies, but if the Executor was kind enough to supply them for the morning, she would be glad to accept any polite question she had.
 
There is nothing I would like more than pleasant conversation over breakfast. I have just finished washing my face and doing my morning exercises, and I would be charmed to know more about you as well. And, if time allows, I believe I spotted some ornate metalwork in arms and armor on my way in last night, and I would relish an opportunity to see the relics that adorn your halls in better light. Beautiful armor has always been a fascination of mine, and though mine is rather plain, I would love one day to be able to afford the finest armor in the world.

I unfortunately have kept formal temples at arms length for most of my life, and you must forgive me for not being aware of the duties of your office and the hierarchy of this most splendid temple. 

Dora kept up the pleasant exchange like this for as long as the Executor wished, should he wish to stay with small talk before warming up to any question that burned in his mind.
esorscher
"  Your friend has the right idea. Retreat, and you will live. Continue this foolish effort, and that can not be guaranteed.  " Not wanting to waste a spell on such a meager opponent, Bellerophon hefts his crossbow and fires it at Baldar's attacker.

 
 Spoiler 
Light Crossbow with penalty for firing into melee.

 (1d20)[ 20 ] ,  (1d8)[ 6 ] +[ 8 ] crit damage rolled OOC.
 
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Baldar and Bellerophon 
The drunken attacker shows no sign of backing down.  Sighting briefly along his crossbow, Bellerophon looses a bolt with unerring accuracy, taking the man in the throat.  Death is immediate.

The other, less committed robber gives a dismayed cry, then turns and flees.

 
 Spoiler: Experience 
750xp each
 

 

 
 Spoiler: Dora 
Executor Denar grins again.   "Good eye.  Yes, I'm sure we can take the scenic route." 

So saying, he sets off, walking by your side and talking animatedly.  He listens with real interest to what you have to say; his whole demeanour signals that you have his complete attention, as though there is nothing he would rather be doing right now than talking with you.
 
"Heirarchy and duties of office!  Not exactly a light-hearted place to start.  Well, I guess it's a natural enough question.  There are five ranks of Crusader at temple level - starting with Aspirants yet to pass their trials.  Crusaders, like Ella whom you met yesterday, are those who have passed their trials and been sworn into Relath's service.  Most of those who serve here are Crusaders.

"Over the Crusaders are Intercessors; those with some leadership responsibility or who have been found ready to take on independent missions.  On the battlefield, they are leaders of small units.

"Executors like myself have responsibility for leading some aspects of Relath's service.  For example, I am tasked with assigning quests to our Intercessors, and with deciding when and where we should intercede outside of our walls.  We also have delegated responsibility for the running of the temple when the Arbiter is unavailable. On the field, Executors are captains, holding the line or leading the charge.

"The Arbiter has overall responsibility for the temple and all who serve Relath in this country.  She is the leader; the high priestess; the battlefield general.

"In years gone by, when there was cooperation between the temples of different countries, we had other titles.  There has been no need of that in my lifetime, more's the pity." 

You reach the entrance corridor.  In the light of day, the gleaming silvered armour and weapons - wrought with gold filigree - are truly glorious; the reliefs and artworks are inspiring, images of heroic figures and celestials doing battle with dark forces, saving and protecting the innocent and the defenceless.

Denar stands back, giving you time to examine the pieces.
 
"I remember the first time I stood where you are,"  he says softly.   "I was twelve years old; newly admitted as an Aspirant. I was a poor candidate, truth be told.  Always getting into fights.  Temper like a minotaur.  Little interest in religion.  Thought my parents had lost their minds sending me here.

"But then I saw these pictures.  My first glimpse of a world where anger could be holy; where fighting could serve a noble purpose; where the gods were not just relevant, but vital.  I didn't understand it at first; but it was the moment my heart started to open to Him." 
 
esorscher
  Off to a great start,   Bellerophon thinks to himself.   Nothing like a bit of casual manslaughter to endear myself to the locals.   Well, it couldn't be helped. They had given the man enough opportunities to back down. He looks from Baldar to the would-be victim, wondering how Baldar wants to proceed.
gallagher
The gleaming daylight bounding from silver to gold to silver to gold, playing with the fine metalwork as she walked past each to admire the next, was enrapturing. Dora patiently listened with curiosity to the Executor's stories, especially that of his youth that brought him here.  I always wondered if it is part of the human experience, to feel things so strongly that one is compelled from raw emotional energy to find a path to spend their lives walking. I see temples like these filled with human worshippers who dedicate themselves in ways that I never felt compelled. Yes, I have anger too, but the anger of a minotaur? That sounds more of a human feeling than my blood permits to me.  The lie came easily enough. A practiced predicate where Dora would hide herself behind her partial elven heritage, a paper shield. The truth is that anger burned raw in Dora the same as any else, and she too tried to hold onto her anger like the hilt of a sword. In truth, Dora's anger welled up in her so much that she ran from home, under the cover of a promise to return with a gift that nobody wanted, the truth behind the myth of everyone's favorite hero.

 For my own self, I have no skill at any craft, as my elven blood may suggest to some. I was a big clumsy oaf and wanted to do little more than stare at the local smith bend and shape metal. Nothing more than horseshoes at the time, but I could overhear stories parents told to the children of glorious knights saving countless people from horrible evils, all while wearing resplendent armors and wielding incredible weapons. I tried to learn the hammer and it never obeyed my wishes to make something beautiful; that was never my path, the big clumsy oaf has grown into a large and mighty warrior, and I can dream of myself in shining armors.

Ella had mentioned that many of these pieces are of Old Ganthar heritage, and you had mentioned questions for me; May we take a closer look at a fine example of one of your more impressive antiques while we continue? I want to imagine myself taking something beautiful off the stand and wearing it as though it were molded for me. 
dantiesilva
Cursing under his breath as his little display of magic didn't scare off the would be attackers, Baldar began to reach for his hammer when a crossbow bolt went flying past him and into his attackers throat. Watching as the man died instantly and his ally fled into the darkness Baldar let his hand drop from his hammer as he turned back to look to Bellerophon.  "I thank you Bellerophon and had we been in our homeland I would have killed the foe much sooner. However our Ambassador warned me to treat the people here as if they were children who were uneducated back home and to not raise weapons unless you were defending yourself, as we were. This is definitely not going to be easy to explain to our Ambassador however."  he says indicating the dead body with his foot and a sigh. Back home no one would have blinked an eye at this, no doubt they would have been praised for getting rid of a clanless, here the rules were different, alien, and Baldar did not like not knowing what would become of simply doing the right thing.   "I suggest we try to wait for the town guard, I am sure by now someone who was no doubt watching has said something to them. If we flee we look like fugitives when all we did was defend ourselves, if we wait at least we have our word and proof that we didn't flee from the scene."  Baldar says as he reaches into his backpack and hands Bellerophon a set of papers.  "These are yours by the way, the Ambassador knowing I was coming to meet up with you asked that I pass them along."  he explains, passing Bellerophon Ironshield his papers for the city.
esorscher
Bellerophon accepts the diplomatic papers with a nod of gratitude. "  I have no intention of tolerating this island's inhabitants poor behavior,  " he says. "  Nor do I intend to subject myself to their guards inquiries. Indeed, on that count I think you have overestimated the lawfulness of this city, or at least of this area. Or there wouldn't have been a mugging for us to prevent in the first place.  " He looks over to the woman they'd saved. "  Perhaps we have a witness who can attest to our good intentions?  " Then back to Baldar. "  As for our own ambassador, I feel no need to burden him with such triviality. I'm sure he has enough on his plate without worrying about our every step.  " He turns back to the would-be victim. "  Could you recommend a tavern or inn nearby? Preferably one with a strong ale.  " If he seems nonchalant about the whole affair, perhaps it is because he is. He harbors neither remorse over the muggers death, nor ill will toward him or his compatriot. While he can not blame a victim of circumstance for the actions those circumstances bring about, neither must he allow their interference with his existence.
Timble
Thespia nods along with Beatrice's words, watching the events in the square play out.

 "My name is Thespia,"  she tells Siden.  "Priestess from the Isles, I arrived last night and would have been asleep when this occurred. I do remember seeing the sentries from the other churches last night, surely whoever was on shift at the time would have witnessed the attack." 
 I shouldn't get too caught up in this,  Thespia thought.  I'm not a law enforcer, lets get through this unfortunate incident then get to my duties. 
dantiesilva
 "The more trouble we cause means the more headaches he as a representative of the Clans, has to deal with. Would you fight a child back home for insulting you honor? It is beneath an adult unless the dishonor is great enough, that is all I am trying to say. We did the correct course of action, and I will stand by that, we gave them ample chances to retreat and apologize, instead they tried to kill us. No harm no fowl in my eyes nor the Ambassadors from how he put it. Just we have to make sure they attack first, do not respond to words with violence here and we should be fine is what I was told."  Baldar explains, showing that he didn't disagree with how this outcome played out, but that they should not go out of there way to treat these people as they would adults back home. They were children, and should be treated as such. If the guards did not come soon to ask about the crime Baldar would not object to leaving, after all it was not his job to guard the body of a mugger only to report what happened if the law showed up. He would not argue with Bellerophon however if he continued as had he not spoken to the Ambassador the mugger would not have had a chance to turn his knife on him as he would have used his hammer to get rid of the trash of this countries streets. But if he went around doing that it would take him away from what he was here to do, make sure the rifts in the sky were closed, and properly so that they would not be a threat to his home.
esorscher
"  Should they be judged by our standards, or their own?  " Bellerophon asks, enjoying the philosophical debate on the nature of ethics and morality. "  No doubt in this instance we are in alignment: self-preservation is not only excusable, it is just. But I see no reason to interfere with these people's lives any more than necessary. For better or worse, that is not our purpose here. Which begs me to ask: why did you get involved?  " he asks, hoping to learn more about his traveling companion.
dantiesilva
Baldar listens to Bellerophon's reply and pauses for a long time, deep in thought. Had he not spoken to the Ambassador earlier he would have treated these people as they hold themselves, not to the standards of a warrior of Kharheim. However now he treated them like they were children as he was told it was the easiest way to keep his sanity. After a long pause he responds, choosing each word carefully.  "I honestly am not sure Bellerophon. I saw someone in trouble and my instinct was to help, had the matching been fair I no doubt would not have gotten involved as one on one is a fair fight. But it was two of them against her, which even by our standards is not always bad odds I know, but the desperate look of help said this was not something fair."  Baldar explained, not fully able to put into words what he meant as it was more a feeling then anything. He was sure one person could not change the people of this country, and the moment he tried he would only make things worse by creating a power vacuum when his job here for the clans, and runewardens was done. No it would indeed cause more harm then good getting involved with the politics of this place, smarter and wiser people of Kharheim were already doing that, and their job was to do just that, and stay here guiding the people to a better way. His job was simpler, and harder all at the same time, as he had to act without acting, and asses something that all others assumed was already fixed.
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Dora 


 
 Originally Posted by gallagher 
   I always wondered if it is part of the human experience, to feel things so strongly that one is compelled from raw emotional energy to find a path to spend their lives walking. I see temples like these filled with human worshippers who dedicate themselves in ways that I never felt compelled. Yes, I have anger too, but the anger of a minotaur? That sounds more of a human feeling than my blood permits to me.  
 


The Executor chuckles.   "It was a figure of speech!  But perhaps humans are more emotional than elves.  I can't say I've met enough elves to know." 

  "Ella had mentioned that many of these pieces are of Old Ganthar heritage, and you had mentioned questions for me; May we take a closer look at a fine example of one of your more impressive antiques while we continue? I want to imagine myself taking something beautiful off the stand and wearing it as though it were molded for me."  

Denar nods readily.  "Come, then.  The oldest pieces are in the gallery." 

He leads you through a side door and deeper into the building.  As you go, he addresses your other statement.
 "I do have questions, it's true.  Last night you said you came to our land in search of important truths at the root of certain tales.  If we are to aid you, I would know which tales those are and what you hope to find here.  Though I am also curious as to how you come to wield this spear you carry.  It is not a weapon one finds in the typical smithy." 

As he speaks, he opens another door into a grand hall.  Ahead of you is a striking white marble statue, seven feet high, of a classically handsome man with an athletic figure.  In his hands are a longsword and shield of pure gold; and his head has been enchanted so that flames cascade in the place of his hair down past his shoulders.

To left and right, two ranks of armour stands each display six suits of full plate armour, the metal so pale as to be almost white, with a tremendous level of gold embellishment fashioned into feather patterns.  The helms are gold, with angel wing designs on either side; matching shields and swords complete the look.  The arrangement suggests an honour guard for the statue.

Above eye level, there is a balcony most of which is out of sight; but directly ahead of you, at the top of a sweeping staircase, you see four glass display cases in front of a tall window.  In the morning sun, the contents of these cases gleam: one a silver chalice; the other three all bronze and decorated with jewels, a sword, shield, and helmet.  From this distance details are not easy to make out, but it is clear these pieces are held in particular reverence.

At ground level, the sides of the room are lined with numerous pieces of art of various types and styles. They seem to be arranged by theme, rather than by type.  To your left, the pieces show scenes of battle and valour, usually involving the figure from the central statue confronting all manner of vicious beasts, demons, and otherworldly horrors.

On your right, the imagery is more reflective. The theme, it appears, is of people confronting the dark sides of mortal experience: grief; despair; loneliness; suffering; betrayal.  Yet in each bleak display something else can be seen, often small and obscured: the symbol of Relath, usually depicted as glowing softly.

Straight ahead, to either side of the staircase, you see images of two warriors: one the fiery figure from the central statue, the other a woman of power and beauty with eyes of lightning, often shown with a greatsword and a cloak of stars.  In the displays you see them fighting side by side; daring places of great danger together; each rescuing the other in turn.  As your gaze travels from left to right, the two become closer and closer, until one statue depicts them embracing - legs entwined, arms around one another, bodies pressed together, lips a hair's breadth from meeting.

It feels like that should be the final piece in the story, but two more artworks are displayed to the right of that one.  Both are paintings.  Both are darker in hue, with more realism in the composition.  The first shows the man on his knees, wracked with grief, tears flowing, fiery hair dimmed.  Behind him, the woman is walking away from the viewer, a twisted coronet falling from her hand as she descends a shadowed staircase towards a dark figure.  The last painting shows the man alone, beset on all sides by evils of every imaginable kind, tall and strong and ready for battle - but hopelessly outnumbered.
 

 
 Spoiler: Thespia 
The officer regards you wearily.   "You as well, huh?  Seems like no one saw anything and no one wants to get involved.  Well, I guess I'll go talk to the sentries and listen to their lies." 

So saying, he trudges wearily away.

Once he is out of earshot, Beatrice turns and nods approvingly at you.   "Well done, girl.  I know it's hard, seeing something like that and not acting.  But we have to do the good we can, where we can.  Getting caught up in the Schism won't do anyone any good." 
 

 
 Spoiler: Bellerophon and Baldar 
As you are speaking, a pair of men approach you, led to the scene by the woman you rescued.  They wear scale mail armour and grey capes; they carry two-handed greatswords, and identical rings on their fingers - silver with a symbolic representation of an eye - suggest some commonality between them, although they share little in their appearance: one taller, gangly, and eyeing everything with suspicion; the other shorter, with scratchy stubble and a bored expression.
[B]
"Two alive, one dead,"[b] says the second man.   "I hope it is the sinner who was slain, and not your would-be rescuers?" 

The other man makes a sweeping gesture with his hand, the ring emitting traces of azure light as he does so.  It would put you to mind of the clumsiest gestures of a new apprentice, but for the fact it appears to work.
 
"I sense no evil in them,"  he says - an edge of disappointment to his tone.   "But weren't there two sinners, hmm?  Looks like they let one get away.  Are you sympathisers, then, or just incompetent?" 
 
dantiesilva
As the two figures approach Baldar notes that they are dressed identical and are with the woman that he had helped. Thinking they are the town guard, or at least what would go for one in this place he waits patiently as he inspects their armor and weapons.

 
 Spoiler: Craft 
 (1d20+18)[ 27 ]  Armor
 (1d20+18)[ 35 ]  Weapons

Basically he is just trying to see how well crafted they appear to be, not their worth which I know would be appraise.
 


As the tall gangly fellow shows his clear inexperience at the art Baldar looks to his ally as if to say you were right it was pointless waiting. However as the figure speaks he becomes even more annoyed.  "I am the person who did the laws job when they were not doing it."  Baldar says plainly to the two figures before him.  "The woman asked for help and we aided, it is not our job to do that which the town guard is supposed to do nor should you expect it."  he says as if that should be enough to get the figure to back off, each word he said being true from his point of view. He was a guest on this island, it was not his job to protect these people, nor was it his duty to stop any crime he witnessed.
esorscher
Bellerophon exchanges the knowing look with Baldar. "  We are neither sinners nor incompetent,  " He says, then looks at the woman. "  This is the thanks we get?  " Then back at the two questioning him. "  Do either of you know a good tavern nearby with beds and strong ale?  "

 
 Spoiler 
Knowledge:  (1d20)[ 15 ] 

Knowledge (Arcana) +15
Knowledge (Architecture/Engineering)	+6
Knowledge (Dungeoneering) +6
Knowledge (Geography) +6
Knowledge (History) +6
Knowledge (Local) +6
Knowledge (Nature) +10
Knowledge (Nobility/Royalty) +6
Knowledge (the Planes) +13
Knowledge (Psionics)	+5
Knowledge (Religion)	+10

To identify the symbol on the rings - maybe Arcana, maybe Religion, maybe something else? Whatever is appropriate.
 
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Baldar and Bellerophon 

 
 Spoiler: Baldar's craft check 
The gear is serviceable but far below dwarven standards.  You suspect someone with more concern for budgets than lives has outfitted these men.
 

 
 Spoiler: Bellerophon's Knowledge check 
The symbol is a variant of the holy symbol of Charis, goddess of justice and central to the current religious schism in this country.  The traditional symbol has both a watchful eye and a downward-pointing sword.  It is unclear what the variation is meant to signify.
 


  "I am the person who did the laws job when they were not doing it."  Baldar says plainly to the two figures before him.  "The woman asked for help and we aided, it is not our job to do that which the town guard is supposed to do nor should you expect it."  


 
 Originally Posted by esorscher 
 Bellerophon exchanges the knowing look with Baldar. "  We are neither sinners nor incompetent,  " He says, then looks at the woman. "  This is the thanks we get?  " Then back at the two questioning him. "  Do either of you know a good tavern nearby with beds and strong ale?  " 
 

The men exchange a long look.  The taller man gives an irritable grunt; the other smiles, though the expression doesn't reach his eyes.
 
"It sounds like you are men after our Lady's heart: intervening when the authorities cannot, to strike down evildoers wherever they may dwell.  And it is well for this woman that you did!

"There is a place you might spend the night, which is sympathetic to the cause.  Head down that street,"  - he points behind you -   "and turn left.  Look for the sign of the white fox.  And may the Shield of the Righteous ever protect you." 

The other man snorts at that.   "Yes - while you remain worthy,"  he appends.   "Walk in the light, dwarves."   His tone suggests it is as much a warning as a blessing.

The woman gives you an encouraging smile as the men turn to leave.
 
"I fetched them to help, but I'm glad you didn't need it.  Thank you, both.  I hate to think what might have happened if you hadn't stepped in.

"I'm going home as quick as I can.  You don't mind if I walk with you?  Sounds like you're going my way, and it would make me feel a good deal safer." 
 
dantiesilva
Baldar was about to disagree with the two figures, who's very armor showed that whoever crafted it didn't care much for the protection of those within simply sighed.  "White Fox, good ale, place to sleep. For this I offer a warning, your armor and shields are of weak make and poor quality. Find a better smith or invest more money into your protection or else you won't be able to help anyone."  Baldar, an smith on his way to one day be a great one he hopped pointed out looking at the armor of the two before him as if it was proper compensation for being told where there was someplace safe to stay the night.

As the woman thanks them and asks to walk with them to her home he looks to Bellerophon with a face that seems uncaring if the woman joined them or not if it was in the same direction.  "In my home a woman is taught how to fight just as well as a man and from what I have been told New Ganther is supposed to be the same. So how is it those men got the jump on you? Do you have no weapon to protect yourself so late at night?" 
esorscher
Bellerophon walks alongside Baldar, listening to his conversation with the woman.
Timble
 "Thank you, Beatrice,"  Thespia says softly.  "Is everything going to be alright with the temple? I was thinking of going to find Kennet now." 

If there were no duties for her here, Thespia would make sure she had the location of Kennet and the locations connected to Eoan marked down. Then she would set out for her first actual mission in the holy city.
gallagher
Dora paused longest at the armors in formation, ancient and pale, and adorned with incredible goldwork. The antiquity of these pieces were calming to Dora, and she felt quite at peace in the gallery here. It was here that she felt the desire to speak of her weapon.
 
I was alone at Karheim - my business there was my own, but an interloper of a sort felt as though I was an easy target. Everyone  always  thinks I'm an easy target. I smelled an acrid smell, and heard a sound like canvas tearing. I turned to see this  thing  surrounded by a purple wound in the air that was closing behind it. It carried the weapon I hold now. I was entangled with the snarling brute. It was twice my size, with hellish armor and reeked of rot and decay. I would have perished, were it not for a dwarven mage who has since become my traveling companion. We attempted to look over the corpse of our fallen foe, but when I picked up it's weapon, the rest of the body dissipated to nothing. The wizard told me that such is often the way with summoned enemies, but we saw no trace of a summoner. We both had business to attend to in Ganthar, and so we decided to travel together.  

When they get to the artworks, at the end showing what is clearly Related fighting darkness alone, Dora had completed her thoughts on how to properly answer her host, and attempted to sound as neutral as she could about her interest in Theodore Roost.

 As for my interest in Sir Roost... I come from a small village, where no child shows the acuity that would indicate that education would benefit them, where no temple has ever been built and where no map has bothered to draw our borders. Little wrong with that, but the people there... they latch onto the stories travelling people tell, and among these unwashed people I see the stories themselves grow. Over my own lifetime, I saw the tales of a human champion of a deity grow and grow until children venerate a man as if he were a god himself; how else could a lowly knight defeat an otherworldly creature that was almost a god itself, and was the embodiment of war? They squabble over details that each made up the night before. And with this, I see that the disrespect for truth and tradition could be fixed with education.

So I want to write a book. Not to counter any one tale I've heard, but to establish the actual events that happened in the life of Theodore Roost. And then I will take my book from village to village, read to them the truth behind their favored tales, and leave a copy with their village elder. I have found names of people who are said to have witnessed the events themselves. I wish to do no more than drink tea with them, ask them questions, and listen to their account. The first man I wish to speak with is the Arbiter Lothrain, a man whose devotion to a just god led to an unimpeachable life. I can expect honesty out of such a man, and I was hoping that someone here would be willing to help me find the Arbiter Lothrain .

Dora did not lie, per se. It is a carefully revealed half truth, as the emotions within Dora were greatly tied to this mission that animated her so. Always being an outcast, for her size and strength, for her mixed heritage, for her more eloquent speech, for her  very being ; she wanted to take the village's favorite knight from his lofty perch. She wanted them to dwell on the fact that those children, now adults, fantasize about a myth of their own imagination - a myth that grew like weeds in a garden. Dora wanted to take their fantasy away and remind those that hurt her that they are no smarter than the swine they herd.
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Dora 
Executor Denar looks troubled at your description of winning the spear.
 
"I find it troubling that this unholy weapon came to you in such bizarre circumstances.  It is a devil's instrument.  And that particular enemy does little without purpose.  I fear you have attracted the attention of dark powers indeed." 

Watching you in the gallery, Denar looks thoughtful as you describe your self-imposed mission.
 
"So it's Theodore Roost you wish to learn about?

"I was only a boy when the Champion of Charis walked the streets of our city.  I saw him once or twice, from afar; and I heard many times what he had done.  But, as with anything divisive, you hear many people tell the story in different ways.  I can see why you would value hearing it first hand, from those who knew him.

"The old Arbiter knew him, that's the truth.  Fought beside him; even spoke of him as a friend.  But Lothrain retired a few years back.

"Although… I tell you what.  I'll ask around, speak to those who knew him best.  Perhaps someone might be able to tell me what he's doing with his time now." 

There is a commotion outside.  Denar frowns, opening the door and catching the arm of a young priest hurrying past.   "Report!"  he orders tersely.

The youth comes swiftly to attention and salutes.   "The Inquisitors have killed another man overnight,"  he says breathlessly.
 
"Relath's wrath,"  Denar growls.  Glancing at you, he sighs.   "Looks like I'll have to go deal with this.  Listen, if you come back this evening I'll see what I can find out about Lothrain.  Okay?" 
 

 
 Spoiler: Baldar and Bellerophon 
The woman laughs mirthlessly.   "And, what, everyone where you come from learns how to fight?  So who does the real work, eh?  I'm a seamstress.  I can stick someone with a pin if they get too fresh with me - but two strong men with knives?  Man, woman, it don't make no difference, that's not about to end well.

"Now, if my husband weren't too drunk to stand on his own two feet, I wouldn't be walking home alone and maybe they'd have picked on someone else.  Or maybe not - that useless drunk ain't about to scare anyone away." 

As she's been speaking, you have arrived at a dirty, run down building with a faded sign showing a fox that is more grey than white.  The door is open, and you can see a handful of patrons nursing their mugs inside.  It is a quiet venue, although whether through a lack of popularity or simply because of the late hour is difficult to judge.

The woman gives you a last weak smile.   "Thanks again, both of you.  I'm right glad you showed up when you did." 
 

 
 Spoiler: Thespia 
Beatrice has nothing further for you, and bids you farewell.  Leaving behind the temple district and its bloody infighting, you follow the directions you were given to the White Stag.

It is not a long walk.  The inn where Kennet is supposed to be staying is just outside the district, where the vandalised religious buildings give way to residences.  There is a small line of commercial buildings on the border: a bakery, a butcher, a tailor, a carpenter, and a merchant who seems to mostly stock the paraphernalia of religious life.  There is a cluster of stalls selling fruit and vegetables to one end of the line of buildings; and at the other, the White Stag.  Reasonably clean and well presented, this tavern seems to have avoided vandalism or the neglect that lies beyond it.

Stepping beneath the gently creaking sign of the titular stag, you push open the door and step into a warm, dark room.  Tables and chairs are scattered around, most of them vacant; the bar is initially unmanned, but you can see through a door behind it into a kitchen where several people are hard at work.  The smell of cooking bacon is on the air, mixing with the sweetness of alcohol that is ingrained in the surfaces.

Taking in the room's few occupants - mostly men whose days of work are behind them - you soon spot the priest of Berun.  He is hardly inconspicuous: dressed in faded white clerical robes, the broken spear symbol of Berun the Healer hanging from a chain around his neck, he is bending over a man who is clearly the worse for wear and speaking in low, concerned tones as you arrive.

As his attention is focused elsewhere, you have a minute to take in his appearance.  His dark brown hair is long, but tied back in a ponytail.  His eyes are green with specks of gold.  No beard, although he has not shaved for a couple of days.  You would guess him to be in his mid forties.  The robes hide much of his build, but there is a thinness around his neck, face and arms that suggest he has not eaten well in some time.  Glancing down at his shoes, you note they were made for soft carpets, not heavy use; and the soles have worn thin indeed.

One of the staff has seen you, and comes to the bar.   "What'll it be?"  she asks you in a tone of professional welcome.  Her words attract the priest's attention; looking up, he meets your eyes and frowns slightly, perhaps wondering who you are.
 
gallagher
Dora looked to the weapon she carried. A foul thing, to be sure, but it is her prize for defeating the otherworldly enemy. Should another come hoping to claim what is now hers, she would gladly show the creature the sharp end of the spear.

 I would appreciate that. My last question then, is there a tavern or inn of good reputation that you'd recommend to a stranger? I'll be staying here a long as I need.

I also understand that my goal is one steeped in controversy. It may help to describe me as a biographer, though this would be my first such attempt. Anything that can gain me an evening with the retired Arbiter, I would be eternally grateful.

I may not be a member of your temple, but I want to make an attempt to return the charity you have given me, for feeding and housing me for a night. I am sure that your temple is at least connected to a group that is in need of auxiliary assistance? I would gladly donate my time and my strength.  

After a farewell, Dora set out in search of her friend Bellerophon to share what she had seen.
dantiesilva
Baldar listens to what the woman has to say before waving his hand as if in dismissal.  "It's part of our education from birth. We all have jobs that benefit the clan as a whole, but we all know how to defend ourselves as well. Some like myself who learned the arts of the forge may be better off than some at one aspect of a fight while my allies people are skilled at things my own could not do."  he says thinking for a moment.  "A rapier is similar to a needle, though a great deal longer. Perhaps learn to use one, or don't. It may save your life one day or it could give your enemy a weapon to use against you. It in the end is your choice. As for your husband, no individual should drink to the point of bringing shame to themselves and their kin. I hope he seeks the proper redemption from you for his behavior."  he says knowing that if he were to act in such a manner he would bring great shame to his family, clan, and kin
.

As the group arrives at their destination Baldar nods his head slightly to the woman, no more of a bow then was required to give.  "May your path be clear and your needle sharp young seamstress. It would be a shame for one so young to meet their ancestors so early." 

And with that he waits for the young woman to depart, waiting to see also if his traveling companion had more to add before entering the establishment and looking around for an empty seat for the two of them.
esorscher
Bellerophon listens as Baldar imparts his wisdom, such as it is, to the woman.   Someone who says he doesn't want to interfere with the humans, yet can not help offering his own advice.   Bellerophon thinks idly to himself. There was something revealing about his fellow dwarf's character there, even if he couldn't quite determine what it was. He enters the tavern alongside Baldar, saying nothing more to the woman. Once they find a seat, he will order an ale and ask about rooms to rent.
Timble
 "Nothing for me, thank you,"  Thespia says with an apologetic smile.  "I'm looking for Kennet, though I assume that's him over there." 

She approaches the man.

 "Hello, I am Thespia of the Isles, servant of Yara. I believe you asked our temple for aid?" 

Seeing that he seems to be with a man, perhaps a patient, Thespia stops a short distance from the two so as not to be in the way. She ends her greeting with a short bow.
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Dora 
Denar smiles broadly at your offer of aid.  Signalling to the other priest to go on ahead, he turns his full attention back to you.
 
"Our god favours those willing to take action where the need arises.  The offer does you credit, and I appreciate it.

"Our numbers aren't what they were, and the conflict with the Inquisition takes up far too much of our manpower.  Many calls on our aid have to go unanswered.  And other situations arise which we would investigate if we could, but cannot.

"I do have a quest for you, warrior.  I am told a large, flying beast has been attacking the farms near the hills to the north of the city.  So far it has only attacked livestock, but that may not continue.  Reports about the beast are conflicting; all agree it is about the size of a horse, and that it has wings.  No one seems to have gotten a good look at it.  If you would investigate, and either deal with the threat if you think it safe to do so or else bring me a clear description of the creature so I know what we're dealing with, I will see to it your efforts are rewarded." 
 

 
 Spoiler: Thespia 
The priest of Berun smiles nervously at you.  Saying a few final words to the man he was addressing, he beckons you over to a side table where a half empty flagon of ale waits.  Given that he drinks from it as soon as he sits down, you conclude this is where he was drinking before spotting the other man.

Kennet is quiet for a long interval, marshaling his thoughts.  Finally, he meets your eyes.
 
"It is said that the goddess Yara has a particular sympathy for those seeking redemption,"  he says softly.   "Is there truth in that?" 
 

 
 Spoiler: Bellerophon and Baldar 
The woman scoffs slightly at the suggestion she learn to use a rapier, although she quickly tries to stifle the rude reaction.   "Aye, well, that's certainly an idea,"  she says dubiously.   "Though who would teach me such a thing, and where I'd get the spare coin to buy it… Well, things are tight right now and no mistake.

"Still, you don't need to hear about my troubles.  You've done more than enough for me already.  Good night, gents.  And thank you again." 

So saying, she waves goodbye and heads off, her body language becoming tight and fearful as she moves away from you.

Entering the building, you find a vacant table easily enough to sit yourselves down.  After a couple of minutes, an overweight man in a greasy apron comes over to you and looks expectant.
 
"Drinks, lads?  Or perhaps a bed for the night?" 
 
esorscher
"  Yes, to both,  " Bellerophon says.   Lads? I'm quite sure we're at least twice his age.   "  Your strongest ale, please, and two rooms, if you can spare them.  "

Once their drinks are ordered, Bellerophon turns to Baldar. "  So, then. Shall we compare notes? What did you learn?  "
gallagher
 Please do not call it a reward.  Dora says politely.  I am happy to earn a wage. I traveled here with a wizard, and along the path met two others that may be interested in helping. As you know that I believe in safety in numbers, would you be opposed to their employ on this task? 

Dora then takes care to write down the description of the local geography, so that she can take a safe path and retrace her steps back to the temple. Dora then gathers her possessions and leaves, taking the route back towards the docks that she was shown when she arrived, until she arrives at the bar that Baldar had pointed out to Bellerophon.

 
 Spoiler 
I just discovered that I neglected to take into account the size difference between Dora and her spear. This is a large weapon from a large creature. My character sheet now reflects the -2 penalty for an inappropriately sized weapon, and I am plotting to buy strongarm bracers
 
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Dora 
Denar smiles gently.   "A wage would suggest something long term.  I don't think you're quite at that point yet!  What I'm suggesting is payment for a service rendered.

"If you have allies you want to take with you, and they are people of good character, that seems wise to me.

"Oh, and you asked where you might stay.  You could try the White Stag; it's nearby and used to catering for those connected to the temples.  Some of the other inns around the city have a dubious reputation.

"Now, I mustn't delay further.  It was a pleasure to meet you; I hope you won't be offended if I let you find your own way out?" 

Unless Dora stops him, he heads off, presumably to investigate this talk of a man murdered by the Inquisition during the night.
 
Timble
 "Certainly,"  Thespia says, almost immediately after Kennet finished his question.  "After all Yara herself started her journey as a selfish being who believed she could quest for power with no other care. But in New Ganthar she came to see that the world didn't work. People suffered for no cause while living alongside those too rich to have any cares. The evil cults she opposed recruited from those that had no other path in life. Thus she came to believe that the evils that threaten the world could only be stopped if people supported each other. Those that walk a dark path can be offered a better way." 

While she spoke her eyes had an unusual intensity, almost seeming to glow. Her face beamed, as if she was truly happy to just speak. But when she stopped, she blinked as if coming out of a trance. Only then did the potential meaning of his words hit her.

 "So,"  she says sympathetically.  "Whose redemption are we speaking of?" 
Perhaps it was his own, but it was better to let him speak for himself then to take too much control of the conversation. She would hold of from asking presumptuous questions until he spoke of his true purpose.
gallagher
Dora fully intends to reconnect with Bellephoron, but as the White Stag is particularly close and comes recommended, she will inquire about the availability of rooms there first. It may be that the other two friendly faces she has met would want to stay together for safety as well.   No telling what kind of bed and bread Bellerophon found last night,   Dora thought to herself, and she heads to the White Stag to discover the quality of food and room they provide.
dantiesilva
As the lady departs Baldar simply nods his head not turning to see if she was watching as the two of them made it into the inn. He had did his part, everything else was out of his hands.

Once inside the establishment and seated, Baldar waits with Bellerophon at their seats to be served before he begins to discuss anything of importance. Waiting to see the bartender take a test of the ale brought to them before he drinks, he remembers what the Ambassador said and when the barkeep doesn't take a drink he looks to Bellerophon and takes the first drink to make sure they are safe to drink for the two of them. Nodding his head if the drink is passable and seems safe, Baldar waits until they are once more alone before he begins.  "I cannot say I learned a great deal in the short time I was here, but I did learn some things. For example those strange arcane signs we kept seeing our guide look to for aid, they seem to be some form of enchantment magic that wards off creatures of chaotic alignment. Nowhere near as strong as a magic circle, it simply makes it seem less desirable or uncomfortable if I had to put into words what they do exactly. In truth I am not 100% sure even how well that holds true due to it being weaker than a magic circle that could actually keep the creatures out. Which begs the question why not just do that instead?"  he says before reaching into his bag and delicately pulling out his gift from the Ambassador.  "One of only five copies, this is the only book ever written by Thuril Drakeslayer and the Ambassador believes it may hold some aid for those with our inclinations."  he says not wishing to fully reveal what they were here to do in front of outsiders and strangers. Better for them, if they even knew the name, to think it was a book about something other than the planes.  "Besides that I have heard the divide is akin to one of our most deepest dishonors, and thus blood flows often between the two. And if I am to see to seeing if it is a threat to us and our people I should seek out the leaders, one I hear is honorable, forthright, and impeccably courteous from what the ambassador has told me. The other I know nothing of however. Lastly, I was told that we should never meet words with violence, even the gravest of insults to us should not be meet with violence, the guard here do not look kindly on it or something similar. But if we are attacked or violence is brought to us we are able to treat them as if we were back home and they were another dwarf."  Baldar finishes, taking a sip of his ale before waiting for Bellerophon to ask any questions as well as allow him to share what he learned.

 
 Spoiler: OOC book title 
Reflections on the planes of existence
By Thuril Drakeslayer
 
esorscher
"  Those symbols are from the Order of Mattheus, who seem to be gaining favor among the masses as the Fellowship and their Vanguard have seen their influence wane. The wizard I spoke to, Velhim, seems to suggest that they don't actually do... anything. What we perceive as rifts, he believes, are actually evidence of a planar convergence. Which, of course, would have far greater ramifications than what we've seen so far. I have a copy of his research; I intend to make a copy of it and send it back to Kharheim for further study,  " Bellerophon says. "  He also gave me a list of names of people who were witness to the opening of the rifts twenty years ago: Lord Thomas of Knightsfane, Pran Deathwalker, Arbiter Lothrain, and High Inquisitor Niall.  "
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Thespia 
Kennet nods at your words, though he seems not to draw as much reassurance from them as he had hoped.  He stares for a minute into his mug, although what he sees in its murky contents, you cannot yet guess.

Finally, in soft tones that will not carry far, he begins to speak.
 
"They say the road to the hells is paved with good intentions.  I never knew how true that was.

"You know some of Berun's teachings, I am sure.  To heal the sick in body and mind, without judgment or condemnation.  To abstain from violence, except against the undead or fiends.  To promote peace in every way possible.

"But to understand what I am about to tell you, you must understand one particular tennet of our faith: that we are not to let ourselves become indirectly responsible for violent acts by healing those we know have violent intentions." 

He falls quiet again.  When he resumes speaking, it seems he is picking up the story from a different place; you can only hope he will circle back to his point eventually.
 
"Our temple has never been wealthy or numerous.  We lost many in fighting the undead who rose up in the events leading to the Schism, two decades ago; and through gradual attrition since.  We lost others who found the temple of the Lovers, and the hospice founded by Saint Rosalind, more appealing.  And siding with the Redeemers earnt us the enmity of the Inquisitors - along with the fear and suspicion of the common people.

"So our numbers fell; and with them our donations, our income.  Our financial reserves started to dry up.  When the temples were called upon to contribute to the redevelopment of the Poor Quarter, we faced a stark choice: refuse, knowing that would further alienate our followers, or borrow heavily to do it.  We chose the latter, mortgaging our very temple to pay for better housing for the poor.  So then there were loan repayments to make as well." 

There is a bitterness in Kennet as he tells you this, and no little frustration.  You can imagine him and his fellow priests, trying all they can think of to stop hemorrhaging members and money alike, and growing increasingly beaten down by their failures.
 
"Charging those who could afford it for our healing magic was another way we kept the temple running,"  he notes.   "But Rosalind's hospice offered free healing to all and sundry.  Honestly, I don't know how they managed it.

"Well, not quite all.  Some, Rosalind's successors turned away: the possessed, the afflicted, the monstrosities, the beasts - any they saw as too dangerous to treat beside their humanoid patients.  And, Berun help us, we took their coin and took them in.

"But then we had a problem, didn't we?  Say we healed an ogre fresh from a murderous rampage.  We could hardly let him go free, and have his victims' blood on our hands.  Nor, as things were going, could we turn him over to the authorities - they would execute him on the spot, and then it'd be his blood on our hands." 

The priest meets your gaze at last, willing you to see the dilemma they were in.  Studying your expression, he seemingly finds enough sympathy - or imagines he does - to continue.
 
"I don't know where it came from.  The high priest just quietly revealed it one day.  The answer to our problem.  Well, so it seemed.  A relic.  The Ankh of Tranquility.  A magical item that calmed violent souls.

"We turned over the lower floors of the temple into a haven for those we healed but could not in good conscience set free.  A place of peace, where they were safe, and well fed.  We told ourselves it was a kindness, a refuge." 

His eyes plead with you to agree.
 
"We even had some successes - lycanthropes, for instance, that we were able to cure of their affliction.

"Then came the day the bank repossessed the temple." 

He closes his eyes in pain at the memory.  Again, the silence builds, as the ghosts of his past war for his attention.
 
"None of us really thought it would happen.  We were sure Berun would intervene: that we'd find the money from somewhere, or the bankers would see reason and call off their lawyers.  But, in the end, the day came.  We had to leave the building most of us had called home all our lives, the heart of our religious life.  I can't begin to describe what it felt like.

"So we weren't really in a fit state to be making major decisions.  Like, say, what to do with the residents of our lower floors.  So, in the end… we left them there.

"The temple's been vacant for a long time.  I guess no one wanted to buy it.  But I just learnt it's been auctioned off.  And that means it'll be reopened - and the new owner will get more than they bargained for." 
 

 
 Spoiler: Thespia and Dora 
The door of the White Stag opens, and Dora walks in.  She takes in the aromas of cooking breakfast; the handful of early morning patrons at tables; and, in a corner, a white-robed priest of Berun talking quietly with Thespia.
 
dantiesilva
Baldar sits patiently listening to everything Bellerophon says, waiting a moment when he is done to make sure the man is finished speaking before responding.  " This Order of Mattheus, I cannot say what they are however I can tell you the spell I witnessed that our guide used to show us to where we each wished to go had real power. However I did find it odd they wouldn't use the more reliable spell known to create a permiter that chaotic outsiders could not cross instead. Speculation only mind you, however they could be instead using these markers to send the creatures that get through to less populated areas or somewhere people wouldn't report a crime or the town guard wouldn't respond to."  Baldar offers up in explanation.

 "I am unfamiliar with that term I am afraid Bellerophon. What is a planar convergence, I have an idea of what it may be, however I spent most of my time on studying the forge and Architecture rather then the planes and the beings that dwell there. So my understanding of such matters is rather limited to what we are taught from an early age."  Baldar explains wanting to hear more about this Velhim's theory.  "If it is what this Velhim believes how much worse could it be? I doubt our Kin would have left New Ganther twenty years ago if it was something he believed the humans could not handle."  Baldar explains, not fully seeing how this could be much worse then what they had been told by their guide.

 "I have heard two of those names already, the Arbitor as well as High Inquisitor. Our Ambassador said it would be a good idea to start my research in speaking with them."  he says looking around as if just noticing for the first time that Bellerophon's half-elf ally was not with him.  "Where is the one you were with, Dora I think her name was? She go off exploring on her own, or is she to meet back up with you later as I clearly remember her saying there was safety in numbers yet you arrived to meet me alone."  he notes, wondering if Dora had perhaps heard anything that they had not given that she was not with them.
gallagher
Dora hangs on in the doorway for a moment while she collects what she can learn when she looks into the establishment. That Thespia, someone she had met on the boat here, had found the inn was a good sign to her. She made note to speak with Thespia while they were in the same place to offer the chance for a small adventure.

Dora walks up to the innkeep and asks about the price of food and rooms there. She comments that she was recommended here by the Temple of Relath, and asks if they have a good relationship with the Temple that would lead to such a reputation.
esorscher
"  Of that, I am uncertain,  " Bellerophon says. "  We intended to meet back at the docks, but obviously that ship has sailed.  " Bellerophon smirks. "  So to speak. If the ancestors see fit, I have faith our paths will cross again.  " Bellerophon takes another drink. He's perfectly content to keep talking until the evening wanes and he finds his way to his room, to see what the next day brings.
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Baldar and Bellerophon 
You continue talking for some time, discussing the issues from first one perspective, then another.  Without new information, however, you find yourselves circling back to the same questions again and again.

The drinks here are a poor cousin of those at home, watery and lacking in flavour to your palate.  Often the humans who are drinking in the building seem to eye you with suspicion or even mild hostility, what you can only assume is an unthinking bias against the strangers in their midst.

With hospitality like this, it is little wonder you soon choose to turn in.  You are shown to two rooms, both cramped and unclean, with a faint smell of mildew.  Still, the beds themselves have been mare with clean linen, and a space swept around them; and there are no signs of lice or other such pests.  Perhaps most importantly, the doors are sound and cam be locked from within.

The beds prove slightly uncomfortable, neither broad enough nor firm enough for the dwarven physique; not a bad length for you, which hints that they might be short for their more usual human occupants.  With the stoicism that is one of the hallmarks of your culture, you each endure such irritants and seek the relief of sleep.

You pass a fitful night, each troubled by dreams that you struggle to recall by morning.  The rift looms large in them, but beyond that you remember emotions rather than details, chief among them the sensation of being pursued.  A growing dread, and a sense helplessness the likes of which you have never felt in waking life, leaves you longing to wake up - but unable to win free of the miasma of your nightmares.

   Day One   

The light of day, filtered through grimy windows, finally wakes you.  It is a blessed release.

When you are ready, you make your way back down to the common room.

 
 Spoiler: Wisdom DC 12 
Looking around you, you realise that everyone looks weary, with shadows under their eyes and a haunted, hunted expression.  Each is sitting alone, where possible with their backs to a wall.

Thinking back, it was much the same last night.
 


The innkeep offers you both a drink of what passes for beer in this backwater.  There is a faint suggestion of sympathy behind his guarded expression.
 
"First one's on the house,"  he says gruffly.   "You want some breakfast to go with it, that'll cost you.  There's bread - fresh yesterday - or porridge.  Not much milk to go round, but there's some, more than many can say.  Or we've some sausages if you'd like a little meat." 
 

 
 Spoiler: Dora and Thespia 
Dora's conversation with the barmaid is loud enough for Thespia to overhear, if she is minded to listen.  The girl behind the counter gives Thespia a warm smile as she sets a short but reasonably varied menu in front of her.

 "The Temple of Relath, eh?  We do good business with the temples.  Everyone needs a bed and some warm food now and then - even the priests.  And they're useful folk to have around when you need 'em.

"Not many places want to have much to do with them.  Don't want to get caught in the crossfire, I guess.  But they've done okay by us.  They know to leave their feuds at the door; if they don't, we ban them and their mates for a week.  We still have to remind them now and then; but old Ben, he knows how to handle them and who to talk to if he can't.

"Now, what'll it be, sweetheart?" 

As she speaks, another girl - enough like the barmaid to be her sister, with the same heart-shaped face, green eyes and dark hair - comes out of the kitchen with a plate of sizzling bacon, fresh tomatoes, fried eggs and soft, still warm bread.  She delivers it to one of the patrons with a warm smile, together with a full teapot.  The aromas are potent enough to override the smells of stale ale; if everything on the menu tastes as good as that smells, you have some sense of why the temples might have a vested interest in keeping access to this place.
 

 
 Spoiler: Thespia only - Sense Motive DC 10 
As Dora speaks to the barmaid, her back to you, you see Kennet's expression at the mention of the Temple of Relath.  There is a hint of alarm there; his body language, which had slowly opened up while he was speaking to you, quickly closes again.
 
Timble
Thespia sat, listening intently. She was somewhat stunned by the admission. She saw Dora enter but paid it no mind, she was working now.

She took a deep breath, struggling to think of where to start.
 "Ok... how many are down there, how long has it been and did they have food?"  she asked. Presumably she had been called here for a rescue mission, but without those facts she may be walking into a mass grave.

Once she heard Dora speak, she noted Kennet's alarm and places a hand on his to calm him.
 "Sorry, but I am a stranger here. Is there something wrong with the temple of Relath?" 
gallagher
 Tea and toast, then.  Dora says with fondness in her voice as she sees another patrons order arrive. The charm of the establishment served to underline why a temple would enjoy sending their members here. The Executor offered healthy food and good tea as well, and Dora could see him enjoying a brief afternoon here as well.

 I have an odd request. I'm in town for an indefinite period with some work to do. I have one travel companion and I would like to ask after comfortable lodging for us. There are two others who I met on the trip here that may wish for the same. Would you have spare rooms to accommodate two, with a chance of four? 
esorscher
"  No need for breakfast,  " Bellerophon says. "  But could you point me in the direction of a purveyor of scrolls?  "
dantiesilva
Baldar had never been one to need the finer things in life, however even by his simple standards this inn they had paid for seemed below par. The ale was water, the bed was less comfortable then the stone beneath their feet, and the people here treated them like they were, well now that he thought about it they treated them the same way his own treated outsiders, and at that though Baldar seemed to relax slightly in his room as he locked the door and removed his armor, carefully placing it besides his bed for the night, as his hammer was within arms reach. He placed a sturdy looking chair under the door handle to make sure nothing could easily break in, and moved some of the junk to infront of any window so anyone trying to get in from that entrance would find an unwelcome surprise. Content with his small measure of defenses, he did his best to sleep peacefully that night.

Something watching, lurking, pressing the darkness down around him. Baldar had been used to the dark, and always being seen as he grew up with his Ancestors constantly speaking to him, however this was something different, malicious and it filled his bones with dread. As he awoke in a cold sweat he grabbed a cloth from his bag and wet it with his waterskin before cleaning the sweat that had built up on him that night from his nightmares. Praying to his ancestors to help guide him and protect him in his endeavors to seal this breech, Baldar ritualistic placed on his armor, chanting in dwarven as he did so, a simple chant of protection, no real magic behind the words, however they gave him comfort in their traditions and roots, something that reminded him of home, and the clan he was once a part of.

Once geared and sure everything was where it should be, he left his room and made his way downstairs to where he raised his hand up in greetings to Bellerophon as he made his way over to the table his fellow dwarf sat at.  "Good morning Runewarden Bellerophon, it is nice to see you made it through the night as well as I did."  he says before taking a seat and looking around.  "Is it just me or was everyone like this last night as well, its almost as if they had not slept a wink."  Baldar says, rubbing his hands together as memories of the something watching him the night before as he slept crept back into his mind, however he did his best to push them away.

As the bartender comes to greet them with what he called ale, how bad it tasted he knew it wasn't poison, at least in the traditional sense, Baldar noded his head in thanks.  "Bread and sausage please. Day old bread doesn't bother me, better then many of the things I have eaten."  he says kindly to the innkeep, he looks at his companion a bit curious as he denies breakfast, however tosses it up as different habits and doesn't question it and instead waits for the innkeep to answer Bellerophon before adding.  "I can't help but notice everyone seems as if they didn't sleep well last night, and most of them looked the same last night. Is this something to do with the rift in the sky?"  he asks, unsure if it was a side effect of the rift or not.
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Thespia (automatic); Dora (DC 27 listen check) 
Kennet watches Dora carefully as he answers Thespia in a low whisper.
 
"Our temples have an uneasy relationship,"  he admits.   "Ours is a god of peace and healing.  Theirs is a god of battle and the destruction of evil.  Both may be 'good,' but we have little in common.

"The Temple of Relath cannot know what I have told you.  They would want to… how would they put it?  Cleanse the den of evil we knowingly harbour."   There is sarcasm in his tone - but also a hint of something more, of doubt in his own path.  Many a truth has been spoken in jest.

Sighing, he answers your earlier questions.   "It's been three years.  There were measures in place to ensure they would all be fed and watered.  As far as I know they should be safe and well.

"I don't know what to do.  There are so few of us left now.  I couldn't see anyone we could turn to for help, except your temple." 
 

 
 Spoiler: Dora (automatic); Thespia (DC 17 listen check) 
The barmaid writes down your order and smiles at your request for a room.   "Two rooms shouldn't be a problem.  Or four, for that matter.  But if you want me to hold them for you, I'll ask for payment for the day up front.  Five silvers for each room." 
 

 
 Spoiler: Baldar and Bellerophon 
The innkeep bellows your order down to the kitchen, and receives a churlish reply from a muffled male voice.  A brief exchange of vulgar insults ensues, seemingly ending with the chef's capitulation.

Turning back to you as though nothing out of the ordinary has occurred, he gives a humourless smile at your question.
 
"Thought you looked new to these parts.  Aye.  When the dreams come, everyone seems to get them.  Or most folks, at least.  Seems some places get it more than others, and some people.  Sometimes it's just one night; sometimes it's more.

"I don't know if the… rift, did you call it?  You mean the Scar?  Well, maybe it causes the dreams, and maybe it doesn't. Can't say I know.  It's been going on nearly as long as the sky's been torn, though." 

Turning to Bellerophon, he wags his finger.   "You want to be careful, messing with… sorcery.  I know those Mattheus folks have the youngsters fooled - and I don't deny they stopped the demon attacks, which I'm glad of - but I never met a clothie I could trust." 

Behind you, one of the patrons scoffs.  A younger man with a blotchy complexion and wiry build, he calls out,  "Old Garl here is a dinosaur. Ignore him.  The mages have done plenty for us.  But if you want to buy from them, you'll have to go to them.  The Fellowship don't hold with magic in any hands but their own; the Order will sell to outsiders, but they like to look you in the eye before they do, if you see what I mean.  I did hear about some mage who set up a shop in the merchant's district - Ambrorun, that was the name! - and he might sell to you.  You look like the sort that might have a Fellowship licence." 
 
gallagher
Dora, more focused on the information she is being told, and not interested in eavesdropping, stays at the counter and keeps her conversation with the barmaid.  Five silvers for one safe night, well, she would pay for this now and hope it came in useful. Two gold for four rooms, then. If it comes to pass that we do not need this, I will consider it a few extra silvers spent as a precaution, and never worry on what else they could have been spent on. Thank you. 

After finishing her conversation and handing money over to the barmaid, Dora would go over to Thespia while she waits on her order to arrive. Surely she could share her tea, and would ask Thespia if she wishes to join on her short quest that she was given by the Executor.

EDIT: When there is an appropriate moment to interrupt, Dora walks over to Thespia.  Hello, I remember you from the ship ride over here. I hope you have found good luck in Ganthar so far. I was told that this inn is of good reputation; are you staying here, too? 
esorscher
"  You have my gratitude,  " Bellerophon says with a flourish. If the man will give him directions, he will follow them to Ambrorun's. "  Baldar, you're welcome to accompany me if you like. Or if you like, I can meet you someplace else when I'm done.  "
Timble
 "Okay,"  Thespia said.  "We'll have to move them out somehow... Do you know how long we have?" 
(Still need an answer as to how many beings are down there)

During this talk, Dora approached their table.

 "Oh. Dora, right? Good to see you."  she says, covering up her annoyance with smiles.  "I'm just here to meet a fellow priest, I'm staying at the temple. I hope your search for work is going well?" 
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Thespia and Dora 
The priest of Berun says a few final words as Dora approaches.
 
"I don't know exactly.  Dozens, I should think.  And time is not on our side - but how long?  I just don't know." 

Looking up at Dora, he falls quiet.  His eyes stray to the oversized spear at her back, a look of sadness in his eyes; and he regards the young woman carefully.
 
"The peace of Berun be with you, child,"  he greets her softly.  From his tone and his body language, it seems he holds out little hope you will welcome such a blessing.
 
gallagher
 Peace be with you.  Dora says quaintly. Her lack of religious background could easily land her amid conflict in this city, but anyone wishing peace to her was a welcome stranger.

Responding to Thespia, Dora talks around her tone and instead gets to the question she was asked.  I got one job, I guess. I have word of some dangerous flying monster terrorizing villagers among the hills outside of Ganthar. Job pays. I'm inviting Bellephoron to join in so I'm not going it along, but if you're interested in joining us, I'd gladly welcome your help. Interested? 
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Baldar and Bellerophon 
With directions in hand - and, in Baldar's case, a freshly made sausage sandwich - you make your way through the waking city towards the Merchant's District.

Although the day is young, the streets are busy.  Stalls peddling every imaginable good hem you in on both sides, leaving little room to navigate - and that little filled with a river of humanity, jostling, shouting, pulling you this way and that like a mighty current.  The noise is horrendous, each vendor seeming to believe he can overcome the competition by volume alone - volume, and the overblown and colourful descriptions of their products.

 "Silk!  Finest silk, hand woven in Elania by elf maidens!"

"Get your spices here!"

"Have you ever dreamed of owning a set of steel kitchen knives?"

"No, sir, I assure you, every piece you see here is genuine dwarf-wrought silver.  Cheap at twice the price!"

"Talismans!  Get your talismans! Ward away demons, spirits, you name it!  Sleep easy at night, with this round your neck! "

"Fresh fish!  Fish, landed this morning, the best you've ever tasted!"
 
You manage at last to navigate the throng, reaching your destination.  There appear to be two vendors advertising magical items, on opposite sides of the street in belligerent competition with one another. The first, a whitewashed building with a sign showing a stereotypical robed wizard, hands wreathed in fire, declares itself to be Amborun's Sublime Sorcerous Supplies. The second, a red brick shop with a mural of a winged serpent, describes itself as Fenton's Emporium of Arcane Goods and Enchanted Objects.  A smaller sign, more recent, hangs below the one for Amborun's:  Fellowship Approved. 

The inside of Amborun's Sublime Sorcerous Supplies is packed, from floor to ceiling, with heaps of objects running the gamut of equipment. One pile appears devoted to magical devices; another to wands and staves; a third to an assortment of bizarre paraphernalia that can only be spell components and foci. The back wall is lined with rack upon rack of potions, the wall to your left with shelves of scrolls, and that to your right with a cabinet full of rings and other jewellery. You see no weaponry or armour, and no alchemical substances, but every other kind of magic item seems to be in evidence, and the whole building seems to hum, at a pitch just below hearing but which reverberates through your bones, with pent up arcane energy.

There are also three very large, very heavily armed iron-skinned constructs, shaped like seven-foot-tall humanoids in full plate armour, who turn their heads to study you intently as you walk in.

A robed man approaches you. Perhaps, a lifetime ago, he was the man on the sign; but the years have not been kind.  Bald, slightly hunched, and with a stiffness to his gait, he can't be less than 70 or you're no judge of such things.  There is a looseness to his skin, suggesting someone who has lost a good deal of weight recently.

In spite of all that, the man spreads his arms wide in a gesture of welcome.  His voice is slightly breathy, but warm and friendly.

 "Welcome to you, sirs! Welcome, welcome to my marvelous magical market - my extraordinary enchanted emporium of the esoteric and eldritch!" 

He breaks off there, his spiel having triggered a bout of coughing.  Looking annoyed, he makes his way to a chair by the counter and takes a seat, waiting to regain his breath.

From there, he waves you in.   "What can I interest you in, gentlemen?"  he asks more softly.
 
dantiesilva
Baldar nodded his head in thanks to Bellerophon as it meant it would be easier for him to find the mages he would like to talk to. As they pass by the stalls peddling there wares one could even, with closed eyes, think they were back in Kharheim as he listened to the bustle of the street, not really caring much for buying anything, but glad to see commerce at least seemed to be doing well during the day.  "This is a good sign, it means the people don't expect anything bad to happen during the day with the rifts. Even if this Order closed them the habits created when the attacked happened show that during the day one seems to be safe." 

As Belleropphon makes his way into the shop and to looks around Baldar is attracted to the three large heavily armored figures, at first he thought they were suits of armor on display, however as he got closer he noticed nothing holding them up.  "I have only heard of such things before, never did I think I would see one. Fascinating, I wonder what they are capable of?"  he says to no one in particular as he examines the craftsmanship more closely unless stopped.

As the older gentleman enters the room Baldar nods his head in greeting as he looks to Bellerophon as he was the one looking for a scroll here.
esorscher
"  Safe enough, at least here. Makes sense that the government would commit resources to ensure that business continues to operate.  " Bellerophon says as they walk. When they get to the shop, he says to Amborun, "  I'm looking for an arcane scroll of Amanuensis. Two, if you have them.  "
Timble
 "I would be happy to help, unfortunately I am currently helping Kennet here. Though, today I don't think it should take me more then an hour or two." 

At the same time, Thespia was channeling her thoughts through her psicrystal to Kennet.
  I need to find a place for those people, so I will take your case back to my temple and ask them to help. Afterward I'll try and enter the temple to find them. Is the relic moveable?"  

To both Dora and Kennet, she removed her psicrystal from its necklace and places it on the table.
 "I'll leave this here and be on my way. Dora, when you have gathered your people you should be able to contact me through this. If I've been able to complete my task, I'll come with you. Kennet, if I find anything then this will let you know." 

Provided that nothing stops her, Thespia hurries back to the temple of Yara. As a newcomer, she had no idea where she could take the people trapped beneath Berun's temple. She would have to find Beatrice, maybe she would have some ideas.
 "Hello, Beatrice!"  Thespia calls out on finding her. After some initial pleasantries, in a private space, she starts to explain the problem.  "Kennet has told me that there are people trapped within the temple of Berun. The violent and monstrous patients were placed where some relic would keep them calm. When the temple was seized, they were left behind. I'm looking into moving them before the new owners arrive but there are potentially dozens. Do you know of a place?" 
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Baldar and Bellerophon 
Amborun nods readily.   "A fine choice, good dwarf.  The written word is to the skilled mage as wood is to the carpenter.  Yes, a most excellent choice."   He holds out his hand, palm up, and two of the scrolls fly across the room to his grasp.
 
"Now, I've an eye for faces, and yours are new to me.  You've the look of travelers from another land; Kharheim, I would venture.  If you have your Fellowship licenses, there's much in this store that could help you.  Or perhaps you have exotic items to sell on these shores?  There are few in our land who are authorised to purchase magic items.  Best bring them to me first, hmm?  Not one of those upstart followers of Mattheus." 
 

 
 Spoiler: Thespia 
Kennet looks briefly surprised by the telepathic message, then replies,   "The Ankh can be moved, but only when it has been deactivated."  

Returning to Beatrice, you tell her of Kennet's admission and request.  For once, the charismatic woman is speechless.

Finding a seat, she closes her eyes for a moment.   "Those short-sighted, foolish…"  She mutters a few more choice words under her breath.  Gathering herself, she opens her eyes.
 
"This thing you speak of?  It sounds like a prison.  A zoo.  A cage baited with promises of healing, where men and women took the law into their own hands.  And even when they lost control of the building, they didn't come clean.

"And now we're either forced to dirty our hands to help them, or we turn them red with blood.

"Way I see it, we've got three choices.  Try and keep them where they are - if whoever bought the temple can be talked into that; turn them loose; or find somewhere else to hold them.

"If you do end up moving them, there's only so many folks with land to take them.  One of the nobles maybe, or the government.  The Helping Hand could do it - they're the group behind much of the new development in the old Poor Quarter, so they own a lot of buildings.  A charity, and I've not heard much bad about them - the usual scandals with individuals trying to turn a profit from others' kindness, but they get dealt with quick enough.

"Or maybe you can find somewhere outside the city.  Folks won't want something like this in their back yard; if you can take it out of sight, that might be an easier sell.

"But before we even get to that choice, we also need to stop and wonder whether it's our decision to make.  Or whether we talk to the authorities about it first."
 
 
dantiesilva
 "Bellerophon it is about the only thing I have noticed hear that makes sense so far. Even at the bar we stayed, the way they insulted each other."  Baldar says a shiver running down his spine as he thinks about it.  "That was unhonorable and home it would have been grounds for an honor duel, yet they seemed to enjoy their bickering."  Baldar says, noting that Bellerophon was seeming to adapt well to the way these people acted and treated each other. His traveling companion seemed on the outside to care little about them one way or another however his actions sometimes suggested he cared just a little more then he admitted, which was fair as Baldar himself had found himself in a situation already he had rather not been in once.

At the shop Baldar returns to Bellerophon's side as he is being addressed by the owner and listens patiently while Bellerophon talk. However when the matter of a license comes up he looks confused.  "I have heard of both these names you speak of in my brief time here. Why do you call the followers of Mattheus upstarts while the Fellowship is a licensed business, I only ask as you have said because I am new here and do not understand much of the difference between the two besides what I have heard which in and of itself is very little. Only that the followers of Mattheus supposedly closed the breach in the sky."  Baldar explains, making it clear he is not stating his opinion, merely what he has heard, and thus his not understanding why one group is better than the other.
esorscher
Bellerophon pays for the scrolls, and waits to hear the answers to Baldar's questions before asking any of his own.
gallagher
 Oh I need not leave for the hills today. I wish you luck on your mission with Mr Kennet, and do let me know if you need help with it as well.  Dora says gratefully, and accepts the psiscrystal. It was a curious object, but one that she didnt need to study to rely on. All sorts of magic going all around. Before Thespia leaves, Dora tests out the object to ensure communication works, and then finishes her tea before leaving for the docks. She would find Bellerophon somewhere around there.
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Baldar and Bellerophon 
Amborun sighs, somewhat theatrically, shaking his head.  "My friends, the Fellowship has ensured mages practice their craft ably and within the law for generations.  To choose not to belong to the Fellowship is to say those laws should not apply to you.  And that is worrying to an old man who has seen too often what happens when magic is abused.

"The Order of Mattheus seem different to most rogue wizards, it's true.  More organised; more public.  And they did fix the city's demon problem, which I don't need to tell you won them a lot of hearts around here.  But I hear they practice forbidden magic - necromancy; mind control; even summoning outsiders, though never demons.  I worry what powerful wizards who feel above the law might do." 
 
esorscher
"  You sound like someone who has been around a long time,  " Bellerophon says. "  Were you witness to the events surrounding the appearance of the Rift?  
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Baldar and Bellerophon 
 "Indeed I was,"  the old mage replies.   "Would you like to hear the tale?" 

He conjures up two chairs, sitting them opposite to him.  With another spell, he summons three glasses of what proves to be cloudy lemonade.  Taking a sip, he gathers his thoughts before launching into his tale.
 
"I've run my business here for decades, gentlemen.  Most everyone who needs enchanted equipment comes through those doors.  The key players of that drama were no exception.  Well, apart from Saint Rosalind.  But people say she was sworn to poverty, so she wouldn't have been much of a customer anyway!

"I met Yara, you know, before she became a goddess.  She struck me as a woman who wore so many masks she'd forgotten which was really her.  If she ever knew in the first place.

"And the controversial Theodore Roost, the Champion of Charis - he too stood not far from where you're standing now.  A man of great conviction and charisma. One who would follow his beliefs into the Maw itself - and who would draw others along in his wake, for good or ill.

"Then there was Thomas Gunn.  Impeccably presented.  Very good looking man, I can tell you.  And there was something about him; an intensity, a hunger that drove him to succeed at any cost.

"Those four were at the centre of things.  Deposing the old Chancellor, and setting the stage for his Elania-backed insurrection. Gang warfare.  The destruction of Maltur's temple.  Entangling us in conflict with Kharheim.  The invasion by Feron - Yara's birthplace.  Taking control of the Temple of Charis, only to split it down the middle.  Many have suggested their involvement could not be mere coincidence.  Was it chance that these events led to Yara's ascension?  Or that Roost freed a captive demigod and became its foremost prophet?

"We endured one bloody conflict after another.  Not one person living in those days didn't lose someone close to them.  And then, when the skies turned red as blood and filled with black clouds like spilled ink; when one twisted horror after another started pouring into our streets, baying and shrieking, hissing and chittering, eager for blood and mayhem; it was a moment of pure terror, like ice water down the spine.

"I did what I could.  My constructs and I fortified this building and dozens flocked to join my safe haven… or so we thought.

"I don't know whether they were drawn by the magic collected here, or the huddled mass of humanity.  But we were attacked by a group of greater demons - creatures of nightmare that ripped through my constructs like they were scarecrows.  For all my magical prowess, I fared little better.  Had I not been prepared with a contingent teleport, I would have been torn asunder. As it was, I saw the demons feasting on the people I meant to protect in the seconds before I was whisked away." 

He falls silent, his expression haunted. Gone is the jovial facade, the salesman's banter. In its place is an old man tormented by the horrors of his past.

Eyeing you somberly, Amborun eventually continues.   "Not long after that, the invasion ended.  The demon attacks became a trickle instead of a flood.  The Redeemers claim that was because their Champion, and those allies I mentioned to you, slew the avatar of Maltur that was driving the demons here.  I don't know if I believe that.  I saw the savagery of those fiends first hand.  They didn't need anyone to drive them to the slaughter." 
 
dantiesilva
 
 Originally Posted by ilinares 
  
 Spoiler: Baldar and Bellerophon 
Amborun sighs, somewhat theatrically, shaking his head.  "My friends, the Fellowship has ensured mages practice their craft ably and within the law for generations.  To choose not to belong to the Fellowship is to say those laws should not apply to you.  And that is worrying to an old man who has seen too often what happens when magic is abused.

"The Order of Mattheus seem different to most rogue wizards, it's true.  More organized; more public.  And they did fix the city's demon problem, which I don't need to tell you won them a lot of hearts around here.  But I hear they practice forbidden magic - necromancy; mind control; even summoning outsiders, though never demons.  I worry what powerful wizards who feel above the law might do." 
 
 
 

Baldar listens to Amborun and seems to see the situation as simply to rival clans, when the man says the rival group practices certain schools of magic that are looked at in an unfavorable light Baldar raises his eye slightly, something Bellerophon would clearly note as someone making note of someone directly accusing another of something back home, however he remains silent, choosing not to remark one way or another as he did not wish to get caught in politics, simply to find out all he could about the rift, and if it was properly sealed, thus not being a threat to his people and homeland.


 
 Originally Posted by ilinares 
  
 Spoiler: Baldar and Bellerophon 
 "Indeed I was,"  the old mage replies.   "Would you like to hear the tale?" 

He conjures up two chairs, sitting them opposite to him.  With another spell, he summons three glasses of what proves to be cloudy lemonade.  Taking a sip, he gathers his thoughts before launching into his tale.
 
"I've run my business here for decades, gentlemen.  Most everyone who needs enchanted equipment comes through those doors.  The key players of that drama were no exception.  Well, apart from Saint Rosalind.  But people say she was sworn to poverty, so she wouldn't have been much of a customer anyway!

"I met Yara, you know, before she became a goddess.  She struck me as a woman who wore so many masks she'd forgotten which was really her.  If she ever knew in the first place.

"And the controversial Theodore Roost, the Champion of Charis - he too stood not far from where you're standing now.  A man of great conviction and charisma. One who would follow his beliefs into the Maw itself - and who would draw others along in his wake, for good or ill.

"Then there was Thomas Gunn.  Impeccably presented.  Very good looking man, I can tell you.  And there was something about him; an intensity, a hunger that drove him to succeed at any cost.

"Those four were at the centre of things.  Deposing the old Chancellor, and setting the stage for his Elania-backed insurrection. Gang warfare.  The destruction of Maltur's temple.  Entangling us in conflict with Kharheim.  The invasion by Feron - Yara's birthplace.  Taking control of the Temple of Charis, only to split it down the middle.  Many have suggested their involvement could not be mere coincidence.  Was it chance that these events led to Yara's ascension?  Or that Roost freed a captive demigod and became its foremost prophet?

"We endured one bloody conflict after another.  Not one person living in those days didn't lose someone close to them.  And then, when the skies turned red as blood and filled with black clouds like spilled ink; when one twisted horror after another started pouring into our streets, baying and shrieking, hissing and chittering, eager for blood and mayhem; it was a moment of pure terror, like ice water down the spine.

"I did what I could.  My constructs and I fortified this building and dozens flocked to join my safe haven… or so we thought.

"I don't know whether they were drawn by the magic collected here, or the huddled mass of humanity.  But we were attacked by a group of greater demons - creatures of nightmare that ripped through my constructs like they were scarecrows.  For all my magical prowess, I fared little better.  Had I not been prepared with a contingent teleport, I would have been torn asunder. As it was, I saw the demons feasting on the people I meant to protect in the seconds before I was whisked away." 

He falls silent, his expression haunted. Gone is the jovial facade, the salesman's banter. In its place is an old man tormented by the horrors of his past.

Eyeing you somberly, Amborun eventually continues.   "Not long after that, the invasion ended.  The demon attacks became a trickle instead of a flood.  The Redeemers claim that was because their Champion, and those allies I mentioned to you, slew the avatar of Maltur that was driving the demons here.  I don't know if I believe that.  I saw the savagery of those fiends first hand.  They didn't need anyone to drive them to the slaughter." 
 
 
 

Baldar nods his head respectfully, when Amborun offers to tell them the tale of how the rift came to be, and listens intently. As the story ends Baldar speaks, taking care to choose his words carefully.  "You say four people entangled your people in a war with my own, but that is not our way. Individuals would be dealt with individually, unless they represented the ruling class we were here to see, and even then it would be difficult for four people to cause a war unless those the four represented did not seek ways to repent for their dishonor."  Baldar state, making it clear that while he couldn't comment on the other things, that these four people, no beings would be more accurate given one became a goddess, he knew enough about the events that took place that led to his people almost going to war with New Ganther.

 "You mention the sky changing, but not the rift when these demons attacked, and that it didn't seem like they needed someone to drive them to kill. Did the rift appear after these events, and if so how long after?"  Baldar asks waiting before asking another question.  "And no lesser demon could have made it through the great wards that protect our world. At least not before, sure they could be called, though who would wish to summon a demon, but never freely. Perhaps this Avatar opened the barrier, like a door, and simply didn't close it to future sow chaos. After all no army can march against a single avatar if it is focused on an invasion."  he says, theorizing why the demons may have come through, after all even a thief walks in an open door that is not locked if it doesn't look like a trap, why wouldn't a demon?

 
 Spoiler: Basic Intelligence check 
To see if he heard of the names before. He no doubt has the best chance with Gunn and Rosalind as they did go to Kharheim.  (1d20+3)[ 9 ] 
 
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Baldar and Bellerophon 
Amborun spreads his hands when you say four individuals could not have started a war.
 
"As to that, I can't say.  I only know that these four were there at the heart of each crisis leading up to the invasion.  They were beings of great power and influence.  And they profited more than most from those events.  Opportunity; means; motive." 

Asked about the appearance of the rifts, Amborun frowns, thinking hard.
 
"It was a long time ago… but I think the rifts started appearing during the invasion, but after the first demon attacks.  More kept appearing as the day wore on, and the earlier ones grew larger.  Then, after the invasion stopped, no new rifts.  No new growth." 

When you speak of the great wards, Amborun shrugs.   " I've never been much of a scholar.  In my youth I was something of an adventurer; now, I craft magic items for a living, and commission others to adventure for me.

"In other words, I've no way to know if what you say is true or not.  There were plenty of demons, lesser and greater, in those dark days and since.  But how they got here?  I leave that to the sages.  It wouldn't surprise me if the priests were at fault, though." 
 
 Spoiler: Int result 
Yara's is a household name now she has joined the ranks of the divine, although you know little in the way of detail.  The other names you do not recognise.
 

 

 
 Spoiler: Dora 
Leaving the inn, taking the psicrystal with you - and leaving behind a slightly perplexed cleric with no way of contacting Thespia - you make your way to the docks.

The streets are bustling now, men and women plying their trades.  Your route seems to take you through a mercantile section of the city, with vendors lining every road and the space between them crammed with people.  The noise is deafening, a far cry from anything you experienced in the settlement where you grew up.

Your path is to some extent chosen for you by the press of bodies.  You detour around streets that are at a standstill; find yourself buffeted this way and that; and finally have to step aside from the throng to get your bearings.  The building where you stand bears the moniker "Fenton's Emporium."

As you look to the sun to work out which way is west - where you will find the docks - you catch sight of a familiar profile through the window opposite.  It looks like Bellerophon, sat with the other dwarf from your voyage and talking with an elderly wizard.
 
Timble
Thespia nods.

 "You're right. It may be best to just go to the authorities. Our duty is to the people trapped below the temple, not to Kennet or the reputation of Berun. Hearing it from Kennet, I felt pretty overwhelmed by the situation. Maybe we should just step back..." 

Thespia thinks for a moment.

 "I am going to try and get into the basement. Its been three years, no one knows the situation down there. They could be dead. There could have been disease. If there were women down there there could even be young children by now. I should be capable of sneaking in. Once I find out what it is like, we can find a solution." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Sorry for taking a while, couldn't think of a next step until now.
 
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Thespia 
Beatrice frowns, but nods slowly.   "If you think that best.  It's always good to know what you're dealing with.  Just take care you aren't caught.  Having a priest of Yara caught trespassing... wouldn't be good." 
 
Timble
Thespia smiles.
 "Don't worry. My training won't let me be caught in a way that damages the faith. Can you give me directions to the temple?" 

When she had the directions down, Thespia went to her room. She removed most of her gear, even her holy symbol. Nothing should point back here.
 
 Spoiler: Gear 
For the next bit, I should have:
Vestment of Many Styles
Darklight
Headband of Intellect
MW Thieves Tools
50GP
 


With her gear stowed, Thespia began to change. She remembered the unfortunates she had seen at dinner last night, she would copy their styles. Her priestess robes shifted into poor clothes of the Ganthar style. Her entire body begin to melt and flow, reforming as a plain, slightly malnourished looking woman. The priests of Feronax had made those of her kind as agents and infiltrators, and now she would use those abilities in the service of Yara.

Thespia left the temple, blending in with others who had received aid. Along the way she stepped into a corner hidden from sight. A different, more middle-class woman emerged. Nothing would point back to her faith.
As she approached Berun's temple, she began to observe it from a distance.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Looking for:
Guards
Doors, Windows and other entrances and whether they are closed
Signs of entry or new owners moving in
Etc
 

 
 Spoiler: Powers 
And to prepare along the way, manifested Conceal Thoughts (1PP) and Inertial Armour (3PP) as these last for 4 Hours at current level
 
esorscher
"  Fascinating, truly,  " Bellerophon says. "  I wonder, then. Are those of the type these 'great heroes' seem to fit into destined to influence the world, or merely actors in events that are destined to occur. In other words, had a different arrangement of four adventurers been in the same place, at the same time, would they be the ones we honor or lambast as appropriate?  " Bellerophon realizes he has business to attend to elsewhere, and says. "  Well, I've taken up enough of your time. Thank you, good sir. I am sure I will be back here again. Although my primary purpose is to investigate the Rift, if you ever have need of an adventurer, I would be happy to oblige.  "
gallagher
Dora walks off with the psycrystal, blankly not observing that she was being rude to the person that Thespia was meeting. All while trying to not seem out of place, she made her way through the busy mercantile street until she luckily spotted her friend. Dora walked in and tried to make eye contact with Bellephoron before walking over and asking to join.
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Dora, Baldar and Bellerophon 
Amborun smiles at that.   "Oh, I always have projects that need adventurous souls.  This city is built on the ruins of many an ancient civilisation, surrounded by the mysterious and the unexplored.  There are always treasures to be unearthed, for those willing to brave the dangers.  Come back later, my new friends, and I will see which of my pet projects you might help with." 

So saying, he takes payment from Bellerophon for the scrolls and bids you farewell.

Turning to leave, you catch sight of Dora in the doorway.  She seems to have been looking for you.
 

 
 Spoiler: Thespia 
The building you seek proves to be just across the main square from the temple of Yara.  The building shows many signs of neglect, from the boarded up windows to the visibly crumbling masonry.  Graffiti marks most surfaces.  A large sign over the door reads:  FOR SALE AT AUCTION  SOLD.

Aside from its presence in the temple district, there is little to show this was once a house of worship.  A blocky stone structure, broadly cube shaped; there are some discoloured patches where, you assume, marks of the building's previous function have been removed.

There are no guards, nothing to suggest the building is watched; but a sturdy chain holds the doors shut.  The area is fairly quiet, but there are a few passers-by; and there is line of sight from the guards at the temple of Relath to the main door, if one of them chose to look.
 
esorscher
"  Hello there,  " Bellerophon says to Dora, after expressing his gratitude to Amborun. "  How are you finding the city?  "
dantiesilva
 When you speak of the great wards, Amborun shrugs. " I've never been much of a scholar. In my youth I was something of an adventurer; now, I craft magic items for a living, and commission others to adventure for me. 

Baldar nods his head in understanding as he fancied himself a crafter of sorts, as before he was found to have magical potential and became a member of the Runewardens he had been training to become a weapon and armor smith for his clan. However adds nothing else as Bellerophon states his business was done here. This man didn't seem to be one who would be able to help him along his path to finding out if the rifts in the sky were properly closed or not so wasting more time here was pointless, they shared a want to make magical items, but that was not his task here now, perhaps later he would come back on his own free time. And so he stands and bows just enough to show respect to Amborun, before thanking him for his time.

Turning to depart and finding the half-elf woman that Bellerophon had made an acquaintance Baldar bows his head,  "Greetings Dora. It is good to see your armor proved strong, and your blade true while we were apart."  he says before looking back to the shop keep, and then back to the others.  "Perhaps it best we talk elsewhere instead of in this mans establishment before we overstay our welcome now that business is concluded."  Baldar states, not in an unkind manner, as he waits for Dora to move outside so he can follow.
Timble
Thespia looks for a back way in, carefully scouting from a distance.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Looking for a door or ground floor window, -1 climb and all.
 (1d20+3)[ 15 ]  spot if needed for potential hard to spot things
 


When it came time, she picked an entrance made her move.
 
 Spoiler: Back Entrance Found: 
With an out of sight entrance found, Thespia left the area. She returned in the form of a well-off man to through off further suspicion. Approaching the door, she began to work at its lock with her tools as if it was the most normal thing to do. Hopefully any passers by would think she was there with legitimate purpose, opening a door with 'his' keys.
 

 
 Spoiler: Going in the Front: 
Unfortunately, she couldn't find a stealthy way in. She would have to go through the front. However, she had a plan.
Leaving the area, she returned back in the form of a man, dressed in well-off clothing. Approaching the front door boldly, she began to search her pockets.
Carefully so that no observers actually saw what she pulled out, she removed her thieves tools and began to attempt to open the lock.
As she made her attempts she acted as if she had a ring of keys, trying to find the right one for the lock. As long as no one paid her too much attention, she shouldn't arouse any suspicion. Just a man opening a door.
 

 
 Spoiler: OOC Rolls 

Disguise:  (1d20+14)[ 15 ]  (Picking the right type of well-off man to not look suspicious)
Bluff:  (1d20+15)[ 32 ]  (Pretending that she isn't lock picking)

Open Locks: Making 5 Attempts, so 30 seconds. If all 5 fail, will pretend that 'he' doesn't have the right key and needs to go back for it.
 (1d20+6)[ 20 ] 
 (1d20+6)[ 23 ] 
 (1d20+6)[ 24 ] 
 (1d20+6)[ 23 ] 
 (1d20+6)[ 24 ] 
Edit: Well that was remarkably consistent
 
gallagher
 The city is infested with countless people who dont trust each other enough that they leave their lunch unguarded. What hive did I stumble into, I do wonder? All the same, the Temple of Relath was most hospitable. They took me in and provided a safe roof for the evening, and then in the morning offered me a short piece of work that they weren't staffed to handle, and then recommended an inn of good reputation. I ran into Thespia there, of all places, and she gave this crystal that will allow us to contact her if we need her. Nifty, right?

Anyway, all of that is to say that I have a one-time-offer of adventure for pay, might have met someone who will help us learn more about the people who were nearest the rifts when they opened, and a safe roof with edible food at a fair price. What did you find since we last parted? 
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Thespia 
You manage to find a second door to the side of the building, out of sight of the other temples - some form of tradesman's entrance, you imagine.  This too is locked and a sturdy plank nailed across it; but the nails holding the plank in place have rusted and look like they would crumble at the slightest force.

After a moment's thought, you leave and return in a new disguise.  Making your way in as unhurried a fashion as you can manage to the side door, you remove the bar easily and work at the lock with your tools, opening it in seconds.  Moments later you are inside.

The ground level of the temple is much as you might expect: dark, dusty, and laden with cobwebs, its contents stripped down to the bare surfaces.  Here and there, items of furniture have been left behind, an overturned chair here, a lampstand there; signs of haste, certainly, and perhaps a departure interrupted.  The air is stale, catching in your throat as you breathe it in, heavy with the scent of mildew.

Kennet told you to seek the lower level, and that is what you do.  Moving through deserted corridors, the shifting shadows fleeing from your light, you feel tension rising in your chest; a feeling that you are trespassing, and a primordial wariness of what might be lurking in the dark.

You find the main entrance hall, partially illuminated by daylight seeping through the cracks in the boarded windows and door.  One large staircase leads upwards; behind it, you find a smaller staircase behind a closed door, leading down.

A sudden chill fills you, like ice water down the back of your neck.  Turning, you see a faintly luminous apparition behind you: a woman in the robes of a priestess of Berun, her translucent features wrinkled with age, scowling at you in mute disapproval.
 
Timble
 "Hello,"  Thespia said, trying to control her breathing to remain calm before this apparition.  "I have been told there are people trapped below the temple. I am here to help." 
esorscher
"  A reasonably flea-ridden inn and a quite excellent magic shop,  " Bellerophon says. "  As well as my dwarven brethren.  " He gestures to Baldar, inviting the other dwarf to share what he had learned.
dantiesilva
 "Much of the same as what Bellerophon has says holds true for me as well. The only real difference is that I learned the name of the current leader of the Temple of Charis, and that he is a forthright and honest individual who is said to be impeccably courteous. As of yet I have not traveled to speak with many people about the rift who have studied it yet, nor do I have the skills myself as of this moment to simply fly up and examine it closely. Though I was given a book that I started reading last night that may hold some clues as to help me with such an endeavor as making sure they are properly sealed. One of the two people I planned on speaking with was the leader of the temple of Charis, the other being the temple of Realth."  Baldar explains, not having much to add to their seemingly joint efforts, at least so long as their tasks aligned.
gallagher
 What luck, I have a hope of meeting the former Arbiter Lothrain. The task I have at hand is for their temple, and I mentioned that I was hoping to be a bit of a historian of the days that saw the rifts open. If you come with to the hills outside of town and help hunt down information on this monster they told me of, I would be glad to bring you with me should my lead to Lothrain prove fruitful.  Dora offered happily.  I had met up briefly with Thespia as well, and she intoned that she would be happy to come with too, if she is able to lend time to the task. Safety in numbers, always!  Dora added.

Dora then thought it would be prudent to inform the dwarves of her mission, should they choose to join her.  All we know for sure is that our quarry is a large, flying beast, about the size of a horse that has been attacking livestock. Our primary goal is informational, but if we can bring it down, so much the better. I was considering doing some shopping for supplies, in case we are out for more than the day. I reserved us a room at the White Stag, uptown, and I would suggest we rendezvous there in time for supper. Any thoughts? 
esorscher
"  I welcome a change in scenery,  " Bellerophon says. "  And a bit of adventure might ingratiate us to those we wish to interview, and whose aid we might need in our studies. Consider me enlisted.  "
dantiesilva
Baldar thinks for a moment before nodding his head in agreement. "If it gets us closer to getting in contact with those who were there when the rifts opened and a way to close them fully I will help."
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Thespia 
The spectral figure tries to speak, but no sound comes out.

Moving past you, it reaches a point part way down the staircase before a barrier appears: a swirling, opalescent mist stretching like a curtain across your path.  Beyond it, you can see figures moving, their details obscure.

The apparition glances back over its shoulder.  Once it is sure you are looking, it rests one hand on the barrier and then moves it in a distinctive pattern.  Pausing, it looks at you again before repeating the same movements.

The figure then fades from sight, although you cannot say whether it has truly gone.
 
Timble
Thespia nods her thanks to the specter. She steps up to the barrier, shifting her form and clothes back to her normal appearance. She may as well approach this honestly.
Lifting her hand to the barrier, she repeats the movements of the spirit.

She prepares for whatever she will find below.
 
 Spoiler: Powers Manifested 
Force Screen: +4 Shield
Channel the Psychic Dragon: +5 Diplomacy, Resist Cold 5
 


Presuming the barrier allows her to pass, Thespia enters the depths of the temple. She puts on a friendly face to meet with the people trapped below.
gallagher
Dora, sensing that her newfound team had a plan of action for the day, invites Bellephoron to come with her to the magic item shop she spotted just outside. Surely there might be a mapmaker too, and maybe a local who had heard strange reports from the area they intended to explore.

Dora excuses herself, then, and walks to Fenton's Emporeum.
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Thespia 
As you expected, the ghost's actions have given you the means to open the barrier.  The curtain of light fades away, allowing you to make your way into the depths below the temple.

The lighting down here is dim; occasional torches enchanted with continual flames dot the walls, but they seem to be more muted than similar examples you have seen elsewhere.  To either side of you, the corridor is lined by a series of doors, some open, others shut.  Through many of those that are open, you see small groups of creatures gathered together: here a trio of trolls eating some form of broth from earthenware bowls; there, a pair of ogres in quiet conversation; in this third room, a minotaur and what appears to be a harpy are hunched over some form of board game, the former's immense fingers showing remarkable care in positioning a small black stone.

There is a strange ambience down here.  Certainly there is a tranquility to it, a soothing whisper that eases the tension from your shoulders and invites you to relax.  But there is something more.  You still feel your heart pounding, your body readying to fight or flee; but there is a disconnect between those reactions and your emotions, as though your mind and body were going through entirely different experiences.

A figure looms from the darkness: a gangly humanoid with the head and tail of a wolf, body coated in thick, matted fur, limbs unnaturally long and with canine paws where the feet should be.  There is a good deal of grey mixed with the black of its fur, and its movements are careful, uncertain. The creature stares at you for a moment, then looks past you to the stairwell.

Shaping words in Common with jaws better suited to crunching through bone, the being speaks in a low, guttural growl.
 
"You don't have the scent of our jailers, human.  But you come from the world above.  Are you here to join us - or to free us?" 
 

 
 Spoiler: Dora (and anyone who accompanies her) 
Amborun's was an overflowing treasure trove of magical objects, a glorious mess which only its flamboyant owner could see as orderly.  Fenton's Emporium, you see on entering, is very different.

You find yourself in a small reception room, with few ornaments.  The desk ahead of you appears to be made of glass; inside that glass, you initially see a selection of rings suspended by an unseen force.  As you approach, that display vanishes, replaced by a sleek crossbow wrought with images of dragons; then by a collection of potions, all manner of colours and consistencies in carefully labelled bottles.  These, you infer, are illusory images of stock held elsewhere - presumably out of concern for security.

Behind the counter is a woman with rich crimson skin, eyes like onyx, and two small horns like those of a young goat.  She wears a smoke grey business suit, and greets you with a welcoming smile.  The only visible jewellery she wears is a ring on one finger, silver and bearing a raven's head motif.
 
"Welcome to Fenton's.  My name is Jescar.  How may I assist you?" 
 
esorscher
Bellerophon quickly copies one of the scrolls into his spellbook, then casts the other to begin the process of copying the arcane thesis. While the magic does its work, he accompanies Dora.
gallagher
 Hello Jescar, happy to make your acquaintance.  Dora states politely to the woman working the store front.  I am tasked to go to the outlying hills and try to gather intelligence on some flying beast that is terrorizing the area. I have not much by way of coin, but I am looking for potions or items that would help me remain undetected in my mission. I do hope this mission will prove lucrative, and if I return, I will be looking for magical equipment that will improve my strength and endurance in combat. Would you have anything that will suit my needs? 
dantiesilva
"Dora I have other things to attend to. However when the time comes to deal with this flying beast My hammer will be yours. Until tonight Dora, may your shield arm stay strong and your blade shop." Baldar says as he departs the others and makes his way to speak with those who seemed to have taken credit for closing the rift. These Matthew fellows.
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Baldar 
It takes little effort to locate those you seek, for it seems they are famous enough to be common knowledge.  So it is that you find yourself at a large building in the mages' district, taller than any of the surrounding towers and many times wider. A large arched sign over the doorway declares the building's identity: Mattheus Academy.

In the midmorning sun, the building's polished white stone surfaces seem almost radiant; evenly spaced columns mark the walls, each blazing with arcane symbols akin to those on the wardposts.

The door wide open and unguarded.  Stepping inside, you are soon greeted by a man in a white shirt and dark trousers, a silver pin in the shape of a raven attached to his collar.  The man is human, perhaps in his late twenties, with blue eyes and thick, wavy hair dyed platinum blond. He is clean shaven, which is perhaps unfortunate: his weak jawline spoils what would otherwise be a handsome face.  Still, he smiles warmly in greeting.
 
"Hello there, stranger.  Welcome to the Mattheus Academy.  My name's Liak.  What can we do for you?" 

He holds out a hand towards you for a moment, seeming to expect you to do something with it.
 
Timble
Thespia steadies herself against the odd sensation.
She nods in greeting to the wolf man.
 "I am Thespia, priestess of Yara. My church has been told of your existence and we are working on bringing you out. May I know your name?" 
dantiesilva
 
 Spoiler: Knowledge (Architecture and Engineering) 
  (1d20+4)[ 11 ]  Basically just trying to see how well made it is, is it a quick build made to look nice, or actually a solid build
 


As Baldar arrives at the tall white tower he takes a moment to inspect the building. It was taller than all the others he noticed, and no doubt the newest in the area. So the height was no doubt a way of saying that they were superior to all others. The blazing white stone no doubt used for the exact reason he was having a hard time looking directly at the building now when the sun shined on it it could blind a potential attacker, a good defense, even if not the intention. And the arcane symbols, they were a nice touch, showing that they didn't want any demons near their building. But also showing that they may not be so sure of their own work.

 Stepping inside Baldar takes stock of his surroundings and as he is greeted by the young figure he shakes his head in shame that the lad wasn't smart enough to keep a beard growing to hide his weakness. Non the less this was not a social call, and as the man introduces himself as Liak, Baldar nods his head in greeting, not extending his hand, however keeping his body language open and welcoming.  "Please excuse me Liak, but it is considered rude to touch another, even when offered. My name is Baldar Madward however, Runewarden of Kharheim."  Baldar says waiting a few moments for all that he has said to be processed before continuing.  "I am here in to study the rift, and to make sure that it has been properly sealed, from all I have heard your school and colleagues are the ones to thank for the peace from demon attacks. Sadly what I hear, and what I can say for certain are two different things. I am sure a scholar such as yourself can understand needing to question and study everything to draw your own conclusions with the research you have gained."  Baldar explains kindly.  "I would like to work with everyone here if possible in New Ganther, and as such I have come to those who all say closed the rifts, the Heroe's if you would, humbly asking to see what you have done, and to if possible have it explained to me." 
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Dora and Bellerophon 
Jescar purses her lips thoughtfully.  In front of her, the cabinet's contents shift and change; now they consist of a rough textured grey cloak, a pair of moss-green boots, and several potion vials and ointment pots.
 
"There are many items that could suit your purposes, dear - depending on your budget.  For eight thousand, I can outfit you with a  cloak of stone .  Too much for now?  Perhaps  boots of elvenkind ?  No?

"Well, then.  Potions of  Invisibility ?  Three hundred each.  Or this ointment - fifteen hundred for the bottle, but there's enough to treat five people, and it will make you significantly harder to see.  As long as you don't move.  Lasts a good two hours, as well - an  Invisibility  potion is all very well, but it will only last for three minutes.

"Although… there is another possibility."  She eyes you thoughtfully.   "Have you encountered the Oathbound since coming to the city?  You might find it worth your while.  A guild, of sorts, for those who sell their skill with blade and spell.  And their members are allowed to borrow equipment.  I know this, because I am their main supplier." 
 
gallagher
Dora pauses thoughtfully.  Do you find many in their company to be...  tasteful ?  Dora says politely. She was not in a rush to join a group of would-be-assassins when she hardly knew a soul she could trust in the city.  I would gladly serve with my skill alongside tolerable company, and if you find these Oathbound to be recommendable with that in mind, I would be glad to know where I can find them. 
 In the meantime, I would also be glad to buy a potion of Invisibility. At the very least, three minutes of running unseen is a fine enough escape plan if I run into something I am ill-prepared to fight. How about you, Bellerophon? 
esorscher
"  I have no need of any magical items at this time, though I am glad to know of this location should I require some in the future.  " Bellerophon says. As the magic finishes copying the arcane thesis, he prepares to leave. "  I have a few drop-offs to make, Dora. I'll meet you later for our adventure?  " He will stop at the embassy to arrange to send a copy back to the Runewardens, then stop off at Velhim's to return the original, before reuniting with Dora.
ilinares
 
 Spoiler: Thespia 
The werewolf regards you cautiously.
 
"Gregor,"  he introduces himself.   "I don't know who Yara is, but I know this: you have the means to open our cage.  If you claim to value our lives, end this now.  Set us free."

"No!" 

The new voice is surprisingly normal, considering the denizens you expect to find here; a woman's voice, weary but emphatic.  Turning your head, you see the speaker: female humanoid combining the features of a woman and a bear, with an infant nursing at one breast.  Gregor gives an irritated growl at her approach, but her attention is entirely on you.
[B]
"This place is not a prison.  It is a refuge.  What life is there for our kind out there?  We hunt, and are hunted in turn, drenching ourselves in blood for a few bleak months or years, until finally the terror and violence ends in death.  I don't want that for myself, and I don't want it for my daughter."

Gregor gives a frustrated growl.   "Any place but this, and my rage would demand your blood.  What life is this for us?  The safety of the caged lion in the zoo.  The long, slow wait for death.  That is no life; only existing.

"But what matter if some choose to stay in their cages?  Let those of us who have not forgotten who we are go free!" 
 

 
 Spoiler: Baldar 
 
 Spoiler: Knowledge check result 
You see nothing to suggest the construction is flawed, but you cannot determine how quickly or carefully it was built.
 


Liak accepts your reluctance to shake his hand with good grace, and listens to your explanation.   "A Runewarden, indeed?  Your order has quite the reputation.  But you, personally, we do not know.

"Knowledge is a potent and dangerous thing; arcane knowledge more than most.  You cannot expect that we will share it with just anyone.

"We are not a charity, you see.  Those who join our Order, we will train - in return for their loyalty and their service.  The expectation is that they will demonstrate their worth to us, in proportion to the value they receive." 
 

 
 Spoiler: Dora and Bellerophon 
Jescar smiles with genuine humour at the question.   "You want to know if they suit a tiefling's tastes?  I wonder if such a recommendation would make you more or less likely to seek them out.

"Well, I'll say this: the Oathbound have a strict code of honour, abide by the law at all times, and value loyalty.  There are plenty of ways for them tp earn a living in this city without throwing their lot in with the criminal element." 

As she is speaking, she reaches through the glass of her cabinet - suddenly as permeable as water - to draw out three potions.  The bottles are pale blue glass, and their contents seem clear at first; but the light moves through the liquid in strange ways, distorting images and changing the colours passing through it.  Placing the bottles on the table, she holds out her palm expectantly.
 
dantiesilva
Baldar listens to what Liak has to say and seems to remain silent for a long time, almost as if he wasn't going to, before at last choosing his words.  "Knowledge is indeed a powerful tool in to many in the world, magic itself and its offshots one of many examples. However secrets can destroy a kingdom or save it depending on who holds them."  Baldar offers kindly.  "My oath's are to my homeland and its people first, followed by the world as a Runewarden. Swearing loyalty to another group that could...complicate oaths I have already sworn is unwise when what one seeks should in fact benefit all."  He says gesturing up as if one could see the rift from where they were.  "I understand if your order chooses not to accept this, however I am only here to make sure it is properly sealed and not a threat to anyone else, could perhaps I swear oaths to instead not share what I am told except with the leader of my order?"  he asks respectfully trying to find a neutral ground to respect these people and their secrets without betraying his own.

 
 Spoiler: Diplomacy 
  (1d20-1)[ 1 ] 
 
gallagher
Dora carefully counts out her coins to make the exchange.  I care less about the status of your birth, whether you be tiefling or dwarf or human. I care more about what one chooses to do and how one thinks. If, as you say, they bind themselves to an ironclad oath, and truly hold to it, I would at least make the attempt to speak with them and see how I might fit in with their company. Thank you for the advice. If you can point me to them, I would be glad to seek the Oathbound. 